The captain came up at this juncture, and informed the inventor that he must quit annoying passengers.
“But some of ’em may want one o’ my Eureky traps,” protested the man.
“Can’t help it; this is no place to sell traps.”
“But this is no scrub trap—none o’ your humbugs, got up to swindle the hair right off of an innocent and confiding public.”
“You hear me—put that trap up!”
“I’ll put it up, of course; but then I’ll leave it to yerself if it isn’t rather Shylocky in a steamboat to charge me the reg’lar figger to Orleans, and then stop me from passing my Eureky rat-trap out to the hankerin’ public?”
C. B. Lewis (“M. Quad.”)
THE SCHOOL EXAMINATION.
THE bell tapped, and they came forth to battle. There was the line, there was the leader. The great juncture of the day was on him. Was not here the State’s official eye? Did not victory hover overhead? His reserve, the darling regiment, the flower of his army, was dressing for the final charge. There was Claude. Next him, Sidonie!—and Étienne, and Madelaine, Henri and Marcelline,—all waiting for the word—the words—of eight syllables! Supreme moment! Would any betray? Banish the thought! Would any fail?