“If you or I, suh, were asked how much two and two make, we would reply ‘foh.’  When this is asked of a bo’n oratah, he replies:  ’When in the co’se of human events it becomes necessary to take an integah of the second denomination and add it, suh, to an integah of the same denomination, the result, suh—­and I have the science of mathematics to back me up in my judgment—­the result, suh, and I say it without feah of successful contradiction, suh-the result is fo’’ That’s a bo’n oratah.”

When Demosthenes was asked what was the first part of Oratory, he answered, “Action,” and which was the second, he replied, “Action,” and which was the third, he still answered “Action.”—­Plutarch.

OUTDOOR LIFE

One day, in the spring of ’74, Cap Smith’s freight outfit pulled into Helena, Montana.  After unloading the freight, the “mule-skinners,” to a man, repaired to the Combination Gambling House and proceeded to load themselves.  Late in the afternoon, Zeb White, Smith’s oldest skinner, having exchanged all of his hard coin for liquid refreshment, zigzagged into the corral, crawled under a wagon, and went to sleep.  After supper, Smith, making his nightly rounds, happened on the sleeping Zeb.

“Kinder chilly, ain’t it?” he asked, after earnestly prodding Zeb with a convenient stick.

“I reckon ’tis,” Zeb drowsily mumbled.

“Ain’t yer ’fraid ye’ll freeze?”

’"Tis cold, ain’t it?  Say, Cap, jest throw on another wagon, will yer?”

PAINTING

See Art.

PAINTINGS

She had engaged a maid recently from the country, and was now employed in showing her newly acquired treasure over the house and enlightening her in regard to various duties, etc.  At last they reached the best room.  “These,” said the mistress of the house, pausing before an extensive row of masculine portraits, “are very valuable, and you must be very careful when dusting.  They are old masters.”  Mary’s jaw dropped, and a look of intense wonder overspread her rubicund face.

“Lor’, mum,” she gasped, gazing with bulging eyes on the face of her new employer, “lor’, mum, who’d ever ’ave thought you’d been married all these times!”

A picture is a poem without words.—­Cornificus.

PANICS

One night at a theatre some scenery took fire, and a very perceptible odor of burning alarmed the spectators.  A panic seemed to be imminent, when an actor appeared on the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “compose yourselves.  There is no danger.”

The audience did not seem reassured.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” continued the comedian, rising to the necessity of the occasion, “confound it all—­do you think if there was any danger I’d be here?”