fect enjoyment was, our lawn had been half rooted out of existence by an irruption of predatory pigs. It was vexatious enough to see our lawn bottom-side up on a festive occasion. But I determined to have redress for it. Upon consulting with the best legal authority in the village, I was told that I could obtain damages by identifying the animals and commencing suit against the owners. As I had not seen the animals, I asked Mrs. Sparrowgrass if she could identify them. She said she could not. "Then," said I to my legal friend, "what can I do?" He replied that he did not know. "Then," said I, "if they come again, and I catch them in the act, can I fire a gun among them ?” He said I could, but that I would be liable for whatever damage was done them. "That," said I, "would not answer: my object is to make the owner suffer, not the poor quadrupeds." He replied that the only sufferers would probably be the pigs and myself. Then I asked him, if the owner recovered against me, whether I could bring a replevin suit against him. He said that, under the Constitution of the United States, such a suit could be brought. I asked him if I could recover. He said I could not. Then I asked him what remedy I could have. He answered that if I found the pigs on my grounds I could drive them to the pound, then call upon the fenceviewers, get them to assess the damages done, and by this means mulet the owner for the trespass. This advice pleased me highly: it was practical and humane. I determined to act upon it, and slept soundly upon the resolution. The next day our guests came up from town. I explained the lawn to them, and, having been fortified on legal points, instructed them as to the remedy for trespass. The day was warm and beautiful; our doors and windows were thrown wide open. By way of offset to the appearance of the lawn, I had contrived, by purchasing an expensive little bijou of a vase and filling it with sweetbreathing flowers, to spread a rural air of fragrance throughout the parlor. The doors of the bay-window open on the piazza; in one door-way stood a tray of delicate confections, upon two slender quartette-tables. These were put in the shade to keep cool. I had suborned an Italian to bring them up by hand, in pristine sharpness and beauty of outline. I was taking a glass of sherry with our old friend Captain Bacon, of the U. S. Navy, when suddenly our dogs commenced barking. We keep our dogs chained up by daylight. Looking over my glass of sherry, I observed a detachment of the most villanouslooking pigs rooting up my early-pea-patch. "Now," said I, "captain," putting down my glass deliberately, "I will show you some fun; excuse me for a few minutes;" and with that I bowed significantly to our festal guests. They understood at once that etiquette must give way when pea-patch was about being annihilated. I then went out, unchained the dogs, and commenced driving the pigs out of the garden. After considerable trampling of all my early vegetables, under the eyes of my guests, I managed to get the ringleader of the swinish multitude into my parlor. He was a large, powerful-looking fellow, with a great deal of comb, long legs, mottled complexion, and ears pretty well dogged. He stood for a moment at bay against the sofa, then charged upon the dogs, ran against the centre-table, which he accidentally upset, got headed off by Captain Bacon, who came to the rescue, darted under our quartette-tables,-making a general distribution of confectionery,—and finally got cornered in the piazza. By this time I was so much exasperated that I was capable of taking the life of the intruder, and probably should have done so had my gun not been at the gun smith's. In striking at him with a stick, I accidentally hit one of the dogs such a blow as to disable him. But I was determined to capture the destroyer and put him in the pound. After some difficulty in getting him out of the piazza, I drove him into the library and finally out in the ground. The rest of his confederates were there, quietly feeding on the remains of the garden. Finally I found myself on the hot high-road, with all my captives and one dog, in search of the pound. Not knowing where the pound was, after driving them for a quarter of a mile I made inquiry of a respectable-looking man, whom I met, in corduroy breeches, on the road. He informed me that he did not know. I then fell in with a colored boy, who told me the only pound was at Dobb's Ferry. Dobb's Ferry is a thriving village about seven miles north of the Nepperhan. I made a bargain with the colored boy for three dollars, and by his assistance the animals were safely lodged in the pound. By this means I was enabled to return to my guests. Next day I found out the owner. got the fence-viewers to estimate the damages. I The fence-viewers looked at the broken mahogany and estimated. I spoke of the vase, the flowers (green-house flowers), and the confectionery. These did not appear to strike them as damageable. I think the fence-viewers are not liberal enough in their views. The damages done to a man's temper and constitution shall be included, if ever I get to be fence-viewer; to say nothing of exotics. trampled under foot, and a beautiful dessert ruthlessly destroyed by unclean animals. Besides that, we shall not have a pea until everybody else in the village has done with peas. We shall be late in the season with our At last an advertisement appeared in the county paper, which contained the decision of the fenceviewers, to wit: early peas. WESTCHESTER COUNTY, 88. TOWN OF YONKERS. WE, THE SUBSCRIBERS, FENCE-VIEWERS of said town, having been applied to by Samson Sparrowgrass, of said town, to appraise the damages done by nine hogs, five wintered (four spotted and one white) and four spring pigs (two white), distrained by him doing damage on his lands, and having been to the place, and viewed and ascertained the damages, do hereby certify the amount thereof to be three dollars, and that the fees for our services are two dollars. Given under our hands, this day of 185-. The above hogs are in the Pound at Dobb's Ferry. CORNELIUS CORKWOOD, Pound-Master. "Under the circumstances," said I, "Mrs. Sparrowgrass, what do you think of the pound as a legal remedy?" Mrs. S. said it was shameful. "So I think, too; but why should we repine? The birds sing, the sky is blue, the grass is green side up, the trees are full of leaves, the air is balmy, and the children, God bless them! are happy. Why should we repine about trifles? If we want early peas we can buy them; and as for the vase, flowers, and confectionery, they would have been all over with by this time if the pigs had not been here. There is no use to cry, like Alexander, for another world: let us enjoy the one we have, Mrs. Sparrowgrass." AMONG THE LAURELS. ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. [The poetess from whom we select the following thoughtful and gracefully-written poem is best known under her pseudonyme of Florence Percy," and as the author of the favorite poem, "Rock me to Sleep, Mother." She was born at Strong, Maine, in 1832, and was first married to Mr. Paul Akers, the sculptor, and afterwards to Mr. E. M. Allen, of New York.] The sunset's gorgeous dyes Paled slowly from the skies, And the clear heaven was waiting for the stars, Along a sylvan glade, And found our pathway crossed by rustic bars. Beyond the barrier lay A green and tempting way, Arched with fair laurel-trees, a-bloom and tall, And warm, sweet shadows trembling over all. The chestnuts sung and sighed, And distant pine-trees crooned in cradling tones; Gushed from the darkness near, Where a shy brook went tinkling over stones. Soft mosses, damp and sweet, And brambles veiled their thorns with treacherous bloom; While tiny flecks of flowers, Which owned no name of ours, Added their mite of beauty and perfume. And hark! a hidden bird, |