AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
12B 
“A little humor now and then, 
Is relished by the best of men.” 
JACK RINK AND THE YANKEE. 
Few communities are more strongly im¬ 
bued with a passion for horse racing than 
the good people of Natchez. In New-York, 
folks talk “ soger ” and “ engine ;” in Paris, 
they talk opera; in Natchez, they talk 
horse. They believe in quadrupeds and 
nothing else. To own the fastest horse in 
Natchez, is to enjoy the fee simple of an 
honor in comparison with which a member 
of Congress sinks into nothingness. 
In October last, the “ fall meeting ” took 
place, and led to more than the usual quan¬ 
tity of excitement and brandy cock-tails. 
The last race of the last day was a sort of a 
“ free fight,” open to every horse that had 
never won a race; purse, $500, Entrance, 
$25. 
Among those who proposed to go in was 
a Yankee peddlar, with a sorrel colt of rather 
promising proportions. He thus addressed 
one of the Judges : 
“ I say, captain, I should like to go in 
for that puss.” 
“ What with 1” 
“ That sorrel colt.” 
“ Is he speedy I” 
“ I calculate he is, or I would not wish to 
risk a load of tin ware on the result.” 
“ Do you know the terms 1” 
“ Like a book—puss $500, and entrance 
fee $25—and there’s the dimes.” 
Here Yankee drew out a last century wal¬ 
let, and brought up two X’s and a V. Among 
those who witnessed) the operation was 
Jack Rink of the Belvue House. Jack saw 
his customer, and immediately measured 
him for an entertainment. After the usual 
fuss and palaver, the horses were brought 
out, saddled, and prepared for a single heat 
of two miles. There were eight competit¬ 
ors beside the Yankee. The latter was a 
smart sorrel colt, with a fine eye, and a lift 
of the leg that indicated speed and bottom. 
“ Bring up the horses,” said the Judge. 
The horses were brought up—the Yankee 
gathered up his reins and adjusted his stir¬ 
rups. While doing this, Mr. Rink went to 
the rear of the sorrel colt and placed a chest¬ 
nut burr under his tail. The next moment 
the order to “ go ” was given, and away 
went nine horses of all possible ages and 
conditions. The Yankee’s was ahead and 
kept there. “ Tin Ware ” was evidently 
pleased with the way things were working, 
and smiled a smile that seemed to say, 
“ that puss will be mine, in less time than it 
would take a greased nigger to slide down a 
soaped liberty pole.” Poor fellow! he hadn’t 
reckoned on that chestnut burr. The “ irri¬ 
tant ” that Jack Rink had administered not 
only increased the animal’s velocity, but his 
ugliness. He not only run like a deer, but 
he refused to do anything else. As the 
Yankee approached the Judge’s stand, he 
undertook to pull up, but it was no go. He 
might as well have tried to stop a thunder¬ 
bolt with a yard of fog. The Yankee reach¬ 
ed the stand—the Yankee passed the stand— 
the Yankee went down the road. When 
last seen, the Yankee was passing through 
the “ adjoinjng county ” at a speed that made 
the people look at him as “ that comet,” that 
was to make its appearance in “ the fall of 
1854.” Where the sorrel colt “ gin out” is 
impossible to say. All we know is, that the 
Yankee has never been heard of from that 
day to this, while his “wagon load of tin 
ware ” still makes one of the leading attrac¬ 
tions in the museum of Natchez. 
TOM MOORE. 
Those persons who are wont to look on 
Tom Moore as a sort of improvisatore, whose 
melodies came forth somehow spontaneous¬ 
ly like the carols of a spring bird, will do 
well to read the following, and then consider 
whether they have reason to despair of any 
thing : 
Alluding to Tom Moore, Mr. Irving said 
that he took extraordinary pains with all he 
wrote. He used to compose his poetry 
walking up and down a gravel-walk in his 
garden, and when he had a line, a couplet, 
or a stanzas polished to his mind, he would 
go to a summer-house near by and write it 
down. He used to think ten lines a good 
day’s work, and would keep the little poem 
by him for weeks, waiting for a single word. 
On one occasion he was riding with Moore 
in a cab, in Paris, and the driver carelessly 
drove into a hole in the pavement, which 
gave the vehicle a tremendous jolt. Moore 
was tossed aloft, and on regaining his seat, 
exclaimed, “ By Jove ! I’ve got it.” “ Got 
what 1” said his companion in alarm. “ My 
word,” was the reply. “I have been try¬ 
ing for it these six weeks, and now that 
rascal has jolted it out of me.” 
On reaching his room, Moore inserted the 
word, and immediately dispatched the fin¬ 
ished song to the publishers in London. 
“ Moore,” added Mr. Irving, was a most 
captivating companion, and the sweetest 
ballad singer I ever heard. No one could 
forget him that heard him sing.” 
An Honorable Hitching-Post. — “Hallo, 
you fellow with the pail and frock,” hollow¬ 
ed an aristocratic British officer, as he brought 
his fiery steed to a stand in front of Govern¬ 
or Chittenden’s dwelling—“ can you inform 
me whether his Honor the Governor of Ver¬ 
mont lives here 1 
“ He does,” replied the man, still wending 
his way to the pig-sty. 
“ Is his Honor at home I” continued the 
man of spurs. 
“ Most certainly,” replied the man of the 
frock. 
“ Here, take my horse by the bit, then,” 
said the officer; I have some business to 
transact with your master .” 
Without a second bidding, the man did as 
requested, and the officer alighted and made 
his way up to the door and gave the pannel 
several hearty taps with his whip—for be it 
known, that in those days of republican sim¬ 
plicity, knockers, like servants, were hardly 
in use. 
The good dame of the house answered the 
summons in person ; and having seated the 
officer and ascertained his desire to see the 
Governor, departed to inform her husband of 
the guest’s arrival; but on ascertaining that 
the officer had made a hitching-post of her 
husband, she immediately returned and in¬ 
formed him that the Governor was engaged 
in the yard, and could not well wait upon his 
Honor and his horse at the same time. 
The predicament of the officer can better 
be imagined than described. 
The Intensity of Love Computed by Math¬ 
ematics. — Mademoiselle de Launay, a 
French authoress of the eighteenth century, 
whose writings were distinguished by their 
piquant delicacy and correctness of judg¬ 
ment, thus writes concerning one who had 
formed an early attachment for her :—Mon¬ 
sieur de Rey always showed me great at¬ 
tachment. I discovered by slight indica¬ 
tions, some diminution in his passion. I 
often went to Mademoiselle d’Epinar, at 
whose house he almost always was. As 
she lived very near my convent, I generally 
returned on foot, and he never failed to 
offer me his arm to conduct me home. 
VVe had to pass through a large square, 
and at the beginning of our acqaintance he 
took the road by the side of the square. 
Then I saw that lie crossed it in the mid¬ 
dle, whence I concluded that his love had, 
at least, diminished by the difference between 
the diagonal and the two sides of the square. 
A Chased Man. —A fastideous M. C. tells 
the following as a “bon mot,” picked up at a 
late dinnerparty in Washington. It appears 
that Mr. H. was at a table in the vicinity of 
Sam Houston, and also a distinguished au¬ 
thoress. During the conversation, Mr. H. 
asked the General if they had any Know- 
Nothings down in Texas. “No, sir, replied 
the General, “ not at present ; we never had 
but one, and soon got rid of him.” “ How 
did you do that 1” asked our member. “Why, 
sir,” said the General, “we chased him out 
of town, and then chased him out of the 
country, and finally he was chased into a 
high tree, and lodged himself there.” “What 
became of him then, sir?” asked the lady. 
“Why, madam,”said the General, who prides 
himself upon what he calls wit, and likes to 
make a point, “ he drew the tree up, roots 
and all, and took it off with him!” Rather 
a loud smile was the consequence, as the 
General thought to his credit and the lady's 
expense, till the lady quietly observed:— 
“ Well, General, I am happy to know you 
have had one chased man in your State !” 
The General was floored, and with the great¬ 
est gravity, and a most deferential bow re¬ 
plied, “ Madam, I am indebted to you—one !” 
A YOUNG KERO. 
A seargeant-major, now in Washington 
barracks, who has recently returned from 
the Crimea, has sent us the following en¬ 
thusiastic account of the conduct of a young 
soldier, only ten years old, named Thomas 
Keep, ofthe third battalion Grenadier Guards, 
under the command of Colonel Thomas 
Wood. The writer states that this boy ac¬ 
companied the army to the heights of the 
Alma, preserving the most undaunted de¬ 
meanor throughout the battle. At one time 
a twenty-four-pounder passed on each side 
of him, and shot and shell fell about him like 
hail, but notwithstanding the weariness of 
the day, present dangers, or the horrid sight, 
the poor boy’s heart beat with tenderness 
towards the poor wounded. Instead of go¬ 
ing into a tent to take care of himself after 
the battle was over, he refused to take rest, 
but was seen venturing his life for the good 
of his comrades in the battle field. 
This boy was seen carefully stepping over 
one dead body after another, collecting all 
the broken muskets he could find, and mak¬ 
ing a fire, in the night to procure hot water. 
He made tea for the poor sufferers, and 
saved the life of Sergeant Russel, and some 
of the soldiers who were nearly exhausted 
for waut. Thus did this youth spend the 
night. At the battle of Balaklava, he again 
assisted the wounded. The boy did his duty, 
by day and worked in the trenches by night. 
He received one shot, which went through 
his coat and out at the leg of his trowsers, 
but Providence again preserved him un¬ 
hurt. He helped with all the bravery of a 
man to get in the wounded, and rested not 
until the poor sufferers were made as com¬ 
fortable as he could make them. He waited 
on the Doctor while extracting the shot from 
the men, and waited on the men before and 
after. “ Thus did this youth,” says the wri¬ 
ter, “ do any thing to any one who needed 
help. Some ofthe wounded say that they 
should not have been alive now, had it not 
been for this unwearied watchfulness in 
their hours of helplessness. This boy has 
