The servant lets him in with dismal face Portending some disaster; John's countenance as rueful looked and grim, As if the apothecary had physicked him, And not his master. "Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said. John shook his head. "Indeed!-hum! ha!-that's very odd! He took the draught?" John gave a nod. "Well, how? what then? speak out, you dunce!' Why, then," says John, we shook him once." "Shook him!-how?" Bolus stammered out. "We jolted him about "— "Zounds! shake a patient, man!—a shake won't do.”— "No, sir, and so we gave him two." "Two shakes! odd's curse! ""Twould make the patient worse." "It did so, sir, and so a third we tried." "Well, and what then?"-"Then, sir, my master died." GEORGE COLEMAN. THE NANTUCKET SKIPPER. Many a long, long year ago, Nantucket skippers had a plan of finding out, though "lying low," How near New York their schooners ran, They greased the lead before it fell, And then by sounding through the night, Knowing the soil that stuck so well, They always guessed their reckoning right. A skipper gray, whose eyes were dim, After, of course, his "something hot." Snug in his berth, at eight o'clock, This ancient skipper might be found; The watch on deck would now and then Run down and wake him, with the lead; He'd up, and taste, and tell the men How many miles they went ahead. One night 'twas Jotham Marden's watch, "We're all a set of stupid fools, To think the skipper knows, by tasting, What ground he's on; Nantucket schools Don't teach such stuff, with all their basting!* And so he took the well-greased lead, And rubbed it o'er a box of earth, That stood on deck,--a parsnip-bed, And then he sought the skipper's berth. "Where are we now, sir? Please to taste,'' The skipper yawned, put out his tongue, Opened his eyes in wondrous haste, And out upon the floor he sprung! The skipper stormed and tore his hair, Thrust on his boots and roared to Marden: "Nantucket's sunk, and here we are Right over old Marm Hackett's garden!' JAMES T. Fields. ми OUR GUIDE IN GENOA AND ROME. European guides know about enough English to tangle every. thing up so that a man can make neither head nor tail of it. They know their story by heart-the history of every statue, painting, cathedral, or other wonder they show you. They know it and tell it as a parrot would, and if you interrupt, and throw them off the track, they have to go back and begin over again. All their lives long, they are employed in showing strange things to foreigners and listening to their bursts of admiration. It is human nature to take delight in exciting admiration. It is what prompts children to say smart things, and do absurd ones, and in other ways "show off" when company is present. It is what makes gossips turn out in rain and storm to go and be the first to tell a startling bit of news. Think, then, what a passion it becomes with a guide, whose privilege it is, every day, to show to strangers wonders that throw them into perfect ecstacies of admiration! He gets so that he could not by any possibility live in a soberer atmosphere After we discovered this, we never went into ecstacies any more we never admired anything-we never showed any but impassable faces and stupid indifference in the presence of the sublimest won. ders a guide had to display. We had found their weak point. We have made good use of it ever since We have made some of those people savage, at times, but we have never lost our serenity. The doctor asks the questions generally, because he can keep his countenance, and look more like an inspired idiot, and throw more imbecility into the tone of his voice than any man that lives. It comes natural to him. The guides in Genoa are delighted to secure an American party, because Americans so much wonder, and deal so much in sentiment and emotion before any relic of Columbus. Our guide there fidgeted about as if he had swallowed a spring mattress. He was full of ani mation-full of impatience. He said: "Come wis me, genteelmen-come! I show you ze letter writ ing by Christopher Colombo!-write it himself!-write it wis his own hand!-come!" He took us to the municipal palace. After much impressive fumbling of keys and opening of locks, the stained and aged docu ment was spread before us. The guide's eyes sparkled. He danced about us and tapped the parchment with his finger: "What I tell you, genteelmen! Is it not so? See! handwriting Christopher Colombo! - write it himself!" We looked indifferent-unconcerned. The doctor examined the document very deliberately, during a painful pause. Then he said, without any show of interest,— Ah,-Ferguson,-what-what did you say was the name of the party who wrote this?" "Christopher Colombo! ze great Christopher Colombo!” Another deliberate examination "Ah,-did he write it himself, or, or-how?" "He write it himself!--Christopher Colombo! he's own handwriting, write by himself!" Then the doctor laid the document down and said,— "Why, I have seen boys in America only fourteen years old that could write better than that." "But zis is ze great Christo-" "I don't care who it is! It's the worst writing I ever saw. Now you mustn't think you can impose on us because we are strangers, We are not fools, by a good deal. If you have got any specimens of penmanship of real merit, trot them out--and if you haven't, drive on!" We drove on. The guide was considerably shaken up, but he made one more venture. He had something which he thought would overcome us. He said,- "Ah, genteelmen, you come wis me! I show you beautiful, O, magnificent bust Christopher Colombo! splendid, grand, magnificent!" He brought us before the beautiful bust--for it was beautifuland sprang back and struck an attitude: Ah, look, genteelmen!—-beautiful, grand- bust Christopher Co. lombo!-beautiful bust, beautiful pedestal!" The doctor put up his eye-glass--procured for such occasions: Christopher Colombo! ze great Christopher Colombo!” "Christopher Colombo,--the great Christopher Colombo. Well, what did he do?" "Discover America!-discover America, O, ze devil!” "Discover America. No-that statement will hardly wash. We are just from America ourselves. We heard nothing about it. Christopher Colombo,-pleasant name, -is-is he dead?” “O, corpo di Baccho!—three hundred year!" "What did he die of?" "I do not know. I cannot tell." "Small-pox, think?" "I do not know, genteelmen,—I do not know what he die of." Measles, likely?" Maybe, maybe. I do not know,---I think he die of some "Ah,-which is the bust and which is the pedestal?" see, I see happy combination,-very happy combinaIs-is this the first time this gentleman was ever on a That joke was lost on the foreigner- guides cannot master the subtleties of the American joke. We have made it interesting for this Roman guide. Yesterday we spent three or four hours in the Vatican again, that wonderful world of curiosities. We came very near expressing interest sometimes, even admiration. It was hard to keep from it. We succeeded, though. Nobody else ever did, in the Vatican museums, The guide |