UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES Choice Humor rOR READING AND RECITATION nmmmm^am^^^^^m^ COMPILED Br Charles C Shoemaker PHILADELPH lA Thb Penn Publishing Company 1926 i Entered according to Act of ConEress, in the year 1886, by S8BB NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. Copyright 1914 by Charles C. Shoemaker C) -o e» ^ ? 55-5^ PREFACE. er Dog und der Lobnter 36 Dot Leedle Loweeza CharUs F. Adanu 74 Duel between Mr. Shott and Mr. Nott.The Harper's Weekly 98 Enguged 63 Ethiupiomunia Henry Tyrrdl 138 Kxporjence with a Kefraotory Cow V5 Farmer Stebbius on Rollers Will CM-letoa 46 F1r4t Adventures in England 137 Flood and the Ark, The tt Fourth of July in Jonf<>ville 8 Getting Letters 86 G( of the Period, A 164 Happy Love Surliiiglon Hutckei/e 19 Her No 17 Her Loven* liiwheUir Ben 80 Hia.Sign 112 Uoffeusteiu's Bugle -Yei» Orleati* Times- De^nocrat . . 17 Bonest Deacon, The 106 How Jimmy Tended the Baby 172 How His Garmenla Cot Turned 18» Idyl of the Period, An Gei,rooUiu'u Will 104 Time's Revenge 1hing to the roots of his hair, he stammered out that he " really didn't have the pleasure of knowing — '' " Oh, that's all right," said the young lady. "You'll know me better before you leave. I'm one of the man- agers, you understand. Come, the cake will all be taken if you don't hurry." And she almost dragged him over to one of the middle tables. " There, now — only fifty cents a slice, and you may get a real gold ring. You had better take three or four slices, it will increase your chances, you know." " You're very good," he stammered. " But I'm not fond of cake — that is, I haven't any use for the ring — I—" " Ah, that will be so nice," said the young lady, " for now if you get the ring you can give it back, and we'll put it in another cake." " Y-e-e-s," said the young man with a sickly smile. " To be sure, but—" " Oh, there isn't any but about it," said the young lady, imiling sweetly. " You know you promised '" 3 S4 A VICTIM OF CHARITY. "Promised?" " Well, no, not exactly that ; but you will take just one slice !" and she looked her whole soul into his eyes. " Well, I suppose — " " To be sure. There is your cake," and she slipped a great slice into his delicately -gloved hands, as he handed her a one-dollar bill. " Oh, that is too nice," added the young lady, as she plastered another piece of cake on top of the one she had just given him. " I knew you would take at least two chances," and his one-dollar bill disappeared across the table, and then she called to a companion : " Oh, Miss Larkins, here is a .gentleman who wishes to have his fortune told." " Oh, does he ? Send him right over," answered Miss Larkins. " I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid you're mistaken, I don't remember saying anything about — " " Oh, but you will," said the first young lady, tugging at the youth's arm. " It's for the good of the cause, and you won't refuse," and once more the beautiful eyes looked soulfully into his. " Here we are. Now take an envelope ; open it. There ! you are going to be married in a year. Isn't that jolly? Seventy-five cents, please." This time the youth was careful to hand out the exact change. " Oh, I should just like to have my fortune told. May I ?" said the first young lady. " Of course you may, my dear," said Miss Larkins, handing out one of her envelopes. " Oh, dear, you are going to be married this year, too. Seventy-five ceuta more, please," and the poor youth came down with an- other dollar note. " No change here, you know," add«<3 Miss Larkins, putting the greenback in her pocket. A VICTIM OF CHARITY. 35 " Oil, come, let's try our weight," said the first young lady, once more tugging at the bashful youth's coat sleeve, and before he knew where he was he found him- self standing on the platform of the scales. " One hun- dred and thirty-two," said the young lady. " Oh, how I would like to be a great heavy man, like yon," and she jumped on the scales like a bird. '" One hundred and eighteen. "Well, that is light. One dollar, please." "What!" said the youth, "one dollar? Isn't that pretty steep? I mean, I — " " Oh, but you know," said the young lady, " it is for charity," and another dollar was added to the treasury of the fair. " I think I'll have to go. I have an engagement at—" " Oh, but first you must buy me a bouquet for taking you all around," said the young lady. " Right ovei here," and they were soon in front of the flower-table. " Here is just what I want," and the young lady picked up a basket of roses and violets. "Seven dollars, please." "Oh, eJack, is that you?" cried the poor youth's " cousin " from behind the flower-counter, " and buying flowers for Miss Giggle, too. Oh, I shall be terribly jealous unless you buy me a basket, too," and she picked up an elaborate affair. " Twelve dollars, please, Jack," and the youth put down the money, looking terribly confused, and much as though he didn't know wlvether to make a bolt for the door or give up all hope and settle down in despair. " You'll excuse me, ladies," he stammered, " but I must go ; I have " " Here, let me pin this in your button-hole," inter- 36 DER DOG UND DEK LOBSTER. rupted hifi " cousin." " Fifty cents, please," and then the youth broke away and made a straight line ior tlio door. " AVell, if ever I visit another fair, may I be— be sAvindled !" he ejaculated, as he counted over his cash to see if he had the car fare to ride home. DER DOG UND DER LOBSTER. DOT dog, he vas dot kind of dog Vot ketch dot ret so sly, Und squeeze him mit his leedle teeth, Und den dot ret vas die. Dot dog, he vas onquisitive Verefter he vas go, Und like dot voman, all der time, Someding he vants to know. Von day, all by dot market stand, Vere fish und clams dey sell. Dot dog vas poke his nose aboud Und find out vot he smell. Dot lobster, he vas dook to snooze Mit vone eye open vide, Und ven dot dog vas come along, Dot lobster he vas spied. Dot dog, he smell him mit his noze Und scratch him mit his paws, Und pusli dot lobster all abtiud, Und vonder vat he vas. DED DOG UND BER LOBSTEE. 37 Uud den dot lobster, he voke up, Und crawl yoost like dot snail, Und make vide open ov his claws, Und grab dot doggie's tail. Und deu so quick as never vas, Dot cry vent to der sky, Und like dot swallows vot dev sincj, Dot dog vtis homevard fiy. Yoost like dot dunderbolt lie vent — Der sight vas awful grand, Und every street dot dog was turn, DoAvn vent dot apple-stand. Der shildren cry, der vimmin scream, Der mens fell on der ground, Und dot boliceman mit his club Vas novare to pe found. I make dot run, und call dot dog, Und vistle awful kind ; Dot makes no different vot I say. Dot dog don't look pchind. Und pooty soon dot race vas end, Dot dog vas lost his tail — Dot lobster, I vas took him home, Und cook him in dot pail. Dot moral vas, I tole you 'bond, Pefore vas netler known — Don't vant to find out too much tings Dot vasn't ov your own. 38 THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. A PKOPOSAL. LITTLE Pet, When with dew the grass is wet. We in rosy mood will set Out to seek where sigus are met With the legend gay " To Let." We a purple house will get Where the sparrows chat and fret, And the di'eamy lawn a net Is of fern and violet. There, together, care — regret We will conquer ; Plarte the Bret I will read to you till yet Brighter burn your eyes of jet. Answer, tell me, little pet, Will you go with me ? " You bet !" —Puck. THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. QOME one, a figure arrayed in white, with frills rD around its head and blood in its eye, let him in, and he lounged with easy grace into the first chair that went past him, after he had made several vain attempts to seat himself on the piano. The reproachful figure of Mk. Bosbyschell regarded him with fuhn severity, and her icy silence made him feel uncomfortable. " Moggareek," he said, thickly, but with grave ear- Aestness, •' Moggareek " (Mrs. Bosbyschell's front name THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. 39 is ]\Iargaret), " I've — hie— I've gotta — gotta quickened coshielsce." " A what ?" asked Mrs. Bosbyschell, in calm disdain. " A quickened coshience," repeated Mr. Bosbyschell. " A quickened coshiece. A — hie — I've got something enmy min', Moggart. I've gotta — hie — cofFessiol — cod- fession — gotaeofessiou t'make." " You can make it in the morning," she said, imperi- ously. " I am going to bed. You may sleep where you please, or, rather, where you can." " Naw," protested Mr. Bosbyschell, with much vehem- ence, " can't — can't — wait — hie — can't go t'sleep 'ith th'sload ommy — ommy mind. Got cofession t'make, an' mus' — mus' make it. Done suthin', Moggart — hie — been — been a — beena load ommy mind long time. Been — hie — earryin' guilty secret 'round 'ith me too long. Quickened coshience won' gimme — won' gimmy nope — hie — no peace. Mus' tell you sumpin', Moggart ; sumpin' '11 s'prise you. I've — "' " Mercy on me, man !" exclaimed Mrs. Bosbyschell, startled from her composure, what have you been doing ? Tell me, quick ; tell me, for Heaven's sake !" " Moggart," said Mr. Bosbyschell, " it's surathin' ye nev — hie — nevec suspec — suspected. It'll mos' kill ye. Hie! S'pec' it'll nigh drive me crazy. 'Sawful t' think 'bout it. Y'— y' wouldn't b'lieve it of me. Margart, y' — ye wouldn' I've been " " Speak !" shrieked the almost frantic woman. I'm wild with suspense! Speak, tell me all, quick ! Oh, I could tear her eyes out ! Tell me, you brute, what is her name ? Who is she ?" "Wh— wh— hie! Who'sh who?" demanded Mr. Bosbyschell, in blank amazement. 45 PERSONAL. " The woman, you wretcli !" screamed his wife ; " wha is the woman ?" " Oh, pshaw, Moggart," ejaculated Mr. Bosbyschell, •* 'tain th — hie — that. Wussan that. 'Smore dreadful — hie. More crushin'. You — hie — y'won't hardly b'lieve it — liic — w'en tell ye. Moggart — " " Speak !" wailed the anxious woman, wringing her hands. " Speak ; let me know the worst ! What have you been doing ?" " Moggart," said Mr. Bosbyschell, solemnly, and with the air of a man upon whom a quickened conscience had wrought its perfect work. " Margart," he said, nerving himself for the confession, " Margort, I've — hie — I've been drinking !" — Burlington Haivkeye. PERSONAL. THE mercury lay in her bulb at morn, And cuddled and shivered and looked forlorn, Bemoaned her fate ; " O, a thing I be Of low degree ; I want to be big and I want to be tall, But daily I struggle and daily I fall. And I haven't succeeded this summer at all. For the highest I've got to Avas eighty-eight! Oh ! sun, good sun, why cannot you shed Your rays more warmly upon the head Of a poor little mercury here in her bed. And help her to climb To a height sublime ?" 'Twas thus the mercury sighed and plead. THK FLOOD AND THE AKJt. 4S And her way so won The heart of the suu He muttered : " I'll give to the maid awhii© My most magnificent melting smile." And then, Great Scott ! But it got Hot! And the vain little mercury swelled with pride, And climbed until she reached a hundred-and-^ne, And cried in delio-ht over what she had done : " I'm the bride Of the sun. And it's fun !" — Chicago Tribunt, THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. A Hard-Shell Methodist sermon on nature. IN the autumn of 1830 I attended a Methodist campt meeting in the interior of Georgia, and heard a sermon which I have never been able to forget or de- gcribe. The speaker had just been licensed, and it was his first sermon. In person he was small, bullet-heutled, of a fair, sandy complexion ; and his coimtenance was in- dicative of sincerity and honesty. He was taking up the Bible in resrular order for the first time in liis life, and had gotten as far as the histor>' of Noah, the ark, the Hood, etc. Besides, just before his conversion, ho had been reading Goldsmith's "Animated Nater," iiiu] the two together, by ihe aid and assistance of xhe 42 THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. Spent, had led him into a powerful train of thinking as he stood at his work-bench, day in and day out. The text was : "As it wiis in the days of Noah, so shall the coming of the Son of Man be ;" and he broke out into the following strain : " Yes, my bretherin, tlie heavens of the windows was opened-ah, and the floods of the g-r-e-a-t deep kivered the waters-ah ; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet-ah, a-l-l-a gwine into the ark-ah. " And there was the elephant-ah, that g-r-e-a-t ani- mal-ah of which Goldsmith describes in his ' Animated Nater'-ah, what is as big as a house-ah, and his bones as big as a tree-ah, depending somewhat upon the size of the tree-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the windows was opened-ah, and the floods of the g-r-e-a-t deep kivered the waters-ah ; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet- ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. " And there was the hippopotamus-ah, that g-r-e-a-t animal-ah, of which Goldsmith describes in his * Ani- mated Nater*-ah, what has a g-r-e-a-t horn a-stickin* tight straight up out of his forward-ah, six feet long, more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the length of it-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. " And there was the giraffe-ah, my bretherin, that ill- contrived reptile of whicli Goldsmith describes in his * Animated Nater'-ah, whose fore-legs is twenty-five feet long-ah, more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the length of 'em-ah, and a neck so long he can eat hay off the top of a barn-ah, depending somewhat on the hitlie of the barn-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the windows was opened-ah, and the flood* THE FLOOD .AiTD THE ARK. 43 of the great deep kivered the waters-ah ; and there was Ham, and there was 8hem, and there vras Japhet-ab, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. " Afld there was the zebra, my bretherin-ah, that b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-1 animal of which Goldsmith describes in his * Animated Nater'-ah, what has three hundred stripes a-runnin' right straight around his body-ah, more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the number of fitripes-ah, and nary two stripes alike-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. " Then there was the anaconder-ah, that g-r-e-a-t sar- pint of which Goldsmith describes in his ' Animated Xater'-«h, what can swallow six osens at a meal-ah, ])rovided his appetite don't call for less-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the windows was opened-ah, and the floods of the great deep kivered the (vaters-ah ; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, *nd there was Japhet-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. " And there was the lion, bretherin-ah, what is the king of beasts, accordin' to Scripter-ah, and who, as St. Paul says-ah, prowls around of a night like a roariu' devil-ah, a-seekin' if he can't catch somebody-ah, a-l-l ft-gwine into the ark-ah. " And there was the antelope-ah, my brethevin, that frisky little critter-ah, of which Goldsmith der^^ibes in liis * Animated Nater'-ah, what can jump se^'-nty-fivo foot straight up-ah, and twice that distuua^ down-ah, provided his legs will take liim that far-ah, k M a-gAvine into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the w^lndows was opened-ah, and the floods of the gr:)at deep kivered the waters-ah; and there was Shem, and there wus ilam. and there was Japhet-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into thf ark-ah. ** But time would fail me, my bretherin. U Jescnh« 4% THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. aK Lhe animals that went into the ark-ah. Your pa- tience and luy strength would give out before I got half through-ah. We talk, ray bretherin, about the faith of Abraham and the patience of Job-ah ; but it strikes me they didn't go much ahead of old Noer-ah. It tuck a right smart chance o' both to gather up all that goplier-wood, and pitch and other truck for to build that craft-ah. I am a sort of carpenter myself, and nave some idea of the job-ah. But to hammer and saw and maul and split away on that one thing a hundred and twenty year-ah, an' lookin' an' lookin' for his pay in another world-ah — I tell ye, my bretherin, if the Lord had a-sot Job at that, it's my opinion he would a-tuck his wife's advice inside of fifty year-ah. Be- sides, no doubt his righteous soul was vexed every day, hand runnin'-ah, with the filthy communications of the blasphemious set that was always a-loferin' and a-saun- terin' around-ah, a-pickin' up his tools and a-misplacin' 'em, and a-callin' him an old fool or somethin' worse-ah. And, to clap the climax, he was a preacher, and had that ongodly gineration on his hands every Sunday-ah. But the Lord stood by him, and seed him through the job-ah ; and, when everything was ready, he didn't send Noer out to scrimmage an' scour and hunt all over the wide world for to git up the crittei-s and varmints that he wanted saved-ah. They all came to his hand of their own accord-ah, and Noer only had to head 'em in and fix 'em around in their places-ah. Then he gath- ered up his own family, and the Lord shut him in, and the heavens of the windows was opened-ah. " But, my bretherin, Noer-ah had use for patience after this-ah. Think what a time he must a-had a- feedin' and a-waterin' and a-cleanin' out after gich 9, THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 45 erowd-ali ! Some of 'em, according to Goldsmith's 'Animated Nater'-ah, was carnivorious, and wanted fresh meat -ah ; and some was herbivorious, and wanted vege- table food-ah ; and some was worniivorious, and swal- lowed live tilings whole-ah ; and he had to feed every- thing accordiu' to his nater. Hence we view, my breth- erin-ah, as the nater of the animals wasn't altered by goin' into the ark-ah, some of 'em wonld roar and howl and bark and bray and squeal and blat the whole indurin' uight-ah, a-drivin' sleep from his eyes, and slumber from his eyelets-ah ; and at the first streak o' daylight the last hoof of 'em would set up a noise accordin' to his nater- ah, and the bulls of Bashan wer'n't nowhar-ah. I've often wondered how their women stood it. Scripter is silent on this piut-ah ; but I think I know of some that would a-been vapory and nervious under sich circum- stances-ah, and in an unguarded moment might a-said eomethin' besides their prayers-ah. " My bretherin, one more word for old Noer-ah, and I will draw to a close-ah. After the out-beatin' time he had, first and last, for so many hundred year-ah, if he did, by accident or otherwise, take a leetle too much wine on one occasion-ah, I think less ort to a-been said about it-ah. Besides, I think he was entitled to one spree-ah, as he made the wine hisself ; and accordin' to Scripter, it makes glad the heart o' man-ah. " My bretherin, jis it was in the days of N"oer-ah, so shall tlie coming of the Son of Man be-ah. The world will never be drowned agin-ah. It will be sot a-fire, and burnt up, root and Iwaneh, with a fervient heat-ah. Oh ! what will wretched, ondone sinners do on that orfiil day-ah ? They will be put t<> their wits' end-ah, and knock and straddle around in every dircction-ah ; 46 FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. for all at onct, my bretherin-ah, they will behold the heavens a-darkenin'-ah, and the seas a-roarin'-ah, the tombs a-bustin-ah, the mountains a-meltin'-ah ; and everything, I think, will be in a confused and onsettled state-ah." FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. DEAR Cousin John, — We got here safe — my worthy wife an' me — An' put up at James Sunnyhope's — a pleasant place to be ; An' Isabel, his oldest girl, is home from school just now, An' pets me with her manners all her young man will allow ; An' his good wife has monstrous sweet an' culinary ways : It is a summery place to pass a few cold winter days. Besides, I've various cast-iron friends in different parts o' town, That's always glad to have me call whenever I come down ; But yesterday, when 'mongst the same I undertook to roam, I could not find a single one that seemed to be to home ! An' when I asked their whereabouts, the answer waa, " I think. If you're a-goin' down that way, you'll find 'em at the Rink." I asked what night the Lyceum folks would hold their next debate (I've sometimes gone an' helped 'em wield the cares at church an' state) ; FARMER STEBBIKS OX ROLLERfl. 47 An' if protracted meetin's now was holdin' anywhere (I like to get my soul fed up with fresh celestial fare) ; Or when the next church social was ; they'd give a kuowin' wink, An' say, " I b'lieve there's nothiu" now transpirin' but the Rink." " What is this ' Rink '?" I innocent inquired, that night at tea. " Oh, you must go," said Isabel, " this very night with me! And Mrs. Stebbins, she must go, an' skate there with us, too !" My wife replied, " My dear, just please inform me when I do. But you two go." An' so we went ; an' saw a circus there, Witli which few sights I've ever struck will anyways compare. It seems a good-sized meetin'-house had given up its pews (The church an' pastor had resigned, from spiritual blues I, An' several acres of the floor was made a skatin' ground, Where folks of every shape an' size went skippin' round and round ; An' in the midst a big brass band was helpin' on the fun, An' everything was ^ay as sixteen weddin's joined in one. I've seen small insects crazy like go circlin' through the air, An' wondered if they thought some time they'd maybe get somewhere ; 48 FARMER STKBBIXS ON ROLLERS. I've seen a million river bugs go scootin' round an' round, An' wondered what 'Uvas all about, or what they'd lost or found ; But men an' women, boys an' girls, upon a hard-wood floor, All whirlin' round like folks possessed, I never .saw before. An' then it all came back to me, the things I'd read an' heard About the rinks, an' how their ways was wicked an' absurd : I'd learned somewhere that skatin' wasn't a healthy thing to do; But there was Doctor Saddlebags — his fam'ly with him, too. I'd heard that 'twasn't a proper place for Christian folks to seek ; Old Deacon Perseverance Jinks flew past me like a streak. Then Sister Is'bel Sunnyhopes put on a pair o' skates. An' started off" as if she'd run through several different States. My goodness ! how that gal showed up ! I never did opine That she could twist herself to look so charmin' an' so fine; And then a fellow that she knew took hold o' hands with her, A sort o' double crossw'ays like, an' helped her, as h were. FARMER STEBBiys ON ROLLERS. 49 I used to skate ; an' 'twas a sport of which I once ■was fond. Why, I could write my autograph on Tompkins' saw- mill pond. Of course, to slip on runners, that is one thing, one may say, An' raovin' round on casters is a somewhat different way ; But when the fuu tiiat fellow had came flashin' to my eye, I says, " I'm young again ; by George, I'll skate once more or die !" A little boy a pair o' skates to fit my boots soon found — He had to put 'em on for me (I weigh three hundred pound) ; An' then I straightened up, an' says, " Look here, you younger chaps, You think you're ruuuin' some'at past us older heads, perhaps. If this young lady here to me will trust awhile her fate, I'll go around a dozen times, an' show you how to skate." She was a niceish, ]dum]i young gal, I'd noticed quite awhile. An' she reached out her liands with 'most too daugh- terly a smile ; But off we pushed, with might an' main — when all to once the wheels Departed suddenly above, an' took along my heels ; My head a.s.sailed the floor, as if 'twas tryin' to get through, An' all the stars I ever saw arrived at once in view. 4 60 FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. Twas sing'lar (as not quite unlike a saw-log there I lay) How many of the other folks was goin' that same way •, They stumbled over me in one large animated heap, An' formed a pile o' legs an' arms not far from ten foot deep ; But after they had all climbed off, in rather fierce sur- prise, I lay there like a saw-log still — considerin' how to rise. Then dignified I rose, with hands upon my ample waist, An' then sat down again with large and very painful haste ; An' rose again, and started off to' find a place to rest. Then on my gentle stomach stood, an' tore my meetin' vest ; When Sister Sunnyhopes slid up, as trim as trim could be, An' she an' her young fellow took compassionate charge o' me. Then after I'd got off the skates, an' flung 'em out o' reach, I rose, while all grew hushed an' still, an' made the fol- lowin' speech : " My friends, I've struck a small idea Tan' struck it pretty square), Which physic'lly an' morally, will some attention bear : Those who their balance can preserve are safe here any day; An' those who can't, I rather think, had better keep away." Then I limped out, with very strong, unprecedented pains. An' hired a horse at liberal rates to draw home my re- mains ; THE BOT'b story. 5i An' lay abed three days, while wife laughed at an' Hursed me well, An' used up all the arnica two drug-stores had to sell ; An' when Miss Is'bel Sunnyhopes said, " Won't you skate once more ?" I answered, " Not while I remain on this terrestrial shore." Will Carleton. THE BOY'S STOKY. I'M a boy. I'm not so big as some folks, but I've got eyes, an' they see things, an' I've got ears, an' they hear things, an' I aint a fool, an' don't know nuthin', if 'Lisbuth — she's my big sister — does say so when she gits mad an' has tantrums. Her sayin' so don't make it so, I reckon. I don't like 'Lisbuth, cos she sna]« my cars aAvful, sometimes ; an' folks what snaps boys' ears hadn't ought to have nobody like 'em. They're too mean for anything, that's what they be. " Never you mind," I've said to 'Lisbuth more'n once when she'd been a snappin' me, " I'll pay ye off some day, an' don't you forgit it." Then she'd up an' snap me agin, cos I was sassy, she said. I kep' my word, jest as I said I would. I paid her off fer all her snappin', an' I'll bet she wishes she'd ben a little pleasantcr. I s'pose I've got lots o' snappin' to stan' yet, but when I think how mad she wjis, it tickles me so I can stan' a good, big snappin' 'thout feelin' it much. My I but wa'n't she jest lioppin', tho' ? Oh, no ! I guess not ! You see, 'Lisbutli, she had a bo. She gits lots o' 'em, COR she's good lookin', an' kind o' smooth like. Her ban's look nice to the bos, with rings on 'em, cos 52 THE boy's story. they don't feel 'em a snappin' their ears. Once she snapped my ears, an' then she slapped 'em, an' her big ring, it hurt awful, an', says I, " What d'ye keep yer han's so still fer when bos come ? Why don't ye snap my ears then ? Nex' time one comes, I'll up an' make faces at you, so you'll snap me, an' show 'em how smart you be with yer fingei-s. They think yer a angel, but that's cos they don't know nothin' 'bout it." So the nex' time her bo came I went down-stairs, an' got right up afore 'Lisbuth, an' I made faces at her awful, an' she jest sot an' laifed^ an' sez, " What a redicklus boy." "Why don't yer snap me?" sez I. "I v,ould like to," sez she, kinder low, so her feller shouldn't hear, an' then mother she come in, an' I dassant behave to 'Lisbuth no more after that. Sophy — she's my 'tother sister — she had a bo, too, an' ^he liked him lots. I liked him, too, cos he gives me things, an' he wasn't alius a lookin' jest as if he thought boys hadn't no bisness to be round Avhen our folks wasn't in sight. Some fellers, they'd be awful clever when they thought ma or pa see 'em, but if they didn't, they'd be cross as two sticks, an' jerk their canes away from me, and say they wisht I'd mind my bisness, and grumble like fury 'bout everything I did. I always paid 'em off for being mean, but Henry, he wan't so. He'd let me wear his hat, an' once he helped me ])lay horse, an' he kicked me, an' I sed I didn't call that fun, cos it hurt, but he said that was all right, cos that was what horses kicked for, an' I sed I wouldn't play horse that way. An' he laffed, but I didn't. Henry, he liked Sophy, an' they sit an' look at each other jest as ef they'd like to swaller each other. 1 «een 'em, cos I lookt through a crack in the door. An' THE boy's story. 55 sncc I heerd a sinackin', an t-cz I, all to wonst throiigh tuo keyhole, " What's that I heerd ?" an' then I opened the door an' lookt at 'em ; an' Henry, he was red, an' Sophy, she was red, too, an' they weren't near'n ten feet of each other. They thought they'd fool me, but they didn't a mite. He'd been a kissin' her, an' I know it. If Sophy had been like 'Lisbuth, she'd a snapped mo when her bo was gone, but Sophy, she ain't that kind. I like her tip-top. She's got some feelin' fer boys, but that old 'Lisbuth, she haint. 'Lisbuth, she up an' took a fancy to Sophy's feller, an' she jest did her level best to git him away. She'd smile at him as sweet as sugar, an' she'd make him sing while she played on the planner, an' she jest went foi liim heavy. But she wouldn't made out nothiu' if she hadn't got Sophy to send him a valentine. It was a real ridiclus one, an' it made him mad, cos 'Lisbuth, mean old thing, she went an' made him think Sophy was mad with him, an' wanted to let him know that her heart wa'n't his'n no more. An' so 'Lisbuth, she fooled hiin, an' he come to see her, an' he'd be awful cool to Sophy, an' byme-by she got so she'd git up an' go right out of the room when she see him a comin'. " Don't you like Sophy no more ?" sez I to him one day, an' he got awful red, an' 'Lisbuth, she was mad, an' she got right up an' grabbed me by the arm, an' when she got me into the hall, she snapped my ears that hard that I couldn't stan' it, an' I tread on her foot, which has got a corn, an' she sez, " Oh !" as ef it hurt her ftwful, an' scrooched right down. " I'm glad of it," sez I. " My ears has got as much feclin's in 'em as your corns has," an' I sed it up loud, so he could hear. Then J jerked an' ran off. I went up to Sophy's room, an' 14 THE BOY'S STORY. told her how 'Lisbuth had been snapplu' me, an' sh« laid it was too bad, an' put arniky on aiy cars. It mada em smart awful, but they didn't get sore much. Arniky tops them from glttin' sore after they've been snapt. ".What had you been doiu' to 'Lisbuth?" asked t5o;)hy. •' Nothin'," sez I, " only I asked him if he didn't like yeu no more." Then Sojihy, she set still a minnit, an' th;^u she begun to cry. " No, he don't like me any more/' seys she, jest as if I wasn't there. " Why was I fool enough to send him that old valentine, jest coa 'Lisbuth, she dared me to ?" Then she dropped her head onto the table au' cried an' sniveled awful, an* I see how 'twas, if I wa'n't big, an' I je^t made up my mind I'd come it over that snappin' old 'Lisbuth. So I went down, an' set on the fence, an' when Henry came along I sez, " Sophy, she's awful sorry she sent that val- entine, an' she wouldn't if 'Lisbuth hadn't dared her to, an' she ain't mad with you, cos she's up-staira cryin' 'bout it now. It's all that old 'Lisbuth, an' she's pul- lin' wool over your eyes, makin' b'leeve she's so good an* nice. Jest feel o' my ears, an' see how sore they be where she snapped 'em. She haint no more feelin's than a camel." An', sez he, all of a twitter, " Be you sure Sophy haint mad with me?" An', sez I, "Of course I be. She jest the same's sed so, when she was a puttin' on the arniky." An' sez he, " I wisht I could see her." An' sez I, " She's goin' to walk in the park this afternoon." An' sez he, "I'll be there, but dont you tell her, or maybe she wouldn't come," an' he gave me two shillin's, an' I bo't some lick'rish an' some gum, an' a hull lot o' candy. Tlie nex day Sophy, she went a walkiu' 'u the pai-k» THE BOY'S STORY. 58 an' Henry, he come, an' she got pale ; but he sed some- thin", an' she wa'u't pale no more, only red, an' they went off, an' I had a good time a plaguin' the geese on the pond. Jimmy Jones an' me, we tied a cracker onto a string, an' throwed it to the goose, an' he up an' swal- lered it like a hog, an' we pulled on the string, and dragged hira right up to the shore. An' Jimmy, he sed the goose couldn't let up on the cracker, cos 'twas hitched agin his gizzard. Gooses has their gizzards up in their throats, cos they make their vittels taste good. "WHien Sophy an' Henry came back, they lookt awful happy, an' he kist me, an' sed I was goin' to be his littel brother, an' I askt Sophy if that was so, an' she said she s' posed it was, an' as how mebbe 'twouldn't a ben so ef it hadn't ben for me, an' then she kist me, an' he kist her, an' I sed I'd run home, cos I wanted to tell 'Lisbuth, an' I got sick o' so much kissin'. 'Lisbuth, she was in the parlor, an' I went in an' I sed, "I'm a goin' to have a new brother ;" an' she sez, " What on earth does the young one mean now ?" An' I sez, " It's Henry ; he an' Sophy's made up, an' they wouldn't if it hadn't been for me, an' I told him how you snapped me, an' he gave me two shillin's." Then she lookt out, an' see Henry an' Sophy a comin' up the path awful lovin', a tryin* as if they was goin' to crowd each other off 'n the walk, they was that clost. An' she was jesfe bilin', she was so mad. " You little wretch," she said, an' she grabbed me, an' she snapped me the worst I ever see, an' my ears, they swelled up awful, and waa black and blue. But I didn't care so much, cos it did iCe good to see her so mad. I laffed once, an' I would more, if she hadn't snapped so. Jimmy Jones, he read in a book 'bout a man, he waa 66 SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. a travelin', an' a worm, he kep' a gittin' in his way, an byme-by the man, he stept on him, an' the worm, sez he, " Look here, now, don't you do that agin." But thti man, he did, an' the worm up an' bit him, an' the man swelled up an' died. That was the way with me an' 'Lisbuth. Boys can't stan' everything. Folks haint no bisneas to snap their ears cos they're big. I'll bet she wishes as how she hadn't snapped me so much now. I know 6omethiu' more 'bout her, an' I'll tell of it, if she snaps me agin, see if I don't. E. E. Rexford. SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. " IV/fY dear," said Mr. Spoopendyke, rumpling his hair .-VJ. around over his head and gazing at himself In the glass, " my dear, do you know I think I smoke toe much ? It doesn't agree with me." " Just what I have always thought !" chimed Mrs. Spoopendyke, " and besides, it makes the room smell so. You know this room " " I'm not talking about the room," retorted Mr, Spoopendyke, with a snort. " I'm not aware that it atfects the health of the room. I'm talking about my health this trip, and I think I'll break off short. You don't catch me smoking any more," and Mr. Spoopen- dyke yawned and stretched himself, and plumped down in his easy chair, and glared out the window at the rain. " How are you going to break off?" inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke, drawing up her sewing -chair, and gazing up into her husband's ftice admiringly. " I suppose she best way is not to think of it at all." 8POOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. 57 "The best way is for you to sit there and cackle about it!" growled Mr. Spoopendyke. " If anything will distract my attention from it that will. Can't ye think of something else to talk about ? Don't ye know some subjects that don't smell like a tobacco planta- tion r " Certainly," cooed Mrs. Spoopendyke, rather non- plussed. " We might talk about the rain. I suppose this is really the equinox. How long will it last, dear ?" " Gast the equinox !" sputtered Mr. Hj)oopendyke. " Don't you know that when a man quits smoking it depresses him ? What d'ye want to talk about depress- ing things for ? Now's the time to make me cheerfu 1. If ye don't know any cheerful things, keep quiet." " Of course," assented Mrs. Spoopendyke, " you want subjects that will draw your mind away from the habit of smoking like you used to. Won't it be nice when the long winter evenings come, and the fire is lighted, and you have your slippers and paper " " That's just the time I want a cigar !" roared Mr. Spoopendyke, bounding around in his chair and scowl- ing at his wife. " Aint ye got sense enough to shingle your tongue for a minute ? The way you're keeping it up you'll drive me back to my habit in less'n an hour," he continued, solemnly, " and then my blood will be on your head !" "Oh, dear!" sighed Mrs. Spoopendyke, "I didn't mean to. Did you notice about the comet ? They say it is going to drop into the sun and bum up " « rpj There ye go again !" yelled Mr. Sj)oopcndyke. " You can't open your mouth without suggesting some- thing that breaks me down ! What d'ye want to talk about fire for ? Who wants fire when he's stopped 58 8POOPKNDYKE STOPS SMOKING. smoking ? Two minutes more and I'll have a pipe in my mouth !" and Mr. Spoopcndyke groaned dismally in eontemplation of the prospect. " I'm glad you're going to stay at home to-day," con- tinued Mrs. Spoopendyke, soothingly. " You'd be sure to catch cold if you went out ; and by and by we'll have a piping liot dinner " "That's it!" squealed Mr. Spoopendyke, bounding out of his chair and plunging around the room. " You d got to say something about a pipe ! I knew how .t would be ! You want me to die ! You want me to smoke myself into an early grave ! You'll fetch it ! Don't give yourself any uneasiness ! You're on the track !" and Mr. Spoopendyke buried his face in his hands and shook convulsively. " I meant it for the best, my dear," murmured Mrsi Spoopendyke. " I thought I was drawing " "That's it!" ripped Mr. Spoopendyke. "Drawing! You've driven me to it instead of keeping me from it. You know how it's done ! All you need now is a light- ning rod and a dish of milk toast to be an inebriates' home ! Where's that cigar I left here on the mantel ? Gimme my death warrant! Show me my imported doom ! Drag forth my miniature coffin !" and Mr. Spoopendyke swept the contents of the shelf upon the floor and howled dismally. "Isn't that it?" asked Mra. Spoopendyke, point- ing to a small pile of snuff on the chair in which Mr. Spodpendyke had been sitting. " That looks like it." " Wah 1" yelled Mr. Spoopendyke, grasping his hat ■nd making for the door. " Another time I swear off you go into the country, you hear 2" and Mr. Spoopea- WHAT THK CHOIR 3AXG. 5S dyke dashed out of the house and steered for the nearest tobacco shoji. " J don't cai'e," muttered INIrs. ^poopendyke ; " when he swears off again I'm willing to leave, and in the meantime I suppose he'll be healthier without his pipe, io rU hang it up on the wall where he'll never think of looking for it," and having consigned the tobacco to the flames. Mi's. Spoopendyke gathered her sewing- materials around her and double clinched an old resolu- tion never to lose her temper, no matter what happened. ■ — Brooklyn Eagle. WHAT THE CHOIR SANG ABOUT THE NEW BONNET. A FOOLISH little maiden bought » foolish little bonnet, With a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of lace upon it; And that the other maidens of the little town might know it, She thought she'd go to meeting the next Sunday just to show it. But though the little bonnet was scarce larger than a dime, The getting of it settled proved to be a work of time ; So when 'twas fairly tied, all the bells had stopped their ringing, And when she came to meeting, sure enou^jh the folks were singing. 60 WHAT THE CHOIR SANG. So tliis foolish liltle maiden stood and waited at the door ; And she shook her ruffles out behind and smoothed them down before. " Hallelujah ! hallelujah !" sang the choir above her head. " Hardly knew you ! hardly knew you !" were the words she thought they said. This made the little maiden feel so very, very cross, That she gave her little mouth a twist, her little head a toss ; For she thought the very hymn they sang was all about her bonnet, With the ribbon, and the feather, and the ])it of lace upon it. And she would not wait to listen to the sermon or th? prayer, But pattered down the silent street, and hurried up the stair. Till she reached her little bureau, and in a band-box on it, Had hidden, safe from critics' eye, her foolish little bonnet. Which proves, my little maidens, that each of you will find In every Sabbath service but an echo of your mind ; And the silly little head, that's filled with silly little airs, Will never get a blessing from sermon or from prayers. M. T. MOREiSOM. THE ArJ2>]BTEE."s GKIETANCES ft THE MINISTER'S GRIEVANCES. ""pRETHREN," said the aged minister, as he stood -L' up before the church meeting on New Year's Eve, "I am afraid we will have to part. I have labored among you now for fifteen years, and I feel that that is almost enough, under the peculiar circumstances in which I am placed. Not that I am exactly dissatisfied; but a clergyman who has been preaching to sinners for fifteen years for five hundred dollars a year, naturally feels that he is not doing a great Avork when Deacon Jones, acting as an oflficer of the church, pays his last quarter's salary in a promissory note at six months, and then, acting as an individual, ofiei-s to discount it for him at ten per cent, if he Avill take it part out in clover- seed and pumpkins. " I feel somehow as if it would take about eighty- four years of severe preaching to prepare the Deacon for existence in a felicitous hereafter. Let me say, also, that while I am deeply grateful to the congrega- tion for the donation party they gave me on Christmas, I have calculated that it would be far more profitable for me to shut my house and take to the woods than endure another one. I will not refer to the impulsive generosity which persuaded Sister Potter to come with a prcvsent of eight clothes pins; I will not insinuate anything against Brother Ferguson, who brought with him a quarter of a peck of dried apples of the crop of 1872 ; I shall not allude to the benevolence of Sister Tynhirst, who came with a pen wiper and a tin horse for the baby; I shall refrain from commcntiiig upon the impression made by Brother Hill, who brouglit four ^ THE minister's GRIEVANCES pliosphoreecent mackerel, possibly with an idea thai they might be useful iu dissipating the gloom in my cellar. I omit reference to Deacon Jones' present of an elbow of stove-pipe ajid a bundle of toothpicks, and I admit that when Sister Peabody brought me sweetened sausage meat- and salted and peppered mince-meat foi pies, she did right in not forcing her own family to suf. fer from her mistake iu mixing the material. But I do think I may fairly remark respecting the case of Sister Wakiogham, that after careful thought I am unable to perceive how she considered that a present of a box oi hair-pins to my wife justified her in consuming half of a pumpkin pie, six buttered muffins, two platefuls of oy»- tei-s, and a l■^.Yge variety oi*" miscellaneous food, previous to jamming hei-seli full of preserves, and proceeding to the parlor to join in singing ' There is rest for the weary !' Such a destruction of the necessaries of life doubtless contributes admirably to the stimulation of commerce, but it is far too large a commercial operation to rest solely upon the basis of a ten-cent box of hair-pins. "As for matters in the church, I do not care to dis- cuss them at length. I might say much about the manner in which the congregation were asked to con- tribute clothing to our mission in Senegambia ; we received nothing but four neck-ties and a brass breast- pin, excepting a second-hand carriage-whip that Deacon Jones gave us. I might allude to the frivolous manner In which Brother Atkinson, our tenor, converses with Bistei Priestly, our soprano, during my sermons, and last Sunday kissed her when he thought I was not look ing ; I might allude to the absent-mindedness which has permitted Brother Brown twice lately to put half a doUar on the collection-plate and take off two quarters EKQAGED. 68 and a ten-cent piece in change ; and I might dwell upon the circumstance that while Brother Toombs, the under- taker, sings ' I would not live always,' with professional enthusiasm that is pardonable, I do not see why he should throw such unction into the hymn, * I am un- worthy though I give my all,' when he is in arrears for two years' pew-rent, and is always busy examining the carpet-pattern when the plate goes round. I also — " But here Butler Toombs turned off the gas suddenly, and the meeting adjourned full of indignation at the good pastor. His resignation was accepted unanimously. Max Adeler. ENGAGED. I'VE sat at her feet by the hour In the properly worshipful way ; I've carried her many a flower ; I've read to her many a lay ; Social battles with friend and with lovet For her sake I often have waged ; And now, from her lips, I discover That she — oh ! that she is engaged- One season we led in the German, And one we were partners at whist, On Sundays we heard the same sermon. The opera never once missed ; We were generally winners at tennis. Our skill at the target was gauged, But a difference between now and then is, For now she — for now she's engaged. 64 ENGAGED. I have carried a parasol o'er her, When A\ e strolled in the deep-shaded gro've. Whole minutes I've dallied before her, Assisting to button her glove ; As she sprang to the saddle my tingers Her wee foot a moment have caged, And the thrill in my pulses still lingers Though now she— though now she's engaged. Does she ever live over, I wonder, The night that we sat in the cove, One shawl wrapped about us, while thunder And windstorms and hail raged above ? How, trembling, she hid her white face on My shoulder, and how I assuaged Her fears by the story of Jason — Does she think of all that when engaged? On my Avails hang her many mementos ; That cathedral she sketched me in Rome; It was after my camp-life she sent those Silk slippers to welcome me home ; I've the letters she wrote me at college In a book all assorted and paged — How delightful to read with the knowledge That now she — yes — now she's engaged. I am going to call there to-morrow ; In ])cr joy she will greet her old friend Without even a shadoAV of sorrow That the friendship has come to an end : And close in my arms I will fold her, No matter for papa enraged. Shall his wrath from me longer withhold her When to me — 'tis to me she's engaged? MRS. MIDDLERIB's LETTER. 65 MRS. MIDDLERIB'S LETTER The usual way in which a woman exasperates her loving and lone- suffering husband. MR. MIDDLERIB paused with his coffee-cup raised half way to his lips, as his wife took the letter from the servant. She turned it over once or twice, gazed earnestly at the address, and said : " I wonder who it can be from ?" She looked at the stamp, but the picture of the good George Washington, his visage sadly marred by the rude impress of the canceling stanij), made no sign. " I can't make out the postmark," Mrs. Middlerib said, carefully studying that guide to the authorship of letters. " It isn't Perryville ; it looks something like Tonawanda, but I don't know anybody in Tona- wanda. I wonder if it isn't intended for York? Cousin Hiley Ann Jackson used to visit in York. Why don't they make the postmarks plainer, I wonder? I believe it's Indianapolis, after all. Then it's from Eleanor McPherson, whose husband you met last sum- mer in Canada. It isn't Indianapolis, it's Lacon ; that's where Silas Marshall lives. That isn't an L, either. No, it's New Philadelphia, 111.; I can make it out now; don't you remember ! Uncle Abner Beasix went out there in the grindstone business. I wonder if anything has — oh, pshaw ! it isn't New Philadelphia, either, it's — what is it? It's R; R-o-m — oh, now I see, R-o-m-e, Rome. Why it nmst be from — oh dear me, it isn't Rome, either. I can't make it out at all." And she turned it over and looked mournfully nt the receiving stamp on the back. 6 .$8 MRS. imiddlerib's letter. " It was received liei-e at seven o'clock this morning,'* she said, finallv. " Now, where would a letter have to come from to got here at seven o'clock ? If you kne-w that, we could tell where it came from." " Let me look at it," said Mr. Middlcrib, who wa? beginning to fidget with impatience. " No," replied his wife, turning back to the postmark once more. " I can see what it is now. It's Spartans- burg, Ky. Sarah Blanchard went there after she mar- ried. I expect she wants to — it isn't Spartansburg, either, it's Gridley ; that's where cousin Jennie Bus- kirk lives ; her husband went there and bought a grist- mill. I wonder if she's coming out this summer ? I hope if she does she won't bring the children. But it isn't from her, either. I think that it is Mount Pleasant. Oh! It's from Aunt B'arriet Murdock, and I know they've all been killed, and that dreadful cyclone ! I cant open the letter, my hand trembles so. Do you know, the last thing I said to her when she moved out West, I said— it isn't Mount Pleasant, either, there are only five letters in it. I can't make anything out of it." " Perhaps," said Mr. Middlerib, with a slight tinge of sarcasm in his inflection, "perhaps we'd better send after the carrier who brought it. He may know." " But it is so tantalizing," complained Mrs. Middle- rib, " to receive a letter, and then not be able to tell who or where it is from." " Did you ever try opening a letter to ascertain those facts ?" asked her husband. The lady looked at him with an expression of speech- less disdain upon her features, and half whispered, " If that iffV^i like a man," aa though any woman eveif MRS. middli=:rtb's letter. 67 /ooked into a letter until she had guessed all around her circle of relatives and friends and clear through the United States postal guide, to decide whence and from whom it came. This particular postmark, however, was too " blind " for the most ingenious expert to decipher, and at la.st, with a deep sigh and a little gesture of despair, Mrs. ^Sliddlerib yielded to the inevitable, and resignedly- opened the letter, pausing once or twice in the act, how- evcK, to look longingly back at the tantalizing post- mark. " At last," groaned her husband, who by this timfl was burning up with curiosity. But she laid aside the envelope and looked at it a little while before she turned to the unfolded letter in her liand. Her husband, by a desperate effort, controlled his rising wrath, and,'' in a voice hoarse and strained, besought her to read the letter, as it was late and he should have been down town half an hour slzo. She did not answer. She opened the letter, turned the first page to look for the end of it, went back to the first page, settled herself in an easy position, and said : " Well, I will declare !" Then siie read on in silence, and Mr. Middlerib ground his teeth. Presently she said : " H'm." She read three or four more lines with eager eyes and noiseless lips, and suddenly exclaimed : " I don't believe it !" Then she resumed her voiceless perusal of the docu* merit, and a moment later astonished her husband hy looking up at him and asking: •• I wonder if that is so ?" 68 MRS. MIDDLERIB'8 LETTER. Mr, Middlerib replied in mocking tones iJiat it must be or the postmark wouldn't have said so, but her eyes were glued to the page once more, and she made no response. " Oh !" she fairly shrieked, " did you ever?" The writhing man at the other end of the table said he never had, but he would if this intellectual enter- tainment lasted much longer. *• "It's too bad," murmured Mrs. Middlerib, turning a page cf the letter without raising her eyes. " Well, what's too bad ?" he broke out wrathfullj. " Who is tlie letter from and what is it all about ? Either read aloud or make your comments as mentally as you read.' " I've half a mind to go," she said, in firm, decided tones. " Oh, have you ?" he interjected, with mild sarcasm, "shall I go pack your trunks while you finish that letter?" "I don't see how they can do it," she said, after an interval of silence. "Why don't you look at the postmark, then?" he growled, " maybe that would tell you." She read on, silent and unimpressed, for two or three lines further, and then with an exclamation of astonish- ment, said : " How verv low !" "Ah, well," her husband snarled, " I'm glad to learn something about that letter at last. It's about your Uncle Marcus's family, isn't it?" She did not hear nor heed. She glued her eyes to that precious letter, and went on ejaculating at irregular Intervala : MR5. illDDLERIB^ LETTEB. 6d " H'm." " Oh, that must be lovely '" " It can't be the same." " I never heard of such a thing." " Oh, my goo(ine.ss I" Until her husband was fairly frantic with curiosity. Finally she concluded the perusal of the important document, sighed, and svilii profound and exasperating deliberation folded it carefully and replaced it in the envelope. Mr. Middlerib looked at her in blank amazement. " Well, by George !" he said, " you are a cool one. Here I've waited full fifteen minutes to learn what that blessed letter is about, and all I know about it is that you couldn't make out the postmark. By George, woman " "Why, whatever is the matter with you?" she ex- claimed, with feigned sur})rise. " Here it is, if you want to see it, I didn't suppose you cared to hear it." " Didn't want to hear it ?" he shouted. " What do vou suppose I waited here and missed my train for, if I didn't want to hear that blessed letter ?" " Whv, it isn't a letter at all," she said, in the tone of a superior being commiserating measureless and in- excusable ignorance; "it is a circular from Wachcn- heimer's about their millinery opening next Thurs- day " The bang of the street door cut off the rest of the sentence, and Mrs. Middlerib became aware that she was alone, and that her luisband was tlie angriest man in the State. " And what had occurred to vex him," she said to her neighbor, who dropped in during the morning, " I TO WHY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. eftn't for the life of me imagine. Everything about the houae had gone on smoothly, and I can't recall a single irritating incident or circumstance. Men are strange animals," she sighed, " and there is no accounting for their vagaries and peculiarities." — Burlingion Hawkeye. POLONIUS TO LAERTES.—" RENEWED." SH AKEY, take a fader's plessing, Take it, for you get it sheap • Go in hot for magin' money, Go in und mage a heap. Don' you do no tings vots grooked, Don' you do no tings vots mean — Aber, rake right in dot boodle, Qviet, calm, und all serene. Don' you lend your gash to no von — Not for less dan den per cend ; Don' you make no vild expenses, Dot's de vay de money vent, Und I tells you, leedle Shakey, Put dis varning in your ear, Be a man of pizness honor, Nefer vale but tvice a year. WHY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. AT mid-forenoon yesterday, a man who was crossing Woodward Avenue at Congress Street suddenly began to paw the air with his hands and perform strange antics with his feet, and, after taking plenty of time about it^ he came down in a heap. More than fifty people WHY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. 7J saw the performance and there was a general laugli. It had not ceased when a man with a funereal countenance pushed his way into the crowd and asked : " Who h he — what's his name ?" " It's Smiih," answered a voice. " What Swith ?" " Thomas Smith." " Suve ?" " Yee. ; I've known him for over twenty years." " The 1 I'll Uugh," said the solemn-faced man, and he leaned a^'ainst the wall and chuckled and laughed until he could Imrdly get his breath. One of the crowd re- marked on his sino;ular conduct, and the laudier wiped the 'jears from his eyes and replied : " Gentlemen, nothing tickles me all over so much as to see a man fall down. Ten years ago I was salesman in a wholesale house, with a fine chance for promotion. One day a man just ahead of me fell down, and I laughed. It was our old man, and he discharged me on the spot. Five yeai-s later I was engaged to a rich girl. As I came out of the post-office one day a man sprawled out on the walk, and I laughed till I was sore. It was my Angelina's old man, and he broke up the match. Again, I laughed myself out of a position in a bank, and but for the same failure I should to-day have a place in the Custom-House. I have learned wisdom. Now, when I see a man fall I ask his name, and find out if he has any influence to put me out of my clerk- ship. If he has, I look solemn and ])ass on. If he hasn't, I la-laugh — ha ! ha ! ha ! Smith, is it ? Smith can't do any harm, and — ha ! ha ! ha ! I wouldn't have mL-'sed this for a month's sal — ha ! ha ! ha 1" — Detroit Free Press. 12 A SCHOOL-DAY. A SCHOOL-DAY. "■vrOW John," the district teacher says, iM With frown that scarce can hide The dimpling smiles around her mouth, Where Cupid's hosts abide, " What have you done to Mary Ann, That she is crying so ? Don't say 'twas ' nothing '—don't, I say. For John that can't be so ; " For ]\Iuvy Ann would never cry At nothing, I am sure ; And if you've wounded justice, John, You know the only cure Is punishment ; so come, stand up ; Transgression must abide The pain attendant on the scheme That makes it justified." So John steps forth, with sunburnt face. And hair all in a tumble. His laughing eyes a contrast to His drooping mouth so humble. *■ Now Mary, you must tell me all — I see that John Avill not — And if he's been unkind or rude, I'll whip him on the spot." ** W-we were p-playing p-prisoner's b-base. An' h-he is s-such a t-tease, An' w-when I w-wasn't 1-lookin', m-ma'am, H-he k-kissed me, if you please." A SCHOOL-DAY. 78 Upon the teacher's face the smiles Have triumphed o'er the frown, A pleasant thought runs through her mind ; The stick comes harmless down. But outraged law must be avenged ; Begone, ye smiles, begone ! Away, ye little dreams of love. Come on, ye frowns, come on ! " I think I'll have to whip you, John, Such conduct breaks the rule • No boy, except a naughty one, Would kiss a girl — at school." Again the teacher's rod is raised — A Nemesis she stands — A premium were put on sin If punished by such hands ! As when the bee explores the rose We see the petals tremble. So trembled jVIary's rosebud lips — Her heart would not dissemble. ** I wouldn't whip him very hard — " The stick stops in its fall — ** It wasn't right to do it, but— It didn't hurt at all!" •* What made you cry, then, Mary Annf The school's noise makes a pause, And out upon the listening air From Mary comes—" Because " ! Will F. McSfakkajt. ?4 DOT LEEDLE LOWEEZA. DOT LEEDLE LOWEEZA. HOW dear to dis heart vas my grandchild Loweeza, Dot shweet leedle taughter of Yawcob, mine son I I nefer vas tired to hug and to shqueeze her Vhen home I gets back, imd der day's vork vas done ; Vhen I vas avay, oh, I know dot she miss me, For vhen I comes homevards she rushes bell-mell, Und poots oup dot shweet leedle mout for to kiss me — Her " darling oldt gampa," dot she lofe so veil. Katrina, mine frau, she could not do midoudt her, She vas sooch a gomfort to her day py day ; Dot shild she make efry one habby aboudt her, Like sunshine she drife all dheir droubles avay ; She holdt der vool yarn vile Katrina she vind it, She pring her dot camfire bottle to shmell ; 8he fetch me mine bipe, too, vhen I don'd can vind it, Dot plue-eyed Loweeza dot lofe me so veil. How shweet ven der toils off der veek vas all ofer, Und Sunday vas come mit its quiet und rest, To valk mit dot shild 'mong der daisies und clofer, Und look at der leedle birds building dheir nest ! Her pright leedle eyes how dey shparkle mit bleasure-* Her laugh it rings oudt shust so clear as a bell ; I dhink dhere vas nopody haf sooch a treasure As dot shmall Loweeza, dot lofe me so veil. Vhen winter vas come, midt it's coldt, shtormv vedder^ Katrina und I musd sit in der house Und dalk of der bast, by der fireside togedder. Or blay mit dot taughter off our Yawcob Strauss. EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 75 Oldt age, mit its wrinkles, pegins to remind us Ve gamiot shtay long mit our shildren to dwell ; Budt soon ve shall meet mit der poys left peliind us, Und dot ghweet Loweeza, dot lofe us so veil. Charles F. Adams. EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. WE used to keep a cow when we lived in the country, and sich a cow ! Law sakes ! Why, she used to come to be milked as reg'lar as clock-work. She'd knock at the gate with her horns, jest as sensible as any otlier human critter. Her name was Rose. I never knowed hoAV she got. that name, for she was black as a kittle. Well, one day Rose got sick, and wouldn't eat noth- ing, poor thing ! and a day or so arter she died. I raly do believe I cried when that poor critter was gone. Well, we went for a little spell without a cow, but I told Mr. Scruggins it wouldn't do, no way nor no how -, and he gin in. Whenever I said must Mr. Scruggins knowed I meant it. Well, a few days arter, he come home with the finest cow and young calf you ever seed. He gin thirty dollars for her and the calf, and two levies to a man to help bring her home. Well, they drove her into the back yard, and Mr. Scruggins told me to come out and see her, and I did ; and I went up to her jest as I used to did to Rose, and when I said, "PoorSukey," would you believe it? the nasty brute kicked me right in the fore part of my back ; her foot catched into my dress — bran-new dress, too — cost two levies a yard, and she took a levy's worth right out ad clean as the back vt' my hand. 76 EXPERIENCE WITH A BEFKACTORY COW. I screeched right out, and Mr. Scruggius kotched mo jest as 1 was drojiping, and he carried me to the door, and I went in and sot down. I felt kind o' faintish, I was so abominable skeered. Mr. Scruggins said he would lam her better manners, so lie picked up the poker and went out ; but I had hardly began to get a leetle strengthened up afore in rushed my dear husband a-Hourishing the poker, and that vicious cow arter him like all mad. Mr. Scrug- gius jumped into the room, and, afore he had time to turn round and shut the door, that desperate brute was in, too. Mr. Scruggins got up on the diuiug-room table, and I run into the parlor, I thought I'd be safe there, but 1 was skeered so bad that I forgot to shut the door, and sakes alive ! after hooking over the dining-room table and rolling Mr. Scruggins off, in she walked into the parlor, shaking her head as much as to say, " I'll give you a touch now." I jumped on a chair, but thinking that warn't high enough, I got one foot on the brass knob of the Franklin stove, and put the other on the mantel-piece. You ought to ha' seen that cow in our I)arlor ; she looked all round as if she was 'mazed ; at last she looked in the looking-glass, and thought she seed another cow exhibiting anger like herself; she shuck her head and pawed the carpet, and so did her reflection, and — would you believe it? — that awful brute went right into my looking-glass. Then I boo-hoo'd right out. All this while I was getting agonized ; the brass knob on the stove got so hot that I had to sit on the narrer mantel-piece and hold on to nothing. I dussent move for fear I'd slip off EXPERIEXCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 77 Mr. Scniggins came round to the front door, but it was locked, and then he come to the window and 0}^ned it. I jumped down and run for the window, and hadn't more'n got ray head out afore I heard that critter a-conaing after me. Gracious I but I was in a hurry ; more haste, less speed, always ; for the more T tried to climb quick the longer it took, and just as I got ready to jump down, that brute of a cow kotched me in the back and turned me over and over out of the window. Well, when I got right side up, I looked at the win- dow, and there stood that cow, with her head between the white and red curtains, and another piece of my dress dangling on her horns. Well, my husband and me was jest starting for the little alley that runs along-side of the house, when tlie cow give a ])awl, and out of the window she come, whisking her tail, which had kotched fire on the Frank- lin stove, and it served her right. Mr. Scrusrsrins and me run into the allev in such haste we got wedged fast. Husband tried to get ahead, but I'd been in the rear long enough, and I wouldn't let him. That dreadful cow no sooner seen us in the alley than she made a dash, but, thank goodness ! she stuck fast, too. Husband tried the gate, but that was fast, and there wasn't nobody inside the house to open it. Mr. Scrug- gins wanted to climb over and unbolt it, but I wouldn't let him. I wasn't going to be left alone again, with that desperate cow, even if she was fast ; so I nuide him help me over the gate. Oh, dear, climbing a high gate when you're skeered by a cow is a dreadful thing, and I know it ! 78 JEALOUSY IN THE CHOIR. "Well, I got over, let husband in, and then it took him and me and four other neighbors to get that dread* ful critter out of the alley. She bellered and kicked, and her calf bellered to her, and she bawled back again ; but we got her out at last, and such a time ! I'd had enough of her ; husband sold her for twenty dol- lars next day. It cost him seventy-five cents to get her to market, and when he tried to pass off one of the five^ dollar bills he got, it turned out to be a counterfeit. Mr. Scruggins said to his dying day that he believed the brother of the man that sold him the cow bought ii back again. I believe it helped to worry my poor hus- band into his grave. Ah, my friends, you better be- lieve I know what a cow is. JEALOUSY m THE CHOIR. S' IILVERY noted, Lily-throated, Starry-eyed and golden-haired, Charming Anna, The soprano. All the singers' hettrts ensnared. Long the tenor Sought to win her, Sought to win her for his bride ; And the basso Loved the lass so. Day and night for her he sighed. The demeanor Of the tenor To the basso frigid ^rew ; JEALOUSY IN THE CHOIR. fS And the basso As he was so Mashed, of course, grew frightened toa Anna smiled on Both, which piled on To their mutual hatred fuel ; So, to win her, Bass and tenor Swore they'd fight a vocal duel. Shrieked the tenor Like a Vennor Cyclone howling o'er the plain, Sang so high To outvie The bass, he split his head in twain. Growled the basso Till he was so Low, to hear him wa,s a treat ; Lower still he Went until he Split the soles of both his feet. Charming Anna, The soprano. Mourned a week for both her feliowe : Then she wed the Man who fed the Wind into the organ bellows. — Lowell New Moon. 60 THE L0VEP8. HER LOVERS. MY first, my very first, his name was "Will — A handsome fellow ; fair, with curling hair. And lovely eyes. I have his locket stilL He went to Galveston and settled there, At least I heard so. Ah, dear me — dear me ! How terribly in love he used to be ! The second, Robert Hill, he told his love The first night that we met. 'Twas at a ball — > A foolish boy. He carried off my glove. We sat out half the dances in the hall, And flii'ted in the most outrageous way. Ah, me ! how mother scolded all next day. The third woke up my heart. From night till morn From morn till night, I dreamed of him ; I treasured up a rosebud he had worn ; My tears and kisses made his picture dim. Strange that I cannot feel the old, old flame, When I remember Paul — that was his name. The fourth and fifth were brothers — twins at that ; Good fellows, kind, devoted, clever, too. 'Twaa rather shabby to refuse them flat — ■ Both in one day, but what else could I do ? My heart was still with Paul, and he had gone Yacht sailing with the Misses Garretson ! He never cared for me — I found that out— Despite the foolish clingings of my hope ; A few months proved it clear beyond a doubt. I steeled my heart ; I would not pine or mope, CONSOLATION EVEN ON A MIXED laAJDi. • B'lt masked myself in gayety, and went To grace hi* wedding wlien the cards were sent. So those were all my loves. My husband ? Oh, I met him down in Florida one fall — Rich, middle-aged, and prosy, as you know ; He asked me, I accepted ; that is aU. A kind, good soul : he worships me ; but then I never count him in witli other men. Bachelob Bbn. CONSOLATION EVEN ON A mXED TRAIN ON some of the Western roads they attach a passen- ger car to a freight train and call it " mixed." It bn't in the order of things that such trains should travel very rapidly, and sometimes there is considerable growling among the " traffic." "Are we most there, conductor?" asked a nervous man, for the hundredth time. " Remember, my wife ia sick and I'm anxious." " We'll get there on time," replied the conductor, •tolidly. Half an hour later the nervous man approached him Again. " I guess she's dead now," said he, mournfully, " but I'd give you a little something exti'a if you could man- ftce to catch up with the funeral. !Maybe she won't bt ■o decomposed but what I would recognize her." The conductor growled at him, and the man sub* Bded. "Conductor,** paid he, fifter an hour's silence, " oaa- dnctor, if the wind isn't dead ahead, I wish you wcmM 6 m i'AXS Fw£ASO]Sf. pat on gome steam. I'd like to see where my wife U buried before the tombstone crumbles Ur pieces I Put jrourself in my place for a moment !" The conductor shook him off, and the man relapsed into profound melancholy. *' I say, conductor," said he, after a long pause, " I've got a note coming due in three months. Can't you fix it so as to rattle along a little i'" " If you come near me again I'll knock you down V* snorted the conductor, savagely. The nervous man regarded him sadly, and went to his seat. Two hours later the conductor saw him chat- ting gayly and laughing heartily with a brother victim. and approached him. " Don't feel so badly about your wife's death ?*' " Time heals all wouuds," sighed the nervous man. " And you are not so particular about the note,*^ aneered the conductor. "Not now. That's all right. Don't worry. I've been figuring up, and I find that the note has outlawed since I spoke to you last I"— Traveler's Magazine, PAT'S REASON. ONE day, in a crowded Gates Avenue car, A lady was standing. She had ridden quite far. And seemed much disposed to indulge in a frown. As nobody offered to let her sit down. And many there sat who, to judge by their dress. Might a gentleman's natural instincts possess, But who, judged by their acts, make us firmly believe That appearances often will sadly deceive BAOL WHKKB THET USEI» TO KB. 83 There were some most intently devouring the nerwi, And some thro' the windows enjoying the viewK; And othere indulged in a make-believe nap — While the lady still stood holding on by the strap. At last a young Irishman, fresh from the " sod," Arose with a smile and most comical nod, Wliich said quite as plain as in words could be stated 'Pliat the lady should sit in the place he'd vacated. " Excuse me," said Pat, " that I caused you to wait So long before offerin' to give you a sate, But in troth I was only just waitin' to see If there wasn't more gintlemin here beside me." — Brooklyn Eagle, BACK WHERE THEY USED TO BE. PAP'S got his patent right and rich as all creation ; But where's the peace and comfort that we all had before ? Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby Station — Back where we used to be so happy and so pore I The likes of us a-livin' here ! It's jest a >iortal pity To see us in this great big house, wit"h cyarpets on Um stairs, And the pump right in the kitchen ; and the city ! city J city ! — And nothing but the city all around us everywherei I Climb clean above the roof and look from the 8teei)le, And never see a robin, nor a beech or e'.lum tree I And right here in earshot of at least a thousan' pwtple, And none that neighbors with us, or we want to gh 84- BACK WHERE THEY USED TO BK. Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station — Back where the latch-string's a-hangin' from the door, And every neighbor 'round the place is dear as a rela- tion — Back where we used to be so happy and so pore ! I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin' A-drivin' up from Shallow Ford to stay the Sunday through, And I want to see 'em hitchin' at their son-in-law's and pilin' Out there at Lizy Ellen's like they used to do ! I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin', And I want to pester Laury 'bout their freckled hired hand, And joke her 'bout the widower she come purt' nigh a-takin'. Till her pap got his pension 'lowed in time to save his land. lie's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station- Back where they's nothin' aggervatin' any more, Shet away safe in the wood around the old location — Back where we used to be so happy and so pore ! I want to see Marindy and he'p her with her sewin', And hear her talk so lovin' of her man that's dead and gone, And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he's growin', And smile as I have saw her 'fore she put her mourn- in* on. G£TTIX(; LETTERS. Sk And I want to see the Samples on the old lower Eighty, Where John, our oldest boy, he was took and buried, for His own sake and Katy's, — and I want to cry with Katy As she reads all his lettei-s over, writ from the war. What's in all this grand life and high situation. And nary i)ink nor hollyhawk bloomin' at the door? Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station — Back where we used to be so happy and so pore . James Whitcomb Riley. GETTING LETTERS. IF you are a man, with man's respect for woman, and if you have just sixty seconds to spare to catch the train, and if you step into the post-office to in(iuire for your mail at the general delivery, as did a certain worthy citizen recently, you will invariably find a little woman there before you — as did the worthy citizen — who is saying : " Is there any mail for me?" " Nothing at all," replies the clerk. " But you never looked. I know there must be a letter from Cousin Ann McGracker, at Obitewah." The clerk assured her that there is no such letter, " Ain't there no dress samples from New York?" " No dress samples." " Look in your dress sample hole. Hain't you got a dress sample hole?" (Here you stand on your left fopt.) " Is there any for the family ?" she continues. 86 GETTING LETTERS. " Nothing." "Oh, dear me! -n-hat's (he matter? Uncle Calett promised to write, sure, last week." (Here you stand on your right foot.) " Give me the Simpsons' mail then." The Simpsons have a letter. "Is there anything" — (at this point you take out your watch and beat a tattoo with your boots) — " for Jerry Briggs ?" " Nothing." " Or Morocco Maud Briggs ? Or Robert Jenkins Briggs ? Or Heniy Clay Briggs ? (You take a turn or two up and down the office.) Or Martha W. Briggs? Or little Edgar Allen Poe Briggs ? (You advance to a position as near behind her as politeness will permit.) Mrs. Minerva Russell told me to ask you for her Chris- tian Expositor ; it ain't come ? Why, it's always come on Tuesdays! What's the matter? Has there been any railroad accident, or has the printing office burned down, or what can it be ?" (You look at your watch again and cough.) " Here's a newspaper I want to send to a lady at Smyrna. Won't you please fix it up for me ? Now direct it, please, to Mrs. June B. Barker, Smyrna, Rutherford County, Tennessee, care of B. F. Barker, Esq. I do write such a poor hand myself." (You walk frantically to the door, glower on the street, and walk frantically back.) " 1 believe I've got a stamp somewhere," and then she proceeds to deliber- ately remove from her pockets gloves, handkerchiefs, hair-pins, pin-cushions, chewing wax, notes, etc., all of which »iie closely scrutinizes in search of the missing stamp. " I declare, I did have a stamp somewhere ! It's too bad, now ain't it, to lose it ?" Whereupon she NICKERDEMUS QUADRILLE. 87 goes through her pockets a second time, and suddenly recollects that she left it at home in another dresiS'. Then she rifles the pocket once more for a dime, and, after she has failed to find it, takes it placidly out of her glove. " Give me three three-cent stamps and a one-cent." She sticks the one-cent on a newspaper, and is in- formed by the clerk that it requires two cents. " A two-cent stamp ! A two-cent stamp for a news- paper? Why, the law ain't been changed, has it?" (You jerk off your hat and run your fingers through your hair and groan, and wish you were a ten-acre lot, and knew all the bad words in four hundred and forty- two languages.) The newspaper is finally attended to and the little woman asks the clerk if he won't be kind enough to write her a note to somebody in Puukapuk, Pa., who offers to send twelve roses for twenty-five cents, at about which time you give up in despair, rush into a hack, and if you reach the station in time to catch the train, you are more fortunate than was the worthy citizen the other day. NICKERDEMUS QUADRILLE. CHOOSE yo' pardners, time's er-flyin', Take yo' places on de flo' ; Don't yo' hear dat fiddle cryin' " Nickerdemus ebbermo !" S'lute yo' pardners, bow perlitely, Dat's de motion through an' through ; Swing dem corners, step up lightly, Hail Columby ! Hallaloo I 88 NICKERDEMU8 QUADRILLE. Fus' f'o' forward, keep er-diggin', Now yoii saahey back again. Nebber mind yo' ragged riggin', So's 't don't show de naked skin. Lawdy ! See dat Peter Slater, How he bow en scrape aroun' ; Head look like a peeled pertater — Slick ez glass upon de crown. Ladies change, en keep er-scootin', CJruss right ober, now yo' swing. Hole dem heads up liighfalutin', Look permiskus, dat's de ting. Mussy ! Look at Winny Jeeter, Dat gal flings a soople toe ; Crack y be buried in the ground at Burr)'do\\nderrjr 102 A MKDLEY. Chapel, where all my kith and km that have gone before me, and those who live after, belonging to me, are buried, pace to their ashes, and may the sod rest lightly ove> their bones. Bury me near my god-father and my mother, who lie separated all together, at the other side of the chapel yard. I lave the bit of ground, contain- ing eight acres — rale old Irish acres — to me eldest sou Tim, after the death of his mother, if she lives to sur- vive him. My daughter Jlary and her husband, Paddy O'Reagan, are to have the black pig and her twelve black young ones. Teddy, my second boy, that was killed in the war in Ameriky, might have got his pick of poultry, but as he has gone, I'll lave them to his wife, who died a week before him. I bequeath to all mankind fresh air of heaven, all the fishes in the sea they can take, and all the birds of the air they can shoot. I lave to them all the sun, moon, and stars. I lave to Peter Rafferty a pint of potheen I can't finish, and may God be merciful to him. Good-bye to the whole wuruld, good-bye ! A MEDLEY. •'/^N Linden, Avhen the sun was low, v/ All bloodless lay the untrodden snow. And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly." " But Linden saw another sight When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The"— •* Silken, sad, unceitain rustling of each purple curtaia A MEDLEY. 103 Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating " — " ' Forward, the Light Brigade 1 Charge for the guns !' he said ; Into the Valley of Death Rode the six hundred. * Forward, the Light Brigade !* Was there a man dismayed ? Not though the soldiers knew" — " I am thy father's spirit ; Doomed for a certain term to walk the night ; And for the day, confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burned and purged away. But that I am for- bid To tell"— " In sweet May time, so long ago, I stood by the big wheel spinning tow. Buzz, buzz, so very slow ;" — " While a rub, dub, dub a rub, dub, dub a rub a dub, dub a dub, bub. dub dub Exultingly the tidings brings " — " Where the splendor falls on castle walls. And snowy summits, old in story ; The lonc{ lio-ht shakes across the lakes. And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying. Blow, bugle, answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying"— •' For I'm to be queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be queen o' the May, So you must wake and call me early "— » i04 A MEDLEY. For " Mark Haley drives along tlie street. Perched high upon his wagon seat ; His somber face the storm defies, And thus from morn till eve he cries, * Charco ! charco !' And many a roughish lad replies, * Ark, ho ! ark, ho !' ♦Charco!'— 'Ark, ho!'" "But then I'm only a little girl, but I think I have aa much right to say what I think about things as a boy. I hate boys ; they always grab all the strawberries at the dinner table, and never tell us when they are going to have any fun. I like Gus Rogers, though. The other day Gus kissed me, and a woman said : " ' Shame ! shame ! and you shouldn't a-let him kiss you. No doubt you were mostly to blame.' The hate- ful old thing she made Gus cry and say :" " I know\ boo, hoo, I ought to not. But somehow, from her looks — boo, hoo — I thought she kind o' wished me to !" " For sorry a bit I knew what was comin' till the missus walked into the kitchen a-smilin', and says, kind o* schared loik, ' Here's Fing Wing, Kitty, an' you'll have too much since to mind his bein' a little strange.' Wid that she shoots the door, and I, mistrustin' was I tidied up sufficient for me foin b'y wid his paper collar, looks up and — Howly Fathers ! may I niver bratha another breath but there stood " — " Robert of Lincoln telling his name ; Bob o' link, bob o' link Spink, spank, spink ; Chee, chee, chee. UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. 105 Robert of Lincolu is gayly dressed, Weariug a bright black wedding coat ; White are his shoulders and white his crest ; Hear him call in his merr)' note," " ' Rags I rags ! any rags ? iron and old rags !' " " When loud a clarion voice replied," — " ' Yes, it is worth talking of ! But that's how you always try to put me down. You fly into a rage, and then, if I only try to speak, you won't hear me. That's how you men always will have all the talk to /ourselves ; a poor woman isn't allowed to get a word in.' " Arranged by Elizabeth Mansfield Irving. UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. THERE is an old woman down town who delights to find a case that all the doctors have failed to cure, and then go to work with herbs and roots and strange things, and try to effect at least an improvement. A few days ago she got hold of a girl with a stiff neck, and she offered an old negro named Uncle Tom Kelley fifty cents to go to the woods and bring her a hornets' nest. This was to be steeped in vinegar and applied to the neck. The old man spent a few days in the search, and yesterday moi'ning he secured his prize and brought it home in a basket. When he reached the Central Market he had a few little purchases to make, and after getting some few articles at a grocery, he placed hiai basket on a barrel near the stove, and went out to look f(jr a beef bone. It was a dull day for trade. The gro- cer sat by the stove rubbing his bald head. His clerk stood at the desk balancing accounts and three or four 106 UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. men lounged around, talking about the new party that is to be founded on the ruin of the falling ones. It was a serene hour. One hundred and fifty hornets had gone to roost in that nest for the winter. The genial atmos- phere began to limber them up. One old veteran opened his eyes, rubbed his legs, and said it was the shortest winter he had ever known in all his hornet days. A second shook off his lethargy and seconded the motion, and in five minutes the Avhole nest was alive and its owners were ready to sail out and investigate. You don't have to hit a hornet with the broad side of au ax to make him mad. He's mad all over all the time, and he doesn't care a picayune whether he tackles a humming-bird or an elephant. The grocer was telling one of the men that he and General Grant were boys together, when he gave a sudden start of surprise. This was followed by several other starts. Then he jumped over a barrel of sugar and yelled like a Pawnee. Some smiled, thinking he was after a funny climax, but it was only a minute before a solemn old farmer jumped three feet high, and came down to roll over a job lot of washboards. Then the clerk ducked his head and rushed for the door. He didn't get there. One of the other men, who had been looking up and down to see what could be the matter, felt suddenly called upon to go home. He was going at the rate of forty miles an hour, when he collided with the clerk, and they rolled on the floor. There was no use to tell the people in that store to move on. They couldn't tarry to save 'em. They all felt tliat the rent was too high, and that they must vacate the premises. The crowd went out to- gether. Uncle Tom was just coming in with his beef' bone. When a larger body meets a smaller one^ the time's revenge. WW larger body knocks it into the middle of next Tveek. The old man lay around in the slush until everybody had stepped on him all they wanted to, and then he sat up and asked, " Hev dey got de fiah all put out yit ?" Finally Uncle Tom was able to secure his nest, and ])lacing it in the basket, said, " Mebbe dis will cure de BLidhess in dat gal's neck, jist de same, but I tell you I'se got banged and bumped an' sot down on till it N\ill take a hull medical college all winter long to git me ao I kin jump off a street kyar." — Detroit Free Press. TIME'S REVENGE. WHEN I was ten and she fifteen. Ah, me ! how fair I thought her. She treated with disdainful mien The homage that I brought her, And in a patronizing way Would of my shy advances say : " It's really quite absurd, you see ; He's very much too young for me." I'm twenty now, she twenty-fiA Well, well, how old she's growing. I fancy that my suit miglit thrive If pressed again ; but owing To great discrepancy in age, Her marked attentions don't engage My young affections, for, you see, She's really quite too old for me. 108 BRUDDER GARDINER ON MU8IC. AGNES, 1 LOVE THEE. I STOOD upon the ocean's briny shore, And with a fragile reed I traced upon the sand : " Agnes, I love thee." The mad waves rolled by and blotted out the fair im- ijression. Frail reed ! cruel wave ! treacherous sand ! I'll trust ye no more ! But, with a giant hand, I'll pluck from Norway's frozen shore her tallest pine, And dip its top into the crater of Mt. Vesuvius, And on the high and burnished heavens I'll write : " Agnes, I love thee." And I would like to see any doggoned wave wash that out. BRUDDER GARDINER ON MUSIC. "T\E soun' of a hoss-fiddle," says Brudder Gardiner, -L' " brings up old reckoleckshuns an' starts de tear of regret. If played long 'nuff, an' de wind am in de right direckshun, it will cause de listener to shell out a subscripshun of three thousan' dollars to'rds a new cull'd Baptist Church. Try it once and be convinced. " De soun' of a harp hits a man below de belt. He begins to fink of all de mean fings he ever did, an' to wish he hadn't, an' at de eand of fifteen minits he am already to step ober an' pay his naybur a dollar apiece fiir de hens he shot in his garden las' spring. " The jewsharp goes right to de soul. If your wife am all ready to 'lope off wid de hired man de notes of MY KIVAL. I0> de jewsliarp will take her bonnet off in sixteen seconds. If you keep a hired man you should also keep a jews- harp. " Pianer music sometimes hitis and sometimes miiisea. Ize known it to make an old baldhead go home an' pass two hull hours widout cuffin' de chiiren, an' Ize known it to cause a young gal to slide down ober de roof ob de kitchen an' 'lope off wid de owner of a sideshow. " De guitar alius brings sadness an' a resolushun to begin on de 1st of Jinuary to quit a-runnin' out nights an* playing policy. " De brass band might soothe a sorrowin' soul if de said sorrowin' soul didn't have all he could do to hold his boss. " De organ fills de soul wid awe an' strikes de heroic chord. If you am layin' fur a man, doan' tackle him jist arter he has bin takin' in de notes of an organ. " De banjo — yum ! If you want my dog — my boss — my house an' lot, play me de banjo an' keep time wid yer fut. I 'spect de music of angelic harps am sweet an' soft an' dreamy, but if dey want to keej) us cullVl folks satisfied up dar, a leetle mo' banjo an' a leetle less harp am de fust prescription." MY RIVAL. HOW I hate to see him there, With his haughty, well-bred aii; At her side, Looking with a scornful eye At poor me, as I walk by While they ride. 110 MY RIVAL. Well I know lie is not worth, Spite of all his pride of birth, Such a favor ; And I think, as I advance, Of that calculating glance That he gave her. Lady dear, he cares for naught But the things which may be bought With your pelf; In his thoughts you have no part, And his cold and sluggish heart Beats for self. Yet how glad I'd be and gay If you'd treat me in that way You treat him. Twould Avith heaven itself surround me, And the sad old world around me Would grow dim. Ah, ray lady, fair and sweet, Will you tell me when we meet. If it's true That your heart has grown so small, There is no room there at all For me too ? Did she r.nswer no, or yes ? She but gave him a caress, Quite a hug. And I stayed to see him courted. For be is her fine, imported English pug. Bessie Chandler. TIME TURNS THE TABLES. Ill TIME TURNS THE TABLES. TEN yeai's ago, wlieii she was ten, I used to tease and scold her ; I liked her and slic loved me then, A boy, some five years older. I liked her ; she would fetch my book, Bring lunch to stream or thicket ; Would oil ray gun and bait my hook, And field for hours at cricket. She'd mend my cap or find my whip ; Ah ! but boys' hearts are stony ; I liked her rather less than " Gyp," And far less than my pony. She loved me then, though heaven knows why, Small wonder she had hated ; For scores of dolls she had to cry. Whom I decapitated. I tore her frocks, I mussed her hair. Called " red " the slieen upon it ; Out fishing I would even dare Catch tad-poles in her ])onnet. Well, now I expiate my crime. The Nemesis of fables Comes after years — to-day old Time On me has turned the tables. I'm twenty-five, she's twenty now. Dark-eyed, fair-cheeked, and bonny ; The curls are golden round hor brow — She smiles and calb mc " Johnny." 112 HIS SIGN. Of yore, I used her Christian name. But now, through fate or malice. When she is by, my lips can't frame The letters that spell " Alice." I who could laugh at her and tease, Stand silent now before her ; Dumb through the very wish to please, A speechless, shy adorer. Or, if she turns to me to speak, I'm dazzled by her graces ; The hot blood rushes to my cheeks, I babble commonplaces. She's kind and cool ; ah ! heaven know? how I wish she blushed and faltered ! She likes me and I love her now ; Ah me ! how things have altered. HIS SIGN. THREE or four days ago a colored man, living in Detroit, hung out a sign on his house, which read ; « For Sail." He happened to be at the gate, when a white man came along and said : " You'll never get an offer for your house with any such spelling as that." The owner of the place was greatly puzzled to im- prove the orthogi-aphy, but finally took his wife's advice, and made it "ead : « For SeU." A LESSON IN TENNIS. 113 This seemed to be all right for a day or t-vro, and then ft Bchoolbov halted and said : " If you don't fix that sign, all the children will b« laughing at you." There Avas another convention of the family, to 8e« where the mistake came in, and the sign was made to read: " Fur Sail." It had not been up an hour, when an old colored man came along and queried : " Does you mean dat dis place am fur Sally ? What yer gwine to giv de place to Sally for ?" " Am you findin' fault wid dat sign?" asked the other. " Well, I doan' quite cotch on to the spellin'." " You doan, eh ? Has you got seben hundred dollars to pay cash down fur dis place ?" " No, sah." " Den you pass on, an' shet up ! Maybe I doan spell jist de same as you do, but I'ze got prospects of handlin' seben hundred dollars, while you has got boaf knees out to de wedder. I doan' ker to use high flown language, an' hev to w'ar a shoe on one foot an' a but« on edder. Go 'long, ole man — you am too fly on geog'* aphy." A LESSON IN TENNIS. THEY played at tennis that summer day — Where was it? Oh, call it Mount Desert— The place matters not ; I will simply say They were playing tennis that summer day, And she wore a short and striped skirt. 8 114 A LESSON IN TENNIS. He played but ill — 'twas his first essay— And she his partner and coach was both ; Though perhaps not " up " in the points of play. Yet she knew the game in a general way, And to give him points seemed nothing loath. He did his best, but his best was poor ; The balls served to him on his side stayed ; And thus it went on for a round or more. Till, anxious, he ventured to ask the score ! " The score ? Why, it's Thirty— Love," she said. *' And Love ? What is love ?" he fain would know, Yet blushed to ask it, for he could see What pardonless ignorance he must show ; But she calmly answered him, speaking slow, " Why, Love is nothing, you know," said she. * The sun of that summer day ia set ; That season is gone, as seasons go ; But his heart Avas caught in that tennis net, And they might have been playing partners yet Had she not given her answer, " No." He plays no tenuis at all, this year, But he mopes and moans and sighs— heigho ! That fate is so hard, and life is so drear ; And worse than all else, he remembers clear. That " Love is nothing," she told him so. C. F. COBURN. Daniel in the ijons' dek. 115 DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN, WERE you ever left alone for an hour ■;vith a cliild? Not one of these pale, spirituelle children that we read about, who talk with horrible grammatical accuracy, and know more than an average pliilosojiher, but a bright, healthy, rebellious child, who believes that buttei-flies were created to stick pins through, and that the best use a fly can be put to is to mash him in the corner of a window pane. In fact, the common child of eight years old. I was placed in such a fix the other Sunday after- noon. I was visiting my sister, and she and her hus- band went to church. In vain they tried to induce me to go, but somehow the green grass, the fleecy sky, and the balmy breath of the summer's breeze seemed far more preferable. " Well," decided my sister, " if you will stay home — you can take care of Freddie." By way of explanation, let me remark that Freddie is my sister's only boy, the light of her eyes and the pride of her heart. I fondly believe she intends him for the ministry. If she does, she will make a mistake. It is my firm conviction that Freddie was cut out for a first-class ]iirate. So it was decided that I should take care of Freddie. I had taken care of Freddie before. T think v, ith- out exaggeration that I should have iireferred being appointed guardian over several hyenas and a fero- cious bear. I determined to chain Freddie to my side. 116 DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. I knew that if I didn't he would either stroll dowa to the barn and try to chop his fingers off with the hay» cutter, or else fall into the cistern. Falling into the cistern was a temptation irresistible to Freddie. After his parents had departed, leaving Freddie richer by a score of kisses, I called him to my side, where I lay, pipe in hand, on the close-cropped grass, beneath the shade of a grand old tree. "Freddie," asked I, "don't you want to hear a Btory r " Ye-s," doubtfully responded Freddie ; " say, Uncle Ed, what makes you have so many pimples on your face ?" I hastily replied that it was goodness cropping out. All good men were apt to have pimples. " What sort of a story would you like to hear, Fred- die ?" continued I. " Want to hear about giants who eat bad little boys," answered he, with unexpected celerity. Owing to the nature of the day I told him that giant stories were positively debarred. " Let mc tell you about Daniel in the Lions' Den," I hurriedly said. " Once upon a time there was a good man named Daniel." " Daniel who ?" asked Freddie. " Just Daniel." " Daniel what ?" Somewhat impatiently I said that I did not kno\r what his last name was. I had never studied Daniel'a family tree. " Did he have a glass eye like old Daniel Riley ?" Freddie queried. Hastily I said " No," and went on with the story. DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. 117 *• Daniel was carried away from Jerusalem by a wicked king." " What was he carried in ?" " I don't know, Freddie." " Was it a horse car ?" " No." " Steamboat ?" " No." " Did he walk himself?" " I guess so." " Who carried him ?" " The wicked king." " AVhat wicked king ?" " Nebuchadnezzar." "Neboch— who?" " Nebuchadnezzar." " Who was he ?" " The wicked king." " What did he do ?" " Carried Daniel into captivity.** " What Daniel ?" I had to begin all over again. I said it slow so aa ^ impress Freddie. "Nebuchadnezzar," resumed I, " was so pleased with Daniel's goodness tliat he made iiim his favorite." " \Va.s he good ?" Freddie asked. " Very." " Never cried when his nurse wa.shed him ?" " Well— hardly ever." " Who was pleased because he was so good f " Nebuchadnezzar." " Who was ho ':" *' The wicked king.*' 118 DAKIEL IN THE MONB' DKN. "What (lid he do?" " Carried away Daniel, I told you." " What Daniel ?" ** Freddie," expostulated I, " why don't you pay atten- tion ? I told you three times now who Daniel was." " Oh !" exclaimed Freddie, " go on. You've got a hole in your stocking, Uncle Ed." " Nebuchadnezzar," I begun again, not noticing Freddie's personal interpolation, " was so pleased with Daniel " "Ho !" interrupted Freddie, with a snicker, " I know about Nebuchadnezzar." " What do you know ?" "Nebuchadnezzar — king of the Jews, Put on his stockings and pulled off his shoes," sneerlngly he chanted, with a face as grave as a tomb' stone. I gasped on with my story. " Daniel," I said, " would not do wrong to please the king ; so tiie Avicked king had him thrown into the den of fierce lions." " Did the lions belong to Barnum's circus ?" asked Freddie. " No, they were the king's." " What king's ?" " Nebuchadnezzar's," " Who was he ?" " Daniel's master." " What Daniel ?" " The good man." " Was he put into the lions' den?" "Yes." DANIEL IX THE LIONS' DEN. 119 " Whose lions were they ?" " Nebuchadnezzar's." "Did they bite?" " No, they would not bite Daniel." "Why not — didn't they have teeth like old Mrs. Peters? Billy Smith calls her gummy." I told Freddie that it A\as very sinful to speak in such terms of the aged, and that Billy Smith's future career was apt to end in a wicked w'ay. " Although the king expected to see Daniel torn to pieces, yet he was not," related I ; " they crouched be- fore him." " Who crouched ?" " The lions." " Who did they crouch before?" "Him." " Who's him— Billy Smith T " No, Daniel." " What Daniel ?" " The good num." " What good man ?" " Daniel." " Daniel who ?" Utterly despairing, I began a violent fecture to Fred- die about the absolute necessity of his i)aying attention^ In the midst I stop])cd. I suddenly became a^\are Fred- die was missing. He had faded suddenly away. Five minutes later I beheld Freddie out in the dirt- iest part of the barnyard, trying to shear the biggest cow with his mother's pet pair of toilet scissors. " Uncle Ed's stories ain't no good," I heard him con- fide to the placid and utterly unmoved animal " I think it's because he's got a crooked no.-e — don't you ?" E E Ten Eyck. 120 THE PARENT WITH THE HOOP. THE PARENT WITH THE HOOP. WHEN the yellow stars are weeping shining tears cj molten gold And the wings of night in tenderness the weary earth enfold, 'Tis a joy to clasp the maiden whom my soul has sworn to wed, Unmindful of the dreadful boots that patter overhead. Every loving glance that flutters in the portals of hei eyes Sinks deep down in my heart, and turns its fountains into sighs ; And her kisses, timid pressures, shake my system to the roots As I listen to the pathos of her aged parent's boots. And looking far beyond her through the trials of this earth, I see the happiness to which her eyes have given birth, And the softened, sweet ambition paralyzes worldly cares, Till I hear the old man's footsteps swiftly creeping down the stairs. In her twining arms I linger, bound in chains of welded flowers, And I never note the dying of the angry, jealous hours. All the slings and poisoned arrows of the stern world stand aloof Till I find myself uplifted by that wretched parent's hoof A SIMILAR CASK. 121 There is naught in art or nature that can work with such a spell As the box-toe of a parent, propei'ly applied and well ; And 1 ponder long and deeply whether 1 should presj my suit For the girl, or one at law against the savage with th« boot. A SIMILAR CASE. JACK, I hear you've gone and done it. Yes, I know ; most fellows will ; Went and tried it once myseli^ sir, Though, you see, I'm cringle still. And you met her — did you teli tie" Down at Newport, last July, And resolved to ask the tiuestiou At a soiree ? So did I. I suppose you left the ball-room With its music and its light; For they say love's flame is brightest In the darkness of the night. Well, you walked along together- Overhead the starlit sky, And I'll bet — old man, confess it — You were frightened. So was L Bo you strolled along the terrace, Saw the summer moonlight pour All its radiance on the waters .As they rippled on the shore ; ?'^^ THE BURGLAR iLARM. Till at length you gathered courage, When you saw that none were nigh— •- Did you draw her close and tell her That you loved her ? So did L Well, I needn't ask you further, And I'm sure I wish you joy ; Think I'll wander down and see you When you're married — eh, my boy ? When the honeymoon is over. And you're settled down, we'll try — What ? The deuce you say I Kejected, You rejected ? So was 1. THE BURGLAR ALARM. A woman's bright invention. MR. FILLISY came home in hot haste. Important business called him out of town within an hour's time. " Oh, dear!" sighed IVErs. Fillisy, as she undertook to restore to order the chaos of Mr. Fillisy's search through closets and bureaus for the " few things " he considered necessary to his comfort — " what shall I do ? It's almost dark, and nobody in the house but the new girl, and I haven't time to go to mother's, and I am so afraid. Josiah knows it, too. Why didn't he leave me a pistol or something ? I never shot off a pistol, and don't know wliat the trigger is ; but I'm sure I should feel safer if I had one. How dreadful it would be to be murdered here all alone, and Josiah to come homo and find me weltering in my gore i Ugh 1" and Mrs, THE BUROLAi: ALAU.M. Itii Fillisy enjoyed a good shiver over the sanguiuary pic- ture she had conjured up. But supper was auuouuced at that moiuent, and it was not till after the two little ones were snui^ly tucked in bed that she had leisure to reflect upon her lonely and unprotected state. " I don't see why Josiah hasn't hud burglar alarms put in the house. It would be so much better. I'll talk to him when he comes home. I wonder what thev're like, anyway ? Alarm clocks, I suppose, and that sort of thing. Now why couldn't one invent some- thing simpler ? I wonder " and liere Mrs. Fillisy 's thoughts were arrested by a bright idea. She was seated by the stove, and her glance fell upon the wire guard which kept the wee toddlers from too olose contact with its glowing surface. " The very thing !" she exclaimed. " I'll invent an alarm myself. Talk about women having no inventive genius. I'll have Josiah apply for a patent the moment ke gets home. Now, I'll just get it and try, and if any burglar undertakes to get in here to-night he'll just wish he hadn't, that's all ! "Tnm te turn te tiim te iddity, Turn te turn te turn te t;iy, Turn te turn te turn te iddity, I'll be an inventor myself some day." And Mrs. Fillisy started up in high glee. After considerable pushing and hauling about in a closet under the stairs, she brought to view a large coil of barbed wire, in which Mr. F. had the j)revious sum- mfir invented for the purpose of surmounting his orchard fence. 124 THE BURGLAK ALARM, " Now isn't it lucky that Josiah dirln't use this ? l! he had, I couldu't have shown him what a smart wife he has. I'll show them ! Ouch ! What mean stuif it is to handle ! But all the better for Mr. Burglar. Now where'll I put it first ?" Mi's. Fillisy pondered deeply, with all the gravity worthy of a great inventor, and at last decided that as the hired girl had gone to bed, and there was no one but herself about, she would build such a wall of barbed wire at the foot of the stairs as no burglar could possibly surmount. But when she had wound it around the newel-post, with many " Ah's " and " Oh's," she found that the wire wouldn't fasten itself to the wall, and as for this brave inventor's making a long and lonesome journey into the wood-shed for hammer and nail — no, indeed, she wouldn't. She would show Josiah that a woman's mind could triumph over matter. " No man would think of this," she said to herself, as she proceeded to fasten the wire in and out of the claw-feet that held the stair-rods in position. " Dear me, it's slow work ; but then all problems are slow of solution, and Mrs. F , you mustn't be too smart an inventor. I wonder what folks 'ill do who haven't got stair-rods ? Get some, I suppose ; or, maybe, now, when Josiah comes home he can think of something to hold the wire down, anyway. Ouch ! just see my fingers bleed! Horrid stuff! I wonder how Mr. Burglar will like that." And Mrs. Fillisy surveyed with honest pride the work of her fertile brain and nimble, but wounded fingers. She had contrived, by dint of twisting and turning the barbed wire in every shape and direction, to create a perfect battery of needle points on the lower step. THE BURGLAR ALARM. 124 "You couldn't put your finger down without get- ting pricked," she soliloquized as she attacked the next step. " Now you see a person might have a carpet of this, that she could spread down before wiu' dows and dooi-s, and if a burglar were to step real hard on it he'd surely have to scream, and that would wake one ; and then, while he was nursing his foot, why one could shoot him, or catch him, or something. Oh, dear, there's another scratch ! What awful hard work it is to be an inventor." And Mrs. Fillisy stuck her finger in her mouth and eighed deeply. It was eleven o'clock before she had completed her net-work of wire upon the last step, and then, too tired to do as she had intended — stretch the wire across her bed-room door — she contented her- self with rolling the dressing-case against the door, and retired, convinced that no burglar would set foot inside her room that night. But hardly had she laid her head on her pillow when there sounded from the little cot beside her the wail, " I want a drink ! I want a drink ! I'se awful thirsty." Merciful sakes ! she had forgotten, in her interest in her invention, to bring up any water ! " There, there, darling! Now go to sleep ! That's mamma's pet." " I 'on't ! I want a drink ! I can't go to seep widout a drink." " Oh, dear ! There's no help for it, I suppose. How- ever in this world am I to get down those stairs ?" Taking the night-lamp in her hand, she surveyed the situation. "The only way is to slide down." And, suiting the action to the word, she imitated the riotous schoolboy in his wild flight through space. She reached the lower floor safely enough, albeit somewhat jarred 126 THE BTTEGLAK ALARM. by her unaccustomed locomotion ; but when she had filled her pitcher and retraced her steps to the foot of the stairs, she legarded the proofs of her inventive genius with horrified dismay. From the dim regions above came the wail, " I want a drink," while the chorus of a still smaller voice filled the night with the music of its " Meows, meows." " Yes, darling, mother is coming." But how ? She couldn't slide up ! Beside, her hands were full. But those clamorous voices called forth every energy, and, leaving her lamp at the foot of the stairs, she crept up slowly, hand over hand, foot over foot, on the outside of the bannister, and, groping her way to her room, quieted the voice with the few drops of water remaining in the pitcher, and then went down, in another wild flight after her lamp. Worn out with her exertions, when she once more reached her room, she fell asleep almost immediately. She was awakened a little later by a shi-ill scream of " Howly Moses ! Oh, wurra, wurra ! It's a murtherin' enake, it is !" and, jumping up bewildered, she recog- nized Bridget's voice in the hall. " Why, what is the matter, Bridget ?" "Shure, and matther is it? It's a snake, or some other murtherin' baste has hurted me fut that bad! musha ! musha !" and Bridget sat on the hall floor rolling from side to side and holding her wounded foot in her hand. " Oh, no, Bridget, it's only the burglar alarm. 1 forgot to tell you about it. See, my hands are all cut up by it, too ; but it'll keep burglare away." " Burglar alarm, is it, thin ? An' who put it there, if yez plaze ?" By this time Bridget was standing erect THE BULGLAR ALARM. 127 find glaring at her mistress with vengeance in hei eyes, " Why, I did ! You see Mr. Fillisy is gone away and I wanted to feel safe — " " Shure an' it's safe yez are from this night on. I'll be lavin' yez in the mornin'. I never worked afore where a dacent gurrul couldn't go down the stairs for a bit of clove ile to put in her achin' tooth widout steppin on a burglar alarm and havin' her feet hurted that bad ! Shure an' I'll be afther lavin' in the mornin', ma'am," and Bridget limped toward her room in a state of un- appeasable indignation. " I'm so sorry, Bridget ; I didn't think," began Mrs. Fillisy, depreeatiugly. " Shure, an' ye'll think in the mornin', ma'am," and Bridget banned her door with a force that shut off all further explanations. Mrs. Fillisy retired to bed to weep ; she had been at such pains to procure Bridget, who had been recom- mended as very efficient help, and whose culinary pow- ei-s Mr. Fillisy had especially praised that very day. How angry Josiah would be when he came home and found Bridget gone. Dear ! dear ! and all because of that burglar alarm ! Somehow her pride in her invention began to wane. She wasn't quite so sure now that Josiah would be pre- pared to admit that woman had as much genius as her BO-called lord and master. She was crying silently over her trials when suddenly she heard a sound that caused every individual hair on her head to stand erect. Somebody was at the front door! She couldn't be mistaken! There! it opened! aad y^, hear those stealthy steps along the hall, and 128 THE BURGLAR ALARM. there goes the sitting-room door! Oh dear! There's q burglar in the house for certain ! How frightened she was ! There ! she heard him moving cautiously about in the sitting-room. What could he be doing ? Getting the silver ? Searching for money ? Oh ! she did hope she wouldn't be murdered ! Poor Josiah would feel so bad. And then she thought all at once of the burglar alarm. " Ha ! I have thee now !" she quoted, mentally. " One step and thou art doomed." Then she laughed — then listened. Another step. A bold burglar, cer- tainly. He must know she was alone. She ceased laughing. Still another step ! " Thunder and Mars !" came in muffled tones up the stairs and along the hall. Merciful heaven ! he was coming in. " Great Scott ! Jerusalem! Ten thousand furies! Sulphur and brim- stone !" was wafted to her ears in half smothered tones. She waited to hear no more. She sprang from her bed, and putting her mouth to the crack in the door, called out : " Oh, please, Mr. Burglar, do go away ! Take any-> thing you want ; there's plenty of silver down-stairs, and my watch and jewel case are in the cabinet with the silver trimmings. Take them all ; you are welcome to them, indeed you are ; and if there's anything else down-stairs — but please don't kill me, Josiah would feel 80 bad — and, and — if you are going down be careful not to hurt your feet — " But she Avas interrupted by a terrific howl of: " Great guns! Martha, it's me. What in thunder ails these stairs ? Some darned thing or another has cut my feet all to pieces. Open the door, quick, can't you? Pni bleeding to death! Quick, I say! Ain't you got nc THE BURGLAR ALARM. 12f sense I Let a fellow stand here and lose his life blood because you're afraid of some fool burglar ! I want to see what the blasted thing is. I hope I ain't poisoned. Maybe it's a scorpion or a tarantula, or — or — " " Oh, no ! Josiah, it's only the burglar alarm. Yoi see, I — " began Mrs. Fillisy, throwing the door open, and letting the light fall on Josiah, who stood midway on the stairs, vainly endeavoring to hold both feet in his hands at once. " Oh ! oh ! oh ! Confound your old burglar alarm ! What in creation's name is it anyway ? It's killing me. I can't stand nor sit down, nor — nor anything." " Climb on to the bannister, Josiah, I did." " Climb on to the bannister, woman ! And so you've been playin' circus while I have been away. I thouglit when I married you I had found a woman of discretion ; but it seems I was mistaken. You're like all the rest. Sliding down the bannister, indeed ! Now tell me what all this confounded nonsense means," said Josiah, perch- ing himself astride the bannister, and eying his wife malignantly. " Oh, Josiah, indeed I haven't been playing circus at all," exclaimed Mrs. F., bursting into tears. " I — I — was afraid, and so I — I — invented a burglar alarm, and — and — I never dreamed of your coming home — but I thought if a burglar should get in, it would pre vent his getting up-stairs, aud — and I guess it would." And she smiled ruefully upon the barbed points at her feet. " Stars and garters ! Prophets and conjurers ! WheH will womoii cease to be fools?" and the representative of the world's wisdom shifted uneasily in his enforced po- sition. 130 AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. "Will you kindly tell me, oh, great inventoi. ho* am I to get up these stairs ? My stockings are already plastered with blood to my poor feet !" " Climb up the railing on the outside, like this," and she showed him, by example, how easily he could gain the ujiper landing ! When once there, he turned spite- fully to his wife with the words : " Martha Ann Fillisy, you are the biggest fool I ever saw ! If you ever invent another thing, I'll shut you up .In a lunatic asylum !" Birch Arnold. .AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. IN TWO PARTS. PART I. "/^OME right in. How are you, Fred ? Vy Find a chair, and get a light." ** Well, old man, recovered yet From the Mather's jam last night V « Didn't dance. The German's old." " Didn't you ? I had to lead- Awful bore ! Did you go home ?" " No. Sat out with Molly Meade. Jolly little girl she is — Said she didn't care to dance, 'D rather sit and talk to me — Then she gave me such a glance I " So, when you had cleared the rooiQj And impounded all the chairs, Having nowhere else, we two Took possession of the stairs. A.V IDYL OF THE PERIOD. tSl *• I was on the lower step, Molly, on the next above, Gave me her bouquet to hold. Asked mc to undo her glove. Then, of course, I squeezed her hand. Talked about my wasted life ; * Ah ! if I could only win Some true woman for my wife, How Y& love her — work for her ! Hand in hand through life we'd waik-"^ Kg one ever cared for me — ' Takes a girl, that kind of talk. ** Then, you know, I used my eyes — She believed me, every word — Said I ' mustn't talk so ' — Jove 1 Such a voice vou never heard. Gave me some symbolic flower, — Had a meaning, oh ! so sweet, — Don't know where it is, I'm sure ; Must have dropped it in the street. ** How I spooned ! And she — ha ! hal'-'w Well, I know it wasn't right — But she pitied me so much That I — kissed her — pass a light I" PART II. ** Molly Meade, well I declare ! Who'd have thought of seeing you. After what occurred la.st night, Ouv here on the Avenue f 1S2 AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. Oh, you awful ! awful girl ! There, don't blush ; 1 saw it all." " Saw all what ?" " Ahem ! last nighfer^ At the Mather's — iu the hall." " Oil, you horrid— where were you ? Wasa't he the biggest goose ! Most men must be caught, but he Ran his own neck in the noose. " X was almost dead to dance, I'd have done it if I could, But old Gray said I must stop, And I promised ma I would. So I looked up sweet, and said That I'd rather talk to him ; Hope he didn't see me laugh, Luckily the lights were dim. ** My, how he did squeeze my hand' And he looked up in my face With his lovely, big brown eyes— Really it's a dreadful case. *• ' Earnest !' — I should think he was t Why, I thouglit I'd have to laugJi When he kissed a flower he took, Looking, oh I like such a calf. I suppose he's got it now In a wine-glass on his shelves ; It's a mystery to me Why men will deceive themselves. " ' Saw him kiss me ?'— Oh, you wretoh Well, he begged so hard for one — And I thought there'd no one know — So I— 4et him, just for fun. burdock's music-box, lES *! kno^Y it really Avoaii't right To triHe with his feelings, dear, But men are such stuck-up things ; He'll recover — never fear." George A. Bakeb. BURDOCK'S MUSIC-BOX. LAST Christmas Miss Burdock's admirer presented her with a handsome little music-box, and the family ?ar has been tickled ever since with half-a-dozen of the latest popular agonies. Tuesday night they had company, and the music-box, after doing gloriously for awhile, suddenly collapsed at the first vei-se of the " Mulligan Guards," leaving the balance of that gallant command in a sort of musical purgatory. The next morning Miss Burdock dressed her face with its company expression, and coaxed her paternal to take the box -with him when he went to business and have it put in order, and on his finally consenting under protest \vra})ped it up neatly, placed it in his overcoat pocket, and hustled him off. He caught a Fulton Avenue car, nodded to a couple of business acquaintances, secured a seat, and was in the act of opening the morning paper, when the music- box suddenly found its voice again and [iroceeded to render the remaining verses of the " Mulligan Guards." The passengers dropped their j^upere, stared around at one another, and finally, tracing the music to Bur- dock, focused their eyes upon him, nudgtrd each othei-, and lautrhed. t34 burdock's music-box. " No music, gentlemen, 'lowed in these care," called out the conductor, sternly, coming in to collect a fare, just as the box rang out clear and loud with the chorus. There -was a perfect shout of laughter, in which everybody except Burdock and the conductor joined, as the box suddenly changed its tune and came out as Ktrong as a circus band with " Meet Me in the Park, Love." " Stop that nujsic. I won't have such foolishness going on in this car," yelled the conductor, scrutinizing the passengers suspiciously from the rear platform. * Confound the infernal thing, I wish it was at the bottom of the Red Sea !" muttered Burdock, very red in the face and uncomfortable. A minute later, as the music-box was about plunging into a third song, the conductor darted in, slapped Bur- dock on the shoulder, and said, excitedly : " I've got you at last. Now you just stop it, that's all !" " Stop it yourself, if you want to," said Burdock, angrily. The conductor frothed and fumed, looked under the seat and behind Burdock, but could see nothing, yet all the while the box was everlastingly howltng out " Ei- leen Alanna," as if its heart would break. By the time the car reached the ferr}% Burdock was in a cold perspiration, the irate conductor had checked off seven passengers too many, and was tearing his hair on the platform, and the box, after going through its entire collection of tunes, looked as quiet and innocent as a rubber baby. It required Burdock to use up all his spare stock of lelf-eontrol to prevent him from heaving it into the burdock's music-box. 135 river, and it was with a sigh of relief that he handed it over to be fixed. Saturday, on his way home, he stopped at the place where he had left it, and finding it repaired, put it in the pocket of his overcoat, and started ofi' home, forget* ting all about it on his arrival at the house. Sunday all the family turned out for church, and Burdock had ushered them all in, closed the pew door, hung his overcoat over it, took up a hymn-book, and was glancing around complacently, when the fogotten music-box in his overcoat pocket all at once struck up "Lanigan'sBall." The minister dropped the notices he was looking over and looked blankly around ; the deacons sprang up like Jack-in-the-Box and glared in every direction; the congregation twisted their heads, craned their necks, and stared wondering] y at the choir, and the choir pulled away the curtains that hid them, and stared idi- otically back in return. The Burdocks alone kept their eyes resolutely glued to the front, while their faces as- sumed the fashionable cardinal hue, and Burdock could be heard muttering fragments of emphatic language seldom heard inside of a gospel shop. After playing one verse the melody ceased, and the Burdocks' hearts, which had been standing still, beat once more ; the excitement died away, and everything was quiet again. The minister arose, and was in the act of giving out the text, when a lady, wlio was late, Bailed up the aisle, and, chancing to brush against Bur- dock's overcoat, started the music-box ofi* into a perfect fury of " Tommy, Sit Down by Your Aunty." The minister paused, and frowned severely ; the dea- eons shot up from their seats as if tliey were sitting on 286 burdock's music-box. springs ; tlie congregation tittered, and Burdock felt eick all over him as he made a savage kick at his coat, which had the eflect of changing the tune, and it pealed forth now " The Night Before Larry Was Stretched," with the variations. Burdock felt that every eye in the church was watch- ing him as he made another side kick at it ; a subdued whirr followed, and he was congratulating himself on having hopelessly ruined it, when it suddenly broke out louder than a troupe of minstrels, with the inspiring strains of the " Mulligan Guards." By the time it had played two verses and was com- mencing the third, five deacons had arrived at the pew door, and were interviewing Burdock, while the entire congregation were standing up on their toes to have a look at him. Burdock tried to explain, but seven new deacons came up and accused him of sacrilege and des- ecration of the church. " Go to thunder, the whole caboodle of you !" he ex- claimed, climbing over the back of the seat and making for the door. One of the deacons followed him with his hat and overcoat, the music-box playing, " When Johnny Comes Marching Home," right merrily, as the grave-faced dea- 8on carried it at arm's length down the middle aisle. Burdock and his family are attending another church now, and the music-box is buried under four tons of an' Ihracite coal in the cellar. FIRST ADVENTURES IN ENGLAND. 137 FIRST ADVENTURES IN ENGLAND. YER spakiu' of musther was a-moindin' me of Mick Murpliy and Dan Collins, two frinds of moine, who came over to England fur the rapin' of the harvist, and was walkin' on the quays of this town. And luoind ye now, nather Micky nor Danny liad iver been out of the corragus of the town of Tipperary in all their born days. They were goin' along the strate, whin Danny sees " 'Ristoi-ant " writ up over a shop ; " See now," says he, " that's a place to ate ;" and in they both goes, and thin, sir, they sees a waither with a towel over his arm, and says Danny, says he, " What kin we get to ate ?" " Anything at all," says the waither ; " Thin bring me a plate of mate," says Danny ; so in comes the waither with a plate of mate and a large bowl of musther. " WTiat's to pay for the mate ?" says Danny. " A shillin', sir," says the waither. " And what's that ?" says he, a-pointiu' to the bowl. " That's musther," says the waither. " And what do yez do with it ?" " Why, yez ates it with the mate, to be sure," says he, "And Avhat's to pay for it?" " Nothin' at all," says the waither. Thin Danny looked at Micky, and Micky looked at Danny, and they both winked. Afther awhile the waither turned his back, and says Danny, says he, " Micky," says he, " we'll pocket the mate for the journey and ate the stuff they gives for nothin'." And witli that Micky rowls up the mate in his hand- kercher and puts it in the crown of his hat. All this toime Danny kept stirrin' up the musther, and afther awhile he opens his mouth and takes a great dollop of it ; down goes his head, and the tears come ruuiiin' 138 ETHIOPIOMANIA. down out of his eyes. Micky looked up and says ho, " Danny," says he, " what does be the matther with ye?" Danny wouldn't let on at all, at all, but says he, " Whiniver I think of the death of my poor great- grandfather, that was kilt at the Battle of the Boyne, I can't kajie from cryin' at all, at ail." " Och, don't take on with ye like that," says Micky ; " see now, we are over in England, and we'll make a power of money at the rapin' before harvist is over." All this toirae Danny kept stirrin' up the musther, and afther awhile he hands the spoon to Micky. Micky takes a spoon- ful, too ; down goes his head, and the tears come run- uin' down out of his eyes. Danny looks up, and says he, " Micky," says he, " what does be the matther with ye?" " Faix," says Micky, "I war thinkin' what a great pitty it war that ye warn't kilt along with yer great- grandfather at the Battle of the Boyne." ETHIOPIOMANIA. [Vers de Society (new style). Dedicated to a fasbionabre young ladj who plays the baiijo.] PIANO put away In de garret for to stay ; De banjo is de music dat de gals am crazed about, De songs dat now dey choose Am 'spired by de colored muse, An' de ole kind o' poeckry am all played out. Chorus. — Oh, Maud Elaine, Sweet as sugar-cane I Hush dat music, let my poor heart go. Fo' hit's sweeter dan de band To heah yo' little hand A-plunk-plunk-plunkin' on de ole banjo. THE irishman's PANl.RAMA. 138 I aiiit from de Souf ; But yo' pretty, pretty mouf Done took to singin' darkey songs in such angelic tonee, Dat jist fo' yo' sake 2's a goin' fb' to take Some lessons on de taraboi'ine, an' learn to play de bonea. Oh, when jNIaudie sings And {)icks 'pon de strings, Twould charm a deaf-and-dunimy, or a possum from a tree. She holds dat banjo so, In her arms as white as snow, I'd gib a half a dollah if dat instrument was me! So play, play an' sing. For de banjo am de king, Its music bring-s de belles an' beaux a knockiu' at de doah. We'll dance heel and toe, Till de lamp burns low, An' de Turkey carpet's worn away from off de parlor fioah. Henry Tyrrell. THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. LADIES AND GINTLEMIN : In the foreground over there ye'll obsarve Vinegar Hill, an' should yer be goin' by that way some day, yer moight be fktigued, an' if yer are yer'll foind at the fut of the bill a nate little cot kept by a man named McCarty, who, by the way, is as foine a lad as you'll mate in a day's march. I see by the hasp on the door that 140 THE irishman's PANORAMA.. McCaity is out, or I'd take yes in an' introduce yes A foiue, giuerous, noble feller is this McCarty. Shure an' if' he had but the wan peratie he'd give yes the half of that, and phat's more, he'd thank ye for takin' it. (James, move the crank! Larry, music on the bag- pipes !) Ladies and Gintlemin : We've now arrived at a beautiful spot, situated about twenty miles this side o' Limerick. To the left over there yer'Il see a hut, by the side of which is sated a lady and gintleman : well, as I was goin' that way wan day, I heard the following conversation betwixt him an' her. Says she to him: ^ James, it's a shame for yer to be tratin' me so ; d'ye moind the time yer used to come to me father's castle a-beggin' ?" " Yer father's castle — me ? Well, thin ! ye could shtand on the outside of yer father's castle, an' stick yer arm down the chimney an' pick praties out of the pot, an' niver a partition betwixt you and the pigs but sthraw." (Move the crank, etc.) Ladies and Gintlemin : We have now arrived at the beautiful an' classical lakes of Killarney. There's a curious legend connected wid dese lakes that I must relate to you. It is, that every evenin' at four o'clock in the afternoon a beautiful swan is seen to make its appearance, an' while movin' transcendentally an' glidelessly along, ducks its head, skips under the water, an' you'll not see him till the next afternoon. (Turn the crank, etc.) Ladies and Gintlemin : We have now arrived at another beautiful spot, situated about thirteen and a half miles this side of Cork. This is a grate place, noted for sportsmin. Wanst, while sthoppin' over there at the hotel de Finney, the following tilt of a conversa- THfi NAUGHTY GREEK GIRL. 141 tion occurred betwixt Mr. Muldooney, the waiter, and mesilf. I says to liim, says I, " Mully, old boy, will you have the kindness to fetch me the mustard ?" and he was a long time bringin' it, so I opportuned him for kapin' me. An' says he to me, says he, " Mr. McCune " (that's me), " I notice that you take a grate deal of mustard wid your mate." " I do," says I. Says he, " I notice you take a blame sight of mate wid your mustard." (Move the crank ! Larry, " Finnigin's Wake.") Ladies and Gintlemin : We now skhip acrost the broad Atlantic to a wonderful sphot in America, situa- ted a few miles from Chinchinnatti, called the Falls of Niagara. While lingerin' here wan day, I saw a young couple, evidently very sweet on aich other. Av coorse I tuk no notice of phat they were sayin', but I couldn't help listenin' to the followin' extraordinary conversa- tion. Says he to her: "Isn t it wonderfiil to see that tremindous amount of water comin' down over that ter- rible precipice." " Yis, darlint," says she, " but wouldn't it be far moi-e wonderful to see the same tremindoue body of water a-goin' up that same precipice ?" (Music on the pipes.) J as. Burdette. THE NAUGHTY GREEK GIRL. MISS ALPHA, though she led her claes, Was yet a most unlovely lass : She had a little sister Theta, And she would often bang and Beta, And push and pinch, and pound and pelt htm. And many a heavy blow she Delta ; So that the kitten, e'en would Mu, When Theta' 8 sufferings she Nu. 142 THE NAUGHTY GREEK GIBL. This Alpha was so bad to Theta, That every time she chanced to meet her She looked as though she longed to Eta ; And oft' against the wall she jammed her, And oft' she took a stick and Lambda ; And for the pain and tears she brought hei She pitied her not one Iota ; But with a sly and wicked eye Would only say, " Oh, fiddle, Phil" Then Theta cried with noisy clamor. And ran and told her grief to Gamma, And Gamma, with a pitying Psi, Would give the little girl some Pi, And say, " Now darling mustn't Khi 1 »v Two Irish lads of ruddy cheek, Were living just across the creek — Their names, Omicron and Omego ; The one was small, the other bigger. For Alpha, so demure and " striking," Omego took an ardent liking ; And Mike, when first he chanced to meet hw Fell deep in love with little Theta ; And oft at eve the boys would go And on the pleasant waters Rho. So when the little hapless Theta Nu Alpha Avas about to Beta, She down upon the bank would Zeta And ery aloud and shout like fun — " Run, Mike ! run, Micky ! Omicron T ' LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. 14J LOVE AT THE SEASIDE, SU:MMER at the seaside. At the base of the c)iffs a beautiful girl, who is as handsome as she is pretty, sits sketching, sits catching the soft sea-breeze that floats from the sea. Her cheek is like the peach, her brow like rich, sweet cream, and he whose form is stretched at her feet casts time and again, and frequently, a longing look upon the peaches and the cream. His marble brow is as white as snow ; his raven locks are black. "Do you smell the smell of the sea?" he murmurs, and blushes as he murmurs. Like the ripple of a rill over rocks her laughter bub- bles forth, and she laughed. " I love the odoriferous odors of old ocean," she rip- pled. " Do they remind you of me ?" he softly asked. " Ah !" she whispered, " when you are away, they always tell me that you are absent." " How true," he said, while his eyes dreamily sought ihe far off, " we are never here when we are there." And so they sat, weaving sweet words mto sweeter sentences, until the sun sank below the horizon's rim and the auriferous waves shone like gold. " Behold the reclining orb of day," said the fair sketcher — she was sketching for a fair — " does it not re- mind you of a sunset ?" " More than aught else," he auswered, " only the sun never sets here." " O !" she sighed, spasmodically, " are we in Great Britain ?" ** No," he replied, slowly arising and wijDding his am 144 LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. about her, " but at the romantic seaside the sun nevei sets. It reclines." " As the son does so does the daughter," she faltered^ and her head gently reclined upon the lappel of his marseilles vest. "The little wavelets kiss the sands that sparkle at our feet," he exclaimed, as he sawed the air with the one arm still left at his disposal, and his mellow voice rang out in a pulpit-oratorical tone ; " the wavelets kies the sands, and the parting sunbeams kiss the brow of the cliiF that guards the shore, and " " Ah !" she interrupted, in accents so tremulous and low that they Avere scarcely perceptible, much less audible, " happy wavelets ; thi'ice happy sunbeams I" Her terra-cotta hat was tipped back, temptingly dis- closing her fair face ; her closed eyes were shut, and from her half-open mouth a suppressed sigh escaped be- tween her parted lips. It was a case calling for prompt and immediate action and the young man, to the credit of his sex be it re- corded, was equal to the emergency. Some men would have faltered, others would have hesitated, and still others would have held back, but this young man was never known to quail — except on toast. With a firm- ness only acquired by long practice, he tightened his grip upon the form that lay confidingly upon his arm ; he gave the terra-cotta hat an extra tip, and then wip- ing off his lips with a highly -scented and richly-per- fumed handkerchief, he planted a royal kiss right where it would do the most good. Slowly she opened her eyes, like one recovering from a dream, or awakening from a sleep, and smiling f^bly iaid: LOVE AT THE SEASIDE- 14A **! feel better now.'' Silence stole upon the scene, and all was still. Quiet reigned ; no sounds were heard. She listened only to the thumping of his heart, and was satisfied. But not he, for hunger was gnawing at his soul. " Ah I" he lowly breathed, " I have my longings." "Do you sigh for, 01 do you sigh for the in finite?" " No," he answered, " I don't cipher that way this time. INIy heart's yearning is for clams. Alas ! I can live upon romance through all the shimmering after- noon ; I can subsist upon sentiment until the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky and the sweet tintinnab- ulations of the supper-bell vibrcte upon the evening air, then hunger asserts itself, and when I get hungry I want to eat." " How strange !" she said ; " how fearfully and won- derfully made is man !" Then taking her lily-white hand in his, he gazed into her eyes as though he would pierce her very soul with his glance. " Fair creature," he gasped, " do you never eat ?" " Perish the thought," she replied, with a shudder. "Sometimes I partake of refreshments, but I never eat." Slowly, with tardy steps, and somewhat leisurely, thev strolled across the gleaming sand to where the whit©- ;vashed front of the hostelry strove to outstare the sea. There the delicate girl sought the refectory and called for clams, which she swept with a charming grace be- tween her rosebud lips, and then she called for clama. These also went over from the minority and joined the gilent majority, after which she musingly wiped ha* 10 146 THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. pretty mouth upon a scarlet-fringed napkin and called for clams. A young man gazed upon her through the lattice JJi speechless admiration. " She is partaking of refreshments," he Avhispered to himself. That night he sat upon the edge of his bed, fanning mosquitoes away with one hand, and casting up countless rows of figures upon the backs of old letters with the other. " I never could stand the racket," he said at last. When the mists crept up from the sea, in the morn- ing, he had departed. He was no longer there. He had gone. THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. IT was at the corner of Woodward Avenue and Con- gress Street, and the time was ten o'clock in the forenoon. A citizen who stands solid at two hundred pounds was walking along with bright eyes and the birds singing in his heart, when all at once he found himself looking up to the cloudy heavens, and a voice up the street seemed to say : — " Did you see the old duffer strike that icy spot and claw for grass?" Then another voice down the street seemed to say — " You bet I did ! He's lyin' there yit, but he'd git right up if he knew how big his foot looked !" The solid citizen did get up. The first thing he saw the beautiful city of Detroit spread out before him. The next thing was a slim man with bone-colored THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZEIX 141 whiskers, who Tvns leaning against a building and laughing as if his heart would break. " I can knock your jaw off in three minutes !" ex- claimed the citizen, as he fished for the end of his broken suspender. The slim man didn't deny it. He hadn't time, H<» had his hands full to attend to his laughing. The solid man finally found the suspender, counted up four mis- sing buttons and his vest split up the back, and slowly went on, looking back and wondering if he could be held for damages to the side-walk. He had been in his office about ten minutes, and had just finished telling a clerk that an express team knocked him down, when in came the slim man with bone-colored whiskers. The solid man recognized him and put on a frown, but the other held out his hand and said : — " Mister, I came to beg your pardon. You fell on the walk and I laughed at you, but — ha ! ha ! ha ! — upon my soul I couldn't help it. It was the — ha ! ha ! ba ! — fimniest sight I ever sav,-, and — oh ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! — I couldn't help laughing !" " I want none o' your penitence and none o' youi company !" sharply replied the solid man, and the other went out. In about an hour the " fallen man " had to go over to the expr&ss office. The man with the bone-colored whiskers was there with a package, and ha reached out his hand and began : — "Sir, I ask your forgivcne?s, I know what belongs to dignity and good mannei-s, l)ut — but — ha ! ha ! — when I saw your heels shoot out and your shoulders — ha ! ha ! ha ! — double up, I had to — bo ! ho I ha ! ha 1 ha } •k-h-h-h r li$ THE MAN WHO APOLOfTlZED. " I'll lick you if ever I get a good cliance !" remarked the citizen, but yet the man sat down on a box and laughed till the tears came. In the afternoon as the citi/en was about to take a car for home some one touched him on the elbow. It was the man with the bone-colored whiskers. His face had a very serious, earnest look, and he began : " Citizen, I am positively ashamed of myself I am going to settle in Detroit, and shall see you often. I want t-o ask your forgiveness for laughing at you this nioniing." He seemed so serious that the solid man began to relax his stern look, and he was about to extend his hand when the other continued : — " You see we are — are all — ha ! ha ! liable to accident. I, myself, have often — ha ! ha ! ha ! — struck an icy spot and — ho ! ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! — 'gone down to grass — ah ha ! ho ! ha ! ho ! ha !" The solid citizen withdrew his hand, braced his feet, drew his breath and struck to mash the other fine. His foot slipped, and next he knew he was plowing his nose into the hard snow. When he got up the man with the bone-colored whiskers was hanging to a hitching-post, and as black in the face as an old hat. The f^itizen should have killed him then and there, but he didn't He made for a car like a bear going over a brush fence, BJid his efforts to look innocent and unconcerned after he sat doAvn broke his other suspender dead in two. Such is life. No man can tell what any icy spot will brinjr forth.— Z>efro/^ Free Fress. VaM BOY A\I> THK FROO. I'Sf THE BOY AND THE FROG. SEE the frog, the sh'my, green frog, Dozing away on that old rotteii log Seriouslv wonderiuo; What caused the sundering Of the tail thut he ^Yore when a wee pollywog. See the boy, the freckled schoolboy, Filled with a wicked love to a«noy, Watching the frog Perched on the log With feelings akin to tumultuous joy. See tlie rock, the hard, flinty rock, Which the freckle-faced boy at the frog dotk «ock Conscious he's sinning, Yet gleefully grinning At the likely result of its terrible shock. See the grass, the treacherous griiss. Slip from beneath his feet ! Alas 1 Into the mud With a dull thud He falls, and rises a slimy mass. Now, see the frog, the hilarious frog. Dancing a jig on his old rotten log» Applying his toes To his broad, blunt nose, Am he laughs at the boy stuck fast in the bo$|^. 150 SHE REFERRED HIM TO HER PA. Look at the switch, the hickory switch, Waiting to make that schoolboy twitch. When his mother knows The state of his clothes Won't he raise his voice to its highest pitch f SHE REFERRED HIM TO HER PA. n , Her fairy form. Her modest face. Her cluirming air, And winning grace Enchanted all The lads iu town. And each one loved Jemima Brown. She oft was called The village pride, And for her love I long had sighed. I said I'd know No joy iu life till she'd Consent to be my wife. She Blushed quite red and said " Oh, la ;" and then referred me to Her pa. His manner was both inide And rough, and when he spoke his tones Were gruff. I asked him then in accents Bland to give to me his daughter's hand. For answer he gave me his foot encased Within this cowhide boot! — Somerville JomtunL UNCLE CEPHAS* YARN. 161 UNCLE CEPHAS' YARN. •' mALKING of preachei-s," said Caleb Parker, "re, J- minds me of a story they tell of Uucle Cephas Baacom, of North Haven, Uncle Cephas was a shoe- maker, and he never went to sea much, only to anchor his skifl' in the Narrows abreast of his house, and catch a mess of scup, or to pole a load of salt-hay from San- quitt Island. But he used to visit his married daughter, in Vermont, and up there they knew he come from the seaboard, and they used to call him ' Captain Bascom.' So, one time when he was there, they hed a Sabbath- school concert, and nothing would do but * Captain Bascom ' must talk to the boys, and tell a sea-yarn, and draw a moral, the way the Deacon, here, does," The Deacon gravely smiled, and stroked his beard. " Well, Uncle Cephas was ruther pleased with his name of ' Captain Biiscom,' and he didn't like to go back on it, and so he flaxed round to git up something. It seems he had heard a summer boarder talk in Sabbath school, at Northhaven ; he told how a poor boy minded his mother, and then got to tend store, and then kep' store himself, and then he jumped it on them : ' That poor boy,* says he, ' now stands before you.' So Uncle Cephas thought him up a similar yarn. Well, he had never spoke in meeting before, and he hemmed and hawed some, but he got on quite well ivhile he was tel- ling about a certain poor boy, and all that, and how the boy when he grew up was out at sea, in an oj^en boat, and saw a jrreat sword-fish making for the boat. Hail Columbia, and bcmnd to stave right through her and sink her, and how this man he took an oar, and give it 152 BENEATH HER WINDOW. a swing, aud broke the critter's sword s(juare oft*; and then Uncle Cephas, — he'd begun to git a little flustered, he stopped short, and waved his arms, and says he, * Boys, wliat do you think ? That sword-fish now stands before you.' " I cal'late that brought the house down." — Century Magazine. BENEATH HER AVINDOW. HE thought to serenade his love, And, pausing 'neath her casement, He warbled forth his sweetest lays In humble self-abasement, — Of moonlight, constancy, and love. And all things true and tender, And called on sleep and happy dreams That instant to attend her. A thrill of hope pervades his breast, — The lattice trembles slightly ! But what is this that meets his gaze — This form uncouth, unsightly ? A voice of dread falls on his ear, A voice so cracked and toothless. It shatters all his hopes of bliss With touch severe and ruthiess. ** A very pretty tune, young man ; I'm much obleeged ye come ! Now, while vou're at it, please to Mug * The Old Folks at Home !' " THE PHOTOGRAPHa. 1% THE PHOTOGRAPHS. TO-DAY I was let sit up, tucked up in a quilt in a arm-cliare. I soon got tired o' that, so I ast Betty to get me a glass o' ice-water to squench my thirst, an' when she was gone I cut an' run, an' went into Susan's room to look at all them fotografs of nice young men she's got there in a drawer. The girls was all down in the parlor, 'cos Miss Wat- son had come to call. Betty she came a huntiu' me, but I hid in the closet behind a ole hoop-skirt. I come out when she went away, and had a real good time. Some o' them fotografs was written on the back, like this , " Couseated fop !" " Oh, ain't he sweet?" " He ast me, but I wouldn't have him." " A perfeck darl- ing !" " AVhat a mouth !" " Portrait of a donkey !" I kep about two dozen o' them I knew, to have some fun when I got well. I shut the drawer so Sue wouldn't notice they was took. I felt as if I could not bare to go back to that nasty room, I was so tired of it, an' ] thought I'd pass my time a playing I was a young lady. I found a lot o' little curls in the buro, wich I stuck on all around my forehead with a bottle of mewsiledge, and then I seen some red stuff on a sawcer, wich I nibbed onto my cheaks. When I was all fixed up I slid down the bannisters plump against Miss Watson, wot was aayin' good-bye to my sisters. Such a hollerin' as they made ! Miss Watson she turned me to the light, afn' set, she, a£ sweet as pie : " Where did you get them pretty red cheeks, G«ordie ?" 154 THE PHOTOGRAPHS. Susan she made a sign, but I didn't know it. " I found some red stuti m Sue's drawer," sez I, and she smiled kind o' hateiul, and said . " Oh 1" My sister says she is an awful gossip, wich will tel] all over town that they paint, wich they don't, 'cause that sawcer Avas gust to make roses on card-bord, wich is all riglit. Sue was so mad she boxed my eai-s. " Aha, missy !" sez I to myself, " you don't guess about them fotografs wot I took out o' your drawer I" Some folks think little boys' ears are made on pur- pose to be boxed — my sisters do. If they knew what dark and desperate thoughts come into little boys' minds, they'd be more careful — it riles 'em up like pokin sticks into a mud puddel. I laid low — but beware to-morrow ! They let me come down to breakfast this mornm*. I've got those pictures all in my pockets, you bet y*iUT life. " Wot makes your pockets stick out so ?" ast Lily, fehen I was a waiting a chance to slip out uubeknone. *' Oh, things," sez I, an' she laughed. " I thought mebbe you'd got your books and cloathes packed up m 'em," sez she, " to run away an' t)e a Injun warryor." I didn't let on anything, but ansered her : "I guess I'll go out in the backyard an' play a •pell." Well, I got off down town, an' had a lot of fiin. I called on all the aboriginals of them fotografs. " Hello, Georgie ! Well agen ?" said the first fellM I stopped to see. THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 155 Oh, my ' -when I get big enufl' I'll hope my mustaohea won't be waxed like his'n 1 He's in a store, an' 1 got him to give me a uice cravat, an' he ast me " Was ray listers well ?" so I fished out his fotograf, and gave it to him. It was the one that had " Conseated Fop '" writ on the back The girls had drawed his musttaehes out tv.ict as long with a pencil, an' made him smile all acrost his face. He got as red as fire, an' then he skowled at me. " Who did that, you little rascal !" " I guess the spirits did it," I said, as onest as a owl, an' I went away quick cause he looked mad. The ne\ plaice I come to was a grocery store, where a nuther young man lived. He had red hair an' freckles^ but he seemed to think hisself a beauty. I said : " Hello, Peters !" He said : "The same youi-self. Master George. Do you like raisins? Help yourself." Boys wot has three pretty sisters allers does get treted well, I notiss. I took a big hanful of raisins an' a few peanuts, an' sot on the counter eating 'em, till all at oncest, as if I jest thought of it, I took out his foto- graf an' scjuluted at it, an sez ; '* I do declare it looks like you." *' Let me see it," sez he. I wouldn't for a long time, then I gave it to him. The fnrls had made freckles all over it. This was tlio one they wrote on its back, " He asked me, but I wouldn't have him." They'd painted his hair as red as a rooster's comb. He got quite pale when he seen it clost. " It's a burning shame," sez I, " for them young ladies U> make fun of their bows." Ih6 THE PHOTOGRAPHS. " Clear out," sez Peters. I grabbed a. nutber buiicb o' r.iipins an' quietly dis appeared. 1 tell you lie was rathy ! Mister Courtenay he was a lawyer, he's got a offia on the square by the cort-house. I knew him very well, 'cause he comes to our house often. He's a awful queer-lookin' chap, an' so stuck up you'd think he a\;is tryin' to see if the moon was made o' green cheese, like folks sez it is, the way he keeps it in the air. He's got a depe, depe voice way down in his boots. My harte beat wen I got in there, I was that fritened ; but I waa bound to see the fun out, so I ast him : " Is the What is It on exabishun to-day ?" " Wot do you mean ?" sez he, a lookin' down on me. " Sue said if I w^ould come to Mister Courtenay 's offis I would see wot this is the picture of," sez I, givin' him his own fotograf inskibed, " The Wonderful What is It." It's awful funny to see their faces wen they look at their own cards. In about a minit he up with his foot wich I dodged just in time. I herd him muttering suthin' 'bout " suing for scandal." I think myself I oughter arrest her for 'salt an' battery, boxing my ears. I wisht he would sue Sue, 'twould serve her right. I'll not get to bed fore midnight if I write enny more. I'm yawning now like a dying fish. So, farewell my diry till the next time. I give them cards all back *^re dinner-time. There'll be a row I expect. I've lautjhed mvself almost to fits a thinkin' of the feller wot I give " The Portrait of a Donkey " to. He looked BO cress fallen. I do believe he cried. They were te»zin' ma to let 'em give a party nex week wen I go* A WOMAXV "wo." home to dinner. I dt^n't believe one of them Toung gentlemen will come to it ; the girls have give 'em all away. I don't care wuth a cent. Wot for do they take such libertys with my ears if they want me to be good to >m. P. S. — I bet their left ears are burning wuss'n evei mine did ! A WOMAN'S "NO." SHE had a parcel, small and round, (jne lovely afternoon last summer. I offered, as in duty bound, To take it from her. She thanked me, with a gracious smile, As sweet as rosy lips could make it ; It was so small, 'twas not worth while To let me take it. Again T offered, as before, Of that slight burden to relieve her. She'd rather not — " Fray, say no more !" 'Twould really grieve her. I ceased to plead — she seemed content, The tiling was small and neatly corded. And so along our way we went, To where she boarded. But when upon the stoop she stood, And ere our last adieus were uttered, She eyed me in a roguish mood, And softly muttered, X58 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISFENSEfl. As swung the door to let her through, And left me there all unresisting ; " I don't think very much of you For not insisting." Arthur Graha*. THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. A FARM BALLAD. JF the weary world is willing, I've a little word to say, Of a lightning-rod dispenser that dropped down on me one day. With a poem in his motions, with a sermon in his mien, With hands as white as lilies, and a face uncommon clean. No wrinkle had his vestments, and his linen glistened white, And his new- constructed necktie was an interesting sight ; Which I almost wish his razor had made red that white-skinned throat, And the new-constructed necktie had composed a hang- man's knot, Ere he brought his sleek-trimmed carcass for my women-folks to see, And his rip-saw tongue a buzzin' for to gouge a gash in me. But I couldn't help but like him — as I always think I must, The gold of my own doctrines in a fellow-heap of dust ; THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISFENSER. 159 When I fired my own opinions at this person round by round, They drew an answering volley, of a very similar sound ; I touched him on religion, and the hopes my heart had known ; He said he'd had experiences quite similar of his own. I told him of the doubtin's that made dark my early years ; He had laid awake till morning, with that same old breed of fears. I told him of the rough path I hoped to heaven to He was on that very ladder, only just a round below. I told him of my visions of the sinfulness of gain ; He had seen the self-same pictures, though not quite so clear and plain. Our politics was different, and at first he galled and winced ; But I arg'ed him so able, he was very soon convinced. And 'twas getting toward the middle of a hungry sum' mer day ; There was dinner on the table, and I asked him would he stay ? And he sat him down among us, everlasting trim and neat, And asked a short, crisp blessing, almost good enougl; to eat ; Then he fired up on the mercies of our Great Etemai Friend, iLnd gave the Lord Almighty a good, first-class recnnv mend ; 160 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISFENSER. ^nd for full an hour we listened to the sugar-coated scamp, Talking like a blessed angel — eating like a — blasted tramp. My wife, she liked the stranger ; smiling on him warm and sweet (It always flatters women, when their guests are on the eat). And he hinted that some ladies never lose their early charms, And he kissed her latest baby, and received it in his arms. My sons and daughters liked him, for he had progress- ive views, And chewed the quid of fancy, and gave down the latest news ; And I couldn't help but like him, as I fear I always must, The gold of my own doctrines in a fellow-heap of dust. He was spreading desolation through a piece of apple-pie, When he paused, and looked upon us with a tear in his ofi'-eye. And said, " O, happy family ! — your blessings make me sad ; You call to mind the dear ones that in happier days I had ; A wife as sweet as this one ; a babe as bright and fair ; A little girl with ringlets, like that one over there. I worshiped them too blindly ! — my eyes with love were dim! God took them to His own heart, and now I worshlj Himu THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 161 But had I not neglected the means within my waj, Then they might still be living and loving me to-day. " One night there came a tempest ; the thunder-peala were dire ; The clouds that tramped above us were shooting bolts of fire ; In my own house, I, lying, was thinking, to my blame. How little I had guarded against those shafts of flame, When crash ! — through roof and ceiling the deadly lightning cleft, A-ud killed my wife and children, and only I was left. " Since that dread time I've wandered, and nought for life have cared, Save to save others' loved ones, whose lives have vet been spared ; Since then, it is my mission, where'er by sorrow tossed, To sell to virtuous people good lightning-rods — at cost. With sure and strong protection, I'll clothe your build- ings o'er, 'Twill cost you fifty dollars (peihaps a trifle more) ; What little else it comes to, at lowest pi*ice I'll put. (You signing this agreement to pay so much per foot.") I signed it, while my family all approving stood about i And dropped a tear upon it — (but it didn't blot i^ out !) That very day with wagons came some men, both great and small; They clinil)ed upon my buildings, just aa if they owned 'em all ; 11 162 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER- They hacked 'em and they hewed 'em, much against my loud desires ; They trimmed 'em up with gewgaws, and they bound 'em down with wires ; They trimmed 'em and they wired 'era, and they trimmed and wired 'em still, A.nd every precious minute kej)t a running up the bilL My soft-spoke guest a-seeking, did I rave and rush and run ; He was supping with a neighbor, just a three-mile further on. " Do you think," I fiercely shouted, " that I want a mile o' wire To save each separate hay -cock out o' heaven's consum- m nre r Do you think to keep my buildin's safe from some un- certain liarm I'm goin' to deed you over all the balance of my farm ?' He looked up quite astonished, with a face devoid o' guile, And he pointed to the contract, with a reassuring smile • It was the first occasion that he disagreed with me ; But he held me to that paper, with a firmness sad to see : And for that thunder story, ere the rascal finally went, I paid two hundred dollars, if I paid a single cent. And if any liglitnin'-rodder wants a dinner-dialogue With the restaurant department of an enterprising dog Let him set his mill a-runnin' just inside my outside gate, And I'll bet two hundred dollars that he won't have long to wait. Will Carleton, MISS SBIMONS' XEW BONNET. 163 MISS SIMMONS' NEW BONNET. MISS SIMMONS had on her new bonnet to-day, A model of floAven- and luce ; An imported affair, and she wore it in style, With the rim coming over her face. Of coui'se, she took care to come tripping in late. And all the first hymn was sung through, When ehe came up the aisle with the air of a queeft And stopped at the door of her pew. A stranger was in it, a man too, at that — The new boarder just over the way ; He quietly rose, and she slid in her place As the parson was saying " let's pray." Hie prayer was a long one, at least so it seemed, And he'd never get through it I thought, I was awfully tempted to take a sly peep, But I knew I'd be sure to get caught. Deacon .Tones and his wife sat next on my right, With .Johnnie and Robbie, their boys, And the madam kept watch o'er the frolicsome imps In fear lest they might make a noise. The " amen " came at last, and try as I might The temptation I couldn't resist : My eyes went riglit straight to the stylish new hat. Oh, what if the text I had missed I 164 . A GIRL OF THE TERIOD. But I wasn't the only one there this fine day Whose thoughts unto vanity strayed, For Miss Moore gazed right at her when meeting wm done — You know, she's a miU'ner by trade. The style she fixed firmly, securelj^ in mind, And to-morrow she'll surely design A. bonnet just like it, and next Sunday morn Miss Simmons she'll try to outshine. Laurie A. Raymond, A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. OH, she was so utterly utter ! She couldn't eat plain bread and butter, But a nibble she'd take At a wafer of cake, Or the wing of a quail for her supper ; Roast beef and plum-pudding she'd sneer at, A boiled leg of mutton she'd jeer at, But the limb of a frog Might her appetite jog. Or some delicate bit that came near that. The consequence was, she grew paler And more wishy-washy, and frailer. Ate less for her dinner. Grew thinner and thinner. Till I really think, If you marked her with ink. Put an envelope ou her. And stamped it upon her. A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. iQ& You could go to the office and mail her I Her voice was so low and so thrilling, Its cadence was perfectly killing ; And she talked with a lisp and a stutter. For she wad so utterly utter ! Oh, she was so very aesthetic ! Her face was quite long and pathetic ; The ends of her hair Floated loose on the air, And her eyes had a sadness prophetic ; The bangs she wore down on her forehead Were straight and deliciously horrid ; And a sad-colored gown Going straight up and down She wore when the weather was torrid. It was terrible hard to enthuse her. But a bit of old china would fuse her ; And she'd glow like a coal or a candle, At the mention of Bach or of Handel At pinks, and sweet-williams and roses, She'd make the most retrousse noses, But would swoon with delight At a sunflower bright, And use it in making her poses. She moved with the sleepiest motion, As if not quite used to the notion ; And her manner was chill As a waterfowl's bill When he's fresh from a dip in the ocean It was quite the reverse of" magnetic. But oh, it wna very aesthetic ! 166 THE HONKST I»KACON. And if, with your old-fashioned notions, You could wish that more cheerful emotion More sunshine and grace, Should appear in her face, More gladness should speak in her motionfiM- If you heard with a homesick dejection The changes in voice and inflection, And sighed for smooth tresses. And the plain, simple dresses That used to command your affection,—- Oh, hide your rash thoughts in your bosom \ Or, if you must speak out and use 'em, Then under your breath you must mutter ; For she is too utterly utter I THE HONEST DEACON. AN honest man was Deacon Ray ; And, though a Christian good, He had one fault,— the love of drink For drink he often would. On almost every Sunday, too, He would at dinner-time Indulge to quite a great extent In yfood Madeira wine. At church, in front, upon the side, The deacon had his pew ; Another worthy, Squire Le^ He hal a seat there too* THE HONEST DEACON. 167 One Sunday, the sermon clone. The parson said he'd talk (n language plain, that aflernoon. Of sins within their flock, He warned them that they must not flinch If he should be severe. Each thought his neighbor'd get dressed down. So all turned out to hear. The church at early hour was full : The deacon, some behind, Came in quite late ; for he had been Indulging in his wine. And up the long and broad aisle He stifily tottered on ; And, by the time he'd reached his seat. The sermon had betrun. o The parson, of transgressors spoke. And of the wrath to flee ; And soon he to the query came, — • " The drunkard — where is he ?" A pause ; and then the deacon rose. And answered like a man. Though with a hiccup in his voice.— " Here, parson — hie — 'ere I am/' Of course, the consternation Was great on every side ; For who'd have thought the deacon Would thus aptly have replied ? 188 MISS Minerva's disappointment* The preacher, not the least disturbed, With his remarks kept on, And warned him to forsake his ways : The deacon then sat down. 'Twas soon another question came, With no more welcome sound, — • "Where is the wicked hypocrite?" This made them all turn round. Some looked at this one, some at thatj, As if they would inquire Who 'twas the parson meant : His eyes were on the squire. The deacon, noting how things stood. Turned round and spoke to Lee, — ** Come, squire — hie — come, you get up I did when he called on me." MISS MINERVA'S DISAPPOINTMENT. YES, Debby, 'twas a disappointment ; and though, oi coui-se, I try To look as if I didn't mind it, I won't tell you a lie. Ye see, he'd been a-comin' stiddy, and our folks sez, sez they, * It's you, Minervy, that he's arter ; he's sure to pop some day." He'd walk in with the evenin' shadders, set in that easy chair. And praise my doughnuts, kinder sighin' about a bache- lor's fare. MISS MINERVA 3 DISAPPOINTMENT. 1G9 And then his talk was so improvin,' he made the doc- trines plain, Ind when he'd pint a moral, allers looked at Mary- Jane. She'd laugh, and give sech silly answers that no one could approve ; But, law ! the men can't fool me, Debby — it isn't sense they love, It's rosy cheeks, and eyes a-sparklin'. Yes, yes, you may depend That when a woman's smart and handy — know's how to bake and mend, And keep her house and husband tidy, why the fools will pass her by, Bekase she's spent her youth a-learnin' their wants to satisfy. Now, Mr. Reed was allers talkin' of what a wife should be, 80, Debby, was it any wonder I thought his hints meant me? A.nd then when Mary Jane would giggle, and he would turn so red, Could you have guessed that they was courtin' when not a word was said ? It all came out at last so sudden. 'Twas Wednesday of last week, When Mr. Reed came in quite flustered. Thinks I, " He means to speak," I'll own my heart beat quicker, Debby, for though of course, it's bold To like a man before he offers, I thought him good as gold. 170 MISS MINERVA*S DISAPPOINTMENT. Well, there we sot. I talked and waited ; he hemmefl and coughed awhile. He seemed so most uncommon bashful I couldn't help but smile. I thought about my pine-tar cordial that drives a cougb away. And how when we was fairly married I'd dose him every day. Just then he spoke ! *' Dear Miss Minervy, you must have seen quite plain, That I'm in love — " " I hev," I answers. Sez hcj " with Mary Jane." What did I do ? I nearly fainted, 'twas such a crueJ shock, Yet there I had to set as quiet as ef I was a rock. And hear about her " girlish sweetness " and " buddin' beauty " too, Don't talk to me of martyrs, Debby, I know what I've gone through. Well, that's the end. The weddin's settled for June^ he's in such haste, I've given her the spreads I've quilted ; so they won't. go to waste. I'd planned new curtains for his study, all trimmed with bands of blue. I'm sure her cookin' never'll suit him — he's fond of eatin' too. Well, no, I wa'n't at meetin' Sunday, I don't find Mr Reed So quite aa edifyin' lately, he can't move me, indeed PHARISEE AND 8ADDUCEE. i?* And, Debby, \Yhen you see how foolish a man in lov« cau act, Yon can't have such a high opinion of him, and that'a a fact. " I don't look well ?" Spring weather, mebbe ; it's git* tin* warm, you know. Good-bye; I'm goin' to Uncle Jotham's, to stay a we^ or so. Miss E. T. Corbe'it. PHARISEE AND SADDUCEE. TOGETHER to the church they went. Both doubtlcvss on devotion bent. The ])arson preached with fluent ease On Pharisees and Sadducees. And as they homeward slowly walked. The lovers on the sermon talked. And he — he dearly loved the maid — In soft and tender accents said, Darling, do you think that we Are Pharisee and Sadducee ? She flashed on him her bright bro\vn ey« With one swift look of vexed surprise, And as he hastened to aver He was her constant worshiper. But darling, I insist, said he. That you are very Phar-i-see, I don't think you care much for me. That makes me so Sad-u-cee. 172 HOW JIMMY TENDED THE dABT. HOW JIMMY TP:NDED THE BABY. I NEVER could see the use of babies. "VVe have on« at our house that belongs to mother, and she thiukj everything of it. I can't see anything wonderful about it. All it can do is to cry, and pull hair, and kick. It hasn't half the sense of my dog, and can't even chase a cat. Mother and Sue wouldn't have a dog in the house, but they are always going on about the baby, and say- ing, " Ain't it perfectly sweet?" The woret thing about a baby is, that you're expected to take care of him, and then you get scolded afterward. Folks say, " Here, Jimmy, just hold the baby a minute, there's a good boy ;" and then, as soon as you have got it, they say, " Don't do that ! Just look at him ! That boy will kill the child ! Hold it up straight, you good- for-nothing little wretch !"• It's pretty hard to do your best, and then be scolded for it ; but that is the way boys are treated. Perhaps after I'm dead, folks will wish they had done differently. Last Saturday, mother and Sue went out to make calls, and told me to stay at home and take care of the baby. There was a base-ball match, but what did they care for that ? They didn't want to go to it, and so it made no difference whether I went to it or not. They said they would be gone only a little while, and if the baby waked vp, I was to play with it, and keep it from crying, and ^' be sure and not let it swallow any pins." Of course, I had to do it. The baby was sound asleep when they went out ; so I left it just a few minutes, while I went to see if there was any pie in tlie pantry. If I was a I'oman, I wouldn't be so dreadfully suspicious as to keep werything locked up. When I got back upstairs agaiuj HOVr JIMMY TENDED THE BABY. 173 the baby "was awake, and was howling like he was full of pins. So I gave him the first thing that came handy, to keep him quiet. It happened to be a bottle of French polish, with a sponge on the end of a wire, that Sue uses to black her boots, because girls are too lazy to use the regular brush. The baby stopped crying as soon as I gave him the bottle, and I sat down to read a paper. The next time I looked at him, he'd got out the sponge, and about half of his face was jet black. This was a nice fix, for I knew nothing could get the black off his face, and when mother came she would say the baby was spoiled, and I had done it. Now I think an all black baby is ever so much more stylish than an all Khite baby, and when I saAV that the baby was part black, I made up mind that if I blacked it all over it would be worth more than it ever had been, and per- iaps mother would be ever so much pleased. So I hur- ried up, and gave it a good coat of black. You should have seen how that baby shined ! The polish dried as soon as it was put on, and I bad just time to get baby dressed again, when mother and Sue came in. I wouldn't lower myself to repeat their un- kind language. When you've been called a murdering little villain, and an unnatural son, it will rankle in your heart for ages. After what they had said to me, I didn't even seem to mind father, but went up stairs ^vith him almost as if I was going to church, or something that didn't hurt much. The baby is beautiful and shiny, though the doctors say it will wear off in a few yeai-s. No^ body shows any gratitude for all the trouble I took, and I can tell you it isn't easy to black a baby without getting it into his eyes and hair. I sometimes? think it is hardly ^orth while to live in this cold and unfeeling world. 174 THE THREE I.OVEB& THE THREE LOVERS. HERE'S a precept, young man, you should follow with care ; If you're courting a girl, court her honest and square, Mr. 'Liakim Smith was a hard-fisted farmer. Of moderate weahh, And immoderate health, Who fifty odd years, in a stub-and-twist armor Of callus and tan, Had fought like a man His own dogged progress, through trials and cares, And log-heaps and brush-heaps and wild-cats and bears. And agues and fevers and thistles and briers. Poor kinsmen, rich foemen, false saints, and true liars ; Who oft, like the " man in our town," overwise, Through the brambles of error had scratched out his eyes, And when the unwelcome result he had seen, Had altered his notion, Reversing the motion, And scratched them both in again, perfect and clean ; Who had weathered some storms, as a sailor might say, And tacked to the left, and the right of his way, Till he ibund himself anchored, past tempests and breakei-s. Upon a good farm of a hundred odd acres. As for -Liakim's wife, in four words may be told Her whole standing in life : She was 'Liakim's ^vife. Whereas she'd been young, she was not growing old, But did, she considered, as well as one could. When he looked on her hard work, and saw 'twas good. THE THREE LOVERS. 175 The family record showed only a daughter ; But she had a face, As if each fabled Grace In a burst of delight to her bosom had caught her, Or as if all the flowers in each Bmitli generation Had blossomed at last in one grand culmination. Style lingered unconscious in all of her dress ; She'd starlight for glances and sunbeams for tresses, Wherever she went, with her right royal tread. Each youth, when he'd passed her a bit, turned hiii head ; And so one might say, though the figure be strained, She had turned half the heads that the township con tained. Now Bess had a lover — a monstrous young hulk ; A farmer by trade — Strong, sturdy, and staid ; A man of good parts — if you counted by bulk ; A man of great weight — by the scales ; and, indeed, A man of some depth — as was shown by his feed. His face was a fat exclamation of wonder ; His voice was not quite unsuggestive of thunder ; His laugh WM a cross 'twixt a yell and a chuckle ; He'd a number one foot. And a number ten boot. And a knock-down reserved in each separate knuckl«. He'd a heart mad in love with the girl of his choice "Who made him alternately mope and rejoice, By dealing him one day discouraging messes, And toothing him next day witli smiles and caretwee. Now B'c^ had a lover who hoped her to wed — A rising young lawyer — more rising than read ; 176 THE THREE LOVERS. Whose theories all were quite startling ; and who, Like many a chap In these days of sti'ange hap, Was living on what he expected to do ; While his landlady thought 'twould have been rath^f neat Could he only have learned, Till some practice was earned, To subsist upon what he expected to eat. He was bodily small, howe'er mentally great, And suggestively less than a hundred in weight. Now Bess had a lover — young Patrick ; a sinner. And lad of all work, From the suburbs of Cork, Who worked for her father, and thought he could wis her. And if Jacob could faithful serve fourteen yean through, And still thrive and rejoice, For the girl of his choice. He thought he could play the same game one or two. Now 'Liakim Smith had a theory hid, And by egotism fed. Somewhere up in his head, That a dutiful daughter should always as bid Grow old in the service of him who begot her, Imbibe his beliefs, Have a care for his griefs. And faithfully bring him his cider and water. So, as might be expected, he turned up his nose, Also a cold shoulder, to Bessie's two beaux, THE THREE LOVERg. 17(1 And finally turned them away from his door. Forbidding them ever to enter it more ; And detailed young Patrick as kind of a guard, With orders to keep them both out of the yard. 60 Pat took his task, with a treacherous smile. And bullied the small one, And dodged the big tall one, And slyly made love to Miss Bess all the while. But one evening, when 'Liakim and wife crowned theii labors With praise and entreating At the village prayer-meeting, And Patrick had stepped for a while to some neighbofB',. The lawyer had come, in the trimmest of dress, And, dapper and slim, And small, e'en for him, Was holding a session of court with Miss Bess. And Bess, sly love athlete, was suited first rate At a flirtation-mill with this legal light-weight ; And was listening to him, as minutes spun on. Of pleas he could make. And of fees he would take, And of suits that he should, in future have won ; When just as the cold, heartless clock counted eight, ]\Iiss Bessie's quick ear caught a step at the gate. "'Tis mother !" she cried : " Oh, go quick, I implore! But father'll drive round and come in the back door ! You cannot escape them, however you turn ! 60 hide for awhile — let me see — in this churn !" The churn was quite large enough for him to turn in- Expanded out 80, By machinery to go, Twould have done for a dairy-man Cyclope to chum in. 178 THE THREE LOYEPS, Twas fixed for attaching a pitman or lever^ To go by horse-power — a notion quite cleverj, Invented and built by the Irishman, Pat, Who pleased Mrs. 'Liakim hugely by that. The lawyer went into the case with much ease. And hugged the belief That the cause would be brief, And settled himself down with hardly a squeeze. And Bess said, " Keep still, for there's plenty of room," And shut down the cover, and left him in gloom. But scarcely were matters left decently so, In walked — not her mother, But — worry and bother!— The mammoth young farmer, whose first name was Jo6 And he gleefully sung, in a heavy bass tone Which came in one note From the depths of his throat, * I'm glad I have come, since I've found you alone. Let's sit here awhile, by this kerosene light. An' spark it awhile now with all of our might." And Bessie was willing ; and so they sat down. The maiden so fair and the farmer so brovrn. They talked of things great, and they talked of things small, Which none could condemn. And which may have pleased thenir But which did not interest the lawyer at all ; And Bessie seemed giving but little concern To the feelings of him she had shut in the chum, Till Bessie just artlessly mentioned the man, 4iid Joe with a will to abuse him began. ^?HE THREK LOVERS- *?$ A.ud called him full many an ignoble name, Appertaining to " sciiibbj," And " shorty,'* and " stubby," And other descriptions not wide of the same ; And Bessie said naught in the lawyer's behalf, But seconded Joe, now and then, with a lau'di : And the lawyer said nothing, but winked at his fate. And, somewhat abashed. And decidedly dashed. Accepted Joe's motions sans vote or debate. And several times he, with policy stern, Repressed a desire to break out of the churn, Well knowing he tlius might get savagely used And if not quite eaten. Would likely be beaten, And probably injured as well as abused. But now came another quick step at the door. And Bessie was fearful, the same as before ; And tumbling Joe over a couple of chairs, With a general sound Of thunder all 'round, She hurried him up a short pair of back stairs j And close in the garret condemned him to wait Till orders from her, he it early or late. Then tripping her way down the stair-case, she sairt^ " I'll smuggle them off Avhen the folks get to bed." It was not her parents ; 'twas crafty young Pat, Returned from his visit ; and straightway he sat Beside hor, remarking, The chairs were'in place, Bo he Avould sit near her, and view her sweet face. Bo gayly they talked, as the minutes fast flew, "CHecuasing such matters as both of them kiVBW, I«0 THE THREE LOVERS- Wliil* ofben Miss Bessie's sweet laugh aiiswerad hmki, For Pat, be it known, Had some wit of his own. And in irony elibrts was sharp as a tack. And finally Bessie his dancing tongue led. By a sly, dextrous turn, To the man in the churn, And the farmer who eagerly listened o'erhead ; Whereat the young Irishman volubly gave A short dissertation. Whose main information Was that one was a fool and the other a Knave. Slim chance there must be for the world e'er to leam How pleasant this was to the man in the churn ; Though, to borrow a figure lent by his position, He was doubtless in somewhat a worked-up condition. It may ne'er be sung, and it may ne'er be said, How well it was liked by the giant o'erhead. He lay on a joist — for there wasn't any floor — And the joists were so few, And so far apart too, He could not, in comfort, preempt any more ; And he nearly had knocked through the plastering quite. And challenged young Pat to a fair and square fight ; But he dared not do elsewise than Bessie had said, For fear, as a lover, he might lose his head. But now from the meeting the old folks returned, And sat by the stove as the fire brightly burned ; And Patrick came in from the care of the team ; And since in the house there was overmuch cream. THE THRBE LOVERS. 181 He thought that the hoi-ses their supper might earn. And leave him full way To plow early next day, By working that night for awhile at the chum. The old folks consented ; and Patrick went out. Half chuckling, for he had a shrewd Irish doubt, From various slight sounds he had chanced to disoem. That Bess had a fellow shut up in the churn. The lawyer, meanwhile, in his hiding-place cooped, Low grunted and hitched and contorted and stooped. But hung to the place like a man in a dream ; And when the young Irishman went for the team. To stay or to fly, he could hardly tell which ; But hoping to get Neatly out of it yet, He concluded to hang to the very last hitch. The churn was one side of the house, recollect, So rods with the horse-power (jutside could connect ; And Bess stood so near that she took the lamp's gleam in While her mother was cheerfully pouring the cream in ; Who, being near-sighted, and minding her cup, Had no notion of what she was covering up ; But the lawyer, meanwhile, had lie dared to have spoke, Would have owned that he saw the whole cream of the joke. But just as the voice of young Patrick came strong And clear through the window, " All ready ! go 'long I" And just as the dasher its motion began. Stirred up by its knocks. Like a Jack-in-the-box He jumped frrjm his damp, dripping prison — and raa, 182 THE THREE L0VEK8. And made a frog-leap o'er the stove iind a cliair. With some crisp Bible words uot intended as prayer. All over the kitchen lie rampaged and tore, And ran against everything there but the door ; Tipped over old 'Liakim fiat on his back, And left a long trail of rich cream on his track. *' Ou ! ou ! 'tis a ghost !" quavered 'Liakim's wife ; " A ghost, if I ever saw one in my life !" " The Devil !" roared 'Liakim, rubbing his shin. " No ! no !" shouted Patrick, who just then came in : " It's only a lawyer ; the devil ne'er runs — To bring on him a laugh — In the shape of a calf; It isn't the devil ; it's one of his sons ! If so that the spalpeen had words he could utther, He'd swear he loved Bessie, an' loved no one bittther '' Now Joe lay fall length on the scantling o'erhead, And tried to make out What it all was about. By list'ning to all that was done and was said ; But somehow his balance became uncontrolled, And he on the plastering heavily rolled. It yielded iustanter, came down with a crash, And fell on the heads of the folks with a smash. And there his plump limbs through the orifice swung. And he caught by the arras and disgracefully hung. His ponderous body, so clumsy and thick. Wedged into that jDOsture as tight as a brick. And 'Liakim Smith, by amazement made dumb At those legs in the air Hanging motionless there, Concluded that this time the devil had come ; HOW HIS GARMENTS GOT TURNED. 183 And seizing a chair, he belabored them well, While the head pronounced words that no pi'iute* would spell. And there let us leave them, 'mid outcry and clatter, To come to their wits, and then settle the matter • And take for the moral this inference fair : If you're courting a girl, court her honest and square. HOW HIS GARMENTS GOT TURNED. WHEN the golden sunlight dances on the bosom of the stream. And the silver lilies, starlike, 'mong the olive sedgea gleam. When the bullfrog seeks the cover of the grasses tall and rank, And the pickerel at noonday seeks the shadow of th« bank, Then the small boy goes in swimming in the costume of the mode That was worn by Mr Godiva, when through Coventry- she rode. He splashes in the limpid stream with many a gleeftil shout, And to the bank I'eturning puts his shirt on inside out ; And when his mother questions him, '' How cume that garment so ?" He looks upon it with surprise, and says he doesn't know ; When further pressed to give the cause, this reason ho employs : " I must have turned a somersault when playing with the boys." Enterfainyttent Poots for Vonng PeopH Young Folks* Di2^1ogue*/' By Ch2k.rle^ C Shoemaker For Young People of Fifteen Years Dialogues rendeied by youug people are always enjoyable, being relished by the parents and friends as well as by the youthful performers themselves. This book of dialogues, wholesome in tone, yet sparkling with wit and full of unexpected and novel situations, supplies just the material needed. Liberal provision has been made for anniversary occasions, and for cliurch, school, and home entertainments. All the matter has been written especially for this work. How to Celebrate Thanksgiving and Christinas By Alice M. Kellogg For Children from Five to Fifteen Years The real jolly, kindly spirit of the great holidays is in ever/ page of this book. For Thanksgiving there are complete programs consisting of recitations, songs, etc. "What the Months Bring," for twelve girls; "Thanksgiving in the Pastand Present,"— a play with tableaux. For Christmas there are ten songs, fifteen recita- tions, Christmas Tree Drill, three Christmas plays, three exercises. For Autumn there are songs, recitations and plays. Carleton, Whittier, Hood, Holland, Barbauld, Longfellow, and many other poets are represented. Christmas Entertainments By Alice M. Kellogg For Children from Five to Fifteen Years In this volume, the aim has been to depart from the familiar cut and dried holiday material, and to supply something new and novel for Christmas occasions. Here are gathered together carols, new and quaint; plays, tableaux, and charades. Besides these there are many plans for Christmas parties, novel, and truly as characteristic of the season as the old Yule Tide of" merry Eng- land." THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 925-27 FILBERT STREET PHILADEIPHIA Comic Dlalo^u©.r By JohQ R. Pe.^nis this is the something "real funny," which every boy and girl jjreferH but there is nothing coarse in it. It is suitable for school or church use anywhere. The dialogues are arranged for from two to a dozen or more children. A few, like " Vililceus " and " The Head« less Horseman," employ music. " Our Lysander" is a real littla play. [Some of the dialogues are: Innocents Abroad, Artist's Dream, Aunt Diuah and Columbus, Taking the CenauB, Strctly Conliden. &ial, etc. MiEmoroi2S Dialogues and Dramas By Chaa'le./' C. Shoematker If there is anything more enjoyable than a humorous reading or iBoitation it is a keen, pointed, humorous dialogue. The compiler, •A'ith the largest resources and widest experience in literature fo!? entertainment purposes, has produced one of the rarest, brightest, jolliest books of mirth-provoking dialogues ever published. Much of the matter was prepared especially forthis work. The dialogues are adapted to old and young of both sexes, and while often keenly ^itty, are wholly free from coarseness and vulgarity. Classic Dialogues and Di»»ma.s By Mr.y. J. W. Shoem&.ker This unique work will prove not only interesting and profitaLla for purposes of public and social entertainment, but also instruct- ive and valuable for private reading and study. The book com- prises popular scenes judiciously selected from the plays of Shakes- peare, Sheridan, Bulwer, Schiller, and other dramatists, and each dialogue is so arranged as to be complete in itself. Many of the (exercises may be given as readioigs or recitals, and will prove ftcceptable to audiences of the highest culture and refinement. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPAMY »2S.^f FIL&ERT STREET PHILADELPH^i*, SHiieTiiinmeat EooLs for Fonrrf J^s?; , v Paper 40 CentB. CSoth $1.«0. Sterling Dsdb.logt!es By Williewin M. Clark The dialogues comprising this volume have been ehosen from & ""■"^rge store of material. The contributions are fi'om the pens of the most gifted writers in this field of literature, and the topics are go varied and comprehensive that they are readily adapted to the Ceeds of Schools, Academies, and Literary Societies. They are especially suited for Social Gatherings and Home Amusement, &f the staging required is simple and easily obtained. Model Dialogues By WiiHa.m M. Clark Tne dialogues comprising this collection have beeu contributed fay over thirty of America's best writers in this field of literature. They represent every variety of sentiment and emotion, from the extremely humorous to the pathetic. Every dialogue is full of life and action; the subjects are well chosen, and are so varied as to Buit till grades of performers. The book is especially adapted fof School Exhibitions, Literary Societies, and Sunday-school aud Social Gatherings. By Rev. Alexander Cle^rk, A. M. Tue author's name is a guaranty of the excellence of tms book. His long experience as a lecturer before Teachers' Institutes, and his close study of the teachers' needs, his lofty ideals of education and of life, his refinement of taste, diversity of attainment, and versdtility of expression, all combine to qualify him in an eminent degree for the preparation of such a volume. For both teacher and entertainer this book has special points of merit, as the dia- logues are interesting as well as instructive. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY ftS&.27 rJLBERT STREET PH?L A DELPHif 4 Snterialtsmeni Boolrs for Vonng r»eopV* Paper 40 Cents. Cloth $1.00. Schoolday Dialogues By Rev. Alexander Cl&rk, A. M. rbis book of dialogues, prepared for use in School £hiter« tainments, furnishes great diversity of sentiment and diction. Although for the most part composed of serious or pathetic subject- matter, there will be found many humorous dialogues and much good material for the little folks, as well as for the older oneb. The staging and costuming are of the simplest character, and are so fully described as to make the task of preparation quite easy, even for the novice. Popular Dialogues By Phine&s Garrett The author's large experience in the Entertainment and Amuse- ment field has qualified him for the preparation of a book of unusual merit. No work of this kind more fully meets the popu- lar demand for interesting and refined entertainment. In thia collection will be found dialogues to suit every occasion, either for public entertainment or for a social evening at home. Humor and pathos are pleasantly blended, and provision is made for the wants of the young and the old, the grave and the gay., the expe* rienced and the inexperienced. Excelsior Dialogues By Phinea>.s Gzirrett This book is composed of original dialogues and colloquies designed for students in Schools and Academies, and prepared expressly for this work by a corps of professional teachers and writers. Comedy and tragedy are provided in due proportion, and the moral tone of the work is of the highest order. Teachers will here find just the material for Avhieh they have been search- ing, something with plot enough to hold the attention and that will conimand the best efforts of the older pupils. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY Eatei tainxnent Bocks lor Foasg People Paper 40 Cents. Cloth $1.00. Fancy Drills and Marches By Alice M. Kellogg Children enjoy drills, and this is the most successful drill book ever published. It has more than fifty new ideas — drills, marches, motion songs and action pieces. Among them are a Sifter Drill, Ribbon March with Grouping and Posing, Pink Rose Drill, Christ- mas Tree Drill, Delsarte Children, Zouave Drill, "Wreath Drill and March, Glove Drill, Tambourine Drill, March of the Red, White and Blue. Teachers will be especially pleased with the care given to the exercises for the smaller children. All of the drills are fully illustrated. Ideswl Driller By Ma>.rguerite W. Morton This book contains a collection of entirely new and original drills, into which are introduced many unique and effective features. The fullest descriptions are given for the successful pro- duction of the drills, and to this end nearly 100 diagrams have been inserted showing the different movements. Everything is made so clear that anyone can use the drills without the slightest diflSculty. Among the more popular and pleasing drills are : The Brownie, Taper, Maypole, Rainbow, Dumb-bell, Butterfly, Sword, Flower. Ring, Scarf. Flag, and Swing Song and Drill. Eureka Entertainments The title of this volume expresses in a nutshell the character of its contents. The weary searcher after materiel for any kind of entertainment will, upon examination of this book, at once exclaim, "I have found it." Here is just what is wanted for use in day-school, Sunday-school, at church socials, teas, and other festivals, for parlor or fireside amusement, in fact, for all kinds of school or home, public or private entertainments. The workie characte-v"'>'.,by freshness and originality throughout. TUC PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY Eatcstainmetii Books for Vonng PeopH Vnper 40 Cents. Cloth $1.60. Special Day Exerciser By Amos M. Kellogg Almost every week in the school year has its birthday of a national hero or a great writer. Washington, Michael Angelo, Shakespeare, Longfellow, Holmes, Browning and Emerson are among those the children learn to know from this book. The holi. days, Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day are not for. gotten ; and in between are many happy suggestions for tree plan* ing, for bird and flower lessons,. and debates. Christmas Selections By Rosamond Livin£(stone McNa^ught For Readings and Recitations Sunday schools, day schools, the home circle, all demand mjt terial for Christmas entertainments, and all want something new and appropriate. This book contains just what is wanted. Every piece is absolutely new, not a single one having previously been published in any book. It contains recitations, in prose and poetry, for every conceivable kind of public or private entertain- ment at Christmas time. Holiday Selections By Sara Sigotarney Rice For Readings and Recitations The selections in this volume are adapted to all tha different holidays of the year and are classified accordingly. Fully half of the pieces are for Christmas, but ample provision is also in.^de for New Year's, St. Valentine's Day, Washington's Birthday, Easter, Arbor Day, Decoration Day, Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving. The pieces are unusually bright, and the variety under each holi- day will afford the fullest opportunity for a satisfactory choice; the older students and the little ones alike will find something suited to theii different degrees of ability. THE PEP^N PUBLxSKING COMPANY Bntett^lsment Beaks foT Tonng People Paper 40 Cents. Qoth fl.OO. Holiday Entertainments By Cha^rles C. Shoemaker Absolutely new and original. There are few things more popa* lar during the holiday season than Entertainments and Exhibi- tions, and there is scarcely anything more difficult to procure than new and meritorious material appropriate for such occasions. This book is made up of short dramas, dialogues, tableaux, recitations, etc., introducing many novel features that give lae spice and sparkle so desirable for such occasions. It is adapted to the full round of holidays, containing features especially prepared for Christmas, New Year's, "Washington's Birthday, Easter, Deco- ration Day, Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving. Sprinii and Summer School Celebrations By Alice M. Kellogg This book shows how to capture "all outdoors" for the school room. Every warm weather holiday, including May Day, Memorial Day, Closing Dry, is represented; for each the book offers from ten to thirty new suggestions. Tableaux, pantomimes, recitations, marches, drills, songs and special programs, provide exactly the right kind of material for Spring exercises of any sort. The drills and action pieces are fully illustrated. Everything in the book has been esnecially edited and arranged for it. Select Speeches for Declamation By John H. Bechtel This book contains a large number of short prose pieces chosen from the leading writers and speakers of all ages nnd nations, and admirably adapted for use by college men. Only the very best, from a large store of choice material, was selected for this work. The names of Demosthenes, Livy, Kossuth. Bona- parte, Chatham, Burke, Macaulay, Hugo, Gladstone, Washington, Jefferson, Garlield, Harrison, Webster, Everett, Phillips, Curtis, Blaine, Beechcr, Grady, Cleveland, McKinley, and Depew may serve to sueeest the standard o* ihe selections. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY jSntertiinmeat Books far foan^ People Paper 40 Cents. Qoth 11.00. Temperance Selections By John H. Bechtel For Readings and Recitations These selections have been taken from the utterances of pulpit orators, from the speeches of political leaders, and from the pens of gifted poets. They depict the life of the dninkard, point out the first beginnings of vice, and illustrate the growth of the habit as one cup after another is sipped amid the pleasures and gayeties of social life. This volume appeals to human intelligence, and speaks words of truth and wisdom that cannot be gainsaid. Sunday-Schoo! Selections By John H. Bechtel For Readings and Recitations This volume contains about 150 selections of unusual merit. Among them something will be found adapted to every occasion ajd condition where a choice reading or recitation may be wanted. Suitable provision has been made for the Church Social, the Sun- day-school Concert, Teachers' Gatherings, Christian Endeavor Societies, Anniversary occasions, and every assemblage of a relig- ious or spiritual character. Besides its value for readings and recitations, the pastor will find much in it to adorn his sermon, and the superintendent points by which to illustrate the Sunday- school lesson Sunday-School Entertainments All new and original. The demand for a. book of pleasing and appropriate Sunday-school entertainments is here supplied. The articles are largely in the nature of dialogues, tableaux, recita- tions, concert pieces, motion songs, dramatized Bible stories, and responsive exercises, all based upon or illustrating some Biblical truth. Special care has been taken to make provision for such occasions as Christmas, New Year's, Easter, Thanksgiving, and the full round of celebrations, so that no time or season is with- curasubiect- - THG PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped helow I L-j-Uni. %i ^ Hf M 2 6 1945 MAY 2 7 1:^S .; 'mm JAN 6 tjtc 5^^^^ r -URL 1978 Form ti-O 20»H-12/39<.13S6) ¥ 3 1158 002 6 6212 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 409 706 9