never speak well of a man for his sake, | but my own. I will not disparage any man to disparage myself: for to speak ill of people behind their backs, is not like a person of honor, and truly to speak ill of em to their faces, is not like a complaisant person; but if I did say or do an ill thing to anybody, it should be behind their backs, out of pure good manners. MAN. Very well, but I that am an unmannerly sea-fellow, if I ever speak well of people-which is very seldom indeedit should be sure to be behind their backs; and if I would say or do ill to any, it should be to their faces. I would jostle a proud, strutting, overlooking coxcomb, at the head of his sycophants, rather than put out my tongue at him when he were past me; would frown in the arrogant, big, dull face of an overgrown knave of business, rather than vent my spleen against him when his back were turned; would give fawning slaves the lie whilst they embrace or commend me; cowards, whilst they brag; call a rascal by no other title, though his father had left him a duke's; laugh at fools aloud before their mistresses; and must desire people to leave me, when their visits grow at last as troublesome as they were at first impertinent. [Manly thrusts out Lord Plausible. FREEMAN. You use a lord with very little ceremony, it seems. MAN. A lord! what, thou art one of those who esteem men only by the marks and value fortune has set upon 'em, and never consider intrinsic worth! But counterfeit honor will not be current with me: I weigh the man, not his title; 'tis not the king's stamp can make the metal better or heavier. Your lord is a leaden shilling, which you bend every way, and debases the stamp he bears, instead of being raised by it.** WYCHERLEY, 1640-1715. WHY HE SMOKED. It was in the time of James the First, whose detestation of the habit and of the noxious weed he constantly manifested; but it had no effect upon the boys-they still whiffed away like little Whigs, to show their independence of His Majesty. * Burns has versified part of this sentiment: The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the man for a' that. VOL. V.-W. H. In short the young dogs smoked day and night, like the kitchen chimney of a tavern. This, of course, was concealed, as much as you can conceal a smell, from the Dominie; till one luckless evening, when the imps were all huddled together round the fire of their dormitory, involving each other in vapors of their own creation, lo! in burst the Master, and stood in awful dignity before them. "How now!" quoth Dominie, to the first lad,"how dare you be smoking tobacco?" "Sir," said the boy, "I'm subject to headaches, and a pipe takes off the pain. And you?-and you?-and you?" inquired the pedagogue, questioning every boy in his turn. One had a raging tooth-another the colic-the third, a cough-the fourthin short, they all had something. "Now, sirrah," bellowed the doctor to the last boy, "what disorder do you smoke for?" Alas! all the excuses were exhaustedwhen the interrogated urchin, putting down his pipe after a farewell whiff, and looking gravely in the Dominie's face, said in a whining, hypocritical tone: “Sir, I smoke for corns.' GEORGE COLMAN'S RANDOM RECORDS. COMEDY OF ERRORS. (Meeting of DROMIO, of Syracuse, and DROMIO, of Ephesus, in which they discover that they are brothers.) DRO. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house, That kitchen'd me for you to-day at. She now shall be my sister, not my wife. and not my brother: I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth. DRO. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior : And now let's go hand-in-hand, not one before another. (Exeunt.) SHAKESPEARE. 23 A MORMON ROMANCE.-REGINALD GLOVERSON. [CHARLES FARRAR BROWN, who wrote and lectured under the pseudonym of "Artemus Ward," was born at Waterford, Maine, 1832, died in London, 1867.] The morning on which Reginald Gloverson was to leave Great Salt Lake City with a mule-train, dawned beautifully. Reginald Gloverson was a young and thrifty Mormon, with an interesting family of twenty young and handsome wives. His unions had never been blessed with children. As often as once a year he used to go to Omaha, in Nebraska, with a mule-train for goods; but although he had performed the rather perilous journey many times with entire safety, his heart was strangely sad on this particular morning, and filled with gloomy forebodings. The time for his departure had arrived. The high-spirited mules were at the door, impatiently champing their bits. The Mormon stood sadly among his weeping wives. "Dearest ones," he said, "I am singularly sad at heart this morning; but do not let this depress you. The journey is a perilous one, but-pshaw! I have always come back safely heretofore, and why should I fear? Besides, I know that every night, as I lay down on the broad starlit prairie, your bright faces will come to me in my dreams, and make my slumbers sweet and gentle. You, Emily, with your mild blue eyes; and you, Henrietta, with your splendid black hair; and you, Nelly, with your hair so brightly, beautifully golden; and you, Molly, with your checks so downy; and you, Betsy, with your wine-red lips-far more delicious, though, than any wine I ever tasted-and you, Maria, with your winsome voice; and you, Susan, with your-with your that is to say, Susan, with your-and the other thirteen of you, each so good and beautiful, will come to me in sweet dreams, will you not, Dearestists? "Our own," they lovingly chimed, "we will!" Dismounting, he essayed to adjust the trace; but ere he had fairly commenced the task, the mule, a singularly refractory animal, snorted wildly, and kicked Reginald frightfully in the stomach. He arose with difficulty, and tottered feebly towards his mother's house, which was near by, falling dead in her yard with the remark, "Dear mother, I've come home to die! "So I see," she said; "where's the mules?" Alas! Reginald Gloverson could give no answer. In vain the heart-stricken mother threw herself upon his inanimate form, crying "Oh, my son-my son! only tell me where the mules are, and then you may die if you want to.' In vain-in vain! Reginald had passed on. You shan't, so there!" said Henri "You bet I will!" said Susan, with a tear-suffused cheek. "Well, as for me," said the practical Betsy, "I ain't on the strew much; but I shall ride at the head of the funeral procession!" Not if I've been introduced to myself, you won't," said the golden-haired Nelly; "Children," said Reginald's mother, you must do some crying, you know, on the day of the funeral; and how many pocket-handkerchers will it take to go round? Betsy, you and Nelly ought to make one do between you. "I'll tear her eyes out if she perpetuates a sob on my handkercher !' יי! "Dear daughters-in-law,' said Reginald's mother, "how unseemly is this anger! Mules is five hundred dollars a span, and every identical mule my poor boy had has been gobbled up by the red man. I knew when my Reginald staggered into the door-yard that he was on the die; but if I'd only thunk to ask him about them mules ere his gentle spirit took flight, it would have been four thousand dollars in our pockets, and no mistake! Excuse these real tears, but you've never felt a parent's feelin's." 66 It's an oversight, sobbed Maria. "Don't blame us ! The funeral passed off in a very pleasant manner, nothing occurring to mar the harmony of the occasion. By a happy thought of Reginald's mother the wives walked to the grave twenty abreast, which rendered that part of the ceremony thoroughly impartial. That night, the twenty wives, with heavy hearts, sought their twenty respective couches. But no Reginald occupied those twenty respective couches-Reginald would never more linger all night in blissful repose in those twenty respective couches-Reginald's head would never more press the twenty respective pillows of those twenty respective couches-never, never more! In another house, not many leagues from the house of mourning, a gray-haired woman was weeping passionately. "He died," she cried, "he died without sigerfyin', in any respect, where them mules went to!" Two years are supposed to elapse between the third and fourth chapters of this original American romance. A manly Mormon, one evening, as the sun was preparing to set among a select apartment of gold and crimson clouds in the western horizon-although for that matter, the sun has a right to set' where it wants to, and so, I may add, has a hen-a manly Mormon, I say, tapped You can. "Madame," he softly said, addressing the twenty disconsolate widows, "I have seen part of you before! And although I have already twenty-five wives, whom I respect and tenderly care for, I can truly say that I never felt love's holy thrill till I saw thee! Be mine-be mine!" he enthusiastically cried; "and we will show the world a striking illustration of the beauty and truth of the noble lines, only a good deal more so "Twenty-one souls with a single thought, Twenty-one hearts that beat as one." They were united, they were. Gentle reader, does not the moral of this romance show that-does it not, in fact, show that however many there may be of a young widow woman; or, rather, does it not show that, whatever number of persons one woman may consist ofwell, never mind what it shows. Only this writing Mormon romances is confusing to the intellect. You try it and see. ARTEMUS WARD. THE SHOWMAN'S COURTSHIP. Thar was many affectin ties which made me hanker arter Betsy Jane. Her father's farm jined our'n; their cows and our'n squencht their thurst at the same spring; our old mares both had stars in their forreds; the measles broke out in both famerlies at nearly the same period; our parients (Betsy's and mine) slept reglarly every Sunday in the same meetinhouse, and the nabers used to obsarve, "How thick the Wards and Peasley's air!" It was a surblime site, in the spring of the year, to see our sevral mothers (Betsy's and mine) with their gowns pin'd up so thay couldn't sile 'em, affecshunitly Bilin sope together & aboozin the nabers. |