HARD SQUEEZING.

A GENTLEMAN from New York, who had been in Boston for the purpose of collecting some money due him in that city, was about returning, when he found that one bill of a hundred dollars had been overlooked. His landlord, who knew the debtor, thought it a doubtful case; but added that if it _was_ collectable at all, a tall, rawboned Yankee, then dunning a lodger in another part of the hall, would "worry it out" of the man. Calling him up, therefore, he introduced him to the creditor, who showed him the account.

"Wall, Squire," said he, "'taint much use o' tryin', I guess. I _know_ that critter. You might as well try to squeeze ile out of Bunker Hill Monument as to c'lect a debt out of him. But _any_ how, Squire, what'll you give, sposin' I _do_ try?"

"Well, Sir, the bill is one hundred dollars, I'll give you--yes, I'll give you half, if you'll collect it."

"'Greed," replied the collector, "there's no harm in _tryin'_, any way."

Some weeks after, the creditor chanced to be in Boston, and in walking up Tremont street, encountered his enterprising friend.

"Look o' here," said he, "Squire. I had considerable luck with that bill o' yourn. You see, I stuck to him like a log to a root, but for the first week or so 'twant no use--not a bit. If he was home, he was short; if he _wasn't_ home I could get no satisfaction. 'By the by,' says I, after goin' sixteen times, 'I'll fix you!' says I. So I sat down on the door-step, and sat all day and part of the evening, and I began airly _next_ day; but about ten o'clock he 'gin in.' _He paid me_ MY _half, and I gin him up the note!_"

PAT'S RESPONSE.

AN Irishman was about to marry a Southern girl for her property. "Will you take this woman to be your wedded wife?" said the minister. "Yes, your riverence, and the _n.i.g.g.e.rs_ too," said Pat.

WANTED SATISFACTION.

"WELL, Pat, Jimmy didn't quite kill you with a brickbat, did he?" "No, but I wish he had." "What for?" "So I could have seen him hung, the villain!"

MEAN _vs._ MEANS.

"IS Mr. Brown a man of means?" asked a gentleman of old Mrs. Fizzleton, referring to one of her neighbors. "Well I reckon he ought to be,"

drawled out the old bel-dame, "for he is just the meanest man in town."

WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR HOUSE.

ARTER we wus married, we'll say about a year, wun mornin' thar wus a terrible commoshun in our house--old wimmin a runnin in an out, and finally the Doctor he c.u.m. I was in a great hurry myself, wantin to heer, I hardly noed what, but after a while, an ole granny of a woman, as had been very busy about that, poked her head into the room whar I was a walkin' about and ses:

Ses she, "Mr. Sporum, hit's a gal."

"What," ses I.

"A gal," ses she, an with that she pops her head back agin.

Well, thinks I, I'm the daddy uv a gal, and begin to feel my keepin'

mitely--I'd rather it was a boy tho', thinks I, fur then he'd feel neerur to me, as how he'd bare my name and there be less chance fur the Sporums to run out, but considerin' everything, a gal will do mi'ty well. Jist then the ole nuss pokes her head out agin and ses,

Ses she, "Anuther wun, Mr. Sporum; a fine boy."

"Anuther," ses I, "that's rather crowdin' things on to a feller."

She laffed and poked her he'd back. Well, thinks I, this is no joke sure, at this lick I'll have family enuff to do me in a few years.

Jis then the ole she devil (always shall hate her) pokes her he'd in, and ses,

Ses she, "Anuther gal, Mr. Sporum."

"Anuther whot," ses I.

"Anuther gal," ses she.

"Well," ses I, "go rite strate and tell Sal I won't stand it, I don't want 'em, and I ain't goin' to have 'em; dus she think I'm a Turk? or a Mormon? or Brigham Young? that she go fur to have tribbles?--three at a pop! Dus she think I'm wurth a hundred thousand dollars? that I'm Jo'n Jacob Aster, or Mr. Roschile? that I kin afford thribbles, an clothe an feed an school three children at a time? I ain't a goin' to stand it no how, I didn't want 'em, I don't want 'em, and ain't a going to want 'em now, nur no uther time. Hain't I bin a good and dootiful husband to Sal?

Hain't I kep' in doors uv a nite, an quit chawn tobacker and smokin'

segars just to please her? Hain't I attended devine worship reg'lar?

Hain't I bought her all the bonnets an frocks she wanted? an then for her to go an have thribbs. She noed better an hadn't orter dun it. I didn't think Sal wud serve me such a trick now. Have I ever stole a horse? Have I ever done enny mean trick, that she should serve me in this way?" An with that I laid down on the settee, an felt orful bad, an the more I tho't about it, the wus I felt.

Presently Sal's mammy, ole Miss Jones, c.u.ms in an ses,

Ses she, "Peter, c.u.m in and see what purty chillun you've got."

"Chillun!" says I, "you'd better say a 'hole litter. Now Miss Jones, I luv Sal you no, an have tried to make a good husban', but I call this a scaly trick, an ef thar's any law in this country I'm goin' to see ef a woman kin have thribbs, an make a man take keer uv 'em. I ain't goin' to begin to do it," ses I.

With that she laffed fit to kill herself, an made all sorts of fun of me, an sed enny uther man would be proud to be in my shoes. I told her I'd sell out mi'ty cheap ef enny body wanted to take my place. Well, the upshot uv it wus that she pursuaded me that I wus 'rong, an got me to go into the room whar they all wus.

When I got in, Sal looked so lovin' at me, an reached out her little hands so much like a poor, dear little helpless child, that I forgot everything but my luv for her, and folded her gently up tu my h'art like a precious treasure, and felt like I didn't keer ef she had too and forty uv em. Jist then number wun set up a whine like a young pup, an all the ballance follered. _Them thribbles noed their daddy._

Well, everything wus made up, an Sal promised she wud never do it agin; an sense then I have bin at work sertin, workin all day to make bred for them thribs, an bissy nus'n uv 'em at nite. The fact is, ef I didn't have a mi'ty good const.i.tushun, I'd had to giv' in long ago. Number wun has the collick an wakes up number too an he wakes up number three, an so it goes, an me a flying about all the time a tryin' to keep 'em quiet.

GENEROUS CHILD.

_Mother_--Here, Tommy, is some nice castor oil, with orange ice in it.

_Doctor_--Now, remember, don't give it all to Tommy, leave some for me.

_Tommy_--(who has "been there")--Doctor's a nice man, ma, give it all to the Doctor!