be a poem. We want a painter to be a pic¬ 
ture. The sculptor must inove as a god 
among his statues. David Burgher had a 
hump on his back; his tall, lithe body was 
crowned, as it were, with two capitals. 
That hump pushed his head forward. It 
was a well-shapeli head, and contended for 
its rightful place manfully, holding itself 
like a swimmer’s head, which feels waves in 
front and a rock behind. That hump was a 
natural saddle for Satan to ride on. Satan 
rode it occasionally, as bo rides many of us 
who do not afford him such physical conven¬ 
iences; and when he did gallop, the black 
lace of David BubghkiI must have made 
the angels feel sad. “ In this tabernacle we 
groan, being burdened;” and when, to the 
usual amount of flesh some frightful distor¬ 
tion is superadded, we need the strength of 
Goliath and the meekness of the Hebrew 
law-giver to carry it all to the stopping- 
place with propriety. My hero is neither a 
giant nor a saint. If lie doesn't make moral 
observations all through this sketch oil the 
beauty and usefulness Of llifl appendage, 1 
cauuot help it. He is no ideal of mine. 
Tim public think just os you and I do 
about a king of the chisel. 
“ What could a lame feller like that know 
about those marble images," asked an aristo¬ 
cratic lady who came to order statues for 
her shrubbery. She went straight (Vom the 
presence of David Burgher to a “tomb¬ 
stone man,” Atld had some monuments chip¬ 
ped out and ornamented. These were a safe 
investment; the “lame feller’s” inventions 
might have brought down the ridicule of her 
friends. A straight, well-made marble chip¬ 
per does look like a bettor medium for inspi¬ 
ration than a stooping* glowering sculptor. 
A shapely body ts a good card in the game 
of ntc. 
Through much trial and tribulation David 
entered into the heaven of success. Visitors 
and work gradually Increased. He studied 
hie art and everything bordering it. His 
mother thought he had made it his “ frail,” 
lie had known no boyhood; he had known 
no youth; he came pretty nearly slipping 
through manhood in priest’s robes, when lie 
saw woman's face and fell 111 love. Now 
David BuRGUiMtliad seen plenty of women’s 
faces Willi his physieial eyes. There was his 
mother’s, for instance, round ami blonde 
and somewhat wizened from much pucker¬ 
ing up to cry; and them were hundreds of 
feminine faces that lie met every clay, pug- 
nosed and straight-nosed, mobile and heavy, 
fail' and dark; hut ho saw one face with his 
spiritual eyes, a face, clear, laughing and 
changeful as water. It flashed through him 
like lighting; it shook him with many vibra¬ 
tions long after the encounter was over. 
David did hot know the young lady; he 
never expected to see her again; hut with 
obstinate stupidity he Weill every day and 
stood on the street to watch for her. It is 
not necessary to say that he had his watch¬ 
ing for his pains. You know how fate tan¬ 
talizes. Being an enthusiast, he glorified 
that woman; being a ketmit, lie meditated on 
her; being a mail, he adored her. It affords 
me keen delight to record the foolishness of 
one of the masculine gender. Thanks be to 
our rising stars, we women may yet refute 
the sappiness wkiek Byron attributes to us. 
The artist was one day trying to give 
shape to some plaster and a vivid fancy that 
be had in his brain. Ills studio dbof was 
open. Some men in tile next room were 
clii8diug out finished designs. 1 he sun- 
■sLifiic streamed in, giving his surroundings 
and him a wonderful touehing-up. The only 
handsome gifl nature had doled out to David 
Burgher toconsole him for his ugliness Wob 
his eyes. Black, liquid* intense eyes, they 
shown like beacons over the promontory on 
his back. They weren’t Dutch eyes. I 
never wandered back along his ancestors; 
there might be an Italian among them. 
While he worked, footsteps began to pat¬ 
ter up the stairway, and women • voices 
jingled and men-voices jangled against each 
other, on their way to his studio. My artist 
was What those considerate people, the old 
ladies, call a “ bashful man.” Ilis swart 
face look on a more than healthful hue; he 
wanted to play the ostrich, or perform some 
of the wonderful feats of the circus ring, to 
get his head out of the line of observation, 
whenever crinoline floated near. 
“ A hump-backed sculptor! ” cried one of 
the coming girlish voices. “ Who ever 
heard of such a thing! I could as soon im¬ 
agine a brainless poet! ” 
What heartless things we say when we 
are giddy! 
" Do be careful, Annie,” exclaimed an¬ 
other voice. “ Don’t you see we are at the 
door?” 
Miraculously, and without precedent, it 
came to pass that David Burgher received 
his callers with leonine grace. He was 
even interestingly pale. The Arc that usual¬ 
ly inflamed the skin of his couutcnance be¬ 
ing concentrated in his eyes. 
“Permit me, ah,” said Mr. John Smith, 
“ Mr, Burgher, Miss Travis; Miss Belle 
Smith. We came to look at the works of 
your genius if you— ah—will allow us.” 
Mi'. John Smith never knew exactly 
what to say. 1 do not believe David 
Burgher knows unto this date that there is 
a Miss Belle Smith in cxistericc, for he has 
not yet returned the bow she honored him 
With. He fixed his eyes on her companion, 
and the companion fixed her eyes on him. 
Here was the woman with the clear, laugh¬ 
ing, changeful face—the woman whose slave 
he was, whose lips had just ridiculed his de¬ 
formity. Her face was more changeful than 
clear and laughing at that moment. She 
was sorry. Her direct nature would have 
gone to the point at once and asked his pal- 
don ; but sonic of our offences seal our lips. 
Ulr. Buhguer showed his guests the 
“ works of his genius,” and I must say lie 
appeared like a sculptor even to the circum¬ 
ference of his hump. The girls sparkled 
about the rooms, or stood in mute admira¬ 
tion of some exquisite shape, or chattered like 
blackbirds. An American girl’s tongne 
moves like the national flag In d cliff bi’eeze. 
Dai iff hdd opportunity to study this woman. 
Whut a storehouse of strength and cheer and 
freshness her slight frame was ! Yet Annie 
Travis had barely escaped plainness. If 
invalidism, that curse which so many enjoy, 
bad gotten the richness of her complexion, 
ihc elasticity of her figure, the luster of her 
hair, the crystal clearness of her wide, pow¬ 
erful base! eye, illy heroine would have been 
a failure. Health Is glorious! It made her 
beautiful, magnetic, a “joy forever.” 
While the artist was replacing the cover 
on a statue lie had shown them, Miss Tra¬ 
vis lingered by him. To make him heed 
her, she touched his hand wilh the tips bf 
her shapely gldvfi. Itc luhied white to the 
lips. The childlike apology and compli¬ 
ment she had framed went back from here. 
She thought he was so angry With her that 
he hated her. It was anger’s twin; madness; 
that possessed him 
The little party gurgled out of the studio 
very much as they had gurgled in. Just, as 
soon us their footsteps quit resounding, Da¬ 
vid Burgher shut the door, atld did Some¬ 
thing quite idiotic. You ffdbfcs he sat down 
by a table, put bis elbows thereon and wept 
it river Euphrates through his lingers. Ex¬ 
cuse me. His mother did the crying for the 
family. He walked straight to the statue by 
which he had stood when A nnie TravW 
touched iPnl, dnd dealt it a blow with his 
list, that was enough to make both the ears 
of all the statues that heal'd it to tingle. 
Having done which, he straightened his 
strong right arm and dashed it against the 
hump on his back with ridiculous fury. 
Tracing the workings of a mind cannot be 
a very teAsy dr a very pleasant task. Vriu 
always And IM dirt of t his wdrld lodged be¬ 
tween the Wheels of the very finest machine. 
The next evening, as David Burgrek 
was hurrying home, he saw Miss Travis 
riding beside a devoted charioteer. HoW 
gay, tantalizing, bewitching she was! Bho 
dropped a very small bow to Mr. Burgher. 
“Good enough recognition of a hump¬ 
backed sculptor.” thought Mr. Burgher, 
setting Ills Arm teeth like a vice. “ I am not 
going to love this woman,” ruminated Mr. 
BURGHER, furtilci’iliofe,striding like a wind¬ 
mill toward the suburbs. He Walked as he 
had never walked when life was a Struggling 
boy. It was his habit to put ffiftkafftiefi 
under bis F*:et, and tfead them down by the 
mile. 
“Is there to be no happiness for me? 
Must I go on bearing this lump of perdition 
on my shoulders? —with n body forever 
blunting my soul? She ridicules And de¬ 
spises me. What makes mo IJyc upon hel’ 
so? 1 will hot make a fool of myself about 
any woman. 1 cannot ask her to marry me.” 
11c thought of Annie Travis presiding in 
his Collage, beside his liitie German mother, 
in petticoat aild cap, or walking beside him 
on the street, and as he thought of it he 
stopped and laughed outright. Laughter 
that conies from pain has no pleasant sound. 
David Burgher’s laugh sounded in hia own 
ears very much like a donkey’s bray. He 
turned on his heel and went home. 
You wonder he did not think Of (suicide; 
When ho was walking near the river, too. 
Men, also, lack the cat-likc capacities of en¬ 
durance that women have. Why didn’t he 
plunge in and hide his hump and his agony 
under that faithful cover? I thank you, 
suicide is so common now-a-daya that 1 
wouldn’t own a hero who would be guilty 
of it. 
“Aeli, Dawvtb” cried the little Dutch 
mother, running to meet him at his door, 
“ ach, Himmel! die Fraulein ist verbrechcn I 
I vas so scare! Veil all de mans and de 
horses kick, I vish you vas mit de house. 
Ilier ein, Dawvie, liier ein, Dawyie !” 
“ What is the matter, mother ?” 
For reply, the little wisp laid hold on his 
arm and towed him to the threshold of their 
parlor. He saw the woman he had just 
cast so bravely out of his heart lying pale 
and faint in bis home, with two medical 
men bandaging her arm and her late chario¬ 
teer bending anxiously oyer them. 
“A runaway?” asked David, fiercely. 
“ Why didn’t that fellow stive her instead,of 
himself?” 
“ He vas holt the horses; pig pile of 
sthones runs over dem; everypoddy go 
shoo; dey tip over; Smash up; so. 
Miss TrAvis operted her eyeS: 
“ 0, Annie ; can you ever forgive me ?” 
whispered the gentleman. 
“Nonsense,” she breathed, laughing a 
little. “ It is not your fault. Where am I ? 
I believe I lost my senses for a minute.” 
“ You are in the house by which we were 
overturned. 1 am going for your uncle im¬ 
mediately.” 
“There is no need of alarming the fam¬ 
ily” said Miss Travis energetically, “i 
am not badly hurt. It is only a fractured 
arm. Just as soon as it is bandaged and I 
am a little rested, I can walk to the street 
cars.” 
“ You have the spirit of ten women of 
this age, young lady,” remarked one of the 
physicians. “ We cannot risk losing such a 
woman; bo you will take our ad vie? and re¬ 
main quietly where you are to-night, anti 
send messages to your friends by this wil¬ 
ling attendant.” 
“Bihay!” cried Frau Burgher, rushing 
to the sofa, “ and pc welcomen.” “ Sthay, 
Frauliue, 1 makes you teas. I pe sorry you 
vas proke.” 
Annie Travis reached out her sound 
hand and took one of the hands Frau 
Burgher wasjesticulating with. 
“You arc very kind, Madame. You are 
all so kind to me. But 1 don’t want to in¬ 
trude.” She caught sight of the artist lean¬ 
ing against the door post and divined that 
she was in his house. “ I think 1 had better 
gd home. 
Now, Frau Burgher was as quick as a 
butterfly. She saw the glance her soil and 
guest exchanged. When David approached 
to say “ 1 hope you will honor us by remain¬ 
ing; Miss Tn.vvta* ilfo 1-tlHc Iff liifl hiVliiiiUiri 
did not suit her. She fluttered to his sleeve, 
attached her pincers, and drew him to the 
sofa. 
“ Tie Is goof, poy,” slio exclaimed* “mein 
Hilly Sohii; lie Visli j'du sliiuy Vfeiy jldd; 
but be sprefcht niclit. His tongue all go to 
prams!” Having thus done justice to her 
son, the mother disappeared, to carry out 
her hospitable intentions. 
David’s tdtigufi did not quite go to bis 
brainsj Hdt ii cleaved very closely to the 
roof of his lifoulli sevbiitl minutes after 
the room was vacated by all but Miss Tra¬ 
vis and himself. She closed her white eye¬ 
lids and lay still, like** lily on the water. I 
How pure, and boiiesk -nnd sweet her face 
was I No scIf-COnsciGCW smirking; no lines 
of scorn marred It. 
“ t ihait ibVe lie?,” tbdught DaViP ; ” j 
must love her, though she spurns,me. I 
would rather ache for her alt my life than 
have my choice among all other women.” 
What idiots we are! 
Miss Travis twitched her lips suddenly. 
11 1 ilopc you arc ndt ill pain?” Said David* 
apprehensively. 
“ It hurts me a little.” 
David approached her with as much cau¬ 
tion as If she laid been Without a muzzle. 
“ Can 1 do uiiyUlUtg fof you?” 
Annie opened her Wide hazel eyes and 
looked at him. Ttleie are a great many 
strdngt things ill eyes. For some reason 
ttfo yUiifig lady flushed, find implied cbklly. 
“ No, thank 3 r ou.” 
“I have offended as well as frightened 
her,” thought David, as be rushed from her 
presence, to appear again no more while she 
slayedi 
PeVeltii tiihes during the following week, 
Miss Travis* when she rode out, delighted 
Frau Burgher by calling. But lie did not 
meet her again for three months. During 
this period of abstinence he suffered like it 
wdriiaii. Men who to endure and be 
tender,, take a long remove from brutish* 
ness. Don't they shape up into considerate 
creatures! Strong and pure are the adjec¬ 
tives you describe them with. They are 
the proper men for statesmen, for founders 
of families, for all positions in which other 
human beings ale to be handled. David 
peaked and pined, and I am not ashamed of 
him for it. Men generally, havn't stamina 
enough to do so. They shoot themselves, or 
go to wallowing in a beer shop. I am proud 
of David that lie had the sense of a woman. 
Miss Travis came laughing again up stairs, 
attended by a tall, whiskered admirer, and 
behind her came some other young ladies, 
attended by various admirers. 
“We took the liberty, Mr. Burgher, of 
running up to see your new piece, about 
which we have all heard so much.” 
He had been busy in bis woe. The works 
of a morbid mind are seldom edifying; but 
patience and st udy can bring worth even out 
of a morbid mind. 
The sculptor glowered like a lion on one 
of his visitors. Wherever Miss Travis 
stepped, that tall man was her lengthened 
shadow. David clenched his bands when 
the Impudent villain approached his familiar 
head near the jaunty head that was a star 
to him. 
Mr. Burgher led the way to an alcove 
lighted by a window, where his last piece 
awaited its purchaser’s pleasure, He un¬ 
covered it. All the young ladies except one 
tried “Oh!” “Sweet!” and “Splendid!” 
find all the gentlemen looked critical, the 
tall one pulling his whiskers with one laven- 
tler-gioved hand, and the various ones pull¬ 
ing their chins with their variously gloved 
hands. As for Annie Travis, she stood 
near the artist, and looked at the beautiful 
design quietly. 
All impressions dwindle to a thin edge 
like icc. When you get pretty nearly over, 
you look around uneasily, for a convenient 
place to land. A pug-nosed flirt, seeing 
A£n1k occupied, took advantage of the gen¬ 
eral stir to carry off the tall mail and his 
whiskers. The rest of the little company 
ebbed away toother attractions in the rooms. 
David and Annie were left standi»g alone 
together. She lifted her eyes quickly, and 
saw that he was pale and quivering. 
“ Mr, Burgher,” she said in a low voice, 
“ aren’t you ever going to forgive me?” 
“ There is iidthing,” he articulated hoarse¬ 
ly ; “ If you should kill me, I must still 
adore yon.” 
Again their eyes exchanged currents. Da¬ 
vid made a weak gesture for her to leave 
him. Upon which Miss Travis acted an 
action that the most impartial observer could 
not have called prudish. She knew all his 
secret before lie ever guessed hers, and she 
foil that hei' invoslnicnl was a safe one, in 
mercantile phrase. Men are such great, 
transparent jumps. 
“ David,” she whispered, dropping a hand 
on each of his hands, and looking up clearly 
and confidingly through her crystal eyes— 
“(»! DAtruI” 
Davie’s arms enclosed her fiercely. Ilis 
brain was among lightnings. lie could 
hardly breathe for the wonder of possessing 
her. 
“ Is it possible that, you can marry a 
iiuinh-hackijd map; that you can come to 
my home and my mother as yoli kflow 
them— do yon love me ?” 
Up crept the bands closer, closer, and 
locked themselves above that dreadful hump. 
1 Would take occasion to remark here that 
Satan fled from his fuddle forever. There 
is something about lovfi that is very pe¬ 
culiar, 
“ 1 couldn’t help it, you sec,” whispered 
Anmk in fragments; “and 1 thought you 
liathd hie all the time. You are so great 
and gifted. Will your nlbihcf like me? 
She must teach me to say ‘Adi, Dawvie,’ 
and all those sweet German words.” 
This sort of folly has a dreadful power 
about it. The heiress went meekly dow n 
from a residence t<> a cottage, ller kinsfolk 
cut her off’ from Israel. And she walked 
every day beside the cap and petticoat, of 
Frail ana the hump of her husband with 
a Chfeek OS vivid as h had ever been. 
“ You ivrin’t ciire fof uncle's money, will 
you, Davie?” said she. “I Imre one or 
two thousand that my mother tell me, aiid 
they will buy little 'chisels and putty for 
you to mix about in for some time, wont 
they ?” 
No; David had gotten his fortune. He 
could bring the treasures of (he Whole world 
into liis hands now. These ah* strange 
fountains that we drink inspiration from. 
Wliat. he will do remains to he seen. Thor¬ 
oughly .developed men or women are capa¬ 
ble tif doing yet. unheard Of things. 
Meanwhile they keep on living their 
child-like lives together. She draws out his 
morbidness; he tones down her high spirits. 
Her beauty compensates for his ugliness; 
his genius dignifies her beauty. They blend 
together like'the rosy and the pale halves of 
an apple. 
1 don’t blame people for writing love 
stories any more. I used to think the world 
was full of love, but find there is none to 
spare. Let us manufacture all we can. 
. - ♦♦♦ - 
MR. DICKENS AND THE JEWS. 
Some years ago, an English Jewess wrote 
to Charles Dickens to complain of the in¬ 
justice done her race hi Ihc character of 
Fagln, and to ask for a subscription to a 
Jewish charity, by wav of atonement. Mr. 
Dlekells sent it donation hi reply to this re¬ 
quest, and said “ I hi list take JeitVO to say, 
that if there be any general feeling 6'fi the 
part of the intelligent Jewish people that I 
have dime them what you describe as a 
‘great wrong,’ they are a far less sensible, a 
fur less just, and a far less good-lcmpered 
people than I have always supposed them 
to be. Fugin, in ‘Oliver Twist,’ is a Jew, 
because it unfortunately was true of the time 
to which that story refers, that (hat class of 
criminals almost invariably were Jews. But 
surely no sensible mail or woman of your 
persuasion can fail to observe—firstly, that 
all the rest of the wicked dramatis persona 
are Christians; and secondly, that lie is 
called the ‘Jew’ not because of his religion, 
but because of his race. If I were to write 
a story, in which I described a Frenchman 
or a Spaniard as tho‘Roman Catholic,’ I 
should do a very indecent and unjustifiable 
thing; but I make mention of Fugin as the 
Jew'because lie is one of the Jewish people, 
and because it conveys that kind oi idea of 
him which I should give my readers of a 
Chinaman by calling him a Chinese.” His 
correspondent allerward urged him to ex¬ 
amine more closely into the manners and 
character of the British Jews; and the re¬ 
sult was some favorable sketches in “ All the 
Year Round” and the character of Riuh in 
“ Our Mutual Friend.” To mark her appre¬ 
ciation of the novelist’s condnct the lady 
sent him a copy of Benisch’s Hebrew and 
English Bilile, with the inscription:—“ Pre¬ 
sented to Charles Dickens, Esq., in grateful 
and admiring recognition of his having ex¬ 
ercised the noblest quality man can possess 
—that of atoning for an injury as soon as 
Conscious of having afflicted it By a Jewess. 
fit uni) funner. 
A QUESTION. 
As Annie was carrying the baby one day, 
Tossing aloft tbe lump of Inanity, 
Dear to its father and mother no doubt— 
To the rest of the world a mere lump of hu¬ 
manity— 
Sam came along, and wa« thinking then, maybe, 
Full a* much of Annie as she of the baby. 
“ Just look at the baby," cried ANN, In a flutter, 
Giving Us lock* round her fingers a twirl; 
“If 1 was a man I know that I couldn't 
Be keeping Vij bonds off it dear little girl.’’ 
And Sam gave a wlnlt. its if to say “ Maybe, 
OX the girls I'd mthc-r hug you than tbc baby.” 
“ Now, kiss it,” she cried, still hugging it closer, 
“ It's mouth s like the roses the honey bee sips 
8am stooped to obey, and as heads came together, 
There chanced to arise a confusion of Ups! 
And as It occurred, it might have been, maybe, 
That each gut a kiss, 8 am. Ann and the baby ! 
It’s h«rd to toll whnt just then was the matter. 
For tbe iuiby was the only one Innocent there; 
And Annie tloshei! up like n full-blown peony. 
And SAMUBt Itirnfcd red to the ro'ots of his Jialr: 
So the question is thus—you can nnswef It, maybe— 
Dtd Annie kiss Sam, or did both kiss the baby? 
[Albany Argtis. 
GOOD-NATURED PARAGRAPHS. 
Don’t Take His Osvn Medicine. 
The following Is told of Dr. Cabarrus, tbe 
great homeopathic physician, who has just 
died in Baris. 511 le. Julia Barron was out of 
sorts, and sent for him. 
“ What is the matter?” asked the doctor. 
“Oli, I hardly know myself,” she replied, 
“my spirits are terribly unequal. Some¬ 
times l am greatly elated, and then sudden¬ 
ly sink into the deepest melancholy.” 
After a moment's reflection Cabarrus said, 
gravely: 
“ I am afraid there is but one way to Cure 
you.” 
“ Wliat. is it?” she inquired, eagerly. 
“ You must get maiiied,” he replied, with 
a mirthful twinkle of the eye, stiff keeping a 
grave face. 
“ Well,” said Mile. Barron, after a little 
hesitation; followed by a long-drawn sigh of 
relief, “ pefhnps you Ufa fight, Would you 
marry me?” 
“j |la char," replied Cabarrus, blandly, 
“ tbe doctor prescribes, hut he doesn’t take 
his own medicine.” 
The Qitnker’s Fnther-iii-litfW. 
One evening Pat chanced to drop into a 
quiet meeting-hOuse belonging to the Qua¬ 
kers, and being rather astonished as to what 
manner of place it was, resolved to remain 
quiet and hide tlu: course of events. 1ft; be¬ 
haved himself with remarkable decorum, 
Until ayouug Broadbrim, no doubt moved by 
the spirit, arose, and in a somewhat unusual 
tone informed his hearers, “ I have married 
a wife,” evidently being about “speaking in 
meeting” from this as a text. Pat was ex¬ 
cited, and called out, “The thunder ye 
have 1 ” 
This interruption rather confused the 
young man; but he continued, “ I have 
married a daughter of the Lord.” This was 
too much for our Emerald Islander, who ex¬ 
claimed— 
“ Sit dowd, fe spalpeen! It’ll be a long 
time before ye see yer lather-in-law,” 
A Doctor’s Presci'ijitioH. 
An Irishman made a sudden bolt into a 
druggist chop, took from bis pocket a soda 
water bottle, filled to the brim wilh some 
pure liquor, mid handing i! across the coun¬ 
ter, exclaimed:—“ There, doctor, snuff that, 
will you?” The doctor did as he was di¬ 
rected, add pronounced the liquor to be 
genuine whisky. “ Thank you, doctor,” 
said the Irishman. “ Hand it to me again, 
if you please.” The doctor again did as di¬ 
rected, and asked what he meant. “ Och, 
thin,” said Pat, “ if you will have it, the 
priest told me not to drink any of this un¬ 
less i got it from the doctor. So here’s 
your health, and the priest’s health.” 
Modern Dlairiiiioidal Wisdom* 
I’D offer thee this hand of mins. 
Ii tliou but budst the dimes: 
But purses short and slim as thine 
Won’t do for these hard times. 
I leave thoc in thy wretchedness, 
As one too poor to mate; 
For love, you know, can only bless. 
When based on real estate. 
What Brought film to Prison. 
The following conversation between a 
colored prisoner and a temperance lecturer 
who was in search of facts to fortify Iff* po¬ 
sition and illustrate his subject, explains him- 
selF;—«"Wliat brought you to prison, my 
colored friend?” “Two constables, eah.” 
“Yes, but I mean bad intemperance any¬ 
thing to do with it ?” “ Yes, sab; dey wuz 
boff uv ’em drunk.” 
A Suit that will Last. 
A friend was complaining to Colman 
that he should be compelled to change his 
tailor, as he found that a suit of clothes 
would not last him above half the time that 
it ought to do, and inquired if he would rec¬ 
ommend him any place where he could meet 
with apparel more durable. “ Yes, said 
Colman, “I recommend you to Chancery, 
and there you may have a ‘suit’ that will 
last you your lifetime.” 
