The Hazel Green Herald

DOWN ON PEDDLERS.
The Gamin Who Improved Upon the Methods of His Father.

He was in trade, the stationery trade, and he carried his stock about with him. It required no expressage, as it consisted of six diaries and twelve lead pencils. He had rung the bell of a Main street mansion. No one answered. He had gone down to the basement and knocked. Still no one answered. Then he had tapped on the window. Silence still. But just then he had been made aware of the presence of a small boy who had issued from an alley alongside and proceeded to hurl at him decayed vegetables and other odds and ends in the street-cleaning department's line. None of them had hit him, he admitted, but for self-protection he had summoned a policeman and had the hostile taken into camp.
The magistrate tried to look severe and turned his gaze upon the culprit, at which the latter dug his fingers into his eyes and struggled manfully but fruitlessly to crush out a tear.
"Look here, William Brennan," his Honor said, "is that your name?"
"You hear what you have been doing?"
"Yassar."
"Is your father living?"
"Yassar."
"He is, eh? And no doubt slaving to support a worthless boy like you. Now, tell me, do you know what he would do if he heard you had been pelting this man?"
"Yassar."
"I warrant you know. Now, what would he do?"
"Lam me cause I missed the galoot. Pap's down on peddlers."- N. Y. Herald.