recoiling.
"It'll go off one of these days, I know it will," sobbed Matilda, "andthen you'll be sorry."
A smile illumined Trotters' visage. Nobody knew better than himself thatthe deadly weapon wasn't loaded. He had bought it of a marine storedealer, cleaned and polished it--it was a five-chambered revolver--andclicked the trigger three or four times to make sure; but even that madehim nervous.
"She's really frightened!" he said, as he walked away.
An irresistible impulse came over him to frighten her a little more. Hewent back. He peeped over the garden gate. The house stood dark andsilent. Everybody had gone to bed. He would steal round into the backgarden and throw a little gravel up at Matilda's window. That wouldbring her down.
The onion and cabbage beds rose right up to the house wall. In the softmould his footsteps fell silent. Ha! what was that? Jealousy! Wrath!Revenge!
A male figure stood in the center of the onion-bed. Its hat was cockedon one side, its gaze uplifted to Matilda's window. One arm wasstretched out in an attitude of supplication. A bush rustled as Trottersstole warily behind him. Matilda's window opened. Matilda's voicequeried, "Is that you, dear?" It was too much. Trotters drew the fatalpistol and clapped it to his rival's ear.
"Stir a step and you're a dead man!" he hissed, trying to steady hisshaking hand. Too late! There was a flash--a terrible explosion! Thestranger fell prone, and lay motionless on the ground.
Trotters was unaware that his cousin Jack, who was in the Carabineers,had expressed much curiosity regarding the weapon Trotters carried withsuch jealous solicitude, and, being of a larksome disposition, hadsurreptitiously gained possession of the revolver, placed a blankcartridge in each of the barrels, and returned it to the pocket of theunsuspecting Trotters, or he might have behaved differently. But no, hefelt that in his passionate jealousy he had committed a deadly crime,and sent to his last account an innocent man. 'Twas too much. Trottersshrieked aloud in terror, and then fainted.
Matilda flew down to him with her hair in curl-papers. They found himlying cold and motionless beside the garden scarecrow!
--_Ally Sloper's Half Holiday._
Everything in Its Place.
Architectural Upholsterer--And how do you think of having the libraryfurnished, Mr. Gasbuhm?
Mr. Gasbuhm--Why, I want a pool table in it, and a sideboard, of course;a couple of card tables and a lay out for the chess club, and whatlittle whim whams and frenzies you want to make it look well.
"And about the book shelves; will you----"
"Oh, shoot the book shelves; put the books in the boys' rooms; they'regoing to school; I don't want books stuck under my nose when I'm busyenjoying myself."
--_Brooklyn Eagle._
MAKING A HIT.
1.]
2.]
3.]
A Consolation.
Smiley Basker--Yes, I'm going to get married at last, but it's mightyrisky, mighty risky.
Van Riper--Well, don't worry; you can't do worse than your wife, anyway.Who is she?
--_Munsey's Weekly._
It Was Perfumed.
First Cadet--Did you ever smell powder?
Second Cadet--Yes?
"Where?"
"On a Vassar girl."
--_San Francisco Argus._
Quite Sure.
Stranger--Did a pedestrian pass this way a few minutes ago? Granger--No,sor. I've been right outer this tater patch more'n a nower, and notterblamed thing has passed 'cept one solitary man, an' he was tramping'erlong on foot.
--_Time._
Only a Matter of Form.
"Mr. Kajones," said young Springbyle, clearing his throat, "I havecalled to ask permission to pay my addresses to your daughter."
"Which one, Julius?" inquired Mr. Kajones.
"Miss Maria, sir."
The father looked fixedly at the young man. "What are your prospects inlife, Julius?" he said.
"To tell you the truth, sir," acknowledged young Springbyle, "I have noprospects worth mentioning. I am in moderate circumstances and have noresources except a knowledge of my business, good health and steadyhabits."
"Just so, Julius," mused the father. "Your income, I dare say, is----"
"About $1,200 a year."
"And on this, my young friend, you would expect to support yourself anda young woman who has lived in a home where she has never been used toanything like privation, or even judicious economy?"
"It does seem presumptuous for me to think of it," faltered the youth,"and as I see it does not meet with your approval I will say no moreabout it and ask your pardon for----"
"Stay, Julius!" exclaimed Mr. Kajones, somewhat hastily. "I only askedyou those questions as a matter of form. If you want Maria, my boy, youcan have her!" And he shook the young man warmly by the hand.
Mr. Kajones, it may be proper to state, has eight unmarried daughtersbesides Maria.
--_Chicago Tribune._
Weighed Down.
Joe--Gus looks crushed, as if he had something heavy on his mind.
Jack--A thought, perchance.
--_Time._
Quite a Different Thing.
Old Gent--Little boy, I am sorry to see you smoking a cigarette.
Little Boy--I ain't smoking it. I'm keeping it alight for another fellerwhat's gone on an errand.
--_Boston Courier._
A Negro Who Doesn't Like Chicago Manners.
Yates, an old negro, sought the Mayor of Chicago. "What can I do foryou?" the mayor asked.
"Wall, sah, I doan' know 'bout dat, but I come yere to see ef I kain'tgit jestice somehow."
"What's the matter?"
"'Nuff de matter ter make er man pizen, dat's whut. I moved up yere fromthe South 'caze I didn't think I wuz enjoyin' all my rights downdar----"
"I see. They interfered with your right to vote."
"Oh, no, sah; da let me vote all I wanted ter. Nices' people 'bout dat Ieber seed. Jes' let me stan' up an' vote right erlong, but den da didn'tcount my vote."
"And you wanted to come to a place where your vote counted?"
"Yes, sah."
"Well, what is the trouble?"
"'Leckshun troubles."
"Don't you believe your vote was counted?"
"Oh, yes, I know it was."
"Then what have you to complain of."
"W'y, sah, I hadn't mo'n voted 'fo' er blame p'liceman came up, he did,an' lammed me ober de head."
"What were you doing?"
"Nothin' er tall; jes' standin' dar."
"Didn't he tell you to move on?"
"Yes, sah, but whut bizness was it o' his'n? I wan't foolin' wid him."
"What did you say when he told you to move on?"
"Didn't say nothin'. Jis' sorter shuck my head, an' den he come erhittin' me wid dat stick. Dat ain't no way ter ack--no way ter do w'ener man is 'habin' hisse'f."
"I'm very sorry----"
"You ain't ha'f as sorry ez I is, sah. Jis' look at dis yer lump on myhead. I'd ruther not hab my vote counted den ter pay so dear fur it. Efda hatter hit me to make my vote count w'y, den, I'd ruther they wouldfling it outen de box. Dat's er mighty cuis way ter do business. Cracker man's skull ter make his vote count. Doan't want no more votescounted in dis town."
--_Arkansaw Traveler._
A Pittsburgh doctor says he can diagnose ailments by examining a singlehair of the patient. Two young men, as a joke, took him a hair from abay horse. The doctor gravely wrote a prescription, and said his fee was$25, as the case was precarious. They were staggered, but paid the fee,and after they got out laughed all the way to the ap
othecary's. Thelatter took the prescription and read in amazement: "One bushel of oats,four quarts of water, stir well, and give three times a day, and turnthe animal out to grass!" Then the jokers stopped laughing.
--_Denver News._
Undertakers are gravely opposed to cremation.--_Boston Gazette._ Arethey in urn est?
C. A. M.
Too Late Even for Lecocq.
A gentleman here who was