Don't swop with your relashuns unless you kin afford to give them the big end of the trade. Marry young, and, if circumstances require it, often. If you can't git good cloathes and edication too, git the cloathes. Say how are you to everybody. Kultivate modesty, but mind and keep a good stock of impudence on hand. Bee charitable—three cent. pieces were made on purpose. It costs more to borry than it does to buy. Ef a man flatters yu, yu can kalkerlate he is a roge, or you are a fule. Keep both ize open, but don't see morn harlf you notis. If you ich for fame, go into a grave-yard and scratch yourself agin a tume stone. Young man, be more anxus about the pedigre yur going to leave than you are about the wun somebody's going to leave you. Sin is like weeds—self-sone and sure to cum. Two lovers, like two armies, generally git along quietly until they are engaged.
BRIGHAM YOUNG'S WIVES.—252.
Artemus Ward writes that he is tired of answering the questions as to how many wives Brigham Young has. He says that all he knows about it is that he one day used up the multiplication table in counting the long stockings on a clothes-line in Brigham's back yard, and went off feeling dizzy.
THE OTHER SIDE.—253.
One story is good until another is told, and the advice to "have both sides" is old, but always good. The annoyance caused by ladies in street-cars has been so frequently dwelt on that it has come to be accepted as a matter of course that the wearers of crinoline are sinners above all among the occupants of street-cars. But read the following indictment drawn up against the male persuasion of street-car society, and see if the account is not about balanced. What "female nuisance" can surpass, for instance, the man who crosses his legs, or puts his foot upon his knee, allowing a dirty boot to wipe itself on good clothes passing him; the man who gets in chewing the stump of a cigar, and declines to throw it away because he is not smoking, and consequently stenches the whole conveyance; the man who sits sideways when the seat is crowded; the man who fidgets in a crowded seat; the man who, in getting out, lifts his feet so high as to wipe the knees of every passer-by; the man who enters with a paint pot; the ever-talkative man, who insists on drawing you into conversation, and boring you with his ideas political; the man who is deep in his cups; the ill-natured, ugly-looking man, who frightens all children in arms; the over-dressed man, who is afraid of being mussed; the rowdy man, who is spoiling for a fight; the fat man, who occupies too much room; the lean man, who cuts you with his sharp hones; the pretty man, who smirks so disgustingly; the man who wants to pick your pocket; the friendly man, who requests a loan; the man with a writ; the man that smells of garlic; the man that perfumes with musk; the vanity man, who displays all the money he has while searching for a five-cent. postal; the lazy man, who never hurries to get on or off; the unaccommodating man, who refuses to have his basket placed on the front platform; the man who treads on your newly-blacked boots; the man who asks for a chew of tobacco; the profane man; the subscription man; the insane man, on his way to the insane asylum; the man who asks you the time of day when you are minus a watch; and the man who wants to be over-polite to your wife.
EDITORS EXCHANGING COMPLIMENTS.—254.
The Louisville Journal—an impudent, one-horse Kentucky concern, conducted by a walking whisky-bottle—says that one of our correspondents deprived it of its maps and despatches from Sherman's army. The Journal is unable to pay even wages to its correspondents, and relies upon us for the news. Our correspondent purchased the maps and intelligence referred to from one of the starving reporters of the Journal, in order to save him from putting an end to his miserable existence, since he could live no longer on the bottle of Bourbon a week with which the Journal supplied him. The Western editors are all whisky-bottles, their reporters are all whisky, and their papers have all the fumes of that beverage without any of its strength. So much for the slanders of the Louisville Journal.—(New York Herald.) From the Louisville Journal:—This paragraph is the one to which, without having seen it, we referred yesterday in our notice of W. F. G. Shanks, a war correspondent of the New York Herald. That paper says that its correspondent purchased from ours the map and the intelligence referred to; this is the map and the rebel newspapers mentioned by us yesterday. This is all a base and unmitigated falsehood. The map was given to the Herald's correspondent upon a condition which he scandalously violated, and he feloniously broke the seals of the papers and stole their contents for the use of his thieving employers. The employers and the employé, instead of throwing a stone at us, ought to be pecking the article in the State prison. It is not supposable that any paper on earth could have aught to gain from a dispute with the New York Herald. The editor of that concern is so low down that fifty millstones around his neck, waist, arms, and legs, couldn't sink him lower. Notoriously, he has been oftener kicked and horsewhipped than any other man in the United States. Whoever has had the slightest fancy for horsewhipping or kicking him has done it. The licence to operate on him in either way, or both, couldn't have been more perfect if he had worn the word "to let" in chalk-marks upon his shoulders and coat-tail. When he has waked up each morning, his reflection has been, "Now, is it to be a horsewhipping or a kicking to-day?" and occasionally it has been both, eked out with a smart nose-pulling. In fact, his nose has been so frequently twisted that it is an entirely one-sided affair, and we think that in common fairness "the twister" should be sentenced by a court of justice to "untwist the twist." The editor of the Herald is said to have a great deal of money, but his kicks far exceed his coppers. The only time he was ever known to thank God was when sharp-toed boots and shoes were changed to square-toed. It is said that by long experience he could always tell, when kicked, whether the application was made by boots, shoes, brogans, or slippers; at what particular store the article was bought, what was its cost, what its quality, and whether it was made of the hide of Durhams, short-horned Alderneys, Herefords, or Devons. When cattle were killed, it was a frequent understanding that while the fat was to be tried on the fire the leather was to be tried on the editor of the Herald. He is regarded as being undoubtedly the best judge of leather in New York; not that he is a leather-dealer, but that leather-dealers have had so much to do with him. He has come so often in contact with leather that the part of him chiefly concerned has itself become leather; so he not only walks upon leather when he walks, but sits upon leather when he sits. The editor of the Herald has lived a good deal longer than he ought to have done, but it is to be hoped that he can't live always. And if he ever dies, his hide should be tanned to leather—that is, the small portion of it that hasn't already been—his hair used as shoemaker's bristles, and his bones made into shoeing-horns.
A SLASHING ARTICLE.—255.
Editors, like other shrewd men, must live with their eyes and ears open. The following story is told of one who started a paper in a western town. The town was infested by gamblers, whose presence was a source of annoyance to the citizens, who told the editor that if he did not come out against them they would not patronize his paper. He replied that he would give them a "smasher" next day. Sure enough, his next issue contained the promised "smasher;" and on the following morning the redoubtable editor, with scissors in hand, was seated in his sanctum, when in walked a large man, with a horse-whip in his hand, who demanded to know if the editor was in. "No, sir," was the reply, "he has stepped out. Take a seat, and read the papers—he will return in a minute." Down sat the indignant man of cards, crossed his legs with his whip between them, and commenced reading a paper. In the meantime the editor quietly vamoosed downstairs, and at the landing he met another excited man with a cudgel in his hand, who asked if the editor was in? "Yes, sir," was the quick response, "you will find him seated upstairs, reading a newspaper." The latter, on entering the room, with a furious oath, commenced a violent assault upon the former, which was resisted with equal ferocity. The fight was continued till they had both rolled to the foot of the stairs, and had pounded each other to their heart's content.