“Come in, poor Monk,” said she, “we have not much except my husband’s wages, but to share with thee is to give unto the Lord.” So saying she gave him half her savings, and when he made ready to depart she craved his blessing. “You may kiss my Big Toe,” said he. Which being done he departed, and with a shrug of his shoulders said to himself: “Ah, if Women were not so easily beguiled, we should be compelled to work.” JOHN BRYAN OF OHIO. THOUGHTS. FREEDOM. “No bonds at all! Give me sweet freedom,” cried the youth, But freedom dwells in naught save bondage to the truth. SUFFICIENCY. With self and God, a cave may still be Paradise; With God and self unknown, the world cannot suffice. UNSELFISHNESS. Work thou for self alone, and life shall die at death; For others live, and lo! death shall be God’s own breath. PRAISE. The praise of some is manna from on high, But when all praise, ’tis time for one to die. CHARLES P. NETTLETON. THE PASSING OF CLANGINGHARP. And so old Clangingharp passed out. He did not die, and his case was not like Elijah’s or Enoch’s. Enoch left a spoor, while Clangingharp calmly and peacefully passed away, without striking a discord. Nobody had any idea where Clangingharp was. Frostembight had seen him the night before and they had drunk and been drunk; but where Clangingharp was Frostembight could not or would not say. The Knittenpin woman, of course, acted like an idiot and went around to Frostembight’s house in the morning and threatened to kill Frostembight. Nothing prevented her but Frostembight. She afterwards told Shiningstar and Shiningstar’s little girl Eva, that Frostembight was not safe for dependence, even as a victim. Eva leered proudly and said she guessed it made very little difference anyway. Eva was one of those frail, delicate little girls, happy for their years, who grow up into frail, delicate women, wretched for theirs. Sometimes they have blue eyes, sometimes black. Eva’s were green. Championoar liked green-eyed women, and half promised to wait till Eva was old enough to be married to him, when he could get her off the stage. Shiningstar was his stepdaughter’s stepfather. By the second night after Clangingharp had passed away the editor of _The Evening Coat_ had gone back into society again, and was the center of a jostling cluster at the Opera. Madame Frustra, the prima donna, seemed to incline toward the editor, and when his flowers reached her in her dressing room she was heard to murmur, “Poor Clangingharp!” That was really all there was to connect _The Evening Coat_ with the affair, and, indeed, Frustra wrote the editor a note saying that nowadays a successful actress had to forego wine suppers and skip to her hotel directly after the opera. She got out of town with her luggage before the stranding was discovered.