Life — June 3, 1897 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“‘Iv’s an old saying and a true one,” remarked Senator Sorghum, with pensive sadness, ‘that republics are ungrateful. People don't seem to know their own minds, The more you do for them the more they want you to do, and nine times out of ten your best efforts are misconstrued.” “What has happened ?"” “ One of my constituents has been criticising my attitude on the tariff.” “In what respect ?" “ He says I'm wrong in wanting to tax works of art.” “Is he competent to speak ?"” “Of course he isn't. He doesn’t pay any taxes to speak of and does scarcely any work at all in acampaign. But those who have the least right to talk on a subject always seem to have the most to say. He shuts himself up and spends his time painting pictures and then expects to tell how the country ought to be run.” “Did you convince him that be was mistaken ?” “He didn’t have a word to say when I got through. I walked right into the middle of the argument and told bim he ought to be ashamed of himself to want to bring all these foreign-painted pictures over here in competition with our home manufactures. Haven't we got the paint? Haven't we got the brushes? And haven't we got the canvas and the cigar-box lids and barns and all the other things that pictures are customarily put onto? Then what under the sun is the use of going to Europe for picture-painting ?- That's the way I put the question to him,” Did he make any reply?" “He said something about its being a misfortune for this country to be deprived of the many old masters that might be brought over under more liberal arrangements. But I silenced him when I told him that what I proposed to do was to encourage the business by keeping out foreign competition, so that in a few years we would be turning out old masters just as cheap as Europe ever dared to. That settled him. ,He said there wasn't any more use of argu- ing with me, and went home.""—Philander Johnson, in Washington Star. Dean Swirt was walking on the Phoenix Road, Dublin, when a thunder- storm suddenly came on, and he took shelter under a tree where a party sheltering also—two young women and two young men. One of the gt looked very sad, till as the rain fell her tears began to flow. The dean inquired the cause, and learned that it was her weddiog-day. They were on their way to church, and now her white clothes were wet, and she could not go. ‘ Never mind—I'll marry you,” said the dean; and he took out his prayer-book and then and there married them, their witnesses being present; and, to make the thing complete, he tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and with his pencil wrote and signed a certificate, which he handed to the bride. The certificate was worded as follows: ‘* Under a tree in stormy weather, 1 married this man and woman together; let none but Him who rules the thunder sever this man and woman asunder.—Jonathan Swift, dean of St. Patrick's."— Wave, Ir needed no experienced eye to determine that he was distinctly rurai There was hayseed in his hair, his boots Lore the sign manual of the farm, a: he handled knife and fork with the vigorous skill of one accustomed to the daily use of shovel and hoe. After watching me season my meat with a judicious quantity of Tabasco, curiosity got the better of his bashfulness. ** Stranger, is that there stuff good to put on meat ?” he inquired, “Yes, indeed, if one likes seasoning,” I replied. He appeared satisfied with the information and proceeded to try the condi- ment. With a reckless liberality, against which I should have warned him, he took the small bottle and shook out a quantity upon his plate. He cut off a lar, mouthful of meat, rolled it about in the red liquid until thoroughly saturated, popped it into his mouth and bolted it. What followed may be safely left to the imagination. When at last the power of speech returned to him he turned to me, ‘There was more of sorrow than anger in his mind; his face was innocent of frown or smile, and there was impressive compassion in the tone in which be said “Stranger, when yer time comes an’ yer gits ter hell, yer'll think yer've struck a snow-bank."— Washington Star. Easy Pushing Use Dixon's Graphitoleo. es upgrade seem sand level almost hill. It adds to the delights of wheeling and lessens the cost of repairs. A faultiess lubricant— Dixon’s Graphitoleo won't cum or gather dust, Lubricates every pin and pivot as welll ag the : Dept. D. Saniple tabe 15 cents. 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