"I hate a sore throat," said little Jack. "They're very nice to keep you home from school, but they're horrid when you come to swallow buckwheat cakes."

"Well, Jimmieboy, I see your papa has put you in a book."

"He tried to," returned Jimmieboy, "but I guess he didn't get me all in.

I'm too big."

AN EXPLANATION.

 

"I wonder why it is that most little boys don't want to go to bed when the time comes?" said Mr. Simpkins.

"Guess it's because they don't know enough," said Willie. "Now I like to go to bed because I go right to sleep, and I have heaps of fun dreaming I'm a pirate or a giant killer--and it's safe as a church, because even if you get killed you're alive again in time for breakfast."

GETTING AT THE FIGURES.

Jimmieboy is studying arithmetic, and has done very well so far. The other day his father took him in his lap, and giving him a squeeze, said, "Dear little boy, you don't know how much I love you."

"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy; "I love you $2,000,000 worth. You weigh three times as much as I do, so you love me three times as much as I do you. That's $6,000,000 worth."

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