The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1897-06-03

neIghbor?
First, we have the happy school
children, bare footed, and padding
through all the mud puddles, but as
happy as clans, with their new shining
lunch buckets in one hand, and the old
rusty looking, much despised speller in
the other, which is steadily winning
the odds by teaching those young
minds how to shoot. "My eye, but
amt he dude! all dressed up amt he,
don't he think himself swell?"
"Why he's one of those bad mans
don't you see him right under those
guns" "Don't look like it do he ?
Wish my papa was as big as him."
Cav, cav, cav, and that despicable,
insane old crow the "black exile
perches himself deliberately over the
range of those same weapons, and cries
defiance to all humanity, and mock
ingly caws at the children when trying
to initiate him. And if they are as
successful with their speller as they are
at crow talk then they are indeed
bright scholars, an honor to their
class and Joy to their teacher.
They have had their harmless fun,
and have passed out of sight.
Here comes Mr.. and Mrs. Hayseed,
with horse and rig to match, we think
the former has reached the stage
adaptable for the market, or to be
candid, converted into French outlets.
He would go faster on the griddle, for
he is nearing home.
"Why! Mother, look thar, if thar
amt the tallest, straightest striplin'
ever seed!!"
"Well he do be straight'un, sure,
daddie. Looks like one Of them thar
younguns that toted them ere gals
round in them piambulators at the
worlds fair, don't he, now, daddie?"
And the quaint old couple barely
wiggle out of hearing with necks
severely twisted, but do right about
face, just in time to give yours truly a
chance to rattle his teeth with a spon-
taneous bubble of laughter.
Listen! what's that! why it is the
"Henrietta" with her wind broken toot,
toot, toot, endeavoring to compete har-
moniously with the clang, clang, clang,
of the swinging bell of the ponderous
locomotive as it switches it's heavy
burden of commerce into the prison
yard, where all is silent except the
roaring grind of machinery which is
guided by the hand and muscle of fellow
unfOrtunateS.
And just as we begin to reflect upon
the hardness attached to the ways of
the transgressor, our good thoughts are
scattered Qike "Topsy's umbrella in a
cyclone') in every direction, by the dis
cOrdant, harsh rattle of the electric
gong. The sentinel over the gate has
touched the button. The guns glitter
ing in the sun now indicate their object
by promptly coming to the shoulder.
The iron monsters swing apart, the
conveyance passes through, the gate
clamps, lock sprung, another order
obeyed and discipline reigns monarch
of the "pen."
My assistant, we'll yes! venerable
piece of antiquity, one of those char
acters that "Mark Twain" so dearly
loved to characterize. A genial, healthy
Missourian granger, whose ambition
rested on the hoe and spade and was
satisfied with a sweet 'tatoe and gray
squirrel. Happy future to you pard,
may you live long and die contented.
Again the scene changes, and Miss
Charming, with saucy toss of her
pretty head, and dainty flip of her
Partisan costume glides past our silent
beat with all the grace and beauty of a
Hebe. Her sparkling wheel compar-
ing very favorably with the sparkle of
her liquid blue eyes, and flush of her
laughing cheek.
Hot upon her trail comes the would
be ''scorcher," picture of misery, and
veritable chump. Grace and beauty
with him are transferred into an as
pect of deformed hideousness by at
tempting to assume the professional