24 



TIIK AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



January 



you forgive me? What? Oh! You 

 say 'long a.eo.' Oh, you dear girl 1 

 What's that funny noise? What? 

 Spell it. Yes. K-i-s. Oh, yes; I 

 understand. Here's one for you, 

 sweetheart." 



Heretho young man made a noise 

 like the pop of a champagne cork. 

 Then he called oft' and walked away 

 from the 'phone, blushing happily. 

 — Philadeljohia Eecord. 



Sir Artliur Sullivan's Speech. 



I remember sitting before Sir Ar- 

 thur Sullivan when he came to the 

 old Fifth Avenue theater to produce 

 "The Mikado. " He led the orches- 

 tra well enough, -but when the per- 

 formance was ended he was expected 

 to make a siieeoh. Of all the speeches 

 I ever heard from the lips of a full 

 grown man that was the most re- 

 markable. It consisted of 20 stutters 

 and a stammer, 100 hesitations and 

 1,000 dashes, countless "er's" and 

 etill more "and er's. " He had his 

 Ibaton in his hand and in his nerv- 

 ousness nearly beat himself black 

 and blue with it. — New York Press. 



Paper Gas Pipes. 



Gei'man papers assert that gas 

 pipes made of paper are a success. 

 Manilla paper strips are passed 

 through molten aspbaltum and then 

 molded under heavy pressure. Aft- 

 er cooling, the pipes, which may be 

 of any desired length, receive a wa- 

 terproof coating. 



Unlucky. 



"Look here, young fellow," said 

 the gentleman with the waxed mus- 

 tache to the tramp who was stealth- 

 ily approaching the vicinity of the 

 free lunch counter, "if you're at all 

 superstitious, I'd have you know 

 that you're the thirteenth man who 

 has worked that free lunch today." 



"Well, I guess 13 is dead unlucky, " 

 replied the itinerant. "No. 12 seems 

 to have got the last of it." — Yon- 

 kers Statesman. 



CATCHING WILD PONIES. 



Hundreds of Animals Corralled on an 

 Island Off Virginia's Coast. 



Chincoteague is a small island in 

 the Atlantic close to the shore of 

 Accomac county, in Virginia, Assa- 

 teague is a long, narrow peninsula 

 lying outside of Chincoteague and 

 protecting it from the assaults of 

 the Atlantic. Chincoteague is a 

 glittering little island, brilliant with 

 sand and salt water, densely peo- 

 pled, well wooded and haunted by 

 mocking birds. There is neither 

 poverty nor crime there; drunken- 

 ness is almost unknown, and doors 

 are always unlocked. It is the 

 boast of Chincoteague that no slave 

 ever lived upon its soil, and that the 

 island remained true to the Union 

 throughout the war of the rebellion. 

 There are no better sailors anywhere 

 than the people of Chincoteague, 

 and there are no stancher little boats 

 than the Chincoteague canoe with 

 double leg of mutton sail. 



Nobody knows positively the ori- 

 gin of the Chincoteague ponies. It 

 is only known that they have roam- 

 ed the marshy pastures of the island 

 for at least a century, and there is a 

 tradition that the ancestors of the 

 ponies camo ashore from a wrecked 

 ship in the eighteenth century. 

 These doubtless were full grown 

 horses, and the Chincoteague pony 

 of today is a degenerate through 

 droughts in summer and exposure 

 in the open pastures through long 

 winters. But, degenerate as he is, 

 the Chincoteague pony is a fine, 

 hardy and often beautiful animal, 

 with strength out of proportion to 

 his size and when well broken has 

 strength, agility and speed. He is 

 from 10 to 12 hands high and from 

 600 to SCO pounds in weight. From 

 250 to 400 of these little creatures 

 roam the island pastures. Thore 

 are perhaps half as many on the 

 lower end of Assateague. 



