"I asked the Inmates why it was like the Prince."

"Oh! because it comes attended by its sweet," said the Superintendent.

"No," said Mr. Riggles, "it is because the 'lasses runs after it." "Riggles is failing," said the Superintendent, as we moved on. The next Inmate looked as if he might have been a sailor formerly.

us.

"Ask him what his calling was," said the Superintendent. "Followed the sea," he replied to the question put by one of "Went as mate in a fishing-schooner."

"Why did you give it up?"

"Because I didn't like working for two-masters," he replied. Presently we came upon a group of elderly persons gathered about a venerable gentleman with flowing locks, who was propounding questions to a row of Inmates.

"Can any Inmate give me a motto for M. Berger?" he said. Nobody responded for two or three minutes. At last one old man, whom I at once recognized as a Graduate of our University (Anno 1800), held up his hand.

"Rem a cue tetigit."

"Go to the head of the Class, Josselyn," said the venerable Patriarch.

The successful Inmate did as he was told, but in a very rough way, pushing against two or three of the Class.

"How is this?" said the Patriarch.

"You told me to go up jostlin'," he replied.

The old gentlemen who had been shoved about enjoyed the Pun too much to be angry.

Presently the Patriarch asked again—

"Why was M. Berger authorized to go to the dances given to the Prince?"

The Class had to give up this, and he answered it himself: "Because every one of his carroms was a tick-it to the ball." "Who collects the money to defray the expenses of the last campaign in Italy?" asked the Patriarch.

Here again the Class failed.

"The war-cloud's rolling Dun," he answered.

"And what is mulled wine made with?"

Three or four voices exclaimed at once: "Sizzle-y Madeira!"

Here a servant entered, and said, "Luncheon-time." The old gentlemen, who have excellent appetites, dispersed at once, one of them politely asking us if we would not stop and have a bit of bread and a little mite of cheese.

"There is one thing I have forgotten to show you," said the Superintendent "the cell for the confinement of violent and unmanageable Punsters."

We were very curious to see it, particularly with reference to the alleged absence of every object upon which a play of words could possibly be made.

The Superintendent led us up some dark stairs to a corridor, then along a narrow passage, then down a broad flight of steps into another passage-way, and opened a large door which looked out on the main entrance.

"We have not seen the cell for the confinement of 'violent and unmanageable' Punsters," we both exclaimed.

"This is the sell!" he exclaimed, pointing to the outside prospect.

My friend, the Director, looked me in the face so goodnaturedly that I had to laugh.

"We like to humor the Inmates," he said. "It has a bad effect, we find, on their health and spirits, to disappoint them of their little pleasantries. Some of the jests to which we have listened are not new to me, though I dare say you may not have heard them often before. The same thing happens in general society, with this additional disadvantage, that there is no punishment provided for 'violent and unmanageable' Punsters, as in our Institution."

We made our bow to the Superintendent, and walked to the place where our carriage was waiting for us. On our way, an exceedingly decrepit old man moved slowly towards us, with a perfectly blank look on his face, but still appearing as if he wished to speak.

"Look!" said the Director-" that is our Centenarian."

The ancient man crawled towards us, cocked one eye, with which he seemed to see a little, up at us, and said:

Sarvant, young Gentiemen. Why is a-a-a-like a—a—a ? Give it up? Because it's a-a-a-a-.”

He smiled a pleasant smile, as if it were all plain enough. “One hundred and seven last Christmas," said the Director.

"He lost his answers about the age of ninety-eight. Of late years he puts his whole Conundrums in blank-but they please him just as well."

We took our departure, much gratified and instructed by our visit, hoping to have some future opportunity of inspecting the Records of this excellent Charity, and making extracts for the benefit of our Readers.

MINNESOTA WHEAT.

"LET'S See: they raise some wheat in Minnesota, don't they?" asked a Schoharie granger of a Michigander.

"Raise wheat! Who raises wheat? No, sir; decidedly no, sir. It raises itself. Why, if we undertook to cultivate wheat in that State it would run us out. There wouldn't be any place to put our house."

"But I've been told that grasshoppers take a good deal of it." "Of course they do. If they didn't, I don't know what we would do. The cussed stuff would run all over the State and drive us out-choke us up. Those grasshoppers are a Godsend, only there ain't half enough of em."

"Is the wheat nice and plump!"

"Plump! Why, I don't know what you call plump wheat, but there are seventeen in our family, including ten servants, and when we want bread we just go out and fetch in a kernal of wheat and bake it."

"Do you ever soak it in water first?"

"Oh, no; that wouldn't do. It would swell a little, and then we couldn't get it in our range oven."-Newspaper.

GETTING A GLASS OF WATER.

BY F. W. COZZENS.

ONE evening Mrs. S. had retired, and I was busy writing, when it struck me a glass of ice-water would be palatable. So I took

A

the candle and a pitcher, and went down to the pump. Our pump is in the kitchen. country pump in the kitchen is more convenient; but a well with buckets is certainly most picturesque. Unfortunately, our well-water has not been sweet since it was cleaned out. First I had to open a bolted door that lets you into the basement-hall, and then I went to the kitchen - door, which proved to be locked. Then I remembered that our girl always carried the key to bed with her, and slept with it under her pillow. Then I retraced my steps, bolted the basement-door, and went up in the dining-room. As is always the case, I found, when I could not get any water, I was thirstier than I supposed I was. Then I thought I would wake our girl up. Then I concluded not to do it. Then I thought of the well, but I gave that up on account of its flavor. Then I opened the closet doors; there was no water there; and then I thought of the dumb-waiter' The novelty of the idea made me smile; I took out two of the movable shelves, stood the pitcher on the bottom of the dumbwaiter, got in myself with the lamp; let myself down, until I

GOING TO THE PUMP.

supposed I was within a foot of the floor below, and then let go!

We came down so suddenly, that I was shot out of the apparatus as if it had been a catapult; it broke the pitcher, extinguished the lamp, and landed me in the middle of the kitchen at midnight, with no fire, and the air not much above the zero point. The truth is, I had miscalculated the distance of the descent-instead of falling one foot, I had fallen five. My first impulse was, to ascend by the way I came down, but I found that impracticable. Then I tried the kitchen door; it was locked. I tried to force it open; it was made of two-inch stuff, and held its own. Then I hoisted a window, and there were the rigid iron bars. If ever I felt angry at anybody it was at myself, for putting up those bars to please Mrs. Sparrowgrass. I put them up, not to keep people in, but to keep people out.

I tried to

I laid my cheek against the ice-cold barriers and looked out at the sky; not a star was visible; it was as black as ink overhead. Then I thought of Baron Trenck, and the prisoner of Chillon. Then I made a noise! I shouted until I was hoarse, and ruined our preserving-kettle with the poker. That brought our dogs out in full bark, and between us we made night hideous. Then I thought I heard a voice, and listened-it was Mrs. Sparrowgrass calling to me from the top of the stair-case. make her hear me, but the infernal dogs united with howl and growl and bark, so as to drown my voice, which is naturally plaintive and tender. Besides, there were two bolted doors and double deafened floors between us; how could she recognize my voice, even if she did hear it? Mrs. Sparrowgrass called once or twice, and then got frightened; the next thing I heard was a sound as if the roof had fallen in, by which I understood that Mrs. Sparrowgrass was springing the rattle! That called out our neighbor, already wide awake; he came to the rescue with a bull-terrier, a Newfoundland pup, a lantern and a revolver. The moment he saw me at the window, he shot at me, but fortunately just missed me. I threw myself under the kitchen table and ventured to expostulate with him, but he would not listen to reason. In the excitement I had forgotten his name, and that made matters worse. It was not until he had roused up everybody around, broken in the basement door with an axe, gotten into the kitchen with his cursed savage dogs and shooting-iron,