HY OWN ILtINOJTS.
UY EVA KATIIAIHNE ( OAPP.
Thore is many a pl. Hsnnt land that iios
Under tlie skv uiM;rlol,
Countries fair, 'whose beauty rare
Is the tlieuu-of half world.
But in eacli wanderer s heart of hearts,
Could hi* nun choice be known,
Ever vou'll iud infierilxd the name
Of the laud lie culls Ids own.
And to uie, there is u haunting melody,
Jlmt no discord doth destroy,
lu the soft, sonorous title of
My
Own
Illinois.
1 claim for her no legends,
Like the Gerinun for lis Rhine,
Bho does not boast tin classic palm,
Nor yet the gotliic pine ; , .
Rut. like some grav-oyed, brown hairou maid,
Not blonde, nor Clark brunette,
The temperate charm that is hor own
Her lovers ne'or forget
From tropic sun, oraretie soas,
No fierce extremes alloy
Tho hope-ins pi ring air that sweeps
My
Own
Illinois.
How blithely o'er her tortile fields
The prairie breezes blow
Across the level corn lands,
Where a nation's harvests grow.
The royal Mississippi laves
Her golden sunset side ;
Gh ains on her brow Lake Michigan,
A coronal of pride;
Her stately Garden City towors
With worthy pride up-buoy
Above all would-be rival States
My
Own
Illinois.
Deav State, the glint of thy wild flower,
Tito song of thy wild bird.
Were of color, and of music,
All my childhood saw or hoard;
Thrilling, like scents of paradise,
Across those dusty years,
They still make tonderest memories
That tremble into tears.
Untouched by bitterness, and, like
A child's kiss, sweet and coy,
Drifts back the dream of inuocouco in
My
Illinois.
• ••••••
When ou me dawns that fateful hour—
The Archer Death's own time—
Perebauce his shaft may still this heart
in so me far foreign clime.
But I pray that my dreamless dust may sloop
Where his song of reckless joy
The blackbird pipos to tho prairie sod
In my
Own
Illinois.
CHICAGO, 111.
AT THE OPEN WINDOW.
BY WILL HUDIURD KERN AN.
h ALLING WATER is
-\ the name of the most
j picturesque spot in
V ih . tlieCumberlana coun- I
, }* try of Tennessee. It I
is sit uiti 1a few miles i
sou "' Cookeville, i
IU awl > one of the first j
-SS JJ „J§fgf.places visited by tonr- !
ists "\vlio venture up ,
1 1 _ 'to that highland vil
lage. Caney Fork, a tributary of the
Cumberland River, rises in the moun
tains, and surges over the rocky ledges
a full hundred feet into the sequestered
valley below. And it is this cataracl
that is known as Falling Water.
The surrounding country is wild,
lonely, and romantic, and was a favor
ite resort of the moonshiners, until the
United States revenue officers swept
down upon them, shooting a few oi
them dead and sending many of them
to the penitentiary.
Not far from Falling Water is a
dee]), precipitous ravine, tho sides ol
which are covered with pines and an
impenetrable undergrowth of vines
and shrubbery. The density of the
foliage hides the bottom of the
ravine from view, but if you follow
a dim bridle-path trending from
the road, you will find that it
leads to the door of an old cabin sur
rounded by a stake-and-rider fence,
half bidden by blackberry bushes,
sassafras, and weeds.
This cabin was the home of old Mel
ton. a moonshiner, and his family, un
til the spring of 1871).
The still was located within a stone's
throw of the house, between two gigan
tic bowlders, and so cleverly was it
hidden by the rocky walls that towered
up ou three sides of it, and so cur
tained in was it on the remaining side
by the vines that fell in green festoons
from the gray ledges of free-stone
above, that tho old moonshiner felt
himself perfectly safe from the prying j
eyes of both officers and informers.
One evening about dark,as old Melton
Bat in the gallery of bis cabin, drawing
consolation alternately from a stone
iug and a corn-cob pipe, he was saluted
by a young man on horseback, who bad
ridden up from tho right and whose
face betrayed an expression of keen
annoyance.
"Hello!" cried the horseman, draw
ing rein, "can you tell me how far it is
to Cookeville?"
" 'Bout fo' miles, stranger," replied
Melton, rising to his feet and slouching
forward. "Hov yo' lost yer bearin's?"
"Yes; went down to old Davenant's
to collect a bill this morning and "
"Long Jack Davenant's, stranger?"
"Yes; up at the head of Caney Fork,
and "
"Why didn't yo' turn to tho left when
yo' came to Squar Mills' place?"
"1 did; hut I took the wrong road
out in that confounded flat woods."
"Jesso, jesso! Been thar myself
'Tis a puzzle to a stranger. An' wiiat
shell 1 call yer name ?"
"Wilford—Harry Wilford."
"Any relation t' the Wil fords down t'
Smith's Fork V"
"No; my home is in Nashville Am
a professional man there. Had to look
after a farm of mine down in DeKalli
County, and so I concluded to rido up
here and collect a hill from old Dav
enant before I went back to Lebanon.
The old man wasn't at home, though.
By tho way, could I llnd a place here
or hereabout to stay all night? It will
rain long before I can reach Cooke
ville."
"I dunno. P'r'aps Henry Q. could
keep yo'."
"Who is Henry Q., and whore does
he reside?"
"Henry Q. Clark, yo' know. Lives
'bout a quarter out 011 the Cookeville?
road yander," pointing to the left.
"Henry Q.'s rich—Henry Q. is. His
house must 'a' cost a cool live hundred.
Jest feller thet "
A blinding flash, a thunder-peal and
a driving torrent of rain interrupted
the speaker.
"Wall, I say, Mr. Wilford, if thet
are's ther way tlier weather's sr-gwine
ter act, I 'low yo'd better tav with
we'uns. We liaint much V offer, hut
sech f?z we lu-v yo're welcome to."
Wilford leaped from his saddle, threw
the reins over a sapling bough, and
bounded gracefully over the grass into
the cabin. He was a tall, slender,
handsome young fellow, with blonde
liair, a beardless face, and large, blue,
winning eyes, that sparkled with humor
or scintillated with wrath according to
liis varying moods.
Airs. Melton was sitting before the
lingo fire-place, industriously dipping
snuff. She was a lank anil angular
woiuau of forty, barefooted and dressed
m homespun. Mi© rone us "NYilfoni
rame in, responding to liis bow with a
ijiin r little bob of hor head, and thru
withdrcw into the Kitchen.
The room in which Wilford found
himself was large and trimly kept. A
bedstead stood in one corner, wliile u
row of rush bottom eliairs, a table and
a spinning-wheel completed the stock
of furniture. On the log walls of the
cabin were tacked a few unframed
photographs of family relations, while
on the mantel was a little mirror in a
pine-cone frame.
Mrs. Melton returned presently, and
began to spread the table for supper.
Wliile bringing iu the last dishes, a
large, bony, and sallow girl ran iuto
the room, her garments dripping with
rain and clinging close to her stalwart
frame. |
"Wlioop-ee! but wusn't I sheered ! H j
The lightnin' struck a tree not "
She stopped short 011 seeing Wil- j
ford, her eyes Hashed with anger, j
and she ran out of the room as 1111- 1
ceremoniously as she had come into it. I
"Thet thar's my darter Nance," re- |
marked old Melton; "an' she's the
smartest gal in these hyar mountings, j
She wus sorter set back when she seed !
yo\ but she'll come'iu arter erwhile an' I
play ns a cliune on the organette.
Nance is a pow'ful hand at the organ- j
ette, Nance is."
"Supper's ready," vouchsafed Mrs. ;
Melton, in a high, cracked voice. "Sit I
thar, stranger, an' reach fer yo'self."
Old Melton bowed his head, said
grace with all the gravity of a minis
ter, and then plunged headlong into a
discussion, oi religion.
"I blong to tlm Baptisses, I do. !
Tilda—thet's my wife thar- -sheb'lougs |
to the Hardshell Baptisses, the 110- I
eon litest church in these hyar moun- ]
tings. Nance thar's been a tlireatnin' 1
ter jine the Methodisses, but if she do
I'll drub her till she cain't holler."
The wife made 110 reply to the fling
at lier l'aith, but Nance glared at her j
father, and then, bringing her list down
011 the table so fiercely that the dishes ;
danced, she cried:
"I'll jine—l'll jine—l'll jine—l'll be
damned ef I don't jine!" and turning |
over her chair she tied the room, bang- 1
ing the door behind her as she went. •
"CAN YOU RRN, UB now PAH IT IS TO COOKKYILLKV"
Old Melton said nothing, but lie
clinched his teeth with an ominous sig
nificance.
Supper over and the table cleared off,
the old man went to the kitchen door
and called for Nance.
"What do yo' want?" inquired the
girl.
"I want yo' to come an' play us u
cliune 011 the organette."
"I wont."
"THHOTTLING MELTON, HE DARIIED HIM AGAINST
THE ITOCKY WALL."
"Yo' Will."
"I tell you, pop, I wont."
"Yo' wuthless wench! I'll lam ye |
who's boss. I'll boat you till the blood j
runs down yer legs, so lie'p me!" j
Running to a distant corner of the
main room lie caught up a gnarled ;
hickory cane and hastened back to the
kitchen.
"Where's Nance?" he demanded of |
his wife.
"She done put out while yo' wus
lookin' fer yer stick," was the answer, j
"The slut! I'll find her an'wallop
her like I would a dog."
"Stay, sir!" cried Wilford, as Melton
opened the door. "Stay, sir! Surely
you wouldn't strike a woman?"
"I wouldn't, eh ? I'll whip lier like
a dog, I tell yo'. Stand back!" and j
tearing himself loose from the grasp j
of his guest, 110 rushed out into the j
darkness ami was swallowed up in the
night.
Suddenly a wild scream rang high 1
over the roaring of the wind iu the j
pines a scream so pitiful that Wilford
rushed off in tho direction from
whence it came.
"Help! help! help!"
It was a woman's voice—Nance's
voice and Wilford hurried forward
through the blinding rain aud dark
ness of the wretched night, till he
stood in front of the towering boulders
that shut in the still.
"Damn yo'!" he heard Melton pant,
"yo'U disgrace yo'self an' yo' fambly
afore strangers ag in, will yo'? Yo'll
jine the Methodisses, will yo*?" and ;
with that he struck his daughter a
fearful blow, causing her to reel for
ward at the feet of the young man.
"Dog!" cried Wilford! "devil! Take
that!" and throttling Melton, bedashed
him against the rocky wall and struck
him between the eyes.
Melton drew a revolver, but, before
lie could use it, Wilford wrested it
from his hand, and knocked him head
long into tho shelter of the still.
"Ha!" cried Wilford, as a vivid flash
of lightning revealed the character of !
bis surroundings. "A moonshiner, I
•eo. I thought as much," and, taking
ft pair of handcuffs from liis pocket,
lie clasped them 011 the wrists of the
prostrate man.
'You will come with me," he con
tinued, dragging his prisoner into the
open air. "You will come with me.
1 have been looking for tliis still of
yours since last ueconiuer, but I
wouldn't have found it if you hadn't
been the brute that you are."
Stunned, confused, the old man
staggered to bis feet.
"What is hit, daddy? Why don't
yo' speak?"
It was the daughter who spoke— it
was the bruised and bleeding daughter
who now Hung her apron around the
eld man, and kissed his wrinkled face.
"Hit's all up with we'uns, Nance,"
answered the old man iu a husky voice.
u llit's all up with we'uns. This feller's
a detective."
"I knowed hit, daddy—l knowed hit.
He's been prowliu' 'round hyar all day.
I'd a-told yo', but I seed lie hadn't dis
kivered the still, an' I didn't want his
blood 011 yo' hands. But," and she
hissed the words through her set
teeth, "I'd a warned vo' when I went
home ef I'd a knowed hit'd come ter
this."
The party went back to the cabin,
and at daybreak Wilford prepared to
start with his prisoner for Cookeville.
They had proceeded less than
twenty yards from the door, when the
sharp report of a rifle was heard, and
Wilford reeled from his saddle—dead.
At the same moment the white, tense
desperate face of Nance vanished from
the open window.
('might Napping.
Stranger—Beg pardon for interrupt
ing. but you probably noticed in the
papers tliis morning that Lord Nabob,
who is 011 a visit to this county, met
with an accident in the park yester
day. He is a stranger here, and some
prominent citizen like yourself should
see that he receives proper atten
tion.
Business Man (much flattered)—
Really, I had not thought much of it,
but
Stranger—You probably uoticed in
the paper, too, that six persons were
injured yesterday iu a subway ex
plosion.
"Why, yes. Were there any lords
among them?
"Possibly. No telling. Two men
were killed yesterday by electric
wires."
"I noticed that: hut "
"Anil a number 01 persona were run
over."
"Yes, but tlie lord "
"Ah. yea. The Lord wills, and wo
must bow; but our families should not
be forgotten, sir; and us we are hour
ly exposed to these dangers, X thought
possibly you might wish to get in
sured in the 'Sure-Pop Life ami Acci
dent Company,' of which I am an
agent."—A'ew York IVeekhj.
(let Used to It.
"Can I useyour telephone a minute ?"
she asked, as she ran into a neighbor's
on Second avenue with a shawl over
her head.
"Oh, certainly."
"X am going to give a party next
week, and I want to invite a few
friends."
"Yes?"
"It is to be a very select party."
"Yes ?"
"Only my friends."
" V es ?"
"And, therefore, you—you won't
be ."
"Angry iflam not invited, nor won't
consider it cheeky if you use my tele
phone to invito others? Oh, no. Any
one who keeps a telephone in the house
fur use of tlie neighborhood soon gets
used to anything. Why, a man came
in here the other day and used the line
to call my husband up from town and
dun him for a bill! Go ahead and call
up tlio sub-office." —Detroit .Free
Press.
Pound 11 anting.
If a servant obeys orders as far as ho
can, and does his work correctly as far
as he goes, what more can bo expected ?
And yet the result is not always satis
factory, even to reasonable employers.
The Boston Courier has a story of a
woman who own a very large and baud
some dog, of which she is very fond,
and perhaps a little proud. The other
day she sent him out to the stable to
bo weighed, confiding the operation to
a new servant, who looked upon the
powerful animal with considerable awe,
and apparetly with some real affec
tion.
The man was gone a surprisingly
long time, but at last reappeared, and
announced that the dog weighed one
hundred and twenty pounds.
"Onehundred and twenty pounds!"
repented the lady. "Are you sure you
weighed him right ? He must weigh
more than that."
"Oh, yes, mnrm; sure an' I weighed
him right, but I eould't get him all 011
the scales."
Practical.
According to the philosophers every
thing has two uses, a lower and a
higher. Some very common people
find this out for themselves, so far, at
least, as the practical application of it
is concerned.
The daughter of the rector of a
parish in Hast Loudon-over-the border
taught the choir boys a new tune at a
Mouilay evening's rehearsal, to be sung
011 the following Sunday. Sunday
morning came.
"Well, Johnny," said Miss X—, "I
hope you haven't forgotten the new
tune, for we depend much on you."
"Nnw, mum, not a bit. I'vo been a
skeoring the crows with it all tho
week."
'l'HF.only privilegeof tho original man
is that, like other sovereign princes,
he has the right to call in tho cur
rent coin and reissue it stamped with
his own image.
I'.XPEiUENCK in business teaches a
man that too many debtors don't pay.
jCRAZY FOR ANTIQUES.
CHICAGO PURNITURE MANUFACIUK
EKS FORCED TO ODD CONCEITS.
Evtrjbodjr A]>o< llio Fashions Popular
with it Itatre Who Ifuve LOIIK Ileon Vool
fbr Worms Some i the Articles* Alter
Ail, hut Millon Snares, Oxi%li/.ed Shams,
and Iroii-llound Mockeries#
/ / - . IXTEENTH contury
;f / / mik with oxidized met
£/' 1 '■ al trimmings is the very :
V J fa/k latest novelty in parlor !
V'/ f ,iiul living room furni- !
and nowhere in j
i ihe country are those
back-number conceits
. w -^*jiiWJFL7V T 'iY'T reproduced in such
fjuperfection as by the
W Chicago manufacturer.
{ f/ bales-windows are
M filled with the artistic
WMtf fMt'&fflk creations, and advor
tising pages fairlybulge
3B Iwlth fancy etchings
by furniture
yy dealers, of whom none
ire as enterprising as our own. The arti
cles one sees in first-class houses are made
ap in both natural and antique designs, dull
and polished, and in a stylo which shows ,
that furniture as well as history repeats ;
itself. Most of the now goods are odds and
ends for library, parlor, and hall furniture,
and all more or less bound with metal.
Marble tops for dressers, mantels and cen
ter tubles are going out of date, but this
style of trimming is still popular in grave- j
yard decorations.
Plain oak is the most popular style oi
furniture at present, and tuk-s tho lead in
the sixteen different kinds of wood now in
thetmarket. Complete chamber sots in ash,
I Georgia pine, California redwood, maple,
i walnut, birch, cherry, mahogany, oak. eb
ony. rosewood, syeamoro. white mahogany,
satinwood, butternut, and olive can be
found at tho hading furniture houses in tho
city.
"Wo find that plain oak polishod has tho
preference over all the others," saidasalos
manin a Wabasli avenue house. "This is
the cu.se with the masses, as well as our
more aristocratic customers. Fancy carved
work in chamber suits is no longer in de
mand, and some oven prefer tho dull sheila"
finish instead of polished goods, in dining
room furnishings tho chairs are not HO
high-lmeked as formerly. and tho round
dining-table takes tho load, though tho
square ones are still being used. Tho va
riety of sideboards is now so extensive
that tho people are no longer building them
Into their housos. as they can buy uny stylo
they want ready-made."
One of tho very latest novoltios Is tho
gentleman's Oriental shaving cabinet. It is
called tho gentleman's cabinet to distinguish
it from the ladies' shaving cabinet, which
will be out soon.
The cabinet is of antique oak. sixteenth
century rtnlsfi, four foot li'gh and two feet
wido. fitted with drawers and lockora for
lather, razors, towels, and whetstones.
The top is surmounted by a small mirror
set in a carved frame and hung on swivels.
It is a handy thing to have in the house,
and is mounted on rollers so that it can be,
moved at wilL If the gentleman doesn't
want to shavo in a certain room ho can
shove the machine into unotli r part ol the
house. The drawer handles and hinges uro
of oxidized brass, tho hinges which are on
the locker extending half way across the
door.
Anothor cabinet is a combined barber
shop. wardrobo, dressing-case, and
chiffonier of antique oak. paneled. Iron
trimmings, and curved doors. It is con
siderably larger than the Oriental cabinet
and if It combined a folding-bed along with
its other conveniences would bo about
a complete chamber-sot fur a bachelor's
quarters. The Grecian is still anothor nov
elty in this lino, but smaller than the other
two. standing on raised legs handsomely
carved and mounted with polishod metal.
For tho encouragement of Chicago lltor
ati one firm turns out sixty different styles
in wilting-tables. They range from the
massive ofllce-dosk to tho dainty escritoire
suggestive of love-laden epistles traced on
per.umed paper. All the known timber
susceptible to tho designer and cabinet
maker's ait enter into the composition or
these tubles. Tho handsomest uto of an 1
tiquo oak. until latolv used only in odd
scd ill'polvit ilioft If ft.
pieces, but which now takes first place in
one or those dosks desire to close an im
proper or unprofitable correspondence, ho
everything. Quo of tho most unique was
of waterlogged oak. which is of a bluish-
Mack mottled color. In shape it is not un
like a packing-case. tho desk dropping
down from tho side and held in plabe by
chains. It is jutted with numerous
pigeon-holes and drawers, and it is bolted
tog ether at the corners with brass plates.
Tho design is similar to rno wrlting-dosks
In uso in the sixteenth ecntury nnd looks
raoro like a strung-box tliun a desk.
Tho colonial is anothor pretty dosign in
writing desks. It is of mahogany, filled
finish, with curv. d legs, carved In fantastic
figures, and claw feet of brass holding
white glass balls resting on the floor. I,ike
folding-beds, writing desks aro now mado
with Intent to deceive. Ono of the deceit
ful kind is a regular confidence game of a
desk. To look at it ono would think it was
a combination book-case and escritoire,
but it is neither. The book-cam attach
ment is a fraud, loing furnished on ibo in
side with a water-tank instead of shelves.
The lid of tho desk Loing raised reveals a
china wash-bowl connected with tho tank
by a pipe and also fitted with n waste-pipe,
which can be connected with the sewor at
a moment's notice, it is a very ingenious
c ontrivance indeed. Hnouia tno owner or I
can wash his bauds of the whole business i
thou and there.
Another bunko piece of furniture Is tho 1
sixteenth century c nt ir-table with one leg
growing out of a pedestal. It is u square
tupped table with round corners bound in
m tal witli Imitation bolt-heads, thus giv
ing out tho impression that tho table was
put together by a blacksmith. Hut this is 1
not tho only claim tho tublo has on tho peo
ple. Tho log. which is about a foot square. '
is hollow, and Is intended for a receptacle
for eontrabund goo Is for gentlemen only. 1
It is said that this table would find groat
favor in n prohibition community.
'J he hall chest is another odd conceit in !
bric-a-brac furniture. It resembles a car- i
renter's tool-chcstor an Englishman's box, i
better known as lu- r gage. Tiiev aro made ;
of tho different cabinet woods, but six- i
teenth century oak lias the preference, i
Seme are wrought in plain and others in i
shaded flni.-h, and aro liberally bound with
oxidized metal trimmings, the hinges ex
tending entirely across the lid. They are \
intended for uso in the front halls of fam- i
ily residences and make a convenient place j
in which to throw gum shoes and other '
hall litter when visitors arrive unexpected- I
ly. A Yale lock and key goes with each
and every hull-chest.
in parlor furniture tho overstuff is most
ly straight goods in tapestries with plush
trimmings. A fancy thing in parlor chairs
is the Louis XIV. and IV., either in natural
mahogany or antique oak. inlaid with mar
quetry. with white and old-gol I trimmings.
The Queen Anne bedstead is a novelty in
polished mahogany, with the head and foot
boards finished on both sides. It is usually
placed in tho middle of a room in order
that its lino points may bo seen from every
po nt. But in spito "of all tho rare and
costly gems in sixteenth century oak and
other woods tho old reliable nineteenth
century installment oak is by far tho most
popular.
UNCLE JERKY TODD'S DUTY.
OD-MORNI N\
"Uncle Jerry Todd, a
v v thin-faced, grizzly
haired, raw-boned old
eß * iei ' nei, addreas
ie lu ' w teacher
°f the Big Wolf Prai-
Upr vie school, in the
western part of Kan
sas.
"13em' as I'm one o' the skule boa'd
in this deesti'iot, an' bein' as yer hev
been wrestlin' with tlier kids o' Dig
Wolf Purary now fur nigh outer four
months, with nary a visit fruin me, I
jest kinder concluded ter drap in an'
see yer herd these blamed young crit
ters a spell this morniu'."
"Come in, Mr. Todd. Have that
seat," returned the teacher.
"Yer see, I'm gol-dnrned perticklor
an' conscientious-like erbout doin' my
juty by eddercation," proceeded Uncle
Jerrv, seating himself on tho end of a
much-whittled bench and discharging
a volley of tobacco juice that bespat
tered the legs of a desk and the bare
feet of a grinning urchin hard by.
"When my neighbors 'leuted me ter
be aboard member o f Dig Wolf Purary
Deestric' I done gin my word ter do
my juty straight an' simple, an' alraiglit
an' simple I'm aimin' ter do it. as
Sary Marinr was a mite grunfcy this
mornin' an' w anted me ter go down ter
Doc Duffer's ter git a matter o' calo
mile fur her stummick, I jest made tip
my mind ter come by tlier skule house,
discharge my juty straight an' simple
here, then go ou an' git tlier medicine
of Doc, an' git home fur dinner." And
ho emphasized his remarks with an
other robust expectoration that made
the unlucky urchin draw up his feet
out of danger's way, something as a
crawfish does.
Seeing the urchin's squirming, and
observing the general titter it was oc
casioning throughout the school, Uncle
Jerry's straight and simple duty moved
him to speak again.
"I'm feared, young feller, as yer fail
ter make these kids toe their mark
proper. See thet young un thar a
sqiiirmin'like as ef he's in a ager fit,
an' all tlier others ready ter bust at
him. Yer orto keep him straight in
his seat, and not 'low 'em ter giggle.
It's powerful bad ef loft ter go un
curbed in a skule. When I went ter
skule buck in Injiany, I tell yer I
wasn't 'lowed ter wriggle all over like
that kid was. Naw, sir! I was kep'
straight, an' when visitors come I bed
better manners than ter be a-gapin' all
round me, like I seen most o' yer
young uns a-doin' as I come in. My
teacher was strict on me, I kin tell
yer, an' I'm glad ho was, fur it has boon
tlier makin' o' me. Teacher, yer
kaint watch tlier leetle acts o'
yer kids clost enough. Them leetle
acts is what leads tor big ones. It's
well I'm not your teacher, young
uns, fur ef I was I reckon I'd
plumb churn tlier very daylights outen
yer hides, but I'd hev yer mind an'
show respect when members o' tlier
skule hoard visits tlier skule. Then
yer orto show more respect fur yer
teacher than ter wiggle an' giggle that
away. Alius respect an' obey yer
teacher.
"Teacher," lie continued, facing the
young pedagogue, "I felt it my juty
straight au' simple to make a few re
marks. A few remarks keerfully
drapped at tlier right time may be of
ontold benertit ter both teacher au'
youngster. That was what tlier old
fellers who use ter sarve on tlier dees
trict boards in Injiany 'lowed. Now.
kids, yer kin see what a attentive, good
little hoy I must a-beeu ter pay so
strict attention ter what mv elders said.
oncivilized, like someo' yer, I wouldn't
a-been able ter a-tole yer this day. It
pays ter notice an' imertate yer elders.
"Another tiling I fuel it my juty to
speak of. This 'ere is fast becomin' a
ago o' slang. Childurn, don't slang;
teacher, don't set tlier example. It
would be aonpardonablesiu fur yer ter
do so. Dekeerful o'yer language". Agin
I say unter yer young uns, watch yer
elders, an' imertate tlier words, au'
yer'll not bo apt ter fall inter thet aw
ful habit o' usiu' slang stid o' English,
what this doostrio wants taught an'
practiced right hero on Dig Wolf Pur
ary. I repeat, teacher, childurn, don't
slang!
"I hope as yer kin all tumble ter tlier
chune o' my rackit on this subject, with
out any furder words fruin me; fur I
must be goin' on ter Doc's fur Sary
Mariav's caloniilo, an' kaiu't stay longer
ter reitirate my remarks.
"But, in conclusion, I'll jist say: Set
a good example, teacher; hev a keer
ter yer acts an' words; an', yer kids,
mind yer elders, shun slang, an' now,
while yer young an' full o' sap, light in;
put in yer best licks at larniu'—lai n so
much as ter make yer dads an' mams
plumb 'shamed o' tlier ignurance—an'
git thar, Eli!"
And with his "duty" thus discharg
ed, Uncle Jerry Todd left teacher and
pupils to their anything but sober re
flections. They had food for thought
for tho rest of that term.— Chicayo
Ledger,
How tli© Joke Was Evened.
We had a new master in W Aca
demy, Now Hampshire, says It. lied
wood, in the New York Mercury , when
1 was a pupil there not many years
ago, with whom we promised ourselves
some sport, before we got through with
him the first morning he faced us in
tne ciass-room. no was a moderato
sized, rather dolicato man, with a |
mild, defensive air that seemed to
appeal to our generosity to make his ,
life less of a burden to him than we i
had made that of his predecessor.
He appeared to fear we would carry I
him out of the building or spring some !
sort of a miue under his feet for the
first few days, and he eved Willi ins
Sharp, our ringleader in 'all mischief, !
with a sort of care, as though he felt
completely at his mercy,
Things moved on with half-hearted
uncertainty for about a week. The
master held such a lax grasp of the
reins of authority that we expected to
make him step down and out within a
few days at the furthest. ' lis reading
of a lengthy chapter frrn Chronicles
or Deuteronomy every morning before
prayers was a grievance which the more
active spirits determined to redress.
We knew tliero was fun on hand, of
what nature the majority of us were
ignorant, wlieu we went into the class
room one morning in the second week.
A loud bray greeted us, which we an
swered with shouts of laughter. A don
key stood in the master's place at the
dealt before the open Bible, with a
huge pair of rusty-rimined glasses
straddling his nose and a ludicrously
Boletnu expression of countenance, as
if he wished to bear the honors thrust
upon him with becoming dignity.
We were all in our seats trying to
smother the mirth, when the master
came in. He walked up to the desk as
usual, and seemed to look right
through that animal without seeing
him. "Behold thy brother!" staring
at him from the board made no impres
sion on his optic nerve. He stood upon
the light of the desk, looking down
upon us without a word. As we
watched he seemed to rise inches be
yond his usual height. His eves fairly
blazed behind his glasses. His mild,
defensive air changed to such masterly
aggressiveness that we fairly quaked
before him.
l'reseutly he brought his glanco
round upon Wilkins Sharp and concen
trated it on his face. Those orbs of
flame seemed to scorch him. His face
reddened, as if he had been pulling
chestnuts out of the fire.
" Wilkius Sharp, come here!" said the
master.
Wilkins obeyed with a look of bra
vado.
"Bide that donkey out of the room 1"
Wilkins did not move to obey willi
alacrity.
"Do you want a lift?" inquired the
master, and in a flash, by some dexter
ous movement of arm and boot that
fairly dazzled us, Wilkins was "boosted"
upon the creaturo's back and was 011
his way to the door amid a roar ol
laughter.
We looked at the master. Ho had
relapsed into his usual calm
"Now that we are rid of the donkey
and his brother," he said, as he turned
over the leaves of the Bible leisurely,
"we will read the third chapter ol
Leviticus."
STUFF AND NONSENSE.
SET in her ways—a brooding hen.
A SWALLOW-TAlL— the story of Jonah
and the whale.
I'' l it ST mattress—How do yon feel?
Second mattress—Full as a tick.
THE monkey goes to the sunny side
of the tree when ho wants a warmer
climb.
PRAYERS may go begging for an
answer, but "\Vkat'U you have?" never
does.
BUTTIN' a patched dime in the collec
tion box is like buyiu' a scalper's tiokot
to heaven.
Soup a la Jay Gould—take a little
stock, six times as much water, and
then put in the lamb.
TEACHER " 'Anonymous' means
'without a name.' Give an example,
Miss Griggs." Miss Griggs—"My baby
sister is anonymous."
LOAFER How are you? Just
thought I'd drop in a while to kill
time. Busy Man—Well, we don't want
any of our time killed.
BROWN— How time flies. Jenkins—l
am not aware of its speedy passage.
B.— Then you have not a note to pay.
J. —No; I hold yours.
BLOODQOOD— SiIby always reminds
me of a breeze that comes before a
summer's rainstorm. Travis—Why?
"Because," answered Bloodgood, "lie
is so fresh."
"THIS is a little lato for you to be out,
isn't it, l'eck ? Aren't you afraid your
wife will miss you?" Mr. N. Beck—l
liopo she will. Sho can fling things
pretty straight, though.
MRS. HINTON (recently marriod) —
Did you know my husband was very ill?
Miss Carrington- 1 suppose lie must be,
my dear. Before he married you he
told me I had broken his heart.
VISITOR— (to bereaved widow) —Your
husband, I understand, was killed in a
factory? Widow—Alas, yes; poor dear
William was reckoned a smart man,
but he didn't know much about fly
wheels.
STATION-MASTER— Come, come, my
good man, yon mustn't walk on the
track. Tramp (disgustedly)— The con
ductor says I can't ride, and you say I
can't walk. What's your blamed old
road here for, anyway ?
WILLIE— I wonder why I can't make
my kite fly? Elder sister —Perhaps
the caudal appendage is dispropor
tionate to the superficial area. Willie
-—I don't think that's it. I believe there
isn't weight onough 011 the tail.
MRS. STATESMAN— Do you know, sir,
that you came home last night in an ut
terly disgraceful condition ? Mr. States
man (swallowing about a quart of wa
ter) —"Woman, do you know that the
time of year has arrived when the
country"has to be saved again ?
MRS. SKINNPHLINT— Josiah, don't
you think Johnny's hair needs cutting?
Mr. Skinnflint (lookiug up from his
paper) —How long is it till Christmas?
A little over five weeks. (Resuming
his paper)— All right, I'll give him a
hair-cut for a Christmas present.
A COMPLICATED FUNERAL.
O bury my arms in dear Mexico.
Ami bury my heart In tho South.
O bury my loss iu the State ut New York,
In Georgia please bury my mouth.
For lb rye been married at least (our
times.
To spouses who've laid down their lives,
And now that I'm dead I wish to ho
placed
At the side of my various wives.
BROWN— And so yon have got a first
rate cook? What paper did you adver
tise in? Fogg—-Didn't advertiseiuany,
Mv wife told Mrs. Gray we wanted a
girl, hut made her promiso not to tell
anybody. "Well?" "Well, we had
the door-liell ringing for a fortnight
from morning till night. No less than
a hundred applications for the place."
A WOMAN who favors equal suffrage
' wants to know if it is a crime to be u'
.'woman. No, bnt it is not manly. We
will say no r * o '
FADS OF NEW YORK WOMEN.
Their Idiotic Affectation of -listli.tlci am.
—-rjr CUNNINGS a wom
flVv'-V „ eji rfjfiian cannot learn
Jgjlin the beauty
parlors of New
tf Mine, de Uosmet
1L iquo lolls about
icr/'tfkl in scented liair
am * clinging
■t/sSSsilks, are not
Nit 7 J"ifc worth prosecut
;V ing. But it isn't
every Lady Jane
who can get the
flfflllill entree and the
M I In privilege of being
robed icsthetieally. Begular patrons
are asked to be cliavy about recom
mending new people, and unless the
"would be" is properly presented she
"can't be," and that ends the matter.
But the sweet ways a patroness can
be taught! Shade of the guileless
Martha Washington ! There's the Pic
cadilly walk, foriustance, that requires
a free leg from the knee, and a rotary
motion at tho hip, with a three-quarter
side advance—as tho lesson says. Mas
ter the formula and yon save ten dol
lars. Then, there's the hollow back,
which is as hard to master as a table
of logarithms. It will be remembered
that the bustle was dropped like a
flash, and all of a sudden tho rubbers
were unbuckled, and away went the
extenders, leaving the style Hat, the
gown Hatter, and the girl the Hattest
thing in clothes. For awhile she was
afraid to sit back in the cars. But
that didn't hurt anybody's eyes. The
trouble began when she stood up or
walked about with her stomach out
and her back as hollow as a grace
hoop. Madam puts her patrons in
training for a week, at five dollars an
hour, walking first-in her night gown,
and by degrees through and into her
clothes, rounding off with a full even
ing dress.
Another costly lesson is the stage
laugh, warranted to sound well, to
ring musically, and to prevent wrin
kles. It has been proven that merri
ment and hearty laughter is more pro
ductive of wrinkles than care or the
cruel touch ol' Time. The instructress
does not pretend to remove tho fur
rows already ploughed about the eyes
of beauty, but she does claim that her
method will keep the lace in repose,
and while it remains so the creases will
be insignificant. She gives the pupil
a handglass, seats lier in a mirror-lined
corner, and commands "a quiet face."
Then she gets a funny paper, for
which the very cream of risibility is
selected, and as she reads the listener
is expected to look in tlie mirror and
laugh, if at all, with the lower part of
her face. "Move your lips and chin,
and open your month if your teeth are
good, but keep the muscles of your
eyelids rigid." The expression pro
duced is simply fiendish, and if the
laugh is not a vocal shudder it is of
tin) cylindrical sepulchral sort with
which all theater-goers are familiar.
In tlie trainiug it is necessary to bind
the cheeks and temples with strips of
court-plaster, and tlie mockery of it
all would bo ridiculous if it wasn't so
serious. But there's good even iu
liumbuggery, and loud laughs are cut
down, harsh voices sweetened, and
gratuitous advice given in "making
faces," tinting ears and lips, and dye
ing hair. At the rate of fifteen dol
lars a sitting. Madame can afford to be
magnanimous.— New York letter to
Chicago Ledger.
Look at the Works.
"This is a plainer-looking watch
than any which I have shown you,'*
said a silversmith to a customer lately.
"The case is not handsome, but the!
works are fine. It will not vary its ratQ
of running for months at a time.
"The cheaper watches arc more showy
outside, but they are loosely made.
You will find that dust and rust will
soon clog their works and in a little
while, owing to some trifling defect ia
the machinery, they will not move at
all. There is nothing in which you
should exercise so much caution as iu
choosing a watch."
Now the majority of young men and
women exercise much more caution
in deciding upon a watch than they da
in choosing a wife or hii?b.\ud.
The hero of a popular French story
expresses this idea with a good deal of
humorous force.
"If I want to buy a watch," said he,
"I take it home on trial for a year, and
if it does not please mo I can send it
back. But. I can't take her on trial to
see how she will go! If she does not
keop time, tliero is no sending lier home
for repairs!"
A young man is so charmed by the
pretty face or sweet voice of a girl that
lie is sure she will make him forever
happy if he can win her as a wife. Ho
looks at the case of a watch, which ia
showy and handsome. But is there no
defect in tho works V
A habit of malicious sarcasm, of
slovenly idleness, of peevish ill-huiuor,
these are the things that rust tho
wheels in married life. Or, a young
girl finds a lover witty, handsome,
courteous; he is a good tenuis player
or sings a comic song very effectively.
She fancies herself madly in love
with him. The fact that ho drinks, or.
is selfish and indolent, or treats his old
mother harshly, counts for nothing
with her.
Y'et how soon one of these faults
stops the whole machinery of a home!
Few marriages, comparatively, end
in absolute divorce. But how many,
from the jarring of petty faults, or of
diverse aims and tastes in husband and
wife, result in weariness and utter
wretchedness! The works are not fitly,
adjusted, they wear out with incessant
friction, and at last, perhaps, stop alto
gether. The end is not a damaged
watch, but a shattered home, and two
ruined lives.
Most readers of the Companion
probably are either married or hope to
be married happily at some future day.
Their old friend has but one word of
advice 011 this most momentous of all
subjects:
Tlie beauty or costliness of the case
matters but little. Look at tlie works.
Yoilth* A Cnmvaninii.
Handsome Is as Handsome Does.
Bob on—Where are you bound?
Beuisen—Up to ask my pretty cou
sin to marry mo.
Boboon—Well, good luck to you.
Berasen—Thanks, dear boy.
Bobson (an hour later) —Well, di(?
your pietty cousin say yes?
Bemsen—No; tlie homely thing re
fused me.— Judge.
THK parent who sends his son into
the world uneducated and without
wkill in any art or science does a great
injury to mankind as well as to his own
lamily, for lie defrauds the comunity of.
a useful citizen and bequeaths to it ol
nuisance, J