CONTENTMENT.

"Man wants but little here below." LITTLE I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,)

That I may call my own;And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten;If Nature can subsist on three,

Thank Heaven for three. Amen! I always thought cold victual nice; — My choice would be vanilla ice.

I love so much their style and tone, One Turner, and no more, (A landscape, foreground golden

dirt; The sunshine painted with a squirt.)

Of books but few, —some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; The rest upon an upper floor;

Some little luxury there Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream.

Busts, cameos, gems, such things as these,

Which others often show for pride, I value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride; One Stradivarius, I confess, Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess.

Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,

Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;

Shall not carved tables serve my turn,

But all must be of buhl? Give grasping pomp its double share,

I ask but one recumbent chair.

Thus humble let me live and die,

Nor long for Midas' golden touch, If Heaven more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them much, Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and mind content! O. W. HOLMES.

THE FIGHT OVER THE BODY OF KEITT.

A fragment from the great American epic, the Washingtoniad.

SING, O goddess, the wrath, the on-
tamable dander of Keitt-
Keitt of South Carolina, the clear
grit, the tall, the ondaunted
Him that hath wopped his own nig-
gers till Northerners all unto
Keitt
Seem but as niggers to wop, and hills
of the smallest potatoes.
Late and long was the fight on the
Constitution of Kansas;
Daylight passed into dusk, and dusk
into lighting of gas-lamps;-
Still on the floor of the house the
heroes unwearied were fight-
ing.
Dry grew palates and tongues with
excitement and expectoration,
Plugs were becoming exhausted, and
Representatives also.

Who led on to the war the anti-
Lecomptonite phalanx?
Grow, hitting straight from the
shoulder, the Pennsylvania
Slasher;

Him followed Hickman, and Potter the wiry, from woody Wisconsin;

Washburne stood with his brother,

Cadwallader stood with Elihu; Broad Illinois sent the one, and woody Wisconsin the other.

Mott came mild as new milk, with gray hairs under his broad brim, Leaving the first chop location and water privilege near it,

Held by his fathers of old on the willow-fringed banks of Ohio. Wrathy Covode, too, I saw, and Montgomery ready for mischief.

Who against these to the floor led on the Lecomptonite legions? Keitt of South Carolina, the clear grit, the tall, the ondauntedKeitt, and Reuben Davis, the ra'al hoss of wild Mississippi; Barksdale, wearer of wigs, and Craige from North Carolina; Craige and scorny McQueen, and Owen, and Lovejoy, and La

Never more from a stump had he stirred up the free and enlightened; But though smart Keitt's mauleys, the mauleys of Grow were still

smarter;

Straight from the shoulder he shot,

not Owen Swift or Ned Adams Ever put in his right with more delicate feeling of distance.

As drops hammer on anvil, so dropped Grow's right into Keitt Just where the jugular runs to the point at which Ketch ties his drop-knot;

Prone like a log sank Keitt, his dollars rattled about him.

Forth sprang his friends o'er the body; first, Barksdale, wavingwig-wearer,

Craige and McQueen and Davis, the

ra'al hoss of wild Mississippi; Fiercely they gathered round Grow, catawampously up as to chaw

Moved Mott, mild as new milk, with his gray hair under his broad

brim, Preaching peace to deaf ears, and

getting considerably damaged. Cautious Covode in the rear, as dubious what it might come to, Brandished a stone-ware spittoon 'gainst whoever might seem to deserve it,

Little it mattered to him whether
Pro or Anti-Lecompton,
So but he found in the Hall a foeman
worthy his weapon!

So raged this battle of men, till into the thick of the mêlée,

Like to the heralds of old, stepped the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Speaker.

LONDON PUNCH.

PURITANS.

OUR brethren of New England use
Choice malefactors to excuse,
And hang the guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the churches have less
need;

As late it happened in a town
Where lived a cobbler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use,
And mend men's lives as well as shoes.
This precious brother having slain
In times of peace an Indian,

Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
Because he was an infidel;
The mighty Tottipotimoy
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining loudly of the breach
Of league held forth by brother
Patch,

Against the articles in force Between both churches, his and ours;

For which he craved the saints to render

Into his hands, or hang the offender. But they maturely having weighed They had no more but him of the

AMAZED, confused, its fate unknown,

The world stood trembling at Jove's throne;

While each pale sinner hung his head, Jove nodding shook the heavens, and said;

66

Offending race of human kind, By nature, reason, learning, blind; You who through frailty stepped aside,

And you who never erred through pride;

You who in different sects were shammed,

And come to see each other damned; (So some folks told you, but they knew

No more of Jove's designs than you.)
The world's mad business now is o'er,
And I resent your freaks no more;
I to such blockheads set my wit,
I damn such fools-go, go, you're
bit!"

CHIQUITA.

SWIFT.

BEAUTIFUL! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her match in the county.

Is thar, old gal, - Chiquita, my darling, my beauty?

Feel of that neck, sir,—thar's velvet! Whoa!

Steady, -ah, will you, you vixen! Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out;

let the gentleman look at her paces.