[Illustration: PERSONAL GOSSIP. (From the daily press.)
"ONE OF OUR BEST POETS AND MAGAZINE WRITERS IS A CLERK IN A GROCERY OF THIS CITY."]
[An ancient Scottish ballad written in America in 1870, to show how much may be said by the judicious and economical use of a very few words.]
Beneath the trees in sweet spring-time, In sweet spring-time, in sweet spring-time, Beneath the trees in sweet spring-time, Vermonters turn the honest dime By crystallizing sap.
Beneath the trees in summer-time, In summer-time, in summer-time, Beneath the trees in summer-time, The poet cons the curious rhyme. Or takes the tranquil nap.
Beneath the trees in autumn-tide, In autumn-tide, in autumn-tide, Beneath the trees in autumn-tide, 'Tis rather nice for two to ride Where no one else is near.
Beneath the trees in winter wild, In winter wild, in winter wild, Beneath the trees in winter wild, Ugh! Go home, you foolish child, What are you doing here?
Bland Mr. MORTON has been making one of his little jokes in the shape of a petition from some more or less imaginary Quakers. These hypothetical persons pretend to have converted to Christianity and soap some hundreds of warriors of the wild and bounding Shawnee variety. Of course, for a basis of evangelical operations on this scale, it is requisite to have some land on which to erect buildings for moral quarantine. To disinfect one Shawnee, you need to wash him in at least six waters--to inject his veins, as it were, with Christian creosote. All this, as Mr. MORTON justly observed, cannot be done without cost. But perhaps it was worth it, considering the number of human scalps which were still available for applications of sweet hair restorer, and balmy magnolia, and which would by this time have been decorating the lower limbs of members of the Shawnee profession, if these good Quakers had not turned them from the improper pursuit of extraneous hair, and read them the commandment which enjoins them from coveting their neighbor's scalp. Therefore, and in consideration of the good done by these Quakers, they and Mr. MORTON thought they ought to have a grant of land to enable them to continue their lavatory labors.
Mr. MORRILL protested in behalf of the wig-makers of America. This petition was an insidious blow at one of the most important of our industries. How could wigs be made unless there were bald heads. And how wrong it was to divert any class of persons, under the shallow pretence of making them wiser and better, from the making of bald heads. There would be the deuce _toupée_ if this kind of thing were to be encouraged, and their tonsorial constituents would bring them to the Scratch on this question. He was proud to say that he was an Old Wig. Others might hold with the hair on this question. He would run with the Shampooers and the Shawnees.