A good etory is told of a war of words foetweeu the paradoxical Oscar Wildeand a witty bishop -whoin he met at a social gathering. Chnrch and stage crossed swords, and it was not the cliurch that bit the dust. "I am yours, my lord," said Mr. Wilde, bowing low and smiling ironically, "to my shoe buckles. " "I am yours," said the courtly bish op, ' 'to the ground. " The authorof"An Ideal Husbaud" continued: "I am yours to the center of the earth. " The pillar of the church quickly responded: "I am yours to the antipodes. " Oscar Wilde begau to teel deeidedly nettled. Indignant at his defeat by 11 mere clergyinan and a man of piety he exclaimed, as a last thrust: "lam yours to the lowest pit of destruction!" "There, Mr. Wilde," responded the divine, "'I think I'd better leave you!"