, 1884-02-01
SAMPLES OF STYLE.
Dickens, Dumas Pere, and Charles
Reade Successfully Initiated


rTexas Siftingsl
Slow shall / cultivate a correct literary
stylef- wrote a youth, Just budding into
manhood, to u certain college professor.
"Read the works of the best writers-tho
old masters of the English language" was
the encouraging reply. Thu youth read long
and carefully and ponderod deeply on the
advice OF his old preceptor. Then he drew
some broad sheets Of paper toward him and
wrote:
Style OF Dickens: Hurrah for Jog jog
ginsI Let every schoolboy's voice be raised
for jog Jogginsi Let the little birds pipe
peans Of praise TO Jog Joggins, the old VII
Age sexton, who was on his way to the lit
tie stone church to ring the Matin bells on
this holy Christmas morn- His long, grey
hair was tossed and tumbled around his
wrinkled face by the same frolicsome wind
that chased the dead leaves across the lea,
and drove them in heaps into tho fence cor
nerS Jog Joggins was as light-hearted as
the merriest boy who followed his feeble foot
steps through the light, dry, fluffy snow.
But Jog would be happier. There was an
aching void In his epigastrium. SO Jog jog
gins stopped and drew a case bottle from his
pistol pocket He took a generous %snifter,
wiped his frosty beard, and again plodded
his weary way onward to ring the Matin
bells, like old Father Time, rustling for a
fresh victim to NOW away in his straw stack
Style Of Dumas, pere: "Monsieur Golcondn,
have you the punch.strainsr concealed about
your ~personf"
SHAY"
Then, by the green earth under foot, and
tho blue vaults Of heaven bending DER US,
thou shalt dieI"
times. 1t comes natural for some people to
die. Each day some poor unfortunate turns
up his p~ulseless toes"
~You Jest"
20, no, my lord, not seriously. Inever jest
In serious tone. But what abou my dying.
You certainly could have had no reference to
any allusion. Flower have their time to fad
and leaves to fall. And even those that don't
die are generally put out on first base"
"Say no more" said Count Thimblerig. ~
will try and strain the punch through my
pocket-book, 1t Ia certainly thin enough"
Style OF Charles Reads: Promptly at IL
o'clock, Farmer Butler came stamping into
the large, old-fashioned English kitchen
There WAS an aroma Of roast beef permeat-
Ing the atmosphere not unmirod with the CO.
ductive flavor of a tap-room-
The red face of Farmer Butler shone like q
fall pippin, and his honest gray eyes graed
earnestly into those Of his wifs
"Whers's Madgef7 he inquired.
aShe isn't hore." answered his patient,
areworn wife
-Isn't hersi" said Farmer Butler, with sur
prise, @where is shef7
aShe's OUT" answered his wife with a plead
Ing. pathetic look. similar to that Of a house
dog, waiting for some dinner soraps
1Oh. she's out, Is shef' snesred Farmer
Butler, growing white around his trembling
lips. "See hero, woman, l want you to keep
that girl Mt home. Shs shall not be gala
vantin,."
"No." said Mrs Butler, sbstractedly, mot
be gallavantin'."
mo gallavantin' allowed on the Butler
manor farmi"
mo g~allavantin'," echoed Mrs. Butler,
with a sckly smile, "keop OF the grass"
-The girl is, evidently, lovestruak, and nng-
ling like a Dutch fshmonger after carp. For
full twenty years 1 have toiled and moiled
for that girl, and no fair in the neighborhood
came and went but what she cost me a two
pun note for ribbons and gewgsws, and now
sho is nothing but a street walkor.'
20, Jerryf' s1postulnted wife.
"She's az
1Hushl" said Mrs Butler, warningly. SAY
not the word. Above all things. Madgs Ia
pure"
"Puroi" echoed Farmer Butler. -By -
bring ME my bssr."
A yellow fox hound sfouched Into the
room at this moment and rooted out a black
cat with bullying, yellow eyes from undar ths
stovs.