and hams, so every improvement known to the trade is inaugurated.  We did not think it necessary to describe the whole process, but now that our word is doubted, it is necessary to do so.  When the late lamented hog is transferred from the parlor where he was chloroformed, his body is gently, yet firmly placed in a gold lined tank, filled with boiling Florida water and cologne, where the body remains until the bristles become loose, when it is transferred to a table covered with purple velvet, and the bristles are removed by the gentlemanly ushers, dressed in the fashions of the time of George III, armed with gold candle sticks, studded with diamonds.  Then the body is taken by easy stages, into the presence of the intestine transporter, who reclines upon a downy couch.  He raises up, brushes a particle of dust from his sleeve, and with a silver knife cuts the hog from Dan to Beersheba, and the patent insides are received on a silver salver, and divided among attendant maidens.  The inside of the hog is washed with bay rum, and sweet majorum is put in.  Then the hog is removed and cut up.  The portions salted are salted for keeps, and the hams and bacon are smoked in a room filled with incense, and when the smoked meat comes out it is good enough for a king, or a queen, or a Milwaukee editor.  Lie, indeed!  We should like to see ourselves lying for one hog.

AN ARM THAT IS NOT RELIABLE.

A young fellow about nineteen, who is going with his first girl, and who lives on the West Side, has got the symptoms awfully.  He just thinks of nothing else but his girl, and when he can be with her,—­which is seldom, on account of the old folks.—­he is there, and when he cannot be there, he is there or thereabouts, in his mind.  He had been trying for three months to think of something to give his girl for a Christmas present, but he couldn’t make up his mind what article would cause her to think of him the most, so the day before Christmas he unbosomed himself to his employer, and asked his advice as to the proper article to give.  The old man is bald-headed and mean.  “You want to give her something that will be a constant reminder of you?” “Yes,” he said, “that was what was the matter.”  “Does she have any corns?” asked the old wretch.  The boy said he had never inquired into the condition of her feet, and wanted to know what corns had to do with it.  The old man said that if she had corns, a pair of shoes about two sizes too small would cause her mind to dwell on him a good deal.  The boy said shoes wouldn’t do.  The old man hesitated a moment, scratched his head, and finally said: 

“I have it!  I suppose, sir, when you are alone with her, in the parlor, you put your arm around her waist; do you not, sir?”

The young man blushed, and said that was about the size of it.

“I presume she enjoys that part of the discourse, eh?”

The boy said that, as near as he could tell, by the way she acted, she was not opposed to being held up.