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POF.TRV.
THE HARVEST HYMN.
We copy the following beautiful hymn from the
Eondon Farmer's Magazine :
Gori of the rolling year ! to Thee
Our song shall rise, whose bounty pours.
In many a goodly gift, with free
And liberal hand, our autumn stores :
No firstlings of our iiock we slay,
No soaring clouds of incense vise,
Rut on thy hallowed shrine we lay,
Our grateful hearts in sacrifice.
Rome on thy hrealh, the lap of spring
Was heaped with many a blooming flower; j
And smiling summer joyed to bring
The sunshine and the gentle shower;
And autumn's rich luxuriance now,
The ripening seed, the bursting shell,
The golden sheaf and laden bough,
The fullness of thy bounty tell.
*
No menial throng, in princely dome,
Here wait a titled lord's behest,
Rut many a fair and peaceful home
Hath won thy peaceful dove a guest;
No groves of palm our fields adorn,
" No myrtle shades or orange bowers,
Hut rustling meads of golden corn,
And fields of waving grain, are ours.
Safe in thy care, the landscape o'er,
Our flocks and herds securely stray.
No tyrant master claims our store,
No ruthless robber rends away;
No fierce volcano's withering shower,
No fell simoom, with poisonous breath,
No burning sun, with baleful power,
Awake the tiery plagues of death.
And here shall rise our song to Thee,
Where lengthened vales and pastures lie,
And streams go singing wild and free,
lleneath a blue and smiling sky :
Where ne'er was reared a mortal throne.
Where crowned oppressors never trod,
Here at the throne of Heaven alone,
Shall man in reverence bow to God.
HISTORIC A I SKETCH.
ATTI I A ,
THE scocr.Gr: or con.
In the early part of the fifth century, when
the northern or Co'hic nations were hotly con- j
tending with the tottering empire of Rome fur ;
the dominion of Europe uh* n new commnni
ties were settling in Spain and Cermany, and ■
the Franks were beginning in Caul to assert, t
first their own freedom, and then their sway!
over their weak neighbors when Christianity
was beginning to assert its influence over lne|
wild barbarians in the Helvetian morasses and'
in the Herman woods, and the dawn of a better j
day seemed to glimmer over the world through j
the datk shades offcaibarism, superstition, and j
cruel! v, there crept a storm over Europe, that
had well nigh crushed and blighted in its fury
tlie tender blossoms of new civilization. From
the st< ppes of central Asia, the desolate le
gion lying between the frozen tracts of Siberia
and the loftv Himalaya range, there arose a race
of men, who, pouring over Europe, like a swa; in .
of locusts, devoured every green thing, ami h It ]
ehind them ruin, mi; *ry, and desolation. In-j
numerable as the sands on the sea shore, pitiless j
as the blast that swept their native plains, they |
were in themselves sufficiently calculated lo in
spire fear in the minds of the half-civilized |
tribes against whom they turned their arms: but
the terror caused hv their first arrival reached its
culniinaling point, when they were marshalled j
at last, not "by a rude, unthinking savage, but by
a leader who united to consummate cunning and
dauntless valor, the most unbounded and unpit
ying ferocity; a king, who, by vast success in
the field, and the pitiless rancor with which
he hunted down his foes, acquired a name pro
nounced by his enemirs w itii fear and trembling, j
and came to be know n throughout the length ;
and breadth ol Eutope as the "Scourge of Cod,"
'lie rod with which an outraged Providence w as
apposed to smite the nations of the earth.
The ITuns, for so these formidable strangers
uere called, were wandering tribes of the Tar- ;
tar plains. Possessing no fixed abode, they ;
wandered irom place lo place, as dwellers in j
'* nts and keepers of cattle. Their aspect was!
hidious to bt hold. They had Hat noses, huge !
•n ails, broad shoulders, and huge muscular arms. ,
They weie short of stature, and their thin legs, '
weak and crooked, seemed unable to support :
'he huge square bodies and enormous heads
which appeared rather to belong to evil demons
'hats mortal men, Thus they seldom appeared
on loot, ail their warlike evolutions, ail their
maneuvers of advance and retreat, of attack ami
defence, being executed on horseback. When
once mounted, horse and man seemed to iortn
but one creature, and almost to realise the an
cient superstition concerning the centaurs.—
I heir skill in archery struck a cfiiil to the
hearts even of the brave Goths; and with -their
tough lances thrusting sure,' and their harsh
voices yelling like the howls of savage beasts
above the din of baltle, they swarmed like
wolves through the affrighted fields of southern
and ct ntral Europe. One horrible enstom they
had. that contemplated the disgust and abhor
rence with which these ferocious strangers
were regarded—they ate their meat raw.
Each warrior placed upon his horse's back, be
neath the saddle, a great piece of beef or horse
flesh; and when the action of riding had render
ed the fragment somewhat tender, the savage
would devour it with the voracity of a famished
tiger, washing down his savage rrpast wit fi huge
draughts of sour milk. Such were the Huns.
Ferocious beyond the imaginings of the dark
times in which they lived, barbarous "beyond
the conception of the inhabitants of benighted
| Europe, they proved fit agents to execute the
i decrees of the wild, cruel despot, who deluged
the West with blood, while he called himself
an instiumetU—a scourge in the hand of the
Almighty.
Attiia was one of those mighty spirits which
arise from time to time, endowed to all appear
ances with tlie power ami will to crush a world.
He was worshipped as a god by It is followers '
whom he led from victory to victory, while he
ruled them witli a rod of iron. "Where His
horses hoofs had trod," said superstition, "the
grass could grow no more." Smiling fields
and populous cities stood before him; but a
bowling wilderness marked the track His sav
age hordes had taken. From lite borders of the
Black Sea to the banks ol the Rhine he led the
Huns, laying waste the country as fie went.—
1 he affrighted populace fled everywhere before j
him: and there were not a few who asserted.'
in the extremity of their fear, that the end of
the world iiad come, and that the final judg-|
rnents foretold in the Scriptures were about to j
fa!! on the earth, by the hand of 'he "Scourge;
of God."
The Eastern Empire was the first to suffer
from the invader's fury. (>reece was laid waste
from end to end, and Constantinople only esca
ped destruction by the payment of a tremen
dous ransom. Onward through central Europe
lov\ arils Caul, swept (lie mighty torrent : and
among the country people there still survive
tales of the horrors that accompanied the march
of these ruthless men ; still art* to be found in
various parts of Cermany great mounds and
fortification? of earth, erected in the vain hoj e
of checking the foe in his onward course, and
distinguished by the names of Hun's Mountains
and linn's Ditches. Isolated attempts were,
however, far too feehle against such an invasion,
and right onward, past the Rhine, came the
hordes of Attila. .Nothing stopped their pro
gress, ar.<! the fate of Europe in the balance.
Then, at last, there seems to have flashed
upon the minds of the scathed nations of the
West tin* great idea that in union alone could a
sure defence be found. Franks and Visigoths,
Cauls and Romans, forgot for a moment their
mutual animosities, and resolved to sta mi side
by side to repel the common enemy. Near
Chalions,on the broad plains of the river Maine,
the nations of the West stood arrayed to make
one desperate stand against their terrible antago
nist. There stood Thcodoric, the brave mon
arch of the Visigoths, with Merovig, tin* great
warrior, the founder of the first race of Prank
ish kings, and the Romish race of Cauls, under
their last brave proconsul, CEiius. On the
other side came AfliMa, with l is innumerable
legions of horsemen, and a Ciowd of barbarians
whom he had pressed into his service as auxilia
ries. The monarch of the Huns fully under
stood the importance of the crisis : and in his
harangue to his troops befoie the battle,
promised great rewards to the brave who should
insure him victory, and menaced with death
the coward who should flee.
The battle was obstinafe and bloody. So
long as the arrow and the javelin were the wea
pons of attack the Huns had the advantage ; but
when darts and spears had been hurled, and the
combatants came to closer quarters, Roman disci
pline and stubborn Cothic valor began to tell.
Foaming with rage, Attila saw his promised
victory escaping from him : and when evening
came, and two hundred thousand of his follow
ers lay dead upon the field, lie sullenly gave the
signal for retreat ; and the deept ning night put
an end to the carnage.
Then followed a night of suspense, in which
! neither side knew what the enemy were doing.
When morning dawned, it shone upon a sc< tie
1 calculated, in those rude times, to excite the
, admiration even of an exasperated fo°. During
the hours ol darkness, the Iluns had formed
a complete fortification, after their fashion with
| the wagons which always followed their train.
A ithin tlie inclosure formed by these carriages
stood the warriors in a deep circle, rank upon
rank, many ot them holding torches in their
hands. 111 the centre they had raised an im
mense pile, formed ol the wooden saddle of
iheir horses, the yokes oi their oxen, and all
timber they could collect ; and on the summit of
the giant .mound towered, torch in hand, the
form of Attiia. Driven to desperation by the
unlooked-for reverses of the previous day, the
savage king lia<l determined to fire the pile an i
perish in the flames, rather than fall a captive
info the hands of his foes.
Courage even il it were the courage of des
pair, was the quality most respected in those
days of warfare. (Otitis and Merovig declined
attacking an enemy so humbled, yet so proud in
his abasement. They remainnd at some dis
tance ; and slowly and silently Attiia drew off
'.he remains of his army, and retired beyond
the Rhine. The "Scourge of God" was broken, j
and Europe breathed more freely.
Yet another year, and the savage king suc
cumbed to a monarchy more powerful and
pittiless than himself—even to the grim King
of Terrois. He had menaced Rorr.e with the
remains of his army—a horde still formida
ble, even after the loss they had sustained by
their numbers and ferocity. But a dark pre
sentiment seemed suddenly to fall upon him;
he drew off his men. and retired to Upper Italy)
where he died.
His- followers mourned deeply for their great
chief, They interred him in a golden coffin, I
inclosed in an outer shell of silver : ami the j
slaves who had dug his grave were all slain? i
that none might be tempted by the wealth tie- !
posited there, to disturb the monarch's resting I
place. I hen with mourning and lamentation,;
the Huns fled back toward the East : and to 1
this day 110 man knows wheie the "!-.cour</e of ;
God" lies buried.
THE DIKHHSKD LOVER.
nv KENT.
My friend Tom has a natural affection for
dirt, or rather dirt has a natural afiection for ;
f orn. It is fr> him what gold \\ as to Mideas. !
whatever lie touches turn.. to diit. No matte!
how while the cravat —no matter how immac
ulate the vest, the moment it comes within the
sphere of Tom's influence, its whiteness is gone:
it is immaculate no more. Dogs, sweeps, and j
lamplighters never pass him, without leaving i
upon his dress unequivocal marks of their pros- i
ence. Once, and only once, I saw him cross j
the street without encountering the wheels of a '
carriage. loj >. ued my mouth to congratulate, ;
and before f could utter one word, it was filled
with mud. The careless 1 dock head lay at my
feet, full length a the gutter. At mv earnest
solicitation, he once purchased a suit precisely
mud color. It was a capital idea. He crossi d
the street three times, he walked half a mile,
and returned, in appearrnc.e, at least, unscathed, i
The thing was unprecedented. True, he was ;
welcomed by the affectionate caress.of a <iog I
that had been enjoying the coolness of a neigh- !
he ring norsepond: true, he received a shower !
bath from the wheels of an omnibus. Hut to j
plaster mud on Tom's new coat vas 'to gild!
refined gold —to paint the lily.'
"Tmn will be a neat man vet,"' I said as I
witnessed the success of my plan.
In about half an hour it was mv fate to meet
a gentleman with seven stripes of green paint
on his back —it was my friend Torn, who Lad
been leaning against some newiv painted win
dow blinds.
if is man Car-ar declares that he 'can't see fle
use on brak a boot when he nebersfay bracked;'
and his washei woman, with a verv proper re-"*,
gard for her own reputation, lias been compel- j
lt d to discard him, not from any ill-will, but as ; ;
she declared, with up-iifted hands, "'if any one •,
should ask me it I washed Mr. Smith's clothes, j,
what could I tell them ?" Cut tliere were very I !
few tilings in this world with which Tom could !
have more easily dispensed than trie services of j j
his washerwoman.
Having no other amusement, one morning, I
strolled over to Tom's room. I ascended the
staus, and heard Ins voice in a very decided
tone.
"Cut it must be done, and so there is an end
to it."
"Really, was the reply, "anything within
the limits of possibility; but to make a coat in
ten hours—l will promise anything in the
world, but 1 really fear I shall be unable to
perform."
"If double your price would be any ob
ject "
"Certainly, sir, if you insist upon it—cer
tainly. I will put every man in my shop up
on it —it shall be done in time. Good morning,
si r ."
Ihe door opened, ami a fellow with shears
and measures passed out. What could Tom be
doing with a tailor ?
"Just the man I wanted lo see," exclaimed
Tom. "1 require your advice upon a very iic-
Freedom of Thought and Opinion.
BEDFORD, lift FRIDAY MORNING, JULY 30, 1858.
■ r- \'lntit affair—which of thcs? cravats do you
' think (he most becoming V
And he spread before me some half dozen, of
every hue and fashion.
• "Now, what in (he name of all that is vvon
der 'id does (his mean, Tom ? A fancy ball, is
;it ' Aon have chosen an excellent disguise:
n ■ J
yon..- nearest friends would never know you.—
\ But you cann ;t support the character: ifyou had :
; that of a chimney sweep, now—but that
wocnl have been too natural. Tell me, Tom,
"sTv-l dues all this mean V'
rs..
! '\V!jy the fact is, Frank,'* passing a hand
through his hair, redolent with macassar, "f
have concluded—l think T shall be a little more
ne-at in future. You doutless remember the good
advice yotjgave me some time since: it has had
an excelWt effect, I assure you."
Aow it so happened that of all the good ad
. vice 1 had given Tom, this was the very first
I instance in which he had seen fit to follow it. !
So I could not attribute the metamorphosis of
my friend to my eloquence. Who but a wo
man ever changed a sioven to a fop?
"Pray, where are you going this evening," I
continued, ''that you must have a new coat so
suddenly V'
"Going ? Nowhere in particular. 1 had,
indeed, some idea of calling on my old friend,
Mr. Murray. No harm in that I hope."
Conviction began to flash upon me.
•'Your old friend Mr. Murray. And hi-s
voting niece, Miss Julia, has no share in the
visit, I suppose? 1 heard (hat she arrived in
town last nigh!."'
"Now, upon my word, Frank, you mistake
me entirety. I did not know that she was in
town last night—when I—that is, when I—l
did nt know anything about it."
"And so you were there last night, loo)
Really, this is getting along bravely,"
''Why, the fact is, Frank, you must know
everything. I called last evening to sc-e Murray
on ? 'm" business about the real estate, you
kndw. ] had no more iha of meeting a wo
man than a boa constrictor. My beard was
three days oid, collar ditto,and therest of my
dress in excellent keeping. 1 became engaged
in conversation, and somehow or other I forgot
all*.' bout the real estate."
• Ami so von are going again to-night- and
rr r? o O
that i- Urn secret of the new coat ?"
"By no means, I wanted a new coat, and
tailors are so long you know. Do you think
blue will become me 1 Blue is her favorite—
that is—l mean blue—"
"Oh. go on—don't stammer—blue is her
favorite i>'nt it ?"
'•The fret is, Frank—take another glass of;
this wine—the fact is—good wine is'nt it ? j
Been two voyages to the Indies—the fact is, I J
suppose—l rather fancy—l am a little in love, i
i'rv a little of that sherry. What are the;
symptoms, Frank, a queer feeling about the \
'wait, a something which drives the blood
j through one like lightning 1"
"Exactly ! I believe I have seen Julia ; short
and chubby, isn't she—with red hair, and a little
squint eyed ?"
Frank, I never did knock you down, though I
have been tempted to do so a good many tines:
but il you do not stop that nonsense, I will."
"Quite valiant in defense of your lady love.
Well, Tom, I conlt.s she is a lovely girl, and
to-morrow —so, good morning."
"Well, Tom, what success ?"
Would you believe it She did not recog
nize me."
"Not recognize you ?"
No. You know wliot a quiz that Murray is.
As soon as he saw me enter, dressed in such
style, he came up, shook hands with me, and
without giving me a chance to say one word,
introduced me to Julia a* Mr. Frederic somebo
dy. Arid would you believe it, (lie little witch
did not know me. i think I shall not forget
her so easily. Nor was that all. Murray said
something about the fellow who called there
the previous evening—a country cousin, he
said, clean enough, but an incorrigible sloven
And Julia said he dressed like a barbarian. She
shall pnv for that yet. Such eyes and she steps
like a queen. Well, Frank, a clean collar does
make a vast difference in a man's appearance-
Lovely as Hebe herself. Terrible difference
clean linen makes."
The last time I saw 3'om he was scolding
his eldest boy for coming into the drawing room
with muddy boots.
A JEWEL OF A GIRL.—One of our exchan
ges speaks of a beautiful girl who would prove
a capital speculation for a fortune hunter of the
right sort. Her voice is of silver, her hair of
gold, her teeth of pearl, her cheeks of rubies,
and her eyes of diamonds.
say, friend, your horse is a little con
trary, is he not ?"
"No sir-ee 1"
"What makes him stop, then ? '
"Oh, he's afraid somebody'll say 'whoa,' and
lie shan't hear it."
MAMTACTI KING WINE
I A Yankee pedlar, 011 his way to the west
with a two horse load of notions, put up, many
years ago, at the bouse of an honest Pennsylva
nia Dutchman, and, as it happened, was detain
ed at Ins stopping place for three or tour days,
by a heavy rain, wich made the road and streams
impassible. At last the sky brightened up and
he hitched to, out when the reckoning came to
be paid, which was trn dollars, Jonathan re
quested the host to score it until he returned
trom his expedition, promising veryHionestly to
discharge it then. This did not suit the Dutch
man, however, who insisted 011 the cash, which
was at last reluctantly paid him. ♦ It was then
the enstom to treat a traveler on payment of
his bill, to a glass, and the tavern-keeper was
never backward in following the custom. But
011 handing out a mug of clear cider, Jonathan
remarked shrewdly, that it would make fine
wine, and said he had a secret by which,
through a very short process, he could convert
it into the best of wine. This put Mynheer on
the nettles. Possess the secret lie must, so lie
finally took the Y'ankee up at his offer of putting
ttie cider into the process of wine making, for
It n dollars down, and fifty dollars more when
he returned, if it succeeded to the landlord's
mind. Jonathan was accordingly conducted
into the cellar, and having procured a half inch
auger, bored a hole in one end of a hogshead of
cider, and directed Mynheer to apply his thumb
to it, while be bored a like hole in the other
end, and then ordered him to stretch his other
arm so as to cover that also. Having thus got
the unsuspecting Dutchman into business, he
directed him to remain so until he prepared two
spiggots for the holes, then walking to his wa
gon, he jumped in and was off, leaving His
credulous friend to make wine of his cider the
b> st way he could, and get the ten dollars back
again when he caught Him.
ASHAMED OF iJIS MOTHER.
A few years since a young clerk was pointed
out to the writer, in the city of Boston as an ob
ject of special curiosity, for the following rea
son :
He was handsome, but poor and proud. The
clothes on his back and in Ids trunk were ail
that he was worth and perhaps more. His
mother was a pious widow in very humble cir
cumstances, and was much neglected by her
unfaithful son. He was suddenly taken sick
and a dangerous fever followed. He was soon
glad to send for his neglected parent to admin
ister to his wants. She carne with a mother's
love and watched by his bedside by night and
bt' day with a mother's tenderness. Providence
interposed and the young man recovered. One
day a shop mate cat led to see him when he in
troduced his own mother as his nurse! He
was ashamed ot her lowly appearance because
it di-closed his humble origin, and he took this
citie!, heathenish way to mislead his associate.
Place such an example of downright barbarity
in contrast with the fiiiai devotion of a Law
rence and it seems like the deed of some untu
tored hindoo or South Sea Islander. Ashamed
to confess !us humble origin ! The curse of God
will follow him to his grave unless ins life is
marked by a change. Every honorable senti
ment of humanity condemns such want of affec
tion, while it proves the opposite in the faith
ful Lawrence. Men despise the one and admire
the other.
ASK FOR. WHAT YOU WANT. —Several gentle
men of the Massachusetts Legislature, dining at
a Boston hotel, one of them Mr. M., a
gentleman who sat opposite :
'Can you reach the pertators, sir?'
Mr. M. extended his arm toward the dish and
sa!i>!ied himself that he could reach tiie "per
tators,'' and answered :
'Yes, sir.'
The legislator was taken aback by his unex- !
pected rebuff from the wag, but presently recov- '
ering himself", he asked :
'Will you sticlc my fork intoone of them ?' |
Mr. M. took the fork and very coolly plunged j
it into a finely cooked potato, and left it there. I
The company roared as they took the joke,
and the victim looked more foolish than before. |
But suddenly an air of confidence struck him:!
rising to his feet he exclaimed with an air of:
conscious triumph :
'Now, Mr. M., I will trouble you for the J
fork.'
Mr. M. rose to his feet, with the most imper- j
turabie gravity, pulled the fork out ofthp potato, f
and returned it, midst an uncontrollable thunder \
storm of laughter* to the utter discomfiture of;
the centleman B .
A BACHELOR'S A RGCMENT AGAINST MAR
RIAGE. —No single man can be fairly called
poor. What double man can with certainty be
called rich ? A single man can lodge in a gar
ret, and dine on herring; nobody knows, no
body cares. Let hirri marry, and he invites
the world to witness where he lodges, and how
he dines. The first necessary a wife demands
is the most ruinous, the most indefinite super
fluity it is gentility according to what her neigh
bors call genteel. Gentility commences with
the honeymoon; it is its shadow, and lengthens
as the moon declines. When the money is all
Tone, your bride says, "We can have our tea
without sugar when quite alone, love; hut in
case Gentility drops in, here's a bill for silver
sugar tongs." That's why I'm single.—Blitck
xvooiL
1 low TO PUNCH A MAN.—"Judge, you say if
T punch a man in fun, he can take me up for
assault and battery 1"
"Yes, sir, I said lhat, and what I say I re
prat. Ifyou punch a man, you are guilty of a
breach of the peace and can be arrested for it."
"Ain't there no exceptions whatever."
"Now, Judge, I guess you are mistaken—
suppose, for instance, I should brandy punch
him, what then 1"
"No levity in court, sir. Sheriff expose this
man to the atmosphere. Call the next case- 1
WHOLE is7.
f Tin: Vcp.y LATEST VET.— During the summer
oI 19. says the Knickerbocker, corn being verv
scarce in tbe upper country and one of the citi
zens neing hard pressed for brpad, having worn
threadbare the hospitality of his neighbors bv
his extreme laziness, they thought it an act of
justice to bury him. Accordingly, he was carri
ed to the J place of interment, and being mot bv
one of the citizens, the following conversation
took place:
"Hollo, what have you rot there ?*'
W'oor old Mr. S."
"What are you going to do with him
"Bury him."
"W hat! is he dead? I had not hoard ol it."
"No, he is not dead, but he might as well be,
for he has no cor n and is too lazy to \v irk for
any."
"That is too cruel fur civilized people. I'll
give two bushels of corn myself rather than
see him buried alive."
Old S. raised the cover and asked in a drag
ging tone, Is it shelled !"
"\o, but you can shell it."
"Drive on l-ovs."
THE RODIN'S Love FOR MANKIND. —It is a
curious tact that the love ofour race is so innate
in the robin as to render him unhappy in an v
other society—excepting only in the breeding
season, when all the birds are naturally shy and
suspicious for the welfare of their offspring.—
Do into any wood, walk down any shady lane,
enter a cemetery, seat yourself in any country
church-vard, or perch yourself on any rural stile
—within a few moments you will assuredly
have a robin beside you, and he will assuredly
introduce himself with a song. It is in vain to
say to him, "Nay." He fairl}' fascinates you;
he wos your heart and wins it. How many
of my successes are attributable to the hints
afforded by this open-hearted, all conquering
bird.— Kidd on the Robin.
THE END TO COME AGAIN. —If "figures don't
lie,"' we beg pardon beforehand of those of our
readers whom the following frightens to death:
The Millerites are again predicting the speedy
end of all things lerreslial. The present ve;r,
too, is to be the last, and they arrive at'this re
sult by a mathematical process, thus: The
square root of the cost of Ezekiel's chariot was
8563. From this subtract "prophetic value"
of"scarlet lady of Babylon," 1282 and we
have 7281. Take from this the cube of the
ram mentioned by the prophet as pushing west
ward," 4-757, and we have for remainder 252 F.
Deduct from this "the remainder of beasts"
mentioned in the Apocalypse, G66, and we get
the result, 185S—the year in which the end of
the world is to take place.
WHEN Daniel Webster was delivering his
memorable speech at the dedication of Bunker
Hill monument, the crowd pressed forward to
such an extent that some were fainting and some
being crushed. Officers strove in vain to make
the crowd stand back : they said it could not
be done. Someone asked Mr. Webster to make
an appeal to them. The great orator came for
ward, stretched forth his hand, and said in his
deep stentorian tones, "Gentlemen, stand back!"
"It cannot be done," they shouted. "Gentle
men, stand back," he said, without a change
of voice. "It is impossible, Mr. Webster, impos
sible." "Impossible ?" repeated Mr Webster:
"impossible ? Noi/iing is impossible on Bun
ker Hill" and the vast crowd swayed, and
rolled back like a mighty wave of the ocean.
SKIRTS AND SCARE CROWS.—A gentleman
who recently traveled through the Mohawk
Valley states that the farmers of that region,
instead of the old fashioned figure of a ragged
man with a wooden gun, for a scare crow, now
hang up hooped skirts in their corn fields; and
the carrion birds are effectually alarmed by this
modern fashionable contrivance.
'Slocum, how is it, to-day—can you lake that
note up V
'l'm sorry to c ay that I can't—never was so
cramped in ali my life.'
'By the way, you are always cramped, are
you not ?'
•I'm sorry to say that I am ; and yet there is
a natural cause fur it,'
•And what is that ?'
•Why, I was weaned on green apples and
water-melons.'
'Jenny,' said a landlady to her help, the
other morning, 'Jennj', was there any fire in
the kitchen last night, while you were sitting
up ?"
'Yes marm,'said Jenny ; 'there was a spark
there when I went down, and I soon fanned it
into a flame.'
'The landlady looked suspiciously at Jenny,
but the innocent girl went on scrubbing and
humming, 'Katy Darling.'
(Er"Two young misses, discussing the quali
ties of a young gent, were heard at it thus :
"I like Charley; but he is rather girlish. He
hasn't the least bit of beard."
"1 say lie has a beard, but he shaves it off."
"No, he hasn't neither, any more than I
have."
'•I say he has, too, and I know it, for it
scratched mv cheek the other day."
No gainsaying that. Jealousy regularly c
stabiished forthwith.
ICr'A Quaker having sold a fine looking but
blind horse, asked the purchaser, in bis dry
way :
"Well, my friend, dost thou see any fault in
him?"
"No," was the answer.
"Neither will he see any in thee," said old
Broadbrim.
05^A little child in church observing the
minister to be very vehement in his words and
gestures, cried out, "Mother, why don't they
let the man out of the box
skirts and red shoes are the latest
female agonv.
✓
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VOL. 1, NO. :>2