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SOME FEET.

BY J0 KING.

 

 

His feet they were so very large
That any one ’twould beat

To tell if the feet belonged to the man
Or the man belonged to the feet.

To make his shoes it always took
An endless amount of stock:

And he couldn‘t get them repaired unless
He took them down to the dock.

He was far more firmly set on earth
Than any man in town;

And his foes all said it was imposs-
Ible to knock him down.

People would look at them and say,
“ ith many laughing peals,

They never saw anything half so big
That didn’tgo on wheels.

Such large live things of course would have
A will of their own so strong,

Whenevar they took a notion to go
They’d go and take him along.

’Tis said. although the man was short,
That when he lay in bed

The blankets were not long enough
To cover his feet and his head.

And when he started for any place,
Though manfully he did strive,

His toes would be there some minutesbefore
His body could arrive.

And when this man would go by rail
To take a journey afar,

He’d sit behind on the last coach
With his feet on a platform car.

His feet took up so much of the streets,
The citizens. fearful of harm,

Held an indignation meeting at last,
And advised him to move on a farm.

A singular thing about it was.
And nevertheless quite true.
That the more those feet developed
The smaller that man grew.

At last that man gave up the ghost,
And here was the strangest freak:
Although he lay there dead and cold,

His feet didn’t die for a week!

And while they made his grave quite deep,
Two yards. or thereabout,

They saw with dismay that after all
His shoes at the tap stuck out.

So to keep his memory green,
As Time on its journey rolls.

And to save the price of a marble slab
They chalked his name on the soles.

 

Playing a Part.

BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR.

 

“ THAI must; be the place—it answers the de-
scription they gave me. And now for the trial!
If he don’t read me at the first opening then I’ll
feel pretty safe, despite the old gentleman’s
crusty temper.”

These words dropped as though unconsciously
from the lips of a horseman in a certain portion
of Douiphan county, Kansas, some ten years
gone by, as he reined in his steed just within
the edge of the timber that bordered the east-
ern line of Elijah Merrill’s farm. The traveler
—for behind his saddle was strap (1 a substan-
tial valise—removed his hat to a low the fresh
evening breeze to fan his heated brow and gazed
at the odd collection of buildings with an amus-
ed smile.

First was the log-cabin that had sheltered
the settler when he crossed the Missouri to win
a home for the black—eyed girl whom he had left
behind him in Ohio. In front of this wasa sub-
stantial story-and-a—half frame of a dozen years
later, and still a third front marked another
era—of red brick, square, grim-looking and
ungainly. Besides these there were alog smoke-r
house, a hen-house and other out-buildings
fgfiing a chain that reached to the barns and
S es.‘ ~

“ If all that’s said is true, then Uncle ’Lijah
has sketched his character here, where all may
refidfi Hal that mustbe the old gentlemanhim—
se l

The traveler rode up to the stile—blocks before
the collection of buildings, his eyes fixed upon a
man who stood in the doorway.

“ Good-morning, sir,” called out the young
man, as the other made no movement. “ I pre-
sume this is where Mr. Merrill lives?”

“ He does on sunday—rest o’ the week Uncle
Lije runs the place. Ef you want to see me
you’d better ’light an’ hitch. Supper’s jest
ready an’ I don’t wait for no man.”

And so speaking, the farmer turned his broad
back and disappeared within the house.

For a moment the traveler seemed taken
aback, but then, with a low laugh, he dismount—
ed, hitched his horse, took the valise under his
arm and entered the house. The subdued clato
ter of knives and forks met his ear, and through
the long hall there came an appetizing odor of
hot food. His hesitation was brief. A long
ride had made him hungry, and literally fol-
lowing his nose, he stalked into the dining-
room—the one square apartment of the old log-
cabin.

“ Sit down an’ eat,” mumbled Uncle Lije, his
mouth full. “ “'e was ’spectin’ ye.”

“ There must be some mistake, Mr.—”

“ Ef they is, I hain't made it. ’F you’re hun-
gry, eat ; ’f not, set by ontel I ain’t,” growled
the farmer.

Evidently resolved on accepting the situation,
the stranger drew a chair up to the table and
said no more until his hunger was appeascd,
though his eyes were as busy as his jaws. He
saw that Uncle Lije was as odd in person as in
character. He was several inches over six feet,
of an unusuallypowerful build, and would weigh
not far from two hundred and fifty pounds—
good solid bone and muscle.

His beard was fulland like his long hair, snow-
white, save a narrow strip below his chin that
had, ap arently, been stained with tobacco-
juice. ust in the edge of his hair. above his
broad forehead, was a curious wen, the size and
shape of a lemon.

He sat in his shirt-sleeves, the garment thrown
open at the throat and breast. His only other
article of dress—for he was bare—footed—was a
pair of homespun jeans, dyed with oak—bark.
He ate with a bowie-knife and his fingers from
a wooden plate.

His wife, two sons and a daughter were pres—
ent, but only one of these won much attention
from the traveler; and before that silent meal
was ended he caught himself acknowledging
that he had never beheld a prettier, more grace-
ful girl than rosy—checked, bright—eyed, curly—
headed Maria Merrill. She—and indeed the
others—seemed well bred and strangely unlike
the grim old patriarch who filled one end of the
table.

“ Jim,” said Uncle Lije, at length arising,
“ you go putt up the stranger’s hoss: Mari’, you
fetch the doin’s in t’other room, an’ you, stran-
ger. come ’long 0’ me.”

The young man obeyed, a queer smile in his
full black eyes. In a few moments Maria fol-
lowed them, bearing pipes. home-made tobacco,
glasses and a bottle of whisky. Placing these
upon the table. she vanished from view.

“ Stop thar!” exclaimed Uncle Lije, in his
deep. echoing voice, as the stranger was about
to speak, and pouring out a glass of whisky, he
pushed it forward. “ Drink that, then take a
smoke. “ lVe’ll look to business afterwards.”

“ I’ll smoke, with pleasure, but I seldom
drink—”

“ I reckon you’d better drink, stranger,” and
Uncle Li je slowly arose from his chair. “ Ef I
ax it as a favor.”

“ That’s another thing,” hastily replied the
traveler, swallowing the liquor, though it
brought tears to his eves.

“ Good enough! Now set down an’ have a
smoke. I won’tihave one word ontel you’ve did
as I say.”

With another faint smile. the traveler obeyed
the peremptory command of his eccentric host,
and the twain sat blowing a cloud in perfect
silence. Quietly Mrs. Merrill and her three

children—all that were alive and unmarried of
seventeen—entered the room and sat down.
Then, emptying the ashes from his exhausted
pipe, Uncle Lije spoke: I Y

“ Now. stranger, We kin talk business. W ho
air ye, an’ what ye want 0’ me or mine!”

“ I’m a drover, looking for cattle. I heard

on had some to dispose of, and came here to see
if we could not make a trade,” was the prompt

reply; . u
“ es; I hearn you was likelyto come this
way, and so, as mebbe you noticed, we was
sorter on the lookout fer ye. I’ve got the cattle,
an’ I’m always ready fer a trade ef the tarms
suit. But fu’st—you had a good supper—all you
wanted to eat?”

“ Certainly, and I am ready to-” f

“ I don’t doubt it a mite, stranger: but jes’
hol’ up a bit. That was good whisky an‘ pretty
fa’r tobacco, seein’ I raised it, eh? An’ we’ve
treated you like a white man, hain’t we? Jes’
so! Waal, that was all fer the feller you said
you was—an’ yere’s for the p’izen critter you
be I”

As he spoke, Uncle Lije straightened out his
arm, with a huge fist at the end of it, and the
drover lay quivering in the opposite corner of
the room, knocked senseless, and in twenty sec-
onds more he was bound hand and foot.

How long it was before he recovered his senses
he never knew, but he found himself alone and
in the dark. As he tried to remember what had
happened, he heard the sha explosion of a rifle
——-followed by another an another, mingled
with wild cries and yells of pain and anger.
Then came more shots, and the confused sounds
of a fierce struggle taking place 11 on the broad
piazza in front of the building. T is lasted for
several minutes, after which came silence.

“ I give it up !” muttered the prisoner, pressing
his throbbing head against the floor in the vain
hope of easing the pain left by Uncle Lije's hard
fist and strong whisky. “ I was a fool for com-
ing here. after what I heard. But who would
have believed that he was such a rufiian—”

The door opened and a bright light flashed in
upon the prisoner as Uncle Lije entered accom-
panied by Maria bearing a candle. Blood was
trickling from a cut upon the old man’s fore—
head, and his dress bore witness to the fierce
struggle he had recently passed through.

“ You’ve woke up, hey?” he said with a harsh
laugh. bending over the youn man. “ I’m right
glad 0’ that, fer it’ll save me t e trouble 0’ totin’
ye. Now your legs is free, git up an‘ travel.”

“ Not unless you tell me what you mean—”

“ Jest as you say.”

And seemingly without an effort be tossed
the prisoner upon his shoulder and, preceded by
Maria, passed through the hall and out upon
the piazza.

“ Now, then. stan’ thar,” he added, lowering
the young man to his feet. “ Don’t t ' none 0’
your tricks, or you’ll far’ the wuss. ain’t in
the humor fer foolin’, you hear inc .5)”

An exclamation of horror burst from the
stranger’s lips as he gazed upon the bloody scene
before him. Two men lay dead across the door-
step. Two others, their garments torn and
bloodstained, were lying upon the porch, bound
and helpless, while little Tom, the youngest son,
crouched between them, a cocked revolverin his
band.

“ You don’t ’ ar to like the way your spec-
ilation’s turned)6 out,” laughed Uncle Lije.
“ Never mind, thar’s two on ’em yender ’ll be
able to keep you comp’ny in pullin’ hemp soon’s
the neighbors git here, which Jim’s gone a’ter
36111-1)

“ Good God! you don’t think I was in league
with those men?” he cried, as a sudden li ht
burst upon his mind. “ And that’s why !— n-
cle Lije, I’m Will Cook, your nephew—son of
Aunt Nancy’s brother! Feel in my breast-

ket—I’ve got letters for you, only thou ht
Would surprise you all and have a litttle
that, by laying“ “ ~ . a

Five in has tar m othis W
fairly proven, and the travelerniet a far 
ant Welcome from that which had greeted
suspected spy. Uncle Lije was too immansely
disgusted with himself to tell the story, but little
Tom quickly supplied the deficiency.

It seemed that he had been out ' g, and
running a squirrel into its hole, concealed him-
self in a dense clump of bushes to await bunny’s
reappearance. While waiting, he heard voices,
and the first words he caught caused him to
crouch still closer for his life.

Two men were s10wly passin by, and their
words revealed a bold plot to ro Uncle Lije—
who was known to have sold a valuable herd of
cattle two days before. Not only did Tom hear
this, but he heard that one man was to drop in
at the house, and if possible obtain a night’s
lodging. thus making it easy for him to admit
his confederates at the right hour. When they

assed on, the lad rushed home and told what he
iad heard.

An hour later Will Cook made his appear-
ance, and received the treatment intended for
the spy. Just Why the revealed plan was chang-
ed was never kn0wn, for the two captured
thieves made no confession before they suffered
Lynch law at the hands of the excited settlers.

There need be little more said here, except
that Uncle Lije in due course of time—for,
reader, this is a hasty sketch of events that act-
ually occurred, as I can testify—became F other
Lije, nor, I am assured, did any of the parties
concerned ever have cause to regret the trans—
formation.

 

Stories Told in the Round-House.

BY J. C. COIVDRICK.

A Daring Deed.

“ BY the Lord Harry!” exclaimed Jerry
Greene. “ that was a hot chase!"

“ You‘re screaming, it was!"echoed Ben J ake-
ley. “ IVho was that engineer, Dan?”

“ It was Jim Dobley.”

“ The doost ye say! Why, I used to know
Jim well. He was jest that sort of man, was
J im; as full of sand and grit as any feller I ever
see. An’ fer quick thinkin’—whew! W'hy,
his brain was quick an’ sure as lightnin’.

“ Say, Danny, did he ever tell ye about how
he once saved a collision between a fast passen-
ger-train an’ a runaway train of burnin’ oil?”

“ No, Ben, he never did.”

“ Jest like him. He never would have much
to sa about his own doin’s.”

“ l 'hat was that, Ben?” asked Uncle Jake.
“ Give us the story.”

“Well,” said Ben, “ I will; fer it is worth tell-
in’ about. It was about as good a piece of work
as I ever heard tell of.

“ Jim was runnin’ th’ Fast Freight on th’ P.
1C), d: L., at th’ time, between Stanton and New

ity.

“ Th’ P. D. & L. was then a single-track line;
but afterwards, owin’ to the increase in th’ coal
an’ oil trade, it was made a double-tracker.

“Jim’s run was about seventy miles, 11 one
night an’ down th’ next, an’he was ’most a ways
right on time. ’

‘ He had a mighty good engine, an’ could pull
almost anything that could be hooked behind
him.

“ I was runnin’ th’ Night Express on th’ same
road ‘at th’ time, an’ it was my train that he
saved.

“ I’ll tell you how it was.

“ I used to leave Stanton, goin’ west. at nine
o’clock at night, an’ used to meet the Fast Ex—
press at a place called Cloverdale, where that
train would go into th’ side-track out of my
way.

“ Cloverdale was right in a valley, an’ th’
road was down-grade to that place fer three or
four miles on each side; th’side towards New
City bein’ th’ steepest.

“ About three miles west of Cloverdale was a
place called Snuff Town.

“ There was quite a big yard there, an’ two
big oil-tanks, an th’ yard used to be stored full
of oil-cars almost all th’ time.

“ One night when Jim passed through Snuff

 

 

 

Town, runnin’ purty lively to get to Cloverdale

an’ out of th’ way of th’ Night Express, he
noticed there was a fire not far from one of th’
big oil—tanks.

‘It seemed to be a shed that was filled with
barrels, an’ th’ men were fightin’ like demons to
keep th’ flames from reachin’ th’ tank on th’ oil-
cars.
“ Jim called th’ attention of his fireman to it,
an’ made th’ remark that if th’ blaze reached
one of them big tanks. it would blow Snuff
Town clear out of that county.

“ Th’ fire had nothin’ to do with Jim, though,
an’ he had nothin’ to do with th’ fire; so he jest
went right on to Cloverdale, an’ went into th’
sidin’.

“He got out of th’ way about seven or eight
minutes before I was due, an’ after oilin’ his en-
gine a little he stepped across to th’ station to
ask th’ operator how my train was.

“ It was summer-time, an’ he stood on th’
platform talkin’ to th’ operator through th’ open
window, an’ at th’ same time watchin’ th’ blaze
on th’ hill at Snuff Town, when all of a sudden
one of th’ big oil-tanks blowed up lightin’ up th’
country fer miles an’ miles around.

“ I could see it myself from where I was at th’
time, an’ where I was was about four miles east
of Cloverdale, goin’ west like a streak of greas-
ed lightnin’l

“ ‘ Hellol’ Jim said, ‘ there goes Snuff Town!’

“ Then he asked th’ operator for his red-light
sayin’he would stop th’ Night Express an’ tell
me to look out, fer there was no knowin’ what
was th’ condition of things at Snuff Town then;
but jest then th’ operator jumped to his instru—
ments.

“ Fera few moments he listened to th’ clat-
terin’ an’ clickin’ things, an’ then he jumped,
his face as white as a sheet. .

“ ‘ Good God!’ he cried. ‘ Jim, th’operator at
Snuff Town says a train of oil—cars has started
this way down th’ hill, all ablaze!’

“Jest imagine that, an’ see how ye’d like to
’a’ been in my place. But, of course, I didn’t
know anything about it then.

“ It was a terrible situation, I tell ye!

“ An’ right there was where Jim showed what
he was made of.

“ There was my train, th’ Ni ht Express, goin’
west toward Cloverdale at ull speed, down
grade, an’ no stop to make there, an’ there was
that train of oil-cars, all afire, comin’ east to-
ward Cloverdale like a ball from a cannon, an’
there was th‘ Fast Freight standin’ on th’ only
side—track there was there, an’ fillin’ it full.

“ Jest pause an’ think of it, an’ see if ye can
guess how Jim saved everything from goin’ to
destruction.

“ ‘ Great Blue Beard !’ sez Jim. ‘ We must do
sonicthin’, boys, or there’llbe a wholesale slaugh-
ter an’ roast! Will ye do as I tell ye?’

“ ‘ Yes, yes!’ cried th’ operator, an’ also th’
fireman an’ th’ head brakeman, who were stand-
in’ near; ‘ only tell us what to do, an’ we’ll do
it!’

“ It must ’a’ been a red-hot minutethere, I tell
'e!

“ They said Jim jest told ’em what to do,
though as cool as if it had been only any little
ordinary affair.

“ But he didn’t waste any time about it. He
made his orders jest as short an’ plain as he
could.

“ ‘ Joe,’ he said to th’ operator, ‘ you take
'our red-light an’ go up an’ flag th’ Express.

un as fast an’ as far as ye can, an’ fer God’s
sake don’t fail to stop her. I am goin’ to trust
my life to you. Here, take this torpedo, too;
an’ when you’ve gone jest as far as ye can get,
clap it on to th’ rail as an extra precaution.
Go!

“ An’ you bet that feller went!

“ ‘ I’ll stop her or die!’ he cried; an’ he was off
like the wind. v

“ that time, so they said, they could see
h’ 0‘ we comin’ down th’ grade, an’ they said
V lookedliketh’hot ’on , , ‘ " g
1* “ Thai-o mn'mtm fi'fihgfl til-vii!”

wherelwaa ’ ‘ ' an. birhlf‘h‘b a .
woods right along   has n*%
flfptiggdofth’ blaze, ain't took itto a are in
t w s. «

“Well soon as Jim had sent th’ operator to
flag me, 7he told th’ head brakeman to cut th’
engine loose with four cars, and then come onto
th’ engine: an’ tbld th’ fireman to open th’
switch an’ let him out onto th’ main track.

“ An’ they did jest as he said.

“ Jim got out in jest about no time, an’ then
he told th’ brakeman to ull th’ pin between th’
engine an’ th’ cars, an' t en get off.

“Jim was beginnin’ to back up as he spoke,
an’ as soon as be cleared th’switch th’ fireman
closed it an’ got aboard.

“ ‘ Get off,’ said Jim, ‘ both of ye. I’m willin’
to risk my own life, but not yours too; so,

' ?

“ An’ they got.

“ An’ then Jim pulled th’ throttle Wide open
an’ started backwards up th’ hill to meet that
train of livin’ fire an’ save th’ Express an’ its
load of passengers.

“ Talk about nerve—there it was!

“ By that time th’ oil-cars were half-way
down th’ hill, comin’ faster an’ faster every mo—
ment: an’ faster an’ faster went Jim, straight
towards ’em.

‘ ‘ Oh! he was a cool one. an’ no mistake.

“ Well, when he had got to goin’ jest about as
fast as he could go, an’ had got near enough to
th' comin’ fire-train to gain his point, be shut
off steam, an’ away went his four freight-cars
fiyin’ on to collide with th’oil-cars.

“Jim stopped jest as soon as he could, then,
an’ then started back to th’ station.

“ An’ jest about that time I kem upon th’
scene.

“ I was comin’ down that hill like a thunder-
bolt, an"was almost around th’ curve, when all
of a sudden I seen th’ operator’s red-light.

“ An’ you bet I slapped on th’ air an’ shut off
steam, double—quick!

“ On I went. though, fer some distance;
‘ bang ." went th’ torpedo; an’then I was around
th’ curve.

“ An’ jest about that time things kem to a
focus.

“ At first glance I tell ye my hair stood on
end; fer there was Jim’s head-light aimin’ right
at mine, an‘ jest beyond was that great streak
of flame, rushin’ at me like mad.

“Great Scott! how I did ‘hoss’ an’ ‘plug’
that engine!

“ I couldn’t begin to stop soon enough.

“ An’ then kem th’ final act.

“ I seen that streak of fire give a sudden dip,
an’ then up it flew in a great sheet; an’ th’ next
instant it was spread all around.

“ Th’ danger was over.

“ Th’ operator soon came down to my engine
and got aboard, and then I learned what it all
meant.

“ I stood right there where I’d stopped till
Jim whistled to call in his flag, an’ then I went
on down to th’ station.

“ An’ I felt like takin’ Jim right into my
arms an’ kissin’ him.

“ Only fer him— Well, ye can imagine what
a wreck an’ blaze it would ’a’ been, fer them
four cars were all on fire in a second after th’
collision, to  nothin’ about th’ way they were
broken an’ piled up in a heap; an’ they wasn‘t
gojn’ one—quarter as fast as I would ’a’ been go—

“ Only fer Jim I would ’a’met that oil-train
jest about at th’ Cloverdale station, an’ th’
chances is that not a man, woman or child
aboard would have escaped; to say nothin’
about burnin’ th’ station an’ perhaps half th’
town.

“ As it was, there was a beautiful wreck an’
fire about a quarter of a mile west of th’ west
end of th’ sidin’ where th’ Fast Freight stood,
an’ th’ road was blocked fer four hours.

“Th’ four cars that Jim used, to make one
big wreck to save a bigger one, were loaded
with organs an’ pianos. an’ it made a purty
costly fire: but Jim said he would ’a’ done jest
th’ same if th’ cars had been full of Govrernment
bonds an’ greenbacks.

“ An’ Jim was right.

“ Life is of more importance than property

 

an’ in that case there were ’most two hundred
lives at stake.

“I tell e, boys, Jim Dobley is a man of
nerve an’ rains; an’ if an of e can tell of
anything to beat that, I’d 11 e to ear it.”

 

SO NEAR—SO FAR.

BY J OEN GOSSIP.

 

 

I sung a song when summer days were waning,
A song of unrequited love complaining,
And t is it was the winds taught me to say:
“ Oh, Florentine! so near to-day—to-morrow so
far, far away l"

While thus my sorrow I sat voicing,
Young hearts around seemed all rejoicing;
Sung I unto my own, which once was gay:
“ Oh, Florentine! so near to-day—to-morrow so
far, far away l“

I sung it when my love was near,
Yet sung so low she could not hear;
Nor ever heard, tlll parting, I did say:
“ 0h, Florentine! so near to-day—to-morrow so
far, far away l"

‘Twas then she caught the burden’s meaning,
And then knew she in heart was weaning;
For I had loved, and age—ah! nay:
“ Oh, Florestinel so near to-day—to-morrow so
far, far away!”

This ye may learn from my refrain,
That one may love and love in vain,
And at the end he can but say:
“Oh, SWeetest love! so near to-day—to-morrow so
far, far away i”

 

The l. M. c. A. Entertainment.

BY FRANK C. RICKABY.

 

 

WHEN a religious body goes into the show
business it is treading on dangerous ground, as
the following bit of modern history goes to
show.

The gaunt gentleman with the weak eyes and
hungry look, who can carry a revival or a love—
feast to a successful issue. is away.on his range
when he tries to engineer a one-horse theatrical

rformance or a dime museum lay-out for the
benefit of the church. The depressing influence
of the surroundings tends to suppress any undue
mirth, and the 'oke that is met with a wave of
wild hilarity w en presented in the Casino by
the pseudo colored man with a remarkable au—
city of raiment, creeps along like a cold, 0 am-
my, lifeless thing when sprung by the highly—
respectable and highly-collared gentleman at the
church entertainment. and meets with about as
much enthusiasm as a twenty per cent. cut in a
section band’s wages.

The spectacle of a prasinous young minister
dressed in an evening suit of deep, dark, deathly
black, delivering an oration in negro dialect, is
incongruous and aberrant, to say the least.

It was such sage reflections as are embodied
in the two preceding paragaphs that caused the
secretary of the Flanders . M. C. A. to resolve
on a course of action directly in op sion to the
words of warning contained in the rst.

When the supporters of the assocxation sug-

gested that he provide an entertainment of
some kind he resolved on something novel. He
was a rather young man, and withal, enterpris-
ing, and determined that the entertainment
must be out of the regular line.
So in a few days the drug-store, and the gro-
cery-store, and the feed-store, and in fact, all
stores and public places were just overflowing
with dodgers couched in the following terms:

“ COME
To the Y. M. C. A. Rooms

 

       

Admission by Ticket Only. -
“Tickets may be secured from all members.
Don‘t miss the chance to have a laugh."

These dodgers were widely read, and every

rson who saw one resolved to attend the show.
Vhy? Because, untutored one, don’t you see,
it was free; and really I am afraid to tell you
how large and enthusiastic a throng a dead-head
show can call out.

Among the many who attended the soiree

were a number of young men who, as they re-
peatedly assured each other, were determined
to see the thing through. Of these, more anon.
At promptly eight o’clock the curtains were
pulled bac and the confident secretary, who
did not now seem to be so hilarioust confident
as he might he, stepped forward and introduced
the lecturer of the evening in the person of a
long, lank and seedy—looking gentleman with a
very heavy and full beard.
One of the young men before alluded to, de-
clared that this beard served as a portion of
thc gentleman’s wardrobe, being used to hide
the absence of anything approaching a shirt,
with the exception of a celluloid collar, which
was doubtless pinned to the inside of his highly-
buttoned Prince Al coat. It was well that the
thoughtful secretary had located Paris, in
France, for the lecturer’s appearance would
otherWise be liable to stamp him as hailing from
Paris, Kentucky. and would lend the spectator
to infer that he had walked all the way from
the blue grass region.

A silence like death fell on all the spectators
(no one was injured, however).

The Pro. opened the show with a slight dis—
sertation on mesmerism in general, and a big
talk on the success Professor “’ilcoxi had met
with, in particular.

As an illustration of the external appearance
of a brainy head. be displayed a lithographic
portrait of Albion TV. Tourgee, who was lectur-
ing in the city at the time, and whose pictures
were consequently easily obtainable; and speak—
ing from notes inscribed on the backs of a num-
ber of copies of the same lithograph, proceeded
with the lecture, and at its conclusion, called
for candidates to operate upon.

Right here was where the young men in the
rear of the room caught on, and three or four of
them came forward at once.

The Pro. seated them and began his jim-
crow work, which consisted of flappin his
skinny arms about like a dissipated win mill,
and rubbing the young men‘s heads. Then he
told one of them that he couldn’t open his eyes,
but was immediately branded as a liar by that
gentleman’s action. This caused the next sub-
ject to “ catch on,”and when told that he could—
n’t open his eyes, he apparently made a great
effort, but without success. ~This produced a
great sensation and gratified the hitherto doubt-
ing secretary very much.

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said the rofessor,
“ you n0w have before you an examp e of mes—
merism or, more properly, magnetic sleep. The
subject is now entirely un er In control.
Whatever he does, it is at my will. I19, lives in
me. If the gentleman can sing we will have a

son .”

The gentleman speedily demonstrated his vocal
abilities, but I am sorry to say that it would
have been much better had he refrained. The
song was a new one to the respectable and good
people present. But, I am bound to say, it was
not nice.

It was not until the professor had slapped,
and pinched and whistled until he was weak,
that the subject let up. Then the secretary of
the Y. M. C. A. asked sternly: o
‘ ‘ Am I to understand that you put those words
in this helpleSS creature’s mouth 2”

“ 1— Ah, there’s a mistake,” gasped the de-
monstrator.

“ IVell, you must be careful that no such
thing occurs again. Go on!”
The professor looked hard at the subject, then
turning to the audience, said:
“ This gentleman is a great speaker. We will

 

now have a speech from him.” '

  
   

And the gentleman did speak, and this is what
he said:

“ This here crowd is the toughest old gang of
thieves and hypocrites that ever I fell in With.
I know some of this fellow’s crookedness, (indi-
cating the secretary), and can prove that he was
drummed out of a town u in Iowa for pawn-
ing the hymn-books and Bible to get money to
lush upon. He’s a hard case, but not as tou h
as that old guy (pointing out a leading C. 
man.) He’s a gambler, blackleg and a usurer,
and has been accused of kidnapping horses. He
burnt a poor widow’s house three years ago be-
cause she wouldn’t sell it to him at one-third its
cost-”

The leading man leaped to his feet, and the
secretary recovered from the amazement that
the announcement of his perfidy had thrown
him into, while “ Oh! Oh!” uealed the fair
auditors; but their escorts laug ed and encour-
aged the exposé.

Unheeding all, like a whirlwind the denuncia-
tor went on:

“ As for that old woman with the wart on
her nose, I know beyond a doubt that she poison-
ed a family of seventeen person to punish them
for calling her an old maid. She’s not much
better than (his female (whereat the organist
swooned) , and that old villain who always howls
“Amen!” in service is a retired outlaw. He
used to belong to the Jesse James gang. ”

B this time every one in the audience was on
his eet and the scene “ beggared description” as
the rural reporter remarks. The gentleman
last brought Morninently into notice was the
pastor of the . E. Church, and ere the echoes
of the mesmerized one’s voice had died away, he
and all the others alluded to were on the stage.
The professor waved his hands, pounded and
entreated the live] subject to awake. But he
wouldn’t awake! e remained unmoved by all
the commotion, and gazed out over the audience
with a vacant stare, as though he saw nothing.

“Sir!” cried the superintendent to the pro—
fessor, “ stop this instantly!”

“ Oh, you villain l" cried the warty woman.
“ To take advantage of a poor man that don’t
know what he’s saying, and to make him tell
lies about respectable people!”

‘ ‘ You infernal scoundrel !" yellcd the praying
one, while the pastor ejaculated, ‘ ‘ Villain!” and
the scandalized organist wept hysterically. Still
the “ subject ” continued excoriatng the com-
pany.

“ nd the hypocrisy of this iniquitous outfit
is appalling. When people carry around two
lives it’s enough to sicken one. ’hen they’re
all together they’re SWeet as confectionery.
It’s then that the superintendent of this associ—
ation alludes to the boss amen howler as an old
idiot, and calls the parson a theological gym-
nast. It’s then that the organist deplores that
‘ that warty old maid can’t catch a beau,’ and the
warty one playfully calls the organist, ‘ the silly
thing with the false teeth,’ and the parson
pitches into the lot.”

Oh, my! Maybe there wasn’t much trouble
then! Oh, no.

There was a grand free-and-casy, five-cor-
nered tongue-fight declared right then and
there.

“ tho’s an infernal idiot? Do you say I’m an
unprincipled villain f” asked the secretary of the
prayer howler.

“I‘m a theological gymnast, am I?” roared
the parson.

“ Oh, you humy l” squealed iVarts. “ I’llshow
you.

“Go ’way, on mean thing!” sopranoed the
organist, whi e the unfortunate prayer bowler
geeing all the others busy made for the pro-

essor.

Meanwhile the latter bent all his energies to

Nat Wednesday F06. revive the ' 'ded “subject,”and after giv~
'3'» 21“, inghimaflnalhckhthesmahofthebanhha
” ‘ ~ vanished amt. - - ~
 WW9:  ,. tap-s  new mom and
’ ,5: “ L. r I ‘y   V )  an" A}:  ’1 1 ‘ > d [A .4 ‘L ’- '93.. x. rift};21355??-lamhsrigwahkfb,flaw-flu,. W 
And will operate on any subjects  “glut the irath m
Who may ofler Themaelveq  you w by the you . '9

d 23h?” innocently said the other; “what’d I
o
“It was that rascally professor!” cried the
pra ing man. “ Where is he?”

here was he? Well might they inquire?
He was gone, and so was the lower sash of the
back window.

“ Gentlemen and ladies,” said the sec ,
“it is evident that we have been duped by an
unprincipled schemer, who has made a helpless
man the vehicle for his malignity. It is all a
mistake. Brother \Vindback will pronounce a
benediction and we will disperse.”

This was all right as far as it went, but the
looks on the spectators’ faces. as they filed out,
plainly showed that unless the accused parties
proved their innocence there was going to be
sheol to pay.

And the unfortunate young man who had
caused all this trouble, followed by a large con-
course of admiring friends, rushed off and
chartered the nearest saloon.

“ I told him,” he said, “ that he’d better make
it a V, in the start, but he couldn’t see it. He
brought it all about by his infernal stinginess.”
And the noise the crowd made Over their
“slings” awoke the policeman who was wrap-
ped in a sleep that.was not magnetic, three
blocks away.

 

Telephone Echo“.

 

LITTLE boy—-“ Pa, why does the world move?”
Pa (thinking of something else)—“ Because it
finds it cheaper than to pay rent.”

“ RETIRED from the stock board; given u
your business: what‘s the matter, old fellow?”
“ Dead broke; couldn’t be broker, you see?”

SAM J oxns says, in his mild, charitable way,
that he wouldn’t wipe his feet on a clergyman in
front of a nigger's shanty who didn’t believe in
prohibition.

ON a card in a Philadelphia street-car is a
great truth thus succinctly stated: “ Advertis-
ing is a great deal like making love to a widow
——it can’t be overdone.”

WOMEN are slowly winning their rights. An
Iowa judge has decided that a man is in duty
bound to tell his wife where he spends his even—
in gs when he is away from home.

A FEATURE of a meeting of the Salvation
Army the other night in Washington was an
address by a converted dude. The army prayed
vociferously for all poor dudes yet unconverted.

A LITTLE Rochester girl drew the picture of
a dog and a cat on her slate, and calling her
mother’s attention to it, said: “ A cat oughtn’t
to have but four legs, but I drew it with six so
she could run away from the dog.”

A NEBRASKA man who went to San Francisco
wrote back to his friends: “ We had a splendid
party. There were two gentlemen from Ne-
bras a. a pair of colonels from Missouri, a couple
of fellows from New York, and a son-of—a-gun
from Boston.”

AN exchange says: “ An Episcopal tea was
held at the hospitable home of a Mrs. So—and-so
on Saturday afternoon.” This Episco 1 tea
probably has less water in it than the ptist
tea would have. and more sugar and milk than
the Presbyterian tea.

A TEN-YEAR—OLD Boston girl, says the Record,
asked her teacher the other day if India was
our father country just as England was our
mother country. ‘ No, indeed,” was the an—
swer. “ Why do you ask that?” “ Nothing,
only I See it’s Farther India on the map."

“.So you think bananas are hurtful? I don’t
believe they are. I have eaten more than a peck
the last fortnight, and I don’t feel any the worse
for it.” “ Ah, but did you eat the peel?” “ Of
course I didn‘t.” “ That’s it. The number of
accidents from falling in the streets has increased
very greatly of late. The hospitals are full of
cases. Had you eaten the skin and thrown away
the £3312: think of the suffering you might have
avei .'