GETTING RID OF A BORE.

President Lincoln was quite ill one winter at Washington, and was not inclined to listen to all the bores who called at the White House. One day just as one of these pests had seated himself for a long interview, the President's physician happened to enter the room, and Mr. Lincoln said, holding out his hands: "Doctor, what are those blotches?" "That's variloid, or mild small-pox," said the doctor. "They're all over me. It is contagious, I believe?" said Mr. Lincoln. "I just called to see how you were," said the visitor. "Oh, don't be in a hurry sir," placidly remarked the executive. "Thank you sir; I'll call again," replied the visitor, making towards the door. "Do sir," said the President. "Some people said they could not take very well to my proclamation, but now I have something everybody can take." By this time the visitor was quite out of sight.