they would still know as much as some men voters I know-(she looks sternly at JOSIAH). I have seen men voters whose study into national affairs did n't wear on 'em enough to kill 'em at all. I have seen voters who did n't know as much as their wives did. I have seen Irish voters whose intellects was n't tiresome to carry round, and whose knowledge concerning public affairs was n't so good as it was about rum, who would sell their votes for a drink of whiskey, and keep it up all day, drinking and voting, and voting and drinking, and I guess women would n't be any worse.

Betsey-But how awful and revolting it would sound to hear the fair and softer sect talking about tariffs and corkusses!

Saman.-I don't know but I had as liver hear 'em talkin' about corkusses as to hear 'em backbitin' their neighbors and tearin' the charicters of other women into bits, and talkin' about such little things as women will sometimes. Why, in a small place a woman can't buy a calico apron without the neighborhood holdin' an inquest over it. Some think she ought to have it; some think it is extravagant in her; some think the flower on it is too young for her, and then they will quarrel whether she ought to make it with a bib or not. The very reason why men's talk is, very often, a nobler thing than a woman's, is because they have nobler things to talk about. Betsey Bobbitt, when did you ever know a passel of men sit down and spend a whole afternoon talkin' about each other's vest, and mistrustin' such a feller painted? Fill a woman's mind with big noblesized thoughts, and she wont want to talk such little backbitin' gossip as she does now.

Betsey-Well, Samantha, all I have to say is, it is not woman's spear to vote.

Josiah-No, it haint! Women would always vote for the hansomest men.

Saman. Then, Josiah, you would stand a small chance. Josiah-Women would vote for them what praised their babies most; they would n't stand up to principal like men do, and then how they would clog up the roads 'lection day, tryin' to get all the news they couldwomen have got such itchin' ears.

Saman.-Itchin' ears! talk about itchin' ears, Josiah

Allen!

Here you have sot all the mornin' blackin' your boots; you have rubbed holes thro' 'em just for an excuse to hear me and Betsey Bobbitt talk. And it aint the first time, nuther, for I have known you, Josiah Allen, when I have had female visitors, to leave your work and come in and lay on that lounge behind the stove till you was most sweltered, pretendin' you was readin'.

Josiah (drawing on his boots)—I was a-readin'.

Saman. I have ketched you laughin' over a funeral sermon and a President's message. What is there highlarious in a funeral sermon, Josiah Allen? What is there exileratin' in a President's message?

Josiah-Well, I guess I had better go and water the

steers.

[Exit JOSIAH.]

Saman.-I think you had as well. Betsey-But, Samantha, men do admire clingin' women, like a vine to a stately tree; it is a beautiful sight. Saman.-It may be so. I never was much of a clinger myself. Still, if females want to cling, I haint no objec tions; but this I do say, if men think that women are obleeged to be vines, they ought to feel obleeged to make trees of themselves for 'em to run on-but they wont. Some of 'em seem sot against bein' trees. And as I have aid, if a vine aint got no tree convenient to run on, o

If the tree she is clingin' to falls, through inherent rottenness at the core, or if the string should break, what is to become of the clinger ef she can't do nothin' but cling? Betsey-Woman's spear

Saman.-Woman's spear! I'm wore out! Woman's spear is where she can do most good. If God had meant women to be men's shadows, he would have made ghosts and fantoms of 'em at first. All this talk about women's votin' makin' 'em have to fight, and men to wash dishes, is sheer nonsense. You may shet up a lion for years in a room full of cambric needles and tattin' shettles, and you can't get him to do anything but roar at 'em; it aint a lion's nature to do fine sewin'. You may tie up a old hen as long as you please, and you can't break her of wantin' to make a nest and scratch for her chickens. You may plant a acorn and a rose-bush to shade your house, but all the legislators in creation can't make the acorn tree blow out red poseys, no more thun they can make the rose-bush stand up straight as a giant. And their being planted beside of each other and watered out of the same waterin'-jug do n't alter their natural turn They will both help to shade your window, but they will do it in their own way, which is different. And men and women voting side by side would no more alter their natural dispositions than singing Watts' hymns together would; one will sing base and the other treble so long as the world stands. Mebby, Betsey, ef you was a clerk, or a teacher, or a telegraph operator, that was starving on a third of the salary they pays men in the same con dition, you would go some for women's rights.

Betsey-Well, Samantha, I must go. You and me will never think alike.

Saman.-Never while the world stands. Good-bye, [Frit BETSEY.]

Betsey.

WIZ

LOCHIEL'S WARNING.

IZARD.-Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array' For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,

And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight:
They rally!-they bleed!-for their kingdom and crown;
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proad Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
'Tis thine, O Glanullin! whose bride shall await,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep Albin! to death and captivity led!
Oh, weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead:
For a merciless sword o'er Culloden shall wave,
Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave.
Lochiel.-Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling

seer,

Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

Wizard. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,
From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the North
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh.

Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
"Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
From his
eyry,
that beacons the darkness of heaven.
Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,

Whose banners arise on the battlements' hight,
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;
Return to thy dwelling, all lonely!—return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.

Lochiel.-False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshaled my clan;

Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one!
They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock!
Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;
When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd,
Clanranald the dauntless, and Moray the proud,
All plaided and plumed in their tartan array—

Wizard.-Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day!
For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,
But man cannot cover what God would reveal:
"Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring
With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive king.
Lo! anointed by heaven with vials of wrath,
Behold, where he flies on his desolate path!

Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight: Rise! rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!