TO GEORGE KEN)
x.
© fear'ess soul, whose strong uplifted arm
Wielding with courage high Truth’s nased
blade
Rent Russiahy veil, and showed the horrors
To a whole world in Judgment stern ar-
rayed!
O tender he rt, forgetful all of self,
Striving to succor those that sit in grief,
Bpending with joy thy strength that thou
might’st bring
Unto the sorrowing some sweet relief!
And not in vain thy toil; thy loving words
Robbed foul injustice of its cruel smart,
And Tessages—'gainst which thou balanced
ife—
Brought hope to many. an agonizing heart,
Nor is this all, for yet a day shall come
strong,
When God shall bare his mighty arm and
sweep
From off the face of earth this awful wrong.
And thy brave soul, wating this recompense,
Whether in heaven or on earth it bic e,
Stall on that day of its sore travail see,
And in that hour it shall be satisfied !
~ Anna Thaxter Church,
i i———
~ A DREAM ROMANCE,
» —
Before I left home in America my
mother called me to her.
“You are going to England, Robin,
my dear,” she said. “You will see
your father’s people. It will be a new
experience to you. You will see the
place whore he was born, and portraits
of his ancestors. Now, his is a very
old family; but imine is just as old,
only mine is French. We were titled
people. An ancestor of mine was a
Count—the Count Jouvin. He was a
splendid creature, I am told, but in his
youthful days a little wild. Dear,
dear, he lived nearly two
old letters that he had written, and his
watch and his miniature.
as well-born
remember, you ure
of the Count. You may show
your aunts, if you like.
stand, until my mother cried out:
“Why, Robin, you are exactly like
him! It might be your portrait.”
Then I saw the likencss myself. 1
was indeed the cxact counterpart of
this ancestor of mine—this wild young
Count who had lived years be-
fore.
It delighted my mother very much
to kzow it. I was silly enough to be
pleased myself. When I left Americs
I carried the miniature with me, and
it arrived safely in England.
My paternal uncle and his sisters
lived in a fine old English mansion.
tome miles from London. 1 reached
the house, afier some hours of railway
travelling, cold and weary, and ready
for a good dinner: and having been
admitted, 1 was left, for a few mo-
ments, in a large parior, over the man-
tel of which hung a very old picture of
an English officer. He was a young
man, with stern, gray eves,
seemed to stare down upon me from
the canvas in an aggressive sort of
Way that, had he been alive, |
should have expected a challenge on
the spot. 1 supposed that he was an
ancester of mine, but he did not look
friendly, and I took a terrible dislike
to him, though I laughed at myself
for it.
Try as I would to turn my eyes from
his pictured face, they wandered back
200
a § |
my elbow said, “Mr. Hobin
I believe,” that I averted them, and
that the family were absent,
make me as comfortable as she
until their return, and would I
BUpper now or go to my room first? |
chose supper, and having discussed it
that there was no need of
agreeable that night, for I
weary and sleepy, and,
stupid.
The room into which I was ushered
was a tremendous one, with a
fireplace set about with a screen, and
a four-post bed with curtains, in which
ten persons could easily have
The floor was of oak, with a
rich carpet in the centre, and
were straight-legged chairs,
straighter tables rang-d about at
tervals,
All was stiff, and massive and ugly,
with excep ion—that exception
doing
was both
consequently,
wide
slept,
Square
there
and
in-
one
girl with powdered hair 2nd a very
low-cut bodice, who held a half-blown
rose in one hand and shaded her eyes
with the other.
It was an old picture, but the tints
face as soft and new and
from a living model who still awaited
her seventeenth birthday instead of a
couple of hundred years before, so
that the belle who Fad sat for it might
have died a withered octogenarian be.
yond the memory of any living man,
As I looked at the face an odd fancy
came upon me. I felt that I had
known this girl and loved her. I felt
that I loved her still. I wanted to
kiss those ripe, pouting lips—to hold
the little round-tipped fingers that
grasped the rose. 1 actually found
tears in my eyes as [ turned away
and prepared for repose, and I put
out the light with a marvellous regrot
at losing sight cf the face that so im-
me, . ts 4a
‘“4m I falling in love with a pic-
7 1 asked myself; snd a sudden
comical remembrance of Sam Weller's
young y Who conceived a
tender passion for ‘von of the vax
images” in his window, ended the
*
matter by making we laugh aloud,
Having laughed, I yawned-—having
yawned, I fell asleep—slecping, 1
dreamed.
I fancied myself not myself, bat
another man—in fact, my titled an-
cestor, the Count Jouvin., 1 walked
up and down a long green lane, with
my riding-whip in my hand: beyond,
& groom held two horses, one bearing
a lady's saddle. I seemed to be im-
patient and looked at my watch often.
I expected some one—who was it?
At last I knew. A step sounded on
the grass; a voice called “Henri,” 1
turned. The lady of the picture stosd
before me. In living presence, I saw
again the sweet face, the flowing hair,
the white bosom, the snowy hand, its
fingers holding a rose. I rushed to
meet her. | pressed a kiss upon those
hands. I led her forward. 1 spoke to
her—not in my own language. Ispoke
in French. told her that from that
moment I was her slave, and she wept ;
and I led her to the spot where the
horses stood saddled and bridled, and
we rode away, the moon shining down
upon us, her eyes turned always upon
my face.
Out of this dream I was awakened
with a start. It was still night. The
room was dark. It was all a foolish
dream, but I felt guilty and remorse-
ful. Somehow it seemed that my con-
impossible to sleep
lost consciousness. Again I
slept ;
again I dreamt. ~~
lovely park. The branches were bare,
feet,
He was armed with a sword.
us, Another stood a little
Count Jouvin.
this gray-eved Englishman and I. |
dently endeavored to take my life.
For a long while I merely defended
myself,
impossible, Oue
wounded. Human
further forbearance.
of us mus:
nature forbade
My sword er.
upon the ground.
I saw the blood drip from the p int
of my blade as | withdrew it. 1 heard
my second mutter, “Il est mort,” and
I heard the Englishman whisper,
“Doctor, is he dead 7”
I turned towards the doctor, saw for
a moment his grave, square face, and
then awoke. 1 was the Count Henri
Joavin of the past century no longer.
I was once more myse.f—Hobin
den, an Au erican, on a visit to his
English relatives: and there was a
polite knock at the door, and a calm
English servant brought my aunt's
love, and had | slept we
fast would be ready in half an hour
When 1 had dress d. I had still an
uncomfortable memory of my dream,
as of a thing that had actually happen.
ed. I could not quite believe in my
vwn identity, and I still felt an odd
tenderness for the girl in the old pic-
ture. 1 looked atit long and earnest.y,
and it smiled upon me.
“You are, doubiless, mv grandmoth-
great-grandmother,” 1 said. look-
ing back over mv shoulder:
do believe I've fallen in love with
you."
Then I went down stairs to be wel-
comed by a prim old gentleman, who
himself my uncle, and
law.
ers
ns
were my sunts. They were kind,
hospitable, cheery. They asked los ing
questions about my father, and the:
bragged a little about our good eld
family as to one as proud of i
themselves, and all the while the gray-
eyed officer stared sternly down upon
me from his tarnished frame on the
oak panelled wall. At last it was im-
possible to avoid speaking of him.
“This is an ancestor of mine, | supe
pose, sir?” I said to my nnele.
“Yes, Robin,” replied he.
ves: that was Col. James Rawden.”
“He doesn’t look cheerful,” said 1.
“‘He must have been avery unhappy
man,” said my uncle. “Of course, as
you may guess, he lived two hundred
years ago, and he died in a duel.”
“A duel?” | cried.
“Priscilla.” said my Aunt Deborah,
“the gentlemen will excuse ne.”
I arose aud opened the door for the
When I had closed it my
uncle went on:
“Yes, Robin, this long gone ancestor
of ours died in a duel. It seems that he
as
two ladies,
cold and stern to win her love, She,
remember, was not of our blo wl, Her
picture hangs over the mantle piece in
the room you slept in. Perhaps you
remarked it? She eloped with a French
nobleman. Col. Rawden followed him
fought him. The
killed Lim. It's a sad story. She must
have been a pretty girl, and he a fine,
vrave fellow, but it all went
somehow.
“Yes,” said I, still repulsed by the
cold, gray eyes of the picture, though
I tried to soften my heart to it: “and,
of course, no one knows the name of
the Frenchman. It is so very long
ngo.”
“The Freucaman was the Count
Henri Jouvin,” said my uncle. “Why,
my dear nephew, you look ill.”
I felt ill, but gave no explanation.
But I did not speak of my mother's
aristocratic ancestors during my visit
to my father's relatives: and to this
day I shudder when I recall my strange
dream. Coupling it with my lHkeness
to the Count Jouvin, the sense of ident-
ity with him which I felt even on
awakening, and the passion with whch
the beautiful picture on the wall of my
ancestral mansion inspire | me. I ask
myself if there can be any truth in the
fancy some have entertained that one
soul sometimes inhabits more than one
body. For if 1 could have faith in
this, I should believe that I, Kobin
Rawden, wus once no other than the
Count Henri Jouvin, and I do not re-
#pect that fellow, end am not pleased
with the idea,
S— a ——— ot ~
The Sea Novell t.
“How came you, Mr. Russell,” |
asked, writes an interviewer of Mr,
W. Clark. Russell, ‘how came you, a
practical sailor, to take to novel writ-
ing? “Well, the taste for writing
first came to me in a very curious man-
ner at sea. We were homeward bound
from Sydney, and when abreast of the
i
ro
when the batten hen-coop was dis-
covered missing. The captain told me
to look for it. 1 couldnt find it,
whereupon the captain grew angry. |
was ‘cheeky,’ and so the captain or-
dered me below, bread and water and
irons, a prisoner for the rest of the
voyage. Having naught to do, I took
to reading Tom Moore, and that start-
ed me to the writing of poetry. 1
didn’t go to sea again.
“I then wrote “John Houldsworth,
Chief Mate’; that was my first nautical
novel. Then a well-known publisher
asked me to write one for him, and
‘The Wreck of the Grosvenor’ was my
response to his request. However, his
reader returned it with the remark that
furniture. It wasaccepted by Marston.
me ashore. ‘No,’
footed, and I shall stick to the sea.’
My object is to keep the standard ele-
vated,
written for boys, and yet England,
which is a great maritime country,
possesses no great sea novelist.”
I loudly demurred: «Mr. Russell,
vou are fishing; however, let that
pass—are your stories founded on
fact?"-—¢Yes, very often: for in.
mutiny at sea, in which the steward
had thrown over a bottle containing
an account of it. 1 pondered over
‘The Sea Queen’ was suggest.
ed by the true story of a captain's wife,
who was on board a steamer, and all
the crew, except the captain and mate,
fell ill. They worked in the engine.
room, she steered and brought the
vessel into the haven where they would
be. This sea-novel-writing vocation
is very dear tome. All my sailors
are men 1 have met in the foc'sle, kept
watch with, gone aloft with; they are
a fast dying type in this age of
steamers,
And how vast a distinction there is
between the bluejacket snd the mer-
chantman! The one lithe, active as a
cat, full of his ideas of discipline: the
other slow, grumbling, discontented,
full of bad food and constant
plaint. Haif the profanity of poor
Jack is to be found in the filthy scut-
tie<butt and the fouler harness-cask
No, there is not nearly so much bully-
ing as there used fo be, except in those
beastly Nova Scotian ships.
dreadful,
Com
They are
Have you seen this?”
ing in wy hand the last
which were only twenty-five
copies published—written by Herman
Melville, that mag: ificent Ame. jean
sea-novelist. « «John Marr, and o her
s he calls it, and he has been
good enough to dedicate it to me.”
With great interest I took up the
dainty little book by the author of
“Omeo” and other exquisite South
Sea sketches, And what had be to ‘ay
of Mr. Clark Why this
“* “The Wreck of the Grosvenor’ enti-
ties the author to the naval crown in
current literature. Upon the Gros
venor's first appearance in these waters
I was going to say-—all competent
judges exclaimed, each after his own
fashion, something to this effect: The
very spit of the brine in our faces!
what writer, so thoroughly as this one,
knows the sea, and the blue water of
it: the eailor and the heart of him: the
¢hip, too, and the sailing and handling
of a ship?”
plac-
there
Sailors
Russell?
lie -
Date Palms in California,
The date found growing In a
number of localities in California.
and there can be no doubt that when
the methods of planting and re produc.
tion are better understood they will
multiply rapidly throughout the interi-
or of the State, They have been sue-
cessfully grown st Santa Barbara,
tiverside, Pomona, Ontario, Santa
Ana, Elsinore, Winters, Newcastle, as
wel: as in other localities. At the
citrus fair in Sacramento,
there was a fine exhibit of both the red
or ¢ hina and also the white
dates, by 8S, C. and J. BR. Wolfekill of
Winters, Yolo County. of
these trees were planted in 97, and
had been obtained from some of the
common dried dates purchased in San
Francisco,
The little trees only grew about one
foot each year, and were twenty
is
seen 1
date,
The seeds
fw’
date had
but the white had not.
by the Wolfekills that the season here
was too short to ripen this fruit. [tis
ripened perfectly
inate and pistillate flowers were not
near enough to each other, so that one
could fertilize the other, To facilitate
thie, in the date regions the trees are
planted near each other, avd about one
male to twenty female trees. The
white dates exhibited were about an
inch and a quarter long, while the red
date was considerably smaller, Mr.
J. W. Smyth of New. astle, in Placer
County, has the r d or China date in
bearing. A: Santa Barbara and at
Rae, as well ns in a few other
laces in this State, the date is now
aring fruit. Recent inquiries show
that a large number of young date
trees are now growing in California,
and have not been affected by our win-
of these were grown from
it will be years before
number of these come into bear
KOSSUTH IN EXILE.
IN HIS STATION HOME AT THE
AGE OF EIGHTY SIX,
»,
An Italian correspondent writes: It
wus in 1865 that Kossuth, trusting in|
the promises of Louis Napoleon to ob-
tain the recognition of the ind pend-
ence of Hungary fiom the Austrian
Emperor, came to Turin. Weall know
what then happened. In this city, or
near it, he has ever since remained.
For many years Kossuth’s only de-
sire has been to avoid publicity and he
| has led a life of complete retirement,
| receiving only those visitors against
whom it was impossible for him to |
shut his door. From time to time, the
distinguished patriot is reminded that |
others are not willing to forget him. |
Thus, on Lis attaining his 80th year, |
8 magnificent illuminated album,
| bound in vellum and inlaid with prec- |
| ious stones, containing 30,000 signa. |
| tures, was brought him by a deputa- |
| tion of his countiymen. From two |
| different cities came a gold pen; a!
| smaller album from the city of Arad,
{| where during the war for
dence, thirteen Hungarian generals
were hanged, and various other tokeps |
that his zeal for the liberty of his |
| country js still remembered and ap- |
| preciated.
Speaking once about how he
| been tormented for his autograph, he |
related with much humor how
| American lady wrote to tell him she
| bad been consulting the spirits as to
éplendid habitation in the
heaven was preparing for him.
the meantime she begged le
favor her with his autograph!
When a deputation from Hungary
came to confer with him
politics, the grand old patriot
much moved, and being unable to say
good-bye to them all
embraced the spokesman,
“Take this kiss to my
from the old man who loves her well,”
It was wonderful to see how well he
bore the grea’ fatigue of receiving the
numerons delegations of Hungarians
| who visited him last July on their way
to the Paris Exhib tion. He began to
receive them at 9 in the morning. then
lunched and rested til two, when he
drove to the Valentino Gardens. Ins
semi-circle in front of the Palace of
Fine Arts, still left
saying:
the deputation.
In the centre were those who bore
the gifts. A finely-worked casket con-
taining some earth taken from the
Kossuth was born, was presented, a
short poem stating this fact being re.
cited by the poet of the party. The
venerable man was much moved, and
hie eves filled with tears. This earth
will be placed in his grave when he
dies,
embossed with gems, that had been 400
vears in his famile. The ladies in
Hungary sent a handsome set of anti-
que jewelry to Mme. Ruttkay.
KOSSUTH'S ORATORY.
vast hall, decorated with the Hungar.
ian and Italian tricolours, was soon
filled. Kossuth, accompanied by
Helfy, the Hungarian Deputy, and his
eldest son, took his place at the head of
| the centre table, just beneath his own
| portrait, and a silken Hungarian flag,
| presented to him years ago by the
women of Hungary.
on one side of him and his sister on
the other. For a short time due atten.
tion was paid by all to the good things
placed before them on the banquet
table. Then the municipal band struck
np Liszt's familiar «Hungarian Rhap-
{ sody,” and after a panse followed the
{ overture of Tannhanser,
bad the enthusiastie
| planse that greeted the
dering of Wagner's
sided than M. Helfs
speech and was followed by Koseyth,
Twice he stopped. and twice was he
begged ‘ovontinue by his eager coun-
trymen. After a short sketeh of the
Rearcely ap-
masterpiece sab.
made a short
of his exile, his
ideals that were
aspirations, and
now entertained bv
his eonntrymen. Marvellous was it
to hear that so orons voice resound
through the vast building.
Had he spoken Italian 1 should not
treme end of the hall, It was grand to
| ee the easy, graceful gestures of the
orator, «pite of his 88 years. The entha.
| siasm excited by his speach was inde.
| kerible, and it reached (is greatest
| he gth as the band burst forth in the
{#traing of the Hungarian March.
| When the toast to the King and Turin
was proposed, Kossath sgain rose,
#peaking in Italian this time, and ex.
pressed his greatest thanks to the city
that had afforded him hospitality for
#0 MANY Veare,
“Eljen Torino!” «Eljen Halia!” re.
sounded through the hall. At the end
of the ceremony the crowd detached
the horses from the carriage. and Kos.
“uth was drawn home amidst uproar.
ous cries of “Eljen Kossuth.” On
inquiring the next morning how the
General was, we were told that he did
not seem too much fatigued: he only
complained of his hand aching. And
well it might after all the hand-shak-
ings it had gone through,
a IA AAR
Beating a Circus Advertising Agent.
The weekly paper on which I
Jonened sy Bae wes situated in a
town w no cirens going West ever
skipped. We used to count on those
circus ads. as y as we did on
cash, of course, outside of the dozen
free tickets which the agent left, and
the money pu led the publisher through
a tight place more than once. Our ob-
ject was, of course, to get as high a
rate as possible, and to get a high
rate we had to boom the circulation,
It held steady st about 450, and for
the first three or four years it was suf-
ficient to tell an agent that we printed
“about a thousand copies.” After
that, bowever, there was one chap
who gave us trouble. He was an agent
for old Dan Rice, and he paralyzed us
by asking to sec the pile of paper we
had wet down for the outside pages.
While he didn't get to see it, he
he knocked our regular $40 ad. down
to $30, and he had no sooner gone than
we began to plan to beat him the next
Beason,
About the time he was expected we
got an extra bundle of paper, fixed it
with the landlord of the hotel to notify |
and the idea was to wet down |
enough to show a full thousand cop- |
We were daily expecting a call,
when an old tramp priver slouched
ies,
for a job. We were just getting
ready to work off the outside pages,
and us he said he was used toa «“ Wash-
ington” he was offered a quarter to
pull the edition. | was at the
and I saw that he knew his business
He could “fy” and <point” his sheets
with surprising dexterity, and he |
brought the lever around with a!
“chuck” which made things shake. |
In two hours he reached the bottom
theet and turned to the publisher
with:
“Is this a.) ?”
“Yes, that’s all.”
“1 make the ile four hundred and
fifty.”
“It’s about four hundred and eigh- |
Here's your quarter, and perbaps
i
roller, |
i
i
|
Ee
I i
¥
afternoon.” i
When afternoon came in walked the |
circus agent, looking as Jim Dandy as
you please, We took one look at him
and fainted. He wa: the identical |
the morniug. When we recovered
consciousncss he was holding out his |
blistered hands and saving:
leave six tickets. Sorry for vou, gen-
that extra bundle
counting liberally
of paper
on the price.
line, and it’s curious how tast the cir-
culation of the papers gets below five
hundred.”
mn ————
Arid Area of the Union.
The so-called arid area of the United
States, meaning the area which can
not used as and without
the aid of irrigation, has
variously estimated; really it
known, but certainly it is vast. It is
pretty certain that in the State of
Nevada alone there are 4,000,000 acres,
now of more productive value
be arable
litte
of Massa
adequate
popula-
tion of 300,000. The reclamation of
these barren acres would make the now
unhappy condition of Nevada as
farm
is a territory
cess of the
chusetts., I:
ares
el
Nor need the cost of such work be
| great, for Arizona has reclaimed 300.000
| acres of such land at cost of £3000 .
acre of irrigated land yields, at least,
as much as four of land moistened by
rainfall it becomes plain that the cost
is not excessive. Po rhaps not even the
| most favored parts of Kansas or 11.
land which have been redeemed from
the sage-brush area at a cost of 85.000.
O00, Colorado has expended between
O00 and £12.0
0 (Mus
in reser.
vo.ra and canals from which many of
of
its 26,000,000 acres arid lands can
The land under vation in New
DOO Dx
which can be made fertile in Colorado
Idaho has about of
now irrigated, and
more capable of irrigation,
tana, which has
about 2000 miles of
has a total of 50,000,000
of reclamation,
14 000.000
ACres
15,000 16H
and Mon.
constracied
nears
alr addy
neres capable
Thee vast areas will
brought under cultivation as the
difficulty in obtaining forest os prairie
lands in the States tillable by rainfall
increases. They are the future gran-
aries of the continent, and
the world.
God Helps Him Who Helps Himself,
Postmaster « General Wanamaker |
stated in a recent speech s seeSecretary
Noble said to me the other day that
sitting at the dinner tabe in the hotel
one of the waiters said to him: «Massa
Noble, couldn't you gib me an’ point.
ment as watchman or messenger down
there”, In a jocose way the Secretary
said to him, “Albert, you know the
old proverb, that everything comes to
him who waits.” Albert replied,
“Well, Massa Noble, Ise becn waiting
twenty years and nothing has come to
me, nohow.” Perhaps it ison the line
of the testimony of tho darky who, at
the prayer meeting, in giving testi
mony said that he noticed that when
he prayed for a turkey for dinner on
Sunday he dido’t get i but when he
prayed to the Lord to send him after a
turkey somehow his prayers were al
ways answered. There is a good deal
of suggestion at least in the testimony
of the colored brother.
ALL SORTS,
——————
How the Funny Men Are Earning
Thelr Money.
All A HT CHEW |
A racking psin rans through my brain,
Asx though my skull wound rend, oir;
I sneeze, | choke, my back i» broke ;
Can this be influenza?
My eyes are red, I'm nearly desd ;
wish this cold would mend, sir;
With each tresh breeze | madly sneeze;
© cursed influenza!
¢
"T' was Russiv's czar who from afar
This curse to us did ser d, sir,
And on Is grippe our tong. es do slip,
jut stick on influenza,
Pittsburg Chronicle- Telegraph
Patti has one thing in common with
the Chicago girl—she can spread her-
self over a large area. — Baltimore
American,
Yonkers has a musical prodigy. He
is twelve vears old and hates tle
sound of a tin horn.—N. Y. Commer-
cial Advertiser,
The cable is a great invention. It
enabled New York to sneeze as soon as
London
Milwaukee News,
Briggs— Wonder what possessed him
iraggs—There was a woman at the
bottom of it, I believe.—Terre Haute
Express.
He-—Why should you be so angry at
me for stealing just one little kiss?
Bhe—Any self - respecting woman
would be angry witha man who kissed
her just once.—Dramatic Critic.
A ton of limburger cheese was re-
at Pame.da Four Corners. Yet manu-
facturers complain that they are not
making a scent.—Staflord Herald,
Mr. Waldo (of Boston)—Will vou
have some of the cheese, Miss Breezy?
Mise Breezy (a guest from Chic ARO)
Oh, thanks awfully, Mr. Waido, 1
selieve you may pass me & small hunk.
- Epo bh.
People who say rolicemen are never
on hand when a fight is going on
slander the force. There was a prize
fight once and policemen seemed to
manage the show.—New Orleans
Doctor—+ Ah, ves; 1 see have
lung trouble.”
Patient (hopeless consumptive)—
“Excuse me, doctor, but it strikes me
that it's no V—Kearney
you
ing trouble
“How did
The per-
comes to Wag-
opera gets lefi when it
ner.” — Chicago Herald,
ornamental, but it
isn’t much use to the man who has to
hustle seventeen hours out of the
twenty-four’ for his daily bread, with
pie never any nearer than the horrizon.
Philadelphia Inquirer
Fame may be
A good thing can be carried too far.
he was about to die asked the doctor
for his bill, saving that he did not wish
to depart from his life-long rule, “Psy
| Inthe Black Maria: Tagrs—«Wot
{ makes vou sit up #0 hinder stiff an’ un-
sociable” Rags, loftly— «Why, I
ain't no common bloke, | ain't. Mr.
Vangoulderbilt had me srrested for
Munsey $ Weekls .
A broad hint: Landlord to depart-
guest —<I trust 1 may rely upon
your recommending my establish-
ment?’ Guest—1 dont happen to
{ have at this moment a mortal enemy
{in the world !"—Humoristiche Blaet-
fer. ¢ 1
88 YOU go." — Rome Sentinel,
beggin :
ing
“Love is blind.” Nonsense! Just
pay a little attention 10 some other
woman, and the woman who loves yon
will see it even if the transaction oce
cus tem miles away, with half a hun-
dred brick wa'ls {ntervening.—DBoston
Transcript.
“Thinketh no Evil.”—A indy is be-
ing examined in the police court.
Magistrate— Well, madam, one thing
at least seems 10 be certain: vour hus-
band beat vou.” Witness {apologetic
ally)~—+Yes, your honor; but then he
always was such an energetic man. ""e
Judge,
She Conld Not Accept. GOR] Ne
“Miss Weehawken will vou honor me
with your company to the opera on
Miss Weehawken— Din
prise party that ni ht. and
U'm expected to stay at home." —Mug-
sev's Weekly.
Society : Little Chick
“What do
little thing come tre
id hen (who
has inadvertently hatched a duck’s
egg)—“1 can’t help it, my dear.
We've got to put up with the creature
because she belongs to our set, you
know." — New York Weekly,
Miss Pretty (in tears and deep dis
tress)—Oh, mamma! |—went——to——
the—trunk-room-—and «— what — do —
you—think | —fo-fo-found ?
Mrs. Pretty—I'm sure I don't know,
dear. Surely the moths haven't been
at your new seal sacque?
#8 Pretty<-No, not so ba—ba--
bad as that—but 8 moth was shat up
with my ba-—bathing suit, and he ate
it all up.—Life. :
Dancing Master (condescendingly)
I presume, Mr. Oldboy never
ES] eg ne
r. I was much
to he hau, but have gotto Th ir
°
“1 dare say you
“For a nu of years I was thor.
the holi , and years and years