toward the scrubby tuft of hair, and pursing his lips, "well, you see you cant have him re-tailed."

But occasionally Hobbyhead finds himself tripped up.

The pitcher may go to the well once too often.

I saw the deed done recently, and you ought to have been there to watch the humorist turn green with envy.

He was having some additions made to his country house, and had occasion to hire a tramp carpenter.

Somehow he was suspicious of the man's ability, and proceeded to put him through a course of sprouts.

"See here, my friend, do you know all about carpenter work?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," was the reply.

"You can make windows, doors and blinds?"

"Why, certain, sir."

"How would you make a Venetian blind?"

The man considered steadily for several minutes.

"I think," he remarked finally, with a grin, "that I would punch him in the eye."

He was engaged as soon as John recovered his breath.

Such sharp-edged tools are rare among journeymen carpenters, and I've suspected Hobbyhead meant to utilize the fellow in order to brighten his own wits.

Hobbyhead's smallest boy came home from the Barnum show the other evening.

It was his first outing of the sort, and he was bursting with the knowledge of the wonders he had seen.

His parental guardian, of course, questioned him regarding the stupendous aggregation, and soon discovered that among the many astonishing gymnasts little Jack had been especially attracted toward the wizard who ties himself up into a bunch of knots.

"I'm going to be a contortionist when I grow up," he proudly announced, "and right away to-morrow you'll see me start in trainin'."

"All right," said the interested parent; "it's a glorious career, my son, and to show you how much I appreciate your ambition I shall order half a bushel of green apples to be sent around. They'll give you a good start."

Hobbyhead claims that he gets many of his tidiest puns from this young hopeful.

For instance, when little Jack was studying his book one evening he called his father's attention to a fact which he was sturdily prepared to dispute.

"Say, pa, this book says nature never wastes anything."

"I guess that's right, my son," replied the father, thoughtlessly.

"Then what's the use of a cow having two horns when she can't even play on one," asked Jack, triumphantly.

Hobbyhead's genius failed him in the emergency.

When Hobbyhead was taking a holiday down at Long Branch, with his family, the price he had to pay rather congealed his blood.

Some of the descendants of Captain Kidd must have settled there and grown up with the country.

At any rate they bleed a man just as thoroughly as in the palmy days of Blackbeard and his corsair crew.

Hobbyhead had intended spending two weeks at the shore, but when he scanned his bill he found he would have just about money enough left to pay fares home.

And he considered there must have been some mistake about it to leave him even that.

While he was feeling sore and disgruntled, he chanced to fall into conversation with the