After another long silence the Distinguished Naturalist said:

"The hay which we shall purchase for our horses this evening - I
shall expect to find the stalks about fifty feet long. Am I
right?"

"Why, no," said the Guide; "a foot or two is about the usual length
of our hay. What can you be thinking of?"

The Distinguished Naturalist made no immediate reply, but later, as
in the shades of night they journeyed through the desolate vastness
of the Great Lone Land, he broke the silence:

"I was thinking," he said, "of the uncommon magnitude of that
grass-hopper."



The Pavior



AN Author saw a Labourer hammering stones into the pavement of a
street, and approaching him said:

"My friend, you seem weary. Ambition is a hard taskmaster."

"I'm working for Mr. Jones, sir," the Labourer replied.