A Damsel in Distress

Hear him now as he toils. He has a long garden-implement in his

hand, and he is sending up the death-rate in slug circles with a

devastating rapidity.

"Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay

Ta-ra-ra BOOM--"

And the boom is a death-knell. As it rings softly out on the

pleasant spring air, another stout slug has made the Great Change.

It is peculiar, this gaiety. It gives one to think. Others have

noticed it, his lordship's valet amongst them.

"I give you my honest word, Mr. Keggs," says the valet, awed, "this

very morning I 'eard the old devil a-singing in 'is barth!

Chirruping away like a blooming linnet!"

"Lor!" says Keggs, properly impressed.

"And only last night 'e gave me 'arf a box of cigars and said I was

a good, faithful feller! I tell you, there's somethin' happened to

the old buster--you mark my words!"