There are many people, old and young -as many who are old, perhaps, as young- who never stop to think of the words they are using; who, for instance, never examine their speech to see whether they are not employing one word over and over again in such a way as to make their friends weary of it, even if the word itself has no sense of being overworked. The other day an actoal conversation which was much like the f ollowing was heard on the street near a public school house: "Say, Edith, my father gave me the jolliest sled you ever saw for Christmas." "Oh, so did my uncle give me one! Mine's awfully jolly, I teil you! Been coasting on it?" "Not yet. but they say there's jolly coasting down by the Falls." "Oh, yes. Marian and Henry and the Williamses and all of us went down yesterday afternoon, and it's just the jolkest place, and here come Eleanor and Dick, and let's all go now! Well have just the jolliest" "Oh, well, but if my mother don't know Fin going she'll be jolly angry about it." "Well, I guess we'll go; but if you'd come too it would be lots jollier." The young people disappeared, stül talking, and how mauy times they usel the word "jolly" before they separated it would be useless to try to conjecture.