"Always ready, you know," he answered, giving a final tie to his cravat.

"Come to think of it," I said, musingly, as the barber began to put the lather on my face, "perhaps now would be as good a time as another. You may sit down and let the barber try his hand at the whiskers."

"You couldn't wait until to-morrow, could you?" he asked, hesitatingly. "There's a ball to-night, you

know

"To be sure there is, and I think you ought to go with a clean face at all events, I don't see any reason why you should expect to wear my whiskers to that ball: so sit down."

He rather sulkily obeyed, and in a few moments his cheeks were in a perfect foam of lather. The barber flourished his razor, and was about to commence operations, when I suddenly changed my mind.

"Stop, Mr. Barber," I said: "you needn't shave off those whiskers just yet." So he quietly put up his razor, while Jenks started up from the chair in something very much resembling a passion.

"This is trifling!" he exclaimed. "You have claimed your whiskers: take them."

"I believe a man has a right to do as he pleases with his own property," I remarked, and left Jenks washing his face.

At dinner, that day, the conversation turned upon the whisker affair. It seems the whole town had got wind of it, and Jenks could not walk the streets without the remark being continually made by the boys, "There goes the man with old Sol's whiskers!" And they had grown to an immense size, for he dared not trim them. In short, I became convinced Jenks was waiting very impatiently for me to assert my rights in the property. It happened

that several of the party were sitting opposite me at dinner who were present when the singular bargain was made, and they all urged me to take the whiskers that very day, and thus compel Jenks to go to the ball whiskerless or stay at home. I agreed with them it was about time to reap my crop, and promised that if they would all meet me at the broker's shop, where the purchase had been made, I would make a call on Jenks that evening after he had dressed for the ball. All promised to be present at the proposed shaving operation in the broker's office, and I sent for Jenks and the barber. On the appearance of Jenks, it was evident he was much vexed at the sudden call upon him, and his vexation was certainly not lessened when he saw the broker's office was filled to overflowing by spectators anxious to behold the barbarous proceeding.

"Come, be in a hurry," he said, as he took a seat, and leaned his head against the counter for support: "I can't stay here long: several ladies are waiting for me to escort them to the ball."

"True, very true: you are one of the managers, I recollect. Mr. Barber, don't detain the gentleman: go to work at once."

The lathering was soon over, and with about three strokes of the razor one side of his face was deprived of its ornament.

"Come, come," said Jenks: "push ahead: there is no time to be lost. Let the gentleman have his whiskers: he is impatient."

"Not at all," I replied, coolly. "I'm in no sort of a hurry myself; and, now I think of it, as your time must be precious at this particular time, several ladies being in waiting for you to escort them to the ball, I believe I'll not take the other whisker to-night."

A loud laugh from the by-standers, and a glance in the mirror, caused Jenks to open his eyes to the ludicrous appearance he cut with a single whisker, and he began to insist upon my taking the whole of my property. But all wouldn't do. I had a right to take it when I chose; I was not obliged to take it all at once; and I chose to take but half at that particular period: indeed, I intimated to him very plainly that I was not going to be a very hard creditor, and that if he "behaved himself," perhaps I should never call for the balance of what he owed me.

When Jenks became convinced I was determined not to take the remaining whisker, he began, amidst the loudlyexpressed mirth of the crowd, to propose terms of compromise,-first offering me ten dollars, then twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, to take off the remaining whisker. I said, firmly, "My dear sir, there is no use talking: I insist on your wearing that whisker for me for a month or two."

"What will you take for the whiskers ?" he at length asked. "Won't you sell them back to me?"

"Ah," replied I, "now you begin to talk as a businessman should. Yes, I bought them on speculation: I'll sell them, if I can obtain a good price."

"What is your price?"

"One hundred dollars; must double my money." "Nothing less?"

"Not a farthing less: and I'm not anxious to sell even at that price."

"Well, I'll take them," he groaned. "There's your money. And here, barber, shave off this d―d infernal whisker in less than no time. I shall be late at the ball."

II.-bb

ORATORY AND DIPLOMACY.

ANONYMOUS.

[We give in the present reading a series of sketches whose authors are unknown to us, but which contain enough of the element of fun to make them admissible.]

A QUENCHED ORATION.

SPEAKING of the ayes and noes reminds us of a story which may not prove unacceptable to legislative ears. Mike Walsh-he who made it lively in the lower House several decades ago—is the hero of it. One evening, the 21st of February, 184—, Mike occupied the chair in committee of the whole, while a bill was being considered having something to do with Indian affairs. The bill called out considerable debate, and prominent among those who proposed to make the discussion lengthy was a green and gushing law-maker who embraced each and every occasion to give vent to his impassioned eloquence. On this Indian bill he evidently intended to spread himself. A roll of manuscript lay on his desk, to which he frequently referred while his fellow-members were talking, and at length it got to be noised about that the Hon. Mr. was to make an elaborate speech before the committee. The ladies' gallery was filled with sweet inspirations, and the gentlemen's gallery did not lack the many boots that make rapturous applause. Those who had any objections to the Indian bill stated them as concisely as possible, and sat down so as to leave a smooth and unclaimed floor for the orator of the evening. At length he arose, spreading out his manuscript before him on his desk, and placing the glass of ice-water, brought him by a page, within easy reach. He began by remarking on the

rush of memories brought to mind in considering what evening it was on which they were then assembled, and then proceeded as follows:

"Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, on this Washington's birthday eve, we who are assembled here for the good of our special State are forcibly reminded of the Father of his Country, who fought, bled, and labored incessantly and with thorough devotion for the good of all the States." At this point in his remarks the fluent speaker was interrupted by hearty applause; he took advantage of it to moisten his lips with a little ice-water, and then proceeded with a reference to the full-length portrait of George Washington, which hung then, as it hangs now, just behind the Speaker's chair. "Behold," said he, "that picture yonder, which stands a perpetual reminder of the virtues of patriotism and self-sacrifice. O lips of our first President, speak to us now with some golden motto of duty! Nose, whose nostrils have breathed defiance at the enemies of the country,-eyes, whose lightning glances were so magnetic, we call for thee and the rest of that noble form to be potent in our presence now, and during all our session to-"

The rest, residue, and remainder of the sentence were not spoken, for at this moment the chairman, Mike Walsh, brought down his gavel and announced," The gentleman from is out of order in making the request he does. The ayes and noes cannot be called for in committee of the whole." Those who were present when Mike made that ruling will never forget the scene it provoked. Ladies' and gentlemen's galleries, the floor and the lobbies, broke into a roar and yell of laughter which could not be restrained under ten minutes. The gushing law-maker did not resume after this interruption, although Mike very kindly said, "The gentleman from will proceed in