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He'd have the old girl dead in love before he got her over the first ridge, with them blue eyes and that pretty smile of his'n. It's up to you, Splinter Old Man said so." "She'll be dead safe with Chip. HE won't make love to her," retorted Cal. "Wonder how old she is," repeated Jack Bates, half emptying the syrup pitcher into his plate.

Short Stories, Garden City, Long Island, N. Y. Smart Set, Printing Crafts Building, New York City. Snappy Stories, 35 West 39th Street, New York City. Southern Woman's Magazine, American Building, Nashville, Tenn. Stratford Journal, 32 Oliver Street, Boston, Mass. Sunset Magazine, 460 Fourth Street, San Francisco, Cal. To-day's Housewife, 461 Fourth Avenue, New York City.

Old Man Chatham in former days would have welcomed Cal Whitson, the official village souse, to his home as readily as he would have admitted the ne'er-do-well Link Ferris to that sanctuary.

The drinks are on some one, and we cain't decide who." John Sherwood, his keen eyes twinkling, set his chair down on four legs. "State your case, Cal," he said. Cal waved a graceful hand at a stout, burly, red-faced man whose thick blunt fingers, square blue jowl, and tilted cigar gave the flavour of the professional politician.

And did not Henry IV., in the midst of his Gascon gaieties and sallies, compose his sweet song of Charmante Gabrielle? Jasmin indeed is the poet who is nearest the region of Henry IV." Me cal Mouri was set to music by Fourgons, and obtained great popularity in the south. It was known by heart, and sung everywhere; in Agen, Toulouse, and throughout Provence.

"It isn't exactly a windfall, because it's only my own come back to me; but it's money I never expected to see again, and if Cal if Judge Trent wasn't a good deal smarter than the average I never should have, either." "Not many people can get ahead of him," returned Dunham. "I guess not," said Miss Lacey, and she bridled proudly in a manner not lost upon her neighbor.

I'm askin' you to take keer of Ole Samanthy til I come fer her and Miss Sarah ain't got no call to worry, fer I could always take keer o' myself. It was signed "Stephen O'Mara." Sarah's face went white when she had read it through. Her knees weakened under her and she had to sit down. "Why, Cal why, Cal, he's he's gone," she quavered. And Caleb nodded down into her stricken face.

I had, moreover, delving in Cal Davidson's wardrobe, discovered yet another waistcoat, if possible more radiant even than the one with pink stripes, for that it was cross hatched with bars of pale pea green and mauve I know not from what looms he obtained these wondrous fabrics.

And yet, at that, when she paused at Caleb's side and bobbed her head with a characteristic impetuosity which she had never lost she seemed completely oblivious to the presence of anyone save Caleb and herself. "Good morning, Uncle Cal," she murmured, very demurely. Then the man upon the steps moved; he rose and turned and swept his rather weather-beaten hat from his head.

This act provided that the Postmaster-General should advertise for bids until June 30 following: "for the conveyance of the entire letter mail from such point on the Mississippi River as the contractors may select to San Francisco, Cal., for six years, at a cost not exceeding $300,000 per annum for semi-monthly, $450,000 for weekly, or $600,000 for semi-weekly service to be performed semi-monthly, weekly, or semi-weekly at the option of the Postmaster-General."

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