Today's Stichomancy for Russell Crowe

have not commonly dealt with; its very words are not admitted into the vocabulary of poets--the details of it cannot be told in polite society at all. How, for instance, could any one expect to excite sympathy among lovers of good literature by telling how a family found their home alive with vermin, and of all the suffering and inconvenience and humiliation they were put to, and the hard-earned money they spent, in efforts to get rid of them? After long hesitation and uncertainty they paid twenty-five cents for a big package of insect powder--a patent preparation which chanced to be ninety-five per cent gypsum, a harmless earth which had cost about two cents to prepare. Of course it had not the least effect, except upon a few roaches which had the misfortune to drink water after

"What does the grocer say?"

"He says she is a very good woman, but poor and proud. She always paid him every cent she owed him, and he'd trust her for half he has in his shop."

"That will do, Michael; you may go;" and the man retired with a respectful bow.

Katy's face wore a smile of triumph, as Michael was dismissed. Her mother's truthfulness had been vindicated, and it was the proudest moment she had known for many a day.

"How long has your mother lived in my house?" asked Mrs. Gordon.

"About three years, ma'am; and she always paid her rent till this

past the farmhouses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" The neighbors looked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good-will; and, when any madcap prank or rustic brawl occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it.

This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and though his amorous toyings were something like the gentle

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

vos paons.

HERODE. Taisez-vous. Vous criez toujours. Vous criez comme une bete de proie. Il ne faut pas crier comme cela. Votre voix m'ennuie. Taisez-vous, je vous dis . . . Salome, pensez e ce que vous faites. Cet homme vient peut-etre de Dieu. Je suis sur qu'il vient de Dieu. C'est un saint homme. Le doigt de Dieu l'a touche. Dieu a mis dans sa bouche des mots terribles. Dans le palais, comme dans le desert, Dieu est toujours avec lui . . . Au moins, c'est possible. On ne sait pas, mais il est possible que Dieu soit pour lui et avec lui. Aussi peut-etre que s'il mourrait, il m'arriverait un malheur. Enfin, il a dit que le jour ou il mourrait il