The Chinese can read this book as well as our occidentals. It can be perused backward or forward and will need no index or table of contents. It can be taken all at once if time and taste call for it, or it may be confidently opened by the skipper and skimmer of books who travels hither and thither and assails his literature only at vulnerable points. It may perhaps be taken up a second time, when, reader, if some of these stories seem to be old friends, you must be certain not to chide and revile this little volume, but compliment yourself upon owning a very retentive mind. *BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME* The champion liar of the town was outdoing himself on his pet topic, the Civil War. "Talk of mud," he was saying, "our campaign in the Wilderness was the worst. It rained for days without letting up. When it did stop we started off with our artillery. Soon we came to a regular water hole, but we drove straight along, and do you know that first team went right out of sight." A newcomer then took the floor. "I’ve seen some mud, too," he said. "When I was a boy, one day after a terribly wet spring, I saw a hat out in the road, right in a big puddle, so I waded out to get it. Maybe now you won’t believe me, but there was a man under that hat. Says I, ’Why, hello! can’t I help you out?’ ’Oh, no,’ says he, ’guess I can get along. I’m a-horse back.’" *THE ABSENT BOY’S FAULT* A certain Sunday-school teacher had a regular set of questions that she asked every Sunday. Beginning with the first boy she would ask, "Who made you?" to which he would reply, "The Lord." Then she would regularly ask the second boy, "Who was the first man?" and he would reply, "Adam." One Sunday the first boy was away, and of course the second boy moved into his place. As usual, the teacher began by asking, "Who made you?" The boy replied, "Adam." "No, that is not right," said the teacher. "The Lord made you." "I guess not," the child replied. "The boy that the Lord made is away to-day." *THE "ONE HORSE" RAILROAD* It was a train of only two cars on a miserable branch railroad, and was jogging along at a distressingly low rate of speed when all of a sudden it came to a dead stop. One of the passengers, whose patience had become exhausted, asked a brakeman the cause of delay. "There’s a herd of cows on the track," he answered. In about ten minutes the train got under way again, jerking along convulsively for about a mile or two, when it came to a halt. An old man sitting near the door turned to the brakeman, who was plainly annoyed by the many questions, and said irritably: "What in thunder is the matter, anyhow?" "Why, we’ve caught up to the cows again!" the brakeman answered. *A POSTSCRIPT*