THE ALUMNI JOURNAL. 



99 



THREE STAMPS POR A NICKEL. 



The sad event chronicled in the follow- 

 ing lines occurred several days ago in the 

 small and insignificant-looking structure 

 on F St., between Fourteenth and Fif- 

 teenth Sts., which the United States 

 Government uses as a branch post office. 



She was an extremely pretty girl, with 

 the brightest eyes, the pinkest cheeks, 

 the reddest lips, the cutest nose and the 

 sunshiniest face that had been seen in 

 that locality in years. 



So pretty she was that the susceptible 

 clerk at the stamps window gulped as if 

 he had swallowed something when she 

 came trippingly up to the window and 

 spoke to him. 



"Have you postage stamps?" she 

 asked as innocently as if Government 

 post offices usually dealt in haystacks and 

 grindstones. 



But the clerk never noticed that. He 

 didn't notice anything but the sparkling 

 vision before him with three unstamped 

 letters in its soft, white hand. 



" Yes, miss," he responded, making a 

 herculean effort to suppress his emotion. 



" Can I get three for a nickel ? " 



Now, this clerk loved his little joke, 

 and a man who will joke on a sacred sub- 

 ject is fit for treason, stratagem and 

 spoils. 



" Yes, miss," he answered, and quite 

 tenderly, too. 



' 'Oh, how nice, ' ' she twittered. "Mam- 

 ma said they never sold them any less, 

 no matter how many we wanted. But I 

 said I was sure they would, and now 

 won't mamma be surprised when I lell 

 her that I got three for a nickel ? ' ' 



The coy, arch smile she sent fluttering 

 through the window to the clerk was 

 something to be treasured in the heart of 

 any man to his dying day. 



" I am sure she will," he murmured 

 smiling back at her as best he could un- 

 der the circumstances. 



' ' Well, give me three, please, ' ' and she 

 laid a nickel down in the window before 

 him. 



He did not dare look at her, but kept 

 his eyes on the drawer where the stamps 

 are confined. 



As he picked out two twos and a one 

 and laid them beside that soft, little hand 

 waiting for them on the window still, 

 there came into her beautiful eyes such a 

 look of tender reproach that he went 

 right over to the regi.stry clerk and 

 registered a solemn vow that never, no, 

 never again, would he permit his sense 

 of duty to dull the finer faculties of his 

 feeling. — lVashingio7i Star. 



WHY THE CLERKS ARE WARY. 



A drug clerk was recently severely cen- 

 sured for not allowing a wounded boy to 

 be brought into the store of which he was 

 in charge for treatment. It looked in- 

 human and doubtless the young man was 

 a little extreme in his views. 



On the other hand, those who have not 

 been along where the drug clerk now is 

 have no idea to what extent they are 

 bothered with other people's business. 



The following little sketch from a daily 

 paper may serve to throw some light on 

 the subject : 



"No, ma'am," said the Third avenue 

 drug store clerk, as he looked industri- 

 ousl}^ out of the window; "I can't possi- 

 bly advise you what to get for your sis- 

 ter's hand. If it is a bad bruise you 

 better see a doctor, or go to a dispensary. 

 Sorry, but I couldn't do it. I can give 

 you any simple salve you wish, but you'd 

 better see the doctor in the next block. ' ' 



"It wasthecarstartin' an' her with her 

 foot not ofifn'n the platform when the con- 

 ductor he rang twict, and she slipped an' 

 come down on her hand, and it's been a- 

 festerin', and my husband he says she 

 ought to take the law to the company. 

 Not a stroke of work can she do with the 



