Observant Mamma—Why, Mr. Smith, to be sure.
Papa—How can you make that out? Last night Brown asked and plead with her to sing; when she finished, Jones was enthusiastic in praise; but Smith didn't say a word!
Mamma—No, but to-night he asked her to sing again——
Papa—Poor Smith, he must, indeed, love her!
—Light.
THE HONEYMOON.
He—O, my darling, you are so much better than I am, and I am so unworthy of you!
She—Love, I don't see what you can find about me to love!