so I tella de square ting." So he holda up hees litta hands lika dees, an' he calla "Tima!"

Den he says, "Fadda, I cutta de cherra tree weesa mia own litta hatchet!"

Hees fadda he say, "Coma to de barn weesa me! Litta Georga, I wanta speeka weesa you!"

Den hees fadda cutta big club, an' he spitta hees handa, lika dees!

Litta Georga say, "Fadda, I could notta tella de lie, because I knowa you caughta me deada to rights!"

Den de olda man he smila lika dees, an' he tooka litta Georga righta down to Wall Street, an' made him a present of de United States!

DA 'MERICANA GIRL

BY T. A. DALY

I gatta mash weeth Mag McCue,
An' she ees 'Mericana, too!

Ha! w'at you theenk? Now mebbe so,
You weell no calla me so slow

Eef som' time you can looka see
How she ees com' an' flirt weeth me.
Most evra two, t'ree day, my frand,
She stop by dees peanutta-stand
An' smile an' mak' do googla-eye
An' justa look at me an' sigh.
An' alla time she so excite'
She peeck som' fruit an' taka bite.
O! my, she eesa look so sweet
I no care how much fruit she eat.
Me? I am cool an' mak' pretand
I want no more dan be her frand;
But een my heart, you bat my life,
I theenk of her for be my wife.
To-day I theenk: "Now I weell see
How moocha she ees mash weeth me,"

An' so I speak of dees an' dat,
How moocha playnta mon' I gat,
How mooch I makin' evra day
An' w'at I spend an' put away.
An' den I ask, so queeck, so sly:
"You theenk som' pretta girl weell try
For lovin' me a leetla beet?"-

O! my! she eesa blush so sweet!-
"An' eef I ask her lika dees

For geevin' me a leetla keess,

You s'pose she geeve me wan or two?"
She tal me: "Twanty-t'ree for you!"
An' den she laugh so sweet, an' say:
"Skeeddoo! Skeeddoo!" an' run away.

She like so mooch for keessa me
She gona geev me twanty-t'ree!

I s'pose dat w'at she say-"skeeddoo"-
Ees alla same "I lova you."

Ha! w'at you theenk! Now, mebbe so
You weell no calla me so slow!

BECKY MILLER

ANONYMOUS

I don'd lofe you now von schmall little bit,
My dream vas blayed oudt, so blease git up and git,
Your false-heardted vays I can't got along mit-
Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

Vas all der young vomans so false-heardted like you,
Mit a face so bright, but a heart black and plue,
Und all der vhile schworing you lofed me so drue—
Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

Vy, vonce I t'ought you vas a shtar vay up high;

I like you so better as gogonut bie;

But oh, Becky Miller, you hafe profed von big lie-
Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

You dook all de bresents vat I did bresent,
Yes, gobbled up efery virst thing vot I sent;
All der vhile mit anoder rooster you vent-

Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

Vhen first I found oudt you vas such a big lie,
I didn't know vedder to schmudder or die;
Bud now, by der chingo, I don't efen cry—
Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

Don'd dry make belief you vas sorry aboudt,

I don'd belief a dings vot comes oudt by your moudt;
Und besides I don'd care, for you vas blayed oudt-
Go vay, Becky Miller, go vay!

P. S. (pooty short)-Vell, he dold Becky to go avay enough dimes, enner how. I dinks he vas an uckly vellow. Vell, berhaps dot serfs Becky choost right for daking bresents from von vellow, vhile she vas vinking her nose by anoder vellow.

PAT AND THE MAYOR

ANONYMOUS

An Irishman named Patrick Maloney, recently landed, called upon the mayor to see if he could give him a position on the police force. The mayor, thinking he would have some fun with him, said:

"Before I can do anything for you, you will have to pass a Civil Service examination."

"Ah, dthin," said Pat, "and pfhat is the Civil Sarvice?"

"It means that you must answer three questions I put to you, and if you answer them correctly I may be able to place you."

"Well," said Pat, "I think I can answer dthim if they're not too hard."

"The first question is, 'What is the weight of the moon?" "Ah, now, how can I tell you that? Shure and I don't know." "Well, try the second one, 'How many stars are in the sky?'" "Now you're pokin' fun at me. How do I know how many

stars there are in the shky?”

"Then try the third question, and if you answer it correctly I'll forgive you the others, 'What am I thinking of?"

"Pfhat are you thinkin' of? Shure, how can any man tell what you politicians are thinkin' about. Bedad I don't belave you know pfhat you're thinkin' about yourself. I guess I'll be lookin' for work ilsewhere, so good-day to you!"

The mayor called Pat back and told him not to be discouraged, but to go home and think about it, and if on the morrow he thought he could answer the questions to come down again and he would give him another chance.

So Pat went home and told his brother Mike about it, whereupon Mike said:

"Now you give me dthim clothes of yours and I'll go down and answer his questions for him."

So next morning Mike went down bright and early, and the mayor recognizing Patrick as he thought, said:

"Ah, good morning, Patrick. Have you really come back to answer those three questions I put to you yesterday?" "Yis, I have."

"Well the first question is, 'What is the weight of the moon?"" "The weight of the moon is one hundred pounds, twenty-five pounds to each quarther, four quarthers make one hundred." "Capital, Patrick, capital! Now the second question is, 'How many stars are in the sky?"

"How many shtars are in the shky? There are four billion, sivin million, noine hundred and thirty-two tousand and one." "Splendid, Patrick, splendid. Now look out for the last question which is, 'What am I thinking of?"

"Pfhat are you thinkin' of? Well I know pfhat you're thinkin' of. You're thinkin' I'm Pat, but you're tirribly mistakin'; I'm bis brother Mike!"

THE WIND AND THE MOON

BY GEORGE MACDONALD

Said the wind to the moon, "I will blow you out. You stare

In the air

Like a ghost in a chair,

Always looking what I am about;

I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."

The wind blew hard and out went the moon.

So, deep

On a heap

Of clouds, to sleep,

Down lay the wind, and slumbered soon-
Muttering low, "I've done for that moon."

He turned in his bed; she was there again!

On high

In the sky,

With her one ghost eye,

The moon shone white and alive and plain. Said the wind-"I will blow you out again."

The wind blew hard, and the moon grew dim. "With my sledge

And my wedge

I have knocked off her edge!

If only I blow right fierce and grim,

The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."