********************************************************** Transcriber's Note: To aid in finding items through the index, the following list contains the page numbers covered in each volume:

 Volume 1 - 1 - 220 Volume 2 - 221 - 402 Volume 3 - 403 - 584 Volume 4 - 585 - 802 Volume 5 is not Library Edition and has different page numbering Volume 6 - 985 - 1216 Volume 7 - 1217 - 1398 Volume 8 - 1399 - 1634 Volume 9 - 1635 - 1800 Volume 10 - 1801 - 2042**********************************************************

Library Edition

THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA

In Ten Volumes

VOL. X

[Illustration: FRANK L. STANTON]

THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA

EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER

_Volume X_

Funk & Wagnalls CompanyNew York and London

Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANYCopyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY

CONTENTS

 PAGE

 Araminta and the Automobile Charles Battell Loomis 1825 At Aunty's House James Whitcomb Riley 2007 Backsliding Brother, The Frank L. Stanton 1972 Biggs' Bar Howard D. Sutherland 1967 Bookworm's Plaint, A Clinton Scollard 1878 Breitmann in Politics Charles Godfrey Leland 1943 Concord Love Song, A James Jeffrey Roche 1913 Contentment Oliver Wendell Holmes 1952 Demon of the Study, The John Greenleaf Whittier 1869 Der Oak Und Der Vine Charles Follen Adams 1823 Double-Dyed Deceiver, A O. Henry 1927 Dum Vivimus Vigilamus John Paul 2005 Evidence in the Case of Smith vs. Jones, The Samuel L. Clemens 1918 Fall Styles in Faces Wallace Irwin 1992 "Festina Lente" Robert J. Burdette 2016 Genial Idiot Discusses Leap Year, The John Kendrick Bangs 2018 Great Prize Fight, The Samuel L. Clemens 1903 Had a Set of Double Teeth Holman F. Day 1994 Height of the Ridiculous, The Oliver Wendell Holmes 1832 Her Brother: Enfant Terrible Edmund L. Sabin 2001 Hezekiah Bedott's Opinion Frances M. Whicher 1893 His Grandmother's Way Frank L. Stanton 1901 Invisible Prince, The Henry Harland 1836 Jackpot, The Ironquill 2003 Jacob Phoebe Cary 1898 Johnny's Pa Wilbur D. Nesbit 1802 Lay of Ancient Rome, A Thomas Ybarra 2013 Little Bopeep and Little Boy Blue Samuel Minturn Peck 2015 Love Song Charles Godfrey Leland 1950 Maxims Benjamin Franklin 1804 Meeting, The S. E. Riser 1915 Mister Rabbit's Love Affair Frank L. Stanton 1887 Mother of Four, A Juliet Wilbor Tompkins 1976 Mothers' Meeting, A Madeline Bridges 1886 Nevada Sketches Samuel L. Clemens 1805 New Year Idyl, A Eugene Field 2011 Old-Time Singer, An Frank L. Stanton 1941 Oncl' Antoine on 'Change Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1891 Our Hired Girl James Whitcomb Riley 1888 Plain Language from Truthful James Bret Harte 1997 Poe-'em of Passion, A Charles F. Lummis 1879 Possession William J. Lampton 2000 Real Diary of a Real Boy, The Henry A. Shute 1881 Reason, The Ironquill 1890 Rubaiyat of Mathieu Lattellier Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1965 Settin' by the Fire Frank L. Stanton 1821 Shining Mark, A Ironquill 1877 "There's a Bower of Bean-Vines" Phoebe Cary 1916 To Bary Jade Charles Follen Adams 1899 Tom's Money Harriett Prescott Spofford 1955 Trial that Job Missed, The Kennett Harris 1917 Trouble-Proof Edwin L. Sabin 1801 Uncle Bentley and the Roosters Hayden Carruth 1873 Unsatisfied Yearning R. K. Munkittrick 1835 What Lack We Yet Robert J. Burdette 1897 When Lovely Woman Phoebe Cary 1834 Whisperer, The Ironquill 1822 Why Wait for Death and Time? Bert Leston Taylor 1866 Willy and the Lady Gelett Burgess 2009 Winter Dusk R. K. Munkittrick 1975 Winter Joys Eugene Field 1868 Ye Legende of Sir Yroncladde Wilbur D. Nesbitt 1973

COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. 

TROUBLE-PROOF[1]

BY EDWIN L. SABIN

 Never rains where Jim is-- People kickin', whinin'; He goes round insistin', -- "Sun is _almost_ shinin'!"

 Never's hot where Jim is-- When the town is sweatin'; He jes' sets and answers, -- "Well, _I_ ain't a-frettin'!"

 Never's cold where Jim is-- None of _us_ misdoubt it, Seein' we're nigh frozen! _He_ "ain't _thought_ about it!"

 Things that rile up others Never seem to strike him! "Trouble-proof, " I call it, -- Wisht that I was like him!

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Lippincott's Magazine. 

JOHNNY'S PA

BY WILBUR D. NESBIT

 My pa--he always went to school, He says, an' studied hard. W'y, when he's just as big as me He knew things by the yard! Arithmetic? He knew it all From dividend to sum; But when he tells me how it was, My grandma, she says "Hum!"

 My pa--he always got the prize For never bein' late; An' when they studied joggerfy He knew 'bout every state. He says he knew the rivers, an' Knew all their outs an' ins; But when he tells me all o' that, My grandma, she just grins. 

 My pa, he never missed a day A-goin' to the school, An' never played no hookey, nor Forgot the teacher's rule; An' every class he's ever in, The rest he always led. My grandma, when pa talks that way, Just laughs an' shakes her head. My grandma says 'at boys is boys, The same as pas is pas, An' when I ast her what she means She says it is "because. " She says 'at little boys is best When they grows up to men, Because they know how good they was, An' tell their children, then!

MAXIMS

BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

Never spare the parson's wine, nor the baker's pudding. 

A house without woman or firelight is like a body without soul orspirit. 

Kings and bears often worry their keepers. 

Light purse, heavy heart. 

He's a fool that makes his doctor his heir. 

Ne'er take a wife till thou hast a house (and a fire) to put her in. 

To lengthen thy life, lessen thy meals. 

He that drinks fast pays slow. 

He is ill-clothed who is bare of virtue. 

Beware of meat twice boil'd, and an old foe reconcil'd. 

The heart of a fool is in his mouth, but the mouth of a wise man is inhis heart. 

He that is rich need not live sparingly, and he that can live sparinglyneed not be rich. 

He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner. 

NEVADA SKETCHES

BY SAMUEL L. CLEMENS

IN CARSON CITY

I feel very much as if I had just awakened out of a long sleep. Iattribute it to the fact that I have slept the greater part of the timefor the last two days and nights. On Wednesday, I sat up all night, inVirginia, in order to be up early enough to take the five o'clock stageon Thursday morning. I was on time. It was a great success. I had acheerful trip down to Carson, in company with that incessant talker, Joseph T. Goodman. I never saw him flooded with such a flow of spiritsbefore. He restrained his conversation, though, until we had traveledthree or four miles, and were just crossing the divide between SilverCity and Spring Valley, when he thrust his head out of the dark stage, and allowed a pallid light from the coach lamps to illuminate hisfeatures for a moment, after which he returned to darkness again, andsighed and said, "Damn it!" with some asperity. I asked him who he meantit for, and he said, "The weather out there. " As we approached Carson, at about half past seven o'clock, he thrust his head out again, andgazed earnestly in the direction of that city--after which he took it inagain, with his nose very much frosted. He propped the end of that organupon the end of his finger, and looked pensively upon it--which had theeffect of making him cross-eyed--and remarked, "O, damn it!" with greatbitterness. I asked him what was up this time, and he said, "The cold, damp fog--it is worse than the weather. " This was his last. He neverspoke again in my hearing. He went on over the mountains with a ladyfellow passenger from here. That will stop his chatter, you know, for heseldom speaks in the presence of ladies. 

In the evening I felt a mighty inclination to go to a party somewhere. There was to be one at Governor J. Neely Johnson's, and I went there andasked permission to stand around a while. This was granted in the mosthospitable manner, and the vision of plain quadrilles soothed my wearysoul. I felt particularly comfortable, for if there is one thing moregrateful to my feelings than another, it is a new house--a large house, with its ceilings embellished with snowy mouldings; its floors glowingwith warm-tinted carpets, with cushioned chairs and sofas to sit on, anda piano to listen to; with fires so arranged you can see them, and knowthere is no humbug about it; with walls garnished with pictures, andabove all mirrors, wherein you may gaze and always find something toadmire, you know. I have a great regard for a good house, and a girlishpassion for mirrors. Horace Smith, Esq. , is also very fond of mirrors. He came and looked in the glass for an hour with me. Finally itcracked--the night was pretty cold--and Horace Smith's reflection wassplit right down the centre. But where his face had been the damage wasgreatest--a hundred cracks converged to his reflected nose, like spokesfrom the hub of a wagon wheel. It was the strangest freak the weatherhas done this winter. And yet the parlor seemed warm and comfortable, too. 

About nine o'clock the Unreliable came and asked Gov. Johnson to let himstand on the porch. The creature has got more impudence than any personI ever saw in my life. Well, he stood and flattened his nose against theparlor window, and looked hungry and vicious--he always looks thatway--until Colonel Musser arrived with some ladies, when he actuallyfell in their wake and came swaggering in looking as if he thought hehad been anxiously expected. He had on my fine kid boots, my plug hat, my white kid gloves (with slices of his prodigious hands grinningthrough the bursted seams), and my heavy gold repeater, which I had beenoffered thousands and thousands of dollars for many and many a time. Hetook those articles out of my trunk, at Washoe City, about a month ago, when we went there to report the proceedings of the convention. TheUnreliable intruded himself upon me in his cordial way, and said, "Howare you, Mark, old boy? When d'you come down? It's brilliant, ain't it?Appear to enjoy themselves, don't they? Lend a fellow two bits, can'tyou?" He always winds up his remarks that way. He appears to have aninsatiable craving for two bits. 

The music struck up just then and saved me. The next moment I was far, far at sea in the plain quadrille. We carried it through withdistinguished success; that is, we got as far as "balance around" and"half-a-man-left, " when I smelled hot whisky punch, or something of thatnature. I tracked the scent through several rooms, and finallydiscovered a large bowl from which it emanated. I found the omnipresentUnreliable there, also. He set down an empty goblet and remarked that hewas diligently seeking the gentlemen's dressing room. I would have shownhim where it was, but it occurred to him that the supper table and thepunch bowl ought not to be left unprotected; wherefore we stayed thereand watched them until the punch entirely evaporated. A servant came inthen, to replenish the bowl, and we left the refreshments in his charge. We probably did wrong, but we were anxious to join the hazy dance. Thedance was hazier than usual, after that. Sixteen couples on the floor atonce, with a few dozen spectators scattered around, is calculated tohave its effect in a brilliantly lighted parlor, I believe. Everythingseemed to buzz, at any rate. After all the modern dances had been dancedseveral times, the people adjourned to the supper-room. I found mywardrobe out there, as usual, with the Unreliable in it. His olddistemper was upon him: he was desperately hungry. I never saw a man eatas much as he did in my life. I have various items of his supper here inmy note-book. First, he ate a plate of sandwiches; then he ate ahandsomely iced poundcake; then he gobbled a dish of chicken salad;after which he ate a roast pig; after that, a quantity of blanc-mange;then he threw in several dozen glasses of punch to fortify his appetite, and finished his monstrous repast with a roast turkey. Dishes ofbrandy-grapes, and jellies, and such things, and pyramids of fruitsmelted away before him as shadows fly at the sun's approach. I am of theopinion that none of his ancestors were present when the five thousandwere miraculously fed in the old Scriptural times. I base my opinion onthe twelve bushels of scraps and the little fishes that remained overafter that feast. If the Unreliable himself had been there, theprovisions would just about have held out, I think. 

... At about two o'clock in the morning the pleasant party broke up andthe crowd of guests distributed themselves around town to theirrespective homes; and after thinking the fun all over again, I went tobed at four o'clock. So having been awake forty-eight hours, I sleptforty-eight, in order to get even again. 

CITY MARSHAL PERRY

John Van Buren Perry, recently re-elected City Marshal of Virginia City, was born a long time ago, in County Kerry, Ireland, of poor but honestparents, who were descendants, beyond question, of a house of highantiquity. The founder of it was distinguished for his eloquence; he wasthe property of one Baalam, and received honorable mention in the Bible. 

John Van Buren Perry removed to the United States in 1792--after havingachieved a high gastronomical reputation by creating the first famine inhis native land--and established himself at Kinderhook, New Jersey, as ateacher of vocal and instrumental music. His eldest son, Martin VanBuren, was educated there, and was afterwards elected President of theUnited States; his grandson, of the same name, is now a prominent NewYork politician, and is known in the East as "Prince John;" he keeps upa constant and affectionate correspondence with his worthy grandfather, who sells him feet in some of his richest wildcat claims from time totime. 

While residing at Kinderhook, Jack Perry was appointed Commodore of theUnited States Navy, and he forthwith proceeded to Lake Erie and foughtthe mighty marine conflict, which blazes upon the pages of history as"Perry's Victory. " In consequence of this exploit, he narrowly escapedthe Presidency. 

Several years ago Commodore Perry was appointed CommissionerExtraordinary to the Imperial Court of Japan, with unlimited power totreat. It is hardly worth while to mention that he never exercised thatpower; he never treated anybody in that country, although he patientlysubmitted to a vast amount of that sort of thing when the opportunitywas afforded him at the expense of the Japanese officials. He returnedfrom his mission full of honors and foreign whisky, and was welcomedhome again by the plaudits of a grateful nation. 

After the war was ended, Mr. Perry removed to Providence, Rhode Island, where he produced a complete revolution in medical science by inventingthe celebrated "Pain Killer" which bears his name. He manufactured thisliniment by the ship-load, and spread it far and wide over the sufferingworld; not a bottle left his establishment without his beneficentportrait upon the label, whereby, in time, his features became as wellknown unto burned and mutilated children as Jack the Giant Killer's. 

When pain had ceased throughout the universe Mr. Perry fell to writingfor a livelihood, and for years and years he poured out his soul inpleasing and effeminate poetry.... His very first effort, commencing:

 "How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, " etc. --

gained him a splendid literary reputation, and from that time forward noSunday-school library was complete without a full edition of hisplaintive and sentimental "Perry-Gorics. " After great research andprofound study of his subject, he produced that wonderful gem which isknown in every land as "The Young Mother's Apostrophe to Her Infant, "beginning:

 "Fie! fie! oo itty bitty pooty sing! To poke oo footsy-tootsys into momma's eye!"

This inspired poem had a tremendous run, and carried Perry's fame intoevery nursery in the civilized world. But he was not destined to wearhis laurels undisturbed: England, with monstrous perfidy, at onceclaimed the "Apostrophe" for her favorite son, Martin Farquhar Tupper, and sent up a howl of vindictive abuse from her polluted press againstour beloved Perry. With one accord, the American people rose up in hisdefense, and a devastating war was only averted by a public denial ofthe paternity of the poem by the great Proverbial over his ownsignature. This noble act of Mr. Tupper gained him a high place in theaffection of this people, and his sweet platitudes have been read herewith an ever augmented spirit of tolerance since that day. 

The conduct of England toward Mr. Perry told upon his constitution tosuch an extent that at one time it was feared the gentle bard would fadeand flicker out altogether; wherefore, the solicitude of influentialofficials was aroused in his behalf, and through their generosity he wasprovided with an asylum in Sing Sing prison, a quiet retreat in thestate of New York. Here he wrote his last great poem, beginning:

 "Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so-- Your little hands were never made To tear out each other's eyes with--"

and then proceeded to learn the shoemaker's trade in his new home, underthe distinguished masters employed by the commonwealth. 

Ever since Mr. Perry arrived at man's estate his prodigious feet havebeen a subject of complaint and annoyance to those communities whichhave known the honor of his presence. In 1835, during a great leatherfamine, many people were obliged to wear wooden shoes, and Mr. Perry, for the sake of economy, transferred his bootmaking patronage from thetan-yard which had before enjoyed his custom, to an undertaker'sestablishment--that is to say, he wore coffins. At that time he was amember of Congress from New Jersey, and occupied a seat in front of theSpeaker's throne. He had the uncouth habit of propping his feet upon hisdesk during prayer by the chaplain, and thus completely hiding thatofficer from every eye save that of Omnipotence alone. So long as theHon. Mr. Perry wore orthodox leather boots the clergyman submitted tothis infliction and prayed behind them in singular solitude, under mildprotest; but when he arose one morning to offer up his regular petition, and beheld the cheerful apparition of Jack Perry's coffins confrontinghim, "The jolly old bum went under the table like a sick porpus" (as Mr. P. Feelingly remarks), "and never shot off his mouth in that shantyagain. "

Mr. Perry's first appearance on the Pacific Coast was upon the boards ofthe San Francisco theaters in the character of "Old Pete" in DionBoucicault's "Octoroon. " So excellent was his delineation of thatcelebrated character that "Perry's Pete" was for a long time regarded asthe climax of histrionic perfection. 

Since John Van Buren Perry has resided in Nevada Territory, he hasemployed his talents in acting as City Marshal of Virginia, and inabusing me because I am an orphan and a long way from home, and cantherefore be persecuted with impunity. He was re-elected day beforeyesterday, and his first official act was an attempt to get me drunk onchampagne furnished to the Board of Aldermen by other successfulcandidates, so that he might achieve the honor and glory of getting mein the station-house for once in his life. Although he failed in hisobject, he followed me down C street and handcuffed me in front of TomPeasley's, but officers Birdsall and Larkin and Brokaw rebelled againstthis unwarranted assumption of authority, and released me--whereupon Iwas about to punish Jack Perry severely, when he offered me six bits tohand him down to posterity through the medium of this Biography, and Iclosed the contract. But after all, I never expect to get the money. 

A SUNDAY IN CARSON

I arrived in this noisy and bustling town of Carson at noon to-day, perLayton's express. We made pretty good time from Virginia, and might havemade much better, but for Horace Smith, Esq. , who rode on the box seatand kept the stage so much by the head she wouldn't steer. I went tochurch, of course, --I always go to church when I--when I go tochurch--as it were. I got there just in time to hear the closing hymn, and also to hear the Rev. Mr. White give out a long-metre doxology, which the choir tried to sing to a short-metre tune. But there wasn'tmusic enough to go around: consequently, the effect was rather singular, than otherwise. They sang the most interesting parts of each line, though, and charged the balance to "profit and loss;" this rendered thegeneral intent and meaning of the doxology considerably mixed, as far asthe congregation were concerned, but inasmuch as it was not addressed tothem, anyhow, I thought it made no particular difference. 

By an easy and pleasant transition, I went from church to jail. It wasonly just down stairs--for they save men eternally in the second storyof the new court house, and damn them for life in the first. SheriffGasheric has a handsome double office fronting on the street, and itswalls are gorgeously decorated with iron convict-jewelry. In the rearare two rows of cells, built of bomb-proof masonry and furnished withstrong iron doors and resistless locks and bolts. There was but oneprisoner--Swazey, the murderer of Derrickson--and he was writing; I donot know what his subject was, but he appeared to be handling it in away which gave him great satisfaction.... 

ADVICE TO THE UNRELIABLE ON CHURCH-GOING

In the first place, I must impress upon you that when you are dressingfor church, as a general thing, you mix your perfumes too much; yourfragrance is sometimes oppressive; you saturate yourself with cologneand bergamot, until you make a sort of Hamlet's Ghost of yourself, andno man can decide, with the first whiff, whether you bring with you airfrom Heaven or from hell. Now, rectify this matter as soon as possible;last Sunday you smelled like a secretary to a consolidated drug storeand barber shop. And you came and sat in the same pew with me; now don'tdo that again. 

In the next place when you design coming to church, don't lie in beduntil half past ten o'clock and then come in looking all swelled andtorpid, like a doughnut. Do reflect upon it, and show some respect foryour personal appearance hereafter. 

There is another matter, also, which I wish to remonstrate with youabout. Generally, when the contribution box of the missionary departmentis passing around, you begin to look anxious, and fumble in your vestpockets, as if you felt a mighty desire to put all your worldly wealthinto it--yet when it reaches your pew, you are sure to be absorbed inyour prayer-book, or gazing pensively out of the window at far-offmountains, or buried in meditation, with your sinful head supported bythe back of the pew before you. And after the box is gone again, youusually start suddenly and gaze after it with a yearning look, mingledwith an expression of bitter disappointment (fumbling your cash againmeantime), as if you felt you had missed the one grand opportunity forwhich you had been longing all your life. Now, to do this when you havemoney in your pockets is mean. But I have seen you do a meaner thing. Irefer to your conduct last Sunday, when the contribution box arrived atour pew--and the angry blood rises to my cheek when I remember with whatgravity and sweet serenity of countenance you put in fifty cents andtook out two dollars and a half.... 

THE UNRELIABLE

EDS. ENTERPRISE--I received the following atrocious document the morningI arrived here. It was from that abandoned profligate, the Unreliable, and I think it speaks for itself:

 CARSON CITY, Thursday Morning. 

 _To the Unreliable:_

SIR--Observing the driver of the Virginia stage hunting after you thismorning, in order to collect his fare, I infer you are in town. 

In the paper which you represent, I noticed an article which I took tobe an effusion from your muddled brain, stating that I had "cabbaged" anumber of valuable articles from you the night I took you out of thestreets of Washoe City and permitted you to occupy my bed. 

I take this opportunity to inform you that I will compensate you at therate of $20 _per head_ for every one of these _valuable_ articles that Ireceived from you, providing you will relieve me of their presence. Thisoffer can be either accepted or rejected on your part: but providing youdon't see proper to accept it, you had better procure enough lumber tomake a box 4x8, and have it made as early as possible. Judge Dixon willarrange the preliminaries if you don't accede. An early reply isexpected by RELIABLE. 

Not satisfied with wounding my feelings by making the most extraordinaryreference to allusions in the above note, he even sent a challenge tofight, in the same envelop with it, hoping to work upon my fears anddrive me from the country by intimidation. But I was not to befrightened; I shall remain in the Territory. I guessed his object atonce, and determined to accept his challenge, choose weapons and things, and scare him, instead of being scared myself. I wrote a stern reply tohim, and offered him mortal combat with boot-jacks at a hundred yards. The effect was more agreeable than I could have hoped for. His hairturned black in a single night, from excess of fear; then he went into afit of melancholy, and while it lasted he did nothing but sigh, and sob, and snuffle, and slobber, and say "he wished he was in the quiet tomb;"finally he said he would commit suicide--he would say farewell to thecold, cold world, with its cares and troubles, and go to sleep with hisfathers, in perdition. Then rose up this young man, and threw hisdemijohn out of the window, and took up a glass of pure water, anddrained it to the dregs. And then he fell to the floor in a swoon. Dr. Tjader was called in, and as soon as he found that the cuss waspoisoned, he rushed down to the Magnolia Saloon and got the antidote, and poured it down him. As he was drawing his last breath, he scentedthe brandy and lingered yet a while on earth, to take a drink with theboys. But for this he would have been no more--or possible a great dealless--in a moment. So he survived; but he has been in a mightyprecarious condition ever since. I have been up to see how he wasgetting along two or three times a day.... He is a very sick man; I wasup there a while ago, and I could see that his friends had begun toentertain hopes that he would not get over it. As soon as I saw that, all my enmity vanished; I even felt like doing the poor Unreliable akindness, and showing him, too, how my feelings toward him had changed. So I went and bought him a beautiful coffin, and carried it up and setit down on his bed and told him to climb in when his time was up. Well, sir, you never saw a man so affected by a little act of kindness as hewas by that. He let off a sort of war-whoop, and went to kicking thingsaround like a crazy man; and he foamed at the mouth and went out of onefit into another faster than I could take them down in my note-book.... 

I did not return to Virginia yesterday, on account of the wedding. Theparties were Hon. James H. Sturtevant, one of the first Pi-Utes ofNevada, and Miss Emma Curry, daughter of the Hon. A. Curry, who alsoclaims that his is a Pi-Ute family of high antiquity.... I had heard itreported that a marriage was threatened, so felt it my duty to go downthere and find out the facts of the case. They said I might stay, as itwas me.... I promised not to say anything about the wedding, and Iregard that promise as sacred--my word is as good as my bond.... FatherBennett advanced and touched off the high contracting parties with thehymeneal torch (married them, you know), and at the word of command fromCurry, the fiddle bows were set in motion, and the plain quadrillesturned loose. Thereupon, some of the most responsible dancing ensuedthat I ever saw in my life. The dance that Tam O'Shanter witnessed wasslow in comparison to it. They kept it up for six hours, and thencarried out the exhausted musicians on a shutter, and went down tosupper. I know they had a fine supper, and plenty of it, but I do notknow much else. They drank so much shampin around me that I gotconfused, and lost the hang of things, as it were.... It was mightypleasant, jolly and sociable, and I wish to thunder I was marriedmyself. I took a large slice of bridal cake home with me to dream on, and dreamt that I was still a single man, and likely to remain so, if Ilive and nothing happens--which has given me a greater confidence indreams than I ever felt before. I cordially wish my newly-married coupleall kinds of happiness and prosperity, though. 

YE SENTIMENTAL LAW STUDENT

EDS. ENTERPRISE--I found the following letter, or Valentine, or whateverit is, lying on the summit, where it had been dropped unintentionally, Ithink. It was written on a sheet of legal cap, and each line was dulycommenced within the red mark which traversed the sheet from top tobottom. Solon appeared to have had some trouble getting his effusionstarted to suit him. He had begun it, "Know all men by these presents, "and scratched it out again; he had substituted, "Now at this day comesthe plaintiff, by his attorney, " and scratched that out also; he hadtried other sentences of like character, and gone on obliterating them, until, through much sorrow and tribulation, he achieved the dedicationwhich stands at the head of his letter, and to his entire satisfaction, I do cheerfully hope. But what a villain a man must be to blend togetherthe beautiful language of love and the infernal phraseology of the lawin one and the same sentence! I know but one of God's creatures whowould be guilty of such depravity as this: I refer to the Unreliable. Ibelieve the Unreliable to be the very lawyer's-cub who sat upon thesolitary peak, all soaked in beer and sentiment, and concocted theinsipid literary hash I am talking about. The handwriting closelyresembles his semi-Chinese tarantula tracks. 

SUGAR LOAF PEAK, February 14, 1863. 

To the loveliness to whom these presents shall come, greeting:--This isa lovely day, my own Mary; its unencumbered sunshine reminds me of yourhappy face, and in the imagination the same doth now appear before me. Such sights and scenes as this ever remind me, the party of the secondpart, of you, my Mary, the peerless party of the first part. The viewfrom the lonely and segregated mountain peak, of this portion of what iscalled and known as Creation, with all and singular the hereditamentsand appurtenances thereunto appertaining and belonging, isinexpressively grand and inspiring; and I gaze, and gaze, while my soulis filled with holy delight, and my heart expands to receive thyspirit-presence, as aforesaid. Above me is the glory of the sun; aroundhim float the messenger clouds, ready alike to bless the earth withgentle rain, or visit it with lightning, and thunder, and destruction;far below the said sun and the messenger clouds aforesaid, lying proneupon the earth in the verge of the distant horizon, like the burnishedshield of a giant, mine eyes behold a lake, which is described and setforth in maps as the Sink of Carson; nearer, in the great plain, I seethe Desert, spread abroad like the mantle of a Colossus, glowing byturns, with the warm light of the sun, hereinbefore mentioned, or darklyshaded by the messenger clouds aforesaid; flowing at right angles withsaid Desert, and adjacent thereto, I see the silver and sinuous threadof the river, commonly called Carson, which winds its tortuous coursethrough the softly tinted valley, and disappears amid the gorges of thebleak and snowy mountains--a simile of man!--leaving the pleasant valleyof Peace and Virtue to wander among the dark defiles of Sin, beyond thejurisdiction of the kindly beaming sun aforesaid! And about said sun, and the said clouds, and around the said mountains, and over the plainand the river aforesaid, there floats a purple glory--a yellow mist--asairy and beautiful as the bridal veil of a princess, about to be weddedaccording to the rites and ceremonies pertaining to, and established by, the laws or edicts of the kingdom or principality wherein she dothreside, and whereof she hath been and doth continue to be, a lawfulsovereign or subject. Ah! my Mary, it is sublime! it is lovely! I havedeclared and made known, and by these presents do declare and make knownunto you, that the view from Sugar Loaf Peak, as hereinbefore describedand set forth, is the loveliest picture with which the hand of theCreator has adorned the earth, according to the best of my knowledge andbelief, so help me God. 

Given under my hand, and in the spirit-presence of the bright beingwhose love has restored the light of hope to a soul once groping in thedarkness of despair, on the day and year first above written. 

(Signed)

 SOLON LYCURGUS. 

Law Student, and Notary Public in and for the said County of Storey, andTerritory of Nevada. 

To Miss Mary Links, Virginia (and may the laws have her in their holykeeping). 

SETTIN' BY THE FIRE

BY FRANK L. STANTON

 Never much on stirrin' roun' (Sich warn't his desire), Allers certain to be foun' Settin' by the fire. 

 When the frost wuz comin' down-- Col' win' creepin' nigher, Spent each day jest thataway-- Settin' by the fire. 

 When the dancin' shook the groun'-- Raised the ol' roof higher, Never swung the gals eroun'-- Sot thar' by the fire. 

 Same ol' corner night an' day-- Never 'peared to tire; Not a blessed word to say! Jest sot by the fire. 

 When he died, by slow degrees, Folks said: "He's gone higher;" But it's my opinion he's Settin' by the fire. 

THE WHISPERER

BY IRONQUILL

 He never tried to make a speech; A speech was far beyond his reach. He didn't even dare to try; He did his work upon the sly. He took the voter to the rear And gently whispered in his ear. 

 He never wrote; he could not write; He never tried that style of fight. No argument of his was seen In daily press or magazine. He only tried to get up near And whisper in the voter's ear. 

 It worked so well that he became A person of abundant fame. He couldn't write; he couldn't speak, But still pursued his course unique. He had a glorious career-- He whispered in the voter's ear. 

DER OAK UND DER VINE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

 I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts, Or anyding like dot, Und I likes to see all beoples Shust gondented mit dheir lot; Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap Dot made dis leedle shoke: "A voman vas der glinging vine, Und man, der shturdy oak. "

 Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue; Budt, den dimes oudt off nine, I find me oudt dot man himself Vas peen der glinging vine; Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone, Und he vas shust "tead proke, " Dot's ven der voman shteps righdt in, Und peen der shturdy oak. 

 Shust go oup to der paseball groundts Und see dhose "shturdy oaks" All planted roundt ubon der seats-- Shust hear dheir laughs und shokes! Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs, Mit glothes oudt on der lines; Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts, Und vhich der glinging vines?

 Vhen sickness in der householdt comes, Und veeks und veeks he shtays, Who vas id fighdts him mitoudt resdt, Dhose veary nighdts und days? Who beace und gomfort alvays prings, Und cools dot fefered prow? More like id vas der tender vine Dot oak he glings to, now. 

 "Man vants budt leedle here below, " Der boet von time said; Dhere's leedle dot man he _don'd_ vant, I dink id means, inshted; Und ven der years keep rolling on, Dheir cares und droubles pringing, He vants to pe der shturdy oak, Und, also, do der glinging. 

 Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more, Und don'd so shturdy peen, Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance To helb run Life's masheen. In helt und sickness, shoy und pain, In calm or shtormy veddher, 'T was beddher dot dhose oaks und vines Should alvays gling togeddher. 

ARAMINTA AND THE AUTOMOBILE

BY CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS

Some persons spend their surplus on works of art; some spend it onItalian gardens and pergolas; there are those who sink it in golf, and Ihave heard of those who expended it on charity. 

None of these forms of getting away with money appeal to Araminta andmyself. As soon as it was ascertained that the automobile waspracticable and would not cost a king's ransom, I determined to devotemy savings to the purchase of one. 

Araminta and I lived in a suburban town; she because she loves Natureand I because I love Araminta. We have been married for five years. 

I am a bank clerk in New York, and morning and night I go through themonotony of railway travel, and for one who is forbidden to use his eyeson the train and who does not play cards it _is_ monotony, for in themorning my friends are either playing cards or else reading theirpapers, and one does not like to urge the claims of conversation on onewho is deep in politics or the next play of his antagonist; so mygetting to business and coming back are in the nature of purgatory. Itherefore hailed the automobile as a Heaven-sent means of swift motionwith an agreeable companion, and with no danger of encountering eithernewspapers or cards. I have seen neither reading nor card-playing goingon in any automobile. 

The community in which I live is not progressive, and when I said that Iexpected to buy an automobile as soon as my ship came in I was frownedupon by my neighbors. Several of them have horses, and all, or nearlyall, have feet. The horsemen were not more opposed to my proposedownership than the footmen--I should say pedestrians. They all thoughtautomobiles dangerous and a menace to public peace, but of course Ipooh-poohed their fears and, being a person of a good deal of stabilityof purpose, I went on saving my money, and in course of time I bought anautomobile of the electric sort. 

Araminta is plucky, and I am perfectly fearless. When the automobile wasbrought home and housed in the little barn that is on our property, theman who had backed it in told me that he had orders to stay and show mehow it worked, but I laughed at him--good-naturedly yet firmly. I said, "Young man, experience teaches more in half an hour than books orprecepts do in a year. A would-be newspaper man does not go to a schoolof journalism if he is wise; he gets a position on a newspaper andlearns for himself, and through his mistakes. I know that one of theselevers is to steer by, that another lets loose the power, and that thereis a foot-brake. I also know that the machine is charged, and I need toknow no more. Good day. "

Thus did I speak to the young man, and he saw that I was a person offorce and discretion, and he withdrew to the train and I never saw himagain. 

Araminta had been to Passaic shopping, but she came back while I was outin the barn looking at my new purchase, and she joined me there. Ilooked at her lovingly, and she returned the look. Our joint ambitionwas realized; we were the owners of an automobile, and we were going outthat afternoon. 

Why is it that cheap barns are so flimsily built? I know that our barnis cheap because the rent for house and barn is less than what many aclerk, city pent, pays for a cramped flat, but again I ask, why are theyflimsily built? I have no complaint to make. If my barn had been builtof good stout oak I might to-day be in a hospital. 

It happened this way. Araminta said, "Let me get in, and we will takejust a little ride to see how it goes, " and I out of my love for hersaid, "Wait just a few minutes, dearest, until I get the hang of thething. I want to see how much go she has and just how she works. "

Araminta has learned to obey my slightest word, knowing that love is atthe bottom of all my commands, and she stepped to one side while Ientered the gayly-painted vehicle and tried to move out of the barn. Imoved out. But I backed. Oh, blessed, cheaply built barn. My way was notrestricted to any appreciable extent. I shot gayly through the barn intothe hen yard, and the sound of the ripping clapboards frightened thesilly hens who were enjoying a dust-bath, and they fled in moredirections than there were fowls. 

I had not intended entering the hen yard, and I did not wish to staythere, so I kept on out, the wire netting not being what an automobilewould call an obstruction. I never lose my head, and when I heardAraminta screaming in the barn, I called out cheerily to her, "I'll beback in a minute, dear, but I'm coming another way. "

And I did come another way. I came all sorts of ways. I really don'tknow what got into the machine, but she now turned to the left and madefor the road, and then she ran along on her two left wheels for amoment, and then seemed about to turn a somersault, but changed hermind, and, still veering to the left, kept on up the road, passing myhouse at a furious speed, and making for the open country. With as muchcalmness as I could summon I steered her, but I think I steered her alittle too much, for she turned toward my house. 

I reached one end of the front piazza at the same time that Aramintareached the other end of it. I had the right of way, and she deferred tome just in time. I removed the vestibule storm door. It was late inMarch, and I did not think we should have any more use for it thatseason. And we didn't. 

I had ordered a strongly-built machine, and I was now glad of it, because a light and weak affair that was merely meant to run along on alevel and unobstructed road would not have stood the assault on mypiazza. Why, my piazza did not stand it. It caved in, and made work foran already overworked local carpenter who was behind-hand with hisorders. After I had passed through the vestibule, I applied the brake, and it worked. The path is not a cinder one, as I think them untidy, soI was not more than muddied. I was up in an instant, and looked at thestill enthusiastic machine with admiration. 

"Have you got the hang of it?" said Araminta. 

Now that's one thing I like about Araminta. She does not waste wordsover non-essentials. The point was not that I had damaged the piazza. Ineeded a new one, anyway. The main thing was that I was trying to getthe hang of the machine, and she recognized that fact instantly. 

I told her that I thought I had, and that if I had pushed the lever inthe right way at first, I should have come out of the barn in a moreconventional way. 

She again asked me to let her ride, and as I now felt that I couldbetter cope with the curves of the machine I allowed her to get in. 

"Don't lose your head, " said I. 

"I hope I shan't, " said she dryly. 

"Well, if you have occasion to leave me, drop over the back. Never jumpahead. That is a fundamental rule in runaways of all kinds. "

Then we started, and I ran the motor along for upward of half a mileafter I had reached the highway, which I did by a short cut through afield at the side of our house. There is only a slight rail fencesurrounding it, and my machine made little of that. It really seemed todelight in what some people would have called danger. 

"Araminta, are you glad that I saved up for this?"

"I am mad with joy, " said the dear thing, her face flushed withexcitement mixed with expectancy. Nor were her expectations to bedisappointed. We still had a good deal to do before we should have endedour first ride. 

So far I had damaged property to a certain extent, but I had no one butmyself to reckon with, and I was providing work for people. I alwayshave claimed that he who makes work for two men where there was onlywork for one before, is a public benefactor, and that day I was thefriend of carpenters and other mechanics. 

Along the highway we flew, our hearts beating high, but never in ourmouths, and at last we saw a team approaching us. By "a team" I mean ahorse and buggy. I was raised in Connecticut, where a team is anythingyou choose to call one. 

The teamster saw us. Well, perhaps I should not call him a teamster(although he was one logically): he was our doctor, and, as I say, hesaw us. 

Now I think it would have been friendly in him, seeing that I was moreor less of a novice at the art of automobiling, to have turned to theleft when he saw that I was inadvertently turning to the left, but thepractice of forty years added to a certain native obstinacy made himturn to the right, and he met me at the same time that I met him. 

The horse was not hurt, for which I am truly glad, and the doctor joinedus, and continued with us for a season, but his buggy was demolished. 

Of course I am always prepared to pay for my pleasure, and though it wasnot, strictly speaking, my pleasure to deprive my physician of histurn-out, yet if he _had_ turned out it wouldn't have happened--and, asI say, I was prepared to get him a new vehicle. But he was veryunreasonable; so much so that, as he was crowding us--for the seat wasnot built for more than two, and he is stout--I at last told him that Iintended to turn around and carry him home, as we were out for pleasure, and he was giving us pain. 

I will confess that the events of the last few minutes had rattled mesomewhat, and I did not feel like turning just then, as the road wasnarrow. I knew that the road turned of its own accord a half-milefarther on, and so I determined to wait. 

"I want to get out, " said the doctor tartly, and just as he said soAraminta stepped on the brake, accidentally. The doctor got out--infront. With great presence of mind I reversed, and so we did not runover him. But he was furious and sulphurous, and that is why I havechanged to homeopathy. He was the only allopathic doctor in Brantford. 

I suppose that if I had stopped and apologized, he would have made upwith me, and I would not have got angry with him, but I couldn't stop. The machine was now going as she had done when I left the barn, and wewere backing into town. 

Through it all I did not lose my coolness. I said: "Araminta, look outbehind, which is ahead of us, and if you have occasion to jump now, doit in front, which is behind, " and Araminta understood me. 

She sat sideways, so that she could see what was going on, but thatmight have been seen from any point of view, for we were the only thingsgoing on--or backing. 

Pretty soon we passed the wreck of the buggy, and then we saw the horsegrazing on dead grass by the roadside, and at last we came on a few ofour townfolk who had seen us start, and were now come out to welcome ushome. But I did not go home just then. I should have done so if themachine had minded me and turned in at our driveway, but it did not. 

Across the way from us there is a fine lawn leading up to a beautifulgreenhouse full of rare orchids and other plants. It is the pride of myvery good neighbor, Jacob Rawlinson. 

The machine, as if moved by _malice prépense_, turned just as we came tothe lawn, and began to back at railroad speed. 

I told Araminta that if she was tired of riding, now was the best timeto stop; that she ought not to overdo it, and that I was going to getout myself as soon as I had seen her off. 

I saw her off. 

Then after one ineffectual jab at the brake, I left the machinehurriedly, and as I sat down on the sposhy lawn I heard a tremendous butnot unmusical sound of falling glass----

I tell Araminta that it isn't the running of an automobile that isexpensive. It is the stopping of it. 

THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

 I wrote some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. 

 They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. 

 I called my servant, and he came; How kind it was of him To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb!

 "These to the printer, " I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added, (as a trifling jest, ) "There'll be the devil to pay. "

 He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon the grin. 

 He read the next; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear; He read the third; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. 

 The fourth; he broke into a roar; The fifth; his waistband split; The sixth; he burst five buttons off, And tumbled in a fit. 

 Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man, And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. 

WHEN LOVELY WOMAN

BY PHOEBE CARY

 When lovely woman wants a favor, And finds, too late, that man won't bend, What earthly circumstance can save her From disappointment in the end?

 The only way to bring him over, The last experiment to try, Whether a husband or a lover, If he have feeling is--to cry. 

UNSATISFIED YEARNING

BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK

 Down in the silent hallway Scampers the dog about, And whines, and barks, and scratches, In order to get out. 

 Once in the glittering starlight, He straightway doth begin To set up a doleful howling In order to get in. 

THE INVISIBLE PRINCE[2]

BY HENRY HARLAND

At a masked ball given by the Countess Wohenhoffen, in Vienna, duringcarnival week, a year ago, a man draped in the embroidered silks of aChinese mandarin, his features entirely concealed by an enormous Chinesehead in cardboard, was standing in the Wintergarten, the big, dimly-lighted conservatory, near the door of one of the gilt-and-whitereception-rooms, rather a stolid-seeming witness of the multi-colouredromp within, when a voice behind him said, "How do you do, Mr. Field?"--a woman's voice, an English voice. 

The mandarin turned round. 

From a black mask, a pair of blue-gray eyes looked into his broad, blandChinese face; and a black domino dropped him an extravagant littlecurtsey. 

"How do you do?" he responded. "I'm afraid I'm not Mr. Field; but I'llgladly pretend I am, if you'll stop and talk with me. I was dying for alittle human conversation. "

"Oh you're afraid you're not Mr. Field, are you?" the mask repliedderisively. "Then why did you turn when I called his name?"

"You mustn't hope to disconcert me with questions like that, " said he. "I turned because I liked your voice. "

He might quite reasonably have liked her voice, a delicate, clear, softvoice, somewhat high in register, with an accent, crisp, chiselled, concise, that suggested wit as well as distinction. She was rathertall, for a woman; one could divine her slender and graceful, under thevoluminous folds of her domino. 

She moved a little away from the door, deeper into the conservatory. Themandarin kept beside her. There, amongst the palms, a _fontainelumineuse_ was playing, rhythmically changing colour. Now it was ashower of rubies; now of emeralds or amethysts, of sapphires, topazes, or opals. 

"How pretty, " she said, "and how frightfully ingenious. I am wonderingwhether this wouldn't be a good place to sit down. What do _you_ think?"And she pointed with a fan to a rustic bench. 

So they sat down on the rustic bench, by the _fontaine lumineuse_. 

"In view of your fear that you're not Mr. Field, it's rather acoincidence that at a masked ball in Vienna you should just happen to beEnglish, isn't it?" she asked. 

"Oh, everybody's more or less English, in these days, you know, " saidhe. 

"There's some truth in that, " she admitted, with a laugh. "What adiverting piece of artifice this Wintergarten is, to be sure. Fancyarranging the electric lights to shine through a dome of purple glass, and look like stars. They do look like stars, don't they? Slightlyoverdressed, showy stars, indeed; stars in the German taste; but stars, all the same. Then, by day, you know, the purple glass is removed, andyou get the sun--the real sun. Do you notice the delicious fragrance oflilac? If one hadn't too exacting an imagination, one might almostpersuade oneself that one was in a proper open-air garden, on a night inMay--Yes, everybody is more or less English, in these days. That'sprecisely the sort of thing I should have expected Victor Field tosay. "

"By-the-bye, " questioned the mandarin, "if you don't mind increasing mystores of knowledge, who _is_ this fellow Field?"

"This fellow Field? Ah, who indeed?" said she. "That's just what I wishyou'd tell me. "

"I'll tell you with pleasure, after you've supplied me with thenecessary data, " he promised cheerfully. 

"Well, by some accounts, he's a little literary man in London, " sheremarked. 

"Oh, come! You never imagined that I was a little literary man inLondon, " protested he. 

"You might be worse, " she retorted. "However, if the phrase offends you, I'll say a rising young literary man, instead. He writes things, youknow. "

"Poor chap, does he? But then, that's a way they have, sizing upliterary persons?" His tone was interrogative. 

"Doubtless, " she agreed. "Poems and stories and things. And bookreviews, I suspect. And even, perhaps, leading articles in thenewspapers. "

"_Toute la lyre enfin?_ What they call a penny-a-liner?"

"I'm sure I don't know what he's paid. I should think he'd get rathermore than a penny. He's fairly successful. The things he does aren'tbad, " she said. 

"I must look 'em up, " said he. "But meantime, will you tell me how youcame to mistake me for him? Has he the Chinese type? Besides, what onearth should a little London literary man be doing at the CountessWohenhoffen's?"

"He was standing near the door, over there, " she told him, sweetly, "dying for a little human conversation, till I took pity on him. No, hehasn't exactly the Chinese type, but he's wearing a Chinese costume, andI should suppose he'd feel uncommonly hot in that exasperatingly placidChinese head. _I'm_ nearly suffocated, and I'm only wearing a _loup_. For the rest, why _shouldn't_ he be here?"

"If your _loup_ bothers you, pray take it off. Don't mind me, " he urgedgallantly. 

"You're extremely good, " she responded. "But if I should take off my_loup_, you'd be sorry. Of course, manlike, you're hoping that I'm youngand pretty. "

"Well, and aren't you?"

"I'm a perfect fright. I'm an old maid. "

"Thank you. Manlike, I confess I _was_ hoping you'd be young and pretty. Now my hope has received the strongest confirmation. I'm sure you are, "he declared triumphantly. 

"Your argument, with a meretricious air of subtlety, is facile andsuperficial. Don't pin your faith to it. Why _shouldn't_ Victor Field behere?" she persisted. 

"The Countess only receives tremendous swells. It's the most exclusivehouse in Europe. "

"Are you a tremendous swell?" she wondered. 

"Rather!" he asseverated. "Aren't you?"

She laughed a little, and stroked her fan, a big fan, a big fan offluffy black feathers. 

"That's very jolly, " said he. 

"What?" said she. 

"That thing in your lap. "

"My fan?"

"I expect you'd call it a fan. "

"For goodness' sake, what would _you_ call it?" cried she. 

"I should call it a fan. "

She gave another little laugh. "You have a nice instinct for the _motjuste_, " she informed him. 

"Oh, no, " he disclaimed, modestly. "But I can call a fan a fan, when Ithink it won't shock the sensibilities of my hearer. "

"If the Countess only receives tremendous swells, " said she, "you mustremember that Victor Field belongs to the Aristocracy of Talent. "

"Oh, _quant à ça_, so, from the Wohenhoffens' point of view, do thebarber and the horse-leech. In this house, the Aristocracy of Talentdines with the butler. "

"Is the Countess such a snob?" she asked. 

"No; she's an Austrian. They draw the line so absurdly tight inAustria. "

"Well, then, you leave me no alternative, " she argued, "but to concludethat Victor Field is a tremendous swell. Didn't you notice, I bobbed hima curtsey?"

"I took the curtsey as a tribute to my Oriental magnificence, " heconfessed. "Field doesn't sound like an especially patrician name. I'dgive anything to discover who you are. Can't you be induced to tell me?I'll bribe, entreat, threaten--I'll do anything you think might persuadeyou. "

"I'll tell you at once, if you'll own up that you're Victor Field, " saidshe. 

"Oh, I'll own up that I'm Queen Elizabeth if you'll tell me who you are. The end justifies the means. "

"Then you _are_ Victor Field?" she pursued him eagerly. 

"If you don't mind suborning perjury, why should I mind committing it?"he reflected. "Yes. And now, who are you?"

"No; I must have an unequivocal avowal, " she stipulated. "Are you or areyou not Victor Field?"

"Let us put it at this, " he proposed, "that I'm a good serviceableimitation; an excellent substitute when the genuine article is notprocurable. "

"Of course, your real name isn't anything like Victor Field, " shedeclared, pensively. 

"I never said it was. But I admire the way in which you give with onehand and take back with the other. "

"Your real name--" she began. "Wait a moment--Yes, now I have it. Yourreal name--It's rather long. You don't think it will bore you?"

"Oh, if it's really my real name, I daresay I'm hardened to it, " saidhe. 

"Your real name is Louis Charles Ferdinand Stanislas John JosephEmmanuel Maria Anna. "

"Mercy upon me, " he cried, "what a name! You ought to have broken it tome in instalments. And it's all Christian name at that. Can't you spareme just a little rag of a surname, for decency's sake?" he pleaded. 

"The surnames of royalties don't matter, Monseigneur, " she said, with aflourish. 

"Royalties? What? Dear me, here's rapid promotion! I am royal now! And amoment ago I was a little penny-a-liner in London. "

"_L'un n'empêche pas l'autre. _ Have you never heard the story of theInvisible Prince?" she asked. 

"I adore irrelevancy, " said he. "I seem to have read something about aninvisible prince, when I was young. A fairy tale, wasn't it?"

"The irrelevancy is only apparent. The story I mean is a story of reallife. Have you ever heard of the Duke of Zeln?"

"Zeln? Zeln?" he repeated, reflectively. "No, I don't think so. "

She clapped her hands. "Really, you do it admirably. If I weren'tperfectly sure of my facts, I believe I should be taken in. Zeln, as anyhistory would tell you, as any old atlas would show you, was a littleindependent duchy in the center of Germany. "

"Poor dear thing! Like Jonah in the center of the whale, " he murmured, sympathetically. 

"Hush. Don't interrupt. Zeln was a little independent German duchy, andthe Duke of Zeln was its sovereign. After the war with France it wasabsorbed by Prussia. But the ducal family still rank as royal highness. Of course, you've heard of the Leczinskis?"

"Lecz--what?" said he. 

"Leczinski, " she repeated. 

"How do you spell it?"

"L-e-c-z-i-n-s-k-i. "

"Good. Capital. You have a real gift for spelling, " he exclaimed. 

"Will you be quiet, " she said, severely, "and answer my question? Areyou familiar with the name?"

"I should never venture to be familiar with a name I didn't know, " heasserted. 

"Ah, you don't know it? You have never heard of Stanislas Leczinska, whowas king of Poland? Of Marie Leczinska, who married Louis VI?"

"Oh, to be sure. I remember. The lady whose portrait one sees atVersailles. "

"Quite so. Very well, " she continued, "the last representative of theLeczinskis, in the elder line, was the Princess Anna Leczinska, who, in1858, married the Duke of Zeln. She was the daughter of John Leczinski, Duke of Grodnia and Governor of Galicia, and of the ArchduchessHenrietta d'Este, a cousin of the Emperor of Austria. She was also agreat heiress, and an extremely handsome woman. But the Duke of Zeln wasa bad lot, a viveur, a gambler, a spendthrift. His wife, like a fool, made her entire fortune over to him, and he proceeded to play ducks anddrakes with it. By the time their son was born he'd got rid of the lastfarthing. Their son wasn't born till '63, five years after theirmarriage. Well, and then, what do you suppose the Duke did?"

"Reformed, of course. The wicked husband always reforms when a child isborn, and there's no more money, " he generalized. 

"You know perfectly well what he did, " said she. "He petitioned theGerman Diet to annul the marriage. You see, having exhausted the dowryof the Princess Anna, it occurred to him that if she could only be gotout of the way, he might marry another heiress, and have the spending ofanother fortune. "

"Clever dodge, " he observed. "Did it come off?"

"It came off, all too well. He based his petition on the ground that themarriage had never been--I forget what the technical term is. Anyhow, hepretended that the princess had never been his wife except in name, andthat the child couldn't possibly be his. The Emperor of Austria stood byhis connection, like the royal gentleman he is; used every scrap ofinfluence he possessed to help her. But the duke, who was a Protestant(the princess was of course a Catholic), the duke persuaded all theProtestant States in the Diet to vote in his favour. The Emperor ofAustria was powerless, the Pope was powerless. And the Diet annulled themarriage. "

"Ah, " said the mandarin. 

"Yes, " she went on. "The marriage was annulled, and the child declaredillegitimate. Ernest Augustus, as the duke was somewhat inconsequentlynamed, married again, and had other children, the eldest of whom is thepresent bearer of the title--the same Duke of Zeln one hears of, quarreling with the croupiers at Monte Carlo. The Princess Anna, withher baby, came to Austria. The Emperor gave her a pension, and lent herone of his country houses to live in--Schloss Sanct--Andreas. Ourhostess, by-the-by, the Countess Wohenhoffen, was her intimate friendand her _première dame d'honneur_. "

"Ah, " said the mandarin. 

"But the poor princess had suffered more than she could bear. She diedwhen her child was four years old. The Countess Wohenhoffen took theinfant, by the Emperor's desire, and brought him up with her own sonPeter. He was called Prince Louis Leczinski. Of course, in all moralright, he was the Hereditary Prince of Zeln. His legitimacy, for therest, and his mother's innocence, are perfectly well established, inevery sense but a legal sense, by the fact that he has all the physicalcharacteristics of the Zeln stock. He has the Zeln nose and the Zelnchin, which are as distinctive as the Hapsburg lip. "

"I hope, for the poor young man's sake, though, that they're not sounbecoming?" questioned the mandarin. 

"They're not exactly pretty, " answered the mask. "The nose is a thoughttoo long, the chin is a trifle too short. However, I daresay the pooryoung man is satisfied. As I was about to tell you, the CountessWohenhoffen brought him up, and the Emperor destined him for the Church. He even went to Rome and entered the Austrian College. He'd have been onthe high road to a cardinalate by this time if he'd stuck to thepriesthood, for he had strong interest. But, lo and behold, when he wasabout twenty, he chucked the whole thing up. "

"Ah? _Histoire de femme?_"

"Very likely, " she assented, "though I've never heard any one say so. Atall events, he left Rome, and started upon his travels. He had no moneyof his own, but the Emperor made him an allowance. He started upon histravels, and he went to India, and he went to America, and he went toSouth Africa, and then, finally, in '87 or '88, he went--no one knowswhere. He totally disappeared, vanished into space. He's not been heardof since. Some people think he's dead. But the greater number supposethat he tired of his false position in the world, and one fine daydetermined to escape from it, by sinking his identity, changing hisname, and going in for a new life under new conditions. They call himthe Invisible Prince. His position _was_ rather an ambiguous one, wasn'tit? You see, he was neither one thing nor the other. He has no_état-civil_. In the eyes of the law he was a bastard, yet he knewhimself to be the legitimate son of the Duke of Zeln. He was a citizenof no country, yet he was the rightful heir to a throne. He was the lastdescendant of Stanislas Leczinski, yet it was without authority that hebore his name. And then, of course, the rights and wrongs of the matterwere only known to a few. The majority of people simply remembered thatthere had been a scandal. And (as a wag once said of him) wherever hewent, he left his mother's reputation behind him. No wonder he found thesituation irksome. Well, there is the story of the Invisible Prince. "

"And a very exciting, melodramatic little story, too. For my part, Isuspect your Prince met a boojum. I love to listen to stories. Won't youtell me another? Do, please, " he pressed her. 

"No, he didn't meet a boojum, " she returned. "He went to England, andset up for an author. The Invisible Prince and Victor Field are one andthe same person. "

"Oh, I say! Not really!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, really. "

"What makes you think so?" he wondered. 

"I'm sure of it, " said she. "To begin with, I must confide to you thatVictor Field is a man I've never met. "

"Never met--?" he gasped. "But, by the blithe way in which you werelaying his sins at my door, a little while ago, I supposed you weresworn confederates. "

"What's the good of masked balls, if you can't talk to people you'venever met?" she submitted. "I've never met him, but I'm one of hisadmirers. I like his little poems. And I'm the happy possessor of aportrait of him. It's a print after a photograph. I cut it from anillustrated paper. "

"I really almost wish I _was_ Victor Field, " he sighed. "I should feelsuch a glow of gratified vanity. "

"And the Countess Wohenhoffen, " she added, "has at least twentyportraits of the Invisible Prince--photographs, miniatures, life-sizepaintings, taken from the time he was born, almost, to the time of hisdisappearance. Victor Field and Louis Leczinski have countenances aslike each other as two halfpence. "

"An accidental resemblance, doubtless. "

"No, it isn't an accidental resemblance, " she affirmed. 

"Oh, then you think it's intentional?" he quizzed. 

"Don't be absurd. I might have thought it accidental, except for one ortwo odd little circumstances. _Primo_, Victor Field is a guest at theWohenhoffens' ball. "

"Oh, he _is_ a guest here?"

"Yes, he is, " she said. "You are wondering how I know. Nothing simpler. The same _costumier_ who made my domino, supplied his Chinese dress. Inoticed it at his shop. It struck me as rather nice, and I asked whom itwas for. The _costumier_ said, for an Englishman at the Hôtel de Bade. Then he looked in his book, and told me the Englishman's name. It wasVictor Field. So, when I saw the same Chinese dress here to-night, Iknew it covered the person of one of my favorite authors. But I own, like you, I was a good deal surprised. What on earth should a littleLondon literary man be doing at the Countess Wohenhoffen's? And then Iremembered the astonishing resemblance between Victor Field and LouisLeczinski; and I remembered that to Louis Leczinski the CountessWohenhoffen had been a second mother; and I reflected that though hechose to be as one dead and buried for the rest of the world, LouisLeczinski might very probably keep up private relations with theCountess. He might very probably come to her ball, incognito, and safelymasked. I observed also that the Countess's rooms were decoratedthroughout with _white lilac_. But the white lilac is the emblematicflower of the Leczinskis; green and white are their family colours. Wasn't the choice of white lilac on this occasion perhaps designed as asecret compliment to the Prince? I was taught in the schoolroom that twoand two make four. "

"Oh, one can see that you've enjoyed a liberal education, " he apprisedher. "But where were you taught to jump to conclusions? You do it with agrace, an assurance. I too have heard that two and two make four; butfirst you must catch your two and two. Really, as if there couldn't bemore than one Chinese costume knocking about Vienna, during carnivalweek! Dear, good, sweet lady, it's of all disguises the disguise they'redriving hardest, this particular season. And then to build up anelaborate theory of identities upon the mere chance resemblance of apair of photographs! Photographs indeed! Photographs don't give thecomplexion. Say that your Invisible Prince is dark, what's to preventyour literary man from being fair or sandy? Or _vice versâ_? And then, how is a little German Polish princeling to write poems and things inEnglish? No, no, no; your reasoning hasn't a leg to stand on. "

"Oh, I don't mind its not having legs, " she laughed, "so long as itconvinces me. As for writing poems and things in English, you yourselfsaid that everybody is more or less English, in these days. Germanprinces are especially so. They all learn English, as a secondmother-tongue. You see, like Circassian beauties, they are mostly bredup for the marriage market; and nothing is a greater help towards a goodsound remunerative English marriage, than a knowledge of the language. However, don't be frightened. I must take it for granted that VictorField would prefer not to let the world know who he is. I happen to havediscovered his secret. He may trust to my discretion. "

"You still persist in imagining that I'm Victor Field?" he murmuredsadly. 

"I should have to be extremely simple-minded, " she announced, "toimagine anything else. You wouldn't be a male human being if you had sathere for half an hour patiently talking about another man. "

"Your argument, " said he, "with a meretricious air of subtlety, isfacile and superficial. I thank you for teaching me that word. I'd sithere till doomsday talking about my worst enemy, for the pleasure oftalking with you. "

"Perhaps we have been talking of your worst enemy. Whom do the moralistspretend a man's worst enemy is wont to be?" she asked. 

"I wish you would tell me the name of the person the moralists wouldconsider _your_ worst enemy, " he replied. 

"I'll tell you directly, as I said before, if you'll own up, " sheoffered. 

"Your price is prohibitive. I've nothing to own up to. "

"Well then--good night, " she said. 

Lightly, swiftly, she fled from the conservatory, and was soonirrecoverable in the crowd. 

The next morning Victor Field left Vienna for London; but before he lefthe wrote a letter to Peter Wohenhoffen. In the course of it he said:"There was an Englishwoman at your ball last night with the reasoningpowers of a detective in a novel. By divers processes of elimination andinduction, she had formed all sorts of theories about no end of things. Among others, for instance, she was willing to bet her halidome that acertain Prince Louis Leczinski, who seems to have gone on the spree someyears ago, and never to have come home again--she was willing to betanything you like that Leczinski and I--_moi qui vous parle_--were toall intents and purposes the same. Who was she, please? Rather a tallwoman, in a black domino, with gray eyes, or grayish-blue, and a nicevoice. "

In the answer which he received from Peter Wohenhoffen towards the endof the week, Peter said: "There were nineteen Englishwomen at mymother's party, all of them rather tall, with nice voices, and gray orblue-gray eyes. I don't know what colours their dominoes were. Here is alist of them. "

The names that followed were names of people whom Victor Field almostcertainly would never meet. The people Victor knew in London were thesort of people a little literary man might be expected to know. Most ofthem were respectable; some of them even deemed themselves rather smart, and patronized him right Britishly. But the nineteen names in PeterWohenhoffen's list ("Oh, me! Oh, my!" cried Victor) were names to makeyou gasp. 

All the same, he went a good deal to Hyde Park during the season, andwatched the driving. 

"Which of all those haughty high-born beauties is she?" he wonderedfutilely. 

And then the season passed, and then the year; and little by little, ofcourse, he ceased to think about her. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon last May, a man, habited in accordance with the fashion ofthe period, stopped before a hairdresser's shop in Knightsbridgesomewhere, and, raising his hat, bowed to the three waxen ladies whosimpered from the window. 

"Oh! It's Mr. Field!" a voice behind him cried. "What are those crypticrites that you're performing? What on earth are you bowing into ahairdresser's window for?"--a smooth, melodious voice, tinged by aninflection that was half ironical, half bewildered. 

"I was saluting the type of English beauty, " he answered, turning. "Fortunately, there are divergencies from it, " he added, as he met thepuzzled smile of his interlocutrice; a puzzled smile, indeed, but, likethe voice, by no means without its touch of irony. 

She gave a little laugh; and then, examining the models critically, "Oh?" she questioned. "Would you call that the type? You place the typehigh. Their features are quite faultless, and who ever saw suchcomplexions?"

"It's the type, all the same, " said he. "Just as the imitationmarionette is the type of English breeding. "

"The imitation marionette? I'm afraid I don't follow, " she confessed. 

"The imitation marionettes. You've seen them at little theatres inItaly. They're actors who imitate puppets. Men and women who try tobehave as if they weren't human, as if they were made of starch andwhalebone, instead of flesh and blood. "

"Ah, yes, " she assented, with another little laugh. "That _would_ berather typical of our insular methods. But do you know what an engaging, what a reviving spectacle you presented, as you stood there flourishingyour hat? What do you imagine people thought? And what would havehappened to you if I had just chanced to be a policeman instead of afriend?"

"Would you have clapped your handcuffs on me?" he inquired. "I supposemy conduct did seem rather suspicious. I was in the deepest depths ofdejection. One must give some expression to one's sorrow. "

"Are you going towards Kensington?" she asked, preparing to move on. 

"Before I commit myself, I should like to be sure whether you are, " hereplied. 

"You can easily discover with a little perseverance. "

He placed himself beside her, and together they walked towardsKensington. 

She was rather taller than the usual woman, and slender. She wasexceedingly well-dressed; smartly, becomingly; a jaunty little hat ofstrangely twisted straw, with an aigrette springing defiantly from it; ajacket covered with mazes and labyrinths of embroidery; at her throat abig knot of white lace, the ends of which fell winding in a creamycascade to her waist (do they call the thing a _jabot_?); and then.... But what can a man trust himself to write of these esoteric matters? Shecarried herself extremely well, too: with grace, with distinction, herhead held high, even thrown back a little, superciliously. She had animmense quantity of very lovely hair. Red hair? Yellow hair? Red hairwith yellow lights burning in it? Yellow hair with red fires shimmeringthrough it? In a single loose, full billow it swept away from herforehead, and then flowed into a half-a-thousand rippling, crinkling, capricious undulations. And her skin had the sensitive colouring, thefineness of texture, that are apt to accompany red hair when it'syellow, yellow hair when it's red. Her face, with its pensive, quizzical eyes, its tip-tilted nose, its rather large mouth, and thelittle mocking quirks and curves the lips took, with an alert, arch, witty face; a delicate high-bred face; and withal a somewhat sensuous, emotional face; the face of a woman with a vast deal of humour in hersoul; a vast deal of mischief; of a woman who would love to tease you, and mystify you, and lead you on, and put you off; and yet who, in herown way, at her own time, would know supremely well how to be kind. 

But it was mischief rather than kindness that glimmered in her eyes atpresent, as she asked, "You were in the deepest depths of dejection?Poor man! Why?"

"I can't precisely determine, " said he, "whether the sympathy that seemsto vibrate in your voice is genuine or counterfeit. "

"Perhaps it's half and half, " she suggested. "But my curiosity isunmixed. Tell me your troubles. "

"The catalogue is long. I've sixteen hundred million. The weather, forexample. The shameless beauty of this radiant spring day. It's enough tostir all manner of wild pangs and longings in the heart of anoctogenarian. But, anyhow, when one's life is passed in a dungeon, onecan't perpetually be singing and dancing from mere exuberance of joy, can one?"

"Is your life passed in a dungeon?" she exclaimed. 

"Indeed, indeed, it is. Isn't yours?"

"It had never occurred to me that it was. "

"You're lucky. Mine is passed in the dungeons of Castle Ennui, " he said. 

"Oh, Castle Ennui. Ah, yes. You mean you're bored?"

"At this particular moment I'm savouring the most exquisite excitement, "he professed. "But in general, when I am not working or sleeping, I'mbored to extermination--incomparably bored. If only one could work andsleep alternately, twenty-four hours a day, the year round! There's nouse trying to play in London. It's so hard to find a playmate. TheEnglish people take their pleasures without salt. "

"The dungeons of Castle Ennui, " she repeated meditatively. "Yes, we arefellow-prisoners. I'm bored to extermination too. Still, " she added, "one is allowed out on parole, now and again. And sometimes one hasreally quite delightful little experiences. "

"It would ill become me, in the present circumstances, to dispute that, "he answered, bowing. 

"But the castle waits to reclaim us afterwards, doesn't it?" she mused. "That's rather a happy image, Castle Ennui. "

"I'm extremely glad you approve of it. Castle Ennui is the bastile ofmodern life. It is built of prunes and prisms; it has its outer court ofconvention, and its inner court of propriety; it is moated round byrespectability, and the shackles its inmates wear are forged of dulllittle duties and arbitrary little rules. You can only escape from it atthe risk of breaking your social neck, or remaining a fugitive fromsocial justice to the end of your days. Yes, it _is_ a fairly decentlittle image. "

"A bit out of something you're preparing for the press?" she hinted. 

"Oh, how unkind of you!" he cried. "It was absolutely extemporaneous. "

"One can never tell, with _vous autres gens-de-lettres_, " she laughed. 

"It would be friendlier to say _nous autres gens d'esprit_, " hesubmitted. 

"Aren't we proving to what degree _nous autres gens d'esprit sontbêtes_, " she remarked, "by continuing to walk along this narrowpavement, when we can get into Kensington Gardens by merely crossing thestreet. Would it take you out of your way?"

"I have no way. I was sauntering for pleasure, if you can believe me. Iwish I could hope that you have no way either. Then we could stop here, and crack little jokes together the livelong afternoon, " he said, asthey entered the Gardens. 

"Alas, my way leads straight back to the Castle. I've promised to callon an old woman in Campden Hill, " said she. 

"Disappoint her. It's good for old women to be disappointed. It whips uptheir circulation. "

"I shouldn't much regret disappointing the old woman, " she admitted, "and I should rather like an hour or two of stolen freedom. I don't mindowning that I've generally found you, as men go, a moderatelyinteresting man to talk with. But the deuce of it is--You permit theexpression?"

"I'm devoted to the expression. "

"The deuce of it is, I'm supposed to be driving, " she explained. 

"Oh, that doesn't matter. So many suppositions in this world arebaseless, " he reminded her. 

"But there's the prison van, " she said. "It's one of the tiresome rulesin the female wing of Castle Ennui that you're always supposed, more orless, to be driving. And though you may cheat the authorities byslipping out of the prison van directly it's turned the corner, andsending it on ahead, there it remains, a factor that can't beeliminated. The prison van will relentlessly await my arrival in the oldwoman's street. "

"That only adds to the sport. Let it wait. When a factor can't beeliminated, it should be haughtily ignored. Besides, there are higherconsiderations. If you leave me, what shall I do with the rest of thisweary day?"

"You can go to your club. "

He threw up his hand. "Merciful lady! What sin have I committed? I nevergo to my club, except when I've been wicked, as a penance. If you willpermit me to employ a metaphor--oh, but a tried and trustymetaphor--when one ship on the sea meets another in distress, it stopsand comforts it, and forgets all about its previous engagements and theprison van and everything. Shall we cross to the north, and see whetherthe Serpentine is in its place? Or would you prefer to inspect theeastern front of the Palace? Or may I offer you a penny chair?"

"I think a penny chair would be the maddest of the three dissipations, "she decided. 

And they sat down in penny chairs. 

"It's rather jolly here, isn't it?" said he. "The trees, with theirblack trunks, and their leaves, and things. Have you ever seen suchsumptuous foliage? And the greensward, and the shadows, and thesunlight, and the atmosphere, and the mistiness--isn't it likepearl-dust and gold-dust floating in the air? It's all got up to imitatethe background of a Watteau. We must do our best to be frivolous andribald, and supply a proper foreground. How big and fleecy and white theclouds are. Do you think they're made of cotton-wood? And what do yousuppose they paint the sky with? There never was such a brilliant, breath-taking blue. It's much too nice to be natural. And they'vesprinkled the whole place with scent, haven't they? You notice how freshand sweet it smells. If only one could get rid of the sparrows--thecynical little beasts! hear how they're chortling--and the people, andthe nursemaids and children. I have never been able to understand whythey admit the public to the parks. "

"Go on, " she encouraged him. "You're succeeding admirably in your effortto be ribald. "

"But that last remark wasn't ribald in the least--it was desperatelysincere. I do think it's inconsiderate of them to admit the public tothe parks. They ought to exclude all the lower classes, the people, atone fell swoop, and then to discriminate tremendously amongst theothers. "

"Mercy, what undemocratic sentiments!" she cried. "The People, the poordear People--what have they done?"

"Everything. What haven't they done? One could forgive their being dirtyand stupid and noisy and rude; one could forgive their ugliness, theineffable banality of their faces, their goggle-eyes, their protrudingteeth, their ungainly motions; but the trait one can't forgive is theirvenality. They're so mercenary. They're always thinking how much theycan get out of you--everlastingly touching their hats and expecting youto put your hand in your pocket. Oh, no, believe me, there's no healthin the People. Ground down under the iron heel of despotism, reduced toa condition of hopeless serfdom, I don't say that they might not developredeeming virtues. But free, but sovereign, as they are in these days, they're everything that is squalid and sordid and offensive. Besides, they read such abominably bad literature. "

"In that particular they're curiously like the aristocracy, aren'tthey?" said she. "By-the-bye, when are you going to publish another bookof poems?"

"Apropos of bad literature?"

"Not altogether bad. I rather like your poems. "

"So do I, " said he. "It's useless to pretend that we haven't tastes incommon. "

They were both silent for a bit. She looked at him oddly, an inscrutablelittle light flickering in her eyes. All at once she broke out with amerry trill of laughter. 

"What are you laughing at?" he demanded. 

"I'm hugely amused, " she answered. 

"I wasn't I aware that I'd said anything especially good. "

"You're building better than you know. But if I am amused, _you_ lookripe for tears. What is the matter?"

"Every heart knows its own bitterness, " he answered. "Don't pay theleast attention to me. You mustn't let moodiness of mine cast a blightupon your high spirits. "

"No fear, " she assured him. "There are pleasures that nothing can rob oftheir sweetness. Life is not all dust and ashes. There are brightspots. "

"Yes, I've no doubt there are, " he said. 

"And thrilling little adventures--no?" she questioned. 

"For the bold, I dare say. "

"None but the bold deserve them. Sometimes it's one thing, and sometimesit's another. "

"That's very certain, " he agreed. 

"Sometimes, for instance, " she went on, "one meets a man one knows, andspeaks to him. And he answers with a glibness! And then, almostdirectly, what do you suppose one discovers?"

"What?" he asked. 

"One discovers that the wretch hasn't a ghost of a notion who oneis--that he's totally and absolutely forgotten one!"

"Oh, I say! Really?" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, really. You can't deny that _that's_ an exhilarating littleadventure. "

"I should think it might be. One could enjoy the man's embarrassment, "he reflected. 

"Or his lack of embarrassment. Some men are of an assurance, of a _sangfroid_! They'll place themselves beside you, and walk with you, and talkwith you, and even propose that you should pass the livelong afternooncracking jokes with them in a garden, and never breathe a hint of theirperplexity. They'll brazen it out. "

"That's distinctly heroic, Spartan, of them, don't you think?" he said. "Intentionally, poor dears, they're very likely suffering agonies ofdiscomfiture. "

"We'll hope they are. Could they decently do less?" said she. 

"And fancy the mental struggles that must be going on in their brains, "he urged. "If I were a man in such a situation I'd throw myself upon thewoman's mercy. I'd say, 'Beautiful, sweet lady! I know I know you. Yourname, your entirely charming and appropriate name, is trembling on thetip of my tongue. But, for some unaccountable reason, my brute of amemory chooses to play the fool. If you've a spark of Christian kindnessin your soul, you'll come to my rescue with a little clue. "

"If the woman had a Christian sense of the ridiculous in her soul, Ifear you'd throw yourself on her mercy in vain, " she warned. 

"What _is_ the good of tantalizing people?"

"Besides, " she continued, "the woman might reasonably feel slightlyhumiliated to find herself forgotten in that bare-faced manner. "

"The humiliation would be surely all the man's. Have you heard from theWohenhoffens lately?"

"The--what? The--who?" She raised her eyebrows. 

"The Wohenhoffens, " he repeated. 

"What are the Wohenhoffens? Are they persons? Are they things?"

"Oh, nothing. My inquiry was merely dictated by a thirst for knowledge. It occurred to me that you might have won a black domino at the maskedball they gave, the Wohenhoffens. Are you sure you didn't?"

"I've a great mind to punish your forgetfulness by pretending that Idid, " she teased. 

"She was rather tall, like you, and she had gray eyes, and a nice voice, and a laugh that was sweeter than the singing of nightingales. She wasmonstrously clever, too, with a flow of language that would have madeher a leader in any sphere. She was also a perfect fiend. I have alwaysbeen anxious to meet her again, in order that I might ask her to marryme. I'm strongly disposed to believe that she was you. Was she?" hepleaded. 

"If I say yes, will you at once proceed to ask me to marry you?" sheasked. 

"Try it and see. "

"_Ce n'est pas la peine. _ It occasionally happens that a woman's alreadygot a husband. "

"She said she was an old maid. "

"Do you dare to insinuate that I look like an old maid?" she cried. 

"Yes. "

"Upon my word!"

"Would you wish me to insinuate that you look like anything so insipidas a young girl? _Were_ you the woman of the black domino?" hepersisted. 

"I should need further information, before being able to make up mymind. Are the--what's their name?--Wohenheimer?--are the Wohenheimerspeople one can safely confess to knowing? Oh, you're a man, and don'tcount. But a woman? It sounds a trifle Jewish, Wohenheimer. But ofcourse there are Jews and Jews. "

"You're playing with me like the cat in the adage, " he sighed. "It'stoo cruel. No one is responsible for his memory. "

"And to think that this man took me down to dinner not two months ago!"she murmured in her veil. 

"You're as hard as nails. In whose house? Or--stay. Prompt me a little. Tell me the first syllable of your name. Then the rest will come with arush. "

"My name is Matilda Muggins. "

"I've a great mind to punish your untruthfulness by pretending tobelieve you, " said he. "Have you really got a husband?"

"Why do you doubt it?" said she. 

"I don't doubt it. Have you?"

"I don't know what to answer. "

"Don't you know whether you've got a husband?" he protested. 

"I don't know what I'd better let you believe. Yes, on the whole, Ithink you may as well assume that I've got a husband, " she concluded. 

"And a lover, too?" he asked. 

"Really! I like your impertinence!" she bridled. 

"I only asked to show a polite interest. I knew the answer would be anindignant negative. You're an Englishwoman, and you're _nice_. Oh, onecan see with half an eye that you're _nice_. But that a niceEnglishwoman should have a lover is as inconceivable as that she shouldhave side-whiskers. It's only the reg'lar bad-uns in England who havelovers. There's nothing between the family pew and the divorce court. One nice Englishwoman is a match for the whole Eleven Thousand Virginsof Cologne. "

"To hear you talk, one might fancy you were not English yourself. For aman of the name of Field, you're uncommonly foreign. You _look_ ratherforeign, too, you know, by-the-bye. You haven't at all an English castof countenance, " she considered. 

"I've enjoyed the advantages of a foreign education. I was brought upabroad, " he explained. 

"Where your features unconsciously assimilated themselves to a foreigntype? Where you learned a hundred thousand strange little foreignthings, no doubt? And imbibed a hundred thousand unprincipled littleforeign notions? And all the ingenuous little foreign prejudices andmisconceptions concerning England?" she questioned. 

"Most of them, " he assented. 

"_Perfide Albion?_ English hypocrisy?" she pursued. 

"Oh, yes, the English are consummate hypocrites. But there's only oneobjection to their hypocrisy--it so rarely covers any wickedness. It'ssuch a disappointment to see a creature stalking toward you, laboriouslydraped in sheep's clothing, and then to discover that it's only a sheep. You, for instance, as I took the liberty of intimating a moment ago, inspite of your perfectly respectable appearance, are a perfectlyrespectable woman. If you weren't, wouldn't I be making furious love toyou, though!"

"As I am, I can see no reason why you shouldn't make furious love to me, if it would amuse you. There's no harm in firing your pistol at a personwho's bullet-proof, " she laughed. 

"No; it's merely a wanton waste of powder and shot, " said he. "However, I shouldn't stick at that. The deuce of it is--You permit theexpression?"

"I'm devoted to the expression. "

"The deuce of it is, you profess to be married. "

"Do you mean to say that you, with your unprincipled foreign notions, would be restrained by any such consideration as that?" she wondered. 

"I shouldn't be for an instant--if I weren't in love with you. "

"_Comment donc? Déjà?_" she cried with a laugh. 

"Oh, _déjà_! Why not? Consider the weather--consider the scene. Is theair soft, is it fragrant? Look at the sky--good heavens!--and theclouds, and the shadows on the grass, and the sunshine between thetrees. The world is made of light to-day, of light and color, andperfume and music. _Tutt 'intorno canta amor, amor, amor!_ What wouldyou have? One recognises one's affinity. One doesn't need a lifetime. You began the business at the Wohenhoffens' ball. To-day you've merelyput on the finishing touches. "

"Oh, then I _am_ the woman you met at the masked ball?" she cried. 

"Look me in the eye, and tell me you're not, " he defied her. 

"I haven't the faintest interest in telling you I'm not. On thecontrary, it rather pleases me to let you imagine that I am. "

"She owed me a grudge, you know. I hoodwinked her like everything, " heconfided. 

"Oh, did you? Then, as a sister woman, I should be glad to serve as herinstrument of vengeance. Do you happen to have such a thing as a watchabout you?" she inquired. 

"Yes, " he said. 

"Will you be good enough to tell me what o'clock it is?"

"What are your motives for asking?"

"I'm expected at home at five. "

"Where do you live?"

"What are the motives for asking?"

"I want to call upon you. "

"You might wait till you're invited. "

"Well, invite me--quick!"

"Never. "

"Never?"

"Never, never, never, " she asseverated. "A man who's forgotten me as youhave!"

"But if I've only met you once at a masked ball--"

"Can't you be brought to realise that every time you mistake me for thatwoman of the masked ball you turn the dagger in the wound?" shedemanded. 

"But if you won't invite me to call upon you, how and when am I to seeyou again?"

"I haven't an idea, " she answered, cheerfully. "I must go now. Good-by. "She rose. 

"One moment, " he interposed. "Before you go will you allow me to look atthe palm of your left hand?"

"What for?"

"I can tell fortunes. I'm extremely good at it, " he boasted. "I'll tellyou yours. "

"Oh, very well, " she assented, sitting down again: and guilelessly shepulled off her glove. 

He took her hand, a beautifully slender, nervous hand, warm and soft, with rosy, tapering fingers. 

"Oho! you _are_ an old maid after all, " he cried. "There's no weddingring. "

"You villain!" she gasped, snatching the hand away. 

"I promised to tell your fortune. Haven't I told it correctly?"

"You needn't rub it in, though. Eccentric old maids don't like to bereminded of their condition. "

"Will you marry _me_?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Partly for curiosity. Partly because it's the only way I can think of, to make sure of seeing you again. And then, I like your hair. Will you?"

"I can't, " she said. 

"Why not?"

"The stars forbid. And I'm ambitious. In my horoscope it is written thatI shall either never marry at all, or--marry royalty. "

"Oh, bother ambition! Cheat your horoscope. Marry me. Will you?"

"If you care to follow me, " she said, rising again, "you can come andhelp me to commit a little theft. "

He followed her to an obscure and sheltered corner of a flowery path, where she stopped before a bush of white lilac. 

"There are no keepers in sight, are there? she questioned. 

"I don't see any, " he said. 

"Then allow me to make you a receiver of stolen goods, " said she, breaking off a spray, and handing it to him. 

"Thank you. But I'd rather have an answer to my question. "

"Isn't that an answer?"

"Is it?"

"White lilac--to the Invisible Prince?"

"The Invisible Prince--Then you _are the black_ domino!" he exclaimed. 

"Oh, I suppose so, " she consented. 

"And you _will_ marry me?"

"I'll tell the aunt I live with to ask you to dinner. "

"But will you marry me?"

"I thought you wished me to cheat my horoscope?"

"How could you find a better means of doing so?"

"What! if I should marry Louis Leczinski--?"

"Oh, to be sure. You will have it that I was Louis Leczinski. But, onthat subject, I must warn you seriously--"

"One instant, " she interrupted. "People must look other people straightin the face when they're giving serious warnings. Look straight into myeyes, and continue your serious warning. "

"I must really warn you seriously, " said he, biting his lip, "that ifyou persist in that preposterous delusion about my being LouisLeczinski, you'll be most awfully sold. I have nothing on earth to dowith Louis Leczinski. Your ingenious little theories, as I tried toconvince you at the time, were absolute romance. "

Her eyebrows raised a little, she kept her eyes fixed steadily onhis--oh, in the drollest fashion, with a gaze that seemed to say "Howadmirably you do it! I wonder whether you imagine I believe you. Oh, youfibber! Aren't you ashamed to tell me such abominable fibs--?"

They stood still, eyeing each other thus, for something like twentyseconds, and then they both laughed and walked on. 

FOOTNOTES:

[2] From _Comedies and Errors_. Reprinted by permission of the John LaneCompany. 

WHY WAIT FOR DEATH AND TIME?

BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR

 I hold it truth with him who weekly sings Brave songs of hope, --the music of "The Sphere, "-- That deathless tomes the living present brings: Great literature is with us year on year. Books of the mighty dead, whom men revere, Remind me I can make _my_ books sublime. But, prithee, bay my brow while I am here: Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?

 Shakespeare, great spirit, beat his mighty wings, As I beat mine, for the occasion near. He knew, as I, the worth of present things: Great literature is with us year on year. Methinks I meet across the gulf his clear And tranquil eye; his calm reflections chime With mine: "Why do we at the present fleer? Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?"

 The reading world with acclamation rings For my last book. It led the list at Weir, Altoona, Rahway, Painted Post, Hot Springs: Great literature is with us year on year. "The Bookman" gives me a vociferous cheer. Howells approves. I can no higher climb. Bring, then, the laurel: crown my bright career-- Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?

 Critics, who pastward, ever pastward peer, Great literature is with us year on year. Trumpet my fame while I am in my prime: Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?

WINTER JOYS

BY EUGENE FIELD

 A man stood on the bathroom floor, While raged the storm without, One hand was on the water valve, The other on the spout. 

 He fiercely tried to turn the plug, But all in vain he tried, "I see it all, I am betrayed, The water's froze, " he cried. 

 Down to the kitchen then he rushed, And in the basement dove, Long strived he for to turn the plugs, But all in vain he strove. 

 "The hydrant may be running yet, " He cried in hopeful tone, Alas, the hydrant too, was froze, As stiff as any stone. 

 There came a burst, the water pipes And plugs, oh, where were they? Ask of the soulless plumber man Who called around next day. 

THE DEMON OF THE STUDY

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

 The Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room, And eats his meat and drinks his ale, And beats the maid with her unused broom, And the lazy lout with his idle flail; But he sweeps the floor and threshes the corn, And hies him away ere the break of dawn. 

 The shade of Denmark fled from the sun, And the Cocklane ghost from the barn-loft cheer, The fiend of Faust was a faithful one, Agrippa's demon wrought in fear, And the devil of Martin Luther sat By the stout monk's side in social chat. 

 The Old Man of the Sea, on the neck of him Who seven times crossed the deep, Twined closely each lean and withered limb, Like the nightmare in one's sleep. But he drank of the wine, and Sindbad cast The evil weight from his back at last. 

 But the demon that cometh day by day To my quiet room and fireside nook, Where the casement light falls dim and gray On faded painting and ancient book, Is a sorrier one than any whose names Are chronicled well by good King James. 

 No bearer of burdens like Caliban, No runner of errands like Ariel, He comes in the shape of a fat old man, Without rap of knuckle or pull of bell; And whence he comes, or whither he goes, I know as I do of the wind which blows. 

 A stout old man with a greasy hat Slouched heavily down to his dark, red nose, And two gray eyes enveloped in fat, Looking through glasses with iron bows. Read ye, and heed ye, and ye who can, Guard well your doors from that old man!

 He comes with a careless "How d'ye do?" And seats himself in my elbow-chair; And my morning paper and pamphlet new Fall forthwith under his special care, And he wipes his glasses and clears his throat, And, button by button, unfolds his coat. 

 And then he reads from paper and book, In a low and husky asthmatic tone, With the stolid sameness of posture and look Of one who reads to himself alone; And hour after hour on my senses come That husky wheeze and that dolorous hum. 

 The price of stocks, the auction sales, The poet's song and the lover's glee, The horrible murders, the sea-board gales, The marriage list, and the _jeu d'esprit_, All reach my ear in the self-same tone, -- I shudder at each, but the fiend reads on!

 Oh, sweet as the lapse of water at noon O'er the mossy roots of some forest tree, The sigh of the wind in the woods of June, Or sound of flutes o'er a moonlight sea, Or the low soft music, perchance, which seems To float through the slumbering singer's dreams. 

 So sweet, so dear is the silvery tone, Of her in whose features I sometimes look, As I sit at eve by her side alone, And we read by turns, from the self-same book, Some tale perhaps of the olden time, Some lover's romance or quaint old rhyme. 

 Then when the story is one of woe, -- Some prisoner's plaint through his dungeon-bar, Her blue eye glistens with tears, and low, Her voice sinks down like a moan afar; And I seem to hear that prisoner's wail, And his face looks on me worn and pale. 

 And when she reads some merrier song, Her voice is glad as an April bird's, And when the tale is of war and wrong, A trumpet's summons is in her words, And the rush of the hosts I seem to hear, And see the tossing of plume and spear!

 Oh, pity me then, when, day by day, The stout fiend darkens my parlor door; And reads me perchance the self-same lay Which melted in music, the night before, From lips as the lips of Hylas sweet, And moved like twin roses which zephyrs meet!

 I cross my floor with a nervous tread, I whistle and laugh and sing and shout, I flourish my cane above his head, And stir up the fire to roast him out; I topple the chairs, and drum on the pane, And press my hands on my ears, in vain!

 I've studied Glanville and James the wise. And wizard black-letter tomes which treat Of demons of every name and size Which a Christian man is presumed to meet, But never a hint and never a line Can I find of a reading fiend like mine. 

 I've crossed the Psalter with Brady and Tate, And laid the Primer above them all, I've nailed a horseshoe over the grate, And hung a wig to my parlor wall Once worn by a learned Judge, they say, At Salem court in the witchcraft day!

 "_Conjuro te, sceleratissime_, _Abire ad tuum locum!_"--still Like a visible nightmare he sits by me, -- The exorcism has lost its skill; And I hear again in my haunted room The husky wheeze and the dolorous hum!

 Ah! commend me to Mary Magdalen With her sevenfold plagues, to the wandering Jew, To the terrors which haunted Orestes when The furies his midnight curtains drew, But charm him off, ye who charm him can, That reading demon, that fat old man!

UNCLE BENTLEY AND THE ROOSTERS

BY HAYDEN CARRUTH

The burden of Uncle Bentley has always rested heavily on our town. Having not a shadow of business to attend to he has made other people'sbusiness his own, and looked after it in season and out--especially out. If there is a thing which nobody wants done, to this Uncle Bentleyapplies his busy hand. 

One warm summer Sunday we were all at church. Our pastor had taken thepassage on turning the other cheek, or one akin to it, for his text, andwas preaching on peace and quiet and non-resistance. He soon had us in adevout mood which must have been beautiful to see and encouraging to thegood man. 

Of course, Uncle Bentley was there--he always was, and forever in afront pew, with his neck craned up looking backward to see if there wasanything that didn't need doing which he could do. He always tinkeredwith the fires in the winter and fussed with the windows in the summer, and did his worst with each. His strongest church point was ushering. Not content to usher the stranger within our gates, he would usher allof us, and always thrust us into pews with just the people we didn'twant to sit with. If you failed to follow him when he took you in tow, he would stop and look back reproachfully, describing mighty indrawingcurves with his arm; and if you pretended not to see him, he would givea low whistle to attract your attention, the arm working right along, like a Holland windmill. 

On this particular warm summer Sunday Uncle Bentley was in place wearinghis long, full-skirted coat, a queer, dark, bottle-green, purplish blue. He had ushered to his own exceeding joy, and got two men in one pew, andgiven them a single hymn-book, who wouldn't on week-days speak to eachother. I ought to mention that we had long before made a verb of UncleBentley. To unclebentley was to do the wrong thing. It was a regularverb, unclebentley, unclebentleyed, unclebentleying. Those two rampantenemies in the same pew had been unclebentleyed. 

The minister was floating along smoothly on the subject of peace whenUncle Bentley was observed to throw up his head. He had heard a soundoutside. It was really nothing but one of Deacon Plummer's youngroosters crowing. The Deacon lived near, and vocal offerings from hispoultry were frequent and had ceased to interest any one except UncleBentley. Then in the pauses between the preacher's periods we heard theflapping of wings, with sudden stoppings and startings. Thoseunregenerate fowls, unable to understand the good man's words, werefighting. Even this didn't interest us--we were committed to peace. ButUncle Bentley shot up like a jack-in-a-box and cantered down the aisle. Of course, his notion was that the roosters were disturbing theservices, and that it was his duty to go out and stop them. We heardvigorous "Shoos!" and "Take thats!" and "Consairn yous!" and then UncleBentley came back looking very important, and as he stalked up the aislehe glanced around and nodded his head, saying as clearly as words, "There, where would you be without me?" Another defiant crow floated inat the window. 

The next moment the rushing and beating of wings began again, and downthe aisle went Uncle Bentley, the long tails of that coat fairlyfloating like a cloud behind him. There was further uproar outside, andUncle Bentley was back in his place, this time turning around andwhispering hoarsely, "I fixed 'em!" But such was not the case, for twicemore the very same thing was repeated. The last time Uncle Bentley cameback he wore a calm, snug expression, as who should say, "Now I _have_fixed 'em!" We should have liked it better if the roosters had fixedUncle Bentley. But nobody paid much attention except Deacon Plummer. Thethought occurred to him that perhaps Uncle Bentley had killed the fowls. But he hadn't. 

However, there was no more disturbance without, and after a time thesermon closed. There was some sort of a special collection to be takenup. Of course, Uncle Bentley always insisted on taking up all thecollections. He hopped up on this occasion and seized the plate withmore than usual vigor. His struggles with the roosters had evidentlystimulated him. He soon made the rounds and approached the table infront of the pulpit to deposit his harvest. As he did so we saw to ourhorror that the long tails of that ridiculous coat were violentlyagitated. A sickening suspicion came over us. The next moment one ofthose belligerent young roosters thrust a head out of either of thosecoat-tail pockets. One uttered a raucous crow, the other made a viciousdab. Uncle Bentley dropped the plate with a scattering of coin, seized acoat skirt in each hand, and drew it front. This dumped both fowls outon the floor, where they went at it hammer and tongs. What happenedafter this is a blur in most of our memories. All that is certain isthat there was an uproar in the congregation, especially the youngerportion; that the Deacon began making unsuccessful dives for hispoultry; that the organist struck up "Onward, Christian Soldiers, " andthat the minister waved us away without a benediction amid loud shoutsof, "Shoo!" "I swanny!" and, "Drat the pesky critters!" from your UncleBentley. 

Did it serve to subdue Uncle Bentley? Not in the least; he survived todo worse things. 

A SHINING MARK

BY IRONQUILL

 A man came here from Idaho, With lots of mining stock. He brought along as specimens A lot of mining rock. 

 The stock was worth a cent a pound If stacked up in a pile. The rock was worth a dollar and A half per cubic mile. 

 We planted him at eventide, 'Mid shadows dim and dark; We fixed him up an epitaph, -- "Death loves a mining shark. "

A BOOKWORM'S PLAINT[3]

BY CLINTON SCOLLARD

 To-day, when I had dined my fill Upon a Caxton, --you know Will, -- I crawled forth o'er the colophon To bask awhile within the sun; And having coiled my sated length, I felt anon my whilom strength Slip from me gradually, till deep I dropped away in dreamful sleep, Wherein I walked an endless maze, And dined on Caxtons all my days. 

 Then I woke suddenly. Alas! What in my sleep had come to pass? That priceless first edition row, -- Squat quarto and tall folio, -- Had, in my slumber, vanished quite; Instead, on my astonished sight The newest novels burst, --a gay And most unpalatable array! I, that have battened on the best, Why should I thus be dispossessed And with starvation, or the worst Of diets, cruelly be curst?

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Lippincott's Magazine. 

A POE-'EM OF PASSION

BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS

 It was many and many a year ago, On an island near the sea, That a maiden lived whom you mightn't know By the name of Cannibalee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than a passionate fondness for me. 

 I was a child, and she was a child-- Tho' her tastes were adult Feejee-- But she loved with a love that was more than love, My yearning Cannibalee; With a love that could take me roast or fried Or raw, as the case might be. 

 And that is the reason that long ago, In that island near the sea, I had to turn the tables and eat My ardent Cannibalee-- Not really because I was fond of her, But to check her fondness for me. 

 But the stars never rise but I think of the size Of my hot-potted Cannibalee, And the moon never stares but it brings me nightmares Of my spare-rib Cannibalee;

 And all the night-tide she is restless inside, Is my still indigestible dinner-belle bride, In her pallid tomb, which is Me, In her solemn sepulcher, Me. 

THE REAL DIARY OF A REAL BOY

BY HENRY A. SHUTE

Mar. 11, 186----Went to church in the morning. The fernace was allwrite. Mister Lennard preeched about loving our ennymies, and told everyone if he had any angry feelings towards ennyone to go to him and shakehands and see how much better you wood feel. I know how it is becauswhen me and Beany are mad we dont have eny fun and when we make up theone who is to blam always wants to treet. Why when Beany was mad with mebecaus i went home from Gil Steels surprise party with Lizzie Towle, EdTowles sister, he woodent speak to me for 2 days, and when we made up hetreated me to ice cream with 2 spoons and he let me dip twice to hisonce. He took pretty big dips to make up. Beany is mad if enny of thefellers go with Lizzie Towle. She likes Beany better than she does ennyof the fellers and Beany ought to be satisfied, but sometimes he acksmad when i go down there to fite roosters with Ed. I gess he needentworry much, no feller isnt going to leave of fiting roosters to go withno girls. Well i most forgot that i was going to say, but after church iwent up to Micky Gould who was going to fite me behind the school house, and said Micky lets be friends and Micky said, huh old Skinny, i canlick you in 2 minits and i said you aint man enuf and he called me anockneed puke, and i called him a wall eyed lummix and he give me apaist in the eye and i gave him a good one in the mouth, and then werassled and Micky threw me and i turned him, and he got hold of my newfalse bosom and i got hold of his hair, and the fellers all hollered hithim Micky, paist him Skinny, and Mister Purington, Pewts father pulledus apart and i had Mickys paper collar and necktie and some of his hairand he had my false bosom and when i got home father made me go to bedand stay there all the afternoon for fiting, but i guess he didnt likemy losing my false bosom. Ennyway he asked me how many times i hit Mickyand which licked. He let me get up at supper time. Next time i try tolove my ennymy i am a going to lick him first. 

Went to a sunday school concert in the evening. Keene and Cele sung nowi lay me down to sleep. They was a lot of people sung together andMister Gale beat time. Charlie Gerish played the violin and Miss Packardsung. I was scart when Keene and Cele sung for i was afraid they wouldbreak down, but they dident, and people said they sung like night harks. I gess if they knowed how night harks sung they woodent say much. Fatherfelt pretty big and to hear him talk you wood think he did the singing. He give them ten cents apeace. I dident get none. You gest wait, old mantill i git my cornet. 

Went to a corcus last night. Me and Beany were in the hall in theafternoon helping Bob Carter sprinkle the floor and put on the sordust. The floor was all shiny with wax and aufully slipery. So Bob got us toput on some water to take off the shiny wax. Well write in front of theplatform there is a low platform where they get up to put in their votesand then step down and Beany said, dont put any water there only jestdry sordust. So i dident. Well that night we went erly to see the fun. Gim Luverin got up and said there was one man which was the oldest voterin town and he ought to vote the first, the name of this destinkuishedsitizen was John Quincy Ann Pollard. Then old mister Pollard got up andput in his vote and when he stepped down his heels flew up and he wentdown whak on the back of his head and 2 men lifted him up and lugged himto a seat, and then Ed Derborn, him that rings the town bell, stepped uppretty lively and went flat and swort terrible, and me and Beany nearlydied we laffed so. Well it kept on, people dident know what made themfall, and Gim Odlin sat write down in his new umbrella and then theysent me down stairs for a pail of wet sordust and when i was coming up iheard an awful whang, and when i got up in the hall they were luggingold mister Stickney off to die and they put water on his head and luggedhim home in a hack. Me and Beany dont know what to do. If we dont tell, Bob will lose his place and if we do we will get licked. 

Mar. 31. April fool day tomorrow. I am laying for Beany. Old Francislicked 5 fellers today becaus they sung rong when we was singing speekkindly it is better for to rule by luv than feer. 

June 14. Rashe Belnap and Horris Cobbs go in swimming every morning atsix o'clock. I got a licking today that beat the one Beany got. Lastsummer me and Tomtit Tomson and Cawcaw Harding and Whack and Poz andBoog Chadwick went in swimming in May and all thru the summer untilOctober. One day i went in 10 times. Well i dident say anything about itto father so as not to scare him. Well today he dident go to Boston andhe said i am going to teech you to swim. When i was as old as you i coodswim said he, and you must lern, i said i have been wanting to lern toswim, for all the other boys can swim. So we went down to the gravil andi peeled off my close and got ready, now said he, you jest wade in up toyour waste and squat down and duck your head under. I said the waterwill get in my nose. He said no it wont jest squat rite down. I coodsee him laffin when he thought i wood snort and sputter. 

so i waded out a little ways and then div in and swam under water mostacross, and when i came up i looked to see if father was surprised. Goshyou aught to have seen him. He had pulled off his coat and vest andthere he stood up to his waste in the water with his eyes jest buggingrite out as big as hens eggs, and he was jest a going to dive for mydead body. Then i turned over on my back and waved my hand at him. Hedident say anything for a minute, only he drawed in a long breth. Thenhe began to look foolish, and then mad, and then he turned and startedto slosh back to the bank where he slipped and went in all over. When hegot to the bank he was pretty mad and yelled for me to come out. When icame out he cut a stick and whaled me, and as soon as i got home he sentme to bed for lying, but i gess he was mad becaus i about scart the lifeout of him. But that nite i heard him telling mother about it and hesaid that he div 3 times for me in about thirty feet of water. But hebraged about my swimming and said i cood swim like a striped frog. Ishall never forget how his boots went kerslosh kerslosh kerslosh when wewere skinning home thru croslots. I shall never forget how that oldstick hurt either. Ennyhow he dident say ennything about not going inagain, so i gess i am all rite. 

June 15, 186----Johnny Heeld, a student, came to me and wanted me to carrysome tickets to a dance round to the girls in the town. There was about1 hundred of them. He read the names over to me and i said i knew themall. So after school me and Beany started out and walked all over townand give out the tickets. I had a long string of names and every time iwood leave one i wood mark out the name. I dident give the Head girlsany because they told father about some things that me and Beany andPewt did and the Parmer girls and the Cilley girls lived way up on theplains and i dident want to walk up there, so when i went over toHemlock side to give one, i went over to the factory boarding house andgive some to them. They was auful glad to get them too and said theywould go to the dance. Some people was not at home and so i gave theirtickets to the next house. It took me till 8 o'clock and i got 1 dollarfor it. I dont believe those girls that dident get their tickets willcare much about going ennyway. I gess the Head girls wont want to tellon me another time. 

June 23. There is a dead rat in the wall in my room. It smells auful. 

A MOTHERS' MEETING[4]

BY MADELINE BRIDGES

 "Where's the maternal parent of This boy that stands in need of beating, And of this babe that pines for love?" "Oh, she is at a Mothers' Meeting!"

 "Fair daughter, why these young tears shed, For passion's tale, too sweet and fleeting, Lonely and mute, uncomforted?" "My mother's at a Mothers' Meeting. "

 "Man, whom misfortunes jeer and taunt, Whom frauds forsake, and hope is cheating, Fly to your mother's arms. " "I can't-- You see, she's at a Mothers' Meeting. "

 Alas, what next will woman do? Love, duty, children, home, maltreating, The while she, smiling, rallies to The roll-call of a Mothers' Meeting!

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Lippincott's Magazine. 

MISTER RABBIT'S LOVE AFFAIR

BY FRANK L. STANTON

 One day w'en Mister Rabbit wuz a-settin' in de grass He see Miss Mary comin', en he wouldn't let her pass, Kaze he know she lookin' purty in de river lookin'glass, O Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

 But de Mockin'bird wuz singin' in de blossom en de dew, En he know 'bout Mister Rabbit, en he watchin' er 'im, too; En Miss Mary heah his music, en she tell 'im "Howdy-do!" O Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

 Mister Rabbit 'low he beat 'im, en he say he'll l'arn ter sing, En he tried it all de winter, en he kep' it up in spring; But he wuzn't buil' fer singin', kaze he lack de voice en wing, -- Good-by, Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

OUR HIRED GIRL

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann; An' she can cook best things to eat! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet, An' nen she salts it all on top With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow, In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so It's custard pie, first thing you know! An' nen she'll say: "Clear out o' my way! They's time fer work, an' time fer play!-- Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run! Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

 When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad, An' says folks got to walk the chalk When _she's_ around, er wisht they had, I play out on our porch an' talk To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn; An' he says "_Whew!_" an' nen leans on His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes An' sniffs all round an' says, --"I swawn! Ef my old nose don't tell me lies, It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!" An' nen _he'll_ say, -- "'Clear out o' my way! They's time fer work an' time fer play! Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run! Er _she_ cain't git no cookin' done!'"

 Wunst our hired girl, one time when she Got the supper, an' we all et, An' it was night, an' Ma an' me An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met, -- An' nen when we come home, an' see A light in the kitchen-door, an' we Heerd a maccordeum, Pa says "Lan'- O'-Gracious! who can _her_ beau be?" An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann Wuz parchin' corn fer the Raggedy Man! _Better_ say "Clear out o' the way! They's time fer work, an' time fer play! Take the hint, an' run, Child; run! Er we cain't git no _courtin'_ done!"

THE REASON

BY IRONQUILL

 Says John last night: "William, by grab! I'm beat To know why stolen kisses Taste so sweet. "

 Says William: "Sho! That's easily explained-- It's 'cause they're _syrup_- titiously obtained. "

 * * * * *

 O cruel thought! O words of cruel might! The coroner He sat on John that night. 

ONCL' ANTOINE ON 'CHANGE

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

(_Antoine Boisvert, Raconteur. _)

 I've jus' com' from Chicago town, A seein' all de sights From stockyard to de ballet gairl, All drass' in spangled tights. But all de worstes' nonsens' T'roo vich I got to wade, I t'ink de t'ing dat gats de cake Ees place called Board of Trade. 

 I heard moch talk about dem chap Dey call de Bull an' Bear, Dat play aroun' with price of stock An' get you unaware. Who'll tell you w'at your wheat Will bring in Fevuary nex', In jus' so smood an' quiet vay De curé read his tex'. 

 An' dere dey vere out on de floor, De mans who mak' de price Of all de country produce, A lookin' smood an' nice. But dey had vink opon dere eye Dat look you t'roo an' t'roo, Like tricky bunko steerer ven He's hunting after you. 

 Dey got de ball to roll ver' swif' An' firs' fall from de dock Vas bottom off on July pork; An' heem dat held de stock Commence to hiss an' wriggle Lak' a yellow rattlesnake; De res' buzz jus' lak' bumblebee Stirred op vit hayin' rake. 

 Dis bottom off on July pork Is strike me kin' of queer, I's t'ink dat hogs is good for eat Mos' all of de 'hole year. Dose feller on Chicago town Is mak' such fonny phrase Dat--_entre nous_--I sometimes t'ink Dat som' of dem ees craz'. 

 Den dere ees somet'ing happen Dat mak' 'em more excite', W'en news ees com' overe de vires Dat Boer an' Britain fight, I nevere saw such meex-op yet, In days since I be born, Dey scowl an' call wan nodder names, Dere faces show moch scorn. 

 Wan man grow wild an' mos'ly craz', De tears stream off his eyes, Dere's nodder man dat's laf an' shout, It's mak' me mos' surprise. I guess it mak' som' diffe_rance_ Vich side you're on de fence, But in dis Bear an' Bull meex-op I see not ver' moch sense. 

HEZEKIAH BEDOTT'S OPINION

BY FRANCES M. WHICHER

He was a wonderful hand to moralize, husband was, 'specially after hebegun to enjoy poor health. He made an observation once when he was inone of his poor turns, that I never shall forget the longest day I live. He says to me one winter evenin' as we was a settin' by the fire, --I wasa knittin' (I was always a wonderful great knitter) and he was a smokin'(he was a master hand to smoke, though the doctor used to tell him he'dbe better off to let tobacker alone; when he was well he used to takehis pipe and smoke a spell after he'd got the chores done up, and whenhe wa'n't well, used to smoke the biggest part of the time). Well, hetook his pipe out of his mouth and turned toward me, and I knowedsomething was comin', for he had a pertikkeler way of lookin' round whenhe was gwine to say anything oncommon. Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly" (my name was Prissilly naterally, but he ginerally called me"Silly, " cause 'twas handier, you know). Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly, " and he looked pretty sollem, I tell you--he had a sollemcountenance naterally--and after he got to be deacon 'twas more so, butsince he'd lost his health he looked sollemer than ever, and certainlyyou wouldent wonder at it if you knowed how much he underwent. He wastroubled with a wonderful pain in his chest, and amazin' weakness in thespine of his back, besides the pleurissy in the side, and having theager a considerable part of the time, and bein' broke of his rest o'nights 'cause he was so put to 't for breath when he laid down. Why it'san onaccountable fact that when that man died he hadent seen a well dayin fifteen year, though when he was married and for five or six yearsafter I shouldent desire to see a ruggeder man that he was. But the timeI'm speakin' of he'd been out o' health nigh upon ten year, and O dearsakes! how he had altered since the first time I ever see him! That wasto a quiltin' to Squire Smith's a spell afore Sally was married. I'd noidee then that Sal Smith was a gwine to be married to Sam Pendergrass. She'd ben keepin' company with Mose Hewlitt, for better'n a year, andeverybody said _that_ was a settled thing, and lo and behold! all of asudding she up and took Sam Pendergrass. Well, that was the first time Iever see my husband, and if anybody'd a told me then that I should evermarry him, I should a said--but lawful sakes! I most forgot, I was gwineto tell you what he said to me that evenin', and when a body begins totell a thing I believe in finishin' on't some time or other. Some folkshave a way of talkin' round and round and round forevermore, and nevercome to the pint. Now there's Miss Jinkins, she that was Poll Binghamafore she was married, she is the tejusest individooal to tell a storythat ever I see in all my born days. But I was a gwine to tell you whathusband said. He says to me, says he, "Silly"; says I, "What?" I didentsay, "What, Hezekier?" for I dident like his name. The first time I everheard it I near killed myself a laffin. "Hezekier Bedott, " says I, "well, I would give up if I had sich a name, " but then you know I had nomore idee o' marryin' the feller than you had this minnit o' marryin'the governor. I s'pose you think it's curus we should a named our oldestson Hezekiah. Well, we done it to please father and mother Bedott; it'sfather Bedott's name, and he and mother Bedott both used to think thatnames had ought to go down from gineration to gineration. But we alwayscalled him Kier, you know. Speakin' o' Kier, he is a blessin', ain't he?and I ain't the only one that thinks so, I guess. Now don't you nevertell nobody that I said so, but between you and me I rather guess thatif Kezier Winkle thinks she is a gwine to ketch Kier Bedott she is a_leetle_ out of her reckonin'. But I was going to tell what husbandsaid. He says to me, says he, "Silly"; I says, says I, "What?" If Idident say "what" when he said "Silly" he'd a kept on saying "Silly, "from time to eternity. He always did, because you know, he wanted me topay pertikkeler attention, and I ginerally did; no woman was ever moreattentive to her husband than what I was. Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly. " Says I, "What?" though I'd no idee what he was gwine to say, dident know but what 'twas something about his sufferings, though hewa'n't apt to complain, but he frequently used to remark that hewouldent wish his worst enemy to suffer one minnit as he did all thetime; but that can't be called grumblin'--think it can? Why I've seenhim in sitivation when you'd a thought no mortal could a helpedgrumblin'; but _he_ dident. He and me went once in the dead of winter ina one-hoss shay out to Boonville to see a sister o' hisen. You know thesnow is amazin' deep in that section o' the kentry. Well, the hoss gotstuck in one o' them are flambergasted snow-banks, and there we sot, onable to stir, and to cap all, while we was a sittin' there, husbandwas took with a dretful crik in his back. Now _that_ was what I call a_perdickerment_, don't you? Most men would a swore, but husband dident. He only said, says he, "Consarn it. " How did we get out, did you ask?Why we might a benn sittin' there to this day fur as _I_ know, if therehadent a happened to come along a mess o' men in a double team, andthey hysted us out. But I was gwine to tell you that observation ofhisen. Says he to me, says he, "Silly" (I could see by the light o' thefire, there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if I don'tdisremember, though my memory is sometimes ruther forgitful, but I knowwe wa'n't apt to burn candles exceptin' when we had company)--I couldsee by the light of the fire that his mind was oncommon solemnized. Sayshe to me, says he. "Silly. " I says to him, says I, "What?" He says tome, "_We're all poor critters!_"

WHAT LACK WE YET?

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

 When Washington was president He was a mortal icicle; He never on a railroad went, And never rode a bicycle. 

 He read by no electric lamp, Ne'er heard about the Yellowstone; He never licked a postage stamp, And never saw a telephone. 

 His trousers ended at his knees; By wire he could not snatch dispatch; He filled his lamp with whale-oil grease, And never had a match to scratch. 

 But in these days it's come to pass, All work is with such dashing done, We've all these things, but then, alas-- We seem to have no Washington!

JACOB

BY PHOEBE CARY

 He dwelt among "Apartments let, " About five stories high; A man, I thought, that none would get, And very few would try. 

 A boulder, by a larger stone Half hidden in the mud, Fair as a man when only one Is in the neighborhood. 

 He lived unknown, and few could tell When Jacob was not free; But he has got a wife--and O! The difference to me!

TO BARY JADE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

 The bood is beabig brighdly, love; The sdars are shidig too; While I ab gazig dreabily, Add thigkig, love, of you. You caddot, oh! you caddot kdow, By darlig, how I biss you-- (Oh, whadt a fearful cold I've got!-- Ck-_tish_-u! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

 I'b sittig id the arbor, love, Where you sat by by side, Whed od that calb, autubdal dight You said you'd be by bride. Oh! for wud bobedt to caress Add tederly to kiss you; Budt do! we're beddy biles apart-- (Ho-_rash_-o! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

 This charbig evedig brigs to bide The tibe whed first we bet: It seebs budt odly yesterday; I thigk I see you yet. Oh! tell be, ab I sdill your owd? By hopes--oh, do dot dash theb! (Codfoud by cold, 'tis gettig worse-- _Ck-tish-u!_ Ch-ck-_thrash_-eb!)

 Good-by, by darlig Bary Jade! The bid-dight hour is dear; Add it is hardly wise, by love, For be to ligger here. The heavy dews are fallig fast: A fod good-dight I wish you. (Ho-_rash_-o!--there it is agaid-- Ck-_thrash_-ub! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

HIS GRANDMOTHER'S WAY

BY FRANK L. STANTON

 Tell you, gran'mother's a queer one, shore-- Makes your heart go pitty-pat! If the wind just happens to open a door, She'll say there's "a sign" in that! An' if no one ain't in a rockin'-chair An' it rocks itself, she'll say: "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, my! I'm afeared 'at somebody is goin' to die!" An' she makes me cry-- She makes me cry!

 Once wuz a owl 'at happened to light On our tall chimney-top, An' screamed an' screamed in the dead o' night, An' nuthin' could make it stop! An' gran'ma--she uncovered her head An' almos' frightened me out of the bed; "Oh, dear; Oh, my! I'm certain 'at some one is goin' to die!" An' she made me cry-- She made me cry!

 Just let a cow lean over the gate An' bellow, an' gran'ma--she Will say her prayers, if it's soon or late, An' shake her finger at me! An' then, an' then you'll hear her say: "It's a sign w'en the cattle act that way! Oh, dear! Oh, my! I'm certain 'at somebody's goin' to die!" Oh, she makes me cry-- She makes me cry!

 Skeeriest person you ever seen! Always a-huntin' fer "signs"; Says it's "spirits" 'at's good, or mean, If the wind jest shakes the vines! I always feel skeery w'en gran'ma's aroun'-- An' think 'at I see things, an' jump at each soun': "Oh, dear! Oh, my! I'm certain 'at somebody's goin' to die!" Oh, she makes me cry-- She makes me cry!

_The Only True and Reliable Account of_

THE GREAT PRIZE FIGHT, _For $100, 000, at Seal Rock Point, on Sunday Last, Between His Excellency Gov. Stanford and Hon. F. F. Low, Governor Elect of California. _

REPORTED BY SAMUEL L. CLEMENS

For the past month the sporting world has been in a state of feverishexcitement on account of the grand prize fight set for last Sundaybetween the two most distinguished citizens of California, for a purseof one hundred thousand dollars. The high social standing of thecompetitors, their exalted position in the arena of politics, togetherwith the princely sum of money staked upon the issue of the combat, allconspired to render the proposed prize fight a subject of extraordinaryimportance, and to give it an éclat never before vouchsafed to such acircumstance since the world began. Additional lustre was shed upon thecoming contest by the lofty character of the seconds or bottle-holderschosen by the two champions, these being no other than Judge Field (onthe part of Gov. Low), Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of theUnited States, and Hon. Wm. M. Stewart (commonly called "Bill Stewart, "or "Bullyragging Bill Stewart"), of the city of Virginia, the mostpopular as well as the most distinguished lawyer in Nevada Territory, member of the Constitutional Convention, and future U. S. Senator forthe state of Washoe, as I hope and believe--on the part of Gov. Stanford. Principals and seconds together, it is fair to presume thatsuch an array of talent was never entered for a combat of thisdescription upon any previous occasion. 

Stewart and Field had their men in constant training at the Missionduring the six weeks preceding the contest, and such was the interesttaken in the matter that thousands visited that sacred locality daily topick up such morsels of information as they might, concerning thephysical and scientific improvement being made by the gubernatorialacrobats. The anxiety manifested by the populace was intense. When itwas learned that Stanford had smashed a barrel of flour to atoms with asingle blow of his fist, the voice of the people was at his side. Butwhen the news came that Low had caved in the head of a tubular boilerwith one stroke of his powerful "mawley" (which term is in strictaccordance with the language of the ring) the tide of opinion changedagain. These changes were frequent, and they kept the minds of thepublic in such a state of continual vibration that I fear the habit thusacquired is confirmed, and that they will never more cease to oscillate. 

The fight was to take place on last Sunday morning at ten o'clock. Bynine every wheeled vehicle and every species of animal capable ofbearing burthens, were in active service, and the avenues leading to theSeal Rock swarmed with them in mighty processions whose numbers no manmight hope to estimate. 

I determined to be upon the ground at an early hour. Now I dislike to beexploded, as it were, out of my balmy slumbers, by a sudden, stormyassault upon my door, and an imperative order to "Get up!"--wherefore Irequested one of the intelligent porters of the Lick House to call atmy palatial apartments, and murmur gently through the key-hole the magicmonosyllable "Hash!" That "fetched me. "

The urbane livery-stable keeper furnished me with a solemn, short-bodied, long-legged animal--a sort of animated counting-housestool, as it were--which he called a "Morgan" horse. He told me who thebrute was "sired" by, and was proceeding to tell me who he was "dammed"by, but I gave him to understand that I was competent to damn the horsemyself, and should probably do it very effectually before I got to thebattle-ground. I mentioned to him, however, that I was not proposing toattend a funeral; it was hardly necessary to furnish me an animal giftedwith such oppressive solemnity of bearing as distinguished his "Morgan. "He said in reply, that Morgan was only pensive when in the stable, butthat on the road I would find him one of the liveliest horses in theworld. 

He enunciated the truth. 

The brute "bucked" with me from the foot of Montgomery street to theOccidental Hotel. The laughter which he provoked from the crowds ofcitizens along the sidewalks he took for applause, and honestly madeevery effort in his power to deserve it, regardless of consequences. 

He was very playful, but so suddenly were the creations of his fancyconceived and executed, and so much ground did he take up with them, that it was safest to behold them from a distance. In the self-samemoment of time, he shot his heels through the side of a street-car, andthen backed himself into Barry and Patten's and sat down on thefree-lunch table. 

Such was the length of this Morgan's legs. 

Between the Occidental and the Lick House, having become thoroughlyinterested in his work, he planned and carried out a series of the mostextraordinary maneuvres ever suggested by the brain of any horse. Hearched his neck and went tripping daintily across the street sideways, "rairing up" on his hind legs occasionally, in a very disagreeable way, and looking into the second-story windows. He finally waltzed into thelarge ice cream saloon opposite the Lick House, and--

But the memory of that perilous voyage hath caused me to digress fromthe proper subject of this paper, which is the great prize fight betweenGovernors Low and Stanford. I will resume. 

After an infinitude of fearful adventures, the history of which wouldfill many columns of this newspaper, I finally arrived at the Seal RockPoint at a quarter to ten--two hours and a half out from San Francisco, and not less gratified than surprised that I ever got there at all--andanchored my noble Morgan to a boulder on the hillside. I had to swathehis head in blankets also, because, while my back was turned for asingle moment, he developed another atrocious trait of his mostremarkable character. He tried to eat little Augustus MaltraversJackson, the "humble" but interesting offspring of Hon. J. BelvidereJackson, a wealthy barber from San Jose. It would have been a comfort tome to leave the infant to his fate, but I did not feel able to pay forhim. 

When I reached the battle-ground, the great champions were alreadystripped and prepared for the "mill. " Both were in splendid condition, and displayed a redundancy of muscle about the breast and arms which wasdelightful to the eye of the sportive connoisseur. They were wellmatched. Adepts said that Stanford's "heft" and tall stature were fairlyoffset by Low's superior litheness and activity. From their heads to theUnion colors around their waists, their costumes were similar to thatof the Greek slave; from thence down they were clad in flesh-coloredtights and grenadier boots. 

The ring was formed upon the beautiful level sandy beach above the CliffHouse, and within twenty paces of the snowy surf of the broad PacificOcean, which was spotted here and there with monstrous sea-lionsattracted shoreward by curiosity concerning the vast multitude of peoplecollected in the vicinity. 

At five minutes past ten, Brigadier-General Wright, the Referee, notified the seconds to bring their men "up to the scratch. " They didso, amid the shouts of the populace, the noise whereof rose high abovethe roar of the sea. 

First Round. --The pugilists advanced to the centre of the ring, shookhands, retired to their respective corners, and at the call of thetime-keeper, came forward and went at it. Low dashed out handsomely withhis left and gave Stanford a paster in the eye, and at the same momenthis adversary mashed him in the ear. (These singular phrases areentirely proper, Mr. Editor--I find them in the copy of "Bell's Life inLondon" now lying before me. ) After some beautiful sparring, bothparties went down--that is to say, they went down to the bottle-holders, Stewart and Field, and took a drink. 

Second Round. --Stanford launched out a well intended plunger, but Lowparried it admirably and instantly busted him in the snoot. (Cries of"Bully for the Marysville Infant!") After some lively fibbing (both ofthem are used to it in political life, ) the combatants went to grass. (See "Bell's Life. ")

Third Round. --Both came up panting considerably. Low let go a terrificside-winder, but Stanford stopped it handsomely and replied with anearthquake on Low's bread-basket. (Enthusiastic shouts of "Sock it tohim, my Sacramento Pet!") More fibbing--both down. 

Fourth Round. --The men advanced and sparred warily for a few moments, when Stanford exposed his cocoa-nut an instant, and Low struck out fromthe shoulder and split him in the mug. (Cries of "Bully for the FatBoy!")

Fifth Round. --Stanford came up looking wicked, and let drive a heavyblow with his larboard flipper which caved in the side of hisadversary's head. (Exclamations of "Hi! at him again Old Rusty!")

From this time until the end of the conflict, there was nothing regularin the proceedings. The two champions got furiously angry, and used upeach other thus:

No sooner did Low realize that the side of his head was crushed in likea dent in a plug hat, than he "went after" Stanford in the mostdesperate manner. With one blow of his fist he mashed his nose so farinto his face that a cavity was left in its place the size and shape ofan ordinary soup-bowl. It is scarcely necessary to mention that inmaking room for so much nose, Gov. Stanford's eyes were crowded to sucha degree as to cause them to "bug out" like a grasshopper's. His facewas so altered that he scarcely looked like himself at all. 

I never saw such a murderous expression as Stanford's countenance nowassumed; you see it was so concentrated--it had such a small number offeatures to spread around over. He let fly one of his battering rams andcaved in the other side of Low's head. Ah me, the latter was a ghastlysight to contemplate after that--one of the boys said it looked "like abeet which somebody had trod on it. "

Low was "grit" though. He dashed out with his right and stove Stanford'schin clear back even with his ears. Oh, what a horrible sight he was, gasping and reaching after his tobacco, which was away back among hisunder-jaw teeth. 

Stanford was unsettled for a while, but he soon rallied, and watchinghis chance, aimed a tremendous blow at his favorite mark, which crushedin the rear of Gov. Low's head in such a way that the crown thereofprojected over his spinal column like a shed. 

He came up to the scratch like a man, though, and sent one of hisponderous fists crashing through his opponent's ribs and in among hisvitals, and instantly afterward he hauled out poor Stanford's left lungand smacked him in the face with it. 

If I ever saw an angry man in my life it was Leland Stanford. He fairlyraved. He jumped at his old speciality, Gov. Low's head; he tore itloose from his body and knocked him down with it. (Sensation in thecrowd. )

Staggered by his extraordinary exertion, Gov. Stanford reeled, andbefore he could recover himself the headless but indomitable Low sprangforward, pulled one of his legs out by the roots, and dealt him asmashing paster over the eye with the end of it. The ever watchful BillStewart sallied out to the assistance of his crippled principal with apair of crutches, and the battle went on again as fiercely as ever. 

At this stage of the game the battle ground was strewn with asufficiency of human remains to furnish material for the construction ofthree or four men of ordinary size, and good sound brains enough tostock a whole county like the one I came from in the noble old state ofMissouri. And so dyed were the combatants in their own gore that theylooked like shapeless, mutilated, red-shirted firemen. 

The moment a chance offered, Low grabbed Stanford by the hair of thehead, swung him thrice round and round in the air like a lasso, andthen slammed him on the ground with such mighty force that he quiveredall over, and squirmed painfully, like a worm; and behold, his body andsuch of his limbs as he had left, shortly assumed a swollen aspect likeunto those of a rag doll-baby stuffed with saw-dust. 

He rallied again, however, and the two desperadoes clinched and neverlet up until they had minced each other into such insignificant odds andends that neither was able to distinguish his own remnants from those ofhis antagonist. It was awful. 

Bill Stewart and Judge Field issued from their corners and gazed uponthe sanguinary reminiscences in silence during several minutes. At theend of that time, having failed to discover that either champion had gotthe best of the fight, they threw up their sponges simultaneously, andGen. Wright proclaimed in a loud voice that the battle was "drawn. " Maymy ears never again be rent asunder with a burst of sound similar tothat which greeted this announcement, from the multitudes. Amen. 

By order of Gen. Wright, baskets were procured, and Bill Stewart andJudge Field proceeded to gather up the fragments of their lateprincipals, while I gathered up my notes and went after my infernalhorse, who had slipped his blankets and was foraging among theneighboring children. I--

P. S. --Messrs. Editors, I have been the victim of an infamous hoax. Ihave been imposed upon by that ponderous miscreant, Mr. Frank Lawler, ofthe Lick House. I left my room a moment ago, and the first man I met onthe stairs was Gov. Stanford, alive and well, and as free frommutilation as you or I. I was speechless. Before I reached the street, Iactually met Gov. Low also, with his own head on his own shoulders, hislimbs intact, his inner mechanism in its proper place, and his cheeksblooming with gorgeous robustitude. I was amazed. But a word ofexplanation from him convinced me that I had been swindled by Mr. Lawlerwith a detail account of a fight which had never occurred, and was neverlikely to occur; that I had believed him so implicitly as to sit downand write it out (as other reporters have done before me) in languagecalculated to deceive the public into the conviction that I was presentat it myself, and to embellish it with a string of falsehoods intendedto render that deception as plausible as possible. I ruminated upon mysingular position for many minutes, arrived at no conclusion--that is tosay, no satisfactory conclusion, except that Lawler was an accomplishedknave and I was a consummate ass. I had suspected the first before, though, and been acquainted with the latter fact for nearly a quarter ofa century. 

In conclusion, permit me to apologize in the most abject manner to thepresent Governor of California, to Hon. Mr. Low, the Governor elect, toJudge Field and to Hon. Wm. M. Stewart, for the great wrong which mynatural imbecility has impelled me to do them in penning and publishingthe foregoing sanguinary absurdity. If it were to do over again, I don'treally know that I would do it. It is not possible for me to say how Iever managed to believe that refined and educated gentlemen like thesecould stoop to engage in the loathsome and degrading pastime ofprize-fighting. It was just Lawler's work, you understand--the lubberly, swelled up effigy of a nine-days drowned man! But I shall get even withhim for this. The only excuse he offers is that he got the story fromJohn B. Winters, and thought of course it must be just so--as if afuture Congressman for the state of Washoe could by any possibility tellthe truth! Do you know that if either of these miserable scoundrelswere to cross my path while I am in this mood I would scalp him in aminute? That's me--that's my style. 

A CONCORD LOVE-SONG

BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE

 Shall we meet again, love, In the distant When, love, When the Now is Then, love, And the Present Past? Shall the mystic Yonder, On which I ponder, I sadly wonder, With thee be cast?

 Ah, the joyless fleeting Of our primal meeting, And the fateful greeting Of the How and Why! Ah, the Thingness flying From the Hereness, sighing For a love undying That fain would die!

 Ah, the Ifness sadd'ning, The Whichness madd'ning, And the But ungladd'ning, That lie behind! When the signless token Of love is broken In the speech unspoken Of mind to mind!

 But the mind perceiveth When the spirit grieveth, And the heart relieveth Itself of woe; And the doubt-mists lifted From the eyes love-gifted Are rent and rifted In the warmer glow. 

 In the inner Me, love, As I turn to thee, love, I seem to see, love, No Ego there. But the Meness dead, love, The Theeness fled, love, And born instead, love, An Usness rare!

THE MEETING

BY S. E. KISER

 One day, in Paradise, Two angels, beaming, strolled Along the amber walk that lies Beside the street of gold. 

 At last they met and gazed Into each other's eyes, Then dropped their harps, amazed, And stood in mute surprise. 

 And other angels came, And, as they lingered near, Heard both at once exclaim: "Say, how did you get here?"

"THERE'S A BOWER OF BEAN-VINES"

BY PHOEBE CARY

 There's a bower of bean-vines in Benjamin's yard, And the cabbages grow round it, planted for greens; In the time of my childhood 'twas terribly hard To bend down the bean-poles, and pick off the beans. 

 That bower and its products I never forget, But oft, when my landlady presses me hard, I think, are the cabbages growing there yet, Are the bean-vines still bearing in Benjamin's yard?

 No, the bean-vines soon withered that once used to wave, But some beans had been gathered, the last that hung on; And a soup was distilled in a kettle, that gave All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone. 

 Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it awfully hard; As thus good to my taste as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower of bean-vines in Benjamin's yard. 

THE TRIAL THAT JOB MISSED

BY KENNETT HARRIS

 Job had troubles, I admit; Clearly was his patience shown, Yet he never had to sit Waiting at the telephone-- Waiting, waiting to connect, The receiver at his lobe. That's a trial, I expect, Would have been too much for Job!

 After minutes of delay, While the cramps attacked his knees, Then to hear Miss Central say Innocently: "Number, please!" When the same he'd shouted out Twenty times--he'd rend his robe, Tear his hair, I've little doubt; 'Twould have been too much for Job. 

 Job, with all the woes he bore, Never got the "busy" buzz When he tempted was of yore In the ancient land of Uz. Satan missed it when he sought His one tender spot to probe; If of "central" he had thought, She'd have been too much for Job!

THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE OF SMITH VS. JONES

BY SAMUEL L. CLEMENS

I reported this trial simply for my own amusement, one idle day lastweek, and without expecting to publish any portion of it--but I haveseen the facts in the case so distorted and misrepresented in the dailypapers that I feel it my duty to come forward and do what I can to setthe plaintiff and defendant right before the public. This can best bedone by submitting the plain, unembellished statements of the witnessesas given under oath before his Honor Judge Sheperd, in the Police Court, and leaving the people to form their own judgment of the mattersinvolved, unbiased by argument or suggestion of any kind from me. 

There is that nice sense of justice and that ability to discriminatebetween right and wrong, among the masses, which will enable them, aftercarefully reading the testimony I am about to set down here, to decidewithout hesitation which is the innocent party and which the guilty inthe remarkable case of Smith vs. Jones, and I have every confidence thatbefore this paper shall have been out of the printing-press twenty-fourhours, the high court of The People, from whose decision there is noappeal, will have swept from the innocent man all taint of blame orsuspicion, and cast upon the guilty one a deathless infamy. 

To such as are not used to visiting the Police Court, I will observethat there is nothing inviting about the place, there being no richcarpets, no mirrors, no pictures, no elegant sofa or arm-chairs tolounge in, no free lunch--and, in fact, nothing to make a man who hasbeen there once desire to go again--except in cases where his bail isheavier than his fine is likely to be, under which circumstances henaturally has a tendency in that direction again, of course, in order torecover the difference. 

There is a pulpit at the head of the hall, occupied by a handsomegray-haired judge, with a faculty of appearing pleasant and impartial tothe disinterested spectator, and prejudiced and frosty to the lastdegree to the prisoner at the bar. 

To the left of the pulpit is a long table for reporters; in front of thepulpit the clerks are stationed, and in the centre of the hall a nest oflawyers. On the left again are pine benches behind a railing, occupiedby seedy white men, negroes, Chinamen, Kanakas--in a word, by the seedyand dejected of all nations--and in a corner is a box where more can behad when they are wanted. 

On the right are more pine benches, for the use of prisoners, and theirfriends and witnesses. 

An officer, in a gray uniform, and with a star upon his breast, guardsthe door. 

A holy calm pervades the scene. 

The case of Smith vs. Jones being called, each of these parties(stepping out from among the other seedy ones) gave the court aparticular and circumstantial account of how the whole thing occurred, and then sat down. 

The two narratives differed from each other. 

In reality, I was half persuaded that these men were talking about twoseparate and distinct affairs altogether, inasmuch as no singlecircumstance mentioned by one was even remotely hinted at by the other. 

Mr. Alfred Sowerby was then called to the witness-stand, and testifiedas follows:

"I was in the saloon at the time, your Honor, and I see this man Smithcome up all of a sudden to Jones, who warn't saying a word, and splithim in the snoot--"

LAWYER. --"Did what, sir?"

WITNESS. --"Busted him in the snoot. "

LAWYER. --"What do you mean by such language as that? When you say thatthe plaintiff suddenly approached the defendant, who was silent at thetime, and 'busted him in the snoot, ' do you mean that the plaintiffstruck the defendant?"

WITNESS. --"That's me--I'm swearing to that very circumstance--yes, yourHonor, that was just the way of it. Now, for instance, as if you wasJones and I was Smith. Well, I comes up all of a sudden and says I toyour Honor, says I, 'D--n your old tripe--'"

(Suppressed laughter in the lobbies. )

THE COURT. --"Order in the court! Witness, you will confine yourself to aplain statement of the facts in this case, and refrain from theembellishments of metaphor and allegory as far as possible. "

WITNESS. --(Considerably subdued. )--"I beg your Honor's pardon--I didn'tmean to be so brash. Well, Smith comes up to Jones all of a sudden andmashed him in the bugle--"

LAWYER. --"Stop! Witness, this kind of language will not do. I will askyou a plain question, and I require you to answer it simply, yes or no. Did--the--plaintiff--strike--the defendant? Did he strike him?"

WITNESS. --"You bet your sweet life he did. Gad! he gave him a paster inthe trumpet--"

LAWYER. --"Take the witness! take the witness! take the witness! I haveno further use for him. "

The lawyer on the other side said he would endeavor to worry alongwithout more assistance from Mr. Sowerby, and the witness retired to aneighboring bench. 

Mr. McWilliamson was next called, and deposed as follows:

"I was a-standing as close to Mr. Smith as I am to this pulpit, a-chaffing with one of the lager beer girls--Sophronia by name, beingfrom summers in Germany, so she says, but as to that, I--"

LAWYER. --"Well, now, never mind the nativity of the lager beer girl, butstate, as concisely as possible, what you know of the assault andbattery. "

WITNESS. --"Certainly--certainly. Well, German or no German, --which I'lltake my oath I don't believe she is, being of a red-headed disposition, with long, bony fingers, and no more hankering after Limberger cheesethan--"

LAWYER. --"Stop that driveling nonsense and stick to the assault andbattery. Go on with your story. "

WITNESS. --"Well, sir, she--that is, Jones--he sidled up and drawed hisrevolver and tried to shoot the top of Smith's head off, and Smith run, and Sophronia she walloped herself down in the saw-dust and screamedtwice, just as loud as she could yell. I never see a poor creature insuch distress--and then she sung out: 'O, H--ll's fire! What are they upto now? Ah, my poor dear mother, I shall never see you more!'--sayingwhich, she jerked another yell and fainted away as dead as a wax figger. Thinks I to myself, I'll be danged if this ain't gettin' rather dusty, and I'll--"

THE COURT. --"We have no desire to know what you thought; we only wish toknow what you saw. Are you sure Mr. Jones endeavored to shoot the top ofMr. Smith's head off?"

WITNESS. --"Yes, your Honor. "

THE COURT. --"How many times did he shoot?"

WITNESS. --"Well, sir, I couldn't say exactly as to the number--but Ishould think--well, say seven or eight times--as many as that, anyway. "

THE COURT. --"Be careful now, and remember you are under oath. What kindof a pistol was it?"

WITNESS. --"It was a Durringer, your Honor. "

THE COURT. --"A derringer! You must not trifle here, sir. A derringeronly shoots once--how then could Jones have fired seven or eight times?"(The witness is evidently as stunned by that last proposition as if abrick had struck him. )

WITNESS. --"Well, your Honor--he--that is, she--Jones, I mean--Soph--"

THE COURT. --"Are you sure he fired more than one shot? Are you sure hefired at all?"

WITNESS. --"I--I well, perhaps he didn't--and--and your Honor may beright. But you see, that girl, with her dratted yowling--altogether, itmight be that he did only shoot once. "

LAWYER. --"And about his attempting to shoot the top of Smith's headoff--didn't he aim at his body, or his legs? Come now. "

WITNESS. --(Entirely confused)--"Yes, sir--I think he did--I--I'm prettycertain of it. Yes, sir, he must a fired at his legs. "

(Nothing was elicited on the cross-examination, except that the weaponused by Mr. Jones was a bowie knife instead of a derringer, and that hemade a number of desperate attempts to scalp the plaintiff instead oftrying to shoot him. It also came out that Sophronia, of doubtfulnativity, did not faint, and was not present during the affray, shehaving been discharged from her situation on the previous evening. )

Washington Billings, sworn, said: "I see the row, and it warn't in nosaloon--it was in the street. Both of 'em was drunk, and one was acomin' up the street, and t'other was a goin' down. Both of 'em wasclose to the houses when they fust see each other, and both of 'em madetheir calculations to miss each other, but the second time they tackedacross the pavement--driftin'-like, diagonal--they come together, downby curb--al-mighty soggy, they did--which staggered 'em a moment, andthen, over they went, into the gutter. Smith was up fust, and he made adive for a cobble and fell on Jones; Jones dug out and made a dive for acobble, and slipped his hold and jammed his head into Smith's stomach. They each done that over again, twice more, just the same way. Afterthat, neither of 'em could get up any more, and so they just laid therein the slush and clawed mud and cussed each other. "

(On the cross-examination, the witness could not say whether the partiescontinued the fight afterward in the saloon or not--he only knew theybegan it in the gutter, and to the best of his knowledge and belief theywere too drunk to get into a saloon, and too drunk to stay in it afterthey got there if there were any orifice about it that they could fallout again. As to weapons, he saw none used except the cobble-stones, andto the best of his knowledge and belief they missed fire every timewhile he was present. )

Jeremiah Driscoll came forward, was sworn, and testified as follows:--"Isaw the fight, your Honor, and it wasn't in a saloon, nor in the street, nor in a hotel, nor in--"

THE COURT. --"Was it in the city and county of San Francisco!"

WITNESS. --"Yes, your Honor, I--I think it was. "

THE COURT. --"Well, then, go on. "

WITNESS. --"It was up in the Square. Jones meets Smith, and they both goat it--that is, blackguarding each other. One called the other a thief, and the other said he was a liar, and then they got to swearingbackwards and forwards pretty generally, as you might say, and finallyone struck the other over the head with a cane, and then they closed andfell, and after that they made such a dust and the gravel flew so thickthat I couldn't rightly tell which was getting the best of it. When itcleared away, one of them was after the other with a pine bench, and theother was prospecting for rocks, and--"

LAWYER. --"There, there, there--that will do--that--will--do! How in theworld is any one to make head or tail out of such a string of nonsenseas that? Who struck the first blow?"

WITNESS. --"I can not rightly say, sir, but I think--"

LAWYER. --"You think!--don't you know?"

WITNESS. --"No, sir, it was all so sudden, and--"

LAWYER. --"Well, then, state, if you can, who struck the last. "

WITNESS. --"I can't, sir, because--"

LAWYER. --"Because what?"

WITNESS. --"Because, sir, you see toward the last they clinched and wentdown, and got to kicking up the gravel again, and--"

LAWYER. --(Resignedly)--"Take the witness--take the witness. "

(The testimony on the cross-examination went to show that during thefight, one of the parties drew a slung-shot and cocked it, but to thebest of the witness' knowledge and belief, he did not fire; and at thesame time, the other discharged a hand-grenade at his antagonist, whichmissed him and did no damage, except blowing up a bonnet store on theother side of the street, and creating a momentary diversion among themilliners. ) He could not say, however, which drew the slung-shot orwhich threw the grenade. (It was generally remarked by those in thecourt room, that the evidence of the witness was obscure andunsatisfactory. Upon questioning him further, and confronting him withthe parties to the case before the court, it transpired that the facesof Jones and Smith were unknown to him, and that he had been talkingabout an entirely different fight all the time. )

Other witnesses were examined, some of whom swore that Smith was theaggressor, and others that Jones began the row; some said they foughtwith their fists, others that they fought with knives, others tomahawks, others revolvers, others clubs, others axes, others beer mugs andchairs, and others swore there had been no fight at all. However, fightor no fight, the testimony was straightforward and uniform on one point, at any rate, and that was, that the fuss was about two dollars and fortycents, which one party owed the other, but after all, it was impossibleto find out which was the debtor and which the creditor. 

After the witnesses had all been heard, his Honor, Judge Sheperd, observed that the evidence in this case resembled, in a great manypoints, the evidence before him in some thirty-five cases every day, onan average. He then said he would continue the case, to afford theparties an opportunity of procuring more testimony. 

(I have been keeping an eye on the Police Court for the last few days. Two friends of mine had business there, on account of assault andbattery concerning Washoe stocks, and I felt interested, of course. ) Inever knew their names were James Johnson and John Ward, though, until Iheard them answer to them in that court. When James Johnson was called, one of these young men said to the other: "That's you, my boy. " "No, "was the reply, "it's you--my name's John Ward--see, I've got it writtenhere on a card. " Consequently, the first speaker sung out, "Here!" andit was all right. As I was saying, I have been keeping an eye on thatcourt, and I have arrived at the conclusion that the office of PoliceJudge is a profitable and a comfortable thing to have, but then, as theEnglish hunter said about fighting tigers in India under a shortness ofammunition, "It has its little drawbacks. " Hearing testimony must beworrying to a Police Judge sometimes, when he is in his right mind. Iwould rather be secretary to a wealthy mining company, and have nothingto do but advertise the assessments and collect them in carefully, andgo along quiet and upright, and be one of the noblest works of God, andnever gobble a dollar that didn't belong to me--all just as thosefellows do, you know. (Oh, I have no talent for sarcasm, it isn'tlikely. ) But I trespass. 

Now, with every confidence in the instinctive candor and fair dealing ofmy race, I submit the testimony in the case of Smith vs. Jones to thepeople, without comment or argument, well satisfied that after a perusalof it, their judgment will be as righteous as it is final and impartial, and that whether Smith be cast out and Jones exalted, or Jones cast outand Smith exalted, the decision will be a holy and a just one. 

I leave the accused and the accuser before the bar of the world--lettheir fate be pronounced. 

A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER

BY O. HENRY

The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for he shouldhave confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. But the Kid waspast twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's credit at twenty is toblush unseen on the Rio Grande border. 

It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a poker gameat which sat players who were not all friends, as happens often wheremen ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she gallops. There was a rowover so small a matter as a pair of queens; and when the smoke hadcleared away it was found that the Kid had committed an indiscretion, and his adversary had been guilty of a blunder. For, the unfortunatecombatant, instead of being a Greaser, was a high-blooded youth from thecow ranches, of about the Kid's own age and possessed of friends andchampions. His blunder in missing the Kid's right ear only a sixteenthof an inch when he pulled his gun did not lessen the indiscretion of thebetter marksman. 

The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully suppliedwith personal admirers and supporters--on account of a rather umbrageousreputation even for the border--considered it not incompatible with hisindisputable gameness to perform that judicious tractional act known as"pulling his freight. "

Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them overtook himwithin a rod of the station. The Kid turned and showed his teeth in thatbrilliant but mirthless smile that usually preceded his deeds ofinsolence and violence, and his pursuers fell back without making itnecessary for him even to reach for his weapon. 

But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for encounterthat usually urged him on to battle. It had been a purely chance row, born of the cards and certain epithets impossible for a gentleman tobrook, that had passed between the two. The Kid had rather liked theslim, haughty, brown-faced young chap whom his bullet had cut off in thefirst pride of manhood. And now he wanted no more blood. He wanted toget away and have a good long sleep somewhere in the sun on the mesquitgrass with his handkerchief over his face. Even a Mexican might havecrossed his path in safety while he was in this mood. 

The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger-train that departedfive minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, where it was flaggedto take on a traveler, he abandoned that manner of escape. There weretelegraph stations ahead; and the Kid looked askance at electricity andsteam. Saddle and spur were his rocks of safety. 

The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew that hewas of the Corralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that the punchers fromthat ranch were more relentless and vengeful than Kentucky feudists whenwrong or harm was done to one of them. So, with the wisdom that hascharacterized many great fighters, the Kid decided to pile up as manyleagues as possible of chaparral and pear between himself and theretaliation of the Corralitos bunch. 

Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered among themesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the customers. Most ofthem waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping heads. Butone, a long-legged roan with a curved neck, snorted and pawed the turf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped with his knees, and slapped gently with theowner's own quirt. 

If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud over theKid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of his veiledhis figure in the darkest shadows of disrepute. On the Rio Grandeborder, if you take a man's life you sometimes take trash; but if youtake his horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders him poor, indeed, and which enriches you not--if you are caught. For the Kid therewas no turning back now. 

With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness. After a five-mile gallop he drew in to the plainsman's jogging trot, androde northeastward toward the Nueces River bottoms. He knew the countrywell--its most tortuous and obscure trails through the great wildernessof brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches where one mightfind safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east; for the Kid hadnever seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay his hand upon the maneof the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the greater waters. 

So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, and lookedout across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea. 

Captain Boone, of the schooner Flyaway, stood near his skiff, whichone of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail hehad discovered that one of the necessaries of life, in theparallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been forgotten. A sailorhad been despatched for the missing cargo. Meanwhile the captain pacedthe sands, chewing profanely at his pocket store. 

A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the water's edge. His face was boyish but with a premature severity that hinted at a man'sexperience. His complexion was naturally dark; and the sun and wind ofan outdoor life had burned it to a coffee brown. His hair was as blackand straight as an Indian's; his face had not yet been upturned to thehumiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold and steady blue. He carriedhis left arm somewhat away from his body, for pearl-handled . 45s arefrowned upon by town marshals, and are a little bulky when packed in theleft armhole of one's vest. He looked beyond Captain Boone at the gulfwith the impersonal and expressionless dignity of a Chinese emperor. 

"Thinkin' of buyin' that 'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, madesarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage. 

"Why, no, " said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it before. Iwas just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are you?"

"Not this trip, " said the captain. "I'll send it to you C. O. D. When Iget back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that capstan-footed lubber withthe chewin'. I ought to've weighed anchor an hour ago. "

"Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid. 

"Why, yes, " answered the captain, "if you want to call a schooner aship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say Miller and Gonzales, owners, and ordinary, plain, Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. Boone, skipper. "

"Where are you going to?" asked the refugee. 

"Buenas Tierras, coast of South America--I forget what they called thecountry the last time I was there. Cargo--lumber, corrugated iron, andmachetes. "

"What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid--"hot or cold?"

"Warmish, buddy, " said the captain. "But a regular Paradise Lost forelegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're wakened everymorning by the sweet singin' of red birds with seven purple tails, andthe sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the inhabitantsnever work, for they can reach out and pick steamer baskets of thechoicest hothouse fruit without gettin' out of bed. And there's noSunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no use and no nothin'. It's a great country for a man to go to sleep with, and wait forsomethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and hurricanes andpineapples that ye eat comes from there. "

"That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest. "What'llthe expressage be to take me out there with you?"

"Twenty-four dollars, " said Captain Boone; "grub and transportation. Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin. "

"You've got my company, " said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag. 

With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his regular"blowout. " The duel in Valdo's had cut short his season of hilarity, butit had left him with nearly $200 for aid in the flight that it had madenecessary. 

"All right, buddy, " said the captain. "I hope your ma won't blame me forthis little childish escapade of yours. " He beckoned to one of theboat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won't getyour feet wet. "

II

Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yet drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his desired stateof beatitude--a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin vaudeville songsand pelted his screaming parrot with banana peels--until the middle ofthe afternoon. So, when he looked up from his hammock at the sound of aslight cough, and saw the Kid standing in the door of the consulate, hewas still in a condition to extend the hospitality and courtesy due fromthe representative of a great nation. 

"Don't disturb yourself, " said the Kid easily. "I just dropped in. Theytold me it was customary to light at your camp before starting in toround up the town. I just came in on a ship from Texas. "

"Glad to see you, Mr. ----, " said the consul. 

The Kid laughed. 

"Sprague Dalton, " he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. I'm calledthe Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country. "

"I'm Thacker, " said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. Now ifyou've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These dingieswill cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don't understandtheir ways. Try a cigar?"

"Much obliged, " said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn shucks andthe little bag in my back pocket, I couldn't live a minute. " He took outhis "makings, " and rolled a cigarette. 

"They speak Spanish here, " said the consul. "You'll need an interpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be delighted. If you're buyingfruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort, you'll wantsomebody who knows the ropes to look out for you. "

"I speak Spanish, " said the Kid, "about nine times better than I doEnglish. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from. And I'mnot in the market for anything. "

"You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the Kidabsorbedly. 

"You look like a Spaniard, too, " he continued. "And you're from Texas. And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I wonder if you've gotany nerve. "

"You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, withunexpected shrewdness. 

"Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker. 

"What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little gunfrolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't any Mexicanhandy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey range just for to smellthe morning-glories and marigolds. Now, do you _sabe_?"

Thacker got up and closed the door. 

"Let me see your hand, " he said. 

He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it closely. 

"I can do it, " he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as wood and ashealthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week. "

"If it's a fist fight you want to back me for, " said the Kid, "don't putyour money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep you company. But nobarehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me. "

"It's easier than that, " said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?"

Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house withwide galleries rising amid the deep green tropical foliage on a woodedhill that sloped gently from the sea. 

"In that house, " said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and hiswife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your pocketswith money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the gold-minesin the country. "

"You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid. 

"Sit down again, " said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years agothey lost a kid. No, he didn't die--although most of 'em here do fromdrinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even if hewasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some Americans whowere through here prospecting for gold had letters to Señor Urique, andthe boy was a favorite with them. They filled his head with big storiesabout the States; and about a month after they left, the kiddisappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed himself away among thebanana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone to New Orleans. He was seenonce afterward in Texas, it was thought, but they never heard anythingmore of him. Old Urique has spent thousands of dollars having him lookedfor. The madam was broken up worst of all. The kid was her life. Shewears mourning yet. But they say she believes he'll come back to hersome day, and never gives up hope. On the back of the boy's left handwas tattooed a flying eagle carrying a spear in his claws. That's oldUrique's coat of arms or something that he inherited in Spain. "

The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously. 

"That's it, " said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for hisbottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can do it. What was Iconsul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I'll have theeagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so you'd think you wereborn with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just because I wassure you'd drop in some day, Mr. Dalton. "

"Oh, hell, " said the Kid. "I thought I told you. "

"All right, 'Kid, ' then. It won't be that long. How does Señorito Uriquesound, for a change?"

"I never played son any that I remember of, " said the Kid. "If I had anyparents to mention they went over the divide about the time I gave myfirst bleat. What is the plan of your round-up?"

Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to the light. 

"We've come now, " said he, "to the question of how far you're willing togo in a little matter of the sort. "

"I told you why I came down here, " said the Kid simply. 

"A good answer, " said the consul. "But you won't have to go that far. Here's the scheme. After I get the trade-mark tattooed on your hand I'llnotify old Urique. In the meantime I'll furnish you with all of thefamily history I can find out, so you can be studying up points to talkabout. You've got the looks, you speak the Spanish, you know the facts, you can tell about Texas, you've got the tattoo mark. When I notify themthat the rightful heir has returned and is waiting to know whether hewill be received and pardoned, what will happen? They'll simply rushdown here and fall on your neck, and the curtain goes down forrefreshments and a stroll in the lobby. "

"I'm waiting, " said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in your camplong, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you intend to let itgo at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken in my man, that's all. "

"Thanks, " said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long time thatkeeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest of it is simple. If they take you in only for a while it's long enough. Don't give 'emtime to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. Old Uriquekeeps anywhere from $50, 000 to $100, 000 in his house all the time in alittle safe that you could open with a shoe buttoner. Get it. My skillas a tattooer is worth half the boodle. We go halves and catch a trampsteamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United States go to pieces if it can'tget along without my services. _Que dice, señor?_"

"It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for thedust. "

"All right, then, " said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close until we getthe bird on you. You can live in the back room here. I do my owncooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious Governmentwill allow me. "

Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before thedesign that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was to his notion. And then Thacker called a _muchacho_, and despatched this note to theintended victim:

 EL SEÑOR DON SANTOS URIQUE, LA CASA BLANCA. 

 _My Dear Sir:_ I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as a temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras from the United States some days ago. Without wishing to excite any hopes that may not be realized, I think there is a possibility of his being your long-absent son. It might be well for you to call and see him. If he is, it is my opinion that his intention was to return to his home, but upon arriving here, his courage failed him from doubts as to how he would be received. 

 Your true servant, THOMPSON THACKER. 

Half an hour afterward--quick time for Buenas Tierras--Señor Urique'sancient landau drove to the consul's door, with the barefooted coachmanbeating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward horses. 

A tall man with a white mustache alighted, and assisted to the ground alady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black. 

The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his bestdiplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with clear-cut, sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black hair. 

Señora Urique threw back her heavy veil with a quick gesture. She waspast middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her full, proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the beauty peculiarto the Basque province. But, once you had seen her eyes, andcomprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their deep shadowsand hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived only in somememory. 

She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonizedquestioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze rested uponhis left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming to shake theroom, she cried "_Hijo mio!_" and caught the Llano Kid to her heart. 

III

A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to a messagesent by Thacker. 

He looked the young Spanish _caballero_. His clothes were imported, andthe wiles of the jewelers had not been spent upon him in vain. A morethan respectable diamond shone on his finger as he rolled a shuckcigarette. 

"What's doing?" asked Thacker. 

"Nothing much, " said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana steakto-day. They're them big lizards, you _sabe_? I reckon, though, thatfrijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care foriguanas, Thacker?"

"No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles, " said Thacker. 

It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in hisstate of beatitude. 

"It's time you were making good, sonny, " he went on, with an ugly lookon his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square. You've beenthe prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have had veal forevery meal on a gold dish if you'd wanted it. Now, Mr. Kid, do you thinkit's right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? What's the trouble?Don't you get your filial eyes on anything that looks like cash in theCasa Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. Everybody knows where old Uriquekeeps his stuff. It's U. S. Currency, too; he don't accept anythingelse. What's doing? Don't say 'nothing' this time. "

"Why, sure, " said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's plenty ofmoney up there. I'm no judge of collateral in bunches, but I willundertake for to say that I've seen the rise of $50, 000 at a time inthat tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he lets mecarry the key sometimes just to show me that he knows I'm the reallittle Francisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago. "

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker angrily. "Don't youforget that I can upset your apple cart any day I want to. If old Uriqueknew you were an impostor, what sort of things would happen to you? Oh, you don't know this country, Mr. Texas Kid. The laws here have gotmustard spread between 'em. These people here'd stretch you out like afrog that had been stepped on, and give you about fifty sticks at everycorner of the plaza. And they'd wear every stick out, too. What was leftof you they'd feed to alligators. "

"I might as well tell you now, pardner, " said the Kid, sliding down lowon his steamer chair, "that things are going to stay just as they are. They're about right now. "

"What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his glass onhis desk. 

"The scheme's off, " said the Kid. "And whenever you have the pleasure ofspeaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I'll guarantee I'llanswer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep his money. His little tinsafe is as good as the time-locker in the First National Bank of Laredoas far as you and me are concerned. "

"You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the consul. 

"Sure, " said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. And nowI'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the colonel's house theyintroduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor--a real room, witha bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in comes thisartificial mother of mine and tucks in the covers. 'Panchito, ' she says, 'my little lost one, God has brought you back to me. I bless his nameforever. ' It was that, or some truck like that, she said. And down comesa drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. And all that stuck by me, Mr. Thacker. And it's been that way ever since. And it's got to staythat way. Don't you think that it's for what's in it for me, either, that I say so. If you have any such ideas, keep 'em to yourself. Ihaven't had much truck with women in my life, and no mothers to speakof, but here's a lady that we've got to keep fooled. Once she stood it;twice she won't. I'm a low-down wolf, and the devil may have sent me onthis trail instead of God, but I'll travel it to the end. And now, don'tforget that I'm Don Francisco Urique whenever you happen to mention myname. "

"I'll expose you to-day, you--you double-dyed traitor, " stammeredThacker. 

The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with ahand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then he drew fromunder his left arm his pearl-handled . 45 and poked the cold muzzle of itagainst the consul's mouth. 

"I told you why I come here, " he said, with his old freezing smile. "IfI leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. Now, whatis my name?"

"Er--Don Francisco Urique, " gasped Thacker. 

From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some one, andthe sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs of fat horses. 

The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he turned againand came back to the trembling Thacker, and held up his left hand withits back toward the consul. 

"There's one more reason, " he said slowly, "why things have got to standas they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of them same pictureson his left hand. "

Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the door. The coachman ceased his bellowing. Señora Urique, in a voluminous gaygown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned forward with a happy lookin her great soft eyes. 

"Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling Castilian. 

"_Madre mio, yo vengo_ [mother, I come], " answered the young DonFrancisco Urique. 

AN OLD-TIME SINGER

BY FRANK L. STANTON

 I don't want any hymnbook when the Methodists is nigh, A-linin' out the ol' ones that went thrillin' to the sky In the ol' campmeetin' seasons, when 'twuz "Glory hallelu!" An' "Brother, rise an' tell us what the Lord has done fer you!"

 Fer I know them songs so perfect that when I git the swing O' the tune they want to go to I kin shet my eyes an' sing! "On Jordan's stormy banks, " an' ol' "Amazin' Grace"--they seem So nat'ral, I'm like some one that's singin' in a dream!

 Oh, when it comes to them ol' songs I allus does my part; An' I've got the ol'-time Bible down, as you might say, "by heart!" When the preacher says the fust word in the givin' of his text I smile with satisfaction, kaze I know what's comin' next!

 The wife says: "That's amazin'!" an' the preacher says--says he, With lots o' meanin' in his voice, an' lookin' queer at me "Sence you know more o' the Bible than the best o' us kin teach, Don't you think you orter practice what you're payin' us to preach?"

 Well, _that_ gits me in a _corner_--an' I sorter raise my eyes An' the tune about them titles to the "mansions in the skies"! I want the benediction then--I'm ready to depart! But when it comes to singin'--well, I've got the hymns by heart!

BREITMANN IN POLITICS

SHOWING HOW MR. HIRAM TWINE "PLAYED OFF" ON SMITH

BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND

 VIDE LICET: Dere vas a fillage Whose vode alone vouldt pe Apout enoof to elegdt a man, Und gife a mayority; So de von who couldt scoop dis seddlement Vould make a pully hit; Boot dough dey vere Deutschers, von und all, Dey all go von on Schmit. 

 Now it happenet to gome to bass Dat in dis liddle town De Deutsch vas all exshpegdin Dat Mishder Schmit coom down, His brinciples to fore-setzen Und his ideés to deach, (Dat is, fix oop de brifate pargains) Und telifer a pooblic sbeech. 

 Now Twine vas a gyrotwistive cuss, Ash blainly ish peen shown, Und vas alfays an out-findin Votefer might pe known; Und mit some of his circumswindles He fix de matter so Dat he'd pe himself at dis meetin And see how dings vas go. 

 Oh shtrangely in dis leben De dings kits vorked apout! Oh voonderly Fortuna Makes toorn us insite out! Oh sinkular de luck-wheel rolls! Dis liddle meeding dere Fixt Twine _ad perpendiculum_-- Shoost suit him to a hair!

 Now it hoppenit on dis efenin De Deutschers, von und all, Vere avaitin mit impatience De openin of de ball; Und de shates of nite vere fallin Und de shdars begin to plink, Und dey vish dat Schmit vouldt hoorry, For 'dvas dime to dake a trink. 

 Dey hear some hoofs a-dramplin, Und dey saw, und dinked dey knowed, Der bretty greature coomin, On his horse along de road; Und ash he ride town in-ward De likeness vas so plain Dey donnered out, "Hooray for Schmit!" Enough to make it rain. 

 Der Twine vas shtart like plazes; Boot oopshtarted too his wit, Und he dinks, "Great Turnips! what if I Could bass for Colonel Schmit? Gaul dern my heels! _I'll do it_, Und go the total swine! Oh, Soap-balls! what a chance!" said dis Dissembulatin Twine. 

 Den 'twas "Willkomm! willkomm, Mishder Schmit!" Ringsroom on efery site; Und "First-rate! How dy-do yourself?" Der Hiram Twine replied. Dey ashk him, "Come und dake a trink?" But dey find it mighdy queer Ven Twine informs dem none boot hogs Vould trink dat shtinkin bier;

 Dat all lager vas nodings boot boison; Und ash for Sherman wein, He dinks it vas erfounden Exshbressly for Sherman schwein; Dat he himself vas a demperanceler-- Dat he gloria in de name; Und atfise dem all, for tecency's sake, To go und do de same. 

 Dese bemarks among de Deutschers Vere apout ash vell receife Ash a cats in a game of den-bins, Ash you may of coorse peliefe: De heat of de reception Vent down a dootzen tegrees, Und in place of hurraws dere vas only heardt De rooslin of de drees. 

 Und so in solemn stille Dey scorched him to de hall, Vhere he maket de oradion Vitch vas so moosh to blease dem all; Und dis vay he pegin it: "Pefore I furder go, I vish dat my obinions You puddin-het Dootch should know. 

 "Und ere I norate to you, I think it only fair We should oonderstand each other Prezactly, chunk and square. Dere are boints on vhich ve tisagree, And I will plank de facts-- I don't go round slanganderin My friendts pehind deir packs. 

 "So I beg you dake it easy If on de raw I touch, Vhen I say I can't apide de sound Of your groontin, shi-shing Dutch. Should I in the Legisladure As your slumgullion shtand, I'll have a bill forbidding Dutch Troo all dis 'versal land. 

 "Should a husband talk it to his frau, To deat' he should pe led; If a mutter breat' it to her shild, I'd bunch her in de head; Und I'm sure dat none vill atfocate Ids use in public schools, Oonless dey're peastly, nashdy, prutal, Sauerkraut-eaten vools. "

 Here Mishder Twine, to gadder breat, Shoost make a liddle pause, Und see sechs hundert gapin eyes, Sechs hundert shdarin chaws, Dey shtanden erstarrt like frozen; Von faindly dried to hiss; Und von set: "Ish it shleeps I'm treamin? Gottausend! vat ish dis?"

 Twine keptet von eye on de vindow, Boot poldly went ahet: "Of your oder shtinkin hobits No vordt needt hier pe set. Shtop goozlin bier--shtop shmokin bipes-- Shtop rootin in de mire; Und shoost _un-Dutchify_ yourselfs: Dat's all dat I require. "

 Und _denn_ dere coomed a shindy, Ash if de shky hat trop: "Trow him mit ecks, py doonder! Go shlog him on de kop! Hei! Shoot him mit a powie-knifes; Go for him, ganz and gar! Shoost tar him mit some fedders! Led's fedder him mit tar!"

 Sooch a teufel's row of furie Vas nefer oop-kickt before: Soom roosh to on-climb de blatform-- Soom hoory to fasten te toor: Von veller vired his refolfer, Boot de pullet missed her mark: She coot de cort of de shandelier: It vell, und de hall vas tark!

 Oh, vell was it for Hiram Twine Dat nimply he couldt shoomp; Und vell dat he light on a misthauf, Und nefer feel de boomp; Und vell for him dat his goot cray horse Shtood sattled shoost outside; Und vell dat in an augenblick He vas off on a teufel's ride. 

 Bang! bang! de sharp pistolen shots Vent pipin py his ear, Boot he tortled oop de barrick road Like any mountain deer: Dey trowed der Hiram Twine mit shteins, But dey only could be-mark Von climpse of his vhite obercoadt, Und a clotterin in de tark. 

 So dey all versembled togeder, Ein ander to sprechen mit, Und allow dat sooch a rede Dey nefer exshpegd from Schmit-- Dat he vas a foorst-glass plackguard, And so pig a Lump ash ran; So, _nemine contradicente_, Dey vented for Breitmann. 

 Und 'twas annerthalb yar dereafter Before der Schmit vas know Vot maket dis rural fillage Go pack oopon him so; Und he schvored at de Dootch more schlimmer Ash Hiram Twine had tone. _Nota bene_: He tid it in earnesht, Vhile der Hiram's vas pusiness fun. 

 Boot vhen Breitmann heard de shdory, How de fillage hat peen dricked, He shvore bei Leib und Leben He'd rader hafe been licked Dan be helped bei sooch shumgoozlin; Und 'twas petter to pe a schwein Dan a schwindlin honeyfooglin shnake, Like dat lyin Yankee Twine. 

 Und pegot so heafy disgoosted Mit de boledicks of dis land, Dat his friendts couldn't barely keep him From trowin oop his hand, Vhen he helt shtraidt flush, mit an ace in his poot; Vich phrase ish all de same, In de science of de pokerology, Ash if he got de game. 

 So Breitmann cot elegtet, Py vollowin de vay Dey manage de elegdions Unto dis fery day; Vitch shows de Deutsch _Dummehrlichkeit_, Also de Yankee "wit": Das ist Abenteuer How Breitmann lick der Schmit. 

LOVE SONG

BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND

 Overe mine lofe a sugar-powl, De fery shmallest loomp Vouldt shveet de seas from bole to bole, Und make de shildren shoomp. Und if she vere a clofer-fieldt, I'd bet mine only pence, It vouldn't pe no dime at all Pefore I'd shoomp de fence. 

 Her heafenly foice it drill me so, It really seems to hoort; She ish de holiest anamile Dat roons oopon de dirt. De re'nbow rises ven she sings, De sonn shine ven she dalk, De angels crow und flop deir vings Ven she goes out to valk. 

 So livin vhite--so carnadine-- Mine lofe's gomblexion glow; It's shoost like abendcarmosine Rich gleamin on de shnow. Her soul makes plooshes in her sheek, As sommer reds de wein, Or sonlight sends a fire-life troo An blank karfunkelstein. 

 De ueberschwengliche idées Dis lofe put in my mind, Vould make a foostrate philosoph Of any human kind. 'Tis shuderned sweet on eart' to meet An himmlisch-hoellisch qual, Und treat mit whiles to kümmel schnapps De Shoenheitsideál. 

CONTENTMENT

"_Man wants but little here below_"

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

 Little I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone, (A _very plain_ brownstone will do, ) That I may call my own;-- And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. 

 Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten;-- If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen! I always thought cold victual nice;-- My _choice_ would be vanilla-ice. 

 I care not much for gold or land;-- Give me a mortgage here and there, -- Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, Or trifling railroad share, -- I only ask that Fortune send A _little_ more than I shall spend. 

 Honors are silly toys, I know, And titles are but empty names; I would, _perhaps_, be Plenipo, -- But only near St. James; I'm very sure I should not care To fill our Gubernator's chair. 

 Jewels are bawbles; 'tis a sin To care for such unfruitful things;-- One good-sized diamond in a pin, -- Some, _not so large_, in rings, -- A ruby, and a pearl, or so, Will do for me;--I laugh at show. 

 My dame should dress in cheap attire; (Good, heavy silks are never dear;)-- I own perhaps I _might_ desire Some shawls of true Cashmere, -- Some marrowy crapes of China silk, Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. 

 I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks must stop and stare; An easy gait--two, forty-five-- Suits me; I do not care;-- Perhaps, for just a _single spurt_, Some seconds less would do no hurt. 

 Of pictures, I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four, -- I love so much their style and tone, -- One Turner, and no more, (A landscape, --foreground golden dirt, -- The sunshine painted with a squirt. )

 Of books but few, --some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; The rest upon an upper floor;-- Some _little_ luxury _there_ Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream. 

 Busts, cameos, gems, --such things as these, Which others often show for pride, _I_ value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride;-- _One_ Stradivarius, I confess, _Two_ Meerschaums, I would fain possess. 

 Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;-- Shall not carved tables serve my turn, But _all_ must be of buhl? Give grasping pomp its double share, -- I ask but _one_ recumbent chair. 

 Thus humble let me live and die, Nor long for Midas' golden touch; If Heaven more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them _much_, -- Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and mind content!

TOM'S MONEY

BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD

Mrs. Laughton had found what she had been looking for all her life--theman under her bed. 

Every night of her nearly thirty years of existence this pretty littleperson had stooped on her knees, before saying her prayers, and hadinvestigated the space beneath her bed, a light brass affair, hung witha chintz valance; had then peered beneath the dark recess of thedressing-case, and having looked in the deep drawer of the bureau andinto the closet, she fastened her door and felt as secure as a snail ina shell. As she never, in this particular business, seemed to have anyconfidence in Mr. Laughton, in spite of the fact that she admired himand adored him, neither his presence nor his absence ever made anyvariation in the performance. She had gone through the motions, however, for so long a time that they had come to be in a manner perfunctory, andthe start she received on this night of which I speak made her prayersquite impossible. 

What was she to do? She, a coward _par eminence_, known to be the mosttimorous of the whole family; her tremors at all sorts of imagineddangers affording laughter to the flock of sisters and brothers. Shouldshe stay on her knees after having seen that dark shape, as if going onwith her prayers, while revolving some plan of procedure? That was outof the question. Scream? She couldn't have screamed to save her life. Run? She could no more have set one foot before the other, than if herbody had melted from the waist down. She was deadly faint and cold andshaking, and all in a second, in the fraction of a second, before shehad risen from her stooping posture. 

Oh, why wasn't it Virginia instead? Virginia had always had such heroicplans of making the man come out of his hiding-place at the point of herpistol; and Virginia could cock a pistol and wasn't covered with coldshivers at the sight of one, as she was. If it had only been Francie, whose shrill voice could have been heard over the side of the earth, orJuliet, whose long legs would have left burglar, and house, too, in thebackground between the opening and slamming of a door. Either of themwas so much more fit than she, the chicken-hearted one of the family, tocope with this creature. And they were all gone to the wedding withFred, and would not be at home till to-morrow; and Tom had just returnedfrom the town and handed her his roll of bills, and told her to takecare of it till he came back from galloping down to the works withJules; and she had tucked it into her belt, and had asked him, a littlequakingly, what if any of the men of the Dead Line that they had heardof or Red Dan or an Apache came along; and he had laughed, and said shehad better ask them in and reproach them for making such strangers ofthemselves as not to have called in the two years she had been in thispart of the country; and she had the two maids with her, and he shouldbe back directly. And she had looked out after him a moment over thewide prairie to the hills, all bathed in moonlight, and felt as if shewere a spirit alone in a dead world. And here she was now, the two maidsaway in the little wing, locked out by the main house, alone with aburglar, and not another being nearer than the works, a half-mile off. 

How did this man know that she was without any help here? How did heknow that Tom was coming back with the money to pay the men that night?How did he happen to be aware that Tom's money was all in the house?Evidently he was one of the men. No one else could have known anythingabout it. If that money was taken, nobody would believe the story; Tomwould be cashiered; he never could live through the disgrace; he woulddie of a broken heart, and she of another. They had come out to thisremote and lonesome country to build up a home and a fortune; and somany people would be stricken with them! What a mischance for her to beleft with the whole thing in her hands, her little, weak, tremblinghands--Tom's honor, his good name and his success, their fortune, thewelfare of the whole family, the livelihood of all the men, the safetyof the enterprise! What made Tom risk things so! How could he put her insuch jeopardy? To be sure, he thought the dogs would be safeguardenough, but they had gone scouring after him. And if they hadn't, howcould dogs help her with a man under the bed?

It was worse than any loss of money to have such a wretch as this sonear one, so shudderingly, so awfully near, to be so close as this tothe bottomless pit itself! What was she to do? Escape? The possibilitydid not cross her mind. Not once did she think of letting Tom's moneygo. All but annihilated by terror in that heartbeat, she herself was thelast thing she thought of. 

Light and electricity are swift, but thought is swifter. As I said, thiswas all in the fraction of a second. Then Mrs. Laughton was on her feetagain and before a pendulum could have more than swung backward. The manmust know she saw him. She took the light brass bedstead and sent itrolling away from her with all her might and main leaving the creatureuncovered. He lay easily on one side, a stout little club like apoliceman's billy in his hand, some weapons gleaming in his belt, putting up the other hand to grasp the bedstead as it rolled away. 

"You look pretty, don't you?" said she. 

Perhaps this was as much of a shock to the man as his appearance hadbeen to her. He was not acquainted with the saying that it is only theunexpected that happens. 

"Get up, " said she. "I'd _be_ a man if I _was_ a man. Get up. I'm notgoing to hurt you. "

If the intruder had any sense of humor, this might have touched it; theidea of this little fairy-queen of a woman, almost small enough to havestepped out of a rain-lily, hurting him! But it was so different fromwhat he had been awaiting that it startled him; and then, perhaps, hehad some of the superstition that usually haunts the evil and ignorant, and felt that such small women were uncanny. He was on his feet now, towering over her. 

"No, " said he, gruffly; "I don't suppose you're going to hurt me. AndI'm not going to hurt you, if you hand over that money. "

"What money?" opening her eyes with a wide sort of astonishment. 

"Come! None of your lip. I want that money!"

"Why, I haven't any money! Oh, yes, I have, to be sure, but--"

"I thought you'd remember it, " said the man, with a grin. 

"But I want it!" she exclaimed. 

"I want it, too!" said he. 

"Oh, it wouldn't do you any good, " she reasoned. "Fifteen dollars. Andit's all the money I've got in the world!"

"I don't want no fifteen dollars, " said the man; "and I don't want noneof your chinning. I want the money your husband's going to pay offwith--"

"Oh, Tom's money!" in quite a tone of relief. "Oh! I haven't anything todo with Tom's money. If you can get any money out of Tom it's more than_I_ can do. And I wouldn't advise you to try, either; for he alwayscarries a pistol in the same pocket with it, and he's covered all overwith knives and derringers and bull-dogs, so that sometimes _I_ don'tlike to go near him till he's unloaded. You have to, in this country ofdesperadoes. You see--"

"Yes, I see, you little hen-sparrer, " his eyes coming back to her from asurvey of the room, "that you've got Tom's money in the house here, andwould like to throw me off the scent!"

"If I had, " said she, "you'd only get it across my dead body! Hadn't youbetter look for it, and have me tell you when you're hot and when you'recold?"

"Come!" said he, again; "I've had enough of your slack--"

"You're not very polite, " she said, with something like a pout. 

"People in my line ain't, " he answered, grimly. "I want that money! andI want it now! I've no time to lose. I'd rather come by it peaceable, "he growled, "but if--"

"Well, you can take it; of course, you're the stronger. But I told youbefore, it's all I have, and I've very particular use for it. You justsit down!" she cried, indicating a chair, with the air of really havingbeen alone so long in these desolate regions as to be glad of havingsome one to talk to, and throwing herself into the big one opposite, because in truth she could not stand up another moment. And perhapsfeeling as if a wren were expostulating with him about robbing hernest, the man dropped the angry arm with which he had threatened her, and leaned over the back of the chair. 

"There it is, " said she, "right under your hand all the time. You won'thave to rip up the mattress for it, or rummage the clothes-press, orhunt through the broken crockery on the top shelves of the kitchencupboard, " she ran on, as if she were delighted to hear the sound of herown voice, and couldn't talk fast enough. "I always leave my purse onthe dressing-case, though Tom has told me, time and again, it wasn'tsafe. But out here--"

"Stop!" thundered the man. "If you know enough to stop. Stop! or I'llcut your cursed tongue out and make you stop. And then, I suppose, you'dgurgle. That's not what I want--though I'll take it. I've told _you_, time and again, that I want the paymaster's money. That isn't rightunder my hand--and where is it? I'll put daylight through that littlefalse heart of yours if you don't give it to me without five morewords--"

"And I've told you just as often that I've nothing to do with thepaymaster's money, and I wish you would put daylight _anywhere_, forthen my husband would come home and make an end of you!" And with thegreat limpid tears overflowing her blue eyes, Rose Laughton knew thatthe face she turned up at him was enough to melt the sternest heartgoing. 

"Do you mean to tell me--" said he, evidently wavering, and possiblyinclining to doubt if, after all, she were not telling the truth, as noman in his senses would leave such a sum of money in the keeping of sucha simpleton. 

"I don't mean to tell you anything!" she cried. "You won't believe aword I say, and I never had any one doubt my word before. I _hate_ tohave you take that fifteen dollars, though. You never would in theworld, if you knew how much self-denial it stands for. Every time Ithink I would like an ice-cream, out in this wilderness, where you mightas well ask for an iceberg, I've made Tom give me the _price_ of one. You won't find anything but ribbons _there_. And when I've felt as if Ishould go wild if I couldn't have a box of Huyler's candy, I've made Tomgive me the price of _that_. There's only powder and tweezers andfrizzes in those boxes, " as he went over the top of the dressing-case, still keeping a lookout on her. "And when we were all out of lager andapollinaris, and Tom couldn't--that's my laces, and I wish you wouldn'tfinger them; I don't believe your hands are clean--and Tom couldn't getanything to drink, I've made him put in the price of a drink, and lotsof ten-cent pieces came that way, and--But I don't imagine you care tohear about all that. What makes you look at me so?" For the man had lefthis search again, and his glance was piercing her through and through. "Oh, your eyes are like augers turning to live coals!" she cried. "Isthat the way you look at your wife? Do you look at your children thesame way?"

"That lay won't work, " said he, with another grin. "I ain't got nofeelings to work on. I ain't got no wife or kids. "

"I'm sure that's fortunate, " said Mrs. Laughton. "A family wouldn't haveany peace of their lives with you following such a dangerous business. And they couldn't see much of you either. I must say I think you'd be agreat deal happier if you reformed--I mean--well, if you left thisbusiness, and took up a quarter-section, and had a wife and--"

"Look here!" cried the man, his patience gone. "Are you a fool, or areyou bluffing me? I've half a mind to knock your head in, " he cried, "and hunt the house over for myself! I would, if there was time. "

"You wouldn't find anything if you did, " she returned, leaning back inher chair. "I've looked often enough, when I thought Tom had some money. I never found any. What are you going to do now?" with a cry of alarm athis movement. 

"I'm going to tie you hand and foot first--"

"Oh, I wouldn't! I'd rather you wouldn't--really! I promise you I won'tleave this chair--"

"I don't mean you shall. "

"Oh, how can you treat me so!" she exclaimed, lifting up her streamingface. "You don't look like a person to treat a woman so. I don't like tobe tied; it makes me feel so helpless. "

"What kind of a dumb fool be you, anyway?" said the man, stopping amoment to stare at her. And he made a step then toward the high chest ofdrawers, half bureau, half writing-desk, for a ball of tape he saw lyingthere. 

"Oh!" she cried, remembering the tar-baby. "Don't! Don't go there! Formercy's sake, don't go there!" raising her voice till it was like thewind in the chimney. "Oh, please don't go there!" At which, as iffeeling morally, or rather immorally, sure that what he had come for wasin that spot, he seized the handles of the drawer, and down fell the lidupon his head with a whack that jammed his hat over his eyes and blindedhim with pain and fury for an instant. And in that instant she hadwhipped the roll of money from her belt, and had dropped it underneathher chair. "I knew it!" she cried. "I knew it would! It always does. Itold you not to go. "

"You shet your mouth quick!" roared the man, with a splutter of oathsbetween each word. 

"That's right, " she said, leaning over the arm of the chair, her facelike a pitying saint's. "Don't mind me, I always tell Tom to swear, whenhe jams his thumb. I know how it is myself when I'm driving a nail. It'sa great relief. I'd put some cold water on your head, but I promised youI wouldn't stir out of the chair--"

The man went and sat down in the chair on whose back he had beenleaning. 

"I swear, I don't know what to make of you, " said he, rubbing his headruefully. 

"You can make friends with me, " said she. "That's what you can do. I'msure I've shown you that I'm friendly enough. I never believe any harmof any one till I see it myself. I don't blame you for wanting themoney. I'm always in want of money. I've told you you might take mine, though I don't want you to. But I shouldn't give you Tom's money, evenif I knew where it was. Tom would kill me if I did, and I might as wellbe killed by you as by Tom--and better. You can make friends with me, and be some protection to me till my husband comes. I'm expecting himand Jules every moment. "

The man started to his feet. 

"Do you see that?" he cried, holding his revolver under her nose. "Lookright into that gun! We'll have no more fooling. It'll be your last lookif you don't tell me where that money is before I count three. "

She put out her hand and calmly moved it aside. 

"I've looked into those things ever since I've lived on the prairie, "said she. "And I dare say it won't go off--mine won't. Besides, I knowvery well you wouldn't shoot a woman, and you can't make bricks withoutstraw; and then I've told you I don't know anything about that money. "

"You are a game one, " said he. 

"No, I'm not, " she replied. "I'm the most tremendous coward. I've comeout here in this wild country to live, and I'm alone a great deal, and Iquake at every sound, every creak of a timber, every rustle of thegrass. And you don't know anything about what it is to have your heartstand still with horror of a wild beast or a wild Indian or adeserter--a deserting soldier. There's a great Apache down there now, stretched out in his blanket on the floor, before the fire in thekitchen. And I came up here as quick as I could, to lock the door behindus and sit up till Tom came home, and I declare, I never was so thankfulin all my life as I was just now to see a white face when I looked atyou!"

"Well, I'll be--! Apache!" cried the visitor. "See here, little one, you've saved your husband's money for him. You're a double-handful ofpluck. I haven't any idea but you know where it's hid--but I've got tobe making tracks. If it wasn't for waking that Apache I'd leave RedDan's handwriting on the wall. "

And almost while he was speaking he had swung himself out of the windowto the roof of the porch and had dropped to the ground and made off. 

Mrs. Laughton waited till she thought he must be out of hearing, leaningout as if she were gazing at the moon. Then she softly shut and fastenedthe sash, and crept with shaking limbs to the door and unlocked it, andfell in a dead faint across the threshold. And there, when he returnedsome three-quarters of an hour later, Tom found her. 

"Oh, Tom!" she sobbed, when she became conscious that she was lying inhis arms, his heart beating like a trip-hammer, his voice hoarse withfright as he implored her to open her eyes; "_is_ there an Apache in thekitchen?"

RUBAIYAT OF MATHIEU LETTELLIER

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

 Dere's six chil_dren_ in our fam'lee, Dey's mos'ly girls an' boys; 'Toinette an' me wos t'ankful sure For all de happy joys; Dere's Pierre, an' little Rosalie, Antoine, Marie an' Jeanne, An' Paul he's com' now soon twelf year, Mos' close to be a man. 

 I's lof' all of _la petite femme_, De garçon mak' me proud, I haf gr'ad aspiratione For all dat little crowd; My Pierre shall be wan doctor mans, Rosalie will teach school, Antoine an' Jeanne shall rone de farm, Marie som' man will rule. 

 An' Paul shall be a _curé_ sure, I'll haf heem educate', I work it all out on my head, Oh, I am moch elate; Dis all of course w'en dey grow op; But I t'ink 'bout it now; So w'en de tam' was com' for ac', I'll know de way an' how. 

 Long tam' ago, w'en Paul firs' com', He mak' a lot of noise; He's keep me trot, bot' day an' night, He was wan naughty boys; At wan o'clock, at two o'clock, Annee ol' tam' suit heem, He's mak' us geeve de gran' parade Jus' as he tak' de w'im. 

 Sooding molass' an' peragork, On heem ve pour it down, An' soon he let his music op, An' don' ac' more lak' clown, An' den _ma femme_ an' me lay down To get a little doze, For w'en you are wan fam'lee man You don' gat moch repose. 

 But w'at's de use to mak' de kick, Dees fellows boss de place; I'd radder hear de healt'y lung An' see de ruddy face Dan run a gr'ad big doctor's bill, An' geeve de ol' sex_tone_ De job, for bury all my kids, An' leave me all alone. 

 An' so our hands is quite ver' full, Will be, for som' tam' long, But ven old age is dreeft our vay An' rest is our belong, It's den ve'll miss de gran' rac_quette_, -- May want again de noise Of six more little children An' mos'ly girls and boys. 

BIGGS' BAR

BY HOWARD V. SUTHERLAND

 'Twas a sultry afternoon, about the middle of July, And the men who loafed in Dawson were feeling very dry. Of liquor there had long been none except a barrel or two, And that was kept by Major Walsh for himself and a lucky few. 

 Now, the men who loaf in Dawson are loafers to the bone, And take it easy in a way peculiarly their own; They sit upon the sidewalks and smoke and spit and chew, And watch the other loafers, and wonder who is who. 

 They only work in winter, when the days are short and cold, And then they heat their cabins, and talk and talk of gold; They talk about provisions, and sometimes take a walk, But then they hurry back again and talk, and talk, and talk. 

 And the men who loaf in Dawson are superior to style, For the man who wears a coat _and_ vest is apt to cause a smile; While he who sports suspenders or a belt would be a butt, And cause ironic comment, and end by being cut. 

 The afternoon was sultry, as I said some time before; 'Twas fully ninety in the shade (in the sun a darn sight more), And the men who sat on the sidewalks were, one and all, so dry That only one perspired, though every one did try. 

 Six men were sitting in a line and praying God for air; They were Joaquin Miller and "Lumber" Lynch and "Stogey" Jack Ver Mehr, "Swift-water" Bill and "Caribou" Bill and a sick man from the hills, Who came to town to swap his dust for a box of liver pills. 

 I said they prayed for air, and yet perhaps I tell a lie, For none of them are holy men, and all of them were dry; And so I guess 'tis best for me to say just what I think-- They prayed the Lord to pity them and send them all a drink. 

 Then up spoke Joaquin Miller, as he shook his golden locks, And picked the Dawson splinters from his moccasins and socks (The others paid attention, for when times are out of joint What Joaquin Miller utters is always to the point):

 "A foot-sore, weary traveler, " the Poet then began, "Did tell me many moons ago, --and oh! I loved the man, -- That Biggs who owns the claim next mine had started up a bar. Let's wander there and quench our thirst. " All answered, "Right you are. "

 Now, Biggs is on Bonanza Creek, claim ninety-six, below; There may be millions in it, and there may not; none will know Until he gets to bedrock or till bedrock comes to him-- For Arthur takes it easy and is strictly in the swim. 

 It is true, behind his cabin he has sunk a mighty shaft (When the husky miners saw it they turned aside and laughed); But Biggs enjoys his bacon, and smokes his pipe and sings, Content to be enrolled among the great Bonanza Kings. 

 'Tis full three miles from Dawson town to Biggs' little claim; The miners' curses on the trail would make you blush with shame The while they slip, or stub their toes against the roots, or sink Twelve inches in the mud and slime before their eyes can wink. 

 But little cared our gallant six for roots, or slime, or mud, For they were out for liquor as a soldier is for blood; They hustled through the forest, nor stopped until they saw Biggs, wrapt in contemplation, beside his cabin door. 

 He rose to greet his visitors, and ask them for the news, And said he was so lonesome that he always had the blues; He hadn't seen a paper for eighteen months, he said, And that had been in Japanese--a language worse than dead. 

 They satisfied his thirst for news, then thought they of their own, And Miller looked him in the eye and gave a little groan, And all six men across their mouths did pass a sun-burnt hand In a manner most deliberate, which all can understand. 

 "We heard you keep a bar, good Biggs, " the gentle Poet said! "And so we thought we'd hold you up, and we are almost dead!" He said no more. Biggs understood, and thusly spoke to them In accents somewhat British and prefixed with a "Hem!"

 "The bar you'll find a few yards hence as up that trail you go; I never keep my liquor in the blooming 'ouse, you know. Just mush along and take a drink, and when you are content Come back and tell me, if you can, who now is President. "

 They mushed along, those weary men, nor looked to left or right, But thought of how each cooling drink would trickle out of sight; And very soon they found the goal they came for from afar-- _A keg, half full of water, in a good old gravel bar!_

THE BACKSLIDING BROTHER

BY FRANK L. STANTON

 De screech owl screech f'um de ol' barn lof'; "You drinked yo' dram sence you done swear off; En you gwine de way Whar' de sinners stay, En Satan gwine ter roas' you at de Jedgmint Day!"

 Den de ol' ha'nt say, f'um de ol' chu'ch wall: "You des so triflin' dat you _had_ ter fall! En you gwine de way Whar' de brimstone stay, En Satan gwine ter roas' you at de Jedgmint Day!"

 Den I shake en shiver, En I hunt fer kiver, En I cry ter de good Lawd, "Please deliver!" I tell 'im plain Dat my hopes is vain, En I drinked my dram fer ter ease my pain!

 Den de screech owl screech f'um de north ter south "You drinked yo' dram, en you _smacked_ yo' _mouth_! En you gwine de way Whar' de brimstone stay, En Satan gwine ter roas' you at de Jedgmint Day!"

YE LEGEND OF SIR YRONCLADDE

BY WILBUR D. NESBIT

 Now, whenne ye goode knyghte Yroncladde Hadde dwelte in Paradyse A matter of a thousand yeares, He syghed some grievous syghes, And went unto the entrance gate To speake hym in thys wyse:

 "Beholde, I do not wysh to make A rackette, nor a fuss, And yet I fayne wolde hie awaye And cease from livyng thus; For it is moste too peaceful here, And sore monotonous. "

 "Oh, verie welle, " ye keeper sayde, "You shall have your desyre: Go downe uponne ye earth agayne To see whatte you admyre-- But take goode heede that you shall keepe Your trolley on ye wyre. "

 Ryghte gladde was goode Sir Yroncladde To see ye gates unsealed. He toke a jumpe strayghte through ye cloudes To what was there revealed, And strayghtwaye lit uponne ye grounde Whych was a footeball field!

 "Gadzookes!" he sayde; "now, here is sporte! Thys is a goodlie syghte. For joustynges soche as here abound I have an appetyte; So I will amble to ye scrappe, For that is my delyghte. "

 He strode into ye hurtlynge mass, Whence rose a thrillynge sounde Of class yelles, sygnalles, breakynge bones, And moanynges all arounde; And thenne ye footeballe menne tooke hym And pushed hym in ye grounde!

 They brake hys breastplayte into bits, And shattered all hys greaves; They fractured bothe hys myghtie armes Withynne hys chaynemayle sleeves, And wounde hys massyve legges ynto Some oryentalle weaves. 

 Uppe rose ye brave Sir Yroncladde And groaned, "I hadde no wrong! I'll hustle back to Paradyse, And ryng ye entraunce gong; For thys new croppe of earthlie knyghtes At joustynge is too strong; And henceforth thys is my resolve: To staye where I belong!"

WINTER DUSK

BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK

 The prospect is bare and white, And the air is crisp and chill; While the ebon wings of night Are spread on the distant hill. 

 The roar of the stormy sea Seem the dirges shrill and sharp That winter plays on the tree-- His wild Æolian harp. 

 In the pool that darkly creeps In ripples before the gale, A star like a lily sleeps And wiggles its silver tail. 

A MOTHER OF FOUR

BY JULIET WILBOR TOMPKINS

"You are fortunate to find us alone, Mrs. Merritt. With four girls, itis simply terrible--callers underfoot wherever you stir. You must knowsomething about it, with two daughters; so you can fancy it multipliedby two. Really, sometimes I get out of all patience--I haven't a cornerof my house to myself on Sundays! But I realize it is the penalty forhaving four lively daughters, and I have to put up with it. "

Mrs. Merritt, the visitor, had a gently worried air as she glanced fromthe twins, thin and big-boned, reading by the fire, to pretty, affectedAmélie at the tea-table, and the apathetic Enid furtively watching thefront steps from the bay window. Something in her expression seemed toimply a humble wonder as to what might constitute the elements of highpopularity, since her two dear girls--

"Of course, mine have their friends, " she asserted; it was an admissionthat perhaps the door-bell was not overworked. "I enjoy young life, " sheadded. 

"Oh, yes, in moderation!" Mrs. Baldwin laughed from the depths of thecomplacent prosperity that irradiated her handsome white hair and activebrown eyes, her pleasant rosiness, and even her compact stoutness, suggesting strength rather than weight. "But since Enid became engaged, that means Harry all the time--there's my library gone; and with theother three filling both drawing-rooms and the reception-room, I haveto take to the dining-room, myself! There they begin, " she added, asEnid left the window and slipped out into the hall, closing the doorafter her. "Now we shall have no peace until Monday morning. You knowhow it is!"

Mrs. Merritt seemed depressed, and soon took her leave. 

The twins, when they were left alone in the drawing-room, lifted theirheads and exchanged long and solemn looks; then returned to theirreading in silence. When it grew too dark by the fire, they carriedtheir books to the bay window, but drew back as they saw a pale and punyyouth with a retreating chin coming up the front steps. 

"The rush has begun, " murmured Cora. 

"Amélie can have him, " Dora returned. "Let's fly. "

They retreated up-stairs and read peacefully until tea-time. The belldid not ring again. When they came down, Mrs. Baldwin eyed themirritably. 

"Why don't you ask the Carryl boys in to Sunday tea some time? They willthink you have forgotten them. And Mr. White and that nice Mr. Mortonwho lives with him--I am afraid you have offended them in some way. Theyused to be here all the time. "

"They only came twice, and those were party calls, " said Dora bluntly. 

"My dear, you have forgotten, " was the firm answer. "They were hereconstantly. I shall send them a line; I don't like to have them think wehave gone back on them. "

"Oh, I--I wouldn't, " began Cora, but was put down with decision:

"When I need your advice, Cora, I will ask for it. Amélie, dear, youlook tired; I am afraid you have had too much gaiety this afternoon. "

"Oh, I love it! It's the breath of life to me, " said Amélierapturously. The twins again exchanged solemn looks and sat down totheir tea in silence. Mrs. Baldwin attacked them peevishly at intervals;she was cross at Enid also, who had not kept Harry to supper, andpreserved an indifferent silence under questioning. "When I was yourage--!" was the burden of her speech. 

"I must give a dance for you young people, " she decided. "You needlivening up. "

"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Amélie. 

"We have not had one this winter--I don't know what I have been thinkingabout, " Mrs. Baldwin went on with returning cheerfulness. "We won't askmore than a hundred. You must have a new frock, Amélie. Enid, how isyour blue one?"

"Oh, all right, " said Enid indifferently. Mrs. Baldwin turned to thetwins, and found them looking frankly dismayed. 

"Well, what is it now?" she exclaimed. "I am sure I try to give you asgood times as any girls in town; not many mothers on my income would dohalf so much. And you sit looking as if you were going to execution!"

"We--we do appreciate it, mother, " urged Cora, unhappily. 

"But we aren't howling successes at parties, " Dora added. 

"Nonsense! You have partners to spare. " Mrs. Baldwin was plainly angry. "No child of mine was ever a wallflower, nor ever will be. Never let mehear you say such a thing again. You would have twice the attention ifyou weren't always poking off by yourselves; and as it is, you have morethan most girls. You frighten the men--they think you are proud. Show alittle interest in them and see how pleased they will be!"

The twins looked dubious, and seized the first chance to escape. Intheir own room they confronted each other dismally. 

"Of course they will ask us, in our own house; we won't have to sit andsit, " said Cora with a sigh. 

"But it's almost worse when they ask you for that reason, " objectedDora. 

"I know! I feel so sorry for them, and so apologetic. If mother would_only_ let us go and teach at Miss Browne's; then we could show we werereally good for something. We shouldn't have to shine at parties. "

"We shouldn't have to go to them! Come on, let's do some Latin. I wantto forget the hateful thing. "

Cora got down the books and drew their chairs up to the student-lamp. "Iknow I shouldn't be such a stick if I didn't have to wear low neck, " shesaid. "I am always thinking about those awful collar-bones, and tryingto hold my shoulders so as not to make them worse. "

"Oh, don't I know!" Dora had slipped on a soft red wrapper, and threw ablue one to her sister. When they were curled up in their big, cushionedchairs, they smiled appreciatively at each other. 

"Isn't this nicer than any party ever invented?" they exclaimed. Doraopened her books with energy, but Cora sat musing. 

"I dare say that somewhere there are parties for our kind, " she said, finally. "Not with silly little chinless boys or popular men who arealways trying to get away, but men who study and care about things--whogo to Greece and dig ruins, for instance, or study sociology, and thinkmore about one's mind than one's collar-bones. "

Dora shook her head. "But they don't go to parties!"

"Both Mr. Morton and Mr. White do, sometimes, " Cora suggested. "Theyaren't like the rest. I thought that tenement-house work they told usabout was most interesting. But they would call if they wanted to, " sheadded. 

The twins in wrappers, bending over their books, had a certaincomeliness. There was even an austere beauty in their wide, highforeheads, their fine, straight dark hair, their serious gray eyes andsensitive mouths, pensive but not without humor and sweetness. But thetwins in evening dress, their unwilling hair flower-crowned andbolstered into pompadours, their big-boned thinness contrasted withAmélie's plump curves, their elbows betraying the red disks of seriousapplication, were quite another matter, and they knew it. The night ofthe dance they came down-stairs with solemn, dutiful faces, and liftedsubmissive eyes to their mother for judgment. She was looking charminglypretty herself, carrying her thick white hair with a humorous boldness, and her smiling brown eyes were younger than their gray ones. 

"Very well, twinnies! Now you look something like human girls, " she saidgaily. "Run and have a beautiful time. Ah, Amélie, you little fairy!They will all be on their knees to you to-night. Where is Enid?"

"Nowhere near dressed, and she won't hurry, " Amélie explained. "Oh, I amso excited, I shall die! What if no one asks me to dance!"

"Silly!" Mrs. Baldwin laughed. "I am only afraid of your dancingyourself to death. Ah, Mrs. Merritt, how good of you to come with yourdear girls! And Mr. Merritt--this is better than I dared hope. "

The rooms filled rapidly. Enid, after one languid waltz, disappearedwith Harry and was not seen again till supper. Amélie flew from partnerto partner, pouring streams of vivacious talk into patient masculineears. The twins were dutifully taken out in turn and unfailingly broughtback. Both Mr. White and Mr. Morton came, serious young men who dancedlittle, and looked on more as if the affair were a problem in sociologythan an entertainment. There were plenty of men, for Mrs. Baldwin'sentertainments had a reputation in the matter of supper, music, andfloors. 

"After you've worked through the family, you can have a ripping oldtime, " Cora heard one youth explain to another; a moment later he stoodin front of her, begging the honor of a waltz. She felt no resentment;her sympathies were all with him. She looked up with gentle seriousness. 

"You needn't, you know, " she said. "Dora and I don't really expectit--we understand. " He looked so puzzled that she added: "I overheardyou just now, about 'working through the family. '"

He grew distressfully red and stammered wildly. Cora came at once to hisrescue. 

"Really, it's all right. We don't like parties, ourselves; only it ishard on mother to have such sticks of daughters, so we do our best. Butwe never mind when people don't ask us. Sometimes we almost wish theywouldn't. "

The youth was trying desperately to collect himself. "What _do_ youlike, then?" he managed to ask. 

"Oh, books, and the country, and not having to be introduced to people. "She was trying to put him at his ease. "We really do like dancing: we doit better than you'd think, for mother made us keep at it. If only wedidn't have to have partners and think of things to say to them!" Sheheld out her hand, "Thank you ever so much for asking me, but I'd trulyrather not. " He wrung her hand, muttered something about "later, then, "and fled, still red about the ears. Cora returned to her mother. 

"Well, my dear, you seemed to be having a tremendous flirtation withthat youth, " laughed Mrs. Baldwin. "Such a hand-clasp at parting! Don'tdance too hard, child. " She turned to the half-dozen parents supportingher. "These crazy girls of mine will dance themselves to death if Idon't keep an eye on them, " she explained. "Amélie says, 'Mother, howcan I help splitting my dances, when they beg me to?' I am alwaysrelieved when the dance is over and they are safe in bed--then I knowthey aren't killing themselves. The men have no mercy--they never letthem rest an instant. "

"I don't see Miss Enid about, " suggested Mr. Merritt. "I suppose she andher Harry--!"

"Oh, I suppose so!" Mrs. Baldwin shook her head resignedly. "The badchild insists on being married in the spring, but I simply can not facethe idea. What can I do to prevent it, Mrs. Merritt?"

"I am afraid you can't, " smiled Mrs. Merritt. "We mothers all have toface that. "

"Ah, but not so soon! It is dreadful to have one's girls taken away. Iwatch the others like a hawk; the instant a man looks tooserious--pouf!--I whisk him away!"

Cora stood looking down, with set lips; a flush had risen in her usuallypale cheeks. Dora, setting free an impatient partner, joined her andthey drew aside. 

"It does make me so ashamed!" said Cora, impulsively. 

"I think mother really makes herself believe it, " said Dora, withinstant understanding. 

They watched Amélie flutter up to their mother to have a bow retied, andstand radiant under the raillery, though she made a decent pretense ofpouting. Her partner vanished, and Mrs. Baldwin insisted on her resting"for one minute, " which ended when another partner appeared. 

"Amélie is asked much more than we are, always, " Cora suggested. Doranodded at the implication. 

"I know. I wonder why it never seems quite real. Perhaps because thedevoted ones are such silly little men. "

"Or seem to us so, " Cora amended conscientiously. "Don't you wish wemight creep up-stairs? Oh, me, here comes a man, just hating it! Whichdo you suppose he will--Oh, thank you, with pleasure, Mr. Dorr!" Corawas led away, and Dora slipped into the next room, that her mother mightnot be vexed at her partnerless state. 

Mrs. Baldwin saw to it that the twins had partners for supper, andseated them at a table with half a dozen lively spirits, where they atein submissive silence while the talk flowed over and about them. No oneseemed to remember that they were there, yet they felt big and awkward, conspicuous with neglect, thoroughly forlorn. When they rose, the othersmoved off in a group, leaving them stranded. Mrs. Baldwin beckoned themto her table with her fan. 

"Well, twinnies, yours was the noisiest table in the room, " she laughed. "I was quite ashamed of you! When these quiet girls get going--!" sheadded expressively to her group. The twins flushed, standing with shamedeyes averted. In the rooms above the music had started, and the brightprocession moved up the stairs with laughter and the shine of lights onwhite shoulders; they all seemed to belong together, to be glad of oneanother. "Well, run along and dance your little feet off, " said Mrs. Baldwin gaily. 

They hurried away, and without a word mounted by the back stairs totheir own room. When their eyes met, a flash of anger kindled, grew to ablaze. 

"Oh, I won't stand it, I won't!" exclaimed Dora, jerking the wreath offorget-me-nots out of her hair and throwing it on the dressing-table. "We have been humiliated long enough. Cora, we're twenty-four; it istime we had our own way. "

Cora was breathing hard. "Dora, I will never go to another party as longas I live, " she said. 

"Nor I, " declared Dora. 

They sat down side by side on the couch to discuss ways and means. Aweight seemed to be lifted off their lives. In the midst of their eagerplanning the door opened and Mrs. Baldwin looked in at them with adispleased frown. 

"Girls, what does this mean?" she exclaimed. "Come down at once. Whatare you thinking of, to leave your guests like this!"

The twins felt that the moment had come, and instinctively clasped handsas they rose to meet it. 

"Mother, " said Dora firmly, "we have done with parties forever and ever. No one likes us nor wants to dance with us, and we can't stand it anymore. "

"Miss Browne still wants us to come there and teach, " Cora added, hervoice husky but her eyes bright. "So we can be self-supporting, if--ifyou don't approve. We are twenty-four, and we have to live our ownlives. "

They stood bravely for annihilation. Mrs. Baldwin laughed. 

"You foolish twinnies! I know--some one has been hurting your feelings. Believe me, my dears, even I did not always get just the partner myheart was set on! And I cried over it in secret, just like any otherlittle girl. That is life, you know--we can't give up before it. Nowsmooth yourselves and come down, for some of them are leaving. "

She blew them a kiss and went off smiling. After a dejected silence Doratook up the forget-me-not wreath and replaced it. 

"I suppose we might as well finish out this evening, " she said. "But therevolution has begun, Cora!"

"The revolution has begun, " Cora echoed. 

In the drawing-room they found Mrs. Baldwin talking with Mr. Morton andMr. White. They were evidently trying to say good night, but she washolding them as inexorably as if she had laid hands on their coats; orso it seemed to the troubled twins. She summoned her daughters with herbright, amused glance. 

"My dears, " she said, "these two good friends were going to run awayjust because they do not dance the cotillion. We can't allow that. Suppose you take them to the library and make them wholly comfortable. Indeed, they have danced enough, Mr. White; I am thankful to have themstop. I will take the blame if their partners are angry. "

She nodded a smiling dismissal. Disconcerted, wholly ill at ease, thefour went obediently to the library, deserted now that the cotillion wasbeginning. The two men struggled valiantly with the conversation, butthe twins sat stricken to shamed dumbness: no topic could thrive in theface of their mute rigidity. Silences stalked the failing efforts. Mr. White's eyes clung to the clock while his throat dilated with secretyawns; Mr. Morton twisted restlessly and finally let a nervous sighescape. Dora suddenly clasped her hands tightly together. 

"We hate it just as much as you do, " she said distinctly. 

They turned startled faces toward her. Cora paled, but flew to hersister's aid. 

"We knew you didn't want to come, " she added with tremulous frankness. "We would have let you off if we could. If you want to go now, we won'tbe--hurt. "

They rose, and so did the bewildered visitors. 

"I am afraid you have--misunderstood, " began Mr. White. 

"No; we have always understood--everybody, " said Dora, "but we pretendednot to, because mother--But now we have done with society. It is arevolution, and this is our last party. Good night. " She held out herhand. 

"Good night, " repeated Cora, offering hers. The guests took them withthe air of culprits; relief was evidently drowned in astonishment. 

"Well, good night--if we must, " they said awkwardly. 

Mrs. Baldwin, looking into the library half an hour later, found thetwins sitting there alone. 

"Where are your cavaliers?" she demanded. 

"They left long ago, " Dora explained sleepily. "Mayn't we go to bed?"

"Oh, for pity's sake--go!" was the exasperated answer. 

In the morning the twins appeared braced for revolution. When areception for that afternoon was mentioned, they announced firmly thatthey were not going. 

"I think you are wise, " said Mrs. Baldwin amiably. "You both looktired. "

They were conscious of disappointment as well as relief; it was theestablishment of a principle they wanted, not coddling. Three weeks wentby in the same debilitating peace. The twins were smiled on and leftwholly free. They had almost come to believe in a bloodless victory, when Mrs. Baldwin struck--a masterly attack where they were weakest. Herweapon was--not welcome temper, but restrained pathos. 

"A mere fourteen at dinner and a few coming in to dance afterward, andI do want you twinnies to be there. Now I have not asked one thing ofyou for three weeks; don't you think you owe Mother some little return?"

"But--!" began the twins, with a rush of the well-known arguments. Mrs. Baldwin would not combat. 

"I ask it as a favor, dear girls, " she said gently. They clung to theirrefusal, but were obviously weakening when she rose to her climax: "Mr. White and Mr. Morton have accepted!" She left them with that, confidentand humming to herself. 

The twins stared at each other in open misery. Reappear now, after thesolemn declaration they had made to those two! Their cheeks burned atthe thought. They mounted to their room to formulate their resistance, and found two exquisite new gowns, suitable for fairy princesses, spreadout like snares. "To please Mother" seemed to be written on every artfulfold. And Mrs. Baldwin was not a rich woman, for her way of life; suchgowns meant self-denial somewhere. The twins had tears in their eyes. 

"But if we give in now, we're lost!" they cried. 

Nothing more was said about the dinner, Mrs. Baldwin gaily assumingsuccess, but avoiding the topic. The twins wore a depressed and furtiveair. On the fatal day they had a long interview with Miss Browne, of theBrowne School, and came away solemn with excitement, to shut themselvesin their room for the rest of the afternoon. 

A few minutes before the dinner-hour Mrs. Baldwin, triumphant in satinand lace, paused at their door. 

"Ready, twinnies?" she began, then stared as though disbelieving hereyes. In the glow of the student-lamp sat the twins, books in theirhands and piled high on the table beside them; their smooth, dark hairwas unpompadoured, their shoulders were lost in the dark blouses ofevery day. 

"What does this mean?" Mrs. Baldwin asked shortly, fire in her eyes. 

"Mother, we told you we could not go to any more parties, and why, " Coraanswered, a note of pleading in her voice. 

"We begin teaching on Monday in Miss Browne's school, " added Dora morestoutly. "We have tried your way for years and years, mother. Now wehave to try ours. "

Mrs. Baldwin's lace bertha rose and fell sharply. 

"Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, but so long as you live under myroof, you will have to conform to the ways of my household. "

"Then, mother, we can not stay under your roof. "

"As you please! I leave the choice entirely to you. " She swept out, leaving them breathless but resolute. 

"I am glad of it!" said Dora with trembling lips. 

In explaining their absence at dinner, Mrs. Baldwin was lightly humorousabout the twins' devotion: one could not weather a headache without theother. Mr. White and Mr. Morton exchanged glances, and showed interestin the topic, as if they were on the track of some new sociologicalfact. 

Later in the evening, the twins, their spirits restored, stole to thetop of the stairs and peered down at the whirling couples, exultant notto be among them. Mr. White was standing just below, and he glanced up, as if he might have been listening. His face brightened. 

"May I come up?" he signaled, and mounted two steps at a time, keeninterest in his thin, intellectual face. 

"Is it really headache, or is it revolution?" he asked without preface. "Morton and I have been longing to know, all the evening. "

"Revolution, " said the twins. 

"How very interesting! Do you know, we came to-night just to see if youwould be there. You--you staggered us, the other evening. We were gladwhen you didn't appear--if you won't misunderstand. It is so unexpected, in this environment. I shall be curious to see how far you can carry itout. " He was leaning against the banister, looking at them as if theywere abstract propositions rather than young girls, and they feltunwontedly at ease. 

"To the very end, " Dora asserted. "We begin teaching Monday, and--and wehave to find a place to board. " Her color rose a little, but she smiled. 

"That _is_ plucky, " he commented. "We can help you there; I know anumber of places. When do you want to move?"

"To-morrow, " they answered in unison. 

He consulted an engagement-book, reflected a few moments, then made anote. 

"Morton or I will call for you to-morrow at three, " he announced withbusiness-like brevity. "I think I know just the place, but we will giveyou a choice. If you really wish to move in at once, you could have yourthings packed, ready to be sent for. "

"Oh, we do!" said Cora. He glanced meditatively at their fine andglowing faces. 

"Of course you won't be comfortable, luxurious, as you are here, " hewarned them, with a nod toward the great paneled hall. Mrs. Baldwinpassed the drawing-room door below with the stately tread of a reviewingofficer. 

"Oh, we don't care!" they exclaimed eagerly. 

The next day their mother treated the twins as if they were not. Shespoke no word to them and did not seem to hear their husky littleefforts at reconciliation. They found it hard to remember persistentlythat they were revolutionists rather than children in disgrace. She wasunapproachable in her own room when Mr. White and Mr. Morton came forthem. 

"Well, we can't help it, " they said sadly as they locked their twotrunks and went down the stairs. 

Three hours later the twins had entered a new world and were rapturouslymaking an omelet in a kitchen that had begun life as a closet, while Mr. Morton put up shelves and hooks and Mr. White tacked green burlap overgloomy wall-paper. Groceries and kitchen utensils and amusing make-shiftfurniture kept arriving in exciting profusion. They had not dreamed thatthere was such happiness in the world. 

"If only mother will forgive us, it will be simply perfect!" they toldeach other when they settled down for the night in their hard littlecots. They said that many times in the days that followed. The utter joyof work and freedom and simplicity had no other blemish. 

For five weeks Mrs. Baldwin remained obdurate. Then, one Sundayafternoon, she appeared, cold, critical, resentful still; lifted hereyebrows at the devices of their light housekeeping; looked disgustedwhen they pointed out from the window the little cafe where theysometimes dined; and offered to consent to their social retirement ifthey would give up the teaching and come home. The twins were troubledand apologetic, but inflexible. They had found the life they were meantfor; they could not give it up. If she knew how happy they were!

"How, with your bringing up, you can enjoy this!" she marveled. "Itisn't respectable--eating in nasty little holes alone at night!"

"But it is a nice, clean place, and Mr. White and Mr. Morton are nearlyalways with us, " Dora began, then broke off at an expression of pleasedenlightenment that flashed across her mother's face. "They are just verygood friends, " she explained gravely; "they don't take us as girls atall--that is why we have such nice times with them. We are simplycomrades, and interested in the same books and problems. "

"And they bother about us chiefly because we are a sort of sociologicaldemonstration to them, " Cora added. "They like experiments of everykind. "

"Ah, yes, I understand, " assented Mrs. Baldwin. "Well, you certainly arefixed up very nicely here. If you want anything from home, let me know. After all, it is a piquant little adventure. If you are happy in it, Isuppose I ought not to complain. "

She was all complacence and compliment the rest of her visit. When shewent away, the girls glanced uneasily at each other. 

"She took a wrong idea in her head, " said Dora. "I do hope we undeceivedher. It would be hard for her to understand how wholly mental andimpersonal our friendship is with those two. "

"Well, she will see in time, when nothing comes of it, " said Coraconfidently. "That's their ring, now. Oh, Dora, isn't our life nice!"

Mrs. Baldwin, passing down the shabby front steps, might have seen thetwo men approaching, one with an armful of books and the other with apotted plant; but she apparently did not recognize them, for she steppedinto her carriage without a sign. The visit seemed to have left apleasant memory with her, however; her bland serenity, as she droveaway, was not unlike that of the cat which has just swallowed thecanary. 

FALL STYLES IN FACES[5]

BY WALLACE IRWIN

 Faces this Fall will lead the styles More than in former years With something very neat in smiles Well trimmed with eyes and ears. The Gayer Set, so rumor hints, Will have their noses made In all the famous Highball Tints-- A bright carnation shade. 

 For morning wear in club and lobby, The Dark Brown Taste will be the hobby. 

 In Wall Street they will wear a gaze To match the paving-stones. (This kind, Miss Ida Tarbell says, John Rockefeller owns. ) Loud mouths, sharp glances, furtive looks Will be displayed upon The faces of the best-groomed crooks Convened in Washington. 

 Among the Saints of doubtful morals Some will wear halos, others laurels. 

 Checkered careers will be displayed On faces neatly lined, And vanity will still parade In smirks--the cheaper kind. Chins will appear in Utah's zone Adorned with lace-like frizzes, And something striking will be shown In union-labor phizzes. 

 The gentry who have done the races Show something new in Poker Faces. 

 Cheek will supplant Stiff Upper Lips And take the place of Chin; The waiters will wear ostrich tips When tipping days begin. The Wilhelm Moustache, curled with scorn, Will show the jaw beneath, And the Roosevelt Smile will still be worn Cut wide around the teeth. 

 If Frenzied Finance waxes stronger Stocks will be "short" and faces longer. 

 But if you have a well-made face That's durable and firm, Its features you need not replace-- 'Twill wear another term. Two eyes, a nose, a pair of ears, A chin that's clean and strong Will serve their owner many years And never go far wrong. 

 But if your face is shoddy, Brother, Run to the store and buy another!

FOOTNOTES:

[5] From "At the Sign of the Dollar, " by Wallace Irwin. Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co. 

HAD A SET OF DOUBLE TEETH

BY HOLMAN F. DAY

 Oh, listen while I tell you a truthful little tale Of a man whose teeth were double all the solid way around; He could jest as slick as preachin' bite in two a shingle-nail, Or squonch a molded bullet, sah, and ev'ry tooth was sound. 

 I've seen him lift a keg of pork, a-bitin' on the chine, And he'd clench a rope and hang there like a puppy to a root; And a feller he could pull and twitch and yank up on the line, But he couldn't do no business with that double-toothed galoot. 

 He was luggin' up some shingles, --bunch, sah, underneath each arm, -- The time that he was shinglin' of the Baptist meetin'-house; The ladder cracked and buckled, but he didn't think no harm, When all at once she busted, and he started down kersouse. 

 His head, sah, when she busted, it was jest abreast the eaves; And he nipped, sah, quicker 'n lightnin', and he gripped there with his teeth, And he never dropped the shingles, but he hung to both the sheaves, Though the solid ground was suttenly more 'n thirty feet beneath. 

 He held there and he kicked there and he squirmed, but no one come; He was workin' on the roof alone--there war'n't no folks around-- He hung like death to niggers till his jaw was set and numb, And he reely thought he'd have to drop them shingles on the ground. 

 But all at once old Skillins come a-toddlin' down the street; Old Skil is sort of hump-backed, and he allus looks straight down; So he never seed the motions of them number 'leven feet, And he went a-amblin' by him--the goramded blind old clown!

 Now this ere part is truthful--ain't a-stretchin' it a mite, -- When the feller seed that Skillins was a-walkin' past the place, Let go his teeth and hollered, but he grabbed back quick and tight, 'Fore he had a chance to tumble, and he hung there by the face. 

 And he never dropped the shingles, and he never missed his grip, And he stepped out on the ladder when they raised it underneath; And up he went a-flukin' with them shingles on his hip, And there's the satisfaction of a havin' double teeth. 

PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES

BY BRET HARTE

 Which I wish to remark-- And my language is plain-- That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain. 

 Ah Sin was his name, And I shall not deny In regard to the same What that name might imply; But his smile it was pensive and childlike, As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. 

 It was August the third, And quite soft was the skies; Which it might be inferred That Ah Sin was likewise; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise. 

 Which we had a small game, And Ah Sin took a hand; It was euchre--the same He did not understand; But he smiled as he sat at the table With the smile that was childlike and bland. 

 Yet the cards they were stocked In a way that I grieve, And my feelings were shocked At the state of Nye's sleeve, Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, And the same with intent to deceive. 

 But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made Were quite frightful to see, Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. 

 Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh, And said, "Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor;" And he went for that heathen Chinee. 

 In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand, But the floor it was strewed Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding In the game "he did not understand. "

 In his sleeves, which were long, He had twenty-four packs, Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers--that's wax. 

 Which is why I remark-- And my language is plain-- That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I am free to maintain. 

POSSESSION

BY WILLIAM J. LAMPTON

 Oh, give me whatever I do not possess, No matter whatever it be; So long as I haven't it that is enough, I fancy, to satisfy me. 

 No matter whatever I happen to have, I have it; and what I have not Seems all that is good of the good things of earth To lighten the lack of my lot. 

 No covetous spirit incites the desire To have what I haven't, I'm sure; Because when I have what I haven't, I want What I haven't, the same as before. 

 So, give me whatever I do not possess, No matter whatever it be; And yet-- To have what I haven't is having, and that Destroys all the pleasure for me. 

HER BROTHER: ENFANT TERRIBLE[6]

BY EDWIN L. SABIN

 This is Her brother; angel-faced, -- Barring freckles and turned-up nose, -- Demon-minded--a word well based, As nearer acquaintance will disclose. From outward guise the most sage of men Would never guess what within lies hid! If years we reckon, in age scant ten; If cunning, old as a pyramid. 

 This is Her brother, who sticks and sticks Tighter than even a brother should; Brimming over with teasing tricks, Hardened to bribe and "_please_ be good"; And who, when at last afar we deem, In some sly recess but lurks in wait To note the progress of love's young dream-- And we learn of his presence too late, too late!

 This is Her brother, with watchful eyes, Piercing, shameless, and indiscreet, With ears wide open for soft replies And sounds that are sibilant and sweet! With light approach (not a lynx so still), With figure meanly invisible, With threatening voice and iron will, And shrill demands or he'll "go and tell!"

 This is Her brother--and I submit To paying out quarters and sundry dimes; This is Her brother--whose urchin wit Moves me to wrath a thousand times; This is Her brother--and hence I smile And jest and cringe at his tyranny, And call him "smart"! But just wait a while Till he's _my_ brother--and then we'll see!

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Lippincott's Magazine. 

THE JACKPOT

BY IRONQUILL

 I sauntered down through Europe, I wandered up the Nile, I sought the mausoleums where the mummied Pharaohs lay; I found the sculptured tunnel Where quietly in style Imperial sarcophagi concealed the royal clay. Above the vault was graven deep the motto of the crown: "Who openeth a jackpot may not always rake it down. "

 It's strange what deep impressions Are made by little things. Within the granite tunneling I saw a dingy cleft; It was a cryptic chamber. I drew, and got four kings. But on a brief comparison I laid them down and left, Because upon the granite stood that sentence bold and brown: "Who openeth a jackpot may not always rake it down. "

 I make this observation: A man with such a hand Has psychologic feelings that perhaps he should not feel, But I was somewhat rattled And in a foreign land, And had some dim suspicions, as I had not watched the deal. And there was that inscription, too, in words that seemed to frown: "Who openeth a jackpot may not always rake it down. "

 These letters were not graven In Anglo-Saxon tongue; Perhaps if you had seen them you had idly passed them by. I studied erudition When I was somewhat young; I recognized the language when it struck my classic eye; I saw a maxim suitable for monarch or for clown: "Who openeth a jackpot may not always rake it down. "

 Detesting metaphysics, I can not help but put A philosophic moral where I think it ought to hang; I've seen a "boom" for office Grow feeble at the root, Then change into a boomlet--then to a boomerang. In caucus or convention, in village or in town: "Who openeth a jackpot may not always rake it down. "

DUM VIVIMUS VIGILAMUS

BY JOHN PAUL

 Turn out more ale, turn up the light; I will not go to bed to-night. Of all the foes that man should dread The first and worst one is a bed. Friends I have had both old and young, And ale we drank and songs we sung: Enough you know when this is said, That, one and all, --they died in bed. In bed they died and I'll not go Where all my friends have perished so. Go you who glad would buried be, But not to-night a bed for me. 

 For me to-night no bed prepare, But set me out my oaken chair. And bid no other guests beside The ghosts that shall around me glide; In curling smoke-wreaths I shall see A fair and gentle company. Though silent all, rare revelers they, Who leave you not till break of day. Go you who would not daylight see, But not to-night a bed for me: For I've been born and I've been wed-- All of man's peril comes of bed. 

 And I'll not seek--whate'er befall-- Him who unbidden comes to all. A grewsome guest, a lean-jawed wight-- God send he do not come to-night! But if he do, to claim his own, He shall not find me lying prone; But blithely, bravely, sitting up, And raising high the stirrup-cup. Then if you find a pipe unfilled, An empty chair, the brown ale spilled; Well may you know, though naught be said, That I've been borne away to bed. 

AT AUNTY'S HOUSE

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

 One time, when we'z at Aunty's house-- 'Way in the country!--where They's ist but woods--an' pigs, an' cows-- An' all's out-doors an' air!-- An' orchurd-swing; an' churry-trees-- An' _churries_ in 'em!--Yes, an' these- Here red-head birds steals all they please, An' tetch 'em ef you dare!-- W'y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, _We et out on the porch_!

 Wite where the cellar-door wuz shut The table wuz; an' I Let Aunty set by me an' cut My vittuls up--an' pie. 'Tuz awful funny!--I could see The red-heads in the churry-tree; An' bee-hives, where you got to be So keerful, goin' by;-- An' "Comp'ny" there an' all!--an' we-- _We et out on the porch_!

 An' I ist et _p'surves_ an' things 'At Ma don't 'low me to-- An' _chickun-gizzurds_--(don't like _wings_ Like _Parunts_ does! do _you_?)

 An' all the time, the wind blowed there, An' I could feel it in my hair, An' ist smell clover _ever'_where!-- An' a' old red-head flew Purt' nigh wite over my high-chair, _When we et on the porch_!

WILLY AND THE LADY

BY GELETT BURGESS

 Leave the lady, Willy, let the racket rip, She is going to fool you, you have lost your grip, Your brain is in a muddle and your heart is in a whirl, Come along with me, Willy, never mind the girl!

 Come and have a man-talk; Come with those who _can_ talk; Light your pipe and listen, and the boys will see you through; Love is only chatter, Friends are all that matter; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!

 Leave the lady, Willy, let her letter wait, You'll forget your troubles when you get it straight, The world is full of women, and the women full of wile; Come along with me, Willy, we can make you smile!

 Come and have a man-talk, A rousing black-and-tan talk, There are plenty there to teach you; there's a lot for you to do; Your head must stop its whirling Before you go a-girling; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you

 Leave the lady, Willy, the night is good and long, Time for beer and 'baccy, time to have a song; Where the smoke is swirling, sorrow if you can-- Come along with me, Willy, come and be a man!

 Come and have a man-talk, Come with those who _can_ talk, Light your pipe and listen, and the boys will see you through; Love is only chatter, Friends are all that matter; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!

 Leave the lady, Willy, you are rather young; When the tales are over, when the songs are sung, When the men have made you, try the girl again; Come along with me, Willy, you'll be better then!

 Come and have a man-talk, Forget your girl-divan talk; You've got to get acquainted with another point of view! Girls will only fool you; We're the ones to school you; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!

A NEW YEAR IDYL

BY EUGENE FIELD

 Upon this happy New Year night, A roach crawls up my pot of paste, And begs me for a tiny taste. Aye, eat thy fill, for it is right That while the rest of earth is glad, And bells are ringing wild and free, Thou shouldst not, gentle roachling, be Forlorn and gaunt and weak and sad. 

 This paste to-night especially For thee and all thy kind I fixed, You'll find some whiskey in it mixed, For which you have to thank but me. So freely of the banquet take, And if you chance to find a drop Of liquor, prithee do not stop But quaff it for thy stomach's sake. 

 Why dost thou stand upon thy head, All etiquette requirements scorning, And sing "You won't go home till morning" And "Put me in my little bed"? Your tongue, fair roach, is very thick, Your eyes are red, your cheeks are pale, Your underpinning seems to fail, You are, I wot, full as a tick. 

ENVOI

 I think I see that roach's home, That roach's wife, with broom in hand, That roach come staggering homeward and Then all is glum and gloom and gloam. 

A LAY OF ANCIENT ROME

BY THOMAS YBARRA

 Oh! the Roman was a rogue, He erat, was, you bettum; He ran his automobilis And smoked his cigarettum; He wore a diamond studibus, An elegant cravattum, A maxima cum laude shirt, And _such_ a stylish hattum!

 He loved the luscious hic-hæc-hock, And bet on games and equi; At times he won; at others, though, He got it in the nequi; He winked (quo usque tandem?) At puellas on the Forum, And sometimes even made Those goo-goo oculorum!

 He frequently was seen At combats gladiatorial, And ate enough to feed Ten boarders at Memorial; He often went on sprees And said, on starting homus, "Hic labor--opus est, Oh, where's my hic--hic--domus?"

 Although he lived in Rome-- Of all the arts the middle-- He was (excuse the phrase) A horrid individ'l; Ah! what a diff'rent thing Was the homo (dative, hominy) Of far-away B. C. From us of Anno Domini. 

LITTLE BOPEEP AND LITTLE BOY BLUE

BY SAMUEL MINTURN PECK

 It happened one morning that Little Bopeep, While watching her frolicsome, mischievous sheep Out in the meadow, fell fast asleep. 

 By her wind-blown tresses and rose-leaf pout, And her dimpling smile, you'd have guessed, no doubt, 'Twas love, love, love she was dreaming about. 

 As she lay there asleep, came little Boy Blue, Right over the stile where the daisies grew; Entranced by the picture, he stopped in the dew. 

 So wildly bewitching that beautiful morn Was Little Bopeep that he dropped his horn And thought no more of the cows in the corn. 

 Our sorrows are many, our pleasures are few; O moment propitious! What could a man do? He kissed the wee lassie, that Little Boy Blue!

 At the smack the woolies stood all in a row, And whispered each other, "We're clearly _de trop_; Such conduct is perfectly shocking--let's go!"

"FESTINA LENTE"

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

 Blessings on thee, little man, Hasten slowly as you can; Loiter nimbly on your tramp With the ten-cent speedy stamp. Thou art "boss"; the business man Postals writes for thee to scan; And the man who writes, "With speed, " Gets it--in his mind--indeed. 

 Lo, the man who penned the note Wasted ten cents when he wrote; And the maid for it will wait At the window, by the gate, In the doorway, down the street, List'ning for thy footsteps fleet. But her cheek will flush and pale, Till it comes next day by mail, With thine own indorsement neat-- "No such number on the street. " Oh, if words could but destroy, Thou wouldst perish, truthful boy!

 Oh, for boyhood's easy way-- Messenger who sleeps all day, Or, from rise to set of sun, Reads "The Terror" on the run. 

 For your sport, the band goes by; For your perch, the lamp post high; For your pleasure, on the street Dogs are fighting, drums are beat; For your sake, the boyish fray, Organ grinder, run-away; Trucks for your convenience are; For your ease, the bob-tail car; Every time and everywhere You're not wanted, you are there. Dawdling, whistling, loit'ring scamp, Seest thou this ten-cent stamp? Stay thou not for book or toy-- Vamos! Fly! Skedaddle, boy!

THE GENIAL IDIOT DISCUSSES LEAP YEAR

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS

"If I were a woman, " said the Idiot, "I think that unless I had anaffidavit from the man, sworn to before a notary and duly signed andsealed, stating that he did the proposing, I should decline to marry, orannounce my engagement to be married in Leap Year. It is one of thedrawbacks which the special privilege of Leap Year confers upon womenthat it puts them under suspicion of having done the courting if thething comes out during the year. "

"Don't you worry about that, " laughed Mrs. Pedagog. "You can go throughthis country with a fine tooth comb and I'll wager you you won't find awoman anywhere who avails herself of the privilege who wouldn't havedone the same thing in any old year if she wanted to. Of all the funnyold superstitions, the quaintest of the lot is that Leap Year proposalbusiness. "

"How you talk, " cried the Idiot. "Such iconoclasm. I had always supposedthat Leap Year was a sort of matrimonial safety valve for old maids, andhere in a trice you overthrow all the cherished notions of a lifetime. Why, Mrs. Pedagog, I know men who take to the woods every Leap Year justto escape the possibilities. "

"Courageous souls, " said the landlady. "Facing the unknown perils of theforest, rather than manfully meeting a proposal of marriage. "

"It is hard to say no to a woman, " said the Idiot. "I'd hate like timeto have one of 'em come to me and ask me to be hers. Just imagine it. Some dainty little damsel of a soulful nature, with deep blue eyes, andgolden curls, and pearly teeth, and cherry lips, a cheek like the softand ripening peach and a smile that would bewitch even a Saint Anthony, getting down on her knees and saying, 'O Idiot--dearest Idiot--bemine--I love you, devotedly, tenderly, all through the Roget'sThesaurusly, and have from the moment I first saw you. With you to shareit my lot in life will be heaven itself. Without you a Saharan waste ofArctic frigidity. Wilt thou?' I think I'd wilt. I couldn't bring myselfto say 'No, Ethelinda, I can not be yours because my heart is set on astrengthful damsel with raven locks and eyes of coal, with lips a shadeless cherry than thine, and a cheek more like the apple than the peach, who can go out on the links and play golf with me. But if you ever needa brother in your business I am the floor-walker that will direct you tothe bargain-counter where you'll find the latest thing in brothers atcost. ' I'd simply cave in on the instant and say, 'All right, Ethelinda, call a cab and we'll trot around to the Little Church Around the Cornerand tie the knot; that is, my love, if you think you can support me inthe style to which I am accustomed. "

Mr. Brief laughed. "I wouldn't bother if I were you, Mr. Idiot, " saidhe. "Women don't tie up very strongly to Idiots. "

"Oh don't they, " retorted the Idiot. "Well, do you know I had a sort ofnotion that they did. The men that some of the nice girls I have knownin my day have tied up to have somehow or other given me the impressionthat a woman has a special leaning toward Idiots. There was my oldsweetheart, Sallie Wiggins, for instance--that wasn't her real name, ofcourse, but she was one of the finest girls that ever attended abargain sale. She had a mind far above the ordinary. She could readSchopenhauer at sight; understand Browning in a minute; her soul was asbig as her heart and her heart was two and a half sizes larger than theuniverse. She was so strong-minded that although she could write poetryshe wouldn't, and in the last year of her single blessedness she was theQueen-pin among the girls of her set. What she said was law, andemancipation of her sex was her only vice. Well, what do you thinkhappened to Sallie Wiggins? After refusing every fine man in town, including myself, --I must say I only asked her five times; no tellingwhat a sixth would have brought forth--she succumbed to theblandishments of the first sapheaded young Lochinvar that came out ofthe west, married him, and is now the smiling mother of nine children, does all the family sewing, makes her own parlor bric-a-brac out of thediscarded utensils of the kitchen, dresses herself on ninety dollars adecade, and is happy. "

"But if she loved him--" began the Lawyer. 

"Impossible, " said the Idiot. "She pitied him. She knew that if shedidn't marry him, and take charge of him, another woman would, and thatthe chances were ten to one that the other woman wouldn't do the thingright and that Saphead's life would be ruined forever. "

"But you say she is happy, " persisted the Lawyer. 

"Certainly she is, " said the Idiot. "Because her life is an eternalsacrifice to Saphead's needs, and if there is a luxury in this mundanesphere that woman essentially craves it is the luxury of sacrifice. There is something fanatic about it. Sallie Wiggins voluntarily turnedher back on seven men that I know of, one of whom is a Governor of hisstate; two of whom are now in Congress; one of whom is a judge of astate court; two of whom have become millionaire merchants; and theseventh of whom is to-day, probably, the most brilliant ornament of thepenitentiary. Everyone of 'em turned down for Saphead, a man who partedhis hair in the middle, couldn't earn seven dollars a century on hiswits, is destined to remain hopelessly nothing, keeps her busy sewingbuttons on his clothes, and to save his life couldn't tell thedifference between Matthew Arnold and an automobile, and yet you tell methat women don't care for idiots. "

"Miss Wiggins--or Mrs. Saphead, to be more precise, " said Mr. Brief, "isonly one instance. "

"Well--there was Margaret Perkins--same town--same experience, "said the Idiot. "Lovely girl--sought after by everybody--proposedto her myself five times--President of the Mental Culture Societyof Baggville--graduate of Smythe--woman-member of Board ofEducation--Director of Young Girls' Institute--danced like a dream--hada sense of humor--laughed at my jokes--and married--what?"

"Well, what?" demanded the Lawyer. 

"Prof. Omega Nit Zero, teacher of Cingalese in the University ofOklawaha, founded by a millionaire from Geneseo, New Jersey, who owned ahotel on the Oklawaha River that didn't pay, and hoped to brace up a badinvestment by the establishment in the vicinity of a centre of culture. Prof. Zero receives ten dollars a week, and with his wife and threepupils constitutes the whole faculty, board of trustees, janitor, andstudent body of the University, " said the Idiot. "Mrs. Zero dresses onnothing a year; cares for her five children on the same basis, and ishappy. They are the principal patrons of the Oklawaha Hotel. "

"Well--if she is happy?" said the Bibliomaniac. "What business is it ofanybody else? I think if Prof. Zero makes her happy he's the right kindof a man. "

"You couldn't make Zero the right kind of a man, " said the Idiot. "Heisn't built that way. He wears men's clothes and he has sweet manners, and a dulcet voice, and the learning of the serpent; but when it comesto manhood he has the initiative of the turtle, lacking the cash valueof the terrapin, or the turtle's mock brother; he wears a beard, but itis the beard of the bearded lady who up-to-date appears to be a uselessappanage of the strenuous life; and when you try to get at hisAmericanism, if he has any, he flies off into stilted periods having todo with the superior virtues of the Cingalese. And Margaret Perkins thatwas hangs on his utterances as though he were a very archangel. "

"Good, " ejaculated Mr. Brief. "I am glad to hear that she is happy. "

"So am I, " said the Idiot. "But such happiness. "

"Well, what's it all got to do with Leap Year, anyhow?" asked theBibliomaniac. 

"Nothing at all, except that it proves that girls aren't fitted reallyto choose their own husbands, and that therefore the special privilegeconferred upon them by the recurrence of Leap Year should be rescindedby law, " said the Idiot. "That privilege, owing to woman's incapacity tochoose correctly, and man's weakness in the use of negatives, is astanding menace to the future happiness of the people. "

"Hoity-toity, " cried Mrs. Pedagog. "What a proposition. Tell me, Mr. Idiot, if a woman is not capable of selecting her own husband, who onearth is? Man himself--that embodiment of all the wisdom and all thesagacity of the ages?"

"I didn't say so, " said the Idiot. "And I don't really think so, " headded. "The whole institution of getting engaged to be married should beregulated by the public authorities. Every county should have itsMatrimonial Bureau, whose duty it should be to pair off all the eligiblecandidates in the matrimonial market, and in pairing them off it shouldbe done on a basis of mutual fitness. Bachelors and old maids should belegislated out of existence, and nobody should be allowed to marry asecond time until everybody else had been provided for. It is perfectlyscandalous to me to read in the newspapers that a prominent widow in acertain town has married her third husband, when it is known that thatsame city contains 25, 000 old maids who haven't the ghost of a showunless the State steps in and helps them out. What business has anywoman to work up a corner in husbands, with so many of her sistersabsolutely starving matrimonially?"

"And the young people are to have nothing to say about it, eh?" askedMr. Brief. 

"Oh yes--they can put in an application to the Bureau stating that theywant to wed, and the Board of Managers can consider the desirability ofissuing a permit, " said the Idiot. "And they should be compelled to showcause why they should not be restrained from getting married. It is onlyin such a way that the state can reasonably guarantee the permanence ofa contract to which it is in a sense a party. The State, by theestablishment of certain laws, demands that the marriage contract shallpractically be a life affair. It should therefore take it upon itself tosee to it that there is a tolerable prospect at least that the contractis a just one. Many a poor woman has been bound to a life-longobligation of misery in which no consideration whatever has been paid bythe party of the second part. If a contract without consideration willnot stand in commerce, why should it in matrimony?"

"What you ought to go in for is Mormonism, " snapped Mrs. Pedagog. "Keepon getting married until you've found just the right one and then getrid of all the others. "

"That is a pleasing alternative, " said the Idiot. "But expensive. I'dhate to pay a milliner's bill for a Mormon household--but anyhow weneedn't grow acrimonious over the subject, for whatever I may think ofmatrimony as she exists to-day, all the injustices, inequalities, miseries of it, and all that, I prefer it to acrimony, and I haven't theslightest idea that my dream of perfect conditions will ever berealized. Only, Mary--"

"Yessir?" said the Maid. 

"If between this and the first of January, 1905, any young ladies, orold ones either, call here and ask for me--"

"Yessir, " said the Maid. 

"Tell 'em I've gone to Nidjni-Novgorod and am not expected back foreleven years, " said the Idiot. "I'm not going to take any chances. "

COMPLETE INDEX

ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED BY AUTHORS

 ADAMS, CHARLES FOLLEN Bary Jade, To, 1899 Der Oak und der Vine, 1823 Shonny Schwartz, 1206 Yawcob Strauss, 370

 ADE, GEORGE Hon. Ransom Peabody, 1429

 ADELER, MAX (see CHARLES HEBER CLARK)

 ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY Our New Neighbors at Ponkapog, 403

 ALLEN, NINA R. Women and Bargains, 1352

 AMSBARY, WALLACE BRUCE Anatole Dubois at de Horse Show, 152 De Gradual Commence, 1164 Oncl' Antoine on 'Change, 1891 Rubaiyat of Mathieu Lettellier, 1965 Tim Flanagan's Mistake, 1673 Verre Definite, 1183

 ANONYMOUS Book-Canvasser, The, 1113 Country School, The, 1734 Merchant and the Book-Agent, The, 1124

 APPLETON, JACK Modern Farmer, The, 1083

 ARP, BILL (see CHARLES H. SMITH)

 BAGBY, GEORGE W. How "Ruby" Played, 311

 BAILEY, JAMES MONTGOMERY ("The Danbury News Man") After the Funeral, 1146 Mr. Stiver's Horse, 464

 BALDWIN, JOSEPH G. Assault and Battery, 1391

 BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK By Bay and Sea, 1367 Genial Idiot Discusses Leap Year, The, 2018 Genial Idiot Discusses the Music Cure, The, 1105 Genial Idiot Suggests a Comic Opera, The, 504 Gentle Art of Boosting, The, 1575 University Intelligence Office, The, 1727

 BATCHELDER, FRANK ROE Happy Land, The, 1389 Wicked Zebra, The, 1322

 BAXTER, BILLY (see WILLIAM J. KOUNTZ, JR. )

 BECKER, CHARLOTTE Modern Advantage, A, 642

 BEDOTT, WIDOW (see FRANCES M. WHICHER)

 BEECHER, HENRY WARD Deacon's Trout, The, 212 Organ, The, 217

 BELDEN, J. V. Z. A Committee from Kelly's, 929

 BILLINGS, JOSH (see HENRY W. SHAW)

 BOYNTON, H. W. The Golfer's Rubaiyat, 319

 BRIDGES, MADELINE A Mothers' Meeting, 1886

 BROWNE, CHARLES FARRAR ("Artemus Ward") Tower of London, The, 528 Uncle Simon and Uncle Jim, 539

 BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN The Mosquito, 1199

 BURDETTE, ROBERT J. Archæological Congress, An, 390 Brakeman at Church, The, 1323 Day We Do Not Celebrate, The, 134 "Festina Lente", 2016 Margins, 1297 My First Cigar, 1204 Plaint of Jonah, The, 485 Rollo Learning to Play, 912 Rollo Learning to Read, 448 Soldier, Rest, 1796 Songs Without Words, 1261 Strike at Hinman's, The, 342 What Lack We Yet, 1897

 BURGESS, GELETT Bohemians of Boston, The, 519 Nonsense Verses, 1244 Purple Cow, The, 13 Vive la Bagatelle, 280 Willy and the Lady, 2009

 BUTLER, ELLIS PARKER The Crimson Cord, 470

 BUTLER, WILLIAM ALLEN Nothing to Wear, 1435

 CARLETON, HENRY GUY The Thompson Street Poker Club, 1140

 CARMAN, BLISS Modern Eclogue, A, 645 In Philistia, 567 Sceptics, The, 1626 Spring Feeling, A, 1129 Staccato to O Le Lupe, A, 1499

 CARRUTH, HAYDEN Familiar Authors at Work, 289 Uncle Bentley and the Roosters, 1873

 CARRYL, CHARLES E. Nautical Ballad, A, 348

 CARY, PHOEBE "Day Is Done, The", 1628 I Remember, I Remember, 652 Jacob, 1898 Marriage of Sir John Smith, The, 803 Psalm of Life, A, 207 Samuel Brown, 259 "There's a Bower of Bean-Vines", 1916 When Lovely Woman, 1834

 CHALLING, JOHN Rhyme for Christmas, A, 1290

 CHAMBERS, ROBERT W. Recruit, The, 230

 CHESTER, GEORGE RANDOLPH Especially Men, 937

 CLARK, CHARLES HEBER ("Max Adeler") Millionaires, The, 1675

 CLARKE, JOSEPH I. C. Fighting Race, The, 214

 CLEMENS, SAMUEL L. Evidence in the Case of Smith vs. Jones, The, 1918 Great Prize Fight, The, 1903 Nevada Sketches, 1805

 CONE, HELEN AVERY Spring Beauties, The, 805

 COOKE, EDMUND VANCE Daniel Come to Judgment, A, 1399 Final Choice, The, 1427

 CORTISSOZ, ELLEN MACKAY HUTCHINSON Praise-God Barebones, 765

 COX, KENYON Bumblebeaver, The, 1145 Octopussycat, The, 1112 Paintermine, The, 1100 Welsh Rabbittern, The, 1120 Wild Boarder, The, 1163

 COZZENS, FREDERICK S. Family Horse, The, 715

 CRANE, FRANK Wamsley's Automatic Pastor, 511

 CRAYON, PORTE (see B. F. STROTHER) Culbertson, Anne Virginia Comin' Thu, 333 Go Lightly, Gal (The Cake-Walk), 317 How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Beard, 1328 How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Plumage and Whistle, 1360 Mr. Hare Tries to Get a Wife, 921 Quit Yo' Worryin, 934 Whar Dem Sinful Apples Grow, 903 Why Moles Have Hands, 202 Woman Who Married an Owl, The, 838

 CURTIS, GEORGE WILLIAM Our Best Society, 233

 CUTTING, MARY STEWART Not According to Schedule, 1448

 DALE, ALAN Wanted--A Cook, 35

 DAVIES, JOHN JAMES Ballade of the "How To" Books, A, 416

 DAY, HOLMAN F. Had a Set of Double Teeth, 1994 When the Allegash Drive Goes Through, 1214

 DERBY, GEORGE H. ("John Phoenix") Lectures on Astronomy, 847 Musical Review Extraordinary, 824

 DEVERE, WILLIAM Walk, 300

 DODGE, MARY ABIGAIL ("Gail Hamilton") Complaint of Friends, A, 604

 DOOLEY, MR. (see FINLEY PETER DUNNE)

 DOWNING, MAJOR JACK (see SEBA SMITH)

 DRUMMOND, WILLIAM HENRY De Stove Pipe Hole, 774 Natural Philosophy, 1722 When Albani Sang, 92

 DUNNE, FINLEY PETER ("Mr. Dooley") Mr. Dooley on Expert Testimony, 844 Mr. Dooley on the Game of Football, 1059 Mr. Dooley on Gold-Seeking, 304 Mr. Dooley on Golf, 1630 Mr. Dooley on Reform Candidates, 321

 EGGLESTON, EDWARD Spelling Down the Master, 138

 EMERSON, RALPH WALDO Fable, 1358

 FIELD, EUGENE Advertiser, The, 1101 James and Reginald, 1171 Lost Chords, 1080 New Year Idyl, A, 2011 Story of the Two Friars, The, 588 Utah, 1305 Warrior, The, 1708 Winter Joys, 1868

 FIELD, KATE Night in a Rocking-Chair, A, 905 Rival Entertainment, A, 362

 FIELDS, JAMES T. Cæsar's Quiet Lunch with Cicero, 760 Owl-Critic, The, 1196 Pettibone Lineage, The, 196

 FINN, HENRY J. Curse of the Competent, The, 14

 FISK, MAY ISABEL Evening Musicale, An, 325

 FLAGG, JAMES MONTGOMERY Branch Library, A, 1446 Table Manners, 1400

 FLOWER, ELLIOTT Co-operative Housekeepers, The, 927 Her "Angel" Father, 936 Strike of One, The, 870

 FOLEY, J. W. Sonnets of the Lovable Lass and the Plethoric Dad, 723

 FORD, JAMES L. Dying Gag, The, 569

 FORD, SEWELL In Defence of an Offering, 1248

 FOSS, SAM WALTER Cable-Car Preacher, A, 647 He Wanted to Know, 1794 "Hullo", 1706 Prayer of Cyrus Brown, The, 1398 She Talked, 264

 FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN Maxims, 1804 Paper: A Poem, 1548

 FRENCH, ALICE ("Octave Thanet") Fairport Art Museum, The, 1062

 FRENCH, ANNE WARNER ("Anne Warner") So Wags the World, 1092 Wolf at Susan's Door, The, 626

 GILLILAN, STRICKLAND W. Mammy's Lullaby, 542

 GILMAN, CAROLINE HOWARD Colonel's Clothes, The, 396

 GILMAN, CHARLOTTE PERKINS Similar Cases, 56

 GRAY, DAVID Mr. Carteret and His Fellow Americans Abroad, 1462

 GREENE, ALBERT GORTON Old Grimes, 818

 GREENE, ROY FARRELL Educational Project, An, 1264 Wasted Opportunities, 1132 Woman-Hater Reformed, The, 1359

 GREENE, SARAH P. MCLEAN Grandma Keeler Gets Grandpa Ready for Sunday-School 266

 HABBERTON, JOHN Budge and Toddie, 1692

 HALE, EDWARD EVERETT Skeleton in the Closet, The, 1371

 HALE, LUCRETIA P. Elizabeth Eliza Writes a Paper, 454

 HALIBURTON, T. C. ("Sam Slick") Road to a Woman's Heart, The, 1487

 HALL, BAYNARD RUST Camp-Meeting, The, 1265 Selecting the Faculty, 437

 HAMILTON, GAIL (see MARY ABIGAIL DODGE)

 HARLAND, HENRY Invisible Prince, The, 1836

 HARRIS, JOEL CHANDLER My Honey, My Love, 691

 HARRIS, KENNETT Trial that Job Missed, The, 1917

 HARTE, FRANCIS BRET Melons, 1 Plain Language from Truthful James, 1997 Society upon the Stanislaus, The, 1078

 HARTSWICK, JENNIE BETTS Weddin', The, 1134

 HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL British Matron, The, 192

 HAY, JOHN Banty Tim, 1173 Distichs, 65 Mystery of Gilgal, The, 1654

 HENRY, O. (see SYDNEY PORTER)

 HERFORD, OLIVER Alphabet of Celebrities, 1243

 HOBART, GEORGE V. ("Hugh McHugh") John Henry in a Street Car, 177

 HOLLEY, MARIETTA ("Josiah Allen's Wife") How We Bought a Sewin' Machine and Organ, 729

 HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, The, 753 Contentment, 1952 Deacon's Masterpiece, or, The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay, " The, 9 Dislikes, 536 Evening, 1175 Height of the Ridiculous, The, 1832 Latter-Day Warnings, 1168

 HONEYWOOD, ST. JOHN Darby and Joan, 166

 HOOPER, J. J. Simon Starts in the World, 881

 HOUGH, EMERSON Girl and the Julep, The, 1401

 HOVEY, RICHARD Barney McGee, 223 Her Valentine, 1117

 HOWE, E. W. Letter from Mr. Biggs, A, 69

 HOWELLS, WILLIAM DEAN Mrs. Johnson, 74

 IRONQUILL (see EUGENE F. WARE)

 IRVIN, WALLACE Ballad of Grizzly Gulch, The, 1073 Boat that Ain't, The, 1764 Crankidoxology, 688 Dutiful Mariner, The, 973 Fall Styles in Faces, 1992 Forbearance of the Admiral, The, 1553 Letter from Home, A, 522 Lost Inventor, The, 1385 Love Sonnets of a Hoodlum, 307 Meditations of a Mariner, 713 Niagara Be Dammed, 1551 Rhyme of the Chivalrous Shark, The, 483

 IRVING, WASHINGTON Wouter Van Twiller, 109

 JOHNSON, CHARLES F. Greco-Trojan Game, The, 595

 JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE (see MARIETTA HOLLEY)

 KAUFFMAN, REGINALD WRIGHT Auto Rubaiyat, The, 546

 KELLEY, J. F. Desperate Race, A, 742

 KELLY, MYRA Morris and the Honorable Tim, 488

 KISER, S. E. Budd Wilkins at the Show, 352 Love Sonnets of an Office Boy, 1056 Meeting, The, 1915 Quarrel, The, 68 When Doctors Disagree, 1762 Yankee Dude'll Do, The, 136

 KNOTT, J. PROCTOR Duluth Speech, The, 1606

 KOUNTZ, WILLIAM J. , JR. ("Billy Baxter") Grand Opera, The, 693

 LAIDLAW, A. H. It Is Time to Begin to Conclude, 1294

 LAMPTON, WILLIAM J. Critic, The, 1336 New Version, The, 574 Possession, 2000

 LANIGAN, GEORGE THOMAS Threnody, A, 1754

 LAUGHLIN, E. O. Hired Hand and "Ha'nts", The, 419

 LELAND, CHARLES GODFREY Ballad, 355 Breitmann and the Turners, 1217 Breitmann in Politics, 1943 Hans Breitmann's Party, 446 Love Song, 1950

 LELAND, HENRY P. Dutchman Who Had the "Small Pox", The, 295

 LESLIE, ELIZA Set of China, The, 808

 LEWIS, ALFRED HENRY Colonel Sterett's Panther Hunt, 98

 LEWIS, CHARLES B. ("M. Quad") Two Cases of Grip, 1239

 LOCKE, DAVID ROSS ("Petroleum V. Nasby") Letter, A, 282

 LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH Notary of Perigueux, The, 1251

 LONG, JOHN LUTHER Seffy and Sally, 372

 LONGSTREET, A. B. Shooting-Match, The, 666

 LOOMIS, CHARLES BATTELL Araminta and the Automobile, 1825 Gusher, The, 1656

 LORIMER, GEORGE HORACE Letter from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son, A, 961

 LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL Chief Mate, The, 1482 Courtin', The, 524 What Mr. Robinson Thinks, 131

 LUMMIS, CHARLES F. My Cigarette, 1292 Poe-'em of Passion, A, 1879

 LYNDE, FRANCIS How Jimaboy Found Himself, 1765

 MCHENRY, MAY Melinda's Humorous Story, 975

 MCHUGH, HUGH (see George V. Hobart)

 MCINTYRE, JOHN T. Talking Horse, The, 1185

 MACGOWAN, ALICE Columbia and the Cowboy, 1582

 MACGRATH, HAROLD Enchanted Hat, The, 1510

 MACAULEY, CHARLES RAYMOND Itinerant Tinker, The, 861

 MARBLE, DANFORTH Hoosier and the Salt Pile, The, 357

 MASSON, TOM Desolation, 686 Enough, 213 Hard, 1625 It Pays to Be Happy, 1170 Victory, 714

 MOODY, WILLIAM VAUGHN Menagerie, The, 24

 MORRIS, GEORGE P. Retort, The, 584

 MOTT, ED Old Settler, The, 1177

 MUNKITTRICK, R. K. April Aria, An, 711 Fate, 1554 Goat, The, 1247 Unsatisfied Yearning, 1835 Winter Dusk, 1975 Winter Fancy, A, 1308

 M. , C. W. Triolets, 1262

 NASBY, PETROLEUM V. (see DAVID ROSS LOCKE)

 NAYLOR, JAMES BALL Comin' Home Thanksgivin, 763

 NEFF, ELIZABETH HYER Life Elixir of Marthy, The, 1555

 NESBIT, WILBUR D. Cry from the Consumer, A, 190 Johnny's Pa, 1802 Odyssey of K's, An, 209 Tale of the Tangled Telegram, The, 1709 "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-Bum! Bum!", 1202 Ye Legend of Sir Yroncladde, 1973

 NICHOLSON, MEREDITH Jack Balcomb's Pleasant Ways, 1300

 NOBLE, ALDEN CHARLES Ballade of Ping-Pong, A, 1690 Tragedy of It, The, 194

 NYE, EDGAR WILSON ("Bill Nye") Dubious Future, The, 1298 Grains of Truth, 985 Grammatical Boy, The, 16 Great Cerebrator, A, 1784 Guest at the Ludlow, A, 1503 Medieval Discoverer, A, 31

 O'CONNELL, DANIEL Drayman, The, 834

 O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE Disappointment, A, 191 Yes, 222

 OSBOURNE, LLOYD Jones, 1007

 PARTINGTON, MRS. (see B. P. SHILLABER)

 PAUL, JOHN (see CHARLES HENRY WEBB)

 PECK, SAMUEL MINTURN Little Bopeep and Little Boy Blue, 2015 My Grandmother's Turkey-Tail Fan, 219 My Sweetheart, 544

 PHELPS, ELIZABETH STUART (see ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD)

 PHOENIX, JOHN (see GEORGE H. DERBY)

 PORTER, SYDNEY ("O. Henry") Double-Dyed Deceiver, A, 1927

 PRICE, WARWICK S. Is It I, 1447

 QUAD, M. (see CHARLES B. LEWIS)

 QUICK, HERBERT Martyrdom of Mr. Stevens, The, 1151

 RANKIN, CARROLL WATSON Johnny's Lessons, 1570

 READ, OPIE Arkansas Planter, An, 556

 RICE, WALLACE In Elizabeth's Day, 572 Myopia, 151 Rule of Three, A, 1779

 RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB At Aunty's House, 2007 Bear Story, The, 1047 Champion Checker-Player of Ameriky, The, 156 Dos't o' Blues, 486 Down Around the River, 29 Funny Little Fellow, The, 822 Grandfather Squeers, 1571 Hoss, The, 1759 Little Mock-Man, The, 540 Little Orphant Annie, 444 Lugubrious Whing-Whang, The, 1669 My Philosofy, 1076 My Ruthers, 971 Natural Perversities, 350 Nine Little Goblins, The, 1635 Our Hired Girl, 1888 Ponchus Pilut, 624 Raggedy Man, The, 643 "_Ringworm Frank_", 395 Runaway Boy, The, 832 Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer, 1081 Tree-Toad, The, 418 Up and Down Old Brandywine, 1003 Way It Wuz, The, 261 When the Frost Is on the Punkin, 169

 ROBINSON, DOANE One of the Palls, 1601

 ROCHE, JAMES JEFFREY Concord Love-Song, A, 1913 V-A-S-E, The, 1603

 ROOF, KATHARINE M. Associated Widows, The, 1338

 ROSE, RAY CLARKE Simple English, 19

 ROSE, WILLIAM RUSSELL Conscientious Curate and the Beauteous Ballet Girl, The, 1756

 SABIN, EDWIN L. Her Brother: Enfant Terrible, 2001 Trouble-Proof, 1801

 SAXE, JOHN G. Briefless Barrister, The, 585 Comic Miseries, 1121 Coquette, The, 1127 How the Money Goes, 1780 Icarus, 1493 Reflective Retrospect, A, 1703 Teaching by Example, 91

 SCOLLARD, CLINTON Bookworm's Plaint, A, 1878 Cavalier's Valentine, A, 1782 Holly Song, 1260 Vive La Bagatelle, 1497

 SCUDDER, HORACE E. "As Good as a Play", 749

 SHAW, HENRY W. ("Josh Billings") Laffing, 171 Muskeeter, The, 181

 SHILLABER, B. P. ("Mrs. Partington") Partingtonian Patchwork, 20

 SHUTE, HENRY A. Real Diary of a Real Boy, The, 1881

 SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND Eve's Daughter, 1605

 SLICK, SAM (see THOMAS C. HALIBURTON)

 SMILEY, MAURICE Love Sonnets of a Husband, The, 725

 SMITH, CHARLES H. ("Bill Arp") Bill Nations, 1368 Few Reflections, A, 1799 Litigation, 1533 Southern Sketches, 575

 SMITH, F. HOPKINSON Chad's Story of the Goose, 993 Colonel Carter's Story of the Postmaster, 1052

 SMITH, SEBA ("Major Jack Downing") My First Visit to Portland, 409

 SMITH, SOL Bully Boat and a Brag Captain, A, 1208

 SOUSA, JOHN PHILIP Feast of the Monkeys, The, 183 Have You Seen the Lady? 821

 SPOFFORD, HARRIET PRESCOTT Our Very Wishes, 1637 Tom's Money, 1955

 STANTON, FRANK L. Backsliding Brother, The, 1972 Bill's Courtship, 836 Billville Spirit Meeting, The, 188 Boy's View of It, A, 393 Famous Mulligan Ball, The, 1103 His Grandmother's Way, 1901 How I Spoke the Word, 1725 Mister Rabbit's Love Affair, 1887 Old Deacon's Version of the Story of the Rich Man and Lazarus, The, 227 Old-Time Singer, An, 1941 Runaway Toys, The, 1671 Settin' by the Fire, 1821 When the Little Boy Ran Away, 1792

 STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE Diamond Wedding, The, 549

 STEVENSON, BENJAMIN Evan Anderson's Poker Party, 1737

 STINSON, SAM S. Nothin' Done, 1296

 STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER Aunt Dinah's Kitchen, 335

 STROTHER, B. F. ("Porte Crayon") Loafer and the Squire, The, 767

 SUTHERLAND, HOWARD V. Biggs' Bar, 1967 Omar in the Klondyke, 1387

 TABB, JOHN B. Beecher Beached, The, 232 Fascination, 222 Plagiarism, 316

 TAYLOR, BAYARD Experiences of the A. C. , The, 116

 TAYLOR, BENJAMIN F. Old-Fashioned Choir, The, 1790

 TAYLOR, BERT LESTON Farewell, 969 Kaiser's Farewell to Prince Henry, The, 1568 Miss Legion, 820 Traveled Donkey, A, 428 When the Sirup's on the Flapjack, 1634 Why Wait for Death and Time, 1866

 THANET, OCTAVE (see ALICE FRENCH)

 THAYER, ERNEST LAWRENCE Casey at the Bat, 1148

 THORPE, THOMAS BANGS Piano in Arkansas, A, 895

 TOMPKINS, JULIET WILBOR Mother of Four, A, 1976

 TOWNSEND, EDWARD W. Cupid, A Crook, 1220

 TROWBRIDGE, J. T. Coupon Bonds, The, 654 Darius Green and His Flying-Machine, 1539

 TUCKER, MARY F. Going Up and Coming Down, 806

 VIELÉ, HERMAN KNICKERBOCKER Girl from Mercury, The, 779

 WARD, ARTEMUS (see CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE)

 WARD, ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS Old Maid's House: In Plan, The, 60

 WARE, EUGENE F. ("Ironquill") Grizzly-Gru, 174 He and She, 1250 Jackpot, The, 2003 Pass, 91 Reason, The, 1890 Shining Mark, A, 1877 Siege of Djklxprwbz, 1246 Whisperer, The, 1822

 WARNER, ANNE (see ANNE WARNER FRENCH)

 WARNER, CHARLES DUDLEY Garden Ethics, 425

 WATERLOO, STANLEY Apostasy of William Dodge, The, 1084

 WATERMAN, NIXON Cheer for the Consumer 740

 WEBB, CHARLES HENRY ("John Paul") Abou Ben Butler, 1167 Dictum Sapienti, 1624 Dum Vivimus Vigilamus, 2005 Lost Word, The, 293 Talk, 1307 What She Said About It, 1263

 WELLS, CAROLYN Economical Pair, The, 602 Experiences of Gentle Jane, 1797 How to Know the Wild Animals, 650 Maxioms, 424 Our Polite Parents, 1688 Stage Whispers, 195 Suppressed Chapters, 817 Turnings of a Bookworm, The, 182 Two Automobilists, The, 573 Two Brothers, The, 281 Two Business Men, The, 583 Two Farmers, The, 258 Two Housewives, The, 566 Two Husbands, The, 587 Two Ladies, The, 548 Two New Houses, The, 221 Two Pedestrians, The, 603 Two Prisoners, The, 641 Two Suitors, The, 229 Two Young Men, The, 565 Wild Animals I Have Met, 414

 WETHERILL, J. K. Unconscious Humor, 998

 WHICHER, FRANCES M. ("Widow Bedott") Hezekiah Bedott's Opinion. 1893 Widow Bedott's Visitor, The, 1660

 WHITMAN, WALT Boston Ballad, A, 1479

 WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF Demon of the Study, The, 1869

 WISTER, OWEN In a State of Sin, 696

 YBARRA, THOMAS Lay of Ancient Rome, A, 2013

Breezy Glimpses into the Heart of Bohemia

 "The author gets at the intimate secrets, the subtle charm of the Quarter. A spirit of gaiety runs through the book. "--_Phila. Press. _

By F. BERKELEY SMITH

Author of "How Paris Amuses Itself"

The Real Latin Quarter

In these captivating and realistic sketches, the reader is taken intothe very heart of Bohemia and shown the innermost life and characters inthis little world of art and amusement. The author pictures with brush, pen, and camera every nook and corner of the Quarter with such light andvivid touches that the reader is made to feel the very spirit, breathethe very atmosphere within these fascinating precincts. We look downupon the giddy whirl of the "Bal Bullier, " enjoy a cozy breakfast at"Lavenue's, " stroll through the Luxembourg Gardens, peep into studiosand little corners known only to the initiated, mingle with the throngof models, grisettes, students, and artists on "Boul Miche" and in ahundred other ways see and enjoy this unconventional center. 

"A True Picture, " Say the Artists

_Charles Dana Gibson:_ "It is like a trip to Paris. "

_John W. Alexander:_ "It is the real thing. "

_Frederic Remington:_ "You have left nothing undone. "

_Ernest Thompson Seton:_ "A true picture of the Latin Quarter as I knewit. "

A Richly Made Book

_Watcrcolor Frontispiece by F. Hopkinson Smith. About 100 originaldrawings and camera snap shots by the Author, and two caricatures incolor by the celebrated French caricaturist Sancha. 12mo, Cloth. Price, $1. 20, post-paid. _

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBS. , NEW YORK

Within the Gates of the Kingdom of Fun

 "If you wish to thoroughly soak yourself with the concentrated essence of enjoyment, read this book quickly. It is too good to miss. "--_The Philadelphia Item. _

How Paris Amuses Itself

By F. BERKELEY SMITH

Author of "The Real Latin Quarter"

This jolly, handsome book is the very incarnation of that spirit ofamusement which reigns supreme in the capital of the world's fun. Theauthor unites the graphic skill of the artist, the infectious enthusiasmof the lover of fun and gaiety, and the intimate personal knowledge ofthe long-time resident in this great playground of the world. In spiritthe reader can visit with a delightful comrade all the nooks of jollityknown only to the initiated, enjoy all the sparkle and glitter of theever-moving panorama of gaiety, and become a part of the merry throng. 

"It is the gayest book of the season and is as handsome mechanically asit is interesting as a narrative. The sparkle, the glow, the charm ofthe risque, the shimmer of silks, and the glint of jewels--are all soreal and apparent. "--_Buffalo Courier. _

"The very spirit of modern Paris is prisoned in its text. "--_Life. _

"There is about the whole book that air of light-heartedness and frolicwhich is essentially Parisian. This book is a book for everybody--thosewho know Paris and those who do not know it. "--_North American_, Philadelphia. 

135 Captivating Pictures

 Six in colors, 16 full-page half-tone inserts, 58 full-page text drawings, 55 half-page and smaller text drawings by the author and several French artists, including _Galaniz_, _Sancha_, _Cardona_, _Sunyer_, _Michael_, _Perenet_, and _Pezilla_. 

_12mo, Cloth, Handsome Cover Design, $1. 50, Post-paid. _

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBS. , NEW YORK

The Breeziest Books on Parisian Life

 "For delightful reading one can turn with pleasant anticipations certain of fulfilment to F. Berkeley Smith's triology of books on Paris life, 'The Real Latin Quarter' and 'How Paris Amuses Itself, ' and the latest volume just out, 'Parisians Out of Doors. '"--_Burlington Hawk Eye. _

Parisians Out of Doors

By F. BERKELEY SMITH

Author of "How Paris Amuses Itself" and "The RealLatin Quarter"

"It is a kaleidoscopic miscellany of anecdote, grave and gay; brief bitsof biography and impressionistic portrayal of types, charming glimpsesinto Parisian life and character, and, above all, descriptions of thecity's chief, and, to outward view, sole occupation--the art of enjoyingoneself. Tourists have learned that Mr. Smith is able to initiate theminto many mysteries uncatalogued or only guardedly hinted at by morestaidly respectable and professional guides. "--_The Globe_, New York. 

"Smith's delightfully sympathetic Paris [Parisians Out of Doors] wouldmake a wooden Indian part with his cigars. "--_Frederic Remington. _

"Naturally, these scenes and places and the persons who add the livingtouches to the pictures are described from the viewpoint of one whoknows them well, for Mr. Smith holds the world of Paris in the hollow ofhis hand. This is an ideal book for summer reading. "--_New York Press. _

 _12mo, cloth, handsome binding, illustrated with drawings by the author and several French artists, and water-color frontispiece by F. Hopkinson Smith $1. 50 post-paid. _

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBS. , NEW YORK

"Mr. Smith does not go sightseeing in the accepted sense of the word. Itis not the museums and historical places in which he is interested, but_the people themselves_, and he gets many a view of which the hurried_tourist_ is altogether ignorant. "--_Brooklyn Citizen. _

In London Town

By F. BERKELEY SMITH

Illustrated by the Author and other Artists

"The charm of this book lies in its breezy talk, its naive descriptionsand its plenitude of atmosphere. It certainly is a most charming bookand the reader will have a good time 'In London Town' if he goes withthe author. "--_Philadelphia Inquirer. _

"Everyday life and the living of it after British standards are what Mr. Smith sought and here reveals. He could not write an unreadable book, this American artist. It is all interesting that he has to tell ofLondon Town. "--_San Francisco Bulletin. _

"The author conscientiously looks for the picturesque and he does muchto show the brighter side of English life, for he writes in a light, bright, gay style that catches and holds the attention wherever one mayopen the book. Indeed he gives a true idea of the real life of theLondoner as few travellers would be apt to obtain unaided. "--_Columbus(O. ) State Journal. _

"Candor is the prevailing note in this beautiful volume. There isnothing of the guide book spirit about it. It is bright, replete withanecdotes and a moving picture of wonderful London. London's labors, itspictures and its characteristics are shown in breezy fashion and evenEnglish cooking and London's kitchens come in for cheery comment. It isa refreshing book charmingly exhilarating. "--_Philadelphia Record. _

London Sketched with Brush and Pen: "He has studied London with atrained intelligence, observed it with an artist's eye, and then givesus a traveller's impression in a graceful, literary way. "--_ChicagoTribune. _

"It is brilliantly written. The glimpses of London which he gives arenot at all like anything we are accustomed to in descriptions ofLondon--herein lies the charm of Mr. Smith's book. He knows London quiteas well as any American. It is a thoroughly delightful narrative--apleasant and entertaining story, gracefully written, picturesque, andwholly original in inspiration and treatment. "--_Brooklyn Eagle. _

_12 mo. Cloth, Illustrated, $1. 50, Post-paid. _

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

_ALONG THE BEAUTIFUL ADRIATIC JUSTBEFORE THE WAR BEGAN_

Delightful Dalmatia

By ALICE LEE MOQUE

One of the most refreshing volumes written in years--a live, snappy, rollicking tale of experiences aboard and ashore in the most delightfulpiece of Southern Europe--along the Adriatic. 

Its pages breathe the very spirit of everything that goes to makeDalmatia delightful. Story, anecdote--ancient or legendary--beautifulcities, old churches, countless architectural and other ancienttreasures, etc. , etc. , pervade its pages in entertaining variety. 

The book is timely for its descriptions of places already in the wake ofwar; among these is Cattaro, the recently bombarded fortification on theAdriatic. Unusually attractive is the great scenic and historic interestattaching to Pola, Sebenico, Gravossa, Spalato, Ragusa, etc. 

_Cloth bound, 362 pages. Profusely illustrated in colorand half-tone. $2. 00, net; by mail, $2. 16_

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, PublishersNEW YORK and LONDON

THE STORY OF OUR PEOPLE ANDLANDS IN THE NEAR PACIFIC

From the descriptions and beautiful illustrations one seems to betransported to the shores of sweet breezes and lofty peaks--the paradiseof the Pacific. 

HAWAII:

Our New Possessions

_By John R. Musick_

The true and wonderful story of Hawaii--"the paradise of thePacific"--as it has been and as it is to-day. It tells all about theinteresting people--their customs, traditions, etc. ; the naturewonders--volcanoes, fertile valleys, etc. ; governmental changes, etc. 

Elegantly and Profusely Illustrated

with many beautiful half-tone illustrations, adorned with tastefulborder decorations by PHILIP E. FLINTOFF, besides thirty-four artisticpen sketches by FREELAND A. CARTER. 

_HIGHLY COMMENDED_

"A perusal of the book, next to a personal visit, will best afford one aclear understanding and appreciation of our new possessions. "--_St. Louis Globe-Democrat. _

"With the great interest that is now felt in this region, the appearanceof the book is exceedingly timely. "--_Hartford Courant. _

"By far the handsomest and most delightful work on this subject everpublished. "--_Philadelphia Item. _

_8vo, 546 pages. 56 full-page half-tone plates. Alsowith map. Cloth, $2. 75. Half-Morocco, gilt edges, $4. 00_

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers

NEW YORK and LONDON