old masters, with no holes in it--I do not accuse you of cheating, but
don't you feel a little ashamed when you see a cheese cut, and the holes
are the biggest part of it? The little cells may be handy for the skipper,
but the consumer feels the fraud in his innermost soul.

Among the improvements made in the manufacture of cheese I must not forget
that of late years the cheese does not resemble the grindstone as much as
it did years ago. The time has been when, if the farmer could not
find his grindstone, all he had to do was to mortise a hole in the middle
of a cheese, and turn it and grind his scythe. Before the invention of
nitro-glycerine, it was a good day's work to hew off cheese enough for a
meal. Time has worked wonders in cheese.


SELLING CLAMS.

At the concert Wednesday night, the last piece sung was a trio, by Marie
Rose, Brignoli, and Carleton. The men stood on each side of the girl and
began to jaw at her. It was in some other language, and we could only
understand by the motion of their mouths and their actions. It seemed as
though the men were trying to sell clams to her. First Brignoli began to
whoop it up, and describe the clams he had to sell, and tried to get her
to invest. He yelled at her, and seemed really put out, and she was as
spunky as any girl we ever saw. When Brignoli got out of breath, Carleton
began to tell her that Brig had been lying to her, that his clams were
made of India rubber, and that she could never digest them in the wide
world, and he wound up by telling her that she could have his clams at ten
per cent discount for cash. By this time she was about as mad as she could
be, and she pitched into both of them, looking cross, and sung like
blazes, went away up the musical ladder to zero, and wound up by telling