who intended he should be surprised, gave him no other satisfaction than "that he might possibly see him again soon, and in a flash of fire."

Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and now, when the ghost made his next appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now; what say you now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened as you think me, and, to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would not be in so bad a condition as what's his name, squire Hamlet, is there, for all the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit! As I am a living soul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth." "Indeed, you saw right," answered Jones, "Well, well," cries Partridge, "I know it is only a play: and besides, if there was anything in all this, Madam Miller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would not be afraid, I believe, if the devil was here in person. There, there — Aye, no wonder you are in such a passion; shake the vile wicked wretch to pieces. If she was my own mother, I would serve her so. To be sure all duty to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings. Aye, go about your business, I hate the sight of you."

Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, at the end of which Jones asked him which of the players he had liked best? To this he answered, with some appearance of indignation at the question, "The king, without doubt." "Indeed, Mr. Partridge," says Mrs. Miller, "you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they are all agreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on the stage." "He the best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemptuous sneer, "why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I had seen a ghost, I should

have looked in the very same manner, and done just as ne did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why, Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had such a mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking with me; but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting before in the country; and the king for my money; he speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the other. Anybody may see he is an actor."

A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT

BY ROBERT BURNS

Is there for honest poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by—

We dare be poor for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,

Our toils obscure, an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd1 for a' that!

What tho' on hamely 2 fare we dine,
Wear hoddin3 gray, an' a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine-
A man's a man, for a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that,

1 gold

2 homely, plain

3 homespun

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie,1 ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof 2 for a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that,

His riband, star, an' a' that;
The man of independent mind,
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's aboon3 his might

4

Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities, an' a' that,

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,

That sense an' worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree,5 an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

It's comin' yet, for a' that—

That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

1 fellow 2 fool (pronounce like German ö, or oe) 'must not claim (to make the honest man)

3 above 'prize

ARTEMUS WARD'S LECTURE

From "Complete Works of Artemus Ward," with the permission of the G. W. Dillingham Company, New York, publishers

BY CHARLES FARRAR BROWN (ARTEMUS WARD)

I don't expect to do great things here- but I have thought that if I could make money enough to buy me a passage to New Zealand I should feel that I had not lived in vain. I don't want to live in vain. I'd rather live in Texas or here.

If you should be dissatisfied with anything here to-night -I will admit you all free in New Zealand - if you will come to me there for the orders. Any respectable cannibal will tell you where I live. This shows that I have a forgiving spirit.

I really don't care for money. I only travel round to see the world and to exhibit my clothes. These clothes I have on have been a great success in America.

How often do large fortunes ruin young men! I should like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am.

I am not an Artist. I don't paint myself - though perhaps if I were a middle-aged single lady I should yet I have a passion for pictures. — I have had a great many pictures photographs taken of myself. Some of them are very pretty rather sweet to look at for a short time and as I said before, I like them. I've always loved pictures. I could draw on wood at a very tender age. When a mere child I once drew a small cartload of raw turnips over a wooden bridge. - The people of the village noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a future before me. Up to that time I had an idea it was behind me.

Time passed on. It always does, by the way. You

may possibly have noticed that Time passes on. — It is a kind of way Time has.

I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself at all as an artist - but I have always been more or less mixed up with art. I have an uncle who takes photographs - and I have a servant who-takes anything he can get his hands on. When I was in Rome Rome in New York State, I mean a distinguished sculpist wanted to sculp me. But I said "No." I saw through the designing man. My model once in his hands - he would have flooded the market with my busts and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going round with a bust of me. Everybody would want one of course and wherever I should go I should meet the educated classes with my bust, taking it home to their families. This would be more than my modesty could stand and I should have to return home where my creditors are.

I like art. I admire dramatic art although I failed

as an actor.

It was in my schoolboy days that I failed as an actor. The play was "The Ruins of Pompeii." -I played the ruins. It was not a very successful performance — but it was better than the "Burning Mountain." He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius.

The remembrance often makes me ask "Where are the boys of my youth?" I assure you this is not a conundrum. Some are amongst you here some in America some are in jail.

Hence arises a most touching question - "Where are the girls of my youth ?" Some are married some would like to be.