DINING

Nocturne

The hour grows late,

And hungrily I wait

To hear her say

Three words—three little words,

Yet great

Enough to bring completeness to the day.

At last she comes,

Cassandra tall and dark—

Oh, very dark! A careless tune she hums,

And pauses shamelessly to mark

How her delay has angered or unnerved

The weak among us. Then she snuffles—Hark!

"Dinnah am served!"

—E.W.B.

"Has Bobbie been eating between meals?"

"Bobbie has no between meals."—Life.

A farmer who went to a large city to see the sights engaged a room at a hotel, and before retiring asked the clerk about the hours for dining.

"We have breakfast from six to eleven, dinner from eleven to three, and supper from three to eight," explained the clerk.

"Wa-al, say," inquired the farmer in surprise, "what time air I goin' ter git ter see the town?"

"Mama, I want a dark breakfast."

"Dark breakfast? What do you mean, child?"

"Why, last night you told Mary to give me a light supper, and I didn't like it."

MOTHER (at the breakfast-table)—"You always ought to use your napkin, Georgie."

GEORGIE—"I am usin' it, mother; I've got the dog tied to the leg of the table with it."