However, there was no more disturbance without, and after a time the sermon closed. There was some sort of a special collection to be taken up. Of course, Uncle Bentley always insisted on taking up all the collections. He hopped up on this occasion and seized the plate with more than usual vigor. His struggles with the roosters had evidently stimulated him. He soon made the rounds and approached the table in front of the pulpit to deposit his harvest. As he did so we saw to our horror that the long tails of that ridiculous coat were violently agitated. A sickening suspicion came over us. The next moment one of those belligerent young roosters thrust a head out of either of those coat-tail pockets. One uttered a raucous crow, the other made a vicious dab. Uncle Bentley dropped the plate with a scattering of coin, seized a coat skirt in each hand, and drew it front. This dumped both fowls out on the floor, where they went at it hammer and tongs. What happened after this is a blur in most of our memories. All that is certain is that there was an uproar in the congregation, especially the younger portion; that the Deacon began making unsuccessful dives for his poultry; that the organist struck up "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and that the minister waved us away without a benediction amid loud shouts of, "Shoo!" "I swanny!" and, "Drat the pesky critters!" from your Uncle Bentley. Did it serve to subdue Uncle Bentley? Not in the least; he survived to do worse things. A SHINING MARK BY IRONQUILL A man came here from Idaho, With lots of mining stock. He brought along as specimens A lot of mining rock. The stock was worth a cent a pound If stacked up in a pile. The rock was worth a dollar and A half per cubic mile. We planted him at eventide, 'Mid shadows dim and dark; We fixed him up an epitaph,-- "Death loves a mining shark." A BOOKWORM'S PLAINT[3] BY CLINTON SCOLLARD To-day, when I had dined my fill Upon a Caxton,--you know Will,-- I crawled forth o'er the colophon To bask awhile within the sun; And having coiled my sated length, I felt anon my whilom strength Slip from me gradually, till deep I dropped away in dreamful sleep, Wherein I walked an endless maze, And dined on Caxtons all my days. Then I woke suddenly. Alas! What in my sleep had come to pass? That priceless first edition row,-- Squat quarto and tall folio,-- Had, in my slumber, vanished quite; Instead, on my astonished sight The newest novels burst,--a gay And most unpalatable array! I, that have battened on the best, Why should I thus be dispossessed And with starvation, or the worst Of diets, cruelly be curst? FOOTNOTES: [3] Lippincott's Magazine. A POE-'EM OF PASSION BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS