"Hey, there!" said she, "you Monsher Powder-man ! Escape my clutches now, sir, if you can! I'll let you dirty thieving Frenchmen know, Then spoke Monsieur, and heaved a saintly sigh, “Ah, Madam! s'il vous plait, attendez-vous— My poudare gran! magnifique! why abuse him? First, you must wait until you catch de flea; PAT AND HIS MUSKET. I've heard a good joke of an Emerald Pat, So down went the cartridge of load number three! And succeeding no b. tter, gave up in despair. Just at that moment he happened to spy His friend Michael Milligan hurrying by. Hollo, Mike! come here, and just try on my gun: MULROONEY. "Mulrooney, come here; I want you to put about two doublehands-full of bran into a bucket of warm water, and after stirring the mixture well to give it to the black fillies. That's what we call a bran mash in this country. Now do you understand me?" "Good luck to yer honor, and what 'ud I be good for if I didn't? an' shure its the ould country mash afther all." "I thought as much, so now away with you and be sure you don't make any mistake." ""Tisn't at all likely I'll do that, sir; but about the warm wather and the nagur, shall I tell her 'tis yer 'onor's ordhers?" "Certainly!" Away he went. About ten minutes after, Mrs. Stanley entering the room remarked, "I do wish you would go into the kitchen. I am afraid there is something wrong between that Irishman and Phillis; they are quarrelling about orders he says you gave him.” "Oh! it is nothing, my dear, I sent Mulrooney into the kitchen to get some water that he might feed the horses, and I presume Phillis has refused to let him have any." All at once we heard a distant crash like sound of plates and dishes. Mrs. Stanley started in alarm. "Do go and see what the matter is, I am sure there is something wrong, that Irishman will be the death of Phillis one of these days." I now passed through the hall, and as I approached, the noise increased. First of all came the shrill voice of Phillis, "Ha' dun, I say; I tell ye I won't hab nuffin to do wid de stuff no way; go way, you poor white trash; I tell yer I won't." "Yer stupid an' contrary old nagur, don't I tell ye tish the master's ordhers?" “Tain't no such thing, I tell yer I won't; who eber heerd of a cullerd wooman a-takin' a bran mash afore, I'd like to know?" "You haythin ould nagur, don't I tell ye 'tish the masther's ordhers?" "Taint no such thing, I'll call missus, dat I will." I thought the joke had proceeded far enough, so I flung open the door. The floor was strewn with broken dishes, tables were overturned, and in the midst was Phillis seated on a broken chair sputtering and gasping as Mulrooney had at this moment seized her. Her head was under his left arm while with his right he was conveying a tin-cup of the warm bran-mash to her up turned mouth. "An' sure, sir, what'ud I be doin' but given' black Phillis the bran mash accordin' to yer orders?" "Oh! you stupid Irishman.' He walked away muttering, "An' if they calls horses Phillis, an' Phillis horses, I'd like to know how I'm ever to find out the difference." EARLY RISING.-John G. Saxe. "God bless the man that first invented sleep!" His great discovery to himself; or try Yes-bless the man who first invented sleep, (I really can't avoid the iteration ;) But blast the man with curses loud and deep, "Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed;" Observes some solemn, sentimental owl. Maxims like these are very cheaply said; But e'er you make yourself a fool or fowl, Pray, just inquire about the rise—and fall, And whether larks have any bed at all. The "time for honest folks to be in bed," Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons," said At 10 o'clock A. M.--the very reason He wrote so charmingly! The simple fact is, 'Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake- But when, alas! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep, Are those we passed in childhood, or-asleep. 'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile, For the soft visions of the gentle night; Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin. So let us sleep, and give the maker praise. SHORT EXTRACTS ARRANGED FOR SPEAKING. ELOQUENCE. With gifts which raise man far above the brute creation, God has coupled powers of expression which are equally pre-eminent, and without which, those gifts would have been all but useless. But, until duly trained, they are crude, irregular, and impulsive. As an art, eloquence would cultivate all the capacities of the soul with reference to its own specific object. It teaches how the orator is to deal with his powers, and by what means he is to train them to their perfect matuaity; how he is to discipline judgment, enrich and yet chasten imagination, refine taste, and strengthen those generous sentiments which assure him access to the hearts of others. aims to give him, too, a high idea of the power and dignity of his art, and to inspire him with an ambition for its greatest achievments. All this is inculcated, not in precept merely, but by noble examples of the art, and also by frequent exercises ; and when, by such means, the faculties of the orator are unfolded, this art strives to subject them to his complete control, so that, when he bids, they shall come forth obediently, and do their appropriate work. The eloquence of the uncultivated is called forth by occasions and emergencies. It is not at com It |