boring pens. "Waal, stranger," replied the ruralist, "they may be right smart for you uns, but down this yar country you couldn't give 'em 'way." "Why not?" asked the astonished Pennsylvanian. "Why, ye see, stranger, down yar a hog that can't outrun a niggar ain't wuth a cuss."

REASONS FOR CELEBRATING

A thing need not be great, even in appearance, to be worthily celebrated. If anyone can find the day on which the needle first trembled on its poise, seeking the north, and liberating the commerce of the world from the headlands and coasts to which it had been tied; if anyone can find the day on which the movable type first came into the grasp of human fingers, to be the lever to lift the world nearer the throne of God; if anyone can find the day when the wire first thrilled with that impulse of articulate thought which now is making neighbors of the most distant nations-it were well to celebrate such days. It was the birth of a babe in a Jewish manger which opened the new era of Christendom. It is by such tiny and seemingly inconsiderate instruments that that babe, now Sovereign Lord of the earth, is carrying forward his shining banners to the ends of the world. We should celebrate such, not for their splendor, but for the immense consequences which have ever since flowed from them.-Rev. R. S. Storrs.

A MODERN CITY OF REFUGE

If there is any place in America which has the attributes of a sacred city, a city of refuge, it is Philadelphia. There is an atmosphere of sobriety and solemnity about it, that would make even the rashest speaker hesitate to attempt to deliver an extemporaneous speech without writing it beforehand. When I look at you, residents of this city where grandfathers are always above par-representatives also of the Pilgrim Fathers-I, a mere Dutchman and a New Yorker, cannot help feeling as Daniel did in the lions' den, perfectly safe but somewhat prayerful.-Rev. Henry van Dyke.

A LIST OF FRIENDS

A man who had been bitten by a mad dog grew tired of the solicitous friends who visited him to express their concern and proffer their advice. A late-comer found the victim apparently unconcerned and busily engaged in writing.

"What in the world are you doing?" cried the friend, "don't you realize that you are in mortal danger?"

This elicited no response and the friend continued, "You are likely to run mad at any moment, and here you sit writing. What in the world are you writing?"

"I am making a list," replied the victim, "of the persons I am going to bite."

GIVING A REASON

In any event I should have recalled the reply of the Arab sheik, whose neighbor came desiring to borrow his rope. He replied, "I cannot lend it; I want it to tie up my milk with." "But, surely, you do not tie up your milk with a rope?" "Brother," said the sheik, "when you do not want to do a thing, one reason is as good as another."-Rev. Heman L. Wayland.

BUY OR SELL

Lady Brassey tells, in her charming description of “A Voyage on the Sunbeam," a story of a Yankee visiting Santiago, who was taken by a friend to see a bridge which the inhabitants of the town were rather proud of. It was built across a ravine, where, in the stormy season, a torrent ran, but the bed of which, when the American was brought to it, was perfectly dry. The friend who had brought him asked what he thought of it. "Well," he said, "I think if I were you, I would either buy a river or sell the bridge."-Rev. R. S. Storrs.

PROFESSIONAL LIMITATIONS

The tenor of one of our city churches, whose pulpit is occupied by a famous preacher, said to me recently, "You must come again; the fact is, neither the doctor nor myself were at

our best last Sunday morning. We artists cannot always be at our best."-Chauncey M. Depew.

THANKED HIM FOR THE RELIEF

He reminded me of my Quaker friend who reached the depot just as the train left, and there was another fellow traveler in the same predicament, and that other fellow traveler began to swear and swore like a trooper. And he damned the railroad and the train and everybody connected with it, and my Quaker friend said: "Friend, thee knows that I cannot swear, but I do thank thee for that word."-Rev. John Philip Newman.

ASSORTED MEANNESSES

New Englanders, I know, have been charged with closefistedness with their money, but I don't think it is any more true of them than of people all over the world-plenty of mean people everywhere. That was up here in New York State where a man asked his neighbor if he would not take a drink; the neighbor replied, "No, I never drink, but I will take a cigar and three cents." That was over here in Pennsylvania, where a stingy man, to economize in his meat bill cut off his dog's tail and roasted it, and after having gnawed the meat off, gave the bone to the dog. That was over yonder in Tennessee, where a child had such wrong notions of money that when, on Sunday School anniversary day, each boy was to present his contribution and quote a passage of Scripture, a boy handed in his contribution and quoted: "A fool and his money are soon parted." Most of the stories of New England close-fistedness are told by those who tried a sharp game on a Yankee, and were worsted, and the retort was natural; as in the case of a man on shipboard, coming from California in gold times, when there was not half room enough for the passengers, and after they had been out four or five days, a man who had not been seen before on deck appeared, and his friend said: "Why, I did not know you were on board! How did you get a stateroom?" "Oh," he says, "I have none, and I will have to sit up at night the rest of the voyage. So far I have been sleeping on top of a sick man, but he got well and won't stand it any longer."-T. DeWitt Talmage.

GOD'S COUNTRY

Some years ago, when the annual encampment of the G.A.R. was held at Portland, Maine, a few delegates from the "wild and woolly," of that class who are eternally cramming the advantages of what they term "God's country" down everybody's throat, took a jaunt up that way to see the country and sneer at "primitive methods," etc. In a particularly rocky and uninviting section of the state they alighted at a station for exercise, and ran across an aged farmer sitting on a baggage-truck and chewing tobacco. "Well, ye don't look as though ye'd had a boom here lately," said the Kansas man, addressing the aged agriculturist; "you fellers are foolish to stay in this country, where ye have to do yer spring plowin' with a pickax and yer plantin' with a shotgun. I sh'd think ye'd starve to death. Why don't ye come out to Kansas? Not a stump nor a stun in sight; soil ten feet deep; crops o' one year make ye rich." The Maine man listened with a face full of interest, and finally took a fresh chew of tobacco. He rose from the baggage-truck and faced the crowd of Kansans. "So ye're all doin' well, are ye? I'm mighty glad to hear it. I'm holdin' six mortgages on Kansas farms to-day, an' if you fellers will just keep it up an' pay your int'rest, I'll try an' pull along here."

WHY HE WAS A DEMOCRAT

The old teacher in one of the smaller schools near my native town of Peekskill had drilled a number of his brightest scholars in the history of contemporary politics, and to test both their faith and their knowledge he called upon three of them one day and demanded a declaration of personal political principles. "You are a Republican, Tom, are you not?" "Yes, sir." "And Bill, you are a Prohibitionist, I believe?" "And Jim, you are a Democrat?" "Yes, sir." "Well, now, the one of you that gives me the best reason why he belongs to his party can have this woodchuck, which I caught on my way to school this morning." "I am a Republican," said the first boy, "because the Republican party saved the country in the war and abolished slavery." "And Bill, why are you a Prohibitionist ?" "I am a Prohibitionist," rattled off the youth, "because rum is the country's

greatest enemy and the cause of our overcrowded prisons and poorhouses." "Excellent reasons, Bill," remarked the tutor encouragingly. "Now, why are you a Democrat, Jim?" "Well, sir," was the slow reply, "I am a Democrat because I want that woodchuck!"-Chauncey M. Depew.

PROTECTING ITS NAME

During the hot season, a professor-I think he was from Dartmouth-took a run down on the New England coast to enjoy a day's bathing. Unfortunately for him, it was a stormy day, and the waves rolled mountain high, and the man in charge refused absolutely to allow him to take his wash. He left in great disgust and disappointment, and mounted the seat with the omnibus driver, complaining very bitterly. Now, the driver was a practical New England man, and he said to him, "Don't complain, my dear sir; we don't want strangers to come down here and get drowned; it would hurt the beach."-Hugh J. Hastings.

A COUNTRY COMEDY

Some time ago Nat Goodwin, while spending a day in the country, met with an adventure which has afforded himself as well as his friends considerable amusement. As he was walking lazily along the roadside he saw running toward him at full speed a man whose wild aspect gave strong reason to believe that he had escaped from a lunatic asylum that was in the neighborhood. Mr. Goodwin naturally turned aside at his approach, but the man turned too, and as he came nearer his appearance was even more threatening than at first. Mr. Goodwin hastened his steps, and the maniac still following, broke into a run. The pursuit grew more and more exciting, and Mr. Goodwin, finally leaving the road, fled recklessly over fields and hedges, the terrifying apparition close at his heels. At last Goodwin sank exhausted on the ground, thinking his last moment had come, and even, so his friends say, started to pray, when the lunatic, tapping him on the shoulder, said, "Tag, you're it," and started again at full speed in an opposite direction.