Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-11-22

I Industrial classes named.
One fall an old farmer began to feed up
the only two turkeys he had remaining.
One of them ate everything that was offered
him, but the other went hungry and kept
himself very thin, for he was an e1per-
fenced old chap who had seen all his family
and friends disappear, and he knew just
where they'd gone. So, he said to himself,
'If don't eat anything, I won't be tit to
kill, and I'll have o chance to peck through
another year." So he went on starving
himself until there wasn't much Of him left
except bones and feathers, but just before
Thanksgiving, the farmer killed both
turkeys, put big stone in the middle of the
thin one, and sold him to the grocer for
rather more than the fat one brought
Moral: It's never safe to refuse good
thing.
Everybody ought to be thankful on
Thanksgiving Day. Some people think
they haven't got much to be thankful for,
but they might, at least, be grateful that
things aren't any worse. But there's good
many that never can be satisfied. They re-
mind me Of little boy that met in the
street. He was crying SO hard that ne ap-
pealed to my sympathies.
"well, boy" said !, ''lost your mother?'
"Nope," said he.
.Lost something else?" said L
'eYep," said he with a sob.
''What is it, them" said !.
"I didn't feel good" sobbed he, "and
cried, an man give me penny, an felt
bad some more, an another man give me q
penny, an now feel bad cause I've lost
Il S1,aA 10 fao hoH ind In
first place"
Not Exactly Complimentary.
Everybody ought to feel good natured on
Thanksgiving Day, ought to be friendly to
whomever they meet, no matter who it is.
They ought to be like an old fellow up in
Vermont, upon whom q young man called
one day, introduced himself as the son of an
old local preacher who had preached about
there, and said he'd called upon this old
parishioner of his fathers merely for senti-
mental reasons.
"Come in, come in p exclaimed the old
parishioner heartily. "Your father was
warm friend of mine. I'd be glad to see
your fathers dog. Come right inG'
Every time I've started out on one of my
reading tours lately I've bad hard time to
get to the ticket window of the railway
station. There are always q lot of people
there who are asking questions They re-
mind me Of an old woman whom heard Of
in London who went to o station little
way out of the city and asked when the
next train would go to London.
'Twelve fifteen" said the agent It was
then 900 A. NJ
Shortly afterward the woman came again
and asked the same question. Same reply
At 10 O'Clock, same question, same answer,
and SO on at intervals of 80 minutes until
11:30. Then the agent was vexed.
MADAM" said be, 'sno train will pass
this station-express. freight, goods. or &C.
commodation, to London or from London
until 12:15."
''Oh," said the old lady, much relieved,
"then I think I'll venture to cross the
tracks"
Pulling Horn to Pieces.
There'd be great deal less fun in the
world if there weren't any Irishmen in it.
They're always doing something to amuse
other people, and not knowing it them
selves. There was one of them once watch
ing German who was playing trombone.
Presently the latter laid down his instru-
ment and went out for q beer. Paddy in
vestigated, and promptly pulled the horn
to pieces The musician returned:
"Who's meddled with my trombone7'' he
'Snss oi did, ind'sssGR ssid Paddy "Hers yeve been
lOT TWO uouIS IryAu w pun ~ opdTt, AuQ
did it in one minute"
believe I've remarked before that one
sees a good deal of human nature in travel
ing in railway cars, and it's Just the same
the other side of the water as it is here.
One day, in a suburban tram car in London
that got into, the seats were all full, but
one very vacant place. Man, very drunk,
hanging to strap, tries to sit down. An
other man, not re!ishing Q beery compan-
ion, spreads himself all over the seat The
'.jag" steadies himself minute, pulls him.
self together and asks sobriety to ''move
up" Sobriety refuses.
"You're drunk" says sobriety.
81 knows that-hic-" replied the 'jag'
with some difficulty, 'I'm drunk, but I'll
get over it. You're a-hic-hog, and you'll
never get over it,
Merrily yours,
MARSHALL P. WILDER