It was said of one of our public schoolmasters that it was a pleasure to be flogged by him. We will take advantage of the present opportunity to remind those who have accepted it as a proverb, and believed it firmly, that the originator of the remark, like the originators of many other observations, never practically put his ideas to the test. Possibly on the same principle it would be a pleasure to have one’s property sold off by auction, provided the advertisement were drawn out like that of the Yankee auctioneer from which we select this portion:—
I can sell for eighteen hundred and thirty nine dollars, a palace, a sweet and pensive retirement, on the virgin banks of the Hudson, containing 85 acres. The land is luxuriously divided by the hand of nature and art, into pasture and tillage, into plain and declivity, into the stern abruptness and the dalliance of most tufted meadow. Streams of sparkling gladness (thick with trout) dance through this wilderness of beauty, to the music of the cricket and grasshopper. The evergreen sighs as the evening zephyr flits through its shadowy bosom, and the aspen trembles like the love-splitting heart of a damsel. Fruits of the tropics in golden beauty melt on the bows, and the bees go heavy and sweet from the fields to their garnering hives. The stables are worthy of the steeds of Nimrod or the studs of Achilles, and its henery was built expressly for the birds of paradise; while sombre in the distance, like the cave of a hermit, glimpses are caught of the dog house. Here poets have come and warbled their lays, here sculptors have cut, here painters have robbed the scene of dreamy landscapes, and here the philosopher discovered the stone which made him the alchymist of nature. As the young moon hangs like a cutting of silver from the blue breast of the sky, an angel may be seen each night dancing with golden tiptoes on the greensward. (N.B. This angel goes with the place.)
Even our great Robins in his best form never exceeded this in picturesqueness of description. But our man could stay, and this one had shot his bolt when he got to the finish of the foregoing paragraph. At the commencement of the war against the “Seceshers,” a good many of the Northern tradesmen made capital out of it, the following, in a Tribune of February 1861, forming a case in point:—
IMPORTANT FROM CHARLESTOWN!
MAJOR ANDERSON TAKEN!
Entrance obtained under a flag of truce!
New Yorkers implicated!
Great Excitement! What will the Southern Confederacy do next?
ON the 8th instant, about twelve hours before midnight, under cover of a bright sun, Col. George S. Cooke, of the Charlestown Photographic Light Artillery, with a strong force, made his way to Fort Sumter. On being discovered by the vigilant sentry, he ran up a flag of truce. The gate of the fortress being open, Col. Cooke immediately and heroically penetrated to the presence of Major Anderson, and levelling a double barrelled camera, demanded his unconditional surrender in the name of E. Anthony and the Photographic Community. Seeing that resistance would be in vain, the Major at once surrendered, and was borne in triumph to Charlestown, forwarded to New York, and is now on sale in the shape of Exquisite Card Photographs at 28 cents per copy, by E. Anthony, &c. &c.
“Old McCalla” is or was a character well known in Princetown, Indiana. A few years back, when the following was published, he was nearly ninety years of age, but was still capable of minding his own business:—
WANTED.—Two or three boarders of a decent stripe, such as go to bed at nine o’clock without a pipe or cigar in their mouth. I wish them to rise in time to wash their faces and comb their heads before breakfast. When they put on their boots to draw down their pants over them, and not have them rumpled about their knees, which is a sure sign of a rowdy. When they sit down to rest or warm by the fire, not to put their feet on the mantlepiece or bureau, nor spit in the bread tray. And to pay their board weekly, monthly, or quarterly—as may be agreed upon—with a smile upon their faces, and they will find me as pleasant as an opposum up a persimmon tree.
Old McCalla.
Another boarding-house advertisement, which comes from Portland, Oregon, is also characteristic. A correspondent informs us that the Mr Thompson mentioned in it is a hard-working blacksmith, and he and his wife run the concern on the temperance plan:—
THOMPSON’S TWO-BIT HOUSE,
Front St., bet. Main and Madison.