n another gentleman in the same condition, hanging
on a lamp post. One of them approached him and said: "Friend (hic) we
don't desire to interfere with your meditation, (hic) but this gen'lman
says it's mornin' an' that's the sun; I say it's evenin' an' that's the
full moon, (hic) we respectfully ask you (hic) to settle the question."
The fellow stood and looked at it for a full minute, and in his despair
replied:

"Gen'lmen, (hic) you'll have to excuse me, (hic) I'm a stranger in this
town!"

[Illustration: AFTER THE BANQUET.]

THE OLD TIME SINGING SCHOOL.

Did you never hear the music of the old time singing school? Oh! who can
forget the old school house that stood on the hill? Who can forget the
sweet little maidens with their pink sun bonnets and checkered dresses,
the walks to the spring, and the drinks of pure, cold water from the
gourd? Who can forget the old time courtships at the singing school?
When the boy found an opportunity he wrote these tender lines to his
sweetheart:

"The rose is red; the violet's blue--
Sugar is sweet, and so are you."

She read it and blushed, and turned it over and wrote on the back of it:

"As sure as the vine clings 'round the stump,
I'll be your sweet little sugar lump."

Who can forget the old time singing master? The old time singing master
with very light hair, a dyed mustache, a wart on his left eyelid, and
with one game leg, was the pride of our rural society; he was the envy
of man and the idol of woman. His baggy trousers, several inches too
short, hung above his toes like the inverted funnels of a Cunard
steamer. His butternut coat had the abbreviated appearance of having
been cut in deep water, and its collar encircled the back of his head
like the belts of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn. His vest resembled
the aurora borealis, and his voice was a cross between a cane mill
and the bray of an ass. Yet beautiful and bright he stood before the
ruddy-faced swains and rose-cheeked lassies of the country, conscious
of his charms, and proud of his great ability. He had prepared, after a
long and tedious research of Webster's unabridged dictionary, a speech
which he always delivered to his class.

[Illustration: THE SINGING MASTER DELIVERING HIS GREAT SPEECH.]

"Boys and girls," he would say, "Music is a conglomeration of pleasing
sounds, or a succession or combernation of simultaneous sounds modulated
in accordance with harmony. Harmony is t