BLAINE'S HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATION OF STATE UNDER GARFIELD. Immediately after the inauguration of General Garfield, as President in 1881, the administration found themselves in an awkward position with conflicting parties. Garfield's natural bent was for Reform, but he was under so many obligations to the Stalwarts, that, for a time, the administration had to finesse considerably. Conkling was "on edge" in the Senate, and the ancient animosity between Blaine and Conkling threatened difficulty. Blaine knew that Garfield was burdened by his promises made in the campaign, and, with hearty consideration for his chief, he suppressed in a great measure for a time his pugnacity to Conkling and the other stalwarts. It was at this time that Mr. Evarts is said to have asked Blaine, how he liked it? Blaine said, "I'll tell you a story; when I was a good many years younger, a lot of us arranged for a fishing expedition among the lakes of Maine. We camped out and were to do our own cooking, and we bargained to cast lots, who should be cook to begin with it fell to the lot of Bill Davis. It was further agreed whoever first should complain of the cooking, should take the next turn as cook. On the evening of the first day's fishing, we returned tired and hungry to the tent and seated ourselves to test the culinary experiments of Bill. Young Jack Fellows attacked the corn dodgers; suddenly his face assumed an unwonted seriousness: he just allowed to escape him, 'I say, Bill, these cakes are d-d salt but suddenly recollecting the penalty of finding fault with his victuals, he turned it off with, but they suit me exactly; by Jove I like salt!!' well, I suppose I'll have to vow for the present, like Jack Fellows, that I like it. Oh, yes, I like it immensely!!" DAVIDGE, THE COMEDIAN. One of the very pleasantest men I ever met was William Davidge, the celebrated actor. With the sole exception of Burton, he was undoubtedly the best low comedian in America. Brougham was his equal in burlesque, but then he did not sing as well as Davidge, so that, taken "for all in all," he was considered the first extravaganza performer of his day. Burit buffoonery. But good as he was in burton was not good in burlesque-he made lesque on the stage, we question if some of the country managers did not beat him out of the field. He mentioned a case, which we think justifies our opinion. During his first star tour in the States, he stopped at Toledo, in Ohio, where he had an engagement to play for a week. When the rehearsal was through, the manager asked Davidge if he would like to take a drive with him in the afternoon through the town, to have a look at it. Certainly," said the unsuspecting Roscius, "most happy." 66 As he was sitting after dinner at his hotel, waiting for his friend to call with his wagon, he heard a loud blowing of horns, and immediately after, a huge caravan, containing a dozen trumpeters, with flags and banners, inscribed with "Davidge, the World-renowned Comedian,” The American Eagle for ever!" "Every night this Week!" &c., drove up to the hotel and stopped. There sat as driver the manager, with a vacant seat at his side for the unfortunate Davidge, who was evidently to be tooted around to the tune of "Yankee Doodle" and other popular melodies, as a sort of Fejee mermaid or boa-constrictor. Taking one despairing glance at the triumphal pyre on which he was to be burnt alive for the amusement and wonderment of the Toledoians, Davidge rushed up-stairs, jumped into bed, and had a severe attack of illness, which lasted till the great advertising Juggernaut car drove away. In the evening the manager told Davidge what a treat he had missed, for, said the Western Crummles, "all the boys in the town ran after us, and shouted like mad for you to sing a comic song, so I had to palm one of the brass band off on them as the celebrated Davidge, and hang me if they didn't make him stand on his head and sing 'Villikins and his Dinah!' I shouldn't be at all surprised if they make you do the same in the course of the evening!" An Irishman, speaking of a relative who was hung, says he "died during a tight-rope performance." Poetical, very. COULD NOT HELP HIMSELF. A celebrated American tragedian relates an incident in his life which is well worth remembering, not alone as affording hope to the despairing, but as a caution to the arrogant. On arriving at Philadelphia, he put up at Jones's Hotel, where he was shown to a room in which there were two beds. Not wishing that the scanty nature of his wardrobe, which boasted only one shirt, and that was out at wash, should be discovered by his room-mate, he undressed before his unknown companion arrived, and he was fast asleep when he came. Morning dawned-there in the bed at the other end lay the other occupant of the room, and who was in a similar predicament himself. Roscius lay patiently for some time expecting his unconscious spy would get up, and leave him an opportunity to dress without his shirtless condition being perceived; but there the fellow lay, as though on purpose to irritate the other. At length his impatience got the better of his manners, and he said"Sir, it's getting late." "I know it is," replied the other, "but I am not an early riser. I am fond of my morning's nap." Disappointed in this attempt, our friend relapsed into a gloomy silence, and mentally sent, free of all travelling expenses, the sluggard to the devil. To his horror and despair his companion said, "Thank you kindly, sir, for your polite attention; but I never dine till six in the evening, and having nothing to do to-day, I may as well lie in bed till then.” This was too much. Throwing off the coverlet, the future Metamora sprang out of bed, and glared like a tiger at his tormentor as he cried, "Well, if I must, I must-here goes; beware how you betray the secret of my soul!" "Oh!" exclaimed the other, "that's why you wanted me to get up first-how funny! I have no shirt also-and have been wishing you at the devil for your lying in bed." They then both laughed heartily at the fate of genius. WHATEVER YOU DO, DO WELL. A noble saying is recorded of a member of the British House of Commons, who by his own industry and perseverance had won his way to that high position. A proud scion of aristocracy one day taunted him with his humble origin, saying, "I remember when you blacked my father's boots." 66 Well, sir," was the noble response, "did I not do it well?" SORY NOTE. In about half an hour the breakfast bell HOW THE DUTCHMAN GAVE A PROMISrang. Seizing this opportunity, Roscius cried out, "Hallo, Sir! if you don't get up at once you'll lose your breakfast. There's the bell!" The other merely thanked him for his politeness in telling him, adding, “I never eat breakfast." "Confound the fellow, exclaimed the actor, "he's worse than a cannibal." Obstinacy being even then a prominent point in our hero's character, he lay like another Raglan before Sebastopol, not waiting, however, for his foe to fall, but to rise. Time wore on-faint snoring, like a murmuring cannonading, was heard, but all quiet in his trench lay the obstinate enemy. At last the dinner gong was heard. "Sir," cried our hero, "there's the dinner bell. You'll lose your dinner, if you don't get up at once." "The devil's in it now," thought our friend, "but I'll get him up this time." There were two early German settlers in the western part of Pennsylvania, whose names were Peter and John Peter had increased the size of his farm by annexing to it a small tract of land adjoining, and he lacked about a hundred dollars of the sum which it was necessary to pay for his new acquisition. He called upon his neighbor John to borrow the amount. John consented at once, and, going into another room, hẹ brought out an old bread-basket, and counted down the desired number of dollars; and then the two sat down to two large earthen mugs of cider, and as many pipes of tobacco. After smoking over the matter for a while, it occurred to Peter that in similar transactions he had seen or heard something like a note passing between the borrower and lender, and he suggested as much to John. The 66 tree knew no bounds, She'd numbered fourteen summers, and she weighed three hundred pounds. CANTO L On the dreary shores of Lapland, 'mid their never-melting snows, Where the Roly-Boly-Alice' in her ruddy beauty glows, Lived a little, dwarfish tinker, who in height stood three feet two, And from his endless shivering they called him Chi-Chil Bloo.3 This crooked little tinker, as he dragged his weary way lender assented to the propriety of such | One foot was scarce three inches long, the other a course. Paper, pen and ink, were produced; and between the two a document was concocted, stating that John had loaned Peter one hundred dollars, which Peter would repay to John in mont's." This Peter signed, and thus far the two financiers made the thing "all regular and ship-shape." But at this point a difficulty presented itself. They both knew that notes were drawn in the operation of borrowing and lending, which they had witnessed; but neither of them had observed what disposition was made of the document; neither could tell whether it was for the borrower or the lender to take charge of the paper. Here was a dilemma! At last a bright idea struck John: "You haves de money to pay, Peter, so you must take dis paper, so as you can see as you haf to pay it." This was conclusive; the common-sense of the thing was unanswerable; and Peter pocketed the money and his own note, so as he could see as he haf to pay it." Three months passed over, and punctually to the day appeared Peter, and paid over the promised sum to John. This being done, the mugs and pipes were again brought out. After puffing awhile, Peter produced the note, and handed it to John, with the remark: "Now, John, you must take the note, so that you can see the money has been paid!" CHO-CHE-BANG AND CHI-CHIL- AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE IN 13 CANTOS BY A-DOL-PHUS- THE ORIGINAL CHIN-ESE. CANTO I. Away, far off in China, many, many years ago (In the hottest part of China, where they never heard of snow), From hut to hut to ply his craft, scarce seemed of human clay; His His eyes were like two marbles, set in little seas of glue, cheeks a sickly yellow, and his nose a dirty blue. CANTO III. Now Chi-Chil-Bloo, though born in snow and reared upon its breast, Loved not the bleak, chill land where dwelt the spirit of unrest. He bid adieu unto the scenes of never-ending storm, And traveled forth to seek some land where he might keep him warm. He trudged two years his weary way, far from the land of snow, Inside the walls of China, whither strangers seldom go. When, wearied with his pilgrimage, he halted at Ko-Whang, And there fell in with old Ski-Hi, the father of Che-Bang. The old man heard his wondrous tale of sights that he had seen, Where nature wore a winding-sheet, and shrouded all things green, There lived a rich old planter, in the Province And pond'ring o'er, within his mind, if wonders of Ko-Whang, such could be, Who had an only daughter, and her name was At last engaged poor Chi-Chil-Bloo to cultivate Ere evening shadows fell upon the valley of My father-though my father, has a cruel, Ko-Whang flinty heartTo wander 'mid the tea groves, like an oriental He has promised me to Chow-Chow, the Crosus of Ko-Whang, queen, On the shoulders of her servants in a fancy But Chow-Chow's old and gouty, and he palanquin.1 wouldn't suit Che-Bang." As she 'merged from out the shadow of a China. He gazed transfixed with wonder-to him surpassing fair, Were her rounded-up proportions and her salmon-colored hair. He lingered in a dreamy trance, nor woke he from his bliss, 'Till her loving arms entwine him and her lips imprint a kiss. She led him to a bower, and beside the dwarf she kneeled, And sighed like Desdemona at his "'scapes by flood and field." He told of seals and rein-deer, and bears that live at sea; He told her tales of icicles, and she told tales of tea. CANTO VI. At the time and place appointed, 'neath her lattice stood the dwarf, He whistled to his lady and she answered with a cough, She threw a silken ladder from her window down the wall, While he, brave knight, stood fixed beneath to catch her should she fall. She reached the ground in safety, one kiss, one chaste embrace, Then she waddled and he trotted off in silence from the place. CANTO IX. Long, long they fondly lingered thus-locked in Swift, swift they held their journey-love had each other's arms; made her footsteps light, She saw in him and he in her a thousand glow- They hid themselves at morning's dawn and ing charms. fled again at night. When looking down the distant vale, the sun's The second Night had buried Day and folded fast fading sheen up her pall, Fell faintly on the gold of her returning palan- When they reached the sentry's station underquin. neath the mighty wall. "Yonder come my slaves," she cried, "and Che-Bang told well her tale of love; Chil-Bloo now, Chil-Bloo, we part, told his, alas! The sentry had no sentiment, and wouldn't let 1 Pronounced pal-an-keen. them pass, But he called a file of soldiers, who took them to Dun-Brown, The chief, the local magistrate or Mufti of the town. CANTO X. CANTO XII. On the morrow when the jailer served around his mouldy beans (The only food the pris'ners got, except some wilted greens), Dun-Brown, half Turk, half Tartar, was the He started back in horror-high upon the terror of the land, doorway post And ruled his special Province with an iron, Hung the body of the tinker, who had yielded bloody hand. -A pompous, bloated mandarin, as rich as He'd the wisdom of old Solomon and twice as up the ghost. CANTO XIII. There's a legend still in China, that beneath the moon's pale sheen, This vile old lecher heard the charge, the Ever fondly linked together, may in summer tempting maiden eyed, Then feigning well a burning rage, in thunder tone he cried: "You vile, mis-shapen scoundrel, you despoiler, rascal, elf, I sentence you to prison and I take Che-Bang myself." He took her to his harem, and he dressed her mighty fine. He sent her bird's nest chowder, and fat pup pies done in wine; But she spurned the dainty viands as she spurned to be his bride, She took to eating rat-soup-poisoned rat soup-and she died. CANTO XI. Well, aunty, what do you want?" "I'se come to lay out the man in No. In a dark and dreary dungeon-its dimensions 41," replied the old woman. It being very warm, the door and window were both open, and a candle burn"Arise!" it cried, "and follow!"-then it ing in the grate threw a dim light round vanished into air. 1 We have the assurance of a descendant of this scrip tural gentleman, that his ancestors always pronounced his name in one syllable "Dives,"-But if any one can be found ridiculous enough to pronounce it "Di-veese,' we insist upon their being consistent in the ridiculous ness and calling wives Wi-veese. 2 Feet. the room, giving it that appearance which the apartment of the sick generally thrown over the supposed corpse filled presents. The white sheet which was up the picture, and gave assurance to the old Quadroon woman that all was right. The waiter having left her, she took a candle and approached the bedside. No. |