MARGARET CATCHPOLE.

Maegaret Catciipolk was horn in the year 1773 at a little cottage near Newton, Suffolk. Her father, Jonathan Catchpole, was a plonghnian upon the farm of Mr. Denton. When a child Margaret was fond of riding upon the cart-horses, and indulged in feats of agility and strength which were rather suitable to a young lad than a girl. Her father and brothers indulged her in these freaks, aud by the time she was ten or eleven years old she could ride on horse back as well as any person, male or female, in the neighbourhood. She was of a kind and good disposition, and much of her time was occupied in attending upon tho sick bed of her sister Susan. The Catchpole family was intimate with the Cracknells, who kept a small chandlery shop upon Mr. Denton's farm. One even in"' the Cracknells gave a little entertain ment, and of course the Catchpoles were invited. At this time Margaret was 16, and, although by no means pretty, she was well formed, had jetty hair, fino blue eyes, and a pale but not uninteresting counten ance. At that entertainment Margaret encountered a young man of the name of William Laud ; and they sat or danced together the whole evening. In a word, there was a species of ' love at first sight' between the youthful couple; and as Wil liam Laud was a fine, active young fellow, there seemed a certain fitness in their union Which did not cscapo the eyes of their William, and Margaret became engaged to each other in duo course; and it was determined that they should be married as soon as William could obtain some settled employment. At length William called to inform his betrothed that he had resolved to accept the proposal of one Captain Bar good, and embrace a sailor's life for a year or two, the captain having offered to receive him onboard ono of his own trading vessels. Margaret could not combat this resolution, but the dying Susan, her sister, reproached William for heing too worldly-minded, too little religious and too flippant in his con versation : and she concluded her solemn discourse by declaring her conviction that 'Margaret would never marry William Laud.' . William took little notice of the pro phecy and remonstrance ; but it made a deep impression upon Margaret. William departed, and a few days afterwards Susan was a corpse, but ere the young woman breathed her last, she implored her surviving sister to beware of William Laud I Months passed away and Margaret had received no tidings of William. One day a sailor presented himself at the cottage and inquired if' Miss Margaret Catchpole dwelt there ?' The reply was au affirmative ; and tho sailor entered, bearing witli him a largo packet, which he deposited upon the table, saying 'This is a present from William Laud°to Miss Margaret.' The parcel was opened ; it contained lace and ribbons, silks and stnffs, gloves and scents ; tea, cofl'co, sugar, snuff and tobacco; meerschaum pipes with silver-tipped bowls and tubes ; in a word, enough to stock a small shop. Margaret's heart instantly sank within her. A sudden light broke in upon her mind- William Laud had become a smuggler I Recovering her presence of mind, sho de sired one of her brothers to help her tie up the parcel; and when this was dpne, she said to the sailor : ' My good man, you may take all this finery away with you again. Neither my father nor myself will accept of it. But tell William Laud that a single ribbon, honestly purchased, would have pleased me more than valuables by which ho cannot have honourably come.' The man however, refused to take the parcel away with him, ' for,' said he, ' William Laud is the captain of the vessel to which I belong', and I would not dare to offend him. Ho U all-powerful with our owner, Bargood, and I would advise you to throw away this stupid squeamishness.' Nothing could change Margaret's intentions; the sailor 'refused to take away the parcel, and de parted in an ill humour; and when ho was gone the Catchpoles held a consultation to determine what they should do with the contraband articles. . ' In the midst of the debate, Mrs. Cracknell called, and was duly informed of tho inci dent that had just taken placs. 'Well,' said Mrs. Cracknell, ' times are very hard and the laws are very severe, and I don't sec any harm in a body getting a little money by a side-wind now and then. Give_ me these articles; I can dispose of them in a quiet way, and I will take care of you. You may have groceries and other things at my house without paying for six months to come." Margaret remained silent; her scruples only required a removal of the goods from the cottage, and old Catchpole snapped at Mrs Crackncll's offer. The bargain was struck, and in the evening Cracknell called and fetched away the things. But Margaret remembered the words of her deceased sister and she wept bitterly. <• Regularly every month tho same sailor, who had visited the cottage as above de scribed, called with presents for Margaret, and tender messages from William ; and the contrabrand articles all found their way to the Cracknells' shop. The brothers of Mar garet became completely demoralized by tho sources of enjoyment opened to them through these means; the Cracknells always sup plied them with money; they grew idlo and dissipated, and the once honest labourers were now the constant guests of the pub lican. At length Charles, the elder brother, was inveigled into the meshes of a recruiting sergeant, and embarked with an infantry regiment for the East Indies; Robert, the second brother, died of delirium tremens in 1791, and James, the youngest brother, turned poacher, and was shot in an affray with game-keepers. Thus did the presents of William Laud deprive old Jonathan Catchpole of his three sons and Margaret of her three brothers. The Catchpole family became the object of suspicion and distrust in the neighbour hood. Strange stories were circulated rela tive to Margaret's connection with the smugglers. The consequence was that old Jonathan was compelled to change his abode, and from a regular workman he became a jobbing labourer, obtaining em ployment when and where he could. Meantime the name of William Laud grew famous—or rather infamous ; and the deeds which distinguished him in his despe rate avocations, and in the constant collision with which he and the preventive officers found themselves, became the theme of general conversation. In one of these encounters William Laud was fearfully wounded in tho head, and was conveyed_ to . Captain Bargood's house. The same sailor whom we have already seen visiting the Catchpoles, and whose name was John Luff, now called upon Margaret, and im plored her to hasten to tho presence of the wounded man. Not for one moment did Margaret hesitate. She was deeply at tached to William ; and she now had two objects in view. She was anxious to tend him on his sick couch ; and she longed to draw him away from his desperate course of life.

She accordingly hastened to the house where William lay concealed under the pro tection of Captain Bargood, his patron. The lovers now met after a separation of two years, and for a few moments the past conduct of Laud was entirely forgotten by the affectionate girl. She then.'i'&ressqd his

wounds; and resolved upon remaining with him until his recovery. • She constantly .seized opportunities of remonstrating with Laud upon his illegal and. dangerous pur suits. She endeavoured to awaken reli gions feelings in his mind by reading the Bible to him, and there were 'moments when she really mado a deep- impression upon him. Weeks passed away, and she never deserted him. He at length re covered, , and faithfully promised. her to quit his former companions aud ways, and enter on board a Dutch trader. She be lieved him. They parted once again, and Margaret felt happy uudcr the impression that she had worked a great and important change in her lover's mind and condition. She now seriously thought of going out to service, and through some kind friends who still looked favourably upon her she obtained a place at the Priory farm, belong ing to Mr. and Mrs. Wake, at Dowiiham Reach. She proceeded to her situation in 1792, and became a servant of all work. There was a young man employed upon the farm whoso name was John Barry. He soon became enamoured of Margaret, and proposed to lier. She at once, aud with extreme candour, revealed to him her attachment and engagement with William Laud, declaring at the same time that she would never marry another so long as Wil liam Laud was alive. «•',,, In the meanwhile William Laud had returned to his old pursuits, and was again the commander of a desperato band of smugglers. His passion for Margaret amounted almost to a species of madness, and he determined to possess her. He communicated his feelings and his wishes to John Luff, and this black-hearted villain proposed that they should carry her. oft. William might then marry her in Holland. This proposition was well received by Margaret's lover, and it was resolved to put the scheme into immediate effect. A note was sent to tho Priory farm to inform Margaret that William was most anxious to sec her, aud appointed a timo and place for the iutcrview. The time was evening— the place was tho seashore. The reader need scarcely be told that Margaret gladly flow to the appointment. She believed that her lover had abandoned his late desperato courses and had become an honest man. It was therefore with the more readiness and with greater joy that she repaired to the coast where she was to meet him. He landed from a little boat, and m a few moments they Were in each other's arms. Ho then hastily implored her to accompany him to Holland, where then hands should be united. She refused : a vague suspicion of evil darted into her mind. That fear was in an instant con firmed, for the light of the mobri .revealed to her the person of John Luff in the-rear, who kept watch at a little distance. Then the poor girl felt afraid. Could it be pos sible ? Had William deceived her ? Was he once more the companion of smugglers? She expressed her alarm to William. He laughed and answered evasively. She began to reprove him mildly, and to im plore him to listen to her warning voice. At that moment the wife of Luff was heard— ' Come, Bill, none of this delay; the pre ventives arc about!' Laud seized Margaret round the waist and hurried her toward the boat, whisper ing in her ear : ... ' Forgive me, dear girl, forgive me ;it is my love that makes me thus desperate.' ' But Margaret would not be pacified ; she struggled and screamed ; still Laud relin quished non his hold. Already was the margin of the ocean gained, when a person rushed from an adjacent copse, sprang upon the strugglers, and. felled William Laud to the ground. Margaret escaped ; but Laud darted with demoniac rage and intent upon her deliverer. The latter had but a short ash stick in his hand, still he wielded it manfully against the cutlass of his enemy; then, watching an opportunity, ho darted off as quick as a fawn and escaped into the copse. The smugglers did not follow him ; and tho deliverer of Margaret reached Priory farm in safety—for lie was John Barry, the unsuccessful suitor for her hand. _'■ ' Soon after this incident, John Barry de parted for Australia, where he had obtained a grant of land, whether he was glad to pro ceed in order to separate from the object of his hopeless passion. But when he took leave of Margaret he declared his unalter able love for her, and begged her to think sometimes of one who was devotedly at tached to her. Circumstances compelled Margaret to leave Priory farm and return home. She was one day visited by William Laud, and his sophistry, aided by her love, enabled liim to make peace with her for the desperate attempt he had practised to carry her off by violence. He then declared that reflection had lately induced him to resolve upon changing his ways; and he took leave of her with the solemn assurance' that he would embark on board of a man-of->var, and never return until he should have re trieved his character. This time William was sincere, and Margaret believed him. They parted with mutual vows of love, and Margaret felt more happy than she had been for some time. In the course of a few weeks Margaret obtained the situation of housemaid in the service of Mr and Mrs Cobbold. The dwel ling of this couple was known as the Cliff,: and stood on the banks of the Orwell. Here Margaret's time passed on smoothly until May, 1797, when she received a letter signed William Laud, dated from the Dog and Bone public-house, in the borough of Southwark, and earnestly imploring her to repair to London without delay that their hands might be united. She was overjoyed with this news. But how was she to get to London ? She had no money, and sheTcnew that her master and mistress would not grant her leave to undertake a journey which was to lead her to William Laud. She, however, soon made up her mind how to act. She attired herself in the garb of a groom, and mounting one of Mr Cobbold's horses, began her journey. We have said that when a child she delighted in riding on horseback, and this freak stood her in good stead by giving her experience for the present occasion. She actually rode Mr Cobbold's horse from Ipswich to London in eight hours and a half—a distance of seventy miles! She alighted at the Bull in Aldgate; and, determined not to go empty-handed to rejoin her lover, intimated to the landlord her desire to sell the horse. A customer was soon found, 80 guineas was offered for the animal, and the bargain was about to be brought to a close when constables entered the inn-yard and took the pretended groom into custody. The horse had been missed immediately after Margaret's departure ; a pursuit was commenced, and she had been traced, stage by stage, from Ipswich to London. Margaret was taken before Mr N. Bond, the sitting magistrate at the then White chapel police court, and committed for trial. But as the offence was committed in the country, she was removed to the country jail at Ipswich. To attempt to depict the unfortunate young woman's feelings would be impossible. The trial took place on the 9th of August, 1797, before Lord Chief Baron Mac Donald. Margaret pleaded guilty and was sentenced to death. The judge, in condemning her, declared that he had never known through out his ju3cia lexperience a person who was so well acquainted with thet principless of

right and wrong, good and evil, and 'who had perverted that discriminative power in j so strango a manner. The sentence was,! afterwards commuted to seven,years''impri' ( sonment in Ipswich jail, and she became the ' servant of Mrs Ripshow, the wife of the governor of the prison. Two years passed away, and her exemp- • lory conduct led to hopes that at the expira tion of another twelvemonth she would be restored to liberty. , But it happened that William Laud, who had lately returned to his evil practices, was arrested upon a charge of smuggling, tried and sentenced to one year's imprisonment in Ipswich jail. As.l Margaret washed the linen of the prisoners she was frequently compelled to visit the men's wards in the daytime. There she one day encountered William Laud—him whom she had never for a moment forgotten— never deserted in her heart. ' Dread was the effect of thismeetingupon Margaret, The hope of obtaining a remission of her sentence happened to be defeated. William Laud prevailed upon her to attempt an escape from jail as soon as his term of incarceration should have arrived. At length he was set free ; and the plan for escape was duly settled and arranged. When the appointed time arrived Mar garet managed to avoid being locked in her cell, and at 11 o'clock she found herself at liberty in one of the court-yards. But how was she to mount the wall ? She was provided with a rope—and that was all. Casting around her eyes, she espied, by the moonlight, a large frame that was .used_ to cover the governor's flower-beds. _ By dint of immense exertions she raised it in a slop ing position against the wall. Here was a ladder for her. She then took a clothes prop, and mounting her ladder, fixed, by means of the prongs of the prop, the noose of the rope over the upright piece of iron on the wall which sustained the horizontal bar of the chevaux-dc-frize. She then drew herself up by the line to the top of the wall, and actually bent her body over'the brist ling spikes. The chevaux-de-frizc revolved, and she was thrown over to the other' side of the wall. The rope enabled her to lower herself in safety; and as the clock of St. Clement's church, Ipswich, struck 12 she was free ! William Laud received her in his arms, and they fled together. In a by-place Mar garet shifted her clothes and donned a sailor's garb. They then proceeded toward Orwell ferry, on their way to Sutton Walks and Sudbourn. And now they have reached the ferry—they arc about to enter a boat which John Luff has provided for them, when a body of the preventive guards rushed up to the spot. Margaret fainted through excessive alarm. William Laud, with a pistol in each hand, strode over her and swore he would defend her and himself or die. A terrible combat took place be tween the smugglers and the revenue offi cers, and William LaUd was shot with a pistol bullet. Thus was fulfilled Susan's prophecy; Margaret never married William Laud! The young lady was taken to Ipswich, Re cognised and conveyed to jail. In due time she was brought to trial before the same judge who had condemned her before. The law was imperative. Any person who, suffering a commuted sentence, broke prison, was doomed to undergo the original penalty. This was death; and Margaret, who again pleaded guilty, was again con demned to die I But powerful interest was taken in her behalf, and her sentence was commuted to transportation for life. She accordingly sailed tor Australia in May, 1801. On her arrival in New South Wales she obtained a good situation in a menial j capacity, and conducted herself in so ex emplary a manner that she speedily obtained privileges and indulgences which greatly, alloviatcd her condition. And now we come to tho strange incident in this woman's remarkable life. In the month of June. 1812, Margaret Catchpole became the wife of Mr John Barry, of Windsor place, near the Hawksberry green hills, in Australia. Thus did she espouse the man who had loved her so tenderly and many years previously in England, and; who had saved her from the mad design of William Laud. The fruits of this union were one son and two daughters, who have recently come to settle in the land of. their parents' nativity. John Barry de parted this life on the 9th September, 1827, and Margaret died on the 10th September, 1841. The latter portion of her life was spent in ease and comfort, and her children have inherited a considerable property by her decease. Not a single incident of the above roman tic nnrrative is exaggerated—much less in vented ; every line—every word is true— and we now leave this history, without comment, for the contemplation and reflec tion of our readers.

Ventriloquism.

SOME OP THE TRICKS WHICH VENTRILOQUISTS HAVE PLAYED. INTERVIEW WITH PROFESSOR DIXON. "Who were the greatest ventriloquists?" "Well, there was an old Athenian named Eurykles, who is spoken of in history as a master of the art. Then there were Pro fessor Alexandre and Louis Brabobt of mo dern times. They were both Frenchmen. Brabout lived in the fourteenth century, I believe, and was said to be the best ven triloquist the world ever knew. Alexandre lived at an earlier period, and was noted more for his mimetic powers than for his ventriloquial powers. Professor Love of England was celebrated in the art, and was rivaled by Professor Harrington. Of those living to-day, Frederick McCabe and E. D. j Davies are the greatest. Davies is now re-' tired in Australia, and McCabe has recently signed a contract to go there the present season. Davies was the first ventriloquist to introduce figures as an assistant to the art in America.

"McCabe was a great practical joker. Several years ago he was on board of a Mississippi river steamboat, and forming an acquaintance with the engineer, was al lowed the freedom of the engine-room. He took a seat in a corner, and, pulling his hat down over his eyes, appeared to be lost in reverie. Presently a certain part of the machinery began to squeak. The engineer oiled it and went about his usual duties.; In the course of a few minutes the squeak ing was heard again, and the engineer rushed over, oil can in hand; to lubricate the same spindle. Again he returned to his post, but it was only a few minutes until the same old spindle was squeaking louder than ever. 'Great Jupiter!' he yelled, 'the thing's bewitched.' More oil was administered, but the engineer began to smell a rat. Pretty soon the spindle began to squeak again, and slipping up be hind McCabe, the engineer squirted a half pint of oil down the joker's back. ' There,' said he, ' I guess that spindle won't squeak any more.' The joke was so good that Mc- Cabe could not keep it, and he often tells it with as much relish as his auditors receive it. "At another time McCabe was con fronted by a highwayman, _on one of the lonely streets of Cincinnati, as he was re turning to his hotel from a moonlight picnic. The robber presented a cocked revolver at the ventriloquist's head, demanding his money or his life. McCabe's quick wit saved him. He threw his voice behind the I robber, exclaiming: ' Hold, villain, you

are my prisoner!' The frightened scamp turned his head, and McCabe dealt him a blow that felled him to; the ground. He 'then secured the revolver and marched the scoundrel to a police station. "Louis Brabout, the great French ventri loquist, was also a great joker. Thestoryis told of himthat he fell in love with a beauti ful young novitiate who was soon to take the veil. The sentiment was returned, and Brabout arranged for an elopement. His.' innamorata sucpeeded in getting outside the convent walls, and the two hurried away to the house of a neighbour priest. The holy man was awakened and requested to per form the marriage ceremony. His refusal was a thing to be expected, but Brabout was too cunning for the old man. When he said 'no I'rnost emphatically, and was about to raise a commotion and have the novitiate returned to the cloister, a ;deep sepulchral voice was heard coming from the bowels of the earth. It said : ' ' ' " I am thy father, and am still in torment. Marry this couple to each other, and my probation in purgatory will be over.' "The frightened priest called upon all the saints to protect him, and proceeded to per form that ceremony with greater alacrity than he had ever shown on a similar occasion." "Do you ever play jokes? . "Not often. I am not given to such sports as a general thing, but occasionally amuse myself at the expense of others; Last year I was travelling with a musical combination. One day while riding on the cars I threw my voice into a covered basket, and set up a furious barking like a dog. The lady beside whom the basket was sit ting gave a scream and bounded out of the seat. Then I made a cat join in with the row, and a brakeman came running pell mell to quiet the disturbance. He jerked the lid off the basket, and found nothing but a lot of delicious peaches the lady was taking home. The crowd was considerably mystified. Then I set a humble-bee buzz ing about the brakeman's ears and he re treated. A gentleman who was standing near heard a wolf growl so ferociously be hind him he jumped about two feet high. Then the lady was led to'believe that a mouse's nest had found lodgment in her pocket, and the circus was complete. But I don't believe much in such capers, and generally forego the fun I might have if I felt disposed." - '

Snake Charming in India.

A BARODA DEMON SNAKE MAN CONJURES

A COBRA OUT OF A BOY'S HEAD. ■ .':' Tiie following story of snake charming has been sent to us by a correspondent who is making a sketching tour through some of the States of North-west India : — ■•••*■ ".' "'

One morning I was strolling with a friend iv the verandah when we saw a strange figure coming along the drive—a tallish man in a scarlet turban, only, unlike the usual solid turban, it was wound-serpent wise about his head, a kind of loose; name coloured skirt, a loin cloth, and the ordinary peaked shoe of the Easterns. Across his shoulders he carried a stout bamboo pole between five and six feet long, at cither end of which hung two bags of coarse woven cloth, coloured- a less vivid flame-colour. As he came up to us we saw he'had long black hair, twisted up like a woman's.and secured at the left side by a heavy silver comb, whose back was chased in strange patterns, and'shaped like a curve in a snake's body. In his ears were delicate earrings of silver, set with small green and red and white stones in flower-like shapes; on his forehead was the red mark of the Hindoo; across the bridge of the nose, be tween the eyes, there was a black and scarlet line drawn that looked like a fine silk ribbon, and a similar ribbon ran from the outer corner of each eye to the temple. His face gave you the impression of his having been olive since the flood; his eyes looked as if they could not shut, yet he had not a wrinkle, and was evidently young. His hands were beautifully shaped, 'with delicate nails; his feet were strong and shapely too. My friend said, " This man will show you. some fun for a few coppers." So he was had on to the veranda, and the play began. He opened his bags, sat down on his haunches, and proceeded to unpack. The bags contained each a large wicker, or rather bamboo lath basket, and nondescript bundles of many-coloured cloth. The latter contained a tin box full of live and lively scorpions,,some necklaces of a strange gray and red stone, pieces of wood supposed to ■ be cures for scorpion bites, round black substances like small shining buttons— these are snake stone, and if laid on a cobra bite are supposed to cure it. The baskets contained also a large cobra apiece. He took out the two cobras and laid them on the stone floor of the veranda. I am not quite sure if he showed us one' or two at first, for he has been here many times since. At any rate he took a cobra out, and let it squirm about on the floor; then he produced from his bag a weird pipe, made of a gourd and shaped something like a bagpipe. The lower part, below the belly, is pierced with holes on which the fingers play. With this pipe be began the most goblin rant that was ever was heard; the cobra ceased writhing about, and gradu ally raised itself on its coils, swelled out its hood, and slowly waved its awful head to , aud fro in front of the music, as if it saw the music. Suddenly the music made a wild, leaping yell and "was not"; the cobra's head sank down, and his hood shrunk into nothing. The demon snake man then remarked,, pointing to a big boy, a servant of my friend. 'I will bring a cobra out of that boy's cap.' The boy had on a close-fitting pork-pie cap, his head was shaved, and ' the rest of his clothing consisted of a shirt The man then took his pipe and began to walk around the boy ; then on a sudden the; air, was rent by a melody such as might soothe the damned; it whirled around the I boy like a visible thing, hut the boy stood firm. Suddenly again the music stopped and the man began to take off his drapery. He appeared for a moment en luxturel, and, there wasn't the ghost of a snake about him. He shook out all his clothes—no snake. He wrapped his loin cloth round him, and began again his devil's dance, and his soul-killing pipe. Not once from first to last did he approach his baskets or the cobra which lay sleeping in the sun. He came up to where I sat, and took a small paint rag of mine; he put it on the boy's head, and then shook it out/ and gave it back to me. (I told hhn th* boy's cap fitted tight to his head, and hs head was shaved.) On went the whirl aid yell, and, as before, stopped suddenly, wth a heaven ascending shrieK. He steppedup to the boy, and with his naked hand plucted out—where from ?—a great cobra, whip he flung straight at me. The brute stiW me on the shoulder, and went shuddering/own my leg, where it subsided onSthe gi>und, hissing heavily. I sat still and laghed. He laid the new cobra by the old ofe, put both in the basket, opened up oil hi cloths and baskets and things—there w/te two cobras now, and no more. Then*— took my paint rag, laid it down againsfa [pillar of the veranda, and went throughihe same music. When the music was exteustedhe walked to the rag and plucked ojt' a. third cobra, which also greeted, me t friendly wise. There were three now; \*e saw them all, but my friend said: 'This won't do; he'll fill the place with snakes,'

BITS OF FUN.

i . *T —" —" . ■hsttifodi ; A crossbow—a jilted lover. ■"',ii«fth&o*' A doctor tries, his patients when he; feels' 3 their pulses. , , ,'.--„ . ~'... i_ o ..'!.', _*,_: ---' A' Gue-iious; Question—Howfar can yqu hear a billiard ball? - r ..I ; ':., Kuuttlno , A hypocrite is a man' who tiies to'be pious, but can't—with a. preponderance of i cant. ■=:',. -T :• :,■! :-. ■„■. ttM;jz3-mr, I | To make a. girl love you, coax her to 16ye'* somebody else. _ /If there is any thingwhich women relish, it-is to be 'contrary,. The way to make a coat last—Mak4 the'" vest and trowersfirst. ~ ,'■ . " , !: The other day a ;woman knocked Her. husband senseless with a copy of the Bible. ' Theold version is good and strong yet.l *~ ' 'Will Love Win ?' is the title of a new ! novel. Love properly backed i by, a batfk account will turn the balance any day; i " It's rather rough on an old maid to draw' a gentleman's dressing-gown at a church ; bazaar when her young sister draws a-* gentleman. • ' • ' ' <> .J ' Is love a dream ?' asks our poetical con-1'1 tributor. Give it up. We think,not, though. There's too much expensive 'reality about it. . " r . j.A gentleman, calling on.a selector,,ojb-" served: 'Mr.'Jones, your clock is hbtqulte, right, is it ?' * Well, you see, sir,' s_lMr^ Jones, 'nobody don't understand' much' about that clock but me. When the hands of that clock stand at twelve, then it strikes two, and then I know it's twenty minutes to seven.' ' ''■.•■; "-.,'A.

Neighbour's Pretty . Daughter: 'How much is this a yard ?' Draper's Son (des perate 'spoons' on her): ' Only"one kiss.' :N. P. D. :' I will take three yards ; grand, .'mawillpay.' ~ . ... . r '

ADVERTISING A MINISTER.

Can I do anything for you in niy line to day !' asked an advertising agent, laying, his card before a prominent Brooklyn theo-" logian. 'But my dear sir, I'm a clergyman J' protested the divine. . 'I don't advertise,' I don't need to.' ' Humbugf responded: the agent, seating himself on the table./ 'They'll all advertise. I don't suppose your want to come' out and say, "The.Rev.! Joseph Gospel, Practical Preacher; Knotty! Theological Points a Speciality.' . "That' isn't the way to do it. ; My idea is to have' you preach a heretical .sermon or abuse, another minister, and then I'll1 put yM'lfp' an article for the'press that will just raise your hair. Down comes the crowd to see you ; contribution plates, just heaped; up; with five dollar notes; salary raised ; and :the parsonage newly furnished. The expense tte slight, andyou make a ,good thing of'it^ Let me show you a list of prices.'. ,* I don's believe in the heretical sermon,' said the theologian, musingly. 'Hit off sonic other person, then.' Come out and say he's;no account. Bang him around for a few iSuii days and leave the rest with me. :: Tluitfs the way we fixed Dr. Revelations, and he's just raking : in wealth. If you don't like that, I'll get up a feeling m the church against you and bring you off triuriiphantly,' double the congregation, and take up a col lection to pay expenses. That will cost you more, but does the business quicker?', ' What will be! the expenses for that ?' asked the minister. ' Twenty-five per cent. o£ the gross receipts,for six weeks and one-third of the foreign mission contributions for twelve months. It don't come out of your pocket, and you reap the benefit.' 'What does it Co3t to abuse another minister!' 'Three hundred dollars down and one-half the raise of salary, payable quarterly.' 'That's rather high,' murmured' the' 'minister^ ' What does the heretical sermon cost!* j ' That comes lower. You can get through Jl on that line for two hundred and fifty.', 'liPs' more than I can afford,' sighed the parsotf ' You might go into one of our combins-Mi schemes. I'd get a dominie to go'-toyou, and you hit back. Cost you one hundred and fifty apiece.! How does that strike you? We can effect a reconciliation afterwards for 50 dollars a head mdre, and a raise of salary guaranteed. Just look over our catalogue of ministers and pick out'-ybur man. Take some fellow you can get away with, and there you are.. 'How do Ppay for this?' asked the parson. 'Twenty-five dollars down, and the ialance when the job is finished.' The money was paid, auditiie agent having, secured enough for a pedlar's outfit, soleirdy swore to lead an honest life thenceforth, abandon his evil associations, and quit all schemes that in any way savoured of illegitimate enterprise. --Brooh lyn Eagle. / : . ! ' ■ r '°

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT; SEPTEMBER 17, 1881

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Ir\ LAN^ILLE & "pLLYETT '; T B-....-D E A L',E R S - '. ■ ; '"'' •■s"■*• AND '■"■ '-' ';-'''--' ■•' ,: :"' , "■ f , ■ •■■.,*•....:, ,-:■-,■ | ■ FAMILY GROCERS.. zo ■k QUEEN.STREET, .-,'""':: >•'"• (Ojposite the Union.'—_nk>- si '* f. '.AUCKLAND.'..; ;'!y.^.'; ~., '■ : I ": '■.-___.-.:'-.:.;", '.'.'■ :'.•> p ■.' ■■ ~'! ■■ ■': ■■■■,'■:: ;.-: '■:-:! icj |fj N-W SEASON'S TEASy t /.''.';■■■■ •_ .;•!;( ii j h 'si i Highly Recommended. :- ,; ■_■_■_-_■_■■■-■■ I i TR U E S T AT.E IE NT. 9 By'goingto -.yrtll* I WALTER BAYNE, , ! ■Cyber Pass General Furnishing Store ■You can have Furniture, Hardware, and a IGeneral Assortment of Useful Articles at I and below Town Prices. Funerals con- J ducted on moderate charges. Caskets, of 1 all sixes kept in Stock. Prompt attention I given to all Orders. '. ' ' '," '■' ,J BC R O C X E B? BOOT AND SHOE JMAKER, ' M, Victoria Street. :V .'-.'J All kinds of Ladies' and Gentlemen's Boots made to!order of the beat quality. ; : ■ i„i Town and Country Orders promptly execntea. Printed and Published bythe Proprietor.HENßY Brett, of Symonda-street, at his __cn _jrj" Printing Office, "Wyndham-street, in the f ro vince of Auckland, New Zealand. __ Saturday, September 17,1881