The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-08-20
HIS HONOR AND BIJAH.
An Hour I'm the Central Station Court.
(From tile Detroit Free Press.l
A SHADDER.

A sHADDER.
After remarking that harvest apples
admit matured enough TO be half ripe
yet, his Honor picked up the warrants
and nodded toward the corridor. The
first one ont was match wasted female
named Sophia Sullivan, and her face
couldn't have looked more sorrowful had
she lost fifteen cents and coral ring.
"Mrs. Sullivan, you are charged with
disturbing the peace, remarked the
court "in other words, viz, towit, as
follows, you assaulted your husband, cut
his scalp open with plate, and reduced
him to that point where he couldn't tell
the difference between Saratoga regatta
and the new Sartoris baby"
"Well, did hit him, Judge, and
hit him pretty hard" she said.
"And your eXcuse2"
"There's been q shadder on my life
for the last five years." she went on.
"And the name of that shadder IS
which 70
"My husband hates me because I've
got red hair and a turn-up nose !" she
sobbed.
"Great shades but is that so p
GO 1t is, your Honor. He comes home
and fight back"
"Mrs. Sullivan, go home-go back to
your abiding place. Your husband is a
rhinocerous-a lunatic. Hate hair and
a nose like that The man ought to be
boiled in tar I'll get him down here
some day and he'll think a horse-barn
fell upon him -
"sAM
"Got an Injun for you !" whispered
Bijah, as the next prisoner came out.
He was a deck-hand on n propeller.
Some one had injured his left eye, his
proud spirit was down to zero, and his
outfit would have sold for twenty-five
cents at a second hand clothing store.
Still he was an Indian, and as good
looking an Indian as can be found on
the plains.
els your name Okemos 2" asked the
Court.
"No, sir-named Sam, was the re-
ply.
"Where is your LODGE 2"
"Down here ten rods"
"Where is your squawl"
Film run away two year ago."
Where is your tribe z"
"Eh?"
Where, sir, are the dignifed, stoica
and gallant red men of the forest who
used to camp on the very spot where this
station-house now stands z"
Him in Toledo, guess, +" responded
Sam.
"Child of the forest-native of the
prairies, feel sad for you," said the
Court as he leaned back and skucked
peanut. "No lodge-no tribe-no chief
no war-house-no scalps. Where you
played when child you will now find
oyster-cans and old boots. White men
are raising cabbages and such base truck
on the hills where you used to hunt the
wild roebuck. Where you once halted
to listen to the whispers of the stream
let, you will now hear the sounds of
John Chinaman chasing woolen under
shirt up and down a wash-board. |
don't want to strike an I'M jun after he is
down. Go away, restless, broken spirit
get out of doors and try and be bet
ter red man 70
Heap glad-old man heap good
feller !" whispered the delighted Sam as
he bent his back and shot under the
rope.
DRoNE.
Erastus Washburne Harrison, the
police say that you are drone-bee in the
great hive of industry, said the Court to
the next prisoner.
"I can prove my character" replied
Erastus, settling back on his dignity.
Z" I don't want any proof-proof sticks
out all over you. See the whitewash on
your back Gaze at that head of hair,
which hasn't been ambled over with
comb since you can remember Behold
that soiled shirt-those old clothes
your general dilapidated look. It's no
crime to be poor, Mr.. Harrison, but it's
pizen for poor man to be lazy !"
CT haint lazy" replied the prisoner.
"Ah Erastus, don't talk to me L
see no ambition in your eye-no resolu-
tions in your face-no dust around in
your actions. You wouldn't crack
cocoanut for the sake of the milk and
meat. Go to the ant, thou sluggard,
consider her way and be wise.
"I haven't got any aunt, said MIR.
Harrison.
"Well, you've got to ante out of this,
my humble friend. I'm going to make
it sixty days"
Fat Meat for COnsumptives.