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NATHAN'S CASE.

(As viewed by an unconverted boon companion.) TT a'n't accordin' to natur' for folks to turn right askew, 1 A droppin' out o' the old ways, an' droppin' into the

new, An' what I hear 'em sayin' 'bout Nathan, and Nathan's

folks, Is suthin' I hev ter laff at, as one o' the best o' jokes. I've summered an' wintered with Nathan, an' know the

cut of his jib, An' know the kind o' grain in his barn, the kind o corn

in his crib: An' it a'n't any use o’tellin' me, or any one else who knows,

sows. That ever a man was born to reap a better thing than he Talks up in meetin', does he ?-in words that are sweet

to hear! 'Twas only a month or so ago he swore like a privateer! An' it a'n't accordin' to natur' that a tongue with an evil

twist Should change its course, an' begin to grind at another

kind o grist. Nigh on to death he's been, they say, with a cur'us sort

o'complaint, That threw the devil out of his bones an' made him a

decent saint; But ther' a’n't enough physic in any o' these 'ere parts,

to my mind, To make of old Nathan Turner one o' the orthodox kind. Given up drinkin' licker !—Taken the temp’rance pledge! Well, that 'ere's news, I tell ye now, that's settin' my teeth on edge!

[know For it a'n't accordin' to natur-I say it, who ought to An' Nathan Turner's never the man to yield an inch to

a foe! Well, I couldn't be much more took aback, had ye told

me that that 'ere root Would 'a' straightened out, an' begun to bear a likely

kind o' fruit;

An' I'll hev to think the Lord hisself attended to Nar

than's case, For it a’n’t accordin' to natur', I know, an' must be a

work o' grace !-SUNDAY SCHOOL TIMES.

WHY HE WOULDN'T SELL THE FARM. LERE, John! you drive the cows up, while yer mar 11 brings out the pails; But don't ye let me ketch yer hangin' onter them cows'

tails, An' chasin' them acrost thai lot at sich a tarin' rate; An', John, when you cum out, be sure and shet the pas

tur' gate. [t's strange that boy will never larn to notice what I say; I'm 'fraid he'll git to rulin' me, if things goes on this

way; But boys is boys, an' will be boys, till ther grown up to

men, An' John's 'bout as good a lad as the average of 'em. I'll tell ye, stranger, how it is; I feel a heap o' pride In thet boy-he's our only one sence little Neddy died; Don't mind me, sir, I'm growin' old, my eye-sight's

gittin' dim; But 't seems sumhow a kind omist cums long o'thoughts

of him. Jes' set down on the door step, Squar, an' make yerself

to hum; While Johnny's bringin' up the cows, I'll tell ye how

it cum

Thet all our boys has left us, 'ceptin' Johnny there,
And I reckon, stranger, countin' all, we've had about

our share.

Thar was our first. boy, Benjamin, the oldest of them all, He was the smartest little chap, so chipper, pert, an'

small, He cum to us one sun-bright morn, as merry as a lark, It would ha’ done your soul good, Squar, to seen the

little spark. An' thar was Tom,“ a han’sum boy,” his mother allus

said, He took to books, and larned so spry, we put the sprig

ahead His skoolin' cleaned the little pile we'd laid by in the

chest, But I's bound to give the boy a chance to do his "level

best.”

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Our third one's name was Samuel; he grow'd up here to

hum, An' worked with me upon the farm till he was twenty

one; Fur Benjamin had l'arned a trade he didn't take to

work; Tom, mixin' up in politics, got ʼlected County Clerk.

We ken all remember, stranger, the year of sixty-one, When the spark thet tetched the powder off in that

Confed’ret gun Flashed like a streak o' lightnin' up acrost from East

to West, An' left a spot thet burned like fire in every patriot's

east.

An' I tell ye what it was, Squar, my boys cum up to the

scratch, They all had a share o' the old man's grit, with enough

of their own to matchThey show'd ther colors, an' set ther flint, ther names

went down on the roll, An' Benjamin, Thomas, an' Sam was pledged to preserve

the old flag whole. They all cum hum together at the last, rigged up in

soldier's clothes; It made my old heart thump with pride, an' ther mother's

spirits rose, Fur she'd been “ down in the mouth” sumwhat, sence

she'd heard what the boys had done, Fur it took all three, an' it's hard enough fur a mother

to give up one. But ther warn't a drop of coward's blood in her veins, I

ken tell you first, Fur she'd send the boys, an' the old man, too, if worst

had cum to worst; I shall never forgit the last night, when we all kneeled

down to pray, How she give 'em, one by one, to God, in the hush of the

twilight gray. An' then, when morning broke so clear—not a cloud was

in the sky, The boys cum in with sober looks to bid us their last

good-bye; I didn't 'spect she would stand it all with her face so

firm and calm, But she didn't break nor give in a peg till she cum to

kissin' Sam.

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An' then it all cum out at onst, like a storm from a

thunder-cloudShe jest sot down on the kitchen floor, broke out with a

sob so loud Thet Sam give up, an' the boys cum back, and they all

got down by her there, An' I'm thinkin''t would made an angel cry to hev seen

thet partin', Squar!

I think she had a forewarnin', fur when they brought

back poor Sam, She sot down by his coffin there, with her face so white

an' calm, An' the neighbor's thet cum a pourin' in to see our

soldier dead, Went out with a hush on their tremblin' lips, an' the

words in ther hearts unsaid.

Stranger, perhaps you heerd of Sam, how he broke thro'

thet Secesh line, An' planted the old flag high an' dry, where its dear old

stars could shine; An' after our soldiers won the day, an' a-gatherin' up the

dead, They found our boy with his brave heart still, and the

flag above his head. An' Tom was shot at Gettysburg, in the hottest of the

frayThey said thet he led his gallant boys like a hero thro'

thet day; But they brought him back with his clear voice hushed

in the silent sleep of death, An' another grave grew grassy green 'neath the kiss of

the summer's breath.

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