THE COST OF A KISS,

BY PHILIP GIBBS.

morning for a hunt. dew lay thick on the Brass and jed like myriad of gems in the gunebi)e The hunters opened mouths and drank im the keen air ss they dashed after the at farm and homestead, over apg h, up hill and down dale. The fox was & gallant fellow, and fled hike the wind before his pursuing foes, pho followed the scent with nose to the and ‘ail erect. After a dashing ch many a horseman was

Sir Bernard slackened

at last, and in another moment

Willowbrook shouted the “view fslloo!” By this time they had formed ‘ semi-circle, and were half way back tw Willowbrvuok village. On the crest of the hill sood a little stone-built house covere1 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 minglei with the faint baying of the weary beagles, who panted up the pill after their tired victim. They were close upon him now, and in another moment his fate would have been gealed, when suddenly there was a cry ef astonishment from Lord Willow- prook, who was the foremost hunte- man.

“By Jove, the animal has run into the schoothouse!’ It was a fact; the poor tired beast had seen the open door, and had dashed in to escape the fangs of the hounds behind him. The children in the school set up a frightful shriek, and the school door was rapidly banged to in the face of the hungry beagles, who ran to and fro, baying and wetee-/ ering in frantic excitement.

“Weil, this is certainly a rum go,” said , Lord Wil owbrook, as the other hunts-4 men struggled up. “What shal] we do?"

“Call of the hounds and get inside,” guid Frank Cowley, the parson’s mad- cep son.

After some consultation this was finally ayreed upon. The school door had been locked and nobody opened it after repeated knocking, so with very little ce-omony, Frank Cowley put his shoulder to the door and attempted to burst it 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

It was a & ind

bright thetr

resisted all his attempts; but, when half a dozen stalwart fellows hurled themselves against it, it yielded. The dozen or so young huntsmen entered pell-me!! inte the school room, but pulled themselves up suddenly when they realized their situation.

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

“What is the meaning of this unwar-

rantable intrusion, gentlemen?’ ahe said, in a clear, silvery voice.

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

“Gudzooks, what a pretty gal!” whis- pered the irrepressible Frank Cowley.

Lord Willowbrook was the first to speali.

“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 took re- fuge in your school and in the ardor of our sport, we have, perhaps forgotten our manners.”

“] think that is the case,” said the schoolmistress with a faint suspicion of a smile. “However, gentlemen, you wil) not find your fox here, because it has gone up the chimney, where you are at perfect liberty to follow it.”

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

The young Jord of the manor sat down on the foremost bench and look- ed round curieusly 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 heir, and to the little group of village children who had recovered from their fright, and were peeping bebind her

THE DAILY EXAMINER, CHARLOTTETOWN APRIT, 19, 1899,

frank Covey, Witt a fear of tAlignter

"Perhaps, gentlemen,” she said, in a clear, decisive tone, as if she were deliv- ering a lecture, “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 rather sheepishly and pulled off their caps hastily.

“You also seem to be unaware of the fact,” continued the school mistress, with a triumphant smile at her success, “that no gentleman has a right to be

seated while a lady stands without first obtaining her permission.”

Lord Willowbrock rose from his seat with a stately bow and his companions followed hig 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 instructress.

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

The huntsmen applauded 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 par- son’s son, with much gravity, “I pro- pose that before we take our Jeave 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 ered, indignantly.

They were about to curry out their {n- tention when young Lord Willowbrook sprank forward and placed himself he- 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 fool

enough to spoil sport?” said Mr, Trank Cowley, irritably,

“Gentlemen,”” said the young lord of the manor, determinedly, “I will hocse- 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 th’: Judy after so well-merited a lesson as she has given us.”

The huntsmen looked‘ at each offer 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 are not so searce that they are worth fi¢hting

cver. Come on, you fellows; let us turn back and get something to drink.” So saying, the young men sauntered ont

of the scheoolroom whistling carelessly.

His fellow huntsmen scowled angrily at Lord Willowbrook, but followed their comptnion’s Jead, and, swinging inte their saddles, cantered back to Willow- brook village.

Lord Willowbrook rode behind them for 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 schoolhon se on the hill. He tied his horse to the stump of a tree and sauntered into the school again. It was Saturday—a half

neck 8008 £6t COM pletely” Windad we pecially as he had to stop now and then for a hearty laugh, The sSchows

mistress’ cheek were brightly flushed umd here eyes darted mischievous deti ance at her pursner, so that she lncled prettier than ever, and Lord Willen brook vowed he would not give up unti’ his object had been attained. Presently there was a mutual truce “} think you had better sid the schoolmistress, “Never!” said Lord Willowbrook.

“Tl am hungry, my lord, and want to get home to dinner.”

“You ean easily do so.”

“How?”

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

The schoolmistress thought for q mo- ment,

“I will let vou 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,

give ap!”

“A greed,” cheerfully. The schoolmistress came from behind the blackboard and waited slowly for the young man to approach her. Lord Willowbrook stepped forward, and, lift- ing up the girl’s head and looking into her blue eyes, he imprinted a kiss on

her lips.

“You shall pay dearly for this my lord!” she cried, with flushed cheeks and an indignant frown.

“Anything you please,” said Lord Wil-

lowbrook, with perfect good humu-. “So great a pleasure is worth any price.”

But he was not quite prepared for

the little schoolmistress’ next move. Fe- fore he could realize the situation she hed darted out of the little house, tie great oak door was slammed to and tae bolts were thrust into their sockets.

“Caught, 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 footsteps 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 back to liberate him. But hour after hour passed and tie schoolmistress did net 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 beeame very cold and hun- 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.

But the sechoolmistress did not come to answer him, and at last the twiligt deepened into darkness, and he realized that he would have to spend the night in the little schoolhouse. At last he fe'l into a confused sleep, disturbed- by dreams of the little schoolmistress, and he awoke next morning feeling very ecld 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 church = anid 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 adyance of the combined female forces of Willow- brook, to be caught in the toils of a lit-

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 I ask what~—what is the cause of your return?” she said, nervonsly.

“Madam.” said the young man, smil- ing pleasantly and with a gallant bow “T have come for the favor of a kiss.’

The schooimistress retreated hastily and placed herself behind a desk.

“I—I doe not understand you, . air. After your generous defense, for which I thank you much, I am sure you do not mean what you say. Perhaps you are

‘

sk irts.

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

“Reminds one of one’s youth, doesn’t it?’ said Mr. Frank Cowley, sitting down on another bench, and taking up one of the children’s slates.

“I say, schoolmistress,” said Tom Viardy, one of the neighboring squires, tuore renowned for his good temper than for his brilliant wit, “spose you give us a lesson?” oe

The proposition was received with a reneral burst of applause from the huntemen, who sat down with much clatter and jingle of spurs in 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- mistress” teaching 12 big huntsmen in ascariet jackets,

“A lesson! A lesson!” cried the hunts- wen.

“Certainly,” said the schoolmistress, with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. “I will give you a lesson on man- ners!" F

° a... 0. ic aie ate

joking?” “No, madam,” said the young hunts- man, with cool assurance, “that is the ' inconsistency of human nature. Se- couse I do not pernit my friends, rink Cowley, Tom Hardy, Wiliam E-sies and the others to salute your fair cheeks

| with a kiss is uo reason why I, Anstia Wiloewbreek, lord of the manor, should deny myself that pleasure.” “My lord, I am sure you will do no such thing,” said the schoc!mistress, | “Madam, I most assuredly shall!’ said the young man. The schoolmistress looked for some means of escape, but Lord Wiliowbr ook stood with nis back to the dvor. “Well, my lord, you must first catch your hare,” she said, definantiy, and made a little da:t fer the slackboard, behind which she tuos refage. “That is easily done,” said Lerd Wil- lowbrook, with an »greenbie sense that he Was an accomp ished spoctsnan, and that this was very easy gume. But it was not so easy as he thought: every tim®he got round one desk the little schoolmistress darted behind an- other. No sooner had he yanited over one bench than she disappeared be

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 eurs.

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

The sounds grew nearer, and present- ly stopped before the little school, and Lord Willowbrook blinshed 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 get out of this pretty ecrape!”’

The bolts were drawn back, the door was thrown open and disclosed to the eves of young Lord Willowbrook half the population of Willowbrook villag., foremost among whom .was the pretty schoolmistress with the golden hair, acconiyxinied by Messrs. Frank CowJ>y, Tom Hardy and William Eccles, wile the rear was bronght np by old Parson Cowles, in the threadbare coat snd white bands. with old Dr. Featherfew gnd Mes. Bodkin.

A burst of demsive langhter greeted

arms before she ould escane from bye ard kissed hée® agale aod again befere the astounded villagers.

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

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

TT Bread, Butter and Health.

Many physicians, according to a tec turer on dietetics, are ordering thin bread and butter for deticate patients, especially to those suffering from dys- pepsia, consumption and anaemia, or upy who need to take on flesh. This thin bread and butter insensibly induces persons to eat much more butter than they have any idea of. It is extraor dinary, says the lecturer, how short a

way a pat of fresh buter will go if spread on @ number of thin slices of bread. This is cne advantage, and a

great one, in tue feeding of invalids, for hey are thereby prov'ded wtb an excel- ent form of the fat which is so essentia! or their nutrition in a way that lures hem to take it without rebellon. But he thin bread and buter has another dvantage equally as great—it vers sestible and exusly assimilated, Fres) utter made from cream is very meer iore digestible when spread upon thi ices of bread than the same amoun: f cream eaten as cream, per se, would e.

Is

MAKE THE MEN MARKET.

4. Woman Writer's Bold Suggestion t« Help Weary Wives.

There are few things that exhaust a woman more than a day’s shopping. The average man looks upon a woman’s **purchasing day’’ as one of pleasure, but when be accompanies ber 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 muker,’’ should feel the need of rest for her tired nerves

The man of the house should always do the marketing. In the oid days, when the butler was not the stately personage he is now, women were nevy- er troubled with the worries of house- hold purchasing, for the bead 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 call 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 wiil not do this kind of business, however, and the chef ‘*natronage’’ is controlled entirely by 4 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, have bis orders promptly attended to and save about 25 per cent in the transaction, as well as the health of bis wife.—Chicage Times-Herald.

—

Lived to the Doctored.

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 amvunt of his pocket money aud various other matters about which boys are curious.

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

‘*Ain’t got none,’’ was the prompt if ungrammatical 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 la- dies’ ambulance corps, grandfather be- lieves in massage, my Uncle Sandy’s a horse doctor, and’’—with a pathetic eigh—‘‘they all of them experiment on mue.”’

That boy got the sympathy he desiret —Strand Magazine.

aske?

An Inconvenient Parrot,

Young Hankinson (making a callj)—~ You bave bad that parrot a long time Miss Laura?

Miss Lasra—Yes, we have bad £10 several years.

‘Quite intelligent, is he not?’

‘‘Very. He can imitate almost ang- thing.’’

They have a remarkably clever par-

ily into the open and sowed low before

the assembled company.

The pretty schoolmistress stepped forward and curtesied to her former prisoner. :

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

Lord Willowbrook bowed with a p’ea- sant smile,

“Tis true, madam,” he said, in 9 low a tone that it could be heard by none save the schooimistress, “and I wil] now have mine.”

hind the blackboard. Lord Willew-

a> .

ree my pourwmy VI tut present’

the yonng man as he stepped ont jaunt: |

So saying he took the young gir) in bis

AaMISsiOn 158.”

rot.over at the Casterlins, Miss Laura. It can imitate the sound of a kiss t» perfection. Is that among the accom- plishments of our feathered friend bere in the corner?’’ ‘

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

The Farrot—Wait, George, dear, till

Se eterna teeta

DEALING WITH LUMBERMEN. | Peenliar Tricks Indualged in by Both Buyer and Selier.

Tere ig ay old retired merchant in Detroit who delights in recalling bis experiences when ap active man rin. nivg a genera! store in one of the north ern cities of the lower peninsula.

‘‘T used to reap a barvest when the

agen wer? coming ont of the woods,” he | relates. Ley were not up in styles, and | about anv‘! tbing would suit them /

‘or was right and the fit even passa But there were tr ck sters among them, and | ad to have my wits about me in 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 be informed me that he al- ways had the crowns of his hats punched full of boles in order to keep his herd cool and his hair from coming sat | soon had this attended to, and then he asked what the bat was worth. ‘Twe fifty,’ I responded in surprise, but be langhed at me for asking such a price for damaged goods. He had me, and got bis hat for $1, «vhile the je!ly crowd with bim hada laugh at my expense He wanted to look at some ‘fiddles,’ and after pricing one at $10 cencluded to take it.

** *Where’s the bow?’ he asked, as ! was doing up the package.

***You only bought the fiddle,’ 1 laughed. The others saw the point and laughed too, The giant tried to bluff me, but I kept good humored, and got even on the hat by charging him $1.50 for the 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 Press.

provided t.

St

a

Her Impressions of Angels.

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

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

‘The angels!’’ 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 angels?’ she asked.

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

The child pet on ar air of inteus: disgust.

‘*Well,’’ she said, ‘‘T fink they ouc tt to be taked bome and spanked, ‘cause they wasn’t dressed any more than au- 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 acautious study before- band of the poem, and he placed mar- ginal notes as danger signals against passages of doubtful propriety.

The marked copy chanced to come in- to the hands of a rather thoughtless court lady. ‘‘I have so enjoyed this wonderful work,’’ she said to a friend, ‘tand it has been such an advantage to read it after the queen, for she has placed marks against the most beautifa: parts, and, ob, what exquisite taste the dear quecn has!’’ she added, poiuting to the danger 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 rot yet entirely banished from Downing street. As weall know, the late Lord Carrarvon, when colonial secretary, officially recorded his opinion of Sir Gorge Grey as ‘‘a dangerous man.’’ Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, on one of his visits from Victoria, called upon Loré Carnarvon in Downing street, and in conversation chanced to introduce a reference to Sir George Grey.

7 from college.

DOCTOR WAS IN LUCK,

Wow He Got a Onarter of Beel Be Wak l» Want Of.

A prosperous Pittsburg physician, who

resides in au aristocratic part of the city, related an experience he met with abouta year afier be had graduated fie was practicing in a smal! villugo in Indiana county about 18 miles from any railroad. He had been recently married, and in the strug- gie to make ends meet the prospect at times became very discouraging. It was curing one of these depressing periods ip the middle of the winter, with snow a foot and a half deep covering the ground, that be was called tc attend a farmer who lived some milesaway. The stock of provisions in the house was ex- hausted, and it seemed certain that the resolution that had 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 got 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 dcctor rose to leave, after attending to the patient, the old farmer said: **Doc, I ain’t got no money, but if a quarter of beef'ii do you any good I'll fend it in when the roads git broke.’’ The young doctor's heart gave @ bound. Concealing his exultation as best he could, he said: **What’s the matter with me taking it right along? I was thinking of bcyiug 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, and the homeward journey began. The mare was skittish, and the doctor bad diffi- culty in keeping tho beef from falling, Finally the mare shied at something, and away went the beef into a big snow- drift.

The dortor was a member of tho Methocist church, and, according to his story, did not swear. He dismounted ud endeavored to pnt the beef on the mare, but she wouldn't stand still, and .fter repeated attempts che task secmed a bopeless one. ‘hinking of the resolu- tion, the young doctor set his teeth and tried again. ‘lhis ti:e he was success- ful, He felt like a conquering hero as te dumped the beef cu the porticoof his aodest home ebout wuidnight. The faithful little wife was sure it was a dispensation of Vrovicence, but the doc- tor, remembering bis struggles at the snowdrift. reserved Lis opinion. —Pitta- burg Dispatch

When the Came.

Mand—Ob, Kitbel, and what did yoa soy to him when ho proposed to yout Did you say what you said you were go- ing to the other day? That was a noble speech, just sviicd to crush the boldest wan. And did be slink away like a whipped dog?

Ethel— Well, not exactly. You ses, [ didn’t say just that. I1—l—well—es —er—well, you see, 1 said *‘yes,’’=— London Fan.

Strange North Sids Mat tle while ago, Jercy,

Time

Mistake, er—I told youa lit- who our first par-

euts were. [£:t me see if you remem ter Who wes the first man? Precocious L oy—Adam. North Side Mother—That’sa right

st woman?

Boy — Evil. — Chicago

Who was the Precocious Tribune.

Troe ef a Kind,

Husband (ai the breakfast table)}— Ob, for some of the biscuits my mother used to make!

Vife (sweei not got them, ¢ about stale ei well witb ti World.

'y)—I'm sorry you have ar. They would be jest ugh by this time to go

6 remark.—New York

A Tergh Contract.

**Well, Caleb,"’ said Captain W. om Massachusetts years ago, ‘‘what wil) you ask a day to saw wood for me? I’v« got several cords that 1 want sawed ip two for the fireplace.’’

“I should charge you about half a dollar a day if I bad a sdw,’’ replied Caleb, ‘‘but I ain’t got none, captain, so I don’t see how I can accommodate

‘‘A very strange and comprehensible gharacter,’’ said Lord Carnarvou, with a shake of the head. “I bear he har now withdrawn to an coast of New Zealand and surrounded aimself with a number of wallabies.’’

**Oh, yes; I think that is not at al! improbable,’’ replied Sir Charles.

‘You eurprise me,’’ rejoined Lord

light of such a proceeding?’’

pose a wallaby to be?’’

@ small kangaroo.’’— London Chroni ¢g

A “T should think that yourg man would have more sense than to call on a girl every night,’’ said Mabel’s father at breakfast. ‘‘The idea!’’ exclaimed the young woman. ‘‘That shows how carelessly

' ¥ take this bird out of the room.—Lon- ¢on Tit-Bits.

New Ycre, actu 17. — Rooeeselt | as prosibited bic) cle contests.

Doors open &: 7,1 ¥"h r

you judge. Herbert’s the only person I

ever saw or heard of who was smart

enough to talk seven nights a week witout telling all he knew.’’—Wash- | ington Star.

z rvuorws,- vE rriace ceum, a@smill sum of

island off the ;

Carnarvon. ‘‘What must Le the state of | morality in a country where you make |

“Why, my lord, what do you sup. |

| ; that-wot, so?’’ . j |

Conclusive Caiculation,

you.”’

“If that’s all that’s lacking, I guess we can manage it,’’ said the captain, | “I’ve got @ prime new one, keen as @ | brier, and 1'll Jet it to you reasonable. How would ninepence (1246 cents) a cord do for the use of it?’

‘*f reckon that’s a fair price, captain. [’l] 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 he went to the house te settle.

‘*A half casteddemale, of course. I¢ ‘+P p? 0 inal : X Let’s see,’’ said the captain, “you ee. “*Certainly hot; a wallaby is simply | Were t0 neve Sait 0 Glare San ae

eall it a day, although it ain’t sundown yet. That’s 50 cents for you, and yoy were to pay me ninepence a cord for the 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.” ‘How unfortuit,’’ said Oaleb, aftes scratching his bead dubiousty for half minute, and then looking up quickly, as if a new light bad broken in upon hia mind—**how unfortnit that you dian’t have half a cord more, for then we'd ‘a’ come out jest equare |’’—Success,

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