pour down. The wind turned our old umberell inside out in no time. My
lawn dress was most spilte before, and now I give up my bunnet. And I
says to Josiah:

"This bunnet and dress are spilte, Josiah Allen, and I shall have to
buy some new ones."

"Wal! wal! who said you wouldn't?" he snapped out.

But it wore on him. Oh, how the rain poured down. Josiah havin'
nothin' but his handkerchief on his head felt it more than I did. I
had took a apron to put on a gettin' dinner, and I tried to make him
let me pin it on to his head. But says he, firmly:

"I hain't proud and haughty, Samantha, but I do feel above ridin' out
with a pink apron on for a hat."

"Wal, then," says I, "get as wet as sop if you had ruther."

I didn't say no more, but there we jest sot and suffered. The rain
poured down, the wind howled at us, the old horse went slow, the
rheumatiz laid holt of both of us, and the thought of the new bunnet
and dress was a wearin' on Josiah, I knew.

After I had beset him about the apron, we didn't say hardly a word for
as much as 13 miles or so; but I did speak once, as he leaned forward
with the rain a drippin' offen his bandanna handkerchief onto his
white pantaloons. I says to him in stern tones:

"Is this pleasure, Josiah Allen?"

He gave the old mare a awful cut, and says he: "I'd like to know what
you want to be so agrevatin' for?"

I didn't multiply any more words with him, only as we drove up to our
door-step, and he helped me out into a mud puddle, I says to him:

"Mebby you'll hear to me another time, Josiah Allen?"

And I'll bet he will. I hain't afraid to bet a ten-cent bill that that
man won't never open his mouth to me again about a PLEASURE EXERTION.

SHAMUS O'BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF GLINGALL--A TALE OF '98

BY SAMUEL LOVER.

Jist afther the war, in the year '98,
As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate,
'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got,
To hang him by thrial--barrin' sich as was shot.
There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight,
There was martial-law hangin' the lavins by night.
It's them was hard times for an honest gossoon:
If he missed in the judges--he'd meet a dragoon;
An' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence,
The divil a much time they allowed for repentance,
An' it's many's the fine boy was then on his keepin'
Wid small share iv restin', or atin', or sleepin',
An' because they loved Erin, an' scorned to sell it,
A prey