Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jockeys is jockeys; And 't ain't every man as can ride as knows what a hoss has got in him.

Know the old ford on the Fork, that nearly got Flanigan's leaders? Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford in low water! Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge, and his nevey, Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the water all round us;

Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnake Creek just a bilin', Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on the river.

I had the gray, and the Jedge had his roan, and his nevey, Chiquita; And after us trundled the rocks jest loosed from the top of the cañon.

Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and Chiquita

Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could yell to her

rider,

Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge and me standing,

And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-flesh afloat, and a driftin' to thunder!

Would ye b'lieve it, that night, that hoss,- that ar' filly,— Chiquita,

Walked herself into her stall, and stood there all quiet and dripping!

Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle of harness,

Just as she swam the Fork,- that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita.

That's what I call a hoss! and—what did you say?-O, the nevey?

Drownded, I reckon,― leastways, he never kem back to deny it. Ye see the derned fool had no seat,-ye could n't have made

him a rider:

And then, ye know, boys will be boys, and hosses-well, hosses

is hosses!

- Bret Harte.

THE BIRTH OF IRELAND

"With due condescension, I'd call your attention to what I shall mention of Erin so green,

And, without hesitation, I'll show how that nation became, of creation, the gem and the queen.

"'T was early one morning, without any warning, that Vanus was born in the beautiful Say;

And, by the same token, and sure 't was provoking, her pinions were soaking, and would n't give play.

"Old Neptune, who knew her, began to pursue her, in order to woo her the wicked old Jew

And almost had caught her atop of the water-great Jupiter's daughter! which never would do.

"But Jove, the great janius, looked down and saw Vanus and Neptune so heinous pursuing her wild,

And he spoke out in thunder he'd rend him asunder

and sure

"A star that was flying hard by him espying, he caught with small trying and down let it snap;

It fell quick as winking on Neptune a-sinking, and gave him, I'm thinking, a bit of a rap.

"That star it was dryland, both lowland and highland, and formed a sweet island, the land of my birth:

Thus plain is the story that, sent down from glory, old Erin asthore is the gem of the earth!"

-Anonymous.

LADY TEAZLE AND SIR PETER

(Scenes from "School for Scandal ")

ACT II. SCENE 1.

Sir P. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

Lady T. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything; and,

what's more, I will, too. What though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.

Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure; if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me; I am sure you were old enough.

Sir P. Old enough! ay, there it is! Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance.

Lady T. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman ought to be.

Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. 'Slife! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a fête champêtre at Christmas!

Lady T. Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet!

Sir P. Zounds, madam! if you had been born to this, I should n't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.

Lady T. No, no, I do n't; 't was a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.

Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style, the daughter of a plain country Squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I first saw you sitting at your tambour, in a pretty, figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.

Lady T. O, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book,- and comb my Aunt Deborah's lap-dog.

Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 't was so, indeed!

Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amusements: To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up;

to play Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coach - vis-à-vis — and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coachhorse.

Lady T. No, I swear I never did that! I deny the butler and the coach-horse.

Sir P. This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank; in short, I have made you my wife.

Lady T. Well then, and there is but one thing more you can make me, and add to the obligation, and that is

Sir P. My widow, I suppose?

Lady T. Hem! hem!

Sir P. I thank you, madam, but do n't flatter yourself; for, though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you; however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.

Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense? Sir P. 'Slife, madam! I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?

Lady T. Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?

Sir P. The fashion, indeed! What had you to do with the fashion before you married me?

Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.

Sir P. Ay, there again! taste! Zounds, madam! you had no taste when you married me.

Lady T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and, after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's?

Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance,—a charmg set of acquaintances you have made there!

Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

Sir P. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves. Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

Lady T. What! would you restrain the freedom of speech? Sir P. Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.

Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace.

Sir P. Grace, indeed!

Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 't is out of pure good-humor; and I take it for granted, they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's, too.

Sir P. Well, well; I'll call in just to look after my own character.

Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you 'Il be too late. So, good-bye to ye! [Exit Lady Teazle.]

Sir P. So! I have gained much by my intended expostulation; yet with what a charming air she contradicts every thing I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I think she never appears to such an advantage as when she is doing everything in her power to plague me. [Exit.]

ACT III. SCENE I

Sir P. Was ever man so crossed as I am? Everything conspiring to fret me! I had not been involved in matrimony a fortnight, before her father, a hale and hearty man, died, on purpose, I believe, for the pleasure of plaguing me with the care of his daughter. [Lady TEAZLE sings without.] But here comes my helpmate! She appears in great good-humor. How happy I should be if I could tease her into loving me, though but little!

Enter Lady TEAZLE

Lady T. Lud! Sir Peter, I hope you have n't been quarrelling