He intends shortly to try whether the Grand Jury is a convert to the new doctrine of sauciness. _Joseph C. Neal._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ _THE BOYS AROUND THE HOUSE._ SURELY you must have seen a boy of eight or ten years of age get ready for bed? His shoe-strings are in a hard knot, and after a few vain efforts to unlace them he rushes after a case-knife and saws each string in two. One shoe is thrown under the table, the other behind the stove, his jacket behind the door, and his stockings are distributed over as many chairs as they will reach. The boy doesn’t slip his pants off; he struggles out of them, holding a leg down with his foot and drawing his limbs out after many stupendous efforts. While doing this his hands are clutched into the bedclothes, and by the time he is ready to get into bed the quilts and sheets are awry and the bed is full of humps and lumps. His brother has gone through the same motions, and both finally crawl into bed. They are good boys, and they love each other, but they are hardly settled on their backs when one cries out— “Hitch along!” “I won’t!” bluntly replies the other. “Ma, Bill’s got more’n half the bed!” cries the first. “Hain’t either, ma!” replies Bill. There is a moment of silence, and then the first exclaims— “Get yer feet off’n me!” “They hain’t touching you!” is the answer. “Yes they be, and you’re on my pillar, too!” “Oh! my stars, what a whopper! You’ll never go to heaven!” The mother looks into the bedroom and kindly says— “Come, children, be good, and don’t make your mother any trouble.” “Well,” replies the youngest, “if Bill ’ll tell me a bear story ’ll go to sleep.” The mother withdraws, and Bill starts out— “Well, you know, there was an old bear who lived in a cave. He was a big black bear. He had eyes like coals of fire, you know, and when he looked at a feller he——” “Ma, Bill’s scaring me!” yells Henry, sitting on end. “Oh, ma! that’s the awfullest story you ever heard!” replies Bill. “Hitch along, I say!” exclaims Henry. “I am along!” replies Bill. “Get yer knee out’n my back!” “Hain’t anywhere near ye!” “Gimme some cloze!” “You’ve got more’n half now!” “Come, children, do be good and go to sleep,” says the mother, entering the room and arranging the clothes. They doze off after a few muttered words, to preserve the peace until morning, and it is popularly supposed that an angel sits on each bed-post to sentinel either curly head during the long, dark hours. “Ho-hum!” yawns Bill. “Ho-hum!” yawns Henry. It is morning, and they crawl out of bed. After four or five efforts they get into their pants, and then reach out for stockings. “I know I put mine right down here by this bed!” exclaims Bill. “And I put mine right there by the end of the bureau!” adds Henry.