A JOHN B. GOUGH. YANKEE, walking the streets of London, looked through a window upon a group of men writing very rapidly; and one of them said to him in an insulting manner, "Do you wish to buy some gape-seed?" Passing on a short distance the Yankee met a man, and asked him what the business of those men was in the office he had just passed. He was told that they wrote letters dictated by others, and transcribed all sorts of documents; in short, they were writers. The Yankee returned to the office, and inquired if one of the men would write a letter for him, and was answered in the affirmative. He asked the price, and was told one dollar. After considerable talk, the bargain was made; one of the conditions of which was that the scribe should write just what the Yankee told him to, or he should receive no pay. The scribe told the Yankee he was ready to begin; and the latter said,— "Dear marm:" and then asked, "Have you got that deown?" "I went to ride t'other day: have you got that deown?" "Yes; go on, go on." "And I harnessed up the old mare into the wagon: have you got that deown?" "Yes, yes, long ago; go on." Why, how fast you write! And I got into the wagon, and sat deown, and drew up the reins, and took the whip in my right hand have you got that deown?" "Yes, long ago; go on." "Dear me, how fast you write! I never saw your equal. And I said to the old mare, ' Go 'long,' and jerked the reins pretty hard: have you got that deown ?" "Yes; and I am impatiently waiting for more. I wish you wouldn't bother me with so many foolish questions. Go on with your letter." "Well, the old mare wouldn't stir out of her tracks, and I hollered, 'Go 'long, you old jade! go 'long.' Have you got that deown?" 58 THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALAKLAVA. "Yes, indeed, you pestersome fellow; go on.” "And I licked her, and licked her, and licked her [continuing to repeat these words as rapidly as possible.] "Hold on there! I have written two pages of 'licked her,' and I want the rest of the letter.' “Well, and she kicked, and she kicked, and she kicked-[continuing to repeat these words with great rapidity.] "Do go on with your letter; I have several pages of 'she kicked.'" [The Yankee clucks as in urging horses to move, and continues the clucking noise with rapid repetition for some time.] The scribe throws down his pen. "Write it deown! write it deown!" "I can't!" "Well then, I won't pay you." [The scribe, gathering up his papers.] "What shall I do with all these sheets upon which I have written your nonsense?" "You may use them in doing up your gape-seed. Good-by!" THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALAKLAVA. T WILLIAM H. RUSSELL. HE whole brigade scarcely made one effective regiment according to the numbers of continental armies; and yet it was more than we could spare. As they rushed towards the front, the Russians opened on them from the guns in the redoubt on the right, with volleys of musketry and rifles. They swept proudly past, glittering in the morning sun in all the pride and splendor of war. We could scarcely believe the evidence of our senses! Surely that handful of men are not going to charge an army in position? Alas! it was but too true their desperate valor knew no bounds, and far indeed was it removed from its so-called better part-discretion. They advanced in two lines, quickening their pace as they closed towards the enemy. A more fearful spectacle was never witnessed than by those who, without the power to aid, beheld their heroic countrymen rushing to the arms of death. At the distance of 1200 yards, the whole line of the enemy belched forth, from thirty iron mouths, a flood of smoke and flame, through which hissed the deadly balls. Their flight was marked by instant gaps in our ranks, CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 59 by dead men and horses, by steeds flying wounded or riderless across the plain. The first line is broken; it is joined by the second; they never halt or check their speed an instant. With diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which the Russians had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel above their heads, and with a cheer which was many a noble fellow's death-cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries, but ere they were lost from view, the plain was strewed with their bodies and with the carcasses of horses. They were exposed to an oblique fire from the batteries on the hills on both sides, as well as to a direct fire of musketry. Through the clouds of smoke we could see their sabres flashing as they rode up to the guns and dashed between them, cutting down the gunners as they stood. We saw them riding through the guns, as I have said; to our delight we saw them returning, after breaking through a column of Russian infantry, and scattering them like chaff, when the flank fire of the battery on the hill swept them down, scattered and broken as they were Wounded men and dismounted troopers flying towards us told the sad tale-demigods could not have done what we had failed to do. CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. ALFRED TENNYSON. ALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Rode the six hundred. Cannon in front of them, Volleyed and thundered: Into the jaws of death, Into the mouth of hell, Rode the six hundred. Flashed all their sabers bare, All the world wondered: Reeled from the saber-stroke, Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back-but not, Not the six hundred. CATCHING THE MORNING TRAIN. CATCHING THE MORNING TRAIN. 61 MAX ADELER. FIND that one of the most serious objections to living out of town lies in the difficulty experienced in catching the early morning train by which I must reach the city and my business. It is by no means. a pleasant matter, under any circumstances, to have one's movements regulated by a time-table, and to be obliged to rise to breakfast and to leave home at a certain hour, no matter how strong the temptation to delay may be. But sometimes the horrible punctuality of the train is productive of absolute suffering. For instance: I look at my watch when I get out of bed and find that I have apparently plenty of time, so I dress leisurely, and sit down to the morning meal in a frame of mind which is calm and serene. Just as I crack my first egg I hear the down train from Wilmington. I start in alarm; and taking out my watch I compare it with the clock and find that it is eleven minutes slow, and that I have only five minutes left in which to get to the depot. I endeavor to scoop the egg from the shell, but it burns my fingers, the skin is tough, and after struggling with it for a moment, it mashes into a hopeless mass. I drop it in disgust and seize a roll; while I scald my tongue with a quick mouthful of coffee. Then I place the roll in my mouth while my wife hands me my satchel and tells me she thinks she hears the whistle. I plunge madly around looking for my umbrella, then I kiss the family good-by as well as I can with a mouth full of roll, and dash toward the door. Just as I get to the gate I find that I have forgotten my duster and the bundle my wife wanted me to take up to the city to her aunt. Charging back, I snatch them up and tear down the gravel-walk in a frenzy. I do not like to run through the village: it is undignified and it attracts attention; but I walk furiously. I go faster and faster as I get away from the main street. When half the distance is accomplished, I actually do hear the whistle; there can be no doubt about it this time. I long to run, but I know that if I do I will excite that abominable speckled dog sitting by the sidewalk a little distance ahead of me. Then I really see the train coming around the curve close by the depot, and I feel that I must make better time; and I do. The dog immediately manifests an interest in my movements. He tears down the street after me, and is speedily joined by five or six other dogs, which frolic about my legs and bark furiously. Sundry small boys as I go plunging past, contribute to the excitement by whistling |