the late Charles Sumner was at his zenith as chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs: The Hon. Mr. [Smith], of the House of Representatives, had taken occasion in a speech to animadvert pretty severely upon the distinguished Senator. Happening in at the room of Senator McCreery, the old man looked up from his game of casino long enough to remark: "Poor fellow! wait till Sumner gets through with you, and you will feel smaller than you do now." "Wait till Sumner gets through with me!" said Smith. To which William: "Sh'd tink 'twas. If dere's gwine to be such goin's on es dese 'mong our p'om'nent chu'ch members, I begin to tink p'fane hist'ry 's good as any odder!" THE methods of lawyers doubtless vary in different latitudes; hence more of fire and gore characterizes the appeal of the advocate in Texas than in the cold and clammy North. Imagine Mr. O'Conor or Mr. Evarts before a jury, and adopting the style of ex-Governor Throckmorton, of Texas, who was recently defending a man on trial for murder in. Gainesville, in that State. The Governor desired to convince the jury that the man whom his client killed, although in his shirt sleeves and without a pistol pocket in his trousers, might still have been armed, and he had prepared himself to illustrate his argument. Taking off his coat and standing before the jurors, he "Do you know Mr. Sumner ?" asked Senator McCreery. "Why, Sir, Mr. Sumner lives in a palace adjoining the Arlington. His various apartments are filled, as I am informed, with rare paintings, and works of art in marble, bronze, and bric-a-brac, worth their weight in gold. Books in all languages crowd his libra-said, "Can you see any signs of arms about ry, and four accomplished secretaries are constantly employed conducting his correspondence with all the courts of Europe, each in a different language. He don't know there is such a man as Smith." ALISON pronounces this to be "the most perfect and unmixed metaphor in the English language: "Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. -CAMPBELL. A LADY in Lowell, Massachusetts, writes: "Soon after the new baby came, the whole family went in with little Don to hear his first remark at sight of the strange face in the cradle. Don surveyed him critically, and exclaimed, 'Papa, who cut his hair?'" FROM Fall River: The schools in Fall River, Massachusetts, have again opened. The juvenile geographers have got as far as "What is the population" of various cities. Discussing the matter at home, Jamie says, "What's the population of Fall River ?" me?" They shook their heads. He then drew a pistol from under each arm, one from each boot leg, and a bowie-knife from the back of his neck. The Governor knew how garments could be utilized. He had "been thar" himself. THE memoir of his wife and son, published under sanction of the Archbishop of Canterbury, contains much that will interest American readers, and is here and there brightened up with anecdote. Among others is a smart saying of Archbishop Trench, who, being invited to Lambeth to meet Mr. Gladstone, in 1869, during the disestablishment legislation, caught his foot in Mrs. Tait's train, and stumbled as they were going to dinner, but recovering himself, exclaimed that "the best thing he could do was to hang on the skirts of Canterbury." THERE was much gumption evinced by that particular darky whose master was a surgeon, who had performed on another darky an operation requiring a high degree of skill. This latter darky was well-to-do, and the surgeon charged him twenty-five dollars for the operation. Meeting the doctor's servant afterward, Peg replies, "Much as four hundred." "Oh no," laughs Jamie, "there's more'n four this dialogue occurred: hundred people in Fall River." To which Peg responds: "Well, I know the population has been much larger, but you know a great many people have gone to State-prison." IN the recent flurry in Fall River, William, whose knowledge of cotton operations had been confined to his native soil "down Souf," asked, "What's dis all 'bout, Miss Milton? What tink 'bout what Mr. and Mr. been doin'?" "Dat was a mighty steep charge of the doctor's for cutting on me tudder day." "How much did de boss charge?" "Well, Julius, he charge me twenty-five dollars." "Go 'long, niggah, dat ain't much charge." "Well, he wasn't more dan three or four minutes doin' it, and I tink five dollars was all he oughter took." "Look-a-heab, Sam; you don't un’stan' 'bout dat ting. You see de boss have to spend a great many year larnin' how to use dat knife, | an' it cost him heaps o' money. Now de fact am dat he only charge you five dollars for de operation; de tudder twenty he charge for de know how." That's it the time and money to learn the know how. ONE of the most interesting works published by Harper and Brothers is Tom Taylor's Autobiography of Haydon, the distinguished artist. In reperusing it the other day we had a fresh guffaw over that curious experience of his with a negro who was remarkable for the perfection of his figure. "Haydon had mould dropped his head-I seized, with the workmen, the front part of the mould, and by one supernatural effort split it in three large pieces, and pulled the man out, who, almost gone, lay on the ground, senseless and steaming with perspiration. By degrees we recovered him, and then, looking at the hinder part of the mould, which had not been injured, I saw the most beautiful sight on earth. It had taken the impression of his figure with all the purity of a shell, and when it was joined to the three front pieces there appeared the most beautiful cast ever taken from nature; but I was so alarmed when I reflected on what I had nearly done that I moulded no more whole figures. MISS TABBY. "It must be a great weight off your mind, Carlo, now this miserable dog-pound is closed." CARLO. "Well, I don't know-the dog-pound closes, but the sausage season commences. It is only the change from a dog-pound to a pound of dog." ed him twice, with great difficulty and some imperfections, and bethought him of a new plan, which was to build a wall round him, so that plaster might be poured in and set all round him at once. This was agreed upon. The man was put into a position, extremely happy at the promise of success, as he was very proud of his figure. Seven bushels of plaster were mixed at once and poured in till it floated him up to the neck. The moment it set it pressed so equally upon him that his ribs had no room to expand for his lungs to play, and he gasped out, 'I-I-I die.' Terrified at his appearance-for he had actually The fellow himself was quite as eager as ever, though very weak for a day or two. The surgeons said he would have died in a second or two longer. I rewarded the man well for his sufferings, and before three days he came, after having been up all night, drinking, quite tipsy, and begged to know, with his eyes fixed, if I should want to kill him any more, for he was quite ready. But I would run no more risks." THE other day, in Carthage, Missouri, a prisoner was brought into court on an indictment for theft and burglary. On being asked by the judge if he desired counsel, he deliberately | this island by the steamer. Oh! he could play and closely scrutinized each of the formidable beautifully. He came near our street, and my array of legal luminaries there assembled, and sister says to me, 'Let us go down to the corner turning to the Court, with a solemn counte- and see him play.' Well, do you know, I didn't nance and a sad shake of the head, replied: go, after all, but she said it was just splendid, "No, judge, I think not: I had better plead and I suppose I shall regret not hearing that guilty." hand-organ to my dying day." And the dear old soul dropped a tear on the half-heeled stocking. Three years for the burglary, two for the larceny. Lawyers all laughed. THIS touching story was told by Eastman Johnson to our correspondent in Nantucket: On a narrow island near the New England coast, where primitive customs still obtain, where the crier goes about the streets by day and the watchman by night, where they dispose of surplus meat by auction, and the merry maiden and the tar go junketing together in an ancient calash, lives an old lady, Auntie B. The same roof has sheltered three generations of her family, and it would require little less than an earthquake to dislodge her from her seat by the old-fashioned fire-place. There she sits, a picture of peace and contentment. "Haven't you a single regret in your whole life?" we asked her once. She dropped her knitting, and a dreamy look crept over her placid eyes. "Yes," she said at length, "I have. Ten years ago, when my dear dead sister was alive, a man with a hand-organ came to THE anecdote of the "Charleston moon," in the October number of the Drawer, recalls to a correspondent in Marietta, Georgia, a similar instance of the non sequitur : 66 Being in Florida a few winters ago, I was caught, while on a fishing excursion, in a violent thunder-storm, and took refuge in the house of an old lady of the native breed. There was a great demand for the plumes of the white birds, egrets and herons, from Northern tourists who thronged the State, and the sons of the house had collected some of these plumes, which they were showing me, when the old lady remarked, 'Well, it's curious how these 'ere cranes never had no plumes till after the wah! The confusion of ideas was amusing, but natural. There had been little travel ‘befo' the wah,' consequently no demand for plumes, therefore no birds had been shot, and the old lady, not seeing the plumes, supposed there were none." IT was an engineer on one of those rough roads of the West who, on being discharged, remarked that it was about time he left, for the sake of his life, as there was "nothing left of the track but two streaks of rust and the right of way." A LADY in Sacramento, California, recently And warlike deeds of glory. Which is, "Thou shalt not kill,” It has improved with age. It is creditable to the lady's wit, and complimentary to ourselves, that the solution of the charade is simply Harper's Magazine. DURING the great storm of August 18 last, which swept the coast from the Carolinas to Cape Cod, the window-panes of a house on the grounds of the Hampton (Virginia) Normal and Agricultural College were broken in by the wind and rain, and the house was shaken to its foundations. The mistress of the house and her colored servant were rather scared at the outlook, and did their best to keep out wind and water. One of the shutters was pounding fearfully, and the mistress said to her servant, "Jane, you must go out and fasten that shutter." mother, who will accompany her remains to Baltimore forthwith." After mentioning the various virtues of Mrs. Daugherty, the notice concludes with this delicious hit at the undertaker: The colored girl, in great fright and with decided energy, replied: "No, I dusn't, ma'am. Her last request was to be interred in the same humble Judgment-day's come, and it's de duty ob manner in which her husband and his brother were burebbery Christian woman to look arter herse'fied; and her last prayer was for the conversion of the man who had so deeply wronged herself and her mother now." by faithlessly burying her husband and his brother in wooden caskets and presenting his bill for the ordered metallic caskets. An, those boys!-three particular little boys, whose home is on Woodland Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio, and their dad an officer of the army. They had been taken to a circus, and their mother, who was going into the country, COLONEL M-, of Philadelphia, one of the old-time innkeepers, lately deceased, was a peculiar individual, whose passion sometimes |