n love is done.

_Francis W. Bourdillon._

CURE FOR A NAGGING WIFE.

Having advertised as a widower in search of Wife No. 2, a man of St. Gall,
Switzerland, showed the fifty replies and photographs which he had
received to his wife, and, stating that if she did not want him there were
others who did, he effectively cured her of her "nagging" habits.--_Le
Petit Parisien._

A RICH RETORT.

It is said of the late Marquis of Townsend that when a young man and
engaged in battle, he saw a drummer at his side killed by a cannon ball,
which scattered his brains in every direction. His eyes were at once fixed
on the ghastly object, which seemed to engross his thoughts.

A superior officer observing him, supposed he was intimidated by the
sight, and addressed him in a manner to cheer his spirits.

"Oh," said the young marquis, with calmness but severity, "I am not
frightened; I am only puzzled to make out how any man with such a quantity
of brains ever came to be here!"--_Old scrap book._

GREELEY ON JOURNALISM.

Horace Greeley's favorite poem of his own make was:

Man's a vapor,
Full of woes;
Starts a paper--
Up she goes!

JUST AROUND THE CORNER.

Lloyd Osbourne says that Robert Louis Stevenson once invited a friend to
visit him in Samoa. His friend replied that nothing would give him
greater pleasure, if he could secure the leisure to do so.

"By the way, Louis," added he, "how do you get to Samoa, anyhow?"

"Oh, easily," responded Stevenson, "you simply go to America, cross the
continent to San Francisco, and it's the second turning to the
left."--_Woman's Home Companion._

THE ANGEL'S KINDNESS.

The recording angel suddenly put his fingers in his ears.

"What was that for?" asked St. Peter, when they had been removed.

"Oh, I saw Brown's new derby hat blow off, just as he was getting on a
car," was the explanation of this kind-hearted action.--_Smart Set._

DUNBAR'S RESIGNATION.

Paul Laurence Dunbar, the negro poet, is dead. Incomparable in his
presentation of his race's language and thoughts, he occupied a unique
position in the literary world. W.D. Howells called him the only man of
pure African blood and of American civilization to feel the negro life
esthetically and express it lyrically. Last year, while he was dying of
consumption, he contributed to _Lippincott's_ this verse-sermon of
resignation:

Because I had loved so long,
God in his great