ON MARRIAGE.

BY JOSH BILLINGS.

Marriage iz a fair transaction on the face ov it.

But thare iz quite too often put up jobs in it.

It iz an old inst.i.tushun, older than the pyramids, and az phull ov hyrogliphicks that n.o.boddy kan pa.r.s.e.

History holds its tounge who the pair waz who fust put on the silken harness, and promised tew work kind in it, thru thick and thin, up hill and down, and on the level, rain or shine, survive or perish, sink or swim, drown or flote.

But whoever they waz they must hav made a good thing out ov it, or so menny ov their posterity would not hav harnessed up since and drov out.

Thare iz a grate moral grip in marriage; it iz the mortar that holds the soshull bricks together.

But there ain't but darn few pholks who put their money in matrimony who could set down and giv a good written opinyun whi on arth they c.u.m to did it.

This iz a grate proof that it iz one ov them natral kind ov acksidents that must happen, jist az birds fly out ov the nest, when they hav feathers enuff, without being able tew tell why.

Sum marry for buty, and never diskover their mistake; this iz lucky.

Sum marry for money, and--don't see it.

Sum marry for pedigree, and feel big for six months, and then very sensibly c.u.m tew the conclusion that pedigree ain't no better than skimmilk.

Sum marry ter pleze their relashons, and are surprised tew learn that their relashuns don't care a cuss for them afterwards.

Sum marry bekause they hav bin highsted sum where else; this iz a cross match, a bay and a sorrel; pride may make it endurable.

Sum marry for love without a cent in the pocket, nor a friend in the world, nor a drop ov pedigree. This looks desperate, _but it iz the strength ov the game_.

If marrying for love ain't a suckcess, then matrimony iz a ded beet.

Sum marry bekauze they think wimmin will be ska.r.s.e next year, and liv tew wonder how the crop holds out.

Sum marry tew get rid of themselfs, and diskover that the game waz one that two could play at, and neither win.

Sum marry the seckond time to git even, and find it a gambling game, the more they put down, the less they take up.

Sum marry tew be happy, and not finding it, wonder whare all the happiness on earth goes to when it dies.

Sum marry, they kan't tell whi, and liv, they kan't tell how.

Almoste every boddy gits married, and it iz a good joke.

Sum marry in haste, and then set down and think it careful over.

Sum think it over careful fust, and then set down and marry.

Both ways are right, if they hit the mark.

Sum marry rakes tew convert them. This iz a little risky, and takes a smart missionary to do it.

Sum marry coquetts. This iz like buying a poor farm, heavily mortgaged, and working the ballance ov yure days tew clear oph the mortgages.

THE ROMANCE OF CARRIGCLEENA.

BY HERCULES ELLIS.

"Oh! wizard, to thine aid I fly, With weary feet, and bosom aching; And if thou spurn my prayer, I die; For oh! my heart! my heart! is breaking: Oh! tell me where my Gerald's gone-- My loved, my beautiful, my own; And, though in farthest lands he be; To my true lover's side I'll flee."

"Daughter," the aged wizard said, "For what cause hath thy Gerald parted?

I cannot lend my mystic aid, Except to lovers, faithful hearted; My magic wand would lose its might-- I could not read my spells aright-- All skill would from my soul depart, If I should aid the false in heart."

"Oh! father, my fond heart was true,"

Cried Ellen, "to my Gerald ever; No change its stream of love e'er knew, Save that it deepened like yon river: True, as the rose to summer sun, That droops, when its loved lord is gone, And sheds its bloom, from day to day, And fades, and pines, and dies away.

"Betrothed, with my dear sire's consent, Each morn beheld my Gerald coming; Each day, in converse sweet, was spent; And, ere he went, dark eve was glooming: But one day, as he crossed the plain, I saw a cloud descend, like rain, And bear him, in its skirts, away-- Oh! hour of grief, oh! woeful day!

"They sought my Gerald many a day, 'Mid winter's snow, and summer's blossom; At length, his memory pa.s.sed away, From all, except his Ellen's bosom.

But there his love still glows and grows, Unchanged by time, unchecked by woes; And, led by it, I've made my way, To seek thy aid, in dark Iveagh."

He traced a circle with his wand, Around the spot, where they were standing; He held a volume in his hand, All writ, with spells of power commanding: He read a spell--then looked--in vain, Southward, across the lake of Lene; Then to the east, and western side; But, when he northward looked, he cried--

"I see! I see your Gerald now!

In Carrigcleena's fairy dwelling; Deep sorrow sits upon his brow, Though Cleena tales of love is telling-- Cleena, most gentle, and most fair, Of all the daughters of the air; The fairy queen, whose smiles of light, Preserves from sorrow and from blight.

"Her love has borne him from thy arms, And keeps him in those fairy regions, Where Cleena blooms in matchless charms, Attended by her fairy legions.

Yet kind and merciful's the queen; And if thy woe by her were seen, And all thy constancy were known, Brave Gerald yet might be thine own."

"Oh! father," the pale maiden cried, "Hath he forgotten quite his Ellen?

Thinks he no more of Shannon's side, Where love so long had made his dwelling?"

"Alas! fair maid, I cannot tell The thoughts that in the bosom dwell; For ah! all vain is magic art, To read the secrets of the heart."

To Carrigcleena Ellen wends, With aching breast, and footsteps weary; Low on her knees the maiden bends, Before that rocky hill of fairy; Pale as the moonbeam is her cheek; With trembling fear she scarce can speak; In agony her hands she clasps; And thus her love-taught prayer she gasps.

"Oh! Cleena, queen of fairy charms, Have mercy on my love-lorn maiden; Restore my Gerald to my arms-- Behold! behold! how sorrow laden And faint, and way-worn, here I kneel; And, with clasped hands, to thee appeal: Give to my heart, oh! Cleena give, The being in whose love I live!

"Break not my heart, whose truth you see, Oh! break it not by now refusing; For Gerald's all the world to me, Whilst thou hast all the world for choosing: Oh! Cleena, fairest of the fair, Grant now a love-lorn maiden's prayer; Or, if to yield him you deny, Let me behold him once, and die."