mole-hills when she should have been removing mountains. To an old minister who was trying to comfort her, with impassioned emphasis she said, “Oh! I’m dead, dead, twice dead, and plucked up by the roots!” After a pause, he replied, “Well, sitting in my study the other day, I heard a sudden scream—‘John’s in the well! John’s fallen into the well!’ Before I could reach the spot, I heard the sad and mournful cry, ‘John’s dead—poor little Johnny’s dead!’ Bending over the curb, I called out, ‘John, are