"O Lord, forgive a faither a' his blame, Knowing her welcome, comes without their beck, “And I'm sae full o' joy I dinna know If I'm in heaven above or heaven below!— "I'm wi' my angel and I dinna care- Have A CASE OF PEDIGREE. you heard of Mistress Whitby? 'Mong the ladies of the land Who have beauty, youth and fortune she was born to take her stand. She is comely, she is graceful, she is debonair and tall; Mistress Whitby lives secluded. You would scarcely think that she, With her simple, country manners, had a noble pedigree. Your great-grandfather, reader, with the bravest, maybe, fought In the war for independence, and, unlucky dog, was shot; He fought, while Mistress Whitby's only talked, yet, after all, Her great-grandfather's portrait hangs in Independence Hall. NO. 999.-EDWARD F. TURNER. The above numerals do not represent the inscription on my front door, or my distinguishing mark at Portland, or an uncivil cabman whose card I have demandedbut my telephone number. I was very proud of it at first. I had it printed on my note paper, I mentioned it to my friends, regarding the telephone as a splendid invention, and to me, personally, a mighty convenience and facility in business. Mind, I don't say it is not so, even now. I only wish to remark that it is not an unmixed blessing, and that I am the dancing, running, groveling slave of that instrument from 9.30 a. m. to 6.30 p.m. You see there is no toying with it. When it begins to buzz, I have to go to it immediately if I don't want to be buzzed mad, because it won't stop till I do go; and whether I am writing something that needs all my little stock of brains, or am in the middle of a most confidential interview-it is all the same. Imagine this sort of thing: I am giving advice in my most expressive tones; I say, "I have thought most anxiously over the matter, and, in my opinion, your best course will be-" Buzz-zz-zz-zz-zz-zz-zz— "Excuse me one moment while I just speak to some one at the telephone." I go to the telephone, and find that it has been set in motion by my wife at the Civil Service Stores, in sheer wantonness of mischief and that she is sniggering at the other end as she asks me how I am. I dismiss her with a dignified rebuke, which loses some of its majesty because of my inability to make her appreciate the tone in which it is uttered, and resume: "As I was about to say, I think your best course will be to write to Jones-" Buzz-zz-zz-zz-ZZ-ZZ-ZZ—— Pray forgive me for a minute,-I hear the telephone again." I return to the instrument, and identify as the assailant, Brown, who asks me whether I shall be in at four. I tell him that I shall, and retrace my steps. "I was just remarking that after very anxious consideration, I see nothing for it but a letter to Jones to the effect-" Buzz-zz-zz-zz-zz-ZZ-ZZ— "I must really apologize for the interruption, but there is some one else at the telephone." I go back once more to the telephone and inquire who it is. "Are you No. 979?" "No, I am No. 999." "Then they've put me on the wrong number." Once more I begin : "As I just pointed out, the matter is an extremely anxious one, and I have felt great difficulty in coming to a conclusion, but on the whole-" Buzz-zz-zz-zz-ZZ-ZZ-ZZ— "I am really very sorry but there is somebody at the telephone again." I am about to rise, but my visitor can stand it no longer, and fells me to the earth with his umbrella, in a passion. So I don't go to the telephone that time. From various causes my telephone does not always render a conversation very distinctly. Sometimes the gentleman at the other end speaks too near to the instrument, in which case I hear sounds which seem to indicate that he is trying to swallow a baked potato at one mouthful. Sometimes he speaks too far from the instrument, in which case I hear nothing. Sometimes the wire gets in contact with another wire, and then I get a mixture of what my friend is saying to me, and some one else's friend is saying to him, and am left in uncertainty as to whether Robinson wishes to see me about an important matter of legal business, or is anxious to know my views on the subject of pig-iron or shirting. I am not naturally selfish, but I could wish to keep my telephone a little more to myself. I don't mean that I want to talk at both ends; but that it is occasionally put to irreverent use by young and frivolous persons associated with me. I can best illustrate this by another example. I am pouring out stores of wisdom to a client, and he is hanging upon my every word. "I base my conclusions upon three grounds: FirstI think it is clear-" At this point the preternaturally distinct voice of an articled clerk is heard at the telephone in the adjoining room: "Have you got three good Dress Circle seats in the front row for Thursday night?" "I think it is clear-" "Well then, can I have them for Tuesday?" "Clear--" "Are they in the middle?" "I say quite clear—” "Then why the dickens didn't you say so?" Up to this point my visitor and I have listened to these remarks in a kind of stupor; but his face gradually assumes an expression of gentle reproach, as if to say—“I really was not aware that you kept a Box Office." I smile a sickly smile, and say, in faltering tones, that I rather think I hear a voice at the telephone. I leave the room, and when I get outside-well, I won't say what happens, because a man is presumed to be innocent until he is proved to be guilty, and they have never been able to bring home to me the death of the young articled clerk, who was last seen alive when he went to the telephone that day, though I have always been suspected. The myrmidons whose duty it is to place me in communication, through the telephone, with other people, and other people with me, are evidently of opinion that brevity is the soul of wit, for they wax very impatient if my conversation is at all prolonged, and interpose frequently in the middle of it with the inquiry-" Have you finished ?" to which I reply in tones of asperity, which increase with every repetition, "No!" The following conveys some faint idea of how the interview might be taken down by a shorthand writer, if he were able to catch the words without distinguishing the voices: "I wanted to tell you that I called on Souser yester day, and he seemed quite willing to-Have you finished? No!-act with us; but he wished to be quite clear that we were at one with him, and he said-Have you finished? No!-he would put down his ideas in writing for our consideration; and I replied to this-Have you finished? No!-that it was a very good idea, and we would consider his memorandum carefully, and let him know as soon as possible whether it expressed our views, also, and he added-Have you finished? No!-that he should be quite willing to guarantee all expenses up to the limit of-Have you finished? NO!-but I assured him that we did not require this, and our anxiety was— Have you finished? NO!" At this point I have grown purple with rage at the repeated interruptions; and the attendants on their side. feel that I am presuming too far on their good nature. So they cut me off in my prime-telephonically—and Jones remains listening at the other end; but never another syllable does he hear, for the very sufficient reason that my telephone and his are no longer on speaking terms. I should like, in conclusion, just to mention-I beg your pardon, but my telephone is buzzing furiously, and I really must go to it. I will be back in a few moments. A RAJPUT NURSE.-EDWIN ARNOLD. The great Rajput dynasty is said to have descended from the Sun himself. The Hindoo husband accepts the paternity of his child by receiving it, newborn, in his arms. The GADI, or seat is the name of an Indian throne. TULWARS are Indian sabres. BUCHA means little one. "Whose tomb have they builded, Vittoo! under this tama rind tree, With its door of the rose-veined marble, and white dome stately to see; |