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“ He should not have spoken to me as he aid.” “Don’t look so horrified, child,” she says. “ James’ voice, from continual dis- uue, has degenerated into a growl, I own, but it need not reduce you to inscnsibility. He is awkward, but he means well, as lthey say in the British drama. Come ”â€"with a. faint pressureâ€"“try to look more cheerful, or people will begin to wonder and imagine all sorts of unlikely things. You have made a. mistake; but then a mistake is not a a ime.’ v “ \Vhat have I done 5’” I ask, rousing my- self. “I only wanted to see the rink again, and ’Duke would not take me. He was un- kind in his manner, and vexed me. Sir Mark offered to take‘ charge of me. I be- lieve I wanted to show ’Duke I could go in spite of him, but I never thought ofâ€"of anything else; and now ’Duke is so angry he will not cven speak to me.” Author of “fllolly Ban-n." “The [(1141, “Am, Fairy Lilian," 810., etc. CHAPTER XXVL »â€"Co.\' I‘IN CED. I am so utterl taken aback, so altogether surprised, that l'even forget to blush, and can do nothing but stand staring at him in silent bewilderment. Sir James to deliver a. lecture 1 Sir J ames to take upon him the part of Mentor I is more than my brain can grasp at a. moment’s notice. Surely I have been guilty of something horrible, unpardon- able, to shake him out of his taciturnity ! “Has he been scolding you ‘2” she asks, briskly,with herquick ready smile. “James, I woth have Phyllis frightened to death by u stern 01d moralist like you. GO and get things togather; and it you meet a. comfort- able motherly gray shawl, remember it is mine.” I do liot wish it. I would rather drive home with any one than Sir Mark Gore. Oh, Mannadukc, please let me go witnyqurfl. ‘ . ., 11,3..I, .L- , “I dare say not; though I don’t know what he said. and do not wish to know. There are always faults on both sides. And now, Phyllis, as we are on the subject, let me say one word. You know I am fond of you'that I think you the dearest little sis. ter-in-law in the world. Therefore you will hear me patiently. Have nothing more to say to Mark Gore. He is verywunfortuzmte in hisrfricndships. I do not wish to say anything against him, but no good ever came of being too intimate with him. Are you offended with nie‘.‘ Have I gone too far, Phyllis ‘r” ‘ “Oh. that is nonsense ! of course he will speak to you. You have committed a. little folly, than; is all. I can quite understand it. Probably, under like Circumstances, and at your age, I would have been guilty of the same. But it was foolish nevertheless.” Harriet coming up at this juncture, hzâ€"lsâ€" tens to {158151; me out of my dilemma. Thus dismissed, James, ever obedient, de- parts, casting a kindly glance at me as he goes. Harriet lays her hand lightly on my v “No, no,” anxiously retaining the hand she half witndmws, “I am glad, as it was on your mind, you spoke. But you cannot think~you cannot believeâ€"â€"â€"”I am too deeply agitated to continue. “I do not mean it. I am not thinking of anything but you.” H laughs unpleasantly. “Did Haniet tell you 10 make that sweet little speech ?” “No,” in a low tone. “1 ybelieve nothing but what is altogether good of you7 be sure of that,” she answers, heartily. “ But; I dread your causing your- self any pain through thoughtlessness. Re- member ‘how easy things go wrong,’ and how difficult it is sometimes to set; them right again. 7A‘nd‘WMarmaduke loves you.” O“I {Gish Ihad never seen this ovdious rink,” 1 whisper, passionately. “Iwill never go to one again. I wish I never had laid eyes on Mark Gore. 1 hate him. “Good child,” intorpcsos she, calmly, as an antedote to my excitement. “ Now, go and make peace with your husband. See, there he is. Marmaduke,' Phyllis is too cold in this coat ; give her something warm to put round‘her shouldefs.” v 1 p Mechanically I obev the famt push she A ives me, and follow ’Duke into the dimly- lightcd hall. He strides on in front and takes not the slightest notice of my falter- ing footsteps. n T ,,,|,:,, _., _.V “Because Iâ€"«I want toâ€"very much,” I answer, feebly, muchdispiritcd, .- -â€"_ i “It 13 rather late to think of saving ap. peurances, if you mean that.” 17a~_‘LL1'I‘ ,. {2‘ Marmaduke,” I whisper, nervously, “Marmaduke, may I drive home with you?” “\‘Vlth me 1 For what ‘2” His tone is stern and uncompromising. My new found courage evaporates. “H‘V‘YOIII came” here with Gore. \Vhy not re- turn thh him? It seems tome far better for E11 pavrtiCS you s1}ou1_d do so.” “Now I lay me down to sleep," ‘Vhen fades the last faint ray 0f the rosy-tinted day, There mainly steals asulomn thrill 'l‘hmugli the cronng air so still, As from each hczu'tlistonc. far or near, Rise the voices of the children clear, ‘As in their perfect trust they say While from their noisy sports they stray, And twinklihg smrsin wonder peep. " Now I lay me down to sleep.” Not alone for childhood fair Is meant this simple prayer, But, even to manly strength and prime Shall come at last a needl‘ul time, \Vhen ’mid life's buttle’s sudden gloom, He hears the nearest step of doom, And, though strong with Samson’s power, He knows the coming of that hour, And repeats in tones more deep, “ I pray the Lord my soul to keep." Not for a little childish dream Should be told this simple theme, Not, alone for quiet and calm, But the bivouac and fierce alarm ; When dangers round about us swell, As when peace and plenty dwell, From age and youth and manhood‘s prime. At life’s closing evening time, In accents soft, and low should break “ I pray the Lord my soul to take." When the form that is now so proud Shall, with age, be lowly bowed : When the hair, now black as night, Shall with the winter snow be white ; When the head slow time. is keeping To the eyes with sorrow weeping, And vainly tries to call the rust. Slipping from its grasp at last, Then faintly from thelips shall break “ If I should die before 1 wake." Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. BY THE DUCHESS. â€"â€"MO>Mâ€" REY LLIS- “Do you imagine you are pleasing me lay making this request ‘1” he exclaixns, angrily, glancing down at me as I stand staring at him, my head barely reaching his shoulder. Reproach and entreaty are. in my uplifted eyes, but they do not soften him. “Doyou think you are offering me compensation? Pray «lo-not for a moment bClICYC I am either hurt or 'annoyed by your behaviour of this evening. Why should I? You are not the only woman in the world who has suddenly developed a. talent for flirtations.” “Don’t let me stand in the way of your amusements. Of course when I chose to marry a. childâ€"and a child without a. spark of affection for meâ€"I must learn not to cavil at consequences. Understand, Phyl- lis, it; is a. matter of indifferenca to me whether you drive home with Mark Gore or any other man. Do not give yourself any annoyance, under a mistaken impression that you may be gratifying me. Take your choice of an escort.” “Marmaduke, what are you saying ? Of what are you accusing me ‘3” I am néarly in tea'r's by this time, and cannot find words to argue or deny the hor- rid imputation of coquetry. U Mirtha, under a. mistaken impression that I am what she is pleased to term “poorly,” pours out some eau-de-Coloqne and pro- ceeds to bathe my forehead with Vigorous concern; and such is the forlornness of my state that I cannot bring myself to bid her begone. When she has put me through the various stages of undressing, ham left me ready for bed, and insisted on hearing me say I am immenser better, she departs, to my infinite relief. I turn dismally in my chair, and begin to wonder what I am to do next. Every minute my crime appeass more hideous; I feel more positive he will never forgive me. Strangely enough, as my own misdemean- ors grow in size and importance, his de- crease, until at length they sink into utter insignificance. The remembrance of that pink note alone rankles. and perhaps even that could be explained; It is a long, long driveâ€"much longer, it seems to me, in the chill night than in the glare of day»an(l not one word does my companion speak. Once, when the moon rushes out with a. white gleam from behind the scudding clouds, I take courage to look at him ; but he is biting his mustache, and wears upon his brow a. heavy f'own that completely freezes on my lips the few silly words I would have uttered. Once, too, as his hand lies bare upon his knee, I venture to place my fingers timidly upon it, but he shakes them off, under a plain pretense of adjusting the reins; and thus, twLee repulsed, I have no heart to make a further advance. In silence we reach our home, in silence hehelps me down, and with the sorriest pain at my heart it has ever yet known, I go up-stairs and shut. myself'into my room. The hours Eli}; bv. ’Duke‘s foot is to be heard slowly Pat.in the flogr: » I must and will compel him to make friends with me. How can I face a long sleepless night such as I know will be mine if I go to bed unpardonea ? I will make one more efiort, and this time I will not he un- successful. As I have not now, and never have had, a particle of pride in my compo- sition, it takes me very little thinking to decide on this course. “I have taken it," Isay, dolefully. “ but the one I want won’ttake me. Marmaduke, how unkind you are 1 Do you, then, rrfusc to drive me home 3’” “If you insist on sitting beside me you can do so,” he yields, ungraciously. “You will find it stupid, as I am in no mood for conversation, and have no desiIe for your company.” “Nevertheless I will force it on you,” I cry, with some faint spark of prxde and in- dignation. “Thou b you hate me, I will return with no one gut you}: And so it is settled,â€" and soon we are driving side by side under the brilliant dancing stars. So, 111 dead silence, we make our journey, listening absently, to the clatter of those behind and the sound of the horses’ feet as they bravely cover the ground. 1 am sitting before my fire as I develop this idea, toasting my bare toes in a rather purposeless manner, preparatory to jumping into bed. Unlike most people, I can endure any amount of heat to the soles of my feet. Mechanically l slip into my blue slip- pers, and, rising, go to the glass. Yet, what I see pleases me: I certainly do look nice in my dressing-gown. No other style of gar; ment, no matter how bewituhing or elabor- ate, suits me half as well This particular gown at which I am now gazing profound- ly is of white cashmere, lined and wedded, and trimmed profusely with pale blue. There is a. dear little frill round the neck that almost makes me love myself. It is a gift of Marmaduke’s. \Valking one day in Paris, during our honeymoon,it had attract- ed our attention in a shop-window, and he had insisted on my going into the shop then and there and making myself the owner of it. Surely when he sees me now he will remember the circumstance, and it will soften him. Ah 1 he was very fond of me then, lect, with a sigh. My hair is stieaming down my back, far below my waist; I am looking; well, but youngvvery young; indeed, I am painfully conscious that, now my high-heeled shoes are lying under a chair, I might easily be mistaken for a child of fourteen. Again I exercise my lungF, again I batter at the door. “Marmaduke, Marmaduke?y lcry, but obtain no answer. That he is within is be.- yond all doubt, as every now and then through the thick oaken door I can hear a sound or him. The thought is distasteful. Hastin put- ting up my hands, 1 wind my hair round and round my head until I have reduced it to its every-day decorous fashion; only to find that rolls and smoothness do not accord well with a neglige costume. Looking at myself again with a critical eye, I am again (hssatisfied. I may appeer older, I certainly do not present so pleasing a tout ensemble; so,with much vicious haste I once more drew out the hairâ€"pins and let my straight brown hair hang according to its fancy. Being now at last convinced I am to be seen at my best, I proceed to act up( n the thought that has caused all this unwanted vanity. I go softly to Marina» duke’s dressing-room door. armed with my brush, and begin to better at it pretty loudly. I recol “ ’Dukeâ€"Marmaduke I” I cry once more, impyfiently. 1 u :‘ What :10 you want Y” demands my 11115- band, in a voice that sends my heart into my blue slippers. He turns from me as he speaks, and her gins to pace excitedly up and down the room, a frown born of much anger upon his forehead. 1i; woyuld be impossible to put on paper the amount of scorn he throws into the last word. “I want to get in,” I return, as meekly as one can, when Ono’s tone is raised to the highest pitch. “You cannot now; I am busy.” “But I must. ’I)uke, do open the door. I have something of the utmost importance to gay to you.” “To think you should have chosen that fellow, who has hardly a. shred of character lefp, as y(_)1_1xj friend.” ” ‘ “He is no friend of mine,” I say, sullen- ly, heating my feet petulantly against the ground. “1 always understood he was a particular friend of yours. If you consider him such a disreputable creature, why did you invite him to your house ‘1" “Pshaw ! How blind you must think people ‘. Do you suppose they will not com- ment freely on your going to that low place with Gore, at nine o’clock at night, alone? I own my belief in their dullness or good nature is not as comfortable :1 one as yours, Blanche Going, at all events, spoke to me openly ahoutit.” I instantly take fire. “N) doubt,” I cry, with passion. “ Lady Blanche Coma; has her own reasons for wish- ing to degrade me in my husband’s sight. She is a wicked woman ! \Vere I to do half What she has done, and is capable of doing, I would be ashamed to look you in the face. I hate her 3 If you believe what she says, rather than what I say, of course there is little use in my speaking further in my own defense.” “I believe only what I see,” returns my husband, significantly; “and that-l regret to say of you, Phylliswis more than 1 can think of with calmness.” Aftera moment or two I can hear him coming slowly to the door. In another instant he has unlocked it, and IS standmg in the door-way in an attitude that is plain- ly meant to bar my further approach. “Nov,” I say, 11131. whisper. “ I came to ask you to forgive Incâ€"t0 tell you I am very sorry for it all.” “ leeause I was unfortunately under the impression I could ask any man with safety into my Wife’s house,” says he, loftily; and the quotation in which Caesar’s wife is brought to bear comes to my mind : I am almost tempted to mention it for purposes of provocation, but refrain. In truth, I am really unhappy, and at my wit‘s end, by this. Surely I cannot have So altogether forgotten myself as he seems to imagine. v “\Von’t you let 'me in ‘2” I ézfy. “I want to speak to you; I have something to tell yop.” Here I make a dive under the arm he has placed against one side of the door as a pru- dent barricade. and gain the dressing-room. Having so far succeeded, I pause to glance timidly at him. A “Oh, ’Duke, do not be too hard 611 me. 1 did not mean to make you so very angry. I did not think there was any harm in what â€"I did.” “Did you Ifeaxly break aown the floor to come and tell me that; ?” asks he, without a vgstige of _a. smile. Once again my eyes seek the carpet. All my affected nonchalance deserts me. I feel frightened. Never before has his voice sounded so harsh when addressed to me. I put my hands behlnd me,and grasp nervous- ly the torrent of hair that flows down my back. For the second time it Occurs to me how abominably young I must be looking. Somehow the word “Doll” writes itself be- fore nly lowered eyes. “Are you? I am glad of that. In my opigqunxoq coqld 110t_ be tog soyry.” “No harm ! No harm in flirting so out- rageously as to brim: down upon you the censure of all your guests? No harm in making yourself the subject of light gossip? Do you know that ever since last night, when you chose to disgrace both yourself and me by your conduct, I have felt half maddened. Angry/ The word does not express what I feel. A hundred times dur- ing these past few hours Ihave with the ut- most (liificuly restrained myself.” “I don’t see that 1 have done anything so very terrible; I have not behaved worse thanâ€"than others I could name. I don't believe anybody noticed me,” I} reply, mis- erably, and most untrutleully. He has divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and has evidently been brushing his hair, as it is smooth to the last degree and has about it a general air of being ready to enter a ballâ€"room at a. moment’s notice. “You might be going to a reception,your hair is so beautifully dressed,” I say, with a Weigh. attempt .at‘railiery and meQosure. ‘l‘lThere axte worse peo le here thuvn Mark Gore,” 1 remamk {til} sq Iep. _ ' “If there are, I don’t know them, and certainly do not Wish to discues them. The misdemeanors of the world do not concern me; it is with you alone I have to deal. Ever since Gore entered the house you have shown an open and most umliguifieil desise for his sooiety. l bore it all in silence, nei- ther thwarting you nor exhibiting my dis- pleasure in any way; but when 1 see you casting aside common prudence, and making yourself a subject for scandalous remarks, I think it is high time for me to interfere and assert my authority. Were you sev- eral years younger than you are, you are still quite old enough to khow right from wron r; and for the future “ultere he stops short close heside me, and. with his blue eyes flashing, goes on, “for the future, I insist on your conducting yourself as my Wife should.” \Vhen a man is without his coat and waistcoat, and thinks himsolf ill-used, he generally looks more than his actual height. Marmaduke, standing before nu: with up- lifted hand to enforce his Mimi-ks, and with a very white face, certainly appears uncomfortably tail. He is mum-mg over poor little me, in my lieellea. shots: and white gown. and for a moment ii ownui's to me that 1 ought to feel frightened: the next instant anger has overpowered inc, and raised me to his level. “How dare you speak to me Mac that? By what right do you uso such Kauguage? You who every hour of tho day make yourself conspicuous wt‘n flint horrible cousin of yours? Do you suppose, then, “l‘hat sounds \‘cry well; but if, when you accuse me of flirting with Mark Gore, I had drawn myself up, and asked, in an injured tone, ‘what you meant,’ you would very soon have told me I know only too well. Have 1 not noticed you with Blanche? Do you ever leave her side? \Vh'spering in corridorsâ€"lingering in conservatoriesâ€" letting her write you letters! Oh, I know everything I” cry I, absolutely sobbing with long ent-up rage and grief. “\ rite me letters 1” repeats ’Duke. in ut- that I have no eyes 2’ that I cannot, fathom motives, and actions, andâ€"” “\thit do you mean ‘3” interrupts he, haughtily. “(\Vrite me lei’mrs l”. repeats ’Duke, in ut- ter bewilderment. “Yes; long, long letters. I saw it.” Blanche never in her life wrote me a long letter, or any other letter that; I can re- collect.” “The wretch! ’I)uke, listen to me and believe me. If I had not felt positive that note,” moving a little nearer and laying my finger upon it, “was the one 1 saw with her, I would never have acted towards Mark Gore as I did last night. But I felt wounded and cut to the heart, and tried to torture you as I was being tortured. It was foolish, wicked of me, I know. but it made no one so miserable as myself.” About mid-afternoon yesterday a citizen who pulls down the scales at 196 pounds descended the first flight of stairs beyond the ,l’ostof‘fice in just the same manner that a bag of oats would have chosen, and when he brought up at the foot he was in no frame of mind to chip in anything for the heathen in Africa. The first, citizen who arrived on the spot knew what his duty 1'0- quii‘ed of him on such an occasion, and he smilineg remarked: “0h / when I saw it with my own eyes, and only yesterday, too 1 How can you deny it 1’ 1n the morning she pretended she had a headache, and I went up to ask her how she was, and there on the table was a pink note, with three of the pages close- ly written over, and while I staid she foldâ€" ed it into a cocked hat ; and when I came home in the evening I went into your room â€"this roomâ€"for some eau~de-Cologne, and it was lying there on the table under my nose,”‘l Wind up with passionate vulgjalrity. As I put outvmy hanfl, I know that I am acting meanly, but still I do take it, and, opening it, find my three closelv-written pages have dwindled down to half a. one. Five or six lines carelessly scrawledfire be- fore me. “It was quite by accident we met; I had no idea she was there.” “She was speaking to you of me “She said something about your manner towards Gore the nightl previous. It was something very kind, I remember, but it angered me to think any one had noticed you, though 1n my heart I knew it must he so. It was too palpable. She meant noth- ing hurtful.” 1!)? “I (Tofl’t believe you can improve on the old way l” The second citizen passing “as in a. hurry, but he knew that he must halt and inquire : “I think you inust be raving,” sayg'Duke his own vehemence quieted by mine. “I don’t know what you are talking about. A letterâ€"yet stay,” a look of intelligence coming into his face; and, going over ton drawer, he rummages there for a moment, and at length produces the very three-cor- nered note that had caused me so many jealous pangs. “Is this the note you mean?” “Yes, it is,” coming eagerly forward. “I now recollect finding this in my room, when I returned from shooting yesterday. She asks me to do a. commission for her, which, as it happens, quite slipped my mem- ory until now. Take and read it, and see how just were your suspicions.” “Are you satisfied?” asks ’Duke, who, half sitting on the table with folded arms, is Witching me qttentivgly. “Yes,” in a low voic'c; “I was wrong. Thisis not the note I saw with her. I now understand she must have meant that one forâ€"for somebody else, and, knowing I saw it, sent this to you to Mind me.” “From all you have said to me tonight, I can scarcely imagine you would now repeat those words,” I say, in trembling tonesi “Yes 1 wduld. 'If I live to be an old man, I shall never love again as 1 have 10v- ed, gpd do love, ypu.” “Yet you are Erlwuys meeting Blanche; you are always with her. Only this very morning I found you both together in the corridor in earnest conversation.” :‘Like that any better than coming down thgway inhe‘resht pf us_d0_?’: Theuthird citizen had business at the Postofficc, but he turned aside, cleared his throat, and remarked : “ Evidently fell down stairs? Curious how It sets the blood to circulating I Some of you had better see if his nose is broken Hgood bye ?” “film‘e suspicions Phyllis? As to what other charges you have brought against me, I can only swear that when I told you a, year ago you were the only woman I had ever really loved, I spoke the truth.” UVI’d have given a. dollar to see him come down I He’s one of the sort who bump every stair 1” There {vas a. fourth spectator, and he slow- ly entered the door-way, bent over the vic- tim, and remarked : The fifth man was about to add his mite when the victim rose up. His elbows were skinned, his nose barked, his coat torn and his back sand-papered the whole length. but he was a man who had travelled. He knew that everybody in the crowd wag hoping to see him jump up and down and shake his fists, and paw the air, and to hear him declare that he would lick all the men who could be packed in a ten-acre lot, and therefore he brought a sweet smile to his face, lifted his hat like a perfect gentleman, and limped up stairs with the bland remark: “ Stubbed my toe as I came in the door, you know, and came near falling m a heap.” â€"-1)olroit Free Press. Short as the literary career of M. Zola has been, his writings have already made a fortune both for himself and his publishers. The sale of his works has been enormous. The King of Italy has promised to act as godfather for the infant son of Prince VViI- lism of Prussia. Understanding Men's Natures. TO BE (IONTINUEB. |M4®>Wl <‘.'>M Judge Hilton’s failure Vin Stewart‘s dry goods business suggests the ancient reason â€"that he couldn’t get JeWs to it. A somnambulist fell from a third story window in a. Pennsylvania town, and was not awakened; but she was buried the next day. Buffalo has got the basc~bali fever so bad that a man can’t catch a baby falling from a second-story window without yelling " Judgment!” Papa: "’Pon my word, Iâ€"I think I shall have the heartburn.” Little (laugh- ter: “Shall I fetch it for you, papa? Is it in the cupboard?” “\Vell, my dear, are you getting on nicely with your music?” “ Oh, yes, mamma : last month, when I played four-hand pieces with my music teacher, I was always a couple of bars behind. Now I am always at least three ahead.” 01d Slobson was raking in the front yard yesterday, when he noticed a boy gazing through the picket fence in a most earnest manner. “ \Vhat are you doing?” asked the old man. “\Vatching the Rake’s Progress,” replied the boy, as he dodged just in time. “I think,” said a fond parent, “that little Jimmy is going to be a poet when he grows up. He doesn’t eat, and he sits all day by the stove and thinks, and thinks.” “ You had better grease him all over. He is gomg to have the measles. That’s what ails J immy.” A growlcr’s luck: “This isjnst my luck,” said tTie gloomy man at the thentre. “Here’s a. performance going fhat’s so bad it’s agonizing to witness, and it’s the first time in six months that I haven’t; had a woman with a bath-tub hat in front of me when I’ve been to the theatre.” Maritime : The best way to shorten side is to stop advertismg. The high price of beef is gradually draw- ing the yellow dog into the hot Vortex of the bologna sausage factory. “ Pa,” asked little Johnny, “whatdoes the teacher mean by saying that; I must have mherited my bad temper?” “She meant, J ohnny,that you are you mother’s own boy. ’I “Yes, I’ve got a. horrid cold,” said Mrs. Jankinson. “I’ve dosed and dosed, andl believe I’ve taken no less than thirty-nine articles, and I begin to feel like an Epigco- palian.” As he waited for a prescription the drug- gist said to him: “That is my son, sir, sitting by you; don’t you think he looks like me?” “Well. ves.” remind thr- mmtnm. like nae?”- ‘EVVell, yes,” replied the custom- er, “1 thlnk I can see some of your liniments in his face.” ‘ _ _, r 7 7 v - v v~ u-uvvvur “‘ D’ye mean to say that tlfis is lamb Y" Butcher~“ Cert’nly, mum.” Old ladyh “Maybe it was, once; you and I was lambs about the same time.” Prof. Proctor has a new girl baby, and, although only a few weeks old, it inhents and evinces his father’s taste for astronomy. Its researches at present extend no farther than the milky way. “Yes,” said the lady, "I like to have a handsome cook. You see, my husband’s business keeps him out late at night and there’d be no man in the house if the cook didn’t have apoliceman visiting her.” In good cld days long gone : Old lady (apropos of wiry and anclcjlxfi leg of mutton) n1u.u , “ I ain’t got enough sense to vote at a ward election,” remarked old Isom. “\Vhy?” asked a bystander. “ Yer see, a nigger what keeps 2» bacon store at de udder end 0b town give 50 cents premium on a silver dollar made last year. I tuk a dollar Wid (1e correck date, an’ going to de store, hand- ed it tor him, and tole him ter gin me (1e premium. He looked at the dollar, handed me fifty cents and (lralpped it in the draw’r. I tuk de 50 cents an’ come on up town. I have just diskivered (lat I’se out 50 cents. I repeats (lat I ain’t got sense enough tex- vote, an’ de Newnited States can hab my freedom back at any time de secretary of war will notify me oh (lat fack.” Physiology: “Mother, What have people got noses for?" asked an Austin child of her mother who had seen better days. “To turn up at poor folks, my child," was the cynical response. A school-mistress, while taking down the names and ages of her pupils, and of their parents, at; the beginning of the term, asked one little fellow, “ What’s your father’s name?” “Oh, you needn’t take down his name ; he’s too old to go to school to .3 W0- man,” was the innocent reply. An Illinois girl lately called at a. coroner’s office and, addressing the solitary occupant of the apartment, said: ‘ "Be you the coron- er?" “I guess you’d think so if you ever see an undertaker shake hands with me,” bland- ly answered the official. “You ain’t going away nowheres for a day or two, be you?” “Not that I know.” “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” continued the maiden with an air of much encouragement. " Johnnie Bowles has been keepin‘ company with me since Christmas, but I hear that he's going to take another girl to the circus tonight and if he does I’ll swaller p’ison.” Some awfully mean scoundrel filled a grocer’s whisky barrel with rain water, and the next Monday morning the superinten- dent of schools, the president of the tem- perance aliiance, and two school teachers came round to the store, denounced the as- tonished grocer as a swindlng thief and a pei‘jured Villain, and demanded their $1 50 back again. One Sunday at Montgomery wewere talk- ing about duels, and, when the names of several parties who had gone out in past years to satisfy their honor were mentioned, the judge knocked the ashes of his cigar and said: “Gentlemen, it may be mentioned right here that I have been there myself.” “Were you challenged?” “I was. It was over in South Carolina and I called a. man a. liar. He sent me a. challenge, and 1 selected swords as the weapons. \Ve met at 7 o’clock the next morning. It was just Such a morning as thiswbright, beautiful, and full of life.” “And how did you feel?" “Very quear. I shall never forget my sen- sations as I saw my rival, and he seemed to be as visibly afiected. We Couldn’t either one of us say a word.” “Was it in a. grove?” “Oh, no; it was at the depot.” “The depot! \Vhy. you didn’t fight at the depot, did you?” “\Vel], no. The mornin express trains passed there at Hand he too one and I took the other.” A LITTLE PLAY-SPELL.