Part 2 — hump?

Richardson & DeLong Bros., Philadelphia.

Also makers of the CUPID Hair-Pin.

When you come in hot and thirsty,—HIRES Root-beer.

Made only by The Charles E. Hires Co., Philadelphia.

A 25c. package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere.

EARN A GOLD WATCH!

We wish to introduce our Teas and Baking Powder. Sell 50 lbs. to earn at Waltham Gold Watch and Chain; 25 lbs. for a Silver Watch and Chain; 10 lbs. for a Gold Ring; 50 lbs. for a Decorated Dinner Set; 75 lbs. for a Bicycle. Write for a Catalog and Order Blank to Dept. I

W. G. BAKER,

Springfield Mass.

BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS

has earned more money for boys than all other presses in the market. Boys, don't idle away your time when you can buy a self-inking printing-press, type, and complete outfit for $5.00. Write for particulars, there is money in it for you.

THE J. F. W. DORMAN CO.,

Baltimore, Md., U.S.A.

The New York Sun on April 11, 1896, said of

HARPER'S

PERIODICALS

They are handsome and delightful all, and are as friends that one is glad to see. They please the eye; the artistic sense is gratified by them; they overflow with varied material for the reader. They educate and entertain. They are the well-known and well-liked literary and artistic chronicles of the time. They are a credit to their publishers and to the discernment of the public that approves them. May they continue to be as admirable as they have been and as they are. Better could hardly be wished for them.

FOR SALE EVERYWHERE.

By KIRK MUNROE

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES

A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."

THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH

CANOEMATES

RAFTMATES

CAMPMATES

DORYMATES

Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25

The "Mates" Series, Four Volumes in a Box, $5.00

WAKULLA

A Story of Adventure in Florida.

DERRICK STERLING

A Story of the Mines.

CHRYSTAL, JACK & CO.

And Delta Bixby. Two Stories

THE FLAMINGO FEATHER

Each one volume. Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, $1.00

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York

AT FROGINI'S RESTAURANT.

Oh, how we gloat On our table d'hôte At old Frogini's restaurant! He gives us pies. And pickled flies, And everything else we chance to want. He gives us fruits, And candied boots, And Saratoga chips frappé, And cider green, And iced benzine, And never asks a cent of pay. There's but one thing In all the ring You can't get at this fine hotel; All kinds or eggs, But not frogs' legs— A fact you'd better note right well. For if you asked Frogini for Frogs' legs, he'd take you to the door, And spite of all your fuss and roar, He'd hurl you like a pile of bricks, With many hard and fearful kicks, Into the street, and cry, "My dear, That's how we serve up frogs' legs here."

A FEW FOURTH OF JULY HINTS.

I.—When the Fourth of July is not more than a week or two off, it is well to make your preparations fittingly to celebrate the glorious Independence day, and not wait until the day itself to get ready.

II.—To enjoy thoroughly all the pleasures of the blissful anniversary, purchase a pair of tight-fitting asbestos gloves. With a pair of asbestos gloves on, you could hold the pin of a pin-wheel in your hand without getting your hand burned.

III.—Be very kind in these late June days to your uncles and your aunts and your grandmothers. When the writer was a small boy he was very kind to seven uncles, six aunts, and two grandmothers for fourteen days before the Fourth of July, with the result that the seven uncles gave him half a dollar each, the six aunts presented him with a quarter apiece, and the two grandmothers joined in presenting him with a five-dollar bill, so that on the morning of the Fourth of July he was the proud possessor of ten dollars; and ten dollars, with fire-crackers selling at the rate of ten for one cent, meant that the writer could have had 10,000 fire-crackers to set off. It must be said, however, that he set off only 5000 of them, and spent the balance on soda-water, two glasses of which, like a good boy, he gave to his two grandmothers.

IV.—When the Fourth comes do not forget to rise up at half past three in the morning. There is not much fun in setting off fire-crackers in broad daylight when everybody is wide-awake; and besides this, the big boys always start in with cannon, and if you lie in bed after half past three you are apt to miss the greatest noise of the day.

V.—If you live in a neighborhood where there are a number of reckless boys, do not fail to wear a mask. Reckless boys do not look where they throw their lighted crackers, as a rule, and it has happened that innocent little fellows have had their noses burned by the carelessness of others. A mask will save the bridge of your nose, and of course you all know that if the bridge of your nose is burned it is a hard thing to get over.

VI.—Do not throw your torpedoes at the poor little cats that wander forlornly about. The poor little cats are so soft that the torpedoes merely hurt them, without going off, so that neither you nor the cats can possibly enjoy the fun of it.

VII.—Keep on the right side of the cook. Do not irritate her, and give her to understand that she is the dearest, nicest old cook in the world, for she is the custodian of all the empty lard and mustard cans in the house; and when you come right down to it, there is more fun and noise to be had out of a bundle of fire-crackers set off in a lard or mustard can than in two packs touched off in the open air. And what is more, if you burn your fingers she will in most cases be the person you can reach the quickest, and who will soothe your trouble and pain by putting flour and butter on your blisters.

VIII.—Be careful where you lay your lighted pieces of punk. The writer once put a lighted piece of punk on the floor of the back piazza, and, forgetting it, sat down upon it five minutes later. There was an explosion right away, of grief.

IX.—Be generous to your little girl friends. Remember that when your fire-crackers have given out they may have some torpedoes left.

X.—When night comes on, no matter how early in the morning you may have got up, remember not to get sleepy. The best part of the Fourth of July, after all, is in the sky-rockets and roman-candles and pin-wheels.

XI.—Do not under any circumstances set off sissers in the palm of your hand. The writer did that once, and he has really never enjoyed the Fourth of July since.

XII.—And, finally, don't forget that you are an American who will some day be a man or woman, and try to do things on the Fourth which, when you get to be a man or a woman, will make you proud of the day, yourself, and your country. This hint is, after all, the most important one of all, and if you will ask your uncles or your aunts or your dear old grandmothers to tell you all about it—the day, how it came to be, and what it means—now, a week or two before the day dawns, you will enjoy it all the more, and will be happy to think that you live in the land which is the only one that celebrates "the glorious Fourth."

GOING OFF.

"Papa, where are we going this summer?"

"I don't know, Willie. Off somewhere."

"Off, eh?" said Willie. "Like fire-crackers?"

A MAGNIFICENT LAP.

"I wish my daddy was a centiped," said Jack. "If he had a hundred legs, what a splendid lap I'd have to sit on! Most an acre, I guess."

WALLIE'S VIEW OF IT.

"I guess that bird wishes he knew how to swim," said Wallie. "He's gone and built a nest in our roof gutters, and if he can't swim he's got to travel or get drownded."

A NEW IDEA.

"George Washington must have been a awful tired man," said Jack.

"Tired? Why?" asked his father.

"It says here he couldn't lie," said Jack, referring to his book. "When I'm tired I can lie down."