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STORY OF THE BAD LITTLE BOY WHO DIDN'T COME TO GRIEF.

STORY OF THE BAD LITTLE BOY WHO DIDN'T COME TO GRIEF. ONCE there was a bad little boy whose name was Jim; though, if you will notice, you will find that bad little boys are nearly always called James, in your Sunday-school books. It was very strange, but still it was true, that this one was called Jim.

He ate that jam, and said it was bully, in his sinful, vulgar way; and he put in | the tar, and said that was bully also, and laughed, and observed that "the old woman would get up and snort" when she found it out; and when she did find it out, he denied knowing anything about it; and she whipped him severely; and he did the crying himself. Everything about this boy was curious: every thing turned out differently with him from the way it does to the bad Jameses in the books.

Once he climbed up in Farmer Acorn's apple-tree to steal apples; and the limb didn't break; and he didn't fall and break his arm, and get torn by the farmer's great dog, and then languish on a sickbed for weeks, and repent and become good. Oh, no! he stole as many apples as he wanted, and came down all right; and he was all ready for the dog, too, and knocked him endways with a rock when he came to tear him. It was very strange: nothing like it ever happened in those mild little books with marbled backs, and with pictures in them of men with swallow-tailed coats, and bell-crowned hats, and pantaloons that are short in the legs; and women with the waists of their dresses under their arms, and no hoops on,-nothing like it in any of the Sundayschool books.

He did n't have any sick mother, either, -a sick mother who was pious, and had the consumption, and would be glad to lie down in the grave and be at rest, but for the strong love she bore her boy, and the anxiety she felt that the world would be harsh and cold towards him when she was gone. Most bad boys in the Sundayschool books are named James, and have sick mothers who teach them to say, "Now I lay me down," &c., and sing them to sleep with sweet, plaintive voices, and then kiss them good-night, and kneel down by the bedside and weep. But it was different with this fellow. He was named Jim; and there was n't any thing the matter with his mother, no consumption, or any thing of that kind. She was rather stout than otherwise; and she was not pious: moreover, she was not anxious on Jim's account. She said if he were to break his neck, it would n't Once he stole the teacher's penknife; be much loss. She always spanked Jim and when he was afraid it would be found to sleep; and she never kissed him good-out, and he would get whipped, he night on the contrary, she boxed his ears when she was ready to leave him.

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Once this bad little boy stole the key of the pantry, and slipped in there, and helped himself to some jam, and filled up the vessel with tar, so that his mother would never know the difference; but all at once a terrible feeling didn't come over him, and something didn't seem to whisper to him, "Is it right to disobey my mother? Isn't it sinful to do this? Where do bad little boys go who gobble up their good, kind mother's jam ?" and then he didn't kneel down all alone and promise never to be wicked any more, and rise up with a light, happy heart, and go and tell his mother all about it, and beg her forgiveness, and be blessed by her with tears of pride and thankfulness in her eyes. No; that is the way with all other bad boys in the books; but it happened otherwise with this Jim, strangely enough. I

slipped it into George Wilson's cap,poor widow Wilson's son, the moral boy, the good little boy of the village, who always obeyed his mother, and never told an untruth, and was fond of his lessons and infatuated with Sunday-school. And when the knife dropped from the cap, and poor George hung his head and blushed as if in conscious guilt, and the grieved teacher charged the theft upon him, and was just in the very act of bringing the switch down upon his trembling shoulders, a white-haired improbable justice of the peace did not suddenly appear in their midst, and strike an attitude, and say, "Spare this noble boy: there stands the cowering culprit. I was passing the school-door at recess, and, unseen myself, I saw the theft committed." And then Jim didn't get whaled; and the venerable justice didn't read the tearful school a homily, and take George

by the hand, and say such a boy deserved | the world, his loved ones sleeping in the to be exalted, and then tell him to come quiet churchyard, and the vine-embowand make his home with him, and sweep ered home of his boyhood tumbled down out the office, and make fires, and run and gone to decay. Ah, no! he came errands, and chop wood, and study law, home drunk as a piper, and got into the and help his wife to do household labors, station-house the first thing. and have all the balance of the time to play, and get forty cents a month, and be happy. No: it would have happened that way in the books; but it didn't happen that way to Jim. No meddling old clam of a justice dropped in to make trouble, and so the model boy George got thrashed; and Jim was glad of it, because, you know, Jim hated moral boys. Jim said he was " down on them milksops." Such was the coarse language of this bad, neglected boy.

But the strangest thing that ever hap pened to Jim was the time he went boating on Sunday and didn't get drowned, and that other time that he got caught out in the storm when he was fishing on Sunday, and didn't get struck by lightning. Why, you might look and look and look through the Sunday-school books from now till next Christmas, and you would never come across anything like this. Oh, no! you would find that all the bad boys who go boating on Sunday invariably get drowned; and all the bad boys who get caught out in storms when they are fishing on Sunday infallibly get struck by lightning. Boats with bad boys in them always upset on Sunday; and it always storms when bad boys go fishing on the Sabbath. How this Jim ever escaped is a mystery to me.

This Jim bore a charmed life: that must have been the way of it. Nothing could hurt him. He even gave the elephant in the menagerie a plug of tobacco; and the elephant didn't knock the top of his head off with his trunk. He browsed around the cupboard after essence of peppermint, and didn't make a mistake and drink aqua-fortis. He stole his father's gun, and went hunting on the Sabbath, and didn't shoot three or four of his fingers off. He struck his little sister on the temple with his fist when he was angry; and she didn't linger in pain through long summer days, and die with sweet words of forgiveness upon her lips that redoubled the anguish of his breaking heart. No she got over it. He ran off and went to sea at last, and didn't come back and find himself sad and alone in

And he grew up, and married, and raised a large family, and got wealthy by all manner of cheating and rascality; and now he is the infernalest wickedest scoundrel in his native village, and is universally respected, and belongs to the legis lature.

So you see there never was a bad James in the Sunday-school books that had such a streak of luck as this sinful Jim with the charmed life.

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (" Mark Twain "), b. 1835.

COURTING IN NEBRASKA.

LADIES seem to be in demand out in Nebraska, to judge from an amusing letter recently published. The writer, being benighted while on a sporting excursion in that State, sought lodging in a farmer's house where there were three sons and but one daughter. Shortly after his arrival a vehicle drove up containing two young men, who were instantly ushered into the parlor. Supper was then served up, but scarcely had the party taken their seats when the howling of the dogs announced a third young man. The mother rose to admit him, but the daughter rushed forward with an unceremonious, "Don't git up, mother! It's one of my fellows! Come in, Jim; how do you do?" The writer was now invited into the kitchen to smoke, and Jim was left in sole possession of the sitting room. Scarcely, however, had the smokers installed themselves comfortably in the kitchen when a fourth young man made his appearance. The house consisted altogether of but three rooms. Two sweethearts were already in the parlor, and one in the sitting-room. There was nothing for it, therefore, for the new-comer but to make himself as happy as he could in the kitchen, while the young lady divided her attention impartially between the four. But ten minutes had hardly passed when there were two more arrivals, who were announced as the wid

many burners.

I make you a present of it willingly. I am a poor man, under heavy travelling expenses, and I have a family in want.” He sighed. "But duty shall be done. The price is threepence half-penny, or three shillings a dozen. I know you will regret this momentary harshness in long years to come, when you are enjoying the benefits of that burner. But that is not my affair, though I am sorry to think of it. Good morning, sir. If at any time, no matter how long an interval, by some inconceivable accident anything should become out of order in it, you will find the name of the manufacturers stamped on the inside. Be good enough to drop a line to their well-known house at Glasgow, and a man will instantly be sent to attend to it."

I was beaten. This offer to send a man from Scotland into the heart of England, after the lapse of years, to put a gratuitously bestowed threepence half-penny gas-burner to rights, was too much for me. I had to make a purchase.-Chambers' Journal.

CARRYING OUT THE JOKE.

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bring him over here. And you come back with him and bring all the dirty clothes you have." They departed and soon returned with the guilty veteran, and a huge armful of dirty shirts and socks, etc. The General to Smith: "Did you send this young man here to have his clothes washed?" " Yes, sir, for a joke." "For a joke! Well, we'll have the joke carried out. We do have clothes washed here sometimes. Corporal, take this man, Smith, and that bundle of clothes down to the creek, and have him wash them, fold them up neatly, and return them to the owner! See that he does the job up handsomely!" The veteran went away to his work sorrowfully, and the General resumed his walk.

BE NOT A WIT.

O FATHER, says Dick, could you taste the delights

That myself and companions enjoy at nights, Were you once but to hear the conundrums and quibbles,

The retorts and the puns, the lampoons and the libels,

The rhymes, repetitions, the songs, and the catches,

The whims and the flirts, and the smart witty touches,

That over the flask we most lovingly vent, You would think a whole night most gloriously spent ;

And

would guess by our wit, and the course
that we follow,

We could all be no less than the sons of
Apollo.

Ah!
Thoud'st better be hang'd of the two than
be witty;

Dick, says the father, take care, I en-
treat ye,

WHILE we were lying in camp at Rossville, Georgia, writes a correspondent, the Sixtieth Illinois returned from their furlough with a number of recruits. One of these having exhausted his supply of clean shirts, and not having learned to be his own laundress, asked a veteran where he could get some washing done. Do you see those tents there by the church? Well, go there and ask for Mr. Morgan; he does washing. He's a crusty old cur, but if you talk pretty nice to him he'll do it for you." The recruit went as directed, and found General Morgan walking in front of his tent, dressed as was his custom, in the uniform of a high private. "Where will I find Mr. Morgan?" asked the recruit. "My name is Morgan. What will you have?" "I came to see if I could get some clothes washed." "H-m-m. Who sent you here to get your clothes washed?" "John Smith, over here in the Sixth." "Corporal of the guard!" (The corporal approached and saluted.) Young man, go with the corporal, and Thy drink, porter's guzzle much oftener than show him John Smith, so that he can

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For if

thou 'rt once thought, by thy studies and labors,

To 've acquired more wit than the rest of thy neighbors,

Thou 'lt be sneer'd at by fools, and be fear'd by thy betters,

And

hunted about by rogues, bailiffs, and

setters.

Thy lodging must be in some nine-penny garret,

claret ;