Adrian Press Washtenawisms

South Lyon liquor bonds are $6,000 each. No free drinks to the town board. The university city, voted I30,000 worth of sewers and forthwith the Forest Hill cemetery association plats and adds four acres to its property. Dr. Heller is renewing the appearance of his home by a fewcoats of paint. - Saline Observer. It should be of a lurid color, to preserve harmonious relations. A yoke of oxen was regarded with curiosity, in Dexter, last week. It reminded every one who witnessed the sight, of the "Hawbuck" legislature, with this difference, that the oxen had shed their old hair. ..- Dexter sidewalks are bad and the marshal has his sleeves up and is sweating like an ox-yoke, trying to better them. The News however, looks with discouragement on the progress he is making and prophesies that "the new walks will be unsafe before the old ones are made safe." "Get a move on ye" Mr. Marshal. A thief one night last week stole a trunk from a house in Ann Arbor, lugged it down by the T. & A. A. depot, caved in the bottom with a stone and now owns a swell dress suit and much other valuable toggery. He was not a rude, inconsiderate thief, but a polite, courteous rascal who respected the slumbers of the trunk-owner and the pólice. In the recent inter-collegiate oratorical contest in Oberlin, Lindley Grant Long, of the Michigan university, scooped in the grand prize and ambled off with a decided backward slant to his tile hat. This incident, small in itself, furnishes proof to the world that the main gudgeon, to which is belted the literary and scientific intelligence of the icjth century, turns over in the southern part of Michigan. The cutting down of the old trees on the court house square is a decided improvement. - Ann Arbor Democrat. Since the recent judicial election the Press feels some difiidence about openly proclaiming its "conjempt of court" and will do its best to ceal it, while it inquires of judge Kinne whether he has yet yanked that old tree out of the middle of the sidewalk in front of his premises. Speak up promptly there, Judge! The Adrián Press ought to feel highly complimented as there are no less than a dozen papers in the county that chronicle its weekly "Pressisms." - Ann Arbor Democrat. The Press duly appreciates the compliments of its Washtenaw exchanges and their faithful obsérvance of the commandment "Thou shalt not steal." It is also under obligations to the general press of the state for the flattering recognition it receives. It feels complimented, but not proud or stuck up, as witness its modest blush, at the good things its cotemporaries say of it. There appears to be little foundation for the story that medical students at the university have had a number of elegant pocket books made from the skin of a Jackson convict, whom they dissected. The only man who couïd give criminating evidence is the convict himself, and he is preserving a dead silence. Six lawyers have established eleven law suits on the estáte of the John Antcliffe, of Manchester township, valued at the time Antcliffe exchanged worlds, at about $25,000. The six lawyers enumerated, are fighting hard for their clients. It is expected that the estáte will nearly or quite pay their fees. The lives and liberties of Ann Arbor are endangered by children in arms with sparrow guns. Aluminum armor and helmets are suggested as the most practicable means of safety. Well, that would be one good way. Another would be for parents to fall upon the army and perform an electric rattatattoo, upon the rear guard. If a young lady 19 years old, with dark hair and eyes, fair complexion, plump features and a stature of five feet and a few inches, and having a turn for dressmaking, has broken into anybody's inclosure, the owner of the premises is requested to cnmmunicate with the sheriff or marshal, at Ann Arbor. The girl is wanted by her parents. t "My fellow goes cooning for me, nights" was the remark of a Ypsilanti girl when complimented on the profusión of hyacinths and tulips with which she wasdecorated. The flower garden of a lady in the same neighborhood has been repeatedly robbed of its bloom, by night raiders - undoubtedly by "My Fellow," who should be given a chance to develop a lead mine. Rev. Dr. Ryan, in a recent sermon at Ypsilanti, created a sensation by calling on the Normal professors to cease allowing card playing at their houses, charging that no man or woman ever played cards to win, without cheating, if possible. Now which of the professors "rung in a cold deck" on the eider? Really, one ought to be very careful in his selection of companions for a social game. As usual thé bright sun shiny days fill the streets with loafers who stand on the corners with their hands in their pockets, squirting tobáceo juice on the sidewalks and commenting on the passers by. - Ann Arbor Democrat. The Washtenaw Athens needs a marshal, like our Mr. Krapf, whose execution of instruction in such matters was unequalled, if we except a single instance: A newly employed Irishman at a hotel had been instructed to see that the gents used the cuspidores. Presently he approached a guest and observed: "Yer not usin' the spittoon." "Well" responded the guest with surprise, "I'm not spitting on the floor." "And Oi repate" said the Irishman, severely, "that yer not usin the spittoons - spit, ye son of a gun, or Oi'll paste ye wan in the eye!" Prof. Harrington, chief weather producer, informs the public through the Evening News, that there are some five different sorts of "tornadoes" - the tornado with a tail, the tailless tornado, the horizontal "twister," the cyclone and the windrush. Any one of these, the professor will furnish on trial, satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. He says the Kansas cyclone photographs are not reliable, but makes no allowance for the photographer being jerked around at the rate of 500 revolutions per minute. What did the professor expect, anyway? Did he think a Kansas cyclone was going to sit down in a chair and let the artist shove a cold lamp into its ear and grab it by the whiskers and scalplock and jerk its neck out of joint, and then "sit still" till it got the order, "That'll do?" The professor seems to totally lack the cyclone instinct. E. F. Johnstone, of Ann Arbor, who recently burst into bloom as a aard, thus immortalizes in the pickle of poesy, a distinguished citizen: He's Knowlton, .T., whose name shall live Long after oíd Justinian, oí Kome, slial] havo forgotten been- TiJl stars foriiet tlieir liglit togive. It may perhaps be objected that in the second line, the poetic feet outrun the measure by a fewinches; but in qur estimation, this increases rather than ensmalls the poet's greatness. Material measurement, however, is not here considered; for the magnitude of soul cannot be determined by the height of physical stature, or the number of inches of bowelgirth, required in a pair of ready-made poetic pantalooris. Mr. Johnstone has not slighted faots, or sacrificed truth to the mere rockingchair movement of verse, but gives all that is necessary to be known about old Justinian and Mr. Knowlton, inaplain straightforward marmer, and drives clear through before he feeds. What we really do object to, is Mr. Johnstone's tautology. All he needed to have said was simply: "He's Knowltou .7," and the world would have known the rest. The gifted bard is as much amenable at the bar of public criticism for this tautological infraction as was the lady novelist, who in describing one of her characters, declared concerning Mr. Winterbottom that he was "a cold stern man."