until, with a dull thump, he alighted upon the floor of his own study.

"There! y' 'ave rolled out av yer chair agen, Father Higgins," said his
housekeeper, who at that moment entered the room to order him to bed, as
was her merciful custom.

"So I have," returned the Father, picking himself up. "An' sarved me
right, too. I thought I was the biggest raskil on the face av the earth.
I wondher if it's true. The Lord presarve me from the timptation av
great power, or I'll abuse it, an' abuse me felly-men and the
Church!"--_Harper's Magazine_, May, 1872.




JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE.

(BORN, 1827.)

* * * * *

FRED TROVER'S LITTLE IRON-CLAD.


Did I never tell you the story? Is it possible? Draw up your chair.
Stick of wood, Harry. Smoke?

You've heard of my Uncle Popworth, though. Why, yes! You've seen
him;--the eminently respectable elderly gentleman who came one day last
summer just as you were going; book under his arm, you remember; weed on