Our Work: Grading the Associations

EDITOR'S TABLE. 991

names with address of the writer; three competent judges here- after to be named will decide upon its merits; if no story submitted shall be deemed of sufficient merit, the Era reserves the right to reject all; unaccepted manuscripts will be held subject to the writers' order.

NOTES.

"What has been done can be done again. Many a noble work at first setms impossible."

"Only those who have faced life honestly, and with understanding, can look undismayed into the darker chambers of the soul."

The greatest friend of truth is time; her greatest enemy is pre- judice, and her constant companion is humility. Colton.

Sin is only misdirected energy, and sometimes I think that bad folks are good people who have expressed themselves wrongly: that's all. Elbert Hubbard.

Let none account the mourning for a lost infant slight or soon for- gotten. Sorrow for the departed is not always graduated by the valu e that the community may have affixed to their lives. The heart has other gold than that which men weigh in a balance. He who marks in the carelessly passing on, says, "It cemetery a mound of a span's length, and, was but a babe," has never been a parent— Mrs. Sigourney.

to keep, but not good One of those men who are good enough promote, once remonstrated with Mr. Armour because another enough to "I like you, Will," the packer clerkhad been passed up over his head. smart, and you should have the making of a replied frankly; "you are merchant in you; but we don't know just big strong, broad-gauged you all the time. You may be at your desk on the dot and where to find We never know. And we are not sure you may be ten minutes late. done. You generally do it, but when we tell you to do a thing that it is

you are not sure pop."

IN LIGHTER MOOD.

I guess my health is gittin' poor, Er somep'n er the kin', Fer every mornin', jist as sure (Espechully if it's fine), I git sich offul shootin, pains, And ma says: "It's jes' cru'l Ter make 'at poor boy study, with Sech headaches jes' 'fore school."

Ma thinks my mind is breakin' down From learnin' of so much. She puts wet towels on my head, An' chopped up ice, an' such, An' tries ter git me off ter bed; But pa says, he's no fool. He thinks birch oil's the only stuff Fer headaches jes' 'for school.

An' teacher, too, don't symp'thize 'Ith boys wot's feelin' bad, Fer, soon's she sees me mopin in, She says: "Now, ain't 'at sad Ter make them suff'rin' children work! Young man, set on 'at stool An' do them sums." Huh! she makes fun Of headaches jes' 'fore school.

'Tis kind'r funny, though, how soon I'm over bein' sick, An' me an' Jim, (Jim, he gits cramps), We sneak off down t' the crick An' go in swimmin.' Gee! We got A bully divin' pool An' spring board. Gosh! you bet they cure Them headaches jes' 'fore school.

An' fishin' too. We got a raft An' dandy hooks an' lines; — Ketch bullheads, lots an' sunfish. Say Down underneath them pines They bite like thunder! Settin' there, Feet swashin', nice an' cool, Pain's nothin'! Say, d'you ever git Them headaches jes' 'fore school? Chicago Chronicle.