THE AMERICAN BEE KEEPER. 



March 



man every clip. The housework has to 

 be clone before she's in for the game. 

 And she slaves for her little sisters and 

 brothers, just slaves for them, and yet 

 she does it as willing. But then she's 

 good to everybody; always ready to 

 help out with work when neighbors are 

 behind or sick or have cominiuy, and 

 she sticks up for horses and cats and all 

 like that. You wouldn't believe she 

 was that way, though, to see her at a 

 ball or dancing on excursion boats up 

 the river. She's a good looker and a good 

 dresser, and when she's out in full rig 

 —well, say, she's a sight. The other 

 fellows don't do nothing when we're 

 out" — 



Percy stopped short. Mrs Leveen had 

 risen suddenly, and she stood erect be- 

 fore him, tall and white and proud. 



"Why, Aunt Martha!" he exclaimed. 



"That is enough, Percy. Thank you. 

 I see I have been wrong, all wrong in 

 this matter from the first. You shall 

 have your way, for it is right. I con- 

 sent. " 



"Oh, Aunt Martie, " he cried, spring- 

 ing up and seizing her hand to kiss, "I 

 am so glad ! But I knew you would after 

 hearing about her. And, say, aunt, you 

 ought to see her once. You couldn't 

 help but like her and admire her. 

 Everybody in the ward does. Why, do 

 you know what they call her, the men 

 down at the Grapevine? The way you 

 looked then made me think of it. They 

 call her the pride of Greenwich vil- 

 lage. ' ' — J. Lincoln Steffens in New 

 York Post. 



The Telling of It. 



The other day at a social function I 

 came upon two friends, one of whom 

 had just returned from a luxurious voy- 

 age round the world in a millionaire's 

 steam yacht. "Have you found anybody 

 willing to sit down and hear you tell 

 about it?" mischievously asked the 

 other. ' 'No, ' ' was the laughing answer, 

 "I have not even ventured to make the 

 attempt." And I applauded this discre- 

 tion, for "telling about it" is the most 

 dangerous indulgence possible to one 

 who would be loved as a compimion. It 

 is the way that bores begin, and a first 

 yielding to the enticement has often led 

 to one of those fatal cases of self con- 

 sideration which stamp the afflicted 

 speaker forever with a brand. 



He may have seen a ghost or a mur- 

 der — nay, oven may have chanced to 

 meet an emperor in his shirt sleeves. 

 No matter; lot him be silent upon these 

 subjects in which his own personality 

 must claim the lion's share. The time 

 will come, perhaps, in some autumn 

 twilight, at the end of a long house 

 party, when the whole company may 

 gather about him and clamor eagerly 

 for his adventures. But until then he 

 should cling to the first precept of con- 

 versation, which commands him to leave 

 ample room for the display of wit in 

 others. — Scribuer's. 



The Khine Fortifications. 



The early Romans found the swift 

 current of the Rhine sufficient defense 

 against the gigantic Germans, but lo 

 protect the peaceful settlers against all 

 possible danger every ford on the upper 

 Rhine and every convenient crossing 

 place on the lower stream was fortified, 

 and thus a chain of posts was extended 

 from the sea to Strasburg. 



Rossini's Laziness. 



Rossini vv'as one of the most indolent 

 of men, and in his younger days used 

 to do most of his composing in bed. 

 Once he had almost completed a trio, 

 when the sheet fell out of his himd and 

 went under the bed. He could not reach 

 it, and, rather than get up, he wrote 

 another. The lazy man, if he works at 

 all, does so by spurts, and Rossini, work- 

 ing against time, wrote "The Barber of 

 Seville" in 13 days. When Donizetti 

 was told of this, he remarked, "It is 

 very possible — he is so lazy!" The over- 

 ture to the "Gazza Ladra" was written 

 under curious circumstances. On the 

 very day of the first performance of the 

 opera not a note of the overture was 

 written, and the manager, getting hold 

 of Rossini, confined him in the upper 

 loft of La Scala, setting four scene shift- 

 ers on guard over him. These took the 

 sheets as they were filled and threw 

 them out of the windows to copyists be- 

 neath. 



Why They Object. 



' 'Why do your parents object so to 

 Mr. Longslop?" 



Edith — Mamma objects to his short- 

 comings and papa to his long stayings. 

 — New Orleans Times-Democrat. 



