“Wheeler, you have maintained a noble principle, but you have destroyed four gallons of the d—dest finest maple syrup that was ever brewed in Clark county.”
It was true, Doc. French and Tom Reed, of Neillsville, two good friends of the Rev. Wheeler, had sent him the syrup, knowing that he could use it in his family, and being jokers they had put the Bourbon card on the jug, just for fun, with the alleged result above stated. Temperance men should always smell of the cork, at least, before smashing the jug. We have practiced that a good many years, and never lost a gallon of maple syrup.
Anna Dickinson is to go upon the stage, and it is said that she will open in San Francisco, in the play of “Mazeppa.” If there is any society for the prevention of cruelty to animals on the Pacific coast, we trust before Anna is tied on the wild horse of Tartary, that some one will see to it that a cushion is put on the back of the horse.
We like to see young Good Templars have a hankering after cold water, bright water; but when a Juvenile Lodge about to start on a picnic, deliberately loads a hunk of ice belonging to The Sun into an omnibus, we feel like reaching for the basement of their roundabouts with a piece of clapboard.
The Presbyterian synod at Erie, Pa., has turned a lawyer named Donaldson out of the church. The charge against him was not that he was a lawyer, as might be supposed, but that he had danced a quadrille. It does not seem to us as though there could be anything more harmless than dancing a cold blooded quadrille. It is a simple walk around, and is not even exercise. Of course a man can, if he chooses, get in extra steps enough to keep his feet warm, but we contend that no quadrille, where they only touch hands, go down in the middle, and alamand left, can work upon a man’s religion enough to cause him to backslide.