And thus, when I hear them strong measures" advise,
Ere the seats that they sit on, have time to get steady,
I say, while I listen with tears in my eyes,

"Dear me !—only think-black and curly already!"

THE FEATURES.-ANON.

THAT mortals are made up of quarrelsome clay,
My tale, I imagine, will prove as it goes;
For the features composing this visage one day,
Most cruelly fell to abusing the Nose.

First, the Lips took it up, and their reason was this:
That the Nose was a bane both to beauty and love;
And they never, moreover, in comfort could kiss,
For that horrid protuberance jutting above.

Then Eyes, not behind in the matter to be,

With a sparkle began, as I've oftentimes seen 'em. And vowed, it was perfectly shocking to see

Such a lump of deformity sticking between 'em.

The Cheeks, with a blush, said," the frightfullest shade,

By the Nose, oe'r their bloom and their beauty was thrown," And Ears couldn't bear that loud trumpeting noise,

Whenever that troublesome member was blown!

So 'twas moved, and agreed, without dallying more,
To thrust the intruder, at once, from the face.
But Nose, hearing this, most indignantly swore,

"By the breath of his nostrils, he 'd stick to his place!?
Then, addressing the Eyes, he went learnedly through
His defence, and inquired, "when their vigor was gone,
Pray what would their worship for spectacles do,

If the face had no nose, to hang spectacles on ?"

Mankind, he observed, loved their scent, as their sight;
Or who'd care a farthing for myrtles and roses?
And the charge of the Lips was as frivolous quite;
For, if Lips fancied kissing, pray, why mightn't Noses?

As for Ears, and, speaking, Nose scornfully curled,— "Their murmurs were equally trifling and teasing, And not all the Ears, Eyes, or Lips in the world,

Should keep him unblown, or prevent him from sneezing."

"To the Checks," he contended, "he acted as screen,
And guarded them oft from the wind and the weather;
And but that he stood like a landmark between,
The face had been nothing but cheek altogether!"
With eloquence thus he repelled their abuse,

With logical clearness defining the case;

And from thence came the saying, so frequent in use,
That an argument's plain "as the nose on your face!"

Derby. Good-morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged to you if you would lend me your gray mare.

Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you; but I'm under the necessity of going immediately to the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning.

Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the water was too low.

Scrape. You don't say so? That is bad indeed; for in that case I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. My wife would comb my head for me, if I should neglect it.

Der. I can save you this journey, for I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants.

Scrape. Ah! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsical she is. Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me yourself, and you assured me that it was the best you ever had.

Scrape. Yes, yes, that 's true, indeed; I always have the best of everything. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige a friend than I am; but I must tell you, the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and truly, I am afraid she will not carry you.

Der. Oh, never fear, I will feed her well with oats on the road,

Scrrpe. Oats! neighbor; oats are very dear.

Der. Never mind that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles.

Scrape. But it is very slippery; and I am really afraid she will fall and break your neck.

Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking of galloping her to town.

Scrape. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended.

Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up at home.

Scrape. Ah! that may be; but I am sure your saddle will never fit my mare.

Der. Why, then I'll borrow neighbor Clodpole's.

Scrape. Clodpole's! his will no more fit than yours will. Der. At the worst, then, I will go to my friend 'Squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will lend me one that will fit her.

Scrape. You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do assure you, the beast should be at your service, with all my heart; but she has not been curried, I believe for three weeks past. Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. If any one should see her in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her.

Der. O! a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall dispatch her at once.

Scrape. Yes, very likely; but I this moment recollect the creature has no shoes on.

Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by?

Scrape. What that tinker of a Dobson? 1 would not trust such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but uncle Tom Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare.

Der. As good luck would have it, then, I shall pass right by his door.

Scrape. (Calling to his son.) Timothy, Timothy. Here's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the gray mare, to ride to town to-day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back last week a hand's breadth or more. (He gives Tim a wink.) However, I believe she is well enough by this time. You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors. And, indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We must certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if she will possibly answer his purpose. Yes, yes; I see plainly, by Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he's disposed to oblige you. I would not have refused you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you would have refused me in your turn. None of my neighbors can accuse me of being backward in doing them a kindness. Come, Timothy, what

do you say?

Tim. What do I say, father? Why, I say, sir, that I am no less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About a hand's-breadth did you say, sir? Why, the skin is torn from the poor creature's back, of the bigness of your broad-brimmed hat. And, besides, I have promised her, as soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saunders, to carry a load of apples to the market.

Scrape. Do you hear that, neighbor? I am very sorry matters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really sorry, for your sake, that matters turn out thus.

Der. And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell; for, to tell you the truth, I received a letter this morning from

Mr. Griffin, who tells me, if I will be in town this day, he will give me the refusal of all that lot of timber which he is about cutting down upon the back of Cobblehill; and I intended you should have shared half of it, which would have been not less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But, as your— Scrape. Fifty dollars, did you say?

Der. Ay, truly did I; but as your mare is out of order, 1'11

go and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse. Scrape. Old Roan! My mare is at your service, neighbor. Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare. Neigh bor Derby wants her; and I won't refuse so good a friend: anything he asks for.

Der. But what are you to do for meal?

Scrape. My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you want the mare so long.

Der. But then your saddle is all in pieces.

Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one since, and you shall have the first use of it.

Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get her shod?

Scrape. No, no; I had forgotten to tell you, that I let neighbor Dobson shoe her last week, by way of trial; and, to do him justice, I must own, he shoes extremely well.

Der. But if the poor creature has lost so much skin from off her back

Scrape. Poh, poh! That is just one of our Tim's large stories. I do assure you, it was not at first bigger than my thumb-nail; and I am certain it has not grown any since.

Der. At least, however, let her have something she will eat, since she refuses hay.

Scrape. She did indeed refuse hay this morning; but the only reason was, that she was crammed full of oats. You have nothing to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect she will skim you over the ground like a bird. good journey and a profitable job.

trim; and I wish you a