ring the ground heavy with tanbark.

Yung man, set down, and keep still--yu will hay plenty ov chances yet to
make a phool ov yureself before yu die.

* * * * *

It is told of an old Baptist parson, famous in Virginia, that he once
visited a plantation where the colored servant who met him at the gate
asked which barn he would have his horse put in.

"Have you two barns?" asked the minister.

"Yes, sah," replied the servant; "dar's de old barn, and Mas'r Wales has
jest built a new one."

"Where do you usually put the horses of clergymen who come to see your
master?"

"Well, sah, if dey's Methodist or Baptist we gen'ally puts 'em in de ole
barn, but if dey's 'Piscopals we puts 'em in the new one."

"Well, Bob, you can put my horse in the new barn; I'm a Baptist, but my
horse is an Episcopalian."

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

THE YANKEE RECRUIT

Mister Buckinum, the follerin Billet was writ hum by a Yung feller of
our town that wuz cussed fool enuff to goe a-trottin inter Miss Chiff
arter a Drum and fife. It ain't Nater for a feller to let on that he's
sick o' any bizness that he went intu off his own free will and a Cord,
but I rather cal'late he's middlin tired o' voluntearin By this time. I
bleeve yu may put dependunts on his statemence. For I never heered
nothin bad on him let Alone his havin what Parson Wilbur cals a
_pongshong_ for cocktales, and ses it wuz a soshiashun of idees sot him
agoin arter the Crootin Sargient cos he wore a cocktale onto his hat.

His Folks gin the letter to me and I shew it to parson Wilbur and he ses
it oughter Bee printed, send It to mister Buckinum, ses he, i don't
ollers agree with him, ses he, but by Time, ses he, I _du_ like a feller
that ain't a Feared.

I have intusspussed a Few refleckshuns hear and thair. We're kind o'
prest with Hayin.
Ewers respecfly,

HOSEA BIGLOW.

This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin',
A chap could clear right out from there ef't only looked like rainin'.
An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with bandanners,
An' sen the insines skootin' to the barroom with their banners
(Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a feller could cry quarter,
Ef he fired away his ramrod artur tu much rum an' water.
Recollect wut fun we hed, you'n I on' Ezry Hollis,
Up there to Waltham plain last fall, ahavin' the Corn