AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
331 
“A little humor now and then, 
Is relished by the best of men.” 
Poetical. —Here is a short poem of a ter¬ 
ribly tragic nature, and the style in which it 
is written is most frightfully clear and sim¬ 
ple : 
I saw him bare his throat, and seize 
The blue, cold, gleaming steel, 
And grimly try the tempered edge 
He was so soon to feel. 
He raised on high the glittering blade, 
Then first I found a tongue— 
“ Hold, madman ! stay the frantic deed !” 
I cried, and forth I sprang. 
He heard me—but he heeded not! 
One glance around he gave; 
And, ere I could arrest his hand, 
He had —begun to shave ! 
Not Bad.—A correspondent of the Cin¬ 
cinnati Times, from Burlington, Vt., relates 
t.h,e following : 
I am reminded—speaking of cheese—of a 
little anecdote the stage driver told me yes¬ 
terday. We were passing an old farmhouse 
with an untidy yard and dilapidated out¬ 
buildings, when he said : 
“ A Boston man got off a pretty cute 
speech on the owner of that place t’other 
day.” 
“Whatwas it?” I asked. 
“ Why, he called at the house to buy a 
cheese, but when he came to look at the lot, 
he?concluded he didn’t want ’em, they was 
so full of ‘ skippers.’ So he made an ex¬ 
cuse and was going away, when the farmer 
said to him : 
“ ‘ Look here, mister, how can I get my 
cheese down to Boston the cheapest V 
“The gentleman looked at the stuff a mo¬ 
ment, and saw the maggots squirming and 
said : 
Well, I don’t know; let ’em be a day or 
two and you can drive 'em right down!' " 
It seemed to me the answer was some¬ 
what “ pertinent on the occasion.” 
Had him that Time. —The Boston.Post 
tells the following : Rev. Mr. Foster of Sa¬ 
lem, was a facetious man, and usually ready 
at a joke and repartee. He had a parishion¬ 
er, a carpenter by trade, pretty well stocked 
with ready wit, and, withal, somewhat given 
to boasting. One day, while at work for his 
minister, hewing a stick of timber, the car¬ 
penter was boasting in his usual style of the 
marvels that he could perform. The Pastor, 
to put an extinguisher upon him, said, “ Gov¬ 
ernor, (his nickname) do you think you 
could make a devil 1” “ Make a devil!” re¬ 
sponded the Governor, “ why yes, oh yes!” 
(his broad ax mowing a little more rapidly,) 
“ here, put up your foot—you want the least 
alteration of any man I ever saw !” It was 
rare that the minister came off second best 
in such encounters, but he did this time. 
A Cannon Charged. —“Who is that lady 1” 
said Blucher to an elbow friend, fixing his 
eyes upon her. 
“ That is Miss Sparkle, the daughter of 
one of our cannons,” was the reply; at 
which the shocking old Field Marshal thun¬ 
dered forth with a roaring laugh, 
“A Cannon's daughter! By Jove, I thought 
so, she looks so well charged with grape !" 
A Real Blessing to Mothers. —Couldn't 
somebody invent a soap which would enable 
Mammas to get their Daughters off their 
hands? [Punch. 
LINES BY MILTON IN HIS OLD AGE. 
I am old and blind ! 
Men point at me as smitten by God’s frown, 
Afflicted and deserted of my mind— 
Yet I am not cast dotvn. 
I am weak, yet strong; 
I murmur not that I no longer see ; 
Poor, old and helpless, I the more belong, 
Father Supreme ! to Thee ! 
O merciful One ! 
When men are farthest, then Thou art most near; 
When friends pass by—my weakness shun— 
The chariot I hear. 
Thy glorious face 
Is leaning towards me—and its holy light 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place, 
And there is no more night. 
On my bended knee 
I recognize thy purpose clearly shown— 
My vision thou hast dimmed that I may see 
Thyself, Thyself alone. 
I have naught to fear, 
This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing— 
Beneath it I am almost sacred—here 
Can come no evil thing. 
Oh ! I seem to stand 
Trembling where foot of mortal ne’er hath been, 
Wrapped in the radiance of thy sinless land, 
Which eye hath never seen. 
Visions come and go— 
Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng— 
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow 
Of soft and holy song. 
It is nothing, nothing, 
When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes, 
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow, 
The earth in darkness lies. 
In a purer clime 
My being fills with rapture—waves of thought, 
Roll in upon my spirit—strains sublime 
Break over me unsought. 
Give me now my lyre ! 
I feel the stirrings of a gift divine, 
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire 
Lit by no skill of mine. 
WHAT IS A LETTER? 
What is a letter 1 Let affection tell! 
A tongue that speaks for those who absent dwell; 
A silent language uttered to the eye, 
Which envious distance would in vain deny ; 
A link to bind where circumstances part, 
A nerve of feeling stretched from heart to heart, 
Formed to convey, like an electric chain, 
The mystic flash—the lightning of the brain— 
A thrill at once through its remotest link, 
The throb of passion, by a drop of ink. 
THE BLOOM OF AGE. 
A good woman never grows old. Years 
may pass over her head, but if virtue and 
benevolence dwell in her heart, she is as 
cheerful as when the spring time of life 
opened to her view. When we look upon a 
good woman we never think of her age; 
she looks as charming as when the rose of 
youth bloomed on her cheek. That rose 
has not faded yet—it never will fade. In her 
family she is the light and delight. In her 
neighborhood, she is the friend and benefac¬ 
tor. In the church, the devout worshipper 
and the exemplary Christian. Oh, who does 
not respect and love the woman who has 
passed her days in acts of kindness and 
mercy—who has been the friend of God and 
man—whose whole life has been a scene of 
kindness and love, a devotion to truth and 
religion? We repeat, such a woman can 
not grow old. She will always be fresh and 
buoyant in spirits, and active in humble 
deeds of mercy and benevolence. 
THE MAN WHO KISSED THE THREE GIRLS. 
A young man who boarded at a house in 
the country, where were three very coy 
damsels, who seemed to imagine that men 
were such terrible creatures it was a sin to 
look upon them, was one afternoon accosted 
by an acquaintance, and asked what he 
thought of the young ladies with whom he 
boarded. He replied that they were very 
shy and reserved. 
“ So they are,” returned the other, “ so 
much so that no gentleman can get near 
enough to them to see the color of their 
eyes.” 
“ That may be,” said the good looking 
boarder, “ but I’ll bet a million I can kiss all 
three without any trouble.” 
“ That you nor no other man can do,” 
cried his friend. 
The other was positive, and invited his 
friend to the house to witness the achieve¬ 
ment. 
They entered the parlor together, and the 
three maids were all at home, sitting beside 
their mother, all looking as prim and demure 
as old John Rogers at the stake. 
Our hero assumed a very grave aspect al¬ 
most to dejection, and looking fixedly at the 
clock, breathed a sigh as deep as algebra, 
and as long as a female dialogue at a street- 
door. His singular deportment attracted 
the attention of the girls, who cast their 
slow opening eyes upon his countenance. 
Perceiving the impression he had made, he 
turned to his companion and said, in a sol- 
lemn tone, 
“ It wants but three minutes of the time !” 
“ Do you speak of dinner?” said the old 
lady, laying down her sewing work. 
“ Dinner?” said he with a bewildered as¬ 
pect, and pointing, as if unconsciously, with 
curled forefinger at the clock. 
A silence ensued during which the female 
part of the house glared at the young man 
with irrepressible curiosity. 
“You will see me decently interred,” said 
he, again turning to his friend. 
His friend was as much puzzled as any 
body present, and his embarrassment added 
to the intended effect; but the old lady being 
no longer able to contain herself, cried, 
“ Mr. C-, pray what do you speak of?” 
“ Nothing,” answered he, in a lugubrious 
tone, “ but that last night a spirit appeared 
unto me !” Here the girls rose to their feet 
and drew near. “ And the spirit gave me 
warning that I should die exactly at twelve 
o’clock to day, and you see it wants but half 
a minute of that time !” 
The girls turned pale, and their hidden 
sympathies were at once awakened for the 
doomed. They stood chained to the spot, 
looking alternately at the clock and at the 
unfortunate youth. He then walked up to 
the eldest of the girls, and taking by the 
hand, bade her a very solemn farewell. He 
also imprinted a kiss upon her quivering 
lips, which she did not attempt to resist. He 
then bade the socond and third farewell, in 
the same tender and affectionate manner. 
His object was achieved, and that moment 
the clock struck 12. Hereupon he looked 
around surprised, and ejaculated, 
“ Who would have believed that an appari¬ 
tion would tell such a lie ! It was probably 
the ghost of Annanias or Sapphira.” 
It was some time before the sober maids 
understood the joke, and when they did they 
evinced no resentment. The first kiss broke 
the ice ; and thanks to the ghost, they dis¬ 
covered there ivas some pleasure in a 
bearded cheek. 
Narrow Souls. —It is with narrow-souled 
people as with a narrow-necked bottle, the 
less they have in them, the more noise they 
make in pouring it out. 
