think society needs turnin' inside out and scrapin'. I haven't got
nothin' to aspire to-no aim; nor anything!"

The desolate creature spilled herself loosely into a cane-bottom
chair, and her sorrow broke "like a great dyke broken."

The writer lifted her tenderly upon his knee and bit her softly on
the neck.

"Gloriana," said he, "have you chewed up all that toffy in two
days?"

A smothered sob was her frank confession.

"Now, see here, Glo," continued the parent, rather sternly, "don't
let me hear any more about 'aspirations'-which are always
adulterated with terra alba-nor 'aims'-which will give you the
gripes like anything. You just take this two shilling-piece and
invest every penny of it in lollipops!"

You should have seen the fair, bright smile crawl from one of that
innocent's ears to the other-you should have marked that face
sprinkle, all over with dimples-you ought to have beheld the tears
of joy jump glittering into her eyes and spill all over her father's
clean shirt that he hadn't had on more than fifteen minutes! Cady
Stanton is impotent of evil in the Grile family so long as the price
of sweets remains unchanged. His Railway.

The writer remembers, as if it were but yesterday, when he edited
the Hang Tree Herald. For six months he devoted his best talent to