upon he was committed to custody for contempt of court.

"This young man," continued the Proprietor of Rome, "may have had good
cause to hate and despise the radical abolition offsprings of New
England; but he had no quarrel with the glorious Democratic party of
the Great North-west, which is now blindly fighting for his
wooden-nutmeg foes. I will venture to say," says the thoughtful Roman,
with great emotion, "that he even loved the Great North-west in his
heart. Behold how freely he permits me to clasp his left hand to my
friendly buzzom, even though he is dead."

Just then there was a sudden silence, my boy, for the right hand of the
deceased young Confederacy was observed to be slowly rising in the air!
Overcome with awe, the jury gazed upon the strange spectacle, like men
under a wizard's spell. Slowly, slowly, the hand arose, until nearly
above the face of the slain Confederacy; then it descended until it
reached the half-averted countenance of the dead, and convulsively
seized the nose between the thumb and fore-finger.

The Proprietor of the City of Rome changed color, and says he:
"Well--ahem!--it can't be that--" Here he looked more closely at the
body, and says he:

"I am at a loss to explain this remarkable phenomena."

A venerable juryman, of much shirt-collar, coughed to attract
attention, and says he: "I should take the present attitude of our
departed Confederate brother to be that of a man who smells something
obnoxious."

Here the Proprietor of Rome suddenly dropped the left hand of the
deceased Confederacy, and says he:

"Why, he must mean to insult the Great North-west."

"Yes," says the venerable juryman, "there can be but one construction
of the present offensive attitude of this dead young being."

The thoughtful Proprietor of the City of Rome deliberately took off his
spectacles, blew his nose, buttoned his coat up to his chin, and says
he: "I have always advocated a vigorous prosecution of the war, and
believe that full nine-tenths of our gallant troops are Democrats.
What's the werdict?"

The shirt-collared juryman waved his hand impressively, and says he:
"We find the deceased guilty of contempt of court in the Last Degree."

Then the Democratic chaps from the Great North-west held an
enthusiastic mass meeting on the spot, and unanimously resolved that
neither Kentucky nor Indiana would resist the Conscription Bill, should
it be found unsafe to do so.

Believe me, my boy, when I