She has a close friend, a young lady of plain exterior, but a sensible and practical mind, whom she habitually consults as a wise counselor and advisor concerning the intricate problems of life. One day she said to Marian--the wise friend: "How I wish there was some way to find out who among these flattering suitors of mine is sincere and genuine in the compliments that are paid me. Men are such deceivers, and they all give me such unstinted praise, and make such pretty speeches to me, that I do not know who among them, if any, are true and sincere in their regard." "I will tell you a way," said Marian. "The next evening when there are a number of them calling upon you, recite a dramatic poem, and then tell me how each one expresses his opinion of your effort." The young lady was much impressed with the idea, and on the following Friday evening when some half-dozen young men were in the parlor paying her attentions, she volunteered to recite. She has not the least dramatic talent, but she stood up and went through with a long poem, with many gestures and much rolling of eyes and pressing of her hands to her heart. She did it very badly, and without the least regard for the rules of elocution or expression. Later on, her friend Marian asked her how her effort was received. "Oh," she said, "they all crowded around me, and appeared to be filled with the utmost delight. Tom, and Henry, and Jim, and Charlie were in raptures. They said that Mary Anderson could not have equaled it. They said they had never heard anything spoken with such dramatic effect and feeling." "Everyone praised you?" asked Marian. "All but one. Mr. Judson sat back in his chair and never applauded at all. He told me after I had finished that he was afraid I had very little dramatic talent at all." "Now," said Marian. "You know who is sincere and genuine?" "Yes," said the beautiful girl, with eyes shining with enthusiasm. "The test was a complete success. I detest that odious Judson, and I'm going to begin studying for the stage right away." His Dilemma An old man with long white chin whiskers and a derby hat two sizes small, dropped into a Main Street drug store yesterday and beckoned a clerk over into a corner. He was about sixty-five years old, but he wore a bright red necktie, and was trying to smoke a very bad and strong cigar in as offhand a style as possible. "Young man," he said, "you lemme ask you a few questions, and I'll send you a big watermelon up from the farm next summer. I came to Houston to see this here carnival, and do some tradin'. Right now, before I go any further, have you got any hair dye?" "Plenty of it." "Any of this real black shiny dye that looks blue in the sunshine?" "Yes." "All right then, now I'll proceed. Do you know anything about this here Monroe docterin'?" "Well, yes, something." "And widders; do you feel able to prognosticate a few lines about widders?"