ame of
plaff--is worth mentioning, especially as it is not only indulged in by
the vulgar, but formed the chief delight of the venerable Moharrem Bey
himself. Two men, often with respectable gray beards, sit on a carpet at
a little distance one from the other. All Easterns are usually dry
smokers; but on this occasion they manage to foment a plentiful supply
of saliva, and the game simply consists in a series of attempts on the
part of the two opponents to spit on the tips of each others noses. At
first, this cleanly interchange of saliva goes on slowly and
deliberately--Socrates never measured the leap of a flea with more
seriousness--but presently one receives a dab in the eye, another in the
mouth. They begin to grow hot and angry. "I hit your nose," cries one.
"No, it was my cheek!" replied the other. They draw a little nearer, in
order to ascertain the truth by feeling; spit, spit, they still go, like
two vicious old cats; their palates grow dry; their throats become
parched; but the contest continues, and they exhaust themselves in
making spittoons of each other's faces and beards. Hamlet and Laertes
were not more eager and desperate. "A hit, a very palpable hit!" they
exclaim, as they hawk up their last supply of ammunition. Each denies
the truth; they mutually proceed to a verification, and the game of
plaff often ends in a regular match of nose-pulling.--_Two Years'
Residence in a Levantine Family._

* * * * *

A MARRIAGE IN AMERICA.--A respectable farmer came in from some distance,
and married the cook. The bridegroom was about fifty, and the bride was
thirty years of age. The landlord and many of his boarders assisted at
the ceremony, which was performed in the evening, and those of the
boarders who had not been present were invited in afterward by the
bridegroom to partake of wine and cake. After all were charged, he gave
this sentiment, "Friendship to all, love to a few, and hatred to none."
So systematically were matters managed, that next morning the bridegroom
was sitting in the stove at the bar at seven o'clock, and at half-past
seven breakfasted as usual at the public table, at which, of course, his
wife, the cook, did not appear, and in the afternoon the happy pair left
for their home. When I asked the landlord what the wife was like, he
answered, "She is as pretty as a picture, and straight as a
candle."--_Sir J. Alexander's "Acadie," just published._

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