stores? Who would labor in such distilleries? Who would navigate such ships? Oh! were the sky over our heads one great whisperinggallery, bringing down about us all the lamentation and woe which intemperance creates, and the firm earth one sonorous medium of sound, bringing up around us from beneath, the wailings of the lost, whom the commerce in ardent spirits had sent thither, these tremendous realities, assailing our sense, would invigorate our conscience, and give decision to our purpose of reformation. But these evils are as real as if the stone did cry out of the wall, and the beam answered it,—as real as if, day and night, wailings were heard in every part of the dwelling, and blood and skeletons were seen upon every wall,-as real as if the ghostly forms of departed victims flitted about the ship as she passed o'er the billows, and showed themselves nightly about stores and distilleries, and with unearthly voices screamed in our ears their loud lament. They are as real as if the sky over our heads collected and brought down about us all the notes of sorrow in the land, and the firm earth should open a passage for the wailing of despair to come up from beneath. HALF-WAY DOIN'S.-IRWIN RUSSELL. Belubbed fellow-trabelers, in holdin' forth to-day, De grass keeps on a-growin' for to smudder up de crap. to fish? My frien's, dere was a garden once, where Adam libbed wid Eve, Wid no one roun' to bodder dem, no nabors for to thieve; An' ebery day was Christmas, an' dey had dere rations free, An' eberyting belonged to dem except an apple-tree. You all know 'bout de story,-how de snake come snookin' 'round, A stump-tail, rusty moccasin, a-crawlin' on de ground, But had gone about dere gardenin', an' 'tended to dere work, No half-way doin's, bredren, 'twill nebber do, I say! Whateber you's a-dribin' at, be sure an' dribe it t'ro', I thanks you for de 'tention you hab gib dis afternoon; Sister Williams will oblige us by a-raisin' ob a tune. I see dat Brudder Johnson's gwine to pass around de hat; Don't let's hab no half-way doin's when it comes to dat. COURTSHIP. Fairest of earth! if thou wilt hear my vow; Promise affection which no time shall sever; Thou shalt have pearls to deck thy raven hair,- For aught save each other. We will fling And thou shalt be my queen, and I thy king! Still coy, and still reluctant? Sweetheart, say, When shall we monarchs be? and which the day? MATRIMONY. A SEQUEL TO "COURTSHIP." Now, Mrs. Pringle, once for all, I say I will not such extravagance allow! Bills upon bills, and larger every day, Enough to drive a man to drink, I vow! Bonnets, gloves, frippery, and trash,-nay, nay, Tears, Mrs. Pringle, will not gull me now. I say I won't allow ten pound a week: I can't afford it; Madam, do not speak! In wedding you, I thought I had a treasure; Ha! what's that uproar? This, ma'am, is my leisure; I seek retirement, and I find -a riot; Confound those children, but I'll make them quiet! BUYING A COW. Deacon Smith's wagon stopped one morning before Widow Jones' door, and he gave the usual country sign that he wanted somebody in the house, by dropping the reins and sitting double with his elbows on his knees. Out tripped the widow, lively as a cricket, with a tremendous black ribbon in her snow-white cap. "Good morning" was said on both sides, and the widow waited for what was further to be said. "Well, Ma'am Jones, perhaps you don't want to sell one of your cows, now, for nothing, any way, do you? ?" Well, there, Mister Smith, you couldn't have spoken my mind better. A poor lone woman like me does not know what to do with so many creturs, and should be glad to trade if we can fix it." So they adjourned to the meadow. Deacon Smith looked at Roan, then at the widow, -at Brindle, then at the widow,--at the Downing cow, then at the widow again,and so through the whole forty. The same call was made every day for a week, but the deacon could not decide which cow he wanted. At length, on Saturday, when the Widow Jones was in a hurry to get through her baking for Sunday, -and had "ever so much to do in the house," as all farmers' wives and widows have on Saturday,-she was a little impatient. Deacon Smith was as irresolute as ever. "That 'ere Downing cow is a pretty fair cretur," said he, 'but "-he stopped to glance at the widow's face, and then walked around her, not the widow, but the cow. "The Downing cow I knew before the late Mr. Jones bought her." Here he sighed at the allusion to the late Mr. Jones; she sighed, and both looked at each other. It was a highly interesting moment. "Old Roan is a faithful old milch, and so is Brindle,-but I have known better." A long stare succeeded his speech,the pause was getting awkward,-and at last Mrs. Jones broke out: "Law! Mr. Smith, if I'm the cow you want, do say so!” The intentions of the deacon and the widow were pub lished the next day. THE LANDLORD'S LAST MOMENTS. "Mine host" lay there at dead of night, With ghostly tread went marching through. Amid the strangely-mated crew |