Loe raamatut: «The William Henry Letters», lehekülg 8

William Henry's Letter to his Grandmother

My Dear Grandmother, —

I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry's cousin's party. My father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I didn't know there were such kinds of good things in the world.

Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush's mother. And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she said, "Won't you come in, boys? Do come in!" And looked so glad! And laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same room where we went before. But it didn't seem so lonesome now, not half. It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my sister, for she hasn't got any of that kind of flowers.

She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so smiling, and so did Tom's father when he came into the room. He had a belt in his hand that Tom used to wear when he used to belong to that Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, "Why! has Tom got back?" Tom's mother said, "O no." But his father said, "O yes! Tom's got back. He hasn't got back to our house, but he's got back. He hasn't got back to town, but he's got back. He hasn't got back to his own country, but he's got back. For I call that getting back," says he, "when a boy gets back to the right way of feeling."

Then Tom's mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn't want to have it make them think of Tom so much.

She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for they've got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom's father owns a boat, and you mustn't think I should tip over, for I sha' n't, and no matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy.

Your affectionate grandchild,

William Henry.

P.S. Bubby Short didn't mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw hat, and we couldn't get it out even again, and I didn't want him to, but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man didn't have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I wouldn't let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because I didn't have quite enough. Don't shopkeepers have the most money of all kinds of men? Wouldn't you be a shopkeeper when I grow up? It seems just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to send some of W. B.'s good things. He wrote a very good composition about heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be sending one of his good things. It's got in it about two dozen kinds of heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads.

W. H.

W. B.'s Composition

HEADS

Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best kind. Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won't stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn't quite so bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won't be coaxed nor turned, they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of heads besides our heads.

First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads of sermons, – sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle, – when a farmer reckons up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, Drumheads, – drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or tails, – when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders, – when you let off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head – like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, Cabbageheads, – dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. Eleventh, At Loggerheads, – when you don't agree. Twelfth, Heads of chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off, – when you want to stop a horse, or a boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. Sixteenth, The Masthead, – where they send sailors to punish them. Seventeenth, get up to the head, – when you spell the word right. Eighteenth, The Head of a stream, – where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by the head, – when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that's the end of a stick of timber that a ship's anchor hangs by. Twenty-second, A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead, – but first be sure you are right.

Bubby Short's Composition

ON MORNING

It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the morning, or there's a rainbow, 't will be rainy weather. Fish bite best in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning.

Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been written during William Henry's second school year.

William Henry's Letter about the "Charade."

My Dear Grandmother, —

I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the word was – no, I mustn't tell you, because it has to be guessed by actions, and when you get the paper that I'm going to send you, soon as I buy a two-cent stamp, then you'll see it all printed out in that paper. The teacher the fellers call Wedding Cake, because he's such a good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and what things to put on, and everything. You'll see it printed there, but you must please to send it back, for I promised to return.

There weren't females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we all liked to ha' died a laughing, getting ready, but when we were – there, I 'most told!

O if you could ha' seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed round that cap – just as sober – much as we could do to keep in! I was a clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, like a clerk, and I did.

Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn't strut, but he struts other times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh.

Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they're grown up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth.

I wish you all and Aunt Phebe's folks had been there. We had a treat, and O, if 't wasn't a treat, why, I'll agree to treat myself. Three kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped cakes and candy, and such a great floating island in a platter! – Dorry said 't was a floating continent! – and had red jelly round the platter's edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he isn't a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more too, I say.

And so I can't tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly can,

Your affectionate grandson,

William Henry.

Please lend it to Aunt Phebe's folks.

-

CHARADE. (Carpet.)

First Syllable

Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter and take their seats. Placard stuck up, "Beware of Pickpockets," in capitals.

First. Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be going on while the other passengers are entering.

Second. Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after putting ticket in his hat-band.

Third. Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella, and bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty.

Fourth. A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth and spectacles.

Fifth. Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers.

Sixth. Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his seat, using his eyeglass frequently.

Seventh. Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to please it, dancing them up and down before its face.

Eighth. Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits.

Ninth. Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) "All aboard!"

Tenth. In a hurry, Lady that's been a-shopping, leading or pulling along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various other things). Doll's heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, imitating Dandy's polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her bonnet-strings, takes off the child's hat, smooths its hair, &c.

Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters.

Enter Conductor with an immense badge on his hat, or coat. Calls out "Have your tickets ready!" Then passes along the aisle, and calls out again, "Tickets!" The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. Conductor, after nipping the tickets, passes out.

Enter boy with papers, "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" (Business man buys one.) "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" (Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, "Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!" (Noise heard of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. "Jessup's candy! All flavors! Five cents a stick!" (Lady buys one for baby.) "Jessup's candy! All flavors! Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!" (Yankee buys one, offers half to fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out.

Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, others let them lie. (Dandy buys one.) Boy collects them and passes out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop something in it. Exit boy.

Enter Conductor. "Tickets!" Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall on a smash-up.)

Second Syllable

Lady in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter Maggie with tray.

Maggie. Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. 'T will cheer ye up like!

Lady (looking up). No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he's lost!

Maggie. And did ye slape at arl, mum?

Lady. Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, cannot eat.

Exit Maggie with breakfast things. Enter Mike with newspapers.

Mike. Mornin' paper, mum.

Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns). Let me see if he is found. O, here! "Found! A diamond pin on – " Pshaw, diamond pin! Here it is. "Dog found! Black and tan – " Faugh, black and tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where's the notice of our darling's being lost?

Mike. Shure, an' it's to the side o' the house I put it, mum, arl writ in illegant sizey litters, mum.

Lady (in alarm). And didn't you go to the printers at all?

Mike. Shure an' be n't it better out in the brard daylight, mum, laning aginst th' 'ouse convanient like, an' aisy to see, mum?

Lady. O Mike, you've undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I say.

Exit Mike.

Lady (solus). It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?

Enter Mike, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large letters.

☞ Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!

Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger.

Mike. An' it's meeself larned the fine writin', mum, in th' ould counthry.

Lady (excited). Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen and paper!

Exit Mike, muttering. Knock heard at door.

Lady. Come!

Enter Market-Man, in blue frock.

Market-man. Good day, ma'am. Heard you'd lost a dog.

Lady (eagerly, with hand extended). Yes, yes! Where is he?

Market-man. Was he a curly, shaggy dog?

Lady. Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?

Market-man. Was your dog bright and playful?

Lady (in an excited manner). O, very! very!

Market-man. Answered to the name of Carlo?

Lady. Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!

Market-man (in surprise). Arms, ma'am? Arms? 'T is a Newfoundland dog! He could carry you in his arms!

Lady (dejected). O cruel, cruel disappointment!

Market-man. What kind of a dog was yours?

Lady. O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!

Market-man (going). Good day, ma'am. If I see him, I'll fetch him.

Exit Market-Man. Mike enters with writing materials, and goes out again. Lady begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud.

Lady. Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly – (Tap at door.) Come!

Enter stupid-looking Boy, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large hat.

Lady. Did you wish to see me?

Boy (drawling). Yes, ma'am.

Lady. About a dog?

Boy. Yes, ma'am.

Lady. Have you found one?

Boy. Yes, ma'am.

Lady. Is it a very small dog?

Boy. Yes, ma'am.

Lady. Sweet and playful?

Boy. Yes, ma'am?

Lady. Did you bring him with you?

Boy. Yes, ma'am (pointing). Out there.

Lady (excited). O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If it should! (Boy brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted.)

Lady (in disgust). O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take him away!

Boy. Isn't that your dog?

Lady. No! no! O, can't you take the horrid animal away?

Boy (going). Yes, ma'am.

Exit Boy with dog. Lady prepares to write.

Lady. Stupid thing! Now I'll write. (Repeats.) Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly, white – (Tap at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)

Enter ragged Boy, with covered basket.

Lady. Have you found a dog?

Boy. No, I hain't found no dog.

Lady. Then what do you want?

Boy. Father sells puppies. Father said if you'd lost your dog, you'd want to buy one of 'em. Said you could take your pick out o' these 'ere five. (Opens basket for her to look in.)

Lady (shuddering). Little wretches! Away with them!

Boy. They'll grow, father said, high's the table.

Lady. Carry them off, can't you?

Boy. Father wants to know what you'll take for your dog, running. Father said he'd give a dollar, an' risk the ketchin' on him.

Lady. Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry dollar!

Boy (going). Good mornin'. Guess I'll be goin'. If I find your dog, I won't (aside) let you know.

Exit Boy, with bow and scrape.

Lady (writes again, and repeats). Lost, strayed, or stolen. A cur – (Knock at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)

Enter Mrs. Mulligan.

Mrs. Mulligan. An' is it yourself lost a dog, thin?

Lady (eagerly). Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen him?

Mrs. Mulligan. Och, no. But't was barkin' all night he was, behint th' 'ouse. An' the b'ys, – that's me Pat an' Tim, they drooned him, mum, bad luck to 'em, in the mornin' arly.

Lady. And did you see him?

Mrs. Mulligan. No, shure.

Lady. And where is he now?

Mrs. Mulligan. O, it's safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o' No Bottom Pond, mum.

Lady. And how do you know 't is my dog?

Mrs. Mulligan. Faith, an' whose dog should it be, thin?

Lady. Send your boys, and I'll speak with them.

Mrs. Mulligan (going). I'll send them, mum. Mornin' mum.

Exit Mrs. Mulligan. Another tap at the door.

Lady. O, this is not to be borne! Come!

Enter Countrywoman with bandbox, – not an old woman.

Lady (earnestly). If it's about a dog, tell me all you know at once! Is he living?

Countrywoman. Yes'm, but he's quite poorly. I think dogs shows their sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin's.

Lady. Do tell quick.

Countrywoman. Just what I want, for I'm in a hurry myself. So I'll jump right inter the thick on 't. You see last night when my old man was ridin' out o' town in his cart, with some o' his cabbages left over, for garden sarse hadn't been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin' out on account o' the off ox bein' some lame, and my old man ain't apt to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, you —

Lady. But about the dog!

Countrywoman. Wal, the old man was a ridin' along, slow, you know, – I alwers tell him he'll never set the great pond afire, – and a countin' over his cabbageheads and settlin' the keg o' molasses amongst 'em, and a little jug of – (nods and winks and smiles), – jest for a medicine, you know. For we never do, – I nor the old man, – never, 'xcept in case o' sickness.

Lady (impatiently). But what about the dog?

Countrywoman. Wal, he was a ridin' along, and jest got to the outskirts o' the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin' which should have a dog, – a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur —

Lady. Yes! Go on! Go on!

Countrywoman. And he asked 'em would they take fifty cents apiece and give it up. For he knew 't would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they took the fifty.

Lady (eagerly). And what did he do with him? Where is he now?

Countrywoman. Why, I was goin' to ride in with the old man this mornin' to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And we happened to see that 'ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it out! (Opening bandbox.) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the crown o' my bunnet Seems poorly, but he'll pick up. (Takes out a white lapdog.)¹

Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him). 'T is my Carlo. O my precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and put him to sleep. (Rises to go out.)

Countrywoman. But the five dollars, marm!

Lady. O, you must call again. I can't think of any paltry five dollars, now. (Exit.)

Countrywoman (calling out). I'll wait, marm!

Enter Mike.

Mike. An' what bisness are ye doin' here?

Countrywoman. Waiting for my pay.

Mike. Pay, is it? Och, she'll niver pay the day. She's owin' me wages, an' owin' the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery lady, an' 't is "Carl agin," she sez. "Carl agin. Can't ye carl agin?"

Countrywoman. Then I'll get mine now. (Takes off shawl, and sits down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning on her knitting-sheath.) I don't budge, without the pay.

Mike looks on admiringly. Curtain drops.

Whole Word

Clerk standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various placards on the walls, – "No credit." "Goods marked down!" &c. Enter Old Woman.

Old Woman (speaking in rather high key). Do you keep stockings?

Clerk (handing box of stockings). O yes. Here are some, very good quality.

Old Woman (examining them). Mighty thin, them be.

Clerk. I assure you, they are warranted to wear.

Old Woman. To wear out, I guess.

Enter Young Married Couple.

Clerk. Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day?

Wife (modestly). We wish to look at a few of your carpets.

Clerk. This way, ma'am.

Husband. Hem! (Clearing his throat.) We will look at something for parlors.

Clerk. Here is a style very much admired. (Unrolls carpet.) Elegant pattern. We import all our goods, ma'am. That's a firm piece of goods. You couldn't do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors.

Old Woman (coming near). A good rag carpet'll wear out two o' that.

Wife (to Husband). I think it is a lovely pattern. Don't you like it, Charley?

Husband. Hem – well, I have seen prettier. But then, 't is just as you say, dear.

Wife. O no, Charley. 'T is just as you say. I want to please you, dear.

Old Woman (to Clerk). Have you got any crash towelling?

Husband. What's the price of this carpet?

Clerk. Three dollars a yard. Here's another style (unrolls another) just brought in. (Attends to Old Woman.)

Husband (speaking to Wife). Perhaps we'd better look at the other articles you wanted. (They go to another part of the store, examining articles.)

Enter a spare, thin Woman, in plain dress and green veil.

Clerk. Can we sell you anything to-day?

Woman. I was thinking of buying a carpet.

Clerk. Step this way, ma'am. (Shows them.) We have all styles, ma'am.

Woman. I want one that will last. (Examining it.)

Clerk (taking hold of it). Firm as iron, ma'am. We've sold five hundred pieces of that goods. If it don't wear, we'll agree to pay back the money.

Woman. I want one that won't show dirt.

Clerk. Warranted not to show dirt, ma'am. We warrant all our goods.

Woman. Can it be turned?

Clerk. Perfectly well, ma'am. 'Twill turn as long as there's a bit of it left.

Woman. What do you ask?

Clerk. Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, but you may have it for three dollars.

Woman. Couldn't you take less?

Clerk. Couldn't take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale.

Woman. I think I'll look further. (Going.)

Clerk. Well, now seeing it's the last piece, you may have it for two fifty.

Woman. I wasn't expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (Going.)

Clerk. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Say two and a quarter, and take it.

Woman. I have decided not to go over two dollars. (Going.)

Clerk (crossly). Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five yards? I'll measure it directly.

Old Woman. Have you got any cotton flannel?

Enter Fashionable Lady.

Clerk (all attention, bowing). Good morning, madam. Can we sell you anything to-day?

Fashionable Lady. I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you anything new?

Clerk. This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. (Shows one.)

Fashionable Lady. It must light up well, or it will never suit me.

Clerk. Lights up beautifully, madam.

Fashionable Lady. Is this real tapestry?

Clerk. O, certainly, madam. We shouldn't think of showing you any other.

Fashionable Lady. What's the price?

Clerk. Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can't offer it for less than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece.

Fashionable Lady. 'T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, the price is no objection.

Old Woman (coming forward). Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get a strip to lay down afore the fire. (Speaking to Lady.) Goin' to give six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip 'em up inter narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in great balls. That's your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all colors. That's your fillin'. Then hire your carpet wove, and that carpet'll last.

Enter Policeman and a Gentleman.

Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady). That is the person.

Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder). This gentleman, madam, thinks you have —borrowed a quantity of his lace goods.

Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment). I? Impossible! Impossible, sir!

Gentleman. I am sure of it.

Policeman. Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us?

Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement.

-

I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don't know which. I never do know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the first sounds more melodious.

They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry's. Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and he made a great ado turning it.

At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a general smash-up.