Today's Stichomancy for Sarah Jessica Parker

was dark with soapy water. Her shoes were turned up ludicrously at the toes, as scrub-women's shoes always are. Tillie's thin hair was wadded back into a moist knob at the back and skewered with a gray-black hairpin. From her parboiled, shriveled fingers to her ruddy, perspiring face there was nothing of grace or beauty about Tillie. And yet Heiny found something pleasing there. He could not have told you why, so how can I, unless to say that it was, perhaps, for much the same reason that we rejoice in the wholesome, safe, reassuring feel of the gray woolen blanket on our bed when we wake from a horrid dream.

"A Happy New Year to you," said Heiny gravely, and took his

Buttered Side Down

merit here below.

At last the days of idleness were ended. We could not

"Fold our tents like the Arabs, and as silently steal away;"

but we took down the long rods, put away the heavy reels, made the canoes fast to the side of the house, embarked the three horses on the front deck, and then dropped down with the current, swinging along through the rapids, and drifting slowly through the still places, now grounding on a hidden rock, and now sweeping around a sharp curve, until at length we saw the roofs of Metapedia and the ugly bridge of the railway spanning the river. There we left our

merchant who devotes himself to commerce on the grandest scale receive some high distinction, and his honours will draw on other traders in his wake.

[21] Cf. "Revenues," l.c.

Or were it made apparent that the genius who discovers a new source of revenue, which will not be vexatious, will be honoured, by the state, a field of exploration will at once be opened, which will not long continue unproductive.[22]

[22] Lit. "that too is an inquiry which will not long lie fallow."

And to speak compendiously, if it were obvious in each department that the introducer of any salutary measure whatsoever will not remain

The great, wide-gaping jaws of the snake turned and hovered above him. The elastic maw, which could accommodate a rabbit or a horned buck with equal facility, yawned for him; but Histah, in turning his attention upon the ape-man, brought his head within reach of Tarzan's blade. Instantly a brown hand leaped forth and seized the mottled neck, and another drove the heavy hunting knife to the hilt into the little brain.

Convulsively Histah shuddered and relaxed, tensed and relaxed again, whipping and striking with his great body; but no longer sentient or sensible. Histah was dead, but in his death throes he might easily dispatch a dozen

The Jungle Tales of Tarzan