The attention of bachelors is invited to the following "wail" from the Springfield Republican:—"There are some sad sights in this world: a city sacked and burned—a London in the midst of a plague—a ship burning at sea—a family pining in starvation—a jug of molasses wrecked on the pavement; but the saddest sight to us of all is an old bachelor, stolidly walking towards his end, his great duties undone, his shirt buttons off, his stockings out at the toes, and nobody to leave his money to. Were we such a man, the mild, reproving eye of a widow or maiden lady would drive us mad. But there is still hope. Uglier and older men than any of our friends have married beautiful wives, who trained them admirably, and spent their money elegantly."
NO DOUBT.—102.
A western editor, in noticing a new and splendid hearse, says, "He has no doubt it will afford much satisfaction to those who use it."
JOB'S PATIENCE—AS VIEWED BY A LADY.—103.
If there is a proverb that needs revamping, it is "the patience of Job." Now, in the first place, Job wasn't patient. Like all the rest of his sex, from that day to the present, he could be heroic only for a time. He began bravely, but ended, as most of them do under annoyance, by cursing and swearing. Patient as Job! Did Job ever try, when he was hungry, to eat shad with a frisky baby in his lap? Did Job ever try, after nursing one all night, and upon taking his seat at the breakfast-table the morning after, to pour out coffee for six people, and second cups at that, before he had a chance to take a mouthful himself? Pshaw! I've no patience with "Job's patience." It is of no use to multiply instances; but there's not a faithful house-mother in the land who does not out-distance him in the sight of men and angels every hour in the twenty-four.
HUNTING UP A SOFT PLACE.—104.
"I was down to see the widow yesterday," said Tim's uncle, "and she gave me a dinner. I went down rather early in the morning. We talked, and laughed, and chatted, and run on, she going out and in occasionally, till dinner was ready, when she helped me graciously to a piece of pie. Now I thought that, Tim, rather favourable. I took it as a symptom of personal approbation, because everybody knows I love pigeon pie, and I flattered myself she had cooked it on purpose for me. So I grew particularly cheerful, and thought I could see it in her too. So, after dinner, while sitting close beside the widow, I fancied we both felt kind of comfortable like: I know I did. I fell over head and ears in love with her, and I imagined, from the way she looked, she had fallen in love with me. She appeared for all the world as if she thought it was coming. Presently—I couldn't help it—I laid my hand softly on her beautiful shoulder, and I remarked, when I placed it there, in my blandest tones, Tim—for I tried to throw my whole soul into the expression—I remarked, then, with my eyes pouring love, truth, and fidelity right into hers: 'Widow, this is the nicest, softest place I ever had my hand in all my life!' Looking benevolently at me, and at the same time flushing up a little, she said, in melting and winning tones: 'Doctor, give me your hand, and I'll put it on a much softer place.' In a moment, in rapture, I consented, and, taking my hand, she very gently, Tim, and quietly laid it on my head. Now, Tim, I havn't told this to a livin' soul but you, and, by jinks! you musn't. But I couldn't hold in any longer, so I tell you; but, mind, it musn't go any further."
ENGLISH GRAMMAR.—105.
The "Comic Grammar" says:—
But remember, though box
In the plural makes boxes,
The plural of ox
Should be oxen, not oxes.