“The battle having recommenced, was so hotly contested that the thermometer rose to 549 degrees of Fahrenheit, and 272 men on one side perished, drowned in the surging tide of battle; while 74 of the opposing troops were roasted (although it was Friday) before the slow fire of the enemy. Both sides won a decisive victory, and captured the whole of the enemy’s artillery. A noble pillar, 1 foot 7½ inches high, still marks the spot on which Hannibal and Wattyler adjusted the terms of the general order to the troops, thanking them in the name of King Cole (not the old one, but Parrot Cole, surnamed the Chatterer) for the glorious stampede by which they had turned the fortunes of the day. The event was celebrated in Poke Stogis by a grand illumination, in which seven bunches of dips, four boxes of Bryant & May’s matches, and two rows of fusees were expended—an extravagance not often perpetrated by a corporation so careful of the public money as that of Poke Stogis. The people shouted till they were hoarse,—they belonging to the class that cheers though not inebriates.”
LIGHT CONDUCT.
This concluded the history lesson, and the school was then exercised in prose composition. Want of space forbids the production of more than a single specimen of the papers written; but the following is a fair one:—
Theme.—Cloe’s parents desire to wed her to Strephon, the eldest son of a noble house, and bid her accept his suit. She, being in love with Alexis, the younger son, secretly meets him. They are discovered. Cloe is rebuked for her heartlessness, and Alexis languishes in a prison.—Moral.
AWFULLY NICE.
STOLEN SPOONS.
“In such a state from heat so great, Alexis groaned and Cloe moaned, as through the wood, in loving mood, they made their way, till close of day; when homeward turning with cheeks just burning, to ’scape a shower they sought a bower, in which they rested and playful jested, and did discuss, promiscuous, their hopes and fears for future years, till moon uprose and did disclose, ’neath graceful skirt, drawn up from dirt, her ankle neat near two great feet, to anxious Pa, who cried, ‘Ha, ha! I’ve found you out;’ then with a shout, flew on her swain and called his train, who held the stripling in their grip, and made him sleep in dungeon deep; while pretty Cloe wept in woe, as angry mater did soundly rate her, rustling with fuss, calling her, ‘hussey, brazen jade, wer’t not afraid? how couldst thou do’t? Lean to the suit of younger son, devoid of money! Secret wooings! Hein! pretty doings!’”
