dlin' well for some time, till I made up my mind to pop the question, for I loved her harder every day, and I had an idee she loved me or had a sneaking kindness for me. But how to do the thing up nice and right pestered me orful. I bought some love books, and read how the fellers git down onter their knees and talk like poets, and how the girls But somehow or would gently-like fall in love with them. other that way didn't kinder suit my notion. I asked mam how she and dad courted, but she said it had been so long Uncle Jo said mam did all she had forgotten all about it. the courting. At last I made up my mind to go it blind, for this thing was fairly consumin' my mind; so I goes over to her dad's, and when I got there I sot like a fool, thinkin' how to begin. Sall seed somethin' was troublin' me, so she said, says she, 'An't you sick, Peter?" She said this mighty soft-like. "Yes; No!" sez I; "that is, I an't zackly well. I thought I'd come over to-night," sez I. I tho't that was a mighty purty beginnin'; so I tried agin. “Sall," sez I-and by this time I felt kinder fainty about the stommuck and shaky about the knees-"Sall," sez I. "What?" sez she. "Sall," sez I agin. 'What?" sez she. I'll get to it arter awhile at this rate, thinks I. "Peter," says she, "there's suthin' troublin' you; 'tis mighty wrong for you to keep it from a body, for an inard sorrer is a consumin' fire." She said this, she did, the sly critter. She knowed what was the matter all the time mighty well, and was only tryin' to fish it out, but I was so far gone I couldn't see the point. At last I sorter gulped down the big lump a-risin' in my throat, and sez I, sez I, "Sall, do you love anybody?" "Well," sez she, "there's dad and mam," and a-countin' of her fingers all the time, with her eyes sorter shet like a feller shootin' off a gun, "and there's old Pide (that were their old cow), and I can't think of anybody else just now," says she. Now, this was orful for a feller ded in love; so arter awhile I tried another shute. Sez I, "Sall," sez I, "I'm powerful lonesome at home, and sometimes think if I only had a nice, pretty wife to love and talk to, move, and have my bein' with, I'd be a tremendous feller." Sez I, "Sall, do you know any gal would keer for me?" With that she begins, and names over all the gals for five miles around, and never once came nigh naming of herself, and sed I oughter git one of them. This sorter got my dander up, so I hitched my cheer up close to her, and shet my eyes and sed, "SALL, you are the VERY gal I've been hankering arter for a long time. I love you all over, from the sole of your head to the crown of your foot, and I don't care who knows it, and if you say so we'll be jined together in the holy bonds of hemlock, Epluribusunum, world without end, amen!" sez I; and then I felt like I'd throwed up an alligator, I felt so relieved. 66 With that she fetched a sorter scream, and arter awhile sez, sez she, "PETER!" 'What, Sally?" sez I. "YES!" sez she, a-hidin' of her face behind her hands. You bet a heap, I felt good. “Glory! glory!" sez I, “I must holler, Sall, or I shall bust. Hurrah for hooray! I can jump over a ten-rail fence!" With that I sot right down by her and clinched the bargain with a kiss. Talk about your blackberry jam; talk about your sugar and merlasses; you wouldn't a got me nigh 'em-they would all a been sour arter that. Oh, these gals! how good and bad, how high and low they make a feller feel! If Sall's daddy hadn't sung out 'twas time all honest folks was abed, I'd a sot there two hours longer. You oughter seed me when I got home! I pulled dad out of bed and hugged him! I pulled mam out of bed and hugged her! I pulled aunt Jane out of bed and hugged her! I larfed and hollered, I crowed like a rooster, I danced round there, and I cut up more capers than you ever heerd tell on, till dad thought I was crazy, and got a rope to tie me with. "Dad," sez I, "I'm goin' to be married!" "Married!" bawled dad. “Married!” squalled mam. "Married!" screamed aunt Jane. "Yes, married," sez I; "married all over, married for sure, married like a flash-joined in wedlock, hooked on for life, for worser or for better, for life and for death-to SALL. I am that very thing-me! Peter Sorghum EsQUIRE!" With that I ups and tells 'em all about it from Alfer to Ermeger! They was all mighty well pleased, and I went to bed as proud as a young rooster with his first spurs. EXTRACT FROM THE DEDICATORY ODE FOR THE GETTYSBURG NATIONAL CEMETERY, After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake Those words of solemn breath, What voice may fitly break The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him? The phrase his martyrdom has made complete, Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they And save the periled state! Let us, upon this field where they, the brave, Of their own sovereignty, shall never wane And into wandering music turn Its virtue, simple, sorrowful and stern? His voice all elegies anticipated; For whatsoe'er the strain, We hear that one refrain: "We consecrate ourselves to them, the consecrated!* After the thunder-storm our heaven is blue; Far off, along the borders of the sky, In silver folds the clouds of battle lie, With soft consoling sunlight shining through; The crashing cannon-thrills Have faded from the memory of the air; And summer pours from unexhausted fountains The camps are tenantless, the breast works bare; Earth keeps no stain where hero-blood was poured. The hornets, humming on their wings of lead, Oh, not till now,-oh, now we dare, at last, We stood beside their graves with brows abased, Beholding truth our race, perchance, may fashion This they have done for us, who slumber here,- Building, but never sitting in the shade Speaking their word of life with mighty tongue, From all our river-vales and mountains flung. Its phantom banners droop, To hail earth's noblest martyrs, and her last. Who, dying, conquered in thy name; And, with a grateful hand, Inscribe their deeds who took away thy blameGive, for their grandest all, thine insufficient fame! Take them, O God! our brave, The glad fulfillers of thy dread decree; Who grasped the sword for peace, and smote to save, And, dying here for freedom, died for thee! THE RUM MANIAC.-ALLISON. "But, doctor, may I not have rum? |