MEFISTO SCARF PIN.

A brand new joke: Mefisto's bulging eyes, bristling ears and ghastly grin invite curiosity every time when worn on scarf or lapel, and it is fully satisfied when by pressing the rubber ball concealed in your inside pocket you souse your inquiring friend with water. Throws a stream 30 feet; hose 16 in. long; 1½ inch ball; handsome silver-oxidized face colored in hard enamel; worth 25c. as a pin and a dollar as a joker; sent as a sample of our 3000 specialties with 112 page catalogue post-paid for ONLY 15c.; 2 for 25c.; $1.40 Doz. AGENTS Wanted.

ROBT. H. INGERSOLL & BRO.,

Dept. No. 62, 65 & 67 Cortlandt Street, New York City.

AN ALARMING CUSTOMER. THE WILD MARCH HARE. "Say, I'm wild! Give me a sedative, quick!"

AN INGENIOUS DEFENCE.

An old darky was brought before a Southern magistrate, not long ago, accused of stealing a neighbor's chickens when the nights were dark and no one stirred abroad. The old man put up a long but weak argument, seizing upon every possible straw to support his defence. The evidence was too strong, however, and matters were rapidly approaching a climax that meant a month of idleness in the town jail. The thought of this and the attendant ignominy stirred the old darky to a point where he did nothing but splutter out,

"'Pon my honor, jedge, Ise—er—Ise didn't done take 'em."

At last the judge grew tired, and was about to sentence him, when a broad smile illuminated the darky's face as he cried out,

"I's got it, jedge; Ise can prove an alibi 'bout dem chickens."

"Well, what is it?" exclaimed the judge.

"You see, jedge, no poor colored man could take dem chickens at night-time."

"How's that?—what do you mean?"

"'Cause, jedge, dey's nothin' but roosters at night, and de charge am dat I took chickens."

The ingenuity of the defence won the day.

NO DUPLICITY HERE.

The story is told of an English and an Irish trooper who were scouting against the Matabele in South Africa recently. A band of savages suddenly burst from behind some rocks and started for the men. They jumped upon their horses and fled over the rough country, but the Irishman kept falling to the rear of his companion.

"Confound you, Mike!" exclaimed the Englishman; "ride, ride for your life! You'll be caught!"

"Go 'long wid you!" replied the Irish trooper, who was doing his best; "do you think I'm throwin' the race?"

ONE OF THE FAMILY.

It may interest some of our readers to glance through this short characteristic sketch of James Seymour, born in London in 1702, which is more strongly impressive than many longer memoirs. The fact that he displayed a fondness for drawing and painting in boyhood, and subsequently gained celebrity by his skill in designing horses, is too well known to comment upon. Once the proud Duke of Somerset employed Seymour to paint a room at his seat in Sussex with the portraits of his running-horses. Having admitted the artist to his table, he one day drank to him, saying,

"Cousin Seymour, your health."

The painter replied, "My lord, I really believe that I have the honor of being of your Grace's family."

This hurt the pride of the Duke so much that he rose from the table and ordered his Steward to pay Seymour and dismiss him. Finding, however, that no one in England could complete the pictures begun, he condescended to send for his cousin. The painter responded to the message in these words:

"My lord, I will now prove that I am of your Grace's family, for I won't come."

ENOUGH FOR HIM.

The approach of St. Patrick's day reminds one of a little incident, laughable enough, that took place during last year's parade in New York. The gallant sons of Ireland had turned out resplendent in their green regalias, marching with proud step to the music of the band. Those on horses cantered along as best as the legs of their weak-spirited nags would permit. One jovial son had considerable trouble with his horse, which seemed possessed with the insane idea that he was the whole procession, much to the annoyance and at the same time amusement of the other paraders. At last the animal, during one of its erratic movements, caught a hoof in one of the stirrups. That settled it. With a look of infinite disgust the rider exclaimed,

"Faith, if yez are going to git up, me boy, thin it's toime for me to git down." And he thereupon dismounted.

EXPERIENCE.

"My daddy's awful good to me," said Jennie, "treats me just like I was his sister."

"Pulls your hair, does he?" asked Flossie, who has a brother.

BOBBIE'S BILL.

Bobbie has been learning business methods recently, which may account for a bill which his father found recently upon the breakfast table, reading as follows:

New York, January 15, 1897.

Mr. Papa to Bobbie, Dr.

For not paying him his allowance for three weeks, at 25 cents a week.75

Interest at 6%.05

—-

.80

Please pay up!

AN ACCOMPLISHMENT.

"I can run faster than you can, Hal," bragged Jimmie.

"That's all right," returned Harry; "but I can stand faster than you can, and when war breaks out they'll think more of me than they will of you."