“It's Jim Kelley, Black Jim, and I'm in something of a hurry.” “Well, I'm very busy, Mr. Kelley. Come again this afternoon.” “That will be too remote. I am very busy myself. Now is the accepted time. Will you open the door or shall I open it.” The president opened it because it was a good door and he wanted to preserve it. Black Jim turned the key in the door and sat down. “What did you want of me?” says the president “I wanted to see you about a certificate of deposit I've got here on your bank for eighteen dollars.” “We can't pay it. Everything is gone.” “Well, I am here to get $18 or to leave you looking like a giblet pie. Eighteen dollars will relieve you of this mental strain, but if you do not put up I will paper this wall with your classic features and ruin the carpet with what remains.” The president hesitated a moment. Then he took a roll out of his boot and paid Jim eighteen dollars. “You will not mention this on the street, of course,” said the president. “No,” says Jim, “not till I get there.” When the crowd got back, however, the president had fled and he has remained fled ever since. The longer he remained away and thought it over, the more he became attached to Canada, and the more of a confirmed and incurable fugitive he became. I saw Black Jim last evening and he said he had passed through two bank failures, but had always realized on his certificates of deposit. One cashier told Jim that he was the homeliest man that ever looked through the window of a busted bank. He said Kelley looked like a man who ate bank cashiers on toast and directors raw with a slice of lemon on top. Dr. Dizart's Dog. A man whose mother-in-law had been successfully treated by the doctor, one day presented him with a beautiful Italian hound named Nemesis. When I say that the able physician had treated the mother-in-law successfully, I mean successfully from her son-in-law's standpoint, and not from her own, for the doctor insisted on treating her for small-pox when she had nothing but an attack of agnostics. She is now sitting on the front stoop of the golden whence. So, after the last sad rites, the broken-hearted son-in-law presented the physician with a handsome hound with long, slender legs and a wire tail, as a token of esteem and regard. The dog was young and playful, as all young dogs are, so he did many little tricks which amused almost everyone. One day, while the doctor was away administering a subcutaneous injection of morphine to a hay-fever patient, he left Nemesis in the office alone with a piece of rag-carpet and his surging thoughts. At first Nemesis closed his eyes and breathed hard, then he arose and ate part of an ottoman, then he got up and scratched the paper off the office wall and whined in a sad tone of voice. A young Italian hound has a peculiarly sad and depressing song.