h terror and shouting for mercy. The landlord
of the hotel rushed out and seized me by the arm.

"'To the harbor!' he cried in my ear.

"Together we hurried down the narrow street. As we panted along, the
dark smoke whirled in our faces, and a dangerous shower of red-hot
cinders sizzled about us. Do you know, I don't believe I was ever so
homesick in all my life!"

"Homesick?" gasped the listener. "Homesick at a time like that?"

"Sure. I live in Pittsburg, you know."

PLAY

The mother heard a great commotion, as of cyclones mixed up with
battering-rams, and she hurried upstairs to discover what was the
matter. There she found Tommie sitting in the middle of the floor with a
broad smile on his face.

"Oh, Mama," said he delightedly, "I've locked Grandpa and Uncle George
in the cupboard, and when they get a little angrier I am going to play
Daniel in the lion's den."

PLEASURE

BILLY--"Huh! I bet you didn't have a good time at your birthday party
yesterday."

WILLIE--"I bet I did."

BILLY--"Then why ain't you sick today?"

Winnie had been very naughty, and her mamma said: "Don't you know you
will never go to Heaven if you are so naughty?"

After thinking a moment she said: "Oh, well, I have been to the circus
once and 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' twice. I can't expect to go everywhere."

In Concord, New Hampshire, they tell of an old chap who made his wife
keep a cash account. Each week he would go over it, growling and
grumbling. On one such occasion he delivered himself of the following:

"Look here, Sarah, mustard-plasters, fifty cents; three teeth extracted,
two dollars! There's two dollars and a half in one week spent for your
own private pleasure. Do you think I am made of money?"

Here's to beauty, wit and wine and to a full stomach, a full purse and a
light heart.

A dinner, coffee and cigars,
Of friends, a half a score.
Each favorite vintage in its turn,--
What man could wish for more?

The roses of pleasure seldom last long enough to adorn the brow of him
who plucks them; for they are the only roses which do not retain their
sweetness after they have lost their beauty.--_Hannah More_.

_See also_ Amusements.

POETRY

Poetry is a gift we are told, but most editors won't take it even at
that.

POETS

EDITOR--"Have you submitted this poem anywhere else?"

JOKESMITH--"No, sir."

EDITOR--"Then where did you get that black eye?"--_Sati