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excitable. Chooker,-yes, he is one of the Chookers. Young people come off the stairs. Sh! I have very great pleasure in introducing to you Mr. Chooker."

Mr. Chooker came forward with a malicious look, which seemed to say, "You all seem to be very happy,-very jolly, and enjoying yourselves. Just wait a bit. I am about to recite a little poem of my own entitled, "The Triple Suicide!'

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Then came the boy of the family, a kind of child prodigy, who, after giving a low and jerky bow, recited as follows: (Here impersonate a boy in awkward style.)

"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; there was dearth of woman's tears.'' (Stops.)

"The women were crying, you know. Some were crying and others were weeping. Those that weren't weeping were crying!" (Pauses, then bows low, and begins again.)

"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;

But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed awaywhile his life-blood ebbed away,-while his life-blood ebbed away

"His blood was flowing along, you know. There was blood here and there. There was blood spattered over everything, and(Pauses long, bows low, and begins again with great determination and in loud voice.)

"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;

But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away,ebbed away,-ebbed away (gradually begins to cry),—ebbed away (as if speaking to someone at the side)-eh?" (Exits slowly with hands at eyes silently weeping.)

The young miss of the family, recently graduated, next gave an original poem entitled "The Hen," as follows:

"Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!-
For the hen is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

"Life is real, life is earnest,
And the shell is not its pen,
Egg thou wert and egg remainest,
Was not spoken of the hen.

"In the world's broad field of battle,
In the great barnyard of life,
Be not like those lazy cattle,
Be a rooster in the strife.

"Lives of roosters all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And when roasted leave behind us
Hen-tracks on the sands of time.

"Hen-tracks that perhaps another chicken
Drooping idly in the rain,

Some forlorn and henpecked brother,
When he sees shall crow again.''

The gem of the evening, however, was a recitation given in fine style by Mr. Chillingworth Chubb. He had rather a husky voice and a wooden arm. His memory, moreover, was defective. The effect of his wooden arm, which was made to perform the various actions of a real one, was highly amusing. (Here the reciter may use "Excelsior," "The Speech of Mark Antony,” or some similar selection. The left arm represents the wooden one. The hand should wear a right-hand, white kid glove, put on wrong way round with the finger-tips screwed into points. The arm should be assisted in all its movements by the right one. It should be made to move in a jerky and unnatural manner at all its joints. A violent push at the elbow raises it suddenly aloft,

and it is brought again to the side by a tremendous slap from the right hand. Finally, the arm appears to get out of order, and moves violently in all directions, until at last the right hand, after vainly trying to reach it, pins it down to a table or to some other object. This imitation requires considerable practise, but when properly done never fails to send an audience into fits of laughter.)

BOUNDING THE UNITED STATES

BY JOHN FISKE

Among the legends of our late Civil War there is a story of a dinner-party, given by the Americans residing in Paris, at which were propounded sundry toasts concerning not so much the past and present as the expected glories of the American nation. In the general character of these toasts, geographical considerations were very prominent, and the principal fact which seemed to occupy the minds of the speakers was the unprecedented bigness of our country."

"Here's to the United States!" said the first speaker,-"bounded on the north by British America, on the south by the Gulf of Mexico, on the east by the Atlantic Ocean, and on the west by the Pacific Ocean!" "But," said the second speaker, "this is far too limited a view of the subject, and, in assigning our boundaries, we must look to the great and glorious future, which is prescribed for us by the manifest destiny of the Anglo-Saxon race. Here's to the United States!-bounded on the north by the North Pole, on the east by the rising, and on the west by the setting, sun!"

Emphatic applause greeted the aspiring prophecy. But here arose the third speaker, a very serious gentleman, from the far West. "If we are going," said this truly patriotic gentleman, "to lessen the historic past and present, and take our manifest destiny into account, why restrict ourselves within the narrow limits assigned by our fellow countryman who has just sat down? I give you the United States!-bounded on the north by the Aurora Borealis, on the south by the precession of the equinoxes, on the east by the primeval chaos, and on the west by the Day of Judgment !"

DER DOG UND DER LOBSTER

ANONYMOUS

Dot dog, he vas dot kind of dog
Vot ketch dot ret so sly,

Und squeeze him mit his leedle teeth,
Und den dot ret vas die.

Dot dog, he vas onquisitive

Vereffer he vas go,

Und like dot voman, all der time,
Someding he vants to know.

Von day, all by dot market stand,
Vere fish und clams dey sell,
Dot dog vas poke his nose aboud
Und find out vot he smell.

Dot lobster, he vas dook to snooze
Mit vone eye open vide,

Und ven dot dog vas come along,
Dot lobster he vas spied.

Dot dog, he smell him mit his noze
Und scratch him mit his paws,
Und push dot lobster all aboud,
Und vonder vat he vas.

Und den dot lobster, he voke up,
Und crawl yoost like dot snail,
Und make vide open ov his claws,
Und grab dot doggie's tail.

Und den so quick as neffer vas,
Dot cry vent to der sky,

Und like dot swallows vot dey sing,
Dot dog vas homevard fly.

Yoost like dot thunderbolt he vent-
Der sight vas awful grand,
Und every street dot dog vas turn,
Down vent dot apple-stand.

Der children cry, der vimmin scream,
Der mens fell on der ground,
Und dot boliceman mit his club
Vas novare to pe found.

I make dot run, und call dot dog,
Und vistle awful kind;

Dot makes no different vot I say,
Dot dog don't look pehind.

Und pooty soon dot race vas end,
Dot dog vas lost his tail-
Dot lobster, I vas took him home,
Und cook him in dot pail.

Dot moral vas, I tole you 'boud,
Pefore vas neffer known-
Don't vant to find out too much tings
Dot vasn't ov your own.

HE LAUGHED LAST

ANONYMOUS

A young man was sitting in the Grand Central Depot the other day, holding a baby in his arms, when the child began to cry so lustily as to attract the attention of everyone around him. By and by a waiting passenger walked over to him with a smile of pity on his face and said:

"A woman gave you that baby to bold while she went to see about her baggage, didn't she?"

"Yes."

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