e-I'm come in search of a

take hold.

B. Take hold once more.

Eu. We're ready.

B. Now repeat.

Eu. "Speech is the temple and altar of persuasion."

B. With this design; to see

The city again restored to peace and wealth,

advice

No wonder that it should, with Death into it,

The heaviest of all calamities.

me.

Eu. But I put in persuasion, finely express'd

In the best terms.

B. Perhaps so; but persuasion Is soft and light and silly-Think of something

That's heavy and huge to outweigh him, something solid.

Eu. Let's see Where have I got it? Something solid?

B. "Achilles has thrown twice- Twice a deuce ace!"

Come, now, one trial more; this is the last. Eu. "He grasp'd a mighty mace of massy weight.'

Es. Cars upon cars, and corpses heap'd pell mell."

B. He has nick'd you again

Eu. Why so? What has he done? B. He has heap'd ye up cars and corpses, such a load

As twenty Egyptian laborers could not

carry

Es. Come, no more single lines—let him bring all,

His wife, his children, his Cephisophon, His books, and everything, himself to boot

I'll counterpoise them with a couple of lines.

B. Well, they're both friends of mine-I sha'n't decide

To get myself ill-will from either party;
One of them seems extraordinary clever,
And the other suits my taste particularly.
Pluto. Won't you decide then, and con-
clude the business?

B. Suppose then I decide; what then?
P. Then take him
Away with you, whichever you prefer,
As a present for your pains in coming
down here.

B. Heaven bless ye- Well-let's see now?-Can't ye advise me?

B. What?

"She loves and she detests and longs to have him."

But tell me, both of you, your own opinions.

Eu. (Euripides and Eschylus speak each in his own tragical style.) I hate the man that in his country's service

Is slow, but ready and quick to work her harm;

Unserviceable, except to serve himself.
B. Well said, by Jove!-Now you-Give
us a sentence.

Es. 'Tis rash and idle policy to foster
A lion's whelp within the city walls,
But when he's rear'd and grown you must
indulge him.

B. By Jove, then, I'm quite puzzled; one

of them

Let them hear and admire father Eschylus still

In his office of old which again he must fill —You must guide and direct them, Instruct and correct them,

With a lesson in verse,

For you'll find them much worse; Greater fools than before, and their folly much more,

And more numerous far than the blockheads of yore

-And give Cleophon this,

And bid him not miss,
But be sure to attend

To the summons I send;
To Nichomacus too
And the rest of the crew
That devise and invent
New taxes and tribute
Are summons's sent

Which you'll mind to distribute.
Bid them come to their graves,
Or, like runaway slaves,
If they linger and fail,
We shall drag them to jail;
Down here in the dark
With a brand and a mark.
Es. I shall do as you say;
But the while I'm away,
Let the seat that I held,
Be by Sophocles fill'd,
As deservedly reckon'd
My pupil and second
In learning and merit
And tragical spirit-
-And take special care;
Keep that reprobate there
Far aloof from the Chair;
Let him never sit in it
An hour or a minute,

By chance or design

To profane what was mine.

P. Bring forward the torches -The Chorus shall wait

And attend on the poet in triumph and

state

With a thundering chant of majestical tone To wish him farewell, with a tune of his

own.

ARISTOPHANES,

STORY OF A NEW HAT.

A business man had purchased a new stiff hat, and he went into a saloon with half a dozen friends to fit the hat on his

head. They all took beer and passed the hat around so all could see it. One of the meanest men that ever held a county office went to the bartender and had a thin slice of Limburger cheese cut off, and when the party were looking at the frescoed ceiling through their beer glasses, the wicked person slipped the cheese under the sweat-leather of the hat, and the man put it on and walked out. The man who owned the hat is one of your nervous people who is always complaining of being sick, and who feels as though some dreadful disease was going to take possession of him and carry him off. He went

back to his place of business, took off his hat and laid it on the table, and proceeded to answer some letters. He thought he detected a smell, and when his partner asked him if he didn't feel sick, he believed he did. He then turned pale, and said he guessed he would go home. He met a man on the sidewalk who said the air was full of miasma, and in the street car a man who sat next to him moved away to the end of the car, and asked him if he had just come from Chicago. The man with the hat said he had not, when the stranger said they were having a great deal of small-pox there and he guessed he would get out and walk, and he pulled the bell and jumped off. The cold perspiration broke out on the forehead of the man with the new hat, and he took it off to wipe his forehead, when the whole piece of cheese seemed to roll over and breathe, and the man got the full benefit of it, and he came near fainting away. He got home, and his wife met and asked him what was the matter. He said he believed mortification had set in, and she took one whiff as he took off his hat, and said that she should think it had. "Where did you get into it?" said she. "Get into it?" said the man. "I have not got into anything, but some deadly disease has got hold of me and I shall not live." She got his clothes off, soaked his feet in mustard water, and he slept. The hat was lying on the centre-table, and the children would come in and get a smell of it and look at each other with reproachful glances, and go out and play. The man slept and dreamed that a smallpox flag was hung in front of his house, and that he was riding in a butcher's wagon to the pest-house. The woman sent for a doctor, and when the man of

pills arrived she told him all about the case. The doctor picked up the patient's new hat, tried it on, and got a sniff. He said the hat was picked before it was ripe. The doctor and the wife held a post mortem examination of the hat and found the slice of Limburger. "Few and short were the prayers they said." They woke the patient, and to prepare his mind for the revelation that was about to be made, the doctor asked him if his worldly affairs were arranged in a satisfactory condition. He gasped and said they were. The doctor asked him if he had made his will. He said that he had not, but he wanted a lawyer sent for at once. The doctor then asked him if he felt as though he was prepared to shuffle off. The man said he had always tried to lead a different life, and tried to be done by the same as he would do it himself, but that he might have made a mistake some way, and that he would like to have a minister sent for to take an account of the stock.

The doctor brought to the bedside the hat, opened up the sweat-leather, and showed the dying man what it was that smelled so, and told him he was as well as any man in the city. The man pinched himself to see if he was alive, and jumped out of bed and called for his revolver, and the doctor couldn't keep up with him on the way down town. The last we saw of the odoriferous citizen he was trying to bribe the bartender to tell him which one of those pelicans it was that put that slice of cheese in his hat lining.

THE LAWYER AND THE OYSTER.

Two comrades, as grave authors say,
(But in what chapter, page, or line,
Ye critics, if ye please, define)
Had found an oyster in their way.

Contest and foul debate arose,

Both viewed at once with greedy eyes, Both challeng'd the delicious prize, And high words soon improved to blows.

Actions on actions hence succeed,

Each hero's obstinately stout, Green bags and parchment fly about, Pleadings are drawn, and Counsel feed.

The lawyer of the place, good man!
Whose kind and charitable heart,
In human ills still bore a part,
Thrice shook his head, and thus began:-
Neighbours and friends, refer to me
This doughty matter in dispute,
I'll soon decide the important suit,
And finish all without a fee.

"Give me the oyster then-'tis well--"
He opens it, and at one sup
And, smiling, gives to each a shell.
Gulps the contested trifle up,
"Henceforth let foolish discord cease,
Your oyster's good as e'er was eat;
I thank you for my dainty treat;
And bless you both! go live in peace!"

Ye men of England and of Wales,

From this learn common sense; Nor thrust your neighbours into jails For every slight offence.

Banish those verinin of debate'

That on your substance feed; The knaves who now are served in plate, Would starve-if fools agreed.

IMPROMPTU BY GEORGE COL-.MAN.

[About a year before Colman's death, a young lady asked him for a verse in her album; he shook his head, but good-naturedly promised to try, and at once extemporized the following—his last poetical jest:]

My muse and I ere youth and spirit fled,

Sat up together many a night no doubt, But now I've sent the poor old lass to bed Simply because my fire is going out.

FREDERICK THE GREAT was very fond of disputation; but as he generally terminated the discussion by collaring his antagonist and kicking his shins, few of his guests were disposed to enter into the arena against him. One day, when he was even more than usually disposed for an argument, he asked one of his suite why he did not venture to give his opinion on some particular question? "It is impossible, your Majesty," was the reply, to express an opinion before a Sovereign who has such strong convictions, and who wears such very thick boots."

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