AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
75 
SERENADING A YOUNG LADY. 
In my young days, says the editor of an 
exchange paper, 1 was extravagantly fond 
of attending parties, and was somewhat cel¬ 
ebrated for playing the flute ; hence it was 
generally expected, when an invitation was 
extended, that my flute would accompany 
me. I visited a splendid party one evening, 
and was called upon to favor the company 
with a tune on the flute. I, of course, im¬ 
mediately complied with the request. The 
company appeared to be delighted, but more 
particularly so, was a young lady who raised 
her hands and exclaimed that it was beauti¬ 
ful, delightful, &c. I, of course, was highly 
flattered, and immediately formed a resolu¬ 
tion to serenade the young lady on the fol¬ 
lowing night. Previous to leaving the par¬ 
ty, I made inquiry respecting her residence. 
I started the next night, in company with 
several young friends, and arrived at the 
lady’s residence, as we thought, but made a 
most glorious mistake by getting under the 
window of an old Quaker. “ Now boys,” 
said I, “ behold the sentimentality of this 
young lady the moment I strike up the Last 
Rose of Summer.” I struck up, but the 
window remained closed. The boys smiled: 
“ Oh,” said I, “ that is nothing; it would 
not be in good taste to open the window on 
the first air.” I next struck up on Old 
Robin Gray. Still the window remained 
closed. The boys snickered, and I felt 
somewhat flat. “ Once more, boys,” said I, 
‘ and she must come.” I struck up again— 
My love is like the Red, Red Rose. Still 
there was no demonstration. “ Boys,” said 
I, “ she’s a humbug. Let us sing Home, 
Sweet Home, and if that don’t bring her, we 
will give her up.” We struck up, and as we 
finished the last line, the window was raised. 
That’s the ticket, boys,” said I; “ I knew 
we could fetch her.” But instead of the 
beautiful young lady, it turned out to be the 
old Quaker, in his night cap and dressing 
gown. “ Friend,” said he, “ thee was sing¬ 
ing of thy home—I think thee said thy sweet 
home—and if I recollect right, thee said 
there was no place like home ; why don’t 
thee go to thy home 1 Thee is not wanted 
here—thee nor any of thy party. Farewell!” 
We and our hats went home ! 
Speech bv the Hon. Spit fire Buncom.— 
The Wheeling Intelligencer must be held re¬ 
sponsible for giving to the world the accom¬ 
panying eloquent extract from a patriotic 
and thrilling speech of the Hon. Spit-fire 
Buncom in favor of 54:40, or fight. 
“ Fellow Countrymen : When I open my 
eyes, and look over the vast expanse of this 
country—when I see how the yeast of free¬ 
dom has caused it to rise in the scale of 
civilization and expand on every side—when 
I see it growing, swelling, roaring like a 
spring freshet, whose music murmurs over 
perpetual power, which, like a bounding cat¬ 
aract, dashes the enemies of Universal 
Freedom to the vortex below or sends them 
bounding down the river Styx! When I 
look at their everlasting mountains milking 
the clouds of their most nutritious fluids— 
which find an unobstructed pathway to mar¬ 
ket when butter commands the highest cash 
price. When I behold the Vesuvius of burn¬ 
ing, impassioned—unbought souls—sinewy 
Vulcans of the Universe—this eternal tilt- 
hammer of creation—I can not resist the 
idea, sirs, the day will come when this great 
nation, like a young boy, will burst its straps 
and become too big for its boots. Sirs, we 
want elbow room ; the continent, the whole 
continent, and nothing but the continent— 
and we will have it. Then shall Uncle Sam, 
placing his hat upon the Canadas, rest his 
right arm on the Oregon and California coast, 
hiB left on the eastern seaboard and whittle 
away the British power, while reposing his 
leg like a freeman, upon Cape Horn ! Sirs ! 
the day will—the day must come.” 
A PAIR OF STOCKINGS. 
The National Intelligencer publishes the 
following letter, written by a distinguished 
literary lady, Mrs. W.,olTroy, and addressed 
to a learned Judge of New-Haven,onthe eve 
of his marriage. The letter accompanied 
the present of a pair of blue stockings, knit 
by the fair wiiter’s own fingers. We com¬ 
mend it to the careful perusal of all married 
persons, as well as all who contemplate en¬ 
tering into that enviable and holy state : 
“ Dear Cousin : Herewith you will re¬ 
ceive a present of a pair of woolen stockings, 
knit by my own hands ; and be assured, 
dear coz, that my friendship for you, is as 
warm as the material, active as the finger- 
work, and generous as the donation. 
But I consider this present as peculiarly 
appropriate on the occasion of your mar¬ 
riage. You will remark, in the first place, 
that there are two individuals united into one 
pair, who are to walk side by side, guarding 
against coldness, and giving comfort as long 
as they last. The thread of their texture is 
mixed, and so, alas, is the thread of life. In 
these, however, the white is made to pre¬ 
dominate, expressing my desire and confi¬ 
dence that thus it will be with the color of 
your existence. No black is used, for I be¬ 
lieve your lives will be wholly free from the 
black passions of wrath and jealously. The 
darkest color here is blue, which is excellent, 
where we do not make it too blue. 
Other appropriate thoughts rise in my 
mind in regarding these stockings. The 
most indifferent subjects, when viewed by 
the mind in a suitable frame, may furnish in¬ 
structive inferences. As saith the poet, 
“ The iron dogs ; the fuel and tongs : 
The bellows that have leathern lungs ; 
The firewood, ashes, and the smoke. 
Do all to righteousness provoke.” 
But to the subject. You will perceive that 
the tops of these stockings (by which I sup¬ 
pose courtship to be represented) are seamed , 
and by means of seaming are drawn into a 
snarl; but afterwards comes a time when 
the whole is made plain, and continues so to 
the end and final toeing off. By this I wish 
to take occasion to congratulate yourself 
that you are now through with seeming and 
have to come to plain reality. Again, as the 
whole of these comely stockings was not 
made at once, but by the addition of one lit¬ 
tle stitch after another, put in with skill and 
discretion, until the whole presents the fair 
and equal piece of work which you see, so 
life does not consist of one great action, but 
millions of little ones combined. And so 
may it be with your lives ; no stitch dropt 
when duties are to be performed ; no widen¬ 
ing made where bad principles are to be re¬ 
proved or economy is to be preserved ; 
neither seeming nor narrowing where truth 
and generosity are in question. Thus every 
stitch of life made right and set in the right 
place—none either too large or too small, too 
tight or too loose—thus you may keep on 
your smooth and even course, making exis¬ 
tence one fair and consistent piece, until, 
together, having passed the heel, you come 
to the very toe of life. And here, in the final 
narrowing off and dropping the coil of this 
emblematical pair of companions and com¬ 
forting associates, nothing appears but white, 
the token of innocence and peace, of purity 
and light. May you, like these stockings, 
the final stitch being dropt and the work com¬ 
pleted, go together from the place where 
you were formed to a happier state of exist¬ 
ence, present from earth to heaven! 
Hoping that these stockings and admoni¬ 
tions may meet a cordial reception, I remain, 
in the true-blue friendship, seemly, yet with¬ 
out seeming-, Yours, from top to toe, 
____ 95 
A SAGACIOUS TEACHER. 
The Johnstown (Pa.) Tribune has a “ let¬ 
ter found by a chambermaid,” supposed to 
have been penned by a young Miss at board¬ 
ing-school in a neighboring State. One part 
of it is too good to lose : 
I must tell you about an affair of Emma 
Hall’s, that happened last Saturday. A 
young man who had been paying some atten¬ 
tion to her, had agreed to come and pass off 
as her cousin, and take her out carriage rid¬ 
ing, under the pretense that he was taking 
her to his father’s, a few miles in the coun¬ 
try. But his father does not live within a 
hundred miles of this. 
Well, he came according to appointment, 
introduced himself as Emma’s cousin, and 
asked to take her home with him to spend 
the afternoon. Miss Waldron said she had 
not the slightest objection, asked how far it 
was, and in what direction, and told Emma 
to get ready to go. But when Emma was 
dressed and ready to start, Miss Waldron 
also came down ready dressed, and said that, 
as their carriage was large enough for three, 
she would go along with them part of the 
way, and stop at a friend’s, who lived a short 
distance from the uncle that Emma was 
going to see, and they might stop for her as 
they came back in the evening. Of course, 
they could do no better than to tell her they 
would be glad to have her go with them, al¬ 
though they would have a dull time with 
her along. But they thought they could 
make up for it by having a nice, social ride 
after Miss Waldron stopped at her friend’s. 
So, off they started in fine spirits, and 
when they had gone three or four miles 
they began to expect that every house they 
came to would be the one that Miss Waldron 
would stop at. But she didn’t stop at any. 
Finally, when they had gone some five or 
six miles, Miss Waldron said she must have 
passed the house by some mistake, for they 
had certainly traveled twice as far as it was 
from town. But, since they had passed it, 
she would not trouble them to turn back with 
her, but would go on with Emma to her 
uncle’s and stop just a minute at her friend’s 
as they came back. There was what you 
might call “ a fix,” and Emma and her beau 
could do nothing but drive on. So, on they 
drove, and on they drove ; but driving on 
didn't drive their troubles away. At last, 
when they had gone eight or ten miles, he 
said that the road must have been changed 
in some way, for he had undoubtedly gone 
astray, and as they had gone so far, and it 
was drawing late, they would not have time 
to find the right way. 
So they came back to town, and when 
Miss Waldron got out of the carriage, she 
told Em’s beau that, when he ascertained 
how the road had been changed, she would 
be very happy to go along with Emma any 
Saturday to spend an afternoon at her 
uncle’s. Since that, we have seen nothing 
of Em’s cousin ; but it will be a long time 
before she hears the last of her visit to her 
uncle’s. 
Reasonable. —An exchange says, the rea¬ 
son why our aristocracy put their servants 
in livery is, because they fear the footman 
or coachman may be mistaken for the mas¬ 
ter, there is so little difference between them, 
either in looks, manners, or speech. 
Sewing Machine. —A wag who evidently 
admires the ladies, says : “ The best sewing 
machine in the world is one about seventeen 
years old, with a short-sleeve dress, and 
pretty little feet with gaiters on.” 
