intending to settle them and build a meeting-house without a steeple as soon as he grew rich enough. 6. When he got over, Jonathan found the land was quite in a state of nature, covered with wood, and inhabited by nobody but wild beasts. But being a lad of mettle, he took his axe on one shoulder and his gun on the other, marched into the thickest of the wood, and clearing a place, built a log cabin. Pursuing his labors, and handling his axe like a notable woodsman, he, in a few years, cleared the land, which he laid out into thirteen good farms; and building himself a fine frame house, about half finished, began to be quite snug and comfortable. 7. But Squire Bull, who was getting old and stingy, and, besides, was in want of money, on account of his having lately been made to pay swinging damages for assaulting his neighbors and breaking their heads-the Squire, I say, finding that Jonathan was getting well to do in the world, began to be very much troubled about his welfare; so he demanded that Jonathan should pay him a good rent for the land which he had cleared and made good for something. 8. He trumped up I know not what claim against him, and, under different pretences, managed to pocket all Jonathan's honest gains. In fact, the poor lad had not a shilling left for holiday occasions; and, had it not been for the filial respect he felt for the old man, he would certainly have refused to submit to such impositions. But, for all this, in a little time Jonathan grew up to be very large of his age, and became a tall, stout, double-jointed, broad-footed cub of a fellow, awkward in his gait, and simple in his appearance, but showing a lively, shrewd look, and having the promise of great strength when he should get his full growth. 9. He was rather an odd-looking chap, in truth, and had many queer ways. Like the old Squire, he was apt to be blustering and saucy; but in the main was a peaceable sort of careless fellow, that would quarrel with nobody if you only let him alone. While Jonathan was outgrowing his strength, Bull kept on picking his pockets of every penny he could scrape together; till at last one day, when the Squire was even more than usually pressing in his demands, which he ac companied with threats, Jonathan started up in a furious pas sion, and threw the tea-kettle at the old man's head. 10. The choleric Bull was hereupon exceedingly enraged; and after calling the poor lad an undutiful, ungrateful, rebel lious rascal, seized him by the collar, and forthwith a furious scuffle ensued. This lasted a long time; for the Squire, though in years, was a capital boxer, and of most excellent bottom. At last, however, Jonathan got him under; and before he would let him up, made him sign a paper, giving up all claims to the farms, and acknowledging the fee-simple to be in Jonathan forever. J. K. PAULDING. 110. AN AMUSING ANECDOTE. OF Stuart, the American painter, this amusing anecdote is related. He had put up at an inn, and his companions were desirous, by putting roundabout questions, to find out his calling or profession. Stuart answered, with a grave face and serious tone, that he sometimes dressed gentlemen's and ladies' hair. At that time, high-cropped pomatumed hair was all the fashion. 2. "You are a hair-dresser, then ?" "What," said he, "do I look like a barber?" "I beg your pardon, sir, but I inferred it from what you said. If I mistook you, may I take the liberty to ask what you are, then?" "Why, I sometimes brush a gentleman's coat or hat, and sometimes adjust a cravat." 3. "Oh, you are a valet, then, to some nobleman?" "A valet! Indeed, sir, I am not. I am not a servant. To be sure, I make coats and waistcoats for gentlemen." "Oh, you are a tailor?". "A tailor! do I look like a tailor? I assure you, I never handled a goose, other than a roasted one." 4. By this time they were all in a roar. "What are you, then?" said one. "I'll tell you," said Stuart. "Be assured, all I have said is literally true. I dress hair, brush hats and coats, adjust a cravat, and make coats, waistcoats, and breeches, and likewise boots and shoes, at your service." 5. "Oh, hol a boot and shoemaker, after all !" "Guess again, gentlemen. I never handled boot or shoe, but for my wn feet and legs; yet all I have told you is true." "We ay as well give up guessing." "Well, then, I will tell you, upon my honor as a gentleman, my bona fide profession. I get my bread by making faces." 6. He then screwed his countenance, and twisted the lineaments of his visage, in a manner such as Samuel Foote or Charles Matthews might have envied. His companions, after loud peals of laughter, each took credit to himself for having suspected that the gentleman belonged to the theatre, and they all knew he must be a comedian by profession; when, to their utter astonishment, he assured them that he was never on the stage, and very rarely saw the inside of a play-house, or any similar place of amusement. They all now looked at each other in utter amazement. 7. Before parting, Stuart said to his companions: "Gentlemen, you will find that all I have said of my various employ ments is comprised in these few words: I am a portrait painter. If you will call at my place in London, I shall be ready and willing to brush you a coat or hat, dress your hair à la mode, supply you, if in need, with a wig of any fashion or dimensions, accommodate you with boots or shoes, give you ruffles or cravat, and make faces for you." 111. FAM E. H, who shall lightly say that fame Is nothing but an empty name, While in that sound there is a charm, The nerves to brace, the heart to warm; As, thinking of the mighty dead, The young from slothful couch will start, 2. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame A desert bare-a shipless sea! 3. Oh, who shall lightly say that fame JOANNA BAILLIK. 112. LIFE. ELL me not, in mournful numbers, TELL "Life is but an empty dream !" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. 2. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal: 3. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow 4. Art is long, and time is fleeting; And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. 5. In the world's broad field of battle, 6. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant: Let the dead Past bury its dead: Act-act in the living present, Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 7. Lives of great men all remind us 8. Footprints, that perhaps another, 9. Let us, then, be up and doing, LONGFELLOW. |