ner place, an' th't it leaks outen the ground in Deep Rock Gulley.
Wen that b'ar tumbled to the bottom that day, he fell on his face. He
were hurt so th't he couldn't get up. O' course the gas didn't shut
itself off, but kep' on a-leakin' an' shot up inter the b'ar's mouth and
down his throat. The onfortnit b'ar couldn't help hisself, an' bimby he
were filled with gas like a balloon, till he had to float, an' away he
sailed, up an' up an' up. Wen I fired at the b'ar, ez he was floatin'
to'ard the clouds, the linen on the bullet carried fire with it, an'
w'en the bullet tapped the b'ar's side the burnin' linen sot it on fire,
showin' th't th' can't be no doubt 'bout it bein' gas th't the b'ar
swallered in Deep Rock Gulley. So ye see, Squire, I wa'n't no liar, an'
the chances is all in favor o' your seein' a balloon h'isted from gas
right in yer own bailiwick afore ye turn up yer toes."

The Squire gazed at the Old Settler in silent amazement for a minute or
more. Then he threw up his hands and said:

"Wal--I'll--be--durned!"

VERRE DEFINITE

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

It' verre long, long tam', ma frien',
I'm leeve on Bourbonnais,
I'm keep de gen'rale merchandise,
I'm prom'nent man, dey say;
I'm sell mos' every t'ing dere ees,
From sulky plow to sock,
I don' care w'at you ask me for,
You'll fin' it in my stock.

Las' w'ek dere was de _petite fille_
Of ma frien', Gosse, he com'
Into ma shop to get stock_ing_,
She want to buy her som';
She was herself not verre ol',
Near twelve year, I suppose;
She com' to me an' say, "M'sieu,
I wan' to buy som' hose."

I always mak' de custom rule,
No matter who it ees,
To be polite an' eloquent
In transack of ma beez;
I say to her, "For who you wan'
Dese stockings to be wear?"
She say she need wan pair herself,
Also for small bruddere.

She say her bruddere's eight years ol'
An' coming almos' nine,
An' I am twelve, mos' near t'irteen,
Dat size will do for mine:
An' modder she will tak' beeg pair,
She weigh 'bout half a ton,
She wan' de size of forty year
Go_ing_ on forty-one.

THE TALKING HORSE

BY JOHN T. McINTYRE

Upon a fence across the way was posted a "twenty-four sheet block
stand," and along the top, in big red letters, it read:

"_H. Wellington Sheldon Presents_"

Then followed