nt his Barn and that he was a Candidate for the
Boycott. He put in an Hour squaring himself and then he turned to the
Stenographer.

"How far have we got?" he asked.

"'Dear Sir,'" was the Reply.

[Illustration: _The Committee._]

Just then he got the Last Straw--a bewildered Rufus with a Letter of
Introduction. That took 40 Minutes. When Rufe walked out, the Busy Man
fell with his Face among the unanswered Letters.

"Call a Cab," he said.

"The 'Phone is out of order," was the Reply.

"Ring for a Messenger," he said.

She pulled the Buzzer and in 20 minutes there slowly entered a boy
from the Telegraph Office.

The Man let out a low Howl like that of a Prairie Wolf and ran from
the Office. When he arrived at Home he threw his Hat at the Rack and
then made the Children back into the Corner and keep quiet. His Wife
told around that Henry was Working too hard.

* * * * *

MORAL: Work is a Snap, but the Intermissions do up the Nervous System.

* * * * *

_THE SICKLY DREAM AND HOW IT WAS DOCTORED UP_

One Day a pure white Soul that made Sonnets by hand was sitting in
his Apartment embroidering a Canto. He had all the Curtains drawn and
was sitting beside a Shaded Candle waiting for the Muse to keep her
Appointment. He wore an Azure Dressing-Gown. Occasionally he wept,
drying his Eyes on a Salmon Pink Handkerchief bordered with yellow
Morning Glories. Any one could tell by looking at him that he was a
delicate Organism and had been raised a Pet.

Presently he put his left Hand to his Brow and began to indite with a
pearl-handled Pen on Red Paper. Then there was a Ring at the Bell.

"Oh, Fudge!" said the Author. "That distressing Sound! And just when
I was beginning to generate Ethereal Vapor. Hereafter I shall order
the vulgar Tradespeople to deliver all Marshmallows at the Servants'
Entrance."

He began to write again, reviving himself at the end of each Word,
by means of Smelling Salts. He did not see the Artist standing in the
Doorway.

The Artist was a muscular Person with an Ashen Complexion and a Suit
that was not large enough to show the entire Pattern. He carried a
Bludgeon with a Horse's Head on it. In order to attract the Attention
of Mr. Swinburne, he whistled through his Teeth, whereupon the
Author jumped over the Table and fell among the Rugs, faintly calling
"Mother! Mother!"

"Cut it out!" exclaimed the Artist. "Wha