llow the last words they had exchanged, interrupted
him.

"I have a story, too, Lew, and it's about myself. I don't doubt this is
rather a surprise to you," he went on, noticing the look on the other's
face, "although you know the way of the young physician is hard. The
fact is, I have got to the point where I must get a little temporary
lift or give up the struggle for a while, and I can't bear the thought
of that."

Then he went on swiftly, ignoring his friend's attempts at interruption,
until he had told the whole story of his uphill work and his defeat.

"You asked me just now, Lew, if I didn't think one Stanford man should
help another who really needed help, if he could. I put up my last coin
for an opportunity to ask you the same question, but with a different
purpose."

Lincoln's eyes were moist as he reached across the table and grasped
Williamson's hand.

"I think you know me well enough, old man, to know my answer to that
question. But you did not let me finish my story. You see, I--er--I'm
the man I was telling you about."

BOGGS' ELECTION FEED.

Boggs' Election Feed.

"Oh think what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots and their last fatal periods!"

ADDISON.

It would never have happened if Boggs hadn't dropped in on Jimmy Mason
and Pellams when they were cramming for an examination, for, although
Pellams had long "kept an axe" for Boggs, he needed the inspiration of
the moment to swing it like this. It was always so with Pellams' best
things.

The inspiration in this case came one evening when he and Jimmy were
doing genuine work. People who have seen it declare that the spectacle
of Mason cramming for an examination was one of the show sights of the
University. He generally let things go until the last day of grace; then
with sundry fellow-victims and a motley collection of notes, syllabi,
books, reports--anything on the subject--gathered on the green cloth of
his table, he would start in. Raps might come from time to time on the
locked door; Jimmy would hold up a warning finger for silence, while the
outsider shot through the keyhole such remarks as "Jimmy Mason, loosen
up. You've mixed my clothes again;" or, "Hi, Jimmy! give me the
markings;" or, possibly, hurled a mass of unrepeatable terms at the
unresponsive door. Perhaps his roommate, Marion, would come in when the
lights went out; then Jimmy would call a brea