NATHAN'S CASE, (As viewed by an unconverted boon companion.) Ta' n't accordin' to natur' for folks to turn right askew, 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! [knowFor 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 Na 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. ERE, John! drive the cows up, HE brings out the pails; while yer mar 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. It'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 But 't seems sumhow a kind o' mist 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." 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 'lected 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 match They 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. An' then it all cum out at onst, like a storm from a thunder-cloud She 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 fray They 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. |