some years after the
British troops were expelled from the country she loved with so heroic
an affection, and more than a quarter of a century has elapsed since
she went down in peace to the grave. Doubtless, her memory is green in
the hearts of her descendants, if any survive; and green will it be,
for ages, we trust, in the hearts of all who know what it is to feel
the emotions of genuine patriotism.

THE APRIL FOOL.

Nothing is so much enjoyed, by some men, as a practical joke; and the
greater the annoyance they can occasion, the greater their delight. Of
this class was Mr. Thomas Bunting, who resided in a village a few miles
out of New York. Bunting kept a store for the sale of almost every
article known in domestic and agricultural life, from a number ten
needle up to a hoe-handle; and from a mintstick up to a bag of coffee.
Consequently, he was pretty well acquainted with all the town'speople,
who were, likewise, pretty well acquainted with him.

As Bunting was constantly playing off his pranks upon one and another,
he only kept himself free from enemies by his good temper and ability
to soothe the parties he sometimes irritated beyond the point of
endurance.

The First of April was never permitted to come and go without being
well improved by the joke-loving Thomas. If a customer sent for a pint
of brandy on that day, he would be very apt to get four gills of
vinegar; or, if for a pound of sugar, half a pound of New Orleans mixed
with an equal weight of silver sand. That was a smart child who could
come into his store on the occasion, and leave it without being the
victim of some trick. So, from morning till night of the First day of
April, the face of Mr. Thomas Bunting was one broad grin. Full of
invention as to the ways and means of playing off tricks upon others,
our merry friend was wide awake to any attempt at retaliation; and it
generally happened that most of those who sought to catch him, got the
laugh turned upon themselves.

Two years ago, as the First of April approached, Bunting began to think
of the sport awaiting him, and to cast his eyes over the town to see
who was the most fitting subject for a good jest.

"I must make a fool of somebody," said he to himself; "a first-rate
fool. I am tired of mere child's play in this business. Who shall it
be? There's Doctor Grimes. Suppose I send him to see the young widow
Gray? He'd like to make her a visit exceedingly, I know. But the widow
k