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A RUDE SHOCK.

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S our eye fell upon a newspaper heading the other day, saying, "The Four Hundred All Lost!" we experienced a sensation of the keenest horror. It turned out to be the wreck of a Chinese ship, but that one terrible moment in which we supposed New York's plutocracy was really gone forever is not to be forgotten. It is painful to reflect upon what would become of this community if our cherished four hundred should really stray off in a body and never return. Local civilization would receive a blow in the face from which it would be difficult to recover. Moreover, their simple, earnest lives and unassuming manners are a precious example to the rising generation.

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PRINCESS ILSE.

NEW BOOKS.

Translated from the German by Florence M.

Cronise. Chicago: Albert. Scott and Company.

Friendship Essays. By Cicero, Bacon and Emerson. Chicago: Albert, Scott and Company.

Siberia and the Exile System. Two volumes. By George Kennan. New York: The Century Company.

Duchess Annette. By Max Maury. Chicago: Laird and Lee.

A Widower Indeed. By Rhoda Broughton and Elizabeth Bisland. New York: D. Appleton and Company.

Holiday Stories. By Stephen Fiske. Boston: Benjamin R. Tucker. A Southern Heritage. By Wm. Horace Brown. New York: Edward Brandus and Company.

An Automatic Wife. By Wm. Hosea Ballou. Rowland

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New York: W. D.

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SAY, TOMMY, LEND YERSELF TO ME. YER SO BOW-LEGGED YER'LL DO FOR A HOOP."

"YOU NEEDN'T TALK-YER ARE JEST EZ BOW-LEGGED EZ ME, ONLY YER ARE KNOCK-KNEED, TOO-HA!"

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I do not want to fly," said he,

"I only want to squirm!"

And he drooped his wings dejectedly,

But still his voice was firm;
"I do not want to be a fly-
I want to be a worm!"

O yesterday of unknown lack,
To-day of unknown bliss!

I left my fool in red and black;
The last I saw was this-
The creature climbing madly back
Into his chrysalis !

Charlotte Perkins Stetson.

LIFE'S FAIRY TALES.

THE WEDDING THAT WASN'T.

YEAR or two ago there lived in Connecticut a man so superior that in his presence all nature was ill at ease. Birds were ashamed of their frivolity and hid their heads vhen they saw him coming. Dogs blushed for their aimless lives. It is reported that a pair of horses once tendered him an apology for not joining the church. He never touched alcohol or tobacco, or said foolish things or rested his elbows on the table, or played cards, or used slang expressions. He never encouraged anybody in anything for fear they might sin in doing it. When he smiled it was with one side of his mouth at a time. Having no faults he was detested by all who knew him, but as no one dared confess this, each supposed the others loved him. Of course he was wealthy. The gentle maiden he was to marry also detested him, but without fully realizing it, for she had been repeatedly congratulated by her parents on her good fortune in securing the love of such a perfect man, and she was too well brought up to doubt their statements.

When the wedding day arrived every pew in the village church was full. Now, it happened all by chance, that Mr. Pinfeather Presto, a fairy of American parentage, was floating lazily along beneath the village elms that morning, disguised

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OUR CARTOON.

UR cartoon this week is merely the old, every day story in pictorial form. The physician has an immeasurable advantage over other professionals in that no one is the wiser for his blunders. Whether he kill or cure his reputation and his fee remain unchanged. This is a misfortune for the patient, and will so continue until the practicing physician is something more than human.

That prince of extortionists, the druggist, into whose hands the doctors play with a readiness and freedom for which there is no excuse, is one of the greediest humbugs of the day. With the feeling that you have the doctor, the certainty of being swindled by the druggist and the possibility of assistance from the undertaker, the prospects for the thoughtful patient are none too rosy.

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"A LADY IN WAITING."

as a blue-bottle fly. When he neared the church, he saw at once some wedding was afoot, and he said to himself : "Here's for a look at her. I always did love a bride!" and he sailed boldly through the open door. Flying straight over the heads of the people until he was well in front, he looked about and then sat himself on the chancel rail. The great organ was pouring forth a wedding march, and all eyes were turned eagerly toward the entering bride. She was pretty, but very pale, and it seemed to Mr. Pinfeather Presto that, were it not for her father's arm, she would have sunk to the floor. A glance at the groom, and he recognized at once the Perfect Man. "That explains it!" he muttered angrily.

He'll nag her to death with his beastly goodness, and she knows it!" As his eyes fell again upon her unhappy face, his soul revolted at the sacrifice. "It's a shame!" he muttered: "and what's more, I'll stop it!" Then, acting upon a quick resolve he buzzed away to a distant corner of the church, and disappeared behind a column. In less than twenty seconds he emerged, this time as a beautiful golden

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THE BRIDE SWOONED DEAD AWAY."

swooned dead away and hung limp in her father's arms. The Perfect Man pushed rudely away the beautiful boy, and his own surprise and horror were taken for the embarrassment he would naturally display at the discovery of his guilt. All was tumult and confusion among the assembled friends, who quickly left the church to talk it over in each other's houses. A more enjoyable horror was never experienced in that particular village.

The maiden afterwards married the faulty young man she really loved, and they are still living happily together.

The beautiful boy was never seen again and to this day is believed to have been murdered by his father, who finally drowned himself to escape the contempt of his neighbors. J. A. Mitchell.

DOCTOR (to newly made father): Sir, you are to be con

gratulated. You are the father of twins. HAPPY PARENT (doubtfully): That's so. They might have been triplets.

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