He Called it Off

BY MARK TWAIN.

At Norfolk, Virginia, a banquet was given to celebrate the opening of the Virginia Railroad, an enterprise promoted by Henry H. Rogers. Many distinguished guests were essembled, many of whom paid compliments to Mr. Rogers. When Mark Twain was called upon to respond to a toast he made one of his characteristic speeches, in which he told the following story at the expense of Mr. Rogers:

"The chairman says Mr. Rogers is full of practical wisdom. Well, he is. He intimated he is ingenious and clever, and all that. He may be now, but he wasn't always so. I know private things in his life, and how he started, and his start wasn't so good. I could have done it better myself. He doesn't like to appear ignorant, but he can look as ignorant as any one.

He

"I remember when he took his first trip across the Atlantic. He didn't like to ask questions and show his ignorance, so he just kept quiet and observed. On the way over some of the young Englishmen got to betting on the time the ship was making. They got young Rogers into the bet, and finally got him to wager half a crown, but he didn't know what half a crown was, so he went to bed and tried to figure out what he had bet. He didn't know if half a crown was money or what. figured it out that a crown belonged to a king, and that it was probably worth $20,000, but he didn't know whether it was customary to be betting king's crowns or not. If a crown was worth $20,000, he thought half a crown was worth $10,000, and he thought that was too much money to hazard on a bet. So he got out of bed, dressed himself, and hunted up the young man he had bet with, and gave him $150 to call the bet off. I like to hear him complimented, and I'm not stingy in giving him compliments myself."

The Minister's Blunder

BY MARK TWAIN.

Now, you know, there are anecdotes and anecdotes, short metre and long metre. I shall give you a long metre, one with a snapper at the end. It is about a Scotch-Irish minister who thought he was called to preach the Gospel, while he knew that he had the gift of oratory, and he never missed an opportunity to display it. An opportunity was afforded on the occasion of a christening. There was a considerable audience, made up of relatives, friends and neighbors of the parents. The preacher began by saying:

"We have met together, my friends, on a very interesting occasion-the christening of this little child—but I see already a look of disappointment on your faces. Is it because this infant is so small? We must bear in mind that this globe upon which we live is made up of small things, infinitesimal objects, we might say. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean; the mountains which rear their hoary heads toward heaven and are often lost in the clouds are made up of little grains of sand. Besides, my friends, we must take into consideration the possibilities in the life of this little speck of humanity. He may become a great preacher, multitudes may be swayed by his eloquence and brought to see and believe in the truths of the Gospel. He may become a distinguished physician, and his fame as a healer of men may reach the uttermost ends of the earth, and his name go down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of his kind. He may become a great astronomer and may read the heavens as an open book. He may discover new stars which may be coupled with those of Newton and many other great discoverers. He may become a distinguished statesman and orator, and by the strength of his intellect and eloquence he may control the destinies of nations and his name be engraved upon monuments erected to perpetuate his memory by his admiring and grateful countrymen. He may become an author and a poet, and his name may yet appear among those now entombed at Westminster. He may become a great warrior and lead armies to battle and victory; his prowess and

valor may change the map of Europe. Methinks I hear the plaudits of the people at the mention of his deeds and name. He may become-er-er-he might-erturning to the mother, "What is his name?"

The mother, very much bewildered: "What is the baby's name?"

"Yes, what is his name?"

The mother: "Its name is Mary Ann."

Knowledge

BY S. E. KISER.

If only we could see what lies ahead,
If we might look beyond to-morrow's portals,
I wonder if we should, absolved from dread,
Be happy-visaged and contented mortals?
Would all the hate and heartaches disappear,
Would glee blot out all memories of sorrow-
Would courage come to take the place of fear,
If we could see what lies beyond to-morrow?

If we could know what destinies the fates
Are shaping now for us who blindly plunder
And oft in vain assault forbidden gates,

How would the knowledge profit us, I wonder? Would failure cease to break the hearts of men? Would night's deep, silent darkness lose its terror? Would he that ought to dig lay down the pen? Would all who stumble cease to grope in error?

We know that right is right, that wrong is wrong,
That thus it was ordained at time's beginning;
We know that honors to the wise belong,

That sorrow is the heavy price of sinning,

Yet foolishly we sin and venture where

The currents, soon or late, will drag us under:

If somehow all the future were laid bare,
How would beholding profit us, I wonder?

Says I

BY C. M. COLE.

While walking through the fields one day, Says I to myself, says I,

What makes the things all seem so queer We see beneath the sky?

How does the rain make grass so green,
And calla lilies white?

Why don't the pigs fly in the air?
What makes the sun so bright?

Why don't the diamonds grow on trees?
Says I to myself, says I;

We then could get them as we please,
Be rich and not half try.

When hens have eggs so pearly white,
What makes the robins' blue?
Their dinner seems to be all worms.
Do they eat violets, too?

And why don't chestnuts grow on vines,
Down closer to the ground?

How does the oyster feed itself?
Where are the rabbits found?

Why don't May-apples grow on trees?
How does the eagle sail?

Why does the big, black bumblebee
Have splinters in its tail?

Why can't we skate in summer-time?
Who taught the birds to sing?
Why don't the calf have feathers on?
Don't you know anything?

The parrot or the chimpanzee

May tell I will not try;

For the more I learn the less I know,
Says I to myself, says I.

McKinley's Dying Prayer

BY JAMES CREELMAN.

In the afternoon of his last day on earth the President began to realize that his life was slipping away, and that the efforts of science could not save him. He asked Dr. Rixey to bring the surgeons in. One by one the surgeons entered and approached the bedside. When they were. gathered about him the President opened his eyes and said:

"It is useless, gentlemen; I think we ought to have prayer."

The dying man crossed his hands on his breast and half closed his eyes. There was a beautiful smile on his countenance. The surgeons bowed their heads. Tears streamed from the eyes of the white-clad nurses on either side of the bed. The yellow radiance of the sun shone softly into the room.

"Our Father, which art in heaven,' said the President, in a clear, steady voice.

The lips of the surgeons moved.

"Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done'

The sobbing of a nurse disturbed the still air. The President opened his eyes and closed them again.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.'

A long sigh. The sands of life were running swiftly. The sunlight died out, and raindrops dashed against the windows.

"Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.'

Another silence. The surgeons looked at the dying face and the friendly lips.

"For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen."

"Amen," whispered the surgeons.