Father he thought a long time, and final he said: “Well, my son, you know what I think of flies, and you know what I think of news papers, and particklar you know what I think of the New York _Times_, but, Johnny, if there was a wops, and you heard it say that it was a goin to sit on your fathers nose and sting him deep in both his beutiful eyes, and your sister was a wearin the _Tribune_ for to improve her figgure, I will over look your fault this time if you get out of this real quick.” So I jumpt out of the door jest as he flang a book at me. The Bible it says thou shall be kind to thy father, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven, but the wicked shall have eternle life. MUNKYS A man had a pet munky, and the mans boy hated the munky cause it done every thing which he done his self. One terrible cold winter evenin the boy got 2 buckets of water and set them out doors. Then he got a piece of rope and tied it around him under his jacket and let the end hang down like it was a tail, and then he set down on the edge of one bucket and let the rope hang in the water. The munky it looked on, and then it tost its head, contemptible, much as to say it could do that too, and it went to the other bucket and done it. Then the water it froze and the boy he untied the rope and went in the house, but the munky couldent untie its tail, and it stayd there and in the mornin it was froze to death. When the man found the dead munk he swore awful, cause he liked him, but the boy he come up and put his kanuckle in his eye, like he was cryin, and said: “Poor little feller, what a pity he died jest as he had got most out.” Mister Gipple he says there was a painter, and he painted a picture of a awfle hiddeous babboon, and he was mighty homely his own self. His wife she hadnt see the picture, cause she was pretty and didnt care for art. One day the painter he looked in the parlor where his wife was, and said: “Ime a goin out, and shant be back till a long time,” for he was takin the picture of the bab to the mans house which had bought it. But when he got there the man was too sick abed for to look at it, so he brought it back home, the painter did, and as he was a passin the parlor window he looked in and seen his wife a sleep in her chair, facin the window. Then the painter he said to hisself: “I will give her a good scare.” So he set the picture on the window sil out side, like it was a lookin in, and then he let his self in the house with a lach key, and set down by his wife, and took her hand and prest it mighty lovin, and she smiled in her sleep and mummered “Dear Henry,” which wasnt his name. After a while she opend her eyes and seen the picture of the bab a lookin in to the window. She started like she was shot dead, and with out lookin round she cried out: “O my! he has come back. Get under the piano!” Now what is the sense of sech a story as that? But the rhi nosey rose is the king of beasts.