ff
I 3
;
0
IIKN Senator Thomas C. Tlatt of
w
New York was enjoying his re
cent honeymoon he wus ap
proached by a Pennsylvania poli
tician of note, an old wmipal
friend, who said: "See here, senator, you
won't mind if I nay confidentially that
you're no raving beauty. Now, what I'd
like to know la how your wlfo was ever
attracted to such a plain person as you
are?" "I'm glad you asked me," roturne.l
the senator, smiling broadly, "and 1 11 tell
you In the strictest confidence, of course:
Bhe first fell in love with mo through see
ing the newspnper pictures which the
cartoonists make of me."
It Waa Good.
Kentucky distiller tells this story at
tho expense of Justice Harlan, of the
United States supreme court. They were
fellow guests at a reception In Washing
ton, and the hostess rallied the Justice on
his failure to drink more than one glat-s
of punch. He replied that as a Kentuck
lan he felt disloyal to drink his other than
straight, adding that Just then he waa
ut of the genuine tipple In his home. Ths
distiller that evening telegraphed to h:s
manager, who sent the Justice a case of
his best. Next Sunday the two men met
In the church of which Mr. Harlan Is a
deacon. The distiller was coming down
the steps when the Justice culled to him,
"That waa splendid." Then remembeilng
where he was, he added hastily, "The f-er-mon,
I monn, of course."
Proof Conclonlvr.
An amusing story is told of "Uncle
Dick" Oglesby, once governor of Illinois.
He made a tour of inspection of the Jollet
prison, and came to a cell in which a
hideously ugly man was confined. Tha
man was so ill favored that the governor
topped to ask about him.
"What's he in for?" he apked.
"He forced a young woman to elope
with him at the point of a pistol," tho
keeper replied.
"Well," said Oglesby, "I guess 1 11 par
don him."
"Pardon him!" protested the warden.
"Why, governor, the proof against him la
absolute."
"I know," said the governor, "but he
couldn't get her to marry him In any
other way."
One on Jefferson.
Not long ago "Joseph Jefferson took part
In a benefit in aid of a New York hos
pital. He opened the entertainment with
a short talk, other noted players crowding
at the wings to hear his remarks. Just
then two highly rouged girls of the song
and dnnoe persuasion came down the wind
ing staircase from their dressing rooms.
One of them came over to the wings, lis
tened for a moment and then went back
to her companion. The latter said: "Who's
on now?" Some old guy doln' a mono
logue," waa the reply, "and, say, he's
doln" fierce. Been on ten minutes and ain't
bad a laugh yet."
Happiest Moment to Come.
The late William E. Klkins, the street
railway magnate of Philadelphia, was
gifted with a grim humor. This humor a
certain Philadelphia reporter has cause to
remember.
He visited Mr. Elklns some years ago
to procure one of those bizarre inter
views requiring the asking of a number
of peculiar questions, and the reporter
opened fire In this way:
"Mr. Klkins, how did you earn your first
thousand dollars?"
The millionaire frowned, then smiled.
"By hard work," he answered.
Daunted a little, the reporter. In silence,
tried to think up the next question. Pres
ently he found It. It was:
"Mr. Klkins, you have lived a good many
years; now tell me what has been tho
happiest moment of your life?"
"It hasn't come yet," said Mr. Klkins.
"Not yet? When, then, will It come?"
The reporter's eyes shone. Now lie ex
pected 'something good.
"It will come," said Mr. Klkins, "when
people cease asking foolish questions."
Boston Post.
Pickles nauFchoo-Choo.
It was a little thing of this kind that
first made the name of Klnley P. Dunne
famous among Chicago editors. The creator
of "Mr. Dooley" was sauntering down
Dearborn street one afternoon when ho
saw a horse suddenly disappear Into the
bowels of the earth. Hastening up to tho
edge with a score of others he was warned
awsy by Steve Itowen, the policeman who
was subsequently to become the famous
Hennessy of the Dooley papers. Mr. Dunne
stood back in deference to authority, but
an excited woman persisted In giving In
structions to Officer Itowen. "Why don't
you get that horse out of that hole?" she
demanded. "Here, coax him out with this
lump of sugar." Steve waived off the prof
fered lump and, with the greatest cour
tesy, responded: "Horses don't like sugar,
ma'am only pickles and choo-ehoo." About
ten minutes luter Dunne sauntered into
the office and wrote tho story Just us It
happened, only with that difference which
la always manifested between art and
craftmanshlp. The city editor told him
that It was too late for anything, yet
glanced idly over the copy. Two minutes
later ho was making tracks for the com
posing room and got the story in. The
next day about a hundred people asked
the editor who wrote the tale of Steve
Rowen and the horse, and thus waa
Dunne's fame born.
Reversing the Order.
Stnutor Sullivan of New York was re
cently a guest at a banquet of homeopathic
physicians. During the banquet the usual
toasts were drunk. To the health of "the
ladles," of "the president," of "Hahne
mann, the father of homeopathy," and of a
dozen other pirsons and subjects glasses
were drained duly, and then,' all of a sud
den, tho toastmaster remarked that tho
witty Senator Sullivan had not yet re
sponded to a toast. "Senator Sullivan,"
he said, rising, "has not yet been heard
from Senator Sullivan will now propose
a health." The senator arose and beamed
upon the assemblage of physicians. "I
propose," he said, "the health of the sick."
Making Hoout for Hoaea.
t
This is one of Dr. Lindsay Parker's after
dinner stories:
An old Irish Protestant preacher had an
nounced the major and minor prophets aa
the subject of his discourse for a certain
Sunday. For an hour and a half he talked
of the major prophets, assigning each to
his proper place. Then taking up the sec
ond division of his sermon, he said:
"And now we come to the minor prophets.
First, than, what place shall we give to
Ho3ea?"
A tall man arose from one of the back
seats, and,- with a reverential bow, politely
said:
"If you plazp, sor, he can have my place.
I'm going our." Brooklyn Eagle.
As to Plat forma.
Senator Stewart, while traveling In Ne
vada, stood on the platform of the couch
and was approached by a conductor.
"Senator," began the employe, touching
his cap respectfully, "I dislike to remind
you of rule II, which requires pusseugers
to ride inside the coaches."
"I own this road," replied the senator
gruffly. "Put even if I didn't own It, am
I not u privileged passenger by reason of
being a prominent politician?"
"I believe that platforms are for iHill
tlcians to get In on, but not to stand on,"
replied the conductor.
The senator promptly stepped through
the door. Philadelphia Ledger.
Two Klaria.
Congressman Williams, the new demo
cratic leader, tells of a party of Kngllsh
noblemen who were traveling In Texas.
They visited one small town where the
local magnate took them to the brst saloon
In tho place and introduced them to the
bartender, saying: "Jim, these gents arc
marquises and earls and lords. What do
you think of that?" "Well, Hill," an
swered the bartender, "they ain't but two
classes In this here place. One is them
that take Hiigar In theirn and the other
is them that ain't so dam particular.
Wutlleyehuve, gents?"
Short nnd Sweet.
Lucie Felix-Faure, the daughter of a for
mer president of France, who late'y mar
ried (leorge Ooyau, Is a distinguished
woman of letters. She has studied the
philosophy, literature and theology of many
countries.
Miss Florence Ornham Offutt of Iexlng
ton, Ky., where she Is a directress of phys
ical culture In a girls' seminary, has broken
off an engagement to wed a young man of
good family because he insisted that after
tnurrluge she should abandon her occupa
tion. Miss Jennie Foss, a school teacher of
Florence, Wis., some time ago had an en
counter with a wildcat, vanquishing the
animal and displaying great bravery. An
account of the Incident was read by John
E. Power, a wealthy farmer of Madison,
Ind. He paid court to Miss Foss through
the" malls, his suit was favorably received
and the other day they were married.
Hev. Frederick C. Smie!au. pastor if nn
Episcopal church In Carlisle, Pa., wus mar
ried a few days ago to Miss Grace Parkin
son, the ceremony being performed by
Bishop Talbot. The bride and groom ure
both deaf and dumb. Mr. Smielau is promi
nent on account of his remarkable work us
a missionary to the 400 deaf and dumb com
municants of the church who reside
throughout the state, to whom he preaches
In the sign language.
Fletare of the Performance.
The late George W. Child, the propih tor
of the Philadelphia Ledger was a man who
supported his subordinates when they wero
In the right
During a bitter congressional campaign
one of the candidates called upon Mr.
Child and said:
' Mr. Childs, I have always considered you
my friend. Am I right In that assump
tion?" "Yes," said Mr. Childs, In his aulet way,
wondering what was coming.
"Well, I come to complain about your
political reporter. His reports of my cam
paign huvo done me much damage."
"I understand," said Mr. Childs, "that
our reporter has been printing your own
speeches. Is that truer
"Y-e-s." wus the hesitating reply.
"Then," said the publisher, "you are the
guilty man. You ure killing your own
candidacy and the Ledger Is simply giving
a faithful picture of the performance.
Blame yourself and not the Ledger re
porter." And that was all the satisfaction this In
fluential politician could get from the pub
lisher. Collier's Weekly.
Approved by " Moraran.
An old Washington gentleman tells a
Story which he overheard President Lin
coln repeat, and which he believes has not
been published.
During one of his busy reception hour",
when the president was tHlklng first to
one, then to nnother of the many wha
filled the room in the White House, a gen
tleman asked if any news had been re
ceived from John Morgan, whose confed
erate cavalry were raiding Kentucky and
Ohio.
"We'll rnteh John some of these days,"
replied Lincoln. "I admire him. for he 1.1
a bold oHnitor. lie always goes after tha
mull trains. In order to get Information
from Washington. On his last mid ho
opjned some mall bigs and took possession
of the otlUial correspondence.
"One letter was from the War depart
ment to n lieutenant In Grunt's army; it
contained a captain's commission for him.
night under the signature of A. Lincoln
tho audacious Morgan wrote, 'Approved.
John Morgan,' nnd sent the commission on
its way. So there is one officer In our
army whose commission lienrs my sig
nature, with the approval of that dare
devil rebel raider. "-New York Tribune.
llralnnliiHT at the llottotu.
W. J. Arkell, formerly publisher of Judge
and Ieslic's Weekly, tells this story Hpro
poa of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer's gift to Co
lumbia university:
"When Joseph Pulitzer came to New
York to take the World out of the hands
of William llurlbert iiml Manton Marble
he Invited a notable company to dinner on
the evening after the first paper was Is
sued under his management. The party
included, as nearly us I can remeralMT.
Jolw A. Cockrcll, who afterward died In
Alexandria. Egypt, while In the service of
the New York Herald; Mallard Smith, who
was for a time managing editor "of the Sun;
Charles Brooks, the criminal lawyer; John
It. Fellows, the talented district attorney,
and others whose names I cannot now re
cull. Instead of taking them to Delmon
Ion's, where they all expected to go, Mr.
Pulitzer conducted them to Hitchcock's
famous beanery, then occupying a cellar
on the sixit where the Pulitzer building
now stands. Suld he, as he ordered beef
and beans and 'sinkers' and coffee for the
whole party:
" 'tjcntletnen, when the Princeton or Har
vard graduate comes to New York to enter
Journalism he dines first at IMmonlco'a
and ends up at Hitchcock's. We will be
gin, with your permission, at Hitchcock's,
and we hope to end at Dvlmonlco's' "New
York Times.
Premature Obituary.
One of the New York papers printed a,
half-column obituary of J. I. Mott, a well
known citizen. Mr. Mott saw the obituary
on the morning It was printed and waa
perplexeed. He took the paper and went
down to the editorial rooms. After much
travail he got In to see tho city editor.
"I came in to see If you can tell me any
thing about this," said Mr. Mott, humbly.
"About what?" asked the city editor,
rasplugly. He took the paper and read
tho article hurriedly. "It seems to bo an
obituary notice of one J. L. Mott." he said.
"Whut'B the matter with It?"
"Nothing that I know of," answered Mr.
Mott, "but I want to know how It cam
about."
"Came about? Why, the man died. I
suppose. We don't usuully print obitu
aries of live men."
Mr. Mott wus impressed. "Probably not,"
he said, "but you did this time. I am J.
L. Mott."
The city editor made many apologies.
"Wo will print a correction If you like," he
announced.
"No," suld Mr. Mott, after hesitating.
"Let It go as it Is. I ll show it to puopla
when they try to borrow money of me."
Saturday Evening Post.