A STORY OF WASHINGTON.
During the Revolutionary War, the corporal of a little band of soldiers was giving orders about a heavy beam which they were trying to raise to the top of the wall. It was almost too heavy for them, and the voice of the corporal was often heard shouting, “Heave away! There it goes! Heave ho!”
A man in citizen’s clothes was passing, and asked the corporal why he did not help them. Very much astonished, the corporal replied, with the pomp of an emperor, “Sir, I am a corporal!”
“You are, are you?” replied the stranger; “I was not aware of that,” and taking off his hat he bowed, saying, “I ask your pardon, Mr. Corporal.”
Upon this he put his shoulder to the beam and pulled until the sweat stood on his forehead. When the beam was right, he turned to the corporal, saying, “Mr. Corporal, when you have another such job and have not men enough, send for your commander-in-chief, and I shall gladly come to help you a second time.”
The corporal was thunderstruck. It was Washington.
There Was a Fat Man of Bombay.
There was a fat man of Bombay,
Who was smoking one sunshiny day,
When a bird, called a snipe,
Flew away with his pipe,
Which vexed the fat man of Bombay.
Sing a Song of Sixpence.
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish
To set before the king?
The king was in the parlour
Counting, out his money;
The queen was in the kitchen,
Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes;
There came a little blackbird,
And snipped off her nose.
