rmiuon 
ome 
son was at a loss for reply. He did not point to his 
elegant companion and say that that sum would hardly 
buy her gloves ; and I suppose the poet accepted her 
splendor as a matter of course, and did not dream ol 
the cost.” 
After-Dinner Orator. —“ It’s in the wonerful in¬ 
sight inter ’uman nature that Dickens gets the pull 
over Thackery ; hut, on t’other hand, it’s in the bril¬ 
liant shafts o’ satire, t’gether with a keen sense o’ hu¬ 
mor, that Dickery gets the pull over Thackens. It’s 
just this : Thickery is the humorist, and Dackens is 
the satirist. But, after all, it’s ’bsurd to instoot any 
comparison between Dackens and Thickens.” So 
none was “instooted .”—London Judy. 
Mr. Whittier’s simplicity of life and thought is 
illustrated by a story told by a writer in the Boston 
Times. She says: “A very elegant woman of Bos¬ 
ton was walking with Col. Higginson—the fastidious 
man of culture, who understands how to smile and 
how to use the semi-color better than any man in New 
England. ‘ I want you to come in to Osgood’s with 
me,’ he said to his lady friend, ‘ and see Whittier, who 
is there to-day.’ 
They went in and found the poet. After a little 
while the conversation turned on a young girl with 
colored blood in her veins who had a place in the 
A QUEER TEAM. 
A traveller in the Western district, was struck by 
the absence of the usual tessellated language of a bul¬ 
lock driver, in the case of a man on the road with a 
small team, which he thus apostrophized: “ Come 
hither, Baptist! Wo-o-o ! Presbyterian,” etc. This 
mode of address seemed so strange to the traveller that 
he entered into conversation with the man and asked 
him how these titles were applicable to a bullock team. 
Well, sir, vou see,” said he, “I calls this the ’clesias- 
After a prolonged discourse on her virtues and social “ I never can enjoy poetry when I’m cookin,” said 
privations, Col. Higginson said, ‘ And, poor child, 1 an old lady : “ but when I step out to feed the hogs, 
after her board and other expenses are paid she has ' and h’ist myself on the fence and throw my soul into 
only fifty dollars a year for her dress.’ a few lines of ‘ Cap’n Jinks,’ it does seem as if this 
Whittier drew up slowly about his spare figure the , airth was made to live on, after all.” 
gray, woolen shawl that he wore. ‘ Fifty dollars,’' A traveller in a steamboat not particularly cele- 
said he ; ‘ and does not thee think that is enough 1 I j brated for its celerity, inquired of a gentleman who 
never spent more than that sum a year for dress in my ' stood next to him what the boat was called, upon 
life.’ j which the latter replied, “ I think, sir, it is called the 
Looking at the Spartan simplicity of the Quaker j ‘ Regulator,’ for I observe all the other boats go 
poet, one could readily believe him, and Col. Higgin- by it” 
tical team. You see that bullock on the off side lead¬ 
ing ; I call him Baptist. We’ll be crossing the creek 
presently, and he’ll be bound to make for water. That 
one on the near side, lie’s ’Piscopalian, ’cause he holds 
his head so werry high. That bullock on the off side 
of the pole, the one with the crumpled horn, I calls 
him Presbyterian. He is the most out-and-out know¬ 
ing bullock of the lot. The brindie in the same yoke 
with him, he’s Wesleyan. He’s always a grunting and 
a groaning, as if he was dragging the whole load. 
Bless your life, sir, he’s not pulling an ounce.” 
