avern where he formerly
dispensed much "fire water," to the impoverishment of his customers
and to the enrichment of himself.

Then our host, with much profanity, would rush to the rescue armed
with an ancient bayonet and a fish trumpet which, like the bugle-horn
of Roderic Dhu, summoned all the neighbors to his assistance; but some
sympathizing friend would always upset the table holding the candle so
that they could never decide who were the guilty absentees.

At other times while the great poet was singing his sweetest songs, we
would seize his ancient roosters by their tails, and while they were
making night hideous with their lamentations, the angry couple would
bombard the hen-roosts with shovels, hoes and other weapons in the
hope of slaughtering the marauders. These pleasantries made much fun
for us, and varied the monotony of the lives of our entertainers.

The ancient daughter firmly believed that she possessed the fatal gift
of beauty, although her elongated face was of the thickness and color
of sole leather, and one eye was hideously closed, while the other was
of spotless green. It was wonderful to see her cork-screw curls and
languishing smirks when the young men took turns in pretending to
court her, while an admiring crowd gazed at their amours through the
window.

I can recall but two of the greatest of the poems of this man who
delighted in the full belief that Shakespeare could not "hold a candle
to him." These I take pleasure in handing down through the ages.

No. 1.

"A youth of parts, a witty blade
To college went and progress made
Sounding round his logick;
The prince of hell wide spread his net,
And caught him by one lucky hit
And dragged him down to tophet."

No. 2.

"In the year 1801
I, Enoch B----, was born
Without any shirt on."

CHAPTER V.

CAREER OF A DOMINIE-PEDAGOGUE.

Dear old fathers and mothers! Of all the people in this world, they
look through the rubbish of our imperfections, and see in us the
divine ideal of our natures, love in us not perhaps the men we are,
but the angels we may be in the evolution of the "sweet by and by,"
like the mother of St. Augustine, who, even while he was wild and
reckless, beheld him standing clothed in white a ministering priest at
the right hand of God.

They see through us as Michel Angelo saw through the block of marble,
declaring that an angel was imprisoned within it. They are soul
artists. They can n