"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!"
A BAD COMBINATION.
"Far as I can see," observed Jack, after his bicycle accident, "a bicycle's just as skittish as a horse."
"It's worse," said Willie. "My bike not only threw me like a horse, but turned back and gored me with the bar-handles like a bull."
A LITTLE TOMMIE QUESTION.
"Say, mamma," said little Tommie, looking up from his tin soldiers, "do angels put their heads under their wings like turkeys when they go to sleep?"