And folk wha ha'e skill o' the lumps on the If ithers pick where he did scrape, he brings head, them to disgrace, Hint there's mae ways than toilin' o' winnin' For, like a man o' mettle, he-siclike meets ane's bread;face to face; How he'll be a rich man, an' ha'e men to work He gi'es the loons a letherin', a crackit croon for him, to claw

Wi' a kyte like a bailie's, shug shugging afore There is nae gaun about the buss wi' Cockie

him;

Wi' a face like the moon, sober, sonsy, and douce,

An' a back, for its breadth, like the side o' a house.

'Tweel I'm unco ta'en up wi't, they mak' a' sae plain :

He's just a town's-talk-he's a bye-ord'nar

wean.

I ne'er can forget sic a laugh as I gat
To see him put on father's waistcoat and hat!
Then the lang-leggit boots gaed sae far ower
his knees,

The tap loops wi' his fingers he grippit wi'

ease,

Then he marcht thro' the house, he marcht but, he marcht ben,

Sae like mony mae o' our great-little men, That I laugh clean outright, for I couldna contain,

He was sic a conceit-sic an ancient-like wean.

But mid a' his daffin sic kindness he shows,
That he's dear to my heart as the dew to the
rose;

An' the unclouded hinnie-beam aye in his e'e,
Mak's him every day dearer an' dearer to me.
Though fortune be saucy, an' dorty, an' dour,
An' glooms thro' her fingers, like hills thro' a
show'r,

When bodies ha'e got ae bit bairn o' their ain,
He can cheer up their hearts, he's the won-
derfu' wean.

WILLIAM MILLER.

leerie-la!

His step is firm and evenly, his look both grave and sage

To bear his rich and stately tail should have a pretty page;

An' tho' he hauds his head fu' hie, he glinteth to the grun,

Nor fyles his silver spurs in dubs wi' glow'rin' at the sun:

And whyles I've thocht had he a haun wharwi' to grip a stickie,

A pair o' specks across his neb, an' round his neck a dickie,

That weans wad laughin' haud their sides, an'
cry-" Preserve us a'!

Ye're some frien' to Doctor Drawblood, douce
Cockie-leerie-la!"

WILLIAM MILLER.

GUESSING THE AUTHORS AS HE PRO-
CEEDS.

The Rev. Dr. B- was what was commonly called a "popular preacher;" not, however, by drawing on his own stores, but by the knack which he possessed of appropriating the thoughts and language of the great divines who had gone before him to his own use, and by a skilful splicing and dovetailing of passages, so as to make a whole. Fortunately for him, those who composed his audience were not very deeply skilled in pulpit lore, and with such he passed for a wonder of erudition. It happened, however, that the doctor was detected in his literary larcenies. One Sunday, a grave old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit, and listened with profound attention. The doctor had scarcely finished his third sentence before the old gentleman said, loud enough to be heard by those near him, "that's Sherlock." The doctor frowned, but went on. He had not proceeded much further, when his grave auditor broke out with, "that's Tillot

board my ship, accompanied by your-other passengers soon aroused the Yankee self? to still further exertions; and summoning up more resolution, he began again :

Marshal. He was armed, for I handed him a revolver myself, which he placed in his pocket.

Captain. (Turning to the Judge.) Does your honor think it probable that a man with a six-barrel revolver in his pocket would allow another to spit in his face, pull his nose, and kick him?

Judge. (Fired with indignation.) No, sir! and if he did he deserved it. Captain, you are honorably acquitted of the charges. Good-bye, sir. (Shaking hands.) I wish you a pleasant and prosperous voyage.

GOING TO BUY NEW YORK.

We heard a friend relate the accompanying incident the other day with not a little zest, and to the amusement of a good many bystanders.

Jumping into an old-fashioned stagecoach last month, in company with nine others, to jostle over ten miles of unfinished road between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, I was very much amused with the following characteristic dialogue between a regular question-asking 'DownEaster' and a high-heeled Southerner. We were scarcely seated, before our Yankee began:

"Travelling East, I expect?' "Yes, sir.'

"Goin' to Philadelphia, I reckon?' 66 6 No, sir.'

"Oh, ah: to New York, maybe?' 'Yes, sir.'

"Calc'latin' to buy goods, I presume?' No, sir.'

"Never ben there before, I wouldn't wonder?'

"No, sir: never.'

"New York is a wonderful place.'
"Such is my impression, sir.'
"Got letters, I expect?'

"Yes, sir; I am provided with letters of introduction.'

"Wouldn't mind showin' you round myself a spell, if you wanted.'

666

'Stranger, perhaps you are not aware how almighty hard it is for a Yankee to control his curiosity. You'll please excuse me, but I really would like to know your name and residence, and the business you follow. I expect you ain't ashamed of either of 'em; so now won't you just oblige me?'

"This last appeal brought out our Southern friend, who, rising up to the extremest height allowed by the coach, and throwing back his shoulders, replied:

"My name is General Andrew Washington. I reside in the State of Mississippi. I am a gentleman of leisure, and, I am glad to be able to say, of extensive means. I have heard much of New York, and I am now on my way to see it; and if I like it as well as I am led to expect, I intend to-buy it !'

"Then was heard a shout of stentorian laughter throughout the stage-coach; and this was the last of that conversation!

PATENT ALARM BEDS.

Those who have visited the fair at the Crystal Palace of 1851 must have noticed the Patent Alarm Bed-a down-east invention. The purpose of these beds is to prevent a person from oversleeping himself, or, if he does not awake at the time the alarm is sounded, the machinery operates in such a manner as to chuck him out upon the floor, much to his astonishment. For instance, when a person wishes to retire to bed, he winds up an alarm clock attached to the bed, and sets it at the hour he wishes to get up. At the appointed hour the alarm sounds, and, if the sleeper is awakened, he may arise; but, if he does not awake, the machinery of the clock, operating on a lever, upsets the bed-frame, and the Occupant is tilted out upon the floor. This bed is worthy the inspection of heads of families, who have the care of slug

"I thank you, sir; but I shall not re-gards and sleepy-heads. quire your assistance.'

"This last remark of the polite but reserved stranger was a poser; and the 'inquisitor' fell back a moment to take breath, and change his tactics. The halfsuppressed smile upon the faces of the

We have a good story to tell in connection with one of those beds (says the Uncle Sam, a "Bosting" paper). A friend of ours recently got married to a lovely and interesting young woman. In the house of the bride's father, where the

wedding took place, one of the "alarm | Now, understand me, good reader. I beds" had just previously been intro- do not say that my wife is not a good duced. The wedding party was very wife in most respects. She is an excellarge and fashionable, and everything went off with the utmost merriment, the entertainment being of the most generous kind. At length, the feasting over, and the hour of midnight past, the guests began to retire, and the lights to grow dim in the house. The "old folks" hinted gently about sleep, and the bride and her lord grew weary and impatient. It was easily seen that they wished to be alone, and the lady was accordingly escorted to her chamber, to which blissful haven the bridegroom soon followed her.

We will not attempt to tell of what ensued, but suffice it to say, that a click, click was heard, and the astonished couple, the next instant, found themselves launched upon the floor in the middle of the room, fast locked in each other's arms, holding on like good fellows, in momentary expectation of an earthquake. They survived the shock, however.

MY SHIRT-BUTTONS.

Flesh and blood can stand it no longer! Driven to the verge of insanity, I will confide my case to the public; as from the public feeling alone I can now hope for redress of my long-continued grievance. Tailored man, seedy, and out at elbows, can get his outer integuments brushed up or fine-drawn, until fortune presents him with a new suit; but seamstressed man cannot get a button put on his shirt these days. No! not if he were to crack his heart-strings in the asking, and were to give his "womankind" workboxes of California gold, in guerdon. Driven, as I before remarked, to the verge of distraction by my wife's negligence in this particular, I feel compelled to turn social reformer, and prove the truth of the poet's aphorism, "All partial ill is universal good." May my particular misfortune be the little seed from which shall spring a birch-tree, big enough to whip all feminine creation into the path of duty. Like most other reformers, my mind has been led to a consideration of the magnitude of the general evil, by having had a pretty bitter taste of it in my individual lot. VOL. IV-W. H.

lent little woman-a woman of superior sense and judgment; and as such, is very much attached to me, and thoroughly appreciates my character. She is a very attentive listener whenever I talk upon uncommon subjects, or read aloud any remarkable leader from the newspapers. As I am a great politician, she takes an interest in politics, and enters into all my views; and it is charming to see the passion she will get into whenever my speeches in the vestry are badly reported. Besides this, she manages the house very well, and does not look as black as a thundercloud if I happen to bring in half a dozen friends unexpectedly to dinner, when there is nothing but a leg of mutton. Then she deserves great credit for her method of bringing up the children, who are decidedly the best behaved I ever saw in my life. Yes, I do not deny that, in many respects, my wife does her duty thoroughly; but-she does not sew on my shirt-buttons. I can neither coax nor scold her into remembering the matter at the right time. She always says, "Oh, I am very sorry, I quite forgot it;" or, "Well, I never heard of a man who pulls his buttons off at the rate you do: it must be done on purpose!' It was only last month I really lost a capital stroke of business by the want of one of those confounded, beggarly buttons. I went down upon an important affair to Liverpool, to meet a man at nine o'clock the next morning, and was to decide upon a purchase that, if made in time, would secure me a neat hundred. I was called at eight. Everything I wanted was ready to my hand, for my wife had packed my carpet-bag with her usual care-razors, brushes, my own peculiar soap, clean linen, and all odd minutiae were there. "Good creature she is!" thought I. "She really is worth her weight in gold;" and I was far gone in a meditation on the economy and convenience of matrimony, when I came to a halt suddenly-"a change came o'er the spirit of my dream." My right hand held between its thumb and forefinger the buttonless wristband of the left sleeve. Dismayed, I seized the other wristband; there was a button, indeed, but in the last stage of anatomyone that would not survive a thrust through its destined hole. I made a

25

"It is no joke at all," said he; "but a very serious matter. We are to have no supper until every missing button is sewed on my shirts."

Here Mrs.

-'s merry laugh attracted my attention, and looking minutely at her, I thought she did not look quite so pleased as she pretended to be.

"What does all this absurd scene mean?" I inquired of her.

Why, Mr. D.," she replied with an arch smile, "I think it originates with you."

"With me, my dear madam!"

This morning he told me that you were always 'great' on the subject of shirtbuttons, and that he had no doubt your wife was a pattern of precision in that matter. Now, he called on you this morning, and you told him to play me this trick; did you not?"

desperate dash at my throat, and (crown- good fellow," said my host, addressing ing point of misery!) my fingers grasped me, and taking up another shirt out of a a wretched button that hung by a thread, basket beside him, "sit you down here, which they actually lost the power to and sew the button on that collar.' snap. You might have knocked me "What's the joke?" asked I, very down with that button. As I threw my- much amazed. self on a chair, my eye fell on the watch. Five minutes to nine! Shades of Croesus! Great Plutus, hear! I rang the bell furiously. I demanded a chambermaid, with needle, cotton, and buttons, immediately. Yes, sir; did I not want breakfast?" "No! no! no. Buttons, and a being that can sew them on." Whole centuries did it seem to me, while that young woman kept me waiting. She came at last; and whole decades did it seem while she was operating upon my luckless shirt with her clumsy fingers. I sat like a martyr. Solemnly do I protest that I do not know whether that young "Yes. You must know that Harry woman was pretty or not; though, in sew- has complained that his buttons are not ing the final button on the collar, her sewed on properly, and has teased me face was close enough for me to see (near-most unmercifully about woman's duties. sighted as I am) that there was a lurking devil of fun in her eye. Once she gave me a slight prick with her needle, and when I started she begged my pardon, adding, that it was "ill-conweniency to have the button sewed after a gentleman had put on his shirt." I groaned; it was ten minutes past nine. In vain I hurried through the rest of my toilet; in vain I rushed like the north wind to my rendezvous; I was too late, and a more punctual fellow got my bargain. Since then my wife has never been allowed to forget that hundred pounds lost; and she does seem a little ashamed. I told the story to a young friend of mine who has lately married, and whom I warned at the beginning of his matrimonial career as to the importance of buttons to his shirts. Our friend laughed outright, and said that he and his Fanny had come to a split on that subject already, as I should see, if I would give them the pleasure of my company to an early supper that evening. It was to be a gentleman's party, and to consist entirely of married men. My wife did not approve of my going, but I went nevertheless. Never shall I forget what I saw and heard that evening. I found my friend surrounded by half a dozen other friends, all in the act of sewing buttons on shirts, while his wife sat, in high glee, laughing at them. "Here comes another!" they all cried out, as I entered. "Now D- -, my

"I! my dear madam! Why, I only told him a story of my wife's unpardonable negligence about my buttons, and what I lost by it."

She looked rather relieved, and glancing at her husband with a smile, in which there was as much affection as fun, she said, "Well, he came home and said you had told him how he could shame me into sewing on his buttons. You had advised him to invite a party of gentlemen (persons with whom I wished to stand well), and that, on their arrival, he was to be discovered with a pile of clean shirts before him, diligently sewing on the buttons; and when asked why he was employed in that extraordinary manner, he was to tell them that I never would do it, and, therefore, he was obliged to do it himself after business. He vowed he would do this on your recommendation, and you see he has done it."

Here

My recommendation! My dear Mrs. I beg you to believe"Fanny and her husband laughed heartily; and at last the latter explained that he was the inventor of the joke, which he had intended as a punishment to his wife.