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gave him the contents of the other barrel, and then drove into the house to load up again. The unfortunate Coville struck into a cherry-tree, and thence bounded to the ground, where he was recognised, picked up by the assembled neighbours, and carried into the house. A new doctor is making a good day's wages picking the shot out of his legs. The boarder has gone into the country to spend the summer, and the junior Coville, having sequestered a piece of brick in his handkerchief, is lying low for that other boy. He says that before the calm of another Sabbath rests on New England there will be another boy in Danbury who can't wear a cap.
MR COVILLE'S EASY-CHAIR.-JAMES M. BAILEY.
Since the unfortunate accident to Mr Coville while on the roof counting the shingles, he has been obliged to keep pretty close to the house. Last Wednesday he went out into the yard for the first time; and on Friday Mrs Coville got him an easy-chair, which proved a great comfort to him. It is one of those chairs that can be moved by the occupant to form almost any position by means of ratchets. Mr Coville was very much pleased with this new contrivance, and the first forenoon did nothing but sit in it and work it in all ways. He said such a chair as that did more good in this world than a hundred sermons. He had it in his room-the front bedroom upstairs; and there he would sit and look out of the window, and enjoy himself as much as a man can whose legs have been ventilated with shot. Monday afternoon he got in the chair as usual. Mrs Coville was out in the backyard hanging up clothes, and the son was across the street drawing a lath along a picket fence. Sitting down, he grasped the sides of the chair with both hands to settle it back, when the whole thing gave way, and Mr Coville came violently to the floor.
For an instant the unfortunate gentleman was benumbed by the suddenness of the shock; the next he was aroused by acute pain in each arm, and the great drops of sweat oozed from his forehead when he found that the little finger of each hand had caught in the little ratchets and was as firmly held as in a vice. There he
lay on his back with the end of a round sticking in his side, and both hands perfectly powerless. The least move of his body aggravated the pain which was chasing up his arms. He screamed for help, but Mrs Coville was in the back-yard telling Mrs Coney, next door, that she didn't know what Coville would do without that chair; and so she didn't hear him. He pounded the floor with his stockinged feet; but the younger Coville was still drawing emotion from the fence across the way, and all other sounds were rapidly sinking into insignificance. Besides, Mr Coville's legs were not sufficiently recovered from the late accident to permit of their being profitably used as mallets.
How he did despise that offspring, and how fervently he did wish the owner of that fence would light on that boy and reduce him to powder! Then he screamed again, and howled and shouted Maria!' But there was no response.
What if he should die alone there in that awful shape! The perspiration started afresh, and the pain in his arms assumed an awful magnitude. Again he shrieked Maria!' but the matinee across the way only grew in volume, and the unconscious wife had gone into Mrs Coney's, and was trying on that lady's redingote. Then he prayed, and howled, and coughed, and swore, and then apologised for it, and prayed and howled again, and screamed at the top of his voice the awfullest things he would do to that boy if Heaven would only spare him and show him an axe.
Then he opened his mouth for one final shriek, when the door opened and Mrs Coville appeared with a smile on her face and Mrs Coney's redingote on her back. In one glance she saw that something awful had happened to Joseph, and, with wonderful presence of mind, she screamed for help, and then fainted away, and ploughed headlong into his stomach. Fortunately the blow deprived him of speech, else he might have said something that he would ever have regretted; and before he could regain his senses Mrs Coney dashed in and removed the grief-stricken wife. But it required a blacksmith to cut Coville loose. He is again back in bed, with his mutilated fingers resting on pillows, and there he lies all day concocting new forms of death for the inventor of that chair; and hoping nothing will happen to his son until he can get well enough to administer it himself.
MR POTTS'S HAT.-MAX ADELER.
On the first Sunday that the congregation worshipped in the new church Mr Potts attended; and, in accordance with his custom, he placed his silk high hat just outside of the pew in the aisle. In a few moments Mrs Jones entered, and, as she proceeded up the aisle her abounding skirts caught Mr Potts's hat and rolled it nearly to the pulpit. Mr Potts pursued his hat with feelings of indignation; and when Mrs Jones took her seat he walked back, brushing the hat with his sleeve. A few moments later Mrs Hopkins came into the church; and, as Mr Potts had again placed his hat in the aisle, Mrs Hopkins's skirts struck it and swept it along about twenty feet, and left it lying on the carpet in a demoralised condition. Mr Potts was singing a hymn at the time, and he didn't miss it. But a moment later, when he looked over the end of the pew to see if it was safe, he was furious to perceive that it was gone. He skirmished up the aisle after it again, red in the face, and uttering sentences which were very much out of place in a sanctuary. However, he put the hat down again and determined to keep his eye on it; but just as he turned his head away for a moment Mrs Smiley came in, and Potts looked around only in time to watch the hat being gathered in under Mrs Smiley's skirts and carried away by them. He started in pursuit, and just as he did so the hat must have rolled against Mrs Smiley's ankles, for she gave a jump and screamed right out in church. Out rolled Mr Potts's hat, and Mr Smiley, being very near-sighted, thought it was a dog, and immediately kicked it so savagely that it flew up into the gallery and lodged on the top of the organ. Mr Potts, perfectly frantic with rage, forgot where he was; and, holding his clinched fist under Smiley's nose, he shrieked, 'I've half a mind to brain you, you scoundrel!' Then he flung down his hymn-book and rushed from the church. He went home bareheaded, and the sexton brought his humiliating hat around after dinner. After that Mr Potts expressed a purpose to go habitually to Quaker meetings, where he could say his prayers with his hat on his head, and where the skirts of female worshippers are smaller.
FROM MELANCHOLY TO MIRTH.-ANON.
Yesterday forenoon a man who was crossing Princes Street suddenly began to paw the air with his hands and perform strange antics with his feet; and, after taking plenty of time about it, he came down in a heap. More than fifty people saw the performance, and there was a general laugh. It had not ceased when a man with a funereal countenance pushed his way into the crowd and asked:
'Who is he? What's his name?'-'It's Smith,' answered a voice.
'What Smith ?'-' Thomas Smith.'
'Sure?'' Yes; I've known him for over twenty years.'
'Then I'll laugh,' said the solemn-faced man, and he leaned against the wall and chuckled and laughed until he could hardly get his breath. One of the crowd remarked on his singular conduct, and the laugher wiped the tears from his eyes and replied:
Gentlemen, nothing tickles me all over so much as to see a man fall down. Ten years ago I was salesman in a wholesale house, with a fine chance for promotion. One day a man just ahead of me fell down, and I laughed. It was our employer, and he discharged me on the spot. Five years later I was engaged to a rich girl. As I came out of the post-office one day a man sprawled out on the pavement, and I laughed till I was sore. It was my Angelina's father, and he broke off the match. Again, I laughed myself out of a position in a bank, and but for the same failure I should to-day have a place in the Custom-House. I have learned wisdom. Now, when I see a man fall I ask his name, and find out if he has any influence to put me out of my clerkship. If he has, I look solemn and pass on. If he hasn't, I la-laugh-ha! ha! ha! Smith, is it? Smith can't do any harm, and-ha! ha! ha! I wouldn't have
sal-ha ha! ha!'
missed this for a month's