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A CANOE TRICK.
THEN the District of Parry Sound was first settled, there came a gentleman from England by the name of Henley, who located on the shores of a beautiful lake called Mannatuwaba. He was of good birth and education, had plenty of money, and was noted far and near for his hospitality and deeds of kindness. Though he was drowned in the lake one dark and stormy night many years ago, his memory is still fresh in the hearts of all the old settlers who knew him. supper given in his honour, shortly before his death, Mr. Henley related the following incident, which he declared had happened only a few days previous: "One dark night," said he, "I was sitting alone in my house reading when I was startled by a knock and the words 'Dinna be afeered, Mister Henley.' I hastened to open the door, but could see nobody. A voice from round the corner of the house inquired, 'Cud ye pass me oot some claes, Mister Henley?' 'Who are you, and what's the matter?' I asked. 'Dinna ye ken who I be? I'm old Tommy Nichol an' I've lost ma claes.' 'Come in, man,' I cried in astonishment, 'you'll perish of cold out there.' The night was very chilly indeed. 'You dinna hae company, hae ye?' cautiously inquired the old man, coming out from his refuge, his teeth chattering, and he was in a regular shiver. I soon had him clothed and while he was sipping a hot Scotch with great gusto, I asked him how he came to be in such a wretched plight. Weel,' said he, 'ye ken I'm abuildin' a barn, an' as I was cummin' oop the lake I tho't I'd lan' on the point for some sand to mix with the lime, ye ken. I run my canoe up to the bar, an' jumped oot, but that beastie of a dog jumped oot after me and kicked the canoe off fra the bank. When I turned roun' she was ten yards awa'.
So I off wid ma claes an' in after her. It was amast dark an' I cudna swim fast, an' the dog kept tryin' to pull me back, so when I foun' I cudna catch her I got ashore as best I cud. Ye ken it was dark an' I didna lan' on the same place. Then oop an' doon I went but na claes cud I fin', so I says, auld Tom, ye mon get to Mister Henley's quick, or you'll die of cald. man alive, but I had a sair time, I tried to walk fas' to keep warm, but I trod on a knot and made a howl in ma foot, then I barked ma shin agin a rock and fell over a tree. Then I just sat me Marcy alive, man, I did shake wi' the cald. I tho't I'd creep, but I cudna mak' ony headway. Ay but it was a sair journey on a puir At last I seed yer auld man lak' me.
down to greet.
light, Mister Henley, an' I thanket God earnest-like. Now, how am I to get in? I tho't. What if Mister Henley has company, and if I knock it's a spook he'll say it is when he sees me. So I just tho't I'd tell ye before I came in sight. Weel, I'm ou'er glad I got in sa safe, but hoo' I get awa' noo wi'oot ma claes? Cud ye let me wear
these, Mister Henley ?' I informed him that he was welcome to them as long as he wished. He stayed with me all night, and next morning saw the old fellow away on a search for his lost garments."
J. Harmon Patterson.
A Boarding-House Episode. The old bachelor occupied that room in the boarding house which was known as the "Klondike." The boarding house stood at the intersection of two streets, and the "Klondike" was situated at the north-east angle of the building, so that its occupant received the full benefit of winds that came howling down from the north, or, by way of diversion, whirled up from east or west. The boarding house furnace was not overworked, and the scanty allowance of hot air which it doled out seldom troubled itself to wander as far as the bachelor's room; but, should it feel inclined to do so, provision was made for its entrance by means of a small register in the wall. This register was exactly opposite to the one in the wall of the adjoining room, and the occupant of either room was able, with the assistance of a piece of wire and the exercise of a little ingenuity, to close his neighbour's register, and thus monopolize any faint suspicion of heat that might drift that way.
The old bachelor was not aware of this fact; but it struck him as rather curious that if he left his register open when he went out, he always found it closed on his return. He accused the
chambermaid of interfering with it, but she denied having done so, and the denial was accompanied with a knowing twinkle in her eye which was completely lost upon the simple, unsuspecting gentleman.
The room which adjoined the "Klondike " was occupied by two maiden ladies, sisters. They were not, by any means, old maids of the Aunt Acidula type, who offer up a special thanksgiving if some unfortunate druggist is fined for selling a child a cent's worth of peppermint drops on the Sabbath day; or rejoice with pious joy when a bar-tender gets into trouble through supplying a minor with a glass of ginger ale. On the contrary, they enjoyed their game of whist, were not averse to a glass of wine, and were very tolerant of tobacco; in short, they were healthy, cheerful, good-hearted women of the world. But they were too clever for their bachelor neighbour; until one day, having left his room he suddenly and unexpectedly returned, and saw, to his astonishment, that his register was slowly but surely closing, and, apparently, of its own accord. This set him thinking; and he determined to keep a careful watch, which resulted in his making a discovery that placed him in rather an awkward position. Act he must, and at once. But how?
Next morning, he left his room as usual, but immediately returned, treading gingerly on tip-toe, and sat down to await developments.
His patience was not taxed long. A faint, tinkling sound, as of metal upon metal, directed his attention to the register. There he saw a wire, which even his inexperience allowed him to recognize as that useful adjunct of a lady's toilet, a hairpin, carefully inserted, and the register was gently but firmly closed.
Later on in the day, and with much trepidation, he knocked at the ladies' door, and begged the loan of a hairpin with which to clean his pipe.
His request was promptly and cheerfully granted, and he retired to his own quarters with his prize. How he used
it the following verses, which in some mysterious manner went the round of the boarding house next day, will
Two little kittens, so frisky and gay,
"Dear sister pussy, it is not meet
That a bachelor's room should have any heat.
I'll sit with my back to the bachelor's wall,
But the wicked old bachelor, sly old man,
"Horrid old bachelor, wicked and bold,
And now, enveloped in a heavy ulster, with a railway rug over his knees, the old bachelor sits and smokes his pipe by his open register, and fondly imagines he is warm.
THE SUGAR AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CUP.
When Johnny was a little boy, 'Bout four years old or more,
He always had his bread and milk
At sunset, as he sat beside the door.
And Johnny used to holler out
When he had ceased to sup,
His mother thought it wasn't right
And bid him mind his manners and behave.
Then Johnny'd slily tip the cup And stick a finger in,
And when his ma would turn away
With trembling joy and fear he would begin To taste the sweets of stolen fruit, As we have often done,
Then run and tell his playmates all :
"At supper time I had the mostest fun." Now Johnny is a grown man,
And many joys has he;
For all the things he wants are his,
And yet, withal, it is most strange to see;
Than all things else that Johnny has
He dearly loves to slily lick
The sugar at the bottom of the cup.
Aye, Bobby Burns, your o'er smart words
I wish't lang; a wee bit speerit
For as I look't my heart grew sair;
THE LITTLE ONES.
Kind Lady to Weeping Child"Well, little girl, are you lost?"
Weeping Child, with sudden burst of passion-"Me lost! You silly old. thing what are you talking about?Look at me, don't you see I'm right here? It's our house I can't find."
The Canadian Pacific express was wending its wonderful way through some of the most impressive defiles of the Rocky Mountains-creeping slowly around sharp curves, clinging to the face of perpendicular cliffs like a caterpillar on the wall, stretching its length over deep gorges and tumultuous rivers, laboriously making its way upward. It was a long train, and from the Pullman windows the engine and forward cars could often be seen as it doubled on its tortuous way. Presently the small girl who had been looking
out, turned with a shrill cry, "Oh mother, mother! Look what a fearful place the engine's going over this time! My, I hope the cars wont follow it! Don't you?"
Visions of the dire possibilities of such a parting of company, under the circumstances, delayed for a moment the amused smiles of the other passengers. Alice Ashworth.
UNCERTAINTY THAT WAS UNPLEASANT. -Sir William MacCormac, the president of the Royal College of Surgeons of London, is at times quite absentminded. He is an indefatigable worker, and often to save time when studying in his laboratory, has a light luncheon served there. Once his assistants heard him sigh heavily, and looking up saw the doctor glaring at two glass receptacles on his table. "What is the matter, doctor?" asked one of the youngsters. Nothing in particular," was the reply, "only I am uncertain whether I drank the beef tea or that compound I am working on."
BEGGING A PRIVILEGE. An old farmer who was in the habit of eating what was set before him, asking no questions, dropped into a café for dinner. The waiter gave him the dinner card and explained that it was the list of dishes served for dinner that day. The old gentleman began at the top of the bill of fare and ordered each thing in turn until he had covered about one-third of it. The prospect of what was still before him was overpowering, yet there were some things at the end that he wanted to try. Finally he called the waiter, and, confidentially marking off the spaces on the card with his index finger, said: "Look here, I've et from thar to thar, can I skip from thar to thar and eat on to the bottom?"
A CHANGE OF COLOUR.-Sir Algernon West's "Recollections" contains this amusing anecdote. A man at election time tried to sell some kittens with blue Tory ribbons on, and failed. The next day he tried to sell them with yellow Liberal ribbons on. "Why," said some
one, "they were Tories yesterday!" "Yes," he said, "but their eyes are opened since then, and they have become Liberals."
A QUIET RETORT.-To a young man who stood on the street corner in Chicago, peaceably smoking a cigar, approached the elderly and impertinent reformer of immemorial legend. "How many cigars a day do you smoke?" inquired the meddler in other people's affairs. "Three," patiently replied the youth. much do you pay for them?" continued the inquisitor. "Ten cents each," confessed the youthful sinner. "Don't you know, sir," continued the sage, that if you would stop smoking and save up that money, by the time you are as old as I am you might own that big building on the corner?" "Do you Own it?" answered the smoker. "No, I don't," replied the old man. "Well, I do," said the young man.
BISHOP CREIGHTON'S DISCOVERY ABOUT HENS.—The Archbishop of Canterbury, in youth, had some experience asa farmer. Evidently the Bishop of London's education in that respect was neglected. In the account of one of his speeches at the Church Congress he is reported as saying: "There is a certain class of people who are like hens when they have laid an egg. They form their opinion with such difficulty, apparently, and so seldom that when they have formed one they go and crow to all the world to show that they have done it." We would respectfully advise Dr. Creighton not to draw an illustration from crowing hens if he should ever be addressing a rural audience. Exchanges.