A GIGANTIC PIE.
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How Kansas Honored a Returning Member of the Tenth.
Retaining soldiers of the famous Twentieth Kansas, who have just reached home from the Philippines, unanimously agree that one great thing is lacking in army life. The American soldiers would be content were one want satisfied. They want pie—mother's pie—issued as rations. But the army quartermaster knows a little of pie as a Chinaman. While other rations come regularly and tolerably well cooked, these soldiers say that the great aching void for pie grew om apace, until now some of the boys would gladly give a month's pay for a good big pie.
Arthur Philips, who lives at Mulvane, Kan., was a private in Company H. Tenth Pennsylvania regiment, and Is half-back on the W. and J. football team of Washington, Pa., came home recently and was greeted by the townspeople in a unique and fitting manner. He had previously written home in regard to pie. When the neighbors learned he was nearing home they determined to arrange a satisfactory welcome. Accordingly they baked a pie four feet wide and six feet long and filled it with apple mince meat and everything else that goes to make up a good pie.
A big reception was held in the opera house, and the pie laid on a large table on the stage. No one else was allowed to eat the pie, and, be it said to the soldier's credit, he devoured the pie during the night, and actually called for more. This should be a warning to friends who desire to please heroes of the Philippine campaign.—Leslie's Weekly.
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DR. J. H. RINDLAUB. Specialist. Bye, Bar, Nose and Throat, Fargo, N. D.
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Bother the Pay.
A few weeks ago a young Irishman applied for a situation as a car conductor in one of the principal towns in Scotland.
The manager thought him fit for the work, and asked him what pay he wanted.
"Bedad!" he replied, "never moind the pay—just give me the job, and Oi'll have a car of my own in a fortnight."—Answers.
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Indispensable.
"Yes, yes," said the manager wearily, "I know you have a fine wardrobe."
"Well,", said the sensational actress, "don't you think costumes count for anything?"
"Of course. I realize that the wardrobe Is a necessity. You've got to have something to take off in the disrobing scene."—Washington Star.
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When a singer's voice fails he can no longer take up his notes.
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PATENTS.
List of Patent Issued Last Week to Northwestern Inventors.
Peter M. Bang, Dawson, Minn., bag fastener; Thomas Cusick, Cogswell, N. D., car coupling; John C. Forsburg, Willmar, Minn., curling tongs heater; Laurits Hansen, St. Martin, Minn., horse collar; John L. Owens, Minneapolis, Minn., draft equalizer; Charles S. Saxton, Blue Earth City, Minn., runner for vehicles; Claude A. P. Turner, Minneapolis, Minn., steel ore bin; Robert J. Walker, Moorhead, Minn., feed board for roller mills. Merwin, Lothrop & Johnson, Patent Attorneys, 911 & 912 Pioneer Press Bldg., St. Paul.
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The Only Thing Lacking.
The somewhat previous letter of a "Christmas gift" brother to his former employer reads as follows:
"Marse Tom, ef you gwine ter gimme Chris'mus gif' dis Chris'mus I wish you please, suh, sen' me a overcoat. Marse Tom, ef I had one er dese overcoats what reach ter de groun' I'd feo ter preachin' 'fo sundown!"—Atlanta.
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$100 Reward $100.
The readers of this paper will be pleased to learn that there is at least one dreaded disease that science has been able to cure in all its stages, and that is Catarrh. Hall's Catarrh Cure is the only positive cure now known to the medical fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional disease, requires a constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system, thereby destroying the foundation of the disease, and giving the patient strength by building up the constitution and assisting nature in doing its work. The proprietors have so much faith in its curative powers that they offer One Hundred Dollars for any case that it falls to cure. Send for list of Testimonials.
Address F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, O.
Sold by druggists 75c. Hall's Family Fills are the best
The Omnipresent Youth.
Minister—Good morning, Willie, your papa at home?
Willie (aged seven, to his father in the library)—Say, paw, did you see him first?
Minister—Why do you ask your father such a strange question, my boy?
Willie—Well, you see, paw and Mr. Bilkins are playin' poker this evenin’, and I heerd paw say he bet you wud'nt see him if he saw you first.—Ohio State Journal.
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The work of cutting down the grades on the Chicago division of the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road will be begun at once, and most of the heavy work will have been completed by spring.
The Chicago division work Includes reductions between Tiffin, O., and Attica, where a 28-foot grade will be reduced to 18 feet, for a distance of 16 miles, the heaviest cut being at Republic.
At Teegarden, Ind., there are 175,000 cubic yards to be removed, to reduce the grade from 28 to 16 feet. Between Garrett and Ripley, Ind., there will be a relocation of the line for seven miles, reducing a 26-foot grade to 16 feet, both east and west bound.
These reductions will cost about 5,300,000, but will allow an increase of nearly 30 per cent in train loading when they are completed.
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An Appreciative Comment.
"That little boy of Blinx's is a wonderfully bright chap."
"The one who recited?"
"Yes."
"One of the brightest children I ever met. I'll bet that when he gets to be as old as his father he'll be too smart to make his children get up and speak pieces." Washington Star.
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He Wants His Boy.
A colored citizen who has a boy in the Philippines the written to the president to ask that his son be granted furlough in order that he may spend Christmas at home.
"Do, Mister Kinley—ef you please, suh. sen' John home fer Chris'mus, kase his mammy is des a-pinln' fer de sight'er 'im. En ef he ain't done drawee! all 'is money, please, suh, sen' dat on ahead er him, so's we kin have a Chris'mus gif en dinner fer 'im w'en he walk in de do'. Sen' him right off, ef yer please, suh, en I'll vote fer you nex' time dee lak I did las'."—Atlanta Constitution.
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DIDN'T HIT BOB TOOMBS.
How a His Georgia Politician Unwittingly Saved His Own Life.
Don Bain gave me a new Toombs story recently, says the Atlanta Constitution. I call it new because it has never been printed. One night, when the legislature was in session, the old Markham house was crowded with statesmen and loungers. Gen. Toombs was there. Something had gone wrong at the capitol and he was mad. As usual, he took no pains to conceal his sentiments. When Bain entered the hotel he found the general talking excitedly with a crowd around him. Toombs objected to something said or done in the legislature and proceeded to "cuss out" the whole body. The eloquent talker was perfectly reckless. He threw off brilliant epigrams, epithets and outbursts of profanity until he almost equaled a volcano in the force, fury and fire of his eruptions. The loungers listened and laughed. They enjoyed it tremendously and looked at the politicians to see how they stood it. Among those present was a member from a middle Georgia county. He was a giant in stature, tall, broad shouldered and muscular. He was not in a good humor and Toombs irritated him. Finally he resented the general's remarks. "I'll be d--d if I stand your talk any longer," he said. "You are too personal, and if you repeat your statement I'll hit you! This interested the crowd. The legislator towered over everybody, ready to strike the general. Toombs, in his fearless way, was about to say something when several of his friends gently drew him into the elevator and took him to his room. "I was just about to hit him," remarked the legislator. Just then a very small, delicate-looking man, with a pale face and mild blue eyes, walked up to the big politician. "Yes," said the little man, quietly, "I saw that you were about to hit him. That's why I came up." "I don't understand," replied the other. "I got close to you," continued the little man, "because I was going to kill you if you struck Gen. Toombs. I am fixed for it, and if you had touched him I would have shot you through the heart!" Saying this he tapped his hip pocket. The tall legislator in some confusion said something apologetic and explanatory and remembered an engagement elsewhere. "That little man," said Bain in conclusion, "was Col. John S. Hart, one of the bravest cavalry officers in the confederate service. He was afraid of nothing, and he meant just what he said. He would have killed that man if he had struck Toombs."
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LITTLE BAYARDS OF THE STREET
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Necessity Has Made Their Young Eyes Very Observant.
Between the woman whose business takes her much around town and the wideawake urchins belonging to the newsboy and bootblack fraternity there exist feelings of great cordiality, says the New York Commercial Advertiser. "Necessity has made the street boy's eyes very observant and somehow he always sees the way to help any one out," declares one enthusiastic friend of the helpful gamin. "The other day I came downtown, encumbered with a dress-suit case in one hand and an umbrella in the other. I was also carrying a parcel under my arm. To my discomfort I felt the package slipping forward to a point where it would soon fall. I had a notion to deposit the suit case on the wet ground to free one hand when a newsboy darted to my side and gave just the little push needed to replace the parcel under my arm. I am sure," triumphantly added the speaker, "that there are few men of my acquaintances who would have seen my dilemma or thought to relieve it." During the strike few copies of the boycotted papers were sold to those women who are indebted to the newsboy for many friendly offices, such as the restoration of dropped packages, or, greatest favor of all, that shrill whistle which attracts the attention of the inattentive gripman. One such, returning from her vacation in a region where New York papers were rare, eagerly hailed a newsboy with the question: "Is the strike oft? Did you get what you wanted?" The small boy shook his head. "Compromised," he said, and then gloomily, "de leaders was bought off."
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Extinction of the Maoris
Judging from a recent report of the registrar general of New Zealand, that fine martial race, the Maoris, is going the way of all aborigines whose country has been colonized by the whites. They may not become absolutely extinct for a few more decades, but their doom is sealed. Among the causes officially assigned for the thinning of their numbers are the high infantile mortality resulting from improper food, exposure, and the want of ordinary care, constitutions debilitated by past debauchery, the belief in native doctors and neglect of the sick, and the adoption of European habits and costumes, leading to diseases of the respiratory organs. A Maori M. A., Mr. Nagata, in addressing a recent conference of his countrymen, said that drink was pauperizing them and sapping their vitality.—London Chronicle.
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The Crying Need.
Wireless telegraphy, horseless carriages and chainless bicycles are all very well in their way, but what the world really yearns for is a noiseless baby.
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Experience.
Mrs. Hicks—Do you have any trouble in keeping your children clean? Mrs. Wicks—Not a bit. I don’t try. – Detroit Free Press.
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Didn'n Work.
"What a beautiful lounge!"
"Yes. That's a birthday present from my husband. He always gives me a present that costs him as many dollars as I am years old."
"That's nice of him. It reconciles one to growing old. By the way, I have a lounge at home like that, but not nearly as fine, and we paid $38 for it."
"Is that all? This—this didn't, cost nearly as much as that."—Chicago Tribune.
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Any feeling that takes a man away from his home is a traitor to the household.— H. W. Beecher.
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Our Seasons.
"Do you really have four distinct seasons in Michigan?" asked the summer resorter of an old resident.
"Oh, yes; summer and winter and winter and summer."—Detroit Free Press.
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Her Way of Getting It.
Wife (earnestly)—George, dear, I have prayed so fervently of late for a tailor-made gown that I feel it would be flying in the face of Providence not to go and get measured at once.—Brooklyn Life.
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The man who does no harm in the world does but little good.
