“Harper’s” took occasion to edge away from “McClure’s.”

“Your cheapness makes me dizzy,” it observed, with a superior sniff.

“My cheapness is as nothing to your dullness,”, exclaimed “McClure’s,” with some heat.

“Nonsense!” replied “Harper’s.”  “Why, I once published an interesting story.”

A chorus of groans greeted this admission.

“The trouble with you fellows,” observed “The Century,” “is that you do not understand the really serious side of life.”

“How can we,” observed “The Metropolitan,” “for we have not, like you, a humorous department?  We——­”

There was a commotion.  While these observations were going on “Munsey’s” and “Everybody’s” were having a dispute.

“I publish sillier stuff than you,” said “Munsey’s.”

“I defy you to prove it,” said “Everybody’s.”

“Let’s form a ring and have them fight it out,” suggested a rank outsider—­“The Clipper.”

At this, however, there was a protest from one hitherto silent.  A soft soprano voice spoke.

“Gentlemen,” it said, “would you fight in the presence of ladies?”

Whereupon the rest of the magazines took off their hats, and one by one lapsed into respectful silence, as THE LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL, arranging its skirts anew with gentle precision, passed out on its way to church.

Cheer Up, Everybody

The visiting missionary at an almshouse stopped for a moment to speak to a very old lady and inquire, after her health and welfare.  “Thank you, sir,” replied the old lady.  “Yes, indeed, I’ve a great deal to be thankful for.  I’ve two teeth left and they’re opposite each other.”

A New Kind of Bait

After weeks of waiting and longing for the sport, rods, reels, gaff, creel—­everything was in readiness for a week’s trout-fishing.

The young wife, smiling joyously, hurried into the room, extending toward her husband some sticky, speckled papers.

“For goodness’ sake,” he exclaimed, “what on earth are you doing with those old fly-papers?”

“I saved them for you from last summer, dear,” she answered.  “You know you said you always had to buy flies when you went fishing.”

He Could Supply Specimens

“And what did my little darling do in school today?” a mother asked of her young son—­a “second-grader.”

“We had Nature study, and it was my turn to bring a specimen,” said the boy.

“That was nice.  What did you do?”

“I brought a cockroach in a bottle, and I told teacher we had lots more, and if she wanted I would bring one every day.”

Was It His Ghost?

A well-known publisher has the entrance to his private office guarded by one of his editors, a small man, who, as the day wears on, sinks down in a little heap in his high-backed chair under the weight of the manuscripts he has to read.  The publisher was exceedingly proud of his friendship with a prominent Congressman, who usually called when he was in New York.