32t; 



THE AMKIifCAN BEE-KEEPER. 



Nornnber 



WHY? 



I married my wife, vvliyV 



Listen, and I'll tell you. 

 Not because she makes a good pie, 



Thoiijih shie can, I tell you ; 

 Not btrause she's wondrous wise. 



Versed in Greek and Latin ; 

 Not because she likes to dress 



In fine silk or satin; 

 Not because she rides a wheel 



(I still wear the bloomers); 

 Not because in kindliness 



All my ci'.ochets humors; 

 Not because on politics 



She keeps always posted; 

 Not because she knows how I 

 . Like my meat when roasted; 

 Not because of beauty rare 



(That is quickly over); 

 Not because while she works hard 



I could live in clover; 

 Not because she does possess 



Fortune that's immense — 

 Simply just because she's got 



Good, sound common sense. 

 —Charles W. Hird in Boston Post. 



A BAG OF LETTERS. 



A bright fire was burning in the 

 Btudio of Jack Torrington, the cele- 

 brated newspaper artist, and everything 

 indicated that iie knew thoroughly how 

 to appreciate those comforts to which 

 he had only lately become entitled, for 

 only about a month before Jack, like 

 Lord Byrou, "awoke one morning to 

 find himself famous." 



He had had a long and bitter strug- 

 gle with adverse fortune. For more than 

 ten years he had toiled untiringly, re- 

 warded only with poverty, starvation 

 and neglect. He had lived and worked 

 in a garret, carrying his drawings from 

 editor to editor — always on foot, for he 

 could not afiford to pay omnibus fare — 

 only to be told that they had not enough 

 work to give to their own staff. But 

 now at last fate had smiled upon him — 

 an enterprising art editor had "discov- 

 ered" him — and he had become the fash- 

 ion. 



He was seated at his ease before the 

 fire sipping his coffee. He had already 

 looked over the daily paper and thrown 

 it aside. A large pile of letters lay on 

 the table beside him, but he had not 

 opened any of them, probably because 

 he knew beforehand what their con- 

 tents were likely to be. When he had 

 completed his meditations on the morn- 



ing's news,, however, he took oue ,up 

 and opened it. It was from the editor of 

 one of the leading ladies' weeklies, The. 

 Glass of Fashion, and it ran thus: ' 



"Dear Mr. Torrington — We have been 

 much gratified"— "Oh, hang the com-, 

 plinients, " exclaimed Jack, and he. 

 hung them — that is to say, he skipped 

 them. "Would you," the editor contin- 

 ued, "have time to undertake one or 

 two full page drawings for our summer 

 number? The subject would be entirely 

 your own choice, but of course it 

 would be something appropriate to the 

 season. You can name your own price. " 



"Oh, most likely," said Jack, and 

 he threw the letter into the fire. This 

 was the editor who had written to him 

 only two years before, "As you do not 

 excel at this kind of work, I fear it will 

 not be possible for us to employ you." 

 This letter was followed by about a doz- 

 en more from other editors in very much 

 the same terms. 



The next letter that Jack picked up 

 was directed in a graceful feminine 

 hand. There was a dainty perfume 

 about it, and there was a crest on the 

 envelope. 



"Who the devil can this be?" thought 

 Jack. He opened it. 



"Dear Sir — ", it began, "Surely I can- 

 not be wrong in supposing you are the 

 same Mr. Torrington who was sketch- 

 ing down here a year ago" — 



"Let's see what the name is — Anna 

 Delacy Thorne. Oh, by Jove, I know., 

 It's that woman down in Shropshire 

 who used to come and bother me to 

 show her my sketches, and who used to 

 tell me how happy I was to be able to 

 do such charming work, and who never 

 once asked me into her house to have a 

 cup of tea. Well, what more?" 



" 'Those delightful pen and ink 

 sketches.' Oh, bother, 'Everybody 

 knew that you would be famous some 

 day. My husband saw your portrait in 

 one of the papers, and he says he is 

 quite sure it is you, etc. Is there any 

 chance of your coming down this way 

 next summer? We should be so glad to 

 see you, and I should find you plenty 

 of models. ' Thanks, I can do that for 

 myself. 'Have you the sketch still 

 which I admired so much of two girls, 

 standing on the bridge and would it ,be 

 very expensive?' 



"Yes, madam, it would be expensive,* 



