Che hornea land raady. oíd gray and Che brown, Paterfamiliu i going to tnwn ; I'h" flour bag la empty, the kerosene low, And father tfeclarM flbtat tó tiiwn he munt go. So the horsea aro harnensed and hitched to the oart, Vlülf "pa" tíoR fnalde to mako himsrlf "muart." l takea éowa the mirror with infinito caro jid depósito it li.indilv down in ohair, And, mlxing Ihr lather, with face ratbr grave, lio procet'dH to iufliot a very clean shavo. ThiB flnished, he gets into IiÍb suit of " eheep's (A suit'tiint hns "Bteod" hhn for uiany a day), And calln for a cnllar in hls own hatty niyln, That "he1 no long gettiiitf off," he gruuiblea tti' wbilo. The b'm jar of botter is oorered and tíed And mto thr wagon H goos witH a HÜde ; The hide of the hoifor killed Mondsy for meat, Ifl rollod up and carefully tuckedunder tlm seat; "The boller is leaky," declares Susan Jane, "Until it íb mended, 1 Bhmrt waöh again." Tlius " stumped," the old gentleman oan't say a WOJtl, And Torn io Btnt otit (o ftbovfl it abowd ; " Xhfl matches are out, the indigo, too," " I tíUf'MH you'll make out if tho dnds arent blue."' Saya "Pater," while ecorn in lus gray whiukcr Inrks, NVUich enda up ai last m a cöuple of amirke. '1 must hare ;i Bgcller," Uttle liilly iloga out, "Aüdl want a roumí conib," sys liell with. pont; " I think yon hadbettcr et yoursolf a new bat, Yonr okl oue is sUubby, you can't do with tliat.1' "Proper silit," quoth the pater, his uiincl in a fumo, " You think if you want it, TU bring yon the moon, Do you think of good gmt-nbackH (e nini are all ir ad 7 IM liïvi1 to know when Tin to get my debta paid." And ííi-.'ibbiiifr hlshat with a loweiing f ace, He m-mitM the wagon, wHh vti-T bad cracO, Aui emoUneg ii ín wbip with oonBUtnmate p.bill, Ho wonld BOOH have boen out of eight o'er tho hill; WhQ 'fatlicr," ruine borne to hffl unwilliiiK Mff, And ' faficr," in accents more thrilliug and cloar. Hegrjöaned, Btopgted bis horiica, and took a froeli end. And waited, while Tommy canie plawh tlirough tho mud ; " Wcll, vh;t iitnr, I f!io}njht IM gol itrr:iuts enough," Said he, juut as Thomas canie up with a puff. " Why- hêre - is - a letter, ma wants you to mail, And bring hor somo stout ïincm toread without fail." Tho poor man simt bis mouth with a smile very grim. And made llio old horsps move on witli a vim ; His ' earlappets" mournfully flappedin the breeze, As h'1 pftiWBd out ófsightnearthe white willow treca. - l'rairit' Farmer.