er didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with putting on
his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his umbrella and
getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home and having damp
feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he hadn't died years
ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of Methuselah he would
know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand around in mud puddles.
She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or leave him alone. When Mr.
Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away. When he moaned, she held his
hand. When he said he felt that the grim specter was near, and wanted to
kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him with the prediction that he would
be a great deal better next day.

Mr. Bowser didn't get up next day, though the doctor said he could. He
lay in bed and sighed and uttered sorrowful moans and groans. He wanted
toast and preserves; he had to have help to turn over; he worried about
a relapse; he had to have a damp cloth on his forehead; he wanted to
have a council of doctors, and he read the copy of his last will and
testament over three times.

Mr. Bowser was all right next morning, however. When Mrs. Bowser asked
him how he felt he replied:

"How do I feel? Why, as right as a trivet, of course. When a man takes
the care of himself that I do--when he has the nerve and will power I
have--he can throw off 'most anything. You would have died, Mrs. Bowser;
but I was scarcely affected. It was just a play spell. I'd like to be
real sick once just to see how it would seem. Cholera, I suppose it
was; but outside of feeling a little tired, I wasn't at all affected."

And the dutiful Mrs. Bowser looked at him and swallowed it all and never
said a word to hurt his feelings.

ALPHABET OF CELEBRITIES

BY OLIVER HERFORD

E is for Edison, making believe
He's invented a clever contrivance for Eve,
Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve.

O is for Oliver, casting aspersion
On Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian,
Though secretly longing to join the diversion.

R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in F
To Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf.

S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true,
The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo,
Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou,
And Socrates, all with the same end in view.

W's Wagner, who sang and played lots,
For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watt