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Western Stock Raising.
A PKTTTSB DRAWN OF IT BY A PRACTICAL
WESTERN MAN.
A western man who ha« had a lengthy
experience in stock-raising, says that
the picture drawn of it by many nows- |
noper Scsavs writers is altogether too folly flowery. fora
it is the height of
young man to go west with a few hnn
dred dollars in money, invest in be sheep,
and tlicn sit down expecting to rich
in a few years. He concluded his letter
follows:—A young man starting for
the West to engage profitably instock
raising should have at least $5,000. Of
course he could start on less. Two
thousand dollars would buy him horses
and wagon, fix up his ranch, pay his
ordinary expenses, and buy him 200
eheeii; bnt he would have to work very
hard, save all lie could, and really ought
to have ii partner to help do the work.
Even wiHi 85,000 it would be. slow work
for several yeais. 1 wonld advise a young
man of limited means who wanted to
go wi st to raise stock to get up a party
of three or four and “ pool their issues'*
for a few vears, till they could afford to
branch off alone. At any rate, 1 think
n man ought to hire himself out to a stock
man for a year before he invests. He
will thus have a chance to learn tin
business and can look around for a suit
able investment,, and perhaps at the end
of a year lie may not like the life and
oonclude to return. For tlie life is a hard
one, full of exposure and discomforts.
He may have to do his own cooking and
washing unless he is fortunate enough to
have a better half to do it for him. But
hewill be his own master, sleep ns he
never slept before, his cheeks will he
kissed so red that his mother would not
know him from an Indian. He will have
to work hard, perhaps, day and night,
for which he will 1.0 well repaid flocks by and the
increased comfort of his
.herds, and by their increase till they
cover a thousand liilln. But tliin talk of
a man who lias and no wbeep means shares, going west,
taking cattle the on put
ting ill. a log house on open prairie,
doing his own work, and making his
fortune in a few years, is all nonsense.
It is a very risky business to say the
.least, mid careful managers will not, give
-stock on shares to anybody who of is not
well prepared to take they core nothing. them or
concerning whom know
Tlie expenses of raising stock are much
heavier than supposed. than The cost of
living is higher it is hero; wages
and are buildings high, fencing take much is expensive, time, labor corrals and
money; but to one who is willing to work,
and wants to get ahead, I say, “ Go
West," and see for yourself
Dying With Their Boots On.
There is a class of individuals with
mehxdramatio notions of wlmt consti¬
tutes a heroic aim in life. They are, for
the most part, men with very ill-defined ’
notions by of the rights of foul other people. fuir, To
■ecure any moons, or the
money Other men have done honest work
to earn, is considered by these heroes en¬
tirely legitimate. To lie dead drunk in
»low groggery or in the gutter seems to
them the ve ry tlie acme of human enjoy
ment. But very highest, felicity to
which the real leaders of this close of lio
foos can aspire is the privilege of dying,
they so ’ t-ersoly er^ross it, with their
coots on.
It is net 'Boss to Hay that these so-called
heroes neariy always have their ambi¬
tion in tills respect gratified. Jim Elliott,
■x-convict, honest ex-priie-llghter, usually avoid, ex-every
thiugtlmt men met
• lugger coward and better shot than
himself a short time since, and made liis
oxit in a blaze of revolvers and glory.
George Go vie, tin* oil region bruiser, who
was proud of the reeord of having
denned out all the lesser bullies in that
lively corner of creation, undertook to
dean out claimed a grog shop himself to oblige a friend
■ml got out for good and
*11. What happened to these noted
toughs happens don’t to nearly delirium all of their
kind, before who the pistol die with knife has had tremens good
or a
opportunity to get in their work. Such
heroes seldom linger on this mortal stage
past middle life. An old hero of this
ilk is as hard to find as die a with needle their in ahay- boots
■tack. They usually
Oil.
Were it not that there seems to be an
interminable crop of young fools who are
instantly recruited to fill tlie ranks of the
expiring heroes, they might well Ik* dis
tnissed without further comment. But
like the traditional house-fly, who, when
killed, always has a thousand to its
fnm*red, the dead bruiser finds any
■mount of brainless imitators. The dime
novel hundreds and cheap and story-papers thousands are of educat¬ addle
headed ing seek their highest delight
boys to
in prize-fights, and general cock-pits, of low riot donee- and
houses, scones
disorder. This they call enjoying them
•elves sad swing life. It is certainly and en¬
joyment of the very lowest order not
■nfreqnently with his boots ends in A death to its devotee
on. young man must
be hard up for an aim in life who can’t
find a better one than that.— Philadel¬
phia Times.
Hf.nsible.— Dr. Abernethy, the cele¬
brated physician, was never more dis¬
pleased than by hearing a patient detail
long account of , troubles. A woman,
•
knowing Abernerthys, love of the Leon
iu, having bnraed ’ her baud, ! called “ ‘ at *’, his
house. Showing , . , him her hand, she
■aid, “A burn.
“A poultice, quietly answered the
learned doctor.
The next day she returned, and said,
•• Better.”
“ Continue the poultice, u . „ replied
Dr. A.
In a week she made her last call, and
Her speech was lengthened to three
words: “Well, your fee?”
“ Nothing," said the physician. “You
«ro the most sensible woman I ever saw.”
Ssatistius of a quail tin: t in G-.-orgia,
fbe gntheri'il bv thi .If.’tinfn Cons!.tut am:
0,7 Marietia and North Goorute road is
great route fur quail hunt -w. Thi
other theft wore S2,iKX) worth of
dogs (cash valuation) in the luggage oar
on" that road, attended by $6,OOt) worth
Of negroes (old valuation). In the coach
were $1,400 worth of gnus and $50 worth
•of hunters. On the return trip they had I
$S 80 worth of bird*, aud they ate a $20
hmch.
AMERICAN FABLES.
^nirrntltude—The and Vlnchet Ihe Fox. ^hop Tlie Farmer
Home Specimens op Ingratitude.—A
Burglar who hail risen to the Head of
h“* Profession one day called upon a
lawyer I have and said: demand the Prot
come to c
tion of the Law •
Yo11 «l»all bave it, my Frienu—fee . .
five . dollars.”
Hast night a man named Jones, Jiv
Seventeenth street, shot at me,
continued “And tlie burglar,
what were yon doing ?” of his
"as about to crawl into one
Windows to pack up Ins Silver and take
it down to the Safe Deposit Company s
v * ,lk ? f,,r safety. ”
“Truly, such Ingratitude must lie Ilc
bilked and Punished,’ said the forthwith, Lawyer,
“ We have him Arrested
au ^ t u-ngb be may Defend Iils SJver
against Burglars he cannot Defend Ins
Greenbacks against the Law.
The Bucket Bhop.— A simple-minded
Peasant who had heard a great deal
about Bucket Hheps, entered one of
‘hem one day and asked:
“What will it cost me to get a bucket
“Five dollars is our lowest Figure,
was tlie reply. handed his cash
The Peasant over ana
wftH h»ld to watch the Dcker and the
r,liU1 who chalked on the blackboard,
He watched until weary of the Ocoupa
tion, and then said:
“I gness I 11 take my Ducket and jog
along home, as it is about time to feed
the Jigs.
“Why. sir,” replied the owner dropped of . the ,,
Cooper Hhop, ‘ the Bottom out
of your Bucket half mi hour ago
“ * * lon * ‘ake the hoops home to
show^ my Wife that I speculated and
lost.
“Base Migrate ! shouted the propne
tor, “is it not enough that you have not
had your pockets picked anil your head
mushed witli a c ul)? Alter having put
ug the trouble of taking your money
.V ou w,m ^i now SQ^eul! ho hence,
Come here no more , Hereafter get
yourself Mining Stocks robbed, on the highway or buy
.
1 he Farmer and the Fox.—A xfarmer
having missed a number of Ins fine, fat
fowls, placed himself to watch for the
Deprooator, and ere long lie had the
Pleasure of Sending a huilot into a Fox.
“And so it was you who gave me this
Fatal Wound 1 gasped the Fox as ho
“But you were taking my Chickens,”
protested the Farmer.
“That is true, but I was also nursing
a litter of Foxes for you to kill. The
skin of one Fox is worth four times the
price of a Chicken, and I was raising a
Family of live. Hue what you have lost
by slaying nie, and Behold what base
Ingratitude lias ”—Detroit repaid my efforts to
briugyou Wealth I Free Press.
Tlie Lewis Fish Chowder.
Peel two quarts of raw potatoes anil
slice them rather thin; peel anil slice two
quarts of onions; skin and clean four
largo porgies, remove the heads and cut
each fish in slices about three inches
thick; soak four son biscuit for five
minutes in cold water; cut one pound of
fat salt j.ork in thin slices; have ready
for seasoning black and red pepper,
powdered cloves and a very small hunch
of thyme; the thyme is to be taken out
of the chowder before it is served. First
fry one-tliird of the pork with one-third
of the onions; then take uj> the fried
j.ork and onions, and put them aside to
use presently; wash the kettle iu which
the pork and onions were fried, wipe it
dry aud put in the bottom a layer of raw
salt j.ork cut in thin slices; on the pork
lay some of the fish and season it with
rod and black pej.por, soil “ml a little
ground cloves; on the fisli j^oee a layer
of j.otatoes an inch thick, next a similar
layer of the raw onions sliced, then the
fried j.ork and onions, and half the sea
biscuit, aud season this layer cloves, highly with
salt, j.ej.per and powdered lte
jieat the layers of fish, j.otatoes, onions
and sea-biscuit until all are used,
seasoning them as directed above; pour
cold water into the kettle until it entirely
covers these ingredients, cover the kettle
closely and boil its contents slowly until
the jiotatoes are thoroughly cooked;
when the jjotatoos are dune add a quart
bottle of claret to the chowder; let it
just reach the boiling point, remove
the bunch of thyme, and then serve the
chowder iu a tureen.
Having a Little Talk.
An old merchant, who has been in
business here since Adam was a little
boy, called u new clerk to his desk one
morning this week to have a talk with
him. The clerk is very smart, aud tho
proprietor said to him:
"Young man, you are too smart. You
have got so you smell of giu. You wear
neckties that would scare a horse, and
you seem to be a year ahead of the
styles. Sir, the pants this year seemed
to me to In* tight enough, but these new
pants you have got are yourself so tight into I don’t
see how you get all of them
without using a stretcher. You wear a
number six hat, with a washer inside of
it, and number twelve shoes, aud your
coat-tails are so short 1 should think you
would take vour death of cold. And
,, H)k at that diamond pin, or is it alum?
Y ou have your finger "nails dressed by a
professional com doctor, and aud your hair
par tod i„ the middle plastered
down down with with bandoline. bandoline. You You get get nine ninedol- dol
lars a week, and j*ay six dollars for board,
seven dollars for whisky, and five dollars
f or eignrs. Now where do vou get vour
clothes? j You think 1 am a blamed fool
j 0 bve lert , f or j v years and not get into
the ra *ket of a soft-headed kid store,* like you?
Now, you go and sweep the and
come i’u here atenit the time liave vou usually
go out for a drink, and I will a little
time to give vou some advice that will
do vou good.’’ The young back, follow and went
out and did not come some
think he crawled into a gas-pipe.— Chi
cayo ^ Tribune. •
-----— ~ *
A Brooklyn lady caught a burglar in
her room, and camelled him to uiarry
her. Since this terrible punishment
there has been a great falling off in the
number of robberies in Bv. . >kiyr., and it
Ls proposed to cut down the pohee force
one-hiuf. Then* an* more wavs than
ae tom.’ burglary odious. — AVm's
nm >d.
THE COUNTRY TAVERN.
The Difference Her ween That and the
(■rent City Hotel.
to a city hotel he declare; that hewill
not go again. He says:-” Here, when
a traveler conus in, the starched and
ironed clerk, simply hands him a pen at
the register, tar* a bell and sends a boj
with the traveler up the elevator to a
room, and the business is over with,
without any words. With me, at my
hotel up home, it is so different that you
wouldn’t think, if you were there, that
it was the same business. You take it
on a cold night in winter and the scenes
around my camp fire are altogether
different from what you see here in this
cosy palace. When the train gets in,
that is about four hours late, and the
two or three tired and chilled travelers
get into the office, and register, and
huddle around the stove, and growl alxiut
the poor fire, at the same time telling
me to hustle aronnd and give them
rooms with fires in them, it is a delight
ful picnic,now I tell you. You see, I
can’t afford to lure a clerk, or a night
watch, two night or three bell-boys and a
porter for and day work and all
the help I have is the boy who takes
care of the bam and keep*up the fires
in the house. So, you see all the work
devolves upon me especially at night,
and while the travelers are trying to get
tliawed out at the two-by-four office
stove that smokes and lias a crack in the
side out of which the sap from the water
elm wood is oozing, I am bustling around
up stairs building fires in the rooms that
have stoves in them and placing pans of
coals beside the beds in the less fortu
nate rooms. Oh, it is fun I tell you.
“All the time the guests down in tbs
office are swearing because I don’t hurry
up, and wondering if there is a fire es
cape in each room of the house, when
the facts are that the hotel is two
stories high, and a person could fall out
of any rexim in the house and not be
hurt. Instead of having a porter to
carry the baggage upstairs, I must lug
it all up myself, aud promise aud dressed to have
each and every man up in
time to take the early train out of town,
and I must listen to the taffy they give
me about the towels 111 the room being
able to stand alone, and the ribs of t.ie
bed showing through rather the mattress, that
r must admit looks consumptive.
And ten chances to one, the very fellow
who howls the loudest about the short
ness of the tallow candle his ticket drew
and complains because there is no Turk
ish rag at the side of his bed for him to
kneel on when he says his Now I lay
me ’ or criticises the crude country
style of having the window panes com
posed in part of cracked and broken
glass and the balance of pieces of carpet
stuffed in to keep out the wintry had blasts,
is one of the number who a ropo
(ire escape in his valise with which he
let himself and luggagi down into the
yard, and escaped without paying his
bill.”
A Dance in 1he_Lnmber Region.
A correspondent of the Minneapolis
lrtbune gives the following description
of a back-woods dance in the lumber
region: The woods began to give up the
young pics had people, reached until the number Dress of cm
thirty. edict.
trammeled by social
fancy gave vent to its love of being ad*
mired m tasteful if not always elaborate
costumes, with bits of ribbon here and
there, and an occasional artificial flower.
But the lads found a flannel shirt and no
collar quite as congenial as some sons of
society find immaculate shirt fronts, in
cased in a low-cut full dress vest. Dane
ing pumps were strictly abjured, and he
fonn.1 most favor and recognition whose
boot heel gave most frequent and liveli
est sound ,a la dog dancer. One violin
furnished the musical inspiration, aud as
its manipulator sounded the strings in
the preparatory operations of tuning up,
the caller exclaimed •
■ • Step up now and get vour numbers.
The lads, some of whom had come full
twelve miles for their night’s enjoyment,
stepped to the front, deposited each fifty
cents and received a number, much as
the patron of the toi.sori.il artist receives
a number on busy floom days in the modern
barbershop, was made the for three
sets, and the caller called numbers
up to twelve, the holdei-s choosing their
partners and dancing which the prevailed figures in the
square dances, to the
exclusion of everything of* else. Then the
rest of the list mimbem were called,
anil three more sets made up, and tin,
calling commenced over again at No. 1
when the list had been exhausted. No
excessive accomplishments in the terj.si
chorean art, no especial favor in the
feminine mind, no beauty or even sel
fislmess of person, either permitted an undue
monopoly of the floor or the com
p.uiy of the young todies. The affair
was managed justice with a democracy might and an
unyielding which have oh
tamed favor at social events as lofty in
tlie scale even as the Governor s recep
turns, and umven.nl m their attendance
as a policeman s ball.
♦ ~
Inhuman Treatment.—D uel aud his
wife wonted to get rid of a boy whom
they had taken to work on their Wis
cousin farm. He was only 12 years old,
and they were disappointed because he
could not be whipped into doing the full
work of a man. One terribly cold night
they took off most of his clothes and
tm-ued him out of doors, expecting that
he would freeze to death. Early in the
iinniing they the aroused the neighbors witli
a story that waif had run away un
known to them, and that iliey feared he
found dead. But he had made
bl8 way to succor in time to escape the
**** h; >d been planned for him and
*> reveal the tenth.
------—
Wedding Celebrations. —Anantliori
tv uivm such subjects savs that wedding
celebrations are graded from cotton to
diamond after this manner: At the end
of the first vear, the cotton wedding ; at
the end of the second year, the paper
wedding: wo&en; at three, the leather: atfive, ten!
the twelve, at seven, wi^len; at
the tin; at the silk or fine linen,
or both; at fifteen, the crystal; silver. at twenty,
the china; at twenty-five, After
this the gifts grow more and more costlv.
At the end of thirty years the pearl weil
ding occurs; at the fiftieth anniversary.
the golden; and at the seventy-fifth, the
diamond.
ORANGE COE STY MILK.
flow It tt’a* Firm Sent to tUe New York
M arket .
K£er,of Listorv Florida, N. Y , gave a short
"traffic of the growth and method of the
£jd milk in Orange County. He
:
“ The first milk shipped from Orange
County to New York was in April, 1842,
and was produced Philo on the farm then
owned by Gregory. William L.
Langridge fold worked Mr. Gregory’s farm,
and to Mr. Gregory the milk at two
cents a quart, delivered on the cars at
Chester. It went to New York by the
passenger train in the morning, to Pier
mont, and thence by boat. The first
shipments were made in churns, which
with their contents were weighed, and
twenty cents a hundred was charged for
freight an 1 two shillings six pence-for
cartage nS. from the boat to the milk depot
flt 80 Thompson street, New York.
Mr. Gregory employed him* a man to sell his
Wd^Xsffid rn ijk paying 810 a month and
his milk at four cents
LVa D er auart bait maie Mr Langrid"e an^sSiment in one year
wMle
yj r . Gregory, at two cents a quart, paid
j lif) freight, cartage, rent (which was
§50 per and^established year for a basement room) and
help, a business which
has since grown to enormous proper
tions. It was soon found that two cents
a fnla rt was a losing business farmers and for
man £ y years it was sold by the at
two e nts a quart ior four months, three
cents a quart four months and four cents
a quart four months. These were the
established prices until 1861, during
w hi c h time butter sold in the early
spring and fall of the vear from one
gbimng ;UK 1 sixpence to'tvvo shillings a
poimc i ) an ,i dairies for season at 16 to 20
cents< wOien the war broke out prices
r an wild, farmers receiving as high as
four cents in summer, six cents in
wring {lU( \ f a n, and eight cents in win
Butter was worth from 50 cents to
75 cen t s ft t the farmer’s door. After the
war and up to 1871, farmers sold their
milk to the dealers a t the market price;
q lc dealers made the price at its honest
vaJ and t ) le f armer s were satisfied,
j n November, 1871, milk had been sell
j n „ during the whole month at six cents
aTK j freight on tlie platform called at Jersey
cit N D W oodhull a meet
iugof the m jlk-dralers together the in Hes
New York, on 30th of
November, and proposed the plan of
mak j,ig the in'ice five cents, saying that
]l0 one farmer could or would contest the
ice He carrio a his point, and ever
g j nce the price has been made by the
Kame combination led by Mr. Woodhull
uutp be df e d ”
A Dance in the Lumber Region.
A correspondent of the Minneapolis
Tribune gives the following description
of a back-woods dance in the lumber
region: The woods began to give up the
young people, until the number of cou
fancy gave tasteful vent to Us love of being ad
^edin if not always elaborate
opatumes with bits of ribbon here and
and a„ occasional ar ificial flower,
Bat the lads found a th \ nrjel s,urt aIld 11 «
^ as con « e ! 1 \ aJ aa s °“ e s ° n8 of
tod ulat shirt - .
immac ° in ‘
ca8ed m a low-cut , full dress vest. Dane
l n S P'imps were strictly abjured, and he
most favor and recognition whose
b ° ot hee S rtV ? n l0st f e T ient aud llv ® b '
est « la clo , .« dancer ’ 0ue vl< ? kn
f f armshed the musical inspiration, , and
as
J 8 manipulator sounded the strings m
I^aratory °Pf at i° ns of tumn S "P
9f ier exc aimet ^ -
< ‘ »1» now and get your numbers „
?!'« lads, some of whom had come full
^ olve ,T?i f °? ? ’
« te PP ed tbe fro, ’ t > llf T 0W ted each fifty
e«,ts and removed a number, . much .us
the P a ron of tbe tonsona] artist receives
a number on busy days m alade the for modem
barber 8bo P; E,, // m wa8 tbree
sets ; and the caller called the numbers
U P !° twelv8 > hu hol ^f < UM)Kln ". tb ^
Partners and dancing the figures in he
8C exc P\ lu81 aro . °" da, ° ‘ ces everything - ' vb f. h lulled else. 1 hen to the the
re8 t t ,°, f the hst . ot wele call f d >
1 three more sets made up, and the
calling commenced over again at No , 1
wllel1 tbe hst had been f " 8 ’ : 4 ’ ’ :No
excessive accomplishments in the terpsi
( ; Uoreau art .‘ no es f ma favor “ th e
feminine mind, , no beauty or even sel- .
Bahness of person, permitted an undue
monopoly of either the floor or lie corn
P“? of the bulu ' s ’ Ille affau
was managed , with which a democracy might have and ob- an
anyielcbng justice at soci.d events lofty
f “eil avor as in
he scale even as the Governor s recep
tlons . and »miversM m their attendance
88 a P°l lceln ‘ ul 8 ’ ■
How „ 7 to „ C ook T-. Mu _ ffed . „ leal. .
p or tbis dish use five or six pounds of
tbe ] oin or a thick cut from the middle
to the j ower e nd of the leg of veal. Cut
out tlle bone without mangling following the meat,
ftnd stuff the veal with the force
meat: Half a pound of the trimmings
of the veal, chopped very fine, with half
a pound of fat salt pork, half a pound of
tine bread crumbs, two raw eggs, two
tablespoonfuls of chopped and parsley, and two
level teaspoonfuls of salt a salt
spoonful of pepper. A pound of the of sausage
meat aud*pork. may be used in place veal is chopped
vea j After the stuffed
se ason it highly with salt and pepper,
and dredge it all over with dry flour.
Put three tablespoonfuls of butter in a
kettle and let it get smoking hot over
ii ie then put it in the veal, and turn
it abo «t until it is brown all over. When
the veal is brown lav some skewers on a
p ] ate under it. pour over it a quart of
boilingwater, and stew it over a gentle
fire for two hours and a half, or until it
is quite tender, keeping the kettle closely
covered When the veal is tender take
it „r take out the skewers or plate, sea
sou the gravy palatably witli salt and
pepper, add ‘to it a glass of wine or three
sldserve tablespoonfnls of the* anv veal. good table sauce,
it with
— -
The first thing , . a city man does when ,
he becomes rich is to buy a farm, move
into the country ana bankrupt him lumseif
trying to raise enough to keep from the
starving. A rich countryman, on
other baud, buys a brown stone front m
the city and becomes.interested m stecis
whh a like result -Philadelphia News.
A Look of Thad Stevens’s Hair.
This good storvis told about the great
commoner of Pennsylvania by a gentle
£ frequenter of the room of old Thad
St ?7 en8 ’ f u°"
gather, She T ls a a visitor f^./aw-toned entered woman, nexpeetedly. with
n ox os ‘Y e. o5je and ®P' a c |acles bulky on green the gngliam ’ridge of um- her
b rel la . Sbe hnndeJMrStevens acard
Keimebunkp Iw *rt, Me and J aid eck “'
th f ‘ ^ Hon Thaddeus ts Sevens Stevens, of of Penn- Pemf
s YJJ ^mewhatembaw.-..cl, ama \ . , - , Mr. r „ Stevens
llLS identity, and asked
hl ^rp 1 Klto 1 ' l"
, , , the h ?n rente t
f T h to ^IN. ^. tw tl ’te in niy quiet t
Comedown , East I have heaixYof you
a 4bc , nd 1 bav0 r tra of T Id w vnnr y rLlT ’ f , T”
S shook it. , Now sir, I have one \
,
™ ore favor to ask It is a souvenir of
"Al ^U^Tlmav 1 nae if I may he^o be so bSd bold as toZk to ask
}*;.*„ Iodt ° f the C °“ C1 8
’’qJ XiLedtXl -, Th l w for eve? a mome “ nt more em- “■
, arrassed sa £ J Mm *,, befo 1°/®,’
tc b ? ’i ftin ' V l. ndl
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Had the Stuff in Him.
/
A well-known American editor lately
visited the school he had left as a boy
thirty tion years before. “It “and was ‘composi¬
day,’ ” he writes, I could as one essay
after another was read, hardly
persuade myself that a day had passed,
and these were not my own class-mates.
“The boys read the same stilted
periods on ‘The Fall of Rome,’ ‘The Tri¬
umphs of Genius,’ ‘Liberty,’ the and ‘The
Future of America;’ and girls over¬
flowed with precisely the same senti¬
ments about violets, and fairy dolls, and
crimson sunsets, and the lost Pleiad. ”
“Now,” whispered the old dominie to
the editor, “you shall hear the clever
boy of the school. I anticipate a great
career for this lad.”
The composition was on the “Indian
Problem,” or “Free Trade,” or some
other profound subject, on which it was
impossible that a boy thirteen or four¬
teen could have a theory or argument to
advance, except those which he had
heard from others. These were pro¬
duced with a flood of high sounding ir¬
relevant words. “The career,” said the
editor, “I would prophesy for such a
boy, would be that of an imitator, who
will make his trade on the brain capital
of other men. ”
After this boy a quiet, round-faced lad
stepped on the platform anil read a de¬
scription of chickens. The lad had a
poultry yard of his own, aud ga,ve his ob¬
servations on the habits, food and mar¬
ketable value of the breeds be knew.
The little paper was full of useful facts,
and he showed a keen capacity for obser¬
vation, and a dry humor. stuff him • «
“There is the lad who has in
to make a man of weight,” I said to the
dominie.— Youth’s Companion.
Two Faithful Hearts.
A pretty story comes in one of the Vi
enna papers. It is headed “Count and
Ballerine.” For some time past an
advertisement has appeared every day in
one of the Vienna papers asking the
owners of used postage stamps for con¬
tributions. The advertiser, it is now
found out, is a young lady of the ballet;
and needs some millions of stamps. The
reason why is thus told. Last summer
she went "with Count Anton to Reich
enau. The Count was not young, but
generous. The balleiiiie was unliapjiy,
however, and expressed pointedly. her opinions on
marriage to him very At last
tlie Count promised to lead the fair dan
seuse to the altar on one condition—If
she would collect as many used postage
stamps as would paper the walls of his
grand saloon. She took him at his word.
The walls are now, it is said, covered
with many thousands of stamps, but the
plafond Is* still white, and the Vienna
paper calls on the population of Vienna
to assist in completing the work. Vienna! “Up,
ye jiostage stamj) collectors of
Pour out the abundance of your stamp
collections, so that the two loving, faith¬
ful hearts may at last be united.”
Without a Country.
A “man without a country” is about
to appear before a French Court for the
purpose of having a country assigned to
him. His name is Gillebert, he was
born at Wazemmes, near Lille, aud his
father was born in Belgium at a time
when Belgium formed a part of French
territory. On the ground that he was
not a French citizen he was recently ex
jielled from France for menacing the
local authorities of a French Commune,
and escorted to the Belgin frontier. His
case was taken up in the Belgian Cham¬
ber and the Ministry declared him to be
a citizen of France. He has therefore
returned to France anil caused himself
to be arrested for violating the decree
of expulsion, in order that his national¬
ity may be definitely decided.
Not Funny, But True.
j Tbe ins.ant one sees a man wearing
' diamonds, says a writer in a Han
j Francisco pap>er, the mind nattu-ally
commences to decide who her the stones
were bought bonds, fun vocalism tie p lucky ds gamble of oil,
railway or a
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uwanahly . of a qmsi fllegitemnt^e charac
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wear<-r> wi i g ia Su. p i , * ” '
. ! toned cracksmen and confidence men of
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i ach !5 e
1 lead tb e ™}'7°t JXl S3&
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who poss ess sp _______.
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i 'S *■ ®
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,^tecrion*" !> ^ t< '* 1
■ formed for their protecaon.
Dying’ With Their Boots On.
There is a class of individuals with
melo-dramatic notions of what consti¬
tutes a heroic aim in life. They are, for
the most part, men with very ill-defined
notions of the rights of other people. To
secure by any means, foul or fair, the
money other men have done honest work
to earn, is considered by these heroes en¬
tirely legitimate. To lie dead drunk in
a low groggery or in the gutter seems to
them the very acme of human enjoy¬
ment. But the very highest felicity to
which the real leaders of this class of he¬
roes can aspire is the privilege of dying, their
as they so tersely express it, with
boots on.
It is needless to say that these so-called
heroes nearly always have their ambi¬
tion in this respect gratified. Jim Elliott,
ex-convict, ex-prize-fighter, ex-every
thing that honest men usually avoid, met
a bigger coward and better shot than
himself a short time since, and made hif
exit in a blaze of revolvers and glory,
George Coyle, the oil region bruiser, who
was proud of the record of having
cleaned out all the lesser bullies in that
lively corner of creation, undertook to
clean out a grog shop to oblige a friend
and got cleaned out himself for good and
all. What happened to these noted
roughs happens to nearly all of their
kind who don’t die with delirium tremens
before the pistol or knife has had a good
opportunity to get in their work. Such
heroes seldom linger on this mortal stage
past middle life. An old hero of this
ilk is as hard to find as a needle in a hay¬
stack. They usually die with their boots
on.
Were it not that there seems to be an
interminable crop of young fools who are
instantly recruited to fill the ranks of the
expiring without heroes, they might well be dis¬
missed further comment. But
like the traditional house-fly, who, when
killed, always has a thousand to its
funeral, the dead bruiser finds any
amount of brainless imitators. The dime
novel and cheap story-papers are educat¬
ing hundreds and thousands of addle¬
headed boys to seek their highest delight
in prize-fights, cock-pits, low dance
houses, and general scenes of riot and
disorder. This they call enjoying them¬
selves and seeing life. It is certainly en¬
joyment of the very lowest order and not
un frequently ends in death to its devotee
with his boots.on, A young man must
be hard up for an aim in life who can’t
find a better one than that.— Philadel¬
phia Times.
Having a Little Talk.
An old merchant, who has been in
business here since Adam was a little
boy, called a new clerk to his desk one
morning this week to have a talk with
him. The clerk is very smart, and the
proprietor said to him: ■
“Young man, you are too smart. You
have got so you smell of gin. You wear
neckties that would scare a horse, and
you seem to be a year ahead of the
styles. Sir, the pants this year seemed
to* me to be tight enough, but these new
pants you have got are so tight I don’t
see how you get all of yourself iuto them
without using a stretcher. You wear a
number six hat, with a washer inside of
it, and number twelve shoes, and your
coat-tails are so short I should think you
would take your death of cold. And
look at that diamond pin, or is it alum ?
Yon have your finger nails dressed by a
professional corn doctor, and your hair
is parted in the middle and plastered dol¬
down with bandoline. You get nine
lars a week, aud pay six dollars for board,
seven dollars for whisky, and live dollars
for cigars. Now where do you get your
clothes ? You think I am a blamed fool
to live here forty years and not get into
the racket of a soft-headed kid like you ?
Now, you go and sweep the store, and
come in here about the time will you usually little
go out for a drink, and I have a
time to give you some advice that will
do you good.” The young fellow went
out and did not come back, and some
think he crawled into a gas-pipe,— Chi¬
cago Tribune.
The Railroad Station Loafer.
Of all loafers the railroad station
loafer is the most loaferishest. He is
noisy, obtrusive, insolent. He sits down,
and eompells the passenger, the patron kicks
of the railroad, to stand up. I£e
your valise as he passes it. He is never
without a mouthful of tobacco, and he
always expectorates either in the direc¬
tion of your valise or your feet. He
stands in your Yvav at the ticket office,
although he is never known to go any¬
where. He looks over your shoulder at
the telegraph window while yon write a
message. He spars and “raetles” with
other hoodlums. He loudly calls the at¬
tention of his fellow-loafers to your per¬
sonal appearance and makes “stage- *
aside” remarks for you to hear as you
pass by him. He is utterly useless, in¬
finitely worthless and a wholesale nui¬
sance." When he is under fourteen years
of age he should be flogged and com
jielled to go to school, between the ages
of fourteen and twenty-one he should be
sent to tbe bouse of correction or a re¬
form school, and after reaching the age
of twenty-one he should be hanged. Off
with his* head. So much for the loafer.
—Burdette.
A Legacy.
An eccentric and good-hearted old
miser recently died in the village of
North Lima. Ohio. When a young man
he had loved a pretty German maiden,
but through the efforts of her father
they were prevented from marrying.
The life, young man, losing all interest in
came to America aud became a re¬
cluse, and tlie maiden became insane,
and lias been in that condition for the
last fifty-eight years. Tlie will of the
old man was discovered after his death;
aud it was found that he gave the sav¬
ings of a lifetime to his early love, whose
mind is too impaired for her even to un
derstaud the significance of the act.
Serc.eant Bat-lantixe tells the story
his a foreign prince who complained to
steward that his horses looked thin.
“ The corn-dealer will supply no more
oate till he is paid,” said the steward.
“ Who will trust us?” asked the prince.
After deep and long consideration, the
steward said that he thought they still
had credit with the pastry cook. ‘‘Feed
the horses upon tarts !” said the prince.