them on.

"What time is it, Johnny?" asked Lemuel's mate of the attendant. "I
left my watch under my pillow."

"Five o'clock," said the man, helping the poor old fellow who had
not known how to get into bed to put on his clothes.

"Well, that's a pretty good start," said the other. He finished his
toilet by belting himself around the waist, and "Come along, mate,"
he said to Lemuel. "I'll show you the way to the tool-room."

He led him through the corridor into a chamber of the basement where
there were bright rows of wood-saws, and ranks of saw-horses, with
heaps of the latter in different stages of construction. "House
self-supporting, as far as it can. We don't want to be beholden to
anybody if we can help it. We make our own horses here; but we can't
make our saws, or we would. Ever had much practice with the wood-
saw?"

"No," said Lemuel, with a throb of home-sickness, that brought back
the hacked log behind the house, and the axe resting against it; "we
always chopped our stove-wood."

"Yes, that's the way in the country. Well, now," said the other,
"I'll show you how to choose a saw. Don't you be took in by no new
saw because it's bright, and looks pretty. You want to take a saw
that's been filed, and filed away till it ain't more 'n an inch and
a half deep; and then you want to tune it up, just so,--like a
banjo--not too tight, and not too slack,--and then it'll slip