in my beaver! How it got there, don't know. Knocked it off. Pretty girl picked it up and handed it to me.

founded things, anyway!"

Con

Young Divine loq.-"While I was in the army, I was in Washington on 'leave' for two or three days. One night at a party I became utterly bewildered in an attempt to converse, after long desuetude, with a fascinating woman. I went stumbling on, amazing her more and more, until finally I covered myself with glory by the categorical statement that in my opinion General McClellan could 'never get across the Peninsula without a fattle-I beg pardon, madam! what I mean to say is, without a bight.””

Schoolgirl loq.-"When Uncle was President, I was at the White House at a state dinner one evening. Senator came rushing in frantically after we had been at table some time. No sooner was he seated than he turned to aunt to apologize for his delay; and being very much heated, and very much embarrassed, he tugged away desperately at his pocket, and finally succeeded in extracting a huge blue stocking, evidently of home manufacture, with which he proceeded to wipe his forehead very energetically and very conspicuously. I suppose the truth was that the poor man's handkerchiefs were 'on a strike,' and thrust forward this homespun stocking to bring him to terms."

Schoolgirl No. 2, loq.-"My last term at F. I was expecting a box of 'goodies' from home. So when the message came, 'An express package for you, Miss Fanny,' I invited all my specials to come and assist at the opening. Instead of the expected box, there appeared a misshapen bundle, done up in yellow wrapping-paper. Four such dejected-looking damsels were never seen before as we, standing around the ugly old thing. Finally Alice suggested:

‘Open_it!?

“Oh, I know what it is,' I said; 'it is my old Tibet, that mother has had made over for me.'

"Let's see,' persisted Alice.

"So I opened the package. The first thing I drew out was too much for me.

"What a funny-looking basque!' exclaimed Alice. All the rest were struck dumb with disappointment.

"No, not a basque at all, but a man's black satin waistcoat! and next came objects about which there could be no doubt-a pair of dingy old trousers and a swallow-tailed coat! Imagine the chorus of damsels!

"The secret was that two packages lay in father's office, one for me, the other for those everlasting freedmen. John was to forward mine. He had taken up the box to write my address on it when the yellow bundle tumbled off the desk at his feet and scared the wits out of his head. So I came in for father's second-hand clothes, and the Ethiopians had the 'goodies!""

Repentant Dominie loq.-"I don't approve of it at all; but then, if you must write the wicked thing, I heard a good story for you to-day. Doctor found himself in the pulpit of a Dutch Reformed Church the other Sunday. You know he is one who prides himself on his adaptation to places and times. Just at the close of the introductory service a black gown lying over the arm of the sofa caught his eye. He was rising to deliver his sermon when it forced itself on his attention again.

"Sure enough,' thought he, 'Dutch Reformed clergymen do wear gowns. I might as well put it on.'

"So he solemnly thrust himself into the malicious (as you would say) garment, and went through the services as well as

he could, considering that his audience seemed singularly agitated, and, indeed, on the point of bursting out into a general laugh throughout the entire service. And no wonder! The good Doctor, in his zeal for conformity, had attired himself in the black cambric duster in which the pulpit was shrouded during week-days, and had been gesticulating his eloquent homily with his arms thrust through the holes left for the pulpit lamps!"

Robert Jones Burdette

The Romance of the Carpet

BASKING in peace in the warm spring sun,
South Hill smiled upon Burlington.

The breath of May! and the day was fair,
And the bright motes danced in the balmy air.

And the sunlight gleamed where the restless breeze Kissed the fragrant blooms on the apple-trees.

His beardless cheek with a smile was spanned,
As he stood with a carriage-whip in his hand.

And he laughed as he doffed his bobtail coat,
And the echoing folds of the carpet smote.

And she smiled as she leaned on her busy mop,
And said she'd tell him when to stop.

So he pounded away till the dinner-bell
Gave him a little breathing spell.

But he sighed when the kitchen clock struck one, And she said the carpet wasn't done.

But he lovingly put in his biggest licks,

And he pounded like mad till the clock struck six.

And she said, in a dubious kind of way,
That she guessed he could finish it up next day.

Then all that day, and the next day, too,
That fuzz from the dirtless carpet flew.

And she'd give it a look at eventide,
And say, "Now beat on the other side."

And the new days came as the old days went,
And the landlord came for his regular rent.

And the neighbors laughed at the tireless broom, And his face was shadowed with clouds of gloom.

Till at last, one cheerless winter day,
He kicked at the carpet and slid away—

Over the fence and down the street,
Speeding away with footsteps fleet.

And never again the morning sun
Smiled on him beating his carpet-drum.

And South Hill often said with a yawn, "Where's the carpet-martyr gone?"

Years twice twenty had come and passed,
And the carpet swayed in the autumn blast.

For never yet, since that bright spring-time,
Had it ever been taken down from the line.