Chapter XVIII (3)

On the night of the thirty-first the home of the Deans was brilliantly lighted, and the grounds were full of weird lights and mysterious music. The boys were the first to arrive, and were ushered into the front parlor, where they were commanded to stay until invited to come out. The girls were shown upstairs to a room where a card with a large white number upon it was pinned to each costume. When the boys were admitted to the back parlor the witches were drawn up in line with masks on, and numbers conspicuously displayed. The two weird sisters, unmasked, and making no attempt to conceal their identity, passed slips of paper to each gentleman, and explained that he must write the number of the one who most nearly represented his idea of a witch, and also the number of her whom he considered the most attractive. One of the boys complained that this was not fair, as they were not allowed to see the faces. When the votes were counted, and the prizes awarded, the signal was given, and the masks were dropped, amid much surprise, laughter, and applause.

The young lady who received the prize as the ugliest witch proved to be one of the most charming when unmasked, and the "booby" was a perfect vision of loveliness in a long red cloak and steeple-crowned hat. She surveyed her pretty face complacently in the hand-mirror which was given as the "booby" prize.

An impromptu programme was rendered, in which the little "booby" recited "The Elf Child," the "ugliest witch" and the "two weird sisters" gave the witch scene from _Macbeth_, and several weird songs were sung by different members of the company. The rest of the evening was given up to fortune-telling, witchcraft, and charms. The young people voted the party a "grand success," and the two weird sisters the most bewitching of all the witches.

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This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question
on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor Stamp Department.

How many of us know where Ipswich, England, is? An exhibition of stamps has just been opened there which must be fine, as English collectors value the stamps exhibited at over $100,000. A few years ago the New York collectors made an exhibit at the Eden Musee on Twenty-third Street, which probably called the attention of thousands to the "old postage-stamp craze," and led to the making of hundreds of new recruits in this absorbing hobby. Perhaps the same collectors may make another exhibit. If they obtain the assistance of some of the New England collectors the exhibit would be one of the finest ever seen. One gentleman in Maine has a collection valued at over $200,000, consisting chiefly of the great rarities.

A. T. D.--A surcharged stamp is one which has had a new value or
some inscription printed on the face of the stamp. As a rule
stamps of a high value are surcharged with a lower value. For
instance, Ceylon, in 1885, surcharged the 16, 24, 36, 48, and 64
cents and other stamps "Five Cents." These surcharged stamps were
then good for five cents only. Provisional stamps are those which
are issued in an emergency, and usually are surcharged stamps.

H. H. C.--The coin dealers ask $3 each for the commonest dates of
the quarter-eagle U.S. The scarce dates are worth much more. You
do not give the date of your coin.

PHILATUS.

TWO GLANCES FROM THE ELEVATED RAILROAD.

A QUESTION.

WILLIE. "Don't the little Esquimau boys live on oil?"

MAMMA. "Yes, Willie."

WILLIE. "And do they always have a big lump of sugar after it for dessert?"

"EARLY ENGLISH."

From wise professors, Brother Ned,
In the college town,
Was learning "early English."
My! how it made him frown!
While baby sister Annie
Cooed at home in glee,
In _purest_ early English--
'Twas as _easy_ as could be!

Some Irishmen are naturally stupid, but their mistakes are at times so humorous as to provoke a laugh, which makes one forget the more serious part of the error. Recently a son of Ireland went out rowing on a lake at a famous summer resort. A stiff northwest wind came up, and not being skilful with the oars, in a short time his boat shipped considerable water.

A brilliant idea then seized him, and taking the butt end of the oar he battered away at the planks in the bottom of the boat, finally knocking a hole in them. Fortunately for him a steam-launch with a pleasure party aboard came along and rescued him as his boat sank. Upon being asked why on earth he drove a hole through the boat, he replied:

"An' phwat else would yez do? Sure the boat was half full of water, an' so oi knocked a hole in the bottom to let it out; but, yez see, there was so much more water in the lake that the little bit of a stream in my boat had no chance to get out."

Some time ago I read a little anecdote of Longfellow which illustrated his love for children. It seems that one little fellow in particular was fond of spending his time in the great poet's library. One day, after a long and patient perusal of the titles (to him great cumbersome works) that lined the shelves, the little chap walked up to Longfellow, and asked in a grieved sort of way, "Haven't you got a _Jack the Giant Killer_?" Longfellow regretted to say that in all his immense library he did not have a copy.

The little chap looked at him in a pitying way, and silently left the room.

The next morning he walked in with a couple of pennies tightly clasped in his chubby fist, and laying them down, told the poet that he could now buy a _Jack the Giant Killer_ of his own.

We hear of veterans who have survived the wars of years ago, but here is a poor old veteran of the civil war, and it is claimed the only one living of his kind. His name is Ned, and he was captured near Washington by a scouting party from General Jubal Early's corps. For years Ned has taken part in the different memorial events and parades of the G.A.R. But during a recent parade in Louisville his declining years prevented his marching to the stirring music of the bands.

It grieved the poor old fellow's heart so that, as a compromise, his comrades provided him with a float, upon which he mounted, and was dragged through the streets, his kindly old head nodding to the time of the band. As you have doubtless guessed, Ned is an old war-horse, and it is said he has missed but one Decoration-day parade, and has reached the ripe old age of forty years.

MOTHER (_to Albert, who came home from school looking very blue_). "Why, you appear unhappy, Albert. Didn't you learn your lessons to-day?"

ALBERT. "Oh yes, I learned not to be sassy!"

Little Alice heard her father say that her Cousin Jack has the small-pox, and exclaimed, "Oh, papa, I think it's real mean of Jack not to send me any."

PAPA. "Jack, what are you crying about?"

JACK. "The conjurer at the circus to-day took five pigeons out of my hat, and kept them for himself."

TOM. "Papa, I want a bicycle."

PAPA. "Well, Tom, and what will you furnish towards getting it?"

TOM (_thinking deeply a moment_). "I'll furnish the wind for the tires."

KEPT HIS WORD.

To the pranks played by college boys there seems to be no end, and Professors are still suffering as much as ever from the undergraduate trick. An amusing tale comes from Edinburgh, in this connection.

An examiner at Edinburgh University had made himself obnoxious by warning the students against putting their hats on his desk. The university in the Scottish capital is remarkable for a scarcity of cloak rooms, and in the excitement of examinations hats are, or used to be, flung down anywhere.

The examiner announced one day that if he ever found another hat on his desk he would rip it up. The next day no hats were laid there when the students assembled. Presently, however, the examiner was called out of the room. Then some naughty undergraduate slipped from his seat, got the examiner's own hat, and placed it on his desk. When the examiner re-entered the hall, every eye was fixed upon him. He observed the hat, and a gleam of triumph shot across his face.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I told you what would happen if this occurred again." Then he took his penknife from his pocket, opened it, and blandly cut the hat in pieces, amidst prolonged applause. What he said when he discovered that he had destroyed his own hat the story does not say.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, October 22, 1895, by Various