"
_A New Kind of Bait_
After weeks of waiting and longing for the sport, rods, reels, gaff,
creel--everything was in readiness for a week's trout-fishing.
The young wife, smiling joyously, hurried into the room, extending
toward her husband some sticky, speckled papers.
"For goodness' sake," he exclaimed, "what on earth are you doing with
those old fly-papers?"
"I saved them for you from last summer, dear," she answered. "You
know you said you always had to buy flies when you went fishing."
_He Could Supply Specimens_
"And what did my little darling do in school today?" a mother asked
of her young son--a "second-grader."
"We had Nature study, and it was my turn to bring a specimen," said
the boy.
"That was nice. What did you do?"
"I brought a cockroach in a bottle, and I told teacher we had lots
more, and if she wanted I would bring one every day."
_Was It His Ghost_?
A well-known publisher has the entrance to his private office guarded
by one of his editors, a small man, who, as the day wears on, sinks
down in a little heap in his high-backed chair under the weight of
the manuscripts he has to read.
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