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Kansas University Weekly.
such an edition of Mrs. Heman, unless of course you wanted a Folio of Shakespeare or something else that is really out of all reach."
I thought that would fetch the Old Man, but he never moved a muscle. In fact he disappointed us all around by continuing to sit there with his head thrown back and his mouth open as if he were enjoying a most profound slumber.
Two-Step inquired the name of a good publisher to write to, and Daub gave the name of the one from whom the Old Man had received the letter.
The conversation flagged, and died out; and as it drew near the time to go home, Daub conveyed to me by signs that we should stay and watch the Old Man after the others were gone. When they had at last departed, Daub and I went out together, walked half-way down the stairs, and returned tip toe and stationed ourselves at the door which we had purposely left partly ajar.
The Old Man had already moved. When we first caught a glimpse of him, he was rummaging among the bundles of newspapers on the floor, searching hurriedly for his letter. It was ludicrous enough to see him so lively. He jumped about from corner to corner as briskly as a grasshopper, with a look on his face, half anxiety and half anger, and as he poked around among books and chairs we could hear him muttering to himself, in tones not to be published in an expurgated edition.
When he had searched in almost every possible corner of the room, Daub and I quietly beat our retreat down the stairs, and there, just outside the door, stood the rest of the Bohemians waiting for us. When we had told them the Old Man's perplexity, and the way he hopped about the room, they all burst into loud laughter at the joke on the Old Man. Two-Step finally smelled a mouse, and when the joke was explained as intended for him, he laughed loudest of all, and vowed he would from that moment forswear his passion for literature and continue as heretofore to be an earnest advocate and living example of the best dance that was ever invented. CYLEGICEL.
The Old School-House.
The old school-house! I remember well how it appeared to me on that sad day when I stood just in front of the master's desk and faced my schoolmates,—in disgrace. I fixed my eyes upon the great, red-hot stove, and tried my best to look unconcerned, but the attempt ended in failure. That thirty-seven pairs of eyes were looking at me I knew too well; that the most of these would be mischievous ones, I was sure; that some would be malicious, I did not doubt; and that a few—belonging to the girls—would be full of pity, I thought probable.
For about fifteen minutes, I continued my steady gaze; but at last becoming tired, I allowed my eyes to wander about the room: first, down the two long rows of boys, who seemed intent upon their lessons, their curiosity as to what I would do having by this time been satisfied. Thus encouraged, I glanced at the girls, and met the troubled eyes of my little sweetheart, the prettiest girl in school. The rest of the room and its occupants, I saw through a haze; for the tears would come.
How I did wish that one of the great, gnarly knot-holes in the rude pine floor would open a little wider and take me in. I looked at the rough white-washed wall, noting especially a crack which began in the upper left-hand corner, then zigzagged diagonally downward for four or five feet, where it joined another even larger one. The two together reminded me of the Orinoco and its principal tributary. I minutely examined the cob-webs which festooned the corners of the room, thinking vaguely all the time that I should remember exactly how they were arranged, and make my sister a new design for her embroidery work. I favored the blackboard with a passing glance, and noticed particularly a large indentation right in the center of it, where Ted Jones had accidentally "let fly" his ball.
By this time it was almost recess. The first reader class, drawn up in line before the master, was monotonously repeating, "Ann has a hen!" The little shock-headed boy on the front seat was nervously twisting himself back and forth,