When Mr. P. came in, I told him all about it. He laughed a good deal, and said, "What next?" So I am not sure he would be so very hard upon the wig. The next morning I had appointed to see the new footman, and as Mr. P. went out he turned and said to me, "Is your footman coming to-day?" "Yes," I answered.

"Well," said he, "don't forget the calves. You know that everything in the matter of livery depends upon the calves." And he went out laughing silently to himself, with-actually, Carrie a tear in his eye.

But it was true, wasn't it? I remember in all the books and pictures how much is said about the calves. In advertisements, etc., it is stated that none but well-developed calves need apply; at least it is so in England, and, if I have a livery, I am not going to stop half-way. My duty was very clear. When Mr. Cheese came in, I said I felt awkward in asking a servant about his calves, it sounded so queerly. But I confessed that it was necessary.

"Yes, the path of duty is not always smooth, dear Mrs. Potiphar. It is often thickly strewn with thorns," said he, as he sank back in the fauteuil, and put down his petit verre of Marasquin.

Just after he had gone, the new footman was announced. assure you, although it is ridiculous, I felt quite nervous. when he came in, I said calmly :

"Well, James, I am glad you have come."

"Please ma'am, my name is Henry," said he.

I

But

I was astonished at his taking me up so, and said, decidedly: "James, the name of my footman is always James. You may call yourself what you please; I shall always call you James." The idea of the man's undertaking to arrange my servants' names for me!

Well, he showed me his references, which were very good, and I was quite satisfied. But there was the terrible calf business that must be attended to. I put it off a great while, but I had to begin.

"Well, James!" and there I stopped.

"Yes, ma'am," said he.

"I wish-yes-ah!" and there I stopped again. "Yes, ma'am," said he.

"James, I wish you had come in knee-breeches." "Ma'am!" said he, in great surprise.

"In knee-breeches, James," repeated I.

"What be they, ma'am? What for, ma'am?" said he, a little frightened, as I thought.

"Oh! nothing, nothing; but-but—”

"Yes, ma'am," said James.

"But-but I want to see-to see-"

"Your legs," gasped I; and the path was thorny enough, Carrie, I can tell you. I had a terrible time explaining to him what I meant, and all about the liveries, etc. Dear me, what a pity these things are not understood; and then we should never have this trouble about explanations. However, I couldn't make him agree to wear the livery. He said:

"I'll try to be a good servant, ma'am, but I cannot put on those things and make a fool of myself. I hope you won't insist, for I am very anxious to get a place."

Think of his dictating to me! I told him that I did not permit my servants to impose conditions upon me (that's one of Mrs. Croesus's sayings), that I was willing to pay him good wages and treat him well, but that my James must wear my livery. He looked very sorry, said that he should like the place very much -that he was satisfied with the wages, and was sure he should please me, but he could not put on those things. We were both determined, and so parted. I think we were both sorry; for I should have to go all through the calf-business again, and he lost a good place.

However, Caroline, dear, I have my livery and my footman, and am as good as anybody. It's very splendid when I go to Stewart's to have the red plush and the purple and the white calves springing down to open the door, and to see people look and say, "I wonder who that is?" And everybody bows so nicely, and the clerks are so polite, and Mrs. Gnu is melting with envy on the other side, and Mrs, Croesus goes about saying: "Dear little woman, that Mrs. Potiphar, but so weak! Pity, pity!" And Mrs. Settem Downe says, "Is that the Potiphar livery? Ah, yes! Mr. Potiphar's grandfather used to shoe my grandfather's horses!" (as if to be useful in the world were a disgrace as Mr. P. says); and young Downe and Boosey and

Timon Croesus come up and stand about so gentlemanly and say, "Well, Mrs. Potiphar, are we to have no more charming parties this season?" And Boosey says, in his droll way, "Let's keep the ball a-rolling!" That young man is always ready with a witticism. Then I step out, and James throws open the door, and the young men raise their hats, and the new crowd says: "I wonder who that is!" and the plush and purple and calves spring up behind, and I drive home to dinner. Now, Carrie, dear, isn't that nice?

CARRIE'S COMEDY.

BY WILLIAM LIVINGSTONE ALDEN.

WILLIAM LIVINGSTONE ALDEN made his reputation as the humorous

editor of the New York Times. He was born at Williamstown, Mass., in 1837, received a collegiate education, and then studied law. He has published some eight volumes, mostly of a humorous character.

DR. BARTHOLOMEW, of Towanda Falls, Penn., is the proud possessor of an extremely precocious child. Miss Carrie Bartholomew is only ten years old, but, nevertheless, she is a young person of extraordinary acquirements and conspicuous culture. At the age of six she could read with great ease, and before reaching her eighth birthday she had developed a marked taste for novel-reading. About the same period she made her first attempt at authorship, and soon achieved an enviable reputation in several local nurseries, where her fairy tales were recited with immense applause. In her ninth year she wrote a novel-of which, unfortunately, no copies are now in existence--and begun an epic in six books upon "St. Bartholomew's Day "--which sanguinary event she classed among the ancestors of her family. The epic was discontinued after the completion of the second book, owing to the premature extermination of the Huguenots, but the young author lashed the Catholic party with great vigor, and denounced Charles IX. as the scarlet person mentioned in the Apocalypse. The latest effort of Miss Bartholomew was, in all respects, her crowning work. It was a drama in blank verse and in five acts,

entitled "Robinson Crusoe; or the Exile of Twenty Years," and it was publicly performed in the Baptist lecture-room by a company of children drilled by the author. The proceeds of the entertainment were designed for the conversion of the heathen, and it was attended by a large and hilarious audience.

The entire work of mounting the drama fell upon the shoulders of the author. The stage was beautifully ornamented with borrowed shawls; and three fire-screens, covered with wall-paper and with tree and flower patterns, did duty as scenery. The costumes were unique and beautiful, and a piano ably played by a grown-up lady supplied the place of an orchestra. The curtain rose at the appointed time, and displayed Crusoe in his English home in the act of taking tea with his wife. A cradle in the corner held a young Crusoe-played with much dignity by Miss Bartholomew's best doll-and a wooden dog reposed on the hearth-rug. Crusoe, after finding fault with the amount of sugar in his tea a touch that was recognized as wonderfully true to life-announced that he was to sail the next morning on a voyage to South America. Mrs. Crusoe instantly burst into tears, and remarked:

"Our wedded life has scarce begun!

But three months since you led me to the altar,
And now you leave me, friendless and forlorn!"

Crusoe, however, soon comforted his wife, and bidding her teach her surprisingly precipitate infant to revere his absent father, put on his ulster, and after a last passionate embrace, departed for South America.

The second act presented Crusoe in his island home, clad chiefly in seal-skin jackets, and much given to pacing the ground and soliloquizing. According to his account, he had now been on the island three years, and was beginning to feel rather lonesome. He referred in the most affectionate terms to the sole comrade of his joys and sorrows, his gentle goat—which animal, hired for the occasion, from a Towanda Falls Irishman, was conspicuously tethered in the background, and would obviously have butted Crusoe into remote futurity if he could have broken loose. Presently Crusoe heard a faint yell in the distance, and decided that it was made by a cannibal picnic party, whereupon he announced that he would go for his gun and sweep the wicked cannibals into the Gulf,