Enter PAUL PRY.

Pry. I hope I don't intrude. Hardy. You have just dropt in to wish the young couple joy, I suppose?

Pry. I come to wish Mrs. Subtle joy. You must have been dreadfully alarmed when you discovered your loss.

Mrs. S. What loss what?

Pry. I saw you drop them, and called after you, but you didn't hear me.

Mrs. S. What are you speaking of? Pry. Poor Mrs. Subtle, thought I, if these had been her own, it wouldn't so much have grieved her; but to lose a packet belonging to her masterHardy. Eh, what's that? Papers?

Pry. A heavy package she let fall into the dry well, up yonder. It took me nearly half an hour to hook them out again-and here they are.

Mrs. Š. [About to seize them.] They are

mine.

With. Say but you are innocent in any participation in this, and

Hardy. Say it! Confound her, she'll say it, and swear it too. But are you so blind as not to perceive the drift of her artful speech? Why need you be desolate? why need you be solitary? It has been her wicked policy to render you so. call the friends whom nature has provided for you. If you won't, I will; and if you don't like them-give them over to me.

Re

With. What mean you? Hardy. To restore an injured nephew to you; and if Somers and his wife have suffered through the calumnies this good lady has heaped upon them, your own judgment has done them right in its true estimate of the virtues of Willis and Marian. Come in.

Enter WILLIS and MARIAN.

I hate the parade of sentiment. There they are, so take them at once to your heart. They have nothing to be ashamed of, except having an old fool for an uncle. [WILLIS and MARIAN throw themselves at WITHERTON'S feet.

With. No, not there-not there. [Rises and clasps them in his arms.] To what vile treachery have I been subjected? Mrs. Subtle, you may perceive that your presence here is no longer desirable.

Mrs. S. Think not I desire to remain; and if I feel a pang at parting with you, it is at the reflection that a few hours more would have made me mistress of that fortune, which now-may it carry misery wherever it is bestowed. [Exit.

Hardy. There! If you could entertain the slightest regret at the departure of that good lady, I trust that her farewell speech will serve to extinguish it.

Pry. [TO HARDY.] 'Tis best for him as it is. He'd have caught a tartar; besides he can be no chicken. Now what age would you take him to be?

Hardy. At a random guess, turned of twenty. Give me your hand. [To WITHERTON.] I congratulate you on your accession to your senses. I am happy in what I have done here. I feel in good humour with myself, and every body else. Will no one ask a favour, that I may enjoy the pleasure of granting it? Will no one offend me, to afford me the gratification of forgiving him?

ter. And pray, Miss Phebe, how did you dare

Phebe. Why, sir, if hot-headed gentlemen will ask questions with pistols in their hands, what is one to do?

With. Come, come, say no more. You have your own way.

Hardy. True, I have my own way, but not in my own way of having it. Her obedience is not quite so evident in this, as I could have desired; however, there

[Crosses to HARRY, passes him over to ELIZA, and joins their hands. There, you bird catcher, you. You've caught a goldfinch.

Eliza. Thank you, 'pa, and if ever I marry again, you shall have the choice all your own way.

Harry. I am in no hurry to give your 'pa an opportunity of putting your obedi

ence to the test.

Hardy. Frank, my boy, you do take after the family, and I forgive you on that

account.

Phebe. I hope, sir, you'll forgive meif not-[Turns to WITHERTON.] I hear sir, that you have dismissed your housekeeper, and [Curtsies.] should I lose my place in the Colonel's family —

With. Ah, my dear, you are too young for a housekeeper, and I have abandoned my intention to marry. Celibacy is an

Pry. You'll tolerate me-no, will you? Well, that's very polite, and I accept your invitation.

Hardy. But if you dare ask a single question, even what it is o'clock, I'll toss you out of the window.

Pry. I must ask one question more. Ladies and gentlemen, if I am not impertinent, will you, will you overlook the many faults of Paul Pry?

THE END OF PAUL PRY.

HE DIDN'T KNOW THE COURT.

HOW CHIEF JUSTICE WAITE WAS SNUBBED BY A RAILWAY TICKET AGENT.

Chief Justice Waite, of the Supreme Court, had a funny experience the other day, and as he has related it to any number of friends, the story has had a wide circulation in society. Several weeks ago he had an imperative engagement in Baltimore. Like all great men he is proverbially absent-minded. He went up to the Court, and after a few moments' session adjourned the Court and came down leisurely to the Baltimore and Ohio Depot, which is only a short distance from the Capitol. As he got out of the streetcar he found he had ten minutes in which

[Taking his nephew's and MARIAN'S hand.

Hardy. All you that are single, take warning by him, and marry as fast as you

can.

Pry. [TO PHEBE.] A broad hint to you and me, Miss Phebe.

Phebe. Lord help me. You are too inquisitive for a husband.

Pry. Pooh, pooh! A spirit of inquiry is the great characteristic of the age we live in.

Hardy. It is a spirit which now and then leads you to fish in troubled waters. Pry. I flatter myself I have fished to some purpose to-day though the papers, you know.

Hardy. So you have; and in consideration of that, I will tolerate you for the remainder of it. You shall dine with me.

for his journey." He looked around the waiting-room, but saw no one he knew. What was to be done must be done quickly; his engagement was an important one. So he filed up in the line to the ticket office, and when he reached the window the Chief Justice smiled an awful smile across the full width of his ample mouth, and asked the ticket agent if he knew him.

"No, I don't," snarled the agent; "and what is more I don't want to. What do you want?"

"I want a ticket to Baltimore and return. I am the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and I have no money with me; it is purely accidental. I can. give you my personal check."

"Oh, I know you. I know all the bloods, but that dodge won't work on me.

I have just had two members of the Cabinet try to 'bilk' me out of tickets, and no Chief Justice dodge gets me Take your ugly mug out of the window, and get out of the way of people who have money."

The Chief Justice glared. He could not fine the young man for contempt of Court. He felt cheaper and worse than if he had been a real fraud. He blushed and perspired so that the agent had_his firm belief strengthened. The Chief Justire dashed out of the station to see if he could not find some one to identify him. He had only five minutes left. It was too short a time to run to the Capitol. He saw no one. Across the street there was a saloon and eating-house. The Chief Justice made a rush across the road, but he stopped at the door. What if he should be seen going into a common ginmill? What would people say, and it was a bare chance if any one in there should know him! Spying a private entrance, he rushed in and accosted the proprietor with the frantic inquiry of Do yo Do you you know me?"

"Yes, bet yer head, I do, yer honor," said the short-haired, freckled-faced man behind the bar. "Ye are the boss av the Shuprame Coort. I see ye every day going by here on the cars."

Will you cash my check? I have no time to explain." Here the Chief Justice grabbed a piece of paper upon a desk near by and began to write hurriedly.

"Shure I will. I've seen ould byes off on a tear before get out of money. Trusht me, sorr. Is it a twenty ye want? Here it is. Will ye have a drop before ye run?"

But, before any further explanation could be made, the Chief Justice had grabbed the money and was running across the street. In some way the ticket agent had learned of his blunder during the Judge's absence, and was all politeness when he saw the money. Mr. Waite barely made the train, but he has not had such a shock to his dignity since he went upon the bench of the Supreme Court.

"My dear doctor," said an Irishman, "it's no use your giving me an emetic. I tried it twice in Dublin, and it would not stay on my stomach five minutes."

A REPORT FROM BELOW.

As Mister B. and Mistress B.
One night were sitting down to tea,

With toast and muffins hot,
They heard a loud and sudden bounce,
That made the very china flounce,
They could not for a time pronounce

If they were safe or shot.

Suppose the couple standing so,
When rushing footsteps from below

Made pulses fast and fervent;
And first burst in the frantic cat,
All steaming like a brewer's rat,
And then, as white as my cravat,

Poor Mary May, the servant.

split all into cracks.

Well, then I fainted dead away, and might have been cut shorter,

But Providence was kind, and brought me to with sealding water.

I first looked round for Mrs. Round, and sees her at a distance,

As stiff as starch, and looked as dead as anything in existence;

All scorched and grimed, and more than that, I sees the copper slap Right on her head, for all the world like a percussion copper cap.

Well, I crooks her little fingers, and crumps them well up together,

As humanity pints out, and burnt her nostrums with a feather:

But for all as I can do, to restore her to mortality,

When, mercy on us! such a groan makes
And there she is, a-lying with a crazy sort
of eye,
A-staring at the wash-house roof, laid open

Then

to the sky;

she beckons with a finger, and so down to her I reaches,

And put my ear to her mouth to hear her dying speeches,

For poor soul! she has a husband and young orphans, as I knew; ma'am, you won't believe it, but it's Gospel fact and true,

Well,

"Why, where is the powder blew?"

THOMAS HOOD.