his cannonsiege guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve pounders yonder-big guns, little guns, middlesized guns, round shot, shells, shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines and magazines, every livin' battery and bomb a-goin' at the same time. The house trembled, the lights danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin' come down, the sky split, the ground roktheavens and earth, creation, sweet potatoes, Moses, ninepences, glory, ten-penny nails, Samson in a 'simmon tree, Tump, Tompson in a tumbler-cart, roodle-oodle-oodleoodle ruddle-uddle-uddle-uddle- raddle-addle-addle

addle-riddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-reedle-eedle-eedle-eedle -p-r-r-r-rlang! Bang!!! lang! perlang p-r-r-r-r-r! ! Bang!!!

With that "bang!" he lifted himself bodily into the a'r and he come down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and his nose, striking every single solitary key on the pianner at the same time. The thing busted and went off into seventeen hundred and fiftyseven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demisemi-quivers, and I knowed no mo'.

When I come to, I were under ground about twenty foot, in a place they call Oyster Bay, a-treatin' a Yankee that I never laid eyes on before, and never expect to again. Day was breakin' by the time I got to the St. Nicholas Hotel, and I pledge you my word I did not know my name. The man asked me the number of my room, and I told him, "Hot music on the half-shell for two!"

SARCE

IN THE GARRET.

ARCASTIC people are wont to say that poets dwel in garrets, and simple people believe it. And others, neither sarcastic nor simple, send them up aloft, among the rubbish, just because they do not know what to do with them down stairs, and "among folks," and so they class them under the head of rubbish, and consign them to the grand receptacle of dilapidated "has been's and despised "used to be's," the old garret.

The garret is to the other apartments of the old homestead what the adverb is to the pedagogue in parsing; everything they do not know how to dispose of is consigned to the list of adverbs. And it is for this precise reason that we love garrets; because they do contain the relics of the old and the past—remembrances of other and happier and simpler times. They have come to build houses nowadays without garrets. Impious innovation!

You man of bronze and "bearded like the pard," who would make people believe, if you could, that you never were a " toddlin' wee thing;" that you never wore a "ruffle-dress," or jingled a rattle-box with infinite delight; that you never had a mother, and that she never became an old woman, and wore caps and spectacles, and, maybe, took snuff; go home once more, after all these years of absence, all booted and whiskered, and six feet high as you are, and let us go up the stairs together in that old fashioned, spacious garret, that extends from gable to gable, with its narrow old windows, with a spider-web of a sash, through which steals “a dim religious light" upon a museum of things unnamable, that once figured below stairs, but were long since crowded out by the Vandal hand of these modern times.

The loose boards of the floor rattle somewhat as they used to do-don't they?-when beneath your little pattering feet they clattered aforetime, when of a rainy day" mother," wearied with many-tongued importunity, granted the "Let us go up garret and play." And play! Precious little of "play" have you had since, we'll warrant, with your looks of dignity, and your dreamings of ambition.

Here we are now in the midst of the garret. The old barrel-shall we rummage it? Old files of newspapers-dusty, yellow, a little tattered! 'Tis the "Columbian Star. How familiar with the "Letters or papers for father?" And these same Stars, just damp from the press, were carried one by one from the fireside, and perused and preserved as they ought to be. Stars? Damp? O many a star has set since then, and many a new-tufted heap grown dewy and damp with rain that fell not from the clouds.

Dive deeper into the barrel. There! A bundle, up it comes, in a cloud of dust. Old almanacs, by all that is memorable! Almanacs! thin-leaved ledgers of time, going back to-let us see how far; 184, 183-, 182-,-before our time-180-, when our mothers were children. And the day-book-how blotted and blurred with many records and many tears!

There, you have hit your head against that beam. Time was when you ran to and fro beneath it, but you are nearer to it now, by more than the "altitude of a copine." The beam is strewn with forgotten papers of seeds for next year's sowing; a distaff, with some few shreds of flax remaining, is thrust in a crevice of the rafters overhead; and tucked away close under the eaves is the little wheel" that used to stand by the fire in times long gone. Its sweet low song has ceased; and

perhaps perhaps she who drew those flaxen threadsbut never mind-you remember the line, don't you?—

"Her wheel at rest, the matron charms no more."

Well, let that pass. Do you see that little craft careened in that dark corner? It was red once; it was the only casket within the house once; and contained a mother's jewels. The old red CRADLE, for all the world! And you occupied it once; ay, great as you are, it was your world once, and over it, the only horizon you beheld, bent the heaven of a mother's eyes, as you rocked in that little bark of love on the hither shore of time— fast by a mother's love to a mother's heart.

And there, attached to two rafters, are the fragments of an untwisted rope. Do you remember it, and what it was for, and who fastened it there? "Twas "the children's swing." You are here, indeed, but where are NELLY and CHARLEY! There hangs his little cap by that window, and there the little red frock she used to wear. A crown is resting on his cherub brow, and her robes are spotless in the better land.

KNICKERBOCKER.

THE

REPLY TO HAYNE.

HE honorable member complained that I had slept on his speech. I must have slept on it, or not slept. at all. The moment the honorable member sat down, his friend from Missouri rose, and, with much honeyed commendation of the speech, suggested that the impressions which it had produced were too charming and delightful to be disturbed by other sentiments or other sounds, and proposed that the Senate should adjourn.

Would it have been quite amiable in me, sir, to interrupt this excellent good feeling? Must I not have been absolutely malicious, if I could have thrust myself forward to destroy sensations thus pleasing? Was it not much better and kinder, both to sleep upon them myself, and to allow others, also, the pleasure of sleeping upon them? But if it be meant, by sleeping upon his speech, that I took time to prepare a reply to it, it is quite a mistake; owing to other engagements, I could not employ even the interval between the adjournment of the Senate and its meeting the next morning, in attention to the subject of this debate. Nevertheless, sir, the mere matter of fact is undoubtedly true-I did sleep on the gentleman's speech, and slept soundly And I slept equally well on his speech of yesterday, to which I am now replying. It is quite possible that, in this respect, also, I possess some advantage over the honorable member, attributable, doubtless, to a cooler temperament on my part; for, in truth, I slept upon his speeches remarkably well. But the gentleman inquires why he was made the object of such a reply. Why was he singled out? If an attack had been made on the East, he, he assures us, did not begin it—it was the gentleman from Missouri. Sir, I answer the gentleman's speech, because I happened to hear it; and because, also, I choose to give an answer to that speech, which, if unanswered, I thought most likely to produce injurious impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the original drawer of the bill. I found a responsible endorser before me, and it was my purpose to hold him liabie, and to bring him to his just responsibility without delay. But sir, this interrogatory of the honorable member was only introductory to another. He proceeded to ask me whether I had turned upon him in this debate from the consciousness