Today's Stichomancy for Avril Lavigne

electric railways are. But take the Standard Egg Trust, and the Patent Pasteurised Infant Rubber Feeder Company.'"

"'Why, Ethel!' I exclaimed, 'those are both based upon great inventions, Mr. Beverly--'"

"But she interrupted me earnestly 'I know about those inventions, Richard, for I have procured the prospectuses. And I wish that I could have told you my own feeling about them before you bought any of the stock.'"

"'I do not think you can fully have taken it in, Ethel.'"

"'I trust that it may not have fully taken you in,' she replied. 'Have you noticed what those stocks are selling for at present?'"

Clockwork Man--who works better than some meat people. And here is Princess Ozga of Roseland, just now unfortunately exiled from her Kingdom of Roses. I next present Polychrome, a sky fairy, who lost her Bow by an accident and can't find her way home. The small girl here is Betsy Bobbin, from some unknown earthly paradise called Oklahoma, and with her you see Mr. Hank, a mule with a long tail and a short temper.

"Puh!" said Ann, scornfully; "a pretty lot of vagabonds you are, indeed; all lost or strayed,

Tik-Tok of Oz

Master likes in them, 'n' it'll come right, it'll come right at last; they'll have a chance--somewhere."

Margret did not speak; let the poor girl sob herself into quiet. What had she to do with this gulf of pain and wrong? Her own higher life was starved, thwarted. Could it be that the blood of these her brothers called against HER from the ground? No wonder that the huckster-girl sobbed, she thought, or talked heresy. It was not an easy thing to see a mother drink herself into the grave. And yet--was she to blame? Her Virginian blood was cool, high-bred; she had learned conservatism in her cradle. Her life in the West had not yet quickened her pulse. So she put aside

Margret Howth: A Story of To-day

and in a friendly way that the commander and the officers were higher up the hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the landowner's house.

Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk could be heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the courtyard of the landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted and approached a big blazing campfire, around which sat several men talking noisily. Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge of the fire and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by the fire, was kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod.

"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was

War and Peace