Squire began with easy words of two syllables, from that page of Webster, so well known to all who ever thumbed it, as "baker," from the word that stands at the top of the page. She spelled these words in an absent and uninterested manner. As everybody knew that she would have to go down as soon as this preliminary skirmishing was over, everybody began to get ready to go home, and already there was the buzz of preparation. Young men were timidly asking girls if "they could see them safe home," which was the approved formula, and were trembling in mortal fear of "the mitten." Presently the Squire, thinking it time to close the contest, pulled his scalp forward, adjusted his glass eye, which had been examining his nose long enough, and turned over the leaves of the book to the great words at the place known to spellers as "incomprehensibility," and began to give out those "words of eight syllables with the accent on the sixth." Listless scholars now turned round, and ceased to whisper, in order to be in at the master's final triumph. But to their surprise "ole Miss Meanses' white nigger,” as some of them called her in allusion to her slavish life, spelled these great words with as perfect ease as the master. Still not doubting the result, the Squire turned from place to place and selected all the hard words he could find. The school became utterly quiet, the excitement was too great for the ordinary buzz. Would "Meanses' Hanner" beat the master? beat the master that had laid out Jim Phillips? Everybody's sympathy was now turned to Hannah. Ralph noticed that even Shocky had deserted him, and that his face grew brilliant every time Hannah spelled a word. In fact, Ralph deserted himself. As he saw the fine, timid face of the girl so long oppressed flush and shine with interest; as he looked at the rather low but broad and intelligent brow and the fresh, white

complexion and saw the rich, womanly nature coming to the surface under the influence of applause and sympathy-he did not want to beat. If he had not felt that a victory given would insult her, he would have missed intentionally. The bulldog, the stern, relentless setting of the will, had gone, he knew not whither. And there had come in its place, as he looked in that face, a something which he did not understand. You did not, gentle reader, the first time it came to you.

The Squire was puzzled. He had given out all the hard words in the book. He again pulled the top of his head forward. Then he wiped his spectacles and put them on. Then out of the depths of his pocket he fished up a list of words just coming into use in those days-words not in the spelling-book. He regarded the paper attentively with his blue right eye. His black left eye meanwhile fixed itself in such a stare on Mirandy Means that she shuddered and hid her eyes in her red silk handkerchief.

"Daguerreotype," sniffed the Squire. It was Ralph's

turn.

"D-a-u, dau-”

"Next."

And Hannah spelled it right.

Such a buzz followed that Betsey Short's giggle could not be heard, but Shocky shouted: "Hanner beat! my Hanner spelled down the master!" And Ralph went over and congratulated her.

And Dr. Small sat perfectly still in the corner.

And then the Squire called them to order, and said: "As our friend Hanner Thomson is the only one left on her side, she will have to spell against nearly all on t'other side. I shall therefore take the liberty of procrastinating the completion of this interesting and exacting contest until to-morrow evening. I hope our friend Hanner may

again carry off the cypress crown of glory. There is nothing better for us than healthful and kindly simula·tion."

Dr. Small, who knew the road to practice, escorted Mirandy, and Bud went home with somebody else. The others of the Means family hurried on, while Hannah, the champion, stayed behind a minute to speak to Shocky. Perhaps it was because Ralph saw that Hannah must go alone that he suddenly remembered having left something which was of no consequence, and resolved to go round by Mr. Means's and get it.

MYOPIA

BY WALLACE RICE

'As down the street he took his stroll,
He cursed, for all he is a saint.
He saw a sign atop a pole,

As down the street he took a stroll,
And climbed it up (near-sighted soul),

So he could read-and read "FRESH

PAINT,"

As down the street he took a stroll,
He cursed, for all he is a saint.

ANATOLE DUBOIS AT DE HORSE SHOW

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

My vife an' me ve read so moch
In papier here of late,
About Chicago Horse Show, ve
Remember day an' date.

Ve mak' it op togedder dat
Ve go an' see dat show,
Dere's som't'ing dere ve fin' it out
Maybe ve vant to know.

Ve leave de leddle farm avile,
Dat's near to Bourbonnais;
Ve're soon op to Chicago town
For spen' de night an' day;
I nevere lak' dat busy place,
It's mos' too swif' for me,-
Ve vaste no tam', but gat to place
Dat ve is com' for see.

Ve pay de price for tak' us in,

Dey geeve me deux ticquette;
Charlotte an' me ve com' for see

De Horse Show now, you bet.
Ve soon gat in it veree moch,
"De push," I t'ink you call,
To inside on de beeg building,
Ve're going to see it all.

De Coliseum is de place,

Dey mak' de Horse Show dere,
Five tam's so beeg dan any barn
At Bourbonnais, by gar!
I'm look aroun' for place dey haf'
For dem to pitch de hay.

"I guess it's 'out of sight,' I t'ink,"
Dey's von man to me say.

'An' den ve valk aroun' an' 'roun'
Som' horses for to see;
Dere's pretty vomans, lots of dem,
But, for de life of me,

I can not see de trotter nag,
Or vat's called t'oroughbred,
I vonder if ve mak' mistake,
Gat in wrong place instead.

But Charlotte is not disappoint',
Her eyes dey shine so bright,
It's ven she sees dem vimmens folks,

Dey dance vit moch delight;

I den vos tak' a look myself

On ladies vit fin' drass,

Dere's nodding else in dat whol' place Dat is so interes'.

I say, "Charlotte," say I to her, "Dat ladee in box seat

Across de vay vos von beeg swell,

Her beauty's hard to beat; De von dat's gat fonee eyeglass Opon a leddle stek,

I'm t'ink she is most' fin' lookin'

W'en she bow an' spe'k.