"And out of that, sir," she went on, "I have to pay two shillings for rent, a shilling for firing, sixpence for bread, fourpence for——"
"Stop, stop, my good woman," said the young curate, "you can't pay all that out of half-a-crown."
"Yes, sir, but I do," she persisted, "I pay——" and she ran through her accounts again.
Finding she was not to be convinced of her arithmetical errors, and that she was both poverty-stricken and deserving, Mr. Sandford promised to send her an extra half-crown on his own account each week.
"For this she rewarded me," says the bishop, "by coming much more regularly to church, but to my horror she never caught my eye while I was in the reading desk or pulpit without promptly jumping up and bobbing me a little curtsey to show her gratitude. Imagine my feelings as a shy young curate."
How The Ducks were Taught.—An officer in the British navy tells us that on one of his voyages, he saw a Chinaman, who kept ducks for a living, practise an odd piece of ingenuity. In the daytime the ducks were permitted to float about on the river, but at nightfall they were carefully collected. The keeper, when it began to grow dark, gave a whistle, when the ducks always flew towards him with violent speed, so they were all invariably safe at home in less than a minute. How do you suppose he had educated his flock so effectually? He always beat the last duck.
["DINNA FORGET": A NEW YEAR'S SERMON.]
By "MEDICUS" (Dr. GORDON STABLES, M.D., C.M., R.N.).