In Lighter Mood

IN LIGHTER MOOD. Mother: "What are you doing, Max?" Max: "Reading papa's poems." Mother (to hushand): "Why, has he been naughty again?" * * * Little three-year-old Howard had often watched his mother and her artificial teeth with admiring wonder. One day her regular teeth gave her trouble when she held her hand to her face, saying, "Oh, oh," in great pain. Howard asked, surprised, "What is ye matter?" On being told that her teeth pained her, he queried with an air of one who has a sure remedy, "Why don't you take yem out?" Small Margaret had said her prayer, and her mama was tucking her in to leave her to her slumbers, when the child begged that' mama would not leave her alone. "Why, Margaret," said mama, soothingly, but surprised at this unexpected demand, "you know you are never alone, for God is always with you." "Yes," rejoined the small maiden, doubtfully, "I know. But, mama, I'd rather have some of my own relations." * * * For many years Aqueduct Commissioner Maurice J. Power, of New York, was a police justice. Politics, however, is not Mr. Power's livelihood. He is a manufacturer and connoisseur of bronze art work. During the last year of Mr. Power's service on the police bench he received a call at his house one evening. A formal dinner was in progress. The visitor failed to make her errand clear to the servant and the justice's daughter went to the door. "The judge sint me son up to the Island this mornin' an' I want to see him," said the woman. "What judge?" asked Miss Power. "I disremember his name, mum" — by this time the justice and two of his friends had gone into the smoking-room, near the door, where the dialogue was clearly heard — "but he makes thim tin images up in Twenty-fifth Street." At this point the justice interrupted the dialogue. The woman did not get her son off the Island, but she collected the rent for her flat and enough ready money to keep her until her wayward boy's sentence had expired. — Saturday Evening Post.