Eat, drink, be merry, and then come to me,
And I will give you the desired decree."

They thanked the Rabbi wise, and hastened home,
And to the festival their friends bade come.
Never such feast had in the city been,

Nor bride and groom in such rich raiment seen.
Joyous the wife was, although sad at heart,
Knowing, the feast over, that they twain must part;
And oft a glance she cast along the board

Toward the husband whom she still adored.

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Ruddy and white was my beloved then,"

She thought, "and chiefest of ten thousand men ;
His head of most fine gold, his locks of jet;
His eyes as eyes of doves, and fitly set;
His cheeks a bed of spices, and his lips

Like lilies from which myrrh sweet smelling drips;
'Daughters of Jerusalem,' I said, 'attend;
For this my beloved and my dearest friend.'"
And Joseph, too, was moved, reflecting: “So
It was we feasted but ten years ago.

How fair thou wert, my love behold, how fair!
Thou hadst doves' eyes within thy locks; thy hair
It was like purple. and thy teeth did seem
A flock of sheep that came up from the stream
Even-shorn, and thy lips a scarlet thread;
Thy bosom like two young twin roses that fed
Among the lilies ah! thou wert all fair,
My love; my love, no spot in thee was there."
And raising up a cup of wine, he laughed,
Then sighed, as he the generous liquor quaffed,
"We have been happy, and had Heaven to us
Sent children happy, had we lived on thus."
And filling up the cup, replied his wife :
"Let me - for mine has been a happy life
Take something to recall it when I go."
Her husband answered, "Be it so

Take what you will; I pledge thee in this wine,
Whate'er is here, and thou wouldst have, is thine."

The feast went on, and all drank long and deep,
And Joseph in his chair fell fast asleep.

He waked the room in which he oped his eyes,
Its furniture, he could not recognize;

When his wife entered, and he asked her, "What
Dwelling is this? How came I to this spot?"
"It is my father's house," she said; "you swore
I should take with me when I left your door
Whate'er I held most dear, and never guessed
Of all was in the world I loved you best.
I brought you here asleep."

"We shall not part,"

Her husband said, and strained her to his heart.
Nor did they part till death; but long ere then
God gave them gift of children, so that when
Joseph of Sidon died, he left his lands

In his children's and his children's children's hands.

THE INDIAN WARRIOR'S DEFENCE.

FATHERS: you call on me to defend the accusations which have been made against me. You have charged me with murder, rebellion, and desertion; all of which charges I can prove false.

Fathers when the Great Spirit gave me life, so that I might breathe the air of America, he also gave me the soul of an Indian warrior; and I hope that he will see I have not debased the gifts he endowed me with. The snow came on the woods near thirty times before our chiefs took up the tomahawk; and in that time I grew from infancy to manhood, and called Montena "wife"; three noble boys and one fair girl were those who called me "father." Till now we'd smoked the pipe of peace; when once, as everything was locked in sleep, and the fair light of heaven had left our woods, I was returning from the chase, when, oh! spirit of my fathers witness, witness what I say, I found my wigwam sunk in a heap of smoking ruins, and my three brave sons stretched dead upon the earth; and what was worse, "The Light of the Woods," my lovely Zadig, was stolen from me, to meet a fate, perhaps, worse than that my sons had met. My wife was still remaining, to tell the dismal tale, and to raise the fire of vengeance in my heart by saying 'twas your pale-faced warriors that had worked the ruin of an unoffending savage.

The morning came, the sun lit the scene of desolation which your warriors had made, when I took the rifle of my father, and shouldered his tomahawk, determined to avenge my just wrongs. Was that rebellion? If it was, I never knew your language. I ask you, Fathers of the White Nation, if I rebelled against what was right? I think not. I never deserved your vengeance in my life. When did the white man come to Massanietto's hut, and a-hungered, and the savage did not feed him? When did the pale-face come to my wigwam, and if half naked, I clothed him not? When did your warriors, if benighted in the woods, come to Massanietto's for a shelter, and were refused? Never! And our people have acted like their Sachem: they saw me act with peace toward your land; they did the same. From that time when you slaughtered those who were dearest to me, I berame your deadly foe, and have been ever since.

You took me prisoner, you tried to corrupt my mind by your accursed rum-fire-water; but twas in vain, I would not taste it.

You then tried to win my friendship by kind treatment; but I recollected my private wrongs, and the wrong you had done to my tribe. You gave me liberty to range at large, and having heard that a portion of my nation were advancing upon the settlement where I was confined, I contrived to escape and joined them; this you called desertion. White men ! did you think because I bore my captivity in silence, and wore the warrior's dress which your nation wear, that it made any alteration in my heart? No! I cherished up the thought of revenge till the eventful day which made me a second time your prisoner. And now you charge me with murder because I slew your chief. Had he been a common warrior, it would not have been so. Your nation's justice is mockery of justice; your people's deeds of war are acts of massacre and plunder; they fight with no motive of revenge and passion, but merely to satisfy their thirst for blood.

Fathers! I have done. When I am dead, I hope you'll lay me on the earth, like an Indian chief ought to be; and I trust the Great Spirit will receive me into the everlasting huntingground. Our nations have been hunted like beasts, our bows are broken, our tomahawks are bent, and our fires extinguished: a little longer, and the white man's persecutions will be at an end the tribe of Red warriors will cease to exist.

THE FARMER AND THE BARRISTER.

A COUNSEL in the Common Pleas,
Who was esteemed a mighty wit,
Upon the strength of a chance hit,
Amid a thousand flippancies,
And his occasional bad jokes,
In bullying, bantering, browbeating,
Ridiculing and maltreating
Women, or other timid folks;
In a late cause resolved to hoax
A clownish Yorkshire Farmer - one
Who by his uncouth look and gait,
Appeared expressly meant by Fate
For being quizzed and played upon.

So having tipped the wink to those
In the back rows,

Who kept their laughter bottled down
Until our wag should draw the cork,
He smiled jocosely on the clown,
And went to work.

"Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York?” "Whynot, sir, as they do with you,

But on four legs instead of two."

66

Officer!" cried the legal elf,

Piqued at the laugh against himself,

"Do pray keep silence down below there.
Now, look at me, clown, and attend :
Have I not seen you somewhere, friend ?"
very like I often go there."

66 Yees

Who doubtless think yourself so clever,
Are there as many fools as ever

66

In the West Riding?"

Why no, sir, no; we've got our share,
But not so many as when you were there."

HORACE SMITH.

YANKEE COURTSHIP.

AFTER my sleighride last winter, and the slippery trick I was served by Patty Bean, nobody would suspect me of hankering after the women again in a hurry. To hear me jump and swear, and rail out against the whole feminine gender, you would have taken it for granted that I should never so much as look at one of them again to all eternity. Oh, but I was wicked! Tear out their eyes, says I; blame their skins, and torment their hearts; finally, I took an oath, that if I ever meddled, or had anything to do with them again, I might be hung and choked.

But swearing off from women, and then going into a meeting-house choke-full of gals, all shining and glistening in their Sunday clothes and clean faces, is like swearing off from liquor and going into a grog-shop-it's all smoke.

I held out and kept firm to my oath three whole Sundays forenoons, afternoons, and intermissions complete. On the fourth, there were strong symptoms of a change of weather. A chap about my size was seen on the way to the meetinghouse, with a new patent hat on; his head hung by the ears upon a shirt-collar; his cravat had a pudding in it, and branched out in front into a double-bow knot. He carried a straight back and a stiff neck, as a man ought to do when he has his best clothes on; and every time he spit, he sprang his body forward like a jack-knife, in order to shoot clear of the ruffles.

Squire Jones's pew is next but two to mine, and when I stand up to prayers, and take my coat-tail under my arm, and turn my back to the minister, I naturally look right straight at Sally Jones. Now Sally has got a face not to be grinned at in a fog. Indeed, as regards beauty, some folks think she can pull an even yoke with Patty Bean. For my part, I think there is not much boot between them. Anyhow, they are so high matched that they have hated and despised each other, like rank poison, ever since they were school-girls.