Gibbs in horror.

'Yes, Gibbs; for some years I have been a Nazarene--that is, a Nazarite,
with the top half of my head; now I am going to change about and be a
Nazarite with the lower. The razor has kissed my cheeks and my chin and
the fluted column of my throat for the last time.'

'You cannot mean it, sir!' said Gibbs, suspending his murderous task a
moment.

'It's quite true, Gibbs.'

'Does she wish that too, sir?'

'Yes, that too.'

'Well, sir, I have heard of men making sacrifices for their wives, but
of all the cruel....'

'Please don't, Gibbs. It does no good. And Mrs. Rondel's motive is a
good one.'

'Of course, sir, I cannot presume--and yet, if it wouldn't be presuming,
I should like to know why you are making this great, I may say this
noble, sacrifice?'

'Well, Gibbs, we're old friends, and I'll tell you some day, but I
hardly feel up to it to-day.'

'Of course not, sir, of course not--it's only natural,' said Gibbs
tenderly, while the scissors once more took up the conversation.

THE DONKEY THAT LOVED A STAR

'That is how the donkey tells his love!' I said one day, with intent to
be funny, as the prolonged love-whoop of a distant donkey was heard in
the land.

'Don't be too ready to laugh at donkeys,' said my friend. 'For,' he
continued, 'even donkeys have their dreams. Perhaps, indeed, the most
beautiful dreams are dreamed by donkeys.'

'Indeed,' I said, 'and now that I think of it, I remember to have said
that most dreamers are donkeys, though I never expected so scientific a
corroboration of a fleeting jest.'

Now, my friend is an eminent scientist and poet in one, a serious
combination; and he took my remarks with seriousness at once scientific
and poetic.

'Yes,' he went on, 'that is where you clever people make a mistake. You
think that because a donkey has only two vowel-sounds wherewith to
express his emotions, he has no emotions to express. But let me tell
you, sir ...'

But here we both burst out laughing--

'You Golden Ass!' I said,'take a munch of these roses; perhaps they will
restore you.'

'No,' he resumed, 'I am quite serious. I have for many years past made a
study of donkeys--high-stepping critics call it the study of Human
Nature--however, it's the same thing--and I must say that the more I
study them the more I love them. There is nothing so well worth studying
as the misunderstood, for the very reason that everybody thinks he
understands it. Now, to