honest men in office; but it can't be done. We have the power, for we have the money; and the more money we get the more power we shall have. We have struck a mine, and we don't mean to let go our grip. Honest men can't cope with us, because they are not up to all of the tricks of the professional politician. Oh, no! I tell you honesty is at a fearful discount. The people don't want it. They prefer being bled by knaves and rogues; and I, for one,. am perfectly willing to let them have their way. Let them bleed if they like it. Fellow-citizens, these are not my sentiments. They are not the outspoken words of any officeseeker. Oh, no; but actions speak louder than words.

CCIII.-A FRAGMENT.

It was a fearful night. The pale lightning quivered at intervals through the clouds, and the wind rushed through the neighboring wood, uttering strange, discordant sounds, which were followed by a mysterious stillness, augmenting the terrors of the hour. I found myself in a dark, gloomy dungeon. A dim light given by a lamp that hung far above me was the only thing visible. I knew not how I came there; enough that I was there. In the center of this scene of desolation, methought I saw a lady of most exquisite beauty, whose luxurious hair hung in natural ringlets over a graceful and well-molded shoulder. Her form, too, was

such as an artist might have chosen for a model. In her hand was a wand, with which she beckoned me. I had advanced but a few steps, when an icy coldness seized me, and, by the livid effulgence of the lamp, I beheld skulls scattered over the floor, and heads, severed from their bodies, laughing with grim insensibility. Loud claps of thunder now shook the castle; but my own beating heart soon overpowered every other sound. A thrill of

horror seized me, all the frightful recollections of my youth flashed across my brain, and I fell senseless to the ground!

When my senses returned the morn had burst forth in all its splendor of fullness, and the rays of the sun penetrated through a small aperture into this dismal abyss. The same loathsome objects were around me; looking more hid⚫eous than before. In the place of the lovely and beauteous creature was an old withered hag, whose hollow cheeks and blood-shot eyes presented an appearance truly horrible. She held a dagger, which she brandished with a ghastly smile. Her black brows were knitted together, and anger darted from her eyes as she rushed toward me. By a supernatural effort I sprang to my feet, and seized a skull as a weapon of defense; but her bony hand had already encircled my throat, I felt a choking thirst come over me, I was paralyzed with fear, a preternatural giddiness took possession of my head, large drops of perspiration rolled down my forehead, my knees shook, when she, in a shrill and piercing voice, cried, "Young man, breakfast is ready."

CCIV. WONDERFUL MOSQUITOES.

A PARSON, who had a colporteur been,
And hardships and privations oft had seen,
While wandering far on lone and desert strands,
A weary traveler in benighted lands,
Would often picture to his little flock
The terrors of the gibbet and the block;

How martyrs suffered in the ancient times,
And what men suffer now in other climes;
And though his words were eloquent and deep,
His hearers oft indulged themselves in sleep.
He marked with sorrow each unconscious nod
Within the portals of the house of God,

And once this new expedient thought he'd take,
In his discourse, to keep the rogues awake;
Said he, "While traveling in a distant State,
I witnessed scenes which I will here relate;
'Twas in a lone, uncultivated wild,

Where noontide glory scarcely ever smiled;

"Where wolves in hours of midnight darkness howled,
Where bears frequented, and where panthers prowled;
And, on my word, mosquitoes there were found,
Many of which, I think, would weigh a pound;
More fierce and ravenous than the hungry shark,
They oft were known to climb the trees and bark."

The audience seemed taken by surprise,
All started up and rubbed their wondering eyes;
At such a tale they all were much amazed.
Each drooping lid was in an instant raised;
And, we must say, for keeping heads erect,
It had its destined and desired effect.

But tales like these credulity appalled;
Next day the deacons on their pastor called,
And begged to know how he could ever tell
The foolish falsehoods from his lips that fell.
"Why, sir," said one, "think what a monstrous weight,
Were they as large as you were pleased to state!

"You said they'd weigh a pound. It can't be true
We'll not believe it though 't is told by you."

"Ah, but it is," the parson quick replied;
"In what I stated you may well confide;
Many, I said, sir; and the story's good.
Indeed, I think that many of them would."

The deacon saw at once that he was caught, Yet deemed himself relieved on second thought: "But, then, the barking; think of that, good man, Such monstrous thing, explain it if you can.” "Why, that, my friend, can be explained with ease; They climbed the bark, sir, when they climbed the trees."

CCV. THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY.

AND SO, smiling, we went on.

"Well, one day, George's father"

"George who?" asked Clarence.

George Washington. He was a little boy, then, just like you. One day his father

"Whose father?" demanded Clarence, with an encouraging expression of interest.

George Washington's; this great man we are telling you of. One day George Washington's father gave him a little hatchet for a

"Gave who a little hatchet?" the dear child interrupted with a gleam of bewitching intelligence. Most men would have got mad, or betrayed signs of impatience, but we did n't. We know how to talk to children. So we went on:

"George Washington. His___”

"Yes, George Washington. And his father told him"Told who?"

"Told George."

"Oh, yes, George."

And we went on, just as patient and as pleasant as you could imagine. We took up the story right where the boy interrupted, for we could see he was just crazy to hear the end of it. We said:

"George told him?" queried Clarence.

"No, his father told George"

"Oh!"

"Yes;

told him he must be careful with the hatchet"Who must be careful?"

"With the hatchet, and not cut himself with it, or drop it in the cistern, or leave it out in the grass all night. So George went round cutting every thing he could reach with his hatchet. And at last he came to a splendid apple-tree,

his father's favorite, and cut it down and

"Who cut it down?"

"George did."

"Oh!"

"But his father came home and saw it the first thing, and-"

"Saw the hatchet?"

"No, saw the apple-tree. And he said, 'Who has cut down my favorite apple-tree?""

"What apple-tree?"

"George's father's. And every body said they did n't know any thing about it, and

"Any thing about what?"

"The apple-tree."

"Oh!"

"And George came up and heard them talking about it"

"Heard who talking about it?"

"Heard his father and the men."

"What were they talking about?"

"About this apple-tree."

"What apple-tree?"

"The favorite tree that George cut down."

"George who?"

"George Washington."

Oh!"