The Confederates at Atlanta were in the habit of throwing immense 64-pound shells. When these were seen coming, the Federal soldiers would warn each other by such expressions as "Look out for the cart-wheel!" "There comes an anchor!" "Look out for that blacksmith's shop!"
FOND OF SOCIETY.—631.
A lady, who was in the habit of spending a large portion of her time in the society of her neighbours, happened one day to be taken suddenly ill, and sent her husband in great haste for a physician. The husband ran a few rods, but soon returned, exclaiming: "My dear, where shall I find you when I get back?"
ARTEMUS WARD'S COURTSHIP.—632.
There was many affectin' ties which made one hanker arter Betsy Jane. Her father's farm joined our'n; their cows and our'n squencht their thurst at the same spring; our old mares both had stars in their forreds; the measles broke out in both famerlies at nearly the same period; our parients (Betsy's and mine) slept regularly every Sunday in the same meeting-house; and the nabers used to observe: "How thick the Wards and Peasleys air!" It was a surblime site, in the spring of the year, to see our sevral mothers (Betsy's and mine) with their gowns pin'd up so they couldn't sile 'em, affecshuntly Bilin sope together & aboozin the nabers. Altho' I hanker'd intensly arter the objeck of my affecshuns, I darsent tell her of the fires which was rajin in my manly Buzzum. I'd try to do it, but my tung would kerwollop up agin the roof of my mouth & stick thar, like deth to a deseast Afrikan, or a country postmaster to his offiss, while my hart whanged agin my ribs like a old-fashioned wheat Flale agin a barn floor. 'Twas a carm still nite in Joon. All nater was husht, and nary zeffer disturbed the sereen silens. I sot with Betsy Jane on the fense of her father's pastur. We'd bin rompin threw the woods, kullin flowrs, & drivin the woodchuck from his Native Lair (so to speak) with long sticks. Wall, we sot thar on the fense, a swingin our feet two and fro, blushin as red as the Baldinsville skool-house when it was fust painted, and looking very simple, I make no doubt. My left arm was ockepied in ballunsin myself on the fense, while my rite was wounded lovingly round her waste. I cleared my throat, and tremblinly sed: "Betsy, your'e a Gazelle." I thought that air was putty fine. I waited to see what effect it would have upon her. It evidently didn't fetch her, for she up and sed: "Your'e a sheep!" Sez I: "Betsy, I think very muckly of you." "I don't believe a word you say, so there now, cum!" with which obsarvashun she hitched away from me. "I wish thar was winders to my Sole," sed I, "so that you could see sum of my feelins. Thare's fire enough within," sed I, striking my buzzum with my fist, "to bile all the corn beef and turnips in the naberhood. Veersoovius and Critter ain't a circumstance!" She bow'd her hed down, and commenced chewin the strings to her bonnet. "Ar, could you know the sleepless nites I worry threw with on your account; how vittles has seized to be attractive to me, & how my lims has shrunk up, you wouldn't dowt me. Gaze on this wastin form, and these 'ere sunken cheeks." I should have continured on in this strane probly for sum time, but unfortnitly I lost one ballanse and fell over into the pasture. Ker smash tearin my close, and seveerly damagin myself ginerally. Betsy Jane sprang to my assistance in dubble quick time, and dragged me 4th. Then, drawin herself up to her full hite, sed: "I won't listen to your noncents no longer. Jes say rite strate out what your'e drivin at. If you mean gettin hitched, I'm in!" I considered that air enuff for all practical purposes, and we proceeded immejitly to the parson's, and was made 1 that very nite. I've parst through many tryin ordeels sins then, but Betsy Jane has bin troo as steel. By attending strickly to bizness I've amarsed a handsome Pittance. No man on this footstool can rise and git up & say I ever knowingly injered no man or wimmin folks, while all agree that my Show is ekalled by few and excelled by none, embracin, as it does, a wonderful colleckshun of livin wild Beests of Pray, snaix in great profushun, a endless variety of life-size wax figgers, & the only traned Kangaroo in Ameriky—the mos amoozin little cuss ever introjuced to a discriminatin public, at the small charge of 15 sents.
COLONEL CROCKETT AND THE 'COON.—633.
I discovered a long time ago that a 'coon couldn't stand my grin. I could bring one tumbling down from the highest tree. I never wasted powder and lead when I wanted one of the creatures. Well, as I was walking out one night, a few hundred yards from my house, looking carelessly about me, I saw a 'coon planted upon one of the highest limbs of an old tree. The night was very moony and clear, and old Ratler was with me; but Ratler won't bark at a 'coon—he's a queer dog in that way. So I thought I'd bring the lark down in the usual way, by a grin. I set myself—and, after grinning at the 'coon a reasonable time, found that he didn't come down. I wondered what was the reason, and I took another steady grin at him. Still he was there. It made me a little mad. So I felt round, and got an old limb about five feet long, and planting one end upon the ground, I placed my chin upon the other, and took a rest. I then grinned my best for about five minutes, but the cursed 'coon hung on. So, finding I could not bring him down by grinning, I determined to have him, for I thought he must be a droll chap. I went over to the house, got my axe, returned to the tree, saw the 'coon still there, and began to cut away. Down it come, and I run forward; but d——n the 'coon was there to be seen. I found that what I had taken for one was a large knot upon a branch of the tree, and, upon looking at it closely, I saw that I had grinned all the bark off, and left the knot perfectly smooth.
MODESTY.—634.
"Modesty," says a Yankee editor, "is a quality that highly adorns a woman, but ruins a man."