it
impossible for us to transmit them to these pages. He was an inimitable
mimic, and had perfect command of a Dutchman's brogue. One of the least
objectionable of his humorous stories we will venture to record.

There were, he said, in Virginia, two Dutchmen, brothers, George and
Jake Fulwiler. They were both well to do in the world, and each owned a
grist mill. There was another Dutchman near by, by the name of Henry
Snyder. He was a mono-maniac, but a harmless man, occasionally thinking
himself to be God. He built a throne, and would often sit upon it,
pronouncing judgment upon others, and also upon himself. He would send
the culprits to heaven or to hell, as his humor prompted.

One day he had a little difficulty with the two Fulwilers. He took his
seat upon his throne, and in imagination summoning the culprits before
him, thus addressed them:

"Shorge Fulwiler, stand up. What hash you been dain in dis lower world?"

"Ah! Lort, ich does not know."

"Well, Shorge Fulwiler, hasn't you got a mill?"

"Yes, Lort, ich hash."

"Well, Shorge Fulwiler, didn't you never take too much toll?"

"Yes, Lort, ich hash; when der water wash low, and mein stones wash
dull, ich take leetle too much toll."

"Well, den, Shorge Fulwiler, you must go to der left mid der goats."

"Well, Shake Fulwiler, now you stand up. What hash you been doin in dis
lower world?"

"Ah! Lort, ich does not know."

"Well, Shake Fulwiler, hasn't you got a mill?"

"Yes, Lort, ich hash."

"Well, Shake Fulwiler hasn't you never taken too much toll?"

"Yes Lort, ich hash; when der water wash low, and mein stones wash
dull, ich take leetle too much toll."

"Well, den, Shake Fuhviler, you must go to der left mid der goats."

"Now ich try menself. Henry Snyder, Henry Snyder, stand up. What hash
you bin dain in die lower world?"

"Ah, Lort, ich does not know."

"Well, Henry Snyder, hasn't you got a mill?"

"Yes, Lort, ich hash."

"Well, Henry Snyder, didn't you never take too much toll?"

"Yes, Lort, ich hash; when der water wash low, and mein stones wash
dull, ich hash taken leetle too much toll."

"But, Henry Snyder, vat did you do mid der toll?"

"Ah, Lort, ich gives it to der poor."

The judge paused for a moment, and then said, "Well, Henry Snyder, you
must go to der right mid der sheep. But it is a tight squeeze."

Another specimen of his more sober forensic eloquence is to be found in
the following speech. There was a bill befor