i^xxSies Sftonetl fioJEoiei blhJ Pictorial Mo me iKampoDaion. 
The motto for the week on a little 
girl’s Sunday-school card was, “ Get 
thee behind me, Satan.” There were 
gooseberries in the garden, but she was 
forbidden to pluck them. Pluck them 
she did. “ Why didn’t you,” asked 
her mother, “ when you were tempted 
to touch them, say, ' Get thee behind 
me, Satan ?’” “ I did,” she said 
earnestly, “ and he got behind me, and 
pushed me into the bush.” 
A Basket of Roses. 
Wo Chance to Ponder. —The other afternoon 
the crew of the Cleveland boat, which was to sail that 
evening, discovered an old chap stowed away among 
the freight to secure a free trip .across the lake. The 
hose was on and the “ pony” working, and the mate 
sent about fifty gallons of water into the nest of the 
stowaway. He came out on the gallop, wet to the 
hide, and charging up to the mate, he shouted: “ Who 
threw that water on me?” “ I did,” was the reply. 
“ What for ? ” “ To help you ashore.” “ That’s the 
way,” said the old man as he took off his wet coat and 
held the tails between his knees while he sought to 
wring the water out of the sleeves and body. “ I 
can’t get off by myself anywhere, and 
begin to ponder on the faded and gone, 
hut a barrel of salt falls on my ear, or 
some pirate hits me in the hack with 
half of Lake St. Clair.” 
Too Polite by Half. —Pereire, a 
banker, got a little tired of returning 
hows of an uncomfortably polite man 
in his establishment, and finally gave 
the polite man this conundrum at point- 
blank range: 
‘'Sir, what would become of the 
hours if the minute hand stopped to bow 
to the second hand every time they 
met ? ” 
Better than Nothing. —A good 
old Methodist lady, very particular and 
pious, once kept a hoarding-house in 
Boston. Stanch to her principles, she 
would take no one to hoard who did 
not hold to the eternal punishment of a 
large portion of the race. But the 
people were more intent on carnal com¬ 
forts than spiritual health, so that in 
time her house became empty, much to 
her grief and alarm. After some time 
a bluff old sea captain knocked at the 
door, and the old lady answered the 
call. “ Servant, ma’am. Can you 
give me board for two or three days ? 
Got my ship here, and shall he off soon 
as I load.” “Wa-al, I don’t know,” 
said the old lady. “ Oh, house full, 
eh ?” " No, but-” “ But what, 
ma’am?” “I don’t take any unclean 
or carnal people in my house. What 
do you believe?” ''About what?” 
“ Why, do you believe that any one will he con¬ 
demned ? ” “ Ob, thunder ! yes.” “ Do you ?” said 
the good woman, brightening up. " Well, how many 
souls do you think will he in fire eternally ? ” “ Don’t 
know, ma’am, really—never calculated that.” " Can’t 
you guess?” “Can’t say—perhaps fifty thousand.” 
“ Wa’al, hom ! ” mused the good woman : " I guess 
I’ll take you ; fifty thousand is better than nothing.” 
It was a pungent answer given by a Free Kirk 
member who had deserted his colors and returned to 
the old faith. The minister bluntly accosted him, 
“Ay man, John, an’ ye’ve left us; what micht he 
your reason for that ? Did ye think it was na a guid 
road we was gawn ? ” “ Ou, I dawrsay it was a guid 
eneuch road and a braw road; hut, 0 minister, the 
tolls were unco high.” 
A good story is told of a parrot who had always 
lived on board of a ship, hut who escaped at some sea¬ 
port, and took refuge in a church. Soon afterwards 
the congregation assembled, and the clergyman began 
preaching, saying that there was no virtue in them ; 
that every one of them would be lost unless they 
speedily repented. Just as he uttered the sentence, 
up spoke the parrot from his hiding-place—“ All 
bauds below!” To say that “all hands” were 
startled would he but a mild way of putting it. The 
peculiar voice, irom its unknown source, had much 
more effect upon them than the parson’s voice ever 
1 had. He waited a moment, and then, a shade or two 
| paler, he repeated the warning. “ All hands below !” 
( again rang out from somewhere. The preacher started 
, from his pulpit, and looked anxiously around, inquir- ! 
ing if anybody had spoken. “ All hands below ! ” was ' 
A New Englander, riding in a railroad car, seemed 
particularly anxious to astonish the other passeugers 
with tough stories of Yankeedom. At last he men¬ 
tioned that one of his neighbors owned an immense 
dairy, and made a million pounds of butter and a 
million pounds of cheese yearly. This story produced 
some sensation; and the Yankee, perceiving that his 
veracity was in danger of being questioned, appealed 
to a friend as follows: “ True, isn’t it, Mr. P. ? I 
speak of Deacon Brown—you know Dea. Brown ? ” 
“ Y-e-e-s,” replied the friend, “ that is, yes, I know 
Deacon Brown; I don’t know as I ever heard pre¬ 
cisely how many pounds of butter and cheese he makes 
a year, hut I know that he has twelve saw-mills that 
go by buttermilk.” 
“Well, uncle, how is the cause of religion get¬ 
ting on in your neighborhood?” “Mighty poor — 
mighty poor.” “ No new converts, 
eh ? ” “ Not a single one—not do sign 
of one.” “ What seems to be the mat¬ 
ter ? ” asked the citizen, after a lengthy 
pause. “ Dc matter is dat some one 
hez stolen four big watermelons out o’ 
my cart dis afternoon, an’ I feel in my 
bones dat religion is gwine down hill 
all froo dis locality ! ” 
the only reply, at which the panic-stricken congrega¬ 
tion got up, and a moment after they all bolted for the 
doors, the preacher trying to he first, and during the 
time the mischievous bird kept up his yelling “ All 
hands below ! ” There was one old woman who was 
lame, and could not get out so fast as the rest, and in 
a very short time she was left entirely alone. Just as 
she was about to hobble out, the parrot flew down, 
and, alighting on her shoulder, yelled in her ear, “ All 
hands below !” No, no, Mister Devil,” shrieked the 
old woman, “ you can’t mean me. I don’t belong 
here. I go to the other church across the way.” 
A milk-pitcher thrown by his wife at a Nelson- 
street man, missed the aim and ruined a handsome 
frame which inclosed the words, “ God bless our 
home.” 
“Who was the wisest man?” 
asked a Sunday-school teacher. “Solo¬ 
mon.” ‘Wes; who was the wisest 
woman?” “Mrs. Isaac.” “How 
so?” “’Cause she euchred her blind 
husband and got a deed for the old 
place to her younger son without paying 
for it.” “Correct; who was the 
meekest man ? ” “ Moses.” “ Very 
well; who was the meekest woman ? ” 
“Mrs. Lot.” “How can you tell?” 
“’Cause she stood out all night in a 
thunder shower of fire and brimstone 
without any umbrel’, and never said a 
word about the ruination of her best 
hat.” “Well, yes; that’s so,” said 
the teacher. 
A country gentleman was in the habit of enter¬ 
taining his friends almost weekly, and discovered that 
regularly some small article of plate was missing, a 
castor-pot, a salt-spoon, a napkin-ring, or something 
of the kind. He suspected his servants, and to make 
sure, one night when the guests had assembled, he 
said : “I tell you what! Let’s do without servants 
to-night and wait on ourselves ! ” The odd sugges¬ 
tion was greeted with applause and peals of laughter. 
The servants were turned out; the meal was seasoned 
with sparkling sallies at the expense of the clumsiness 
of this or that guest, and when they had all gone the 
host took stock, and discovered that two-thirds of the 
spoons had gone too. 
A farmer’s daughter lately put off her wed¬ 
ding-day because eggs were up to 40 cents a dozen, 
and it would take two dozen for the wedding-cakes. 
