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JOE WAYRING AT HOME.

handle was beginning to look threadbare, and that, to my mind, indicated that he had seen service.

"You wouldn't think that a few insignificant things like that could be the means of setting a whole village together by the ears, would you?" continued the canoe.

"Insignificant yourself," retorted the long bow; but I was glad to notice that he did not speak as if he were angry. The various articles I saw about me all cherished the most friendly feelings for one another, but when they had nothing to do, they were like a lot of idle boys—always trying to "get a joke" upon some of their number. "You never won a prize for Joe, did you? Well, I have. Go and win a race before you brag. You can't; you're much too clumsy. One of those Shadow or Rob Roy canoes out there on the lake would beat you out of sight in going a mile."

I cared nothing at all for this side sparring. I knew that I would have plenty of time in which to listen to it during the long winter months, when canoe, long bow and fly-rod would be laid up in ordinary, while skates,