"And so you do, you rascal, it was no hen at all,
I know a rooster's voice, boy-I heard a rooster squall."
"Yes, sah, a spring chicken, 'bout de size to fry.
De way dat rooster run an' squall an' try he bes' to fly!
'Twas fun to see his capers, how he struv to get away!
Golly, he won't git ober de fright until his dyin' day."
"That rooster fell in cruel hands that clutched him by the throat;
That stopped his breath, his life, perhaps, in the middle of a note."
"'Scuse me, boss, I mos' forgot, dem pigs mus' hab dar corn; I'll feed de shoats an' plow de fiel' till Dinah blows de horn." "Hold, Jake, that hat of yours, now like a steeple growsNow the crown sinks down again-spreads out just like
Now-ha! ha! ha! What's that between the crown and brim?
A rooster's head! and you are caught, as sure as you caught him."
The rooster turned his head about and gave a flop or two; Then in a voice both loud and shrill, cries "Cack-cack-cack
Much as to say, "I'm puzzled, I know not what to do.”
Jake gently raised his beaver up, and out the prisoner flew.
He slowly scratched his woolly head, and gazed upon the ground,
Pondering what excuse to make, if any could be found. But soon his reverie's broken by the question: "Well, sir, how
Came that chicken in your hat,-your hat upon your brow?"
"Clar, boss, 'tis bery strange how dese young chickens do;
When da'r frightened by de hawk da'l creep into a shoe,
An' dat young rooster got dar, jes' to hide hese'f,
As cunnin' as de little mouse what clin's upon de she'f;
You dunno how he git dar, how he com' an go,
But you kno' de varmint's up dar for sartin an' for sho-
But de way dat rooster clim' dar, way up in my hat,
Beats de sharpes' mouse, sah, dat eber fooled a cat!
I wish dat I ma' die, sah, 'fore I move a peg,
If I don't beleab he clim' dar, up my breeches' leg!"
AN AMERICAN EXILE.-I. H. BROWN.
In Norfolk Bay, long years ago, where waved
The nation's flag from mizzen gaff
Of frigate, sloop, and other war-like craft,
A group of naval officers, assembled
On the flag-ship's quarter-deck, discussed
With earnestness the act by which the State
Of South Carolina annulled
The tariff laws of Congress.
The nation's heart throbbed anxiously with fears
Of what must follow such a deed portentous.
The President's prompt act,
Despatching Scott to Charleston, ordering
The execution of the laws by force,
Had thrilled the nerves of those who bore
Their country's arms.
The naval service boasted many men
Who traced through veins as chivalrous as their sire's
The blood of Sumter, Pickens, Hayne,
And other revolutionary patriots;
And, conscious of a lineage illustrious
From those who gave the grand Republic birth,
Their minds were often filled with polities
Of state; and thus the acts of courts
And legislatures oft became their theme
In time of peace as much as warlike deeds
Of Neptune.
One of these, in this debate,
A handsome, dark-eyed officer of most
Commanding mien, became conspicuous
In warm approval of his State's rash act
And censure strong of President
And Congress. While his flashing eye betrayed
The fierce emotions of his soul, his voice
Rang fearful maledictions: "Curse the country
Whose flag from yonder mizzen floats; the men
Be cursed, who in the name of government
Ignore the rights my native state has held
Supreme." Then drawing forth his rapier,
As if in frenzied rage: "My sword's my own,
My heart is loyal to my native state;
And here I swear, this blade shall ne'er be drawn
But in defense of rights this tyrant thing
Called government, usurps, and those its threats
Would terrify. Its flag be trailed in dust;
The fate of Carthage be its cursed doom;
The memory of its present acts, with those
Who give them shape, go down in blood and shame."
Such direful imprecations shocked the ears
Of those who heard; and ere the speechless group
Recovered from their blank amaze, a young
Lieutenant felled the speaker senseless to
The deck; then, quick before the officer
Commanding, preferred the charge of treason.
Court-martial trials are speedy in results;
The sentence, novel in its terms, was heard
With unfeigned haughtiness and scorn by him
Whom it deprived of country.
“The prisoner, hence, for life, shall be consigned
To vessels cruising in a foreign sea:
No tongue to him shall speak his country's name,
Nor talk to him of aught save daily wants;
And ever to his sight that country's flag
Shall be a token that its power lives
To carry out this sentence."
In far off seas, away from kindred hearts
And native home, the years passed slowly on;
But pride and stubborn will did not desert
This strange misguided man; his fate he seemed
To cherish for the cause he still believed
Would triumph in the end.
Yet to and fro his narrow bounds he paced,
Alone amid a frigate's crew, of whom
Not one could speak to him a friendly word,
Nor tell him of that wondrous growth and fame
The land he cursed attained among
The nations of the earth. No cheering word
His yearning heart in time could e'er expect
From stricken mother, weeping wife, and babes
By him made worse than orphans, who might blush
To call him father. Still, above, around
In sportive play, the flag he madly cursed,
In gorgeous folds waved kindly o'er his head
As if forgiving his ingratitude.
Anon, as other years rolled sadly by,
And he was passed from ship to ship, as each
In turn went home, the lines of grief and frosts
Of age bore silent evidence of slow decay.
In time his face was marked with pensive cast,
A harbinger of sad repentant thought.
A sailor, unperceived, took note of him,
And oft observed him watch the waving flag
With strange emotion. And once his lips
Were seen to move: "Thou ever present-Curse,
Reminding me of what I am, of what
I've lost. Thou Nemesis of nature's wrongs;
For that I've sinned against my birth, my soul's
Remorse affirms. How long e'er nature's laws,
More kind than human heart, will free my eyes
From thee, thou vengeful witness of my shame?
I'd tear thee from thy staff, but when I think
Of all the tears thou'st witnessed in these eyes,
At first my curses, then my prayers to God,
Of secret thoughts conceived within thy sight,
Thou seem'st so much a friend, I would not harm
One star within thy field,-and yet,—and yet—”
Full thirty years had passed since sound
Of friendly voice had filled his ear, and now
He paced another deck than one designed
For heavy armament,-
-a merchant craft,
Commissioned while the nation's ships of war
Were called for duty home to try the cause
For which this poor deluded exile gave
His manhood and his life.
The cry of" sail" was heard, and then,
Against his will, they hurried him below.
The startling call to quarters thrilled his ear:
And e'er the roll of drum and boatswain's whistle died away There came a distant "boom" that roused a hope
He yearned to realize. A moment more,
A deaf'ning sound, that shook the very keel
Awoke his heart with joy. He knew and hailed
The truth. The land,-his land was now at war.
The foe-his name, it mattered not to him-
Had struck the challenge blow and filled his soul
With fire.
O love of Country! Thou art lasting as
The faith of childhood. Thou art stronger than
The love of life,-the fear of death!
This exiled penitent, this prodigal
Without a home, would prove himself a man!
He cried for help to free him from his bonds;
He tried to burst the door; with frantic yells,
lie shrieked from those above to lead him forth
To grapple with the foe. But all was vain.
A tearing shot
That ploughed through side and prison bulkhead walls,
Made clear a passage wide enough for him
To struggle through to seek his wild desire.
But e'er he reached the deck, the foe had lashed
His ship beside, and countless fierce, wild men
Were leaping down among the feeble crew,
Who battled hard, but vain, against such odds.
He saw the flag the enemy displayed,
A flag unknown, unseen by him before,
Though strangely like the one he cursed,-now loved
So much,-would die in its defense.
He wrenched a cutlass from a dying hand,
And hewed his way among the privateers.
Where'er he struck, the way was cleared of men
Like wheat before the blade. His strange demean
And antique garb amazed the foe, until
It seemed he'd drive the boarders to their ship.
At last, his wounds o'ercame his madd'ning strength,
And sinking to his knee, was soon disarmed,
But spared the murd'rous stroke by one who knew
His name and story from a child.
His glazing eye turned wistful toward that flag,
Now drooping low, as if to mourn for him:-
"My country! thou art now avenged! my life,-
My wasted life,-I give to thee-to thee."
JERRY.--MARY LOWE DICKINSON.
"Buy a paper, plaze! She is frozen a'most,
Here's Commercial, and News, and Mail,
And here's the Express, and the Avening Post,
And ivery one has a tirrible tale-
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