If a good spirit, I am safe. If evil,

And I don't know but you may be the devil; If that's the case, you'll recollect, I fancy, That I am married to your sister Nancy!"

CXC.-FIRST APPEARANCE IN TYPE.

“Aн, here it is! I'm famous now; An author and a poet,

It really is in print. Hurrah!

How proud I'll be to show it,

And gentle Anna! what a thrill

Will animate her breast,

To read these ardent lines, and know

To whom they are addressed.

'Why, bless my soul! here's something wrong;

What can the paper mean,

By talking of the 'graceful brook,'

That 'ganders o'er the green?'

And here's a t instead of r,

Which makes it 'tippling rill,'

We'll seek the 'shad' instead of 'shade,'

And 'hell' instead of 'hill.'

"Thy looks so'-what?-I recollect,
'Twas 'sweet,' and then 't was 'kind;'
And now, to think,-the stupid fool-
For 'bland' has printed 'blind,'
Was ever such provoking work?
(Tis curious, by the by,

That any thing is rendered blind
By giving it an i.)

"The color of the 'rose' is 'nose,'

'Affection' is 'affliction.'

(I wonder if the likeness holds

In fact as well as fiction?)

'Thou art a friend.' The r is gone;
Whoever would have deemed

That such a trifling thing could change
A friend into a fiend.

"Thou art the same,' is rendered 'lame,'
It really is too bad!

And here because an i is out

My lovely 'maid' is mad.

They drove her blind by poking in

An i-a process new

And now they've gouged it out again,
And made her crazy, too.

"I'll read no more. What shall I do?
I'll never dare to send it.

The paper's scattered far and wide,
'Tis now too late to mend it.

Oh, fame! thou cheat of human life,
Why did I ever write?

I wish my poem had been burnt,
Before it saw the light.

"Was ever such a horrid hash,

In poetry or prose?

I've said she was a 'fiend!' and praised

The color of her 'nose.'

I wish I had the printer here

About a half a minute,

I'd bang him to his heart's content,
And with an h begin it."

CXCI.-A NIGHT OF HORROR.

MR. SMITH is a quiet, respectable citizen of Frost Hollow, and has a charming little wife, who makes his home cheerful and happy. His hair rivals the raven's plumage in blackness, save in one place on the left side of his head, made conspicuous by a few locks as white as the driven

snow, and they "turned white in a single night, as men's have done from sudden fears."

One night, prior to his marriage, he attired himself in his best apparel, and started for the home of his sweetheart, now his wife. During his courtship he was accustomed to make his way from Frost Hollow to his destination, a few miles distant, through the fields back of Chestnut Hill. Considerable quantities of iron ore have been dug out of these fields, and they are as full of holes as an old tin basin. Some of these holes are open, others slightly covered with brush or a few old poles, and they vary in depth from three or four feet to a distance which is quite a respectable start on a journey to the center of the earth, or to China.

The night was dark, black indeed, but Smith had often before traversed these fields by night, and feeling confident that he knew the way, he pushed rapidly forward, thinking of the warm fire and the bright, smiling face at the end of his journey, when suddenly he stepped into an orehole, catching, as he fell, a pole that lay across the mouth of the hole, and to which he clung with the death-like grip of despair. He at once realized his terrible situation; the pole was old and brittle, and every time that he attempted to draw himself up or to change his position, it cracked in a most threatening manner, and he could hear the dirt and gravel rattle down into the black and unknown depths. He shouted for help, but there was no one to hear, and the only answer was the mocking echo from the hill.

Strange thoughts began to fill his mind; he wondered whether the fall would break his back or his neck, and whether his legs would also be broken; and if the men would tear his clothes to tatters when they should attempt to fish him up by means of a hook at the end of a long rope. Then he recounted his many misdeeds and shortcomings. By this time his hair was standing on end; and he vowed that if he only escaped he would reform,

abandon all his bad habits and lead a different life, and that he would attend the revival meetings every night that winter.

Just then the pole cracked louder than ever, and Smith attempted to pray. He commenced, "Now I lay me down to sleep," but could remember no more; and the only prayer whose words he could call to mind was the closing part of a petition to the County Commissioners, so he began that, "I do solemnly declare that the statements herein made are true and correct, and, hoping for your favorable consideration, your petitioner will ever pray;"-the pole cracked again, it broke, and down he fell, down into the black depths, down into the untold horrors, until he suddenly alighted on a large bramble-bush, and screamed, "Ouch! Murder! The mischief take the briars! Confound this infernal hole; here it's only seven feet deep, and it scared me as badly as if it were seven hundred."

He scrambled out, and was soon relating his adventure to the present Mrs. Smith. Any future accident of that kind, which, they both agreed, might have had a more serious termination, was prevented by their speedy marriage. They have lived happily ever since, but Mr. Smith still bears those locks of white to attest the horrors of the night he fell into the ore-hole.

CXCII. THE DEVIL AND THE LAWYERS.

THE devil came up to the earth one day,
And straight to a court-house wended his way,
Just as an attorney, with serious face,
Was about to present the points in his case.

Now, the devil a lawyer never had seen,
For in his dominions no lawyer had been;
So with no other aim than to gain his desire,
The devil came up to the earth to inquire.

Soon a lawyer commenced, with a visage quite grave,
And pronounced his opponent a fool and a knave;
And the devil, 't is said, was really amused

To hear the attorney so roundly abused.

But scarce had his argument come to a close,
When the lawyer opposing him fiercely arose,
And poured such abuse on the head of the first
That of villains, you'd think him, of all men, the worst.

They argued, contended, and quarreled so long,
'Twas hard to distinguish the right from the wrong,
Concluding he'd heard quite enough of the fuss,
The devil retired, and soliloquized thus:

Now, if half that they've said of each other be true,
The devil, 'tis plain, has been robbed of his due;
But, I'm satisfied now 't is all very well,

For the lawyers would ruin the morals of hell.

"They've puzzled the court with their villainous cavil,
And, I'm free to confess, they've puzzled the devil;
My agents were right to let lawyers alone,

If I had them they'd swindle me out of my throne."

CXCIII.-ANGER AND ENUMERATION.

A DANBURY man, named Reubens, recently saw a statement that counting one hundred when tempted to speak an angry word would save a man a great deal of trouble. This statement sounded a little singular at first, but the more he read it over, the more favorably he became impressed with it, and finally concluded to adopt it.

Next door to Reubens lives a man who has made five distinct attempts in the past fortnight to secure a dinner of green pease, by the first of July, and every time has been retarded by Reubens' hens. The next morning after Reubens made his resolution, this man found his fifth attempt to have miscarried. Then he called on Reubens.