it. Now we'll go on. I'll just finish to the bottom of
my page and then I'll go on aloud."

He ran his eyes rapidly over the lines till he came to
the bottom of the page, then he cut the leaves and turned
over. I saw his eye rest on the half-dozen lines that
confronted him on the next page with an expression of
utter consternation.

"Well, I will be cursed!" he said at length.

"What's the matter?" I said gently, with a great joy at
my heart.

"This infernal thing's a serial," he gasped, as he pointed
at the words, "To be continued," "and that's all there
is in this number."




Telling His Faults

"Oh, do, Mr. Sapling," said the beautiful girl at the
summer hotel, "do let me read the palm of your hand! I
can tell you all your faults."

Mr. Sapling gave an inarticulate gurgle and a roseate
flush swept over his countenance as he surrendered his
palm to the grasp of the fair enchantress.