A SAFE BET.

ONE night, last Winter, old Mr. Balbriggan, who lives out on Columbia Street, had occasion to make a journey out to the woodshed to get the hatchet. It was very dark, and as there was no lantern about the house, Mr. Balbriggan took a kerosene lamp, and shading it very carefully with a big tin pan, started out to the woodshed. The wind was rather uncertain and gusty, and Mr. Balbriggan had some misgivings about his getting out to the shed without accident; and every time the lamp flared, his mind misgave him. “I’ll bet a dollar that lamp’ll blow out,” he muttered when the first gust came, but he shied the tin pan around with great promptness, and the lamp steadied down. There came another gust and a bigger flare, and the chances for the lamp going out improved so decidedly that the old gentleman promptly raised his first stake. “I’ll bet a dollar and a half,” he muttered, “that lamp blows out.” Then the wind lulled a little, and as he hurried on toward the shed it was so quiet that, while he didn’t quite lose all confidence, he began to hedge a little; “I’ll bet fifty cents,” he said, “it’ll go out before I get back.” Another gust and a flare. “I’ll bet two dollars that lamp blows out,” muttered the old gentleman again, chipping a little higher as the chances seemed to grow better; but again he saved the light by the timely interposition of the tin pan. “I’ll bet three dollars,” he cried with great earnestness, as the next gust came, “this lamp’ll blow out;” but there were no takers and the lamp rallied again. But a still stronger gust fairly lifted the flame out of the top of the smoked chimney; and the old gentleman hissed in a hoarse, suppressed whisper, “I’ll bet five dollars this lamp’ll blow out.” But it settled down to work once more, and did very well until Mr. Balbriggan got very close to the woodshed; when the wind rallied and came at the lamp from two or three directions at once, and the old gentleman fairly shouted, “I’ll bet ten dollars this lamp’ll blow——” and just then the door of the woodshed blew violently open, hitting the lamp and the tin pan, knocking them both out of Mr. Balbriggan’s hands, and striking the old gentleman a terrible blow in the face that made him see more lights dancing in the air, for about a second, than even the lamp could send forth. And while he held his nose with one hand and groped around with the other to find where he was, there came from the house door the voice of the eldest juvenile Balbriggan, falling through the darkness like a falling star: “Raise him out, pa, raise him out; make it a hundred dollars; you’ve got a dead sure thing on it!”