"Certainly. Know any more?"

"Yes. I got a baby six months old. He's a boy. We generally sit him out on the grass of a morning, and he hollers like a bull all day; at least he used to, but he don't any more. One morning we noticed he wasn't hollering, and wondered what was up. When we looked, there was a rattlesnake coiled up in front of him scanning his features. The boy was grinning and the snake was grinning. Bimeby the snake turned his tail to the baby and backed his rattle right into the baby's fist."

"What did the baby do?"

"Why, he just rattled that tail so you could hear it threequarters of a mile, and the snake

A NOVEL RATTLE.

just the same till the first snake came back. He looked thin, and I reckon he had been sick and sent the other to take his place. Will that do for an item?"

"Immensely," replied the city editor.

"You can fill in about the confidence of childhood and all that, and you might say something about the blue-eyed cherub. His name is Isaac. Put that in to please my wife."

"I'll do it. Any more snake items?"

"Lemme see. You've heard of hoop-snakes?"

"Yes, often."

"Just so. Not long ago we heard a fearful row in our cellar

one night. It sounded like a rock-blast, and then there was a hiss and things was quiet. When I looked in the morning the cider barrel had busted. But we didn't lose much cider."

"How did you save it?"

"It seems that the staves had busted out, but before they could get away, four hoop-snakes coiled around the barrel and tightened it up and held it together until we drew the cider off in bottles. That's the way we found 'em, and we've kept 'em around

THE GARTER SNAKE.

the house ever since. We're training 'em for shawlstraps now. Does that strike you favorably for an item?"

"Enormously!" responded the city editor.

"You can fix it up so as to show how quick they was to get there before the staves

were blown off.

You can work in the details."

"Of course. I'll attend to that. Do

you think of any more?"

"Ain't you got

enough? Lemme think. O yes! One Sunday me and my wife was going to church, and she dropped her garter somewhere. She told me about it, and I noticed a little striped snake running alongside and listening to her. Bimeby he made a spring and just wound himself around her stocking, or tried to, but he didn't fetch it."

"Why not?"

"He wasn't quite long enough. He jumped down and shook his head and started off. We hadn't gone more'n a quarter of a

mile, when we see him coming out of the woods just ahead of us. He was awful hot and tired, and he had another snake with him twice as big as he was. They looked at my wife a minute and said something to each other, and then the big snake went right to the place where the garter belonged. He wrapped right around it, put his tail in his mouth and went to sleep. We got him yet. We use him to hold the stovepipe together when we put the stove up. Is that any use as an item?"

"Certainly," said the city editor.

"You can say something about the first snake's eye for distances and intellectuality, when he found he wouldn't go 'round. You know how to do that better than me."

"I'll give him the credit he deserves. Can you tell us any

more?"

"I don't call any to mind just at present. My wife knows a lot of snake items, but I forget 'em. By the way, though, I've got a regular living curiosity down at my place. C..e day my oldest boy was sitting on the back stoop doing his sums, and he couldn't get 'em right. He felt something against his face, and there was a little snake coiled up on his shoulder and looking at the slate. In four minutes he had done all them sums. We've tamed him so he keeps all our accounts, and he is the lighteningest cuss at figures you ever seen. He'll run up a column eight feet long in three seconds. I wouldn't take a reaper for him."

"What kind of a snake is he?" inquired the editor, curiously. "The neighbors call him an adder."

"O, yes, yes!" said the city editor, a little disconcerted. "I've heard of the species. When did all these things happen?” "Along in the fore part of the spring, but I didn't say anything about 'em, 'cause it wasn't the season for snake items. This is about the time for that sort of thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," chipped in the exchange editor, "you couldn't have picked out a better time for snake stories."

Ε

HIS FIRST DAY AT EDITING.

BY EUGENE FIELD.

́UGENE FIELD, journalist, was born in Boston, Mass., in 1850. He received a classical education, settled in Chicago, and engaged in journalism on the Chicago News. He has published "Culture's Garland " (Ticknor & Co., Boston, Mass., 1887), several fairy tales, poems, and a number of dramatic criticisms, including one on Modjeska that is widely and favorably known.

YESTERDAY morning, Mr. Horace A. Hurlbut took formal possession of The Chicago Times, in compliance with the mandate of justice making him receiver of that institution. Bright and early he was at his post in The Times building; and the expression that coursed over his mobile features, as he lolled back in the editorial chair and abandoned himself to pleasing reflections, was an expression of conscious pride and ineffable satisfaction.

"I have now attained the summit and the goal of earthly ambition," quoth Mr. Hurlbut to himself. "Embarking in the drug-business at an early age, I have progressed through the intermediate spheres of real estate, brokerage and money-lending, until finally I have reached the top round of the ladder of fame, and am now the head of the greatest daily newspaper on the American continent. I expect and intend to prove myself equal to the demands which will be made upon me in this new capacity. I have my own notions about journalism-they differ somewhat from the conventional notions that prevail, but that is neither here nor there; for, as the dictator of this great newspaper, I shall have no difficulty in putting my theories into practice."

"Here's the mornin' mail, major," said the office-boy, laying innumerable packages of letters and circulars on the table before Mr. Hurlbut.

"Why do you call me major?" inquired Mr. Hurlbut, with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh! we always call the editors majors," replied the officeboy. "Major Dennett made that a rule long time ago."

"It is not a bad idea," said Major Hurlbut, "for it gives one a dignity and prestige which can never maintain among untitled civilians. So this is the morning mail, is it?"

Major Hurlbut picked up one of the letters, scrutinized the superscription, heaved a deep sigh, picked up several other letters, blushed, frowned, and appeared much embarrassed.

"Can you tell me," he asked, "whether there are any reporters about this office by the names, or aliases, or nom de plume, or pseudonym ofM 33,' and 'X 14,' or 'S 5,' or 'G 38'? I find numerous letters directed in this wise, and I mistrust that some unseemly work is being done under cover of these bogus appellations. I will make bold to examine one of these letters." So Major Hurlbut tore open one of the envelopes, and read as follows:

"G 38, Times Office: I have a nice, quiet, furnished room. Call after eight o'clock P. M., at No. 1143 Elston Road."

"As I suspected," cried Major Hurlbut, with a profound groan. "Under these strange pseudonyms, the reporters of this paper are engaging in a carnival of vice! But the saturnalia must end at once. From this moment The Times becomes a moral institution. I shall ascertain the names of these reporters,

and have them peremptorily discharged!"

"H'yar's a package for you, sah," said the dusky porter, Martin Lewis, entering, and placing a small bundle before Major Hurlbut.

"Ah, yes! I see," quoth the major, "they are the new cards I ordered last Saturday. We editors have to have cards, so as to let people know we are editors."

With this philosophic observation, the major opened the bundle, and disclosed several hundred neat pasteboard cards, printed in red and black as follows:

HORACE A. HURLBUT,

Receiver and Editor, "Chicago Times."

Real Estate A Specialty.

Drug Orders Promptly Filled.

Loans Negotiated without Publicity.

"They are very handsome," said Major Hurlbut, "but I am sorry I did not have the title of Major prefixed to my name,