“I DIDN’T MEAN TO.” 
MRS. M. A. KIDDER. 
Look at the rosy lips pursed up, 
The pretty eyelids falling— 
While you above the culprit stand, 
A figure quite appalling! 
You tell the little penitent 
’Tis time that she was “ seen to”— 
You rave—she lifts her tearful eyes: 
4 • Papa , I didn't mean to ! ” 
She knows by heart your weakest point, 
And there, sly rogue, she takes you; 
The tearful eyes, the pretty plea— 
Your sternness quite forsakes you 1 
You take her in your loving arms, 
The little restless fairy; 
You seal forgiveness with a kiss, 
And send her up to Mary! 
We older ones, could we but find 
Our judges soft and lenient, 
Might plead, ourselves, the same excuse— 
Aye! find it quite convenient! 
For all shortcomings, and all faults 
That human natures lean to, 
We’d say, like your sweet err¬ 
ing child: 
Forgive—I didn't mean to! 
joyed, few means of culture and no social training, have 
made a fortune in their prime. Hence a singular 
incongruity of manners, ranging from the most refined 
to the most intolerable in the same salon. Remissness 
in answering notes, the forcing of personal topics into 
conversation, unceremonious stuffing at receptions, a 
free and easy bearing towards ladies, lounging, staring, 
asking impertinent questions, intruding on the talk or 
privacy of others; in short, utter want of delicacy is 
manifest in a sphere where you will at the same time 
recognize the highest type both of character and breed¬ 
ing in both sexes. This crude juxtaposition startles a 
European, hut he is still more astonished after hearing 
a man’s conduct stigmatized and his character annihi¬ 
lated at the club, to encounter the same individual thus 
condemned an accepted guest of those who denounce 
him. In a word, there seems to he no social diserimi- 
“No, grandma, I ain’t sleepy now; read another.” 
The old lady complied, and said : “ Now you must 
go to sleep ; I have read you two chapters.” 
“No, not yet; read one more—read ‘ the rubber,’ 
grandma! ” 
What else could the good woman do 
“My Son, you look like a boy who has been 
brought up by affectionate parents,” said a kindly 
TALK AND TACT. . 
There are times for all 
things ; but the railroad, or a 
mixed concourse of any kind, 
afford no time, for the discus¬ 
sion of exciting themes. The 
“price of politeness” is in 
knowledge of your compan¬ 
ions, or, in default of that, in 
avoiding peculiar themes. The 
wisest sometimes blunder in 
this. The Vicar of Wakefield 
entertained a gentleman who 
was “ cherishing” his fourth 
wife, with a dissertation on his 
(the Vicar’s) theory, that a 
man or woman who is bereft 
of the first mate should hence¬ 
forth five without taking an¬ 
other mate. A lady making 
an introductory call on a new¬ 
ly arrived couple entertained 
them with a tirade against 
female hoarding schools. 
Among the other evils she al¬ 
leged was, that the pupils sometimes run 
away from the school to get married, and 
that under such circumstances the matches 
were always unhappy. The husband of 
the lady who persisted in “ orating ” on the 
subject, vainly tried to turn the conversation. She 
understood why, when on their way home she was 
informed that the lady and gentleman to whom she 
had been discoursing were marked instances of pre¬ 
cisely the folly she had been berating. 
To be a really good talker is a groat accomplish¬ 
ment, and the science of conversation deserves much 
more study than it receives. Mrs. Partington lamented 
that “she never opened her mouth, hut she made a 
blunder! ” Plenty of other people are in the same un¬ 
fortunate predicament; and innumerable are the social 
feuds, more or less pronounced, which grow out of the 
careless use of the tongue. 
American Society.—I have been surprised to find 
so many under-bred men in American society, which 
is explained by the fact that many, who in youth en- 
Why 
.10JLJLU up vy ftlitJVUJLUi-lCLLC; 
stranger to a golden-haired child; and the latter in an 
excited tone exclaimed: “Do I? Just look at my 
back! ” 
A Poor, emaciated Irishman, having called in a 
physician in a forlorn hope, the latter spread a large 
mustard-plaster and put it on the poor fellow’s lean 
chest. Pat, when he, with tearful eyes, looked down 
on it, said: “ Docther, it strikes me it’s a dale of mus¬ 
tard for so little mate.” 
Pious Answer. —At one of the churches in Port¬ 
land, on a recent Sunday, the minister was 
dilating upon the happiness of a religious 
life, and he related this remark in illustration 
of it. He said that he was 
baptizing a woman out West, 
when on coming out. of the 
water lie asked her “ how she 
felt in her mind.” What was 
his surprise and gratification 
to hear her exclaim “Bully !” 
There was a slight sensation, 
it seemed, in the church about 
that time. 
A Young Eady, upon one 
occasion, requested her lover 
to. define love. “ Well, Sal,” 
said he, “it is, to me, an in¬ 
ward impressibility and an 
outward all-overishness.” 
A Little Boy in Chicago, 
just old enough to say his 
prayers, is very fond of pota¬ 
toes, especially when boiled 
and mashed. One night, in 
addition to the usual petition 
for the poor in his little prayer, 
he said very fervently, “And 
please give the poor children 
plenty of potatoes — baked 
potatoes, and boiled potatoes, 
and maslied potatoes.” 
Good Times Amongst the Lowly.— 
you’re a new comer, aren’t you % 
A Happy Welcome. 
nation. It is one of the most remarkable of social 
phenomena here that cultivated and scrupulously hon¬ 
orable and high-bred men and women are so thought¬ 
less in social relations ; not that they compromise their 
characters, they degrade their hospitality. Exclusive¬ 
ness is indeed the opposite of republican principle; hut 
that refers to discrepancies of rank, birth and fortune; 
exclusiveness based on character should be the guaran¬ 
tee of social virtue, refinement, and self-respect.— 
Putnam’s Monthly * 
Young America, although usually wide-awake, in 
due time becomes sleepy, as did little Dickey, one 
evening. His grandmother put him to bed, and, as 
was her custom, read to him a chapter in the Bible, 
remarking: “Now, Dickey, I have read you a whole 
chapter and you must go to sleep.” 
haven’t seen you before,” we remarked to a 
lad of about twelve years as he was giving 
us a shine on Tuesday. 
“Yes sir; ain’t bin here before, but took it in this 
trip — lots of coal here, sir.” 
“Yes, where are you from? ” 
“ Oh, I’m on my summer trip. I’m from New York 
_always take a run out o’ town in the summer—done 
it for — oh, I d’n know how long. Like the country for 
a while.” 
“ Well, are you having a good time ?” 
“ Havin’ a good time ? you bet (with a little laugh.) 
Why m’ dinner costs 70 cents to-day—had a beefsteak 
and turmaters an’ a rice pudin’, an’ I got 35 cents 
yet. Urr ph ! a good time ? now you’re a shoutin’!” 
He was the happiest summer tourist we have seen 
this season, and his cash capital was 35 cents, but 
who can compute his satisfaction over that “beefsteak, 
turmaters an’ rice pudiu’ ? ” 
