"Is there any attachment to it that will make her dream of me all night?" asked the boy.

"No, sir! Don't be a hog," said the bad man.

"Then what is it?"

The old man said one word, "Corset!"

The young man was delighted, and he went to a store to buy a nice corset.

"What size do you want?" asked the girl who waited on him.

That was a puzzler. He didn't know they came in sizes. He was about to tell her to pick out the smallest size, when he happened to think of something.

"Take a tape measure and measure my arm; that will just fit."

The girl looked wise, as though she had been there herself, found that it was a twenty-two inch corset the boy wanted, and he went home and wrote a note and sent it with the corset to the girl. He didn't hear anything about it till the following Sunday, when he called on her. She received him coldly, and handed him the corset, saying, with a tear in her eye, that she had never expected to be insulted by him. He told her he had no intention of insulting her; that he could think of nothing that would cause her to think of the gentle pressure of his arm around her waist as a corset, but if she felt insulted he would take his leave, give the corset to some poor family, and go drown himself.

He was about to go away, when she burst out crying, and sobbed out the following words, wet with salt brine:

"It was v-v-v-very thoughtful of y-y-you, but I _couldn't feel it!_ It is f-f-four sizes too b-b-big! Why didn't you get number eighteen? You are silent, you cannot answer, enough!"

They instinctively found their way to the sofa; mutual explanations followed; he measured her waist again; saw where he had made a mistake by his fingers lapping over on the first turn, and he vowed, by the beard of the prophet, he would change it for another, if she had not worn it and got it soiled. They are better now.

BOUNCED FROM CHURCH FOR DANCING.

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.

If it was this new "waltz quadrille" that Donaldson indulged in, where there is intermittent hugging, and where the head gets to whirling, and a man has to hang on to his partner quite considerable, to keep from falling all over himself, and where she looks up fondly into his eyes and as though telling him to squeeze just as hard as it seemed necessary for his convenience, we should not wonder so much at the synod hauling him over the coals for cruelty to himself, but a cold quadrille has no deviltry in it.

We presume the wicked and perverse Mr. Donaldson will join another church that allows dancing judiciously administered, and may yet get to heaven ahead of the Presbyterian synod, and he may be elected to some high position there, as Arthur was here, after the synod of Hayes and Sherman had bounced him from the Custom House for dancing the great spoils walk around.

It is often the case here, and we do not know why it may not be in heaven, that the ones that are turned over and shook up, and the dust knocked out of them, and their metaphorical coat tail filled with boots, find that the whirligig of time has placed them above the parties who smote them, and we can readily believe that if Donaldson gets a first-cla.s.s position of power, above the skies, he will make it decidedly warm for his persecutors when they come up to the desk with their grip sacks and register and ask for a room with a bath, and a fire escape. He will be apt to look up at the key rack and tell them everything is full, but they can find pretty fair accommodations at the other house, down at the Hot Springs, on the European plan, by Mr.

Devil, formerly of Chicago.

POLICE SEARCHING WOMEN.

A NOVEL SCENE IN MILWAUKEE POLICE COURT.

There is a movement on foot to provide for lady attendants at the Police Station, so that when a woman is arrested, and it is necessary to search her for concealed weapons, or money or incendiary doc.u.ments, that duty can be performed by a person of the same s.e.x as the prisoner. The _Sun_ is anxious that this new departure be adopted at once, as it is very annoying for us to be called away from our business, every day or two, to aid the police--that is, of course, we are willing to be of a.s.sistance to anybody, but there _are_ times--anybody will admit that.

The need of lady members of the police force was never ill.u.s.trated any better than when the police arrested the women for pa.s.sing counterfeit silver quarters, about six months ago. There was an oldish woman and a young woman, and when they were taken to the police office the reporters of the city papers were there, as usual, ready to lend a helping hand.

The searching of the old lady was done in short order, by Detective Smith, who went about it in a business-like manner; but when it was time to search the young woman, and he looked into her soft, liquid eyes, and saw the emotion that she could not suppress, his heart failed him, and he sat down to write out his resignation. Tears came into his large, fawn-like eyes, and he called upon Mr. Northrop, correspondent of the Chicago _Times_, to a.s.sist him. Mr. Northrop had been inured to hardships, and knew much about the manner in which female persons conceal money, and being one of the "Willing Workers," he told Mr. Smith that he would help him.

The lady was told to remove her outward apparel, and to look steadily out of the window. She got behind a curtain-cord, and, in less time than it takes to write it, she threw her dress to the men, from her concealment behind the curtain-cord. The two men found a pocket in the dress, but to save them they couldn't find the pocket hole.. The dress was turned the other side out forty times, to find the pocket hole.

Mr. Yenowine, of the _News_, who was present, said if they would hang the dress up on a hook he could find the pocket hole in the dark. He said there couldn't anybody fool him on finding a pocket hole in a dress.

The dress was hung in a closet, and Mr. Yenowine proceeded on the arctic exploring expedition, while Mr. Northrop and the detective were examining a corset that the young woman had thrown on the floor, looking for bogus quarters. The _News_ man, with all his knowledge of dress pockets, came out unsuccessful, and said he must have lost the combination, and accused the janitor of giving it away. Mr. Smith suggested that they cut the pocket off, but the district attorney, Mr.

McKenney, said it would be clearly against the law. He said that would be burglary. In the meantime the young woman had kept on shucking herself, until Mr. Neiman, of the _Sentinel_, became faint and went out on the steps to get a breath of fresh air, from which position he looked through the window.

While the gentlemen were wondering if there were no rules of etiquette published that would make it easy and polite to search a woman for bogus two shilling pieces, the woman threw an article of female wearing apparel out on the floor for them to examine that fairly frightened them.

"Merciful heavens," said Mr. Yenowine, who was at that time a young and innocent person, unused to the ways of the world, "she has exploded."

Northrop poked it with his cane and said, "No, those always come off,"

and he put on an air of superiority over the boys which was annoying.

"What, always?" said Mr. Neiman, who had his fingers up before his face, and was blushing as though he had intermittent fever.

"Well, most always," said Mr. Northrop, who had taken it up, and was examining it with a critic's eye.

"I presume those are a bustle, are they not?" said innocent Yenowine.

"Go aff, till the divil wid yer bushtle," said Mr. Smith, "I know bether. Gintlemen, I am a plain shpoken man, and for me age have seen many thrying situations, but if this was me lasht day on earth I should shwear that was no more a bushtle than I am. Bushtles are never twins."

Mr. Harger, of the _Wisconsin_, who had hidden behind the stove pipe, was asked by Mr. Smith what he thought they were, whether it might not be an infernal machine. Mr. Harger said he had never known one to explode. He said when he was reporting legislative proceedings the members drew those with their stationery, from the superintendent of public property, but he had no idea what they did with them.

At this point Mr. Aldrich, who had just come in, was asked to examine it and tell what it was. Mr. Aldrich took it up like a thing of life, and gazed upon it as though trying to recall something to his mind.

Placing his finger, the one with the diamond ring on, to his corrugated forehead, he paused for a moment and finally gave his opinion that they were life preservers. He said that in Boston all women wore them, especially when they were out on excursions, or picnics. "See," says he, as he hefted it, and made an indentation in it, which resumed its natural position as soon as he took his finger off, "it is filled with wind. Now, in case of accident, that would float a woman on top of water until she could be rescued. Let us demonstrate this matter by putting it on Mr. Boyington, of the _Sentinel_, and taking him to the morgue and placing him in the bath tub and he proceeded to fasten the life preserver around the calf of Mr. Boyington's leg.

"Say, where are you putting it?" says Mr. B., as he struggled to keep from laughing right out. "You fellows don't know as much as Thompson's colt. If I know my own heart, and I think I do, a life preserver goes on under the vest."

Mr. Aldrich said he didn't pretend to know any more than anybody else.

All he knew about these things personally was that he had seen them hanging up in stores, for sale, and one day when he was shopping he asked one of the lady clerks what it was hanging up there, and she said it was a life preserver, and asked him if he wanted one, and he told her no, he was only inquiring for a friend of his, who rode a bicycle. He didn't know but it might be something that went with a bicycle.

All the time this discussion was going on we sat by the safe in the police office. We never were so sorry for a lot of innocent young men, never. The girl looked at us and winked, as much as to say, "Old man, why do you not come to the rescue of these young hoodlums, who don't know what they are talking about, and take the conceit out of them," and so we explained to them, in the best language we could command, the uses and abuses of the garment they were examining, and showed them how it went on, and how the invention of it filled a want long felt by our American people. They all admitted that we were right, and that it was a counterfeit well calculated to deceive, and we believe now that the woman was convicted of counterfeiting mainly on the testimony of the reporters. However that may be, we desire to impress upon the authorities the importance of employing ladies at the police office to examine women who are arrested for crime. The police cannot always depend on having a newspaper man around.

ABOUT h.e.l.l.

An item is going the rounds of the papers, to ill.u.s.trate how large the sun is, and how hot it is, which a.s.serts that if an icicle a million miles long, and a hundred thousand miles through, should be thrust into one of the burning cavities of the sun, it would be melted in a hundredth part of a second, and that it would not cause as much "sissing" as a drop of water on a hot griddle.

By this comparison we can realize that the sun is a big thing, and we can form some idea of what kind of a place it would be to pa.s.s the summer months. In contemplating the terrible heat of the sun, we are led to wonder why those whose duty it is to preach a h.e.l.l hereafter, have not argued that the sun is the place where sinners will go to when they die.

It is not our desire to inaugurate any reform in religious matters, but we realize what a discouraging thing it must be for preachers to preach h.e.l.l and have nothing to show for it. As the business is now done, they are compelled to draw upon their imagination for a place of endless punishment, and a great many people, who would be frightened out of their boots if the minister could show them h.e.l.l as he sees it, look upon his talk as a sort of dime novel romance.

They want something tangible on which they can base their belief, and while the ministers do everything in their power to encourage sinners by picturing to them the lake of fire and brimstone, where boat-riding is out of the question unless you paddle around in a cauldron kettle, it seems as though their labors would be lightened if they could point to the sun, on a hot day in August, and say to the wicked man that unless he gets down on his knees and says his now I lay me, and repents, and is sprinkled, and chips in pretty flush towards the running expenses of the church, and stands his a.s.sessments like a thoroughbred, that he will wake up some morning, and find himself in the sun, blistered from Genesis to Revelations, thirsty as a harvest hand and not a brewery within a million miles, begging for a zinc ulster to cool his parched hind legs.

Such an argument, with an ill.u.s.tration right on the blackboard of the sky, in plain sight, would strike terror to the sinner, and he would want to come into the fold _too_ quick. What the religion of this country wants, to make it take the cake, is a h.e.l.l that the wayfaring man, though a democrat or a greenbacker, can see with the naked eye. The way it is now, the sinner, if he wants to find out anything about the hereafter, has to take it second handed, from some minister or deacon who has not seen it himself, but has got his idea of it from some other fellow who maybe dreamed it out.