So the Deacon inquired of the village folk

Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke,

That was for spokes and floor and sills;

He sent for lancewood to make the thills;

The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees;

The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,

But lasts like iron for things like these;

The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"

Last of its timber, they couldn't sell 'em,

Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips,

Their blunt ends frizzled like celerytips;

Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;

Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide

Found in the pit when the tanner died.

That was the way he "put her through.".

"There!" said the Deacon, ": naow she'll dew!"

Of Harrison's barn, with its muster
Of flags festooned over the wall;
Of the candles that shed their soft
lustre

And tallow on head-dress and shawl; Of the steps that we took to one fiddle;

Of the dress of my queer vis-a-vis ; And how I once went down the middle

With the man that shot Sandy McGee;

Of the moon that was quietly sleeping

On the hill, when the time came to go;

Of the few baby peaks that were peeping

From under their bed-clothes of

me, game,

And send per express to the Flat, Miss,

Which they say York is famed for the breed,

Which though words of deceit may be that Miss,

I'll trust to your taste, Miss, in-
deed.

P. S. - Which this same interfering
In other folks' ways I despise
Yet, if so be I was hearing

That it's just empty pockets as
lies

Betwixt you and Joseph - it follers
That, having no family claims,
Here's my pile-which it's six hun-
dred dollars,

As is, yours, with respects,
TRUTHFUL JAMES.