a time which would not interfere with his lessons. The tailoress duly arrived and was ushered to the Prince’s sitting-room, but on the door being opened she paused as she saw that a gentleman, whose face was turned toward the fireplace, was sitting smoking and chatting with the children. Prince Edward, whose manner is most friendly, at once ran forward and told her to come in, and seeing that she still hesitated added in a reassuring voice, “You needn’t mind, it’s only grandpapa.”

A physician engaged a nurse, recently graduated, for a case of delirium tremens. The physician succeeded in quieting his patient and left some medicine, instructing the nurse to administer it to him if he “began to see snakes again.” At the next call the physician found the patient again raving. To his puzzled inquiry the nurse replied that the man had been going on that way for several hours, and that she had not given him any medicine.

“But didn’t I tell you to give it to him if he began to see snakes again?” asked the physician.

“But he didn’t see snakes this time,” replied the nurse confidently. “He saw red, white, and blue turkeys with straw hats on.”

Shortly after his entrance into political life Disraeli stood for a certain Middlesex borough in the Conservative interest. It was a “personally conducted” canvass, and, among others, the future Prime Minister solicited the vote and interest of a well-to-do but somewhat irascible farmer, who was supposed to be rather doubtful in his political convictions.

“Vote for you!” he shouted when Mr. Disraeli made known the object of his call. “Why, I’d vote for the devil sooner.”

“Ah, quite so!” said Mr. Disraeli, suavely, “but in event of your friend not standing, may I hope for your interest?”

An ambitious youth once sent his first MS. to Dumas, asking the distinguished novelist to become his collaborateur. The latter was astounded at the impertinence. Angrily seizing his pen, he wrote: “How dare you, sir, yoke together a noble horse and a contemptible ass?”

He received the following reply:

“How dare you sir, call me a horse?”

His anger vanished and he laughingly penned the following:

“Send on your MS., my friend; I gladly accept your proposition.”

An old farmer recently came into possession of a check for $200. He finally summoned up nerve enough to go to the bank.

“What denomination?” said the teller, hastily, as the check was passed in through the window.

“Luther’n, gol darn it. But what has that got to do with it?”

A young woman was in company with a university graduate, and naturally the talk ran upon books. By and by there was a lull in the conversation, broken presently by the young woman, who said: “What do you think of Fielding, Mr. Smith?”

“Oh,” was the answer, “fielding is important, of course; but it isn’t worth much unless you have good pitching and batting.”

General Frederick D. Grant said to his servant one morning: “James, I have left my mess boots out. I want them soled.”

“Yes, sir,” the servant answered.

The general, dressing for dinner that night, said again:

“I suppose, James, that you did as I told you about those boots?”

James laid thirty-five cents on the bureau.

“Yes, sir,” said he, “and this is all I could get for them, though the corporal who bought ’em said he’d have given half a dollar if pay day hadn’t been so far off.”

President Lincoln once wrote to General McClellan, when the latter was in command of the army. General McClellan, as is well known, conducted a waiting campaign, being so careful not to make any mistakes that he made very little headway. President Lincoln sent this brief but exceedingly pertinent letter:

“My dear McClellan: If you don’t want to use the army I should like to borrow it for a while.

“Yours respectfully,

“A. Lincoln.”

It was at a children’s party in West Kensington. The youngsters had just done more than justice to the luxurious spread provided by their hostess, and games were now the order of the evening.

“Now, children,” said she, “we will play the zoo, and each of you must represent a different animal.”

Then, going to a little girl, she asked:

“Now, Carrie, what are you going to be?”

“I’ll be an elephant.”

“And you, Reggie, what are you going to be?”

“I’m going to be a lion.”

“And what are you going to be, Hilda?”

“I’m going to be a tiger.”

Then, crossing to the other side of the room, the hostess, noticing a youngster sitting all alone, asked:

“And what are you going to be, Tommy?”

“P-please,” was the halting reply, “p-please—I’m going—to be sick.”

A man who had been convicted of stealing was brought before a certain “down East” judge, well known for his tender-heartedness, to be sentenced.

“Have you ever been sentenced to imprisonment?” asked the judge, not unkindly.

“Never!” exclaimed the prisoner, suddenly bursting into tears.

“Well, well, don’t cry, my man,” said his honor consolingly; “you’re going to be now.”

The inventor of a new feeding bottle for infants sent out the following among his directions for using:

“When the baby is done drinking it must be unscrewed and laid in a cool place under the hydrant. If the baby does not thrive on fresh milk, it should be boiled.”

A well-known New York clergyman was telling his Bible class the story of the Prodigal Son at a recent session, and wishing to emphasize the disagreeable attitude of the elder brother on that occasion, he laid especial stress on this phase of the parable. After describing the rejoicing of the household over the return of the wayward son, he spoke of one who, in the midst of the festivities, failed to share in the jubilant spirit of the occasion.

“Can anybody in the class,” he asked, “tell me who this was?”

A small boy, who had been listening sympathetically to the story, put up his hand.

“I know,” he said, beamingly; “it was the fatted calf.”

“I understand,” said the old-time friend, “that you are gettin’ right exclusive.”

“Well,” answered Mr. Cumrox, “that’s what mother an’ the girls call it.”

“What do you call it?”

“Plain ‘lonesome’.”

“Tommy,” said the hostess, “you appear to be in deep thought.”

“Yes’m,” replied Tommy; “ma told me somethin’ to say if you should ask me to have some cake or anything, an’ I bin here so long now I forgit what it was.”

A Boston minister once noticed a crowd of urchins clustered around a dog of doubtful pedigree.

“What are you doing, my little men?” he asked with fatherly interest.

“Swappin’ lies,” volunteered one of the boys. “The feller that tells the biggest one gets the purp.”

“Shocking!” exclaimed the minister. “Why, when I was your age I never even thought of telling an untruth.”

“Youse win,” chorused the urchins. “The dog’s yours,