ng =
Gentlemanly Joe.
m—
That was the name by which he was
#&nown in the banking-house of Dueat,
Gulden & Ducat, or at least in that
branch of it which did a thriving busi-
mess in the great commercial city of
Birchespool, 1t did not require more
than five minutes’ acquaintance, how-
ever, to inform the uninitiated that the
apparently complimentary epithet was
bestowed rather from a keen sense of
humor on the part of his five fellow-
clerks, than on account of any excep-
tienal claims to blue blood in the case of
Mr, Joseph Smith himself. Even the
casual customer whose knowledge of
Joe was limited te watching his self-
satisfied smirk and enormous watch-
guard at the ther side of the shining
mahogany desk, or admiring the em-
phasis with which he utilized his mois-
¢ aned thumb in overcoming the grega-
t ious leaves of his ledger, must have been
struck by the misappropriate epithet.
To us, however, who had, so to say, sat
at his feet and marvelled at the war of
independence which he was carrying on
against the Queen's Euglish—a guerilla
rwarfare consisting in attacks upon
aspirates, and the cutting off of strag-
gling g's—to us our fanciful sobriquet
was a joke of the first water, If any-
thing could have enchanced our enjoy-
ment of it, it was the innocent gravity
with which our companion accepted the
doubtful title, and, after one feeble re-
monstrance, adopted it forever as his
ywn prerogative and right,
The circumstances of that remons-
trance deserve to be recorded. Before
the arrival of Mr. Joseph Smith from
the paternal training-stables—his father
was a successful sporting tout who had
developed into a trainer—our office had
meen a particularly aristocratic one.
Welstead, onr senior clerk, was a fine,
handsome young fellow of twenty-six,
who came of a good Seocth strain, and
was occasionally understood to make
«dark allusions concerning the extinct
Earldom of Stirling : Dullan and Moreby
were Oxford men, well connected and
well read ; little Sparkins was the son
of a High Church clergyman ;and I had
some of the best blood of Wales in my
rveins. No wonder, then, that our dig-
nity was hurt by the appearance of a
ondiy-dressed, seorbutic-looking youth,
with horse-shoe pin and a nectiesugges-
tive of spectrum analysis upon the very
Stool lately vacated by my old college
friend Vernon Hawkins—most gentle-
manly and quiet of mankind.
For a few days we contented ourselves
with observing the habits and customs
of the creature, There was an auda-
city about his vulgarity and a happy
unconsciousness of all offence, which
fairly disarmed eriticisin. It was not
until he began to address us as “old
pals, and went the length of playing a
small practical joke upon little Sparkins,
that a -pirit of resistance began to stir
within our bosoms and that Welstead,
as usual, was pushed forward a8 our
mouthpiece.
“You see, Smith,’' he remarked in
his most languid tones, ** you have been
in our office a comparatively short
«period, and yet you have taught us
many things which were new to us
*There is a natural buoyancy about your
character which points you out as one
calculated to shine in the most select
-gircles, Before your arrival we had
* mever learned to designate ladies as
“ fillies,” nor had we heard of the ‘real
gents ' whom you mention as having
frequented your father’s establishment.
These things interest and please us,
Allow us to show some small sense of
the honor your society confers on us,
by christening you as ‘Gentlemanly
Joe,’ excusing the liberty we take with
your name in consideration of the allit-
- eration.’
A great part of this speech must
have been lost upon Mr. Joseph, but
never did elaborate sarcasm fall so ut-
terly flat, Instead of being offended,
a8 we had fondly hoped would be the
case, he burst into an uproarious fit of
laughter, and slapped his gaitered leg
with the ebony ruler in token of de-
light. ** Haw | haw | he roared, writh-
ing about on the top of the high stool,
“ Whatever'll father say! On, law, to
think of it! ‘Gentlemanly Joe’'—eh?
You're right, though; you're right,
wand not ashamed to own up, neither,
4 said when I was comin’ up, ‘ Father,’
says 1, * I'll teach them a trick or two J
and I have, hain’t I? Of course we're
#dl gents here, for clerks is mostly reck-
omed such, but it do make a difference
when a man has been brought in con-
#.a¢’ with the real thing. You can call
ne Gentlemanly Joe, an’ pleasure, but
20t as meaning to imply that there is
any in this room not such, though,
‘maybe, rot ona of you has seen » belted
‘url give your father one in the short
ribs and aoller out, * You're a deep old
. how many beans makes five I"
« dicrous that we all burst into a roar
taughter, En
attempt to take a rise out of our bu-
«imol ic companion. It is true that | his
Biewas spon wales + ooutioual does
of small jokes and chaff, and that his
new name superseded his old one, but
there was a massive simplicity abeut
the man, and a marvellous power of
converting the most unpromising re-
marks into compliments, whieh render-
ed him a very disconcerting individual
to attack. Allusions to his hat, neck-
tie or any other peculiarity of raiment
were met by his eternal horse-laugh,
and an earnest recommendation that
we should allow him to send down to
the country and procure fac-similes for
all and each of us. ‘' You hain’t got
nothin’ spicy in Birchespool,’ he would
remark. ‘‘Lord, I know a place at
‘ome where you can get your collars
spotted over with fox’s 'eads instead of
bein’ plain white, which is a poor color
at best.’ I think he imagined it was
nothing but want of money which in-
duced us to refuse to purchase these
and other luxuries, and he was wont to
throw out allusions as to ‘‘'it’s not
costing us nothink,” while he jingled
the loose coins in his trouser pockets.
Town life did not improve Joseph.
On the contrary, he deteriorated. Dur-
ing the first six months that he honored
the office with his presence, he not only
lost none of the traits which he had
brought with him from his father’s
stables, but he grafted upon them
everything which is objectionable in
the city snob. The premonitory symp-
toms were a suspicious waxiness of the
half-dozen hairs which adorned his
upper lip, and the appearance of a large
diamond ring with a greenish and vitre-
ous hue. His next venture was an eye-
glass; and he finally launched forth
into a light ulster, decorated with a
large black check, which gave him the
appearance of being inside a cage, with
his head projecting at one end and his
feet at the other, ‘‘It’s a proper thing
for a gent to wear, he remarked.
“When you see a get-up like this you
know at a glance who's a cad and who
ain't. ’’—a sentiment which we all very
cordially endorsed,
In spite of all these peculiarities we
learned not only to tolerate the Gentle-
man, but even to like him. Indeed,
we hardly knew how strong this feeling
was until he betook himself into the
country on a fortnight’s leave, carrying
with him ulster, ring and
everything else which was calculated to
impress the and stamp him as
the natural associate of the “belted
hurl.” He left quite a vacancy behind
him. There was a dead level of equal-
ity abeut the five of us which deprived
life of all its piquancy. Even Wal-
stead, who had disliked him from the
first, was fain to confess that he was
good fun, and that he wished him back.
After all, if his laugh was obtrusive it
was hearty, and his quaint, vulgar face
had sincerity and good nature stamped
upon every line of it. It was with un-
affected pleasure that we heard a loud
view-halloa in the street one morning
just after the opening of the doors, and
saw our friend swaggering in,
ugly, more dressy, and, if possible, more
vulgar than before.
+
eye-glass,
rustics
more
Newsome, our bank manager, was an
excellent fellow, and on the best terms
with all of us. As we were all single
men, with a very limited circle of
friends in Birchespool, he kindly gave
us the run of his house, and it was sel-
dom that a week passed without our en-
joying a musical evening there, winding
up with one of the choice little suppers
for which Mrs, Newsome was celebrat
ed. On these occasions, since distine-
tions would be invidious, Gentlemanly
Joe used te be present in all his glory,
with a very large white, frilled shirt-
front, and another vitreous tragment
sparkling gloomily in the middle of it.
This, with a watch chain which remind-
ed one of the chain cable of a schooner,
was his sole attempt at ornamentation,
for, as be used to say, “it ain't good
form to show you're richer than your
neighbors, even if you are. Too much
like a Sheeny, don’t you know ?"’
Joe was an endless source of amuse-
ment to Cissy Newsome, a mischievous,
dark-eyed brunette of eighteen, the sole
child of the manager. We had all fallen
in love with Cissy at one time or an-
other, but had had to give it ‘up on
finding that her heart was no longer her
own to bestow. Charles Welstead had
known her from childhood, and the
affection of early youth had ripened
into love on both sides. Never was
there a more fondly attached couple,
nor one to whem the path seemed to
to lie so smoothly, for old Welstead had
been Newsome’'s personal friend, and
Charles’ prospects were of the brightest.
» Om these pleasant evenings which I
have mentioned it was great fun to see
Joe darting into the drawing-room and
endeavoring to secure a seat in the
neighborhood of the young lady, with a
profound disregard for any claims her
‘parents might have upon his courtesy.
H he attained the coveted position
he imagined to be an air of easy gentil-
ity, and regale her with many anecdotes
oh a eh
the “big nobs’’ who
had professional relations with his
. Would imitate him to his face in the
#*
most amusing way, looking all the time
as demure as a little mouse, while Wels
stead leaned up against the piano, nol
quite sure whether to laugh or be angry.
Even he usually broke down, however,
when the two came to discuss *‘het’>
quette,” and Joe, in his character of
gentleman, laid down his views as to
when a “feller should raise *is *at,”’ and
when not. The arguient was gener
ally closed by a burst of laughter from
all of us, in which Joseph would: joing
though protesting loudly that he was
unable to see the joke,
It is a proverbially dangerous thing
to play with edged tools. - Lhave never
been sure whether Smith kuew how
matters stood betweeen Welstead and
the young lady. I am inclined to think
that at first he did not. Perhaps, if
some one had informed him of it then
he might have mastered lis fealings
and much misery have been averted,
It was clear to us young felowswho
had gone through the same experience
how things were tending, but we held
our tongues rather than spoil what we
considered a capital joke. Cissy may
have seen it too, and given him a little
mischievous encouragement--at least,
young ladies have the credit not
being blind in such cases. Certainly
Smith pursued his hopeless suit with
a vigor which astonished During
business hours he lived in a sort of day-
dream, musing upon his perch like
some cogitative fowl, and getting into
endless trouble over his accounts, while
every evening found him ipterfer-
ing with Welstead’s tete-a-tete at i
the high corner in Eldon
street, At last the crash came, There was
no need to ask what had happened when
little Joe slunk quiet}y into the office one
moming with disheveled hair, melan-
choly face, and with the
wakefuines of night. We
never learned the partioulars of his dis-
Of
us,
house
eyes bleared
a restless
missal, Suffice it that he was informed
over the great city, There was a slight
frost in the air, and the ground clinked
cheerily under foot, One of my fellow-
clerks Dullan—and 1 had kept by lit-
tle Smith all day, for there was a wild
look about his eyes which made us
think it might be unsafe fo leave him
to his own devices, We dined at a res-
taurant, and afterward dropped into ‘a
theatre, where Joe's ghastly face in the
stalls bad a very depressing effect upon
the pantomime, We were walking
slowly homeward after supper, it being
then between 12 and 1, when we saw a
great crimson glow upon the heavens,
such as aurgra never threw, and a fire
and a clang, the big-boned,
horses whirling it along at such a rate
that we only caught a glimpse of a flash
of lights and a cluster of bearded, hel-
meted heads suspended, as it were, in
the darkness,
ume of flame. I could moralize
a conflagration as Chateubriad did over
Niagara,
of mind, and the Gentleman was ready
of the blaze.
At first we ran languidly, jogging along |
rying toward the same goal. Then, as
we came into aquarterof the town which
we knew well, we almost involuntarily
quickened our pace, until tearing round
a familiar corner at racing speed, we
pulled up and gazed silently into each
other's pale faces, There, not a huns
dred vards from us, stood the high
house on Eldon street—the hotusé uns
80 many bappy hours——with the red
flames licking round the whole
story,
, wh
and erevice ile a dense pall
once and forever that a gap which there
was no crossing lay between Miss C
Newsome and himself. He bore
bravely, and tried to hug his sorrow to |
his heart, to hide it from the vulgar gu |
of mankind, 1 alte fed |
man. What
fancy with had taken root
very soul and grown
he, who had hardly knewn when it
planted, was now unable to wrench it
fssey |
up |
became an
had been but a
yut he
passing
©
thie
that
us
there, so
Was
The ordeal he had gone through
chastened him, to a great extent, from
his vulgarity by toning down his natural
spirits, and though occasionally
ventured upon a “Haw! haw I" it was
painfully artificial, and a good deal
more suggestive of a dirge than of
merriment, The worst féature of the
case was that every week increased the
gloom which hung over him. We began
to suspect that our estimate of him had
been a superficial one, and that there
were depths the little man's soul
of whose existence we had
ignorant.
out.
he
in
been
Four months had
Nene of us had changed much
that time, with the exception of the
Gentleman, We saw little of him
except in office hours, Where he spent
the rest of the day was a mystery.
Once | met him late at night in the
docks, stumbling along ring-bolts and
chains, careless of the fact that a trip
or slip might send him into eternity.
Another time 1 saw a cloaked figure
lurking in the shadow beside the house
in Eldon street, which fled round the
corner on my approach. His naturally
unhealthy complexion had become so
cadaverous that the sandy eyebrows
and moustache stood out quite dark
against it. His clothes hung loosely on
his figure, The eyeglass was discarded,
Even the once gorgeous ring seemed to
have assumed a sombre and melancholy
lustre as if in sympathy with the feel-
ings of its owner. His manner had
lost all its old audacity, and become
timid and retiring. I doubt #f any of
his rustic acquaintances would have
recognized their gaudy Joseph in the
shambling, unkempt figure which haunt.
ed the counting-house of Ducat, Gulden
& Ducat,
The termination of Welsteads engage-
ment began to draw near. It had been
arranged that after his marriage he was
to be promoted to the management of
another branch in a distént part of the
country. This approaching break-up in
our little circle drew us all closer to-
gether, and made us the more sorry
that the general harmony should be de-
stroyed by the unhappiness of one our
number. If we could have eheered
him we would, but theré was
in his look, for alt bis suebbis
which forbade even
ject so sacred. He
on a careless manner when he joined us
all in wishing Bhs good luck at
passed away.
during
the upper windows and
roof,
We dashed through
gether, and foug
space on which the firemen were cons
necting their As we reached
them, a balf-naked man. barefooted
and disheveled, was pleading with t
the crowd tos
ur way to the clear
»
ght o
hose,
he
superintendent, clutching frantically at
his arm and pointing up to the dark
clouds him, rent with
jagged streaks of ascending flame.
“Too short!” he screamed in a voice
which we were horrified to recognize as
that of Mr. Newsome. “It can’t bese
itmusn't be! There are more escapes
than one. Oh, man, man, she is barmn-
ing—choking—suffocating]! Do some
thing ! Save her! My child-—my
beautiful child—the only one I have I”
In the agony of his fear he fell at the
fireman®s feet and implored his assists
ance,
1 was paralyzed by the horror of the
thing, The situation was apparent at 4
glance. . There, seen dimly through the
smoke, was Cissy Newsome's window,
while beneath it, separated by a broad
expanse of wall, was the head of the
fire escape, It was too short, by &
good twelve feet. The whole lower
story was one seething mass of fire, 80
that there seemed no i ¥ of ap
proach from that dirsetion, horrible
feeling of impotence CAS «
There was no sign of wove
young lady's window,
trails of flaé had climbed oh io it and
festooned’ it round ig their
land Ir g 16 my heart
that she had been tonite in her
sleep, and bad pever woke to the dread
ful reality.
1 have said that we were paralyzed for
the moment. The spell was rapidly
broken. ‘“This way, lads!’’ cried a
resolute voice, and Charlie Welstend
broke in among us with a flreman’s
hatchet in his hand, We pushed after
him as he rushed round to the rear of
the house, where there was a door usw-
ally used by the servants. It’ was
locked, but a couple of blows shattered
it to pieces, We hurried up the stone
kitchen stairs, with the plaster falling
in strips all round us, and the flags so
hot that they burned into the soles of
our boots, At the head of the stairs
there was a second door, thicker and
stronger than the first, but nearly
charred through by the fire.
“(ive me room |" gasped Welstead,
swinging round his axe.
“ Don’t do it, sir,” cried a stal
fireman, seizing him by the st;
“there's flames on the other side of that
door.” y
“Let me go 1" roared Charlie, t
“We're dead men if you break fe”
“ Let me go 1’ y
“Drop it, sir ; drop it 1 {1
the Xo Guprerd dawn upon the
above already
at ab
-
burned, struggled furiously with the fire-
from reascending she staircs
was now a solid sheet of fire,
‘Hold back, sir 1”
, which
away enough?
in the gaiters—the same that broke the
door—he’s gone. 1 seed him jump
right slap into the middle of it.
won't never come back no more !
Together we led Welstead sound to |
the front once more, all three staggering
| like drumken men, The flumes were
higher than before, but the upper story |
and the roof still rose above them likea |
black island in a sea of fire. There was |
| Miss Cissy’s window dark and unopened |
| though the woodwork around it was in
(aglow. There was no sign of the flut- |
| ter of a female dress,
erless to stietch out
Poor Welstead leased against me, sob-
bing like a child,’ A ghastly longing
came into my heart that 1 might see
| flames in that room, that I might know
{it to be all over, and her pain and trou-
| ble at-an end. Then I heard the crash
of glass falling outward, and I bent my
head to avoid seeing the very thing that
{+1 had wished for ; and then there broke
{ upon my ear a shout from ten thousand
voices, so ‘wildly exultant and madly
| jubilant that I never hope to hear the
like again.
Welstead and I looked up. Balanced
upon the narrow ledge outside the win.
dow I had been watching, there was
standing a man, framed as it were in
fire. His clothes were hanging around
him as a few tattered, charred rags,
and his very hair was in a blaze, The
the
window had encourages 80
that a
the flames,
lurid curtain hung behind him,
while the ground was fully seventy feet
Yet there the thin ip x of
stone, with elernity on each side of hi
stood Joe Smith. the
grammatical,
while
« On
uneouth and un-
two sheets to-
gether, women sobbed IW
and men shouted and every hand
was raised to bless him. He staggered
and disappeared so suddenly that we
feared he had fallen, but he was back
instant, not alone this time,
for the girl he had come to save was
slung over his shot The brave
fellow seemed to have doubts of the
strength of his impromptu rope, for he
rested his own weight upon the nearly
tein
ying
ar
again no an
ilder,
perilous feet, supporting Miss Newsoms
by the arm which clutched the sheet,
Slowly, very slowly. they descended,
but at last his feet touched the topmost
rung of the escape. Was it a dream
that I heard a voice above him say,
“Hall right, missy,’’ before a burst of
vheering rang out which drowned every
other so
Miss more frightened than
hurt, was delivered over into her half-
distracted father's care, while 1 helped
to 1ift Gentleman Joe from the escape.
He lay panting upon the ground, burned
and scorched, his sporting coat tattered
and charred, while strangely enough,
the prismatic necktie and horseshoe pin
had escaped the general destruction, se
as to present an absurd oasis amid
the desert around. He lay without
speaking or moving until Cissy New-
some was led past him on her way to a
cab, Then he made a feeble gesture
with his hand, which indicated that heé
wished to speak to her, and she stooped
over him. No other ear but mine caught
that whisper,
“Don’t fret, Miss,”’ he said, ** ‘cause
it was the wrong hoss came in, He's a
good feller—a deal better than me—and
did as much, but hadn't the luck.
A ‘vulgar little speech, but Cissy’s
éyes got very moist as she listened, and
I'm not sure that mine didn’t, too,
The office was sadly reduced after
that. With Welstead and the Gentle-
man on the sick-list, there were only
four of us at the desk, and the reaction
from the excitement had left us any-
F thing but lively, I ean remember only
one remark ventured upon during that
first day. The dreary scratching of
pens had lasted unbroken for over an
hour, when little Sparkie looked up
from his ledger.
“‘I suppose you would eall him a gen-
tleman, after all #”* he said.
“A very much better one than you
will ever be," growled Dullan, and we
relapsed into the scratching of pens,
L was prescut at tne wedding of
Charley Welstead and Cissy Newsome,
when, after a long delay, it was finally
celebrated. By the original arrange-
ment I was to have figured as best man,
but my post of honor was handed over
{ to a certain very ugly young man, whose
suggested the idea that be
sou,
Cissy ’
tard poultice. Unromautic as it. may
pik Arup i wher i
his duties with all the nonchalence in
IT
It Is ©
—
that there is every probability of our
| having a repetition of the marriage cer-
emony. Should it be so, I trust that I
may at last revert to my original posi-
| tion as best man.
Agricultural.
I
{ Farm asp Garvey Notes, — Clover
| hay is good for bogs, and the hogs
like it,
Choose for hatching the largest
| and best shaped eggs from the best
layers.
| Do not kill the moles, They do not eat
| strawberry plants but white grubs, and
| are most numerous where the latter are
| found,
| An Ohio farmer names the mammoth
T. B. Terry, of Olio, says his straw
worth $2 aton to him for feeding pur-
crops of wheat and never sells
straw,
Too much clover hay fed to horses
is injurious; they will 80 much
of it that that they cannot travel fast
without injury. It should always be
well sprinkled with water before feed-
any
eat
ing.
Dr. Sturtevant Our results
have thus far given
evidence in favor of the terminal por
tion of the potato tuber, 80 far as re-
gards certainty of growth, early
healthy vegetation
BAYS
quite conclusive
sprouting, and
vigor.
As soon as the lamb gets large
it should be encouraged
For this purpose a
tha
ii
enough, to
food for itself.
low trough should be placed where
lambs can get to it, and eat without di
They will soon eat enougl
very materially
eat
turbance.
th assist
growth.
«We want no better
farmer than that he
and believes in returning
something like an equivalent for what
is removed. The secret of good farm-
ing lies in making the land produce the
best possible results. Withou tdeteriora-
tion.
3
¥
i
in thei
§
sign of a good
prizes manure
to the soil
Sets, as well as large should
be kept as dry and coool as
without being actually materially
trart by frost, provided they are not
handled while frozen. If spread on a
tight barn floor and covered thickly with
chaff or cut straw they will keep
till spring.
It isnot goofi policy to let work
horses get thin, It costs more to put
on flesh than it does to keep it. Flesh
that becomes hardened by exercise will
be kept up with less food, under the
same work, than it took to put it on.
From fifteen to thirty pounds of food
will about supply the daily consumption
of horses, large or small.
onions
possible,
well
The practice of growing sweet corn
for fodder is greatly on the increase in
this country. It makes far feed
than the field sorts, from the fact that
it is very sweet and nutritious, and cat-
tie will eat every part of it with great
relish. Sow thickly in drills two and a
half feet apart, using two and a half
bushels of seed to the acre ; or it can be
sown broadcast and cultivated in.
Birino Horses, —Horses have been
successfully cured of this vice by putting
a piece of hard wood an inch and a half
square in the animal’s mouth, about the
same length as an ordinary snaffle bit.
It may be fastened by a thong of
leather passed through two holes in the
ends of the wood, and secured to the
bridle. It must be used in addition to
the bit, but in no way to impede the
working of the bit. Rarey adopted this
plan, with the zebra in the 200, which
was a terrible brute at biting. Mr.
Rarey succeeded, however, in taming and
training him to harness, and drove him
through the streets of London. Animals
with this vice should be treated kindly
in the stable, and not abused with pitch-
fork handles, whips, ete., an apple,
crust of bread, a piece of beet, etec., and
a kind pat, but firm, watchfal hand and
eye, with the use of the above wooden
bit, will cure the most inveterate biter,
The fact that he cannot shut his mouth
or grip anything soon dawns upon him,
and then he is conquered. Toronto
Globe.
SuiTABLE MANURES — All vegeta-
hies that are grown for their leaves or
stems require an abundance of nitrogen-
ous manures, and it is useless to attempt,
vegetable gardening without it. To this
class belong cabbage, lettuce, ete. The
Detler
for its seeds or pods, as beans, peas, etc. ,
does not require much manure of this
character ; in fact, the plants’ are in-
jure by it. It czuses too great a
growth of stem and leaf, and the earli-