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Okochee, in Georgia, had a boom, and J. Pinkney Bloom came out of it with a "wad." Okochee came out of it with a half-million-dollar debt, a two and a half per cent. city property tax, and a city council that showed a propensity for traveling the back streets of the town.

"One thousand dollars," repeated Lawyer Tolman, solemnly and severely, "and here is the money."

The judge of the United States court of the district lying along the Rio Grande border found the following letter one morning in his mail:

To avoid having this book hurled into corner of the room by the suspicious reader, I will assert in time that this is not a newspaper story.

He compelled my interest as he stepped from the ferry at Desbrosses Street.

Away out in the Creek Nation we learned things about New York.

"We sail at eight in the morning on the Celtic," said Honoria, plucking a loose thread from her lace sleeve.

The new administration of Anchuria entered upon its duties and privileges with enthusiasm.

Jeff Peters must be reminded. Whenever he is called upon, pointedly, for a story, he will maintain that his life has been as devoid of incident as the longest of Trollope's novels.

I don't suppose it will knock any of you people off your perch to read a contribution from an animal.