Puck 1891: Vol 29 Supplement

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BEING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF PREEMINENTLY PERFECT PIECES, POEMS 4 > PICTURES FROM THE PIECES AND POEMS BY R. K. Munkittrick, F. Opper, Williston Fish, Morris Waite, J. K. Bangs, G. A. Elder, Madeline S. Bridges, H. L. Wilson, Paul Pastnor, W. A. A., Chas. F. Lummis, Roy L. McCardell, ‘‘ Sidney,’”’ S. W. Foss, Benj. Northrop, Fredc. H. Wilson, Malcolm Douglass, Charles Le Furst, J. P. Denison, Glen Mac Donough, Mrs. Yoosterwuz, Zenas Dane, C. D. H., F. W. Pierpont, and others. THE PICTURES BY F. Opper, C. Jay Taylor, L. Dalrymple, S. Ebrhart, S. B. Griffin, U. J Keppler, E. W. Kemble, C. D. Gibson, and others. KEPPLER & SCHWARZMANN, PUBLISHERS, NEW

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—= >= —S > ocean —_———___ ACCA CL Se STOP! YE HURRYING PEOPLE, STOP! —— DROP YOUR GLITTERING QUARTERS! DROP! And get your PICKINGS From PUCK, SIXTH CROP. 64 pages chockfull of mirth. Surely A GENEROUS QuaRTER’s WortTH, Tf you're satisfied short of THe Bioominc Eartu. a ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1891, BY KEPPLER & SCHWARZMANN.

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RANDOM N IRISHMAN recently spoke of a man who had tried in every way, but could n’t commit suicide to save his life. THE EQUILIBRIST’S LIFE hangs in the balance. [T IS ALL well enough to talk about a needle being lost in a hay-stack, but it would n’t be lost long if you were to walk on the hay in your bare feet. THE RACE-TRACK STARTER is the man who is taken at his word. WOMEN WHO GAMBLE might be appropriately called tiger lilies. WHEN A FREIGHT AGENT tells you your trunk is waxing shaky, and needs a strap, ask him if he has any straps for sale. If he says he has, you may rest assured your trunk is all right, and does n’t require one, any more than a country dentist needs a diploma. SET “‘Everyding goes dis time, I bet you!” "EM UP ee a Z GS “Owe REMARKS. A MAN NEVER knows all the penalties of living in the rural districts, until he wakes up some fine morning, after a heavy shower, and finds his carriage road washed over on his neighbor’s lawn. WE ARE TOLD by an authority that boxing improves the eye. Perhaps it does; but we have seen men come out of a boxing set-to with both eyes spoiled. |r 1s A high compliment to the artist’s skill in painting flesh when a mosquito attacks one of his portraits. JAWKINS IS a mean man. , He says all the vacation he wants is — for his wife to go away on hers. |! IS EXTREMELY AMUSING to see how a railroad can eulogize twenty different resorts on its line, and vary the language in such a way that each place seems the best of the lot, without causing any of the others to appear in the least inferior. AGAIN. Everything ‘‘going.”

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BALFREY.

E WERE slowly climbing the staircase of the Crystal Toboggan Slide W in Rutlington — a long line of us, in tasseled toques and blanket- suits. The college boys were, most of them, carrying toboggans much in the same manner as a Maori carries his long shield. The girls were chatting briskly with their escorts, or with one another. Suddenly some one touched me on the arm. I turned, and I saw Plaistead looking up at me from the step below. ‘¢| want to introduce you to Balfrey,” he said. Balfrey was the new man who had come into our class at the college. I had not yet met him, but was anxious to do so, for I had heard that he was decidedly remarkable. ‘‘In what way?” I had asked the three or four several students who had volunteered the same information. - ‘¢In every way,” was the common reply. ‘‘ You can not get any conception of Balfrey until you have met him.” On the step below Plaistead, as I turned and looked down, was a young man. He looked up and smiled, as Plaistead, under some difficulties, repeated the formula of intro- duction. I reached down, and shook hands with him over Plaistead’s head. ‘¢T am glad to meet you,” I said. ‘*You may be sorry bye-and-bye,” replied Balfrey. He said it in perfect serious- ness, and with a gravity of tone and expression that was absolutely depressing. And yet everybody around us laughed. «¢ Yes,” I said to myself, ‘‘there is no doubt that Balfrey is remarkable — peculiar would be a better word. I must cultivate his acquaintance.” We had no opportunity to speak further with each other that afternoon, however, as Plaistead presently introduced Balfrey to a very charming young lady, and my own fair companion was one to whom I was very much devoted. I saw Balfrey go down the chute on a toboggan several times. He al- ways rode backward, and did not gasp when the toboggan shot off the platform. That was a little remarkable, too. During the next few weeks I was thrown almost constantly with the new man, and we struck up an incipient friendship. I say incipient, be- cause it never came to anything. That was remarkable, also; and it was Balfrey’s fault. Within less than four months he became involved in a love affair. It was with the young lady to whom Plaistead had introduced him at the toboggan slide. While his suit seemed to be progressing favorably, and everything was fair and delightful, Balfrey was the moodiest, sad- J, a Y

dest, most silent man in college. He lost flesh daily, and began to look old. All / through this period of his personal his- - tory he was very confidential with me, but he never told me that he was in love. Then came the dénouement. Balfrey proposed to Miss J., and was unequivocally rejected. ‘She had not realized,” she said, ‘‘ how things were going.” All Balfrey’s rosy castles came tumbling down. The whole radiant affair became like the chips of a shattered vase. Immediately Balfrey began to brighten up. He grew jovial. He sang and whistled about the old college halls. He cut up capers with the boys. His cheeks began to grow plump and rosy again, and the crows stopped walking under his eyes at night. About this time our growing friendship came to a standstill. There seemed to be a delicate misunderstanding between us. I could not make up my mind whether I ought to con- gratulate Balfrey or not. That was where the trouble lay; and it was his fault. Just six weeks after Balfrey’s re-

aslant, we found a note in his room, porter we're a-holdin’ up! PICKINGS FROM PUCK.

ae A " _ SS a Ny y = WE SS WS SS \ i \ NZ

‘ SS = > Z———~a CLZAa® QE nS CHE THE SAME OLD STORY. EGYPTIAN TRAVELER (in Rome, 1,900 years ago).— Aw, ya-as, this is all very fine; but you have no antiquities here, ye know!

stating that he had committed suicide by closing his transom and windows, and turning on the gas. I shall never forget the white horror that smote on our faces — the four of us who went into the room — when we read that note. We trembled, so that we could hardly lift the curtain of Balfrey’s bedroom to look upon his ghastly corpse. Not until we had gazed upon the unruffled surface of his bed, plainly unoccupied the night before, and shiveringly iooked into the closet and under the bed, did it flash upon us that there was no gas in the college dormitories. \ | Here arises a psychological query. What effect did payix // the same discovery have upon Balfrey’s mind, after all <&: his preparations had been made, and the fatal moment had arrived? Undoubtedly he meant to commit suicide. His mind was set , upon it. But then — poor P= fellow!—the sudden ‘aw shock of the ab- sence of the means! It was a remarkable contretemps, to Ma MH lag say the least — quite worthy of } Hi} HNN // Balfrey. "4 ANY) I} That was the last of him, however, Mj; \) \ YWo/ {

Wi) PUR YA\\\W) / at Rutlington. So far as we were wes concerned, he might have been dead — he was dead, practically, minus the _ sad satisfaction of burial rites. But ten years afterward, when | was graduated from college, and be- come something of a wanderer, I met Balfrey in Pittsburgh, Pa. He told me that he had a wife in Scranton, the same state, and another in Rich- mond, Va., and piteously asked if | knew of a cheap hiding-place. | turned away, then, in unutterable sadness, at the perversity of fate in not providing adequate means for the commission of suicide by college j students in the first sacred sorrow of Hy it a blighted and eternal affection. *

\ / iii | \ Paul Pastnor.

WorRDs THAT BURN — Those on Branding Irons. CLEANLINESS Is next to impossible in Pittsburgh. jection by Miss J., and when the oo whole college was basking in his genial AFTER BIG GAME. TRACK EXERCISE— Detective Work. gayeties, like some old dusty book in a TRAIN ROBBER (ix background).— Don't be alarmed, - library, upon which a sunbeam falls ladies an’ gents, we don’t want nothin’ of you, it's the A LADY’S PRETTY HAND never forgets it’s cunning.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. fi i | > A ea), 1 yey am Mh i OFFENSIVE PARTISANSHIP. Dr. PRAYERY.— Search the history of the whole world, and you‘will find nowhere else so inspiring an example ot bold, fearless enterprise combined with gentle godliness as you find in St. Paul. MINNEAPOLIS MAN (ficking up his hat).— That— that 's just a little more than I can sit under. i PRIDE IS PUNISHED. LITTLETON (coming out of the restaurant).— By Jove, 1’m glad we are rid of that waiter! His air was so lofty that I actually felt small. COKE.— Indeed. And so— LITTLETON.— And so I acted small. I did n’t give him one cent. A MEAN REMARK. Miss ANGY NEw. — Miss Oldun told me that she was afraid of the dark. MISS VERA CUTTING.—That ’s strange. be more afraid of the light. I should think she would A GREAT GIRL. «¢] love that girl.” ‘«¢Why?” ‘¢What do you suppose she sent me for a Valentine?” ‘¢T don’t know.” «¢ The receipted bill for all the flow- ers I sent her last year: It’s taken a load off my mind, I can tell you.” A WONDERFUL CURE. CARKER (calling on friend).— Mercy! What’s that frightful shout- ing upstairs? SERVANT.—That’s Mr. Barker, sir. CARKER.—Why, I thought he had lost his voice. SERVANT.— He had, sir; but he has just received the Doctor’s bill. WHAT THE MONOCLE WILL BRING US TO. THAT WOULD INTEREST HER. Mrs. TOWNE.— How did you like the play ? MorRRIS TOWNE.— Don’t know anything about it. Could see nothing but women’s hats. Mrs. TOWNE (greatly interested).— Oh, do tell me how some of them were trimmed! (CUSTOM FORMS our ideas. The house cat doubtless thinks its saucer of milk and place by the fire parts of the eternal system of nature. HEN A MAN is said to be hard to deal with, we may suppose that he will stand no shuffling. wi AN UNVICTORIOUS CONQUEST. He married a petted young girl, And his life now with war is embroiled; He thinks, with his head in a whirl, That the Victor belongs to the ‘‘ Spoiled.” IT HAD THE DESIRED EFFECT. “You have seen the advertisement of my Universal Panacea, I sup- ”” said the patent-medicine proprietor. ‘¢ Yes,” replied his victim, ungraciously; ‘I’ve seen it until I’m sick of i.” ‘‘Good! pose, Now take a couple of bottles of it, and you ’ll be all right.” HIS LAST VALENTINE. 7 Qe OF MY HEART, could my heart’s love crown thee, A pri€eless diadem I would bring; Or could I with poet’s harp renown thee, How soft, how tuneful the songs I ’’d sing! ‘Or had I Golconda’s mines, by rightful Title, I ’d lay them beside thy feet: Though to get them here would be something : frightful, Yet, nevertheless, I ’d attempt it, sweet. ‘¢ And other treasures I ’d likewise proffer If I possessed them; but, Fate malign Has left me naught but myself to offer, And this poor attempt at a Valentine.” ‘¢Oh, never mind crowns,” came the bright girl’s answer ; ‘¢Don’t bother about Golconda’s mines. I'd like to have you, if I really can, sir, But you ’d better let up on the Valentines! ” Madeline S. Bridges. NO WONDER WE ERR. ‘¢ What is the right end of a check to endorse, any how?” ‘« The left end!” AN OFFENSIVE PARTISAN. THE SMALL BOY ’s now on mischief bent, The Valentine ’s his game. Although it only costs a cent, It gets there just the same. A WORD IN SEASON. Mr. CUTTER.— Have you been sleigh-riding yet? Miss EFFIE WAITE.— Oh, yes; ever so many times! Mr. CuTTER.— Ah, then, I suppose you are weary ot it. I was about to ask you — HER YOUNGER BROTHER.— Better not. heavy. I could hardly pull her. She's awful

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BROWN’S LULLABY. ROWN WAS always good-natured. We had spent the evening together B in the temporary absence of his young wife, seeing the town, and it was late and we were weary when we reached home. Brown showed me into the room adjoining his, and I soon fell into a happy slumber. About twenty minutes past two, however, I was rudely awakened. Brown’s eighteen-month old baby appeared to be troubled with insomnia, and Brown was evidently engaged in rocking the youngster, and keeping him quiet with a lullaby. The lullaby was Brown’s own original composition. Apparently, it was also extemporaneous, both words and music, and was sung to long, short and every other kind of metre. Brown must have been mad. I was, any how. But he suppressed every sign of it. The boy was quiet, and apparently in good humor to be humored, and out of humor for anything else. He was humored somewhat as follows: . ‘‘ There, there, there, there, There, there, there. What ’s the matter with the boy? There, there, there. Did he go to bed at six o’clock, And sleep till half-past two? Well, well, well, well, There, there, there. Now close your little eyes. That’s right. Now open them again. That’s right. Now rest your dear head on the other shoulder. Now smile. Oh, how sweet! Wake up now and go to sleep again. There, there, there. Shut your beautiful blue eyes and wake up again. Yes, I know. Well, well, well. Lie down and get up. There, there, there. It would be lighter if it was n’t so dark, and warmer if it was n’t so cold. Yes, yes, yes. But the sun will be out in a few minutes, for it’s ’most morning. Yes, yes, my little dear, my pet. “THE AGE OF CHIVALRY IS PAST.” HArry. — Dearest, why this agitation? Why do you hide your face from me? Can you not speak one little word? CARRY (in a choking voice). — Really, Harry, I—I— can not. Excuse me; but your emotion has caused you to burst your shirt-collar ! PICKINGS FROM PUCK. iW Mit, Il \ ‘ fl lpeay sn "WAY OUT OF SIGHT. BREEZY TATTERS. — Say, Lonely, I put up a job this afternoon. LONELY WHISKERS.—So did I; but you can betyer termatter-can I put it up so high that it can’t be reached. Stand up, now, on one leg, and shut one eye and take another nap. There, there, there. I knew he could. Turn over once more and wake up._ Try to sleep from now till the roses come again. There, there, there. It will be warmer next June. Oh, if I were only in bed! So, goto sleep. Yes, yes, yes. How calm you look! How resigned ! What lustrous eyes — Looking into mine! Shut ’em! or I'll leave the room — and return a once. There, there, there. Now don’t ky-ky. Lie down now and wake up. Yes, yes, ’t was too bad. But he ’Il sleep all the better to-morrow afternoon; yes, he will, the little darling. If it was n’t so cold we ’d go out and slide on the ice. Yes, yes, yes. But it will be warmer next September. There, did he wish to snore? Well, he may, just as much as he likes. Yes, yes, yes. We are going out in the country next May to see his Grandmama. Yes, we are. So, be a good boy. There, there, there. Now he’s still, he ’s closed his eyes. I ’ll lay him gently in his crib. There, there. Hush, hush, hush. Did he want to rock some more? “Yes? Well, so do I. Yes, yes, yes. There, there, there. Now put his little head down on his Papa’s ear. of his whiskers. Be active. Yes, yes, yes, sweet. Why don’t you join the Salvation Army and leave home? Say, Pet? There, there. Wanted milk? Yes; well, it’s down four flights of stairs, and the night is chill, and I am barefoot; but we’ll go down. Yes, yes, yes. Of course, we will. There, there, there ...... 4 He went down, and I fell asleep. How much longer he continued his soul-stirring rhapsody I don’t know; but it was noon when he woke up next day; and he woke up sleepy at that — but still good-natured. ‘ W. A. A. Yes, yes, yes. Oh, thunder! Pull the weeds out “QUEER, THOUGH TRUE..” MIRTH IS CATCHING, so they say. My wife takes things the other way. When I am sober, she is gay. And vice versa: strange to say, When I get jolly She ’s melancholy. Y. H.C.

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yCz | CREAM | fi's i, \»y wit ‘ “Ag FEC be’ | f | | I) | | ll Wh ' | li |, ' ‘th! i “I tell you, my boy, ice cream is never seen on my table; too much tyrotoxicon in it.’’ A MATTER OF TASTE. Tom KNox.—You seem io have a great liking for the single eye-glass, Hoffy. HOFFMAN HOWEs.— Aw —ya-as; the double ones make a man look so owlish, ye know! Tom KNox.—Then you % Eda Ht prefer to look like a one- '("7}) (7A eyed owl, I suppose? is A AY ONLY A MEMORY. he MM \ ‘‘My dear boy,” asked = young Mr. Inswim of young Mr. Coldé, while they watch- ed the phantasmagoria of the passing crowd from the window of their favorite club house, with as much pleas- ure and languid delight as though their dues were not so far behind as to stand a good chance of being distanced, ‘‘My dear boy,” did your uncle Gotrox remember you when he wrote his will?” ‘¢ Yes, me boy,” answered the young Mr. Coldé, languidly. ‘‘Unfortunately, however, the dear old man trusted entirely to his memory, and made no memorandum of the fact in the will. None at all.” And the young Mr. Coldé gazed placidly out upon the throng of wage-earners hurrying, hustling, bustling along from their daily toil, with- out even wondering whether it would ever be- come necessary for him to be one of them. BEFORE AND AFTER. Miss GIGLAMPS (0f the Hub).— You know, the moon affects the tide. THE FATE OF A «« My dear fellow, you must n’t eat those things. Pickles will saturate your system with salts of per; pepper and mustard are stimulants to al- olic thirst, and lettuce is chock full of opium.” Da il NS **T followed you in here, old chap, to talk to you about the dangers of beer, wine and other alcoholic beverages. you of the lurking demons of dyspepsia, gout and fusil oil, that lie in wait for you,” etc., etc. FOOD CRANK; A WARNING TO OTHER FOOD CRANKS. “STOP, man, as you value your life! Water is charged with lead from therpipes, with the germs of typhoid fever, and the cholera microbe.”’ You MAY I used “What, milk? and canned condensed milk, at that? Why, don’t you Know that twenty per cent. of our cattle have tuberculosis, and that canned goods are tainted with poison ?”’ POLITICALLY. TEACHER. —- Where is Ireland? SMART PUPIL. — Under England. HELP THE SICK. ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.” ‘¢ What is?” ‘¢ Medicine.” PERFECTLY ACCURATE. ‘¢] thought you said this house had an extra large yard? It’s only four feet deep.” ‘¢ Well, the ordinary yard is only three feet.” A SUBSEQUENT VALENTINE. remember to send, On this lover’s day of days, Much tinsel stuff With doves and guff In the shape of amorous lays. But now we are one, More tangible form My Valentine fancies take; To-day I send you A real, A good beef’s heart, to bake. red heart — Yo. Miss FIANSAY (frospectively of a hub). — A NIGHT THOUGHT. Like a luminous snow-white star, That blooms o’er the mountain’s head Through the curtains of dusk afar When the sunny day has fled, Is the disc of shimmering white That bursts like a lily fair Through the gloom of the inky night Of my now unlovely hair. R. K. Munkittrick. One day, mae his Sos could n’t stand it . . ] they decoyed him to a lonel t Well, I know it affects them before they are. inthe Gis of flew jeieey, exlchend in. THE HONOR among thieves is generally His Honor, the magistrate. HE WHo Is described as ‘*One in 1,000” very often thinks the other figures beside him mere ciphers. ‘‘ HEAVEN LIES about-us in our infancy.” And we lie about Heaven, later on. WE ARE TOLD that ‘‘a word to the wise is sufficient;” but the Welsh language seems to have more y’s to the word than are absolutely necessary. JEWELER. —If you want to buy a watch, I A GOOD DINNER without a cigar is like a beautiful woman with but one eye.— Old Spanish Proverb. A good dinner with a bad cigar is like a beautiful woman with a black eye.— New American Proverb. THE GREATEST COMMON DIVISOR — Difference of Opinion. ARE THE woops of the Amazon called ‘virgin forests” because they have never been axed? think that an American movement in an American case takes the cake. CUSTOMER.— Probably; but you will, no doubt, agree with me that a Swiss movement in Sweitzer kase is just about the cheese. |T Is ODD that, amongst all the different varieties advertised, we have nevei seen coal dust mentioned as a baking powder. An ILLustratep Provers. ** Two Heads are Better than One,”

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LITPS AA WTP? LLL \ Ay hy CONDUCTOR.— Mek’ room there fer wan more seat an th’ left,— PUCK’S PATENT COMBINATION LABOR - LIGHTENER, FOR STREET-CAR CONDUCTORS. OTR 7 { atte " teat 7 — + pe a aaa WAX wali i ve CLL 1U MS dl ~ LLL SS WZ SSK SAO W S ( Y SS — Move up there, will yez? ENGLISH LITERATURE. B age ARE text-books marked ‘‘ English Literature.” People must have noticed them because they are the only books marked that way. I have often marveled that volumes thus entitled should not be literature at all, while works of a truly literary cast may be labeled indifferently W. Shakspere or G. Chaucer. Such contrary titles lead to confusion, and hereafter I shall mark my own words plainly ‘‘ Belles-Lettres,” or ‘* Works of Genius,” so that people may know exacily what they are buying. Hon- esty is the best policy. These text-books are usually written by the possessors of a charming style suitable for writing invoices, and a critical mental at- titude suitable for examining the ends of one’s fingers. While they will ‘give unstinted praise” to an author’s unstunted genius, they deplore his unhappy vices so virtuously that the reader fears he did n’t have any. Reading of Burns in these books, I have asked myself: ‘Can this milk-sop, ‘whose unhappy errors we should try to forgive,’ be the manly toss-pot of my fancy?” No; I will not believe it. Still, it is a mark of fame to be enshrined in these treatises, and there being several writers now living who, no doubt, await enshrinement with pleasant solicitude, { offer the following supplement in our text-books: AMERICAN APPENDIX. WILLy DEAR HOwWLS.— This writer is noted for his manly admiration of modern writers, including Mr. Howls. He has a great trick of discover- ing authors (who have been renowned for three decades), and generously introducing them to the public. If in youth he had turned his attention to society, it is probable that ere this he would have discovered Queen Vic- toria as a social power, brought her out, and made a man of her. But this was not to be. In the magazines, Master H. has acrimonious debates with defenders of the romantic school, in which, by a course of ingenious rea- soning, he finally completes his copy, and draws his salary. Occasionally he gives the world a comedy, and refined men who have their whiskers trimmed in English fashion, and ‘‘ who dine at the club” (semi-annually), say of these comedies: ‘‘ Very, very clever.” And it is clever to write a comedy and get it printed; but when we picture Mr. H. engaged on works of humor, we are reminded of the sad words of the female poetess: ‘* Laugh, and you laugh alone.” ENRY JEAMES.— Although one of the youngest writers, Mr. Jeames, - with a precociousness that all must admire, has already advanced far toward oblivion. He was born in Milwaukee, but he now denies the country of his birth, and claims to be English. This may be a horse on America, but it is an ass on England. Mr. FASSETT.— When Mr. Fassett first turned himself on, he evi- dently believed that he had tapped a cask of fine wine. Mr. CABUL.— It is said that to hear Mr. Cabul speak in company one would not discern wherein he is wiser than any one else; and the same curious surprise is met in his writings. Mr. C. has been solemnly engaged in writing for a number of years; but he has not yet seriously adopted any . business or profession. Miss FELPS.—We shall not, in speaking of this gifted writer, devote ourselves entirely to an exemplification of the sweetness of our own style, but shall incidentally treat of Miss Felps. In her meditative writings she has given us works on the gates in several fixed positions; but with advanc- ing time the extreme rigor of her early opinions has been relaxed, and it is said that she will close the series with a volume called ‘*‘ Over, Through or Under.” . All of her predictions are not of a sombre cast, however, and she often lightens our hearts with a cheerful New England pumpkin-pie story. It has sometimes struck us as a little strange that so conscientious a writer as Miss F. should happen to be inspired with these moral turkey- and-cranberry tales in April, so that they may appear at the proper season in November. It seems a trifle worldly and calculating; but, however much we must deplore her unhappy faults, we should remember that many people are obliged to talk turkey by hard necessity. Williston Fish. TO THE VENUS OF MILO. YOU NEED NO ARMS, O Venus sweet! I swear by yonder skies — You ’d knock a man right off his feet By one glance of your eyes. il Wi dhe) 39 Te oa ONE FOR HIS KNOB. Mr. Fipps.—Tell ms, Doctor, does hair dye injure the brain? Doctor Goup.— It depends entirely on the person who uses it. It is harmless in most cases, as people with brains rarely resort to it.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 9 ONE OF THE USES OF IT. First Dust BrusH.— Why, your stick is all over ashes, old fellow. What have you been doing? Seconp Dust Brusu. —I ’ve been playing poker. RATHER STRANGE REQUEST. Key.— This door is locked, is n’t it? Keyvnote.— Yes; come inside and unlock it. WHY THEY CHANGED. Buti’s Eve.— Thought you ’d lodge over here, eh? Did n’t you like your chambers? Buttets.— We went in loaded this morning and got fired out. NOT VERY BUSY. First Orance.— Hello! what arz you doing here? Seconp Orance.— Nothing; just looking round. NATURAL. Corree Berry.— What’s the matter? You don’t look well. Corree Mitt.—I had a turn this morning. A DREADFUL THREAT. Rosesusu. — Did you hear what the gardener said about you? Geranium.— No, RosesusH.— He said he was going to put you through a course of sprouts. ITS TICK WAS AT AN END. “You seem to be very still,” said the Key to the Clock. ‘I’m run down. If time is money, I’m surely a bankrupt.” “* Well, just wait awhile, and I ’ll see about winding up your affairs.” WAS N’T PERMITTED TO. First Matcu.— Why did n’t you run that hundred yards dash with the Taper? Seconp Matcu.— The boss scratched me. HEAVY WORK. First Boox SHetr.—I’m nearly dead. I’ve got the whole Ency- clopedia Brittanica on my hands. ‘They ’re awfully heavy. Seconp Book Suetr.— Well, think of me. I’ve got a copy of Kant’s Critique and one of George Meredith’s novels on me, FATE. I shot an arrow in the air, Without an aim away it sped; But guided by an unseen hand, It lit upon my neighbor’s head! HE YANKEES mean well — but they say ‘‘ wal.” T ’s A PooR Doc that’s punished for worrying a step-child. HE MAN who begs for favors always puts his worst foot forward. THEOLOGICAL TREAT — Missionary To a Cannibal. REVISED TO FIT THE STREETS OF BOSTON —TIt’s a short lane that has no turning. PEN- AND - INK DRAWINGS — Those of Most Lotteries. T Is THE diamond miner who is the most successful discoverer of strata-gems. Sy A PROPOSED CHANGE OF BASE. Mrs. WHEATLEY. — Eben, I wish you ’d take Jimmy out in the wood-shed. You’re gettin’ all the bric-a-brac jest a-covered with dust. [T was a gastric difficulty that ailed Jonah. T HURTS LEss to hit the nail on the head than it does to hit it on the finger. eS ———— : — fe =F = (PBA KR GIT SE BARRED OUT ALL AROUND. Mrs. LitTLUN (as her husband enters ).— Hush! Baby ’s asleep ! Mr. LitTLuN. — But that’s the only time I havea chance to be heard ! THE BENEFIT OF COLLABORATION. Art Renearsat.— (Mr. Compy ¢o Dramatic AurHor).— Mr. Lynes, here in this scene I have to say ‘‘ Gladys, it is now a quarter to five.” Would you mind my making that ‘‘a quarter of five?” I’ve been in the habit of saying it that way, and I might forget the other. Dramatic AuTHor.— Cert’nly, Mr. Comdy, say “fa quarter before five,” if you want to. a * * On THE Street.—(Apmirinc Frienp, fo Mr. Compy.)—I say, Comdy, that ’s a neat little part you ’ve got in the new play. Mr. Compy.— | may be able to make something of it. But I can tell you, Smith, that part would n’t have been what it is if I had n’t gone over it with that young fellow who wrote the play. A CORDIAL INVITATION. His Honor. ~ What made you steal. this gentieman’s door-mat ? Prisoner, — Sure, yer Honor, it said **Welcome” on it, in letthers as long as your ar-r-rm. ANY HOW. Mr. Locutrre.— Are you getting ready to go to the ball to-night, Maria? Mrs. Locurre.—I can’t make up my mind what to wear, Mr. Locutre.— Well, for goodness’s sake, wear something. THE AMERICAN IDEA. Mrs. Starrerty (to her servant ).— Come right in here, Mary, and eat your supper with the family. Mary.— No, thank ’ee, Mum; I only came here to earn my wages; — not to be looked down on. HE TRAMP is always out of employment, although he is continually ‘‘step- ping into another man’s shoés.” K EEPING Co. never fails of patronage. rver 1s Heaven’s first law: it ’s the last one obeyed at a hotel table,

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PICKINGS FROM ON HOUSEHOLD MOTTOS. te YKE, BE YOU a-takin’ to puttin’ up : : them there mottors?” inquired the man who never went home, eying the spatter-work sign, ‘‘ Peace and Prosperity!” which Mr. Hyke had newly hung behind the bar. ‘¢Wal, now, it ’s amazin’ how fashions will git hold! They ain’t a house you go into, nor a store, neither, but what the Golden Rule or the Commandments is starin’ you in the face from somewheres. Are the community livin’ up to ’em any i better ’n’ they used to, think? “=1/, It seems to me, Hyke, more like i they ’re kinder sneakin’ out of it - in this way, like the feller that writ his pra’rs onto a shingle so’s he could point to ’em cold nights, ’n’ say: ‘them’s my sentiments!’ instid of gittin’ to his knees. I’ve notice the more people ain’t livin’ up to a mottor, blessin’ as it ever bin of white washin’. ’N’ ‘Love Yer Enemies!’ Why, bless ye, old Squire Skinnam, he’s got one of ’em up over his writin’ desk, ’n’ five lawsuits a goin’ on with his neighbors. ‘Love Yer Enemies!’ My goodness! PAYING THE PIPER. that do seem the onlikeliest of ’em all; now, don’t it? If the mottor said: ‘Leave Your Enemies Live; Don’t Take ’Em By The Neck ’n’ Choke The Life Out of ’Em!’ you mought say that were bad enough to tackle; but love ’em? We find it blame hard enough to love our near relations. I don’t see where our enemies is goin’ to git the ghost of a show. ’N’ ‘ Peace ’n’ Prosperity !’ hangin’ behind a bar counter! Ain’t -¢hat redeck’lous? Still, it got more biziness hangin’ BEHIND the bar, that’s so, than it hev in Sront of it. If there’s any peace ’n’ prosperity goin’, they ain’t lavishin’ themselves on the fellers in front. The man behin’ hes got the best look out, in ¢hat * direction.” a ~ . ‘¢ Well, now, you bin standin’ up to that bar, off Hina Wiis. ’n’ on, a good many years,” retorted Hyke, in an in- Hild, 5 jured tone. ‘I don’t see as Peace ’n’ Prosperity has neglected you so awful bad.” ‘¢Were it standin’ up to the bar that fetched ‘em —think? Why, man, the two dollars, or four, or ten, or whatever it mought be, that are comin’ co me every week from the business my wife attend to, ’n’ that I kin spend as I please, would frequentin’ here ever brung it into my pocket? It fetch it out, fast enough, as my wife often say to me. ‘If the fe- males of this town,’ she often make the remark, a ee MN ! a “Now, Jack, I’m going to enjoy one of those Perfectos.”’ HOPE DEFERRED. Fs : : ; F the more it ’s bound to be stuck up over the YouNG Butt (who has just proposed). —If you can not answer me now, chimbly piece. When you go into a house, ’n’ set down ’n’ read: dear Miss Archer, I am willing to wait — ‘God Bless Our Home!’ you kin take big odds it’s as bad in need of Miss ARCHER.—So am I. Make it four years. ‘were wimmin sech as wimmin were intend to be, that feller Hyke, ’n’ others resemblin’ him, would be heaved in duck ponds ’n’ rid on rails.’ It’s aston- ishin’ what sound judgement my wife kin sometimes express! I ’m jest a-thinkin’ if she could on’y see that sign up there: ‘Peace ’n’ Prosperity!’ blame to gra- cious if I don’t think she grab onto the poker ’n’ ornament that mottor.” But a voice from the porch, conveying the intel- ligence that Joe Barnes’s team was comin’ down the road — them team he blew about, Saturday — caused the man who never went home to leave unfinished his chapter on mottos, and proceed leisurely to the door, where he leaned to view the approaching quadrupeds with the air of a critic who is disposed to be lenient, but who fears that conscience will compel him to be just. Madeline S. Bridges. THE FREAK SOLILOQUIZES. I SIT UPON the platform here, And gaping crowds say: ‘¢Oh, how funny!” The freaks 1 see, who gaze on me, Get nothing, while I rake in money. like a ship-yard afire,”” away “« Say, me boy, that Perfecto smells “Tis rank, isn’t it?’”’ ne bs *s another quarter thrown “ Say, Jack, we wronged that cigar.”

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PTT 4 ff a: a %% OUR JOURNALISTIC EDUCATORS. CONSTABLE PETERS.—You ‘ll hev to come to the lock-up, Mister; there 's a town ordinance ag’in’ you travelin’ Eyetalians. MR. FELLOWCRAFT.— Hold on, I'm a reporter on the Daily What Next, and I've been assigned to get up a story on ‘‘A Week with a Dancing Bear,” for our Sunday Edition — here 's my badge! THE DEFINITION IS WHAT THE QUALITY ISN’T. TEACHER (ix Chinese Mission).—_1 wonder how many of you know the meaning of «*mercy.” (Ad hands up.) Very good. Now you, Chang, may give us an illustration of its meaning. CHANG.— Melican lady give Chinee boy glishes to wash. One plate fall on floor, him blake in thlousand fifteen pieces. Melican lady cly loud: «Oh, mercy!” THE BOOK-STORE CRANK. O’er costly bindings, first editions, And gilted edges, he will gloat, Although his hat ’s an old back number, And very rusty is his coat. ’T is but the paper, types, and leather That he pores over on the shelf; If he ’d but think books made for reading, He might be better bound himself! HOUSE-HUNTING. Mr. KRANET (in disgust).— Efery blace ish dot sign ‘‘ too late!"’ ‘‘ too late!” PICKINGS FROM PUCK. and got a little less cloth, you ’d have had a better fit. BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW. Mrs. NOUVEAU-MARIE.— What ’s the trouble now, Mary? MARy.— Sure an’ there’s thrubble enough, Mem. Here we do be with company for tay, an’ nary a bit o’ bread in the house. Mrs. NOUVEAU-MARIE.— Oh, well, never mind. Make some toast. COULD N’T HAVE BEEN A CHERUB. OLD BLocQUE.—iI don’t believe in being too hard on naughty children. CHIPLEY.— Indeed ? OLD BLOcQUE.— No. I remember with humility the fact that I, myself, did n’t die young. IT IS, INDEED! JORALEMON.— Brooklyn is a pleasant place to live in, is n’t it? PIERREPONT.— Yes. Particularly if a man’s wants are few. THERE ONCE was a rising M. D., Who was called a rich patient to see; But her only ‘‘complaint” Was — to fall in a faint When she learned the amount of his fee. A LITTLE SECRET. Miss DE Muir.—You have n't been slumming? I thought all the girls went in for it. Why do you suppose it 's so popular? MIss DE MEANOR.—Well, you know it ‘s a much cheaper way of finding titled foreigners than going to Europe. AS TO FAITH AND WORKS. Writers, whom other writers are never tired to quote, Tell us that the good St. Blaise — dead now this many a day — Once prayed a monstrous herring-bone from out a patient’s throat; But not one tells us whether he did n’t Ju//, as well as pray. EXCESSIVE ALL ROUND. JACK MALLET.— May I ask, Hoffy, how much you paid for that suit of clothes? HOFFMAN HOwES.—Twelve pund; had it made in England, ye know. JacK MALLET.—If you ’d paid ten pounds, my boy, WHAT DELAYED HER. ‘«¢ You ’re very late in returning from church; you must have had a long sermon.” ‘¢Oh, yes; Dr. Sixthly gave us a great discourse on ‘ The Evil of Talking Too Much.’” A CONSCIENTIOUS TRADESMAN. CUSTOMER.— Got any good clams this morning? DEALER.—Well, there ’s my partner; but I can’t recommend him. TSN Se SAT ns TT Soe

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a = fa a O co Q rz) Q < fe) -

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} : 4 |. * - y hi Hf ti wD iq a3 ’ ¢ os : Ca A ‘ae a Ee \ ( Nagel _

M* CIGARETTE burns fair and free, The curling smoke goes highet ; Soft dream-clouds they, in which I see

Fulfilled all I desire — un. a ‘ : (By another hand.) > A stately home, with portals wide, They made the gentle poet’s grave On broad lawn graceful-sweeping, By the side of the peaceful river, (Sweet roses red - sadheveinn A side Where the soft night-breeze that comes o’er Go up the trellis creeping. is tee A alver lake comes to the lawn Makes the moonbeams lightly quiver. And laps its verdant edges, While in and out the graceful swan Glides lightly through the sedges.) And the bright green grass grows lightiy o’er, And the myrtle and violet Spell ‘‘ Taken away (aged twenty-four) The happy home in which I live, By the deadly cigarette.” Beloved and rich as Croesus, With open hand to spend or give, Just as my fancy pleases, Roy L. McCardell. “ . 4 or, = "} By 3

And Phyllis fair my home to grace, And love me truly ever, Sweet Phyllis with her beauteous face That none can equal — never. * * * * * ca *

A MEAN MAN. DEFiNITIONS OF THE DAY.

ts wire had just made a remark, in the wit of which she ex- A Beggarly Account of Empty Boxes — The Average Sporting Column. perienced a feeling of pride. The husband was the butt of the wit, and he became angry. A Spark of Genius — One Who Knows When to Go Home. I mention this, because cases of a husband Er ae becoming angry are extremely rare, and cf} m hs sik Cut and Dried —The Man who was “‘ Withered by new instances should always be recorded ‘i gi im a Glance.” with scrupulous care. HIS WORS The husband smiled — with pain. i! x bi Returned With Thanks — Grace Before Meat. The wife saw the pain in the BSS Music by the Banned — The Organ Grinders Yf |

smile, and hailed a writhing in hs victim. She therefore turned to Mr. il 9 my ill : 8 ; R. W. Smith, who was a guest at the a | fF } Whit ry ) A Line of Business — The Lynchers’ Rope. time, and made another reflection on Nt ey } re her husband. | Wp A “ Pack” Animal —The Cigarette Fiend. She believed that having madetwo | | jh! earl HT \! of these remarks, it was a close call if | | ii | ' The Pale of Civilization — Face-Powder. she were not gifted in epigram. A f N thought of Madame de Maintenon {5 P Booted and Spurred — The Slow Horse. crossed her mind, and made her giddy. | adnate “You are very funny,” said the \ | ; With Might and Mane— The Lion. writhing husband. i Hh The wife tossed her head, and i Light and Shade — A Window. pleaded guilty, with a pleased look My | at the uncomfortable guest who was \ A Military Heir —The Son of a Gun. hugely enjoying the whole affair, but yy, { who, in afterward telling of the scene, Wf An Utter Failure—The Stammerer. said that such things make a person ; at 5 8 feel very ill at ease. ; iJ \\\ ra = A Household Word — Mortgage. __ Yes, you are very witty,” I u said the husband; ‘‘if I could tS ie ers Ui om . A Ready Writer — The Life-Boat. write down all you say it would be | \ 7 worth two million dollars — to The First Person Singular — Adam. write it down,” i Here the guest, who has the Hic + ttee . The Birth Not height of good breeding, tactfully / Wi fa ee an interrupted, by stating that he itil , would take ‘some more soup.” i\ IN > a No Sooner Said Than Done — Amen, Williston Fish. \ Mh \ i > <a Kas a The Cream of the Joke — Ice-Cream. | | A Buy-word and a Reproach — Boodle. MATED MINDS. ~ SAME “‘Tcan tell you one thing,” said Mr. THE END OF THE HUNT Out in the Cold — A Handkerchief. Fizzgig, with emphasis; ‘‘when I marry, : , , it won’t be any ‘higher education’ girl. PE Paley oogneh ~ ana the crash). — Why, Fixed up Regardiess — The Glass Eye. 1»? ° ak Sap rah By -~ he gaets Younc Rupert W.— Grandpap an’ me was A Rough Estimate — Figuring on Sand-Paper. “No,” said Edgely, looking at him playin’ bear, up in th’ nursery, an’ he tried to attentively ; ‘nor beans,” *scape down th’ cleft cafion of th’ Rockies. Chas. F. Lummis.

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NN \ Wwe IVAN Nw = ; Si = HE 3 $ = WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR DAUGHTERS? A Society Drama in One Act. CHARACTERS. Mrs. Everypay, a widow. Mrs. Detta CREME, a matron. Minnie, VINNIE, ‘M . Con, rs. Everypay’s daughters (who do not appear). Dora, } Scene—A Fashionable Flat. 'Time— To-day. Mrs. Detta Creme.— As you were saying —Since Mr. Everyday died? Mrs. Everypay. — Poor dear, he would surely have died had he lived to see this day — he was so sensitive. Mrs. Detta Creme.— Did I understand you to say that the policy lapsed just a week before his decease ? Mrs. Everypay, — Just six days. There was three hundred dollars due, and as Vinnie actually needed a new otter wrap, John allowed him- self to be persuaded by me to defer the payment. How weak men are! Mrs. Detta Creme.—Criminally so. Yet the otter wrap was a temptation. Vinnie is a stately girl, and her form was made for a tailor. She dresses divinely. Mrs. Everypay (sighs). — Vinnie is no longer a girl — she is a model. Mrs. Derta Creme.— Pardon me! Mrs. Everypay.—Vinnie is working the model racket. Mrs, Detta Creme. ~ I am still in the dark. Mrs. Everypay (with dignity).— The expression is not mine; it is that of Madame Bedad, the French modzste. ‘The Madame is so coarse, at times, Mrs. Detta Creme (confidentially). —Do you know, I sometimes suspect the Madame is an American! Mrs. Everypay (also confidentially). —I\f you will promise — but of course, you will —? . Mrs. Detta Creme.— Certainly! Mrs. Everypay (wth emphasts).— She was born in Jersey City ! Mrs. Detta Creme. — Ah! (Pause.) But you have not explained — Mrs. Everypay. — Of course, it is a secret. Madame Bedad pro- vides all of Vinnie’s wardrobe, and in return Vinnie mentions her name every where. Mrs. Detra Creme. — The Madame is to be congratulated. Minnie? Mrs. Everypay.— Minnie is writing a novel. ; Mrs. Detta Creme (doubtfully). — Everybody writes novels now- adays. Mrs. Everypay.—So I told Minnie when she began. I said to her: “You know nothing of life,” (she is only eighteen) ‘‘ you have never been in love,” (it is a love story) ‘‘and you must draw on your imagina- tion for your facts.” Mrs. Detta Creme. — And she replied —? . Mrs. Everypay.—That she had seen the prospective publisher, and he told her that young* girls always wrote novels that were not — no! let me see — oh, yes! erofic — that’s the word ! And Mrs. Detta Creme.— What does that mean? Mrs. Everypay.— Interesting, | presume. It is not half finished ; yet you can’t think how strong some of the scenes are. Mrs. Detta Creme.— Not at all like real life? Mrs. Everypay.— Oh, dear, no! Thats its strong point. The publisher said anybody could write a realistic novel. Mrs. Detta Creme.—I am sure it will be a success. And Cora? — (Starts.) What was that horrid noise in the next room? Mrs, Everypay (plactdly). —That was Cora. She is studying how to sneeze to music. Mrs. Detta Creme. —I never heard of such a thing! Mrs. Everypay.— It is a novelty, and, you know, whistling is getting so common. af Mrs. Detita Creme (dudbzously).— Is it musical ? Mrs, Everypay (frankly).— Well, no. Still, you know Wagner — Mrs. Detia Creme (hastzly).—Yes, I know. Mrs. Everypay (mercilessly).— If you know what the theme is you can follow it without very much difficulty. She intends to confine her efforts to concertos and sonatas where she can have some latitude. At Mrs. Riffraff’s last Wednesday — By the way, you were not there? Mrs. Detta Creme.— No; I was absolutely forced to stay at home, because Nelly’s baby had convulsions. What did I miss? Mrs, Everypay (émpressively).— Cora. She rendered Arditi’s Waltz Song and Beethoven’s Concerto in D minor, and the applause was very encouraging. All of Cora’s friends were there. Mrs. Detta Creme.— It must have been gratifying — to you. Mrs, Everypay.— It was. Dora was there also and recited. Mrs. Detta Creme.—I understand that Dora is to make her appear- ance as a reader. Mrs. Everypay (sééfiy).— You have been misinformed. ( Relaxing.) Dora is to make her appearance in a dramatization of Messalina. Mrs. Detta Creme.—I did not know she could act. Mrs. Everypay.—She made the same objection herself; but the manager assures her that acting is not an essential part of a modern stage representation. Her costumes for the part are very striking, and in two of the principal scenes you would n’t think she had any thing on at all. Mrs. Detta Creme.—It will be a treat to her fashionable friends. Mrs. Everypay.— That is what I tell her. There is but one chance of failure. Dora is not married, and I don’t see how any scandal can attach to her. Mrs. Detta Creme (consolingly).— All in good time, dear. can’t expect to leap at once into the front rank of the profession. Mrs. Everypay (resignedly).— Well, | suppose her manager will attend to all the minor details. He says he will see that the press is properly worked — whatever that may mean, Mrs. Detta Creme.— Theatrical term, I dare say. really go. So all your girls are provided for? Mrs. Everypvay.— All, thank heaven! (W2th emotion.) Ah, Mrs. Creme, they are unjust who repine at the decrees of fate! See how easy it is for four fatherless girls to make a living in this cruel world! Dora Well, I must Sidney.

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| PICKINGS FROM PUCK. THE RIDICULOUS IN FURNITURE.

=5 HE CARVINGS are most queer and droll On modern furniture, In bird and beast and vine and scroll The artist to allure. We see the arms of Rhoderick Dhu, His lance, his ax, and all Artistically worked into The hat-stand in the hall.

Upon the sideboard, grim and fierce, With mighty wings outspread, A glass-eyed eagle seems to pierce The gas-light overhead. Why won’t the dealers try to mark Relationships with care, And carve the albatross or shark Upon the steamer chair? Upon the kitchen things might blend The goose and turkey sweet; The black piano-legs might end J In Richard Wagner’s feet. But if they won’t accept the view Suggested in these rhymes, They might display a leaning to The things that rule the times. They might construct the airy stand On which we hang our hats, To look imposing in a grand Array of base-ball bats. _ <i \'\

aia me And then the great big easy chair That every dreamer loves, Upon its arm-ends e’er should wear A pair of boxing-gloves. | ar al The racquet of lacrosse, the free- \ : t me kicked foot-ball of the green, ~ | The dumb-bell, oar and club should be 7 Conspicuously seen. Mia | Instead of dragons, hippogriffs, i j And beasts from foreign lands, AE ' = ti pe) And empty, gilded hieroglyphs ~ . Hy yp y That no one understands, Ta ey ;; til, Oh, let our furniture above wii 1 All hollow styles that rage, i | il Mark the athletic spirit of : " —— This great athletic age! : R. K. M. HOODW INKED. EXAMINER.— State who wrote the ‘‘Song of the Shirt,” and quote the opening words This is Mr., John Potts receiving of it. a cheque for two hundred and fifty CANDIDATE.—Thomas Moore. ‘Come dollars from his publisher for the MS. rest in this bosom,” etc. of ‘‘ How to Win at Poker."’ A LESSON: IN Two PICTURES. LEGAL DEFENSE. COUNSEL.—And all you can do is to confess that you are guilty? PRISONER (sadly ).—Yes, sir. COUNSEL.—Weil, then, I’m afraid the only defence we can offer is insanity. PRISONER (cheerfully ).— Bully, Boss!’ Then yer can prove dat dis confession of mine here is a — what-yer-call-it ? —- Hallucination? an’ I’m innocent! Dat’s it!! A DEFINITION. A coincidence is a plea set forward by a plagiarist for stealing another man’s brain work. IT WOULD BE A RELIEF TO HIM. The man who said, ‘‘ Death can not harm me; I have dined to-day,” must have been suffering from indigestion.

SOME POLICEMEN are so anxious to keep out of bad company, that it is impossible to find them when a “rough” is trying to run the neighborhood.

GRIEVOUSLY AFFLICTED. “Well, Uncle Silas, how are you nowadays?” “I’m mis’ble. I've got a durn cold now thet ‘fects my hearin’ so 't I can't hear on'y ‘bout half what 's said to me.” ‘* Take anything for it?” ‘“W’y, yes. Little o’ the old stuff Mr. Herr- rin’, when you git time t’ pour it out. No, sir, I can't on'y hear jest half what's said to me.” THE KIND OF QUANTITY. BaGGs.— Pennywise always carries his load well. He seems able to drink any quan- tity of champagne. SNAGGS.— I never saw Pennywise buy a bottle of champagne. BaGGs.— Of course, I mean any given quantity. LADIES’ REASONS. HrE.— And why has the Women’s Club endorsed Faith Cure? SHE.— Because ‘‘there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” HrE.—I should say so! Common sense, for instance. This is Jack Potts, twelve hours later, handing over his cheque for two hundred and fifty dollats to square his losses at a little three-handed game.

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SOME MUSICAL SUGGESTIONS. T 1S PERHAPS Owing to the fact that we all love music, that music is | introduced into various objects unto which it bears not the slightest relation, and with which it is not even remotely associated. In no other way can we account for the pecuniary, if not artistic, success of the album which, when opened, discourses some popular operatic air. If music be enjoyable, rendered by an album, we can not see why the scheme should not be carried further. We might have ordinary household objects give forth tunes at various periods, to serve as signals and warnings, as well as for the spiritual pleasure they would be sure to impart. When the Hibernian cook is bending over a coffee-mill which she can not hold steady between her knees, it seems reasonable to fancy that she would be unconscious of the pains shooting through her knuckles, if the mill were filling her patriotic soul with the stirring strains of the ‘‘ Wearing of the Green.” Or perhaps the ‘‘ Rocky Road to Dublin” would be better, as the time is livelier, and would in all probability cause the cook to work faster. On the same principle, ‘‘ Tim Finnegan’s Wake” could be fixed in the lawn mower, that the operator of the same might caper gracefully over an upgrade lawn, and fancy himself at a land league meeting vowing destruction to Great Britain. The thermometer out in the hall might have a set of tunes in it that would tell the temperature, and save a near-sighted man the trouble of taking it out on the lawn to ascertain that fact. When at the temperature of Spring, the mercury could cause it to fill the air with “‘Spring, Gentle Spring.” If the mercury should reach that point peculiar to the season when Sirius rises and sets with the sun, it could delight the household with ‘‘ Old Dog Tray,” or, ‘‘ Keyser, Don’t You want to Buy a Dog?” The temperature of Autumn, when the pipe of the quail gayly bursts on the plumber, would be indicated by a rendition of that soulful lyric, ‘*Leaf by Leaf the Roses Fall,” or, “‘ Johnny, Get Your Gun,” while the zero mark of Winter could be manifested unerringly by ‘‘Greenland’s Icy Mountains.” ; “Down Went McGinty,” with suitable variations, could be given by the pump in such a way that the cook’s soul would be surcharged with an intoxicating, delirious bliss, that would carry her away and cause her to pump the tank full in a period considered by her necessary to fill a pail. P As there has recently been a greater advance in lamp art, than in any other, we fancy it not out of place to suggest to the manufacturers the zsthetic propriety of turning to music for novelty. ‘Coal Oil Johnny” would not be out of place in a kitchen lamp, while one for the dining table might have a gastronomic air, such as, *‘ Dad’s Dinner-Pail.” And it is only fair to assume that all mothers would hail with de- light the introduction of an automatic cradle that, while rocking, would SHORT AND SWEET. Mount VERNON MAN (interrogatively ).—Whist ? McAccers (who thinks it a pleasant salutation ).— Phwist! PICKINGS FROM PUCK. play ‘“‘Hush-a-by Baby on the Tree-top,” as she would then be able to place the baby in the same, feeling certain that it would be rocked and sung, or, rather, played into the snowy arms of Morpheus; and that it would remain in the tender embrace of the same poppy-wreathed in- dividual until her return, even if she wanted to step out to match a piece of dress goods, or to call on a neighbor, to show off her latest duck of a hat. The burglar alarm could regale the knight of the jimmy with, “In the Prison Cell I Sit,”” while the door-bell could improve on its rattle and bang with, ‘‘ Home, Sweet Home! ” as well as the rural front gate could glad the moonlight zephyr with “ Love’s Young Dream.” R. K. MM. HE KNEW THE PROPER REMEDY. Sick Man (za Maine).—I1 want something for this cough. Druccist.—All right; I ’ll give you some syrup. Sick Man.—Yes, but I don’t want syrup —I want whiskey. «¢] DARE NOT TELL THEE WHAT I FEEL! ”’— As the young wife did n’t sing to the Boss of the Kitchen. CULTURE. Mr. Russet SPATTs.—That ’s a queer-looking dog of yours, Miss Hubbelle. Is n’t it what the English call a ‘‘ turnspit ? ” Miss AUBURN HUBBELLE (severely).—I don’t know what the English may call it, Mr. Spatts, but 7 call it «*a rotatory expectorator.”’ CALLING UP ANOTHER WORLD. He was one of a number of drummers sitting in the hotel office, and he stepped up to the telephone with the remark that he was going to spring a little joke on the girl at the central office. “* Hello!” he called through the ’phone; “‘give me St, Peter, please.’ Then he listened; and as he listened, his face took on a queer ex- pression. After a minute he signalled that he was through with the wire, shrugged his shoulders and sat down. “What did St. Peter say to you, Bob?” asked a friend. **She did n’t give me St. Peter,” said Bob; ‘‘she gave me the devil.” > AN ANTI-CAPITALIST. The Anarchist paced Fifth Avenue, His brow was black and grim : He thought of the wrongs that Capital Had heaped on his and him. And to show his scorn of the lust for gold Downtown he quickly sped, To spend a dollar for lager beer, And pay for a ten-cent bed!

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LITTLE ONE.—D’ ye s'pose he wants some peanuts ? LITTLE Two.—No; he wants to— SUSPICIOUS. OUNTRYMAN (0x Broadway). — Say, P’liceman, kin ye tell me how to git to the Hoboken ferry? POLICEMAN No. 25,791. — Hoboken ferry, is it? How did yez get into town at all if yez don’t know where the Hoboken ferry is? Oi’ve a moind to run yez in as a suspicious characther thryin’ to lave the state!

CHEAP CHARITY. N. E. BopEy. — That’s a pretty bad pair of shoes you have on, my friend. IMPECUNIOUS REILLEY.—Yis, sor; the gintleman who give ’em to me yisterday is charitable, sor; but he’s mighty ayconomical !

THE RULER OF THE ROAST. Mr. REEDER.—What makes the landlady so gruff with you? are n’t you paid up to date? \ MR. DE RUYTER.—Why, yes; but a fellow from the | West has spoiled her by paying a month in advance. A CAUSE FOR EVERY THING. ‘‘How polite the conductor is!” ‘¢Yes; I have observed it.” ‘¢He must be a new hand.” ‘““No, it isn’t that. There ’s a spotter aboard, and the conductor knows it. How frequently the fare indicator rings!” yf 1 @ rs s 4 Aas i 4 ee 7 Oo) 2 YU i Vas V4 Zz iY AFTER THE ENGAGEMENT.

A CORRECT

td alt thidlinntnuin dad | fi Huh I li | i lk | DIAGNOSIS. ANN N UN: Wai =n 7 AR 3X SAN Nie. Naren reweerber Qle ‘ " t\) \ RORY Se YY )) “Xx YAY RY ‘ AS ; PER KIS: > RY REO Se Y “<*, S, se STEN oe Se

—snceze! A NARROW ESCAPE. «¢ And did you grow up with the country?” was asked of a young man who had taken Greeley’s advice, and lived to repent. ‘¢No,” was the reply; ‘‘ but I came near getting planted.” BOSTON MUST NOT BE TRIFLED WITH. TRAVELER (in Boston).—1 want to take the next train to Albany. TICKET AGENT.— Sorry, sir; but we can’t spare it. OUT OF THE QUESTION. ‘¢ Don’t you think you could sell cheaper if you did a cash business?” asked Henkoops, as he idled in the West Springville grocery. ‘¢Could n’t sell ’t all,” replied the old man. ‘‘It’d break me up. Thar ain’t enough money for the circus out here, let alone for buyin’ shop-truck ! ” A PROFITABLE PLAN. MR. PUTTSON CALL (fo Afpfplicant).— Have you had a business education, young man? NEWBORN LAMB.—Why, no, sir; I wanted a job in your office, so I could gain one!

NWA HUH ll h. | “ce RD % gg JUST A LITTLE brown canoe - Lying on the beach; Paddles, sails and cushions, All in easy reach. Just a few excursions Down the sandy shore — Just a little sketching,

*« Did he get on his knees?” ‘““No; he could n't.” = “Why not?” meee! Zi: ‘¢] got there first.” You WONDER why the Lion has such a Tremendous Mane, Freddy? Just ask any Barber if he would care to clip one, and you will Find Out. 4 A WORD AND A BLOW — “ Brag.” ADVICE TO Boys who wish to be Sailors — ‘A life on the ocean” waive!

HE “WAS N’T A WHITE MAN.” MR. EBBERNEY (over the poker game). — Say, Mose de Moak, would yo’ try ter convince me dat brack is white ? MR. DE MOAK (disdainfully).—No; not such bracks as you / Should have been much more. Just a little Summer, Gone as Summers go; Days and hours passing — How ? we never know. Just a little parting; —, Very sad — just then; Just a little promise To be kept, till — when? Ray Ledyard. WATCH AND WARD — The Time Lock. |T Is LIKELY that a ship is called “she” because she is a sails-lady.

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THE FATAL AUTOGRAPH. “W And he dared not answer nay, Though his heart beat quick, and his breath came thick, And he trembled in dismay ; For -he loved the maid, and was sore afraid — And he dared not answer nay. So he took the book and prayed for a thought, And long for a thought did pray, And long did he look in the dictionary book, And the cy-clo-pe-di-a. **T will write a verse,” said he, ‘‘ that is terse And bang-up and O. K.” And he search-ed thro’ the ‘‘ Library of Song,” And he search-ed many a day. ‘*T will show the maid that the poetry trade,” Said he, ‘‘is just my lay. I will find a verse that is sweet and terse, If I hunt forever and aye!” And he search-ed long, and he found a verse At the end of the fortieth day. “She will think every line,” he chuckled, ‘‘is mine,” And he laughed full loud and gay. ‘I’m a ge-ni-us, and I make no fuss To write good verse. Hoo-ray!” Then he turned the page, and his rival’s name Was writ with much display *Neath the very same verse, and it made him curse; And his raven locks turned gray ; And he fell on his side, and quickly died Of hy-po-chon-dri-a. TO MY PILE OF PUCKS. A GooDLY HEAP upon the floor — Six hundred, yes, and sixty more; And every one a mine of fun, Art, wisdom, satire, wit and lore. I love o’er their bright leaves to pore; As years go by I prize them more; For, blesséd friends, age only lends An added charm unto their store. The follies that in days of yore Puck shot to death I ponder o’er. And here I find, of all mankind, The world renowned —a motley corps. O Puck! thou ’st barely passed the door Of thy long life that lies before. Ill heap thee high until I die— And miss thee on the further shore. ILL YOU WRITE in my autograph book ?” said she, S. W. Foss. THE HANGING COMMITTEE. In Art, Three dignified, grave connaisseurs, Dictators of the last salon; The arbitrators who decide What works the critics look upon. In Arkansas. Three dignified, grave mountaineers, Dictators of unstinted scope ; Their main economy is time, Their chief extravagance, a rope. Billy Ford. CONTENT. | HAVE LIVED on earth for ninety years, I’m free from ache and groan, None of the ills of life touch me I’m ready to depone. Toothache nor heartache, nor disease — From all such ailments free, 4 \ The bulk of people in the world ( They well might envy me. There ’re numbers shiver in the blast, Or suffer from the heat ; I tell you I’m in A-1 luck, My record can’t be beat ; And yet for years I used the weed, Of whiskey drank my fill ; And, if I counted all my sins, They ’d fill a lengthy bill. Be virtuous, and you ’Il do well, I say to all mankind ; You all must be just as I am Before like peace you find. You ’d like to know how it was done — Arrive at my estate? You ’Il get there after you are dead — So long I had to wait. James Nye.

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} ZX SGii: i ' ry . } Y/ ‘ P {| l | M \ Ili, YY a= H) | ‘A Y//, j MISS THEAGUE’S RETURN. «© 77’s NIGH high noon, Misther Theague, an’ if you ’ll lave off shtrokin’ | that poor cat th’ wrong way, she ’l] not be thryin’ t’ walk backwards phin you pit her on th’ flure. ** Mazie ’s wrote me a tillygraft, sayin’ she ’ll be wid us this afty- noon, from Saint Vincent’s, God rist his sowl; an’ as th’ power o’ eddi- cation bates th’ power o’ family, we ’ll not have her wid us long. ‘Go up an’ shtruggle into a clane collar, an’ brush phfat hair’s lift yez, till we “Il thry not to shem our daughter. Phere ’s me long hair-pin? “‘Sure yure sittin’ on it, an’ it’s tough yure gettin’ since you busted Cragin out’ o’ th’ lasht conthract — tough takin’ yure aise. “Alanna! she’s here, a-comin’ up th’ shteps an’ — (smack, smack !) ouch! Phat th’ div — inity hov yez in yure miff, dar-r-rlin?” “That ’s my Japanese dagger, Mother. I’m sorry it pricked you; but the more exclusive of the girls carry them now, you know. Kate D’ Branage has quite a collection of them. By the way, Mother, I wish you would n’t dress your hair in that fashion. [It is n’t nice.” ““Misther Theague, ’f youse has been puttin’ jobs on me, Oi ’I] know it! Phin Oi looked in th’ glass a minute agone, sorra th’ dressin’ Oi hod on it at all; but tell me, acushla, how do youse be doin’ at th’ school, an’ hov yez learned th’ France language yit, yure ould man ped for?” ““Oh, oui,” Madame; I never make a ma/entendu now, don’t you know.” “Nor me a loaf o” bread since th’ last pipe-bill wint t’rough. You ’re lookin’ well, Mazie.”’ **And you, Mother. “*Phwhat ?” ““T say you ’re quite aplomd.” “‘Dinnis Theague, fer hivin’s sek! Call th’ cab, an’ call it quick, av yez doan’ wan’ t’ see yure ould ’ooman shpankin’ a nineteen-vear ould gir-r-rl fer callin’ her poor, bhroken-hearted mither a A/um.’ “** Aplomb’ J said, Mother.” “*Goodniss knows yez did, an’ yez can go back t’ Saint Vincent’s — God rist his sow] — till they learns yez respict wid yure France.” You ’re quite aflomé.” QUITE UNITED. “‘I thought you were going to marry Miss Goldthwaite, Charley Have n’t you had some aspirations in that line?” ““T had, but it was no go. Her family were all opposed to it.” “* Well, but if the girl herself —” “1 said a// the family. She was one of ’em.” ONE - SIDED. SUPERINTENDENT, — Johnny, do you love your teacher ? Jounny. —Yes, sir; but she ain’t stuck on me much, CHEST NOTES. — Baccs.— What makes Signor Spaghetti so stiff on the stage? He looks like a wooden man. Gaccs.—I guess he has swal- lowed his timbre. ‘“*UnD Not aA SOUL IN THE House.” PICKINGS FROM PUCK. WHAT GLADYS SAID. j- Grapys with a smile of bright disdain, (The season is her first; she knows not yet The sweet and bitter uses of her reign, The perils in her frowns and dimples set; ) Said Gladys, (and I heard her little foot Beat its impatience on the favored ground, The while I longed to button up that boot With kisses from its toe to ankle round ; ) Said Gladys, (and I listened, who would not? Watching those lips that might a saint beguile)— What did she say? Really, I can’t tell what — 1 ’m only certain that I saw her smile. Madeline S. Bridges. UNCLE JAKE OPINIONATES. Now, dis heah werry week mos’ all de deaths war ob folkses ovah sixty yeah ole. Some people ’siders as how dis is cur’us. But w’at dey goin’ say w’en dey |’arn dat all de people bawn into de worl’ durin’ de same space ob period war childun ? Mis’ry likes cump’ny ; but bless yo’ soul, chile, I ’d a heap sight ruddah hab rheumatiz in one foot den in both. Enty? De bread ob repentance we eat in owah ole age, my fr’en’, is sometimes mos’ gen’ly always made outen de wile oats we sow in owah youngah days. Some Pro’bition man done sot he heart on de prez’dential cheer. Well, you gin him cumfut. It ’ll git thar; but I sense as how it’s de only paht ob his body ’at will tech it. ** Friendship often turns to love, But love to friendship never ;” Because, when she’s ‘‘a sister to you,” She ’s like those girls who always knew you, Who can at all times justice do you, When saying you ’re not clever! if = Tru il “fii) q fi | Ati | : AU) Aa TANT Hill i P hy HE BBE ti} \ HT i} A i BA (by nil - = — Z | | rT] 7, } } \ \ 7 THE RIGHTS OF LABOR MUST BE RESPECTED. CLERK. — I want an increase of salary. EMPLOYER (wearily ). — All right. Any thing else ? CLERK. — And 1 want to get off an hour earlier every day, so I can spend it.

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CAUGHT ON THE FLY. TRIBUTE TO HONESTY. “~ A VER SINCE I was induced, many years ago, to trade a ball of twine, six marbles, a kite, three fish hooks, a rubber ball and lead pencil for a bladeless knife, with a back that was warped out of shape, by a boy who had the commercial instinct highly developed at the expense of his moral nature, I have found something, more or less pathetic, in the contempla- tion of duplicity. The fruitless remorse of the man from out-of-town, who has been deceived in a business transaction with a plausible gentleman who was _ intimately acquainted with several prominent citizens of his native town, has always appealed to my sympathy with an unpleasant vividness born of personal experience. This dislike of dishonesty seems to me to be an excellent thing to cultivate. While it may not always = . prevent a man from overreaching a friend in a horse trade, it generally has the effect of keeping a man from cashing a check for a comparative stranger, who claims to have been acquainted with your wife’s second cousin. Most authors, who have the welfare of their race deeply at heart, appear to coincide with me in this view; and thus we have so many touching dramas where the wicked plotter is taken out before the audience in the last act, and slowly but surely put to death amid the taunts and jeers of the good young man, the heroine, and the populace in the upper gallery. While the play-writers have done their share to make dishonesty an unpopular vice, book-writers have not been backward in painting duplicity in dark-brown colors, and lending to virtue the lurid hue of immortal glory. It has remained, however, for Mr. Franz, a teacher of the German language, to add to literature one of the most pathetic tales of this descrip- tion that has yet been written. Mr. Franz is a simple, modest author, who has never had a fifteen-column tragedy in blank verse cabled across the Atlantic, and whose published works deal more exclusively with the de- clensions of nouns and conjugations of verbs than the stilted actions of im- possible heros. But he has, nevertheless, managed to introduce in the guise of a reading lesson an incident of real life which can not fail to be without its effect. I will relate it in the quaint and touching language of the author: — ‘¢In a village appeared once a man,” so runs the tale, ‘‘ who the peo- ple, for money, told fortunes. A peasant, who himself already often about it merry made had, went one day to him, in order something about his future to learn. After the fortune-teller him various things foretold had,” would himself the peasant without much ado again depart. ‘««¢ Well, how is it with the pay?’ asked him the fortune-teller. *«¢¢Payment?’ replied brutally the peasant, and looked him sur- prised on. ‘¢¢ Yes, indeed,’ said the other; ‘shall I then nothing for my trouble get?’ ‘¢ «If you all beforehand knew,’ answered him the peasant, ‘the past, the present, and the future, then you must also know that I no money by oc a RS a ee SN SE es SS a a a me have. Now wait only until ali happened is that you to me announced have, then will I you pay.’ ‘*To this unfeeling answer no reply the old fortune-teller made has. His time that his money was him to, wasted been had. But his hee! he away turned on. The peasant misfortune himself met, and a pauper died.” In this simple story Mr. Franz portrays, without the use of those idioms which our so-called best writers so often employ to veil their thoughts, the nobility of an honest man who realizes that he has been grieviously deceived, and that it will be orly an added expense for costs to sue for his just dues, He does n’t kill the wicked peasant, for the Jaws restricting manslaughter in Germany are irksome to a marked degree. He simply turns away on his heel, and leaves him to his conscience and the punishment his decep- tion so richly merits. Benj. Northrop. 7 ae | ri ] Ui, bi | PIPED OFF. STRANGER (in a little town on the Sound). — This is just the kind of a sleepy place I've been looking for. Nobody seems to care about the business of anybody else. By the way, there seems to be a general liking here for bottle-glass in the window-panes. GIVE-AWAY NATIVE. — Them 's opery-glasses.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK.

ACCEPTED WITH THANKS. THE SAME OLD DUN. ‘¢Did you tell the grocer that Iam not receiving calls of any kind to-day ?” ‘¢ Yessir; but he said as how you ought to appoint a receiver, then.” NO TEST REQUIRED. - PATIENT (very loud).—I1 am so completely deaf that I can hardly hear Gig ae a pistol shot! ww Wis & . a PHYSICIAN. —Then, I suppose, there fy Say) Pa Phil i ’s no use talking. (Writes on a slate.) | |

Ti Fae I ‘<I will have to test your power of hearing. Meet me downtown at the Stock Exchange a few minutes before three. I want to see whether you can hear the noise before the closing of the Exchange!” PATIENT (after having read this invitation).—No need of that, Doctor; that’s where I got deaf! A PROFESSIONAL OPINION. Miss GusH.— And so you were in that awful railroad collision? I sup- pose the scene beggared description ! RAILROAD OFFICER.— Not exactly; but a few more of them would beggar the Company. WHOSE ? D1pAx.— Reading another of those loud novels, are you? D1IDAX, JR.— It’s a little sensational, Governor; but it’s food for the mind, you know. DipAx. — Yes; of the nature of thistles, my son. A VALUABLE GIRL. She became a good compositor, This Vassar maiden spry, Commanded highest wages for She never could make pi. ‘* Permit me, Madam ——— "

, THE SILVER LINING. ; «¢ Dogs have their day,” but, as for me, Without one on through life I jog. Perhaps the reason ’s plain to see — I ’m not a dog. LOVE AND LOGIC, Guy.—Darling! You’re an angel! Fly CAUSE AND EFFECT. with me, or i die. BEATRICE.— You must before I can— SAM. — Say, Pete, w’ere yo’ git dat ’broid- er’d shirt yo’ wo’ t’ de cake-walk las’ night? PETE.—Gullong, chile. Doncher know my mudder ’s er lawn-dresser? if, 1’m an angel. Guy.— Minx! BEATRICE.—Dolt ! SOMEWHAT PERSONAL. Miss AMITY BLEECKER. —I’m sure ] can’t see why women should try to make a mystery of their age. Mrs. EDGERLY.—Nor I; especially when it’s out of their power. A PARENTAL DUTY. MR. THREADS (at the head of the stairs). — Sylva, is n’t it most time to retire? SYLVA THREADS.— Yes, Father. Please set the example. THE MATTER WITH THEM. ‘Some gymnasts are too fresh,” remarked ee Arnold, as he looked at an exhibition of = tumbling. *¢ Yes,” added Constable, ‘‘and somersault.” WILLING TO OBLIGE. MCFERGUSON (on his knees). —Oh, Maria, be considerate and put me out of my misery at once! MARIA.— | will, Mr. McFerguson; you stay there till I get the shot gun. THE HIRED MAN HAS HIS DAY. Mrs. KIRKUS.—How awfully rigid and dogmatic Dr. Canonicus has become since he was made a Bishop. MR. KIRKuUS.— Yes; he’s in no danger now of receiving a request for his resignation from his congregation ! THAT WAS THE DICKENS OF IT. ‘¢ Maria! What on earth are you doing, screeching in that wobbly way?” «I ’m trying to find F in alt., Papa.” ‘‘Well, when found, please make a note of it.”

SHOULD HAVE HAD A MEDAL. ‘«Fido ate the canary yester- —— aay” «¢ Ate the canary! What did os: emia you do to him?” AN ILLUSTRATION. ‘‘We gave him some pepsin, “* Curious gait that camel has.” ; poor thing! You know he isn’t “Yes ; what you might call a double- . back action.” used to such strong diet.” * return your umbrella!!!"

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. A\\ “) S Aw il A: Mb ; Bais.’ WAN ii "ee @rigenin FY, ayes ‘ ty, hl D ter NYS SSS - J iE \ 1! (Mera oh rr “7 , at re Tae LT Cert \(@\sers i YW 46) et diet te DISS \ WS sneer wy WSISSSSSSSN "ty ‘” a . AT McSTART’S RAFFLE. Burns. — Oi doan’ exoc’ly undershtan’ th’ gem’, but here goes. WHEGAN. — Shek’ ’m out ! Burns. — Oi t’ought yez jist counted th’ ratthles av th’ box. CuHorus. — Shek’ ’m out ! Burns. — Thot wor a phluke. HAGGERTY. — G’ an out o’ thot! Yez hov acy high. lift an’ shek’ ag’in fer thwic’t. Burns, — Oi’ll not. (Picks up the whole lot and shakes again.} Foor-r-rty-fives ! Wan o’ th’ dices hit ag’in’ another. Pick up th’ foor thot ’s Dooney. — Fer hivin’s sek’! put him out. It’s a dom ould tur-r-rkey we ’I] git, av he delays th’ gem’ like thot ! Burns. — Pfwhat do thot count ? WHEGAN. — Haythen ages ! he do hov foor sixes ! HAGGERTY. — It’s too bad f’r yez, Dinny ; but foors is barred in poky shakin’. Thry ag’in. Burns (putting them back dubiously ). — They wor sixes, not foors. Dooney. — Yis ;_ but foor sixes is pfwhat they calls a scratch, an’ ain’t allowed in dacint gem’s. Burns (carelessly placing his hands behind his back). — Howlin’ blashts ! Phwhat do count ? WHEGAN. — Yez see, it’s this way, Dinny. Haggerty shuk high, it bein’ a foive Yez hov wan moor shek’ be our kindness, an’ yez must bate ’r tie him. Burns, — Pfwhat ’Il do it ? Cuorus,. — It ’s dapely regrettin’ it we are, but six av a kind is all that ’Il sev’ yez. BuRNS (triumphantly shaking six aces). — There yez hov it! Yez’ll oblige me wid a grip on thot toorkey, Dacey ; an’ fellies, phin yez fool wid a fool, be careful yez hev’ th’ fool t’ fool wid. Open that dure ! full. THE ABANDONED SEAMSTRESS. A Winter Story of Rich and Poor. 7 cop gray shades of a Winter evening were falling — like patent window blinds, The last rosy rays of the sun fell gently on the bent shoulders, and tossed hair of 2 woman who sat at the casement looking out on the chill emptiness of a city street. Her face, still young and pretty, proclaimed education, even gentility — as did her slender white fingers, too frail to be roughened by toil. She wrung them despairingly, moaning. **It will not come —I am sure it will not come The fire was dying in the little grate. ‘If those people only knew,” she said, “‘ what suffering they cause with their delays! While they go on cheerfully, and have so much money, they will hardly look at you! Yet she promised to let me have it to-day.” There was a ring at the bell! She sprang to her feet, and pressed her face eagerly against the pane. = \ Buz it was only the postman, with a tailor’s circular. Eom She sank back in her chair and covered her face with 2 TN her hands, while scalding tears oozed one by one be- AAS | “tween her fingers, as she burst into a passion of sobs. Va It was the poor sewing-girl, waiting, deprived of her \ just dues and of her humble dinner by the capricious delay of her wealthy patroness ? No, sympathetic reader, no! It was, on the contrary, the rich girl herself, whose prevaricating dressmaker had promised to let her have the new evening gown she must wear that night ‘‘ before three o’clock in the afternoon at latest, without fail.” an 1» Fredc. H. Wilson. ARMERS VISITING TOWN should remember that the man who has “‘ just won some money in a lottery” is a mere chance acquaintance. HE MAN who was arrested for assault proved that he had never been to sea in his life, and was acquitted. (7 wancnn 7 CEE... — AN AUTHORITY ON VALUES. Mrs. CHASUBLE. — Alban, a rag-man came around this morning, and I sold him a couple of barrels of your old sermons that I found down cellar, for four dollars. THE REv. ALBAN CHASUBLE. — Four dollars! My dear woman, those sermons were worth thousands. Mrs. CHASUBLE. — Well, the rag-man would n’t give any more for them.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. CONSTANTLY ON THE GO. TevecraPH Wire.— Where did you go last Summer? Casie.— Oh, I went to Europe, as usual. SUCCESSFUL. First Parer Cutter. — How are you doing? Seconp Paper Cutrer.— Pretty well, as a rule. CAUSE ENOUGH. Dersy Hat.—1 don’t see what you ’ve got against the hat brush. Sixx Hat.— Well, he rubs me the wrong way sometimes. A SAFE BET. Srus.— What do you think of Pencil ? Quitt.— He is very sharp. He ’ll make his mark. WHERE WAS THE CANDLE? “‘My! how bad you are!” said the Basket to the Apple. “*T may be bad; but I’m not half so wickered as you are,” retorted the Apple. A REGULAR CHICAGO. Biower.— If it was n’t for me you ’d go out. Fire.— What a blower you are! AFTER THE ACCIDENT. HAD LEFT IT OUT ALL NIGHT, TOO. Mountain Torp.— Who took that view of mine? Kopax.— I did. Mountain Tor.— Well, see that you bring it back. MR. SOLOMON (recovering consciousness ). — How much you vant for dem ol’ clothes ? A BAD HAND. The Widow had just said No. BOWERY STRAWS. “* Life is a game,” said Mr. Upson Downes, reflectively. ‘I thought Where are those pessimists who deny that the millennium is coming? it was Draw, and I drew for a Queen; but it seems to be Euchre for me.” Let them read the following carefully: “‘In that case,” said the lady, consolingly, ‘‘you will have to In a Bowery misfit shop there is quite a large sign in the window _ go it alone.” which reads : “Yes, and what’s worse,” said Mr. Downes, ‘‘I can’t take my “We study to please.” partner’s best card.” **I always knew you were a horrid mercen- ary thing,” remarked the Widow, as she cut out of the room, and left i | Mr. Downes to shuffle sadly on his i | lonesome way. In still another : “We study to give pleasure.” And in a boot and shoe cellar : “‘We study for the comfort of suffering humanity.” \ When such assertions as these appear, and & all evidently sincere, those who carry about ) Utopian dreams in their heads and —_——_— — empty nothingness in their pockets will have cause to dance for joy. Statements like the above, coming as they do from men who usually care more for money than for mankind, _ have a peculiar and significant value. We are afraid that the reformers hereafter will be com- pelled to watch the Bowery to note which way the wind is blowing. HEADS, | WIN. To kiss or not to kiss? Be happy or be proper? Ill play in such a case as this, Correctness — with a copper! He ‘* WITCHING TIME OF NIGHT” is the hour which you can’t tell w’ich from t’ other. es, Mr. Faxir, the most singu- lar performances usually take place at one-night stands. HERE was an old farmer in our town whose neighbor’s conduct sometimes provoked him to unholy wrath, The outward and visible signs of this wrath, as shown in the black eye and swollen head of that neighbor, having once brought into our friend’s pocket the grasping fingers of the law, he learned wis- dom, and thereafter, when pro- voked, he drew a full-length pict- ure of his enemy in chalk upon the barn floor and belabored it with a flail until his wrath was appeased, at the same time shout- ing every derogatory name that he could think of. As Lincoln would say: ‘This reminds me of something.” HE SAILOR’S ACCOUNTS are cast up by the sea, GPOILED CHILDREN make bad men and women. —_ —— Jf — «« PALF A LoaF Is BETTER THAN A WHOLE — one,” said McGonigle, who is thankful that he can put in three days’ timé in a week, IGHTs AND Lerrs — The “‘ Ins”’ and the ‘‘ Outs.” POORLY _NOURISHED. THE sun Doc is probably a setter. r. Epiror: Is it proper to call the THE FootmMan.— It’s a fine lot t’ night, James. : : : Tue BuTier.— It is, all but that Duchess of Brie. Ossified Man in the Dime Museum a bona fide freak ? ee Rowne de Bout, for I heard her tell th’ Colonel it was her for-r-rty-foorst _ . giving the Devil his due. He got dinner this sayson; but she does n’t look it, me boy — it long ago. she does n’t look it. Yours truly, The Fat Woman.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. TEMPERANCE TALES. FEW MORNINGS SINCE, an early passer on a certain business street might have perceived a boy treading the pave with rapid steps. His clothing, though old and patched, was neat; his hands and face were clean; his hair was smoothly brushed and he hada shine on. He was looking for employment. There was no unattached employ- ment in that street, and he was obliged to search elsewhere. From place to place he went, still without success, until even- ing came. Then, disheartened and weary, he turned toward his humble home and the frugal meal which awaited him. Walking thus sadly along, he saw ap- proaching him a corpulent gentleman who looked as if he might be a millionaire. Re- solving to make one more effort, the boy accosted him, and, in a manly, straightfor- -ward manner, spoke his little piece. *¢ You look like an honest lad,’ said Corpulence, kindly; ‘‘have you a good education?” ‘‘T have, sir,” replied the boy, looking squarely into his interlocutor’s eyes. ‘I have been to the public schools, and can read, write, cipher, and model in clay.” «¢ Are your habits correct?” ‘‘ They are, sir; I have a certificate from my Sunday-school teacher to that effect.” ‘¢Do you drink beer?” «¢ Never, sir!” replied the boy, with emphasis. the Glittering Band of Ice Water Imbibers!” ‘¢ Then I have no use for you,” said the heavy-weight, passing on; ‘I own a brewery, and I conduct it on strictly business principles.” ‘¢T am a member of Reformation from intemperate habits often arises from slight and ob- scure causes. A prosperous merchant once became addicted to frequent drinking during business hours. Keeping a large bottle of liquor in an ante-room adjoining his office, he would at short intervals go out to see his ante, returning surrounded by an enriched atmosphere. This continued until he became a wreck. His relatives were about to have him committed to an inebriate asylum, and a trustee appointed for his property, when they were chagrined to notice a great change in him. Although he continued the habit, his eye became clear once more, his step firm and elastic, the flush shifted from his nose to his cheek, and in a short time he was in all respects his former self. Investigation showed that he had latterly been having the aforesaid bottle filled at a drug- store; and, the liquor sold there being composed chiefly of burnt sugar and agua urbana, the more he drank the more sober he got. The reformation was permanent and he is now more prosperous than ever, being engaged in relat- ing his experience at $400 per night. Reader, heed this tale. Get your bottle filled at a drug-store, and you may yet shake off the accursed slavery. In front of one of the gilded gin- palaces which line the streets of our cities, stood a group of young men beguiling the time with ribald jest, when there approached a youth whose thoughtful brow and manly bearing strongly contrasted with theirs. ‘¢Let us have some sport with the -good boy,” they said among themselves in wicked glee; and then they called, jeeringly: ‘¢Hennery, won’t you come and have a glass of be-or?” taller after dinner. AN UNKNOWN CONDIMENT. GuEsT (at the Eagle House).— Have you any oil? PROPRIETOR.— No; but if them wheels of yours squeaks, I'll teli Sile t’ go over th’ axles with mutton- The youth paused and gazed at them with a look of rebuke. ‘Listen, friends,” he said, in a clear voice, ‘‘and I will tell you why I have naught to do with beer. ‘¢ My great-grandfather was a beer-drinker; he died of fatty degenera- tion of the heart. My grandfather drank beer; he fills the grave of the dropsical. My father drinks beer; he has had bilious fever twenty-seven times. I have promised my mother not to touch the debasing fluid. Let us take whiskey together, and thus help me to keep my pledge.” The brave words of the noble youth triumphed, and everybody took whiskey. Not long ago, a man, constitution- ally unfitted for such excesses, contracted the Turkish Bath habit, and contin- ued it until his phy- sician told him that indulging once more would cause his death. In this pre- dicament he visit- ed an acquaint- ance who _ occa- sionally —__under- went the Ottoman operation with pleas- ~ ure and benefit, and suggested that they swear off together. ‘¢ But Turkish baths do not hurt me,” said the acquaintance. ‘¢ No, but they do me, and you ought to be will- ing to do something for a friend.” Being possessed of strong moral courage, the acquaintance refused. Maddened by this treatment, the victim hastened to the nearest bath con- servatory, intending to end his life in its dissipation. Unfortunately, how- ever, the bath did him no harm, and one of the numerous morals of this study in realism is that mighty few doctors know what they are talking about, any how. BRIEF BLISS. GawcGe.—Will you be mine ? Maup.—Yes, Gawge; until the end of the season! VERY SUCCESSFUL. REV. SYLVAN FLOCK (fo REV. POWNSEND POWNDES, ¢he noted Evangelist).— Did you have a successful revival at Quohosh? REV. POWNSEND POWNDES.— Very! I received four hundred and fifty dollars for three weeks’ work. , AMBIGUOUS. YOUNG WHIPPER. — I would like to have your daughter for my wife. OLD SNAPPER.— Indeed; and what does your wife want of her? IT BLEW. FIRST WHISKER. — What a wind! SECOND WHISKER.— Yes, it goes quite through me. THE OFFICE SEEKS the man, and sometimes, we fancy, when con- templating the character of its find, the Office wishes it had hunted a little longer. No WonDeER time flies; time is money. THE ENGLISH RACE—After American Girls. THE BEARS are probably responsible for the squeezes on the Stock Exchange. RICHES HAVE WINGS; but they always roost on the highest branches. «<|T ’S A LONG TIME between drinks,” as the water-bucket remarked in Kentucky.

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THE LOVERS’ WHAT | DAPHNE. SAY TO HEN DAPHNE, blue-eyed and demure, My own by all confession, Slips on my knee, and there, secure In undisturbed possession Of half my waistcoat, all my heart, And all her own delusions, Breathes to my ear a tale whose art Foretells its sad conclusions — A tale of want, a tale of woe, A back with nothing on it, A pretty foot without a shoe, A head without a bonnet; And adds at last the rose-leaf touch That ’s meant my doubts to smother, I only say: ‘¢ My dear, how much — How much you ’re like your mother!” SAMPLES, MOSTLY. SINGLETON.— It ’s a wonder to me that more women are not robbed, when they carry their purses so openly in their hands. DOUBLEDAY. —If you were married, and knew what they carry in those purses, you would not make such a remark. SUCCI AND TANNER NOWHERE. «‘ Now, gents,” said the museum lecturer, ‘‘ step this way, and look at our greatest living curiosity, pronounced by eminent scientists to be the most remarkable example of human endurance now in existence.” An impressive silence reigned over all. “This gentleman,” continued the lecturer, turning to a quiet, well- dressed and self-possessed man sit- ting on the platform, ‘has suc- ceeded in accomplishing the marvelous and superhuman feat of keeping alive for forty-one successive days on fifty-cent table d’héte dinners.” HE WAS ENROLLED. City EDITOR (40 REPOR- TORIAL ASPIRANT).— Are you a short-hand man? ASPIRANT. — No; but I have a long cheek. (And he was added to the staff forth- vid ith. ) NO OBJECTION TO THAT. Mr. MusHy.— I love you, Miss Ada. Miss ADA MANT.— That’s right. The Scriptures tell us to love our enemies. HOPING FOR THE BEST — Diners who Tip. PICKINGS FROM PUCK. POST -OFFICE AND THE WANDERING p?” = allay >a ia, og Mi at ak i ¥ = THE CHECKING SYSTEM. A SUGGESTION TO OUR SHOP-KEEPERS. ADVERTISING FIEND. RULE YOUR TONGUE. HE HAS great command of language, The man who talks at will; But has n’t he far greater Who knows hew to keep still ? LACONICS IN AN IMPUDENCE OFFICE. Miss MULCAHA-HA-HY.—D?’ ye kape a sicking gyurl? MAN (in meek, low voice ).— N-n-no. Miss CAWGLIN (friend of MIisS MULCA- F f HA-HA-HA, aside, in loud voice).—Wot d’ he Y S| soy? Do he kape wan? fe MIss MULCAHA-HAY.— Naw. AN OBJECT LESSON. HIGH-PRICED DOcTOR.—You are now conva- lescent, and all you need is exercise. You should walk ten miles a day, sir; but your walking should have an object. PATIENT.—AIll right, Doctor; I ’ll travel around trying to borrow enough to pay your bill. CAUTIOUS. UNCLE Si Low.—Ye call this rope a fier-’scape, hey? burnt thru when I was a-shinnin’ daown? HALL-BOY.— Kain’t help it, sah. UNCLE SI.—Waz-al; ye kin gimme a room on the first floor. want t’ risk sp’ilin’ your rope! What ef et I don’t A Worm Has been discovered which feeds on steel. There seems to be such a thing as hard eating as well as hard drinking. MEN ARE A good deal like cheap bed- steads; the smoothly-varnished side is for public few; but the rough un- planed splinters rub up against the household wall. THIS WORLD is like a fruit- basket. The big and at- tractive get on top, while the little ones are crushed out of sight in the bottom. THE GIRL who spends some years at Boarding-School often wishes after she is mar- ried that she had gone to House- keeping-School. FLUTE.—I wish I could get out on a toot. GUITAR. — Well, go. are no strings on you. There THE MULE is a great kicker, but, un- like Man, he does not kick in the direction where his grub is found.

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Carsor Cuemrear Cos WORKS wees eo THIS OFFICE) WiLL Bg CLOSED 12 O'CLOCK SATGRRBAYS | SST RTTTELS a ‘Bill BOY WANTED. Boy NEAREST THE DoorR.—What kinder job did you have last? His NEIGHBOR.— Messenger boy. Boy NEAREST THE Door.— How did you lose it? Leave or get discharged? His NEIGHBOR.—The Company wanted me to stay, but the clothes got too small fer me. (7o PORTER.) Say, Irish, how do they treat the boys here? Do they get promoted quick ? HAGAN (the PORTER).—Their hours is from tin in the mornin’ till three in the afther- noon; the Boss has thim out to loonch wid him at Delmoonyco’s wanct a wake, sinds thim on a free thrip to Yarrup ivery Summer, an’ they do be taken into partnership at the ind av the sicond year. Av ye t'ink the phlace ‘Il shute ye, I'll take yer car-r-rd in to the Boss. THIRD Boy.—If he don’t show up soon I'm goin’ to skip—I've got to have a cigarette pretty quick, or bust. ; FourRTH Boy (to his right-hand neighbor).—What kind of questions do they ask, generally ? FIFTH Boy.— Oh, the questions don’t amount to nothin’ — it's yer looks they judge by,— what 's the matter with this necktie, hey?— Say, you won't have no show to git the job, you're too little, see? You oughter be home in yer crib. S1xTH Boy.—Ain’t dat feller up next to de end made a mistake? NINTH Boy.—What'’s the matter with me? S1xTH Boy.— You're in de wrong place, dat 's all, —dey want an office-boy here de dime museum's down on de nex’ block. TENTH Boy (fo NINTH Boy, sympathetically).— After I've got through with the Boss, I ‘ll wait outside an’ help you lick that feller. EIGHTH Boy.— This is the daisiest beanshooter out —it’s got a terrible lot o’ force, fer the size of it—if I get this job I ‘ll have that Irishman crazy with it—just watch me hit that mole on his neck. SEVENTH Boy.—S'posin’ he turns round an’ catches you at it before you can get it out of sight? EIGHTH Boy.— Gittin’ it out of sight is my specialty — there ain't any man livin’ can catch me with a bean-shooter in me hand —just watch this shot. HAGAN.— Ouch!— me ear! Show me phwich wan 0’ yeez little divils has the bane- shooter, an’ Oi ‘ll phlay a chune on him wid me broom that 'Il— PROPRIETOR (appearing suddenly from private office).— Michael, you may put that boy with the beanshooter out on the sidewalk, and then I will proceed to examine the applicants. F. Oppe: MR. TUPPER KEATS. Hj HERE IS A little poet who is quite a friend of mine, And the thoughts that he confides to me are really very fine, But, with all his wondrous genius, he can never write a line, Though he feels that he ’d accomplish great things, may be, If it did n’t always happen when he goes upstairs to think, Before he has a chance to dip his pen into the ink, His little wife will holloa up, and cause his heart to sink, «¢Mr. Tupper Keats, come down and mind the baby!” Not a day but what she calls him, to his infinite disgust, While his ink is all a-drying, and his pens are filled with rust; And he ’d rather not obey her, but the fact is that he must; So don’t forget the name I’ve told, for, may be, You will see the richest honors heaped upon it, some fine day, When the wee disturber of his peace is old enough to play, And his little wife no longer runs out in the hall to say: ‘‘Mr. Tupper Keats, come down and mind the baby!” Malcolm Douglas. THE ACME OF SHRINKISHNESS. ‘¢] ll bet,” said Chollie, «“‘judging from the way these trousers shrink, the wool was shorn from an unusually timid lamb.” THE LENGTH AND BREADTH OF IT. Mr. LATITUDE.—I am opposed to the railroad com- panies charging passengers by weight. Mr. LONGITUDE. — And I am opposed to their charg- ing them by the mile.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 27 THE SIZE OF IT. T IS THE size of it that makes the difference. That is the size of it. Grown people and children will never regard each other as belonging to a common species. Children look upon adults not so much as people; but more, we should say, in the light of a Hill or a Tree or a Marble Statue; something, in fact, ex- isting, practically, from everlasting to everlasting. Children are poor, short- sighted simpletons. Adults regard children as very, very young . .far, far younger than the contemplating adults were at the same ee. The adult recognizes a certain childishness in children, which s almost a distinctive trait, and which he never observed when he was a child himself. Adults are absurd, purblind idiots. Children, seeing a man five feet in stature, consider him to be, say, roughly, twelve feet high. Seeing a man seven feet tall, they consider him to be twelve feet also. A superior man gets no credit with children. The noble size, the eagle eye, the graceful carriage, the lofty converse —all pass unnoticed. Indeed, children would consider any attempted distinction as to manly beauty or re- fined intellectuality as entirely chimerical and vain. The man may be superior in mind, brain and morals, it is all one —and that one is zero. If he carries peppermint-drops in his pocket, he is a gentleman ind a scholar; if he does not, he is probably ‘an old coot.” Of course, adults are more discriminating in their admiration of children. Certainly. The adult judges of three points, at least. Is the child handsome, good, clever? But how does the profound adult go about to judge? Why, if the interesting infant, being a boy, has dark eyes and a velvet suit, he is beautiful, lovable and brilliant, all at once. A little blonde girl in blue is immediately pronounced a miracle of loveliness and amia- bility. But if the thoughtful adult finds that a small boy has hay-colored hair and dim eye-brows, he decides him to be the epitome of unattractive- ness and indifference. An adult would not be grown up if he took any account of the good little thoughts in the freckled boy’s mind. I, myself, was freckled in boyhood’s sun-burnt hour, and if my boy- hood had been as lasting as the freckles, I would have had almost peren- nial youth. They were very solid-looking freckles, and I was afraid that when I raised a beard, the freckles would come off, and hang pierced in my whiskers like copper pennies in a red Christmas tree. But because I was freckled, I did not love to be despised, and I felt deeply the injustice of the world’s contumely. Yet often as I have stood, humbly casting down my eyes before a great monster of a man, have I been judged a little worthless numbskull, even as I turned a silent reflection on the ; size and wondrous shape of my fatu- ous Critic’s map-of-Africa feet. Never RI op | judge the poor shy blonde boy de- | 4 ] HM void of discernment, when you | iy Ae i | ee have baggy trousers or big feet. = = =f | But tomes would not bring Wie a ii} children and men to a wiser and A PR idle» | Nl: clearer understanding of each other. lg Children will be children, a people by themselves, and men will be men —for that is the size of it. Williston Fish. wera? = A WISE CATERER. WAITER.—A guest has ordered frogs’ legs on toast, and we have none left. What shall I say to him? PROPRIETOR.—Tell him that we have some; but that you would n’t care to offer them to him. That will give him the impression that you wish to serve him well, and at the same time it will keep up the reputation of the s house. A HOPELESS CASE. ‘¢Can nothing more be done for the prisoner, Mr. Brief ?” A DIAGNOSIS. Mrs. HILLFARM.— Just like fairyland, is n't it, Silas? Mr. HILLFARM.— Um—ah— yes—more like the Garden of Eden, seems to me. A SKETCH. SILAS DENDY (at entrance to the Pekinboro Court House, to his friend, WILLIAM W. WAVER).— Did y’ hear thet arguin’ tween the two gents jest now, Bill? WILLIAM W. WAVER.—Ya-as. I think ’t th’ little un hed th’ best uv it, Si. Mr. DENDY.—You hear me, th’ tall un wuz no slouch. And ’spesh’ly ‘long terwards th’ middle — Mr. WAVER (interrupting ).— Come to think on ’t, thet wwz a stav- in’ good p’int he got in there. Should n’t wonder but what the tall un did hev th’ best uv it. ie Mr. DENDY (unheeding the interruption).— He ’d ha’ knocked th’ little chap silly, ondly for thet ’ere gee-whoppin’ good crack - by th’ little un — rec’lec’ — Mr. WAVER.—Ya-as. Thet wuz a hummer! No use talkin’, th’ little un got th’ best on ’t. 3 Mr. DENDy. — It jest let him f down kinder soft an’ easy like. You bet thet tall gent wuz no slouch at arguin’! MR. WAVER (xervously). — Guess you ’re right, Si. Allus thort ’t th’ tall an hed a little the best uv it. But, gee hunk, Si! you ’ll hev t’ excuse me— et’s time I wuz gettin’ into court. I b’en called as a juryman on thet Stoker vs. Kroker case ! Charles Le Furst. ST i] A LONG-FELT WANT. NEWcCOMB.— It must be a pretty hard struggle for you to support a family of eighteen children. KIDDER.— Oh, I make ’em pay their way. Hire ’em out to childless people who want to take the children to the circus to see the animals. ‘¢I fear not, sir.” ‘“‘The legal expedients are all ex- hausted, are they?” ‘‘No; but the prisoner’s money is.” THE DETECTIVE has his ‘‘dog days” all the year round, A GENTLE HINT. EpitTor.—If you did n't drink so much, Mr. Soque, you could make a great deal of money. How in the world did you ever form the habit ? SoquE. — Well, I began by taking a nip every time I had a poem rejected, and it 's kept me pretty full lately ; but I'd really like a chance to reform, WHEN YOU SEE a small boy dividing his cake with another, it is safe to bet that a stronger bond than brotherhood unites them,

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ES i : i / ; i { } } DOING A TURN. Mr. Pierre Rouette, well-known on the variety stage as the Human Top, gave an exhibition of his marvelous feat on the ice at Central Park this morning. He went through it in fine style, and though the audience insisted on bringing him out again, they could not prevail on him to repeat the performance.—Zvening Whirled. ‘ PUCK’S HEALTH APHORISMS. 1guoR DEALERS should avoid doing any thing which may have a tendency to keep up their spirits. * * In the matter of contagious disorders, when you give a disease to a friend it should be borne in mind that it is more blessed to give than to receive, and that the idea of being just before you are generous is a narrow and selfish one. ; * " * Drafts should be avoided, particularly sight drafts. ‘They are bad for the eyes. But if heroic treatment becomes necessary, have the grace (three days grace) to cheque them without protest. ok * * If you have a girl— and you probably have —caution her against taking cold. At twenty-five cents a dish it may develop into pneumonia, a portemonnaie, or some such unpleasant malady, the inroads of which are often disastrous, Oy . * Mutton as an article of food, is wholesome and nutritious, and may be eaten with impunity and caper sauce, In female seminaries, where the male | element is an unknown quantity, side- fit Wj saddles of mutton only should be used, and care should be observed that the young ladies do not indulge in too many capers. They are apt to get too saucy sometimes. * 7 * Avoid quacks; they are of no value. Even in the case of ducks, it is a well-established die- tary fact that the quack is about the only part of the bird that is unfit for food. * * * Butchers should never allow themselves to be troubled with their liver. In case they are un- tf able to sell it, they can always | give it away. A good healthy | liver is a priceless boon, particu- larly to boarding-house keepers; and in more than one instance it has been known to save their bacon. * . * Never attempt to deceive your doctor. If you tell him to call at a certain time, have his money ready. ok ia\ 7 4 ‘ ANS odie a NW ,; POMPOSITY REBUKED. It was at one of the big, fashionable churches. The haughty usher looked rather disdainfully at the shabby-appearing little man who stepped toward him, and without bestowing a second glance, raised an imperious finger, motioned forward, and started pompously toward the amen corner. The whole congregation noticed the pompous usher as he strode down the aisle, and a number thought his action rather strange. When he reached a poor, undesirable seat, almost around a corner, the uslier turned and motioned again, but the little man was n’t there. The usher looked a bit fooled as he glanced over the congregation, and he turned clear around again to see if the little man was n’t behind him. And he wasn’t. He had slipped into a rear seat at the moment the pompous usher began his forward march. Homer Bassford. A DIFFERENCE. Wuirrer. — Our young friend Scadds seems to have a great desire to shine in society. Snaprer.— My idea is that his‘ambition is to shzx into society ! HE MUST HAVE BEEN CRAZY. An’ what step, me good Polonius, should the merry Hotel hall- boy strive to strike?” quoth Hamlet. ** |’ faith, I know not.” “The Front-gait, thou Fish- monger.”’ AMENDMENT ACCEPTED. Jupce.—What’s the charge, officer ? Orricer. — Petty larceny, Your Honor. Prisoner (interrupting ). - I beg your pardon, Judge — the charge is impersonating an of ficer. Jupce.— How do you make that out? Prisoner. — I took a handtu! of peanuts and an orange from - a poor woman’s stand witho paying for them. * WHAT DID SHE MEAN: Jacx.— Shall | kiss you? Netute.— Do it if you dare! IN A BREACH OF PROMIS- CASE. — Tue Courtr.—What is you: age, Madam? Tue Praintirr.— Must I answer Tue Court.— You must. Tue Praintirr. — Why, Judge, | IN THE EQUITABLE BUILDING, AT ONE P. M. LAWYER COKEMAN. —You ought to call some day at lunch- time, Uncle. I should like to have you meet some members * of the Lawyers’ Club. thought people did n’t have to testify * * Arsenic is excellent for the face. : against themselves ! If taken in sufficient quantities, it never fails to whiten the complexion. LINES BY A SPINSTER. The girls, since first the world began, Have always sought th’ ideal man ; But when they captured their ideal They found him more ideal than real. Uncie Beaks (from Wayback). — What time d’ yer feed ? LAWYER COKEMAN. — Well — ahem ! — well, er — oh, usually at about half past four. THE FIEND OF A CATERER’s Boy. — Your luncheon is served, sir ! ok If you are tioubled with life’s fit- ful fever, employ as young a physician as possible. With youth in his favor, he rarely fails to effect a cure,

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 29 LIBERAL. LEGGE.— Look here! I'm afraid these trousers are too big. COHEN.—Vell, I makes no extra charge for dot ; I vas villing to gif full measure. . OF FEELING. THE MAN E HAVE in hand a bundle of letters written by a young man to friends and acquaintances on the eve of forever leaving them. He was about to go to another continent, to engage in a new business among a new people. The demeanor of this young man had uni- formly been such as to assure all of the deep respect in which he held them; and by this he had won the thoughtful approval of our best judges of youthful character; yet it can not be concealed that some had argued the young man to be of a character neutral, if not expressionless and insipid. The letters, however, show a deep undercurrent of true feeling. Written at a time when the writer was about to ait sunder all ties, they are not moved by either hope or fear for the future. And it is especially on this account that we bespeak them attention; for, if we judge rightly, the unfeigned sentiments of the human mind are of superior interest when compared with even the finest artificialities of literature. The first letter is to our esteemed townsman, Mr. P. F. Ferguson: Dear Ferg: I am about to cross wide oceans. Oho, for the Bay of Biscay, oh! The games of whist in which you were profoundly unconscious of my being your partner are indefinitely postponed. Oho, for the Bay of Biscay, oh! I do not think that I could ever have learned to love Farewell! Dear Miss Giddyings: You once said in your pride that I was a Jo-Bunker; and my informant con- sidered that in that term you implied that Chesterfield was more polished than I. I now go to hide my in- feriority in a strange land. But do you never pause in the giddy throng to meditate on the broken hearts, the ruined lives for which you are not responsible? Meditate on this. you. Mr. Henry Ease: P. P. C. You have owed me I,7% al five dollars on a poker debt for eleven months; you if Hii 3 dear, thoughtless, open-handed fellow; and you have Wy 3 ‘oi 7” thought of it every day for the whole period. Keep i UU, Uy yl thinking of it, you infernal beat! I trust to meet you when I take a short run to New South Wales. My Dear Mrs. Co.: You have often seen me at my desk in your husband’s office. You may not have noticed me in my humble place, but I noticed you, because you were fat, and because of an air you had of owning all the clerks. In the Spring you used to talk to the cashier about four-leaved clovers, but that young man remarked to us that you ought to turn your mind to sixteen- leaved springs for your carriage. Dear Mrs. Dowager: I have talked with you so much at receptions and such places that I can not leave without saying how much | disliked to do it. I have had to be polite to you for various social reasons; but if you blazon this fact forth to my discredit, I will have you dragged before a court of justice by wild horses. Mr. Reggy De Jones: After reading for a number of years your sparkling contributions to the comic press and the operatic scaffold, I do not feel that it would be manly to leave this country without telling you that you are an Ass. Dr. Petersham Clinic, My dear Young Galen: A word to the wise is sufficient, but you must pardon me, if in the hurry of departure 1 am not able to write to you at length. You consider, I believe, that you are uniting the attractive graces of the finished society man with the solid seductiveness of a reputation as a skillful practitioner. I have seen you at social events, smiling in your English whiskers, by way of social beguilement, yet wearing a look of secret intelligence, as if we possessed some insidious and fetching disease that you knew all about. I do not wish to discourage you; you are, no doubt, breaking ground in your career as a doctor; you are laying the foundations for a reputation. I can not approve your whiskers. Such whiskers seem to signify that a young man is guided by a devoted but foolish mother who has said: ‘* Yes, Petersham; I think the whiskers will make you look older, and more settled.” Well, when a young man wears such whiskers as yours, they certainly settle him. Dear Mr. Co.: Ah, my old employer, I seize your hand in farewell. At this moment it may be permitted to the former clerk to express his full appreciation of your character. You began poor, unintelligent, uneducated, generally despised, and with only your natural greed and unscrupulousness to stand you in stead. Yet, aided by the fostering care of our tariff legis- lation, by the friendliness of the government to monopolies, and the liberal spirit of our penal laws, you have become one of the kings of business. Farewell! Parting with you is like meeting an old friend. Williston Fish. MEANT WHAT HE SAID. CLIFF BEEKMAN.—You live in Brooklyn now, don’t you? X. YORKER.— Not exactly. CLIFF BEEKMAN.—What do you mean by ‘not exactly?” X. YORKER.—Well, I have n’t exactly lived since I moved over there. THE PROSPEROUS BARD. On other matters though he sinned, He knew the proper rhyme for wind; His reader he would never bore With «« Ne’er,” «« Alas!” ««Ah me!” and « O’er.” So now his name is growing great, And prosperous is his estate. a een San ~S SS ) RSS ea es r A TAKING ATTITUDE. Mrs. FEESHEEW.—Rise, Mr. Popper, I can never be your wife ! Mr. PoPpPpER.—I don't want you to be. It's your daughter I plead for. Mrs. FEESHEEW.—Oh, well, remain as you are, and I will call her in!

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RES AR Ee wha ETS Sy Ree PROFESSIONAL ETHICS. THE RIVAL M. D.’s. REASON versus PREJUDICE. EASON is the deliberate process by which we obtain partial knowledge of existing facts. Prejudice is full and positive knowl- edge of facts which may or may not exist, acquired instantaneously, without fooling away any time with Reason. I am not certain that these defi- nitions are given in Webster’s exact words, for I am staying at a country hotel, and have no work of reference at hand excepting a ‘‘ Directory of Lead- ing Merchants,” whose cards are artist- ically worked up in shrimp-pink and baby-blue letters, and displayed under a cracked glass in a frame hung seven feet high in the hotel office. But if I have n’t made my definitions suf- ficiently terse and accurate, it is n’t because I have n’t tried. It frequently happens that a person, whose views of things in general are sufficiently broad, becomes the slave of Prejudice in some one particular. This is the case with a certain lady whom we will call Mrs. X., although that is n’t her right name. Mrs. X. has a settled conviction that no good can possibly come from a person whose eyes are too near together. So strong and virulent has this unreasoning prejudice become that it is being gradu- ally extended to apply to animals and all objects upon whom two or more eyes have been bestowed. I was not aware, myself, how deep-seated this prejudice really was, until one day last week, when I overheard her say to the grocer’s boy that he would have to take those potatos back to the store, and bring her some with eyes further apart. Once, while on shipboard, this lady struck up quite a pleasant friendship with a quaint old sailor named Samuel, and she used to go on deck and listen to his amusing remarks whenever she wanted to. One day, while conversing with Samuel, the captain, a bluff, stern man, came that way with glass in hand, and shouted: ««Run up to the bow, there, you, and see how many bow knots she’s made since eight bells! 1 ’ll wait here!” «« Ay, ay, sir!” exclaimed Samuel, trotting away as fast as his bow- legs could carry him, while the captain drained his glass. From that time forward Mrs. X. took no further interest in Samuel. His ays were too near together to suit her. You may smile at Mrs. X.; but she is undoubtedly happier with her little prejudice than she would be without it. And it is so in other cases. If the reader doesn’t mind, I will take up a political matter here, promising to put it down again as soon as I have shown how Prejudice applied to a given subject may produce more happiness than Reason applied to the same subject. Methinks I see a pedestal supporting two figures. One of the figures is that of a portly gentleman, dressed in good clothes, leaning on a gold- headed cane, and smiling benignly on his companion. The latter is a man in shirt-sleeves, wearing cow-hide boots and loose, knee-sprung trousers, ‘AT THE ZOO. Mrs. BRACE (in front of the Kangaroo cage).—\s that a male or a female specimen ? BRACE.—Male; it's a Kanga- rooster. ‘WHO 's A QUACK?” THE INDISCREET DUCK. and holding a straw hat in one hand, while he wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of the other. The figures are The American Manufacturer and The American Far- mer; and the pedestal is inscribed: «¢ Protection to American Industries.” You just have to look at these two men once to see that they didn’t reach their common position by the same road. Prejudice brought the farm- er there. Reason brought the manu- facturer. And the farmer, of course, gets the most satisfaction and happiness out of it. Did n’t the sainted martyrs smile contentedly while they were being scorched ? And the manufacturer, with all his reason, gets nothing out of it but evil. Is n’t the love of money the root of all evil? M. IV. A WOMAN NEVER DESTROYS A ‘PATTERN. MR. DE RUYTER.— Here’s a newspaper | am very anxious to have carefully preserved. MRS. DE RUYTER.—-Very well, I ’ll cut a pattern out of it. = SSA " j ' nn) LAUDABLE ECONOMY. Jacos.— How was it I didn’t see you at the Oppenheimer wedding, Ikey ? IsAAC.— It cost me too much, Jakey, to send a present. So I just ask how such a nice young man could marry into such a family, and so I gets no invitation.

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THE PUNISHMENT Mr. WAMPuS.— Dere comes Pahson Chuckweed ; ef he cotches me wif dis jug of sperrits dey'’s gwine ter be a scandal in de chu’ch! I'll hev ter drop it over de fence, Philander, an’ let yo’ git it fer me after he git's by! \ AMIABLE. «‘I notice,” remarked the proprietor of a certain brand of baking powder, to a government chemist, ‘‘that you use a rival’s baking powder exclusively in your family.” ’ «Yes, sir,” replied the government chemist ; Py ‘¢but I can discard it and begin to use yours, Pe ae ee se for a consideration.” | PRICKING THE BUBBLE. ‘‘How did that stupid fellow, Crass, gain a reputation as a wit?” ‘¢ He was once interviewed by an unusu- ally bright reporter.” JEWELLED CONSISTENCY. “6 M* way ’s the best by far,” said Smith ; ‘‘No; mine’s the best,” said Jones; And then they argued long and loud In high, persistent tones. Smith said he could not be convinced If Jones should talk all night; And Jones insisted Smith was wrong, And only he was right. And when they parted, each proclaimed The other was a fool; And Jones adopted Smith’s device, And Smith tried Jones’s rule. J. P. Denison. THE JANITOR of an office-building lives high; but the one in charge of flats must accustom himself to abasement. A SMALL HOLE, UNDER THE jealous superintendence of four or five grades of superior officers, the ordinary policeman, who manages to hold his job without complaint, should be able to beat time with his club to the tune of «‘I Want to be an Angel!” apple for you. OF DUPLICITY. Mr. GriIGGS.— Dat jug woke me up kinder sudden, Mistah Wampus, fallin’ on my head; but hit am none de less welcome. Mah regahds! THEY ALL DO IT. DISTRACTED WOMAN (at the folice station).— Oh, sir, I have lost my poor old father! This morning he wandered away, and I fear for his safety, as he is totally deaf. POLICE SERGEANT.—In that case, Madam, we will - soon find him. He is walking on the railway track. ABLE TO CHOOSE. eX A hs | VISITOR (fo Boston parrot). — Polly want a cracker? ey ) POLL (disdainfully ). —1’l\ thank you for a biscuit. A THE POWER OF MUSIC. Mr. GowitT. —I wish Bridget would n’t sing so dolefully. It annoys me. Mrs. Gowit.—Why, you never objected TEACHER. — Tommy Trewant, don’t you know that the rule of this school is for children to have their shoes shined? Why are yours so dirty? Tommy TREWANT.—I did shine ‘em, ma'am. But I climbed up a tree afterward, to get this nice red to her singing before ! Mr. Gowit.—I don’t—to a good lively air; but if she’s keeping time to that tune she ’ll never get through her work in the world! | , . yp FZ GAVE HIM HIS CHOICE. CONDUCTOR. — Ticket, please ! DEAD BEAT. —I travel on my cheek. CONDUCTOR. — Very well; which cheek do you prefer to travel on? MANY A MAN is thought an intel- lectual athlete when he is simply an intellectual acrobat. NEXT TO MAKING a mistake, the easi- est thing in the world is to criticise somebody else’s mistake — which is re- spectfully submitted to those political wiseacres who think this statement a mistake. SINGLE EYE-GLASSES are worn in London, because in times of fog there is only half as much te see.

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CHRISTMAS N % tt i . EDISON'S iN ‘ TAR DOLL. - “aa Ne St - DOLL. THE SMALL BOY’S CHRISTMAS. GREEN APPLES now no longer gripe Him in the midnight hour ; And watermelon has not got Him in its awful power. His mother now no longer finds His shirt from swimming damp. With angle-worm and fish-pole he Has ceased his weekly tramp. Summer has gone, and Christmas joys Now occupy our pet; Yet still, behind the barn, he smokes The deadly cigarette. Tom Masson. HE PREFERS WHISKEY. ‘¢ Bromide of potassium is said to be an excellent antidote for snake bite,” remarked a visitor to an Iowa man. ‘¢ Well, I’d rather not be bitten by a snake than take that for it,” replied the Iowan. IN DOUBT. ‘«*So you want me to give you my daughter?” ‘¢T do, sir.” ‘¢ What are your prospects?” ‘That ’s what I’m waiting to hear, sir.” THE VALUE OF HASTE. HEDDER (seating himself beside friend on «‘L” train).— Whew! I’m clean out of breath; had to run a block to catch the cars! KARMLEY.— Indeed! Which way are you going this morning? HEDDER. — To the City Hall. KARMLEY.— Well, you ’ll have a chance to recover your wind at Chatham Square. This train goes to South Ferry. A WELCOME | VISITOR. «I would like to see President Hawkins of the R. R., R. & Q. road.” ‘¢ You will have to state your business, sir.” ‘¢T have a scheme for getting around the agreement that the railroad presidents entered into yesterday.” ‘« Step in, sir. this matter.” President Hawkins will be glad to talk with you on AT BOLOBO. THE GOOD OLD TIMES. How doth the busy Used-to-be Approve each bygone minute, Until the humbled present feels The come-down that is in it! How gleefully he rubs it in To latter days— because There ’s nothing extant now to match -The Golden Use-to-was ! ae ae INDISPENSABLE. WILEY.— Tell me somethiag good for a joke. DRILEY.— Point. THE SAME OLD BORE. HERODOTUS. — Monuments! Why, boys, when I was traveling in Egypt | saw — CHORUS.—Rats! Chestnuts! You ’ve told us that yarn fifty times before ! PRESENCE OF MIND. «¢Lend me fifteen dollars, will you?”’ «¢ Certainly — how much did you say?” ‘« Fifty dollars.” MAN’S MIND IS HIMSELF. The man who says, ‘‘If I were you This is the sort of thing I ’d do,” Seems to forget if he were I Only my point of view he ’d spy. THE GREATEST OF ALL. MR. GLOBETROTTER (0n the ocean greyhound ).— Your friend seems to have very decided views on the Irish ques- ot tion. What county does he come from? Mr. O’ROURKE.— Faith, from New York County, sor! A HOST IN HIMSELF. LITTLE CORA.—We ’re going to have a Christmas party at our house. LITTLE MABEL.—Are you? going to invite? «¢ Only one.” “Who; me?” ‘“‘No; Santa.” How many are you

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STILL CONDUCTOR (as the car stops). — Fifty-eighth Street! All out! Er-r-r, which one of you gents left this — PICKINGS FROM PUCK. IN DOUBT. — gold-headed umbrella ? WHAT THE BABY SAID. «¢ Sing a Song of Six-pence,” crooned Mrs. Mosenstein to her darling boy, as he lay in her arms with his baby curls falling in a golden shower about his face. «¢ Mag’ id a Kvarter, Mama,” he murmured in his dreams; and the mother, smiling softly, bent and kissed, the whisper dying on his lips. TO A MAID I KNOW. $ ’T is brevity that is the soul of wit? I fondly hope, dear Miss, you ’ll not be hurt, If I remark that you have none of 77, Because, instead of being brief, you ’re curt. John Kendrick Bangs. OR NONE AT ALL. «¢ We ’ve succeeded very well, but we can’t declare dividends.” «¢ Your prosperity appears to be a sort of ‘ Success with Small Fruits.’’ A HAPPY MAN. DELAND DouBLeEyou (in Wail Street).—Yesterday I saw you jump- ing out of the Exchange with your hair on end. Now you look as sleek as a parson. Have things been coming your way? PHIL A. READING. — Well, I should say so! I succeeded in borrowing ten thousand dollars on that jump. ¢ THE NATURAL REASON. ‘“‘Why do they call them ‘fountain pens?’” ‘¢ Oh, I suppose, because they are forever overflowing !” R: M Ve j y i ae DRAMATIC SITUATION — The Stage-carpenter’s. SOME MEN are like blotters; they may bear the impress of a hundred good things, and yet they are worthless. HUNGER Is the best sauce, but it is unsatisfactory to be com- pelled to waste it on poor victuals. |NSTEAD OF trying to appease the THE DRAMA editor, Spring poets keep on add- ing fuel to the flames. They are calling for the author. HANDY TO HAVE IN THE “ HOUSE” LOCAL MANAGER. — Wal, — Three of a Kind. LOCAL MANAGER. — Sh! winder, and git. city limits. WIT ts the wine of intellect; do not let ill-nature turn it into vinegar. PONSONBY DINKS (Manager of Dinks's Barnstormers, as the cur- tain falls on the first act of the initial performance of the thrilling melo- drama, ‘‘War on Society"’).— Ha! Do you hear that uproar in front? that's all right. Dinks (proudly). —1 am the author! Not so loud! I'll go out and hold ‘em back till yer strike the Then yer ‘ll have ter look out fer yerself. HIS FAILING. ‘¢ He is a nice, religious-minded man, and I can’t see why you object to him,” said Ethel. ‘¢ Well, if he ’d kicked an eight-dollar silk hat of yours down the middle aisle, while passing the contribution box, you would n’t like him any better than I do,” retorted Papa. A BAD SYSTEM. ‘¢I hate these continued stories in the magazines,” said Penelope. ‘¢So do I,” returned Helen. ‘* You never can tell how the story is going to end until the last installment comes out.” THE AGE OF CRAZES. HARD’ LUCK. ‘¢ Evolution is a slow process.” ‘Don’t fool yourself; jumps. Jimmy. — What did yer get on yer birthday ? Jaxey — Nothin’! Never got anything since the first one, an’ then I only got born ! it moves by It is only within a couple of years or so that women have discovered that they never knew how to dress prop- erly before!” A POWERFUL WILL. COCKTLE.— How long since you ’ve sworn off ? BLURIB.—Three years; but I can stop any time I want to. ‘« OH, I’M SO DISAPPOINTED! Henry promised me a sealskin this Winter; but he did n’t get it.” ‘‘T don’t wonder you feel badly. Hope defurred maketh the heart sick.” A NIGHT WATCHMAN—The Astronomer. «¢] FLOATED OUT with the tied ” — as the best man explained when asked how he came to have rice in his hair. IN OKLAHOMA. REPUTATION MAY be a bubble, but it is not best made by a blower. JHE STRONGEST BUTTER in the tub He ain't here, is he? ‘ ‘i is always the weakest in the market. Here, climb out this A PARTING QUESTION — ‘Is that About Right, Sir?”

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AE a 6 aS RASIIES Rea SRG A Ah aeRO aie Spa i TGs aS ERIC = eres rows Sa oes 34 PICKINGS FROM PUCK. JUST IN SEASON. ors a 7 >AT | serene: | READ LookKiInsGS s | SUPERFLUITY | - —— at — \\ \\ ~ \y) —a\\ \ » \\ NY) ‘ s\ \ My \ ie . me re +# \ \\ y y) Ba LONG~ FE NNN = WAN; == N\ i! Ga a Y\\ a Ny) . __|_ aaa Aer ee { ‘ \\\ | Tip ty 1 ti ry Bae A ! el SHARP MAN. — Come, come, boys, you don't expect I'll be fool enough to kick that hat, do you? THE Boys.— We know it ain't, Mister; but This is n't the first of April! it’s Fourth o’ July, though! AN EXPRESSIVE NAME FOR A_ HORSE. BROWN.— What’s the name of that colt? JonEs.— Ten-dollar Bill. BROWN.— That ’s no kind of a name for a horse. What did you call him that for? JONES.— Because, dear boy, he ’ll go so fast when he’s broken. HAT THE POET THINKS HE THINKS. FULL OFT the poet sings, In the sky on happy wings, Of the beauties of his golden long ago; About the endless joy ZB Of the happy barefoot boy, And the farmstead where the roses used to blow. A PLAUSIBLE REASON. But the reason that the poet feels the rare and fragrant charm JONES.— I ’ve always wondered why they called that institution the Of the clover-scented meadow, with its locust rat-tat-tat, ** Chemical Bank.” . SMITH.— Probably because the stock sells at drug-store prices. Is because he sees the beauties of the sweet secluded farm Through the optics of the comfort of his heaven-scraping flat. —— SO MUCH BUNTING is called for on the Fourth of July that the goat The fun of tossing hay ought to be our national bird. On a pleasant sunny day He depicts with silken pillows ’round his brow; And in an easy chair Sings of rural zephyrs rare, ree © While he thinks he ’d like to milk the kicking cow. ps _ = fo) ee But he has no time for haying, and the zephyrs that he knows ~% a fall 6 ee =. By the river o’er the roof-tops is successfully dispensed, And he would n’t milk a Jersey, though the only milk that flow: For his use the grocer furnishes each rosy morn — condensed. Though jolly after school Swimming ’round the stagnant pool, It is better in the crystal Turkish bath; The roses are as sweet For a cent upon the street, As the specimens that flourish on a lath. Oh, the farm is very lovely when you see it in a.dream, From the little flat an income makes delightful and secure! Though no elevator greets you, and there is no heat by.steam, And the ice-box and piano are one piece of furniture. The babbling silver spring Is a most refreshing thing When the lily on its bosom softly blows; This the poet ever feels As he gaily rests his heels On the sofa, and the Pilsener richly flows. Oh, the country of one’s childhood is with beauty lush and ripe, It is bright with lovely flowers that in fragrance wave and sigh, But the time to fully feel it’s when you smoke your brier pipe ly wetyie = A In a comfortable flat, although it ’s almost in the sky. pay fram R. K. M. AS MUCH AS HE COULD EXPECT. he * FARMER RAKE (indignantly ).— Say, Bill, can’t you do any THE SPARTANS were trained to steal, and to wear the same clothing in thin’ all day but swing in thet hammock? Winter and Summer. They would have made pretty good nineteenth- YOUNG RAKE (home from college). — Oh, dear, yes! I can get in it, and I can get out of it! century tramps.

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LEGAL INGENUITY IN THE FAR WEST.

\ < ee ee a ‘ ~ wr s e ‘ DAKOTA SHERIFF.—I have a warrant for your arrest. DAKOTA SHERIFF.—Ah, well, some other time will answer! OuTLAW.—You can’t do it, old boy. I’m out of your district. (Zo the MULE.) Now lift him, Pete! —— i Pi 6: S “

THE CAPTURE. FINALE. —— Now, my bird, you ’re in my district! (Victory!)

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es iN Bel

36 PICKINGS FROM PUCK. : A GRADUATE. PRACTICE, they say, makes perfect in each art: The heart, then, truly In Cupid’s lore, if studious from the start, Must progress duly.

Ergo — the fact that I have loved before, Proves only, now, dear, That I can love you better far and more By knowing how, dear. Madeline S. Bridges. TAKING NO CHANCES. YOUNG AUTHOR.— I ’ve hit on a name for that story of mine, Tom! A regular inspiration. I’m going to call it «¢ The Inevitable.” Tom.— For heaven’s sake — why? YOUNG AUTHOR.—Why? Because the editor will have to accept it.

ro 7 _~ SPF cay (QM Astounds all those who knew him. SHE WANTED TO BE SURE. Trixy HAZEN.— Now, Tom; if you are only fooling, I wish you 'd say so.

‘ {3 SUCCESS KNOCKS OUT SENTIMENT. Wi | { Y digi rw PROBABLY - WHY NOT? «¢] wonder,” said an old soldier to another, as they loitered through the art gallery, ‘‘ who those people without legs and arms were?” ‘1 s’pose,” was the reply, ‘‘they came East after a pension, and petrified while they were waiting for it.” : STRUCK A JOB. YounG Doctor.—I prescribed for my first patient yesterday. YOUNG LAWYER (anxiously ).— Has he made his will yet? A BONFIRE. FIRST STRANGER.— Would you be kind enough to give me a light? SECOND STRANGER.— Certainly, sir; always glad to oblige; where would you prefer to be lighted? A POOR COMBINE. Alack and alas for my broken purse! She ’ll go to the play, or I to grass! The combination could n’t be worse — A lack and a lass!

——_ 3 iN i __ Saif vil] Hi)

OUR JOURNALISTIC EDUCATORS, NO. 2. PHILANTHROPIST. — Hungry, are you? Well, here 's a dime. Mr. COLLuMs. —I thank you, sir, in the name of the daily Bucket, which I represent. I am assigned to work up an article about ‘‘ How the Requests of Needy Mendicants are Responded to by our Solid Citizens."’ Good day, sir. OPENING A NEW ACCOUNT. OLD Scapps. — Young man, you’ve got to turn over a new‘leaf this year! YouNG Scapps (modestly ).—Thank you, sir; would you mind start- * ing my fresh page in the ledger with an advance of two hundred? TO A SILENT MAIDEN. If talk is really cheap, as some folks say, JUST THE SAME AS NOW. ATHENIAN STAGE MANAGER.—I say, what's the as cause of this delay? I wonder, lovely vis-a-vis, that you PROPERTY-MAN. — Why, the star says he won't go on, Don’t go a-shopping some bright sunny day, because you ‘ve billed the name of Euripides, the author, And see if you can’t buy a word or two. in bigger letters than his own! John Kendrick Bangs.

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Taal | . 2 me THE LIPERES TARE DOOR: A we - HERE ’S AN odd little door in a grimy blind alley, A door that is broken, black, battered, and small, And it stands at the end of a shadowy valley, ’Twixt a tenement house and a factory wall. All the panels are splintered, and since they were varnished The long years that have passed near amount to a score, And it swings with a squeak, for quite rusty and tarnished Are the hinges and lock of the little stage door. A belligerent Celt by the name of McNally, Who, to use an old phrase, is as ugly as sin, Stands a vigilant guard, and keeps accurate tally Of the people who go to the regions within. For the stranger who thoughtlessly taps at the portal He awaits with a frown and a terrible roar Of, «*Say, what!—what d’ ye want?” so the average mortal Has a deep-rooted fear of the little stage doo There ’s the young leading man, with his dresser and valet, The second old man with his property frown, Mam’zelle Somethingorother, the queen of the ballet, Who but lately was known as Miss Smithers or Brown. The soubrette, the dancers, and all of the chorus, too, With the gasman, musicians, and several more Who aid in the bill, are the fortunate beings who Freely pass in and out of the little stage door. Then, again, there are those who persistently rally Round about it as soon as the play ’s at an end — The young swells who are seeking Maud, Minnie, or Sally The duns that uncrushable trades-people send With neat little bills which are aged and overdue, The man with a play, the perennial bore, And long there they linger, though none of them ever knew The sought-for inside of the little stage door. Ah, the phantoms that fancy can conjure around it Of the faces and forms of those players who came To it far in the past, and who finally found it A hard conquered gate to the temple of Fame! /J It has opened for these who gained riches and glory, | It has closed upon hearts that were weary and sore, \ And in many a lost and forgotten life story, C What a part has been played by the little stage door! Glen Mac Donough. AFRICAN APHORISMS. BLoop aM t’icker ’n water, but jedg’n’ f’um de way some men treats DE WUK DAT some men makes ’emselfs ter keep f’um payin’ a jus’ deir famblies it ’pears t’ be a good deal t’inner ’an w’iskey. debt ’ud airn de ’hul sum ef put inter chorin’ er w’itewashin’. DE FARM NIGGER what goes to d’ city ’specting he’s gwine t’ pick up gold in de streets, most gin’ly got ter sweep it out ob de mud at a dollar a day. A SOF’-HEADED NAIL am like a hard-headed man — dey ’s bof pow’ful hard ter drive. GITTIN’ MARRI’D makes one out ob two, but yit it doan’ somehow seem ter ex’cise a decreasin’ effec’ on de poperlation. DERE AM nuffin’ in dis worl’ mo’ easier t’ git dan de t’ing we doan’ want. DE ARRAND-BOY am de comin’ man, and dat am jes’ de WHAT DIS WORL’ needs mos’ ’tic’larly jes’ now am kin’ ob a slow job he’s a-honin’ fer. a leetle mo’ room at de bottom. A SOF’ ANSWER tuhneth away wroth, but it am pow’ful WE YAIN’T ALL on us Samsons, bredren. Be mighty cahful invitin’ to book-peddlers. how yo’ use de jawbone. You KAINT eat yoh cake and hab it, too. Ef you doan’ A CYNIC, BREDREN, am a man who doan’ ’spise de worl’ half wan’ ter loose yoh frien’, doan’ borrer money off’n ’im. ’s much as de worl’ ’spises him. DE MAN who shout out he want ter bet’ yo’ fibe dollar Sat’day night, ’ll BERNEV’LENCE of’en hide he’s light undah a bushel so well dat de be roun’ wantin’ to borrer hit f’um yo’ Monday mohnin’. po’ man doan’ know whar ter look fer him.

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"Wp “uv YVOIO © AV [LATIP SIU} jAqqeq ay) 3 — j SuTYys[NAuod ur au ynd JIM JOY) AXIO] — ye 1ayIp Heo] TATp Sty afo uv Adz] j aylow ‘Aq-pooyn — 9}0U as[vj JayjouY juvU ‘sUTATY 3,015 — apry iO TI) ‘nod pim ‘Mou ‘Asty — 13 19 11) ou Ajaat, dn yt ayeyS— — Apvas unis w, 10 Isl S1f & av iq & ye our dn iy3iow ak uy ‘axioyy ‘Apesry ‘sayy ue [yo 01 J2AO (UIOS ULI —'‘NVDITIVD,O ‘SUN — ¢ayxloy ‘days B 10} 304) st MOF] — “AONVG ATISAIT V WIH DONIGVEI ett - = — SS é = sn avec een Seep in ei eninicneasi aoial

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Chow Ors OCETHER: LYS GL CARRE ee (oe will | . d h You d fold “ \ y* po nor love me, dear, so muc ou do not fold me in your arms As you did long ago, As often as of yore; =: When you used to praise my rosy cheek Your hand once dallied with my curls — — And forehead white as snow. It dallies there no more. You do not rush to kiss that cheek And if I did not know my hair With all your old-time fire — Was far past girlhood’s day, Perhaps, indeed, it is not now I well could read it in your glance, The cheek that you admire. That tells me I am gray. Ill. Yet deem, not, love, that I upbraid, By your neglect appalled — ‘71 Bap For I — I loved you better when You were not wholly bald: And were you as demonstrative As when you first did woo — I should desfzse such idiocy In an aged gent like you. Mrs. Yoosterwuz. SPREADING THE NEWS. . PHoese Birp.—Is n’t that a letter from brother George, dear? stand it exactly. Here ’s what he says: ‘‘ Dear Sir: I am a little pressed for funds just now, but J ’Il come around and see you in a few days, and settle ac- count in full.”” Why, the fifty dollars I let him have won’t be due for two months yet. I have n’t asked him for any money. What does he mean, I wonder. + . as * Mr. Law.— Here’s a letter from George, Mother. They ’ve got a boy, but he writes a very queer letter, seems to me. Just listen to it. “Well, Old Man.” (The idea of his commencing a letter to me in that style.) ‘* Well, Old Man,” he says, “‘ I ’m a daddy — big, bouncing buster of a boy! Ill set ’em up ’till you can’t rest when I see you again.” Mrs. Law.— Why, the maniscrazy! It is n’t safe for Annie to be with him a day, I shall pack up and start for that house to-day,— that ’s what I shall do. * * * Cutaway, THE TatLor (¢o Boy).— What did you say to Mr. Popper this morning? I told you just to leave the note and come right away. Boy.—That ’s just what I did, sir. Curaway.— You did, eh! Well, now just see what he says in this letter. Listen now, young man, you ’ve probably caused me to lose a customer. ‘The boy came this morning,” he says, ‘‘and he’s a good one, I tell you! He made plenty of excitement in the house for a while, but it’s all over now, thank heaven!” I guess Ill pay you your wages and let you go, sir. I want a boy that ’ll follow directions. * * * _ Mr. Knorr Stowe.— Say, boys! I ’ve just got a devilish queer letter from George Popper. Ill read it to you. ‘‘ Dear Sir,” it begins, ‘Weve got a nice boy, born this morning. Weighs nine pounds and two ounces. Annie is so well that it won’t be at all necessary for Mother to come!” What do you think of that, boys? We’ll write him a letter congratulating him on the fact that it isn’t necessary for Mother to come. Each of us write him one, ch! Cuorus.—We will! * * (Scene changes again.) Mr. Georce, Porrer (40 Mrs, Porrer).—Well, Annie dear, how do you feel now? Anniz.—Very. well, indeed, George. Have you sent away the letters ? Georce.—Yes, sent ’em all away. But I must n’t stay here and excite you. I believe I’m a little bit excited myself. Morris Waite. BURNING QUESTIONS. “*Going to have something ?” said the oil can to the kerosene lamp. **Not this morning,” was the answer, “‘1’m pretty full now.” **Oh, I see,” said the can, ‘* been out all night, eh? Well, will you Mr. Birv.—Yes, but I don’t under- smoke?” ** Thanks; Ill smoke after supper,” said the lamp. MORE APPROPRIATE TO THE TIMES. Artists of late, with judgement narrow, Arm Cupid with a bow and arrow, When it would be a great deal cuter To load him with a seven-shooter. ONE SENSE ALERT. Mr. WooLsum.— Seen mah kink-brush, yo’ Clarence ? CLARENCE.—Nopey: ain’t seen it, but, golly, Pop, I heah’s it !

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A REALISTIC DIALOGUE.

SSSAREAARRY AND MABEL are discerned standing on Mabel’s door-step. They have returned from the opera, and the love scenes and passages therein have brought a _ proposal from Harry that has been trembling on his lips for three months. They have been standing on the door-step for two hours, and are now engaged. He is making a feeble effort to drag himself away, and she is as feebly endeavoring to have him go. ‘¢ Well, I s’pose I must go,” he says, at last, with a sigh that hoists him almost off his feet. «Yes, indeed you must,” she says. ‘‘It’s awfully late.” ‘¢] don’t care if it is.” ‘Oh; but I must go in — good-bye.” «‘No, no! don’t go yet; it is n’t late at all.” «¢Oh, you dreadful boy, you! it must be after midnight.” ‘No, it isn’t. (He knows that it is after one o'clock.) Won't you call me ‘ Harry’ again?” «¢ Why, I ’ve called you so fifty times already.” ‘¢ Once more, dearest; just once more.” ‘¢ Well, then, ¢ Harry.’” «¢Can’t you say ‘dear Harry?’” ‘¢Oh, you bad old boy, to make me say such things so soon!” «¢ Please, please say it.” «¢ Well — ‘dear Harry ’— now I must go.” ‘¢Oh, wait — wait — I want to tell you something.” «¢ Well, what is it?” ‘¢Oh, it was about — about —I forget now.” “©Oh, you!” «¢ Wait — don’t go, darling; I ’ll think of it after a while. One kiss is n’t enough when we ’re just engaged.” ‘‘©One? Why, Harry, how can you say ‘one’ when you ’ve been so wicked as to steal fifty, at least?” ‘¢ Well, fifty don’t seem many.” «Why, Harry / you’re the very worst fellow — now | am going in; good-bye — dear.” ‘¢Oh, Mabel, why are you in such a hurry to leave your Harry boy?” ‘¢Such a hurry? Why, Harry, we’ve been standing here ever and ever so long!”

‘Now, Harry; you know I did n’t mean that.” ‘¢It has n’t seemed two seconds to me.” <¢ You foolish fellow — but do look at your watch, and see what time it is.” HF ‘¢Why, it’s only a little after eleven.” q ‘¢ O-0-0-0-h, H-a-a-r-r-y !” | «¢ Look, you can see for yourself by the street lamp.” ‘¢ Now, Harry, you know as well as I do that you ’ve turned that watch back two good hours, you vogue’ Now, good-bye!” ‘«¢ Good-bye, if you are so anxious to get rid of me.” ‘¢ Now, Harry.” ‘¢Not without another kiss.” ‘¢Oh, you funny, old, foolish fellow, you!” ‘«¢ Bye-bye, darling,— darling /” ‘¢ Bye-bye, dearest.” ‘¢ Good-bye !” ‘* Good-bye.” Wt “You darling /” — Sure Oi’! lay it here whoile —an’ you can look at the paper Oi finish cooking th’ supper — a bit — PICKINGS FROM PUCK.

VY 1 yy WA a TEMPTING ODDS. CLIFTON PADDOCK (after a hard day at Guttenburg).— ‘f I had n’t plunged on Exhaustion, zhose odds on Consulta- tion ‘ould catch me.

HOPE CAN make the point of a needle look as big as «¢ Has it seemed so dreadfully long to you?” THE MONKEY WAS N’T IN IT. a ‘dinner-plate; but when we run against it we experience the sharpness of disappointment. HEY DIDDLE DIDDLE! ’F you call it a fiddle To anyone under the moon Who plays it at all, Your words he will call A violinsult, very soon. QOH, YEs, AUGUSTUS, the Parliamentary whip is not without a parallel on this side the water. Here we have the party lash. A PERSONAL GRIEVANCE — Being Left Out of the Society Column. HIcKoRY DICKORY DOCK, The bulls run up the stock. The stock struck .o1, Then down she run — BrinGet.— Indeed it’s koind of : ° Zenas Dane. | you, Pat. A monkey mull, is k ?— - Hickory dickory dock.

: : — Howly Pether ! Sure, ’n’ it’s — whoile Oi do be fixin’ the — alive the beast is. Moike, you ’ve been chated by an Eytalian!

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THE LABORS OF HERCULES MADE EASY. Showing how Simple they would have Been if he had only had our Modern Improvements. ANNIHILATING THE LERNAAN HyDRA. —A little dynamite is all that he would have required. SUBDUING THE NEMEAN LION. — One of Barnum’s lion tamers would have done it for him for ten dollars. CONQUERING THE ERYMANTHIAN BOAR.— DESTROYING THE STYMPHALIDES.—A duck An electric shock, say about six hundred volts, gun, a boat, and a decoy is what he ought to would have settled the animal. have had. SUBJUGATING THE CRETAN BULL.—A few lessons THE CONQUEST OF CERBERUS.—A New York from Buffalo Bill would have enabled him to do it dog catcher would have made short work of it. as above.

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SS FO OCEANS AN ELASTIC SYSTEM. Mrs. STUYPEND.— Don’t you think that women should receive regular money allowances from their husbands? Mrs. KIRBY STONE.— Why, yes, of course; that is — er — providing they could also call for extra ones when needed! A MAN IN HIGH STATION. DEACON NICHOLS.— How insufferably stuck-up our new tenor is in his ways! BROTHER DOLLARBLE.— Yes, indeed; he is very organ-lofty ! A YOUTHFUL CYNIC. Tommy (after watching the bride and groom come down the aisle ).— I’m never going to get married. ae MOTHER.— Why not, dear? > Tommy.— Just look at those two. She ’s crying, and he looks sorry already. UNcLE EBEN wrote to the college pro- fessor: ‘‘Have not heard from my boy for some time. Hope he is not sick. If he has been, I hope to hear that he is improving.” The professor to Uncle Eben: ‘¢Boy not sick, and not improving.” Two HEADS are better than one; but when we come to the “thirdly,” argument grows monotonous. MOHAMED MADE HIS MARK in the world. As he could n’t write, there was nothing else for him to do. WHEN A MAN is “going to the dogs” he ought to chase something better than an anise-seed bag. LIFE Is a lottery; and the man who takes no chances in it can never win anything. PEOPLE WHO would grind everything down to a dead level in this world should remember that it is the cogs on the wheels that make clock- work run smoothly. SPITE GIVES its bearer the momentary happiness of being happy in unhappiness. A LEARNED MATHEMATICIAN READ The poets with much pleasure ; Figures of Speech his fancy fed,— Smooth Numbers and good Measure. \ WH ay aI HA 7 mu OUR JOURNALISTIC EDUCATORS, NO. 5. INDIGNANT CITIZEN.— Me move on? What for? APPARITION.— Sh-h-h — don’t make a row. I’m only carrying out my orders; I’m a reporter on the Daily Spasm, and I'm doing a column article to be called ‘‘A Day on the Force." PICKINGS FROM PUCK. That we with good grains and rice may sweetly blend Conversion is now simply out of question When suffering from this dreadful indigestion. —Well, I really must go, Miss de Muir. I suppose I ’ve staid too late. late than never! A PLEASANT GAME. The children — capital mimics, both of them —are play- ing their amusing game of ‘‘Central Park,” to the delight of MAMA and AUNT CAROLINE, and to the horror of NURSE, who does n't know what is coming next. The game is played with the following cast of characters : SPARROW POLICEMAN .. . Willy WURSE. . ~~. ss. + Depoty ee er eS SECRETS OF THE PROFESSION. STAGE MANAGER.— Where is Afghan Lumbago, the tattooed Zulu? PROPERTY Boy.—He got caught in the rain coming from supper, and he is downstairs having the scenic artist touch him up. BORROWING FROM PETER TO PAY PAUL. ‘¢So far as I’m concerned,” says Paul, ‘¢ Why, nothing could be neater ; But when you come to think of it, It zs a grind on Peter. C. B. £7. SOCIETY AND SOCIETIES. MR. COENTIES (¢0 visiting F RIEND).— That gentleman yonder is one of our most prominent society leaders. MR. DEARBORN.— Indeed —and what is his society for the preven- tion of ? THE DEBT ACKNOWLEDGED. ‘¢Are you acquainted with this?” asked Banks, as he displayed an unpaid note to its maker. ‘¢No,” replied Kyting; ‘‘I never met it.” THE PRAYER OF THE CANNIBAL. Attend, Christians, to a savage heathen’s cry: We are tired of tough missionary pot-pie ; With the next one send a wife both young and tender, her. J. H. Calthorp. THEN HE WENT AWAY. MR. STAYNE STEIGH (at 11:59 p. m.). MISS DE MUIR (archly).—Oh, better WELL QUALIFIED. Mrs. CLEws.—I don’t know what I can do with that boy of ours. He puts up his sister to steal cake from the pantry, and then comes to mc with a story about it. © Mr. CLEws.—H’m! We ’d better make a detective of him! A READER OF HUMAN NATURE. YOuNG TRAMP.—Here comes a well-dressed fellow down the street singing, ‘‘Ten thousand a year is my income clear.” I guess I ’II strike him for a dime. OLD VETERAN.— Don’t do it; he hasn’t got a cent. Strike this workingman coming here, whistling, «‘I’ve got fifteen dollars in my in- side pocket ;” he’s got it.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK.

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DELIGHTFUL DANCES. The kisses that are never kissed, Sad poets sing, are sweetest, And opportunities we ’ve missed Must ever seem the meetest. But this is true, whate’er may mar The rest of Fate’s bright chances, fae A The dances that we sit out are The most delightful dances. Madeline S. Bridges. HE WAS A LEARNER. **] see you are not a very expert pickpocket,” said the detective to the man whom he had caught in the act. “No,” the latter replied, coolly ; ‘‘1 am just getting my hand in.” A ge BER Ah A nn inn atl Ta : = as + =e arte wsfeRoaey verrr——as= swsererts SERVED HIM RIGHT. Mr. Layman.—See here, doctor, you said there wasn’t any such disease as hydrophobia. Dr. Scumerz (emphatically). — No, sir, there is not. Mr. Layman.— But old Grubbs got it all the same, and last night he died. Dr. Scumerz (meditatively).—Well, a man who — goes and catches diseases that don’t exist ought to die. IN AN INTELLIGENCE OFFICE. Acent (fo Femate Appiicant).— Are you married or single? Appticant (blushing ). — Nayther, Oi ’m engaged. Mum ; HE MULE always puts his best foot forward. HE MAN who is put to his trumps is liable to play the deuce, WHISPERERS LEAD a kind of hand to mouth existence. ATERPROOF COATS are all the rage in Kentucky — for stomachs. HEN IT rains cats and dogs at sea, look out for yawls and barks. HE REQUEST to pay before you drink is bar z | doubt. th -“Gilzp MWA LUM Meri, WT * Be hivins ! thot near jarred th’ tathe out o’ me,” PICKINGS FROM PUCK. CHRISTMAS AT SQUANK. eal saip Op Man Pecuitt, of Squank, “I don’t believe in none of this here Christmas nonsense. It ain’t no better ’n a popish festival, any way you look at it. Did Moses an’ Aaron, an’ Eliphalet an’ Zebedee — did them characcers celebrate Christmas? | guess not! Be we wiser then they wuz? Do we sot up to know more th’n they did? “*T7ll tell you who’s at the bottom of all this Christmas business, an’ lights, an’ wax candles, an’ evergreens an’ things, It’s the Pope o’ Rome! Oh, that’s all right — snicker, ye derned smarty ! —I know whut I ’m talkin’ about. That man’s got his agents an’ travelin’ men in every taown in this community, an’ he’s etarnally bent on c’ruptin’ our simple republican institootions, Ain’t that so, Sile Hoskins? Wa’n’t you in a Romanist church wunst? Wa’n’t it all full of picturs, of all sorts of folks? No eend of picturs, eh? Well, wuz ther a George Washington among ’em? No? Or a Patrick Henry ? No? Ora Dan’l Webster? Nary! Don’t tell me/ , ‘* An’ then this givin’ of presents to children. Derned foolery. Spiies the children. Spiles the presents. Costs money — that don’t bring in no return. An’ Christmas trees — an’ red ’n’ yaller ’n’ bloo candles — jest a clean waste, ’cordin’ to my ’pinion. “No, sir, I’m agin the whole cusséd nonsense. Whut ain’t popery is foolery, an’ this gre’t country ’d be a long sight better off ef it wuz shet of the hull business.” “But, Mr. Peghill,” said a by-stander: ‘‘ Christ- mas is a legal holiday. How do you propose to spend it?” “‘Yaas,” replied Mr. Peghill, ‘Christmas 2s a legal holiday, an’ I b’lieve in spendin’ it ez such. I’m goin’ daown t’ the Corners, to Arkwright’s Grocery. You ’d better come, too, Sile. Uncle Jake Arkwright ’s goin’ to tap the best bar’] of hard cider ’t ever was barr’l’d in Squank, an’ they ’ll be a turkey-shoot in the arternoon, an’ whosoever blows the head off’n that turk gits the turk an’ a gal- lon-jug er that cider. Harder ’n a tenp’ny nail. You wanter come, Sile!” EAD MEN tell no tales; those that die rich don’t need to. Plenty of alleged heirs will do it for them. HE PEN is mightier than the sword; but for opening oysters or military balls we ’ll take the sword every time. AT THE O’HOOLIGAN’S X-MAS PARTY. KILLEEN.— Oi owe Corkey wan fer com- wea plainin’ me t’ th’ boss, an’ Oi t’ink Oi ’ll busht his hat whin he ain’t lookin’! Corkey.— Yez’ll excuse me, Misther Killeen, but Oi sushshpected a job like that phin Oi seen ye, and Qi med me preppyrations,

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 45 THE INTERRUPTED DUEL. COMTE D’ERRINGER. — Un —deux— Ha! Vhy do you stoop down, M’sieu Vedderby-Toot? WEATHERBY-TuTT. — Why, blahst it, don’t you see it’s beginning to wain? D’ ye suppose I ’m going to spoil my new twousers in an affair of this kind?’ SAT AUPID’S COUPLETS. ~ ee P—essey | cern, | | 1] t so ; | sTRUGGLE HARD to woo my love in rhyme, But always miss it in the second line; Inscribing Sophy what is dear ‘‘to keep,” I’m sure to sicken it with something “* sweet.” I gayly launch a bright, ambitious **hope,” When, presto! it goes under in a ‘‘boat;” And when I write encomiums on ‘‘home,”’ J ruin them by wailing out ‘‘alone!” The pathetic beauties of a ‘‘single man” Are roughly coupled with a ‘‘loving lamb;” The weighty phrase, ‘‘My heart is not a feather,” Must needs fly falsely into ‘love forever!” When love-taught fancy plays the ‘‘lover’s harp,” y Y | yg | The music ’s lost in the ‘‘divinest art;” | eee Mae / AN | A master-line, extolling ‘‘ beauty’s sum,” WNYy \ Y a —— Spontaneously drivels into ‘‘ one.” Ca ee - ‘a — F cpper PROPER PRIDE. =~ ie —— OO First Suop-cirt (going home at ro p. m.).—Just think of Katie a an Workhard degrading herself so as to go out and be a housemaid, for the sake of double pay and two half-holidays a week! It’s so un-American. MONOPOLY. Seconp SHop-cirt.—Yes; she never showed a proper spirit of inde- DousTFUL CusToMER. — Are these ’ere specs genu- pendence! By the way, I suppose we must pay something toward the ine crystal? forelady’s Chri j laces? MERCHANT. — Chenooine? Of you don’t mention it, y Tana Preseet, WWE WOES Ce a eee peaces I tell you someding. My bruder Isidore has bought dot f a : Crystal Palace in England, und is cutting him up into HE PHRASE, “‘French people from Cork,” must have originated with spectacles; dot makes dem so cheap —one dollar an’ a somebody who was thinking of servantgallicisms. helluf a pair!

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—s AN _ ra | AFTER- DINNER EPISODE. X- A- ab iniD P at ot yectue ~ T oN ne LUENCE aus ai oF TH BALLET GIVEN UNDER THE AUSPICES or > Y-FOR-THE-PREVENTION \OF VICE ‘ —_ THE BENEFIT \Yor ys | | |

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. ACQUIRING INFORMATION. -__ aenenneilng CENE. — Lonely Corners Railway Station, after ‘ 5 departure of the 10:30 Local. |

CHARACTERS.—ONE ONLY PASSENGER— well dressed, kid gloves, new traveling bag. ONE ONLY NATIVE. PASSENGER.— Good morning, sir. Is n’t there any way to ride to the village? NATIVE (eying gloves and traveling bag with disapproval). — Not unless you wait . for the ’bus. - PASSENGER.—Will the ’bus be here soon? NATIVE (still eying gloves and traveling bag). —— May come to the next train. PASSENGER.—What time is the next train due? NATIVE.— Depends on whether yer mean the up train or down train. PASSENGER.—I mean the first train that the ’bus will come to meet. NATIVE (leaning against the station, and looking at the ONLY PASSENGER sidewise).—’T ain’t no sure thing ’t th’ ’bus ’ll meet either of ’em. PASSENGER.— I may as well walk then. Can you tell me which : is the best hotel in town? 4 NATIVE (picking up a splinter of wood). — Some say the Grand View is, and some say it ain’t. PASSENGER.— Is the Grand View centrally located? NATIVE (whittling ).— 1 dunno but ’t is. PASSENGER.— I mean, is it in the business part of the town? NATIVE (with a fleeting glance at PASSENGER'S face). —I say, I dunno but ’t is. PASSENGER.—Do you know a Mr. J. D. Smith in Lonely Corners? NATIVE (eying the gloves again).—1 know Jim Smith. PASSENGER.— Do you know whether he’s in town now? NATIVE.— I don’t know ’s he’s gone away. AN APPROPRIATE QUERY. PASSENGER.— Does he live near the hotel? NATIVE.— Depends somethin’ on which hotel you go to. PASSENGER.—Which one is nearest to Mr. Smith’s house? NATIVE.—They ain’t either of ’em a great ways off. PASSENGER (mentally, while moving away ).— Confounded stupid? initihalnsephiniatiaiiatiia — NATIVE (shaking off his vest and pocketing knife).— Darned dude / ; M. W. OVER THE HILL. LITTLE EDITH.— Mama, what ’s a poor-house? MAMA.— A poor-house, Edith, is an imaginary plac 2f Papa’s, where he intends residing next week. No. 147.— Pardon my not coming down at once, but my French teacher was here. No. 336.— Certainly. How is he getting on in his English ?

VERY ENGLISH. ‘¢ What awfully artificial manners Howell Gibbon affects!” ‘¢ Yes; he ought to be naturalized.”

SUFFERING IN THE ORCHESTRA. CORNET.— Hello, Fiddle! How do you do? FIDDLE.—Rather played. And you? CORNET.— Pretty badly blown.

INFELICITOUS. Miss HOLDEN. — You know, Mr. de Troit, we are of a very old New York family. MR. DE TROIT.—Yes. Father says he remembers you as a girl. TREMENDOUS. ‘¢Ts there any money in your business?” ‘¢ We paid fifty per cent. last year.” ‘‘«Phew! How did you manage it?” ‘Our creditors saw that was all they ACCEPTED. could get, and they took it.”

EAR SIR: Of late, I beg to state, You ’ve made me very tired; For every line Or joke of mine That men have so admired — y ; = At least, so far as I’m concerned — d BMA You very promptly have returned ; : “, GENTLY REPROACHED. ‘<T will be a sister to you,” she said. ‘‘Only that,” said he, “after I have been a pcpper to you?” ——————"\ pepp y A WOOD-BE WIT. SKINNER.— Are you boarding at Mrs. Crusty’s? BOHN.—Well, I’m what you might call scantling ! Till now, I fear, the flame that burned é Has very near expired. By Jove! Ill write Some lines to-night — I ’ve found the true solution ! A simple scheme — I know the theme I ’ll put in execution.

SELF-PRAISE goes but a little way — unless you put it into some good ad- vertising medium. I "Il try my hand at something new. 14 |F ALL FLESH is grass, the vegetarian My year’s subscription now is due; Pe ed \\ adopts a meet diet. I ’ll write a check to send to you — . te" You ’ll take ¢haZz contribution ! A TEMPORARY POSTPONEMENT EVERYBODY’s BUSINESS — To Mind His Own. J. P. Denison. Mr. FERGUSON. —Er— Miss Sweetly — Clara — there

is a question I have long been wanting to ask — W0ovEN SHOES should give the wearer a A Loup WuisPeR.— Hold on a minute, Boss; I 'm _ lumbering gait, and a cork sole ought to A CIRCLE CAN never grow “small by gittin’ off at de nex’ corner, an’ I don’t wanter hear nothin’ bring lightness to our footsteps. But a man degrees.” It always has its full 360. that ain't intended fer me. can’t erase his tracks with the help of rubbers.

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CS RAE. «GK GIS Rite Mins Sele eam EA Hl —— ay — ac - one eee eses ee ~ NE ae PICKINGS MY LOVE. MY LOVE is as pure as the dew that 4. Dies to slacken the sun-beam’s thirst; As fair as the flower whose bud, just blown, Blushes to find its beauty known. The voice of my love is as soft as the note That twilight steals from the thrush’s throat; And her eye —so clear, so fond, so true ! — Reveals her soul in its depths of blue. The mouth of my love is a Cupid’s bow, Concealing teeth like drifted snow; And when her lips in kisses meet mine, My soul is filled with bliss divine. The form of my love—ah! who can express Its beauty of curve and loveliness? The fawn, the flower, the dove, the deer, Are without grace when she is near. The mind of my love — ah, there ’s the rub ! — She ’s a Boston girl from the very hub. The whichness of what and the whatness of why She dotes upon till I groan and sigh, And wonder a maid so fair should be So deeply versed in philosophy. F. W. Pierpont. THE WAY WE LOOK AT IT. SHIPPEN CLARKE.— You must excuse me, Hoyle, for having sent back that gift you sent me Christmas. I really could not accept so costly a thing, you know. STANFORD HOoyLE.— Tut, tut, man; my income is a hundred thousand. SHIPPEN CLARKE.— Yes, I know; but mine isn’t, you know. A POET’S WAIL. ‘’T was ever thus from childhood’s hour — I ’ve seen my fond hopes disappear ; I’ve always had a champagne thirst, But have to be content with beer.” A SISTER’S DUTY. Miss MITTENS.—What does this mean, Mr. Brotherton? MR. BROTHERTON.— These? Oh, these are just a few socks, underclothes and coats that need mending! Miss MITTENS.— But —? MR. BROTHERTON.—You promised to be my sister last night, you know; and my sister used to do all my mending before she was married. FROM PUCK. Tn ce | Nii a | SS =s —-= o> Te 1 A PLAIN STATEMENT. JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.— Prisoner, you were caught trying to enter a poultry yard at ten o'clock last night. Did you know it was a reprehensible offense ? Mr. GAMBRILL.— No, sah; I thought hit war a wooden fence, sah; but hit turned out to be barb wire, sah. A MATTER OF FORM. ARKLIGHT.— I see that you have shut off all the gas in your house, and are using nothing but candles. What is that for? DARKLIGHT.— Merely out of curiosity. 1 want to see if it will make any difference in my gas-bills. SAD, INDEED. ‘¢ See the effect of drink,” cried the orator. ‘*An empty home, an empty pocket.” «¢ And worst of all,” added the inebriate in the back row, ‘‘an empty bottle.” “VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF LIFE.” Horry (at the club window ).— Haw! Bah Jove, I’m tired of stahnd- ing at the window looking out this way. ROCKY (wearily).— Aw! so am I. Let’s cwoss to the window yondah, and look out some othah way! UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE. AUNT GREEN.— Have a piece of cake, Penelope. Take the biggest piece. PENELOPE (/rom Boston ).—Iimpossible, Ahnty; there are only two. LEGAL FITNESS. MR. MAYHEM (with his LAWYER'S dill in hand).— Sir, this charge is outrageous! His LAWYER (d/andly).— But so was the charge against which | defended you! y FANCY AND FACT. HOw OFT A vague presentiment Of coming ill depresses us, When if we’d but look back we ’d find ’T is breakfast that distresses us! HE PREFERRED THE EXPRESS. MoRRIS TOWNE.—I though. you said this watch had a train move- ment! JEWELER.— So I did. MorRIS TOWNE.— Well, it stops every five minutes ! JEWELER.— Probably it is an accommodation train! THE MAN with a handle to his name finds himself easily lifted up. THE CAREFUL MAN must be careful always. It is useless to-hide money in your boots, if you are in the habit of throwing them at stray cats.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 49 THE TRAGEDY OF RED GULCH. eal pi ens Whe PLEASE/)/ PAY aT THE WW A GENUINE BORDER ROMANCE. ‘“ | WILL TAKE lemonade.” The speaker was a slightly built man, below medium height, quietly but tastefully arrayed in a neatly fitting suit, that half revealed a lithe, sinewy figure, endowed with wonderful strength and activity. He spoke in a quiet, yet firm tone, and there was an omin- ous gleam in his eyes that boded ill to the bully who sought to dictate the nature of his refreshment. The latter, a typical desperado of the West, known as Irritable Johnson, so called by reason of the peculiar fragility of his temper, was of her- culean proportions, and towered far above the unassuming stranger. A casual observer would have deemed it mad- ness on the part of the stranger, to unite in combat with so powerful an antagonist. ‘¢T will take lemonade.” It is still the stranger; as this is the sole remark he makes, it is only fair to let him work it in twice. ‘¢Look ’e here, young feller, this yere’s no church soshable, er Sunday-school lay-out, ’n’ if yer ex- peck ter mingle with gents while yer tarry et these here diggin’s, yer gotter waltz right up tu ther bar ’n’ fill yer skin up with red eye, same ’s th’ rest uv us.” It was a dramatic scene; the two men, so strongly contrasted, facing each other in front of the rude bar, while grouped picturesquely about stood a dozen or more cow-boys, miners, stage villains, etc., enjoying the discomfiture of the stranger. MERELY TEMPORARY. «¢Wa-al, is it whiskey, er not?” demanded Irritable Johnson. There was a flash in the stranger’s eye that should have warned his BFS eo Ss 7 By | 2a re ——— ao CE tq ———— CUSTOMER.— For goodness's sake, where did you get that waiter? cowardly aggressor; the muscles of his face became set and tense; his PROPRIETOR. — That's Sangvolli, the juggler. It's shapely but powerful hands closed together with a vice-like grip, and he his dull season, just now, and he's filling in a little time seemed to be nerving himself for some superhuman effort. In a cold, hard with me. He's quite an attraction for the customers. voice, and between clinched teeth, he muttered ‘‘leminade;” then, quick as a flash, his right arm shot out straight from the shoulder, with incredi- k ble force, just failing to reach Irritable Johnson’s left eye, while his left UNFORTUNATE. hand administered a stinging blow to the atmosphere hovering near the bully’s right ear; then, with the ferocity of a tiger, his eyes ablaze, he per- mitted his collar to be seized by Irritable Johnson, who waved him vehe- mently about, with a rotary motion, which he alternated from time to time, with a vertical and somewhat eccentric shoulder exercise, that rattled the stranger’s recently clinched teeth, and recalled forcibly to the minds of the ‘¢ You ’ve broken that lecture item off nicely,” said the Editor to the Foreman. ‘¢ How so?” ‘¢ You ’ve cut off all the names of those present but two, and made me say: ‘Scattered through the hall were J. Bronson Smithers and Mrs. on-lookers the motion and accompaniment of a Spanish dance. Smithers.’” . At length Mr. Johnson deposited the stranger under an adjacent table, STUDIO AMENITIES. where inquiry developed the fact that he did not possess sufficient energy ‘There ’s one thing about you, d’Auber, that I can’t understand,” to even partake of diluted seltzer. said Scumble. Aside from the artistic excellence of this little prose pastel, we glean ‘«¢ What is that, old fellow?” therefrom the gratifying information ‘‘ That with your unequalled taste in art you that the casual observer, de- ; should have such a large collection of spite his traditional incompe- your own pictures.” tency in all matters demand- ing intelligent judgement, is not always fallacious in his surmises; also, that the Wild Western Terror occasionally reaches his destination. H. L. Wilson. A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING — The Old-fashioned Garret. A NERVOUS AFFECTION — A Man’s on the Eve of Proposal. = A RELIABLE TRADE-MARK— Hardened _ Hands. \ SWELL TURN-OUT — Convexity. LIFE Is the little «‘busy be!” MANUAL LABOR — Com- piling a Textbook. A STAGE NAME— Omnibus. SAGE- BRUSH —A Quarrel \ FRIEND INDEED — The cada Between Philosophers. Old-fashioned Quaker. HARD TO BEAT—Your Way. WE ALL RESPECT those who know more than we do; ees ne ef 7Y wut we don't wish them to run ‘THE CUP THAT CHEERS NOT at = “Tye INEBRIATES — Hiccough. ' Sy a our business. THE MAN who is a long time HER’ NATURAL PROTECTOR. A CANDIDATE FOR OFFICE is very making up his mind, may arrive OFFICER.— May I help you across, lady ? much like a drowning man. All ata correct judgement; but it is gen- Mrs. MoONTMORENCI.— Here comes my husband. the mean acts of his life are quickly erally too late to be of any use to him. OFFICER.—Well, the other policeman will help him over. brought up before him.

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NN pelea een Sa teil Se. ig ge Sa NR Te _— a a - i. ee , if \ i vy AGENT. F CLOTHING. ¥ ‘ 4 4 4 4 es 4) 2 : PICKINGS FROM PUCK. HOW HOSENTHAL AVOIDED A SUIT FOR DAMAGES.

Wy \

— oF LU Ly ae a I. Il. HELD HER TOO CHEAPLY. sie hiro]

‘¢ Sir, this familiarity must cease instantly!” ‘But, Alice — ” «‘I will not stand it! You call me the star of your existence, and then try to treat me as though I were a chorus girl.” | THE GREAT ORIGINAL. «¢ Who was the author of ‘Nothing To Wear’ ?” ; ‘¢ Eve, I guess.” ian UP IN THE ATTIC. ‘¢ Did you sit in the stalls at the opera?”

‘¢No. I was ’way upstairs, in the oper-attic.” IV. IN DARKEST NEW YORK. «¢ Why do they always take a prisoner’s money from him before locking him in a cell at the police station?” «¢So as to prevent him buying his way out.” HIS LENTEN SACRIFICE.

GE TLY THEY paced the busy street, With its windows all a-glow; ‘¢T have given up candy for Lent,” she said, In a tone intense and low. He could have capered and danced for joy, But he curbed himself in time, And softly whispered: ‘ You little saint, Your courage is just sublime.” ‘¢ But flowers,” she said, ‘‘I may still accept; ” Then he shivered with speechless fright, For flowers are dearer than candy, far, And he saw himself beggared, quite. But a sudden thought to his brain brought peace, ‘¢ How strange,” he sighed, ‘‘ are the powers That mold our will, for it happens, dear, I have given up buying flowers.” Madeline S. Bridges. BOUND TO JOIN THE FAMILY. JACK SMALLCASH (¢0 rich widow’s daughter).—Dearest Emily, will you be my wife? EMILY ROCKEBILT.— Oh, Mr. Smallcash! This is so very unexpected ! I think —I think — perhaps you had better ask Mama. JACK SMALLCASH.— I have, already, my love; but she refused me.

A FORBIDDING CHARACTER. ‘¢] don’t like the ossified man,” confided the fat woman in the museum to the living skeleton. ‘‘Nor I,” replied His Bonelets; ‘‘I can’t abide him. He never unbends.” MONEY IN IT. HuRLY.— What business are you in now, Burly? BURLY.— I’m a stock broker. HuRLy.—They say there ’s a good deal of money in that business. * BURLY (dolefully ).—Well, there ’s a good deal of my money. TOO MUCH LIKE WORK. BREEZY WHISKERS.— Hello, Burlap, what ’d yer get? BURLAP PETE.— A chicken an’ all the fixin’s. BREEZY WHISKERS.— Phew! Did yer get it fer nothin’? BURLAP PETE. — Naw;; I had ter ask for it.

NP, 6ENTrH,. @sEN ke OZ) © AGENT. bia e ELoreInes e GLoriine< HR) : = i) Nw i i f% ihe y III. CURIOUS TRANSFORMATION. ¢¢ What ’s that bird over there?” asked Araminta. oS EN ran ‘¢ That ’s a parrot,” answered the dealer. & Pp CLOTHING ‘¢] know that. I mean, how much is it?” ‘Oh! It’s an eagle.” NOT REMUNERATIVE. “It’s all very well to talk of writing for pos- terity,” sighed the poet; ‘‘but posterity is n't editing any magazines.” A GREAT MIND. ‘¢ That man has a wonderful memory.” ‘¢ How does he show it?” ‘¢ He never leaves his rubbers in a restaurant.” A QUESTION OF THE FUTURE. HE.— Shall we take the elevated cars or the underground, dear? SHE (lovingly and confidingly ).—The tunnel, love. AN IMPRESSIONIST. ‘¢ Almost all de Feuilleton’s work is so disjointed. His essays are always broken up by lines of stars. What’s the sense of that?” ‘¢ They indicate the places where he dipped his pen into the mucilage bottle, and stopped abruptly to make a few remarks. The stars represent the remarks. ” A SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION. ‘¢ What did Miss Leftover do when she awoke and found the burglar in her room—scream? ” ‘‘Not much. 5he transfixed him with her cold, gray eye, pointed to the door, and hissed: ‘ Leave me!’” ‘¢ What did the burglar do?” ‘¢ He explained that he had no notion of taking her.”

AME RIEA QI

A WEATHER VANE. BILL. — De wind 's nor’east, Jim. Jim. — How d’ yer know it is? BILL. — Git onto ‘‘ His Whiskers.”

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THE LAY OF THE LOCAL LYRE. Which impressed me as the product of a bard obscurely great. The sententious strength of Shakspere, Milton’s majesty it wore; Boldly beautiful as Byron, and as musical as Moore; Its opulence of noble thought, and rhythmic wisdom sage, Struck me like a revelation in this unpoetic age, And I felt the glorious rapture of a student of the sky When an undiscovered planet beams on his exploring eye! But my lofty hopes were shattered by an unexpected stroke, And a bitter disenchantment o’er my sweet delusion broke; For, precipitated rudely from Parnassus’s heavenly mount, Where my soul had bathed serenely in the Heliconian fount, I discovered that a bogus bard, with meretricious lyre, Had ingeniously ensnared me in his web of warbling wire, And decoyed me up the Olympian heights to bellow in my ear: «¢ Use McClusky’s Persian Plasters and your corns will disappear!” John Ludlow. COURAGE. W™" is true courage? People don’t half know. Two men facing each other with six-shooters, calmly and steadily awaiting the signal to fire. Is that courage? Some think it is; but I do not. I would not do it. An orator standing alone before a surging multitude, fearlessly utter- ing words which may goad them to fury — such words as ‘ pants,” for in- stance. That is courage; but how many think it? But fighting men and orators in the matter of courage are not the peers of gentle woman. Harry Earnlittle was engaged to marry a sweet girl who loved him for himself alone. She had one peculiarity among others, and ee this was a horrible superstition regarding =f] 4] ia } the number thirteen. (* 4 if Mee] BS She would never ee. [' sit down to a dinner table where covers : were laid for thirteen. She would never sit down to a multiplication table that had ‘‘thirteen times” in it. She was just as superstitious as that. She was twenty- five years old and had for years refused to be twenty-six; because twenty-six is twice thirteen. One day Harry, who well knew of this peculiarity in his betrothed, came to her with dismay and hope strug- gling in his countenance. ‘¢O Gertrude! Gertie! O my Trudy!” he exclaimed. ‘Is your horror of the num- ber thirteen as strong as ever? Speak, darling! Is it? Js i?” ‘¢What has happened, Harry? Tell me!” she cried, her face blanching slightly as something within warned her not to an- swer the question. «¢My uncle has just died,” said Harry, ‘‘and—and left me thirteen million dol- lars, and”——here hope struggled with dis- may again— ‘and I didn’t know, but perhaps you would want to break off the engagement.” She smiled like a June morning. ‘¢Harry,” she said; ‘¢my own Harry. When your happiness is at stake I can not falter;” and as she took him in her arms hope ceased to struggle with dismay forever more. That is where self-abnegating courage showed up strongly in a lady. But the quality even exists in children. ‘ ‘‘Willie!” said I to my little boy. ‘If you tear that book I shall whip you.” The little fellow gazed at me with a quiet smile, opened the book and tore out pages 6 to 11, inclusive. And Willie is but three years old. Courage! The yellow dog possesses it. The unthinker might say that the appearance of the yellow dog does not denote courage; but it does. It takes genuine courage for a yellow dog to make his appearance. Courage among the lowliest of the lowly! Even the worm will turn, will he not, some time? I do not know that he ever has yet. Courage! It exists even in inanimate objects. The gentle flowers will shoot if told to go to pot; and there is plenty of grit in common brown sugar, A VICTIM OF FATE. YounG LApy.—I suppose you are very busy at your office, Mr. Blotter. Mr. BLOTTER. — Yes, the cares and responsibilities of a mercantile career are many ; yet we have moments of leisure. If you will come down with your mother some morning, I shall be happy to show you over our building. Morris Waite, PICKINGS FROM PUCK. BEFORE TROY. GRECIAN SOLDIER.— Achilles has left us. We have lost our bravest man. THERSITES.— Humph! Any man can be plucky who is wound-proof ! A JOURNALISTIC BOOMERANG. ‘¢ The polls are now open in this office for a citizens’ vote to determine who is the biggest liar in this town. No public-spirited citizen will neglect the duty to vote.”—Avizona Bluffsheet. THE BALLOT: Editor Bluffsheet 2,994 +r a ee ee ee ee ee > ae ieee a Total 3,001 Mrs. Hicks. — That ’s a dreadfully uncouth trick of yours, brushing off the chairs before you sit down. It appears as though you were afraid you would get your trousers soiled. I was terribly mortified last evening. Mr. HicKs.— Never you mind, Mariar; I taught a district school for fourteen years before I married you. ALL Is FAIR in love and war — including many things which would other-wise be pronounced brunettes. ’ 1 iia THE WIND, as a rule, is very ill-tempered to the shorn lamb. 7] \ a\ eX 4 ( Unfortunately they chose a morning when, the porter being ill, Mr. Blotter's employer had delegated him to perform the above some- what humdle duty.)

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ip if I would hurt the town. CUT RATES. duced rates on the railroads for my In- remarked the traveling ” dians, showman. ‘¢ How do you manage that?” ‘¢] get them scalper’s tickets.” UNMOVED BY THE NEWS. WEARY RAGGLES (reading from a newspaper he has picked up ).—The new thousand-dollar gold notes are badly printed on inferior paper. TATTERED TOMKINS.—Is_ that so? It’s odd I have n’t noticed it. A CRITICAL CASE. ‘‘Jimmieboy has swallowed one of my poems,” said Rondow, in despair. ‘¢ That ’s all right,” said the Doc- tor. ‘Mush is good for children.” STRAINED RELATIONS. ARCHIBALD.— You are related to her by marriage, are you not? FRIGIDAY.—No; I’m her brother by refusal. A POPULAR RESORT— To Judi- cious Fibbing. ABSENCE OF MIND — The Disobe- dient Child, AN EARTHLY PARADISE. \Gusre.—1 thought the Boomtown people were in love with aby” their new minister; I hear he is going to leave. pA HUSTLE.—Yes; but he told the people they were go- Pk ing to perdition; and we thought if outsiders got onto it, it “I always get re- H CHEEKS aglow from kisses of the frost, She comes in breathless, bright, a little late, Fair as a dream, but pitiless as Fate. She struggles with her rubbers on the mat, Lays by her jacket and hangs up her hat, Pulls off her gloves, and sweetly thoughtful stands Beside the register, to warm her hands. I look up, at her soft ‘‘ good morning ;” then I mumble “ morning,” and lay down my pen. And then her task begins, and, like a Turk, I keep her — how remorselessly — at work! She ’s my typewriter girl, and I’m her ‘boss,” I hear her tell the bookkeeper I’m ‘ cross,” And ‘hard to please.” Great Scott! that is n’t it. If she could only know how hard I’m hit! Oh, yes, I scold you, dear; I nag and yell; Only because you please me far foo well; Also, because I ’d like to knock in two The tall young fellow who walks home with you. Madeline S. Bridges. IT W Blue laughing eyes, and shining hair, wind-tossed, you paint me one? SALESLADY (amiadly ).— Certainly, Madam. time, and we can copy it in any size or way that you desire. NEW WORK FOR DECORATIVE ART. BUYINGLADY (¢o SALESLADY).— I would like a coat of arms. Can Bring me yours an) BUYINGLADY (earnestly). — But I wish you to design me one. | have new] — : SQ \ / ‘i = ae ie. { ‘ oe A th Ws ae i, ( ; ( i hy i i Vdd ie “J ne eh Wht ih oa ( gL 48 21 Lie > U Ih ol | \ A PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATION. Mr. Howson Lotts.— Now, take our home industries, for example. Suppose the supply falls off, what happens? Why, the demand becomes stronger, and —”’ NEIGHBOR'S Boy.— Mr. Lott, your wife says if you don’t come home with those groceries right away she 'l] have to send out— and borrow something for supper, ~ TIT a (OS) Fe | ll " ys a eA RED . © g Ws y | UT) a\\ VE NV WAG yi + .A In SALESLADY (stifiy).—We design only em- broideries here — not families. A SLIPPERY OPINION. AMATEUR ACTOR.—Well, what did you think of my Hamlet ? CANDID FRIEND.— Er — um — ; well, to tell the truth, if I ’d been the old man’s ghost I ’d ha’ spanked you! DEAR YET CHEAP. HOFFMAN HoOwEs.—Howell Gil bon I heah is in hard luck lately and yet he still dwesses vewy well. H: must have a good fwiend somewhere Tom KNox.—Yes; it’s his trou sers-stretcher. A MARTYR FOR OTHERS. ‘‘Plodder is looking pale; he’s just killing himself with hard work.” «¢ What ’s he engaged at?” ‘‘Inventing a labor-saving ma- chine.” APTLY NAMED — The ‘Corner- stone” of the Stock Exchange. DID THEY write Hog Latin with a pig pen? A DOMESTIC TYRANT — General Housework,

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 53 ih ; ese I Ss’ me tay

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FORCE OF HABIT. Mrs. LAYTIN (waiting up for her husband).—What ts the matter, Molly? MOLLY (from the kitchen).—Och, Mum, there be thieves at the dure! Mrs. LAYTIN.—Well, tell them I am not at home.

BREAKING OFF CIGARETTES. PRESUME AND I trust that there is no one having a more terrible ex- [ perience with cigarettes than myself. I began to smoke them years ago, and they were the bane of my existence. It has seemed to me that if | could show young men an unfailingly successful way of leaving them off, it would be a duty well done. And I believe I am an authority in the matter; for, as I say, I smoked cigarettes for years, and I am smok- ing them yet. If a man would but consider the ills he is bringing upon himself. After smoking cigar- ettes for a time, he finds himself losing his light, elastic step; his eye-sight grows poor; his memory defective. The effects, indeed, are about the same as those of the vicious habit of growing old. And then the extravagance of the habit. Since I began to smoke I have worn over forty suits of clothes. How sad I used to feel when smoking cigarettes, in the knowledge that I was inviting disease; and yet it was hard to eschew the unwhole- some weed, because it seemed to make me so healthy. Ah! there lies the fatal charm of the constitution-wrecking cigarette —in its excellent effect upon the health.. So at least I found it. I grew healthier and healthier, and it became more difficult to break away from the habit which was de- stroying me in both body and mind. Were any of my readers ever beguiled by the voice of a syren? There is no music more likely to receive an encore. The syren of good health sang to me: my cheeks became rosy, my spirits light, my appetite un- swerving; and so I smoked, for there was no sober Mentor at hand to point out these signs of chronic invalidism. But while I was thus selfishly thinking of my own welfare, I forgot the comfort of those near me who, when I puffed the nauseous smoke, fled blocks away. Cigarettes are a deadly curse to those cnly who do not smoke them; and it is the ardent wish of the non-smoker raised into a glorious faith which attributes to the cigarette effects fatal to the smoker. But, alas, all that we wish for is not true. If it were, what a noble place were this world for a lively wisher and one or two chance survivors. We will now consider the methods of breaking the habit. One good way is to cultivate self-respect. But to a cigarette-smoker ‘If-respect is an impossibility, and the method is useless. Another good way is to shame yourself by reflecting that the habit brings you into the society of men who say ‘ cigareet.”. Another way is to smoke cigars for a few days, and then catch a whiff from a dude’s or a bootblack’s burning paper-stick. This cure is effectual, while at the same time it leaves a man able to resume the habit if he wishes to. How many poor but ambitious young men, who realize that their

only hope for success lies in good health, will thank me for what I have written. Young men, you are welcome. Be temperate in all things With your habits of smoking and drinking once overcome you will go forth into the world, (or if you are already in the world you will remain there,) and, striving with new vigor, you will lay up fame and fortune. Now is the time to choose your fortune, remembering that Nature’s motto is: ‘* Positively no goods exchanged.” Shall the coming meridian of your life be a time of poverty, of degradation of mind and spirit? Or, guided by bright-eyed sobriety, will you make it a time full of respect, free from care and supported by that handsome measure of worldly means which enables its worthy possessor to indulge freely in the best grades of cigars and liquors, and a carriage to take him home when he winds up the well- spent day at two in the morning? Young man, which shall it be? I will take the same. Williston Fish. THE PROOF OF IT. MORDLING.— That girl in the candy-store may be only a poor shop- girl, but she’s a true woman ! FAXxON.— I’m convinced of it, me boy! Why, only the other day I got her to break a dollar for me, and she handed back one dollar and seventeen cents in change! WANTED TO MOVE. WIpDow CASE.—So, straightening the state lin throws my land into Virginia, does it? Well, I’m powerful glad to get out of Callina — it’s a mighty unhealthy state, and a body naturally hates to live forever in the same place.

AND LASHINGS OF IT. ‘¢] should think poor Peckt would be mad to find himself tied for life to such a virago.” ‘¢ Yes; he’s lashed to a perfect Fury.” A WASTE OF RAW MATERIAL, OTHELLO.—The death of Miss Stajelevator was very widely discussed in the newspapers. IaAGo.—Yes; it’s a great pity she is n’t alive, to profit by the advertising.

Puck's ILLUSTRATED DEFINITIONS. ‘‘Great Cry and Little Wool.” RULED OFF! ’Gainst Father Time she ran a race For thirty years or more, But, sold to Cupid, lost her place, For doctoring the score!

‘Jaa _—— BY) a. il en a / aK / A} f] a Yi ~ ub ~~ ?, " —— Pla as: << SHE KNEW THAT KIND. AuNT FurBy.—Say, Silas, how do them there cars go ‘long without horses ? UNCLE SiILAs.— That stuff what Edison makes over in Jersey, makes them go. It's a kind o’ lightnin’. AuNnT FurBy.—Can’'t be Jersey lightnin’, Silas, or they would n't go ‘long so steady.

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TIME CHANGES. Grandma? able habit! if they carried pocket-books?” SAW HIM AND CALLED HIM. Mrs. Docoop. — Did you see the Elephant while you were in New York? Mrs. TYGER.—I did n’t; but my husband did. At least, when we got home he said one had stepped on his pocket-book. BEHIND THE TIMES. NANCY (to her cousin from the city).—Can you climb trees? MAUDE (frst visit to the country, in pained surprise ). — Have n’t you an elevator? HE HAD NEVER STRUCK A THEATRE PARTY. ROUNDER.— Did you ever hear a member of the ‘*400” talk? ‘ GROUNDER.— No; I always take a back seat, and go out between the acts. PEOPLE WHO LIVE in glass-houses should have plenty of sand, and know how to use it. |F THE SEAT of intellect is “ae” in the stomach, as some people have held, the two- headed girl must experience an awful disappointment in not being able to surprise her other half with a secret. «¢ AN’ PHWyY d’ yees cahl yer shtove an Injun range, Pat?” ‘¢ Faix, beca’se it’s a good hater.” AN EXPERT IN HAND- RIGHTING —The Mani- cure. A STITCH IN TIME—The 29th of February. — Courage, old chap, help is near — here comes my St. Bernard with the restoratives!— CHARLIE SLY (fo his GRANDMOTHER, who has a good deal more than her Bones to leave ).—Won’'t you do me the honor to take a pinch of snuff, His GRANDMOTHER.—Thank you, Charles; your air reminds me of the gentlemen I met during my own youth. His Two FASHIONABLE COUSINS (aside ).—The brute! Who would have thought he was addicted to that abomin- A LIVE ISSUE. ‘«‘ Do you believe our ancestors carried tails?” ‘* Botheration! Who cares? —It’s rather snowy now; but you ought to see this place in Summer ! — PICKINGS FROM PUCK. ONE OF THE POETS. «¢ THERE IS NO Joy,” he sung, and painted black All human kind, this pessimist deceiving ; ‘¢ There is no mirth, nothing but grief and grieving, Nothing save sorrows all along life’s track, Sore pains and pitfalls ;” (such alliterations Our poets most prefer who ape the fashion. ) With gentle verse, in musical gradations, (Will contest in the future. ) He reprobated every human passion ; And as he wrote, with satisfaction smitten, He thriJled with joy to read what he had written! J. D. Miller. A SNAP SHOT. MAuD.— George, please explain what you meant by telling Edith my A MIDWINTER VISIT TO LONELYVILLE. ae & eZ .\ Mr. E, Z. Pamence (who has brought a city friend out to stay over night ).—1 forgot to tell you, old boy, that we will have to walk. My horse is laid up with the heaves — —Take a good long pull; it "Il brace you up.— eyes reminded you of a cat’s. : GEORGE.—Why, simply, that to appreciate their beauty one must see Why don’t you ask them at night. AN UNVARNISHED ae EPITHET. “ Gj a ROWNE DE BouT.— / yh d So, Tom Knox was _™ §& talking about me, was loll he? I suppose he said I was somewhat of a de- bauchee, eh? Upson DOWNES. — No; he said you were a lush. A PARDONABLE MISTAKE. EDITOR.—What is that proof you have —the Morse alphabet? ASSISTANT.— No; an interview with a parrot. THE VERY THING. Miss TOPPIN. — This piece of ribbon was made to order. There’s not another bit like it in the world. Miss Hoppin.—I’m going shopping to-mor- row, and I wish you ’d lend it to me to match. BITTER COLD — An Absinthe Frappé. BEAUTY Is but skin deep, and frequently it hardly gets below the powder. A DANDY LUNCH — Water and a Cigarette at the Hotel Entrance. AN IMPROVED PROVERB — Marry in Haste and Re- pent at Chicago. Ny SSA HE MAN who has “a sight g of trouble” should go to an oculist. — Keep tight hold of my coat-tails, old fellow; it’s a little slippery just here.— Fs s zi Hale H eS > — My dear, allow me to introduce Mr, Grosvenor Flatts,

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. And on the bosom of the stream The green drake lingers in a dream. THE LONG-HEADED POET. E SEES the day in sunshine break Upon the lea, X While early blossoms softly wake (he On vine and tree, He hears the happy-hearted birds In chorus sing, He hears the leaves in lisping words Murmur of Spring, And raising high his deep bass voice The polka-dotted beeve rejoice. Along the gray stone-wall he sees The pale bloodroot, While up and down the apple-trees The squirrels scoot, And circus posters, grand, immense, Empurple all the high board-fence. Cloud-castles in the sky he notes In beauty shine, . While the old carpet flaps and floats Upon the line. He notes the glad sire, free from care, Pruning his offspring’s tangled hair. He hears the bullfrog’s shrill nocturne Beside the rill; He sees the flowers brightly burn Along the hill, Enameling the meadows green With color tender and serene. He leaves his harp upon the wall, Nor bursts in song — The poet ’s sharp and practical — His head is long; And this refrain rings in his soul : «¢ Another ton of furnace coal! ” R. K. M. BY A GOOD SIGHT. There would be fewer cases of love at first sight if more people were gifted with second sight. “a 5 ae TLL, 3) Ml NOT LIVING UP TO HIS CONTRACT. MINNIE. — Lord de Livérus, whom Clara Ducketts married in Europe last Summer, refuses to visit America with her. MAMIE.— How provoking! Afte: purchasing him, she is not allowed to exhibit him. Poor girl! 55 REALISM RAMPANT. ‘¢ Harkins weeps real tears on the stage.” ‘‘ Yes; and on hot nights he has real perspiration on his forehead.” NOT SO EASY. ARABELLA.— So Mr. Scairt has proposed at last! settled ! BERTHA.— Well, no, not exactly; I managed to get him to pop the question; but, somehow, he has n’t the courage to question the Pop. Then it is all EXPECTATION. In tireless whirl this earth is found Forever toward the morrow humming; The love that makes the world go round Must be the love of what is coming! —=--~ / sith. we TY THE EMPTY CRADLE. Mrs. MAEFURST.— What ave you unpacking that barrel for, George ? Mr. MAEFuRST.—I hear Dolph howling, and I suppose I must have packed him in with the feather pillows. NOT AN ELEEMOSYNARY INSTITUTION. PARTRIDGE.— They say Rustler puts up at the Central House. RHODES.— Of course he does! You didn’t suppose he got his room for nothing, did you? NOT ON TO THEIR CURVES. ‘¢So, you have been playing poker, eh? Did you play with straights?” ‘No; with crooks.” THE WORLD IS FULL OF THEM. CARRUTHERS.— Filkins seems to re- gard himself as a hero; on what grounds, I wonder ? WAITE.— He has no valet. HEALTH MAKES WEALTH; but with the physician this is only a theory. NATURALLY THE ‘nickel makes a hard smoke. cigar ” ILLUSTRATED ADVERTISEMENT. A young man moving in high cir- cles, who is in temporary embarrass- ment, would like a permanent position of some kind. Bounp OVER TO KEEP THE PEACE— The Borrowed Book that you have damaged. OVER THE GARDEN WALL — A Row of Spikes. A BRIDEGROOM is like a car-coupler. He is the most insignificant ob- ject in sight; but the thing can’t go on without him. ~

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A POSSIBILITY : =a — 73 ‘ Lr* .. eee y ‘ ’ ( WS we le \ / | i{ Ws : Mt | q Lh if ‘| *s ; Qh | ye ——(olife) wi STOR ‘* Move up forward IN STREET CARS. ABOUT LUNCHES. KNOW THAT I have n’t any business with that subject at all, and I know | as well as you that it’s entirely out of my line, and that it would be in much better taste for me to attend to my own affairs, and leave the preparation of picnic provender to those who are supposed to have a cinch on it, so to speak. But it does seem to me that I represent a large constituency which has a vital interest in the other end of the subject, z. ¢., the opening of the lunch basket. Ever since I was a little boy, and took my dinner to school in a tin pail, I’ve been meaning to write a few words on this subject; but other things have come up, as the man said who was sick at sea, and I have neglected it. How well do I remember the lunch I used to eat, under cover of my desk, in the ten minutes just before noon, so that I could put in the entire nooning ‘¢ working up” from third short stop to batter, just in time to get one belt at a yarn ball, with a piece of an old fence rail, before the bell rang to call us in to our studies again ! Ah, that lunch! How well do I remember it! It went all right then, but I would n’t eat a facsimile of it again now for much fine gold. I re- member it used to be laid into the little two quart tin pail, in regular courses as it should be eaten. There was the little saucer pie on the bot- tom, with the liberal slice of soft ginger cake resting on top of it, and well pressed down into the pie. Then there was the hard-boiled egg and the limp cucumber pickle on top of the ginger cake, and incorporated in its softness by the pressure of the two sandwiches just above, and the rosy-cheeked apple which confronted you first when the cover came off. But, as I say, it used to go well enough then. Nowadays, though, it strikes a terror to my soul when the average lunch basket is opened. Bah! Fruit, sandwiches, string bean pickles, salad, chicken wings and drum sticks, boiled eggs, jam and cream puffs, all packed in together tightly, to economize space. Bananas with sponge cake adhering, and turkey with a flavor of lemon jelly. Sandwiches with a strain of sweet tomato pickles running through them, and lady fingers stuck together in blocks of five. Ladies who are unexcelled artists in other cuisine preparations seem to fail someway when it comes to putting up a lunch. If I had n’t made up my mind to stop with a hint, I would suggest just what my ideal picnic lunch would be; but I refrain. But I tell you, sisters, many a good husband will be lost this year, just because of the way the lunch, which some sweet, fair girl has prepared with loving care, looks when the basket is opened. Ci harles Newton Hood. Puck's ILLUSTRATED DEFINITIONS. “Coming Down With the Dust.” OF MAN’s first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden vine whose luscious taste Makes him at 2 A. M. pull off his boot — ’T were needless now twelve thousand lines to waste. please!” . ENTERPRISING. DIME MUSEUM VISITOR (¢o BEARDED LADy). —I say, Mum, would n’t you like to turn a good penny by carrying a little side line? BEARDED LADY.—Well, what is it? DIME MUSEUM VISITOR. — It’s just this; you’d be just as big a curiosity in a moustache and Burnsides. Shave your chin, and take an agency to boom Lather’s Shaving Soap. I’m Lather, and I can fix ye out good. MADE HIM FEEL AT HOME. Mr. BOND.— Living so far from the city as you do, Miss Newburgher, you must see very little of your father. Miss NEWBURGHER.— Yes, he is n’t here very often; still, he seems quite like one of the family. TOO MUCH. A thrill of mortifying pain Darts through my large and lofty brain, When some young lady thinks That I can spend a futile night, And play with infantile delight, ‘« Progressive Tiddledy Winks.” Harry Romaine. NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES. CLERK.— A pair of our $3.00 shoes; yes, sir. Will you have the heavy or the light weight, sir? EMINENT THESPIAN.— Let me see—we open in Frostville Monday night; you may show me a pair of - the heavy weight, please.

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PICKINGS FROM PUCK. 57 a ha ane Cael ark ea AS, ». AS HER LITTLE GIFT. DEAR OLD AUNTY BUXTON. — Your father tells me you ‘ve bought a seat in the Stock Exchange, Burtis. I can’t see as well as I useter, an’ the stitches may be a trifle uneven, but I hope you'll like this tidy I 've made you to put on it. THE EVOLUTION OF A GREAT HOUSE. LL ORGANIC CREATIONS OF NATURE belonging to the highest order have approached their perfection gradually, and the period of this development embraces about one-third of the life of the species. Only in exceptional cases is this rule violated. This formula of nature applies as well to the spiritual and moral development as it does to the physical. The poet says that it was by the means of work only that the gods succeeded, and Lessing established the aphorism that “talent” means ‘“ work and will.” With these two elements, work and will, even the highest aims can be obtained and the greatest difficulties overcome. He who attains an aim has conquered in this struggle for existence; he survives as the strongest and the fittest. The observations of all intelligent persons have led them distinctly to notice that these truths apply to the development of art and the evolutions of all kinds of art industries, which have become particularly interesting for the reason that they have engaged the attention of such a large number of talented individuals. As soon as any great success has been achieved in one of these subdivisions of industrial life, the advantages and the gain that accrue attract competition and necessarily intensify the struggle for existence. As an application of an individual case we can instance the situation of the young firm of Sohmer & Co. about fifteen years ago. Piano manu- facturing already ranked high among the art industries of the country, both in regard to the quality of pianos made and the enormous amount of capital invested in the business. To embark in an enterprise in this field called for great courage and confidence — courage in recognizing the difficulties that would be encountered, and confidence in the ability ultimately to achieve success. Indeed, Messrs. Sohmer & Co., by entering the lists of competitors of the Universal Exposition in 1876 in Philadelphia, where they at once won a place of honor among old-established firms, demon- strated to the world that they were endowed with these necessary attributes of success. Looking back to their history we find that this was the only episode in their career that can be attributed to luck, and that the firm knew how to avail themselves of it through increased activity and indefatigable work is acknowledged at the present time both in Europe and in this country. The result was that they soon doubled and then trebled their production of fin- ished instruments. In an unprecedented manner they disclosed the ability to force recognition of their worth and the value of the article with which their name is connected so intimately. In furtherance of the plan and the scope of their operations, and with- out being or appearing to be obtrusive, they understood how to utilize the public temper, and where speech or the printing press did not suffice to enlarge the environment of their fame they took recourse to art, and neces- sarily sought the aid of the artist. It was no less a person than Mr. Joseph Keppler, who with his pencil depicted in brilliant strokes the triumph of the firm, and while honoring them honored himself. Who does not remem- ber those humorous cartoons, attracting at the same time the earnest atten- tion of the people, in which Franz Liszt and, again, Bismarck were depicted as sitting before a Sohmer Grand. What on these occasions the art of drawing and coloring accom- plished as a well-earned tribute to merit, the mouth-piece of public opinion —the daily as well as the periodical press— indorsed in numberless instances without the slightest hesitation. The Sohmers, one is almost prompted to say, are favorites of the press. They have never found it necessary to make use of apologetic puffs, as is usual in their branch of business; but, like cultured people, whenever they sent their card to the press, it was favorably received, and to-day the press returns its compli- ments to them. The growth of this establishment, even in this progressive land, is almost without parallel. From making 150 instruments per year, as they did in the beginaing, the firm now actually make and finish 2,000 pianos annually, and employ about 350 workmen all the year round. Their fac- tory building is located in Astoria, its dimensions being 100 feet front, 200 feet deep and six stories high. The lumber yards have an area of 30,000 square feet; but this does not represent all the space devoted to their es- tablishment, for on the corner of Fourteenth St. and Third Ave. they occupy, in addition to their splendid warerooms, a four-story edifice, in which can be found the polishers and the tuners of the firm, who add the last finishing touches to the parlor grand, upright and concert grand pianos that are shipped by the firm to all points of the compass. Square pianos, which but few people of musical taste now fancy, do not figure very largely in piano-making at this date. As to the artistic value of these instruments no weightier evidence can be adduced in their favor than that of the constantly increasing demand for them. No salesrooms in this line of business are so constantly crowded with purchasers, pianists, music teachers, and others interested in music as are those of Sohmer & Co. With his natural suavity and pleasing manners, the senior member of the firm, Mr. Hugo Sohmer, can be seen imparting information to both friends and strangers; and here also may be seen Mr. Joseph Kuder, the technical superintendent, as well as Mr. Charles Fahr, who has charge of the finances and advertising; and Mr. George Reichmann, in charge of the warerooms, as chief salesman. To what extent this immense work has been subdivided by these four partners, whose efforts have attained such gratifying results, can hardly be comprehended by the layman. The music trade press has paid a great and worthy tribute to their restless energy, to their indefatigable thought and activity, which are now universally recognized by all who come in contact with them. In accordance with the rules adopted to perfect their relations with the outer world, the firm have also thoroughly adjusted their own internal or- ganization. The four men who compose the firm represent an absolutely united body; united not by blind chance, but by the conscious feeling and the thorough knowledge of their high aims and purposes. It needs only a superficial observation to perceive that here exists a spirit of harmony sel- dom met elsewhere in spheres where men are supposed to co-operate for a common result. This i$ one of the reasons why the firm exercise such powerful in- fluences on their outside representatives, and through them upon the industry of the world at large and the masses from whom the piano pur- chasers are drawn; and these very influences make their relations to their competitors a unique example of the result of the highest mercantile ethics applied particularly to a line of industry in which the competition is so acute. Considering, as we have already stated, that the piano business at the time of the founding of the firm of Sohmer & Co. had already reached a highly flourishing state, making it exceedingly difficult for beginners to enter the field, the success of this house appears in contrast yet more brilliant, and places its members in the most favorable light. This light becomes the more intense in view of the fact that since the establishment of the firm a number of financial crises have swept over the land, throwing obstacles in the path of great enterprises, and crippling countless numbers of them. The labor troubles also, which, in many cases, paralyzed indus- try, and a few months ago this particular industry, must be taken into consideration. A These disturbances did not affect the house of Sohmer & Co. The business tact and commercial knowledge of the members of the firm enable them successfully to encounter at any time financial emergencies and workingmen’s demands, the latter always being met by them in a spirit of conciliation, without which industry does not seem to be able to prosper. Whoever carefully considers the remarkable career of this firm will understand how the house of Sohmer & Co. has reached its present pin- nacle of fame. qe

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FROM PUCK, PICKINGS MINE. NOT A SINGLE QUALIFICATION. «You speak of Adam and Eve as one of our first families; but you | MET HER on the Newport strand, make a great mistake.” When skies were soft and blue, “Why?” And led her by the lily hand ‘¢ They had no wealth, no education, and no ancestry.” The rolling sea into. We watched the moon serenely flood -A SWEAR - OFF. The waves with airy pearl, ‘¢] thought you were very fond of conundrums.” And she was mine, the blushing bud — ‘-Oh, no; I gave them up long ago.” That is— my Summer girl. |F THERE Is anything that can beat the clamor of a dog whose foot has She sent her card when back in town — been stepped upon, it is the bawling of the pessimist who can’t allow My heart was full of song, anybody else to be happy. When in her Japanese tea gown ° She poured the sweet Oolong. «« Wuy Do the front rows always glare And when October dyed the wood, W With held beaded aien? z ssid iin. 2 And made the leaflets curl, ** To let the girls who high hats wear She then was mine, though not for good — See what is on the stage,” said he. She was my Autumn girl. When Winter came in orders gray, And snow began to fall, I took her to the matinée And to the Charity ball. In ecstasy to music gay About the room we ’d whirl, And she was mine — that is to say — She was my Winter girl. And when the Spring, all gold and green, Hung roses on the tree, I met her at St. Augustine — Once more beside the sea. We watched suggestive orange-blooms Along the breezes swirl, She was amid these Spring perfumes My ownest — Spring-time girl. Oh, still she is my girl when Spring Is rich with flower and bird, And when the Summer ’s on the wing, And Autumn’s wail is heard, And when old snarling Winter his White banner doth unfurl, For keeps, to tell the truth, she is My all-the-year-round girl. : snahlaiiitnell.. R. K. MM. AN INSPIRATION. Mrs. PetTTIT.—Are all here, Phillips? PHILLIPS. — Yis, Mum! Mrs. Pettit. — Very well, Philips; where can we drive to-day that the dear creatures have not already been? PHILLIPS. — To the pound, Mum. WHEN WE CONSIDER the influence of the saloon in politics, we un- derstand what is meant by the saying: ‘‘ There is plenty of rum at the top.” “OUT OF SIGHT.” Pops.— Black eye, nose out of plumb, clothes torn! Been in a fight, have n’t you, my son? My Son.— N-N-No, sir. Pops.— What ’s that you ’re saying? Why, you must have been in a fight! Now, tell the truth. My Son.— Well, Pops, there was a fight, but I was n’t in it! NO CREDIT, ANY HOW. a bill Cora.—So Dora has invested in the LZ great marriage lottery. NorA.—Oh, dear, no! It was a straight business transaction. She paid cash down for her Duke. NOT IMMORTAL. ‘¢Do you think Patkins, the poet, will live 2” ‘¢ He may live, but his poems won’t.” Puck's ILLUSTRATED DEFINITIONS. * A COLLAR, LIKE a man, gets tight by having too much inside of it. “On the Stand.” SHEEPSKIN COVERS the law-books — sheep’s kin support the lawyers. A PRACTICE PULL. Mr. CINCH.— What is that jockey and the horse A RAILWAY RESTAURANT DINNER —The Fiend who Pounds the Gong. owner having that tug of war for? Mr. Tipps.—Oh, the jockey is only exercising for the next race. How pip Captain Jonah navigate the whale? By dead-reckoning, of course — or that ’s what the whale reckoned. >

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en 4 NS A 7 i \ Painless. Effectual. : 4 _ 2 ; i In many towns where this wonderful medicine has been | — Phen s Lede Lau boathy introduced, and given a fair trial, it has abolished the family medicine chest, and been found sufficient to cure nine-tenths Gocee, an of the ordinary complaints a to ae | and when I ; , by ] diseases of months and years are thus removed or palliated in Steep hve a | a few days, it is not wonderful that Beecham’s Pills should | Ao hed een and i maintain their acknowledged popularity in both hemispheres. H AMeasrern. i They cost only 25 cents, although the proverbial expres- ! Fhore : | sion all over the world is that they are ‘‘ worth a guinea a i S Cte ue i box,” for in truth one box will oftentimes be the means of | heer te | —_____—_ | SRE LE ] | |] REMenen THAT EECHAN'S PuLS 32 | saving more than one guinea in doctor’s bills. A WONDERFUL MEDICINE Tony Weter COCOA BILIOUS AND NERVOUS DISORDERS | “‘BEST & GOES FARTHEST.” The Standard Cocoa of the World. A Delicious Beverage, Stimulating and Invigorating. PERFECTLY PURE. Van Houten’s Patent Process utilizes in the highest possible degree all the flesh-forming elements, while highly developing the flavor and aroma. Sold in 1-8, 1e4, le-2 and 2 Ib. cans. 4@ If not obtainable, enclose 2s5c. to either Van Houten & Zoon, 106 Reade Street, New York, or 45 Wabash Ave., Chi- ©, and a can, containing enough for 35 to 40 cups, will be mailed. Mention this lication, Prepared only by Van Houten & Zoon, Weesp, Holland. dx. TITE, DIGESTION, | DISORDERED LIVER AND ALL KINDRED DISEASES, : Prepared only by Thos. Beecham, St. Helens, Lancashire, England. B. F. Allen Co., Sole Agents for United States, 365 and 367 Canal St., N. Y., who (if a druggist does not keep them) will ma‘l Beecham's Pills on receipt of price, 26c.— ut inquire first. THE GREAT ENCLISH COMPLEXION SOAP. ESTABLISHED OVER 100 YEARS.— 20 INTERNATIONAL AWARDS.

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re) — IND aes —$$—_/ Wl | "4 | Pa roa 32) WHR Y — | ONLY ONE WAY. NELLy.— I don't see how we can ever get over! May.— I do— but I hope no one else will. A MAY MORNING. THE maid, to ’scape a tanning, doth Her dainty face defend ; But tanning to escape, the boy ; the happy winds are roving far and free! Sentiiinn the eter end Nature smiles. The streams are moving — s so are we. Come; with flowers the leas are splendid — blossomed gay — Ah, alas, our lease was ended yesterday ! In the sky, cloud rents are letting azure through; Down here, also, rents are getting rather blue. Come, come forth! To some sweet shtot, oh, let ’s Gepart ; Yes, we will. In fact, we’ve got to — here ’s the cart. Madeline S. Bridges. ADVICE CHEERFULLY GIVEN. VOWELLS.—What would you suggest as a preface for my new book? GROWELLS.— Say that, owing to a press of matter, the story was unavoidably crowded out. AN INDICATION. ‘¢ Why do you think Georgie will make a good amateur athlete?” ‘*Why? Because he is so quarrelsome.” A *BAD LOOKOUT. NEIGHBOR.— I hear your father is sick. What has he got? SMALL SON.— He’s got the doctor. pot eeee, eaee’ AN UNDERCUT. : JENNY (at the window).—There go Clara and Tenie. I don’t like those girls. KiTTy.— But you must learn to like them, dear, now that you are engaged to Tom. JENNY.— What has that to do with my liking or disliking them? KiTTy.— They have both agreed to be sisters to him. VE Po 2 A i ar at tm cal ..= terre 4 VERY SWELL. NOT AN EXTINCT RACE. S T h h is > AMERICAN TOURIST.—What is that mammoth hat for? UNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER.— Johnny, who was the prodigal son? -~ap advettioninent, E sagpes. JOHNNY.— Oh, that was the fellow who went away a dude and came LonDoN SHOPMAN.— Oh, no, sir — we ‘ve just made it back a tramp. to order, sir, for Mr. Rudyard Kipling, sir!

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Introduction . The Landlord's Tale The Fiddler's Tale . The Spiritualist'’s Tale The Detective’s Tale. The Boston Girl's Tale OTHER TALES: The Bunco-Steerer's Christmas Aladdin . ‘ ohn Coppertug’s s Fall . The Assemblyman's Bride . The Deserted House ie Two Old Crones : By JAMES Is. FORD. Lish’ Pogram’s Thanksgiving Hog Beanville Jomection

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This interesting collection of Tales, Hypnotic and other, that attracted such widespread attention can not fail to meet with a hearty welcome by an appreciative public. CONTENTS. HYPNOTIC TALES; (ustrated by C. Fay Taylor.) Page. Page. - &| The aaa Business Man's 7 57 15 | The Rich Presbyterian’ s Tale 69 25 | TheGenial's Tale .. 79 37 | The Chaperon's Tale . gl 47 | The School-boy’s Tale . 103 (Mlustrated by F. Opper, C. $ay Taylor, S. B. Griffin, L. Dairymple.) Page. Page . 113 | The ae Gift . . 179 . 119 | In the ‘ ‘and Out a . I29 | Tne Bvclation of the Humorist . 187 . 147.. The Curiosities’ Christmas . 195 . 155 At the Chromo-Literary Reception . 201 . 161 The Master Thief . - + 209 . 167 , An Undiplomatic Diary . 215 - 173 “Puck,” “HYPNOTIC TALES” are delightful Summer reading, and you will add a great dea! to the enjoyment of your vacation by taking a copy with you. For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers. Mailed by the Publishers on receipt of price. Address, Remit by Money Order, Postal Note, or THE PUBLISHERS OF iT Puck,” United States Postage Stamps. NEW YORK.

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pmanrtiaeinasil cepa S gat wkeeweitidae a pat ager eee ot aan Mn tv ‘*EIN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” * By C. Jay Taylor. $ ONE $ *‘IN THE * 200° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. S ONE $ **IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. 8 ONE $ ** IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. 8 ONE 8 ‘* IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. S ONE 8 * FIFTH CROP Everything new! FOURTH CROP Dear Reader: Here's PICKINGS FROM PUCK, Number Four, A volume to make you feel hoppy and roar. There are sixty-four pages, all And the cuts are the finest that PUCK ‘s ever done. PICKINGS FROM PUC But of all these Budgets of mirth and jest, The latest, we think, is a little the best. And so out your little round QUARTER you chuck, Everything new! Here's PICKINGS FROM PUCK, 5TH CROP, for you! Full of giggles and roars and smiles, With little snickers chucked in ‘tween whiles; And not a giggle, a smile or a roar That you met in One, Two, Three or Four. Every Crop in itself is a host. And we can not quite tell which you'll like the most — PICKINGS FROM PUCK, 5th Crop, is for sale by all Newsdealers at 25 cents. By mail from the Publishers on receipt of 30 cents. Oh, this is a PICKINGS brand-new! As you'll see /t contains not a thing that's in ‘‘ One,” ‘‘Two" or ‘‘ Three.” It's as bright as the dew on the creamy tea-rose, blooming with fun, And as fresh as an infant's uncolicked repose. Lf your mind is depressed, and your feelings are blue, PICKINGS FROM PUCK, FIFTH CROP And cavort away with your PICKINGS FROM Puck! FOURTH CROP And you feel as worn-out as an old broken shoe, Will a» Oh, we PICKINGS FROM PUCK, 4th Crop, is for sale by all Newsdealers at 25 cents. By mail from the Publishers on receipt of 30 cents. Why, here's the collection of jokes and cuts that ou a-laughing and make you grow fat. ow you ll be grateful, t , just for good luck, You purchase the Fourth Crop of PICKINGS FROM Puck! **PUCK’S OPPER BOOK” is a pamphlet of humor issued from the office of the famous “ PUCK.” Mr. Freperick Oprer is one of the very few genu- inely comic artists in this country, and of this limited number he is probably the funniest. His pictures are funny enough to make a laugh come without the These drawings, reprinted from *“*PUCK,”’ form a handsome album of some of the drollest ideas that have flowed from Mr. Opper’s pencil! during the past ten years, and the person who pays thirty cents for the “‘ Book”’ will easily get his money’s worth.—Norristown Herald. aid of letter press. Do you want to laugh? To laugh real hard? Very, very hard? Hard enough to cure that attack of indigestion ? Well, you want to purchase, right away, ** This Funny World, as Puck Sees It,’’ which consists of pictures in colors and black -and- white, by Frederick Opper Not only is there fun in the pictures and the text, but there are sly hits innumer- able, and chunks of sugar-coated wisdom which are easily digested.— Boston Times. “IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. ‘*IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. ‘* IN THE ‘200° AND OUT.” By C. day Taylor. One Doliar. ‘*IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. “IN THE ‘400° AND oOouUT.” By €. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. ‘*IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. SIXTY-FOUR PAGES OF Pictures in Colors and Black-and-White, By Frederick Opper. Reprinted from PUCK. By Mail from the Publishers of PUCK on Receipt of 35 CENTS. THIRD CROP “Th N s 30 cts. per copy. PICKINGS FROM PUCK as Puck Sees it,”’ GOOD FUN LASTS FOREVER! Tuts Funny, Funny Wor.p. As a genuinely ‘ comic’’ artist, Mr. Frederick Opper, of Puck’s staff, stands at the head of his profession. The fun of his designs is apparent without the aid of explanatory text, as any one can see by consulting “ This Funny World, reprinted from Puck. —Norristown Herald. THIRD 5 CROP _ Beautiful as the Day and Entrancing as the Gazelle-like Glances of an Oriental Houri. PICKINGS FROM PUCK, 3rd Crop, is for sale by all Newsdealers at 25 cents. By mail from the Publishers on receipt of 30 cents. Sor, «6PICKINCS FROM PUCK, ‘%ER3P° Consists of Rare Gems of Wit, Airy Flights of Fancy, and Beauteous Bursts of Song. PICKINCS FROM PUCK, 2nd Crop, is for sale by all Newsdealers at 25 cents. By mail from the Publishers on receipt of 30 cents. * chor PICKINCS FROM PUCK, [3 Are the Pick of the Gems of Thought and Fancy and General Goatfulness of Puck. PICKINGS FROM PUCK, Ist Crop, is for sale by all Newsdealers at 25 cents. By mail from the Publishers. on receipt of 30 cents. The FIVE Grops of PICKINGS FROM PUCK by mail, to one address, $1.25. Address all orders to ‘‘ The Publishers of Puck,’’ New York. ‘IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. 3 ONE 8 ‘‘IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. S ONE 8 ‘IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. 8 ONE 8 ‘*IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Tayler. ‘(IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. S ONE $ GOOD FUN LASTS FOREVER! 30 Cents. By MaiL, 35 Cents. **‘IN THE ‘400! AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. ‘‘IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. ““IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar, “(IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. *‘IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Doliar. “(IN THE ‘400° AND OUT.” By C. Jay Taylor. One Dollar. *

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Toe PLEASANT VALLEY WINE CO. Rheims, Steuben Co., N. Y. This is the Finest Champagne produced in America, and com- pares favorably with European Vintages. A Natural Genuine Champagne, fermented in the bottle, two years Of all the sinates of their immense establishment = deserves to be aK above the Shandon Bells Toilet Its growth iR _ been phenomenal, ood is based Kl which when thor oughly known most popular Soap iv the All those who are say now that it is recom- fort in pation. which imi- tators will “cS nduced to S nearly so plea ath or toilet a son why they car hey should not get astonish to which ‘out loo! Bhan yi it | 4 re to ast Go rr pureliass\y () aves nD pA bie oe OTHER “ie fe h ie cobs probe peLich Pek in the world for all. It is eold everywhere, opor ACG ts Ifit cannot be obtained at your store send 25 cents in stamps to the manufacturers Jaa S. Kirk & Co.. Chicago, Ill, and a cake will be gent by return mail. i. manufacture Shandon Bells, the only perfume being Wine. required to perfect the Our Sweet and Dry Catawba and Port are like all. our Wines, made from Selected grapes, and are Pure Wines. For prices, address D. BAUDER, Secretary. THE CHOCOLATE GIRL. — Possibly most of the people who are familiar with the picture of the chocolate girl, used for so long as an adver- tisement — a reproduction, in colors, of which appears on the last-cover page of this book — On the portrait of a think it a creation of some artist’s fancy. | the contrary, it is a portrait, very pretty Viennese woman, and has a romantic story attached to it. It seems that some years ago a young German student of noble birth fell in love with the pretty chocolate zirl who served him with this delicious beverage in a Vienna café. She was a respectable girl and he an honorable He felt proud of her humble origin, and had her portrait painted gentleman; and he married her. by a famous German artist in the picturesque cos- tume she wore when he first met her; and this | portrait is now among the most valued art treas- | | ures of the government. HUWKEE The LEADING all-around Camera Uses regular Dry Plates which are sold everywhere, or Trans- parent Film for 25 to 100 Pictures without reloading. WE DEVELOP AND FINISH THE PICTURES WHEN DESIRED. THE BLAIR CAMERA CO., Boston, Mass., also makers of the Branches: 208 State St., Trade Agents, New York. = other er Apparatus. & H. T. ANTHONY & co., Also aati by all Dealers in Photo Goods. “THE TENOR.” “COL. BRERETON’S AUNTY.” “A ROUND-UP.” “THE LOVE-LETTERS OF SMITH.” “THE NICE PEOPLE.” “Wir. COPERNICUS AND THE PROLETARIAT.” “HECTOR.” “A SISTERLY SCHEME.” Illustrated by C. JAY TAYLOR. ALL BOOKSELLERS. Prices $15 [) $50. KAMARET, Chicago. 918 Arch St., Phila. Send for the Hawk-Eye Booklet. as external, as we *£ja013 usualy outkpouy S.UOSUYOL 281) *MOTIOJ SpjOd puv UIST}eUINaYI $7907 49% “4217p “QeNIg ‘VGNVUOWSW ATIVG GNY Instant relief for cop by using Johnson’s Anodyze Liniment Resolves that Vanish in Smoke, Most fickle month of JANUARY, With thaws and snow and rain; The broken vows and faithless words That fill thy days, are vain, And open cause for just complaint That from such weak example Man ever learns deceit and guile Whereon our faith to trample. [From “ JUDGE,” New York.; “The above illustrates one page of a serio-comic take-off upon each month of the year, as taken from a 36-page vest pocket memorandum book published by the manufacturers of that old household remedy Johnson’s Anodyne Liniment. It will afford amusement and useful daily memoranda, and is profusely illustrated in a happy vein.” You ought to be ~“ to get this k from any dealer in medicine. If not send to us and we will send you one coaled a, postpeld. fo for a twocent Stamp. Ask your dealer first. & COo., 22 Custom Tkouss St., Boston, Mass. Sunburn + Chafing + Dandruff Bites Prickly Stings Heat PACKER’S TAR SoaP By its use Irritations of the Skin, com- mon in summer, are Speedily Relieved. ‘*A Luxury for Shampooing.”’ Medical Standard, Chicago. ‘¢ It Soothes while it Cleanses.’’ Medical and Surg. Reporter, Phila. ‘‘ The Best for Baby’s Bath.’’ Yhristine Terhune Herrick. 25 Cents. All Druggists, or THE PACKER MFG. CO. 100 Fulton St. N.Y. in Boarns, $1.00. in Paper, 50c. 282 pp. 16mo. tories the candle burns’ ; ‘ “ Z0Z0.” “AN OLD, OLD STORY.” Illustrated by C. JAY TAYLOR. “THE TWO CHURCHES OF 'QUAWKET.” Illustrated by F. OPPER. “ZENOBIA’S INFIDELITY.” “THE NINE CENT-GIRLS.” Illustrated by SYD. B. GRIFFIN. C By mail from the publishers on receipt of price. Address: Puck, N. Y.

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FOUND AT RED GULCH TAVERN. By Br-T H-RTE. CHAPTER I. T WAS the month of July in the Tavern at Red Gulch, California. It should not be necessary to remark that it was also the month of July through- out the entire state. wat Pretty Sal Severns had just served drinks to Gentleman Joe, the gambler, and a half score of miners and loungers, seeking shelter from the somewhat sunny sun. ‘¢Well, Sal, how goes it?” said Joe. ‘¢Slow enough,” replied the girl, moodily. ‘«‘ Ain’t things exciting enough for yer?” ‘¢Oh, thar ’s life enough here in one way —I mean thar’s jest ez many murders as ever; but thar ain’t be’n any good old- fashioned recognitions here since Black Leg Jack diskivered that Red Handed Jim had be’n his Sunday-school teacher in the States. I’m jest pinin’ fur a recognition.” Joe laughed, and holding up a glass of molten fire, said: ‘‘ Well, boys, here ’s a-hop- ing that Sal will recognize a rich husband before the year is out.” As they set down their glasses, a clattering of hoofs was heard coming down the mountain road, and Joe meandered lazily out to greet the arrival of the mail coach from Little Spoon Fork. CHAPTER II. A minute later the stage, driven by Grizzly lke, stopped in front of the Tavern. Jumping lightly from his seat by the driver, the only passenger, a well built, stylishly dressed man, entered the bar-room, which was also the office of the Inn, followed by Gentleman Joe. Stepping up to the desk, he wrote (by hand) his name, Mark Stillson, on the register. For although it was a hot day, the register was open. He then said that he guessed he would go up to his room and wash for dinner, an intention that stamped him as an Easterner in the minds of the loungers. Turning to go upstairs, he threw a Bostonese kiss to Sally. It missed her and struck Gentleman Joe on the cheek. ‘‘ Who threw that icicle?” PICKINGS FROM PUCK. he demanded, angrily; but on consulting his vest-pocket thermometer, which re- gistered 120 degrees, he felt that he must have been mistaken in the nature of the missile, and treated all hands again. On _ reaching his room, Mark Stillson’s thoughts were of Grizzly Ike. ‘¢My relatives all died when I was a baby ; but that is he —jit must be he.” Grizzly Ike, the person referred to, on driving off to stable his horses, said men- tally: ‘¢Durn my skin, ef I ever had any kin; but ef thet thar dude ain’t him, I’m a Digger Injun!” } CHAPTER III. Half an hour later, Grizzly Ike stood, with all hands, at the bar. ‘¢ Boys,” said he, ‘‘hats off, and drink to the health of Sally, the purtiest posey in Tuolumne County!” As the rough, but handsome stage-driver stood there uncovered, with the crowd surrounding him, Mark Stillson entered the room. Now that he had washed, he was indeed a handsome man. As he advanced to the bar, Sally was struck with his remarkable resemblance to Grizzly Ike, and uttered an exclamation of surprise that was taken up by all in the room. Gentleman Joe leaned over the bar, and whispered to Sally: ‘¢I reckon it’s goin’ to be an old-fash’ recognish, this trip.” «¢ Wal, I jest hope so,” she replied grinning. The stage-driver looked searchingly at the new-comer. Mark Stillson eagerly scanned the weather-beaten features of Grizzly Ike. A silence that was sepulchral reigned, broken only by the per- fectly gratuitous ticking of a clock that was seven hours and sixty-seven minutes slow. For fully two minutes the two men eyed each other, while conflicting emotions flitted across their mobile faces. Then, stifling down a sob, each, as if moved by a common impulse, rushed into the other’s arms, crying, ‘‘ Father!” Chas. Battell Loomis.

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PUCK’S LIBRARY PUCK’S LIBRARY PUCK’S LIBRARY. An Illustrated Humorous Magazine, Published on the 15th of each Month. 10 CENTS PER COPY. $120 PER YEAR. The following Numbers have appeared and can ALWAYS be obtained from Newsdealers, or from the Publishers on receipt of the price, 10 cents per copy. PUCK’S LIBRARY PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 6: PUCK’S LIBRARY Being Puck’s Best Things About Base-ball. Being Puck’s Best Things About that Afflicted Creature. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 7: PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 3: Being Pucx’s Best Things About the World of Fashion and Frivolity. Print.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About Being Pucx’s Best Things About Our Household Angels. the Merry Rustic and His Ways. NEVER PUCK’S LIBRARY “Out of PUCK’S LIBRARY PUCK’S LIBRARY No. il: !Being Puck’s Best Things About that Amoosin’ Animile. PUCK’S LIBRARY No, 8: Being Puck’s Best Things About that Abode of Happiness. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 13: Being Pucx’s Best Things About the Great American Servant Girl. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 18: Being Pucx’s Best Things About The Wild and Wooly Wilderness No. 9: Being His Own Record of His Doings and Sayings. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 14: Being Pucx’s Best Things About Our Colored Sassiety. No. 10: ‘ Being Pucx’s Best Things About The Great American Traveler. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 15: Being Puck’s Best Things About the Busy World of Trade, PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 163 Being Pucx’s Best Things About the Merry Metropolis. Being Pucx’s Best Things About the Ubiquitous Younger Brother. LOADED with Pictures. 20.—* Hi’ Art.”’ Being Puck’s Best Things About The Eccentric and Interesting Children of Genius. 21.—“Very Young Man.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About That Fresh and Frolicsome Citizen. 22.—“ Show Business.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Artistes and Fakirs. 23.—** Best Girl.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Other Fellows’ Sisters. 24.—*Onm the Road.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About Travel- ers, Tourists, and Their ‘T'ribula- tions. 25.—*“Out Doors.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Summer Sports. 26.—*-F ly-Time.”™ Being Puck's Best Things About the ‘Lorrid Term. 27.—“‘All At Sea.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Fresh -Water Fairies and Sad Sea-Dogs. 28. — “Snap - Shots.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Any Thing and Everything. 29.—**’Round Town.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About Those Who Go Up and Down in the Great Big Town 30.— “Fun at Zero.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Winter Sports. 31. — “ Household Happen- ings.” Being Puck’s Best Things About the Fun and Fancy of Home Jife, 32.—“ Job Lots.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Business Busts and Booms. 33.—** Freaks.” Being Puck's 3e~t Things About Fantastic Folks and Fads. 3 34.— “ Ups and Downs.” Be- ing Puck’s Best Things About Life, Luck and Lucre. 35.— ‘* Profesh.”’ Being Puck’s Best Things About Intellectual In- dividuals and Their Idiosyncrasies. 36. — “ Darktown Doings.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Afro (and other)-Americans. 37. — ** Kids.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About the Junicr Genera- tion. 38.— “Banco.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Crooks and Uprights. 39. — “Human Nataur’.” Be- ing Pucx’s Best Things About That Curious Customer, Man. 40.—“Duamb Critters.” Be- ing Puck’s Best Things About The Humorous Side of Animal Life. 41.— “Just Landed.” Being Puckx’s Best Things About Folks from Faraway. 42.—‘*Chow Chow.” Being Puck’s Best Things About This and That. 43.— “Cold Days.” Being Pucx’s Best ‘Things About Chilly Chunks of Frosty Fate. 44.—* Dollars and Cents.” Being Pucx’s Best Things About The Scramble for Scads, 45.—“All im the Family.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Uur Happy Households. 46.— “Togs.” Being Puck’s Best Things About Rags, Tags and Vel- vet Gowns. 47.—**Here and There.” Be- ing Pucx’s Best Things About Happenings in Both Places. 48.—* Across the Ranch.” Being Puck’s Best Things About The World on Wheels. 49.—* Fads and Fancies.” Being Puck's Best Things About Various Vanities. Address all Orders: THE PUBLISHERS OF PUCK, N. Y. Being Puck’s Best Things About Americans of Ail Nationalities. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 12: Being Pucx’s Best Things About the Country of the Commuter. PUCK’S LIBRARY No. 17: Being Puck's Best Things About Mothers-in-Law and Other Matrimonial Matters PUCK’S LIBRARY No, 19: Being Pucx’s Best Things About Book-Agents, Barbers and Other Bores.

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[/:stablished 178o0.| “LA BELLE CHOCOLATIERE”: W. BAKER & C0.°S Registered Trade-Mark. No Chemicals are used in any of Walter Baker & Co.'s Chocolate and Cocoa Preparations. These preparations have stood the test of public approval for more than one hundred years, and are the acknowledged standard of purity and excellence.

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