Then, Bonaparte-who was he?
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Old Bonaparte was King of France
Before the Revolution;

But he was kilt at Waterloo,

Which ruined his constitution."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who King Jonah was;
Now tell me if you can, sir.”
"King Jonah was the strangest man
That ever wore a crown, sir;
For though the whale did swallow him,
It couldn't keep him down, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, sir;

Jist tell me who that Moses was,
Now tell me if you can, sir."

"Shure Moses was the Christian name

Of good King Pharaoh's daughter;
She was a milkmaid, and she took
A profit from the water."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, sir; Jist tell me now where Dublin is; Now tell me if you can, sir." "Och, Dublin is a town in Cork, And built on the equator; It's close to Mount Vesuvius,

And watered by the 'crathur','

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me now where London is;
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Och, London is a town in Spain;
"Twas lost in the earthquake, sir;
The cockneys murther English there
Whenever they do spake, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
Ye're now a jintleman, sir;
For in history and geography

I've taught you all I can, sir.
And if any one should ask you now

Where you got all your knowledge,
Jist tell them 'twas from Paddy Blake,
Of Bally Blarney College."

JAMES A. SIDNEY.

A

"PAPA SAYS SO, TOO."

TINY rap fell on the door ;

I quickly stepped across the floor
And turned the knob for Perley Moore.

"Good morning, little one," I said; "How early you are out of bed!

Is that what makes your cheeks so red?"

"I'se tum a vis'tin' oo to-day,
I tol' Aunt Nelly if I may;

Of tourse oo tan, Aunt Nelly say;
An' so I'se tum an' brought my doll;
My hat is dittin' mos' too small;
Oo fink dis is a pitty s'awl?"

All this the little maiden said,

While yet her hat was on her head,
And shawl was o'er her shoulders spread.

I said, "How is your Aunty Nell?"

I hope to hear that she is well."

She lifted up her great black eyes,
Pursed up her mouth, and looked so wise,
As if to note my great surprise.

"Aunt Nelly's dot de whoopin' toff,
An' has to have some chitten broff,
An' nassy stuff from Dr. Goff;
An' s'e's all tovered up in bed,

An' has a wet cloff on s'e's head,
And s'e tan't cat s'e's toas'd b'ead."

Somehow I knew she told a fib,
Her little tongue was all too glib;
And so, to lead the gypsy on,
I questioned her of Uncle John.

"Oh! Uncle Don's down to de city;
He's daun to dit me somefin pitty-
I dess t'ill be a 'ittle kitty-
Oh! no, I dess t'ill be a baby-

He say he some time dit one, maybe."

"You do not want another cousin?

For you have now at least a dozen :
There's Tom and Jim, and Joe and Hurley,
And then your little namesake, Perley."

"Dis baby'll be my ve'wy own,

An' t'ill be made of meat an' bone,
An' have a 'ittle mouf so sweet,

An' I tan dive it somefin t'eat.

Oo see, I'se dot no 'ittle b'over—

He's daun way up to heav'n wiv mover,

An' I tan't never dit no over.

But papa say he don't want any;

He say anuzzer be too many;

He say he'll tange my name to Benny."

"O Perley! how you rattle on;
I'll have to tell your Uncle John
Your tongue runs like a dinner-bell;
Come, let us go and see Aunt Nell;
Now hurry up, get ready quick-
You know Aunt Nell is very sick."

"Aunt Nelly is not sit," she said, "An' s'e's not lying in ze bed,

Nor got no wet cloff on s'e's head."

"Why, Perley, you have told a lie!"
She poked her fat fist in her eye,
And straightway raised a deafening cry.
The briny tears ran down her cheek,
Sobs choked her so she could not speak,
And all her attitude was meek.

"Why did you tell me such a tale?
To find you out I could not fail!”

She came and stood beside my knee-
A prettier puss there could not be.
My fingers in her hand she took,
And gave me such a curious look:
"Tom read it to me in a book;
The boy was 'ittle Henwy Pool-
He dot ze book at Sunday-Tool,
An' Tommy says zose books are true,
An' papa says so, too-don't oo?"

JENNIE T. HAZEN LEWIS.

A PIECE OF BUNTING.

ΟΝ

Na Christmas morning, many years ago, I stood upon the deck of a merchantman, in the harbor of Cadiz, in Spain.

The cathedral and convent bells were ringing out their carols, in commemoration of that event, which, two thousand years ago, brought the tidings of peace on earth and good-will to men ; and as I leaned on the taffrail, infused with the glamour of youth, enveloped in the Indian-summer haze of that delicious atmosphere, which predisposes the most stolid to revery, I gazed on the beautiful town, that rose like a city of pearl from the sea, and mused.

I could hardly realize my own identity; that I, a boy born and reared on the margin of the Great Lakes, was floating on the same waters which had borne the Pho