TIM PRICE'S RAM.

BY TOBE HODGE.

"Ho, Colonel! Ho, there! Don't git over them bars. Stop thar, or you'll git butted wuss nor a mule kickin'. My buck mutton's out!" yelled Tim Price, as he came hurriedly out of his cabin, with an alarmed look, hatless, shoeless, and followed by his dog Spider and a crowd of youngsters.

Tim never was seriously earnest in his life, and the truth seldom escaped from him; but to give color to his caution a fine ram stood some distance off with his head toward me, and as I never had heard of a decision being rendered on that famous subject so long agitating Georgia debating schools, "Which am de butt end ob a ram?" I concluded to remain in doubt myself about it and stay on the right side of the fence until Tim came.

"I'm powerful glad I seed you comin'. He kep' Seth Jones treed up thet bar post three mortal hours t'other arternoon, an' him a puttin' in a lick once in a bit ter kinder show Seth what he'd git if he' come down. I kep' the childern aback the cabin with me, a lookin' thro' the chinks to see Seth a shakin' every lick he hit, an' a hollerin' fer me, and swearin'. Thar he sot, perched up on the pint uv the post, oncomfortable like as a fish on a gig, squirmin'. Arter 'bout three hours treein' an' him gittin' weak, an' the ram knocken' two bar holes inter one, I thought 'twas fun enough; an' I lets on to be jist come in from the clearin', an' I says: 'Ho Seth! what you doin' up thar, any way!' an' say he: I jist got up fer to look 'round ter see if I kin see you. I've been hollerin' fer you. I wish you'd step this way, Tim, I want ter ax you 'bout somethin'.'

""Well, git down,' I says, 'an' come inter the cabin.' 'I hain't time,' he says. Jest come yer, an' he kep' lookin' as if he'd never seed the ram, as innercent like as my dog Spider arter stealin' the old woman's cookens. An' he seed I weren't goin' ter let him down till he owned up. So say he-letten on ter see the buck for the fust time-' Why thar's yer buck mutton, hain't he? Drive him off, Tim, or I'll jump on him.' 'Jump ahead,' I

VOL. II.-W. H.

says: 'ef the pesky critter will stan' round butten at bar' posts for fun he must expect to be jumped onter. Jump on him, Seth, dem him.' But Seth, he jist perched higher, fer the ram gin an all-fired lick at the post. He sot his head back two inches that day, an' sprained one of his hoofs toein' fur hard licks.

"Bymebye Seth says, awful solemn like: Tim, I'm powerful feered of hydrophoby, an' people say yer buck mutton's got it. Skeer him off, do.' So I sicked Spider at him, an' Seth he got down, an' yer ought ter see him runnin'. He never said what he'd come fer.

"I allus lets Spider do the managin' ov him. I can't conshusly do nothin' with him. Spider jist backs away from him outer the way ov licks, an' the ram follers. I've knowed him to take him more'n three mile an' a quarter thataway, an' then scoot hum, leavin' the buck madder'n ever at bein' fooled so.

"While back, them railroad ingineers was spyen 'long yere, an' every feller in the kentry was 'long ter hev it run just whar he wanted it, an' ter give 'pinions like. The peoples yerabouts staid high on the fences, 'cause they knowed the meanness of my buck critter; but a feller with a spyen machine gits right inter my medder, an' plump inter the middle on it, an' spreads out a pinted, three-legged consarn he had, with a surveyin' compass onter it, an' goes to winden on her up. I seed the ram a-lookin' at him from a jinin' patch, an' thinks I, thar'll be fun about all them legs in a minute; for the feller didn't treat me right no way when I was 'lowen' to him whar the road oughter go.

"He got it sot, an' wound up an' were a spyen at a feller with a red pole 'way down yonder, an' he took out his wiper an' give it a shake, an' hollers 'all right.' But it wasn't. The ram he seed it, an' he come as straight as a rock at a barbecue. An' the fellers hollered 'Look out!' an' the spyen man he looked 'round kinder slow an' cool-like ter see what was goin' on, an' Lord! he seed it was him.

"The buck was a-comin' jumpin' an' buttin', fer practice like-as ef it were tryin' ter knock a hole in all out-doors. The man jest gathered them five legsthree of the machine's an' two of his'n quicker nor you kin shy a hymn-book at a preacher, an' struck fer the fence. But

6

'twere too late. The ram was inter him, an' yer mought have heered him mixin' his head with them legs fer a mile.

"He smashed some uv them brass tricks out agin that feller as flat's a batter cake-ef he didn't I'll eat the greaser-an' he bent up the spyin' machine so yer couldn't hev run a race course or a circus track with it 'twere too crooked fer that.

"The feller hollered, an' every time he'd git on his hans an' knees the ram was ready agin, an' socked him down, an' kep' a standin' lockin' 'round fer somethin' ter hit, agin the feller come ter time. Soon's I could git my buryin' face on, I takes Spider in ter whar the fuss wuz goin' on, an' he coaxed him clar over ter Pinch Holler, thet's better nor two miles.

"When I gethered the feller up, he was as nigh onter what you Eastern fellers tells 'bout sea pukes, as I reckon I'll ever see, bein' so far from the big water. An' when we stripped him ter docter him up, thar, right on his back, were the print uv the hull derned pints uv the compass north and south, east and west, an' the divisions jist as plain as big day light, derned ef they wasn't an' I picked the compass needle out uv him, an' hit pintin' to the west, a little nor'-not speakin' uv two screws an' right smart glass. Ef ther wasn't, may I never! The feller said he were wuss than a torpedy, for he never stopped goin' off.

"T'other day I went out thar whar you see the choppin' block to git a bit uv wood for the old woman, an' I seed the buck a standin' lookin' at me choppin', an' he kep' gittin' nigher an' nigher, an' thinks I, my ole mutton, I'll larn yer somethin' ef yer goes buttin' at me. Every time I fetched down the ax, down ud go his head as ef he wanted ter try a 'bout with it, an' gin it a butt like, an' it were too much fer him. He lets go his holt on the ground an' comes in flyin', an' I jist hauled off an' fetched the ax down on his for'head hard as I could lick, coz I didn't keer whether I did kill him -he were fat-an' jist as sure as I'm tellin' yer, Colonel, he turned the edge uv thet ax back two inches au' a bit. Ef he didn't I'll eat the hannel, an' I hev the hannel yit. I saved myself runnin' inter the cabin before he could stop an' git back."

LOGIC,

OR THE HORSE CHESTNUT.

AN Eton stripling, trained to the law,
A dunce at Syntax, but a dab at taw,
One happy Christmas laid upon the shelf
His cap and gown and store of learned pelf
By invitation, thought he'd take a roam,
To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home;
Arriv'd, and pass'd the usual how-d'ye-do's,
Enquiries for old friends and college news:
"Well, Tom, the road, what saw you worth
discerning?

How goes study-what is it you're learn-
ing?"
"Oh, logic, sir; but not the shallow rules
Of Locke and Bacon, antiquated fools!
'Tis wit and wrangler's logic; thus, d'ye

see?

I'll prove to you as plain as AB С,
That an eel-pie's a pigeon; to deny it,
Were to say black is not black." "Come,

try it."

"An eel-pie is a pie of fish." "Agreed." "Fish-pie may be jack-pie." "Well, proceed."

"A jack-pie is a John-pie; and 'tis done, For every John-pie must be a pie-John!" (pi-geon)

"Bravo!" Sir Peter cries, "logic for ever! That beats my grandmother, and she was clever.

But hold, my boy, since now it would be hard That wit and learning should have no reward, To-morrow, for a stroll, the park we'll cross, And then I'll give thee-" ""What?" "My

chestnut horse!"

But no such animal the meadows cropt.
At length, beneath a tree, Sir Peter stopt;
A branch he caught, then shook it, and
down fell

A fine horse chestnut, in its prickly shell.
"There, Tom, take that." "Well, sir, and
what beside?"

"Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride."

"Ride what? a chestnut!" - "Aye, come, get across;

I tell you, Tom, that chestnut is a horse.
And all the horse you'll get; for I can shew
As clear as sun-shine, that 'tis really so:
Not by the musty, fusty, worn-out rules
Of Locke and Bacon, addle-headed fools!
Or old Malebranche, blind pilot into knowl-

"Shortly after my father had located his family on the Ohio, my mother was, whilst in the act of fetching water from the stream a little way outside the stockade within which our dwelling stood, startled by the near whoop of an Indian warrior, and, on raising her head, perceived close beside her, a chief of the neighboring tribe; she instantly fled like a deer; and being young and active gained the shelter of the stockade, within which, however, she fell exhausted, but was so preserved. Some time after I was ushered into life; and the darkness of my complexion was always referred to the fact of my mother having been frightened and followed by the young Indian."

"And a mighty natural mode of accounting for the same," replied Pat; adding with a most provoking air of simplicity, "but, may I ask, did you ever hear your poor mother say whether the Indian overtook her or not?"

AN INCIDENT OF TYRONE POWER'S VISIT TO PITTSBURGH

IN 1832.

FROM TYRONE POWER'S IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA.

THE first white man born west of the Alleghany is still living; by the way, a whimsical anecdote relating to this gentleman is current in Pittsburgh, and which I here relate as I myself received it.

At a public dinner, Mr. R- the person alluded to, being present, had his health proposed and cordially drunk as "the first white man born west of the Alleghany." Now, Mr. R- happening to be very dark complexioned, a waggish Irishman, who was seated next to him, could not help adding, with a sly air, having repeated the toast, " and not particularly white either."

"Why that's very true," returned the subject of the jest, with much good humor, "and the reason assigned for the exceeding redness of my skin is in itself not a little illustrative of the recent condition of our country, which is in fact the true subject of this toast.

JOE HATCH.

(From one of Charles Mathews, the Elder's, Entertainments).

"Half-a

"Waterman," said Mr. Barnacle, a Yorkshire gentleman, "what is your fare -that is, your strict fare to Battersea?" "Half-a-crown, your honour." crown; why I thought it was but threepence, I think it was so once?" "That's the wherry question I vos litigating fore and aft, afore Sir Richard last week. 'Sir Richard,' says I, 'it's wherry true and perfectly incomprehensible, too, that the strict fare atwixt bridge and bridge is but thruppence, but then that ere applies afore bridges were built, and, therefore, doesn't come vithin the meaning of the statee.' Now, you see, Sir Richard know'd the competency of that ere remark, but then he didn't vant to know it; so says he to me, 'Draw in your jawing tackle a bit, vill you, Master Joe Hatch,' or vords equiverlent to that ere effect; but, howsomdever, that vos the sinnification on 'em. But, though he told me to pull in my oar ever so many times, I carried the pint o' the law slap in the vind's teeth agin in him!" "Oh, then I suppose you were summoned, Mr. Waterman?" "Summonsed! O no, your honour, leave Joe Hatch alone for