If he got in that safe, he would find a package of bills that
we tried for a year to collect, and we would give him the bills if he
asked for them, and he could save his powder. He would find one bill of
sixteen dollars, with an indorsement that one dollar is paid,
after thirteen dollars worth of shoe leather had been worn out. And yet
the burglar would have a soft thing on cigars with that bill, for every
time he visited the doctor he would tell him when to come again, and give
him a cigar. Another thing the burglar would find would be a protested
draft from a great Philadelphia patent medicine advertiser. The burglar
could take a tie pass that is in the safe, and walk to Philadelphia, and
trade out the twenty-five dollar draft by taking buchu on account.

But no burglar that has any respect for himself, we feel sure, will ever
do us the injury to scrape the paint off of that safe.

A FASHION ITEM.

A fashion item says, "The drawers this year are made very short, and some
have lace ruffles." Some fashion reporter has evidently been looking over
our back fence at the clothes line. But they got awfully fooled. The
shortness of those drawers was caused by the flannel shrinking and the
"lace ruffles" the reporter noticed is where a calf chewed them when they
were hanging out to dry last fall on Black Hawk Island, when a gun kicked
us out of a boat. Some of these fashion reporters think they are smart.

A LECTURER SHOULD KNOW WHAT HE TALKS ABOUT.

A man down east is lecturing on "Hell, Ingersoll, and Whisky." If the
lecturer is at all familiar with his subjects, we wouldn't believe him
under oath.

PECK'S BAD BOY AND HIS PA.

HIS PA GOES CALLING.

"Say, you are getting too alfired smart," said the grocery man to the bad
boy as he pushed him into a corner by the molasses barrel, and took him by
the neck and choked him so his eyes stuck out. "You have driven away
several of my best customers, and now, confound you, I am going to have
your life," and he took up a cheese knife and began to sharpen it on his
boot.

"What's the--gurgle--matter?" asked the choking boy, as the grocery man's
finger let up on his throat a little, so he could speak. "I haint done
nothing."

"Didn't you hang up that gray torn cat by the heels, in front of my store,
with the rabbits I had for sale? I didn't notice it until the minister
called me out in front of the store, and pointing to the rabbits, asked
what good fat cats were sel