Newspaper Page Text
The Montgomery Monitor.
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Proprietor
"RETURN, STRONG WILL."
Itctiirn, strong will, to thy (lcsortod throne;
Faith, hope and reason, joy will come and bo
Loyal prime ministers and aids to thee,
Counselors irne, but powerless alone.
Dark doubt and passion their allegiance own
To thy sway only; now in riot free,
They seek to ruin, what is good in me,
And in thy absence what is base condone.
Come thou and quell the revelers, they will
cower,
And all tlicir craven followers in thy sight
Will serve as slaves to thy superior power,
Nor dare to flaunt by day nor prowl by
night—
Como and defend fair innocence, whose flower
Needs the protection of thy guardian might.
A. L. Carlton in Pioneer Press.
A STORY OF THE RUSH,
T was on some Government duty in
New South Wales, that took mo into tho
lpoal Post Offices. In the hack parlor,
at the Gundaroo Post Office, I had a long
chat with the son of the Postmistress; a
lise young fellow, perhaps a little over
thirty. He was manager to a local sheep
king, and rejoiced in the curious Chris
tian name of Hot. From his story told
me t gleaned the following “Romance
of the Bash.”
The time I'm telling you of was in tho
hot season. The ground was all cracked
and dry. There hadn’t been a drop of
rrriji for months and months, and lots of
the creeks were empty. At Gundaroo it
had been very bad, and the district
round was terribly in want of water.
H \ ' vij f s *. ■-v _
“He raised her head as tenderly almost as s/he
would have done her ovm child."
Qn the Saturday after New Year’s
Day, when Standard, the mail carrier,
left “Paddy’s Shanty,” it was a hot wind,
awful to ride in. They thought rain
was coming, though.
The boss at the shanty told Standard,
os he fixed up his water barrel behind
lijni on tire saddle, that a storekeeper
ajifl his wife and child, and his chum, had
started the day before for a station whore
they’d got a berth. They hud to follow
the Gundaroo tiaick a bit, and then strike
across the bush to the station. “It isp’t
far they’ve to go,” he said, “but they’re
npw chums, and the woman looked a bit
delicate, as well as having a young baby
to carry.”
Standard says lie must have ridden a
couple of hours, perhaps, when he saw
something on the track like a dead per
son or horse. Ho had Iris hand on his
pistol as he trotted up to it, he said,
thinking of the mails, when lie saw it
w'asn’t a horse, or a man, but a tall slip
of a young woman, dead, orpehapsonly
dying, laid on tho ground with her hack
dropped against a tree, and a poor little
baby clinging to her breast.
“Lord of fill!” muttered Standard, as
ho jumped off Lady’s back and stood
over the woman. He raised her as ten
derly almost as she would have done her
own child. The little one, as he used to
say, started crying—a kind of wail—and
opened its eyes in that sort of way that
you know it hadn’t long stopped crying,
but just woke up and began again where
it had left off. I’ve two kids of my own
now, and I know’—not that they’ve ever
had to lie alongside a mother as good as
dead and try to get fed and warmed at a
breast as cold as that poor soul's. Thank
God, no! But for all that, well fed kids
Can cry, and cry pitiful, too; so I know
liow he meant to say this particular kid
cried.
Standard laid the little one on its
mother’s shawl, and set to work to luring
the mother to. He’d seen men exhaust
ed, and laid down to die from thirst and
fatigue come round, hut he wasn’t sure,
he said, if a woman had to be dono for
the same as a man—he was a single chap
' "•‘K’V _-e V*
«Bolted into the scrub, carrying every blessed
thing they gut with them.”
then. But he set to and got a little
water first, and then wut<-» with a dash
of brandy in it, between her blue lips,
and rubbed her forehead and hands w ell,
and laid her so as the blood —once the
spirit had started it again—could flow a
bit quicker to her poor brain. A bush
man has to be a bit of a doetor, you
know. Then the baby started to help >y
gTving a loud shriek, and the young
woman opened her eyes and sighed like;
and he kx-p’ on giving her water and
spirit as she could take it until she could
ts«l herself more eomfortabte. He
didn’t start talking to her then, knowing
she wanted an icr strength to come
round; but nc pit. the baby back in her
asms, ;uul tlu* mother iu her prompted
her like to bike a good long pull at the
druik iu the tally—so as the kid might
get some in a while you know.
After a tat she started to cry iu n low
sort of way. and tlien .Standard, he set
by her and cheered her up, and told her
not to take un. He told her she was
found; and tlu\t all the worst of being
lost was done with, and not to cry, and
so on. All the time, poor fellow, though
he didn’t hurry her, he knew he was
losing time dreadfully, and would hardly
make the creek to oanii) before nitrhtfn.il.
Thinking of that he suddenly remeraner
«d the wunuui luul got to go, too, or he
left to die where site was. Standard
was wandering what the deuce he should
do with her, when she started and told
liim how she come tlioro. It seemed
she was the wife of the storekeeper, Ban
Herman, that the hose “Paddy « Shanty”
spoken of, imd she says, when tliey
had got part way through the scrub
(two days before, mind you,) they stop
ped to change her on the other horse,
and allow 'em to stand about a bit to
stretch their legs, the two men. The
fouls never hitched the horses to anv
tliing! All on a sudden u aaiake slid
aoross the truck right under the woman's
lest- She screamed out, and that star
tled the horses. Off they went—bolted
clean into the scrub, carrying every
blessed tiring they got w ith them—water,
mutches, the hilly, and everything. Her
husband and chum tore after them, ts-11-
tig lit* - to be sure and stop where aho
was. She sat there idl alone, and there
she’d s<?t! First, waiting patient, and
then a little frightened and nervous as
time went on. Then, when it got dark
and into the night, and tliey didn’t come,
Scared out of her life, and shouting,
shouting to ’em to guide ’em to come
back; and she telle how she stood there,
nut daring to move, but trying to sec
over tiie trees, and shouting fill she
couldn’t spook, and they never come.
By and by slie got thirsty and faint, and
the child was crying for drink and she’d
nothing for it. limn she walked oa,
hoping to get some water; and then, she
said, the trees seemed to wave about and
close in on her, mid she sunk down ex
hausted, and must have been iua sort of
sleep and swoon, mixed, till Standard
found her.
She says to Stan dol'd; “They must be
killed,” and cries awfully.
“Poor fellows,” said Standard. He
knew that being “killed” would be pleas
ant to dying of tliirut, os they most like
ly would do they once get lost tli«ro.
But he tried to comfort, her, and to
please her he shouts again. Though, na
lie said, after two days, and she and tho
baby shouting all they could most of tho
time, and they not come back it weren’t
likely they were within hail now. He
made her understand this at last. Buys
he, “Very likely they’ve got to camp,”
to comfort her, you understand. Then
lie started to say how was they and tlio
baby to get out of this? Sfio didn’t
want to move from where she was, poor
woman, in case her liusliand should come
hack, but Standard nays to her: “You
can’t do your husband no good by stop
ping here, and if you get quick to Gun
daroo, yon could tell ’em to send out a
search party, and besides, ma’am, your
little one can’t manage another night in
the bush.”
“No, sir,” she says. She was a gen
tle, docile thing, and see he was right;
and then she says to him, helpless and
grateful like; “Could we ride behind
you, sir?”
Poor Standard! He felt stumped. Ho
didn’t know what to say. He looked at
the tall young woman and thelaiby, and
then at himself and the horse already
well weighted with his camping kit and
the mails. It wasn’t possible! and ho
knew it. There was ten miles or so to be
done that night, before they got to tho
• .-'3 ' •
ft ’
“ The poor lass behind, with tit* hairy in leer
left arm.
nook. It was late now, nearly seven.
It would be dark as pitch in the scrub
before they got there, even if “Ijady”
could carry all that load so far as that;
hut as to carrying them all to Gundaroo,
eighty miles further on—lie knew she
couldn’t do it. Besides, nothing was al
lowed to delay the mails. lla would be
late as it was for the, stop he’d made. It
must be a couple of days, at liest, lisfora
he’d get there, currying all that extra
weight.
So Standard stood for a moment or
two and thought it all over, while he
watched the girl (for she was no more)
straighten herself and the child and
struggle to stand. Seeing her stagger a
bit called him to himself, and he thinks
as he gave her his hand to steady her,
“Damn her Majesty’s mail regulations!
I’ll take her, somehow !”
Bo he gets his blanket out of bis kit
and straps it behind the saddle, and
then he took and laid the baby on the
tree root, while he swung the woman on
the blanket behind the saddle. Then lie
handed her up the child and got care
fully into the saddle himself, leaving
them all the room he could, she used to
say. “Lady” looked round, a bit doubt
ful of the extra weight and the dangling
petticoats on one side, but started right
enough when Standard told her it had
got to Is; done.
There wasn’t much said on the ride.
It was rough stepping, and “Lady” ’d
to pick her way, and Standard had to
help her and steady the poor lass behind
with the baby in her left arm and her
right hand on his belt; and she was look
ing and looking on both sides to see if
she could see the two men. Except to
b <zi Standard to stop a minute and shout
MT\ VERNON, MONTGOMERY CO, GA., WEDNESDAY, -HIY 20. 1887.
once or twice in case her husband and
liis chum wore near, she never spoke.
Standard knew it must be hopeless, and
the further they got the more hopeless
it must get; but lie was a tender-heart
ed fellow, and he couldn’t stand hearing
the poor soul crying in a hopeless sort
of way behind him, and not do some
thing to please her. But all the way
the lmby lay there as peaceful and com
fortable*as we arc now this minute.
When they got to the creek it was
nearly dark and the woman was swaying
in the saddle, though she’d sat straight
enough at first. Noticing this, Stand
ard says, suddenly; “Missus, have you
ever rode alone?”
She gives a sort of start, and site up
and says; “Oh, yes, I’ve rode a good deal
when t was a girl; but I’m that tired
now and feel so weak that I can’t sit up.”
She thought he was wondering at her
loaning against him so heavy. But tliat
wasn’t wliat Standard was thinking. Ho
knew what it was himself to sway, near
ly falling straight out of the saddle, from
fatigue and want of food and water. No,
he was thinking of a plan for the next
day. When they got to the creek he
site tho woman down and hobbles
’Lady,” and gives her mouth a sponge
out and il hit of a rub, to last till he
could ses to her when she was cool.
Then he got some sticks and dry grass
(no teal- of the wood being wet iu a hot
season hereabout) together for a fire,
and as soon as it burns up puts the billy
over it. Then he hunted hi his kit for a
tin of milk he’d got—not to put in his
tea, but to use for butter! He thought
it would be just the thing for the woman,
seeing slic’d to muse the child. Sh«
had a whole pannikin full of warm milk
—did her a power of good; and when
he got her to eat a hit of sopped bread,
and had his own tea, he gave her a
towel and told her she'd feed better for
washing her face and hands tuid that
the creek was safe to do it in. He went
off to see to “Lady,” and before he want
he put liis comb and a bit of looking
ghu» he oarried where she could see «tni
and take them if she liked. Ho was al
ways a hit of a dandy. But he didn’t
say nothing to her about the comb and
glass, because, lining it bachelor, oi
<journo he felt del ioitte about suggesting
as her hair was hanging all down he*
Iwtok in two long, fair plaits. Standard
used to say it was prettiest so, to his
mind, but he thought she’d feel vexed
if she knew he noticed it. Bo ho just
put the bit of glass handy and took him
self off.
When ho came back, ho says, ha
found the baby asleep, and smoothed
and tidied somehow, and the woman as
neat m a pin—women are so clever at
straightening themselves —and the pan
nikin and that washed up, and the fire
raked together. The woman sat there
with her needle hook on her knee —she
had it iuapookot, she, says —sewing up a
tear in her frock, where it had caught in
one of the saddle buckles. Standard
didn’t say nothing much t hat night, but
he had inode up ids mind, and after
making a shelter of 1/ranches and fern
and seen tho mother and baby lain down
under it one side of the fire lie stretched
himself on the other side, with his head
on the mail hags, and thought out what
he’d decided to do. Tho woman and
child must get to Gundaroo, and before
the next night, too; so must the mails
“Lady” could carry them well enough,
hut she couldn’t carry him as well.
Very well; then he’d stay behind anil
walk. “Lady” would go along the
track through the forest alone, he knew,
and if only the girl would have the
pluck to trust herself to the mare and
just sit still and hold the reins they’d all
get to Gundaroo ns safe us a church.
Bhe could then deliver up the hags al
the Post Office and toll them to send
out a search party to look after her bus
band and his chum and a horse to nice!
him.
He know he was sure to get into trou
ble with the authorities for Hairing it,
especially if it failed; and he knew, too,
that it was no fun to be left to walk
through the forest in riding boots and
breeches and with nothing but a few
hire:site and a pistol. The water bitrr’l
he meant to fill and fix iu its place Iks
hiial the saddle, and the rest of tho tin
of milk and the bread (dumper, of costs <#,
you know,) arid the tinned meat.
Women needed a deal of feeding, espe
cially when they’d a baby to feed, too,
he thought. And she must bike one of
the pistols.
His chief few was slic’d he too soft
hearted to like to leave him behind, and
yet lie knew it couldn’t be done uniter a
couple of days, or more likely four, if
tliey tried to go altogether. Though lie
axil) “Damn b<-r Majesty’s moils !” ho
daren’t delay ’em so long, for all that.
“Damning” wouldn’t hurt ’em, or
him either; hut delaying ’em would be
the very devil for them, and him, too!
its soon us it was light he set to work
separating tho things he was going to
keep from those he was going to send on
with the “Royal Bbe-ma.il,” ns he on lied
her in joke to himself. He looked at
the two sleeping the other side of the
lire under the open fiky. The kid was
comfortable enough, cradled iu soft
arms; hut the mother was lying just
about as uncomfortably as it’s possible
to lie. so as to shelter the chi Id. Standard,
who noticed everything, made a note of
this, and thought he’d work on her ma
ternal feelings most to get her to go on
in the morning.
After he’d fed “Lady,” about five
o'clock, he groomed her up in style, for,
he used to say, lie must have the horse
tliat carried the “Royal Biie-mail” as
smart as possible. Later on, when he
saw the woman after her night’s rest in
the early morning and had got her to
eat a bit of breakfast lie was quite pleas
ed to ee how much I letter she looked.
He’d a great work, lie said, to make
her go without him, though she wasn’t
a hit afraid for herself. He had to say
he shouldn't he so far liehind, and Swear
lie could walk pretty nearly as bast as
“Lady” ’d go, and so on. He showed
her how to fire the pistol, and told her
to let “lyady” choose the way if she felt
doubtful about the track among the gum
“SUB DEO FACIO FORTITER.’’
trees. Os oourso, lu> cheered her up afl
ho could, though fooling bad at lotting
a woman and a baby go alone all that
way. You see, there wore bushrangers
to l>e feared thou. He was afraid to say
much shout taking ciuv of tho mails for
fear of frightening her. Ho just said,
there they was, in front of the saddle,
and that she must toko ’em straight, to
tho office, suid not lot anyone but tho
people of the office touch them. Then
he told her about sending tho two pnr-
All the place turned out to see who it teas.
3es hack to meet him and her husband.
Ho srdd—as ho saw her sitting so easy
in til.' saddle, and the liahy lying in her
lap, tied to her by her shawl, and her
right arm free for tho pistol, if need he,
his spirits rose a bit —she looked able to
do it. Ho wanted to give her his mail
badge, but she says no, she wouldn't
have it. Blie’d bo safer without. Ho
didn't quite see what she meant. But
when it was riJl over —but. there, if I toll
you the story Unit way you’ll know how
>t ended too soon.
Wall, there ain’t much more to tell
after nil. Mother, she rode straight
along tho track into Gundaroo. All! 1
see I’ve told you now! Yes, it was my
mother, tliat was; find I’ln the baby!
She said why she wouldn’t wear the
badge was for the same reason as she
hung lifer shawl over the mail hags us
soon as she was out. of Btiuidard's sight.
No one, she thought, would think a
worn n and child worth robbing.
81i ‘ left him just at the beginning of
the forest. Hr says lie walked by the
hoivu: a bit to >•«<* how rile carried her,
and then he lot her shu t off at a gent Id
•antea'. He used to way he never felt, so
tUad lonely um when ills bravo young
creature turned round and waved her
band and says, “Good-bye, and (led
bless you for saving his Life!”—moaning
mu iu las' inras—and then was hid from
him in the trees.
Well, to out n long story short, mother
and me rode into Gundaroo at It o'clock
—two ahd a half hours after time. All
the place turns out to see who it, wnw. A
won,, riding alone with a baby! They
were all so look up with the young
woman (my mother was a very persona
hie young woman) t hey never noticed
she was on “Lady,” though there must j
hnvo hewn lots as knew Standard’s mure
well wnongli.
Mother was dead tired, and T was
asleep, as comfortable as I am now by
this fire.
Bhe rides straight up to the Post
Office, and one of the chaps lifts her
down; hut she wouldn’t let one of ’em
touch the mail bags, hut drags them off
herself, and says, standing on the door
step with me in her anus, and the mails
at, her feet; “If you please, gentlemen,
I’ve brought in tho mails. The gentle
man hint me his horse. I was lost; uinl
will you send a horse to meet him. He’s
walking from the fern gully. And
‘Lady’ is tei he seen to please.” And
then she drops down on the step pretty
nigh done.
The chaps set to and cheered her
ohoor lifter cheer, till mother was drawn
in out of th.j noise by the Postmaster’!!
wife, who told them they ought to know
bettor than make a lady go • hiiliie-liieed,
so tired as she was, too. The old lady j
was quite as astonished as any of them,
for all she said to the chaps toll*'ld their
noise, and quite proiul to have t,h«
fir«t hearing of it all from mother, its who
nut her and me to lied in her own room.
Well, the end of it was, Standard he was
met right enough and brought in the
next afternoon. But they never found
rny poor fulle r and his churn not till
months after, uml then it was bones
thuy found. Mother, she staid on and
helped the Postmistress at Gundaroo,
who was getting oldish.
Bo that’s how a woman brought her
ifuj.sty’s mails into Gundaroo, mu'
that’s why I’m culled Hot.
Don’t see why * Oh! I forgot to say
that when J was christened, a month <4'
so after, mother < •oiled ms after Standard,
us life Imd saved us both. Didn’t 1 I' ll
you his inline was Hector * Hot, tor
short. Hot Btendord lie was I’m if• t
Bxnnermnn; hilt mother, she is Mrs.
Met Standard now, Postmistress of Gun
daroo. I dessay you guessed as much.—
JJvnnilini’i Muyanine.
The Editor was In Plover.
The Cleburne, Texas, N«trt nays:
The gallant young me® of Cleburne
deserve a nfild rebuke tar failing to mx
tliat every voung hid v in tha city whr.
desires to attend the 'J emporanee Coun
cil lias-an escort to and fro. If it Imd
not liee.n for the old, crusty, unpolished,
nevcrtbb'Hs grasl looking w nior of the
tri-weekly, three, yes; three, of the lieais
tiful and fair maidens of “Ar' ansaw”
would have been all alone on their jour
ney last night.
PBACK WITH KO.VIK,
Prince Bismarck has promised the
I‘ope his moral supp at in claiming the
L/vifcinc arid the stretch of territory
.v (hvi’.n Veeehia m u buds for recerieUi
-,J'»fi wrrli Italy.
The heat ha-, wen dri-adful at ftteKim
ington, 111., for m .ily a week, culminat
ing with a record of 110 degrees in tlu
sun, at <t p. in., nod 00 degrees in hodscs
usaallv coeridered cool.
THE JOKER'S BUDGET.
STIS/VY HITS OK HUMOR 1’OliM)
11 Fit 1C AND TIIKHR
A Kliglit DlfU'mipo Would See Him
Lator—After a Bonnot -Lovo's
Labor Dost—Oilds and Knits, Etc.
TOO HONORABLE Foil Til AT.
l)o Garmo — “Whnt does your sister
fny about mo, Bertie?”
I Sort io—“Nho said today that she
didn't think that you'd over sot the river
on fire.”
Do Garmo — “What confidence she
has iti me ! Os course she knows thut
I*lll too honorable to do anything of
that kind.”— Tkl Bit*.
lfelt j'
IIP. COULD TBlili A MU
“My dad knows inore’n Georgo Wash
ington.”
“Why?”
“Cos Goorgo Washington couldn’t toll
a Ho, but my dad kin, for when I told
him i hadn’t boon a fiehin’ In' said ho
kuowed hotter, and thumped ine fur lyin’.
Ho kin toll a lie the minute he sees one,
you bet.” — Dansville Breeze..
TWO EXTREMES.
First Omaha man- No, Hir. I’m going
to send my son to college. No public
school system for him. Look at Jink’s
bo v !
Hocond Omaha Man—Jink’s boy has
just graduated from the public schools
and is a young man of thorough cul
ture.
“Yes, and half dead with conßump
tion and has had brain fever throe
times. Now look at Wink’s eldest
son f”
“Is lie a college man?”
“ltcgulnr graduate, strong as a horse,
healthy us a mule, and makes $5,000 a
year lu a base ball team. "~--onuiha
'World.
wonni> think Anotrr ii.
“No, sir,” thundered the old gentlo
nmn, “I have made up my mind that
my daughter shall never marry a umii
who plays poker."
“Him might <lo a great, deal worse,
sir.”
“Impossible. Poker has proved the
ruination of thousands of men, and its
victims never recover from the infatua
tion. She could never do worro.”
“JCxcuho me, sir, but I’m sure sbo
could. Him might marry some fellow
that thinks he plays poker.”
The old man thought it over.— Wo*h
ingtun Critic.
A BUROLAR MECHANIC.
Mrs. lirimumr—l don’t see when a
man has a good trade why lm should
prefer to be a burglar.
Mr- brimmer—Who are you talking
al tout?
Mrs. B.—That, man who was caught
breaking into a store last night. He’s a
machinist.
Mr. B. —Who told you that 1
Mrs. Ik—The paper says that, while
lie was at the station house and the
ollieer was making his report, the bur
glar made a bolt for the door. —Boetou
Itiutyct,
IT Ami TREATMENT.
There is an old retainer of a family
in tlm Western Addition, who is always
complaining.
“Well, Tim, how are you today?”
asked the lady of t.be house.
“Sure, ma’am, an’ I’m not well, at all,
stall.”
“What’s the matter?”
"Horry av me knows, ma’am, but, I
was thinkiu’, ma’am, if you had any old
medicines about the house os you didn’t
want, I’d be mighty oblnegod to yoz for
thirii." -Son Ji'rancfnoo UhronicU,
a jATn.it ifft.
Mary had » Jittlo lot, and thought
she’d better sell; she placed it on the
market,, and the way that lot did—well,
it sold four times witin a wsek, ami
every time it went the lucky man who
bought it cleared Hit per cent. “What
1 makes town loin go flying so ?” tie- oager
j buyers cry. “Oh, Lincoln’s on a Ih>oui,
! you know,” the agent’s do reply. And
so the owners mark them up, yet buyers
j do not squeal, but run impatiently about
for fear they’ll lose a deal.— Lincoln
(KniMM) It. jnihlimn.
TIJF. DIFTEBENOB.
Two woman in a Boston horse cm
1 were discus.- ing their household affairs
i audibly and to the great amusement of
| the other passengers. After comparing
j notes as to the product! veness of their
| several farms, the price ~f groceries, the
advantages of a country life over that of
1 one in the city, one of them delivers
herself in this wise: “There’s sister Sal
; ly, now. Iler and me ain’t no more
; alike ’n es ’twant ns. She's jest ez dif
ferent ez I Isi t’other way.” Harper’*
j Mo'jazinc.
WIIAT THEY NEEDED.
| A deacon in a rather slow-going Maine
! town, not long ago, wrote to a wealthy
( New Yorker, who was born in the town,
‘ asking him to subscribe toward a new
| church in his native village. The New
' Yorker’s reply read ns follows : “My
Dear Sir—You don’t need a church half
so much as you need a good fire engine.”
Tim New Yorker meant well, but the
i deacon hardly knew how to take the let
ter and was disposed to be indignant.
VOL. 11. NO. 20.
A CpOSE BXTHENT.
Little Dot —Wlmt dues Mr. Nioefol
low go to your house so often for ?
Little Dick—Me wants to marry Noll.
“Is they engaged ?”
*: No.”
“Did lie say lie wanted to marry
her."
“No.”
“Then bow do you know lie does?’'
“Oh! He acts so like a fool.-—Oma
ha World.
love’s labor lort.
He had taken her to sec Patti at, $7 a
r. lat, nud sT ter ward to Delmonico’s, where
the two together ate up $11.75 worth. As
In.' I'wuvhed for his lint Liter that sums
liight sin:' said:
“1 ciui sorry, Mr. Sampson, if my re
fusal will cause you pain. I esteem you
highly ns an escort, and in that capacity
I will always be a sister to you, but your
wife I cannot bo. You are too extrava
gant,”—-V. Y. Sun.
CAVE CANBM.
“Are y«m foiul of dogs, Mr. Dsdis
liund ?”
“Oh, yes, indeed; I do love * dag
around the liouso above all thtnus.”
“Well, I’m going to make yewr little
boy * present of one; what kisd do you
prefer ?”
“Oh, well, if you leave it to ma, s
terracotta; give him a terra cottn pus,
life size, anil you'll please th« wunrts
family.”— HurdotU.
he i-oved.
Mrs. Youngbride Ilonaymoon (to hus
band who is a railroad prunidant) —Aiul
are you sure you will always, pi ways
love mu more than you will any ose
else ?
Mr. Honeymoon (nbsuntlv) —Im-
possible tx> say. You see it ts vMjr
doubtful whether tin' inter-ataW law
will allow me to make any discrimina
tion.—Harper’* Bazar.
money hhfunded.
Gentleman (to linoknum at 1 Kith street
elevated illation) —How much to the Polo
grounds 1
Hackman—Piflcon emits, mister, guar
an teed.
Gentleman—What do you mean by
gnu ran tend ?
Hackman™lf them luissea fall* dpwn
and <licx afore we git there you get you*
money back.
REFORMATION NOT COMPLKTB.
Salvation Army Man (to hardware
merchant,)- Tan years ago, sir, I stole
nn axe from you and here’s a dollar to
pay for it.
Merchant —Axes arc worth a dollar
nml a half.
Hal ration Army Man (returning the
inoucy to his pucuet) -Dollar and a halt
for axes ! I can get ’em cheaper than
thut.
HE HAD HIRED A HOY.
Balmie<‘.sheet, the wealthy merchant,
had advertised, “boy wanted.” Kilter
a young dude who had come to ask the
hand of his daughter.
Dude (in a squeaky voice) —“I have
called, sir, to mvsk ’
Balaiieesln et (without looking up)—-
“Don’t want you. sir. Just lured a
boy, ” — Tern* SiJUiiqs.
that woman is the worst. I wonder who
she is?
Hocoud Hales woman— Why, that’s Mrs.
Ghipp. HI 10 used to tend at, the same
counter with me before shewn* murriod.
—Tkl-Bit*.
iirrnEssrvE.
At a negro wedding in this city a
/hurt lime ago, at the words “love,
honor and obey" the groom interrupted
the preacher and said: “ltoad that
again, sah, so’s Tie lady kin ketch <1«
full solemnity ob do meauin’. I’se beeu
married befo ” —tJhriJJln {On.) Tuna.
TO ISK SETTLED LATER.
“Doctor,” said the sick man, “the
other physicians who have been in con
sultation over my ease seem to differ
with you in the diagnosis."
“J Know they do, replied the doctor,
who turn groat confiilence in himself,
“but tbo autopsy will show who was
right.”
extorting money.
Jr ador (of a little German band)—A
few pennies madam, fur dot fine muaio.
Woman (at a window)—Ain’t got
nothin’ for you.
'lilt; Wonderful Bogs.
The sheep-dogs of Crazy mountain*,
says tlm I‘opular Science Monthly, de
serve more than a passing mention.
The intelligence and quick apprehen
sion of what, is required of them, and
faithful pei-fomiiuice of duty are won
derful. Without tliem the working
force for gheeji would roqniro to bo
more than doubled. They appreciate,
kind treatment, and take to hotxrt soold
ing and abuse.
A foreman of a sheep ranch once mud
that in sending out a new man he
signed to him an old dog, thinking that,
if the man did not know his duty, tho
dog did.
Ji,. charged the would-be border to tie
kind to the dog, saving: “He will net
stay with you if you ore not.”
In two days the dog was at home
again, the foreman visited the man,
taking another dog, and said to hirp.:
“You were cross to the old dojy, and "I
told you lie wouldn’t stand it.
“I wasn’t cross to the dog,” returned
the herder; “but confound him, ha
wouldn’t even let me swear at the
sheep.”
NEW vokk knigiits.
• '-"1 •
Between July 1, 1886, and Auril 1.
1887, the membership of the Knignts ol
l.itbor In New York city and vicinity de
creased frvm to 61.793, the aa
-1 nml falling; off bolng 42,87®, or a trifle
over 40 pOT cifnt.