I say, you schleeby, vake!

Vake oud! Vake loose! Vake ub!
Fire! Murder! Police! Vatch!

O, cracious! do vake ub!

Dot girl she schleebed-dot raine it rained,
Und I looked shtoopid like a fool,
Vhen mit mine fiddle I shneaked off
So vet und shlobby like a mool!

MR. SPOOPENDYKE EXPLAINS THE
WEATHER BUREAU.

"I see," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, as she laid the paper down-"I see that we are to have rising, followed by falling barometer, with northeast to southwest winds, and higher or lower temperature, with clear or partly cloudy weather and light rains. How is it they contrive to tell so accurately about the weather? Do you understand it?"

"Certainly," replied Mr. Spoopendyke. "They do it by observation. They have a fellow out West observing, and a man down East who observes, and fellows observing around in different parts of the country. They put all their observations together, and we know just what it is going to do."

"I suppose that's what makes the wind so different every morning-when one man's temperature is rising, another's is falling; and when one is clear, the rest are partly cloudy, with-”

"No, they ain't.

Each observer sends in what he observes, and the chief makes up his mind from those reports what the weather will be. Can you understand?"

"Perfectly," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, rubbing her elbows. "If one sees the barometer rising, and another sees it falling, and it's cold in one place and cloudy in another, they all say so. But I should think that when one hits it right, the others would be awful mad."

"What would they get mad about?" demanded Mr. Spoopendyke. "You don't imagine they all get together and fight it out, do you? They take the weather from different points, and combine it, and then they parcel it out among the different regions. For instance, if it snows in the East and is warm in the West, they strike an average for the lake region. Now, what's the average between heat and snow?"

'Rain," cried Mrs. Spoopendyke, delighted in her sagacity. "I see how it is now. They take what is usually going on, and equalize it all over the country. I'm glad the Democrats weren't elected."

What have they got to do with it? Do you think a barometer is a politician ?"

"No; but if the Democrats had been elected they would have had to change it all, wouldn't they? And the South would have got the best share. That's what the Repub—”

"Dodgast the Republicans! They've got no more to do with it than you have. You've got an idea that they throw the barometers and observers into one end of a steam engine, and the weather comes out of the other. They don't make weather. The weather makes itself. It's the only one self-supporting thing about the Government. And these signal men only watch it, and tell what's going to be."

"I suppose when these observers all get together and talk it over, it is called a storm center, isn't it?"

"That's it," shouted Mr. Spoopendyke. "You've got the weather now. All you want is your name painted on the handle and the spring broken to be an umbrella. They don't talk it over; they tell what they know, and it is fixed up in Washington. They agree on it there, and then telegraph it all over the country. A storm center travels around everywhere. It is generally made in Manitoba, and sent down here." "How wide is it ?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, deeply interested. "Because, if it isn't too big, I should think they might stop it."

"Wide? It's about a feet wide! Just a feet!

measley information. S'pose it travels on a

Just about as wide as your How're they going to stop it? railroad train? Think it jaws the sleeping car conductor because there's only an upper berth left? Well, it don't. It hires a horse; that's the way it comes. It hires a horse!" howled Mr. Spoopendyke; "and the only way to stop it is to build a fence around it. There was some talk about burning the last one, but the wood was wet."

"Well, my dear, you needn't get angry about it," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, soothingly; "I only thought there might be some way they could make some arrangements about it. I think storm centers are horrid, and the observer in Manitoba must have a hard time. If he has to observe much in the winter, he must be nearly frozen."

"Does any human being know what you're thinking about?" raved Mr. Spoopendyke. "Do you s'pose he goes around with a spy-glass looking behind rocks? Think he prowls around all night with a dodgasted lantern, hunting up storm centers? Got an idea that he runs around under the bed with a broom, like a

measley married woman I know of, and when he catches a center, pulls him out by the leg and observes him? He don't do anything of the sort. He has 'em in to spend the evening with him, and he gets 'em drunk, and finds what they're up to. Understand it now? All you want to do is to whirl around twice and squeak nights to be a weather-vane."

"I didn't know how they did it," quoth Mrs. Spoopendyke, complacently; "but I see it now. If the Prohibitionists had been elected he couldn't have done that, and we would have been in a bad way. Now that I understand it, I'll learn the indications every morning. How does a barometer rise and fall ?"

"With jack-screws, dodgast it!" thundered Mr. Spoopendyke. "Sometimes they haul it up with a stump machine; then they drop a carpenter's shop on it. When it gets very low they blow it up with guncotton. Once in Dakota it got so high they had to dig a hole and ram it down with a pile-driver. Got it now? Begin to see through it?"

BURGLAR BILL.

Through a window in the attic brawny Burglar Bill has crept;

Stealthily he seeks a chamber where the jewelry is

kept.

He is furnished with a jimmy, centre-bit and carpet

bag

For the latter "comes in handy," as he says, "to stow the swag."

Here, upon the second landing, he secure may work

his will;

Down below's a dinner party-up above, the house is still.

Suddenly, in spell-bound horror, all his satisfaction ends, For a little white-robed figure by the banister descends. Bill has reached for his revolver, but he hesitates to fire;

Child is it, or apparition, that provokes him to perspire? Can it be his guardian angel, sent to stay his hand from crime?

He could wish she had selected some more seasonable

time.

"Go away!" he whispers, hoarsely, "burglars have their bread to earn.

I don't need no gordian angel comin' givin' me a turn.” But the blue eyes open wider, ruby lips reveal their pearl :

"I is not a garden angel-I is dust a yicked girl; On the thairs to thit I'm doin' till the tarts and jellies

tum;

Partinthon, the butler, alwayth thaves for Baby Bella thome.

Poor man, 'oo is lookin' 'ungry-leave 'oo burgling fings up dere;

Tum along an' have some sweeties, thitting on the bottom thair."

"Reely, Miss, you must excoose me," says the burglar, with a jerk;

"Dooty calls, and time is pressing-I must set about my work."

"Is 'oo work to bweak in houses? Nana told me so,

I'm sure.

Will 'oo try if 'oo can manage to bweak in my doll's house door?

I tan never det it undone, so my dollies tan't det out; They don't like the fwont to open evewy time they'd walk about.