"But I was dhrunk at the time. Divil roawst me if I knowed I was gittin' married. I was not a free aigent. I want the judge to taik me naime aff the paiper. It don't go."

The judge tried to explain to the man that, drunk or sober, he was married to the woman fast enough, and, if he wanted a divorce, he must go to another court.

"Burn me up!" cried the man," if I go to another court. Ye married me, and ye can unmarry me. Taik me naime aff the paiper!"

"Silence!" cried the friend, bringing his fist down in close proximity to the judge's nose. "Phwat do you know about law? I admit, judge, that he must go to a higher court; that is (down comes the fist) if the woman can prove (whack) that she was at the time the marriage was solemnated (whack) a regularly ordained sole thrader (whack). On this pint it depinds, both in law and equity.”

"I have had enough of this!" cried the judge: “I cannot divorce you. You are married, and married you must remain, for all I can do."

"Ye won't taik me naime aff the paiper, thin!"
"It would not mend the matter," said the judge.
"Ye won't taik it aff?"

"No: I won't!" fairly yelled the judge.

"Silence!" cried the partner, bringing down his fist, and raising a cloud of dust under the judge's nose. "It depinds whether, at the time, the woman was a regular sole—”

"Get out of here," cried the judge. "I've had about enough of this!" at the same time rising.

"Ye won't taik it aff? Very well, thin, I'll go hoam and devorce myself. I'll fire the thatch! I will-”

Here he glanced toward the front door: his under jaw drooped, he ceased speaking, and in a half-stooping posture he went out of the back door of the office like a shot.

The valiant friend and legal adviser also glanced toward the door, when he too, doubled up and scooted in the footsteps of his illustrious principal.

A look at the door showed it darkened by a woman about six feet in height, and so broad as to fill it almost from side to side.

The judge took a look at this mountain of flesh, doubled

up, and was about to take the back track, but thought better of it, and took refuge behind his little law-pulpit.

The mountain advanced, gave utterance in a sort of internal rumble, and then, ainid fire, smoke, and burning lava, belched out,

"Did I, or did I not see Michael O'Hoolahan sneak out of your back doore?"

"I believe O'Hoolahan is the name of one of the gentlemen who just went out," said the judge.

Advancing upon the pulpit, behind which the judge settled lower and lower, the mountain belched,—

"You be-e-lave! You know it was Michael O'Hoolahan! Now, what is all this connivin' in here about? Am I a widdy agin? Did ye taik his naime aff the paiper? Did ye taik it aff?"

"N-no," said the judge.

"Ye didn't? Don't ye desave me!"

"No: I give you my word of honor I didn't, couldn't-I had no right."

"It's well for ye ye didn't. I'll tache him to be rinnin' about connivin' to lave me a lone widdy agin', whin I'm makin' a jintleman of him!"

With this she sailed back to the door, where she turned, and, shaking her fist, thus addressed the tip of the judge's nose, which alone was visible above the little pulpit,

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Now, do ye mind that ye lave his naime on the paiper! I want no meddlin' wid a man wanst I git him. No more connivin'!"

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.-ROBT. BROWNING.

You know we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind,

As if to balance the prone brow,
Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,

Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"-

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,

And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy :
You hardly could suspect,

(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through,)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast

Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!

The marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes:

64

"You're wounded!" Nay," his soldier's pride

Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, sire!" And, his chief beside,

Smiling, the boy fell dead.

JAMIE DOUGLAS.

It was in the days when Claverhouse
Was scouring moor and glen,

To change, with fire and bloody sword,
The faith of Scottish men,

They had made a covenant with the Lord
Firm in their faith to bide,

Nor break to Him their plighted word,
Whatever might betide.

The sun was well-nigh setting,
When o'er the heather wild,

And up the narrow mountain-path,
Alone there walked a child.'

He was a bonny, blithesome lad,
Sturdy and strong of limb-
A father's pride, a mother's love,
Were fast bound up in him.

His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,
His step was firm and light;
What was it underneath his plaid
His little hands grasped tight?

It was bannocks which, that very morn,
His mother made with care,
From out her scanty store of meal;

And now, with many a prayer,

Had sent by Jamie her ane boy,
A trusty lad and brave,

To good old Pastor Tammous Roy,
Now hid in yonder cave.

And for whom the bloody Claverhouse
Had hunted long in vain,

And swore they would not leave that glen
Till old Tam Roy was slain.

So Jamie Douglas went his way
With heart that knew no fear;

He turned the great curve in the rock,
Nor dreamed that death was near.

And there were bloody Claverhouse men,
Who laughed aloud with glee,

When, trembling now within their power,
The frightened child they see.

He turns to flee, but all in vain,
They drag him back apace

To where their cruel leader stands,
And set them face to face.

The cakes concealed beneath his plaid
Soon tell the story plain-

"It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for,"
Exclaimed the angry man.

"Now guide me to his hiding place
And I will let you go."

But Jamie shook his yellow curls,
And stoutly answered--" No!"

"I'll drop you down the mountain-side,
And there upon the stones

The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow
Shall battle for your bones."

And in his brawny, strong right hand
He lifted up the child,

And held him where the clefted rocks
Formed a chasm deep and wild.

So deep it was, the trees below
Like stunted bushes seemed.
Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze,
It seemed some horrid dream.

He looked up at the blue sky above,
Then at the men near by;
Had they no little boys at home,
That they could let him die?

But no one spoke and no one stirred,
Or lifted hand to save

From such a fearful, frightful death,
The little lad so brave.

"It is woeful deep," he shuddering cried, "But oh! I canna tell,

So drop me down then, if you will-
It is nae so deep as hell!"

A childish scream, a faint, dull sound,
Oh! Jamie Douglas true,

Long, long within that lonely cave
Shall Tam Roy wait for you.

Long for your welcome coming
Waits the mother on the moor,

And watches and calls, "Come, Jamie, lad,"
Through the half-open door.

No more adown the rocky path
You come with fearless tread,
Or, on moor or mountain, take
The good man's daily bread.

But up in heaven the shining ones
A wond'rous story tell,

Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf

That is nae so deep as hell.

And there before the great white throne,

Forever blessed and glad,

His mother dear and old Tam Roy

Shall meet their bonny lad.