A Scene in Paradise "Ah, my Friends, Look Down Into That Burning Lake!" An Intrusive Nigger At the Telephone Behind the Scenes Bossing the Pillow "Do not Pass me by!" Drummers Trying to Pray "Get Thee to a Nunnery!" "Happy New Year, Mum!" Hiawasamantha, the Dusky Daughter of the Golden West "I Want to be an Angel" It Looked Like an old Dripping Pan "It is F-f-four Sizes too Big!" John McCullough Killing a Texas Steer "Just as I am" "Keno!" Martindale Climbs a Pole "Me Long Lost Duke!" Mystery of a Woman's Clothes New Way of Taking Seidlitz Powders No More Apples for the Minister "Oh, That Will be all Right" "Pa Grabbed Her by the Polonaise" "Sard," and the Greek Slave Sacred Memories Slippery Oysters Swallow-Tails on the Climb The Lady of the Seventh Ward The Old Back Number Girl The Old Man Tries His Hand The Resorter The Rotund Urso The Sexton in all His Glory The Startled Cat The Tenor Arrayed in all His Glory The Wandering Oyster "Thereby Hangs a Tail." "This is too Allfired Much!" "Too Late, Pa, I Die at the Hand of an Assassin!" Turning the Proper Dingus "Yell, or go Down!" PECK'S COMPENDIUM OF FUN. THE NEW COAL STOVE. We never had a coal stove around the house until last Saturday. Have always used pine slabs and pieces of our neighbor's fence. They burn well, too, but the fence got all burned up, and the neighbor said he wouldn't build a new one, so we went down to Jones' and got a coal stove. After supper we took a piece of ice and rubbed our hands warm, and went in where that stove was, resolved to make her draw and burn if it took all the pine fence in the first Ward. Our better-half threw a quilt over her, and shiveringly remarked that she never knew what real solid comfort was until she got a coal stove. Stung by the sarcasm in her remark, we turned every dingus on the stove that was movable, or looked like it had anything to do with the draft, and pretty soon the stove began to heave up heat. It was not long before she stuttered like the new Silsby steamer. Talk about your heat! In ten minutes that room was as much worse than a Turkish bath as Hades is hotter than Liverman's ice-house. The perspiration fairly fried out of a tin water cooler in the next room. We opened the doors, and snow began to melt as far up Vine street as Hanscombe's house, and people all round the neighborhood put on linen clothes. And we couldn't stop the confounded thing.