-e

nee RN a eerie

THE COST OF A KISS,

ew lay thick om the grass and a of gems in the

gparkled like a myriad bright = nshine. The hunters opened 1 drank in the keen

their m tthe ant air as they dashed after the

ast farm and homestead, over agg i ditch, up hill and down dale. qhe fox was a gallant fellow, and fled hike the wind before his pursuing foes, who followed the scent with nose to the ground and tail erect. After a dashing chase, in which many a horseman was left benind. Sir Bernard slackened at last, and in another moment Lord Willowbrook shouted the “view hsiloo!” By this time they had formed a semicircle, and were half way back to Willowbrook village. On the crest of the hill sood a little stone-built house coverel with jasmine and Vir- ginia creeper. It was the little school of Willowbrook, and the singing of the children came through the open door and mingled with the faint baying of the weery beagles, who panted up the hill afte: their tired victim. They were close upon him now, and in another moment his fate would have been eealed, when suddenly there was a cry ef astonishment from Lord Willow- brook, who was the foremost hunts- man.

“By Jove, the animal has run into the Schoolhouse!’ It was a fact; the poor tired best had seen the open door, and had dashed in to escape the fangs of the hovods behind him. The children @& the school set up a frightful shriek, @nd the school door was rapidly banged t@ in the face of the hungry beagles,

who ran to and fro, baying and whimp ering in frantic excitement. “Wel|, this is certainly a rum go,” said

Lord Willowbrook, as the other hunts- men struggled up. “What shall we do?”

“Call off the hounds and get inside,” exid Frank Cowley, the parson’s mad-

cap son After some consultation this was finally agreed upon. The school door

had been locked and nobody opened it after repeated knocking, so with very little ecremony, Frank Cowley put his shoulder to the door and attempted to burst ic open. It was a solid piece of oak, with strong bolts outside, a some- what singular arrangement, only used when the place was empty. The lock resisted all his attempts; but, when half a dozen stalwart fellows hurled themse|ves against it, it yielded. The dozen or so young huntsmen entered pell-meli into the school room, but pulled themselves up suddenly when they realized their situation.

At the end of the large room, on a little raised dais, upon which was a school desk, stood a young girl, sur- rounded by a group of little children who were clinging to her skirts in terror at the sudden invasion, She was a slini, fair girl, with a mass of sunny golden hair; and, as she stood by her desk, with flushed cheeks and an angry light in her blue eyes she looked very pretty and haughty.

“What is the meaning of this unwar- rantable intrusion, gentlemen?’ she said, in a clear, silvery voice.

The young huntsmen’ touched their caps, but could not find anything to sey.

“Gadzooks, what a pretty gal!’ whis- pered the irrepressible Frank Cowley.

Lord Willowbrook was the first to speak

“Madam,” he said, in that deep, mu- sical voice of his which caused such a thrill to the hearts of the female in- hebitants of Willowbrook, “we sin- cerely ask your pardon, but—but we are rough huntsmen, our fox teok re fuge in your school and in the ardor of our sport, we have, perhaps forgotten our manners.”

“T think that is the case,” said the schoo! mistress with a faint suspicion of a smile, “However, gentlemen, you will not find your fox here, because it has gone up the chimney, where you are et perfect liberty to follow it.”

The huntsmen burst into a merry longh which put them at their ease.

The young lord of the manor sat down on the foremost bench and lock- ed round curiously at the little school- room, fitted with rows of wooden desks, and decorated with colored maps and charts, Then his eyes returned to the pretty schoolmistress, with the golden hair, and to the little group of village children who had recovered from their fright, and were peeping behind her skirts.

“Really, this is quite charming!” said the young man, pleasantly, as if to open & conversation.

“Reminds one of one’s youth, doesn’t

it?” said Mr. Frank Cowley, sitting dow» on another bench, and taking up

one of the children’s slates.

“I say, schoolmistress,”’ said Tom Hardy, one of the neighboring squires, more renowned for his good temper than for his brilliant wit, “s'pose you give us a lesson?” fe

The proposition was received with a general burst of applause from the huntsmen, who sat down with much clatter and jingle of spurs inv the chil- dren s benches, and possessed them- selves with slates and pencils. The school children, who were beginning to think the whole scene fine fun, clapped their hands at the idea of “school- mis! ress” teaching 12 big huntsmen in scesret jackets.

“A lesson! A lesson!’ cried the hunts- ren

“Certainly,” said the schoolmistress,

. with a mischievous twinkle in her blue

eyen. ners “airly well hit, in faith!’ cried

“I will give you a lesson om man-

Frank Uowey, with @ roar of lauenter

“Perhape, gentiemen,”’ she said, fin a clear, decisive tone, as if she were deliv- ering a Jecture, “perhaps you have not been told before that it is extremely rude for gentlemen to wear their hats in a room where there are ladies.”

Th huntsmen looked at each other

, father sheepishly and pulled off their

caps hastily.

“You also seem to be unaware of the fact,” continued the schoo] mistress, with @ triumphant smile at her success, “that no gentleman has a right to be seated while a Jady stands without first obtaining her permission.”

Lord Willowbrook rose from his seat with a stately bow and his companions followed his example.

“Thirdly and lastly,” continued the schoolmistress, “it is the height of bad manners to intrude one’s self where one is not wanted.”

The dozen or so young squires went off into prolonged laughter, during which the schoolmistress re.sumed her place at her desk with much dignity, but, with a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.

When the laughter had subsided Lord Willowbrook stepped forward and bow- ed low before the fair inetructress.

“Madam,” he said, “my companions will. I am sure, join me in apologizing profoundly for the grave breach of ett- quette of which we have ben guilty, and I beg to assure you, in their name, and in my own, that we will not forget the lesson which you have given us.”

The huntsmen applanded vigorously and cried “Hear, hear!’ with much en- thusiasm.

“I beg to second my friend’s speech,” said Frank Cowley, “and thank you heartily for your valuable instruction, Before we take our leave, however, we must not omit the payment of so great a favor.”

“Hear, hear!’ shouted the huntsmén. “The payment!”

“As payment,” continued the pxr- son’s son, with much gravity, “I pro- pose that before we take our leave we each and severally give our fair school- mistress—a kiss!”

“A kiss! A kiss!” shouted the young fellows, enthusiastically.

The schoolmistress turned pale and retreated behind the blackboard.

“At your peril, gentlemen!” she cried, indignantly.

They were about to curry out their in- tention when young Lord Willowbrook sprank forward and placed himself be- tween his friends and the blackboard.

“Stop, gentlemen!” he shouted au- thoritatively. His companions started back, sur-

prised and angry-

“Faith! You're not going to be foo enough to spoil sport?’ said Mr. rank Cowley, irritably,

“Gentlemen,” said the young lord of the manor, determinedly, “I wil] horcse- whip anyone who dares to touch this lady. I appeal to your sense of honor. We are a dozen against one, and it would be unmanly to insult this Jidy after so well-merited a lesson as she has given us.”

The huntsmen looked at each other with hesitation. Willowbrook evidently meant what he said, and he was not the sort of man to tackle,

“Oh, well, don't let's quarrel over it,” said Cowley, at length “Kisses sre not s0 scarce that they are worth fight’ny cver. Come on, you fellows; let us turn back and get something to drink.” So saying, the young men sauntered ont of the schoolroom whistling carelessly.

His fellow huntsmen scowled angrily at Lord Willowbrook, but followed their companion’s lead, and, swinging into their saddles, cantered back to Willov- brook village.

Lord Willowbrook rode behind them fer a little way, but when he came to the bend of the road by the old mill he suddenly turned his horse’s nose an} galloped back to the little schoolhouse on the hill. He tied his horse to the stump of a tree and sauntered into the school again. It was Saturday—a half holiday—-and all the children had gone, but the schoolmistress was engaged in putting away the books.

She started at the clatter of Willow- brook’s spurs on the threshold and blushed a deep crimson when she saw who was her visitor.

“May 1! ask what~—what is the eanse of your return?” she said, nervously.

“Madam.” said the young man, smil- ing pleasantly and with a gallant bow. “I have come for the favor of a kiss.”

The schoolmistress retreated hastily and placed herself behind a desk.

“I—I deo not understand you, geir. After your generous defense, for which I thank you much, I am sure you do not mean what you say. Perhaps you are joking?’

“No, madam,” said the young hunts- man, with cool assurance, “that is the inconsistency of human nature. Be- couse I do not permit my friends, rink Cowley, Tom Hardy, William E--ies and the others to salute your fair cheeks with a kiss is no reason why I, Austin Willowbrook, lord of the manor, should deny myself that pleasure.”

“My lord, I am sure you will do no such thing,” said the schov!lmistress,

“Madam, I most assuredly shall!” said the young man, _

The schoolmistress looked for some means of escape, but Lord Wiliowbr sok stood with nis back to the door.

“Well, my lord, you must first eatch your hare,” she said, definantiy. and made a little dait for the o!ackbouard, behind which she toox refuge.

“That is easily done,” said Lerd Wi- lowbrook, with an agreeable sense that he was an accomp'isbed spoctsn.in, and that this was very easy g:ime.

But it wes not so easy as he thought:

every time he got round one desk the little schoolmistress darted behind an- other. No sooner had he yanulted over one bench than she disappeared be- hind the blackboard. Lord Willow-

-

f

“seh of*. conifgetery Swiss vecially as he had to stop now a: ihen for a hearty laugh. The seheo mistress’ cheek were brightly flashe ud here eyes darted mischievous de' ance at her pursuer, so that she loote: prettier than ever, and Lord Wiliow brook vowed he would not give up uti his object had been attained. Present): there was a mutual truce “] think you had better give an! said the schoolmistress,

“Never!” said Lord Wiliowbrook.

“I am hungry, my Jord, and want t get home to dinner.”

“You ean easily do so.”

“How?”

“By letting me kiss you,” said Ler Willowbrook, calmly.

‘The sehoolmistress thought for a mo ment.

“I will let you do so, on one condi- tion,” she said, at last.

“What is that?’ said Lord Willow- brook.

“If you will promise to remain here nntil I've had time to get half way to Willowbrook village.”

said Lord Willowbrook,

Or

“Agreed,” heerfully. The schoolmistress came from behind he blackboard and waited slowly for he young man to approach her, Lord Willowbrook stepped forward, and, lift- ug up the girl's head and looking into er blue eyes, he imprinted a kiss on

her lips.

“You shall pay dearly for this my ‘ord! she cried, with flushed cheeks ind an indignant frown.

“Anything you please,” said Lord Wil- lowbrook, with perfect good humv-. “So great a pleasure is worth any price.”

Bnt he was not quite prepared for the, little schoolmistress’ next move, F e- fore he could realize the situation she had darted out of the litthk house, tie great oak door was slammed to and tne belts were thrust into their sockets.

“Canght. by Jove!’ he cried.

It was true. The door was securely fastened from without and resisted all efforts to -budge, the little lattice win- dows were too small to admit of egress, and he was imprisoned like a rat in a trap.

“I wish you good day, my lord!” cried the schoolmistress, with a triumphant peal of silvery laughter, and then the young man heard the sound of her re- treating foetsteps which gradually grew fainter and fainter, and finaly died away.

Taken prisoner he was. There was not the slightest chance of escape, and his only hope was that his captor would repent and come bick to liberate him. But hour after hour passed and tie schoolmistrees did not return. He ex- amined the maps on the walls, the ‘n- itials carved on the desk, the ink stands en the floor, and still ¢Ne did not come. Hour after hour went by until the light began to fail and twilight crept in through the lattice windows and Lord Willowbrook became very cold and hwun- gry. Still he did not lose his temper, or wish that he had not been so eager for a kiss, and he paced up and down, holding imaginary conversation with the little schoolmistress, in which he ex- pressed his undying admiration for her

trick, and offered her his hand and heart. ij But the schoolmistress did not come

to answer him, and at last the twilig’t deepened into darkness, and he realized that he would have to spend the night in the little schoolhouse. At last he fel into a confused sleep, disturbed by dreams of the little schoolmistress, and he awoke next morning feeling very evld and hungry.

It was Sunday, and the church be'ls {in Willowbrook village were ringing for service. He could picture all his friends trooping into the little chureh = and wondering at his disappearance. What a fool he should look when the story be- came known! He, the lord of the ma- nor, who had disdained the advance of the combined female forces of Willow- brook, to be caught in the toils of a lit- tle schoolmistress. He would be the laughing-stock of the country-side, He would not dare show his face outside of the manor house.

The day passed tediously for the young man, and he was beginning to picture a death by slow starvation, when the sound of approaching voices, the clatter of horses’ hoofs, and the tramp of many feet sounded joyfully in his ears.

“At last!’ he cried, springing up from a bench on which he had been reclining.

The sonnds grew nearer, and present- ly stopped before the little school, and Lord Willowbrook blushed when he heard the laughter of many voices.

“Now for a nimble wit!” muttered the lord of the manor. “Help me, all ye powers, to got out of this pretty ecrape!”"

The bolts were drawn back, the door was thrown open and disclosed to the of young Lerd Willewbrook half the population of. Willowbrook villages, foremost among whom wus the pretty schoulmistress with the golden hair, accompanied by Messrs. Frank Cow!)]>y, Tom Hardy and William Eccles, while the rear was brought up by old Parson Cowles, in the threadbare coat and white bands, with old Dr. Featherfew znd Mrs. Bodkin.

A burst of derisive laughter greeted the young man as he stepped out jaunt- ily into the open and sowed low before the assembled company.

eves

The pretty schcolmistress stepped forward and curtesied to her former prisoner,

“My lord,” she said, with a pretty impudence, “I have had my revenge.”

Lord Willowbrook bowed with a p’e.- sant smile,

“'Tis true, madam,” he said, in so low a tone that it could be heard by none save the schoolmistress, “and I will now have mine.”

So saying he took the young gir! in his

grr ee

f

—

ee ewe ee

« ee a eee

arms before she could escape trom htm. }

ard kissed her agaiw and again befor: the astounded villagers.

Then he turned to the little group who were staring at the scene in open- mouthed astonishment.

“Gentlemen,” be cried, in a loud, tri umphant voice, “permit me to present to you my future wife—the lady of the manor!’—Peterson’s Magazine.

Bread, Butter and Health.

Many physicians, according to a lec turer on dietetics, are ordering thin bread and butter for delicate patients, especially to those suffering from dys pepsia, consumption and anaemia, or any who need to take on flesh. This thin bread and butter insensibly induces rersons to eat much more butter than they have any idea of. It is extraer dinary, says the lecturer, how short a way a pat of fresh buter will go if spread on a number of thin slices of bread. This is ene advantage, and a gieat one, in the feeding of invalids, for they are thereby prov:ded wth an excel- lent form of the fat which is so essentia’ for their nutrition in a way that lures them to take it without rebellion. Bui the thin bread and buter has another advantage equally as great—it is ver digestible and easly ass milated, Fre’ Sutter made from cream is very muci more digestible when spread upen thi slices of bread than the same amotn f cream eaten as cream, per se, woul be.

MAKE THE MEN MARKET.

4. Woman Writer’s Bold Suggestion t Help Weary Wives.

There are few thfhgs that exhaust » woman more than a day’s shopping The average man looks upon a woman's **purchasing day’’ as one of pleasure, but when he accompanies her on one of these shopping expeditions he goes home, after bis patience has been al! ex- haasted, with a different belief. He learns, too, that a woman can endure vexations and disappointments with much more equanimity than he can, and he mentally vows never to do it again.

The number of miles traversed is really what tires one, and it is little wonder that the woman who does the shopping for herself and her entire fam- ily, as well as the marketing and the bargaining with the ‘‘butcher and bak- er and candlestick maker,’’ should feel the need of rest for ber tired nerves

The man of the house should always do the marketing. In the old days, when the butler was not the stately persunage he is now, women were nev- er troubled with the worries of house- hold purchasing, for the head of the house did the entire buying, and ‘‘James’’ carried the parcels and was not ashamed to do it.

No mother who has the care of little children should give the precious morn- ing hours to anything else but the nursery, nor should she let butchers’ and grocers’ boys cal] for and deliver orders, because there is sure to be dis- satisfaction if she does. Some wealthy families allow their chef to take charge of the household, and he collects a large percentage from the tradesmen, which, of course, is added to the monthly bill. Reputable storekeepers will not do this kind of business, however, and the chef ‘*patronage’’ is controlled entirely by a few men. On the whole, it is much more satisfactory for the man of the house to do the marketing. He will get the best meat, bave bis orders promptly attended to and save about 25 per cent in the transaction, as well as the health of bis wife.—Chicago Times-Herald.

Lived to Be VDoctored,

When the new boy got into the schoolroom, he was of course pestered With numerous questions by the other scholars as to hit name, his parents’ profession, the amyunt of his pocket money and various other matters about which boys are curious.

**Who’s your family doctor?’ askes @ big lad.

‘*Ain’t got none,’’ was the prompt if upgrammatical reply.

**How jolly !’’ responded the question- er. ‘‘Why, you don’t have no medicine to take.’’

**Don’t I!’’ was the sarcastio reply. *That’s all you know. Why, my fa- ther’s a homeopath, mother’s an allo- path, my sister Maggie’s joined the Ja- dies’ ambulance corps, grandfather be lieves in massage, my Uncle Sandy’s a horse doctor, and’’—with a pathetic sigh—‘‘they all of them experiment on me.’’

Theat boy got the sympathy he desire@ —Strand Magazine.

An Inconvenient Parrot.

Young Hankinson (making a call)~— You have had that parrot a long time Miss Laura?

Miss Laura~—Yes, we bave had 23m Béveral years.

‘*Quite intelligent, is he not?’’

‘*Very. He can imitate almost any- thing.’’

They have a remarkably clever par- rot over at the Casterlius, Miss Laura. It can imitate the sound of a kiss to perfection. Is that among the accom- plishments of our feathered friend here in the corner?’

Miss Laura (indignantly)—No, sir. He does not attempt an imitation of a sound he is not accustomed to hear, Mr. Hankinson. :

The Parrot—Wait, George, dear, till i take this bird out of the room.—Lon- don Tit-Bits. :

New V px Apr

awd vpye oy

17. — Governor | Roo: evelt } ae prohibid bic) cle contests. '

ee an eee ne

DEALING WITH LUMBERMEly

Peculiar Tricks Indulged In by Both Buyer.and Seller.

Taere te au od retired merchant in Detroit who delights in recalling his experiences whe au active man run ning a general s' ore iv one of the north ern cities oi the lower peninsula.

‘‘T used to reap a barvest when the Men were coming ont of the woods, ’’ he yelates. *‘They were not up in styles, and sbout any old thing would suit thea provided the co:." was right aud the fit even passable. i.ot there were tr ch: esters among thei. «nd 1 had to bave my wits about me :.. order to keep even with them.

‘* *How much is that hat?’ asked a strapping six footer, who arrived from camp one day with a pocketful of money.

** *Two fifty,’ I replied

“‘Then he informed me that he al- ways bad the crowns of his bats punched full of holes in order to keep his hewd cool and his hair from coming avt. I soon had this attended to, and then be asked what the hat was worth. ‘Two fifty,’ 1 responded in surprise, but he laughed at me for asking such a price for damaged goods. He had me, and got bis hat for $1, while the jolly crowd with bim hada laugh at my expense He wanted to look at some ‘fiddles,’ and after pricing one at $10 cencladed to take it.

‘* *Where’s the bow?’ he asked, as | was doilig up the package.

***You only bought the fiddle,’ | laughed. The others saw the point and laughed too. The giant tried to bloff me, but I kept good humored, and got even on the hat by charging him $1.0 forthe bow. I not only got even, but the others were so pleased with my ‘Yankee trick’ that they spent plenty of money with me.’’— Detroit Free Presa,

et

———e

Her Impressions of Angels.

The wife of a wel! known senator took her little daughter, a 4-year-old damsel, to a matinee once to see ‘‘ Jack and the Beaustalk.’’ A week or so aft- erward she was discovered pirouetting and lifting her petticoats before a che- val glass. Her father reproved her and told her it wasn’t a pretty way to do.

‘*Why,’’ said the child, I saw the angels do it.”’

‘*The augels!’’ exclaimed her father. “Why, where?’’

‘‘When mamma and I went to heaven that day,’’ said the child.

The father explained that the fancied heaven was only the theater. The little girl’s face fell.

**And wasn’t they engels?’’ she asked.

‘*No,”’ said the father; ‘‘they were just girls.”’

The child put on an air of intense disgust.

**Well,’’ she said, ‘‘T fink they oucht to be taked home ap ! spanked, ‘cause they wasn’t dressed avy more than an- geis.’’—Lewiston Journal.

—— Queen Victoria’s Marked Poem.

Here is a funny story told of a hap- pening at the English court: Sir Theo- dore Martin bad been requested by Vic- toria to’ read aloud from ‘‘The Ring and the Book.’’+ Sir Theodore was courtier enough to make a cautious study before- band of the poem, and he placed mar- ginal notes as danger signals against passages of doubtfua! propriety.

The marked copy chanced to come in- to the hands of a rather thoughtless court lady. ‘‘I have so enjoyed this wonderfal work,’’ she said to a fricnd, ‘and it has been such au advantage to read it after the queen, for she has placed marks against the most beautifa) parts, and, ob, what exquisite taste the dear queen has!’’ she added, pointing to

| the dauger signals of Sir Theodore Mar-

tin. —Quiver. ; “A Dangerous Man.”

Here is a story illustrative of the ignorance of the colonies that once pre- vailed in the colonial office and is not yet entirely banished from Downing street. As weall know, the late Lord Carrarvon, when colonia! secretary, officially recorded his opinion of Sir Gorge Grey as‘‘a dangerous man,’’ Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, on one of hig visits from Victoria, called upon Loré Carnarvon in Downing street, and in conversation chanced to introduce a@ reference to Sir George Grey.

“‘A very strange and comprehensible sharacter,’’ said Lord Carnarvon, with a shake of the head. “I bear he has now withdrawn to an island off the coast of New Zealand and surrounded aimself with a number of wallabies,”’

“Oh, yes; I think that is not at ail improbable, ’’ replied Sir Charles.

“Youn sufprise me,’’ rejoined Lord Carnarvon. ‘‘ What must Le the state of morality in a country where you make light of euch a proceeding?’

“‘Why, my lord, what deo you éup- pose a Wallaby to be?’’

“*A half caste female, of course. Is that not so?’’

“Certainly not; a wallaby is simply @ amal! kangaroo. ’'— London Chroni gs

A Couclusive Caiculation,

“I should think that young man would have more sense than to call on a gir) every night,’’ said Mabel’s father at breakfast.

“The idea!’ exclaimed the young woman. ‘That shows how carelessly you judge. Herbert's the only person I tver saw or heard of who was smart

enough to talk seven nights a week ! without telling all he knew.’’—Wash- | ington Star. .

DOCTOR WAS IN LUCK,

How Ele Geta Onarter of Beef He Wai iu Want Of.

A prosperous Pittsburg physician, who

cesides in an aristo ratio part of the city, related an expe: e he met with avouta year after bad graduated from college. He we- practicing in a

small! villuge in Ine i county about 18 miles trom any: ..iroad. He had been recentiy married, wud in the strag- gle to make ends weet the prospect at times became very discouraging. It was during one of these depressing periods in the middle of the winter, with snow a foot and a half deep covering the ground, that he was called to attend a farmer who lived some wilesaway. The stock of provisions in the house was ex- hausted, and it seemed certain that the resolution that bad been made by the young couple not to ask any one for credit must be broken. When tbe call arrived, the doctor was preparing to go to the nearest store to ask the proprie- tor to give bim ‘‘tick’’ so that he could get something for breakfast. Instead of going to the store he mounted his faith- ful mare Molly and started off through the drifts to visit his patient. When the dc ctor rose to leave, after attending to the patient, the old farmcr said:

**Doc, IL ain’t got no money, but if a quarter of beef’il do you asy good I'M rend it in when the roads git broke,”’

The young doctor's bcart gave se bound. Concealing his eaultation as vest he could, he said: ‘‘What’s the matter with me taking it right along? I was thinking of buying some beef, and this will come in handy.”’

The proposition was accepted, and the farmer’s son helped put the quarter of beef across Molly’s shoulders, und the homeward journey began. The mare was skittish, and the @octor bad diffi- culty in keeping the beef fro» falling, Finally the mare shied at something, and away went the beef into a big snow- drift.

The doctor was a member of tho Methodist church, and, according to his story, did not He dismounted und endeavored to put the beef on the mare, but she wouldn't siund still, and after repeated attempts the task seemed a hopeless cne. Thinking cf the resola- tion, the young doctor set Lis tecth and tried again. This time Le vs success-

sweca

fal.. He felt like a con ,vering hero as te dumped the beef on the porticoof bis Jodest bome about widuight. The faithful little wife was sure it was @ dispensation of Providence, | ut the doe. tor, remembering his ett:urcics at the

spowdrift. reserved Lis opinion. ~Pitta-

burg Dispatch.

When the Timo Came.

Maud—Ob, Ethel, and what did yoo say tobim when he jp oposed to yout Did you say what you :u:d you werego- ing t»the other day? That was a noble speech, eb the boldest man ud did be slink away like a whipped dog?

hibel— Well, not exactly. You ses, didn't say just that. 1—I—well—ep —~cr-——well, you see, 1 said ‘‘yes,”"— Loudon Fan.

jost suited to «:

4

—_—

ike, i.ld you a lite

Streoge Mir Nerth Side Mother- i

tle while ago, Jerry, «20 our first par- euts were. Let me ree if you remem ber VYbo was the firet man?

Precocious Boy—A.!om,

Nerth Side Mo: -That’s right Who was the first won in?

Precocious Boy — Lvil. ~~ Chicago Tribune

Two of a ft

ind.

Husband (at the | ‘ast table)— Ob, for some ef the bis-vits my mother used to muke! .

Wife (sweetly)—I'm sorry you have not got tuem, dear. ‘i iey would be jast RLOout stale encugh Ly this time to go well with that reu.:k.—New York W orid.

A Tergh Contract.

“Well, Caleb,”’ said Captain W. a fassachusetts years ago, ‘‘what wil) you ask a day to saw wood for me? I’ve Got several cords that [ want sawed ip two for the fireplace,"’

“I should charge yon about half a dollar a day i I had a saw,’’ replied Caleb, ‘‘but I ain’t got none, captain, 80 I don’t see how I can accommodate you.”’

“If that’s all that’s lacking, I gues we can manage it,’’ said the captain “I’ve got a prime new one, keen as @ brier, and I'll Jet it to you reasonable, How would ninepence (1244 cents) o cord do for the use of it?’

‘I reckon that’s a fair price, captain. (’Il be over in the mornin.”

Bright and early that next July morn. ing Caleb was at work, and he kept at it so faithfally that be finished before sunset, when be went to the house te settle.

“‘Let’s see,’’ said the captain, “‘you were to have half a dollar a day. We'll call it a day, although it ain’t sandown yet. That's 50 cents for you, and yoy were to pay me ninepence a cord for tha use of the saw. There were three cords aud a balf in the pile. That makes 43% cents due me. Somehow, Oaleb, you don’t have very much coming to you,”

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