The box was landed, and conveyed to the house. The whole family were present at the opening, which was performed in the dining-room by Mr. Atmore himself--all the servants peeping in at the door. As soon as a part of the lid was split off, and a handful of the straw removed, a pile of plates appeared, all separately wrapped in India paper. Each of the family snatched up a plate and hastily tore off the covering. There were the flowers glowing in beautiful colors, and the gold star and the gold A, admirably executed. But under the gold star, on every plate, dish and tureen were the words, "THIS IN THE MIDDLE!"--being the direction which the literal and exact Chinese had minutely copied from a crooked line that Mr. Atmore had hastily scrawled on the pattern with a very bad pen, and of course without the slightest fear of its being inserted _verbatim_ beneath the central ornament. Mr. Atmore laughed--Mrs. Atmore cried--the servants giggled aloud--and Marianne cried first, and laughed afterwards. SUPPRESSED CHAPTERS[1] BY CAROLYN WELLS Zenobia, they tell us, was a leader born and bred; Of any sort of enterprise she'd fitly take the head. The biggest, burliest buccaneers bowed down to her in awe; To Warriors, Emperors or Kings, Zenobia's word was law. Above her troop of Amazons her helmet plume would toss, And every one, with loud accord, proclaimed Zenobia's boss. The reason of her power (though the part she didn't look), Was simply that Zenobia had once lived out as cook. Xantippe was a Grecian Dame--they say she was the wife Of Socrates, and history shows she led him a life! They say she was a virago, a vixen and a shrew, Who scolded poor old Socrates until the air was blue. She never stopped from morn till night the clacking of her tongue, But this is thus accounted for: You see, when she was young-- (And 'tis an explanation that explains, as you must own), Xantippe was the Central of the Grecian telephone. [Footnote 1: By permission of Life Publishing Company.] OLD GRIMES BY ALBERT GORTON GREENE Old Grimes is dead, that good old man We never shall see more: He used to wear a long black coat All button'd down before. His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true; His hair was some inclined to gray-- He wore it in a queue. Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burn'd; The large, round head upon his cane From ivory was turn'd. Kind words he ever had for all; He knew no base design: His eyes were dark and rather small, His nose was aquiline. He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true; His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more.