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      Then came a pause—a pair of paws

      Reached through the floor, up sliding doors,

      And grabbed the unhappy candidate!

      How can I without tears relate

      The lost and ruined Morey's fate?

      She saw him sink in a fiery hole,

      She heard him scream, "My soul! my soul!"

      While roars of fiendish laughter roll,

      And drown the yells of mercy!

      "Blood to drink," etc., etc.

      The ridiculous woman could stand no more—

      She fainted and fell on the checkered floor,

      'Midst all the diabolical roar.

      What then, you ask me, did befall

      Mehitable Byrde? Why, nothing at all—

      She had dreamed she'd been in the Masons' hall.

       Table of Contents

      M IDAS, I want to s'posen a case to you, an' I want you to gim me the gospel truth on your 'pinion 'bout de matter."

      That's the manner in which one of Washington's dusky damsels put it to her adorer last evening.

      "Now, Midas, you knows you'se tole me more times 'an you'se got fingers an' toes, as you lubbed me harder 'an a marble-top washstand, an' 'at I'se sweeter to you 'an buckwheat cakes and 'lassas foreber. Midas, this am only s'posen case, but I wants you to s'posen jus' as if'n 'twas a shunuff one.

      "S'posen me an' you was goin' on a scursion down de riber!"

      "Yas," broke in Midas, "down to Mount Vernon."

      "Anywha's 'tall, down the riber. Midas, can you swim?"

      "No, Luce, I's sorry to 'form you dat de only d'reckshon what I kin circumstanshiate fru de water am de bottom."

      "Well, den, as I was 'latin'. S'posen we was on de boat, glidin' lubingly an' harmunly down de bussum ob der riber's stream, de moon was lookin' shiningly down pon de smoke-stack, an' you wos sottin' rite up to me (jus' slide up here closer, an' lem me show you how), dats de way."

      "Yah, yah! but wouldn't dat be scrumptuous?" interrupted Midas.

      "S'posen," continued Lucy, "you had jest put your arm roun' my wai' (dat's it), der wasn't nobody 'bout, you was a squeezin' me up, an' was jest gwine to gimme de lubinest kind ob a kiss, an'—an'—an' de biler would bust!"

      "Oh, de debbil!" said the disappointed Midas.

      "Luce, can you swim?" he asked, after hesitating a few moments.

      "No, Midas, ob course not. You know I can't swim."

      "Well den, Luce, my conchenshus 'pinion ob de whole matter am dat we won't go on no scursions."

       Table of Contents

      SAMUEL LOVER.

      P addy," said the squire, "perhaps you would favor the gentleman with that story you told me once about a fox?"

      "Indeed and I will, plaze yer honor," said Paddy, "though I know full well the divil a one word iv it you b'lieve, nor the gintlemen won't either, though you're axin' me for it—but only want to laugh at me, and call me a big liar when my back's turned."

      "Maybe we wouldn't wait for your back being turned, Paddy, to honor you with that title."

      "Oh, indeed, I'm not sayin' that you wouldn't do it as soon foreninst my face, yer honor, as you often did before, and will agin, plaze God, and welkim."

      "Well, Paddy, say no more about that, but let's have the story."

      "Sure I'm losing no time, only telling the gintlemen beforehand that it's what they'll be callin' it, a lie—and indeed it's ancommon, sure enough; but you see, gintlemen, you must remimber that the fox is the cunnin'est baste in the world, barrin' the wran——"

      Here Paddy was questioned why he considered the wren as cunning a baste as the fox.

      "Why, sir, bekase all the birds build their nest wid one hole to it only, excep'n the wran; but the wran builds two holes to the nest, and so that if any inimy comes to disturb it upon one door it can go out an the other. But the fox is cute to that degree that there's many mortial a fool to him—and, by dad, the fox could by and sell many a Christian, as you'll soon see by-and-by, when I tell you what happened to a wood-ranger that I knew wanst, and a dacent man he was, and wouldn't say the thing in a lie.

      "Well, you see, he kem home one night mighty tired—for he was out wid a party in the domain cock-shootin' that day; and whin he got back to his lodge he threw a few logs o' wood an the fire to make himself comfortable, and he tuk whatever little matther he had for his supper—and afther that he felt himself so tired that he wint to bed. But you're to understand that, though he wint to bed, it was more for to rest himself like, than to sleep, for it was airly; and so he jist wint into bed, and there he divarted himself lookin' at the fire, that was blazin' as merry as a bonfire an the hearth.

      "Well, as he was lyin' that-a-way, jist thinkin' o' nothin' at all, what should come into the place but a fox. But I must tell you, what I forgot to tell you, before, that the ranger's house was on the bordhers o' the wood, and he had no one to live wid him but himself, barrin' the dogs that he had the care iv, that was his only companions, and he had a hole cut an the door, with a swingin' boord to it, that the dogs might go in or out accordin' as it plazed thim; and, by dad, the fox kem in as I told you, through the hole in the door, as bould as a ram, and walked over to the fire, and sat down foreninst it.

      "Now it was mighty provokin' that all the dogs was out; they wor rovin' about the wood, you see, lookin for to catch rabbits to ate, or some other mischief, and so it happened that there wasn't as much as one individual dog in the place; and, by gor, I'll go bail the fox knew that right well before he put his nose inside the ranger's lodge.

      "Well, the ranger was in hopes some o' the dogs id come home and ketch the chap, and he was loath to stir hand or fut himself, afeared o' frightenin' away the fox, but by gor, he could hardly keep his timper at all at all, whin he seen the fox take his pipe aff o' the hob where he left it afore he wint to bed, and puttin' the bowl o' the pipe into the fire to kindle it (it's as thrue as I'm here), he began to smoke foreninst the fire, as nath'ral as any other man you ever seen.

      "'Musha, bad luck to your impidence, you long-tailed blackguard,' says the ranger, 'and is it smokin' my pipe you are? Oh, thin, by this and by that, iv I had my gun convaynient to me, it's fire and smoke of another sort, and what you wouldn't bargain for, I'd give you,' says he. But still he was loath to stir, hopin the dogs id come home; and 'By gor, my fine fellow,' says he to the fox, 'if one o' the dogs comes home, saltpethre wouldn't save you, and that's a sthrong pickle.'

      "So with that he watched antil the fox wasn't mindin' him, but was busy shakin' the cindhers out o' the pipe whin he was done wid it, and so the ranger thought he was goin' to go immediately afther gettin an air o' the fire and a shough o' the pipe;

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