SUNDAY INSPIRATION. 



429 



stuffed the fish into one of my coat pockets 

 and tried again with the same success, and 

 worked slowly down the meadow, fishing 

 in the holes for trout, and falling into 

 muskrat holes for my own amusement. 

 When I reached the lower end of the mead- 

 ow I had 13 trout in my coat pockets and 

 one too large to go in. That I put on a 

 stick. The big one weighed a pound, while 

 several of those in the pockets weighed */-> 

 a pound each. The pockets bulged some- 

 what, but I did not know what else to do 

 with the fish. 



This for me was good luck, and I started 

 home, knowing how pleased my wife would 

 be with the delicious dinner in prospect. 

 She was pleased when she saw the big one. 

 It was when I began to unload my pockets 

 that her eyes showed trouble was coming. 

 As I pulled out a fish with a slight kink in 

 the tail, that I hastened to straighten, she 

 looked at me. 



"John, did you put that dirty fish in 

 your pocket ?" 



I had to admit that I was the author of 

 the deed, and I hastened to tell her that 

 the fish were not dirty, as they had all 

 been washed before taking. 



"But in your pocket ! You should have 

 known better." 



I explained that the fish would all 

 straighten out and that it did not hurt 

 them a bit. Then I took out another. 



"But your pockets are no place to put 

 fish !" 



My wife is dear to me, so I told her it 

 was impossible to put the fish in the button- 

 holes, on the collar, or to pin them on the 

 lapel. 



Her reply is a matter between the lady 

 and myself; but I have since made differ- 

 ent arrangements about transporting what 

 trout I catch. 



WHITE PERCH. 



FROM PAINTING BY W. I . STEWARD 



"Help! Help!" came the cry of distress 

 through the midnight stillness. 



The policeman in the neighboring door- 

 way stirred uneasily. "Advertise in the 

 want column," he muttered, and resumed 

 his nap. — Philadelphia Press. 



