as twins!"

Ye might kill me without warnin'--
Lay me out there on the shelf--
For a sight of ye that mornin',
Throwin' bookays at yerself!
Faix! ye thought ye had a cinch there,
An' begob! so well ye might,
For not even with the Frinch there,
Twins like thim come every night!

Francis, aisy now an' listen
To yer mother's brother James--
Whin the twins ye go to christen,
Don't ye give thim fancy names--
Irene--Edith--Gladys--Mavis--
Cecil Rhodes an' Percival--
If it 's names like that, Lord save us!
Don't live close to the canal!

Michael Whalen of St. Lambert
Had a boy some years ago--
Called him Clarence Montizambert--
Where he got it I dunno--
Monty used to have a brother
(_He_ was Marmaduke Fitzjames),
Killed himself some way or other
Thryin' to pronounce his names!

Bet was three times in a minute,
An' he thrained hard for the same,
But the lad was never in it--
Tho' they tell me he died game!
Well, sir!--Monty grew the height of
Fin McCool or Brian Boru--
Truth I 'm tellin', but in spite of
Ev'rything poor Mike could do--

Divil a dacint situation
Monty got, but dhrive a hack,
At the Bonaventure station--
'T was the name that kept him back--
Till his friend, John Reilly, tould him,
"Change the haythen name for Pat--"
Pathrick Joseph--now behould him
Walkin' dillygate! think o' that!
So be careful, Master Francis,
An' ye 'll bless yer uncle James--
Don't be takin' any chances
With thim God-forsaken names!

[Illustration: Border]

Keep Out of the Weeds

No smarter man you can never know
W'en I was a boy, dan Pierre Nadeau,
An' quiet he 's too, very seldom talk,
But got an eye lak de mountain hawk,
See all aroun' heem mos' ev'ryw'ere,
An' not many folk is foolin' Pierre.

Offen I use to be t'inkin'--me--
How on de worl' it was come to be
He know so moche, w'en he never go
On college or school, ole Pierre Nadeau,
Feesh on de reever de summer t'roo,
An' trap on de winter--dat 's all he do.

"Hi! boy--Hi! put your book away,
An' come wit' your uncle Pierre to-day,
Ketch hol' of de line an' hang on tight,
An' see if your moder won't cook to-night
Some nice fresh feesh for de familee,"
Many a tam he was say to me--

An' den I 'm quiet, too scare to spik,
Wile Pierre he paddle me down de crick,
Easy an' ni