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"If you live to be three hundred years old, you may possibly learn something about the laws of health and be able to keep out of bed three days in a week."
Mrs. Bowser was all right at the end of three or four days, and nothing more was said. Then one afternoon at three o'clock a carriage drove up and a stranger assisted Mr. Bowser into the house. He was looking pale and ghastly, and his chin quivered, and his knees wabbled.
"What is it, Mr. Bowser?" she exclaimed, as she met him at the door.
"Beddoctordeath!" he gasped in reply.
Mrs. Bowser got him to bed and examined him for bullet holes or knife wounds. There were none. He had no broken limbs. He hadn't fallen off a horse or been half drowned. When she had satisfied herself on these points, she asked:
"How were you taken?"
"W-with a c-chill!" he gasped"with a c-chill and a b-backache!"
"I thought so. Mr. Bowser, you have the gripa second attack. As I have some medicine left, there's no need to send for the doctor. I'll have you all right in a day or two."
"Get the doctor at once," wailed Mr. Bowser, "or I'm a dead man! Such a backache! So cold! Mrs. Bowser, if I should d-die, I hope"
Emotion overcame Mr. Bowser, and he could say no more. The doctor came and pronounced it a second attack of the grip, but a very mild one. When he had departed, Mrs. Bowser didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with putting on his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his umbrella and getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home and having damp feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he hadn't died years ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of Methuselah he would know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand around in mud puddles. She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or leave him alone. When Mr. Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away. When he moaned, she held his hand. When he said he felt that the grim specter was near, and wanted to kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him with the prediction that he would be a great deal better next day.
Mr. Bowser didn't get up next day, though the doctor said he could. He lay in bed and sighed and uttered sorrowful moans and groans. He wanted toast and preserves; he had to have help to turn over; he worried about a relapse; he had to have a damp cloth on his forehead; he wanted to have a council of doctors, and he read the copy of his last will and testament over three times.
Mr. Bowser was all right next morning, however. When Mrs. Bowser asked him how he felt he replied:
"How do I feel? Why, as right as a trivet, of course. When a man takes the care of himself that I dowhen he has the nerve and will power I havehe can throw off 'most anything. You would have died, Mrs. Bowser; but I was scarcely affected. It was just a play spell. I'd like to be real sick once just to see how it would seem. Cholera, I suppose it was; but outside of feeling a little tired, I wasn't at all affected."
And the dutiful Mrs. Bowser looked at him and swallowed it all and never said a word to hurt his feelings.
ALPHABET OF CELEBRITIES
E is for Edison, making believe
He's invented a clever contrivance for Eve,
Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve.
O is for Oliver, casting aspersion
On Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian,
Though secretly longing to join the diversion.
R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in F
To Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf.
S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true,
The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo,
Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou,
And Socrates, all with the same end in view.
W's Wagner, who sang and played lots,
For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watts;
His prurient plots pained Wesley and Watts,
But Washington said he "enjoyed them in spots."
NONSENSE VERSES
The Window has Four little Panes:
But One have I;
The Window-Panes are in its sash,
I wonder why!
My Feet they haul me 'round the House;
They hoist me up the Stairs;
I only have to steer them and
They ride me everywheres.
Remarkable truly, is Art!
SeeElliptical wheels on a Cart!
It looks very fair
In the Picture up there;
But imagine the Ride when you start!
I'd rather have fingers than Toes;
I'd rather have Ears than a Nose
And as for my hair,
I'm glad it's all there,
I'll be awfully sad when it goes!
I wish that my Room had a floor;
I don't so much care for a Door,
But this walking around
Without touching the ground
Is getting to be quite a bore!
THE SIEGE OF DJKLXPRWBZ
Before a Turkish town
The Russians came,
And with huge cannon
Did bombard the same.
They got up close
And rained fat bombshells down,
And blew out every
Vowel in the town.
And then the Turks,
Becoming somewhat sad,
Surrendered every
Consonant they had.
THE GOAT
Down in the cellar dark, remote,
Where alien cats the larder note,
In solemn grandeur stands the goat.
Without he hears the winter storm,
And while the drafts about him swarm,
He eats the coal to keep him warm.