ral jagged dents in the boards.

"Say ma," urged Nickey in moving tones. "If I'd a pair of dumb-bells
like Mr. Maxwell's, I c'd hold onto 'em. I've pretty near smashed my
feet with them things--gosh darn it," he added ruefully, nursing the
bruised member under the clothes.

"I guess you can get 'em, next time you go to Martin's Junction; but
if it's exercise you want," his parent remarked unsympathetically,
"there's plenty of kindlin' in the woodshed wants choppin'."

She retired chuckling to herself, as she caught a glimmer of what was
working in her son's mind.

The "reading habit" having been inculcated by this lucky find at the
library, it was not long before Nickey acquired from the same source a
veritable collection of volumes on the polite arts and crafts--"The
Ready Letter-Writer"; "Manners Maketh Man"; "Seven Thousand Errors of
Speech;" "Social Culture in the Smart Set," and the like.

Nickey laboriously studied from these authorities how to enter a ball
room, how to respond to a toast at a dinner given in one's honor, how
to propose the health of his hostess, and how to apologize for
treading on a lady's train.

In the secrecy of his chamber he put into practice the helpful
suggestions of these invaluable manuals. He bowed to the washstand,
begged the favor of the next dance from the towel rack, trod on the
window shade and made the prescribed apology. Then he discussed the
latest novel at dinner with a distinguished personage; and having
smoked an invisible cigar, interspersed with such wit as accords with
walnuts and wine, after the ladies had retired, he entered the
drawing-room, exchanged parting amenities with the guests, bade his
hostess good night, and gracefully withdrew to the clothes-press.

Several times Hepsey caught glimpses of him going through the dumb
show of "Social Culture in the Smart Set," and her wondering soul was
filled with astonishment at his amazing evolutions. She found it in
her heart to speak of it to Mrs. Betty and Maxwell, and ask for their
interpretation of the matter.

So, one day, during this seizure of feverish enthusiasm for
self-culture, Hepsey and Nickey received an invitation to take supper
at the rectory. Nevertheless, Mrs. Burke thought it prudent to give
her son some good advice in regard to his behavior. She realized,
perhaps, that a book is good so far as it goes, but is apt to ignore
elementals. So she called him aside before they started:

"Now, Nickey,