Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 20 September 1889 — Page 7

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SUPPOSE.

rHOEBE CARY.

Suppose, my little lady, Your doll should break her head Could you make it whole by crying

Till your eyes and nose were red? And wouldn't it be pleasanter To treat it as a joke, Atta say you're plad 'twas dolly's,

And not your head that broke? {Suppose you're dressed for walking, And the rain comes pouring down Will it clear oft any sooner,

Because you scold and frown? And wouldn't it be nicer For you to smile than pout, And so make sunshine in the house

When there is none without] Suppose your task, my little man, Is very hard to get, Will it make it any easier

For you to sit and fret! And wouldn't it be wiser Than waiting like a dunce, To go to work in earnest

And learn the thing at once? Suppose that some boys have a horse, And some a coach and pair, Will it tire you less while walking

To say, "It isn't fair?" And wouldn't it be nobler To keep your temper sweet, And in your heart be thankful

You can walk upon your feet Suppose the world doesn't please you, Nor the way some people do, Do you think the whole creation

Will be altered just for you? And isn't it, my boy or girl, The wisest, bravest plan, Whatsoever comes, or doesn't come,

To do the best you can}

TOO LAT

A Story of St. Valentine's Day.

CHAPTER (CONTINUED). "Next time" was not likely to come round now, for 011 the following1 morning1 his regiment received orders to embark for India on the loth, and it was now the 12th—the 12th of February. A disturbance was imminent in the Northern Provinces, and a strong reenforcement was ordered out.

There was no time for adieux to friends—hardly time for the necessary preparations for his departure. Still, in all the bustle, hurry, and excitement, Lyon Leslie was cognizant of a weight at his heart, not caused—he knew that—by any thought of parting from relatives or friends apart from this weight, ho rejoiced at the prospect of active service but he did wish, very earnestly wish, the night before his departure to embark, that lie could catch but one glimpse of Nell Tlianot's sweet noble face, could look but once into her grand true eyes, and be forgiven. There was no sophistry present in his heart at that crucial moment, a moment when all that was true in him was struggling for the victory. Not a thought did he cast on the Baron's story it might be strange —even inexplicable but then—in that hour, he bowed to the supremacy of love and love's supreme trust. It was, though, but as a dream in the night, atid in the morning light it vanished, and he was himself again. His good angel had fled with the cold dawn— his one' golden chance had gone.

The post brought him a host of farewell letters and valentines, for Lyon Leslie had many fair admirers. One registered parcel he opened carefully. It contained the gold locket and chain Nell Thanet had received on that happy Christmas morning. The chain was broken. He opened the locket, and in it lay a soft curl of goldenbrown. On the top lay a slip of paper with these words, "Only a promise." With set mouth he pressed the spring of the inner case, and saw, what he had not expected, a smaller and darker lock, confined with golden thread.

With an imprecation, he thrust the trinket back into its case, and threw it into a box, into which he was putting some articles he had decided to leave behind him. The box was consigned to the care of a married sister in London.

In the afternoon he stopped at his club, on his way to his quarters, which he was to leave later to catch the mail-train for Portsmouth, at which place the troop-ship lay. There he gave some linal orders respecting his letters, and then, calling for some refreshment, sad down and read the memoi'anda in his pocket-book. He was preoccupied, and so did not note the company present.

In a few minutes his attention was aroused by the sound of voices in dispute. He was seated at a table in a window, in a conspicuous position. The persons wrangling were standing up, near the upper fire-place. Ho thought he recognized one, if not more of the voices, rose from his seat, and stood up under a chandelier in full relief. There was a gathering commotion in the room. "What is it, Barnes?" he asked of his friend, with whom he had lunched the previous day. "Oh, it's that confounded ass, the Baron, as he calls himself! He has been airing his gage d'armonr again, and some relative of the girl has called him over the coals. Thank goodness he's not my guest to-day!" "Who is it?" asked Lyon eagerly. "A Captain Kennett, I beleive. Jones knows him, and says he's not a man to be trifled with. If the Baron is game it'll end in a confounded row."

But the Baron was not game. From splutter and bluster he had descended to expostulation, and now his tone sounded abject.

Andrew stood over against him, flourishing excitedly a small box in one hand, and in the other a very suggestive cane. ,"Eat your words, you scoundrel," cried, "or I'll give you the soundest thrashing you've had yet! What is it your saying—that you didn't know I was here, or you'd not have touched on family matters? You con­

founded rascal!"—and down came the cane on the deprecatory Baron's shoulders.

Before it could be wrested from hlj hand, Andrew Kennett had been as good as his word, and for many a day the illustrious foreigner, as a correspondent in a sporting weekly termed the Baron, would carry a stinging reminder on his back of an English gentleman's abhorrence of a slanderous lie.

When the cane was rescued at last, the Baron had struggled free from Andrew's fierce grasp, and now stood, foaming with rage and livid with fear. "There is my card," he cried, throwing it at the castigator's feet. "Gentlemen in my country fight with swords and pistols, not with brutal sticks. I challenge you at Boulogne." "Gentlemen," cried Andrew, now cool and contemptuous, recovering his cane with a sudden movement—"gentlemen suit their weapons to their foes and, snapping the instrument of punishment in two, ho llung the pieces in his craven adversary's face. "And, take my advice, my man. When you try the broken English dodge again, be more careful of your cockney."

Like vernim at bay, the Baron showed his teeth as he made a futile grasp at the small box containing the link of his unlucky boast, which Andrew was about to place in his pocket. "You teef," he screamed. "Dat is mine!"

A well-directed blow from Andrew's nervous fist, and then the Baron sprawled on his back.

There was a lull, as of surprise and bewilderment. The club was not used to such episodes it was evidently at fault what to do.

The Baron struggled to his feet unassisted not a hand was stretched to help him. An intuitive feeling prevailed that the "illustrious foreigner" had somehow only met with his deserts. More than one member with whom ho had lately been associated at Tattersallis and Newmarket was doubtful of him, and, but that he had hitherto met all his engagements honorably, would have given him a wide birth. Whether he were a Baron or not they did not care to inquire foreign titles Avere easy of purchase and, if he were not to the manner born, in either country or status, what did it matter to their purpose—reciprocity in the game of chance and finesse'} He had come accredited by one or two well-known names in foreign sporting circles, had visited at the Duke of Nobble's and Lord Scratcher's but then these eminent patrons of the turf were not nice to a fault in their social patronage. However, all in all, the man had been lacquered by society, and they had not been compromised by his acquaintance—hitherto.

As the Baron regained his feet, Andrew, pushing aside the members who would have interfered, strode up to his adversary, and, in a voice audible only to the ears for which it was intended, said— "Another word, and I place the matter in the hands of the police they'll soon find out how you came by this"— and he touched the pocket containing the cause of the disturbance—"and make you produce your baptismal certificate too." "I will 'ave nothing more to say to you," cried the Baron, quickly striding towards the door. "I will send a friend in de morning and, with an alacrity that called forth a hearty laugh from the excited assemblage, he disappeared. "Gentlemen," said Andrew, when quiet was restored, "I feel I owe you some explanation, and myself too. The lady's name in question is that of my cousin, and the Baron's statements a tissue of lies. I have been a member of this club for some years now, and I think it is pretty well known that I am incapable of making unfounded statements."

A murmur of expressed assent. "If however the Baron can prove that he is who and what he represents himself to be, or even obtain the services of a gentleman, I shall be ready to give him the satisfaction of a gentleman."

With these few words, Andrew departed, with the undisguised sympathy and approval of every member of the club present.

As he passed out he came face to face with Lyon Leslie. They had had slight acquaintanceship with each other, and were connected by the ties of blood but, as if by a mutual and aggressive monition they looked each other defiantly in the face, and passed without a sign of recognition. But, while the one felt that he could have torn a certain tiny link and the heart near which it lay from it's possessor's breast, and the other that ho fain would have pieced together the avenging cane and laid it with a will on his relative's stalwart shoulders, both knew that their rage was futile, and that it's expression could only be compromising, rot only to their own names, but to that of the girl they both loved so differently in degree. While Andrew Kennett felt as one might feel who had rescued a human life in peril,inatcly satisfied and grateful for the opportunity, Lyon Leslie experienced an irritating sensation of relative smallness to his cousin, and an exasperating conviction that at the bar of honor he would lie awarded as little quarter as the Baron and once more he assigned country quarters to a very far country indeed.

The Baron did send a fire-eating challenge by the hands of the Honorable Ilandycap Weltcher but, Captain Kennett taking exception to that personage on the grounds that he did not fulfill the requirements he had stipulated for in the person of a second. namely those of a gentleman, he having been ejected from one wellknown club and black-balled at two others for certain equivocal practices in the ring, nothing came of it and tho Baron, protesting that he had been

unfairly treated because he was a foreigner and his opponent one big bully and coward, withdrew into privacy for the nonce.

And on Valentine's day, at its close, Nell Thanet received a surprise, mysterious, and not altogether agreeable. The last post of the day, brought her a small registered parcel containing the missing link of the chain, which with its magnificent locket, was now ignominiously boxed up with sundry debris of possessions left behind by its double-minded donor, Lyon Leslie.

It was vain to torture her mind she could as little account for its appearance now as for its disappearance those few weeks back. The papers had apprised her of the imminent departure of her recreant lover, and she did not know, nor did she care to ask, in what manner a communication could reach him before the troopship should sail so, not perhaps altogether loath, she kept the fragile token of a broken faith, stored it away in a place by itself, said nothing about it to Randall, and straightway pursued her task of trying to forget.

CHAPTER YI.

Seven years after the events detailed, No. 2, in Sun street, Mayfair, a perfect little bijou of a house, opened its doors to new tenants. The brassplate on the door announced the joint names of Randall Thanet, M. D., and Doctor Helen Thanet.

It soon became known that the new doctor had associated with him, as coadjutor, when practicable, his sister, now that anomalous thing, a female physician. Rumor spoke highly of the young lady's talents she had come out first in each examination she had gone through, and, though put to the question separate from the male students, it was said that she had shown far higher capabilities than any one man of her year, and had astonished, if not put to shame, the examiners themselves. She had qualified for a degree with the greatest apparent ease, and the separate papers she had submitted on technical subjects, particularized operations, and on abstract and practical diagnoses, were held to be worthy of advanced medical scientists, and models of elegance, clearness and terseness.

An eminent authority was credited with the observation that it was well that opinion was emancipating the weaker sex, as it had shown itself capable of producing a Helen Thanet.

It had been a brave spirit that had borne the burden of those seven crucial years but their tale was written on the pale young face and in the great mournful eyes. Not that Nell looked old before her time—only grave and wise beyond her years. It was noticed too, that, though she often smiled, she never laughed. To her, the years had passed rapidly, if uneventfully. Only the Christmas tides she and her brother had spent at their home in Thorpe in summer vacations they had rambled together over unfrequented tracts abroad, through wilds in Norseland, mountain clefts in Switzerland, and pleasant by-ways in southern plains. Many a bright page of adventure and poetic description were the outcome of these desultory rambles, contributed by Randall's facile and graceful pen to the magazines of the day.

Both in summer and in winter Nell wore serge, the same always in color, but differing in quality. A narrow linen collar encircled her throat, round which a jacket bodice fastened closely the skirt was always short and plain, save for some rows of braid. Her hair was kept in a close-crop, turning up slightly at the end in incipient curl. Her hands were always full, but never of needlework, or especially of feminine work of any kind but she was seldom without either her work or her sketch-book, or a work on some interesting topic of the day. Graver studies she never approached in her holidays.

This summer their ramble had been short and now—the latter end of August, just when the country was at its lovliest—they returned to murmurous dreary London, and entered on their new habitation.

Small as the house was, it was so arranged that the brother and sister had their separate consulting rooms, Nell's, at vacant hours, doing duty as dining room.

Before the year was out, they had each an increasing list of patients, and it became necessary to set up a carriage. In a short time one was found to be insufficient and so a miniature brougham was added to the establishment for Nell's especial use.

But Nell's list increased more quickly than Randall's, and sometimes, which Nell never did, he lost a patient —once, when he had left by accident a sonnet instead of a prescription, when the patient, being an elderly spinster, and the sonnet, to Autumn leaves, was not to be mollified, and once for adducing the theory to a gouty stockbroker that abstract studies were more elevating to moral nature than practical occupations. "The fellow's a fool!" roared irate City man to his wife, not altogether unjustifiably from a self-interest point of view. "Send him a cheque and dismiss him"—which was done.

It was nearing Christmas, which they were pledged to spend at Nettlethorpe Hall. Their holiday of necessity would be short—just three days. It would be their first visit to the old place since their memorable one of seven winters back. The girls were no longer in maidenhood—all had married. Janet had rrtet her fate in an austere curate, now inducted into country living within range of the Hall but Edward Wylen was not austere to Janet, and her life was full.

Andrew, who had been in Canada with his regiment, was expected on Christmas Eve. Nell was curious to see him again. He was now Sir Andrew Kennett, and though not much better off in the way of earthly possessions, had won some distinction in

Africa, and was a major and a C. B. She did not know what had become of Lyon Leslie. He too had distinguished himself in India but, when she had last looked for his name in the army list^ it was no longer there, and there was no one she knew whom she could ask for particulars of his career. He was not dead, of that she was sure but he was dead to her her youth was buried with him.

When the servants had gone the family drew around the great Yule fire in the dining-room, They had much to ask each other, and much to tell. "What became of Stubbs?" asked Randall of Squire Nettlethorpe, referring to the stud groom who had held rule in the stables when he was last at the Hall. "He left you, did he not, after that affair about Nettle?" "Yes. I could bring nothing against him. The horse, as you know, was ma'jchless, and won all before him at everything he was entered for, the same year he lost the Derby but I felt, and still feel, Stubbs played me false." "Poor Stubbs!" said Janet. "He is very ill, I believe. He has been trainer to the Duke ever since and Edward"—naming her husband—"has been attending him. He received the sacrament yesterday." "Yes," added Mr. Wylden "and he has begged me to ask 'Miss Nell,' as he still calls your fair cousin"—addressing that young lady—"to go and see him. He has some notion that you can cure him, I fancy—at least he said he had head that you were going to be made the Queen's physician."

They all laughed and Nell said she would go the next morning after church. "That man who called himself the Baron von Melkenburg," said Nell, after a short reverie, "won a large sum at that Derby, did he not?" "Was Stubbs flush of cash afterwards?" asked Randall. "I don't know—you never do know these things—it is a network of villainy. After that year, I withdrew from the turf and sold all my breeding stock. But I have Nettle still. I didn't much care I never could have bred another Nettle."

Then the door was thrown open, and Andrew appeared. He was covered with snowliakes, and brought in with him a wintry atmosphere. After the hearty greetings had a little subsided, greetings in which he gained a kiss all round, he turned to look at Nell, who, unembarrassed, had given him as hearty a welcome as any. "Why, Nell," he said, catching her hands and holding her back from him, "I expected to see you with velvet scull-cap and spectacles! I've had ague and a touch of fever but I wouldn't see a doctor I thought you'd like to practice on me, and here you are in silk and satin. Why, they told me you could cut off a limb as easily as you could sew on a button. You don't inspire me with confidcnce, I must say." "I never operate on cheek," she retorted, snatching free her hand and tapping him pretty smartly on tho feature specified. "Have you a cure for love?" he asks in a whisper. "I never meddle with chronic disease," she said. "I don't believe you'd understand it," he returned "there are some diseases one must have to understand." '.Then, physician, cure thyself," she laughed. "Have you followed that advice?" he asked.

She winced, and turned from him, with a pained look in her eyes. He saw he had touched on tender grouud, and repented.

For the rest of the night Nell was distraite he had touched a jarring chord, and the fine instrument was out of tune. But he could scarcely keep his eyes off her. Andrew Kennett felt, with a kind of hopeless pain, that she was farther from him than ever. Like a star, she had risen above his horizon, and her fair shining was not for him. When he had last seen her she was dressed in a faint shade of gold— he remembered now it became her bright young beauty to-night she wore dead-gold, with crimson roses in her breast, and no ornaments on her shapely head, from which the rich wavy tresses had disappeared, leaving only a thick short growth indicating slight curls at the ends. It was carelessly parted over tho low massive brow, which it covered like a shadow. There was power in the whole contour of the head and face, in every line of the graceful body but to Andrew Kennett she was simply his beautiful and well-loved cousin, the one woman in all the world who held his big heart in bondage, not the famous womandoctor of examination triumphs and honorable awards, of acknowledged skill in difficulty surgery, and keen insight in intricate diagnosis this was what she was to the world—only all the world to him.

Christmas morning dawned on a white world. All the night the snow had fallen heavily but the wind was keen north, and a severe frost had set in. In stout snow-boots, Nell took tho road after morning service to pay her promised visit to the sick groom. "Why doesn't Randall go?" Andrew asked his sister Janet. "I suppose he's a better doctor." "Then you suppose wrong. Why, Andrew, Nell's the most rising physician of the day, and poor Randall, as he says himself, is only an indifferent practitioner. He told me that, but for Nell, he'd have no practice at all. He tells her all his difficult cases and she advises him what to do. She has a large practice of her own. "It's not true, though, is it, that she practises surgery?" "No, unless in sudden cases, where other help is not forthcoming and these are rare, of course. She passed in Burgery, though, and came out of the examinations higher than any man

of her year. It was well to know everything that could be taught, she said but this special knowledge she keeps as reserve power. A more pitiful woman never lived but I have been told that her nerve is like iron, and her hand as firm as it is skilful. I don't think there's such another woman in the wide world, Andrew and to think that such a man as Lyon Leslie She stopped, as if betrayed into an indiscretion, "Janet, do you think she'd ever forget him enough to take me?" "To like—to love you, you mean?" "I mean what I say, neither more nor less—to take me." "Andrew, you really would never marry a woman who didn't love you— really love you?" "I tell you what, Janet I'd rather have Nell's half-heart than any other" woman's whole. She'd learn to love me she couldn't help it, for I should love her so." "When a woman's heart is full of one man, it has no vacant corner for another. Nell Thanet will never marry." "Well, I shall put her to the test but not yet." "Andrew, do you remember how angry you were when Lucy married John Drew? You said she did him a cruel injury because she did not love him." "No but because she loved some one else." "And are not the cases parallel?" "Not at all. If Nell marries me, she will give me perhaps not a very warm heart at first but there will be nobody else there. She is true and pure as Heaven itself. Lucy married for money and she has got her reward." "And a cool liking will content you! Oh, Andrew, how infinitely below women men are! No woman who loved as you love would be content with such a mockery—it would kill her. I am not speaking of women like Lucy—she is shallow by nature—but of women like Nell—and—and men like yourself."

Andrew made no reply. (TO BE CONTINUED.

Learning to be a Wet Nurse. A well known actress picked up a baby in her travels, and compassion moving her to adopt the waif, she advertised for a wet nurse. She says: "I believe every mother deserted her own child and came to apply. 'You'll kill that child if the wet nurse's milk is too old,' said one. 'If that woman's milk is too young, there won't be any nourishment in it, and your baby will fail,' said another. 'How can I tell?' I moaned. •Why get a doctor to get a nurse.' "I went and enlisted the servioes of a human lactometer, and the good work went on. The doctor visited the intelligence offices for wet nurses and related his experience. He questioned and examined several applicants, and finally came to a pretty German, sitting quietly by." "How old is your milk?" asked he. 'I haven't got any, said the girl. 'How old is your baby?' returned the doctor, thinking that Gretchen did not understand. 'I haven't got any baby," the girl replied. 'Good Lord! what are you here for?' cried the doctor. 'If you haven't got any baby, or got any milk, what are you doing here among the wet nurses?' 'I thought I might learn,' said she meekly. "So she has gone away to 'learn ,'

Altogether too Much So. She had married a handsome man. She was warned against him. All her young lady friends told her he was a flirt and gave her full account of what he had said to them, and how they could have had him if they had wanted, but they would not think of confiding their happiness to such a Jlirt. She was perverse and they were wedded.

A few months elapsed and she came to visit one of her prophet friends one day. "Are you happy?" the friend asked. "No, I'm not." "Well, dear, I'm sure I warned you but I. do hope you won't get a divorce." "Well, I don't know. If this goes on "Now don't be foolish. Men are always a little inconsistent, you know, and the best husband will go off and leave his wife occasionally and not explain—" "Explain! Go off and leave his wife! I wish he would. He's so devoted that he won't go out of my sight long enough for me to burn my old love letters."

A Remarkable Dream. A woman living in the eastern part of Detroit lost a fur collar last February, and though a thorough search was made for the missing article it was never found. Last week her husband dreamed that it was secreted under a shimp in a lot near his barn. The next night the dream occurred again, but the husband did not mention it to his family. The third time the dream was repeated, and at last, actuated more by curiosity than by faith, the man visited the field and found the stump. Brushing away some leaves he discovered a hole, and. placing his hand in it, to his surprise it came in contact with a furry substance, which he proceeded to pull out. Then he went home. The skunk escaped.

A Very Mean Man.

Mr. S.—"Toddler is a mighty mean man, that's what Toddler is!" Mrs. S.—"Why, what has he ever done to you?"

Mr. S.—"Bet me fifty dollars this afternooni that I couldn't hit a barn door with a revolver at live paces Taunted me into betting him, got me to put up the money, measured off the five paces in the presence of a lot of witnesses, gave me a revolver loaded and then set the door up edgewise!"

Suffering Seals.

Seal fishing is one of the greatest industries of the Newfoundland coast, their skins bringing fabulous prices as articles of wearing apparel, while the oil is useful for many purposes.

The dwellers of the frozen north make clothing, boats, tents and even cooking utensils from tho skin of seals, and use their oil and flesh for food.

These animals are among the mosl interesting of the animals that have their homes in the waters. They have great soft brown eyes that gaze at you with the innocent, wondering look one sees in the eyes of a calf, and long before commerce found use for the seal their intelligence and docility gave them a place in the folk lore of the north.

Scotland and the Scandinavian peoples gave birth to many charming legends, based on the belief that seals ofttimes transformed themselves into human shapes.

They are gentle creatures, easily domesticated and becoming very much attached to their human friends they are also very easily trained, learning all the tricks that dogs perform.

It is said that when distressed the seal not only gives voice to its sorrow in plaintive cries, but that great tears will roll from its eyes.

The Newfoundland seal fisheries furnish over 700,000 skins to commerce annually, and Alaska about a third that number and what is man's return for this revenue of money? Seals are cruelly killed. Off the Newfoundland coast they are skinned before life is extinct, despite their cries and writhings.

During the past spring over 500,000 of these poor creatures were captured and brought to Halifax and St. John, and all had been killed in a barbarously cruel manner. Such treatment merits the indignatian of the whole civilized world, and it is a pity that the age does not still believe tho old legends that would clothe the seals with power to return in other forms and to wreak vengeance on their persecutors and yet it seems that a man who could take the skin and fat from a living animal while its moans bespoke its anguish and its great eyes plead for pity would not listen to any spirit or living creature, or to the small voice within. —New Orleans Picayune.

The Great Map of the United States. When the map of the United States now in preparation by the Geological Survey is completed it will be a most creditable specimen of topographic art. Congress last winter for the first time distinctly recognized the survey, which for some years has been in progress, as the basis of this map, by making a separate appropriation of §200,000 to carry it on. These surveys, according to the Washington correspondence of the American Geographical Society, have now been completed in Massachusetts, Rhode Island,and New Jersey, and they are partly made in Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Maine and New Hampshire. The maps now in progress or completed are on a scale of one mile to the inch, and are engraved on copper. The expense of the completed surveys has been shared by the several states and the United States. It was recently announced that the topographic survey of Illinois and the surrounding states was about to begin. The maps of the central and southern portions of the country and also the Pacific slope will be on a scale of two miles to the inch, while in the thinly settled regions of the Rocky Mountains, the Great Basin, and the high Sierras the scale is four miles to the inch. When this great atlas can be gathered into volumes it will comprise 2,600 sheets, and for the first time civil engineers, students, and the general public will bo able to derive from these fine specimens of the map maker's art fairly correct and minute information concerning the hydrography of the country, the relief of its surface, and the exft''^ position of its towns.—New York Sun.

African Utilization of Civilized Articles. The savage who has recently been discovered in the depths of Africa proudly wearing in the lobe of his right ear a bishop that had strayed or been stolen from a set of chessmen is doubtless determined to utilize all the resources of civilization that come within' reach. Awhile ago an African chief was making a silver watch-case do duty as a tobacco-pouch, and another wore around his neck as his chief ornament the gilded knob of an explorer's tent pole. Even trousers can be utilized by the most scantily dressed natives, as was recently shown by a chief to whom a pair was presented with the request that he wear them. He appeared in public soon after with the garment carefully arranged over his shoulders.

Frenchified English.

Jinks—"Why do you call route 'rowt' It is from tho French, and the correct pronunciation is 'root.'

Blinks—"My deek-she-own-air gives both pro-none-she-a-she-owns."—New York Weekly.

•K: A New Species. "v Tramp—"Please, mum, won't you let me have

Housekeeper—"You git out, or I'll call the dog." "Have a piece of soap?" "Sakes alive! Come in and stay to dinner."—New York Weekly.