self. (Rises.) What's that? you don't know? Well, 1 don't either! Pa looked over his glasses and said; "It's just as well; maybe old Sellers will live to be as old as Methusalum. He's an old crank and no knowing what he'll do with his money." And then Mabel laughed and said she'd "be sure of that first." I never understand a word they're talking about, but it's lots of fun to guess, don't you think so?

You don't seem to feel easy in that chair; here, try this one. (Places chair.) Mabel had a caller one night and we found that chair broken next day—it aint been so strong since 'twas fixed. (Pauses, walking right.) I don't like Jack Ashleigh, do you? He's got such a way of saying (patronizingly): "Ah, little girl, how do you do?" I hate folks to speak to me like that! He was here last night and stayed ever so long. I didn't go to sleep 'cause I'd eaten a lot of candy and didn't feel good; so when I heard that door squeak, I crept to the top of the stairs and listened. I didn't do it to be mean, but there's lots I want to learn. Well, he kissed her hand and said, "Oh, that's only an aggravation!" and after a few minutes of fussing round Mabel let him kiss her lips-saw he was going to get mad, I s'pose.

Then he says, "I'll run in to-morrow night, dear," and she says, "I'm going to have a caller," and he says, "Who? that little strawberry blonde, with the base-ball mustache?" and you ought to have heard Mabel laugh!

Your hair is kind of red, aint it? And your mustache is pretty thin. Bob asked Mabel if you wore one, and she said she wasn't quite sure, but she had thought, when you sat between her and the light, that she'd seen symptoms of one.

Hark! I can hear Mabel now. She's changing her slippers. The pair she had on are run over at the heel. What! you aint going? What's that? I may tell Mabel you won't trouble her again, and she may reserve any, or all of her evenings for the others? Oh, it aint a bit of trouble! She's got it all fixed like clock-work and

never makes a mistake. You needn't worry a bitI declare if he hasn't gone! Just bolted right out of that door! (Slowly.) The other fellows I talked to did just the same and Mabel's wondering why they don't call again.

Of course she'll blame me, when I aint done a thing but be sociable and try to make 'em feel at home. Here she comes! Guess I'll light out, as Bob says, and get those chocolates before she begins to get mad. (Exit hastily.)

GRANDPA AND BABY.

Out on the lawn, one summer's day,
I left my baby boy at play,

And smiled to hear his gleeful shout
And happy voice ring in and out
Among the arches of the trees,
Then die away upon the breeze;
While all the playful echoes stirred
To merry laugh and lisping word.
But when I missed the cheerful noise,
Nor heard the sound of prattling voice,
I rose and to the window hied,
And, looking thence, this vision spied-
Oh, Memory, though thy name be pain,
Paint, paint that picture o'er again!
The westering sun his glory threw
Along the sward of emerald hue;
Save where, perchance in playful frown,
Some cool, green shadows nestled down,
And, idly shifting with the sun,
Crept slowly eastward, one by one.

Beneath the elm tree's waving crest,
Where birdlings tossed in downy nest,
And where alternate sun and shade,
Like changing fancies, skipped and played,
The old arm-chair, secure and good,
With widespread arms, inviting stood;
And in its cushions, broad and deep,

Grandpa and baby fast asleep.

On rounded cheek and golden head
The sinking sun his radiance shed;
While on the grandsire's silver crown
A single ray dropped softly down,
And then, in benediction, fell

On both, and wrapped them in its spell.
The breeze, in frolic, growing bold,
Tossed up the rings of shining gold
On baby's head, then with the gray
On grandpa's head began to play.
In the worn palm, securely pressed,
One little dimpled hand found rest;
The other clasped a withered flower,
Culled, all at will, in Nature's bower.

Fixed was the look of sad content
On the worn face, a trifle bent,
And forward drooped, to rest the chin
My baby's clustered curls within;
While on the collar of his coat
The gray and gold together float.
Such tinting one might vainly seek
As slept on baby's lip and cheek;
But thin and pale that other one,
And sad and careworn in the sun.
And so the evening shadows fell,
And deeper grew, but all was well.

The elm-tree boughs are gaunt and bare
And tossed about by wintry air,
While pale, wan shadows come and go
Upon the lawn all white with snow;
But nevermore, at eve or dawn,
On garden walk or grassy lawn,
May I, in vision fair, behold
That little head with crown of gold;

Nor evermore, on summer day,
That other one, with crown of gray.
Beneath the dreary, drifted snow,
The silver head and gold lie low;
Yet evermore, in joy or pain,
Oh, Memory! paint that scene again.

Boston Transcript.

JACK.

He aint much of a dog to look at;
You wouldn't think much of his breed;
But I tell you, he taught me a lesson
I was wise enough for to heed.

He may want a deal of polish;

His manners are rather rough;
But he's as true as steel, and faithful,
And that's character good enough.

He followed me home one Christmas,
And I took the poor brute in;
He was horribly wet and dirty,

And his bones came through his skin.

He'd a string round his neck, and I reckon

They'd been trying to hang him,-poor wretch! But he got away from them somehow,

And, for the present, cheated Jack Ketch.

Well, he stuck to me like plaster,

And I got to be fond of the brute,

And his tail would wag fast and faster
When I played on my old, cracked flute.

I was fond of a glass, and I often
Reeled home in a half-drunken state;
My home was just going to ruin,

And I seemed quite blind to my fate.

I was entering one evening, as usual,

A saloon-and the worst of its kind;
For I'd made up my mind for a good spree,
When I felt some one pulling behind.

The dog had got hold of my jacket,

And he cried like a child at my feet;
So I thought I would humor the creature,
And I stepped back again to the street.

He barked with delight and leaped round me,
And trotted with glee on before,-
Looking back to make sure I was coming,-
And he stood, with a bark, at my door.

My wife seemed surprised when she saw me,
And said," Why, what made you come back?"

And I answered, "That dog is a model;

I shall name him 'Teetotal Jack!'"

So, what if the poor brute is ugly,
And not much account as to breed;
He's got as much sense in his noddle
As in many wise folks' who can read.
And I wish every thick-headed drinker,
Who is staggering off the right track,
Had a dog just as true and as faithful
As my ugly cur, "Teetotal Jack!"

THEY MET IN DEATH.

A grand crash-a shower of flying splinters-bump! bump! and the coaches settled back on the rails and the passengers picked themselves up and cried out to each other that there had been a collision.

So there had. Freight No. 17 was pulling in on the side track, but the day express thundered down on her while the long train was yet a third of its length on the main track.

Some one had blundered. Some one's watch was off time. Some one must be held responsible for the accident.

Under the overturned locomotive was the firemandead. Near him was the engineer, pinned down to the frozen earth by one of the drivers, and when he had been relieved, a doctor, who was among the passengers, knelt beside him and said:

"Arm broken-leg broken-foot crushed to a pulp. He cannot live."

Who had blundered? Who had disobeyed orders? The conductors of the two trains were comparing watches and orders, when the engineer beckoned them.

"I alone am to blame!" he whispered. "I wasn't due here until 10: 10, and it was just 10:05 when I struck the freight. I was ahead of time-running on her time." "So it was so it was," whispered the two conductors.