Wa'al, 'Bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot it at half-past five,

But he hadn't more'n got into it, when-dear me! sakes alive!

Them wheels began to whizz and whirr! I heerd a fearful snap,

And there was that bedstead, with 'Bijah inside, shet up, just like a trap!

I screamed, of course; but 't wa'n't no use. Then I worked the hull long night

A-tryin' to open the pesky thing. At last I got in a fright;

I couldn't hear his voice inside, and thought he might

be dyin',

So I took a crowbar and smashed it in. There was 'Bijah peacefully lyin',

Inventin a way to get out ag'in.

well to say,

That was all very

But I don't believe he'd have found it out if I'd left him in all day.

Now, sence I've told you my story, do you wonder I'm tired of my life?

Or think it strange I often wish I warn't an inventor's wife?

"IS

COULDN'T STAND IT.

S this seat engaged?" he asked of the prettiest girl in the car, and finding it wasn't, he put his sample box in the rack and braced himself for solid enjoyment.

"Pleasant day," said the girl, coming for him before he could get his tongue unkinked. "Most bewildering day, isn't it?"

"Ye-yes, miss," stammered the drummer. He was in the habit of playing pitcher in this kind of a match, and the position of catcher didn't fit him as tightly as his pantaloons.

"Nice weather for traveling," continued the girl, "much nicer than when it was cold. Are you perfectly comfortable?"

"Oh, yes; thanks," murmured the drummer.

"Glad of it!" resumed the girl cheerfully. "You don't look so. Let me put my shawl under your head, won't you? Hadn't you rather sit next to the window and have me describe the landscape to you?" "No, please," he muttered. "I-I'm doing well enough."

“Can't I buy you some peanuts, or a book? Let me do something to make the trip happy! Suppose I slip my arm around your waist! Just lean forward a trifle so I can."

"You'll-you'll have to excuse me!" gasped the wretched drummer. "I-I don't think you really

mean it!"

"You look so tired!" she pleaded. "Wouldn't you like to rest your head on my shoulder? No one will notice. Just lay your head right down, and I'll tell you stories."

"No-no; thanks! I won't to-day! I'm very comfortable, thank you!" and the poor drummer looked around helplessly.

"Your scarf pin is coming out, let me fix it. There!" and she arranged it deftly. "At the next station I'll get you a cup of tea, and when we arrive at our destination you'll let me call on you, won't you?" and she smiled an anxious prayer right up into his pallid countenance.

"I think I'll go away and smoke," said the drummer, and hauling down his grip-sack, he made for the door knee-deep in the grins showered around him by his fellow passengers.

"Strange!" murmured the girl to the lady in front of her. "I only did with him just what he was making ready to do with me; big and strong as he is, he couldn't stand it. I really think women have stronger stomachs than men, and, besides that, there isn't any smoking car for them to fly to for refuge. I don't understand this thing."

But she settled back contentedly; and at a con

vention of drummers held in the smoker that morning, it was unanimously resolved that her seat was engaged, so far as they were concerned, for the balance of the season.

-Anon.

THE VOLUNTEER ORGANIST.

S. W. FOSS.

HE gret big church wuz crowded full uv broadcloth and uv silk,

THE

An' satins rich as cream thet grows on our ol

brindle's milk;

Shined boots, biled shirts, stiff dickeys, an' stovepipe hats were there,

An' doods 'ith trouserloons so tight they couldn't kneel down in prayer.

The elder in 'his poolpit high said, as he slowly riz: "Our organist is kep' to hum, laid up 'ith roomatiz, An' as we hev no substitoot, as Brother Moore ain't here,

Will some 'un in the congregation be so kind's to volunteer?"

An' then a red-nosed, drunken tramp of low-toned rowdy style

Give an interductory hiccup, an' then staggered up the

aisle ;

Then thro' thet holy atmosphere there crep' a sense er

sin,

An' thro' thet air of sanctity the odor uv ol' gin.

Then Deacon Purington he yelled, his teeth all sot on

edge:

"This man purfanes the house of God! W'y, this is sacrilege!"

The tramp didn' hear a word he said, but stouched 'ith stumblin' feet,

An' sprawled and staggered up the steps, an' gained the

organ seat.

He then went pawin' through the keys, an' soon there rose a strain

Thet seemed to jest bulge out the heart, an' 'lectrify the brain;

An' then he slapped down on the thing 'ith hands an' head an' knees,

He slam-dashed his hull body down 'kerflop upon the keys.

The organ roared, the music flood went sweepin' high and dry,

It swelled into the rafters and bulged out into the sky. The ol' church shook an' staggered, an' seemed to reel

an' sway,

An' the elder shouted "Glory!"

"Hooray!"

an'

I yelled out

An' then he tried a tender strain that melted in our

ears,

Thet brought up blessed memories an' drenched 'em down with tears;

An' we dreamed of ol' time kitchens, 'ith Tabby on the

mat,

Uv home an' luv an' baby days, an' mother an' all that!

An' then he struck a streak uv hope-a song from souls forgiven

Thet burst from prison bars uv sin, an 'stormed the gates of heaven;

The mornin' stars they sung together-no soul was left alone

We felt the universe wuz safe, an' God wuz on his throne!

An' then a wail uv deep despair an' darkness come again,

An' long black crape hung on the doors uv all the homes

uv men;

No luv, no light, no joy, no hope, no songs uv glad delight,

An' then the tramp be staggered down an' reeled into the night!

But we knew he'd tol' his story, tho' he never spoke

a word,

An' it wuz the saddest story thet our ears had ever

heard!

He hed tol' his own life history, an' no eye wuz dry thet day,

W'en the elder rose and simply said: "My brethren, let us pray."

AUNT JEMIMA'S COURTSHIP.

WAAL, girls-if you must know-reckon I must

tell ye. Waal, 'twas in the winter time, and father and I were sitting alone in the kitchen. We wur sitting thar sort o' quiet like, when father sez, sez he to me, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, “What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, “Wa'n't that a rap at the door?" and I sez, sez I, "No, sir." Bimeby, father says to me again, sez he, “Are you sure?" and I sez, sez I, “No, sir." So I went to the door, and opened it, and sure enough there stood-a man. Waal, he came in and sat down by father, and father and he talked about almost everything you could think of; they talked about the farm, they talked about the crops, and they talked about politics, and they talked about all other ticks.

Bimeby father sez to me, sez he, “Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, "Can't we have some cider?" And I sez, sez I, "I suppose so." So I went down in the cellar and brought up a pitcher of cider, and I handed some cider to father, and then I handed some to the man; and father he drinks, and the man he drinks, and father he drinks, and the man he drinks till they drink it all up. After awhile father sez to me, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "Ain't it most time for me to be thinking about going to bed?" And I sez, sez I, “Indeed, you are the best judge of that yourself, sir." "Waal," he sez, sez he, "Jemima, bring me my dressing-gown and slippers." And he put them on and arter awhile he went to bed.