A Country exchange says:—As our "Devil" was going home with his sweetheart, a few evening since, she said to him, "Dick, I fear I shall never get to Heaven." "Why?" asked the knight of the ink-keg. "Because," said she, with a melting look, "I love the Devil so well!"
HOW MR. LINCOLN SHAKES HANDS.—247.
The correspondent of the New York World, in an account of Mr. Lincoln's late visit to Philadelphia, writes:—"Mr. Lincoln passed some time in shaking hands. This salutation is with him a peculiarity. It is not the pump-handle 'shake,' nor a twist, nor a spasmodic motion from side to side, nor yet a reach towards the knee and a squeeze at arm's length. When Mr. Lincoln performs this rite, it becomes a solemnity. A ghastly smile overspreads his peculiar countenance; then, after an instant's pause, he suddenly thrusts his 'flapper' at you, as a sword is thrust in tierce; you feel your hand enveloped as in a fleshy vice, a cold clamminess overspreads your unfortunate digits, a corkscrew burrows its way from your finger nails to your shoulder, the smile disappears, and you know that you are unshackled. You carefully count your fingers to see that none of them are missing, or that they have not become assimilated in a common mass."
HARD SCRABBLE.—248.
A farmer who lives on a certain hill, called "Hard Scrabble," in Central New York, says that last summer, owing to the drought and poor land together, the grass was so short they had to lather it before they could mow it!
I WOULD IF I COULD.—249.
A young lady was told by a married lady that she had better precipitate herself off the Niagara Falls into the basin beneath than marry. The young lady replied, "I would, if I thought I could find a husband at the bottom."
A SOLEMN HOUR.—250.
An old "revolutioner" says of all the solemn hours he ever saw, that occupied in going home one dark night from the Widow Bean's, after being told by her daughter Sally that he "needn't come again," was the most solemn.