Part 6

So did the cow. She had been fooled with long enough, and she suddenly planted a hoof against Mr. Bowser with such vigor that he tumbled over in a confused heap. Between us we got him into the house, and the girl finished the milking. Mr. Bowser recovered from the shock after a while, and I felt it my duty to inquire:

"Mr. Bowser, don't you think a week of these pastoral scenes will be enough for us?"

"No, nor six weeks!" he growled. "Nothing would do but you must go into the country, and now I'll give you enough of it."

"Why, Mr. Bowser?"

"You needn't why Mr. Bowser me! You gave me no peace until I agreed to come, and now I'll remain here five straight years."

When the summer sun went down and the stars came out we were not as happy as we might have been. Mr. Bowser still held his hand on his stomach, the baby cried because the milk tasted of wild onions, and the girl lost the old oaken bucket in the thirty-foot well while getting a pail of fresh water. I asked Mr. Bowser when the kine would begin to low and the whippoorwills to sing, and he was so mad he wouldn't speak. However, if the kine didn't low, the pinchbugs and mosquitoes did. There wasn't a screen at door or window, and soon after sundown we were besieged.

That night seemed never ending. No one of us three slept a wink. The room was invaded with every insect known to country life, from a bat to a gnat.

When we got up in the morning the girl didn't know us. We were blotched and bitten until one would have suspected us of suffering with smallpox. Mr. Bowser knew himself, however, and before noon we were back in the city. He scarcely spoke to me all the way home, but once in the house he burst out with:

"Now, old lady, prepare for a settlement! You've nosed me round all you ever will. This has broken the camel's back. Which of us applies for a divorce?"

--_Detroit Free Press._

JAMES--Hello, Gus, where have you been? Never see you at the old place.

GUS (swell about town)--No, de fact is, James, me boy, dey has got chicken for de free lunch dere.

The Hard Luck of Some People.

"Tell yo' w'at, Mars' Parson," remarked Uncle Cocklesole, as he sat on the sill of a second-story window and looked down on the mounted missionary and the receding waters, "tell yo' wat it ar', ef hard luck don't jus' play leap frawg wid some sinners an' lan' wid fo' feet on udders, den I'm squinch-eyed in mer judgmen'. Dere's Jim Rasselbait! What de flood do for him? Swup his leaben chillen off de carf an' tu'ned de stove ober in de cabin so dat hit b'un up an he git a hun'ered dollars inshu'ance, an' dar he am, jus' scused ob car and 'sponsibility, goin' eround town rich as Crusoe an' no one ter lay claim ter one single per centum ob de money. An' der's merse'f. Blame ef de waters didn't jus' do nuffin to mer cabin but ransack all de furnicher, an' after hustlin' mer wife and chillens off in a way ter make a feller 'spicion dey's gone fo' good, blame ef they didn't leggo ob 'em jus' roun' de ben', an yer dey is all back ergin an' me wid no inshuance, and no provenger in de house ter s'ply 'em wid. Talk erbout ekal rights! Hit's only fellers like Jim Rasselbait, w'at's bo'n wid a coil, dat gits 'em all."

--_Yonkers Gazette._

A Disastrous Clerical Error.

Government Clerk (to friend)--I'm in a frightful hole. I went to see two doctors yesterday and got a medical certificate from each. One was a certificate of health for a life insurance company, and the other was a certificate of illness to send to the chief with my petition for a week's leave of absence.

Friend--I've done that myself. What's the matter?

G. C.--Matter? Great Scott! I mixed the certificates in mailing them. The insurance company has my certificate of ill-health, and the chief has my certificate of good health.

--_Boston Beacon._

The Johnstown sufferer is the latest variety of tramp in Kansas. He bears a close resemblance to all the rest in the particular that he looks as if he had never seen water.

--_Kansas City Star._

A ballet-girl syndicate is the latest development of the Trust business. But in the nature of things it will not be much of a clothes corporation.

--_Richmond Dispatch._

His Complexion Was Against Him.

Hadji Hassein Ghooly Khan, envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary from Persia, was one of the favorites in Washington society while there. He was very fond of going out and calling on the ladies, and was always most hospitably received wherever he went. That is, almost always, for an experience he had one Sunday afternoon proved that he was not as cordially received at one house as had been his wont. Ghooly Khan started out with the purpose of making a round of calls. It is his custom to pay his respects to the ladies of the fashionable world on Sunday the same as on the week days. The day being an extremely pleasant one, his landau was not brought into use. He walked from his residence on M street, to Massachusetts avenue, in the neighborhood of Fourteenth street, where the subjects of his first call resided. Walking up the stone steps in an indolent fashion, he reached the door and rather timidly touched the electric bell. After lingering some moments the servant appeared, and before Ghooly Khan could utter a word she shouted out: "The ladies are all busy and cannot be bothered with you now."

"Well," said the minister, completely nonplussed, "there must be a mistake; take in my card."

"Oh! don't worry them now," answered the servant, not allowing him to finish his sentence. "They are all about going to dinner and don't care for any one to see them at this time--you'd better come again in the morning; and the side door is always the handiest place for such as yez to call."

The minister waited for no more. The rebuff he had received at the hands of the unruly servant completely paralyzed him. He concluded that he had a sufficient dose of American society.

The ladies of the house soon learned of the "horrible" manner in which their distinguished caller had been received, and they at once made heroic and happily successful efforts to have the affair settled on a basis satisfactory not only to themselves but to the distinguished envoy from Teheran.

--_New York Tribune._

"I want the library," said Mr. Gaswell to the architect, "to be the largest and airiest room in the house." "I don't see what you want with a library," interposed Mrs. Gaswell, "you know very well you don't smoke."

--_Boston Transcript._

The Difference.

The following anecdote, which we have received as authentic from the lips of a clergyman, sets forth in a very pleasant way the folly of reproaching preachers as hirelings, merely because they receive temporal support from their congregations.

At the meeting of a presbytery in an eastern state, it fell to the lot of one of the ministers to be quartered with a man belonging to a denomination which does not allow of salaried preachers. He was accosted by his host as follows:

"What is thy name, friend? I mean the name thy parents gave thee."

"John."

"Has thee any objections that I should call thee by that name?"

"Certainly not; my mother always calls me John."

"Well, John, I understand thee belongs to the class of hireling preachers."

"You are greatly mistaken, sir; I do not belong to that class."

"I mean thee is one of those preachers who receive pay for preaching."

"No, sir; I receive nothing for preaching to my people."

"How then," said the interrogator, evidently surprised and disconcerted, "does thee manage to live?"

"Why, I work for my people six days, and then I preach for them on Sundays for nothing."

--_Yankee Blade._

Sir Wilfred Lawson's Story.

Sir Wilfred Lawson told the following story the other evening: A student at college was sent for by the Don, who said--"Sir, I am told you have a barrel of beer in your room, which is contrary to all orders." And the young man said: "Well, sir, that is true; but the fact is the doctors told me that if I drank this beer I should get stronger." The Don said: "Are you stronger?" "Yes, sir, indeed I am," was the reply, "for when the barrel came in I could scarcely move it, and now I can roll it round the room."

--_Glasgow Weekly Mail._

Expected It.

"I'm in a pickle," remarked a young employe at the store.

"I've been expecting for some time that you'd get into a pickle," was the rather forbidding reply.

"Why, sir?"

"Because you are so confoundedly fresh."

--_Albany Argus._

ANCIENT MARINER--Holy smoke, where's that young feller gone to? Didn't 'pear quite natral like anyhow.

Truth in Absence.

"Charlotte, my dear, how is it I find you weeping? Have you bad news from your husband?"

"Oh! worse than that! Arthur writes me from Carlsbad that he would die with grief at being absent from me, were it not that he gazes at my picture and covers it with a thousand kisses every day."

"That is very nice of him; but surely you are not crying about that? Most woman would give anything to have such a poetic and devoted husband."

"Oh, yes, Arthur is very poetical; but you don't know. Just to try him, I put mother's photo into his traveling bag instead of my own, and the wretch has never found it out. Boo-hoo-hoo!"

--_Pick-Me Up._

Another Kind of Habit.

Old Grinder (to seedy applicant for job)--I hope that no bad habits have brought you to this poverty?

Borrowit--One, sir.

"Ah, I am glad you are frank about it. What was it?"

"This played-out old suit of mine. It has ruined my chances everywhere."

--_Texas Siftings._

Family Loyalty.

A Stevens avenue young lady was much pained and shocked as she walked down the street yesterday to see her young brother sitting astride the prostrate body of another boy and raining down blows upon his struggling victim.

"Johnny!" she almost screamed, "what are you doing? Come here this minute. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, fighting this way in the street?"

The boy reluctantly arose from his vanquished antagonist and faced his indignant sister. Then he explained:

"Well, I don't care. He said you wasn't good looking. I don't think you are either; but it ain't none o' his funeral. So I licked him."

--_Minneapolis Journal._

Not Related.

Magistrate--O'Rally, you are charged with assaulting and brutally beating Michael McDooly at the reunion of the O'Rally family yesterday. Have you anything to say?

O'Rally--Yes, yer Honor. The bloke's an imposthor, sorr, and hasn't wan dhrop of the O'Rally blood in his skin, begorra, an' he dhrank oop all av the beer.

Magistrate--How is this, McDooly? Are you a kinsman of the prisoner?

McDooly--Faix, an' sure it is that I am, yer Honor; his grandfather wor Pathrick O'Rally av Belfast, an'----

O'Rally--An' bedad, phwat do that prove, yer Worship?

McDooly--An' Pathrick O'Rally's dochter marrit me own----

O'Rally--He's lyin', yer Honor; he's lyin'. Me grandfather never had any cheeldren at all, at all, sorr.

--_Life._

One of Chauncey's Latest.

Chauncey M. Depew tells the following story of another of the many interesting characters he encountered last Fall while addressing his fellow citizens on the vital issues of the campaign. It doesn't sound so much like a true story as some that are extant, but it is getting pretty late in the day to doubt his word:

One night, after the meeting was over and while the hall was clearing, a weather-beaten man buttonholed me and said:

"I'm postmaster out here at Shingle Corners. Blaze away and elect your man if you want to."

"You don't care for the office, then?" I said.

"No, that ain't it," he replied. "It don't pay but $14 a year, or mebbe good years, when I boom 'er a little, $15, but it's powerful handy to have in the house. No, my idee is that we can keep it in the fam'ly anyhow."

"How's that?"

"The old woman, you see, she's a rip-snortin' Republican, powerful so, reg'lar uncompromisin'. If Cleveland gets it I stay; if Harrison slides in the old woman comes to the front for her reward. Nobody else wants it, so there we be."

"Well, you're all right then."

"You bet we are. If we get tired of it or too old for it, or anything ever, there's my boy, a red-hot Republican, and my oldest gal, Democrat from 'way back. Oh, we're hustlers in our fam'ly when it comes to politics."

"But suppose the Mugwumps should develop power some day and carry things?" I asked.

"Well," he replied, "we will soon be fixed for that, too. The baby is a Mugwump--I know it 'cause he howls all the time. If you see anybody lookin' for p'ints on keepin' a good thing in the family jess send him out to Shingle Corners."

--_Wasp._

But They Read of It.

Mr. Porker (of Chicago)--Talk about enthusiasm in your city over the fair! Why, I'll venture to say that there are some people in New York who haven't even heard of it.

Mr. Gotham--Well, if there are, they must be the inmates of the deaf and dumb asylum.

V.S.

Oklahoma Hotel Rules

1. If the bugs are troublesome you'll find the kloroform in a bottle on the shelf.

2. Gents goin' to bed with their boots on will be charged extra.

3. Three raps at the door means that there is a murder in the house, and you must get up.

4. Please rite your name on the wall paper so that we know you've been here.

5. The other leg of the chair is in the closet if you need it.

6. If that hole where that pane of glass is out is too much for you, you'll find a pair of pants behind the door to stuff in it.

7. The shooting of a pistol is no cause for any alarm.

8. If you're too cold, put the oilcloth over your bed.

9. Caroseen lamps extra; candles free, but they mustn't burn all night.

10. Don't tare off the wall paper to lite your pipe with. Nuff of that already.

11. Guests will not take out them bricks in the mattress.

12. If it rains through that hole overhead, you'll find an umbrella under the bed.

13. The rats won't hurt you if they do chase each other across your face.

14. Two men in one room must put up with one chair.

15. Please don't empty the sawdust out of the pillers.

16. Don't kick about the roches. We don't charge extra.

--_Spokane Globe._

Electricity Will Do Away With All This.

"I suppose this is my noose suit," laughed the condemned criminal when the jail warden brought him his clothes on the morning of the execution.

"Why," replied the warden, "you are as jolly as if you had been taking a drop."

"I'm going to take one by and by."

"Come, come," said the warden, seriously, "this is no time for joking."

"Why not?" asked the culprit, "ain't the whole thing going to end in a choke?"

--_Boston Courier._

A Bitter Reflection.

Oh why so sad, my lady fair? What pales thy cheek and dims thy eye? Thy drooping face is mark'd with care, Thy heaving breast betrays a sigh. What lacks thy lot to make it sweet? What joy is there that is not thine? What makes that heart in sorrow beat And gives of happiness no sign?

"Ah, woe is me! I loved a youth, Handsome in face, and brave and strong. The paths of honor and of truth Were his, for he could do no wrong. Two years ago he sailed away To seek his fortune o'er the seas, And I've been yearning every day That he'd return his love to please.

"But ah! I've waited long in vain For my old sweetheart to return; No message came across the main From him for whom my soul did yearn. Until to-day, when I am told His ship is due to come in port; He comes back worth a pile of gold, At least, so says the last report."

Then why repine, sweet maid? You should Be overjoyed to hear the news; You soon will wed a husband good, How can you, then, this grief excuse? The lady answer'd. "Would you know Why tear drops from my eyes now fall? To tell the true cause of my woe, I--married--some--one--else--last--Fall."

JOHN S. GREY.

The buckwheat crop this year takes the cake over all former seasons. It wins by a mere scratch, however.--_Philadelphia Press._ Some door jambs look as though there had been a good deal of scratching in former years.

C. A. M.

The man who is given to sober reflection seldom gets into a tight place.

--_Boston Courier._

The owner first breaks the race-horse; then the race-horse proceeds to break the owner.

--_Washington Capital._

Dr. Brown-Sequard's new elixir of life is made from dogs, probably some infusion of bark.

--_Toronto Globe._

A Mistake at Table.

"Will you pass me the butter, please?" asked a stranger of a snob at a restaurant table.

"That's the waiter over there, sir," was the supercilious reply.

"I beg your pardon," remarked the stranger. "I did make a mistake."

"You're only adding insult, sir," broke in the snob; "nothing could induce me to believe that you mistook me for a waiter!"

"Certainly not," returned the stranger. "I mistook you for a gentleman."

--_Detroit Free Press._

Answering the Question.

Hotel Clerk--Is there anything that I can do for you?

Seedy Man--Yes, sir, you can loan me five dollars.

"But I'm not going to do it."

"No! I didn't think you would. I merely wanted to answer your question."

--_Merchant Traveler._

How Appearances Deceive.

A portly citizen left a Woodward avenue car at High street between showers yesterday, but was hardly on the sidewalk before he began yelling and beckoning at the car.

"It's agin orders to stop except at crossings," observed a passenger on the rear platform, as the conductor reached up to the bell-rope.

"Yes, but he has probably forgotten something."

"Well, let him get it when the car comes down. I have no patience with forgetful men."

"I guess I'll stop, anyhow."

"It's a shame to do it."

The car was stopped and the man came running and puffing to call out:

"Left my five dollar silk umbrella in the car."

"Yes, and here it is. I was keeping it for you!" replied the individual who had opposed a stop.

"Thanks. You are an honest man. If there were more men like you this would be a better world to live in. Here--have a cigar."

--_Detroit Free Press._

One Idea of It.

Farmer Railfence--Just think, Maria! Squire Hawkins has built himself a thirty-thousand-dollar house, and I'll be blamed if he's got any decent glass in the whole of it.

Maria--What's he got, Ephraim?

Farmer Railfence--Paper says stained glass from cellar to garret. Nice glass, Maria, wouldn't have cost but little more than a lot of worthless stained stuff.

--_Rochester Budget._

ANCIENT MARINER--Yes, mister, it was just down there the _Mary Ann_ wrecked.

DOODLE--Aw' me boy; sit down and tell me about it.

A Truthful Statement.

Yank Yahoo (to jeweler from whom he has just purchased a rolled plate engagement ring)--Naow, Mr. Jewelryman, what had I orter say when I put this 'ere ring on Mandy's finger? Dew I say "I ring yer," "I rang yer," or "I rung yer?"

Jeweler (repressing a smile)--You should say "I wrong you."

--_Jeweler's Weekly._

A Controlling Feature.

Brown--The facial features plainly indicate character and disposition. In selecting your wife were you governed by her chin?

Jones--No, but I have been ever since we married.

--_Omaha World._

A Jersey Idyl.

Night after night a witching sprite, Outside among the roses, Sings lullabies; but to my eyes Her form she ne'er discloses. She hides away the livelong day, And keeps herself secluded; To reach her side in vain I've tried; My efforts she's eluded.

She seemed so coy; but to my joy, At last, by chance, I met her. The fair unknown is now my own, And soon I'll not forget her. Last evening she encouraged me-- My triumph is complete, oh; I own 'twas rash--I made a mash Of pretty, young Miss Quito.

--_Wasp._

A Point Usually Overlooked.

The youthful heir to a Walnut Hills ancestral establishment is of an inquiring turn of mind and directs his attention especially to the elucidation of religious problems. Last week he heard a Sunday school address on "The Prodigal Son." Just what the small boy thought of the address his father was curious to learn, and so he said to him that night at supper: "My son, tell me which of the characters in the parable of the prodigal son you sympathized with?" "Well, papa," replied the cherub with perfect nonchalance, "I think I'd feel disposed to sympathize most with the calf."

--_Cincinnati Commercial Gazette._

Still Alive.

He--Then this is your final answer, Miss Jones?

She--It is.

"You won't have me?"

"I am sorry, but I must decline."

"Then I will do something desperate."

"What will you do?"

"I will make away with myself."

"Oh! don't."

"I will. I'm determined to do it."

"Well, if you are determined, give a proof that you truly love me by insuring your life in my favor for $20,000 or so before you commit the desperate deed. I will get money from papa to pay the premium."

He left indignantly and at last accounts was still alive.

--_Sunday Mercury._

Devoted Admirers, Both.

He (of Boston)--I am so fond of Bacon! Aren't you?

She (of New Orleans)--Oh, yes; I don't think I could ever get tired of bacon, especially with eggs!

--_Lowell Citizen._

A New Definition of a Bobtail Flush.

Mr. Gunsaulus was telling a group of the bibliomaniacs yesterday that there was nothing so beautiful in a house as a bevy of bright children. "I have a very lovely family," said he. "I hold, as the sinful world would say, a bobtail flush."

"What's that?" asked Hon. Charles B. Farwell, the well-known collector of Bibles and psalm books.

"We were talking about children," exclaimed Mr. Gunsaulus, "and I was saying that in our family we had a bobtail flush--four girls and a boy."

"No," said Mr. Farwell, smiling sadly; "it is evident that you have had no experience in the ways of the world, otherwise you would not make so erroneous an application of terms. You do not hold a bobtail flush; you hold four of a kind--four queens and a jack--a powerful good hand, sir, and I should advise you to stand pat."

--_Chicago News._

She Wasn't Posted.

Grocer (who has lately joined the militia, practising in his shop)--Right, left, right, left. Four paces to the rear; march! (Falls down trapdoor into the cellar.)

Grocer's wife (anxiously)--Oh, Jim, are you hurt?

Grocer (savagely, but with dignity)--Go away, woman; what do you know about war?

--_Liverpool Post._

Very Necessary.

Minister (to Johnny, who is digging worms for bait)--Johnny, don't you know that it is wrong for you to do any work except work of necessity on the Sabbath?

Johnny--Necessity? Ain't this necessity? How's a feller to do any fishin' if he don't have bait?

--_Lawrence American._

A Righteous Judge.

Judge--You say the prisoner threw you out of the door. Had you provoked him?

Plaintiff--Not at all. He advertised an unusually fine bargain sale of laces, and I went in and asked him for the lowest figure on a pair of shoe laces.

Judge--Prisoner is discharged. Mr. Clerk, swear out a warrant against plaintiff and have him arrested for criminal assault.

--_Harper's Bazar._

A Family Peculiarity.

One of the officers of the Nypano, who is a great talker, received a rebuke from his little three-year-old girl on Memorial Day that was worse than he ever received from his older friends. He stayed at home that day to amuse his little girl who inherited the "gift of gab." She nearly wore him out asking questions until finally he said, "Amy, Amy, Amy. Do keep still; it's nothing but talk, talk, talk all the time." The little one didn't seem to care a bit, for she looked up innocently and said, "Talk, talk, talk. Jess 'ike papa."

--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._

Taking One Too Literally.

Old Friend--Well, Browne! what are you sending to the exhibition this year?