Part 20 (1/2)

How to get along in the world. Walk.

A little girl visiting the country for the first time, saw a man milking. After looking a few minutes, she asked, ”Where do they put it in?”

When is a man thinner than a s.h.i.+ngle? When he's a-shaving.

What was the first carriage Was.h.i.+ngton ever rode in? When he took a _hack_ at the little cherry-tree.

What did Lot do when his wife became a pillar of salt? He got a fresh one.

”Mike,” asked a man, addressing a bow-legged friend, ”are them legs of yourn natural or artificial?” ”Artificial, me lad. I went up in a balloon, and walked back.”

GENERAL ITEMS.

Letters were received from Dr. Ward and family, that they are enjoying themselves in the Swiss mountains. Mamma is better. She says they have such funny little boys there.

Mr. Billy Ruggles is going to have a new s.h.i.+ny hat. Kenneth sat down on his other one, and it got all flattened out, and it looks like fury, and grandma says he can't wear it any more.

Bridget has a new dishpan.

Luke says he has forty-eight chickens.

Maggie Sampson's little donkey can't go nearly as fast as Mopsie and Charcoal Ward.

Mr. Simon has his summer stock of fresh red and white peppermints in. He won't have any chocolates till August, because he bought such a large stock in May.

There is to be a church sociable in the Methodist church. I wish auntie would condescend to let us go, for we haven't ever been to a Methodist sociable. I never went to any kind of a sociable.

Miss Hildegarde Genevieve Montague wishes to say that, if she was a boy, she doesn't think it would be any fun to cut up pieces of whalebones, and put them under the sheet in his sister's bed.

There will be a special and _very_ private meeting of the E. C.

in some _very_ secret place, to decide whether we will let the boys be honorary members or not. If they are elected honorary members, we will turn them out any time that they don't behave themselves very well indeed.

* FAME. *

THE END--FINIS.

The tail-piece was Cricket's ambitious flight of fancy. She drew a long breath and sat down, amid vigorous applause.

”That's very creditable, my little authorlings,” said auntie, encouragingly. ”Cricket, you did more than your share, I think, if you copied all that, and wrote a story and a poem beside.”

”I had them all thought before, auntie. I made up the poetry the day I was caught on the mud-flat. I love to think out stories.”

”Oh-h!” groaned Edna. ”How any one can think out stories just for fun, I _don't_ see. I'd almost rather fight skeeters. Mine's the stupidest story that ever was, but I don't believe I slept a wink for three nights, while I was making it up. You don't catch me writing any stories, girls, when I am editor.”

”I am afraid you weren't intended for an author, my dear,” said her mother, laughing.