the banquet. He had the table-cloth on criss-cross, the butter on a pie-plate, the cake in the cheese dish, and his beef-steak was placed in the center of the table on a pie-tin.

Anything wrong?" he asked, as I sat down. "Oh, no. You have done splendidly."

"I am aware of it. This table has never looked so home-like before."

His biscuits were raw in the middle, while top and bottom were so wonderfully and fearfully made that I had to laugh.

"The biscuit: you can't beat 'em. Wait till you taste one."

I didn't taste, but he did. I was watching him, and a look of horror came over his face at the first mouthful. He wouldn't give in, however, but crowded a whole biscuit down, and pretended to enjoy it.

"I wouldn't eat any of that steak, Mr. Bowser," I said, as he eyed it suspiciously.

self."

"Wouldn't you? Perhaps you want it all your

"I don't think it is properly cooked."

"Well, I do! If that isn't a nice steak, then we never have had one in this house."

He ate at least a quarter of a pound, though every morsel choked him. I offered to wash up the dishes, but he put me out of the kitchen and went ahead. He washed everything together in the flour-pan, wiped them on whatever he could find loose, and it was a week before we got the pantry in order again. That night, after bragging of what a breakfast he was going to get, Mr. Bowser was taken with chills and colic, and when the doctor came and I showed him the beef and the biscuit, he said:

"Mr. Bowser, if you hadn't the stomach of a shark you'd have been dead an hour ago. You'd better quit this sort of nonsense if you want to live the year out."

And as soon as we were alone Mr. Bowser turned on me with:

"Don't expect me to shield you again! Your jealousy prompted you to put poison into that flour while I was down cellar! If this thing occurs again I will send you to the gallows!"

MISS EDITH HELPS THINGS ALONG.

BRET HARTE.

'My sister'll be down in a minute, and says you're to wait, if you please;

And says I might stay till she came, if I'd promise

her never to tease,

Nor speak till you spoke to me first. But that's nonsense; for how would you know What she told me to say, if I didn't?

really and truly think so?

Don't you

"And then you'd feel strange here alone. And you wouldn't know just where to sit;

For that chair isn't strong on its legs, and we never

use it a bit:

We keep it to match with the sofa; but Jack says it

would be like you

To flop yourself right down upon it, and knock out the very last screw.

"Suppose you try! I won't tell.

You're afraid to

Oh! you're afraid they would think it was mean! Well, then, there's the album: that's pretty, if you're

sure that your fingers are clean.

For sister says sometimes I daub it; but she only says that when she's cross.

There's her picture. You know it? It's like her; but she ain't as good-looking, of course.

"This is ME. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell me, you'd never have thought

That once I was little as that? It's the only one that could be bought;

For that was the message to pa from the photographman where I sat,—

That he wouldn't print off any more, till he first got his money for that.

"What? Maybe you're tired of waiting. Why, often she's longer than this.

There's all her back hair to do up, and all of her front curls to friz.

But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown

people, just you and me!

Do you think you'll be coming here often? Oh, do! But don't come like Tom Lee,

"Tom Lee, her last beau. Why, my goodness! he used to be here day and night,

Till the folks thought he'd be her husband; and Jack says that gave him a fright

You won't run away then, as he did? for you're not a rich man, they say.

Pa says you're poor as a church-mouse. Now, are

you, and how poor are they?

"Ain't you glad that you met me? Well, I am; for I know now your hair isn't red;

"But what there is left of it's mousy, and not what that naughty Jack said.

But there! I must go: sister's coming! But I wish I could wait, just to see

If she ran up to you, and kissed you, in the way she used to kiss Lee."

BILLY GRIMES, THE DROVER.
"To-morrow, ma, I'm sweet sixteen,
And Billy Grimes, the drover,
Has popped the question to me, ma,
And wants to be my lover;
To-morrow morn, he says, mamma,
He's coming here quite early,
To take a pleasant walk with me
Across the field of barley."

"You must not go, my daughter dear,
There's no use now a-talking;
You shall not go across the field
With Billy Grimes a-walking.
To think of his presumption, too,
The dirty, ugly drover!

I wonder where your pride has gone,

To think of such a lover!"

"Old Grimes is dead, you know, mamma,

And Billy is so lonely;

Besides, they say, to Grimes' estate,

That Billy is the only

Surviving heir to all that's left;

And that they say is nearly

A good ten thousand dollars, ma-
And quite six hundred yearly!"

"I did not hear, my daughter dear,
Your last remark quite clearly,
But Billy is a clever lad,

And no doubt loves you dearly;
Remember then, to-morrow morn,
To be up bright and early,
To take a pleasant walk with him
Across the field of barley!"

THROUGH THE TUNNEL

Riding up from Bangor,
On the "Eastern" train,
From a six weeks shooting
In the woods of Maine;
Quite extensive whiskers,
Beard, mustache as well,
Sat a "student fellow,"

Tall, and fine, and swell.

Empty seat behind him,
No one at his side;
To a pleasant station

Now the train doth glide,

Enter aged couple,

Take the hinder seat.
Enter gentle maiden,

Beautiful, petite.

Blushingly she falters,

"Is this seat engaged?" (See the aged couple Properly enraged); Student, quite ecstatic,

Sees her ticket's "through, Thinks of the long tunnel

Thinks what he might do.