STEWED QUAKER.

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

I don't like to be very ill--just ill enough to make her,
(My grandmamma) say softly, "Child, I'll fix you some stewed Quaker."

It's sweet and thick and very nice, and has molasses in it,
And lots of vinegar and spice; you want it every minute.

And being medicine, of course you sip and say it's dandy.
Just only think! it's _medicine_, and tastes like taffy candy!

Now castor-oil and squills, and stuff that wrinkles up your forehead,
And puckers up your mouth, and gags and burns, are simply horrid.

_I_ don't mind being ill at all, if darling grandma'll make her
Nice dose she used to make for pa when he was young--stewed Quaker.

HIS WHEEL SAVED HIS LIFE.

The bicycle has proved useful as a life-saving machine in many
instances, but it remained for John O'Hara, of Broome Street, in New
York, to discover how good a bicycle is as a means of escape from a mail
dog. John is a well-grown lad, and is so fond of bicycle-riding that he
goes on wheeling trips through the streets of the Fast Side. All of
these streets are crowded, but probably no one of them is so jammed full
of pedestrians and push-carts and peddlers' wagons as Forsyth Street.
Experts say that no other part of the world is so thickly populated as
this neighborhood, so you can easily imagine how difficult it must be to
go wheeling a bicycle through it.

John O'Hara was enjoying a pleasant spin on the smooth asphalt pavement
of Forsyth Street, near Broome, at noon the other day, when he noticed
the crowd scattering right and left, and diving into open hallways and
down cellar stairs. Presently he heard a cry of "Mad dog!" He wheeled
around and turned to flee to the southward. As he hurried away he looked
back over his shoulder, and saw a big white dog galloping after him, its
red tongue lolling out, and yellow foam dripping from its open jaws. As
the dog ran it turned and snapped viciously right and left. The cries of
the crowds on the sidewalk warned everybody on the pavement, so that
there was a clear field ahead of O'Hara for several blocks. He pushed
hard on the pedals, and sprinted away as hard as he could. If he could
only be sure of plenty of headway he knew he would be safe. The dog was
not running very fast, for his gait was uncertain, and he wavered from
side to side.

If O'Hara had turned out into any of the side streets he would have been
safe, but in the excitemen