ver--A preacher! What an ass I've made of myself! I don't
know how to apologize; but if you want to kick me down the front
steps, just kick away; I'll bear it like an angel."

Then the sheriff withdrew unkicked, and Mr. Striker went up stairs
to finish his Sunday sermon. The sheriff talked of resigning, but he
continues to hold on.

* * * * *

Mr. Slingsby, our assessor and tax-collector, holds on too. He
is another model member of our civil service. The principal
characteristic of Mr. Slingsby is enthusiasm. He has an idea that
whenever a man gets anything new it ought to be taxed, and he is
always on hand to perform the service. I had about fifteen feet added
to one of my chimneys last spring; and when it was done, Slingsby
called and assessed it, under the head of "improved real estate," at
eighty dollars, and collected two per cent. on it. A few days later,
while I was standing by the fence, Slingsby came up and said,

"Beautiful dog you have there."

"Yes; it's a setter."

"Indeed! A setter, hey? The tax on setters is two dollars. I'll
collect it now, while I have it on my mind."

I settled the obligation, and the next day Slingsby came around again.
He opened the conversation with the remark,

"Billy Jones told me down at the grocery-store that your terrier had
had pups."

"Yes."

"A large litter?"

"Four."

"Indeed! Less see: tax is two dollars; four times two is eight--yes,
eight dollars tax, please. And hurry up, too, if you can, for they
have a new batch of kittens over at Baldwin's, and I want to ketch
old Baldwin before he goes out. By the way, when did you put that
weathercock on your stable?"

"Yesterday."

"You don't say! Well, hold on, then. Four times two is eight, and
four--on the weathercock, you know--is twelve. Twelve dollars is the
exact amount."

"What do you mean by four dollars tax on a weathercock? I never heard
of such a thing."

"Didn't, hey? Why, she comes in under the head of 'scientific
apparatus.' She's put up there to tell which way the wind blows, ain't
she? Well, that's scientific intelligence, and the apparatus is liable
to tax."

"Mr. Slingsby, that is the most absurd thing I ever heard of. You
might just as well talk of taxing Butterwick's twins."

"Butter--You don't mean to say Butterwick has twins? Why, certainly
they're taxable. They come in under the head of 'poll-tax.' Three
dollars apiece. I'll go right down there. Glad