The editor of a rural paper visited a large city just after the shooting of Mr. McKinley and took great interest in the newspaper bulletins informing the public of the president’s condition. Shortly after the editor’s return home, Deacon Jones was taken seriously ill, and the following bulletins were promptly posted: 10.00 A.M--Deacon Jones no better. ll.00 A.M.--Deacon Jones has relapse. 12.30 P.M.--Deacon Jones weaker. Pulse failing. 2.15 P.M.--Deacon Jones’s family summoned. 3.10 P.M--Deacon Jones has died and gone to Heaven. Later in the afternoon a traveling salesman happened by, stopped to read the bulletins, and, going to the board, added: 4.10 P.M.--Great excitement in Heaven; Deacon Jones has not yet arrived. The worst is feared. *HOW COULD HE KNOW* Jim Murphy had been accused of selling liquor illicitly and the prosecuting attorney was endeavoring to make Pat, a job teamster, admit that he had delivered liquor to the defendant. He stated that he had once delivered freight to Murphy and that part of that freight was a barrel, but when asked what the barrel contained he replied that he did not know. "Don’t know! Wasn’t the barrel marked?" asked the attorney. "Yis, sor." "Then how dare you tell the court that you don’t know what was in it?" "Because, sor, the barrel was marked ’Jim Murphy’ on one end and ’Bourbon Whiskey’ on the other. How the divil did I know which was in it?" *A SECRET* A man who had purchased a fine-looking horse soon discovered that the animal was blind, and after several weeks he succeeded in disposing of her, as the defect did not seem to lessen her speed nor detract from her general appearance. The next day the new owner of the horse appeared. "Say, you know that mare you sold me?" he began. "She’s stone blind." "I know it," replied her past owner with an easy air. "You didn’t say anything to me about it," said the purchaser, his face red with anger. "Well, you see," replied the other, "that fellow who sold her to me didn’t tell me about it and I just concluded that he didn’t want it known." *AT THE WRONG DOOR* The following story is told of an American gentleman who was recently stopping with his wife at the Hotel Cecil in London. The first evening there she happened to return somewhat earlier than her spouse. Arriving at the door of what he supposed was his own room and finding it locked, he tapped and called, "Honey." No answer came and he again called more loudly, "Honey." Still there was no reply, and becoming somewhat uneasy, he shouted the endearing term with his full strength. This time an answer came and in a male voice. "Go away, you blithering idiot! This is a bathroom, not a blooming beehive." *HOW IT MIGHT NOT HAVE HAPPENED* Hon. James M. Beck tells the following story of an argument made by a rural barrister before a justice in a court in Pennsylvania.