ral enough for her to love her
sister's children, and the captain, he couldn't help lovin' her too, for
that. The captain settled down here, about two miles back, and in a few
years the sister-in-law and he war man and wife, and a kind, good old
wife she is too. I've 'camped with 'em ever since, and with 'em I'll
die, and be put thar--thar, to rest in that little mound with the rest.
But I must bide my time, stranger--we must all bide our time. Now,
stranger, I've told you my sad story, I must ax a favor. Seeing as you
are a town-bred person, perhaps a preacher, I want you to kneel down by
that grave and make a prayer. I feel that it is a good thing to pray,
though we woods people know but little about it."

I told him I was not a minister in the common acceptation of the term,
but considering we all are God's ministers that study God's will and our
own duty to man, I could pray, did pray, and left the poor woodsman with
an exalted feeling, I hope, of divine and infinite grace to all who seek
it.

A boat touched Vevay that evening, and I left, deeply impressed with
this little story.

Hereditary Complaints.

Meanness is as natural to some people, as gutta percha beefsteaks in a
cheap boarding-house. Schoodlefaker says he saw a striking instance in
Quincy market last Saturday. An Irish woman came up to a turkey
merchant, and says she--

"What wud yees be after axin' for nor a chicken like that?"

"That's a turkey, not a chicken," says the merchant.

"Turkey? Be dad an' it's a mighty small turkey--it's stale enough, too,
I'd be sworn; poor it is, too! What'd yees ax for 'un?"

"Well, seein' it's pooty nigh night, and the last I've got, I'll let you
have it for _two and six_."

"Two and six? Hoot! I'd give yees half a dollar fur it, and be dad not
another cint."

"Well," says the _satisfied_ poultry merchant, "take it along; I won't
dicker for a cent or two."

Mrs. Doolygan paid over the half, boned the turkey, and went on her way
quite elated with the brilliancy of her talents in financiering! There's
one merit in meanness, if it disgusts the looker-on, it never fails to
carry a pleasing sensation to the bosom of the gamester.

Nights with the Caucusers.

Office-Seeking has become a legitimatized branch of our every-day
business, as much so as in former times "reduced gentlemen" took to
keeping school or posting books. In former times, men took to politics
to give zest to a life already re