The mystery was soon explained, symptom and all. The notary had put his pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes! And so my story ends. * * * * * "Is that all?" asked the radical, when the story-teller had finished. "That is all." "Well, what does your story prove?" "That is more than I can tell. All I know is that the story is true." "And did he die?" said the nice little man in gosling-green. "Yes; he died afterwards," replied the story-teller, rather annoyed by the question. "And what did he die of?" continued gosling-green, following him up. "What did he die of? why, he died--of a sudden!" HOLLY SONG BY CLINTON SCOLLARD Care is but a broken bubble, Trill the carol, troll the catch; Sooth, we'll cry, "A truce to trouble!" Mirth and mistletoe shall match. _Happy folly! we'll be jolly! Who'd be melancholy now? With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" Polly hangs the holly bough._ Laughter lurking in the eye, sir, Pleasure foots it frisk and free. He who frowns or looks awry, sir, Faith, a witless wight is he! _Merry folly! what a volley Greets the hanging of the bough! With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" Who'd be melancholy now?_ SONGS WITHOUT WORDS BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE I can not sing the old songs, Though well I know the tune, Familiar as a cradle song With sleep-compelling croon; Yet though I'm filled with music As choirs of summer birds, "I can not sing the old songs"-- I do not know the words. I start on "Hail Columbia," And get to "heav'n-born band," And there I strike an up-grade With neither steam nor sand; "Star Spangled Banner" downs me Right in my wildest screaming, I start all right, but dumbly come To voiceless wreck at "streaming." So, when I sing the old songs, Don't murmur or complain If "Ti, diddy ah da, tum dum," Should fill the sweetest strain. I love "Tolly um dum di do," And the "trilla-la yeep da"-birds, But "I can not sing the old songs"-- I do not know the words. TRIOLETS BY C.W.M. She threw me a kiss, But why did she throw it? What grieves me is this-- She threw me a kiss; Ah, what chances we miss If we only could know it! She threw me a kiss But why did she throw it! Any girl might have known When I stood there so near! And we two all alone Any girl might have known That she needn't have thrown! But then girls are so queer! Any girl might have known, When I stood there so near! WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT IT BY JOHN PAUL Lyrics to Inez and Jane, Dolores and Ethel and May; Senoritas distant as Spain, And damsels just over the way!