Alt his leedle hadget, und gouldn't dell some lies aboudt id. "Vell," says der schentleman, "I dinks you ought to know petter as anypody else vot you haf got in der schtore," und den he dakes a leedle book vrom his bocket oudt, und say: "Vell, I poots you town vor dree tousand tollars." I ask him vat he means py "poots me town," und den he says he vas von off der daxmen, or assessors off broperty, und he tank me so kindly as nefer vos, pecause he say I vos sooch an honest Deutscher, und tidn't dry und sheat der gofermants. I dells you vat it vos, I tidn't veel any more petter as a hundord ber cent., ven dot man valks oudt off mine schtore, und der nexd dime I makes free mit sdrangers I vinds first deir peesnis oudt. BETTER THINGS.-GEORGE MCDONALD. Better to smell the violet cool, than sip the glowing wine; Better to hark a hidden brook, than watch a diamond shine. Better the love of a gentle heart, than beauty's favor proud; Better the rose's living seed, than roses in a crowd. Better to love in loneliness, than to bask in love all day; Better the fountain in the heart, than the fountain by the way. Better be fed by a mother's hand, than eat alone at will; Better to trust in God, than say: "My goods my storehouse fill." Better to be a little wise, than in knowledge to abound; Better to teach a child, than toil to fill perfection's round. Better to sit at a master's feet, than thrill a listening State; Better suspect that thou art proud, than be sure that thou art great. Better to walk the real unseen, than watch the hour's event; Better the "Well done!" at the last, than the air with shouting rent. Better to have a quiet grief, than a hurrying delight; Better the twilight of the dawn, than the noonday burning bright. Better a death when work is done, than earth's most favored birth; Better a child in God's great house, than the king of all the earth. THE OLD SWEET SONG. I remember a song whose numbers throng I have wandered far under sun and star, To the wondrous peal of a sacred chime; The anthems bland of the masters grand Have borne me aloft on their sweeping wings; But none remain like the simple strain She gently hovered to soothe my fears. I can see her now with her bright head bent I can see her now with her fair, pure brow, And the dark locks pushed from her temples clear, And the liquid rays of her tender gaze Made eloquent by a trembling tear, As she watched the sleep that is sweet for all And the notes still throng of that old sweet song, That song, that song, that old sweet song! And link by link when I wake again; I shall hear it, I know, when the last deep rest METAPHORICAL PAPERS.-BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Some wit of old,-such wits of old there were,- The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed, The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, The retail politician's anxious thought Deems this side always right, and that stark naught: He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim, The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, Them and their works in the same class you'll find; Observe the maiden, innocently sweet; One instance more, and only one I'll bring; 'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing, Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own, DADDY'S BOY. In a certain small town on the Mississippi lived a man who made horse-trading a business. He bought up horses for a city market, and was considered pretty good on a trade. One day a long, lean, queer, green-looking specimen of the western country, arrived at the dock with a boat load of horses. He inquired for the horse jockey. "Daddy sent me down with some horses," he said, in a half-idiotic tone. "Who's he?" "Daddy." "What do you want for your horses?" "Daddy said you could set your price," was the reply. "Let me go down and look at your horses," said Brown, and accordingly they were soon on the boat. Brown examined the horses, and named the price he would give for this one and that, and the country bumpkin made no objections, although some of the offers were not more than one-half of the real value of the animal. One of the bystanders gently suggested to the countryman that he was being cheated, but he returned: Daddy said Brown would set the price himself." And so Brown had it all his own way. At last they came to an animal which did not look much superior to the rest. "I must have more for that anermal," said he, "daddy says he can run some." "Run!" said Brown," that nag can't run worth a cent." "Daddy says so, and daddy knows." "Why, I've got one up at the stables that can beat it all hollow." "Guess not," said the fellow, "Let's try 'em. I'll bet the whole boat-load of horses on 'em." Brown smiled. "I'll stake five thousand dollars against your boat-load," said Brown, winking to the crowd, "and these men," selecting two, "shall hold the stakes." Brown's five thousand was entrusted to one, and the other went on board the horse-boat. One of the crowd started to remonstrate with the poor idiotic fellow, but he only responded: 'Golly! dad told me he could run some, and daddy ought to lose 'em if he was such a tarnal fool to tell me that when he couldn't." Brown's sleek racer was brought down, and Brown mounted him. The countryman led out his animal and climbed on his back, looking as uncouth and awkward as the horse he proposed to ride. The word was given, and they started amid the laughter of the crowd. At first Brown was ahead, and it looked as though the poor fellow was to be badly beaten, when his horse suddenly plunged forward and the jockey was left far behind. Such going had not been seen in those parts for a long time, and poor Brown was crestfallen, as the cheers of the bystanders fell on his ears. "I'll take the spondulix," said the countryman, riding up, "dad was right. The anermal can get around a little." Brown tried to say it was all a joke, but the fellow would have his money. "I guess I won't trade to-day," he said, as he put it in his old, rough leather pocket-book. "I'll go back to daddy." In vain Brown tried to induce him to trade, but he pushed off his boat resolutely saying, "I'd best go back and tell daddy." Brown was completely "sold," for he knew at once that the green countryman was shrewder than people imagined him, and just came there purposely to win his money from him. Next time he didn't ridicule a horse that "daddy said could run some." |