rought me a large pail of honey,
wishing I would carry it home to my parents, but as it was
impossible for me to carry it on horseback, I had to decline.

It was near noon the next day when I reached home, and my first
greeting from my father was, 'Well, Gilbert, now let me know
about the scrape you got into last summer in G----.'

I told him all I had learned about the matter, to which be
expressed his pleasure that it was no worse, and gave me much
good advice as to the future.

A few weeks after I readied home there was a large tub of honey
left at my father's house, with a letter for me, informing me
that sister White had been expelled from the church in G---- for
covetousness; that my friends the Hubbards were well; that the
four deacons spoke very highly in my praise, and hoped I would
_feel rewarded_ for the trouble I had taken. Years have passed
since the matters here mentioned took place, but up to this time
nothing has been said to me about 'paying my expenses.'

JAY G. BEE.

* * * * *

Mrs. Malaprop founded a school which has been prolific in disciples.
From one of these we learn that--

Old Mr. P. died a short time ago, much to the regret of his many
friends, for he was a good neighbor, and had always lived
honestly and uprightly among his fellow-men. At the time of his
funeral Mrs. L. was sorrowing for his loss, with others of her
sex, and paid the following tribute to his memory:

'Poor Mr. P., he was a good man, a kind man, and a Christian
man--he always lived _according to_ HOYLE, and died with the
hope of a blessed immortality.'

'Played the wrong card there.'

* * * * *

ADAM'S FAMILY JARS.

IN CRACKED NUMBERS.

One fact is fundamental,
One truth is rudimental;
Before man had the rental
Of this dwelling of a day,
He was in nothing mental,
But an image-man of clay.

In the ground
Was the image found;
Of the ground
Was it molded round;
And empty of breath,
And still as in death,
Inside not a ray,
Outside only clay,
Deaf and dumb and blind,
Deadest of the kind,
There it lay.

Unto what was it like? In its shape it was what?
The world says 'a man,'--but the world is mistaken.
To revive the old story, a long time forgot,
'Twasn't man that was made, but a pot that was bak