“Two shillings more, my friend,” said the summer resort.  We winked some more, and punched him in the ribs with our thumb, and said, “O, now, old tapeworm, don’t try to play it on us boys.”  And we laughed a sickly sort of laugh.  The fact of it was, we began to have doubts about the thing working, and had a suspicion that the twinkle in Dan McDonald’s eye meant that he had been playing it on us.  The landlord said he should have to have two shillings more, and that we were blocking up the thoroughfare, and we fumbled around and found it and paid him, and went out, probably the most disgusted excursionist that ever was.  Dan, who had watched the whole business, slapped us on the shoulder, and said, “How did it work?” Though not particularly hungry, we could have eaten him raw.  When we go east now, we take a lunch along, and when the other passengers are in to supper, we sit on the woodpile at Sparta, eat our lunch and gaze at the fountains, talk with the brakemen, and wonder if the landlord would know us if we should go in and take a toothpick off the counter.  Not any more bummer for us, and no man must ever tell us how to save two shillings on a meal.

HOW TO REACH YOUNG MEN.

“How to reach young men,” was the topic at the young men’s prayer meeting on Thursday.  An old gentleman on the East Side who broke a toe nail by kicking the gate post just as the young man went down the sidewalk, would also like to know.  Bait your hook with a mighty good looking girl that wears a sealskin cloak, and you can reach the young men.

CRUSHING NIHILISM.

The Russian government is making an average of four thousand arrests a day of persons charged with nihilism.  At this rate it is only a question of time when the last of the conspirators will be in prison, and the emperor can walk out without fear of assassination from his wife and children, as these will probably be all the people that will be left.

WOMAN-DOZING A DEMOCRAT.

A fearful tale conies to us from Columbus.  A party of prominent citizens of that place took a trip to the Dells of Wisconsin one day last week.  It was composed of ladies and gentlemen of both political parties, and it was hoped that nothing would occur to mar the pleasure of the excursion.

When the party visited the Dells, Mr. Chapin, a lawyer of Democratic proclivities, went out upon a rock overhanging a precipice, or words to that effect, and he became so absorbed in the beauty of the scene that he did not notice a Republican lady who left the throng and waltzed softly up behind him.  She had blood in her eye and gum in her mouth, and she grasped the lawyer, who is a weak man, by the arms, and hissed in his ear: 

“Hurrah for Garfield, or I will plunge you headlong into the yawning gulf below!”

It was a trying moment.  Chapin rather enjoyed being held by a woman, but not in such a position that, if she let go her hold to spit on her hands, he would go a hundred feet down, and become as flat as the Greenback party, and have to be carried home in a basket.