Some one was telling Sam about the longevity of the mud turtle. "Yes," said Sam, "I know all about that, for once I found a venerable old fellow in a meadow, who was so old that he could scarcely wiggle his tail, and on his back was carved (tolerably plain, considering all things) these words: 'Paradise, Year 1, Adam.'"
INTERESTING TO THE PARTIES CONCERNED.--40.
In connexion with the late riot in that city the _Boston Journal_ publishes the following:--The individual who dropped half of his thumb at the corner of Cooper and North Mangin Streets on Tuesday night, may have some interest in knowing that it has been picked up and carefully preserved by a worthy citizen of Ward 5; and the individual in his shirt sleeves who limped off with a bullet in his hip from a spot near the same neighbourhood, on the same night, may receive the brick he gave in exchange for it by returning the bullet to the 3rd police-station.
A New Jersey paper tells a story of a well-known character who frequently figured on juries in New York. While on a jury, as soon as they had retired to their room to deliberate, he would button up his coat and "turn in" on a bench, exclaiming: "Gentlemen, I'm for bringing in a verdict for plaintiff (or defendant, as he had settled his mind), and all creation can't move me. Therefore, as soon as you have all agreed with me, wake me up, and we'll go in."
An American paper commends the following terrible lines to some of its correspondents who have forgotten to prepay their letters, and saddled the editor with sundry twopences to save their penny. The wild beauty of the lines bespeaks the editor to have been in a mesmeric _coma_:--
"The man who now-a-days will write, And not prepay his letter, Is worser than the heathen are, What don't know any better.
"And if you take a fine tooth-comb, And rake down all creation, You couldn't find a meaner man In this 'ere mighty nation."
The private secretary of a cabinet minister is a wag. The other day a young man, decidedly inebriated, walked into the executive chamber and asked for the governor. "What do you want with him?" inquired the secretary. "Oh, I want an office with a good salary--a sinecure." "Well," replied the secretary, "I can tell you something better for you than a sinecure--you had better try a water cure." A new idea seemed to strike the young inebriate, and he vanished.