Now, Boss, I leave the constitution and the girls in your hands; and if this premium is the means of creating any additional interest in your Fair, and making people feel good natured and jolly, I shall be amply repaid.

Your friend

GEO. W. PECK.

SHE WAS NO GENTLEMAN.

From an article in the Leader we gather that Frank Drake, editor of the Rushford Star, was horsewhipped by a woman who was dissatisfied with some article of his that appeared against her, in the Star.  A woman that cowhides an editor is no gentleman.

JOKE ON THE HAT.

Somehow, during the election excitement, Frank Hatch happened to bet right just once.  He bet a hat, and on Monday he went to Putnam & Philbrick and selected one of the finest silk ones.  When he went out in the street every body noticed it, and a reception was held.  They all congratulated Frank, except Ike Usher.  Ike’s hat was a year old, and the contrast was so remarkable that Ike would not walk on the street with Hatch.  Frank said that Ike’s hat used to be a very fine looking hat, but at present it was a disgrace to the force.  Mr. Usher was offended, and he swore revenge.  He went to a professional drunkard on Division street, and said that if he should happen to get drunk Monday night and Hatch should happen to arrest him, he would give the drunkard five dollars if the drunkard would mash Frank’s new hat.  The fellow said he would flatten it flatter than flatness itself.  Just after dark Mr. Hatch was walking down Third street, “Whoop, hurrah for Tilden, (hic) ’endrix.”  The remark seemed so out of place that Frank went down there.  The man was lying on the sidewalk, and telling the barrel to roll over and not take up all the bed.  Mr. Hatch accosted the man gently, telling him he would catch cold there, and that he had better go with him to the city hotel.  The man said he would—­be counted in if he did, and Hatch bent over him to take him by the lily white hand, when a drunken boot came down on the top of that hat, and drove it clean down to Frank’s nose.  Of course it could go no further.  Then the man pulled Frank down, and the hat struck the end of a salt barrel, knocked it off, and the man raised up and sat down on it, and kicked it into the street.  Frank got the man away, and a boy brought his hat to the police station, just as Usher and Littlejohn and Knutson, and all the policeman entered.  It is said that all stood on the corner over by Kevin’s watching the arrest.  The hat was a sight to behold, as it laid in state on the safe, and all the boys making comments on it.  It looked like a six-inch stove pipe elbow that a profane man had been attempting to fit to a five-inch stove pipe.  It looked like some old dripping pan that had been thrown out in the street, and had been run over by wagons.  It looked like the very dickens.  And yet we have no doubt Hatch will say this is a lie, because he now wears a good hat, but we know the hat he now wears he got by trading a flannel shirt to a grasshopper sufferer, and it no more resembles the beautiful new hat he won on election than nothing.  After Hatch went out of the office, Usher let the man “escape,” and he is five dollars ahead, and Ike has got even with Hatch.