I
2
THE BISHOP’S GUEST.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
The. snow had settled on the west-
ern country like a white cloud, and the
keen north wind had frozen it over
crisply. The air had the touch of win-
ter, and the breath of Jack Frost was
everywhere. The Diamond Central,
the fast express on the Northern Pa-
cific, a trifle late, and speeding rapidly
to make up its lost time, was whirling
past mile posts and flag stations on its
way westward. It carried, besides its
mail, express and baggage cars, a smo-
ker, a day coach and a couple of sleep-
ers. When they stopped at Bismarck,
a man got out and went into the tele-
graph oflice. He Wrote his telegram
slowly and without a qualm. He had
telegraphed to Miles City just before
leaving St. Paul. This second mes
sage he sent to make doubly sure:
“Mary is ill. I am going to see her.
Send mail to oflice. How is ‘Villie?
J. IV. BROWN.”
He addressed it to William Martin,
Medora, N. D. It read easily. to the
men who received it:
“I go to Denver. Money 0. K. Train
No. 2. Three in express car. Bill
Thompson on engine.”
Then he went back over the slippery
platform and climbed in on the end of
the sleeper. He was well above the
average height, and broad and square
through the shoulders. His jaw was
clean cut and strong, his chin clipped
at the corners, where a long, jagged
scar ran from it down across his
throat. His eyes were indolent and
curiously luminous, his brows heavy
and brown. He stood smoking idly,
his mind full of" the outcome of his
many days, of skilled investigation. He
had shadowed the money step by step,
from the bank to the express wagon,
from the station agent to the train
agent. And "then he had sent word to
Miles City, so that the men could get
down to Medora; from there they
could reach the chosen point on horse-
back. The day had seemed endless to
him. He knew the men were waiting
impatiently as he, and he felt sure
they had cursed him for his tardiness.
He shrugged his shoulders wearily.
looked ahead of him, and he saw a
high, curiously shaped car, which they
were backing to meet. After it was
coupled and they had started, he could
see into it, and he caught a glimpse of
the bishop’s tall figure. As he leaned
forward, interested, he saw a Christ-
mas tree. . ' ,
fi He was a man of impulses, and he
E
—d« WEEKLY
sible; and once on a visit in the east
[ spoke of it in asermon, and after-
ward two men whom I knew came to
me and said they would build it, and
they made it as complete as they
could, bless them. I take it from town
to town, and have service in it. And
today I am trimming a. Christmas tree
for the children at Medora, Where I
am to have services tomorrow. 'May
I ask your name, sir?” '
“BI'OWD,’ ’ said ,the man slowly.
“John Brown. Ca‘n’t I help you trim
the Christmas tree?"
“I shall be indebted to you if you
will,” said the bishbp. “Shall we be-
gin, or will you finish your cigar here
first? I have never smoked in the
chapel.”
“Surely not,” said Mr. Brown. “I
will throw it away,gor we will begin
at once. It interests me more than I
I can tell you, this car. It seems more
like practical Christianity, and that is
what the world needs.” ’
He and the bishop. worked together
cheerily. He draped the frosted moss
and the strings of popcorn carefully,
' a hundred thoughts in his head. He
could fairly see that'eager group of
men, drinking, smoking, cursing, wait
ing, probably playing poker to pass
the time. And here such peace—such
restful peace.
Brown fastened a tin trumpet firm-
ly. “I fancy ydur Christmas will be a
happy one, for you will be surrounded
by those with whom you have worked
and lived. And I shall have no one
to even give a Christmas present to,
unless you will let me give this gold
The bishop thanked him warmly.
“Now I am quite content.” he said.
“I needed one more gift, and I wanted
it a very nice one. It is for a little
girl who is very ill and who cannot
walk, and she longs for a large dolly,
with flaxen curls and eyes that open
and shut, and this will give it to her—
poor little Florence—”
“Florence,” he said, “is that her
name? I should like to give you this
too, for her. \Vill you get her some-
thing else she wants?”
“I am afraid you are robbing your
self,” said the bishop.- Brown smiled.
“I am not robbing myself,” he said.
“I earned that quite honestly by writ-
ing a story for one of the papers, and
I would like the little girl to have it,
because~Florence is the name of that
one woman who has tried vainly to
make a better man of me.”
“My dear sir,” said the bishop,
“Florence was the name of that one
woman who died long years ago.”
They looked at each other silently, and
then Brown said:
strum“
crossed over and opened the car door.
The bishop turned and faced him.
The car of the bishop was famous
throughout that western country, and
as well known to the trainmen as the
bishop himself. Through the courtesy
of the road it was taken along the line
free. of charge wherever the bishop
wished to hold his services. It was
the bishop‘s own idea, and a novel
one.
"I beg your pardon, sir,” the man
said, “but I was so interested in the
Christmas tree, and I thought, per-
haps, I might lend a hand.”
The bishop' smiled at him cour-
teously.
“That’s very good of you,” he said.
“It is quite an undertaking alone.”
"What a curious car,” his companion
said. “Is it a movable church?”
"You have never heard of my car?”
the bishop said. “That takes my van-
ity down a peg or-two. So many news-
paper men have written of it and so
many magazines quoted it, that I had
begun to feel myself quite famous.
Ah, well, pride goes before a. fall.”
, His companion laughed quietly.
“I am probably the one man who
hasn’t,” he said. “Won’t you tell me
about it? I feel interested to know
about it and you."
“Come back into my little study,”
said the. bishop. as he led the way.
“You see when I first came out to this
western country I was a young man,
and too full of hope to recognize dis
(":llll'agtili‘lt‘lii; otherwise I should have
failed. hut, God be thanked, I weath-
ered those years; and terrible years
they were. before these cities and
towns had sprung up like mushrooms
and this great railroad laid its path.
Travel was well-nigh impoSsible 'in
those days. and travel I had to, and as
lit-st i might. Do you know I had then
11m points to reach within the year,
and l, walked and rode in the saddle
and drove my ponies to them all? So
I have grown old with these people.
i lhave eaten and slept and ,wakened
with them. Smoked their cigars and
drank their whiskey and eatentheir
bacon, and, perhaps. I may say they
are a bit fond of me. They seem a
huge family of unruly children to me,
and i try .to be a lenient parent. This
.. X.'.".I‘~.\Virltj thedream of my heart in
-". 7's“ early days. and I never dared
2- -;:~ it would be realich. Then,
warn the railroad came, it seemed pOSa
§
“Those tin soldiers weigh that liml
down; shall I change them?” ‘
p The bishop was charmed with his
new-found friend. He proved intelli-
gent and sympathetic, and a famous
listener—so he talked to him of his
work.
“This will be a happy Christmas for
me,” he said, “because I have such a
splendid Christmas present for my
people at Medora. The money to build
their church, $2,000, I have raised it
all myself, and I am very proud to
have it. This summer while I was east
I begged it from my richer friends,
and they were good enough to be in
terested. And just last week I got the
last of it, and I have it all. I suppose
it would have been wiser to have
taken them a check for it. But I had
a fancy to put the money itself on the
altar, and so I had them give it to
me at the bank in a few large bills.
And I will confess to you that I feel
uneasy to have it about me. So when
we stop again I think I shall go for-
ward to the express car and ask
Maney, the express messenger, to keep
it for me until We reach Medora.
Maney is a vestryman of mine and a
good fellow. It will be safer with
him.”
A curious new
through Brown—a sensation that
made him dizzy for a second. He had
grown so interested in the bishop and
his Christmas tree that he had forgotten
the rest. "Perhaps you are right,” he
said.” "but if my opinion would
carry any weight with you, I would
advise you strongly to keep it your-
self. You hint at train robbery; it is
always the express car that suffers,
and nowadays trains are wrecked and
robbed frequently.”
"My dear fellow,” said the bishop.
“you alarm me. Of course. if you
really think so, I will keep it here.
It.would break my heart to lose that
money; it was so hard to get.”
“You aren't going to lose it," Brown
said; “of course not. The people. are:
going to have their church and the
children their tree, and the little maid
eh‘lOrence—her dolly. But keep l'hE
money here with you. This,is a wild
country, a roughcountry, and who.
knows?” ‘
“Perhaps I had better hide it,” said
the bishop. “In my shoe. eh ‘2”
Brown smiled indulgeutiy. “Suri-
sensation shot
" sleeper came in.
'he thrust his hands
5
ly,” he said, “that's quite an idea; your
shoe by all means.” ,
The bishop‘unlaced his shoe and laid
the flat package against his foot.
“I wonder,” Brown said, “whether
you will ever knowhow glad I am that
I met you, bishop? You will, at all
events, never know how much I have
learned to like you.” - . .
“My dear boy,” said the bishop,
“how nice of you. It's so pleasant to
be liked, and I am often lonely
enough. As for you—if .I were as
young as you are, I would not be alone
at Christmas time.”
“I think you would if you Were me,”
Brown said, slowly.
air a: * * s at: a: at: a: a: a:
The train had stopped for water
and the conversation of the Bishop
and his gilest ran along in a desultory
way for some moments.
“The train is stopping for a long
time,” said the bishop. Brown nod-
ded; his throat was parched and dry.
“I wonder why,” said the bishop,
and just then the conductor of.the rear
“It’s a hold—up,” he said. “They
have gotten the engine and express
away. we must make an effort to fol-
low them.” _
The bishop’s face was full of anxi-
ety. .
“How terrible,” he said, “and to
happen right here in my working line.
Let us go at once to the aid of those
poor fellows; they may be killing
them.”
“They’ve no time for that,” the con-
ductor said. “\Ve were carrying a big
sum of money—they evidently knew
that—and that is what they want.”
“We ought to hurry," Brown said.
“Wait just a moment until I can get
my revolver—it‘s in my valise.” He
delayed them a moment or two easily.
Leaderless and excited, no one knew
just what to do, and when the little
body of men got started he knew. the
others were safe. But as they saw the
missing train, the engine moved slow-
ly backward to meet them. They were
soon talking Wildly, shaking their
heads over the shattered remains of
the once sturdy express car, and lend-
ing a helping hand to the dazed ex-
press messenger. Maney was able to
sit up, but he was speechless, and of
the robbers there were only the marks
of their horses’ hoofs heading for the
river. The train moved on toward Me-
dora, and Brown went back to the
bishop’s car with him. The bishop Was
much overcome.
“My dear boy,” he said, “what a
‘ dreadful thing, and how nearly I lost
my little all. How can I ever be grate-
ful enough that you made me keep the
money?”
“That is one of the few good
pulses I ever had," Brown said.
“It is the beginning,” said the bish-
op, "' will you not say so?”
“I will remember,” Brown said.
At Medora they parted. The bish-
op’s car was laid. Off.
“Do not forget me," the bishop said,
"and thank you for the Christmas tree
and everything.”
“Good-by,” Brown said;“buy a very
large doll for that little maid.” And
he watched the bishop’s car eagerly
until it was out of sight.
And some days later, in one of their
numerous retreats, he met with the
others to divide the spoil. Their plan
was to go over to England or Aus-
tralia, where the notes would not be
recognized, and could be easily ex-
changed. They were loud in their
praises of .his shadowing, proud of
their own success. They divided the
money up fairly and put each portion
in a flat canvas bag. .
Brown looked at his slowly and then
be counted out some notes and threw
them on the table. They stared at
him.
“That‘s yours.” he said;
up among you.”
Rawley looked at it.
“Two thousand dollars,” he said,
“for what?” We divided up square.”
Brown nodded.
“It’s yours, I said,” he continued,
“because there was $2,000 you might
have had but for a bit of foolishness
on my part. It makes little difference
just how you missed it, but you did.’
Of course, you would never have
known it. but you remember the old
s:1\ ". ..-.or among—’ And now
thew is one more thing. I am booked
to help you in your Virginia raidA- I
want to be let off. And as a fair ex-
change, I offer this.”
im
“divide it
He threw the bag with his share of '
the booty on the table.
“Let that buy me off. I haven’t
gone crazy, as you may think, but I’ve
had all I want of this, and I am think-
ing of turning honest for a change
There i:~=n’t any need of my making
promises to secrecy. You all know me
well enough, and you’ve been good
pals to me, and I sha’n’tforget it. Go
your way, and let me go mine. Per-
haps some day I may come back
again."
After he had gotten away from them
into his pockets
joyfully:
“Free." he said, softly. “And now-
Florence! That good old man said
women always forgave. I will go back
and learn to repent and to care, and I
will stop drifting, and perhaps after a
while she will forget those past days
and venture with me into the future.
To think of it (his face lighted up radi-
antly) those days that I have before
me, all my own.” -
As he stood there thinking, behind
.' thim was the darkness, and ahead of
him the glare of the city; the futhre‘,
its possibilities, its chances. its peace.
And between them a- shadowy path.
But as he looked uncertainly, the
moon came out from under a cloud
and shone brilliantly, throwing. a flood
of silver light everywhere. As the
shadows faded, the road to the city
lay clear and unswerving, and he
turned and walked ahéad into the
light. a ‘ V
-l\0R W A Lii- GA 2131
FRESH EGGS FROM CHINA.
Chlnesb Import Delicacies of the Seaspn
for Winter Consumption.
“Fresh eggs from China” is a con-
spicuous sign posted at the windows
of all the Chinese stores and restau-
rants on Clark street, says the Chi-
cago Chronicle. Only the Chinamen
notice it, for it is posted in the queer
characters of their language. They are
delicacies that come to Chicago every
fall from China. h
Not the least among the queer things
that are imported from the Celestial
Kingdom are the fresh duck eggs. At
least’ 30,000 of these have passed
throngh the Custom House during the
past 'tWo Weeks. Each" egg is wrapped
in a. mass of black mud that retains
its puttylik'e censistency fer months,
even when exposed to the air. They
come in boxes holding tWenty-fivc
dozen, which is ten. Everything that
comes from China is purchased by
tens. The eggs are as fresh as if laid
yesterday. Peeling the coating from-
them, the faint blue tint of the shell is
disclosed.
CABINET POSSIBILITIES.
Thomas B. Reed Has Distinguished Hiirb
sell by Refusinga Place.
Naturally enough most Republicans
look upon the Hon. Thomas B. Reed
of Maine as a logical candidate for the
Secretary of State portfolio in Mr. Mc-
Kinley’s cabinet. Mr. Reed, however,
grasped the dilemma‘ firmly by the
horns soon after election, and an-
nounced himself as not an aspirant.
He has been re-elected to Congress
“——
My
v—v”
”—4—
__-_
.w.
v
, if
HON. THOMAS'BI REED.
and doubtless, will seek his old- posi-
tion as speaker of the House unless the
counsel of others prevail and he enter
the cabinet. President Harrison es-
tablished the precedent of offering the
secretaryship to his principal oppon-
ent in the nominating convention, in
selecting Mr. Blaine for'the position.
7 Mr. McKinley is likely to do'the same
thing. Ex-Speaker Reed is a big man
in his party. and his aggressiveness,
particularly in foreign affairs were be
chosen to the cabinet would be in
marked contrast to the policy of’Presi-
dent Cleveland's administration.
VlCTORlA’S ESCAPES.
Seven Different Attempts Have- Been
blade on the Queen‘s Life.
A singular fact about Queen Victoria
is that she has not only always en‘
joyed exceptionally good health, and
that even at her present advanced age
she is unusually strong and welI, but
that she has had more hairbreadth es--
capes than any other sovereign in his
tory. No fewer than seven attempts
have been made on her life, and‘ there
have. been many occasions when the
Queen has seemed to be face to: face
with death.
Hyde Park wds the scene of the first
attempt on the Queen’s life, which was
made by a youth of seventeen, who,
on the 10th of July, 1840, fired at Her
Majesty with a pistol. The Prince
Consort, to whom the Queen had been
married a few months before, happily
saw the youth in time to draw his wife
downbeside him, so that the ball
passed over her head.
Only two years had passed away be
fore the second attempt, when, almost
on the same spot, a man named Fran-
cis fired at the Queen as she was
again driving with the Prince. The
shot missed,
tenced to death for high treason, the
sentence being afterward commuted to
transportation for “life. by desire of the
Queen. _
Strangely enough. on the very day
Her Majesty’s clemency became
known, a hunchback named Bean, a
mere youth, made another attempt to
injure the Queen. 110 was transported
for seven years.
A bricklayer was the- nrxt» seeker af-
ter notoriety. IIe fired at the Queen
as she rode in her carriage, on July
9, 1849, but. his pistol missed, and he
was sentenced to seven years’ trans-
portation.
Less than a year after this, as Her
Majesty was return‘irr from a visit to
the deathbed of her uncle, the Duke of
Cambridge, an ex-captain of’hussars
rushed forward and struck her 011 the.
face With a small stick. .‘ The blow
caused a wound, but the Queen was
not seriously hurt. "
, It was 1872 before another attack
was made. In the early part of that
year a boy ran up to the Queen with a
pistol and a petition. He was ar-
rested before he could fire, however,
and was declared insane. Ten years
later a madman, named Robert Mae-
lean, aimeda pistol and shot at the
Queen as she entered her carriage at
Windsor railway station.
Coolness and presence of mind llflY:
been characteristic of her whenrvm
danger, has threatened her. “Gt-ca.
eyents,” she has said, always make mi
:alm.” ~ ' , ‘
“Blast be those
.a sandy and well-wooded shore.
and Francis was sen-'
.York for instance, having done. so since
rHANKs 1M: z»..w. ,
feastswith simple plenty
crownedfl ‘37.? ‘
Where all the ruddy'family aroun l.
Laugh at. the jests or pranks that ucvcr‘i'aJ
0r sigh with pity at soniognodrufui tale.“
_ ‘ -—Goldsmill!.
The Puritan emigrants who came to
this country brought with them a stern
hatred for all fasts and feasts asso-
ciated with the church from which
they had cut themselves free. Judged
by easy modern standards, the Puri-
tan character Seems grim, narrow and
unattractive, but to the handful of
men and women who faced exile,
hardship and danger of death for the
sake of their Soul‘s freedom we in
America largely 0va what is best it.
our national life today.
The Mayflower is usually now re.
garded as a sort of Noah's ark, capa-
ble of holding any number of passen.
gcrs, so that it is somewhat startling
to remember that she was only of 15:5
tons burden, which is less than that of
an ordinary coastwise fishing boat.
When We further think that 1(‘2 peo-
ple were packed away on board of her
for 67 days, it is astonishing that only
one man died, andas little Oceanus
Hopkins was born at sea, the number
of the ship's company was the same
when at last, by the early dawn of the
ninth of November, 1620, they sighted
The grown men met in- the cabin of
the Mayflower as she lay in the harbor
of what is now Provi‘ncctown and
framed the first American constitution
for the government of the colony.
It is not unlikely that the first
American Thanksgiving followed soon
after. The. date usually accepted, how-
ever, is at the end of the next Octo-
her, when the first harvest had been
gathered in.
The winter after they landed was
one of great suffering, nearly half of.
their number having died between De-
cember and March, but in their own
words “warm and fair weather came
at last, and the birds sang in the
woods most pleasantly.” They sowed
six acres with barley and peas, and 20
more with Indian corn found in a na-
tive storehouse during the winter,
which their Indian friend Squanto
showed them how to cultivate. \Vhen
their simple crops were gathered.
in they prepared to hold a festival,
perhaps with wistful memories of the
English “harvest homes” which they
were never to see again.
This first real Thanksgiving seems
like the calm warmth of Indian sum-
mer among the bleak days of those
hard years. The next one, 1622, was
full of misfortunes.
Winslow, one of the colonists, says
he saw strong men staggering about
at noon-time faint for want of food,
and Elder Brewster was found one
day sitting down to table with nothing
but a platter of broiled clams and a
jug of water before him. But his spirit
was unbroken and over this meagre
fare he gave thanks that he and his
were permitted “to suck of the abun-
dance of the seas, and of the treas-
ures hid in the. sand.”
At last things came to such a pass
that in the end of July a day was set
Ith for fasting. humiliation and pray-
ers for rain. For eight or nine hours
without intermission they pleaded and
strove with the Lord, and as they leftthe
little fort which protected their wor-
ship they -looked in. each other’s faces
as men do who see help at hand when
they have been near death, for clouds
were slowly gathering,
many hours the rain was falling gent-
ly and steadily upon the cracked and
dusty earth. Another Thanksgiving
followed. '
The camps and councils of the Revo-
lution brought men together from all
parts of the country and it was a great
force in the development of social life.
I‘hree fasts were set by the Continental
Congress before the first Thanksgiv-
ing, but that was one not to be forgot-
ten. Burgoyne had surrendered,
which meant "that he could not shut the
New England colonies off from the
South by holding the Hudson River.
W’ashington was then with his army
atValley Forge, and his order for the
day runs: “Tomorer being the day
set apart by the honorable Congress
for Public Thanksgiving and praise.
and duty calling us devoutly to express
our grateful acknowledgements to God
for the manifold blessings he has
granted us, the General directs that
the army remain inits present quar-
ters, and that the chaplains perform
divine services with their different
corps and brigades, and earnestly ex-
horts all officers and .soldiers whose ab-
senceis not indispénsably necessary
to attend with reverence the solemni-
iies of the day.” .
That was our first national Thanks-
giving Day, but it was not followed
by one each year. As time went 'on
one state after another made it a cus-
tom to keep an autumn holiday. New
1817, but is was not until Abraham
Lincoln appointed the twenty~sixth of
November, 1863, that the day now uni-
versally kept was nationally acknowl-
3dged.
OCCASION FOR T HANKFULNESS.
That. the voice of the. statesman is
hushed for a time. and that the halls of
legislation will now afford him oppor-
tunities, that his for-ensi: abilities may
and before. "
l father to post. '
not \vane. I
REDS .A'r 'roorBALIl'
THE CARLISLE Boys A aEVELh
TION IN FooffiALt.
Interesting Features of Their? Splendid
Struggle With Yale’s Champions—Nei-
York’s Unstinted Applause for th.’
I.- Piucky Young Redskins.
Considered entirely apart from the
science of football, the game at Man
hattan Field on Saturday between the
Yale eleven» and the young redskini
from the Indian Industrial School a'
Carlisle, Pa., was perhaps the most in-
teresting ever played in New York
From first to last, through thick and
thin, the crowd was seemingly unani-
mous in their applause of the Indians.
For the first time in Yale’s experience
there was not a cheer for the wearer
of the light blue. '
The Indians seemed to be surprised
by the enthusiasm of their welcome
by the spectators.
But for the Indiana—well, you had
to hear it to understand. For them-
selves the Jndians never piped up
once, and so the enthusiastic crowd
had no cue as to what the Carlisle yell
is, if, indeed, the Indians have pro-
gressed so far in civilization as to
adopt one. But that didn’t stop the
crowd from shouting.
One brass-lunged man who sat in
the open seats on the north side of the
field devoted himself to one shout,
which he steadily repeated all through
the game, and with tremendous effect.
Nearly every time the two teams lined
up for a scrimmage this man’s shout
of encouragement boomed across the
field. His voice was heavy and hoarse,
but he kept it up to the last, and every,
time he shouted he said:
“Get at ’em, Lone Wolf! Get at
’em, Lone Wolf!”
Lone Wolf did get at ’em. He was
a. tower of strength to his team. He
was the immovable object meeting the
resistless force, and resisting it. And
every time he stood like a stone wall '
against the shock of Yale's human bat-
tering rams over and through and un-
der all the yells of praise anti enthusi-
asm that swept from all sides of the
field boomed the brass-lunged man's:
“Get at ’em, Lone Wolf!
’em, Lone Wolf!”
But this note of applause had its
contrapuntal. For at the very last,
when the Indians had covered them.
selves with glory by tying the score,
they were robbed of their hard-earned
triumph. The Carlisle boys were en-
titled to believe that the man who .had
been teaching them the game at least
would not rob them of what they
earned at it; they had a right to trust
him just as many a time the Indians
at an agency have believed they could
trust the Government agent in whose
charge they lived. And just as many
an agent has proved false to his trust
so this referee was to his. No more
significant demonstration of the sym-
pathy of the thousands of spectator.
could have been made than was given
when, after the referee’s decision ue-
priving Jameson of his touch-down,
the whole crowd got together in their
yelling for the first time in the game,
and shouted in unison: “Touchdown"
touchdown!” changing it after a while‘
to “Robber! Robber!” Then the hisses
and the groans which greeted the final
reiteration of the mistaken decision
added emphasis to the already clearly
pronounced opinion of the spectators.
It remains to be seen whether Yale
Will play the Indians again. This
much is sure: No matter what team
lines up against the sturdy redskins in
New York, a greatcrowd will go out
to see the game and cheer the children
of a new civilization on to victory.—
New York Sun.
Seeing Was Believing.
Mayor’s Clerk Palmer of Baltimore
who is young and modest had an ex—
ceedingly embarrassing moment yes-
terday morning.
One of his multifarious duties is to
attend to persons who apply at the
Mayor’s office for permits to secure
the killing of dogs which have bitten
or annoyed persons passing by or en-
tering the premises of their owners.
Yesterday Mr. Palmer was seated at
his desk when two attractive young
girls entered the room. One of them
told the Mayor’s clerk that she had
come to have an end put to a dog he-
longing to a neighbor. She said the dog
had jumped at her as she was passing
by and had bitten her on the right
leg. ~ , .
Under the inspiration of Mr. Palmer's
questions she gave a graphic narrative
of the whole scene. how the dog
growled. how he jumped without war-
rant or reason, and how his teeth had
planted themselves in her flesh.
“Did he really bite you?” asked Mr.
Palmer.
His fair visitor was indignant at this ‘
skeptical remark.
"If you don’t believe me,” she said,
“I'll show you the marks of his teeth.”
The young girl drew nearer to Mr.
[-‘almer. and a confused vision of black
and white swam before his eyes.
“Look at the marks,” he heard a voice
say from behind it all, scornful and
imperious. In a moment it was over.
Mr. Palmer had been convinced,’ and
the permit was made out. The young
girl departed with the paper, and the
Mayor's clerk was left alone to slowly
realize just what had occurred—Balti-
- more Sun.
_._. ____.,__.____
Ingenious.
Pat-Fer th.’ love “av hivin, Moike,
phat air ye borin’ a hole in yer boat
fer?
'Mike—Be gob! there’s wan hole in
it now thot lets th’ wather in, an’ Oi’m
going t’ put another wan in t’ let it
outE—Judge.
_—
Litile Girl (to her mamma)—“What
is a dead letter, please?”
“One that has been given to your
Get at -
Mamma— .
(i
.1
Norwalk Chronicler