Awoke—aroze—washed—dressed—made me bed—Imtied me slops.

I tuk a bit of paper from Mr. John’s desk, and I penned the follering warning in plane litters and langwidge:

This I taxed artiskully upon the dining-room door—facing all eyes.

Mr. John—ating his loan cup of hot water looks up. Hes a gintle spaking gintleman in contrarst to his bruther James. The rayson of this Mr. Wolley explayned to me wanse was that Mr. John is an eediotor wile Mr. James is a bawld voiced orthor, spaking, ses Mr. Wolley, wid the orful tung of the muck raker. Well Mr. John looks up gintly and fidgets his paper and ses mildly:

“Er——Delia—er——”

“Well?” ses I, fite in me toans.

“Another cup of hot water if you plase” ses he.

He hild up the cup befure his eyes suspishussly.

“—er Delia” ses he, making an effet to mollyfy me timper. “How do you like it here” ses he.

“Like it! My God its a loan wilderniss of a place, sor,” ses I.

“Shaw!” ses he, “Why theeres forty-two families on the Poynt.”

“The Poynt?”

“Yes. They call this neck of land the Poynt” ses he “I suppose becorse its just a poynt of land running into the Sound.”

“Its a bloont poynt” ses I.

“It is” ses he, “but down at the ind of it, there is a very fine poynt of land. Me brother waggushly corls it ‘Rogues Poynt’” ses he.

“And why sor?”

“Haw, haw!” ses he, larfing into his napkin.

Mr. James cum sontering in joost thin in tinnis pants. He tramped acrost me imacklate floor, banged out a chare and doomped himself into it.

“Me brikfust in a hurry Delia” ses he. “Whats the joke Johnny” ses he to his larfing brother.

“I was telling Delia the name ye’ve given the Poynt—Rogues Poynt.”

“Hum!” ses Mr. James, ating amorosly on a grape froot. “Its like this Delia” ses he, guving me a seeriess look, “The 2 show places on the ind of the Poynt are occipied respictably by an Oil magnut and a Insurince Prissydint.”

“And be they rogues?” asks I innercently.

“Dammed raskils” ses Mr. James sollemly.