 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BALD-ERDASH.

B! JOB JOT, JR.

 

 

It is hard to bear upon my head
The crown that’s getting bare there;
’Tis plain to see that I am blessed
With plenty of no hair there.

They say that I should never go
Distressfully re lning,

For while I‘m sti on earth I‘ve got
A crown that’s bright and shining.

The separations of this life
Full ol‘t the tear has started
And, oh, I grieve to think my hair
So easily is parted!

With a ﬁne ﬂowing head of hair
i am no more encumbered,

And every hair upon my head
(Quite easily) is numbei ed.

The eople look on me and sa —
“ is head ought not below y

Because it‘s got above his hair,
Afthough it rises slowly."

They look upon my hair that’s left,
A very narrowing border,

And say my locks are broken bad
And greatly out of order;

And reatly does it grieve my soul
To ear the people say—“ ’lhere

Is not much now within my head——
They've got no place to stay there."

I am distressed in heart and mind,
And pain has long oppressed me;

The early cares of fateful life
Have long ago dis-tressed me.

This head as long as I shall live
Shall worry me unending,

Because you see, it is the head
And front of my offending.

And while I am quite tired of life
And sorry I began it,

They say my brain should be quite light,
Since there is nothing on it.

At theaters I hear the girls
Behind me say “ Exquisite!"

Another answers, “ It’s too thin,"
The play, or my hair, is it?

Miss Dobbs last night refused my hand,
And all my feelings harried,

Because she said I’d have no hair
To pull when we were mairied.

I held her by no single hair,
There was no use of fooling;

I’d rather pull through life than have
Another do the pulling.

 

Tales of an Army Officer.

————4

INDIAN TOM’S STORY.

BY CAPT. SATTERLEE PLUMMER.

 

 

SUPPER was just over, and the odor of the
savory venison we had eaten still hung in the
air.

Around a brightly—burning camp—ﬁre was the
writer of this; two other ofﬁcers of the army:
Tom Sun, or "Indian Tom,” as he is called, and
“ Bony” Earnest, our two scouts. All were en-
gaged in enjoyiii that luxury of camp life, an
after-supper smo e. The thoughts of most of
us were in the clouds, and our brains were busy
building those ideal castles, in which some fair
face was seen at the gate waiting for us, when
our dreaming was interrupted by one of the of-
ﬁcers sa ing:

“See ere, Tom, I believe you 'romised us
that yarn of yours, about your and ony‘s ﬁght
with the Ute Indians. Come now; I’m anxious
to hear it.”

“ All right; I’ll tell it if the captain is agree
able.”

“ Tell it, Tom,” we all said.

“I think Bony can tell it better.”

“No, I can’t. You always hold a full hand
on that sort of a. thing.”

Tom then told the following thrilling adven—
ture with the red-skins.

“It was in the fall of 1869 that Bony and I
thought we would go up around Elk Mountain
and prospect a bit, for no mistake there is lots
of yellow stuff somewhere thereabouts. We
had two pack-horses, bronchos, and two we
rode, and we had a good two months’ grub, bar—
rin our getting any game, which was not a like-
] t ing. W'ell armed, did you say? You bet!

e each had our Henry riﬂes and Colts, and
loads of ammunition.

“The Indians had not been too bad; but it’s
mighty unsartain about their jumping you, and
it is best to be heeled all the time.

“We had poor luck the ﬁrst two weeks-—
would strike a color or two, but none of the
right-down stuff; so Bony and I thinks we
would hold up a bit on the gold biz, and go in
for a few pelters, for you see we always carries
our traps with us. Things run along smoothly
for a few da 5 and we had good luck, and were
a-thinking of shifting our camp up the stream
we were on, when, while at our nooning, who
should come in on us but Tom Manny and his
partner, Evans, who said they had been turned
afoot byquite a large party of Indians, who had
taken all their stock, and would have got their
hair, but that they took to the brush in time and
made off.

“They was tired and hungry, and told us that
we had all better take the back track for Raw-
lins, for as they had seen our ﬁre-smoke the reds
would be sartain to come down on us.

"’ We hustled things together mighty quick,
you bet, for we knew Manny and Evans too
well not to know there was danger ahead if
they ﬂunked.

“We made about twenty miles that night,
and got to where Stranger creek meets French—
man’s fork, and it was about an hour to da ', so
we made a stop. It had been mighty bald
traveling, going afoot throu h the snow, which
was as deep as it is now. ony and I let the
others ride our stock, or the could not have
got along at all, they was so played out.

“ I was nearly dead for some.coifee; so ﬁnd-
ing no sign, we made a small ﬁre and had a
hearty meal, and then took a sleep. I reckon
the sun must have been three hours a-shining
when I woke up. I called time. IVe all made
ready for a start at once, and we had got nearly
around the bend in the fork when whoop-la!
hurrah! here they come, as many as ﬁfty, a-
charging into us, and a-yelling as they always
does I seen our only 5 owing, in a moment,
was to make straight for a small island in the
creek, about ﬁfty yards out from the bank, and
covered with scrub trees and brush, so I yells:
‘ To the island, boys!’ and heads that way,
grabbing one of the pack horses by his head—
stall; t’other one was so infernally scared that
nothing could hold him. I’Vhen we took to the
water the red devils were about three hundred
yards ofl". Ain’t that so, Bony 3"

“I calkilated there'was good four hundred.
Go on Tom."

"When we struck soil they had got to the
bank, and we turned and gave them a volley
right there. and they returned it on us. None
of us hit, but in less than ﬁve minutes our horses
were too dead to kick. “'e made ourselves as
nice as we could, and got ready to hold our own.
The island was about ﬁfty yards from either
bank, and was, I reckon, not more than thirty
yards by twenty. The Indians crossed Stranger
(geek further down, and had us under two

res.

“ lVe used our dead horses as a breastwork, and
with our knives cleaned out a place in the brush.
Now all this time, maybe ten minutes, the 111-
dians had been pecking away at us, but we laid
low even when we were a-working a ﬁxcn of
ourselves, and they 0t too anxious to shoot
true. After a few dea shots from us they drew
back from the bank, a kind of satisﬁed with that
sort of thing, and held a pow-wow. What they
said I don’t know, but, about half an hour after
we had seen them lumped together, about ten
from each side of the creek charged us. They
used real soldier ways. It was two against ten,
and lead ﬂeW. you but! Bony was grazed after
being tapped with a coup stick, and Evans was

 

6
obliged to shift his bed. for he got it in the
chest. There was ﬁve Utes dead on that ’ere
island when they left, and I crawled to them and
lifted their hair to make a gun-cover with. But,
truth is truth; I did not think then I’d have a
chance to use them; but I was r’iled, and on
know, captain, when a man is r’iled he w11 do
thin s the same as if he was drunk.”

“ don’t blame you, Tom; you were in a bad
7’

“ I reckon we was; you ask Bony there, and
he’s had a grizzle b’ar ug him.”

“We soon saw that Evans must go from us;
in fact, he got blue around the mouth, and said
himself that he knew he was going to change
his camping—place. He asked for water, and
that was enough for Manny—for partners is
iartners in this country—who crawled out after
it to the edge of the creek. It was a brave thinsE
but no go, for in stooping to reach it—the be
was steer) right there—he slipped, and the noise
of the splash he made as he went in, woke up
the imps, and the last we saw of him, was as
the Indians ﬁshed him out lower down and
raised his hair. Yes, sir; the current was ver
swift, just near the forks, you see. Bonv and
gets a red devil apiece while they was after the
body; but ﬁfty would not have paid for such a
man as Manny, true as steel, and divide the last
thin he had.

“ he ﬁring was kept up pretty hard on us af-
ter that for some little time; then they’d stop
for half an hour or so—I reckon to try and make
a plan to ﬁx us—wlien they’d begin again; but,
we was so ﬁxed they could not hit us, and they
dared not try the charging business again.

“ Things had kind of been quiet for hard onto
an hour. Evans had one to join his pard, and
Bony and l were cal ilating on their leaving
us, when they started the ﬁre dodge. Two or
three of them, by coming up—stream struck the
end of the island furthest from us, and did it
uiibeknown to us, and lit the brush. Bony
smelt the smoke ﬁrst, and said:

“ ‘We’re gone, Tom; but we’ll show them
how to die game; let’s strike for shore.’

“I had just agreed—for we could feel the
heat: on see the brush was awful dry, and
burnt ike a greyhound a-running—when Bony
called my attention to the Indians; they was
a-riding around like devils, going here and
there, those that were on the right crossing the
creek below the island as fast as their ponies
could travel. In the mean time the heat

 

he made his famous descent upon the Saxon
land.

A proud man was young Sir Hugh, and a

r one, too, for his father had been a sad
spendthrift, and when he had died had left noth-
in r to his son and heir but the old family tower,
sadly incumbered with debts.

The heir to Challincote was a far different
kind of man from the sire. The sole ambition
of his life was to redeem the old estate from
the hands of the money-brokers, and build up
again the old-time glories of his race.

And in order to accomplish this end he had
sought service abroad, selhn his blood for gold,
as the ﬁrst great man of t e Challincote line
had done in the Norman William’s time.

Right well, too, had Sir Hugh prospered in
his task when the terrible civil war broke out
and he was summoned home from a foreign
shore todraw his blade in the royal cause.

Not sorr was Sir Hugh to return, for good
men were in demand; there was a rospect for
advancement, and then, too, the lant young
soldier was in love!

Not with a noble dame of high degree as one
would be apt to sup se, but with the daugh—
ter of a wealthy tra esman, a weaver of Tam-
worth, who had plied his art with so much skill
that he was reputed to be as rich as a Jew.

In the olden time the money—brokers were all
Jews, and therefore the people at large be-
lievcd that there did not exist such a thing as
a r Hebrew.

‘our daughters had the tradesmen, Mathew
Holmden by name; all of them fair and buxom
maidens, but the youngest of the quartette was
by far the prettiest.

And in truth the lads of Tamworth town
were wont to swear that Maud—so she was
called—was as fair a girl as could be found in
the whole kingdom.

The old weaver was pleased at the idea of the
youngest of his ﬂock happening to catch the
fancy of so accomplished a gentleman as the
heir to Challincote, and he was much grieved
when the young man departed to foreign climes
to seek his fortune.

“Odd-bodkins!” he cried, “I would willingly
have lent him the money to redeem his estate
and count it no favor done, either.”

But Sir Hugh was far too proud to have ac-
cepted such an offer. He preferred with the
edge of his own good sword to cut a road to for-
tune.

it'll,“ Hill! ‘-

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“Oh, yes; because, if you refuse I will put a
public insult upon you before all menl” the fel-
low replied, cooll .

“Be it so!” cried the young man, nettled at
the words. “ Lead on and I will accommodate

'ou.”

Without more ado the bravo led the way to
an open ﬁeld hard-by, which was in a measure
screened from the village by a thick row of
pollards.

The bravo drew his sword and placed himself
on guard.

“Now for it, my gay cavalier!” he cried;
“look well to ourself, for I warn you I have
taken lessons rom the best master of fence in
all Europe!”

Sir Hugh smiled contemptuoust at the fel-
low’s boasting, and at once commenced the at-
tack

An excellent swordsman was the cavalier, as
tho bravo speedily discovered.

A dozen passes had been exchanged when the
report of a pistol sounded on the air: Sir Hugh
fe t a sharp sting in his side, and at the same
moment the bravo threw up his hands, stag-
gered back, and fell dead.

The duel was but a trick. Sneed, concealed
in the pollards, had attem ted to assassinate
his rival, but a faulty aim ad slain the swash—
buckler instead. Sneed took to his heels and
escaped, and was never seen in Tamworth
again, but Sir Hugh passed unscathed through
all the civil war, escaped at its end to France
with his young bride, and lived there until the
king came to is own again, then he returned
to the tower, and to this day his descendants
tell the story of the duel.

In the Alps.

IN charming surroundings Mr. William
Adams pens his last letter—from Interlaken,
Switzerland—the beautiful lake embosomed in
the majestic Alps, and from which tourists
penetrate to the very glaciers, as Mr. Adams
did. Of life in the Swiss summer resort he
gives this not too commendable picture:

“The hotels at this point are all ﬁlled, one
hundred and sixty—eight guests arriving at one

 

 

“A word with you, Sir Hugh Challincote!” he cried.

from the burning brush had driven us to the
other end of the island, and I determined to see
what was up. I rose to my feet, and saw the
puttiest sight I ever seen in in life. I gave a
yell. I could not hold in, for a ut half a mile
from the creek, and a—coming toward it hard,
was two companies of the Second Cavalry.
The Indians had seen ’em, and id no more at-
tention to us, but was Oing Ii 6 Satan beaten
tan-bark for the hills. he soldiers crossed near
the island, and we yelled at them, and Colonel
Baker, who we knew, gave us a couple of spare
horses.

“I’ve been happy when I’ve seen the queen
ten come out on in call for a hundred, and
paying four for one, ut I was happier than I
ever was in my life when I fetched up on top of
that Government horse.

“ Yes, sir; we went back and buried them.”

“ How did the soldiers happen to come,
Tom?”

“Oh, you see, Colonel Baker had received a
dispatch from a scout from above that this
party were out from White River Agency, and
was going the nearest way to head them off
ntggr the Sweetwater. Lucky for us, wasn’t
i .

“ Did the colonel catch the party?”

“ No, they got clean off that night.

We got
some stock, but that was all.”

 

W e then all turned in, for Tom’s story had
been a longer one than we expected. In writ-
ing it I have had to do so from memor , but
my readers, I hope, will remember " ndian
Tom,” as this is not the last of him.

 

The Rival Lovers.

A Story of the Great English Civil War.

BY COL. DELLE SARA.

 

“ LIKE bloody brothers ﬁghting for a birth-
right,” the Cavaliers and Puritans had battled
manfully with each other. The “ Round-
heads”—as the followers of stern Cromwell
were called in derision by the royal party, be-
cause they cut their hair close to the skull,
thereby endeavoring to rebuke the long love-
locks and the ﬂowing, perfumed curls of the
Cavaliers—were determined either to make the
king yield to the demands of the Commons or
else to depose him from the throne, while the
weak-minded, uncertain Charles, ever the dupe
of some new favorite. was as equally deter—
mined, advised by evil counselors, not to yield
an inch.

Fiercely the war had raged; some blood
battles had taken place. but as yet no decisive
blow on either side had been struck.

A hollow truce had been patched up between
the contending forces: a vain attempt, as it-
proved, to sett e the differences between the two
parties by negotiation rather than by the rude
shock of arms.

A welcome respite the truce was, indeed, to
the war—worn soldiery, and to no man on either
side was this breathing-time of peace more wel-
come than to young Sir Hugh Cliallincote, of
Challincote Tower, near the town of Farm-
worth.

Of an old English family came Sir Hugh, and
the Challincotcs proudly traced back their line
to a certain hold, mail-clad warrior who had
followed the lead of the Norman lVilliam, when

 

Young Challincote arrived in England just as
the war broke out. A troop of horse was as-
signed to him, and he had the pleasure of riding
beneath the banner of that able commander,
Prince Rupert.

So busy was he in the duties of the tented
ﬁeld that he had no chance to visit his lady-love
in Tamworth’s ancient town until the time of
the truce came.

Then he hied away at once with all a lover’s

ea er .
e found that great changes had taken place.
The old weaver was dead and the four sisters
had just begun to recover from the sorrow oc-
casioned by his loss. Some ei ht months had
elapsed since the death of the o (1 man and dur-
ing all that time the sisters had been persecuted
by an errant knave who had formerly been the
weaver’s conﬁdential man of business. The fel-
low had determined to marry pretty Maud and
had left no means untried to accomplish his pur-
pose but she had been true to her absent lover
and ad bee deaf alike to ﬂattery or threats.

When th facts were made known to Sir
Hugh he saw that it was time to act promptly.

“ Give me a husband’s right to protect you!”
he exclaimed, “and I’ll warrant you that I’ll
soon ﬁnd a way to silence this knave.”

At ﬁrst Maud objected with all a maiden’s
shyness, but her three sisters declared that the
plan was a capital one; and at last, overcomin

er objections, the minister was notiﬁed, an
without ceremony the little company proceeded
to the church.

To the holy entleman Sir Hugh explained
the reason of t e rather unseemly haste, and
thereupon being satisﬁed, the person soon con-
Iv3erted the weaver’s daughter into a blushing

ride.

With hearts light and full of jo the party
left the church, and as they quit the portal
they encountered, leaning against a pillar, a
man who stared rudely at the group.

The fellow was dressed like a Puritan, wore a
long sword belted to his side, and possessed a
most forbidding face.

“A word with you, Sir Hugh Challincote!”
he cried.

“A message from the cam , doubtless,” the
young bridegroom whisper in the ear of
Maud. “ Return home at once, and I will join
you as soon as I have got rid of the fellow.”

The girls hurried away, although somewhat
troubled in their minds by the stranger‘s ap-
pearance.

“And now, sir, what would you with me?”
Sir Hugh asked, haughtily, after the ladies had
got beyond earshot.

“Only a triﬂe: your life, my dainty buck!”
re lied the man, insolently.

ir Hu h knit his brows, but with an effort
restraine his anger.

“Know you not that we are now in a time of
truce, and that it is not legal to out each other’s
throats for another month yet ?”

“Oh, I don’t trouble you because you serve
the king and I the Commons, but because you
have carried off my lady-love, pretty Mistress
Maud!”

“ Thy lady-love l” cried Sir Hugh, astonished.

“Yes, mine—by proxy!” the fellow replied,
grinning. “I see t at you do not understand
and so I will explain. Master Jabez Sneed is
a worthy man, and far more used to handling
the pen than a sword; therefore. as he desires
to compass your death he has hired me to rep-
resent him!”

“And do you think that I will encounter you
—a hired bravo?” cried Sir Hugh in scorn.

 

house alone last Saturday. An instrumental
concert is given on each evening in the park,
and on Sunday evenin some elaborate pieces
of ﬁreworks were set 0 from a garden adjoin-
ing. Nothing, to outward ap ance, indi-
cates the recurrence of the Sa bath here, the
stores all remaining open, while on the hotel
piazzas guests are to be seen engaged in card—
playing and chess. It is to be presumed that
those who spend the afternoon hours of Sunday
in this way are either French or German; we
have yet to learn of the ﬁrst American thus
desecrating the day. In the evening ballad
girls, dressed in costume, sing German melodies,
and quartets render operatic selections, their
rich, melodious voices, sounding sweetly in the
ni ht air, exciting admiration and applause.”

f the trip to the glaciers he has this to sa :

“Thou h the day was foggy and clouds ug-
ged the s o s of Jungfrau, we started out fully
equipped t e other morning for a tri to the
glac1ers and Wengernalp. At interva , how-
ever, the mowy brow of Jungfrau looked re-
splendent in the sunlight, ded on either side
b the Silberhorn and t e Schreechorn, each
a ut 12,000 feet hi h. Towering above us
in all their majesty, t eir summits wreathed in
eternal snow, it seemed that these giant moun-
tains had never presented to us so impressive an
aspect as upon this identical morning.

‘The route to Grindelwald is attractive and
varied, winding through picturesque valleys,
and dotted at intervals with neat and trim
chalets. Herds of cattle and goats are to be
seen browsing on every side, their tinkling bells
making the air resonant, attended by shepherd
boys attired in costume, with Alpine horn
strung over the left shoulder. All along this
route the tourist is importuned frequently to
hand out centimes or sons to juveniles, Swim

'rls in costume and decrepit old people. The

t class entertains with song in solo or quar-
tet, brushes the ﬂies from your horses upon as-
cending a hill, turns summersaults or hands up
to the carriage bunches of wild Alpine ﬂowers,
persistent to secure the coveted coin. The Swiss
girl, with olive complexion and lustrous black
eyes, approaches your vehicle, oﬂering tempting
baskets of apricots, cherries, auges or grapes,
besides bearing tiny jars of oney, glasses of
milk and a variety of other refreshments.

“ Reaching the outskirts of Grindelwald, a ren-
dezvous for ides to the glaciers and moun~
tains, we are t on every side by the bicker-
ings of this class of individuals, anxious for half
a ozen francs to pilot us to the glaciers. Cha-
lets and rudely-constructed domiciles, answer-
in as the homes of the herdsmen and moun-
taineer, ﬁll this valley, while it is bounded by
three mountains each between twelve and thir-
teen thousand feet high. Between these gigan-
tic hills, known as the Eiger, the Meltcnberg and
the Wetterhorn, lie the upper and lower glaciers,
visited each season b thousands of tourists.

“A two miles’ ri e in the saddle places the
traveler at the hotel, from which point a th
is pursued to the upper glacier over four t ou-
sand feet above the sea at its base. Near the
entrance to this glacier grotto, a precipitous
rock towers hundreds of feet above you, and
the atmosphere becomes sensibly cooler. Hens
overcoats and wraps are unfolded and buttoned
on, preparatbry to enterin the cave of ice,
where the temperature is 45 egrees lower. The
entrance to this cavern is easily reached over
a plateau of combined snow and ice, dimen-
sions of aperture being about three feet wide
and six feet high, artiﬁcially hewn out of the
solid ice. Entering this grotto, the path is

straight for twenty-ﬁve or thirty feet, where it
verges to the left, pursuin various curves for
several hundred feet into its cold and silent re-
cesses. The ice here is sin ularly pure and
transparent, of a deep blue 5 ade, With not a
blemish or crevice noticeable to mar its beauty.

“ After a ten minutes’ walk from the glacier
a storm overtook our party; though the rain
caused some discomfort, we were rewarded by
witnessing two separate avalanches of snow and
106, a magniﬁcent phenomenon, striking the val-
ley With a sound of thunder. At the hotel a
man toots through an Alpine horn ﬁve or six
feet in length, the echo reaching us a few sec-
onds later from the slopes of the Wetterhorn.

“ In the saddle we ascend through the narrow
circuitous bridle-path of the mountain to the
summit of Wengernalp in three hours, 
en route a series of picturesque surprises an
grand views of the Bernese Alps. From the top
a ﬁne rospect is to be had of the valley of
Gﬁndefwald and the surrounding giant moun-
tains of the Oberland. The glaciers and shrouds
of snow which encircle these mountains present
a magniﬁcent tacle from this int of ob—
servation, forming a sixth part 0 all of the
glaciers of the Alps, and the randcst uninter-
rupted sea of ice in the whole lpine region.”

Beat Time’s Notes.

WALL pap er—greenbacks.

 

 

THE best thing in adversity is prosperity.

 

EVIL communications corrupt good editors.

THE way of the transgressor is peculiarly soft.

 

UNCLE SAM’S pensions are uncle’s alms, sure-
ly.

BEAUTY draws us by a single hair in the but-
ter.

 

 

\VHAT is sauce for the goose is sauciness of
the gander.

 

A FELLOW convicted of big’amy loved not
wisely but two, well.

 

Has the talk of the third term anything to do
with this heated term?

 

THE man recently attacked with vertigo came
near not having ver-to-go.

 

IF you wish toslee in these ﬂy—times you will
have to cover your ace with a napkin.

 

THE husband of a scold may not talk much,
but then he has certainly the gift of tongues.

 

WHEN a man begins to ﬁnd out that he is wise,
then is the exact ime that he begins to be a
fool.

 

As everybody this summer is visiting some-
body else, no wonder you can’t ﬁnd anybody at
home.

 

 

 

THIS has been a notable year for suspensiom
—many of them with ropes. (Noose editors ex-
copted.)

“LOVE lau hs at locksmiths,” as the lock-
smith said w en his ‘ l rejected him with
hilarity.

 

WHEN two persons are made one the ques-
tion often arises one what? one man or one
woman?

 

Ir a young lady is arch, it is no sign that she
is an arch-angel, even though she should study
archery.

 

SHOULD you call a married lady a miss you
should never attempt to correct the mistake, for
she will get mad at you surely, then.

 

A CITY man who later returned from the
country, where the crop o musketoes was good,
speaks of it as the rue-ral districts.

 

I DON’T see wh it would not be easy to reach
the North Pole ‘ you would only step u on the
longitudinal lines and climb as on a lad er.

 

A MAN out West who hadn’t any fortune com-
ing to him in the old country has just died, but
then there was no use for him in this world.

 

SWIPEs is so particular that when he goes in
bathing he puts on an indie-rubber tight suit, so
he won’t get wet. It disﬁgures him to get wet.

 

THERE are people who delight to have you
visit them for the purpose of overwhelming you
with their magniﬁcence, and who visit you only
to overwhelm you with your own poverty.

“MB. JONES,” said the landlady, “I would
like to see more get-up in you of a morning.”
“Yes,” said he, “and I would like to see more
ﬁlly rising in your bread ;” but he dodged the

 

 

TELL a man that his wife’s maiden aunt is
comin , but his frown will be a smile compared
with t e look on his face when the core of his
piece of watermelon drops just as he is going to

ite it.

EDISON has late] invented a rubber doll
which answers all t e p of a real baby,
cries naturally, screams, kicks, pulls whiskers,
tumbles out of the crib, rolls down stairs, pulls
the cloth oﬂf the table, yells, squalls, shrieks,
whoops, and is in every way as interestin as
a regular live baby belonging to your neigh r.
It is one of the most successful inventions of
the age, and costs nothing to kee . It is just
as desirable as any other baby, am affords just
as much amusement. Nothing ﬁner could be
desired in that line. Small families furnished
on application.

 

 

Q‘Among the features of the SATURDAY
JOURNAL for the past summer have been the
“Typical Women ’ papers. That they have
been well received is a good “sign of the times."
When readers of pular literature demand
such matter it affo satisfacto evidence that
the better class of popular wee 'es are educa-
tors in the true sense—ang the mind and
taste toward a constantly—increasing excellence.

A Jersey City correspondent thus adverts to
these papers:

“ As a constant and always interested reader of
the SATURDAY JOURNAL, while fully appreciating its
many other attractive features, I wish particularly
to thank you for the highly instructive and enter-
taining series of papers under the heading ‘ Typi-
cal Women.’

“ With the lives of some of the more prominent
historical personages included in this series, I was
already, as I supposed, familiar; but after reading
any one of these admirable sketches, I ﬁnd I have ob-
tained a much clearer and more satisfactory idea of
the individual who is the subject of it, than I ever
had before. Certain anomalies, obscurities, deﬂ-
ciencies, in the lives of these celebrities, which had
previously rendered them somewhat enigmatical
beings to me, seem, as I read these brief memoirs
in the JOURNAL, to somehow miraculously disap~
pear, and their characters to assume for the ﬁrst
time distinctness, consistency and completeness.
Notably this was the case with Elizabeth of Eng
land; in a less, though still important degree, Mary
of Scotland; and so of others.

It * * “ These brief biographies seem to me
to be a happy exempliﬂcation of Voltaire’s pithy
saying, that ‘the life of an individual is not all
that he has done, but all that he has done worth re-
cording.” By a harmonious grouping of essential
facts —such only as are of real value in illustrating
character, these graphic sketches put the readers
of the SATURDAY OURNAL in possession of a
rounded and ﬁnished ‘Iife,’ which can be grasped
at a single view, and which conveys a much more
clear and truthful idea of its subject, and is far
more interesting, than if burdened with unneces-
sary and irrelevant detail. At least, so I have
found them."

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

Limiﬂ‘