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112

AN AGREE ABLE DISAPPOINTMENT.

but he was ver' tame. I go up sof’ly to heem : 'Ah, ha!' I say to myself, ' I 'av gots you !'. So I strike him big stroke vis my ombrel on his necks. Ah, ha! sup?pose wat he do? B-a-a-h!!! He strike me back in my face wis his- Damn! I cannot tell : it was awfuls ! DREADFULS ! He s-m-e-l-1 so you cannot touch him — and I de saàme! I s'row myself in de pond, up to my necks; but it make no use. I s-m-e-l-1 seex wee-eek! Inot like go in ze room wis my fraànde. I dig big hole to put my clo'es in de grounde: it not cure zem! I dig zem up: bah!—it is de saàme! I put zem back - and dey smell one year; till zey rot in de ground. It ees faàct !? And so it was a fact; for no man born of woman could ever counterfeit the fervor of disgust which distinguished the graphic delineation of that sad mishap.

We heard a pleasant illustration, an evening or two ago, of a peculiarity of western life. A man in one of the hotels of a south-western city was observed by a northerner to be very moody, and to regard the stranger with looks particularly sad, and as our informant thought, somewhat savage. By-and-by he approached him, and said: * Can I see you outside the door for a few minutes ? '

Certainly, Sir,' said the northerner, but not without some misgivings. The moment the door had closed behind

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them, the moody man reached over his hand between his shoulders and drew from a pocket a tremendous bowieknife, bigger than a French carver, and as its broad blade flashed in the moon-light, the stranger thought his time had come.

'Put up your scythe,' said he, and tell me what I 've done to provoke your hostility ?' 'Done, stranger ? — you have n't done any thing. Nor I ha n't any hostility to you; but I want to pawn this knife with you. It cost me twenty dollars in New-Orleans. I lost my whole “pile' at 'old sledge' coming down the river, and I ha n't got a red cent. Lend me ten dollars on it, stranger. I'll win it back for you in less than an hour.' The money was loaned; and sure enough, in less than the time mentioned the knife was redeemed, and the incorrigible sporting-man’ had a surplus of some thirty dollars, which he probably lost the very next hour.

“What a perfectly horrible day this is !' says your complaining, querulous citizen, as he wipes the perspiration from his glowing face; 'I detest such weather!' Dear Sir, you should n't say so; the rivers of water which run down your body are in obedience to a law of nature that preserves your health.

erves your health. Moreover, the heat of which you complain is ripening the kindly fruits of the earth, so that in due time we may enjoy them.'

Nature is get

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ting ready to publish her "cereals,' and her timely heat is swelling into pulpy lusciousness the great clusters of Isabella-grapes, which shut in the parlor-piazza, darken the windows of our sleeping-room in the second story, screen those of the nursery in the third from the sun, and actually hang, in all forms of grace, from the very eaves ! Also the vari-colored pinks, verbenas, heliotropes, dahlias, and a large family of nameless flowers, are shedding their beautiful hues and perfume between the “house-vine’ and the back-vine,' which creeps over its broad trellice, and suspends there, in long pendulous 'bunches,' its rich abundance of fruit. Yes; and every day as we look out at these things, we see the green ivy visibly growing over the pinnacles of the towers of our Church of St. PETER in the rear -- a beautiful and graceful sight.

P. S. It is a pretty hot day, though, 'that's a fact.? Must go and take a shower' in the adjoining bath-room. Pheugh! This kind of heat can't ripen any thing, unless a blast-furnace' will do the same thing. It is 'horrible' hot weather !

We remarked a very laughable typographical error in a newspaper a day or two since. It was in a paragraph which announced that a formerly distinguished southern politician had been struck with apoplexy, and had “lost the use of one side of his speech! It reminded us of the

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man who, having stood in the same place in a cotton factory for many years, was one day detained by illness, and wrote to his employer that he should be unable to resume his labor, as he had a painful swelling on the east side of his face !

NOTHING is more characteristic of your true Frenchman than his irrepressible curiosity, which he will often gratify at the expense of danger, and sometimes at the risk of his life. In matters of science, by the way, this peculiarity of the grand nation' has been of great service to mankind. A friend relates a story pleasantly illustrative of this insatiable national impulse. A young Parisian. lawyer, accustomed only to French breakfasts, arrived in the morning at Dover on his way to London, was surprised to find a robust JOHN BULL seated at a small side-table, loaded with meats and their accompaniments. He surveyed him attentively for a moment or two, and then began to soliloquize in an undress rehearsal of the sparse English at his command : “Mon DIEU !' said he, can it be posseeble zat cet gentil-homme is ete hees brekfaste! Nevare minds : I shall, I sink I shall ask heem.

• Monsieur! I am stranger. Vill you av ze politesse to tell me wezzer zat is your brekfaste or your dinnà wat you eat ?" Joun rises with indignation, his cheeks distended with a large portion of his substantial meal, and is about to resent

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what he deems an affront; but discretion gets the better of valor, and he sits down again to resume his meal. The Frenchman paces the floor dubiously for some minutes, until his enhanced curiosity overcomes his temporary timidity, when he again accosts the sharp-set son of 'perfidious Albion : ' Sare, if you knew de reezon wherefor' I rek-quire for know wezzer zat is your brekfaste or your dinnà wat you ete, you would 'av ze politesse to tell me immediate, and sans offence.' John was silent, as before, but his face actually glowed with excitement and suppressed passion. All these evidences of displeasure however were lost upon the curious traveller, who once more addressed his unwilling witness, and this time fairly brought him to the use of his speech; for he rose in great anger, accused the Frenchman of having insulted him; a blow followed, and a duel was the net purport and upshot' of the affair. Had the Frenchman's curiosity been satisfied, he would doubtless have been more steady-handed : “but Destiny had willed it otherwise. Bull's bullet pierced him, and the wound was decided to be mortal. Englishmen are seldom ill-tempered upon a full stomach : our hero relented; he was filled with remorse at having shot the poor fellow on so slight a provocation, and was most anxious to make amends for his fault. “My friend, said he to the dying man, “it grieves me much that I should have been so rash as to lose my temper in so tri

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