Papa, reading: "The naturalist, who had slipped from the edge of the precipice, gathered momentum as fie fell." Mamma: " Mercy ! Kept right on picking ilowers even when he knew he was going to be killed !" "Pa, what's descendants?" "Why, they are the people that come after you, my son. Who is that young man in' the reception-room?" "That's one of sister's descendants come to take her riding ova tandem.''' It was the seventh time she had tried on the gown. "It doesn't seem to me," she said, " that it becomes my complexion.'' "Madame forgets," said the modiste, "that she has not the same complexion that she wore last time she was here."
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Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 208, 7 September 1897, Page 2
Word Count
112Untitled Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 208, 7 September 1897, Page 2
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Acknowledgements
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