ome t&amjmmm 
A Kansas farmer solemnly declares that a grass¬ 
hopper sat on the gate-p>ost and threateningly asked : 
“ William Bryant, where in thunder is the balance of 
that cold meat ?” 
A Sunday-school teacher in Indianapolis, while 
catechizing a class of six bright boys, had occasion to 
speak of the two roads, one leading to heaven and one 
to hell, and stated that Clod had placed the Bible in 
our hands to direct us to the right road, and warn us 
from walking in the road which leads to ruin. Wish¬ 
ing to illustrate the importance of the finger-board, he 
asked the boys: “Boys, have you ever been in the 
country?” “Yes, sir.” “Did you ever come to a 
■its, and had as much i point where two roads met, and found no finger-board 
voice inside responded that “ De bank is closed.” 
But he replied that he had left a new pair of boots 
there the day before and wanted them. The sable 
financier opened the door softly, and throwing out one 
boot, remarked: “We is only paying fifty cents on de 
dollar.” 
GOOD TALKERS, 
torn professor. Or living conver- U. • §sgggjgjfi 
sationists, Carlyle has undoubtedly 
the greatest reputation, if one who 
harangues can be a good talker. 
Margaret Fuller once said of him: 
“ He allows no one else a chance, 
raising his voice, and rushing on his 
opponent with a torrent of sounds.” 
Another has written of him : “ Ilis 
talk, like his hooks, is full of pic¬ 
tures.” Thackeray was a delightful converser, be¬ 
cause lie never talked for effect. An American author 
wrote of him: “As the night wore on, and only a few 
centurions remained, he would tell stories, sing songs, 
and set the table in a roar.” 
Alas, the art of conversation is dying out! The 
age ot economy and calculation has succeeded. A 
trifling joke, a scrap of information, a petty experi¬ 
ence, a change of fashion, is made profitable by 
the literary miser. Once men and women spent 
days and nights in getting up a brilliant repartee; 
but now, in social intercourse, ideas are hoarded for 
after use. 
The Unwilling Pupil. 
to direct you?” “Yes, sir.” “What road did you 
take?” “The road that had the most black walnuts 
on,” was the quick response of the bright lads. 
Where is my little darling going to, if she is 
good?” asked a Danbury mother. “Up to New 
Haven,” prattled the little flaxen-haired innocent, 
pointing up with her tiny index finger. 
During the great collapse of 185 7, a gentleman of 
color kept a hank in a Western city. His institution 
was apparently in a sound condition, hut to he in fash¬ 
ion with the white folks he concluded he must fail. 
Next morning a man came and shook the door, hut a 
