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"Le plus grand tort de la plupart des maris envers

leurs femmes, c'est de les avoir épousées."

THE BOY'S SISTER.

"Je ne me sens jamais plus seul que lorsque je livre mon coeur à quelque ami."

MAUPASSANT.

G

I.

ARLAND'S profession took him to Ten Pin Corners. His profession was to collect butterflies for the Natural History Museum of New York. "Uncle Billy," who kept the Constitution Hotel at Ten Pin Corners, thought "bug huntin'" was a "dampoor bizness, even fur a dood," and perhaps it was-but that is none of your business or mine. Garland lived at the Constitution Hotel. The hotel did small honour to its name, in fact it would have ruined any other constitution. It was ruining Garland's by degrees, but a man of twenty-five does n't notice such things. So Garland swallowed his saleratus biscuits and bolted pork and beans, and was very glad that he was alive.

He had met the male population of Ten Pin Corners over the bar at the Constitution Hotel,

it being a temperance state-and there he had listened to their views on all that makes life worth living.

He tried to love his fellow-countrymen. When Orrin Hayes spat upon the stove and denounced woman's suffrage-when Cy Pettingil, whose wife was obliged to sign his name for him, agreed profanely-when the Hon. Hanford Perkins, A. P. A., demonstrated the wickedness of Catholicism, and proffered vague menaces against Rome, Garland conscientiously repressed a shudder.

"They are my countrymen, God bless 'em," he thought, smiling upon the free-born.

Uncle Billy's felonious traffic in the "j'yfull juice," did not prevent his attendance at town meeting, nor his enthusiastic voice against local option.

"I ain't no dum fool," he observed to Garland, "let the wimmen hev their way."

But don't you think," suggested Garland, "that a liberal law would be better?"

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Naw," replied Uncle Billy.

But don't you think even a poor law should be observed until wise legislation can find a remedy?"

"Naw," said Uncle Billy, and closed the subject.

Sometimes Uncle Billy would come out on the verandah where Garland was sitting in the sun, fussing over some captured caterpillar. His invariable salute was, "More bugs? Gosh!"

Once he brought Garland a cockroach, and suggested the bar-room as a new and interesting collecting ground, but Garland explained that his business did not include such augean projects, and the thrifty old man was baffled.

"What's them bugs good fur?" he demanded at length. Garland explained, but Uncle Billy never got over the impression that Garland's real business was the advertising of Persian Powder. Most of the prominent citizens of Ten Pin Corners came to Garland to engage his services as potatobeetle exterminator, measuring-worm destroyer, and general annihilator of mosquitos, and to each in turn he carefully explained what his profession

was.

They were skeptical-sometimes sarcastic. One thing, however, puzzled them; he had never been known to try to sell anybody Persian Powder, for, possessed with the idea that he was some new species of drummer, they found this difficult to reconcile with their suspicions.

"Bin a-buggin', haint ye?" was the usual salute from the free-born whom he met in the fields; and when Garland smiled and nodded, the free-born would expectorate and chuckle, "Oh, yew air slick, Mister Garland, yew 're more 'n a Yankee than I be."

Ten Pin Corners was built along both sides of the road; the Constitution Hotel stood at one extremity of the main street, the Post Office at the other. Garland once asked why the place

was called Ten Pin Corners, and Uncle Billy told him a lie about its having been named from his, Uncle Billy's, palatial ten pin alley.

"Then why not Ten Pin Alley?" asked Garland.

"Cuz it ain't no alley," sniffed Uncle Billy. "But," persisted Garland, "why Corners?" "Becuz there haint no corners," said Uncle Billy evasively, and retired to his bar, thirsty and irritated. "Asks enough damfool que-estions t' set a man crazy," he confided to the Hon. Hanford Perkins; "I've hed drummers an' drummers at the Constitooshun, but I h'aint seen nothin' tew beat him."

The Hon. Hanford Perkins looked at Uncle Billy and spat gravely upon the stove, and Uncle Billy spat also, to put himself on an equality with the Hon. Hanford Perkins.

Concerning the mendacity of Uncle Billy there could be no question. Ten Pin Corners had been originally Ten Pines Corners. Half a mile from the terminus of the main street stood a low stone house. It was included in the paternal government of Ten Pin Corners, and it was from this house, surrounded by ten gigantic pines, and from the four cross-roads behind it, now long disused and overgrown with grass and fireweed, that the village name degenerated from Ten Pines to Ten Pin.

Thither Garland was wont to go in the evenings, for the pines were the trysting places of

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