lonesomeness than that of being shaved by a deaf-and-dumb barber.
--_Washington Star._
[Illustration: THE OPIATES WERE FOR HER.]
MRS. GABB--What is the matter with my husband?
DOCTOR--Nothing, except that he needs change. I prescribe opiates and
rest.
MRS. GABB--Shall I give him the opiates at once?
DOCTOR--Oh, the opiates are not for him; they are for you.
--_Once a Week._
The fact that diamonds are rapidly increasing in price is pleasing news
to the Glass Trust.
--_N. Y. World._
Bucket-shops are so called, apparently, because they carry in a pail the
same goods which the bigger exchanges carry in hogsheads.
--_Albany Times._
The Firm Schoolmistress.
Firm Schoolmarm--You children must behave yourselves. I'll go wild if
you don't. Jimmie Smith, stop cutting that desk. (Jimmie does not stop.)
I'll put your knife in the fire if you don't. Never mind; I am going to
write a note to your father.
Jimmie--Don't care if you do.
Schoolmarm--Don't talk to me that way. Put up that knife this very
instant, or I'll box your ears. (Starts towards him.) Never mind, sir
(taking her seat), I'm going to tell your mother.
Jimmie--Don't care if you do.
Schoolmarm--Don't you talk to me that way. Never mind, sir, I'm going to
keep you in after school. Will Brown, you must not eat in school.
Willie, Willie Brown. Never mind, sir. I'm going to tell your father.
Willie--Ain't got no father.
Schoolmarm--Well, I'll tell your mother.
Willie--Ho, she won't do nothin' but scold me.
Schoolmarm--Then I'll whip you myself. Bobbie Guns, go out and get me a
switch.
Bob--Bill might hit me after school.
Schoolmarm--I never saw the like in my life. If you all don't stop
making such a noise my head will split open. All of you, except Jimmie
Smith, may go now. Jimmie, don't you go out of this house. Jimmie,
Jimmie. Well, then, go on, you good-for-nothing thing. No, I won't kiss
you. Go on away, I won't. Well, then (kissing him), I'll kiss you this
once. Don't you put your dirty little arms around my neck. Oh, look, you
have mussed my hair. You little rascal (hugging him), I can't help
loving you.
--_Liverpool Post._
At the London Law Courts.
Mike (pointing to the patriot O'Brien)--Ah! there's a man who Balfour
would like to imprison for life if he only dared.
Pat--Imprison for life, d'ye say? Sure, man, 'twould be no use at all.
For O'Brien would die long before such a brutal sintince could come to
an end.
Mike--Ah, me bhoy! Faith, and I believe ye're right!
--_N. Y. World._
The Pensive Maiden.
[Illustration]
Pretty little darling
Gazing 'cross the sea,
Wonder what the tenor
Of her thoughts may be;
Wonder if she ever
Gives a thought to me!
Bright as sparkling dewdrop
Glistening on a rose,
Sweeter far than any
Pretty flower that blows;
Madly do I love her--
Wonder if she knows!
Ere the voyage is over
I would fain declare
That I love her dearly,
With a wild despair;
Wonder if she'll love me!
Wonder if she'll care!
SHELLMAN.
Our Cunning Kids.
A city child, wandering over a farm-yard with its father, was greatly
frightened at the sight of a good-sized gobbler.
"Why, my boy, you don't mean to say that you're afraid of a turkey, when
you ate one only yesterday."
"Yes, pa, but this one isn't cooked."
--_Judge._
Some returned Boomers who failed to get claims in the Oklahoma territory
are said to be anxious that Col. Ingersoll shall go out to Guthrie and
modify his views as to the non-existence of Hades.
--_Munsey's Weekly._
He Was.
Parson (to candidate for Sunday school)--Have you been christened, my
boy?
Boy--Yes, shir. Got marks in three plaishes on my left arm!
--_Punch._
HE WAS ONERY BUT INNOCENT.
No Evidence to Convict Thomas of Stealing the Hog.
When I reached Lester's Crossroads it was to find the score or so of
people comprising the hamlet very much excited, and their numbers had
been re-enforced by a dozen or more farmers, who had come in on mules
and in ox carts. I got accommodations at Jeffers', and in a few minutes
Mrs. Jeffers had posted me as to the cause of the excitement.
"Thar's gwine to be the powerfulest lawsuit nobody ever hearn tell of,"
she explained. "Thar's gwine ter be as many as ten witnesses, and the
lawyers will gab, and the squar' will boss everybody, and it will be the
excitingest time we ever had. I'm so glad you got yere in time!"
The squar' who lived a mile out of the hamlet took dinner with us, also
the lawyers, both of whom had made a ride of fifteen miles in the
interest of their respective clients. The squar' was on his dignity, and
the lawyers were looked up to with all the reverence and respect due the
president of the United States. School was dismissed that the trial
might take place in the school-house, and when we all found seats the
place was packed. When the case was stated Thomas Andrews, a "squat
farmer," was charged with having stolen, killed and converted to his own
use one hog belonging to and the lawful property of William Ainsworth,
another "squat farmer." The squar' opened his own court as follows:
"Here ye and look yere! This court ar' now open fur bizness, and it's
agin the law to fuss or trifle. Them negroes and all others is warned to
be powerful quiet, and if ary purson be in contempt he will get the full
extent of the law. Hank Stovin, kick that ar big dog of your'n outer
doors."
The prosecutor then charged the prisoner with having, between the 5th
and the 20th of the month, stolen, killed and eaten, in whole or in part
one hog belonging to the plaintiff, and described as black and white, 2
years old, weight 115 to 120 pounds, and in good health and fair
condition.
He was followed by the other lawyer who denied the charge in toto, and
intimated that he would prove a conspiracy to down the defendant, to the
injury of his name and fame as an honest citizen of the commonwealth.
The plaintiff was put on the stand, and when told to go ahead he said:
"I know that he 'un stole my hog, and I wanter see him sent to prison."
"Why do you suspect him of stealing the hog?"
"Hain't he shiftless and onery?"
"Is that why you suspected him?"
"It ar'. And I know the hog went over his way the last I seed of him."
The plaintiff hadn't made out much, but he had a witness who swore that
he ate fresh pork at Andrews' cabin on the 12th. He also saw hog
bristles and hoofs on the ground near the cabin.
"You declare that on your oath, do you?"
"Sartin, I've got to tell it as it was, though Tom and I hev always
jiggered (got along) without a word."
A second witness swore that he called at Andrews' cabin on the 15th and
the wife had fresh pork in a kettle. He asked if Tom had been killing
and she seemed confused and did not reply. That was the case for the
prosecution. It looked slim in one sense, and yet everybody knew that
Andrews was a shiftless, suspicious character not above hog stealing.
When the opposing counsel got hold of the plaintiff he asked:
"Was this hog ranging the country?"
"Yes, he was loosely about and around."
"Went where he pleased, didn't he?"
"Reckon he did."
"Well, how do you know he is dead? How far have you hunted for him?"
"Three miles."
"But he may be alive and well and four miles away."
"Couldn't be. Tom Andrews killed him."
"That's only your suspicion. Can you swear that that hog isn't home this
very minute?"
"Mebbe he ar', but I shan't dun giv in."
The witness who had sworn to eating pork at Andrews' table was asked:
"Can you tell pork from a two-year-old hog from pig meat?"
"No, sah."
"Dare you swear that the meat you ate that day wasn't coon or bear
meat?"
"Reckon 'twas pork."
"Yes, you reckon, but do you know it was?"
"Dasn't dun sw'ar any harder, sah."
The second witness was also tangled up on cross-examination, and then
Andrews was put on the stand.
"Tom, did you ever see this hog in question?" asked his lawyer.
"Lawd, no!"
"How long since you had any fresh pork at your house?"
"Almost before the wah, sah."
"What meat did Miner eat there that day?"
"Coon, sah."
"What about those bristles and hoofs he says he saw?"
Tom produced a small package and opened it and displayed the four feet
of a coon and a handful of hair. He admitted on cross-examination that
he was onery, but he claimed to be honest.
"Mrs. Andrews," asked the lawyer when she was called, "do you remember
when Jackson called about the quilt frames?"
"'Deed, I do."
"Were you cooking meat?"
"Sartain, I was."
"Fresh pork?"
"No, sah--'possum."
"Were you confused?"
"Lawd save ye, but I was never dun confused in all my life."
The case wasn't very strong in a legal sense against Andrews, but after
it had been submitted his Honor called up all his dignity and commanded:
"You thar! Tom Andrews, stand up!"
Tom arose.
"Prisoner," continued the judge, "you stole that air hog suah's
shooting! It's jist like you. You killed it and converted it to your own
use. I'm jist as satisfied of that as I ar' that you took coons outen my
trap last winter. However, they hain't proved it down fine and I've got
to turn ye loose. Ar' yer ears wide open, Tom?"
"'Deed they is allus so."
"Then you skitter (listen) to what I'm going to say. Justice is arter
you. She hit your trail way back ten years ago, and she's followin'
right along. She moves slow but suah. She's gittin very clus to your
vest buckle, and when she reaches out fur ye it will be good-by, Tom
Andrews. You kin go loose, but it's only fur a leedle while. Justice is
givin' ye mo' rope so that the bringin' up will be harder. Git out of
yere and lumber yer carcass off hum, and if I was the plaintiff I'd cut
across lots and meet ye down by the creek and lick the value of that hog
outer yer wrinkled hide. Court stands a-journed."
--_Detroit Free Press._
[Illustration: A PATHFINDER.]
TRAVIS--What! going into the Adirondacks without a guide?
DESMITH--Of course. Do you suppose a man who has trotted around Boston
for five years is going to lose his way in the Adirondacks? Not much!
--_Burlington Free Press._
There is a demand among theatrical people for "protection for American
actors." How would an egg-intercepting screen at the front of the stage
do?
--_Philadelphia Times._
Not in His Line.
"Oh, dry up!" shouted somebody in the crowd to the intoxicated
individual in the middle who was trying to make a campaign speech.
"Gen'l'men," said the speaker, stopping short in his harangue and
looking about with an injured and insulted air, "I dunno what I've ever
(hic) done to make you wish (hic) that I should ever (hic) come (hic) to
such an awful end!"
--_Somerville Journal._
Outwitted.
As Rich, the harlequin, was one evening returning home from the
playhouse in a hackney coach, he ordered the coachman to drive him to
the Sun, then a famous tavern in Clare Market. Just as the coach passed
one of the windows of the tavern, Rich, who perceived it to be open,
dexterously threw himself out of the coach window into the room. The
coachman, who saw nothing of this transaction, drew up, descended from
his box, opened the coach door, and let down the step: then taking off
his hat, he waited for some time, expecting his fare to alight; but at
length, looking into the coach, and seeing it empty, he bestowed a few
hearty curses on the rascal who had cheated him, remounted his box,
turned about, and was driving back to the stand, when Rich, who had
watched his chance, threw himself into the coach, looked out, asked the
fellow where in all the world he was driving, and desired him to turn
again. The coachman, almost petrified with fear, instantly obeyed, and
once more drew up to the door of the tavern. Rich now got out; and,
after reproaching the fellow with stupidity, tendered him his money.
"No, God bless your honor," said the coachman; "my master has ordered me
to take no money to-night."
"Pshaw!" said Rich; "your master's a fool; here's a shilling for
yourself."
"No, no," said the coachman, who by that time had remounted his box,
"that won't do; I know you too well, for all your shoes--and so, Mr.
Devil, for once you're outwitted."
--_Birmingham Post._
[Illustration]
The Reason.
Why are very young sailors like condiments?
Because they are little salts for sea-sons.
--_Ocean._
A Sense of Safety.
I asked my own class of boys and girls if they always said their prayers
night and morning. Most replied that they did, but one small child said
she only said her prayers in the morning. "Indeed, and how is that?" I
inquired. "I should think you would need God's care more at night than
in the daytime. Why don't you say your prayers at night?"
"'Cause I always sleep in the middle," was the quick reply.
--_Pittsburgh Press._
New England Courtship as it Was and Is.
Scene--Salem, 1660.
Priscilla Puritannica--Yes, Master Virtuous Ebenezer Smith, I love you.
Virtuous Ebenezer--Oh, you sweet girl.
Pris. Pur.--Now, do not be too voluptuous, Master Virtuous Ebenezer
Smith, and do not call me sweet.
Virt. Eb--I will try.
They engage in silent prayer.
* * * * *
In Boston, 1889.
Victor Emanuel Smythe--Darling, kiss me.
Priscillesca Powderpuff--I should like to, but oh, Vicky, God sees
everything!
Vic. Em. Sm.--Well, turn the light down.
(Priscilla turns it out.)
Chorus--Yum, yum, yum!
--_To-Day._
Trotters' Rival.
"I'll do it," he repeated, grinding his teeth and showing the whites of
his eyes.
"Nonsense!" said Matilda. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
threatening such wickedness--and besides, you don't mean it. Go along!"
"Ha, ha!" exclaimed William Trotters, in a hollow voice. "Ha, ha!"
"You give me the creeps when you laugh like that," said Matilda; "and
all the way to Gravesend you grumbled--when you weren't seasick. That is
pretty lover, to go and be bilious on a pleasure trip!"
"It was the iron that had entered into my soul, Matilda," remarked
Trotters, solemnly.
"It disagreed with you, whatever it was," said Matilda, tossing her
pretty head and turning up her nose. "And when another gentleman--a
stranger--was attentive, and took care of me, instead of being grateful,
you went on like a mad bull, and talked about having his gore."
"Either his or my own," groaned Trotters. "Oh, woman! why art thou
thus?"
"You wouldn't want to marry us if we weren't, would you, gaby?" snapped
Matilda. "Give me that nasty thing, there, do!" She pointed to Trotters'
breast pocket, which, as far as could be seen by the light of the
street-lamp near them, looked bulky.
"Never!" said Trotters, recoiling.
"It'll go off one of these days, I know it will," sobbed Matilda, "and
then you'll be sorry."
A smile illumined Trotters' visage. Nobody knew better than himself that
the deadly weapon wasn't loaded. He had bought it of a marine store
dealer, cleaned and polished it--it was a five-chambered revolver--and
clicked the trigger three or four times to make sure; but even that made
him nervous.
"She's really frightened!" he said, as he walked away.
An irresistible impulse came over him to frighten her a little more. He
went back. He peeped over the garden gate. The house stood dark and
silent. Everybody had gone to bed. He would steal round into the back
garden and throw a little gravel up at Matilda's window. That would
bring her down.
The onion and cabbage beds rose right up to the house wall. In the soft
mould his footsteps fell silent. Ha! what was that? Jealousy! Wrath!
Revenge!
A male figure stood in the center of the onion-bed. Its hat was cocked
on one side, its gaze uplifted to Matilda's window. One arm was
stretched out in an attitude of supplication. A bush rustled as Trotters
stole warily behind him. Matilda's window opened. Matilda's voice
queried, "Is that you, dear?" It was too much. Trotters drew the fatal
pistol and clapped it to his rival's ear.
"Stir a step and you're a dead man!" he hissed, trying to steady his
shaking hand. Too late! There was a flash--a terrible explosion! The
stranger fell prone, and lay motionless on the ground.
Trotters was unaware that his cousin Jack, who was in the Carabineers,
had expressed much curiosity regarding the weapon Trotters carried with
such jealous solicitude, and, being of a larksome disposition, had
surreptitiously gained possession of the revolver, placed a blank
cartridge in each of the barrels, and returned it to the pocket of the
unsuspecting Trotters, or he might have behaved differently. But no, he
felt that in his passionate jealousy he had committed a deadly crime,
and sent to his last account an innocent man. 'Twas too much. Trotters
shrieked aloud in terror, and then fainted.
Matilda flew down to him with her hair in curl-papers. They found him
lying cold and motionless beside the garden scarecrow!
--_Ally Sloper's Half Holiday._
Everything in Its Place.
Architectural Upholsterer--And how do you think of having the library
furnished, Mr. Gasbuhm?
Mr. Gasbuhm--Why, I want a pool table in it, and a sideboard, of course;
a couple of card tables and a lay out for the chess club, and what
little whim whams and frenzies you want to make it look well.
"And about the book shelves; will you----"
"Oh, shoot the book shelves; put the books in the boys' rooms; they're
going to school; I don't want books stuck under my nose when I'm busy
enjoying myself."
--_Brooklyn Eagle._
MAKING A HIT.
[Illustration: 1.]
[Illustration: 2.]
[Illustration: 3.]
A Consolation.
Smiley Basker--Yes, I'm going to get married at last, but it's mighty
risky, mighty risky.
Van Riper--Well, don't worry; you can't do worse than your wife, anyway.
Who is she?
--_Munsey's Weekly._
It Was Perfumed.
First Cadet--Did you ever smell powder?
Second Cadet--Yes?
"Where?"
"On a Vassar girl."
--_San Francisco Argus._
Quite Sure.
Stranger--Did a pedestrian pass this way a few minutes ago? Granger--No,
sor. I've been right outer this tater patch more'n a nower, and notter
blamed thing has passed 'cept one solitary man, an' he was tramping
'erlong on foot.
--_Time._
Only a Matter of Form.
"Mr. Kajones," said young Springbyle, clearing his throat, "I have
called to ask permission to pay my addresses to your daughter."
"Which one, Julius?" inquired Mr. Kajones.
"Miss Maria, sir."
The father looked fixedly at the young man. "What are your prospects in
life, Julius?" he said.
"To tell you the truth, sir," acknowledged young Springbyle, "I have no
prospects worth mentioning. I am in moderate circumstances and have no
resources except a knowledge of my business, good health and steady
habits."
"Just so, Julius," mused the father. "Your income, I dare say, is----"
"About $1,200 a year."
"And on this, my young friend, you would expect to support yourself and
a young woman who has lived in a home where she has never been used to
anything like privation, or even judicious economy?"
"It does seem presumptuous for me to think of it," faltered the youth,
"and as I see it does not meet with your approval I will say no more
about it and ask your pardon for----"
"Stay, Julius!" exclaimed Mr. Kajones, somewhat hastily. "I only asked
you those questions as a matter of form. If you want Maria, my boy, you
can have her!" And he shook the young man warmly by the hand.
Mr. Kajones, it may be proper to state, has eight unmarried daughters
besides Maria.
--_Chicago Tribune._
Weighed Down.
Joe--Gus looks crushed, as if he had something heavy on his mind.
Jack--A thought, perchance.
--_Time._
Quite a Different Thing.
Old Gent--Little boy, I am sorry to see you smoking a cigarette.
Little Boy--I ain't smoking it. I'm keeping it alight for another feller
what's gone on an errand.
--_Boston Courier._
A Negro Who Doesn't Like Chicago Manners.
[Illustration]
Yates, an old negro, sought the Mayor of Chicago. "What can I do for
you?" the mayor asked.
"Wall, sah, I doan' know 'bout dat, but I come yere to see ef I kain't
git jestice somehow."
"What's the matter?"
"'Nuff de matter ter make er man pizen, dat's whut. I moved up yere from
the South 'caze I didn't think I wuz enjoyin' all my rights down
dar----"
"I see. They interfered with your right to vote."
"Oh, no, sah; da let me vote all I wanted ter. Nices' people 'bout dat I
eber seed. Jes' let me stan' up an' vote right erlong, but den da didn't
count my vote."
"And you wanted to come to a place where your vote counted?"
"Yes, sah."
"Well, what is the trouble?"
"'Leckshun troubles."
"Don't you believe your vote was counted?"
"Oh, yes, I know it was."
"Then what have you to complain of."
"W'y, sah, I hadn't mo'n voted 'fo' er blame p'liceman came up, he did,
an' lammed me ober de head."
"What were you doing?"
"Nothin' er tall; jes' standin' dar."
"Didn't he tell you to move on?"
"Yes, sah, but whut bizness was it o' his'n? I wan't foolin' wid him."
"What did you say when he told you to move on?"
"Didn't say nothin'. Jis' sorter shuck my head, an' den he come er
hittin' me wid dat stick. Dat ain't no way ter ack--no way ter do w'en
er man is 'habin' hisse'f."
"I'm very sorry----"
"You ain't ha'f as sorry ez I is, sah. Jis' look at dis yer lump on my
head. I'd ruther not hab my vote counted den ter pay so dear fur it. Ef
da hatter hit me to make my vote count w'y, den, I'd ruther they would
fling it outen de box. Dat's er mighty cuis way ter do business. Crack
er man's skull ter make his vote count. Doan't want no more votes
counted in dis town."
--_Arkansaw Traveler._
A Pittsburgh doctor says he can diagnose ailments by examining a single
hair of the patient. Two young men, as a joke, took him a hair from a
bay horse. The doctor gravely wrote a prescription, and said his fee was
$25, as the case was precarious. They were staggered, but paid the fee,
and after they got out laughed all the way to the apothecary's. The
latter took the prescription and read in amazement: "One bushel of oats,
four quarts of water, stir well, and give three times a day, and turn
the animal out to grass!" Then the jokers stopped laughing.
--_Denver News._
Undertakers are gravely opposed to cremation.--_Boston Gazette._ Are
they in urn est?
C. A. M.
Too Late Even for Lecocq.
A gentleman here who was "burglarized" about two years ago, reported his
loss to the detectives and offered naturally to assist them in every
way. At first he called frequently to ascertain if any news of the
thieves had been obtained, but being met always with a negative his
visits became infrequent and finally ceased. He had forgotten the matter
altogether until recently, when he was called upon by one of the
detectives, who stated:
"We have got a clew."
"That is good. Is it a promising one?"
"Certainly. We have discovered the thief."
"Better still. You have him arrested?"
"We can't do that. It's too late."
"How is that?"
"He died last week, confessing to the robbery."
It's a grand thing to get a clew.
--_Denver News._
[Illustration]
CHOLLY--I say, Fweddie, what makes J. Wilkes Brutus take such long
stweps? Do all actahs walk that way?
FWEDDIE--Yes. They acquiah that twagic stwide while traveling. They take
two ties at one step, ye know.
--_Chicago Liar._
MR. BOWSER AS A WHITEWASHER.
He Is Not a Howling Success at Inside Decorating.
There were several little things I wanted done about the house this
fall, and so the other week I engaged a colored man to come and work for
a couple of days. It so happened that he came one morning before Mr.
Bowser had left the house, and was greeted with:
"Well, what's up now?"
"I'ze dun bin hired to work, sah."
"Who hired you?"
"De lady, sah."
"What to do?"
"Jobbin', sah."
"Well, the lady has changed her mind and doesn't want you."
After the man had gone, Mr. Bowser came into the house and asked:
"Did you hire a colored man?"
"Why, yes."
"What for?"
"I was going to have him whitewash the vegetable cellar, take down and
clean the laundry stovepipe and do some other jobs."
"H'm! Mrs. Bowser, I don't believe in encouraging such people. He'd have
done about one hour's work and charged you for a whole day. I don't
believe he knows any more about whitewashing than I do about playing the
harp."
"But he said he did."
"Certainly. Did you ever see a negro who wouldn't say anything to fit
the occasion?"
"Well, but---"
"There is no 'but' about it. If there are any little jobs about the
house I've got plenty of time to do them. In fact, I need just such
exercise. Such work is a diversion to me, and the doctor recommends it."
"Do you mean to say you will do the whitewashing?"
"I do. I don't do it to save a dollar, but for my own benefit. I always
like the smell of lime."