so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!"

Then he sat down, looking for his hat-for things seemed squally. But the people cried, "Go on! Go on!" and some applauded. Dennis still confused, but flattered by the applause, rose again, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you like it." Which, alas! should only be said when complimented on a sermon. My best friends stared, and people who didn't know me yelled with delight. A boy in the gallery cried out: "It's all a humbug!" just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, and tried No. 4: "I agree in general with my friend on the other side of the room." The poor governor, doubting his senses, crossed to stop him, but too late. The same gallery boy shouted: "How's your mother?" And Dennis, completely lost, tried as his last shot No. 1: "Very well, thank you; and you?" The audience rose in a whirl of excitement. Some other impertinence from the gallery was aimed at Dennis; he broke all restraint and to finish undoing me, he called out: "Any wan o' ye blatherin' rascals that wants to fight, can come down an' I'll take any five o' yez, single-handed; ye're all dogs and cowards! Sure an' I've said all his riverance an' the mistress bade me say!"

That was all; my double had undone me.

Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Co., Boston, Mass.

ROMANCE OF A HAMMOCK

ANONYMOUS

Shady tree-babbling brook,
Girl in hammock-reading book.

Golden curls-tiny feet,

Girl in hammock-looks so sweet.

Man rides past-big mustache,

Girl in hammock-makes a "mash."

"Mash" is mutual-day is set, Man and maiden-married get.

Married now a year and a day,
Keeping house in Avenue A.

Red-hot stove-beefsteak frying,
Girl got married-cooking trying.

Cheeks all burning eyes look red,
Girl got married-almost dead.

Biscuit burnt up-beefsteak charry,
Girl got married-awful sorry.

Man comes home-tears mustache,
Mad as blazes-got no cash.

Thinks of hammock-in the lane;
Wishes maiden-back again.

Maiden also thinks of swing,

And wants to go back, too, poor thing!

Hour of midnight-baby squawking; Man in bare feet-bravely walking;

The baby yells-now the other

Twin, he strikes up-like his brother.

Paregoric-by the bottle

Poured into the baby's throttle.

Naughty tack-points in air,

Waiting some one's-foot to tear.

Man in bare feet-see him there!
O my gracious!-hear him swear!

Raving crazy-gets his gun
Blows his head off-dead and gone.

Pretty widow-with a book

In the hammock-by the brook.

Man rides past-big mustache;
Keeps on riding-nary "mash."

FINNIGIN TO FLANNIGAN

BY S. W. GILLINAN

Superintindent wuz Flannigan;

Boss av the siction wuz Finnigin;
Whiniver the kyars got offen the thrack,

An' muddled up things t' th' divil an' back,
Finnigin writ it to Flannigan,

Afther the wrick wuz all on ag'in;

That is, this Finnigin

Repoorted to Flannigan.

Whin Finnigin furst writ to Flannigan,
He writed tin pages-did Finnigin,
An' he tould jist how the smash occurred;
Full minny a tajus, blunderin' wurrd
Did Finnigin write to Flannigan
Afther the cars had gone on ag'in.
That wuz how Finnigin
Repoorted to Flannigan.

Now Flannigan knowed more than Finnigin-
He'd more idjucation, had Flannigan;
An' it wore'm clane an' complately out
To tell what Finnigin writ about
In his writin' to Muster Flannigan.
So he writed back to Finnigin:
"Don't do sich a sin ag'in;

Make 'em brief, Finnigin!"

Whin Finnigin got this from Flannigan,
He blushed rosy rid, did Finnigin;

An' he said: "I'll gamble, a whole month's pa-ay
That it will be minny an' minny a da-ay
Befoore Sup'rintindint-that's Flannigan-
Gits a whack at this very same sin ag'in.
From Finnigin to Flannigan
Repoorts won't be long ag'in."

Wan da-ay, on the siction av Finnigin,
On the road sup'rintinded by Flannigan,
A rail gave way on a bit av a curve,

An' some kyars went off as they made the swerve.
"There's nobody hurted," sez Finnigin,
"But repoorts must be made to Flannigan."
An' he winked at McCorrigan,

As married a Finnigin.

He wuz shantyin' thin, wuz Finnigin,
As minny a railroader's been ag'in,

An' the shmoky ol' lamp wuz burnin' bright
In Finnigin's shanty all that night—

Bilin' down his repoort, was Finnigin!
An' he writed this here: "Muster Flannigan:
Off ag'in, on ag'in,

Gone ag'in-Finnigin."

From Life, by courtesy of the publishers.

AN INTRODUCTION

BY MARK TWAIN

"Ladies-and-gentlemen:-By-the request of the Chairman of the Com-mit-tee-I beg leave to-introduce-to youthe reader of the evening-a gentleman whose great learningwhose historical ac-curacy-whose devotion-to science-andand-whose veneration for the truth-are only equaled by his high moral character-and-his-majestic presence. I alludein these vague general terms-to my-self. I-am a little opposed to the custom of ceremoniously introducing a reader to the audience, because it seems-unnecessary-where the man has been properly advertised! But ass-it is the custom-I prefer to make it myself-in my own case-and then I can rely on getting in-all the facts! I never had but one introduction-that seemed to me just the thing-and the gentleman was not acquainted with me, and there was no nonsense. Ladies and gentlemen, I shall waste no time in this introduction. I know of only two facts about this man: first, he has never been in the state prison; and second, I can't imagine why."

THE HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS

A Hard-shell Baptist Sermon

BY JOSHUA S. MORRIS

(This characteristic effusion first appeared in a New Orleans paper. The sermon is supposed to have been preached at a village on the bank of the Mississippi River, whither the volunteer parson had brought his flatboat for the purpose of trade.)

I may say to you, my brethring, that I am not an edicated man, an' I am not one of them as beleeves that edication is necessary for a Gospel minister, for I beleeve the Lord edicates his preachers jest as He wants 'em to be edicated; an' altho I say it that oughtn't to say it, yet in the State of Indianny, whar I live, thar's no man as gits bigger congregations nor what I gits.