SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR.

The Boodle Romance.

Young Boodle had just completed hia collegiate course when old Boodle was taken seriously ill. He was to borrow a nautical expression, "becalmed," and not having enough breath left to whistle for more wind, he was obliged to remain in that unsatis factory state until he was taken in tow by a six-horse power tug-hearse, and laid up safely in a dry dock built of sculptured marble. When all .this was done his last log-book was op*n& and read, and young Boodle found himself the sole possessor of the aristocratic studio, one of the finest country seats in the whole of Blankshire and £500,000 in hard cash.

Young Boodle, having been thrown on his own resources for amusement from his in fancy, had devoted a great deal of his spare time to the perusal of tales of sentiment, and therefrom had gathered together a variety of ideas wholly impracticable in this un romantic age. He had a compatriot in his opinions whose name was Monty Phipps, and the twain had been in the habit of hold n weekly reunions for the purpose of dis cussing the merits of the various works then Tinder their perusal. One evening about a year after the lamentable occurrence already recorded, the two friends met in Boodle's luxurious chambers.

"Now, then, Fred," said Monty, setting himself among the silken cushions of a Turkish divan and lighting a fragrant weed, "what do you think of the Wagging

World ?"

"Well," replied Boodle, also. lighting a cigar and elevating his legs upon the back of an easy chair, " I think the passion is some what overdrawn. The scene, for instance, where Angelina enters a convent because her grandmother broke her brother's tobacco pipe, can hardly be called natural."

" No," slowly replied Monty, " but there are some good points in it, too. That wasn't a bad idea of Philip Arundel's pretending he was dead, and going to look for some one who would love him for his own sake. It ■would be nice, wouldn't it," proceeded Monty, in as mournful a tone as though a grave-digger were the theme of their con versation, "to find a lowly lily who would look up to you alone as her sun ?"

"Yes, very," replied Boodle. "If I had a little more time to spare I ■would do it myself," proceeded Monty.

"Now, Monty," said Boodle, deliberately .taking his legs from off the back of the chair, " that is just the very thing I am going to do. I have been thinking of it ever since 1 read about Aruhdel, and your words have decided me."

"It is the very wisest thing that you could possibly do," replied Monty. So they talked the matter over and matured their plans during the rest of the evening.

A few days afterwards the principal papers had an announcement to this effect:

" Personal.—We understand that Fred, eric Boodle, only son and heir of the late Solomon Boodle, Esq., the celebrated art critic of lamented memory, having decided on treading in the foot-steps of Gordon dimming and other illustrious Nimrods, left last evening in his steam yacht en t oute for Africa. We further understand that that Mr Boodle has signified his intention of not returning to his native land f r a year or

more."

Monty Phipps and' Boodle read this announcement with great satisfaction. The following morning Boodle, with a whole circulating library of novels, took the train for Wales, in search of the flower of nature, whose destiny was to be trained upon a trellis-work of Boodle.

A boundless expanse of deep blue sea dash ing grandly against the adamantine coast, and in the sunlight flashing like a myriad of gems. A long, level stretch of fertile ground, and, nestling at the foot of one of the tower ing hills, a calm, peaceful village. In the foreground, attired in a tourist's costume, with a knapsack on his back, and a valise in 'his hand, Boodle is discovered. 9 Surely," said he, " in this peaceful spot a flower such as I seek for is to be found." He made the remark with the air of an enthusiastic botanist searching for a variety of plant unknown to Linnasus, and as he said it he looked all around, and into every cranny in the rocks, as though the flower in question was someting in the nature of a mountain daisy. Not finding anything, however, he sighed heavily and made for the inn. He was met in the doorway by. the hostess and was shown into the bttst parlor. A substantial dinrier was soon set before him, and if the loneliness of his heart could be judged by the extent of his appetite, never was a man in a worse state than he.

Boodle arose the next morning, and with his mind still intent upon the mission that had brought him to Wales, he again set out upon bis search. He wandered about for a long time, until finally he found himself seated upon a mossy stone and listening to a legend connected with the ruined castle. It was of a maiden who had been imprisoned there by a hard-hearted parent for daring to love a nameless squire; and the narrator, whose figure-head, if not his heart, was ertaicly of oak and very cross-grained at that, gave Boodle a full and exact description t her personal appearance.

"She was a fair little maid," said this

wooden-visaged gentleman, "with large blue eyes and long golden hair, just like Miss

Boodle pricked up her ears,

" Peace, beating heart !" said he to him self. " Oh, if this should prove to be she .'" Then he continued in a rational tone, aloud j " but who ia Miss Mari."

"Why, dunno ye know ! Did ye norra see Missus Lloyd's niece 2"

" jSTo," replied Boodle. " You cannot mean Mrs Lloyde, of the Ap Shenkin Inn !"

"Of course I do mean un," replied the man " who else ?"

Boodle gave the man a sovereign, the largeness of which amount so stupified him that he could only gaze at it in silent wonder, while Boodle walked off as fast as his legs would carry him, towards the inn. Just as he entered the door he overheard one maid servant say to another that Miss Mari wouldn't be in till the evening. He gave a heavy sigh of disappointment, and, taking out his diary, made a note to this effect.

" I have just been told a harrowing tale of a poor girl who was shut up in a dungeon and pined away her life there. Alas, so is it that true love, when it is found, is blighted and destroyed ! My heart was full of sorrow for the.poor maiden thus doomed, when the man told me something that caused my heart to forget its sadness. In describing the poor captive's beauty he compared it to that of Miss Mari, the niece of the landlady of the Ap Shenkin. She is now absent, but when she returns I can judge for myself of her wotjfch and beauty. Oh, if she should be the realization of my ideal ! Mari ! Mari ! what a pretty name !"

Just as Boodle laid down his pen the landlady entered the room and inquired if the gentleman desired his dinner.

" How can the woman ask me such a question ?" said Boodle to -himself, as he politely signified his disinclination to eat anything'and his wish to be left alone. Ihe landlady withdrew, and Boodle began to re pent of his hasty decision. '' What if, for the want of proper nourishment, I should not have strength to addiess her, and she should think me a fool ?" thought he. The idea was so horrible that he recalled the landlady and had dinner served, which he dispatched with the air of performing an ex tremely disagreeable duty.

Our Boodle then mooned about unti evening, when he saw Mari. The result o: his observation may be found in the follow

ing extract from his dairy

" The one joy wanting in my life has come at last. My eyes have seen her !my Hp 3 have spoken to her ! and my heart has whispered to me that my trip to Wales has not been taken in vain ! She came in the dusk of the evening, when all nature is hushed in repose, and, as Longfellow says, the influence of the hoar wakes the better thoughts that have slumbered throughout the day. She came into the room where I was sitting, talking with her aunt. It was nearly dark, and I could not see her face, but her form was sylph-like, and her foot steps fell lightly as those of a ministering

angel

" 'Thou hast been a long time away,'said

her aunt.

" ' I could not help it, aunty ; I was so absorbed in reading and watching the ships sail into the bay that I quite forgot how the

time passed.'

'' She loved reading, then ! A similarity of tastes already ! And oh, what a soft,

low voice she had ! I had fallen into a waking dream of bliss, when her aunt's voice broke the silence :

" ' Mari, you surely do not see that I ha.ye

a visitor.'

"She turned quickly. As she did so the servant brought a light, I saw her face, and, my wildest dreams never pictured aught half so fair! A proud little head and a delicately arched neck; but I could make out nothing ef her face except her eyes' they were so dazzlingly beautiful. Aided by the supernal splendour of the golden hair that formed a halo around her head, she seemed to me like some Elysian vision that would, vanish even while I gazed upon it in

rapture,

" 'Mr Frederic Boodle, said the aunt ■ my niece, Mari.'

'• Ido not know what I replied. I know that I said something gallant, for she blushed divinely, and showed a set of perfect ivory teeth. What followed Ido not know. I try to think, but those glorious eyes and that bewitching smile flash upon me from the paper; so I can do no more but sit and gaze upon them, fascinated by the glory of their

loveliness."

Boodie had found his flower at last. Boodle was hopelessly in love, and I must confess not without reason. Mari was pretty—nay; more, she was beautiful; and when I, who am not in love with her, say this, how could you expect Boodle to say less than he did ?

The intimacy between them ripened every day, and Boodle became more and more enamored. He tried to indite verses, but after spoiling all the available paper, he gave it up in despair. Then he drew upon the valise for some of the imaginative stories therein contained, and would read them aloud in some secluded Bpot to the empress of his affections. She was charmed, and thought Boodle more a hero than all the fascinating youths of whom she had read for Mari, until some six months ago, had spent all her life at an English boarding school, and there had acquired ideas, closely resembling Boodle's own. So the course of true love ran exceptionably smooth, and,

had one been on familiar terms with Cupid, he likely would have been bored to death with the self-congratulations of le lon dim

d'amour on the success of his shaft.

One day Boodle and Mari went together on the summit of a high cliff overlooking the sea. Mari was seated on a fallen tree, while Boodle reclined upon the r^rass in true love-like attitude, reading of how the penniless secretary wooed the daughter of a purse-proud Earl. Boodle read on to the end of a chapter, where the icy pride of the wealthy heiress at last gave way, and she laid her head upon the breast of him, of poor but respectable antecedents, and there sobbed out the confession of her recipro cating passion. Pausing to give greater force to the passage, Boodle heard a gentle sigh. • Boodle, taking this as a sign of a kindred feeling with the wealthy heiress, cast aside the book.

" Is it not touching?" said Boodle, a little

nervously,

" Charming," replied Mari, earnestly,

" Mari," continued Boodle, with a darkly mysterious air, and his face the tint of the. Red Rover's battle flag, "I am like that humble lover. I, too, am humble, and love

a lady so far above me that it seems almost like sacrilege to wish her mine."

" Is she very beautiful ?" solicitously inl- quired Ma?i, with guileless tm pliciiy.

" Beautiful !" echoed Boodle ; she is transcendently lovely ! No feeble words of mine can express a tithe of her loveli-

ness."

"Ob, how I should love to know her !" exclaimed Mari, enthusiastically. Then, in a despairing tone, "But she is far away in England, I suppose.''

" Mari," replied Boodle, with his counten ance of the same sanguineous hue as before, and with a look that bespake a pitying horror for her ignorance, "she is none other than your own sweet f elf ! Yes, Mari, I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. I have never loved any one but you. 0 Mari," continued Boodle, dropping on one knee in true three-volume post-octavo style,

" will you be mine ?"

She cast down her eyes and blushed. She softly laid her hand upon hi 3 ; and Boodle, knowing very well what that meant, clasped her to his heart.

" And can yon, my own, own love," he yelled insanely, "can you sacrifice all for a poor banker's clerk, with only a hundred pounds a year, my love ; take back your hasty promise, and let me crawl into some hole to die of a broken heart !" And in proof of his assertion he elapsed her closer

than ever.

"0 Frederic, darling," she murmured, " my heart is wherever you are ; and should you leave me now in my new-tound happi ness, my heart would break."

•'Noble girl!" said he, as rapturously as though he were an ogre, to whom a broken heart was a delicacy not to be found every day ; and then he kissed her again.

After a while sorrowfully remarked Boodle: "Mari, darling, my holiday will very soon be at an end, and I shall have to return to my lonely labor. Oh ! say, Mari, love, will you not go with me as my wife ?"

Mari assented. Her aunt also gave her consent; and so the very next Sunday the clergyman requested to know if any one had any objection to make against these two young persons being joined together; and no one answered nay. But the clergyman, being a very scrupulous old gentleman, found it necessary to ask the very same question on the two following Sundays, and as all present held their peace, his scruples were removed, and he informed Boodle that he was quite willing to bind him fast in holy

matrimony,

So one fine morning this no-longer scrupulous old gentleman arrayed himself in his surplice and took his stand before him. Boodle gave the clergyman five pounds, which was very well for a banker's clerk who had only a hundred to last him for three hundred and sixty-five days ; and there was a shining new carriage with a pair of restless horses waiting at the door ; and Boodle handed Mari inside and then followed, upon which all the inhabitants set up a great cheer, and the ' happy pair drove rapidly away to where they could take a cheaper mode of conveyance to London, where Frederic Boodle was to resume his situation at the banker's desk. 111. Boodle had deliberated as to whether he should tell Mari of his true estate, and had at last decided that he would wait a little longer, until he saw whether Mari would love him a> well in the grim reality of poverty as she had in the mere expectation of it.

On their first arrival in London Boodle and hie bride had gone to a respectable but cheap inn, and after refreshing themselves went to visit their future homo. It was a rather large hoHB9, that belonged to Boodle himself; But by way of accounting for ita magnitude he told her that his employer had given it to him rent free. Mari thought it quite a delightful place, but snggested that a little furniture might be a slight improvement.

"Oh, decidedly, my love," replied Boodle ; " but it must be done cheaply at first, for we have been living far beyond our means of late, my dear. Now I will tell you what we will do. Tomorrow I must go to. the office with out fail, and so I will intrust to you the furnishing of our home. I have just.£so, which I hare saved for a long time with this

express purpose in view. I will give it to you and you shall select the furniture yourself, and when I come home in the evening I will

pass my judgment upon it. Now what do you say my little housekeeper. P"

Mari laughed joyously, and she said she would never know what to do with so much

money but at length she said she would do her best, upon two conditions : that be must not aek the price of anything (because she knew she would be cheated most shamefully), and tbat he must not see the house until it was furnished.

Boodle promised, and getting the landlady of the inn to accompany Mari, he started off ostensibly to the office, but in reality to Monty Phipps' chambers, where, after " loaf ing " away the day he returned to the inn. He found Mari quite tired out with the day's exertions, but quite ready, nevertheless to return with interest his badinage as to the quality and utility of the furniture.

This went on for a week, and then Mari, with her pretty face wearing an air of great importance told him that his house was furnished and ready for his inspection. " You must be very weary, my dear," said Boodle ; " shall T call a cab ?" " Oh! dear, no," returned Mari, laughing merrily ; " you know that, with only a hundrd a year, we should soon ruin ourselves at that rate." So they walked on until they reached the house. The door was opened by a pratty maid servant in a coquettish cap trimmed with gay ribbons. Boodle was about to make some remark when astonishment struck him

dumb.

Instead of the plain deal stairs of a week before, they ascended a flight of Italian marble with a graceful bronze railing, and covered with a rich Persian carpet. The drawing room door must have cost treble the amount he had given to Mari, to say nothing of the pictures and grand piano within. Then they went to the dining-room, where a delightful little dinner was laid for two, but with glass enough for a dozen. Then, Mari leading tho way they went up toMari's little boudoir, hung with lace that must have cost a little fortune, and Mari, seating herself in an easy chair, broke into a merry laugh.

" Why Mari," exclaimed Boodle, " whose

house is this ?

"It must be yours," replied Mari still laughing, " if you have not deceived me. Did you not tell me this was to be our home ?" "Yes, the house," said Boodle ; "but the

pictures and plate and furniture ?"

"Did you not tell me to furnish it and promise to ask no questions as to the price ? Now Freddy, it is a very bad beginning in life for a banker's clerk " —and here she laughed

more than ever— " not to respect his word. I trust you v ill turn over a new leaf, and, to strengthen your resolution, I wonld suggest

coming down to dinner." Boodle could find out' nothing more respecting it, for whenever he reverted to the subject, Mari would burst into a fit of laugh ter ; so he started for the office very early nexb morning, and told Monty about the whole affair. " Depend upon it," said that worthy," that, she is an heiress, and has had the same idea as yourself, and gone away to get rid of for tune-hunters, and to find some ono to love herself and not her money. But if I were you old boy, I would still let her think you were poor, and still go to the office daily until she asks you to resign your situation. Then tell your secret, and let the curtain fall upon a scene of married bliss." Boodle, thinking what a clever fellow Monty was, followed his advice and let the matter rest as it was ; but the time passed on

, and Mari said nothing about a resignation. They had occupied their fairy mansion for about three weeks, when one morning Boodle coming down to breakfast, found a pile ojf letters on the breakfast table. Boodle was surprised at this, for he had given orders for all his letters to be addressed to Monty Phippa' chambers. He. sat down, and began leisurely opening them.

Why, what the devil does this mean ?" he' exclaimed : " Upholsters' accounts, £2,500; silVersmith's account, £3,000; picture dealer's account. £8,000. What can it all mean?" Is there no word of explanation ? What 1 ' Ordered by Mrs. Boodle!' Why Maria, did. you order these ?" ~

"Yes," replied Mari, demurely.

Well, upon my soul," said Boodle, rising in anger, "I think you might have consulted me before you did so."

" Here Mari began to cry.

" I did not think you were such a brute. Fred.," she sobbed in injured tones, "as not to give me any; more thanks than that for saving you all the troubla of furnishing the house. Indeed, Fred., I did not."

"Oh! said Boodle, sneeringly, "so that is the secret' of yonr furnishing my house ? I am much obliged to you, madam, I am sure. How much shall I pay you for your trouble ?"

The anger flashed into Mari's eyes till she looked like a maddened serpent ready to spring; but she only sobbed more bitterly than before.

" And I presume, madam," continued Boodle, " that in some underhand way you obtained information of the true extent of my property, and married me with the laudable desire of assisting me to get rid of it ?"

The anger woke altogether in Mari, and

she started to her feet.

" For what other reason should you sup. |

pose ?" she said, with a bitter langh that was half a cry of pain. " Have you the insuffer able vanity to suppose that I married you for

your own sake ?''

Then, seeing how crestfallen he had grown, she went up to him and put lier arms tenderly around his neck. "My dear old Freddy!' she snid, you can hardly think so meanly of me as that. It waa not until the day before we were married that I found out who you

were and resolved to punish you for your deceit. Arc you so very angry with me, after all, Fred ?"

Boodle was not such a bear as to say yes, so he kissed lier, paid the bills like a stole, and never mentioned the matter again. But somehow or other, although Phipps and he were always fast friends, the novel'discUssing meetings ceased altogether, and they both came to regard the practical teaching of romances in an entirely different light.—

Tinsley's Magazine,

DON'T KISS THE BABY.

The promiscuous kissing of children is (says the " Scientific American ") a pesti lent practice. We use the word advisedly, and it is mild for the occasion. *' Muderous " would be the proper word, bid the kissers know the mischief they do Yes, madam—murderous ; and we are speaking to you. Do you rememder calling on your dear friend Mrs. Brown tho other day, with a strip of flannel round your neck ? And when little Flora came dancing into the room, didn't you pounce upon her demonstratively, call her a precious little pet, and kiss her ? Then you serenely proceeded to describe the dreadful sore throat that kept you from prayer-meeting the night before. You had no designs upon the dear child's life, we know: nevertheless, you killed her! Killed her as surely as surely as if you had fed her with strychnine or arsenic. Your caresses were fatal. Two or three days after the little pet began to complain of sore throat, too. The symptoms grew rapidly alarming, and when the doctor came the simple word dipthera sufficed to explain to them all. To-day a little mound in Greenwood is the sole memento of your visit. Of course the mother does not suspect, and would not dare to suspeci you of any instrumentality in her bereave ment. She charges it to a mysterious Providence. It would be hard to tell how much of the prevalent sickness and mor tality from diptheria is due to such want of thought. As a rule, adults have the disease in so mild a form that they mistake it for a simple cold, and as a cold is not con tagious they think nothing of exposing others to their breath, or to the greater danger of liabial contact. It would be absurd to charge the spread of diphtheria entirely to the practice of child-kissing. There are other modes of propagation, though it is hard to conceive of any more directly suited to the spread of the infec tion or more general in its operation. It stands to diptheria in about the same relation that promiscuous hand-shaking formely did to the itch. It were better to avoid the practice. The children will not suffer if they go unkissed; ard their friends ought for their sake to forego the luxury for a season. A family; and the mO3t careful may be in condition to com municate the disease without knowing it. Beware then of playing Judas, and let.the babies alone.

WHEN A WOMAN WILL SHE WILL.

A pew years ago, says the Cincinnati "Commercial," an American lady while studying medicine abroad, having been refused admittance to a Course of lectures in one of the most noted Universities in Germany, determined to put on nialo cos tume and pass herself off for a young man. One day an American Consul was sum moned to an hotel to see a lady from the United States. As there was no reception room in the hotel, he was shown up to the room indicated in the note he had received by the servant. He looked in vain for the lady, but what he supposed was a young man sitting on a trunk. He was soon undeceived. The "boy" said he was simply in disguise, and set forth at length the reasons for such extraordinary con duct. She said she was resolved to attend that course of lectures, and had called in the Consul to give her real name and place of residence in the United States, so that in case of trouble she could appeal to him for protection. The position of the Consul was a novel one, but he finally consented to take the lady's statement, and promised to keep the secret inviolate, unless she should ba discovered. This did not hap pen. The disguise answered its purpose ; the lady remained at the institution a year passed through the course with honor, and is doubtless now applying the knowledge gained in her practice somewhere in the United States. We suppress all names of persons or places for obvious reasons, but give the fact in illustration of the indomit able perseverance of women ambitious of a professional career in pursuit of know ledge under difficulties. I

MOTHER.

Mari.' t

When she undid her hair at night, About the time for lying down, She came and knelt. I was so small There in my bed, her curls did fall All over me, light gold and brown.

I fell asleep amid her prayers. Her fair, young face (far off it seems), Her girlish voice, her kisses sweet, The patter of her busy feet, Passed with me into charming dreams.

And when I woke at merry morn. Through her gold hair I saw the sun Flame strong, shine glad, and glorify The great good world. Ob, never can I Forget her words—" My darling one I"

Ah ! checkered years since then have crept Past her and me, and we have known Some sorrow and much tempered joy, Far into manhood stands her boy, And her gold hair snow-white is blown.

The world has changed by slow degrees, And as old days recede, alas 1 So much of trouble have the new, Those rare far joys grow dim, seen through Sad times as through a darkened glass.

But just this morning when I woke How lovingly my lips were kissed ! How; chaste and clear the sunlight shona On mother's hair, like gold-dust sown k Athwart; thin clouds of silver mist J

SORRY HE WASN'T THERE.

I have referred in my book to that Coroner of ours who seized an Egyptian mummy that was brought into town s summoned a jury, held an inquest on the mummy, brought in a verdict of ' Death from causes unknown,' and charged the country with the usual fee, with compound interest from the time of Moses. Well, that Coroner is still in office, and he is still enthusiastic about his profession. Last Sunday night he was at church. The minister preached a very solemn sermon upon Noah's flood, an 1 after it was over I met the Coroner in the aisle, and said to him:

' Very impregsife discourse, *Mr. "Wheeler, wasn't it? \ 'Beautiful, sir! beautiful/ replied Wheeled, ' And yet it seemed tcf be kinder mournful, too.'

' Indeed! Why, it didn't strike me in that way. It was solemn) df course ;'but its tendency. Certainly should be too fill the heart of every truly* gco"d man *itb cheerfulness and hope.'

' Oh ! I know all that,' said Wheelerj but didn't he say that there were several million people drowned in that flood ?' 'I beliei-e he did.' :<

'Well, then, I say that, when I think of all that mortality, and remember that I wasn't Coroner then, and ain't likely to be when there's another such a freshet, it makes me sick. There ain'c nothing cheerful about such reflections. I feel if I hadD't been treated right; as if I'd been bobed. — Max Adeler.

HOW CURRAN CORRECTED AN ANTICIPATOR.

CtTRRAN was often annoyed when plead ing before Lord Avonmore, owing to his Lordship's habit of being influenced by first impressions. He and Curran were to dine together at the house of a friend, and the opportunity was seized by Curran to endeavour to cure his Lordship's habit of anticipating. ' Why, M!r. Curran, you have kept us a full hour waiting dinner for you !' grumbled out Lord Avonmore. ' Oh, my dear Lord, I regret it much. You know it seldom happens, but I've just been witness to a most melancholy occurrence.' ' You seem terribly moved by it. Take a glass of wine. What was it? What was it?' 'I will tell you my Lord, the moment I can collect myself. I had been detained at Court—■ in the Court of Chancery. Your Lord ship knows the Chancellor sits late.' I do, I do ; but go on.' ' Well, my Lord, I was hurrying here as fast as ever I could—l did not even change my dress— I hope I shall be excused for coming in my boots.' ' Pooh, pooh ! never mind your boots. The point—come at oace to the point of your story.' ' Oh, I will, my Lord, in a moment. I walked here— I would not wait even to get. the carriage ready. It would have taken time, you, know. Now, there is a market exactly in the road by which I had to pass. Your Lordship may perhaps recollect the mar kef —do. you?' 'To be sure I do; go on, Curran—go on with the story.' ' I am very glad your Lordship remembers the market, for I totally forget the name of it—the name—the name ' 'What the deuce signifies the name of it, sir ? It's the Castle market.' 'Your Lordship is perfectly right—it is called the Castle market. Well, I was passing through that very identical Castle market, when I observed, a butcher preparing to ki,U a calf. He had a huge knife in his hand— it was as sharp as a razor. The calf was standing beside him. He drew the knife to plunge it into the animal. Just as he was in the act of doing so, a little boy about four years old, his only son—the loveliest little baby I ever saw—ran sud denly across his path, and he killed—oh, Heaven! he killed ' ' The child ! the, child ! the child ?' vociferated Lord Avon more, ' No, my Lord, the calf,' continued Curran, very coolly; 'he killed the calf, but —your Lordship is in the habit of anticipating.'

FLASHES OF FUN.

.' What makes you look so glum, Tom ?' ' Oh, I had to endure a sad trial to my feelings.' What on earth was it?' ' Why, I had to tie on a pretty girl's bonnet with her mother looking on.'

Anybody might know that Bailey was back in Dahbury. Alluding to ice on the walks, he says : ' We can understand why the druggists do not clear their fronts. People must live. But we dont under stand the other dealers.'

A lawyer once asked a hotel-keeper the following questions : 'If a man gives you a hundred pounds to keep for him, and dies, what do you do? Do you pray for him ?' . 'No sir,' replied the landlord,' I pray for another just like him.'

A celebrated judge,-who stooped very much in walking, had a stone thrown at him one day, which fortunately passed over him without hittipg him. Turning to his friend, he remarked : ' Had I been an upright judge, that might have caused my death.

■ A Detroit gentleman walking behind two children the other day heard the boy inquire, J Will you be at the party'to night?', M shall be there,' answered the roiss,' but I may as well tell you now that your love is hopeless. Iklamma is deter mined, father is set, and it isn't right for me to encourage your attention. I can be a sister to you, but nothing more. Therefore you needn't buy me any valen tines or give me any more gum. ;, When a boy is sitting on the sunny side of a barn, waiting for.his father to come home and ' lick 'him, you might talk astronomy to him for four straight hours, and not excite his interest. ..

Sunday-School Teacher- —' What do you understand by suffering for righteousness sake?' Boy (promptly) -—'Practising hymns, in the morning, teacher, and Sunday-School in the afternoon, and Bible class in the evenin'!'

Queeies. —In what vehicle did the man ride who was driven frantic ? When a man revolves much in his mind, does it make him dizzy ? If all things are for the best, where do the rations for the second best come iVom ? What i* the exact width of a broad grin P

Instead of Complyino.t—He took a bath at Skinner's hotel, and instead: of complying with the request, 'Please pull the plug after bathing,' he took a card, and writing upon it,' Compliments of J. Wiggins: please pull your, own plug,' pinned it to the wall, and went his way.

AN EXCITED CASHIER

A cashieb of a bank in this city has read so many accounts in the papers of late of bank robbers entering a cashier's house at night, gagging and binding the inmates? and obliging the cashier to go and open the bank safe, that he is very nervous ora the subject. He is satisfied that he will' yet have a visit of that kind, do what he may to avoid it, and he thinks the next best thing his family can do isr to learn to go through the ordeal with as much com posure as possible. Accordingly he has been putting them through a rehearsal every night for a week or so past, greatly to their terror and inconvenience. He acts the part of bank robber himself. In thedead of night he awakes his wife, and pressing a vinegar cruet against her head, commands her in low, gruff tones to get lip and make no noise on pain of having her brains instantly blown out .with the vinegar cruefc. Then he binds her 7to the bed-post and. gags her with, the,' baby's gutta percha rattle. The children and servants he gags and locks up in conve nient closdts,_and then stuffing a flat iron holder into his own mouth and pressing a bologna sausage1 against his temple he marches himself securely off to unlock the bank. Cold weather coming on now it is not altogether comfortable,;arid the family think they prefer iO take the risk of the,robbers, '','■

A HYDROPHOBIA SCARE.

Ax Irishman in New Y6rk, while the late hydrophobia scare was at-its height, was anxious for a good, old-fashioned drink, but having neither money, or credit, he was solely puzzled about how. he should accomplish it. After thinking on'the sut> ject for several very dry days,; he at length; hit upon the following plan. He enteredl a saloon and called for a glass '.of gin r which was promptly placed before bim, as also a tumbler of water, as cosrtoßa. demands. But no sooner did he take up the water after having drank the:■; gin, than he commenced to,growl: and bark, and manifestother symptoms of havingthe hydrophobia. This produced a sensation right away, and the barkeeper fled like one pursued by the devil, while Pat helped himself to another drink, and departed unmolested. This game worked success fully at several places, and before long the old fellow was, too drunk to act his part and made a bad failure of attempting to bark at the sight of water. So thelast place he tried the game at, the toddy, tosser bounced him into the gutter. As he. did so, a little dog ran up to and commenced barking at him. The; old sot "raised him self upon his elbow with great difficulty, and addressed the barking cur: t' L v • Sno use (hie !) dorgy, yer can't get a drink in (hie!) this place. The barkeeper's dropped on their little game (iiic !).'

FEMININE HATS.

"You meet a remarkably modest and timid-appearing young lady: to-da^, and you notice that her hat has a meek end shrinking indentation in the crown. , It looks as if it wanted to shun the wicked world and hang itself up in a nunnery. To-morrow you meet the same lady, and what a change ! She appeals as daring Joan of Arc and as indepahcL?^ as the President of a Woman's Congress. And her<whole appearance is thus altered by pinning up the front of that, hat. Next day she appears like a brigand. : ,The brim is flattened put and her eyes, gleam furiously from underneath as if .watching an opportuninity to order io. stand ; b^ck and deliver. You see her again, ahd'jihe rim is turned up behind, while it is Very flat in front, giving her an appearance of a female Solon Shingle.trying to find a cus tomer for that ' bar'l of apple 'of^sass.' Again, and it is pitched,on the extreme back of the head,.reminding you of Toodleg in his cups, when he is assuring theTsailor man that when his father heard of the sailor man's death, he went broken hearted ito his grave, and died there. With all these advantages it,i« no wonder that the. reigning hat is popular^, . .It is comfortable .to the head-^-so: they say— and it is an ornament or a disguise^as required, It is demure, jaunty, meek, saucy, bold, sly, obstinate^ cbncilitiating, tender—whatever you please—everything by turns and nothing long. It is: the5 hat of the period, cunning and: deceitful, but above all things desperately wicked.)'p

ARNOLD'S BOY AND CHANDLER'S BOY.

The other evening Arnold's boy and the Chandler boy were sitting in the kitchen in the dark, telling stories of Captain Kidd and,other Free.- Traders, when ArnoTd, senior, sang out for the eleventh, time within the last half hour: ' , . .' .

1 Benjamin Franklin, go down stairs and get that kindling immediately !' ) Chandler's boy had just got to the part of the story telling how'the free and easy sailor before mentioned used to mix his grog in a coffin and slice small boys for flavouring. , ... •- • ~: . 7 '

Now Ben never1 fancied going into a cellar at night, and -his fears' wer« increased tenfold after hearing the Weird romance of the ' Bloody Pirate.' n .)

So when he heard the suggestive tramp of the governor's, boots in the hall, he quietly . slipped into.. the closet,, leaving Chandler's boy sitting by the fire. , ' t Arnold, senior, came in, and seeing Ben, as' he supposed,"npt even stirring for the cellar, he walked up to him, aud lifted him by the ear, > ■ ■ i t ' Easy ! easy I' shouted Chandlerjs boy in surprise. .. . mssT .'-'■■^ ■■■ i:>von ' Easy P' shouted. the old man,: com pletely dumbfounded .by Ben's supposed audacity ; ' easy,' and he recovered' his presence of mind sufficient to kidk Chandler's boy into the coal-hod and'put of the door before he discovered his mis take. ■•; el irf-ndi'tlfilnt il' • . '■''. ;■;,.,..; -evfT

Chandler's boy says he is going to knock the stuffing put of Ben as soon as the swelling goes down and his north car gets the crook out of it. •'". !. "

A Gbeat B/ow.—At a dancing party in Western Kentucky,, the other , night, to 1 j whitsh; several women came with' their babies, some young men; changed the ijclothes of the infants while their parents' jwere dancing, and mixed them up gener ally.' f , The. following day there, was a great prow, arid, as the families lived miles apart, > it took several day a to unmix thechildren."