Of the countless good stories attributed to Artemus Ward, the best one, perhaps, is one which tells of the advice which he gave to a Southern railroad conductor soon after the war. The road was in a wretched condition, and the trains were consequently run at a phenomenally low rate of speed. When the conductor was punching his ticket, Artemus remarked: "Does this railroad company allow passengers to give it advice, if they do so in a respectful manner?" The conductor replied in gruff tones that he guessed so. "Well," Artemus went on, "it occurred to me that it would be well to detach the cowcatcher from the front of the engine and hitch it to the rear of the train, for you see we are not liable to overtake a cow, but what's to prevent a cow from strolling into this car and biting a passenger?" MARION COUTHOUY SMITH THE COMPOSITE GHOST They were placed on exhibition, in a long, imposing row, All who'd borne the name of Spriggins for three centuries or so; From old Amram, who came over in the Pilgrim Fathers' track, To the late lamented Jane, for whom the family still wore black. They stood upon a hardwood shelf, in rich and proud array, Not disposed, I beg to state, in any grim, offensive way. They were not a row of mummies, standing terrible and tall, Nor a grisly stack of coffins, piled up high along the wall; You never came across a skull, nor stumbled on a bone, Nor a human frame in lattice-work, left rattling there alone; Your nerves would never suffer there from sudden shocks or "turns"-- There was nothing but a score or two of classic little urns, Which held their sacred contents, sealed in elegant reserve, Like a ghastly kind of jam, or supernatural preserve. You never, never would suspect that in those graceful rows, The entire Spriggins ancestry could peacefully repose. 'Tis a plan that's most convenient, thus within a little space, To have your relatives condensed, and keep them in a vase; For if you care to travel, why, wherever you may go, You can simply take your family vault along with you, you know. You can have the whole collection sent by Peterson's express, To be a genteel solace in bereavement and distress. Besides, it is the prettiest end a man could wish himself-- To be gathered to his fathers in an urn upon a shelf. * * * * *