BLÜCHER AND HIS PIPE-BEARER AT THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. OLD Field-Marshal Blücher was particularly fond of three things-a glass of wine, a game at cards, and a pipe of tobacco. With the two former he was frequently obliged to dispense, but he could not and would not do without the latter, nor could he help indulging in smoking, if it were ever so little, before he undertook anything serious. A few puffs at the spur of the moment would satisfy him, but to be without them at all was a matter of impossibility. For this purpose he had appointed as his pipe-bearer one of his "boys" (as he used to call his hussars), a fellow-countryman from RostockChristian Hennemann-who had charge of a large box of common long Dutch clay pipes, all filled with tobacco, and ready for use at a moment's notice. This box constituted the principal item of the marshal's field equipage. Hennemann was so devoted to his master and his charge, that he would have killed on the spot any one who attempted to purloin a pipe from the box, or bring the latter in danger of breaking some of the precious (to him sacred) contents. On the morning of the memorable battle of Waterloo, Hennemann had just handed his master a lighted pipe, when a cannon-ball struck the ground close by, scattering earth and gravel in all directions, and causing the white charger on which Blücher was mounted to spring aside a manœuvre that broke the pipe into a thousand pieces before the owner had time even to lift it to his lips. "Just keep a lighted pipe ready for me; I shall be back in a few moments, after I have driven away the rascally French churls." With these words, Blücher gave the command, " Forward, boys!" and off he galloped with his cavalry. Instead, however, of a chase of a few minutes, it was a rapid march of nearly a whole hot summer day, as we all know from history. After the battle was over, Blücher rode back with Wellington to the place where he first got a glimpse of the combating armies, and nearing the spot where Blücher had halted in the morning, they saw to their surprise a solitary man, his head tied with a handkerchief, one arm in a sling, and calmly smoking a pipe! "Donner und blitz!" cried Blücher, "why, that is my Hennemann. How you look, boy; what are you doing here alone?" "Waiting for your speedy return," was the grumbling answer. "You have come at last! I have waited for you here, pipe in mouth, for the whole long day. This is the last pipe in the box. The cursed French have shot away every pipe from my mouth, have ripped the flesh from my head, and shattered my arm with their deuced bullets. It is well there is an end to the battle, or you would have been too late even for the last pipe." Saying which, he handed to Blücher the pipe, to enjoy the remaining fumes of the weed. Wellington, who had listened attentively to the conversation, here remarked to Blücher, "You have just admired the unflinching loyalty and bravery of my Highlanders, what shall I say to this true and devoted soul?" "But your Highlanders had no pipes to regale themselves with.". DK. MICHELSEN, b. 1801. THE JACKDAW. THERE is a bird, who, by his coat, Above the steeple shines a plate, From what point blows the weather; Fond of the speculative height, Thither he wings his airy flight, And thence securely sees The bustle and the raree-show, That occupy mankind below, Secure and at his ease. You think, no doubt, he sits and muses ON one of the anchor line boats the other day was a young man of decent look but a good deal the worse for whiskey. He persisted in singing at the top of his voice, and it was the poorest kind of singing. After a brief pause he removed his hat and said, Now, I'm going to sing something sad." Hadn't you as soon wait until we get to Vicksburg?" inquired a passenger. "Whwhat f'r?" gasped the young man. "Because I have got a young mule on the lower deck, and if he gets an idea that he can sing as good as you do, he'll never be worth a nickel to bray!" There was no more singing. TIM PRICE'S RAM. BY TOBE HODGE. "Ho, Colonel! Ho, there! Don't git over them bars. Stop thar, or you'll git butted wuss nor a mule kickin'. My buck mutton's out!" yelled Tim Price, as he came hurriedly out of his cabin, with an alarmed look, hatless, shoeless, and followed by his dog Spider and a crowd of youngsters. Tim never was seriously earnest in his life, and the truth seldom escaped from him; but to give color to his caution a fine ram stood some distance off with his head toward me, and as I never had heard of a decision being rendered on that famous subject so long agitating Georgia debating schools, "Which am de butt end ob a ram?" I concluded to remain in doubt myself about it and stay on the right side of the fence until Tim came. "I'm powerful glad I seed you comin'. He kep' Seth Jones treed up thet bar post three mortal hours t'other arternoon, an' him a puttin' in a lick once in a bit ter kinder show Seth what he'd git if he' come down. I kep' the childern aback the cabin with me, a lookin' thro' the chinks to see Seth a shakin' every lick he hit, an' a hollerin' fer me, and swearin'. Thar he sot, perched up on the pint uv the post, oncomfortable like as a fish on a gig, squirmin'. Arter 'bout three hours treein' an' him gittin' weak, an' the ram knocken' two bar holes inter one, I thought 'twas fun enough; an' I lets on to be jist come in from the clearin', an' I says: Ho Seth! what you doin' up thar, any way!'an' say he: I jist got up fer to look 'round ter see if I kin see you. I've been hollerin' fer you. I wish you'd step this way, Tim, I want ter ax you 'bout somethin'.' "Well, git down,' I says, 'an' come inter the cabin.' 'I hain't time,' he says. Jest come yer, an' he kep' lookin' as if he'd never seed the ram, as innercent like as my dog Spider arter stealin' the old woman's cookens. An' he seed I weren't goin' ter let him down till he owned up. So sav he-letten on ter see the buck for the fust time-Why thar's yer buck mutton, hain't he? Drive him off, Tim, or I'll jump on him.' 'Jump ahead,' I VOL. II.-W. H. says: 'ef the pesky critter will stan' round butten at bar' posts for fun he must expect to be jumped onter. Jump on him, Seth, dem him.' But Seth, he jist perched higher, fer the ram gin an all-fired lick at the post. He sot his head back two inches that day, an' sprained one of his hoofs toein' fur hard licks. "Bymebye Seth says, awful solemn like: Tim, I'm powerful feered of hydrophoby, an' people say yer buck mutton's got it. Skeer him off, do.' So I sicked Spider at him, an' Seth he got down, an' yer ought ter see him runnin'. He never said what he'd come fer. "I allus lets Spider do the managin' ov him. I can't conshusly do nothin' with him. Spider jist backs away from him outer the way ov licks, an' the ram follers. I've knowed him to take him more'n three mile an' a quarter thataway, an' then scoot hum, leavin' the buck madder'n ever at bein' fooled so. "While back, them railroad ingineers was spyen 'long yere, an' every feller in the kentry was 'long ter hev it run just whar he wanted it, an' ter give 'pinions like. The peoples yerabouts staid high on the fences, 'cause they knowed the meanness of my buck critter; but a feller with a spyen machine gits right inter my medder, an' plump inter the middle on it, an' spreads out a pinted, three-legged consarn he had, with a surveyin' compass onter it, an' goes to winden on her up. I seed the ram a-lookin' at him from a jinin' patch, an' thinks I, thar'll be fun about all them legs in a minute; for the feller didn't treat me right no way when I was 'lowen' to him whar the road oughter go. He got it sot, an' wound up an' were a spyen at a feller with a red pole 'way down yonder, an' he took out his wiper an' give it a shake, an' hollers' all right.' But it wasn't. The ram he seed it, an' he come as straight as a rock at a barbecue. An' the fellers hollered 'Look out!' an' the spyen man he looked 'round kinder slow an' cool-like ter see what was goin' on, an' Lord! he seed it was him. The buck was a-comin' jumpin' an' buttin', fer practice like-as ef it were tryin' ter knock a hole in all out-doors. The man jest gathered them five legsthree of the machine's an' two of his'nquicker nor you kin shy a hymn-book at a preacher, an' struck fer the fence. But 6 'twere too late. The ram was inter him, an' yer mought have heered him mixin' his head with them legs fer a mile. "He smashed some uv them brass tricks out agin that feller as flat's a batter cake-ef he didn't I'll eat the greaseran' he bent up the spyin' machine so yer couldn't hev run a race course or a circus track with it 'twere too crooked fer that. LOGIC, OR THE HORSE CHESTNUT. AN Eton stripling, trainéd to the law, A dunce at Syntax, but a dab at taw, One happy Christmas laid upon the shelf His cap and gown and store of learned pelf "The feller hollered, an' every time By invitation, thought he'd take a roam, he'd git on his hans an' knees the ram To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home; was ready agin, an' socked him down, an' Arriv'd, and pass'd the usual how-d'ye-do's, kep' a standin' lockin' 'round fer some- Enquiries for old friends and college news: thin' ter hit, agin the feller come ter" Well, Tom, the road, what saw you worth time. Soon's I could git my buryin' face on, I takes Spider in ter whar the fuss wuz goin' on, an' he coaxed him clar over ter Pinch Holler, thet's better nor two miles. discerning? How goes study-what is it you're learn- "Oh, logic, sir; but not the shallow rules see? I'll prove to you as plain as A B C, "An eel-pie is a pie of fish." "Come, "Agreed." "When I gethered the feller up, he was as nigh onter what you Eastern fellers tells 'bout sea pukes, as I reckon I'll ever see, bein' so far from the big water. An' when we stripped him ter docter him up, thar, right on his back, were the print uv the hull derned pints uv the compass north and south, east and west, an' the divisions jist as plain as big day light, derned ef they wasn't an' I picked the compass needle out uv him, an' hit pintin' to the west, a little nor'-not speakin' uv two screws an' right smart glass. Ef ther" Bravo!" Sir Peter cries, "logic for ever! wasn't, may I never! The feller said he That beats my grandmother, and she was were wuss than a torpedy, for he never stopped goin' off. "T'other day I went out thar whar you see the choppin' block to git a bit uv wood for the old woman, an' I seed the buck a standin' lookin' at me choppin', an' he kep' gittin' nigher an' nigher, an' thinks I, my ole mutton, I'll larn yer somethin' ef yer goes buttin' at me. Every time I fetched down the ax, down ud go his head as ef he wanted ter try a 'bout with it, an' gin it a butt like, an' it were too much fer him. He lets go his holt on the ground an' comes in flyin', an' I jist hauled off an' fetched the ax down on his for head hard as I could lick, coz I didn't keer whether I did kill him -he were fat-an' jist as sure as I'm tellin' yer, Colonel, he turned the edge uv thet ax back two inches au' a bit. Ef he didn't I'll eat the hannel, an' I hev the hannel vit. I saved myself runnin' inter the cabin before he could stop an' git back." "A jack-pie is a John-pie; and 'tis done, For every John-pie must be a pie-John !" (pi-geon) clever. But hold, my boy, since now it would be hard JOE HATCH. But no such animal the meadows cropt. A fine horse chestnut, in its prickly shell. what beside ?" "Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride." "Ride what? a chestnut !"-" Aye, come, I tell you, Tom, that chestnut is a horse. But by the laws of wit and Eton College. course, That a horse chestnut is a chestnut horse." 83 "Shortly after my father had located his family on the Ohio, my mother was, whilst in the act of fetching water from the stream a little way outside the stockade within which our dwelling_stood, startled by the near whoop of an Indian warrior, and, on raising her head, perceived close beside her, a chief of the neighboring tribe; she instantly fled like a deer; and being young and active gained the shelter of the stockade, within which, however, she fell exhausted, but was so preserved. Some time after I was ushered into life; and the darkness of my complexion was always referred to the fact of my mother having been frightened and followed by the young Indian." "And a mighty natural mode of accounting for the same," replied Pat; adding with a most provoking air of simplicity, "but, may I ask, did you ever hear your poor mother say whether the Indian overtook her or not?" AN INCIDENT OF TYRONE POW- FROM TYRONE POWER'S IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. THE first white man born west of the Alleghany is still living; by the way, a whimsical anecdote relating to this gentleman is current in Pittsburgh, and which I here relate as I myself received it. per the At a public dinner, Mr. Rson alluded to, being present, had his health proposed and cordially drunk as "the first white man born west of the -happening Alleghany." Now, Mr. Rto be very dark complexioned, a waggish Irishman, who was seated next to him, could not help adding, with a sly air, having repeated the toast, "and not particularly white either." "Why that's very true," returned the subject of the jest, with much good humor, "and the reason assigned for the exceeding redness of my skin is in itself not a little illustrative of the recent condition of our country, which is in fact the true subject of this toast. JOE HATCH. (From one of Charles Mathews, the Elder's, Entertainments). แ "Waterman," said Mr. Barnacle, a what is your fare Yorkshire gentleman, -that is, your strict fare to Battersea? "Half-aHalf-a-crown, your honour." crown; why I thought it was but threepence, I think it was so once?" "That's the wherry question I vos litigating fore and aft, afore Sir Richard last week. 'Sir Richard,' says I, 'it's wherry true and perfectly incomprehensible, too, that the strict fare atwixt bridge and bridge is but thruppence, but then that ere applies afore bridges were built, and, therefore, doesn't come vithin the meaning of the statee.' Now, you see, Sir Richard know'd the competency of that ere remark, but then he didn't vant to know it; so says he to me, 'Draw in your jawing tackle a bit, vill you, Master Joe Hatch,' or vords equiverlent to that ere effect; but, howsomdever, that vos the sinnification on 'em. But, though he told me to pull in my oar ever so many times, I carried the pint o' the law slap in the vind's teeth agin him! "Summonsed! O no, "Oh, then I suppose you were summoned, Mr. Waterman?" your honour, leave Joe Hatch alone for |