publisher here, I asked him to-day if he knew anything about
this matter. He said that all he knew about it was that his wife had a
separate bank account, and had asked him several months ago what was the
use of all the blank space on the back of a check, and why it couldn't
be used for correspondence with the remittee. Mr. Wexford said he'd bet
$500 that his wife had been using her checks that way, for he said he
never knew of a woman who could possibly pay postage on a note,
remittance or anything else unless every particle of the surface had
been written over in a wild, delirious, three-story hand. Later on I
found that he was right about it. His wife had been sassing the grocer
and the butter-man on the back of her checks. Thus ended the great bank
mystery.

I will close this letter with a little incident, the story of which may
not be so startling, but it is true. It is a story of child faith.
Johnny Quinlan, of Evanston, has the most wonderful confidence in the
efficacy of prayer, but he thinks that prayer does not succeed unless it
is accompanied with considerable physical strength. He believes that
adult prayer is a good thing, but doubts the efficacy of juvenile
prayer.

He has wanted a Jersey cow for a good while and tried prayer, but it
didn't seem to get to the central office. Last week he went to a
neighbor who is a Christian and believer in the efficacy of prayer, also
the owner of a Jersey cow.

[Illustration]

"Do you believe that prayer will bring me a yaller Jersey cow?" said
Johnny.

"Why, yes, of course. Prayer will remove mountains. It will do
anything."

"Well, then, suppose you give me the cow you've got and pray for another
one."

[Illustration: END]

THE OLD CIDER MILL.

If I could be a boy again
For fifteen minutes, or even ten,
I'd make a bee-line for that old mill,
Hidden by tangled vines down by the rill,
Where the apples were piled in heaps all 'round,
Red, streaked and yellow all over the ground;
And the old sleepy horse goes round and round
And turns the wheels while the apples are ground.

Straight for that old cider mill I'd start,
With light bare feet and lighter heart,
A smiling face, a big straw hat,
Hum made breeches and all o' that.
And when I got there I would just take a peep,
To see if old cider mill John was asleep,
And if he was I'd go snooking round
'Till a great big r