THE COURIER
11
BOOTS BY THE QUART.
BITS OF LIFE'S MOSAIC.
Written for Tin: Cocrikk.
"""-HE baby has rulled off his shoes and stockings and is play
I ing on tho lloor. Tho room is warm and well-lighted. A
I hot fire in the large coal burner throws a glow over his pret
ty rosy face as ho runs about the room. His littlo pink toes wiggle
and twist and when he suddenly stubs one of his tender littlo toes
against n chair he runs crying to his mother. Ho buries his head
in her lap and she pets him and soothes him; he snuggles up close
and is happy. But there are other barefooted babies out in tho
drouth stricken districts. Thero are babies that go barefooted day
and night. They play about on the tloor, but the lloor is bare and
cold. Their little toes are baro-and pinched. They cry and run to
mother, but mother, too, is cold and cannot sootho her littly baby's
pain. Her own heart is so sad and heavy that not oven tha crying
of her barefooted baby can stir her from her lethargic misery.
It is a fearful conntry that drouth stricken land. Level, bare,
bleak and awful. The sod houses huddle down near the barren
prairies. There is not a shrub, a bit of brown grass or even a corn
stalk to relieve tho awful monotony. There is a dreary sameness
that tries one to death. The only changing thiny in all that land is
tho sky. And yet even the sky has almost been changeless this
past fateful year. The bald old sun has shown his blasting face
nearly every day throHgh the whole year. The clouds havedeserted
the sky that covers the stricken land and tln pitiless sun has had its
way alone. Tho winds travel over the level stretches and blow the
6and in heaps and mounds. Above the graves of discouraged dead,
it heaps shifting mounds as unstable and wandering as were the
people who lie buried beneath the bald old sod. The hungry cattle
wander to and fro, and piles of ghastly bones lie here and thero, a
silent indication that hunger has struck homo with his blunt dag
ger and taken the lives of the poor dumb, helpless cattle.
What bitter suffering must pierce the heart of the man who sees
about him his wife and babies, suffering with want and cold? He
is helpless to relievo their wants. Far from friends, without money
and without hope. The gaunt eyes ever staring at him when he is
awake and haunting his brain when he is asleep. And even when
he leaves the hou&e tho poor dumb animals follow him about with
eyes that have the same fearful, beseeching look. Is it not strange
that we hear of so few that are driven to desperation? One would
think that Buicide would be rife in such a land; but patience 6eems
to have taken her hold upon tho hearts of the people and though all
is gone but hope, yet she shines brightly and lures tho starved
people on toward the future.
One thing we are thankful for, and that is that Nebraska people
are not selfish. And that the people are opening their hearts and
giving liberally for tho aid of the drouth stricken west. And the
sad-eyed mothers gazing from their low grass-fringed doors across
the ghastly heaps of drifted sand may see food coming to their little
ones. The west seems God-forsaken this year, but perhaps after all
tho great Father is walking amidst His people in tho cold and hun
gry western land. William Rked Dgnrov.
TO A WATERCOLOR.
Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday,
Come down from out that frame.
And tell me why you looked so gay
Likewise your other name.
Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love
And asked you if you'd wed?
And had he called you "Lovey-dove?"
And how long are you dead?
Where did you get that wondrous gown.
Those patches and that hair?
And how were things in London town
The last time you were thero?
And did you die a maid or wife,
Your husband lord or knave?
And how did you like this Jolly lifo?
And how do you like the grave?"
In South street. New York, there is an Italian who runs a Yankee
notion stand. He speaks English after a fashion, but cannot read a
word of it. Tho fact has made him an easy prey for a heartless
joker.
His stock of gods includes almost everything from peanuts and
ohewing gum to suspenders and waterproof jumpers. Until recently
he has displayed no placards giving tho priceH of his wares, but tho
other day a man offered to paint all the signs that tho Italian need
ed free of charge. The offer was joyfully accepted. Tho signs were
painted and placed in position. Crowds were attracted to tho spot,
and visions of sudden wealth danced before the Italian's eyes. Hero
are some of the inscriptions painted by the mountebank:
CAPE ANN HOOTS!
: Only :
! ."0 Cents a Quart. :
: chewing gum:
All Kinds :
: Only -J Cents a Yard. :
They were prominently displayed near the top of tho stand, but
thoy were eclipsed by these a little lower down:
: PEANUTS! i
I Raw or Roasted. ;
S2 a pint. :
! SUSPENDERS!
; Baked. Fried or Boiled, :
: With Edible Ruckles, :
I 20 Cents a Plate. :
The placard that won tho most admiration and of which tho inno
cent merchant was particularly proud was an oblong affair, gorgeous
in colors. It read:
: Gold Plated Brushes 5 Cents. :
I Diamond Studs .'Cents.
Collar Buttons $10 Each. :
I All Pocket Knives Free. ;
A few minutes after the signs had been put into place an old sail
or was trying to buy two quarts of Cape Ann boots for a dollar, and
the Italian was getting black in the face trying to make him under
stand that the boots were "four dol a pair." Many similar scenes
wero witnessed. Finally a sympathetic friend exposed the fraud to
tho victim and the pasteboards were removed.
NO TIME FOR COMMON SENSE.
Tom Hall.
Looking over the curriculum of one of our high schools, and con
ning the examination papers at a certain commencement, we could
not help thinking:
That we teach the children Danish,
Trigonometry and Spanish:
Fill their heads with old-time notions,
And tho secrets of tho oceans;
And the cuneiform inscriptions,
From the land of the Egyptians;
Learn the date of every battle;
Know the habits of tue cattle;
Know the date of every crowning:
Read the poetry of Browning;
Make them show a preference
For each musty branch of science;
Tell the acreage of Sweden,
And the serpent's wiles at Eden:
And the other things we teach 'em
Make a mountain so immense
That we have not a moment left
To teach them Common Sense. Truth.
