KILLJOY'S BARGAIN.
"Well, I declare," said the Moonfay Boy,
"There's old Killjoy,
The meanest fish that ever did swim;
He knows that I've no use for him.
He eats my bait
At a fearfal rate.
I've changed it twice
From flies to mice.
From mice to slags.
And potato-bugs,
And still he bites.
For the last ten nights
I've caught nothing else but old Killjoy,"
Said the Moonfay Boy.
"It ain't polite
To bite and bite,
And chew and chew,
On the bait of one who don't want you."
And old Killjoy
Grinned at the boy.
"Oh don't get mad,
Dear Moonfay lad,
You set the best table that ever I had,"
Said he.
"For don't you see
It agrees with me,
And to pay you back I'll invite to tea
All the sharks and the shad,
And the little poletad,
And the whale and the blue,
And the halibut too.
And when all's ready I'll wink at you,
And the catch you'll catch
Will have no match
On the land or sea!
Just count, old Moon-faced Fay, on me!"
And the Moonfay Boy went home that night
With a mess of fish that was out of sight.
For old Killjoy, be it understood,
Paid him back for his bait, as he'd said he would.
[AN ADVENTURE WITH A BEAR]
A letter came to light not long ago that was mailed in 1843. It was sent from a small town far out in the Northwest, and was written, evidently, by some hardy hunter to his family at home. In one of the paragraphs the writer describes an adventure he had had with a bear. It reads somewhat as follows:
"I had gone several miles up the rocky trail, and finally striking off at right angles, left the valley and scaled the mountain-side. In a short while this brought me on a narrow ledge, and I proceeded along, thinking to skirt around the mountain that way, and reach down the other side into what was called Bear Trail. I never saw bear around the spot, and attached but little importance to the significance of the name. As I proceeded, the ledge grew very narrow—in fact, so much so that I was almost compelled to hug the face of the cliff to prevent my tumbling over.
"Suddenly I was horrified to hear a scraping kind of noise ahead, and before I could make up my mind as to what it was, a large bear crawled around a bend of the ledge into view. It was no use retreating, for the bear had a surer footing than I, being by nature adapted to it; but whatever brought him so far out of the valley I could not guess. He eyed me and I eyed him, and then I did the queerest thing I imagine any man would do—that was to treat the bear as though he were a human being. We were both in a predicament, as it would have been impossible for the bear to turn, and useless for me to do so, for the moment I retreated he would be after me. So I made a motion to the bear, and lying down on my face, I beckoned to him to come on and pass over me.
"Of course I gave myself up for lost. The bear eyed me suspiciously, and then came slowly on. He reached me, and putting down his cold wet nose, sniffed at my hair. I was dead with fright, and felt as though I would faint any moment.
"My harmlessness seemed to satisfy him; in a gentle manner he crawled over me and passed on, never once placing his paws on my body, for had he done so I should have been crushed.
"If he had but pushed me the slightest bit I would have fallen over. In a few minutes I recovered somewhat from my fright, and proceeded along the ledge, which shortly widened and permitted me to make better headway to safety. The only reason I have to account for the bear's gentleness was that he had had plenty to eat, and the savage instincts were dulled by the sight of my helplessness."
Teacher (unable to conceal her anger and disgust). "Tommy Winks, you spell horribly."
Tommy. "H-o-r-r-i-b-l-y."
A man having pointedly ridiculed Tasso, he remained perfectly silent, much to the astonishment of the railer. A listener muttered loud enough to be heard that a man was a fool not to defend himself.
"You are mistaken," said Tasso; "a fool does not know enough to be silent."
Heah you are—de best butter in de whole—
THE BILLY. "You are, hey? I don't think."