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(JvtirfeTS hi lie s-Hsfe
VOLUME V,
RI:VIINISC1:\'C1; OF Till: WAR.
.
EWELL'S MARCH INTO CARLISLE,
. PENNSYLVANIA.
“Give lie a Rebel Button”—A Yanket*u
Pluck- That Famous “Rebel Yell.”
Gen. Johnson, of Georgia-
I have read with interest the letter frgm
your correspondent at Carlisle, Pa. The
reference,to EwtjH’scorp recalls to my mind
very vividly the pleasant days we spent in
the valley of the Cumberland duHng the
latter part of June, 1863.
About the 20th of June Early and John
son, of Ewell’s corps, the advance of Lee’s
armycaptured Milroy’s force of seven or
eight thousand men at Winchester, and
Rhodes having made a wide circuit
around that town to prevent the escape of
the garrison to l’ploniac, entered Mar
tinaburg and hundred, of,
the enemy at that point.
Having spent two or three days at the
Utter place, we crossed the river at Wil
liamsport and leisurely made the march
down the valley, passed throuh Ilagers
town, Scotland, (shambersburg and other
small places on the route, and reaching
Carlisle about mid afternoon of June 18th.
Jenkins’ brigade of mounted infantry pre
ceded Rhodes’ division and T suppose
must have reached Carlisle “in the mor
ning.” During a large portion of this
march the roadsides were lined with
cherry trees, the long slender twigs of
which were laden with clusters of beauti
ful cherries, the like of which we of the
far south had never seen before. At
every halt for a rest we would gather and
feed upon the luscious fruu to our heart’s
content. Some of the boys would mount
up into the trees and toss down twigs to
their comrades beneath. On one of these
“rests” Maj. Sands, of the 3d Ala., an old
West Pointer and rigid disciplinarian, who
was the “officer of the day,” rode up to
where the men of our regiment were help
ing themselves ud libitum to the fruit of a
magnificent tree. The major’s ideas of
propriety were rudely shocked at the
sight of this rebel raid upon a loyal tree,
and he exclaimed, with stern indignation,
“What men are these?” to which he was
answered, “6th Ala.” Turning to Col.
Lightfoot, who was railing himself at
the instant with some cherries plucked
from a long twig which one. of his men
had presented to him a litte while before,
the Major, in a tone of authority, called
out, “Col. Lightfoot, do not allow your men
to serve trees in this manner.” The Colo
nel, in a tone of mock obedience said:
“Hoys, don’t pull upthetreeMiy the-root.”
This reasonable command was recieved
with loud cheers, the echoes of which
must have re died the Major's ears long
after he had galloped out of sight.
Before reaching Carlisle we encountered
groups of ex poet ant little buys, who eacli
called out vociferously, “Give me a rebel
button!” Their accumulations in that line,
already considerable, were added to by
the good-natured “rebs,” who tossed loose
buttons fished out from their pockets or
cut fit>m their military jackets; Our en
trance into Carlisle was made with flying
colors to the tune of “The Bonnie Blue
Flag,” from fife and kettle-drum. •
At the edge of the town we saw in large
letters on a sign-board, ‘‘Sixteen miles to
Harrisonrg.” The information thus ob
tained produced loud cheers, us the sol
diers called out to each other. “Only six
teen miles * to Harrisburg, boys. We’ll
eat dinner there to-morrow!” The citizens
crowded the sidewalks, and for the most
part greeted our entrance into their town
in silence, but one old fellow called out in
surprise: “Why, you rebels haven’t got
horns} I thought you were wild animals ”
to which some of the boys replied: “Wait
until we meet your blue devils, and we’ll
show you whether we have horns ©r
not” •
Among the citizens was a young man
with one'arm. At sight of the empty
sleeve one of the soldiers exclaimed:
“Boys, here’s a fellow who has fought
against us!” The maimed yankee retorted
instantly, “Yes, and I would do it again if
I were able." This defiant answer was
greeted with loud cheers of admiration by
the soldiers, many of whom cried out:
“Bully for you!” “You’re a good one,” etc.
One pretty girl in a group of young
ladies waved her handkerchief coquet
tishly to the 3d Ala., who were immediate
ly in front of us. The men of the 3d
construed it as a demonstration from a
fair sympathizer, and cheered her en
thusiastically. She seemed completely
overcome with merriment, and as soon hs
she could.control her risibles, again waved
the handkerchief, for which she was
ag&in joyously cheered. As she again be
came convulsed with laughter the idea
dawned upon us that she was success
fully selling dur comrades of the 3d for
the sole purpose of hearing the famous
“rebel yell,” and we called to them
derisively, “Sold ! Sold !" which word of
warning put a stop to the innocent pas
time of the bright little lassie of Carlisle.
' The negro servants who accompanied
us were regarded with even more cu
riosity then their rebel owners. My boy
Miuke, (who, by the way, was a famous
character in the brigade) was dressed out
“cap-a-pie” in-a yankee uniform, (part of
his spoil from Chancellors vtlie,) and as he
threaded his way along the crowded
street I could see that the citizens regard
ed him the greatest curiosity—surprised,
1 suppose, at the fact that he should i
remain true to his master on true iJcnii
sytftmU soil. I will add that Mhik was
not only faithful during the royal time bf
our a lvaifee, but throughout my s-fckiidb
on the retreat he was periectliy devoted '
to my service, obtaining for me the nour
ishlitg fid! w ithout which 1 should not
have been able to have reerossed the Poto
mac. He was true to “the cause” as the
k truest, and never forsook us until he was
captured near Appomattox two days be
! fore "the surrender and taken to Fortress
Monroe, from which prison he was, how
ever, shortly released, airtl returned home
safely. He still calls “master,’ and is
fond of referring to his war experiences.
Gen. Johnson, of Georgia, who com
manded a brigade in Rhodes* division,
must have been one of the “regulars”
statjoned in Carlisle buttle the w'ar.for as
he rode into the town at the bead of his
brigade sotfie of the citizens calk'd (Hit,
“hello, Johnson! What are you doing
here?” Receiving cordial replies to their
greeting they approached and slnxik hands
with him.
We filed out of town in an easterly
direction, if I understood the points of the
compass correctly, and went into gamps
in a grove adjacent to a large flour mill,
tho ponderous wheel of which was turned
by the water from an adjacent spring.
We used the water from the Stream below
the mill and found it delightfully cool.
I did not go up to a view'of the spring,
butjheard some of the soldiers say that its
basin was broad enough and deep enough
to flout a butteiu. One of the boys
plunged into it for the purpose of taking
a refreshing bath; lie came near freezing
before he c >uld get ashore. Ilis luckless
adventure reminded me ot one recorded
of Alexander the Great during his march
into India.
On the 29th of June we did not dine in
Harrisburg as we expected to do, but
remained in camps at Carlisle and fed
upon “the finest of tliewluit” from the
old mill house, fit chickens, and the fat
oftheland generally.
The disciplne of the division was splen
did, but some of the more adventurous
spirits could not content themselves w ith
out a “forage.” and after these wanderers
Gen. Rhodes dispatched details with or
ders for their iustmt return to the camp.
John Trammell, of Cos. L, 6th Ala., was
one of a squad numbering four or live
sent on the mission mentioned above.
They reached a small town at the foot of
a mountain four or five miles from Carlisle.
Here they were soon surrounded by citi
zens who at once began to ply them with
questions. Among other remarks, one
said to Trammell, “I wonder that you
fellows are not afraid to venture so far
from your forces in a hostile country.”
Trammell, a red-headed dare-devil of a
fellow immediately threw open his shirt
and exposed to the gaze of the bewil
dered citizens the red m irk of a bullet
which had to all appearances made a
hole clean through him, and exclaimed:
“I)-> you see that? Do you suppose a man
who has been shot in that way could be
afraid of anything?” The citizens in won
der asked him where the bill had made
its exit. Trammell unscrupulously replied,
“between the shoulders.” (It had in reali
ty been a glancing shot, and though very
dangerous, by no means preyed him to be
the invulnerable fellow that he represent
ed himself.) Poor fellow, he lost a leg
two days later. On the 30th day of June
we left fair Carlisle and turned our face3
towards Gettysburg.
. Cos. L, 6th Ala.
HOW SHF. JUllli IT PAY.
Sharp Practice.ly a Shrewil Manipulator
of the Typewriter.
Clara lielle in Cincinnati Enquirer.
Amazed at certoin disclosures, I sought
out a poor girl who had been a typewriter
and whom 1 had often befriended and
asked her whether all that I had learned
about the business had come within her
\ experience also. You may imagine my
! astonishme.it at her reply :
“Well, Miss Clara,” she said, “I am one
of the oldest hands in the business, ami 1
used to wonder, as I saw the turn things
were taking, how long it would be before
I would spffer from the demoralization pf
my calling. The trouble -came, but 1
found it to my profit. My employer saw
the siime diingprin the that I
did and beginl to lose respect for me ausl
for himself, so that after keeping me at
work here in the office late at night for
several nights he suddenly kissed me. I
sprang to my feet and faced him. T have
expected this,’said I, ‘ani am prepared-
You can now take your chance of ex
plaining your conduct to my brother or
paying me S2O a week down.for a year in
advance, with a written apology and a
promise to respect yourself and treat me
with the utmost respect as long as I re
main here.’ He was thoroughly fright
ened and ashamed, and obeyed my com
mand. I had been getting sl2 before
that. He treated me with rigid respect*
aud turned over all liis business with me
to hhr chief clerk. The chief, clerk in
turn caught the general Infection, and
one evening made love tome. The next
.day I notified the lawyer that 1 had been
affronted and demanded the chief clerk’s
dismissal, llis reply was : ‘Miss Jenks, I
cannot discharge him, but I will protect
you. Your salary is now $25 a week.
Stop a moment, please.’ He then rang
the bell, called in the chief clerk, and
said :
‘“You have forgotten yours-If, sir, and
the character f bear. -You must apologize
to Miss Jenks or leave u\> employ. Alter
that you can arrange in my presence
whether Miss Jenks call? you to an ac
counting with hpr brother or w hether the
matter shall be buried and forgotten.’
“Thef'hief e’erk ate humble-pie as you
never saw’ a man do it in yopr life, and I
promised not to speak to my brother, so
that all now goes swimmingly, and 1 am
weal ing silk every day instead of Sun
days. The bestfjoke of it is that the only
brother 1 ever had died when I v’as a ba
by, and I am all alone in New Aork,
without a jvjutiui ttc .J'tJ' than Kentucky.”
CARTERS VILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 8, 1886.
CARELESS HUSBANDS.
THE THINGS OF EVERY DAY HOME
. LIFE.
The Careless and Almost Brutal Dispo
sition of Many Husbands—Homes
Made Menageries—Etcetera.
The home that is not a model home is a
curiosity, whatever its particular ruling
defect may be. It may be that it is cursed
with a husband and fit her who his no
consideration for wife or children, and in
fact none for hinvelf. He may be a
chronic fault-finder and a living magazine
of temper; which everything that crosses
his path serves as a lighted torch to ex
plode. He flit's into a passion at every
body and everything but himself, lie
permits that bad trait of human nature
which prompts a man to lay the blame on
somebody else every time to assume com
plete mastery over him. lie carelessly
shuts the doer and pinches bis lingers,
and then kicks the door down to punish
it; lie burns his fingers recklessly and
scolds his wife because the stove is hot.
But he might scold worse if it was cold ;
he can’t find his collars, handkerchiefs,
collar button, sleeve buttons or anything
else—a man never can find anything--
and he storms around, mightily afraid all
the time lie will find what he is after, and
have no excuse fur being angry There
is no logic or sCuSe in his actions 'or con
elusion?, and not the slightest.coquestion
between what * he thinks lie *is mad
at and the object of his rage. Tie is
like one of the Justices of the Supreme
Court of the United States, wiio missed a
train because lie didn’t give himself time
to prepare for it. It was the old chronic
trouble—could not find something. In
this case it was his trowsers. It will be
admitted the trowsers were not at fault.
But when he came back from the depot he
took off his pants and tore them into a
thousand pieces. It mult have been an
entertaining and ennobling sight to have
seen a full grown man standing in the
middle of the floor, frothing at the mouth,
without any pantaloons on, tearing his
trowsers to pieces because he did not
reach the depot on schedule time. The
belief that man is just a little below an an
gel must be considerably disturbed by
such an exhibition.
A great deal of peevishness and disa
greeable fault-finding and tunfoderyin
the house is no doubtlessness. Men who
are often considerate and naturally kind
forget themselves in the family circle.
They remind ns of the absent-minded
professor. He was one day walking
down the road, deeply engrossed in
thought, when he“T:rn nga+rfst W cow.
QhiekTv removing bis hat, under the im
pre sion that lie had collided with a lady,
he said :
“B -g pardon, madam.”
Seeing his mistake he replaced hie hat
and went on with his thinking and walk.
Pretty soon he did run against, a laly.
when the cow episode flashed upon bis
mind, and he exclaimed :
“You here again, you brute?”
To get through this world without co’-
lisions or make the best of those we
make, we must always have ourselves in
hand and be ready to adjust such bal
ances and apply such checks as our im
perfect natures are in need of constantly.
In some respects home life is the most ex
acting and trying. It is so because we
must meet and face whatever is disagree
able in it. We cannot turn away from it
as we may turn from the unpleasant po
sitions of life outside the home. It often
requires large development of patience
and unflinching courage and industrious
habits. A lazy man ought never to get
married. Home duties are too exacting
•for laziness. It is the husband’s duty to
assume a full share of the duties that are
popularly supposed to be peculiarly the
wife’s duties, when lie is at home. It will
not hurt him a particle to officiate In the
capacity of mother to the extent. that hi*
clumsy fingers and awkward ways will
admit. Certainly he should not expect to
be coddled and entertained as if he were a
baby. He is big enough to entertain him
self. •
The average theory of home life is that
the happiness of home depends solely up
on the wife. She is advised always to have
theJiusband's supper ready and hot. It
seems to be supposed that she has married
a stomach ; and we admit that the stom
ach appears to be all there is to some men.
She i* urged to primp and look pretty as
slur did before marriage, but very often
she primped and looked pretty to please a
very different looking man than her hus
band now is. She is told always to have
a smile for the dear, grumbling, growling
wild cat whose very presence casts a
gloom over the sunb ams that play upon
the hearth stones. It is -di nonsense. It
Is her duty to do no more toward the hap
piness of home than the husband does. If
she can keep him still and pleasant by
tilling his stomach, do it. If he was fool
ish enough to marry a cook, instead of
hiring one, fill him with victuals accord
ing to his expensive method. If he is de
termined to make a menagerie of his home
by being u bear, it is perhaps wisdom to
keep him quiet. Hut with spell u man
there con be no home. We never call the
lair of the w ild beast of the menagerie
home. The sunshiue that makes home
never laughs in suen places.
The dowers that are warmed into bloom
by the heart’s love and painted with beau
ty by the warm smile that lights up the
the faces about the fireside are what
makes the difference between the house
and the stable. There are no clouds that
ever overhang, the home that sunbeams,
If ght and joyou u , cannot penetrate. Love
and reason, hope and aspiration, blend in
a glorious, gorgeous rainbow of premise
that arches the holy circle aid every
heart, and even throu. h storms of tears,
smiles of peace Hioot light which illu
mines the tear drop!*until every one, hot
and blistering though they be, sparkles
with diamond beauty and with a hallow
ed glow. In the midst of torturing afflic
tion of the icy coldness of an ut:sympa
thizing world, that blisters or benumbs
the soul for an instant, it will find solace
upon the placid current of home love and
home sympathy th irkre ever as a he aling
balm to the woundef spirit or the check
that is scorched by Grrief. Such is home
an l it tills the husftand, wife and child
with a reflection of *lllO bright ideal of
home that is the prdtuct of our lodging
and faith in the pr >*iised father land of
God.
THE DEATH OF "M l TEE XFGOET.”
The Democrat is ill receipt of a letter
from Mrs. J. W. Crawford, at Fort Craig,
asking if the paper will mention the fact
that her little daughter, May Cody, is
dead. Knowing how Capt.* Jack was
wrapped up in the Utile one, and feeling
how the mother’s liyart must bleed at
such an irreparable toss, the writer per
forms the duty with pleasure, so far as the
mere work of doingAhe good people a
kindness is concerned, and with the most
heartfelt sorrow in realizing that such a
task must be (bine. The little cfiild died
the at home of her parents at Fort Craig,
N. M., on the 4th lust. She was, as near as
the writer can remember, about four years
of age, ju.-t becoming so interesting and
dear to her parents, that it is like drawing
the immovable veil uf sorrow over their
lives to lxse her by the hand of death
lie r face was as bright as the notes of a
mountain bird. She impressed the stran
ger at once as a most remarkable child.
Her love for Jack Crawford, the poet,
scout and indulgent father, approached
worship, and she was endowed with all
the romantic feelings, the poetry of soul,
and the love of the beautiful in uature
that has made Jack famous before the
world. May the mother's heart take con
solation in the hope that remains; that
God gave and that in llis wisdom he has
taken her darling away. It is, alter all
something to live for, and something to
die for.
The following lines were written by the
heartbroken father in the Ea*t, directly
after lecturing to a large crowd, and re
turning to his hotel, happy that he was
making money with which to educate his
little girl .
“I want to write papa a letter
Before I do into my bed,
And then Baby Mhv will feel better.
I dust dot a pain in my head ;
And then 1 will pay for liftu, mamma,
That Dod will watch over him, too,
I’ll pay for dear sister and brother
And, mamma, I won’t fordet you.”
And so my sweet angel, our Nugget,
Said “Mamma, put this one-inside
And send it with yours to dear papa,
For oh ! I do love him,” she cried.
And so, after prayers, she was sleeping,
While the fever w is standing apace,
And her mother was watching and
weeping
When she looked on her hot, fevered
face.
0
God help us to bear it! Our darling
Is free from all sorrow to-night;
Her soul is at rest with the angels,
Her form will soon be out of sight,
Her bright eyes will never m re glisten
With the love light that filled ns with
Jcy ;
We know she D happy forever
Where fevers can never destroy,
It is hard to be absent while baby
Is lying peaceful and still,
Awaiting the coming to-morrow
Ere they lay her away ’neuth the hill,
The great boundless'prairies between us
Where my angel has fallen asleep;
I can only ask God to sustain me,
I can only bow low down and weep.
Go! help me and Gud help her mother,
ll**r erief must be crushing indeed ;
And God help her sister and brother,
Since hearts that so loyed her must
bleed.
And mine reaches out o’er the prairie
In a sad and a solemn refrain,
When 1 think 1 ahull never behold her
And ne’er kiss her sweet lips again.
Those lips that oft lisped in the evening
A joy that sank back in my breast;
That voice with the music and laughter
That lulled my tired senses to rest;
That face that w as full of affection,
Those soft, dimpled hands which she
pressed
To each cheek when she reached up to
kiss me,
And I took her straight home to my
breast.
BATING IJKFOKE SLEEPING.
Among the novelties suggested by
certain physicians is a recommendation to
ait before retiring ut night. At first t! o
sleep will be heavy aid the dreams
disturbed; but even'll illy, it is claimed,
a full Hfcom.ioh will c use drowsiness
and the f >od will digeff better. The
blood, it is argued, being drawn to the
stomach, incites toslu n!*er, because the
pressure upon tho brai l ii thereby re
lieved. Actors, it is said, eat heartily
afier a pci formal me and find it advan
tageous to do so. Our Euglish progen
itors,* in a past generation, partook if
late hearty suppers, and lived as long ns
tlieir descendants. Late dinners urestill
rhe custom i : Ivicla and and then in hoi
coautri* s it is always th* Qi)->tom to take a
siesta after a heavy midday meal. An
imals generally sleep uf;er eating. It is
doubtful, however, if tl ese theories will
succeed in changing the habits of the
American people. Outside the large
cities, the mid day meal is the prin
ciple one, and the supper, or tea, is
partaken of several hours before retiring.
Man is a creature of habit, and lie had
be tei follow’ tpe ppstofPK of a lifetime.
Still, it is probably tiue that persons
suffer'ng from iudigestiou would advan
ta i themselves if they could take a nap
uftei a heavy meal.—Golden Argosy.
THE CIRCUS SIDESHOWS.
TRICKS THAT ARE PLAYED BY
THE “FAKIRS.”
Adroit Swindlers Wuo Rob tha Spec
tators—Some of Their Methods
of Taking in People
“l tell yon now, it ain’t no use to talk;
dey can’t mu a show without {akin’ any
more den you kin talk without wind.
You hear me!"
The speaker formed oue of a gioup
who sat at a rou id table in a “beer
joint” much frequented by showmen.’’
They had been relating their experience
of last season “on the road” with “Span
gle A Sawdust’s Munster Slows and
Triple Conglomerated Aggregation,’
with which most of them had been more
or leas assc'ciated. One had related how
he had “downed an old guy wot was a
merchant in der town” by steering him
into a “buuo game.” Another had
delighted his hearers by recounting how
he had ‘‘layed out the jays” with a
“jewelry case.” A third gloried in the
way he played “the push back game”
on “oue o’ dein fly blokea wot thinks he
knows it all.”
They were slangy! They called every
body of whom they spoke “Guys.”
Some—tlie more important peisous—
were designated as “Muiir Guys.”
Countrymen were “Jays,” “Hayseeds,”
“Blokes” and “Suckers.” Money was
called “Bluut,” “Tiu” or “Cases.”
“Beer” or other drinks was spoken of as
“Lush,” clothes as “Togs” or “Har
ness,” food as “Grub.” con vers i tit in as
“Weedings,” the verb to see was ieu
dered “Stag,” eyes wre called “Oglec,”
a hat a “Dicer” or “Cady,” while ladies
were spoken of as “Dames,” girls as
“Molls,” arguments as “Guff,” clowns
as “Joeys.” and bank bills as “Flim
sies.”
They sat for some time, each vieiug
with the rest in telling of tli smartest
trick, a most cunning device used iu de
pleting the wallets of the countrymen
they had victimized, until they begun to
drop away one by oue to keep appoint
ments with other “puls” or to gwt their
“grub,” until but oue was left. He
had btn the nn>st voluble talker of the
lot, and the reporter, who had listened
to all that was said with interest, resolv
ed to interview him.
“How long have you been in the show
business?” the reporter asked, aftei
a short preliminary conversation leading
up to the inquiry.
“Well, about eight years this season.
I begun by helping around the me
nagerie, fetching water and doing jobs
about der lot, Deu I got in wid dr
candy butchers. I was hired to pel*
dit lemon.de on de seats by der man
what had dor privileges.”
* What are the privileges?”
“Well der privileges i-. wh it der pa*s
der money for to run on der lot with
the big show, such us de side shows,
der concert, der candy stands, der selliu,
o’ tickets outside and der lot or iu der
town at a slight advance on the prii e
at the ticket wagou, jewelry cases,
weighing machi ies, ad der fakin’ gen
erally.”
“You say they pay for these priv
ileges?”
“Pay? Well you Can just bet your
lifeda pay! How much? Why, some
times #IO,OOO, sometimes #15,000.
Why, 1 know one show wot gits S”O,-
0)0 a year for der privileges”
“Which show gets that and who pays
it?” the i'cpuvtui' eagerly asked.
“Oh, [ ain’t going to give any names
away. But. what I say goes. You hear
me! Why, der’s lots o’ shows started
that way. A guy gets hold of a lot o’
old show stock, a tent, some jacks aud
stringers and seats, aud then he goes to
a privilege man aud gets him to put in
enough money to start der show for de
right of der privileges. Maybe it’s only
a few hundred dollars, if it’s a small
cross-roads show, and mayt>e its #15,000
or $20,000 if it’s a big aggregation.”
“Here’s en old fake,” said the show
man, iu the course of the conversation.
“Even body plays it. The outside
ticket-seller, the candy ’ ute’ier, der boys
wot sells lemonade on the seats, and Gou*
cert tickets and peanuts, besides the
men who is always asking the jays to
give small bills lot large one—they all
doit. You see, when a jay goes to
der show he always takes Ins beet gal
with him if he isn’t married, ad his
whole family if he is, He goes to the
ticket-seller to buy his ticket and gives
Inm u $5, or a #2O to pay for ’em. Why,
I’ve kuowu the suckers to hand iu a
#IOO bill! Well, whatever it is, the
ticket-faker gives him his ticket first—
then he given him his change—but he
turns over one or two bills in such a way
that when he counts the change before
the jay’s very eyes lie makes the hills
that he Las turned buck Gou it donbh ,
Maybe he till ..a rnick .ssor a $lO, in
maybe only a#lor a #2, but whichever
it is, he turus back, the jay’s change is
short jist that much, aud as he gits
pushed away by the crowd, <r the
cappers, he shoves it iuto his pocket aud
hurries iuto the show to git a good pluc*\
When he gits iuto the show he haul* out
big money and counts it. Deu he sees
his change is short. Another fakir
wot has had his eye on him g *es to him
aud asks him wot is the matter. He
tells his little tab-; tin faker i- nuprisetl.
Maybe the jay is mistaken. Bo he
couuts it over for him, turns another
bill on him but be does r- tt C |; by
palming—so smart that the jay thinks
it II nglp, uf er all, and pa's his wad
back into his pocket. The peanut and
Sandy ptddlers play the same racket
whenever they get a bill ever $2 to
change, and so does the coi cert ticket
seller, and him wot sells the reserved
seats. It’s a very nice game to play,
and uever seems to be played out. And
then there’s the through ticket d^xlge!”
“Wbut is that?”
The showman laughed a low, confiden
tial, chuckling laugh, before be replied.
“That’s the biggest thiug o’ the whole
lot of fun. The boys enjoy that, you
bet! It’s this way; A guy buys a ticket
at the wagon and maker Liis way to the
entrance. After he gets there a’ feller
meets him and says: ‘Hev you got
your ticket?’ ‘Ya-s,’ says the guy, aud
shows it. ‘Pshawl’savs rhe f.iker, ’that’s
only a ticket of admission. You want
to get a through ticket.’ ‘What’s that?'
Wiry, one to take you every where
meuagerie, reseived seats, dre siug-room
any pluce about the tent.’ It’ a quar
ter extra, or a half, or a dollar, j ist ns
he ciphers the jay up. If the jav bitts
he hands me the money and if there is
a:iv chance, gits the turn back played
on him sure. Then the fakir takes a
slip of curdlxiard aid sticks it on the
j ly’s hat-—just like a Cos nductor on a
train—and slips tire jay on the shoulder,
telling him: Now you are all right,’ aud
gets away, to wait f r ifie next sucker.
Weil, the ticket iu the juy’s h t is a steer
for auy oue else iu the jo . It murks
him down Hut, and every fellow drops
onto him for u suck *r, aud if he gets
home with the clothes oil his back or the
soCft on his feet he’s lucky. He's
everybody’s sucker after that, sure.”—
New York World.
HIM MISTAKE.
A bright moonlight night and a gay
party. Peals of laughter in all keys float
through the keen l'rosty air as sleigh-load
after sleigh-load drive away from a bright
ly lit mansion, until the street seems
filled with the dashing si -ighimr party.
One, a small shell-like creation drawn
by a single black horse, leads the party.
Its occupants are Mr. Harold Greystoue
and his sister, Miss Nellje. Mr Grey
stone, wrapping his sister in the fur robes,
devotes himselt to putting his horse at a
speed that piou ises to leave the remain
der of tlie party in the distance. For
some reason, Mr. Greystone does not
seem to share the exuberant .-pints of the
reat of the party. On the contrary, he
se.msa good deal put out, to say the
least, and liis usually good-humored
countenance is overcast. His heavy
black brows are drawn together, and in
spite of the sweeping moustache one can
note the firm expression that lurks aYound
the mouth.
Altogether he look* very prim, Miss
Nellie thinks as she turus herself anil sur
▼eys him.
She is very small herself, and being
b iried to the chin in wraps, it is a wnik
of time to turn herself sufficiently to see
hia face. Noting his expression, she be
g in cautiously:
“Harold, aren’t you driving ihe horse
too fast!'’’ ifee, the others are away bi -
hin 1 ”
“We will arrive all the sooner for sup
per, sis,’’ was the reply.
“O, well, but the oysters are not put on
to cook yet, so w r e needn’t hurry on that
score,”
Harold reluctantly pulled up his horse
a little, and, looking back, he growled:
“That fool, Douglass, will dawdle
enough for the whole party. It’s a' grand
wonder he would consent to drive a load.
However, if my Lady Blanche wanted to
go in a load he would not object. It’s a
mystery to m: Low as sensible a girl as
Blanche Leslie can td rate such an idiot
in her presence. But, pshaw, there is no
mystery about if. If a fellow has a full
purse it makes no difference whether he
possesses any brains or not. G’lang,
Jim,” slapping the horse savagely with
the reins.
“Harold, did you ask Blanche to g
with you?”
“No, by Jove, I didn’t. I; m not quite
such a fool us that. My L.idy Blanche
will liud that she cannot twbt every one
around her forefinger like Doug! iss.
“I don’t think you need be so hard on
Blanche. She isn’t crazy after rich peo
ple at all. We are not rich, and 1 am
sure she i< always goodness itself, though
you do put on awful airs and treat her
like she was the veriest .-Hanger. As for
Mr. Douglass, almo-t every me likes him,
ifhe is a little soft. But Bi niche isn’t the
least bit in love with him.”
“N#, not in love with him, but his
pocket-book. I never supposed she was
in love with him. 1 ’
“Harold Greystoue, l am ashamed of
you. You know there isn’t a word of
truth in w hat you say. There, lam glad
we have got there at last. I feel chilly
in spite of wraps.”
Harold lifted his charge from hii sleigh
and placed her on the steps ot the hotel,
where the party have planned a dance, to
be followed by an oyster >upper. The
other sleighs drove up, and directly the
hotel is alive wdtfi the pany. The
evening is heartily enjoyed by all, with
the exception, perhaps, of Harold Grey
s’one. The sight of Miss Leslie smilingly
accepting the attentions offered by young
P me lass rendered the evening anything
NUMBER 5
but pleasant to him. It is true he had no
right to ct mplain.
Nellie was right wheu .-he said his own
pride ha 1 ere ;ted the barrier between
them. The fact that while Miss Leslie’s
parents are Wealthier within late years,
his own had grown pooler, was obstacle
| enough to Ilamld. lie did net fancy the
name of fortune huntej. He told himself
she had totally forgotten * the old days
| when they were on an equal footing, and,
I no doubt she wras ashamed to remember
her preference for hnuselt. Hut he would
not presume on that now. Douglass
might win her, aud he would not lay a
straw in his way.
All this and a great deal more ran
through his head as he gaily talked and
danced with a j articular riyal of
Blanche’s, who seemed determined to
bring him to her feet.
When at last the party concluded to
turn their steps homeward, Harold
seized his own particular charge from a
crowd of hooded and mu filed figures and
speedily had her in the sleigh, completely
enveloped ia the robes.
“Now, sis, remember yon are not to
move or hardly speak ou the way home,
else you will be laid up with an awful
bold and have a red nose, and then you
cannot see your d<ae Fred when he ar
rives to-morrow. After dancing so much
and eating a warm supper you must be
doubly careful, and if 1 hear a sneeze,
home you go for the rest of the winter,
my child;” which cheerful remarks he
emphasized by a gentle shaking.
“You need .not be absolutely dumb.
Just nod your head to signify your ap
proval of my remarks. Did you haye a
good time?”
A perceptible moving back and forth
was the answer.
“Yes, everyone had a splendid time,
myself in particular. 1 entertained my
self watching Douglass play the clown
for Miss Leslie’s amusement. He did it
to perfection. By George, I should have
thought bo many aweet smiles would have
made her sick. „
Shows how much a woman can stand
when she makes up her mind to it, and I
suppose her mind is made up, don’t you?”
A decided negative is indicated by his
companion’s movements.
“Humph! I firmly believe she intends
to marry Softhead (his own mine for
young Douglass) sooner or later, probably
sooner. Why don’t you think she dots,
sis? You can uulooen that shawl or
Boarf, or whatever it is, enough to let me
hear the souud of your voice. I’m get
ting lonesome. What did you say?”
“I don’t think Blanche likes Mr. Doug
lass very well,” was the barely audible
reply.
The deuce you don’t! O, well! but you
are mistaken, I know. Don’t sbe show
him all sorts of favors, daucing with him
repeatedly, even giving him the dance she
used to always give to me and that I
should have enjoyed so much to-night?”
“Did you ask her for it?” murmured the
figure at his side.
Ask her for it? Not I. Though, to
tell the truth, Nallie, I was awfn ny
tempted to. If she hid vouchsafed me
one fri* ndly glance I would undoubtedly
have made a fool of myself.”
Some violet emotion seemed to be agi
tating his companion, aud her struggles
attracted the attention of Mr. Greystoue ;
he shook her vehemently.
“Now, Nellie, I positively forbid you
taking off a single shawl,” and he attempt
ed to readjust her wraps, but the lady
resisted his wull-intended efforts and in a
trice had torn the veil from her face and
displayed to his astonished gaze the
laughing countenance of Biauche Leslie.
“Pray, go ou with your remarks, Mr.
Gfeystone. Your style, though a little
peculiar, Is neverthless highly entertain
ing. I don’t know when I Lave enjoyed
a ride so much. Aren’t you afraid we
shall upset if w* don’t keep the road?” for
the horse was following iu ais own sweet
will mid meandering along the roadside
in an aimless fashion, while his driver
stared at his companion in utter amaze
ment.
“What—an—utter —idiot I have been,”
his power of speech coming back to him
by jerks. “Where is Nellie, and how on
earth *<’id you get here, Blanche?”
“O, Nellie wanted to ride home with
tire load —I think she was tired of your
company, sir—ami I hadn’t the heart to
refuse her when she wanted me to take
her place.”
“And you have been listening to all my
idiotic talk! What must you think of
me? Can you ever forgive me for the
way I have talked, and,” laying his hand
on her arm, “tell me, Bl nche, that yc u
loath* and despise that fellow Douglass.”
“But I do not loathe and despite Mr.
Douglass. On the contrary, I consider
him one of the piost pleasant young men
I know. But what do you w.*nt to talk
of Mr. Douglass for? Are you so infa£
paled with him that you cannot, talk of
anything < lse?"
I infatuated with him ! I heartily de
test the man. I wante 1 to knock him
down every time he looked at you to-night.
Blanche, darling,” slipping his arm
adroitly around imr waist, “tell me, do
you care even a little for me? Are you
perfectly indifferent to me, when I have
worshipped you all my life?”
“It would serve you right if I hated you,
and I don’t see why I don’t, after the w 7 ay
you have treated me—never to come near
to me or speak to me at all,” with a most
reproachful glance.
“But you don’t hate me, do you,
Blanche?’*
“No—l don’t,” she confessed.
Mr. Greystoue’s horse lagged in a most
unaccountable fashion the last half of
the way home,but everything must la/e
been very harmonious, f. >r the first time
Mr. Greystoue met Mr. Douglass, he
hailed him such hearty good humor as to
till that gentleman with wonder, and he
marveled greatly what had come over
that gruff fe low, Greystone. “By
he n ver used to hardly speak to a fellow.
Lizzie Van Deryort,