AMERICAN ESTIMATE OF THEIR CLERGY.—24.
The Louisville Journal assures an inquiring spinster that gospel ministers are not more addicted to dissipation than men of other professions. A few of the Kalloch type take gin-toddies and liberties with females, but the majority of them are as good as lawyers. If you want a true Christian, marry an editor.
"WHERE WARREN FELL."—25.
A Yankee gentleman, escorting a British friend around to view the different objects of attraction in the vicinity of Boston, brought him to Bunker's Hill. They stood looking at the splendid shaft, when the Yankee said, "This is the place where Warren fell." "Ah!" replied the Englishman evidently not posted up in local historical matters, "did it hurt him much?" The native looked at him, with the expression of fourteen Fourths of Julys in his countenance—"Hurt him!" said he, "he was killed, sir." "Ah! he was, eh?" said the stranger, still eyeing the monument, and computing its height in his own mind, layer by layer; "well, I should think he would have been, to fall so far."
OUT-YANKEED.—26.
After the battle of Fredericksburg a little Yankee officer was talking with one of our Alabama majors, who stood in that part of the field where we had suffered most severely—dead men and horses, broken cannon, and blown-up caissons being all around him. "You hurt us powerful bad yesterday," said the Yankee. "Yes," replied the major, drily. "Guess we hurt you some, too," rejoined the Yankee, looking at the wrecks of humanity strewn about. "Didn't kill a man or a horse," said the major. The little Yankee looked up at the tall Confederate for a moment, then at the dead men and horses on every side, and then wheeled suddenly round and walked rapidly away, utterly astounded at the cool manner in which the Alabamian had out-Yankeed the Yankees in deliberate lying.
THE PRESIDENT'S VOICE.—27.
We got one darkie on the way out. He had never seen a cannon, and of course did not know what it was. He stood beside one when they fired it off, and I assure you Parry the clown never dropped as quick as he did. His eyes rolled wildly, and he alarmingly called out: "Oh Lord! hab mercy on dis poor chile. He am for de Union ebery time, sah." The artillerymen might have been tied with straws. When they had got over their laugh, they told him it was one of old Abe's guns. The nigger said, "He hab a bery loud voice."