The boy now call'd out, "Cook, here-Nell;
What's this so shining in the well?"
This was enough to give a hint
That the lost treasure might be in't;
So for a man with speed they sent,
Who down the well directly went.
They listen with expectant ear,
At last these joyful words they hear,
"Oh, here's the ladle, and the cup,
And waiter too-so draw me up."
"Hold (quoth the boy), a moment stay,
Bring something else that's in your way."
Adding (with self-approving grin),
"My drumstick, now your hand is in."
THE KNIGHTS; OR, BOTH RIGHT AND BOTH WRONG.
WHEN chivalry was all the taste,
And honor stamped each dauntless breast;
When falsehood was esteemed a shame,
And heroes bled for virtuous fame;
To right the wronged, protect the weak,
And dry the tear on beauty's cheek;
Two bearded knights, on milk-white steeds,
Equipped for tilts, and martial deeds,
Perchance met on a spacious plain,
Where stood a trophy to the slain;
A mighty shield, on one side white,
The other black as ebon night;
Emblem of spotless virtue's fall,
And death's dark triumph over all.
Both stopped to view this curious sight,
But viewed it in a different light:
"Bless me!" cries one, how white this shield!
How bright it shines across the field!
"White!" says the other, "no such thing;
"Tis blacker than the raven's wing!"
"Recall your words, presumptuous youth;
A knight should never jest with truth."
"'Tis you who want to jest, not I.
The shield is black!" "By heaven, you lie !"
"Now, Truth, bear witness to my vow-
I'll die, base knight, or make thee bow!"
While both with sudden passion stormed,
And rage each angry face deformed,
From wordy war, to blows they turn,
And with revenge and fury burn:
On either helm the sword descends,
Each trusty helm the head defends;
And on the impenetrable mail,
The sounding strokes fall thick as hail.
They prance their coursers round and round,
Each hopes to give the lucky wound;
And each, convinced himself is right,
Maintains, with equal hope, the fight;
Nor doubts to make his rival own,
Success attends on truth alone.
By chance, a clown, who passed that way,
At a distance saw the doubtful fray;
Who, though he relished not hard blows,
Esteemed it right to interpose.
"Good sirs!" he cried, then made his bow, Respectful, diffident and low,
"I'm but a simple man, 'tis true!
But wish to serve and save you too;
And he who's wronged, I'll take his part,
With all my soul, and all my heart!"
The knights, by this time almost spent,
To honest Hodge attention lent :
For e'en the presence of a fool
Will sometimes stubborn stomachs cool;
And when for trifles men fall out
A trifle oft brings peace about.
Each, thinking Hodge must prove him right,
And justify his partial sight,
Made haste the matter to disclose,
That caused this war of words and blows,
And asked if black or white the shield,
That stood conspicuous on the field,
For passion still had kept them blind;
Passion, the shutters of the mind.
"Faith," said the clown, and scratched his head, "Your honors straight shall be obeyed:
'Tis neither white nor black, but both.
And this is true I ll take my oath.
One side is black, the other white:
Each saw it in a single light,
But had you viewed the shield all round,
Both would have right and wrong been found.
The wondering knights like stuck pigs stared,
While Hodge the simple truth declared;
And each, ashamed of passion's sway,
Lifts up his eyes; when, bright as day,
The shield both black and white appeared,
And both from falsehood's stain were cleared.
They thanked kind Hodge, and parted friends;
Resolved for wrath to make amends,
By looking twice ere once they fought,
And always aiding strength with thought.
Hence we this precious moral draw;
Fixed as the Medes and Persians' law-
That he who only one side sees,
With erring judgment oft decrees;
And he who only one tale hears,
'Gainst half the truth oft shuts bis ears.
HOW THE LAWYER GOT A PATRON SAINT.
A LAWYER of Brittany, once on a time,
When business was flagging at home,
Was sent as a legate to Italy's clime,
To confer with the Father at Rome.
And what was the message the minister brought?
To the Pope he preferred a complaint
That each other profession a Patron had got,
While the Lawyers had never a Saint!
"Very true," said his Holiness,-smiling to find
An attorney so civil and pleasant,—
"But my very last Saint is already assigned,
And I can't make a new one at present.
"To choose from the Bar it were fittest, I think ;
Perhaps you've a man in your eye;"
And his Holiness here gave a mischievous wink
To a Cardinal sitting near by.
But the lawyer replied, in a lawyer-like way,
"I know what is modest, I hope;
I didn't come hither, allow me to say
To proffer advice to the Pope ! "
"Very well," said his Holiness, "then we will do
The best that may fairly be done;
It don't seem exactly the thing, it is true,
That the Law should be Saint-less alone.
"To treat your profession as well as I can,
And leave you no cause of complaint,
I propose, as the only quite feasible plan,
To give you a second-hand Saint.
"To the neighboring church you will presently go
And this is the plan I advise :-
First, say a few aves-a hundred or so
Then, carefully bandage your eyes;
"Then (saying more aves) go groping around,
And, touching one object alone,
The Saint you are seeking will quickly be found,
For the first that you touch is your own."
The lawyer did as his Holiness said,
Without an omission or flaw;
Then, taking the bandages off from his head,
What do you think he saw?
There was St. Michael (figured in paint)
Subduing the Father of Evil;
And the lawyer, exclaiming “Be thou our Saint!"
Was touching the form of the DEVIL!
JOSH BILLINGS ON LAUGHING
LAUGHING is strikly an amuzement, altho some folks make ■ bizzness ov it. It haz bin considered an index ov karakter, and thare iz sum, so close at reasoning, that they say, they kan tell what a man had for dinner, by seeing him laff. I never saw two laff alike. While thare are some, who don't make enny noise, thare are sum, who dont make ennything but noise; and some agin, who hav musik in their laff, and others, who laff just az a rat duz, who haz caught a steel trap with his tale. Thare is no mistake in the assershun, that it is a cumfert tew hear sum laffs, that cum rompin out ov a man's mouth, just like a distrik school ov yung girls let out tew play. Then agin thare iz sum laffs, that are az kold and meaningless az a yesterday's bukwheat pancake~ that cum out of the mouth twisted, and gritty, az a 2 inch auger, drawed out ov a hemlok board. One ov these kind
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