AN EXCUSE.
"Tommie, your spelling report is very bad," said Mr. Hicks to his boy.
"That's all right, papa," said Tommie. "When I grow up I'm going to dictate all my letters, like you do. It's the type-writer that'll have to know spelling, not me."
Whenever he felt two stitches in his side
The little old philosopher cried:
"I'm lucky, I think; don't you?
If one in time saves nine, as they say,
I'd have had eighteen of 'em some day
If it wasn't for these two!"