"All right," said the young man, "go ahead, and if I don't sell you a coat I won't ask the situation."

The proprietor proceeded a short distance up the street, then sauntered back toward the shop, where the young man was on the alert for him.

"Hi! look here! Don't you want some clothes to-day?" “No, I don't vant me nothing," returned the boss.

"But step inside and let me show you what an elegant stock we have," said the "spider to the fly," catching him by the arm, and forcing him into the store.

After considerable palaver, the clerk expectant got down a coat, on the merits of which he expatiated at length, and finally offered it to "the countryman" at thirty dollars, remarking that it was "dirt cheap."

"Dirty tollar? My kracious! I vouldn't give you dwenty. But I don't vant de coat anyvays."

"You had better take it, my friend; you don't get a bargain like this every day."

"No; I don't vant it. I gone me out. Good-day."

"Hold on! don't be in such a hurry," answered the anxious clerk. "See here, now; the boss has been out all day, and I haven't sold a dollars worth. I want to have something to show when he comes back, so take the coat at twenty-five dollars; that is just what it cost. I don't make a cent on it; but take it along."

Young mans, don'd I told you three, four, couple of dimes dat I don't vant de coat?"

"Well, take it at twenty dollars; I'll lose money on it, but 1 want to make one sale anyhow, before the boss comes in. Take it at twenty."

"Vell, I don't vant de coat, but I'll give you fifteen tollar, and not one cent more."

"Oh, my friend, I couldn't do it! Why, the coat cost twentyfive; yet sooner than not make a sale, I'll let you have it for eighteen dollars, and stand the loss."

"No; I don't vant it anyvays. It ain't vurth no more as fifteen tollar, but I vouldn't gif a cent more, so help me kracious."

Here the counterfeit rustic turned to depart, pleased to think that he had got the best of the young clerk: but that

Individual was equal to the emergency. Knowing that he must sell the garment to secure his place, he seized the parting boss, saying:

Well, I'll tell you how it is. The man who keeps this store is an uncle of mine, and as he is a mean old cuss, I want to bust him! Here, take the coat at fifteen dollars."

This settled the business. The proprietor saw that this was too valuable a salesman to let slip, and so engaged him at once; and he may be seen every day standing in front of the shop, urging innocent countrymen to buy clothes which are "yust de fit," at sacrificial prices.

GOIN' HOME TO-DAY.-WILL CARLETON.

My business on the jury's done-the quibblin' all is through-I've watched the lawyers, right and left, and give my verdict true;

I stuck so long unto my chair, I thought I would grow in ;
And if I do not know myself, they'll get me there ag'in.
But now the court's adjourned for good, and I have got my

pay;

I'm loose at last, and thank the Lord, I'm goin' home to-day.

I've somehow felt uneasy, like, since first day I come down;
It is an awkward game to play the gentleman in town;
And this 'ere Sunday suit of mine, on Sunday rightly sets,
But when I wear the stuff a week, it somehow galls and frets.
I'd rather wear my homespun rig of pepper-salt and gray--
I'll have it on in half a jiff, when I get home to-day.

I have no doubt my wife looked out, as well as any one-
As well as any woman could-to see that things were done:
For though Melinda, when I'm there, won't set her foot out
doors,

She's very careful, when I'm gone, to 'tend to all the chores.
But nothing prospers half so well when I go off to stay,
And I will put things into shape, when I get home to-day.
The mornin' that I come away, we had a little bout;
I coolly took my hat and left, before the show was out.
For what I said was naught whereat she ought to take of-
fense;

And she was always quick at words, and ready to commence.
But then, she's first one to give up when she has had her

say;

And she will meet me with a kiss, when I go home to-day.

My little boy-I'll give 'em leave to match him, if they can;
It's fun to see him strut about, and try to be a man!
The gamest, cheeriest little chap you'd ever want to see!
And then they laugh because I think the child resembles me.
The little rogue! he goes for me like robbers for their prey;
He'll turn my pockets inside out, when I get home to-day.

My little girl-I can't contrive how it should happen thus—
That God could pick that sweet bouquet, and fling it down

to us!

My wife, she says that han'some. face will some day make a stir;

And then I laugh, because she thinks the child resembles her.

She'll meet me half-way down the hill, and kiss me, any

way;

And light my heart up with her smiles, when I go home today!

If there's a heaven upon the earth, a fellow knows it when
He's been away from home a week, and then gets back again.
If there's a heaven above the earth, there often, I'll be bound,
Some homesick fellow meets his folks, and hugs 'em all
around.

But let my creed be right or wrong, or be it as it may,
My heaven is just ahead of me—I'm goin' home to-day.

THE WORLD FOR SALE.-RALPH HOYT.

The world for sale!-Hang out the sign;
Call every traveler here to me:
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine,
And set me from earth's bondage free?

"Tis going!—yes, I mean to fling

The bauble from my soul away;
I'll sell it, whatsoe'er it bring;-
The world at auction here to-day!

It is a glorious thing to see,-
Ah, it has cheated me so sore!
It is not what it seems to be:

For sale! It shall be mine no more.
Come, turn it o'er and view it well;

I would not have you purchase dear:

"Tis going! GOING!—I must sell!

Who bids?-Who'll buy the splendid tear?

Here's WEALTH in glittering heaps of gold ;Who bids?-but let me tell you fair,

A baser lot was never sold;

Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care?
And here, spread out in broad domain,
A goodly landscape all may trace;
Hall, cottage, tree, field, hill, and plain;—
Who'll buy himself a burial-place?
Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell
That beauty flings around the heart;
I know its power, alas! too well;—
'Tis going,-love and I must part!
Must part! What can I more with love?
All over the enchanter's reign;
Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove,-
An hour of bliss,-an age of pain!
And FRIENDSHIP,-rarest gem of earth,
(Whoe'er hath found the jewel his?)
Frail, fickle, false, and little worth,—
Who bids for friendship as it is?
"Tis going! GOING!-Hear the call:

Once, twice, and THRICE!--'tis very low!
"Twas once my hope, my stay, my all,-
But now the broken staff must go!
FAME! hold the brilliant meteor high;
How dazzling every gilded name!
Ye millions, now's the time to buy!

How much for fame?-How much for fame?
Hear how it thunders!-Would you stand
On high Olympus, far renown'd,—
Now purchase, and a world command!-
And be with a world's curses crown'd!

Sweet star of HOPE! with ray to shine
In every sad foreboding breast,
Save this desponding one of mine,—

Who bids for man's last friend and best?
Ah! were not mine a bankrupt life,
This treasure should my soul sustain;

But hope and I are now at strife,
Nor ever may unite again.

And SONG! For sale my tuneless lute;
Sweet solace, mine no more to hold;
The chords that charmed my soul are mute,
I cannot wake the notes of old!

Or e'en were mine a wizard shell,

Could chain a world in rapture high;

Yet now a sad farewell!-farewell!

Must on its last faint echoes die.

Ambition, Fashion, Show, and Pride,-
I part from all forever now;
Grief, in an overwhelming tide,

Has taught my haughty heart to bow.
Poor heart! distracted, ah, so long,―

And still its aching throb to bear;-
How broken, that was once so strong!
How heavy, once so free from care!

No more for me life's fitful dream;-
Bright vision, vanishing away!
My bark requires a deeper stream;
My sinking soul a surer stay.
By Death, stern sheriff, all bereft!
I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod;
The best of all I still have left,-

My FAITH, my BIBLE, and my GOD.

WHEN DUTY BEGINS.-CHARLES DICKENS.

O late-remembered, much-forgotten, mouthing, braggart duty! always owed,—and seldom paid in any other coin than punishment and wrath,-when will mankind begin to know thee! When will men acknowledge thee in thy neglected cradle and thy stunted youth, and not begin their recognition in thy sinful manhood and thy desolate old age! O ermined judge! whose duty to society is now to doom the ragged criminal to punishment and death, hast thou never, MAN, a duty to discharge in barring up the hundred open gates that wooed him to the felon's dock, and throwing but ajar the portals to a decent life. O prelate, prelate! whose duty to society it is to mourn in melancholy phrase the sad degeneracy of these bad times in which thy lot of honors has been cast, did nothing go before thy elevation to the lofty seat, from which thou dealest out thy homilies to other tarriers for dead men's shoes, whose duty to society has not begun. O magistrate!-so rare a country gentleman and brave a squire,—had you no duty to society before the ricks were blazing and the mob were mad; or did it spring up armed and booted from the earth, a corps of yeomanry, full grown.

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