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POT-POURRI.

Governor Cornell, of New York, some time ago referred looking-glass; he calls after the servants: * Jean, muffle the to General Grant as “one who even more than Washington door-bell, its noise affects my nerves. Brigitte, don't pass was • first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of | before me again; you make a draught.' He interrogates his countrymen.' Mr. Fowler, of the New York Leg- his throat every ten minutes, la, la, la. Never a sensible islature, lately made a good point when, in moving an word, always la, la, la. At table he does not talk for fear adjournment of the legislature for Washington's birthday, he of destroying his la, la, la. If I ask him to take me out on said he made the motion on behalf of those who might a fine day, he runs to the piano and exercises his la, la, la. desire to pay some honor to the memory of one "who is And so I remain your friend in sorrow, now second in war, second in peace, and somewhere in the

“MARGUERITE." hearts of his countrymen.”

It is seldom that prayers are amusing. Yet now and then According to the ancient custom of novelists and comedy petitions are made that are strikingly humorous, though the writers, all fathers of lovely young girls were brutes, and suppliant may be quite unconscious of the fact. A good never did the decent thing except on the sly.

friend of the magazine sends us the following remarkable If the much-abused heroines of Fielding and Smollet instances. could read of this St. Louis parent, how they would rejoice Many years since, in a lown in Massachusetts, there dwelt for their sisters of the present day.

a man by the name of Bedell,--accented on the first syllable, “ Do you love him ?” asked her father.

–who had neighbors named Heath; between the two parties, Geraldine laughed in spite of herself. “ I have a strong

for some reason, the keenest hatred existed. Mr. Bedell impression that he would scarcely ask me to marry him was a praying man, and as he was one day in his field, on unless he thought pretty well of me."

bended knee, a passer-by overheard the following petition “Of course-of course ; but do you love him ?”

from his lips : “ With my whole heart and soul."

“O Lord, kill the Heaths! If I should do it, I should “ Well, if that's the case,” said Colonel Spencer, throwing have to be hung; but thou, Lord, canst kill them and not be away his cigar, “all I've got to say is you are both con- mistrusted." founded simpletons if you don't get married—there !"

He was, withal, “ born tired,” and, on another occasion,

he prayed : There are many troubles in the life of an opera singer's “O Lord ! in our great need, send us corn, and, while wise, and these are graphically described by the following you're about it, send it shelled.” letter:

“My Dear JENNY: It is as you say, we have a hundred Some one has said, “ The whole subject of funerals is in and fifty thousand francs a year; the praises of my husband as barbaric darkness as if the world hadn't been burying are sounded every day in the newspapers; he is applauded and being buried for six thousand years at the lowest calcu. every night he sings, and is a very king in his art.

lation." I never was so struck with the truth of this remark don't know what it is to be the wise of a tenor. Those who as I was at suneral I once attended. Viewing the remains flatter my husband, and they are numerous, are incessantly has always been repuguant to me, but on this occasion the telling him, “Monsieur Michael, you have a mine of dia- manner in which the invitation was given lent additional monds in your throat.' That may be true, I don't say it is horror to the custom. The undertaker, who happened to be not; but if you could understand what consequences it a German, aster directing those who wished to look upon entails-a mine of diamonds in a man's throat! Michael the face of the dead how to approach the casket, and by is always as cross as a bear because of the state of the tem- what door to leave the room, added, " so that everybody can perature. A barometer is less variable. He is continually get a fair look at him, and no crowding to be done.” Ugh! opening and shutting the windows. When they are open It made my blood run cold.

H. S. F. he wants them shut, and when they are shut he says he stifles. You have no idea of the trouble we have at hotels, It is well to be prudent; but even prudence may be to prevent his taking cold. Even the style of carpet becomes carried too far, as in the case of Mr. Elijah Hitchcock, a a study. And the cart-load of furs we carry about with us! Connecticut constable. His character was under scrutiny, And the difficulty we have with the fires! There is also a and Deacon Solomon Rising was inquired of about him. long chapter as to what he may and may not eat; this is too “ Deacon Solomon Rising,” said the questioner, “ do you strong, and that is too weak. And the night he sings there think Mr. Hitchcock is an honest man?” is a syrup which he must drink five times during an act, and Very promptly—“Oh, no, sir! Not by any means." a wash of brandy and camphor with which to rub his throat. “ Well, do you think he is a mean man?" From morning till night a tenor thinks of nothing but him. “ Well, with regard to that,” said the deacon, a little self; he listens to himself sing; he studies poses before a more deliberately, “I may say that I don't really think he

But you

is a mean man ; I've sometimes thought he was what you Dublin, the defendant, a Tipperary man, named Foley, lost might call a keerful—a prudent man.”

no time in paying his compliments to the counsel. “What do you mean by a prudent man?”

He rode all day and night, and, covered with sleet, arrived “Well, I mean this: that one time he had an execution besore Barrington's residence in Harcourt street, Dublin. of four dollars against the old Widow Witter, back here, Throwing the reins of his smoking horse over the railings of and he went up to her house and levied on a flock of ducks. the area, he announced his arrival by a thundering knock at He chased them ducks one at a time round the house pooty the door. Barrington's valet answered the summons, and, much all day, and every time he catched a duck he'd set opening the street door, beheld the apparition of the roughright down and wring his neck and charge mileage; and coated Tipperary fire-eater, with a large stick under his arm, his mileage ʼmounted to more than the debt. Nothing mean and the sleet sticking to his bushy whiskers. about it as I know, but I always thought after that Mr. “ Is your master up?" demanded the visitor, in a voice Hitchcock was a very prudent man.”

that gave some intimation of the object of his journey.

“ No." The late Prince Peter Von Oldenburg was an eccentric Then give him my compliments, and say Mr. Foleycreature, and as full of superstitions as a Christmas horn is he'll know the name—will be glad to see him.” of goodies. He caused his daughter's wedding to be post- The valet went up-stairs, and told his master, who was in poned, after all the guests had been summoned and the bed, the purpose of his visit. festivities prepared, because he had not discovered till then Then don't let Mr. Foley in, for your life,” said Barthat the date of the ceremony fell on Monday, an unlucky rington, “ for it is not a hare nor a brace of ducks that he day, according to Russian tradition. But the best story told has come to present me with.” of him was when he filled the place of general superinten- The man was leaving the bedroom, when a rough, wet dent of the imperial college for girls. He was diligent to a coat pushed by him, and a thick voice said: degree in the persormance of his duties. Hearing that com. “By your leave,” and at the same time Mr. Foley entered plaints had been made at the Smoling Convent of the poor the bedroom. quality of food provided, he resolved to test the matter for “You know my business, sir," said he to Barrington. “I himself. So, suddenly pouncing down upon the institution have made a journey to teach you manners, and it's not my one day just at the dinner-hour, he walked directly toward purpose to return until I have broken every bone in your the kitchen. At the door he met two soldiers carrying a body," and at the same time he cut a figure of eight with his huge steaming cauldron.

shillalah before the chevel-glass. “Halt!” he cried; “ put that kettle down.”

“You do not mean to say you would murder me in bed ?" The soldiers obeyed instantly.

“No," replied the other; “but get up as soon as you “ Bring me a spoon,” was his next order.

One of the soldiers brought a spoon, but, in offering it, “Yes," replied Daines, " that you might fell me the moventured to begin a stammering remonstrance.

ment I put myself out of the blankets." • Hold your tongue !" commanded the prince. « Take No," replied the other; “I pledge you my word not to off the lid; I insist on tasting it.”

touch you until you are out of bed.” The next moment the spoon had conveyed a large portion “ You won't?" to his mouth.

“ No." “You call this soup?" he exclaimed indignantly, as soon • Upon your honor?" as he had swallowed the dose; "why, it is simply dirty Upon my honor.” water!"

“ That is enough,” said Daines, turning over and making “It is, your Highness,” responded the soldier who had himself comfortable, and seeming as though he meant to fall tried to explain; "we have just been cleaning out the asleep. “I have the honor of an Irish gentleman, and may laundry !"

rest as safe as though I were under the castle guard."

The Tiperary salamander looked marvelously astonished A great many people say what they do not mean in their at the pretended sleeper, but soon Daines began to snore. prayers. A Scotchman went behind a fence to pray, and de- “ Halloa !” said Mr. Foley; “ ain't you going to get up?" clared to the Lord that if the fence should fall on him it “No,” said Daines; “I have the word of an Irish gentlewould be no more than he deserved. At that moment a man that he will not strike me in bed, and I am sure I am high wind blew the fence over on the petitioner. He rose not going to get up to have my bones broken. I shall never hastily from his knees, and cried out in a frightened voice: get up again. In the meantime, Mr. Foley, if you should “Hech, Lord, it's an awful world, this! A body canna say want your breakfast, ring the bell; the best in the house is a thing in joke but it's la'en in earnest.”

at your service. The morning-paper will be here presently,

but be sure and air it before reading, for there is nothing An amusing story of Daines Barrington, Recorder of Bris- from which a man so quickly catches cold as reading a damp tol, is related by one of the English press.

journal.” And he affected to go to sleep. Having to appear for the plaintiff in a case at Clonmel, he The Irishman had sun in him as well as serocity; he could attacked the defendant in unmeasured terms. The indi- not resist the cunning of the counsel. vidual inveighed against not being present only heard of the “Get up, Mr. Barrington, for in bed or out of bed, I invectives. After Barrington, however, had got back to haven't the pluck to hurt so droll a heart."

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The result was that in less than an hour afterward Foley more than disease !" A louder laugh. He couldn't underand his intended victim were sitting down to a warm break- stand it, but went on, “ It breaks up happy homes !" Still fast, the former only intent upon assaulting a dish of smok. | louder mirth. “It is carrying young men to death !” A ing chops.

perfect roar and applause. Mr. Hornet began to get excited.

He thought they were guying him, but he proceeded : The Chinese are a peculiar people, therefore their litera- We must crush the serpent!" A tremendous howl of ture is peculiar, and none of it more so than the following laughter. The men on the platform, except the chairman, anecdote, which would, without doubt, sink deep into the squirmed as they laughed. Hornet couldn't stand it. “What heart of a Celestial:

I'm saying is gospel truth!” he cried. The audience fairly In the Chow dynasty (about three thousand years ago)

bellowed with mirth. Hornet turned to a man on the stage there was a man named Laou Lai-tsze. When he was sev. and said, “Do you see anything very ridiculous in my reenty years of age, he used to put on bright and many-colored marks or behavior?" “ Yes, ha, ha—it's intensely funny, clothes, and then he would play about like a child. Some ha, ha, ha! Go on!” replied the roaring man. “ This is times he would carry water into the hall, and pretend to an insult!” cried Hornet, wildly dancing about. More stumble, and fall flat on the ground; and then he would cry, laughter, and cries of “Go on, Twain!” And then the and run up to his parents' side to please the old people, and chairman got the idea of the thing, and rose up and exall to make them forget, for a time at least, their own great plained the situation, and the men on the stage suddenly age.

quit laughing and blushed very red, and the folks in the

audience looked at each other in a mighty sheepish way, Another is even more touching than the first :

and they quit laughing too. And then Mr. Hornet being There was once a man named Han. When he was a boy, thoroughly mad told them he had never before got into he misbehaved himself very often, and his mother used to a town so entirely populated by asses and idiots, and, beat him with a bamboo rod. One day he cried after the having said that, he left the hall. And the assemblage then beating, and his mother was greatly surprised, and said, “I voted to censure Twain and the chairman, and dispersed have beaten you many a time, and you have never cried be- amid deep gloom. fore; why do you cry to-day ?”

“Oh, mother," he replied, “you used to hurt me when Budding Genius Recognized.— I read not long since you flogged me; but now I weep because you are not strong that one of the great men in the world of letters has recently enough to hurt me."

been playing a practical joke upon the gentlemen of the “ It makes one weep," says the Chinese moralist, “even press by sending an anonymous contribution to several leadto read this story.” Who does not long to have the dear, ing monthlies, and enjoying the fun of having each of them vanished hand back again, and the still voice speaking again, politely but firmly decline it. The fact that any one of them is even to punish and reprove?

would gladly have paid the weight of the MS. in gold for it,

had they known the author's name, must have given addiRather Premature.--A newspaper was started not long tional zest to his enjoyment. But what I am coming to is ago, the first number of which contained a letter from a cor- that the experience of a friend of mine offsets the great respondent signed, " A Constant Reader."

man's little story. This friend is a lady, and one of the

lesser lights in literature. She writes an occasional story or An exchange tells the story of the Hon. Demshame sketch for a magazine, but has little confidence in her own Hornet's troubles in graphic style. He had a very un. power. One of her early efforts was forwarded to a literary pleasant experience lately. Mark Twain was advertised 10 paper of Indianapolis with the request—what young writer lecture in the town of Colchester, but for some reason failed has not made such request ?—that the editor would give his to get around. In the emergency, the lecture committee candid opinion of it. He returned it with the comment, decided to employ Mr. Hornet to deliver his celebrated “I think you ought to do better.” She then made a bold lecture on temperance, but so late in the day was this dash and sent it to the “ Atlantic," and to her great astonarrangement made that no bills announcing it could be ishment it was accepted! It may be supposed that the editor circulated, and the audience assembled expecting the cele- of that august periodical did not know the opinion of the brated innocent. Nobody in the town knew Mark, or had Indiana editor, or he also would have declined it; but here ever heard him lecture, but they had got the notion that he comes in the strangest part of the story. The incipient was funny, and went to the lecture prepared to laugh. Even writer-unsophisticated little simpleton that she was !-had those on the platform, except the chairman, did not know actually written the editor of the “ Atlantic" that she had Mr. Hornet from Mark Twain, and so, when he was intro- offered her sketch to an Indiana paper; that it had been duced, thought nothing of the name, as they knew Mark declined with the above comment, and that it seemed Twain was a nom de plume, and supposed his real name was rather sarcastic this last, I fear-very crude and poor to her Hornet. The denouement is thus told: Mr. Hornet first after that! remarked, Intemperance is the curse of the country.” There are two theories prevalent in her circle of friends The audience burst into a merry laugh. He knew it could explanatory of this phenomenon ; one is that her article was not be at his remark, and thought his clothes must be awry, really meritorious, and the other that those Boston “ literary and he asked the chairman in a whisper if he was all right, fellers” do such things occasionally to show how impartial and got “yes” for an answer. Then he said, “ Rum slays they are.

H. G. F.

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