"How's Thompson? What! will he be there? Well now, I want to know!

The first man in the rebel works! they called him 'Swearing Joe:'

A wild young fellow, sir, I fear the rascal was; but

then

Well, short of heaven, there wa'n't a place he dursn't lead his men.

"And Dick, you say, is coming too. And Billy? ah! it's true

We buried him at Gettysburg: I mind the spot; do you?

A little field below the hill,-it must be green this

May;

Perhaps that's why the fields about bring him to me to-day.

"Well, well, excuse me, Colonel! but there are some things that drop

The tail-board out one's feelings; and the only way's

to stop.

So they want to see the old man; ah, the raseals!

do they, eh?

Well, I've business down in Boston about the 12th of May."

"SEVENTY-NINE."

MR. INTERVIEWER INTERVIEWED.

KNOW me next time when you see me, won't

smarty?

you, old

Oh, I mean you, old figger-head,—just the same

party!

Take out your pensivil, d-n you; sharpen it, do! Any complaints to make? Lots of 'em-one of 'em's you.

You! who are you, anyhow, goin' round in that sneakin' way?

Never in jail before was you, old blatherskite, say? Look at it; don't it look pooty? Oh, grin, and be d-d to you, do!

But, if I had you this side o' that gratin', I'd just make it lively for you.

How did I get in here? Well, what 'ud you give to know?

'Twasn't by sneakin' round where I hadn't no call

to go:

'Twasn't by hangin' round a spyin' unfortnet men. Grin! but I'll stop your jaw if ever you do that agen.

Why don't you say suthin', blast you? Speak your mind if you dare.

Ain't I a bad lot, sonny? Say it, and call it square. Hain't got no tongue, hey, hev ye. O guard! here's a little swell,

A cussin' and swearin' and yellin', and bribin' me not to tell.

There, I thought that 'ud fetch ye. And you want to know my name?

"Seventy-Nine" they call me ; but this is their little game.

For I'm werry highly connected, as a gent, sir, can understand;

And my family hold their heads up with the very furst in the land

For 'twas all, sir, a put-up job on a pore young man

like me ;

And the jury was bribed a puppos, and aftdrst they couldn't agree.

And I sed to the judge, sez I,-Oh, grin! it's all right my son!

But you're a werry lively young pup, and you ain't to be played upon !

Wot's that you got-tobacco? I'm cussed but I thought 'twas a tract.

Thank ye. A chap t'other day-now, look'ee, this is a fact,

Slings me a tract on the evils o' keepin' bad company, As if all the saints was howlin' to stay here along's

we.

No: I hain't no complaints. Stop, yes; do you see that chap,

Him standin' over there,-a hidin' his eyes in his cap?

Well that man's stumick is weak, and he can't stand

the pris'n fare;

For the coffee is just half beans, and the

no where.