FREELAND TRIBUNE.
PUBLISHED EVERT
MONDAY AND THURSDAY.
TIIOS. A. BUCKLEY,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
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Honor and shame from no condition rise,
Act well your part -and widely advertise)
The New York Advertiser confesses
that it is becoming tiresome to read
how celebrated authors wroto theii
first books.
Philadelphia has her school chil
dren observe Penn Day. The anni
versary falls on October 27th. The
year of the lauding of the good ship
Welcome was in 1082.
England seems, to the New York
Telegram, to lie recovering from its
impression that marriage is a failure,
for tho register of marriages for ISO J
exceeds that of any year since 1881.
"Romance never dies iu Germany,
exclaims the New York Tress. At
Frankfort on the Main a lady just de
ceased has bequeathed 40,000 marks
to "tho widow and children of my first
love."
There is a movement in London to j
provido help for the less fortunate ;
members of the legal profession and
their widows and children. Existing
law charities provide small pensions
and gifts of money, and there are also
homes where annuitants with a small
income can be received. The aim is
to supplement these agencies and to
grant relief in cases where they do j
not touch.
•'There is a glimmer of light iu the !
domestic horizon shining to the over- j
worked and over-worried women of
New York aristocracy," announces i
Truth. "Seemingly thero is a remote
chance that Bridget and her success
ors from Norway, Sweden, Denmark,
Germany and other over-populated
countries may be thrown down from
the throne they have so long occupied.
The revolutionizing agent is the little,
bright, industrious Japanese woman
servant."
Lipton, the big provision dealer of
London, declares that "in Ireland
there is a magnificent future for the
fruit-growing industry if only its op
portunities wero turned to account.
Even now most of the blackberries
that come to tho English markets are
grown in Ireland. But thero are
enormous possibilities thero of which
no one has yet taken advantage.
Properly worked, its fruit trade mighl
yet do much to insure Ireland's com
mercial prosperity.
South Germans are fond of com
plaining of the tendency of
the Berlin Government to Prus
sianize everything and to avail
itself of Emperor William's position
as head of tho Confederation known
as the German Empire to encroach
upon tho independence of the Federal
States. A cursory glance around tho
various great departments of the State
at Berlin conveys tho impression, to
the New York Tribune, however, that
these allegations are unfounded, aud
that, instead of Germany becoming
Prussianized, it is Prussia which is
becoming Germanized. Thus it is u
Baden statesman, Baron Marschal von
Bieberstein, who is Prussian Minister
of State and Foreign Affairs. It is a
Hessian, Dr. Hoffmann, who is Presi
dent of the Royal Chancellerie of the
Kingdom. A Hanoverian, Dr. Miquel,
is Prussian Minister of Finance, while
a Bavarian, in the person of Princo
Hohenloho, holds the joint offices of
Prime Minister of Prussia and Chan
cellor of the < '■! nun!! Ki:<plre
May Grow l! Hero.
Americans import from Japan about
40,000,000 pounds of tea a year and
45,000,000 pounds from china. If the
tea market eventually becomes much
disturbed, there will be an Increase of
Interest iu the tea-growingexperimeuta
in South Carolina ami Florida.
Roumanian Humility.
According to i Roumanian custom,
when a servant has displeased his
master the offender takes his boots in
his hands and places them before the
bedroom door of his noisier. It is a
sign of great submission.
—"Do poets wear long hair?" "Notall
of them. Some of them are married."
A WINTER FANCY.
Agnlnst the pane the fsnow drifts fast;
The cold night wind goes sobbing past,
Alone I sit. and close my eyes.
And think and long for summer Jskies#
I have a vision— strangely sweet—
A field of waving summer wheat;
Hills clothed in green from top to basee;
A silver lake, across whose face
I'he breeze make smiles, while to and fro
The white swans slow and stately go.
An orchard all flush with bloom :
A dark wood, and within its gloom
A thrush that sings onco and again
His madly sweet and ecstatic strain :
'Tis answered by notes clear and strong, 2
And all the air is filled with song.
How tho birds sing ! And well they may j
Who would not sing on such a day?
0 world so fair, O life so dear,
Just now Clod's heaven itself seems near!
I The dream is past; I wake alone ;
! I bear the cold wind's angry moan,
And sob aloud, "Be swift to bring,
Most gracious Lord, our life's sweet spring.''
—Virginia Franklyn.
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL.
BY MAY M'IIENKY.
tHE two women shut
the door carefully
nnd looked it as
tli e y went out.
They did not say
iiuythinguntil they
bud climbed tbo
rickety fence and
wero out in the
, j road. Thoughts of
fl' what they had left,
.hut up alone there iu tho bare, silout
cubiu, silenced even their loquacious
tongues. When they were halfway
down the hill Mrs. Sutton drew a long
breath and pushed hack her sun
bonnet.
"There, thank goodness, that's over 1
ft was a task, but some one had so do
it; and I'm glad I'm not one of them
that's afraid to take nholt. Not that
t minded layiu' out the poor thing,
even if she was a foreigner. I like to
do what's my duty to do; but when it
jomes to takiu' pauper children to
raise, why I don't believo it's required
at me. What Ide Bowman wanted of
them I can't see, jjoor as they 'are.
Bnt I wasn't going to tell her no't to
take them, for then they would come
on the rest of us somehow; aud the
poor tax is high enough already, good
uess knows."
"It'savrful foolish of her," said Mrs.
Burt, severely. "Ide always was a
soft thing, and it's just like her, taking
a couple of little scarecrows liko thai
that haven't any claim at ull on her,
just because sho pities them. And,
land sakes, just think how poor they
are, aud Steve a cripple 1"
"Oh, it takes your real poor folks to
afford the luxury of being charitable,
and they're the sort that are likely to
end up ou tho township, too," said
Mrs. Sutton, tossing her head. "That
sort think them that work and manage
and have a little money ought to give
it all away. Ide had the audacity to
say that siueo Sutton and me had no
family and had the farm aud tho store
both to fall back on, it would he nice
for us to take the little dagos to raise.
But I soon give her to understand that
1 hadn't been workin' all these years
to throw away what I'vo got ou no
account paupers."
"Steve is going to have a steady job
this winter ou Mr. Plunkin's mill. I
suppose she is counting on that. She
told mo about it when she came to
tell about the Italian woman being
dead," observed Mrs. Burt.
While tho two matrons from down
in the valley walked leisurely toward
their comfortable homes, the subject
of their discourse was hurrying
through the woods in an opposite di
rection. She carried a burden much
too heavy for her slender frame, and
a little boy, scarcely able to toddle,
clung to her skirts and weighed her
down. She hurried, panting, along
the rough path and kept looking back
over her shoulder in a frightened way,
as though she was carrying off, con
cealed under her shawl there, a treas
ure from the dead woman's cabin.
Her head was bare ; sho had taken her
faded hood to tie about the little boy's
shivering shoulders, and you could
see that her face had tho waxy pallor
of extreme ill-health. Tho skin was
drawn so tightly over her high, nar
row forehead it was a wonder the
bones did not push through. Her
prominent light eyes had a weary,
helpless stare, and the heavy masses
of her lustreless brown hair made her
head seem too big and heavy for the
pitiful little pipestcm ol" a neck that
supported it.
The small one-story house at the end
of the path up the hill was homely
and unpretentious euoiigh, but after
the wretchedness and squalor of tho
placo where the poor stranger had
lived with her children, it looked com
fortable and inviting."
44 We have lots to bo thankful for.
There are so many that are poorer,"
said Ide Bowman to herself, as she
pushed open tho door of her home.
There were but two rooms in the
bouse, both as bare and empty as they
well could be to contain ail the furni
ture of a household. Ide passed
through tho kitchen into the bedroom,
where she placed her burden, a sleep
ing girl baby, upon tho bed, and set
tho boy on the faded coverlet beside
her. Without stopping to takeoil'hcr
shawl, she drew a box irom under the
bed and began to take out the little
garments with which it was packed.
With what bitterness and rebellion
she had thrust those patched and
darned baby dresses out of sight iu
the hour of her groat desolation. Sho
could not bear the sight of them then.
Now sho lilted them out with linger
ing caro and passed her hands caress
ingly over the folds and creases that
spoke so eloquently of theplunq) buby
limbs that hud worn them.
"They will fit exactly," said Ide,
looking np at the waifs on the bed.
She washed and dressed the mother
less little strangers and fed them the
scraps she could find in the bare cup
board. Then she sang them to sleep
in the long disused trundle-bed. They
were not particularly pretty children,
they had never been well enough fed
and cared for for that; but Ide hung
over the trundle-bed and feasted her
hungry eyes. An empty place in her
heart 6eemed to be filled at last.
The poor little peaked-faced things!
She would take such good care of
them; she could keep them so much
cleaner and warmer than even their
own mother iiad kept them. She was
almost glad the poor woman had died.
"I will keep them for my own—my
very own !" she whispered exultingly.
Night came on, but Ide was ab
sorbed in her day dreams, and failed
to notice the gathering darkness and
the howling wind. Hinging footsteps
along the path roused her at last. She
hurried out into the kitchen, shutting
the bedroom door carefully.
Stevo was corning! Steve—what
would he say? The man lot in a great
gust of wind and rain as he entered.
The long drought was ended at last.
"What anight—what a night!" said
Steve, in his loud, cheery tones; and
Ida's hands shook as she lighted the
lamp, for fear he would waken the
children.
He WAS a big fellow, tall and broad
and well knit, with a suggestion of
strength in every line of his sinewy
body. His good-natured face was
half covered by a bushy black beard;
aud his crisp, black hair curled from
the very stiengtli of it.
But this strong man had been par
tially shorn of his strength. The right
sleeve of his blue cotton blouse was
pinned across his chest, limp and
empty. An accident on a sawmill three
years before had robbed Stevo Bow
man of his strong right arm, and since
then things had not been going so well
in the little weather-beaten house on
the hill.
"I'm wet to the skin," ho said. "Tho
fire is out! Why, Ide, woman, what
are you doing without a lire such a
night? There is plenty of wood. No
wonder you're sick if you sit iu the
cold."
Ide commenced to put wood in the
stove with nervous haste. "In a min
ute, Stove; I'll have fire in just a min
ute," she said.
4 4 And supper isn't ready. How docs
it come you haven't supper ready?"
"I forgot it," stammered Ide.
1 Steve did not say anything, but he
pushed awny aud proceeded to kindle
the fire himself. Ho was hungry and
cold ; he had worked all day with noth
ing to eat but a couple of apples and a
piece of hard bread for dinner.
Ide spread the cloth and put a plate
and a knife and fork on the table ; then
sho stood still and wrung her hands in
silent dismay. Sho had nothing to
give him; sho had fed everything to
the children. He worked so hard ;he
was so good to her, and she took the
bread from his mouth to throw it to
strangers.
4 'Just some of tho bread and pota
toes left from breakfast, Ide. What
ever you can get quickest," said Steve,
drawing up his cliair to the table.
Two red spots burned on Ide's thin
cheeks. The little boy had eaten the
last of tho bread—the very last mor
sel,fund she had smiled to see him de
vour it so greedily.
4 'There's some boiled potatoes, that
is all," sho said. "I'll warm them up
for you. You like potatoes so, Steve."
"Is that all there is to eat in tho
house?"
"Potatoes—that's all," said Ide,
faintly.
44 We11, let me have them. That
way —it doesn't matter if they are
cold. I could eat them raw. That's
the advantage of going hungry a
while. It cures one of squeamishness.
I never thought wo would get down
this low; did you, Ide?" Steve said,
with a pitiful attempt at a smile, as he
finished the potatoes.
He sat down with his back to the
stove, and leaned his head on his one
hand. Ide looked at his broad, steam
ing shoulders in dull wretchedness;
RIIO could not find courage to tell him
what she had done. Perhaps ho would
be angry. No ono could blame him
even if he were to beat her. Other
men sometimes boat their wives for
ranch less. He had so much to bear,
and she had added another burden,
j Two more hungry mouths to fill, when
they could not get enough for them
selves.
"Are you hungry too, Ide?" Steve
asked, turning suddenly to look at her.
Ide shook lier head ; sho could not
speak. The man laid his head on the
back of the cliair and groaned aloud.
"I tell you it's hard. It's too Hard
when things go against a man this
way,'' he said, between shut teeth.
"But I won't knock under so easy.
There's fight in mo yet, if I nm lop
sided."
"You got the job on the mill, didn't
you?" Ido asked, huskily. It meant
so much, that job on the mil!.
"No; they gavo the place to Jake
Mortz. Plunkius said ho did not
think a cripple would do. It was his
carelessness made me a cripple. What's
that crying, Ido?"
"I hadn't told you yet. It's the
Italian woman's children," Ido said,
quickly and nervously. "The poor
foreigner whoso husband worked on
the railroad and got killed, you know.
To-day, nor yesterday nor the day be
-I'oro I didn't see any smoke coming
from her shanty, and something moved
mo to go down and see what was the
matter. Stove, she was dead. There
she laid, stiff and cold, and the two
little children huddled up in the same
bed, half starved and half froze, a
wait in' for her to wake up. Such a
wretched sight it made mo sick to see
—and the woman dead with only a fow
rags over her and her glassy eyes star
ing. I run for Mrs. Burt, and her
and Mrs. Sutton come and helncd inc
lay her out. I had to take my
boat shimmy, my wedding one that 1
always saved to put on her. They're
going to fend word to the poor over
seer to come and bury her. But I
had to bring the little ones home with
me—just for to-night. The township
will take them to-morrow. Mrs. Burt
says there's where they belong ; they're
afraid in there in the dark, that's
what makes them cry. I couldn't
leave them alone with their dead
mother, could I, Steve? So I thought
just for cne night—"
"Let's see them," said Steve.
The children stopped crying when
Steve and Ide entered the bedroom
and leaned over the trundle-bed.
They blinked at the sudden light, and
the little girl reached out her arms
toward it and laughed.
"Chirp-looking little kids. A boy
and a girl, about the age of our two,
ain't they?" said Steve, getting down
on his knees so ho could see them bet
ter.
"The boy's just the same size our
Tommy was when ho died, and the
baby, she's younger than littlo Ida,
but not much," Ide answored. She
stood behind Steve and her face was
drawn and gray. She had been so
happy in her dream of keeping the
littlo waifs. The awakening was bit
ter ; it was like a second bereavement.
But they were so poor, and only
Steve's ono arm to keep starvation
from the door, and now he had failed
to got work on the mill.
"It'B going to make it pretty hard
for you, Ide. They'll make Borne
work ; but maybe they'll be some com
pany for you," said Steve. "VVe
can't do as well by them as Homo
could, but they haven't been brought
up in the lap of luxury, I reckon.
They won't need much for a while, so
I guess we'll manage to get along. I
got a job to-day husking corn over at
Squire York's. I can do that pretty
well by tisin' my teeth, even if I have
only ono hand. There's always some
thing, if a man's willing to tako what
ho can get. Yes, we'll manage it
somehow."
"What do you meau, Stove?" cried
Ide, shaking all over. "We can't
keep them ; we're too poor. They'll
have to go on the township—we're too
poor."
"We're poor, but they are poorer,"
said Steve. "There aren't many folks
in the world poor enough for us to
help much, I guess; but here's our
chance. Poor folks must help each
other. If these were rich people's
kids the rich would bo ready to tako
caro of them. And the township
makes a cold mother. I was left on
the township myself, and I'd rather
have a child of mine dead—and they
are dead, aren't they ? There, don't
cry, Ide. I didn't mean to make you
cry, my poor girl. I thought when I
saw you had dressed them up in our
little one's clothes, of course you
would want to keep them in place of
your own. You do want them, too,
don't you! There, there, don't cry
so ! i f you wanted them so bad, Ide,
why didn't you say so?"
But Ide could only try to put her
arms around him and the little girl on
his breast and the boy on his knee all
at once, and cry: "Oh, Steve—oh,
Steve!"
The storm raged outside; the wind
anil the rain joined hands, and the
roar of the tempest filled the darkness.
The forest creaked and groaned, and
great trees were twisted out like
flower stalks. -The house rocked and
trembled, and the driving rain beat in
and lay on the floor in creeks and
puddles. But the fury of the storm
passed unheeded. Peace and happi
ness reigned undisturbed under the
leaky roof of the house on the liill.—
Independent.
Yawning as a Remedy.
Yawning, though contrary to the
canons of good society, is undoubt
edly very beneficial to tho individual.
Muscles are brought into play during
a good yawn which otherwise would
never obtain any exercise at all, and
its value as a sort of natural massage
is considerable. The muscles which
movo the lower jaw and tho breathing
muscles of tho che3t are the first ones
used during the process of gaping,
then thetouguo is rounded and arched,
tho palate tightly stretched, and the
uvula raised. The eyes generally close
tightly towards the termination of the
yawn, the ears are raised slightly and
the nostrils dilated. Tho crack some
times heard in the ear proves that the
aural membranes are also stretched
and exercised, something impossible
by any process but a yawn. It has
recently been recommended by some
doctors that sufferers from nasal
catarrh should make a practice of
yawning six or seven times a day and
good results will follow. It is also
considered valuable in inflammation
of the palate, sore throat and earache.
New York Herald.
In Cases of Croup.
A standard medical authority snyp
that the first tiling to do for the child
is to put his feet into as hot mustard
water as he can bear, and be sure that
the room is very warm. If possible,
put him into a lmt bath, and then
quickly drying him, put him 111 bed
between blankets. Even before put
ting him in bed give him sirup of ipe
cac in teaspoonful. doses until he
vomits. For external applications
take two tablespoonfuls of turpentine,
and four tablespoonfuls of goose oil,
or sweet oil, or lard oil, mix well, and
rub thoroughly on the outside of the
throat. Saturate a flannel and lay it
over the chest and throat. Hot bricks,
or bottles filled with hot water, should
bo placed at the child's feet and at
the sides of his body to induce per
spiration. Keep them carefully cov
crod. Alter the vomiting tho
must bo kept open with sirup of
squills. The best drink for the child
is slippery-elm water. Give plouty of
nourishment to keop up tho strength.
UNIQUE CHARACTERS.
TRAITS OF HUMANITY CONSPIC
UOUS ON ELECTION DAY.
A Day "When Every One Is u Poli
tician—The Man with a Tin Horn-
The Man Who Wins a Bet-Fair
Woman at the Polls.
Many Kinds of Voters.
Every movement or event In which
large numbers of men are interested
has its humorous side, and an election
is no exception to the rule. The grave
historian who looks upon the ebb and
flow of politics with as much calm
philosophy as the boatman watches the
movements of the tides does not see the
undercurrent of fun, for he regards all
nE WON A BET.
events from a standpoint so lofty that
Ihe little funny doings of life, those
that go towards making life worth liv
ing, are all, so far as he is concerned,
completely lost.
Nor do even the newspapers, that
tread so closely on the heels of happen
ings that they present us to-day the
history of the world's doings on yester
day, always take the trouble to record
the fun of the passing moment, proba
bly for the reason that they are so
closely engaged In presenting the facts
that the fun must be left to take care
of itself. But the neglect of the liisto
rians and scribes to tell all about tlie
humors of an election does not in the
least affect the humorists who, con
sciously or otherwise, furnish the fun
on such occasions, for, whether their
exuberance of spirits is the subject of
notice by others or not, they go on en
joying themselves at such times as
though the sole purpose of an election
were to enable them to be funny. And
they are sometimes very funny, in
deed, even when they do not intend to
be. Somebody says that any one who
Is much in earnest about anything is
always funny, for the reason that his
own menial absorption in the task be
fore him is such as lo excite the humor
ous emotions of those who have less in
terest, so much less as to render his
own incomprehensible to tliem, and
therefore ridiculous. It is 110 easy mat
ter to be as deeply interested in anoth
er man's business as in your own, and
when you see him intensely absorbed,
or, perhaps, greatly worried by some
(hing that to you is a matter of no con
sequence, it is sometimes a hard mat
ter to refrain from laughing.
It is generally a safe thing to do,
however, especially in matter of poll
tics, for, although two men out of live
can assign no valid reason why they
vote one ticket rather than another,
they are generally much in earnest in
their political opinions, and the fact
that these have no tangible, or some
liPl
A POPULAR CHARACTER.
times even sensible basis, renders thcii
possessors all the more earnest in thcii
support. Men may jibe at the looks of
the American citizen, may turn up tho
nose at his wearing apparel, may even
shoot out the lips at his hat, and escape
with impunity, but the moment you
touch his politics he is in arms, for
once in every two years he is a polllicao
all through, brimful of interest' in the
success of his party, and ready, with
either tongue or list, to espouse Its
cause.
Tho young fellow who, for the firsl
time, essays to exercise the right of suf
fntgc, is always an interesting figure,
lie is just at the age when a youth b
neither lish nor fowl; that is to say, he
is neither boy nor man. lie has just
quit going to school, in all probability,
and has got a good start on a mustache
his voice has changed, and lie no lon
ger speaks in the broken gaiuler-gos
ling fashion that distinguished his ut
terances three or four years earlier
but for all that, he is not yet a full
grown man. He generally comes intc
the polls with some degree of emlmr
rassmont. lie has seen polling place?
before, but commonly from afar, foi
the big policemen admonished him that
"kids are not needed here." This time
however he is part of the show, and
feels a due sense of his own import
ance. lie votes; is transformed into a
citizen; goes out, and stands on the
sidewalk telling people how he voted,
and tendering any amount of advice or.
the subject to inen who were voter*
twenty years before he was born.
A popular polling place develops dur
ing the course of an election day 6
large number of uuiuue characters
The man who stands on his rights is
generally the first to come and the last
to go away. In the old days of separate
tickets he was much more of a figure
than lie is now, for he knew exactly
what the law was as it applied to him
self, and was prepared to go to any
length of argument to justify the stand
he had taken. If he came as a voter, ho
•ame in bristling like a porcupine, and
felt really disappointed if nobody chal
lenged his right to vote, for that would
have offered him exactly the opportun
ity he was itching for—to show that he
was an American citizen, and as good
:is any other man, if not a little bettor,
it was as a ticket holder, or distributer,
however, that this individual always
distinguished himself, for lie knew ex
actly how near lie could come to the
polls, and if by chance a policeman
ordered him back, lie stood ready to
prove to the minion of the law that he
was right and the policeman was in the
wrong, even if he did wear brass but
tons and carry a club.
A curious study is afforded at a poll
ing place by a modest, diffident man
whose vote for some cause has been
•hallenged. He is angry, of course, for
very probably he is suspected of being
a repeater: but lie lac&s the flow of lan
guage that is the common gift of the
professionals at such places, and, con
sequently, can not properly uphold his
?nd of the argument. Still lie can not
afford to bo out-talked at such an emer
gency by the men who would gladly
"throw him out of the polling place 011
the least pretext, so he does liis best,
and generally gets worsted, and by
dint of bullying ami browbeating he is
most commonly cheated out of his
vote.
Then there is the man who knows all
about tlie Australian ballot, for he has
read about it in the newspaper. lie
scorns the idea, of advice or assistance,
and generally makes out his ticket so
(is to render it worthless for voting
purposes. A less well-informed man,
W
fl|i r
f M
©
THE LAST EDITION.
with also a trifle less conceit, would
ask the judges for information, for flic
intelligent man is always ready to
learn, but the; self-sufficient voter, like
the critic in Lalluh ltookh, prefers his J
own ignorance to the best information
any one else can give him.
When the women take an active in j
terest in the election, the chances for j
excitement are materially increased. J
It does not often happen that the ladles i
interest themselves to such an extent
as to go to the polls for the purpose of |
laboring personally with voters, but
when they do, tliey generally carry
their point—not by means of argument, '
but purely on personal grounds. A
man appealing to another to change liis
vote will present reasons more or less
valid, according to the character of the
speaker and tlie merits of his case, but
a woman's best reason is "Because,"
and tills she gives out with a degree of
dogmatism that exhausts the subject.
She can not be made to see that "Be
cause" might properly be supplement
ed with other considerations; it is
enough for her, and she can not. for the
life of her, see why it is not enough for
everybody else. But there is no such
thing as escaping her if she goes to the
polls to persuade voters, for even if
they be determined to vote against her
side, they may as well make up their J
minds to listen to her, for if she can
not vote for herself, she is bound to do
wnat she can to have her way, and
that is why she came to the polls.
jtixcitlng as the day limy be, the in
terest rises to fever beat in the even
~ §
iiFi
tfj.
WOMAN AT THE POLLS,
ing, when the returns begin to come in
As the darkness increases, crowds, ni
first small and quiet, grow in size ant 1
noisiness, while the bulletins are dis
played and one side or the other ID
turn seem to triumph.
Joint celebrations were common, says
the St Louis Globe-Democrat in re !
fcrring to the recent election. Half 0
dozen young men would buy a largq,
horn. In some cases 8 or 10 feet long,
, and bear it on their shoulders, while
| Ihe most leather-lunged of the party
; would walk behind the Instrument of
j public torture, and from time to time,
1 applying liis lips to the mouthpiece,
j omit a roar that could easily be board
I from Fourth street to Jefferson avenue.
There is some mysterious quality in
American human nature that renders
CONSOLATION.
it impossible for our citizens, espe
cially those of more or less tender
years, to enjoy themselves without
making a noise. Whether the occasion
be an election or the marriage of an old
widow to a man young enough to be
her grandson, noise is the prime ne- *
cessity, and, in one way or another,
must be had. A few years ago the fire
cracker was the accepted medium of
rejoicing at any and all events that
called for a display of popular enthu
siasm, but at present this importation
from China is considered sacred to the
Fourth of July and the tin horn has
forged to the front 011 election nights
as the proper means of expressing en
thusiasm. It is at once simple and ef
fective, combining the greatest possi
ble racket with dimensions so reason
able as to bo comprised within the
limits of an overcoat pocket. Armed
with this ingenious device, the intelli
gent voter is prepared to do any
amount of execution, and his presence
in a crowd before a bulletin board is
one of the certainties of election night.
But he is not the only certainty. The
man who has won a bet on the election
is with him, and may be "spotted" in
the mob by his general air of content I
and satisfaction with his surroundings.
Life, for him, is worth living, for the
time at least, and as he cocks his hat
on the side of his head and twists his
cigar tip Into the corner of his mouth,
he sheds a radiance over the whole
neighborhood, and is looked 011 not only
as a man of profound political wisdom,
but also of the courage to back liis opin
ions with his cash. The man who loses
the bet is also there, but gets neither
sympathy nor admiration from tlie by
standers, any one of whom could, as a
matter of course, have told him exactly
how the tiling was going to be, and sev
eral of whom in turn remind him of
what lie already knows well enough—
that lie was a fool to bet his money on
one candidate, when tlie election of the
other was a dead certainty.
Fair woman is generally not more
numerous in tlie bulletin crowds than
at the polls, but when she does come
she is a tiling of beauty to the men who
surround her. She generally comes in
twos and threes, accompanied by some*
body else's brother, and while inani
festing immense enthusiasm, displays
also the densest ignorance as to the
candidates' names, and whether they
are Republican or Democratic. She is
always one or the other, either because
her papa is or because some feminine
of her acquaintance is on the other
side, and after the display of a bulletin
inquires with eagerness: "Is that Dem
ocratic V" in order that she may know
when to squeal. And when her turn
comes and the crowd emits a bellow
that may "be~beard" for twenty blocks
in every direction, she opens her rosy
lips and gives vent to a squeak not
greatly different from that which
would have resounded in her vicinity
011 tlie sudden discovery of a mouse un
der tlie chair. Her appreciation is in
tense, but not intelligent; she knows
she is glad, but does not know exactly
why. Her enthusiasm is also consid
erably hampered by limits, and if she
chances to stand close by the show win
dow of a dry goods store questions of
public policy and of candidates must
immediately give place while she ex
amines tlie goods and speculates how
she would look in a pair of the new
sleeves. But, after all, perhaps she
knows almost as much about the wliolo
matter as her brother, who blows a big
liorn and takes home more beer than
he can comfortably carry, and as long
as she is content no one else need com
plain, for of all the figures of an elec
tion night she is certainly the most pic
turesque.
—Friend —"Why do you send your
husband's clothes to a tailor, when all
they need is a button?" Mrs. Manio
fem—"Well, the fact Is my husband
married so young that he never learned
how to sew on a button."-