In short, I emerged from that car ruined, wilted, and utterly
demoralized.

When I got home my wife didn't know me, and I could only prove my
identity by carefully scraping my feet, hanging up my hat, and otherwise
exhibiting the results of her superior disciplinary powers. My hardest
work, however, was to establish the fact that I hadn't been rolled in
the gutter, my rheumatic hobble, dilapidated aspect, and blood-shot eyes
telling fearfully against me.

The next time I ride in a horse-car, I shall take a private hack.

S.R. DEEN.

* * * * *

A Con of the Period.

When this cruel war is over, and crowds of tourists rush to see the
place where LOUIS NAPOLEON surrendered, why will that place be like
BRYANT'S Minstrels?

Because such a lot of people will go to See DAN.

* * * * *

Con from Our Correspondent in benighted Africa.

Why would CÆSAR have made a fine novelist?