MILWAUKEE ELOQUENCE.—157.
Western eloquence continues to improve. A Wisconsin reporter sends the following sketch. A lawyer in Milwaukee was defending a handsome young woman accused of stealing from a large unoccupied dwelling in the night-time, and thus he spake in conclusion:—"Gentlemen of the jury, I am done. When I gaze with enraptured eyes on the matchless beauty of this peerless virgin, on whose resplendent charms suspicion never dared to breathe; when I behold her radiant in this glorious bloom of lustrous loveliness, which angelic sweetness might envy but could not eclipse—before which the star on the brow of Night grows pale, and the diamonds of Brazil are dim—and then reflect upon the utter madness and folly of supposing that so much beauty would expose itself to the terrors of an empty building in the cold, damp, dead of night, when innocence like hers is hiding itself amidst the snowy pillows of repose; gentlemen of the jury, my feelings are too overpowering for expression, and I throw her into your arms for protection against this foul charge, which the outrageous malice of a disappointed scoundrel has invented, to blast the fair name of this lovely maiden, whose smile shall be the reward of the verdict which I know you will give."
HEAVY TOP-DRESSING.—158.
"It's all very pretty talk," said a recently married old bachelor, who had just finished reading an essay on the "Culture of Women," just as a heavy milliner's bill was presented to him—"it's all very pretty, this cultivation of women; but such a charge as this for bonnets is rather a heavy top-dressing—in my judgment."
HAIRS, NOT BRISTLES.—159.
"I am willing to split hairs with my opponent all day if he insists on it," said a very distinguished American lawyer the other day, in a speech at the bar. "Split that then," said the opponent, pulling a coarse specimen from his own head, and extending it. "May it please the court, I didn't say bristles!"
ANTEDILUVIAN DIET.—160.
A friend thinks the antediluvian life must have been a great contrast to ours, and pictures it thus:—"Only fancy having two dried whales hanging in your larder, and a cold mammoth 'cut and come again' on the sideboard. 'Shall I help you to a bit of Icthoyaturns?' 'Thank you, I should prefer a slice of your Mastadon.' Stewed Plesiosauri! Leviathan à la crapoderie! Imagine a bill, not at twelve months, but at two hundred years; and a fellow who carried off your plate-box getting sent to the treadmill for fourscore summers! Consider an elderly gentleman, with a liver complaint of only one hundred years' standing, wearing out four sets of false teeth, and finally carried off, after a brief illness of three hundred and ten years, in a galloping consumption!"
JIMMY O'NEIL AND PRESIDENT JACKSON.—161.
When Jackson was President, Jimmy O'Neil, the porter, was a marked character. He had his foibles, which were offensive to the fastidiousness of Colonel Donelson, and caused his dismissal on an average of about once a week. But on appeal to the higher court, the verdict was invariably reversed by the good nature of the old general. Once, however, Jimmy was guilty of some flagrant offence, and was summoned before the highest tribunal at once. The general, after stating the details of the misdeed, observed, "Jimmy, I have borne with you for years, in spite of all complaints; but in this act you have gone beyond my powers of endurance." "And do you believe the story?" asked Jimmy. "Certainly," answered the general: "I have just heard it from two senators." "Faith," retorted Jimmy, "if I believe all that twenty senators say about you it's little I'd think you are fit to be President." "Pshaw! Jimmy," concluded the general; "clear out and go on duty, but be more careful hereafter." Jimmy remained with his kind-hearted patron not only to the close of his presidential term, but, accompanying him to the Hermitage, was with him to the day of his death.