LAS: Did you know that we once had musical watchmen in
this country? Less than fifty years ago, it was quite usual in
Pennsylvania for the watchmen to sing the passing hours during the
night. I suppose the custom was brought over by the Germans, who settled
in the Keystone State. I fancy it must have been sleepy work for the
poor watchman, calling the quiet hours, and adding, as he always did,
his little weather report; at least, he invented a very drowsy,
sing-song sort of tune for it.

In these days of telegraphing, and other scientific improvements, we
should think it a very uncertain, and rather stupid, way to judge of the
weather, to say it was "past ten o'clock on a starry evening," or "a
cloudy evening," or "a frosty morning." Now, we have only to pick up the
morning paper, and consult "Old Probabilities," who nearly always
forecasts truly. But in those times there were no telegraph wires
running the length and breadth of the land, and no Signal Service,
either, so that the regular cry of the watchman may have been held in
high esteem; and, perhaps, the sleepy folk would raise an ear from the
pillow to hear the "probabilities" for the coming day, and lie down
again to arrange business or pleasure accordingly.

A hundred years ago the people of Philadelphia were startled by a
famous cry of a watchman at dead of night, making every one who heard it
wild with joy. It was just after the battle of Yorktown, the last of the
Revolution, when Lord Cornwallis and his army surrendered to Washington.
The bearer of the news of victory, entering Philadelphia, stopped an old
watchman to ask the way to the State House, where Congress was in
session, waiting for news from the army. As soon as the watchman heard
the glad tidings, he started off on his rounds, singing out to his
monotonous tune the remarkable words--

"Past four o'clock, Cornwallis is taken!"

Up flew the windows on all sides, and every ear was strained to catch
the joyful sound. The old bell sent forth a glad peal, houses were
thrown open and illuminated, and the streets were filled with happy
people congratulating one another, paying visits, and drinking toasts;
so that, could but one thousand of the seven thousand British soldiers
captured that day by Washington have entered the city that night, they
might have taken it without a struggle.--Yours very truly,

E. A. S.

St. James House, King's Lynn, Norfolk, England.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A few day