The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-01-03

HAAs AAOWGASJ b0G A0VC1ASt1 A6S thACA one of his characters out of Boston, but he allowed him to go back by the return steamer.
 "Ah," says the queen of England, writing to a friend in America, "I see that General Grant has at last refused something. Do you know could hardly believe this2 couldn't, really :; but MT. Gladstone came along, the other evening, and put down his axe at the front gate-he had been out to in- dulge in his favorite pastime of chopping woodland told me that it was fact. Your man, Cleveland, though, refuses everything, 1 hear. Nov. is it quite true that he is fat? Aint that awful Inever saw the like. When anybody begins to get fat it is like six act play-seems to be no end to the performance. Affairs in England are getting along as well as Io2ld be expected. There is a great cry of hard times, but don't see why. haven't suffered any yet, but it's just ter rible how much person has to give away in this blessed little country. Yes terday gave sixpence to poor woman, and to-day hear that she wants another contribution. What can people do with their money, I'd like to knowl I despise extravagance. One of my grand sons-prince somebody, can't recall his name just now-is contemplating a visit to America. am very much afraid that he will get lost in the woods, and have cautioned him not to go near your terrible institutions. am afraid they'll bite him. Why don't they kill such vicious animals haven't been to Scot land for some time. It makes me sad every time go there. have to give SO much to the poor. It'sjust as Pontius Pilate said to Peter the Hermit: The poor ye have with ye always.'"
 We have read many New Year sketches and poems, within the past week. Some of them were good, others were mighty sorry" It is not an easy matter to write New Year article so full of originality of warp that a man will take it up and read it again. 1t is easy enough to write a story with happy characters, musical bells and the radiant faces of children pressed against the window-pane trying to catch 8 glimpse of the fabulous old year, crippled and gray, with the hide blazed of him in patches; and, it is comparatively free from labor to write a New Year poem, in which the bell is a central figure, bat to get up something as new as the year itself, Is almost an impossibility. The poet, the romancer, and the editor, though, are never daunted. The bard sings in strains of forced sadness. He laments the departure of the old year although his overcoat has fitted past the prime of life, and he goes into rythmic rapture over the arrival of the New Year, although his wood-pile is low and the grocery man is watching him. The romancer tells pretty stories of bright maidens and good size chunks O boys !" that can pay a passing compliment to a dinner table and reduce a turkey to a skeleton. He is so realistic that his de- scriptions of the snow make you shiver- when some one leaves the door open. The political editor deals with the New Year from an eminence of wisdom and prognostication. He has sat himself on his tower to view the prospective financial situation, and, in his long article, he feel ingly refers to the tariff. As these species of literary waywardness are in- dulged every twelve months, it has be- come decidedly difficult to say anything fresh concerning the New Year.