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THE TRAVELING TYPE-SETTER.
A RrUl Dmrfplion of One Who in H«i
Very Often*
ir,. walked silently in. We knew him
thr moment we mined our eyes and saw
him standing there, In fact we had
been expecting him, ho nearly always
•comes when we are in just such a strait
and needing him. He always wears the
aemewtyle of clothes—coat of one kind
and r>:m*s of another, he hasn’t any vest,’
Ins shoes arc worn and run down ftt the
heels, and his hat is battered and dusty.
There are spots of ink about his shirt
which hangs over his waist-band, and
his new paper collar is the only fresh,
■white thing he about just him, it and it with harks sofl, as d
though had put on and
fingers. He is pale, weak-eyed pre¬
maturely gray-haired; ho looks regular as
though bo had never known arid
hours, either for sleeping or eating,
be must have come thousands of miles
and lieen coming ever since ho was a
boy. His starting point was so far away,
and so long sgo, that he has almost for¬
gotten wlie.n or where it was; but we
ha vo an idea that it must have been when
his mother buttoned his little blue shirt
band around bis white, boyish throat,
put <>n hig little straw hat and sent him
liWefootod to nek for a place to work in
the printing lie office. How that proud night Ire was and
when went home first
allowed his new brass rule, and tolls
mother ho has learned all the boxes and
fans a free ticket to the eireiiH next week,
and the editor gave him a big piece of
wedding cake, a part of which he has
brought home column for the baby, day and next if week he
sets up ft in one
lie eau go fishing on Saturday, tilt Yes,
somewhere about there was e com
riKnoemcnt of liis long journey, and here
he is now, He asks perhafis “What’s two-thirds on show the
way. us: the
for* sit?” We give him a case, and by
and by he says he feeis faint, and asks
us if we had can't lend him a quarter—he
hadn’t any breakfast yel. We know
fain weakness, snd, as we need his work,
we go down with him and order some
breakfast for him at the nearest res tau
rank When lie oomes back he looks
happier and bettor able to work. In the
evening, when he goes to distributing
his coho, he recounts the history of liis
fate circulation places of employment. He business knows
dffac and amount of
■ of every paper in the Btuto, mid just why
the Dispatch suspended the Omirinr. and why He the
Advance sold out to is
well acquainted with the unknown edi¬
tor of the Thunderer , and has friends on
the editorial foroo of all tbo leading by jour¬
nals of the country. By and Italian be
whistles low an air from the
opera, and in reply to u question an¬
swers with » Latin quotation. He stays
with us a week, and wo grow to like him
more and more every day; lie has Huskiu rend
every thing from Bliukspesre and
to Mark Twain and Bill Arp; he knows
more about our laws, national and State,
than acquainted the best lawyer with in the city; of he is
well the lives every
eminent pctB BP of the age, and is ft per¬
fect encyclopaedia afford of keep current him events; longer, but
we cannot to any
and so pay him off mid he again starts
oil the long road that leads—not to
homes, for he has none; not to the so
oiety of intelligent people like lfimself,
(pr outside of The printing office he is
unknown; may lie back to night work on
wunii* city daily, or if too worn and old
for that, a rapid descent from one coun¬
try office to- another, with whisky and
laudanum for companions, lonely to wayside. an tm
marked grave by some
Hung on ClrciinndaiiUa] Evidence.
In 1742 a gentleman on liis way to
Hull was robbed by a highwayman. Ho
ing’hi* stopped loss at the next inn, and in describ¬
stated that he always marked
liis coins. Shortly after retiring to a
private parlor he was waited on by the
landlord, who informed him that he had
heard of his (the traveler’s) adventure,
asked the time of the robbery, and said
he had suspected luuT plenty his of hostler, Continuing, who of late
he said that siiorUy money. Iiefore he had
sent
the hostler to change a guinea, who re¬
turned after dark, landlord saving he could not
cliango it. The noticed the
coin was not the one ho gave him, but
before he heard of the robbery he had
paid it to a countryman. He suggested
that the hostler, who was then asleep
under the influence of liquor, lie
searched, which lieing done, the marked
coins, minus one, were found in liis
pockets. He was tried and hanged, but
years afterward the landlord, lieing at
the jxfiut of Aeeih, confessed his Ue did the
robliery, managing to reach inn by
a abort cut, and having paid out one of
the coins Indore finding they were
marked, had he took advautage of an erraud
he sent the hostler on and his
drunken condition to place the marked
coin in his pockets, sud the evidence of
the countryman hanged him.
The Pullet su4 the l oon.
One pretty moonlight a coon teak a
walk. lie saw a pretty pullet “piping”
him off from her boudoir window.
■ “Come down, pretty ihunsel,"said the
- 40 r.au “Lot's have a time.
“Oh. no; yon would bite my neck,
yon nasty beast, ’ she aaid.
“I promise you miou my word of hou
or that 1 will not,'' and then the silly
little pul let flew down from her perch
ami was about to go out and greet the
40011 .
**l)o not go,” the mother said, “for lie
is foolir.g thee, and it is too late for re¬
spectable The pullet people only to be chuckled out." and im¬
agined that she knew a great deal more
than her mother, and went out. There
vras a gentle flutter, a soft sigh, and all
was over. The ooon had done liis work,
«nd the puilet was lost forever.
Moral.—Y oung and innocent lambs
•iiouid heed their mothers, and above
•11 shake the intruder that entices inno
«ene* abroad at night
-goncRR primer—Why Hot weather? doe* thoae Is men
Pun so fast this any
Lodv Dvmg ? No. How Red their faces
«M,' T’hey will bust a Blood-vessel,
they are aim oat Painting, fellows! bnt Have they
try to Run. Poor
tBey just Escaped from Prison? No,
«nv child, Thev have summer cottages
out of town, and are merely trying to
oateh a train.
SO ME BOD Y’S DA JtLING.
Into a ward of the whitewashed walla,
Where the de*d and the dying lay—
Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls—
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody’s darling so young and so brave,
Wearing still on liis pale, sweet face,
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of hi* boyhood’s grace,
Matted and damp are the curls of gold
■Kissing tile snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of delicate mould—
Back Somebody’s from the ilarlih^ beautiful is dying blue veined-face now.
Brush every wandering silken thread;
Gross his hands as a sign of grace—
Somebody’s darling is still and dead.
Kiss him once for somebody’s sake,
Murmur a prayer soft and low;
One bright curl from the cluster take—
They were somebody’s pride, you know.
Somebody's hand hath rested there—
Was it a mother’s soft and white ?
And have the lips of a sister fair
Been baptized in these waves of light?
God knows best. He was some body's love;
Homel-ody’s heart enshrined him there;
8omebody wafted his name above,
Night and mom on the wings of prayer.
Somebody wept when lie marched away,
Looking so handsome, brave and grand;
Somebody's kiss on liis forehead lay,
Somebody clung to liis parting hand.
Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
yearning to hold him again to her heart,
There he lies with his blue eyes dim,
And smiling, child-like lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair young dead,
Pausing to drop on liis grave a tear;
(larve on the wooden slab at his head,
“Somebody's dai ling lies buried here.”
A. Cool Hand.
THE BTOBY OF AS ENOLIHH OKTKOTtVK.
The story I am about to relate is a
very simple one, but is a type of a par
licular oloss, and will show how little we
detectives have to go on, and from what
slight evidence we sometimes have to
act With this short prelude I will be¬
gin my story. the chief culled into
One morning me
his office, and I saw at once by the look
of his face that he was somewhat trou¬
bled.
“Fox,” he said, “here is a very nasty
piece of business im hand. You know
Viscount Loriwer”— (I need not say the
names given here are false ones)—“M.
P. for ——, and in the Ministry?”
“Yes; I should think I did. One of
the nicest follows that ever lived,”
said I.
“Well, there has been a most daring
robbery committed at his house at Park
lane; but fivm wlmt I can make out
from his lordship's hurried letter, and
his valet’s statement—he sent the note
by the valet—the whole affair seems
wrapped in the greatest mystery. ”
“That is just the case I like,” I
replied. “Ah, I thought so,” said he, with
a
laugh. too confident. “I only His hope beiug that you high are not in
it rather so up
power might make awkward if
it became public slid we did not find it
out. Those newspaper fellows like to
get hold of a thing like that—it is capi¬
tal to them.’’
“We all have onr little faults,” I
laughed, “and I think, os a rule, that
they are very good fellows.” But had better
“They may he. from you liis lordship’s
be off at onoe; for,
note, I should guess that the matter is
sorious.”
I said no more, but jumped into a
oab and (lashed off to Park lane, and
was instantly shown lordship into the library,
where I found his engaged in
earnest conversation with his brother
in-law, the Ho 11 . Colonel Malverton, the
brother of Lady Lorimer, the viscount’s
wife.
“I am glad you have come, Sergeant
Fmc You have heard of my loss V”
“1 have heal'd that your lordship has
had a loss; but liow you came by it I
have not heard.”
“The amount”—he began, when I
•topped him, book. at the same time drawing
out mv note
“Wait a moment, my lord. Now,
just let ns go through this matter in
tike regular form. In the first place I should
you to tell me what you know of
this matter. I ask you to pardon me,
my lord, hut the fact is that I have to
diaoover the thief and recover the prop¬
erty, and therefore must tliiuk more of
means than mauners.”
“By Jove, the fellow sava 6eorge, truly!”
oried the colonel. “Come, tell
him all about it”
“You must know, sergeant, that last
night tlie —- bill came before the
House, and the discussion was a very
long one, and owing to the absence of
•ome of our party I had to take a long
and very unexpected part in it. On re¬
turning home this morning I was thor¬
oughly exhausted, and undressing my¬ and
self rupuliy, drank some light claret
wont io bed. ”
“Your volet ?” I inquired.
“I dispatches as soon as I possibly
oould, giviug him orders not to wake
me, or even to enter my dressing until room, I
iu case he should disturb me,
rang my bell. This be punctually car¬
ried out, for waking earlier than I
thought, I sprang out of lied feeling
.wonderfully I should well—far better than debate, I
thought after so long a
and being glorious over my party's tri¬
umph. Wrapping myself in my dress
iug-gowu, riod into I leaped dnsoing-room, out of bed where and I hur- be¬
my
gan to write some letters which were of
groat importance. While doing this I
noticed that the things in my dressing
room were in the same state of contu¬
sion in which I hail left them. I know
I am somewhat eccentric, but the slight
,«( noise wakens me. Henee my having
ordered James to leave them where I
threw them.”
“I see. I pray yon, my lord, go on.”
“Well, the letters finished, I rang for
James. He came with the usual choco¬
late, and so forth. I sent him down
with the letters for a footman to poet.
While he was away I had occasion to go
to my trousers’ pocket for sometliiug.
My purse was there, but empty 1”
“Hump I Was there much in it ?**
“About seven or eight pounds, some
silver and two five-pound notes. No
more.”
“And is that all you have missed?" I
inquired. “Of course, it is a hard and
dangerous thing for any gentleman about to
have a dishonest person him:
but the loss of that sum is so little to
your ' lordship, that—” loss that
“But it is not the of sum.
The keys of my private safe had been
removed. Hastily dressing myself, I
hurried to the library and examined the
safe. The key was in it, aDd, on search¬
ing. 1 found that coupons and papers <A
great value had been stolen. One—a
letter, which, by accident, I brought
home from the—office—was most im¬
portant. It must be kept private at any
cost. ”
“Come, come, my lord; do not speak
so loudly—there may be listeners, ’ said
J. “Was anything else gone ?”
“Not a thing.”
“The family plate—that on her the side¬
board; your jewel case, and lady¬
ship’s?” touched.”
“Not a thing
“Any way found out how tire thief
broke in ? ’ was my next question.
“Only the fanlight ■ over the pantry
door—the door leading into the garden
_that has been out and out removed.
That must be the way the thief came
in.”
“Perhaps so, my lord, Will your
lordship give directions for your valet—
Mr. Jones, I think he is called—to show
me over the house ? That is, I want to
see your dressing-room and bed-room.
The safe—”
“The safe is here,” said Lord Lori
mer, opening an oaken door, on which
had been fastened a number of backs of
books, so as to make it seem part of the
library. the safe, and there
Behind this was
was nothing to be discovered there.
His lordship declared that no one knew
of the safe but himself, that he found
the missing key in the door of the safe,
and soon afterward discovered that the
papers had gone.
“So much for the safe,” said I.
“Now, my lord, if you will be so kind,
I should like to be shown over the place
by the valet.”
“You cannot suspect him,” said Lord
Lorimer, with an incredulous smile.
“I have had him in my service since he
was a youth of eighteen.” him, lord. On¬
“I do not suspect my in
ly, because he lias been longest your
service, I should like him to be with
me.”
“Very well, I will send for him.”
This was soon done, and I was ush
ered by the valet into his lordship’s
dressing-room and bed-room—handsome
enough, heaven knows! Bnt there was
no trace of anything to be found there ;
so then I went down to the pantry door
and examined that.
Here came my first puzzle. I saw
something wrong iu a moment; but I
took great care that James should not
see it.
“That glass,” I said, “has been cut
from the inside, I’m sure. Don't you
see that the cuts are not straight ? They
slant outward.’”
I looked at James, and from that mo
ment felt convinced that lie was the
thief, for liis under lip trembled—a sure
sign of a thief.
However, ho in some way, aliont the
glass having been smashed, pretended
to explain it away, and I to'
believe him, although I knew that a glass
cut in that manner must have been re
mored by some gummy stuff, turned
sideways, and then pulled into the house
and smashed on the doormat. Examina
tion of the pieces proved ground,” I was correct. I said.
“Now to examine the
He was about to step out on to the
soft ground, but I pulled him back,
saying: I look for
“Stay a moment. want to I
tke footprints If. you go there, shall
find yours.”
Again that trembling of the lip, and a
paleness came over his face.
11 What do you mean, sergeant?” he
demanded.
“Oil, nothing; only I must have no
one pass over this ground until I have
examined it. That is all. I say, there
is not a footmark hero ! That is rather
strange.” and I
“Very,” he exclaimed; lip. again
noticed the trembling of the Sud¬
denly he cried out, “Perhaps did you are
this right, sergeant. He He in not other come and in
escaped wav. came some
this way. That will account
for the glass being cut from the inside.”
through “By Jove! A good idea! He crawled
the window and leaped down
upon this grass plot. ”
“Exactly, exactly !” he done cried that, eagerly.
“Yes, he might have but
where are the marks of his fall ? If he
fell fiat on his side he would make a
pretty the good dent, If for the earth is soft
from rain. he was lucky enough
to come on his feet, bis heels would
plunge into the earth a good depth.
No, we must look for the solution some¬
where else. ”
I had now made up my mind about
the matter, but I permitted him to show
me all over the house, and lay out the
most marvelous theories, all of which I
not only listened with surprise to, but appeared to lie
overcome at their acute
nee*. Then I asked again to be shewn
into the library.
His lordship and the colonel were
both there waiting anxiously for my
return.
“Well?” they both aried, as I entered
the room.
“Hush ! Wait!’’ I replied, as I closed
and locked the door. Then approach¬
ing them, I said in a low tone, “I know
the thief.”
“You do?” cried the colonel. 1 ‘Then
give the knave in charge thin moment.
Take him up.”
“Stay, If a moment, colonel, stay a mo¬
ment. his lordship likes to giva him
made in charge, I’ll take I him. But if I have
a mistake, will not lie answerable
for the action for false imprisonment,
loss of character, eta”
“What do you mean, sergeant ?” cried
Lord Lorimer.
I told him as briefly as I could the
results of my examination, and the dan¬
ger of arresting an innocent person on
sueh a charge. He listened patiently
and then asked my advice.
“I’ll tell you, my lord, what I should
do,” I replied. “I should call your
valet into this room and tell him that I,
Sergeant Fox, of the-division, had
made careful examination of the case,
and had grave suspicions lordship that he was
the guilty party.” ready—those His for was legal to
have his wages
warning as well —to hand them over to
him, and order him to quit the house as
soon as possible.
This was done.
I never saw a man take a thing so
coolly. He protested indignation his innocence;
turned with virtuous upon
me, denounced me as one of those police
men who would get a msn hanged to
advance themselves in the force, and
so on.
I listened unmoved. He had his turn
then—I knew I should have my turn
soon. sergeant,” inquired both of
“Well, when he left the
the gentlemen think ?” room,
“what do you now
“I am more positive than ever that’s
the man. Now, gentlemen, you know
nothing of these matters. How should
vou ? Just you be guided by me, and
■.>, <- will not only have him, but the
property back; for it is still in the
house.’ cried
i . Good heavens !” the colonel.
“Why do you not search his boxes,
then ?”
“Because, colonel, I should not find
them there. Our friend is too cute for
that. Not he. And, as I said before.,
to accuse an innocent person of such »
crime is rather too risky to suit me.
Now, gentlemen, I have two constables,
who will be stationed at the corner of
Mount street. I shall go and join them,
and keep watch upon this house. You
ge t the fellow turned out as soon as you
can, and leave the rest for me to look
after. That is all, gentlemen, and I
wish you good morning.”
I left the room and the house, joined
the uniformed men—I, of course, was on
plain clothes duty—and gave them my
directions how to watch, while I strolled
up and down, smoking a cigar. which
In a quarter of an hour the rain,
had been threatening, came down in
showers. It most certainly threw a
damper on my spirits. In a very little
while I was wet through, but I could not
move from my post.
Presently I saw the colonel come out,
and very well he acted his part, appear¬
ing not to know ns until he had come
round the comer, and then he told me
that James had requested his lordship
to give him time to pack his boxes, and
his lordship, not knowing instructions, how to act,
wishing to follow my and
yet not to be hard upon the man, had
sent the colonel out to ask my advice.
It was—“Let him pack his boxes. I
will wait until he goes for a cab. That
will be my time.’’
Back went the colonel, and two more
wietched hours did I have to wait until
I saw James appear,
He glanced eagerly round as he stood
on the steps, and then made an advance
toward me.
_ _____ lt _ _
j . t .pped forward and beckoned him.
j n a moment lie started off right down
Park lane, I after him, up Grosvenor
street, into Grosvenor square, and there
j collared him, giving him one on the
side of the head which made it tingle, I
know.
“You vagabond,” I said, “you back. have
given me all this run. Come I
knew from the first that yoa did it.
Come back !”
His manner changed suddenly, and in
tone he said:
“I saw that you suspected me from
the first, and was foolish enough to get
frightened. So, when half charged, I
ran away. But I see my ioUy now, and
am ready to return. Do with me what
you like. I am innocent.”
The fellow’s coolness knocked me over.
Could I have made a mistake? If so, I
had made a big one, with a vengeance !
But I brought him back, and into his
lordship’s presence. possible,” cried Lord Lori
“Cau it be
mer, “that you have been guilty of such
a deed after the kindness I have shown
you?” “My lord,” replied the fellow,
young
with the greatest coolness, “a detective
must have a victim. If he do not find
out a fellow creature to suffer for the,
crime which has been done, he is called
a fool. Therefore, guilty or innocent, he
must catch some one.”
“Enough of this,” I said. “I must
search you.”
‘ ‘Search me I” he exclaimed, as he held
up his armB.
“Hallo 1” thought L “No one does
that before they have been in prison
once or twice. A fresh man drops his
arms by his side, and he is hopeless,
helpless. I have a queer customer to
deal with.”
Well, I examined his clothes most
carefully; I emptied his pockets, passed
iny hands round his body, legs, and even
made him take off his boots—not a single
thing. the
Had I mader a mistake ? As to
things being in his boxes, that I knew
could not be. The gold in his pocket
proved notKing, as he had received good
wages, and was reckoned a waistcoat,” saving man.
“Take off your ooat and I
laid.
He did so, and threw them carelessly
on the table.
Only a click; something hard struck
the table. It might have been a button
_a coin—but my suspicion was roused.
I was up and at it iu a minute, feeling
the coat all over. Yes, there, justuudei
the arm of the coat, was something sewn
iu. sleeve
Out with my pocket-knife, there the the
was ripped open, and were
stolen coupons—the valuable letter—in
fact, all of the things but the coin; but
what had made the noise was a gold
medal which Lord Lorimer’s father won
at Waterloo.
The thief once found out is always a
coward. No sooner did he find that he
was detected than he fell upon his knees
and called upon his lordship for mercy,
and—well, I cannot say I’m sorry, but
he had it.
Shingles were split by hailstones in
Tennessee the other day and women who
are obliged to split kindlings in the
morning are thinking seriously elements of mov¬
ing to Tennessee where the are
more considerate than thoughtless hus¬
bands.
‘•Mr dear,” said a sentimental wife
-home yon know, is the dearest spot v.n
earth.” “Well, yes,”said the practical
husband. "It does cost about twice as
much as any other spot.
A NAVAL WEDDING.
AN AML’SING EPISODE OF THE WAR.
Romance on the Sliip Rover— Difficulty In
Preparing the Bride’s Trousseau—De¬
scription of the Ceremony.
It was the practice during the civil
war to ship colored refugees, when com
potent, under the tifie of “contrabands.’
Among such candidates for muster on the
Hover of the Mississippi Squadron was
a tall young buck with goggle eyes, of high
cheek bones, a great splotch shark’s a nose, and
blubber lips, a mouth like a
a skin which shone like polished asked ebony. clerk,
“What is your name ?” my
when this Apollo was presented for en¬
rollment.
“Gasper, sah.”
‘What else?”
“Nothin’, sah.”
“What! No other name?”
He scratched his wool and looked be¬
wildered.
“All right,” said I, as I was in a
hurry; “put him down ‘Nothing. f >f
So “Gasper Nothing” was inscribed
on the records of the United States
Navy.
So much for the groom.
But the bride ! How can I picture
her ? In need of an assistant washer¬
woman, we sent aboard of a boat load
of colored refugees, like and captured compromise some
thing that looked a
between a giraffe and ourang-outang.
Language is inadequate to paint her
portrait. She was wondrously tall, and
ugly, and angular and awkward; long
neck, long arms, long legs and long all
over. Clad in her long, gray plantation
frock, she loomed up like a walking
Cleopatra’s Needle. When she appeared
at the office I asked what they called her.
“Thai, thir,” she lisped.
“Sail what ? Anything else ?”
“Not-th I knowth on, thir I”
“Let’s call her Long Sail,” whispered
the clerk. So Long Sail was she chris¬
tened—in ink.
The first step taken in Sail’s behalf
was to devise some amelioration of her
wardrobe. I contributed a bolt of blue
flannel, and one of our old sailors,
dexterous with the needle, took Sail’s
latitude and longitude, fashioned a stylish
gown and petticoats, trimmed with
Barnsley sheeting, and Sail shone forth
a like full-fledged should blue jay. It Gasper. was de¬
cided that Sail marry
But here arose a difficulty. What was
to be done for a trousseau ? Sail’s blue
caparison had become greasy and de¬
faced, and, besides, it was scarce comme
ilfaut for a bride. We determined, as
we were going to have a wedding in the
family, that it should be first-class, if
possible. In this desperate emergency
I remembered that onr navy had recently
captured a small contraband trader, and
I had seen the little vessel lying under
the port quarter of the flag-ship. I
called upon the captain and stated our
dilemma. Nobody ever loved fun bet¬
ter than Admiral Porter, nor could any¬
one sympathize more than he in such an
enterprise as we had undertaken. For
reply he arose, opened a back door of his
cabin and went below. Presently b ck
he came with his arms full of bolts of
calico, gingham and the like. I selected
what seemed most suitable, thanked
him, and left an invitation for the wed¬
ding. mantan-maker again
Our man set ty
work with a will, and under his artistic
touch Sail soon was gorgeous. W 7 e even
fabricated a set of stays and laced her
up like a tenor drum. Next to be looked
for was the wedding-ring. This was
furnished by the wife of an officer of the
Marine Brigade; also, some artificial
(lowers for the “bar,” and a pair of white
kid gauntlets, which, by dint of soaking
and stretching, were at last adapted to
Sail’s taper digits. W T hen we had her
all rigged, Solomon in all his glory cer¬
tainly never shone as she did. She was
fairly aghast at herself, and it was per¬
haps fortunate that we had no furl
length mirror in which she could have
seen herself as others saw her.
All being ready, time was fixed and
the wedding invitations were issued to
the notabilities of the squadron. The
nuptial knot was to be tied in the Rover’s
wardroom at 10 A. M., just after the
Sunday muster. Our fleet surgeon, a
natural orator, than whom no one could
render the Episcopal text with more
impressiveness and unction, assumed the
role of master of ceremonies. Our cap¬
tain undertook to give away the bride.
As the decisive hour drew nigh the wed
ding guests assembled, arrayed in full
naval uniform. The bridal party came
on deck, escorted by the “contrabands”
in blue jackets and white pants. One
of Gasper’s messmate’s officiated as
groomsman, while my clerk endeavored
to do the honors as a sort of he brides *
maid. The fleet surgeon began the ser¬
vice with a dignity and solemnity be¬
fitting All the occasion. well until he
went came to “Who
giveth this woman to be married to this
man?”
Then otrr skipper stepped forth. He
was an old salt who always took things
in dead and serious earnest, and talked
from the bottom of his heart.
“Sail,” said he, “you’ve heard what
the minister has just read ! Now, mind,
there’s no foolin’ about this ! Gasper is
to stick to you and you're to stick to
Gosper ! No more runnin’ round among
these other darkeys! Gasper's Gasper wife, is your and
husband and you are
you’re to love and honor and cherish and
obey him ! Do you understand that ?”
“Yeth, thir,” lisped Sail.
“And, Gasper, you re to look out for
Sail and take care of her and keep her
to yourself, and see that she don t go
gallivanting about with anybody else.
Do you understand?
groom.
‘ Then I give this woman to be married
to this man. Go ahead, fleet surgeon.
The doctor maintained his aifd gravity
throughout this little interlude, con
™ e „he T e,o
(lie ring business and with all my
goods I thee endow, a b’ ac £. meal in
the rear ranks, overcome by his feelings,
chuckled and snoit d out:
“Whar s de gopd® •
Then he stuffed his blue cap into Ins
mouth. His mal-apropos slightly rippled
the general serenity, but we survived it,
and came at last happily to tne benedic
ion. Such was the union of Gasper
and Long Sail, who can boast of being
spliced under more novel conditions than
fell to the lot of any other couple during
the late war.
JOINING A LODGE.
SOME ADVICE TO A MAN ABOUT NOT
IIKING TOO PREVIOUS.
A Married Man has Enough to do to Take
Care ot his Household AUairs Without
Taking Decrees.
[From the Milwaukee Sun.]
A woman who has been married four
weeks to a clerk in an agricultural im¬
plement agency in a country town, writes
to know what The Sun thinks about her
husband's joining a Masonic or Odd
Fellows' lodge. She says they have
talked it over themselves, and he is
twenty-one years old, gets fourteen dol¬
lars a week, and they are boarding with
her aunt, and they have agreed to leave it
to The Sun. This paper does not wish
to encourage or discourage any young
man from joining any order that he feels
it his duty to join, but the indecision of
this young married man is the best evi¬
dence in the world that tlic time has not
arrived for him to join a lodge. Lodges
are not made any more powerful by the
addition of young fellows who have only
been married four weeks, and who are
boarding with their wives’ aunt. A man
can join a lodge when he is twenty-one
years old, but lodges are not searching
the birth records to see when a man ar¬
rives at that age, in order to get him to
join. When a man becomes of age, and
gets married, he has other duties to per¬
form, which are more important than
j oining a lodge. Several things are liable
to occur that will make the fourteen
dollar a week look tired without joining
a lodge. The girl that the young man
has married is liable to want something
besides day board. She may want a
dress or two, or a hat, and a time may
come—at least we have known it to come
in a great many families—when the bride
is not as well as could be expected, and
the fourteen dollars a week bridegroom
has to pay a doctor. She is the only
bride he ever had, and sho is the dearest
bride on earth to him, and the best
doctor in town is none too good, and
-;ome of the best doctors knock a serious
hole in fourteen dollars a week. So it is
not best to hurry about joining a lodge.
Any well regulated lodge will wait until
you get the doctor’s bill paid. Then the
young bridegroom when should does begin to think
about the time he not want
to board with his mother-in-law, or any¬
body else, and he has got to furnish a
house out of that fourteen dollars a week.
It will take two weeks of that pay to buy
a cookstove, to say nothing about things
to cook, and one week’s pay for dining
room table and chairs, and several weeks
pay for a bed room set.
But it is not right to discourage young
people by telling of the things they need
a great deal more than they do a mem¬
bership in a lodge. A baby it wagon can
bo bought for about what would cost
to join a lodge, and a young couple al¬
ways want the best baby wagon that can
be bought, the first time they buy one.
Of course, the young parent might get
trusted for the baby wagon, but it is
awful hard to pay for it after the baby
has got so it can walk, and the baby
wagon is stored away in a pigeon hole
in ( the attic. So it can be readily seen
that joining a lodge is thp last thing to
be thought of, until the candidate has
all these necessaries of life paid for, and
is not cramped for money. The trouble
with many young men who join lodges,
is that they want to take all the degrees
in sight before they have a second shirt
to tlieir backs, or their wives have much
more clothes than they were married in.
They see men who have taken degrees
above them, and they want to get there,
and it takes money. After a man has
got a home to shelter him and his wife
and little ones, and he feels comparatively
at ease financially, and his children are
not barefooted, and their pants out at
the knees and vice versa. The Sun
would not discourage such a person from
joining a lodge, if he felt like it, and after
he joins it, if he can afford it, he is at
liberty to take a thousand degrees, but
as long as he owes every man that will
trust him, and hasn’t got credit enough
to buy a sack of flour, and his family is
pinched for (lie necessaries of life, if he
yearns io for expensive degrees they ought
be drove into him with a club.
Hot Weather and Cool Drinks.
Will any one ever solve the standing
mystery of the drinking habit ? asks an
exchange. Half a year ago all men of
bibulous inclinations were taking whisky,
brandy and gin at intervals throughout
t he day for the sole purpose of keeping
warm; now the same men are drinking
the same kinds of liquor, in the same
quantities, in order to keep cool. Most
of them pour ice water into their liquor
or take it after their liquor; but they do
the same in the depth of the winter.
Can any drinking man tell the public,
:or a certainty, whether alcohol makes the
lrinker *ool ? If the stuff is cooling why
does he take it in the winter to make him
warm ? Or if he says the effect is not
■ooling, but heating, why does he drink
tt freely when the mercury is in the
lineties? If such apparent inconsis¬
tency was displayed by a politician there
would seem nothing strange about it;
out when it is manifested at considera¬
ble expense, the money coming out of
the drinker’s own pocket, public curiosi¬
ty is inevitable.
The Garlic.
The violets charm your eyes, but You
mns t be blind if you couldn’t hear the
^ ij rhc smelL They say this fragrant
er b -was introduced into Pennsylvania
by a farmer who came from over the
seas locate^ near Westchester. He
sowet ] a field of it for green fodder for
hia cattio . It fell upon good ground,
because there is no other kind in that
grew and brought forth
the fairy dell, verdant hillsides £2.
and in on
an( j j n f] le daisy-sprinkled meadow,
wherever two or three blades of grass
are gathered together there is a bunch
of garlic in their midst. You never saw
anything like it out West. Sometimes
the cow wanders into it and devours it
f or a re ji_qb -with the clover. And then
u -p en you drink a glass of milk yon go
around 1 eathmg on the flies in wanton
erne }ty i just to see them die
