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the full of the moon or when it was new. While I was being shaved, some one would bolt into the shop and insist, as the barber held me by the nose, upon knowing whether Pitman wore ventilators in his hat. If I attended a wedding, as likely as not a bare-headed outlaw would stand by me at the altar and ask if Pitman ever slept in nightcaps; and more than once I was called out of bed at night by wretches who wished to learn, before they left the town, if I thought it hurt the hair to part it behind.

It became unendurable. I issued orders to the servants to admit to the house no man with a bald head. But that very day a stranger obtained admission to the parlour; and when I went down to see him, he stepped softly around, closed all the doors mysteriously, and asked me, in a whisper, if any one could hear us. Then he pulled off a wig; and handing me a microscope, he requested me to examine his scalp and tell him if there was any hope. I sent him over to see Pitman ; and I gloat over the fact that he bored Pitman for two hours with his baldness.

I am sorry now that I ever wrote anything upon the subject of his hair. A bald Pitman, I know, is less fascinating than a Pitman with hair; but rather than have suffered this misery, I would prefer a Pitman without an eye-winker, or fuzz enough on him to make a camel's-hair pencil. But I shall hardly give another certificate of cure in any event. If I should see a patent medicine man take a mummy which died the year Joseph was sold into Egypt, and dose it until it kicked off its rags and danced the polka mazurka while it whistled the tune, I would die at the stake sooner than acknowledge the miracle on paper.

Pitman's hair winds me up as far as medical certificates are concerned.

Chas. H. Clark ("Max Adeler").

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WILD cat was listening with rapt approval to the

melody of distant hounds tracking a remote fox. “Excellent! bravo !” she exclaimed at intervals. could sit and listen all day to the like of that. I am passionately fond of music. Ong core !"

Presently the tuneful sounds drew near, whereupon she began to fidget, ending by shinning up a tree, just as the dogs burst into view below her, and stifling their songs upon the body of their victim before her eyes—which protruded.

There is an indefinable charm,” said she—"a subtle and tender spell—a mystery—a conundrum, as it werethe sounds of an unseen orchestra. This is quite lost when the performers are visible to the audience. Distant music (if any) for your obedient servant !”

Ambrose Bierce (Dod Grile")

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NEVER spare the parson's wine, nor the baker's pudding.

A house without woman or firelight, is like a body without soul or sprite.

Kings and bears often worry their keepers.
Light purse, heavy heart.
He's a fool that makes his doctor his heir.

Ne'er take a wife till thou hast a house (and a fire) to put her in.

To lengthen thy life lessen thy meals.
He that drinks fast pays slow.
He is ill-clothed who is bare of virtue.
Beware of meat twice boil'd, and an old foe reconcil'd.

The heart of a fool is in his mouth, but the mouth of a wise man is in his heart.

He that is rich need not live sparingly, and he that can live sparingly need not be rich.

He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner.

Benjamin Franklin.



Paris, April 2, 1777. SIR, IR, -The bearer of this, who is going to America,

presses me to give him a letter of recommendation, though I know nothing of him, not even his name. This may seem extraordinary, but I assure you it is not uncommon here. Sometimes, indeed, one unknown person brings another equally unknown, to recommend him; and sometimes they recommend one another! As to this gentleman, I must refer you to himself for his character and merits, with which he is certainly better acquainted than I can possibly be. I recommend him, however, to those civilities which every stranger, of whom one knows no harm, has a right to; and I request you will do him all the favour that, on further acquaintance, you shall find him to deserve. I have the honour to be, etc.

Benjamin Franklin.




HO can say where Echo dwells ?

In some mountain-cave methinks,

Where the white owl sits and blinks;
Or in deep sequestered dells,
Where the foxglove hangs its bells,

Echo dwells.


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