r that she
must excuse him, a perfect stranger, for mentioning her petticoat, but
the fact was that it was coming off.

By this time the woman was mad. She bought a pistol and started for the
depot, firmly resolved to kill the first man that molested her. She did
not meet anybody until she arrived at the Junction, and she sat down in
the depot to rest before the train came.

Pierce, the hotel man, is one of the most noticin' persons anywhere,
and she hadn't been seated a York minute before his eye caught the
discrepancy in her apparel. He tried to get the telegraph operator and
the express man to go and tell her about it, but they wouldn't, so he
went and took a seat near her.

"It is a warm day, madame," said Pierce, looking at the red strip at the
bottom of her dress.

She drew her pistol, cocked it, and pointed it at Pierce, who was
trembling in every leg, and said:

"Look-a-here, you young cuss. I have had half a dozen grown persons down
town tell me my petticoat was coming off, and I have stood it because I
thought they were old enough to know what they were talking about, but
when it comes to boys of your age coming around thinking they know
all about women's clothes it is too much, and the shooting is going to
commence."

Mr. Pierce made one bound and reached the door, and then got behind a
white grey hound and waited for her to go away, which she soon did. As
she was stepping on the car the conductor, Jake Sazerowski, said to
her:

"Your apparel, madame, seems to be demoralized," but she rushed into the
car, and was seen no more.

Since then these gentlemen have all learned that the fashion calls for a
red strip at the bottom of a dress, and they will make no more mistakes.
But they were all serious enough, and their interference was prompted by
pure kindness of heart, and not from any wicked thoughts.

THE MAN FROM DUBUQUE.

Last week, a young man from the country west of here came in on the
evening train and walked up to Grand avenue, with a fresh looking young
woman hanging on to one handle of a satchel while he held the other.
They turned into the Plankinton House, and with a wild light in his eye
the man went to the book and registered his name and that of the lady
with him.

While the clerk was picking out a couple of rooms that were near
together, the man looked around at the colored man who had the satchel,
and as the clerk said, "Show the gentleman to No. 65 and the lady to
67," he