Genre Humor. Page - 17

the spinster aunt--she would enjoy it! But there was no help for it. It must be faced.Naturally Mr. Pickwick felt uncomfortable, and his first idea was to arrange the matter. This was a sensible course, and he ought at once to have put the matter into the hands of his friend Perker, with full powers to treat. But no. Mr. Pickwick's vanity and indiscretion made him meddle in the business behind his solicitor's back, as it where, and with damaging results to himself--a warning to all such

"Lazy Thoughts of a Lazy Girl" by Jenny Wren is a witty and humorous collection of essays and musings on the art of laziness. Through a series of relatable and entertaining anecdotes, Wren explores the joys and pitfalls of a life lived at a leisurely pace, touching on topics such as procrastination, napping, and the art of doing nothing. Her writing is light-hearted and whimsical, but also insightful, encouraging readers to embrace their inner laziness and find beauty in the quiet

sioner at Mammoth Hot Springs.[Illustration: "So Maw, dear, old, happy, innocent Maw, knelt down with her hatpin and wrote:"--p. 19] You see, the geysers rattled Maw, there being so many and she loving them all so much. One day when they were camped near the Upper Basin, Maw was looking down in the cone of Old Faithful, just after that Paderewski of the park had ceased playing. She told me she wanted to see where all the suds came from. But all at once she saw beneath her feet a

: "No; if it happened to strike on that train anywhere, itmight spoil one of the folds. I can't risk it." A ring is heard atthe apartment door. They spring to their feet simultaneously.MRS. ROBERTS: "There's Aunt Mary now!" She calls into thevestibule, "Aunt Mary!" DR. LAWTON, putting aside the vestibule portiere, with affectedtimidity: "Very sorry. Merely a father." MRS. ROBERTS: "Oh! Dr. Lawton? I am so glad to see you!" Shegives him her hand:

g,oilcloth covered table. The food, wholesome, plain and abundant, wasalready served.Silently each heaped his plate with the viands before him while SingPete circled the table pouring coffee into the white porcelain cups. TheQuarter Circle KT was famous for the excellence of its grub and theChink was an expert cook. "Lordy, oh, lordy," Old Heck groaned, "it don't seem possible them womenare coming!" "Maybe they won't," Parker sympathized. "When they get that

ieces, for the first time in his life, at the age of thirty-two years, Tydvil Jones swore. "No more! No more!" he said aloud, bringing his clenched fist down on the table before him, "I'm damned if I'll stand it any longer!" The trouble was, that Tydvil learned he had been robbed of his youth and the joy of living it. That the robbery was committed with pious intent, was no salve to his feelings. Affection may have misled his mother, but Amy had been an accessory, not for

eet lightning), lest his concentrated look (the thunderbolt) should reduce the universe to ashes.... His watery parentage, and the storm-god's relationship with a swan-maiden of the Apsarasas (typifying the mists and clouds), and with Freydis the fire queen, are equally obvious: whereas Niafer is plainly a variant of Nephthys, Lady of the House, whose personality Dr. Budge sums up as 'the goddess of the death which is not eternal,' or Nerthus, the Subterranean Earth, which the warm rainstorm