in most of our memories. All that is certain is that there was an uproar in the congregation, especially the younger portion; that

   the Deacon began making unsuccessful dives for his poultry; that the organist struck up "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and that the minister waved us away without a benediction amid loud shouts of, "Shoo!" "I swanny!" and, "Drat the pesky critters!" from your Uncle Bentley.

   Did it serve to subdue Uncle Bentley? Not in the least; he survived to do worse things.

    A man came here from Idaho,

    With lots of mining stock.

    He brought along as specimens

    A lot of mining rock.

    The stock was worth a cent a pound

    If stacked up in a pile.

    The rock was worth a dollar and

    A half per cubic mile.

    We planted him at eventide,

    'Mid shadows dim and dark;

    We fixed him up an epitaph,—

    "Death loves a mining shark."

    To-day, when I had dined my fill

    Upon a Caxton,—you know Will,—

    I crawled forth o'er the colophon

    To bask awhile within the sun;

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