TOMMY TODDLES.
By Albert Lee. Illustrated by Peter S. Newell. Square 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.
A more entertaining collection of nonsense has rarely been penned.—Boston Traveller.
There is an endless amount of fun in "Tommy Toddles."—N. Y. Times.
Just the book for children, and grown people will find plenty of fun in it.—N. Y. Sun.
It is abounding in side shaking absurdities, and told so well and so seriously that older readers will enjoy it as much as the young folks.—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.
OLD OFFENDERS.
It was at a country election that the following took place.
Every man for miles around was in attendance, from the prosperous farmer to the lowest farm-hand, and here and there in small groups they held lively discussions about the respective candidates. Finally the chairman rapped for order, and the speech-making began. The wily orator explained loudly and long about the poor condition of the country's welfare, and wound up by asking all those who wished for a betterment of things to stand up. Every man arose except an old gray-whiskered farmer, who had fallen asleep over the long-winded oration.
"Now," said the orator, after his listeners had seated themselves, "if there is a man here who does not wish for a betterment of things, let him stand up that we may look upon him with scorn."
At this moment the old farmer awoke with a start, and catching the words "stand up," got upon his feet and stared slowly around as a number of hisses were thrown at him. This roused his ire, and he said,
"Waal, Mister Speaker, I don't know whether we be votin' fer or agin the sentiments of my brethern here; but you and me, I reckon, are in the minority."
ART INFLUENCE.
This pretty picture on the wall,
With billows rolling free,
Is full of white clouds in the sky
And white sails on the sea.
And so I'll sit upon the rug
With pail and spade in hand,
And dream that on the silver shore
I'm digging in the sand.
R. K. M.
During a speech at a political dinner in a small Western city, not long ago, a Jingo orator, to the great amusement of his hearers, remarked that "The British lion, whether he is roaming the deserts of India or climbing the forests of Canada, will not draw in his horns nor retire into his shell."
A RAINY DAY MEANS NO BALL.
Cameron. "Papa, I'm saving up for a fine day."
Papa. "Why are you doing that?"
Cameron. "So that I can go to a ball match when I have saved up enough."
THEIR ONLY TROUBLE.
"There's only one trouble about blowing bubbles, mamma," said little Conrad, the other day, "and that is that they always blow out."
An Irish laborer boarded a street-car, and handed to the conductor a rather dilapidated-looking coin in payment of his fare. The conductor looked at it critically, and handed it back.
"That's tin," he said.
"Shure, I thought it was foive," answered the Irishman, complacently, as he put the piece back in his pocket and produced a nickel.
The magazine containing Mrs. Reynolds's first story lay on the sitting-room table.
Her son, who was at an age to be seriously afflicted with the big head, took it up, and glanced over it rather contemptuously.
"Mamma," he said, "why don't you write for a first-class magazine? I see that this thing is entered through the mails as second-class matter."
A QUESTION IN NATURAL HISTORY.
"The cat is a little tiger,
I know very well," said Willie.
"But how is it that the cat-tail
Is never a tiger-lily?"
NOT GENUINE.
Tommy. "This new spaniel won't go near the water!"
Papa. "I wonder what's the matter with him?"
Tommy. "I guess he isn't waterproof."
"Talking about treacle," said the old salt, as he hoisted himself off the molasses barrel to make way for the grocer to supply a customer's wants, "thet reminds me of a little scrimmage we had with a pirate slaver in '42.
"We had the coast-line of Africy a blue streak off to the starboard, and we were er spankin' along with every blessed stitch of canvas drawin' when we sighted one er them pirate slavers er bearin' down on us. Capen took a squint through the glass and whistled. 'We'll give him er run fer it,' said he.
"Waal, that chap kep' after us all day, and we tried to slip his lights during the night, but 'twarn't no use. He made up his mind to foller, and he did, day after day. At last we got well down to the cape when er blow came up, and, great guns! it wuz er blow fer certain. It caught us, and drove us plumb into the antarctic circle, with that pirate right after us. That made the Captain mad, and as we had er cargo of molasses on board, he gave the order to uncover the rear hatch and hoist the barrels on deck.
"Blow me if he didn't broach those barrels thet night, and empty them over the starn. The nest day there wuz that pirate stuck fast in the centre of the molasses, where he had sailed. It had froze during the night, and he was anchored in it just the same as if he wuz nipped in an ice-floe. Then we squared around and headed for the cape. As we passed him the Captain shouts out:
"'Ahoy, there! Cold weather fer merlasses, ain't it?' and they shook their fists and yelled, but we left them, and I guess they're there yet."