“Vell, den, you need a bair uf bants like dese,” said Hoffenstein, pulling out a sky-blue pair from a pile of clothing on the counter. “Dey vas de genervine doeskin, und will last de whole year oud.” The countryman took the pants to the light, examined the texture of the cloth, and then shaking his head knowingly said: “There’s too much cotton in them; they will shrink.” “Of course my frent dey will shrink, but vait und I tells you someding. If a man vat owns a pank or keeps a store comes here, I don’t sell him dem kind uf pants. Vy? Because dey vas made exbressly for de farming pisiness. Dey vas de dermometer pants, und a plessing to every farmer vat vears a bair uf dem. Do you know, my frent, dose bants vill dell you exactly vat de vedder will be. Ven it vas going to be vet and cold, dose bants vill begin to shrink up, und ven it vas going to be dry und varm, dey comes right down, you know. Dree years ago, I sell a bair of dem to a man vat vas named Vilking, und eber since den he makes good crops, ven de oder beoble don’t make noding, because he always knows py his dermometer pants vat de vedder vill be. After avile de beoble in de neighborhood finds oud de segret uf Vilkin’s success, and at the beginning of the planting season, you know, dey comes for dirty miles around, and if dey see Vilkin’s bants crawling up his leg dey holds off und vaits for a change, but if his bants vas down dey goes right back home, und puts in de crop. Dink of it, my frent; mit de thermometer bants, you can tell exactly ven to put in cabbage seed, und plant corn twice as better as mit an almanac, besides ven de vedder gets so cold und vet dot de bants goes up under your arms, you sew buttons on the front and vear him as a vest.” When Hoffenstein finished his yarn concerning the pants, the countryman smiled, and, turning abruptly on his heel, left the store. “Did you see de vay dot man acted, Hermann?” said Hoffenstein, angrily. “Yes, sir,” replied his clerk. “Vell, it shust shows dot de more you dry to help beoble along, de more, py tam, you don’t got any tanks for it.” EDWARD E. EDWARDS. The subject of this sketch is known but little, although his humor has acquired fame widespread and universal. Edward E. Edwards is the paragrapher and “funny man” of the Boston Transcript. This journal has become famous for its bright and racy column of “Facts and Fancies,” and for the hundreds of sparkling humorous sketches that have appeared in its columns during a great number of years.