An Expert.

—It was a game of « shoe-peg » which the tourist encountered while traversing the State of Ohio in search of work and adventure. He found it in one of those country towns where the hotel, post-office, and store, are frequently under one roof, and the Solomon of the village is depended upon to inaugurate something new. As the tourist brushed the dust of the highway from his travelling costume the game of shoe-peg was in full blast and betting ran high. To play the game each player was furnished with a handful of pegs, surreptitiously obtained from the village cobbler, and the one who picked up the greatest number in a given time was declared the winner. The new arrival gazed at the game and then at the stakes, and asked permission to take a hand. He was furnished with a supply of pegs and a tin box, and, when he had put up the required ante, time was called. The tourist easily won at a thousand-an-hour speed and took the pot. Again and again he beat the champion shoe-peg players. The philosopher became suspicious and quietly left the room to investigate. At the counter he learned that the stranger had inquired if there was a printing-office in the village. This was enough. The game was still in progress, with stakes piled high on a pork-barrel, when the philosopher quickly returned and shouted: « Don't play any longer with that fellow; he's a blooming printer! » Slowly and sadly each patriarch arose from a mackerel-keg and adjourned to the, bar; quickly and gladly the itinerant compositor arose from his nail-keg and rode to the next town.