VI.

THE SERENADE.

THINGS in our town is workin'. The canal boat "Lucy Ann" called in here the other day and reported all quiet on the Wabash. The "Lucy Ann" has adopted a new style of Binnakle light, in the shape of a red-headed girl who sits up over the compass. It works well.

The artist I spoke about in my larst has returned to Philadelphy. Before he left I took his lily-white hand in mine. I suggested to him that if he could induce the citizens of Philadelphy to believe it would be a good idea to have white winder-shutters on their houses and white door-stones, he might make a fortin. "It's a novelty," I added, "and may startle 'em at fust, but they may conclood to adopt it."

As several of our public men are constantly being surprised with serenades, I concluded I'd be surprised in the same way, so I made arrangements accordin'. I asked the Brass Band how much they'd

take to take me entirely by surprise with a serenade. They said they'd overwhelm me with a unexpected honor for seven dollars, which I excepted.

I wrote out my impromptoo speech severil days beforehand, bein' very careful to expunge all ingramatticisms and payin' particler attention to the punktooation. It was, if I may say it without egitism, a manly effort, but, alars! I never delivered it, as the sekel will show you. I paced up and down the kitchin speakin' my piece over so as to be entirely perfeck. My bloomin' young daughter, SARAH Ann, bothered me summut by singin', "Why do summer roses fade ?"

"Because," said I, arter hearin' her sing it about fourteen times, "because it's their biz! Let 'em fade."

/ "BETSY," said I, pausin' in the middle of the room and letting my eagle eye wander from the manuscrip; "BETSY, on the night of this here serenade, I desires you to appear at the winder dressed in white, and wave a lily-white handkercher. D'ye hear?"

"If I appear," said that remarkable female, "I shall wave a lily-white bucket of bilin' hot water, and somebody will be scalded. One bald-headed old fool

will get his share."

She refer'd to her husband. No doubt about it in my mind. But for fear she might exasperate me I said nothin'."

The expected night cum. At nine o'clock precisely there was sounds of footsteps in the yard, and the Band struck up a lively air, which when they did finish it, there was cries of "WARD! WARD!" I stept out onto the portico. A brief glance showed me that the assemblage was summut mixed. There was a great many ragged boys, and there was quite a number of grown-up persons evigently

The

under the affluence of the intoxicatin' bole. Band was also drunk. DR. SCHWAZEY, who was holdin' up a post, seemed to be partic'ly drunk-so much so that it had got into his spectacles, which were staggerin' wildly over his nose. But I was in for it, and I commenced:

"Feller Citizens: For this onexpected honor--" Leader of the Band.-Will you give us our money now, or wait till you git through?

To this painful and disgustin' interruption I paid no attention.

"for this onexpected honor I thank you." Leader of the Band.-But you said you'd give us seven dollars if we'd play two choons.

Again I didn't notice him, but resumed as follows: "I say I thank you warmly. When I look at this crowd of true Americans, my heart swells

Dr. Schwazey.-So do I!

A voice.-We all do!

A voice.

Three cheers for the swells.

"We live," said I, "in troublous times, but I hope we shall again resume our former proud position, and go on in our glorious career!"

Dr. Schwazey.-I'm willin' for one to go on in a glorious career? Will you join me, fellow citizens, in a glorious career? What wages does a man git for a glorious career, when he finds himself?

"DR. SCHWAZEY," said I sternly, "you are drunk. You're disturbin' the meetin'."

Dr. S.-Have you a banquet spread in the house? I should like a rhynossyross on the half shell, or a hippopotamus on toast, or a horse and wagon roasted whole. Anything that's handy. Don't put

yourself out on my account.

At this pint the Band begun to make hidyous noises with their brass horns, and a exceedingly ragged boy wanted to know if there wasn't to be some wittles afore the concern broke up? I didn't exactly know what to do, and was just on the pint of doin' it, when a upper winder suddenly opened and a stream of hot water was bro't to bear on the disorderly crowd, who took the hint and retired at once.

When I am taken by surprise with another serenade, I shall, among other arrangements, have a respectful company on hand. So no more from me to-day. When this you see, remember me.

VII.

A ROMANCE.-WILLIAM BARKER, THE YOUNG

PATRIOT.

I.

"No, William Barker, you cannot have my daughter's hand in marriage until you are her equal in wealth and social position."

The speaker was a haughty old man of some sixty years, and the person whom he addressed was a finelooking young man of twenty-five.

With a sad aspect the young man withdrew from the stately mansion.

II.

Six months later the young man stood in the presence of the haughty old man.

"What! you here again?" angrily cried the old

man.

"Ay, old man," proudly exclaimed William Barker, I am here, your daughter's equal and yours?" The old man's lips curled with scorn. A derisive

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