Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright; Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to night; For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of the brave. Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are ; And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre. LORD MACAULAY. ARTEMUS WARD ON WOMAN'S RIGHTS. I picht my tent in a small town in Injiany one day last season, & while I was standin at the dore takin money, a deppytashen of ladies came up and sed they was members of the Bunkumville Female Reformin & Wimmin's Rite's Associashun, and they axed me if they cood go in without payin. "Not exactly," sez I, "but you can pay without goin in.' "Dew know who we air?" said one of the wimmin you a tall and feroshus lookin' critter,-" do you know who we air, Sir?" "My impreshun is," sed I, "from a kersory view, that you are shemales." "We air, Sur," said the feroshus woman we belong to a society whitch beleeves wimmin has rights- whitch beleeves in razing her to her proper speer- whitch beleeves she is endowed with as much intelleck as man is - which beleeves she is trampled on and aboosed & who will resist hence4th & forever the incroachments of proud and domineering men.' Durin her discourse, the excentric female grabbed me by the coat kollor & was swinging her umbreller wildly over my head "I hope, marm," sez I, starting back, "that your intentions is honorable. I'm a lone man hear in a strange place. Besides, I've a wife to hum.' "Yes," cried the femalę, " & she's a slave! Doth she ever dream of freedom doth she never think of throwin off the yoke of tyrinny, & thinkin and votin for herself? Doth she never think of these here things?" “Not being a natral born fool," sed I, by this time a little railed, "I ken safely say that she dothun't.' 66 Oh, whot - whot!" screamed the female, swingin her umbreller in the air. Oh, what is the price that woman pays for her experience!" "I don't know," sez I, "the price to my show is 15 cents pur individooal." " & cant our society go in free?" asked the female. sed I. "Crooil man! she cried, & burst into tears. 66 'Won't you let my darter in?" sed anuther of the excentrick wimin, takin me afeckshunately by the hand. "Oh, please let my darter in, shee's a sweet gushin child of nature. "Let her gush! roared I, as mad as I cood stick at their tarnal nonsense; "let her gush.' Whereupon they all sprung back with the similtanius observashun that I was a Beest. She "My female friends," sed I, "be4 you leave, I've a few remarks to remark: wa them well. The female woman is one of the greatest institooshuns of which this land can boast. Its onpossible to get along without her. Had there been no female wimmin in the world, I shood scarcely be here with my unparaleld show on this very occashun. is good in sickness-good in wellness-good at all times. Oh, woman, woman! I cried, my feelins worked up to a hippoltick pitch, "You air a angel when you behave yourself, but when you take off your proper appariel & (mettyforically speakin) — get into pantyloons-when you desert your firesides, &, with heds full of wimmin's rites noshuns go round like roarin lyons, seekin whom you may devour somebodyin short when you undertake to play man, you play the devil and air an emfatic noosance. My female friends," I continnered, as they were indignantly departin, "wa well what A. Ward has sed." C. F. BROWNE, MERIKY'S CONVERSION THE OLD TIME RELIGION. BROTHER SIMON.-I say, brover Horace, I hearn you give Meriky the terriblest beating las' nite. What you and she hab a fallin' out about? BROTHER HORACE.-Well, brover Simon, you knows yourse'f, I never has no dejection to splanifying how I rules my folks at home, and stablishes order dar when it's pintedly needed, and 'fore gracious! I leab you to say dis time ef 'twan't needed, and dat pow'ful bad. You see, I'se allers been a plain, straight-sided nigger, an' hain't never had no use for new fandangles, let it be what it mout; 'ligion, polytix, business - don't keer what. Ole Horace say: De ole way am de bes' way, an' you fellers dat's all runnin' teetotleum crazy 'bout efery new jim-crack dat's started, better jes' stay whar you is, an' let them things alone. But they won't do it, no 'mount of preaching won't sarve um. And that is jes' at this partickeler p'int dat Meriky got dat dressin'. She done been off to Richmun Town a livin' in sarvice dar dis las' winter, and Saturday a week ago she comed home to make a visit. Well, dat was all good enough. Course we was all glad to see our darter. But you b'l'eve dat gal hadn't turned stark bodily naked fool? Yes, sir; she wa'n't no more like de Meriky dat went away jes' a few munts ago, dan chalk's like cheese. Dar she come in, wid her close pinned tight enuff to hinder her from settin', and her ha'r a-danglin' right in her eyes, jes' for all de worl' like a sheep a-looking fru a brush-pile, and you think she haint forgot how to talk? She jes' rolled up her eyes ebery oder word, and fanned and talked like she spected to die de nex' bref. She'd toss dat mush-head ob hern and talk proper as two dixunarys. 'Stead ob she callin' ob me Daddy," an' her mudder " Mammy," she say, "Par and Mar, how can you bear to live in setch a one-hoss town as this? Oh! I think I should die." I jes' stared at that girl till I make her out, an' says I to myself, "It's got to come, but I don't say nothin' to nobody 'bout it-all de same, I know it had to come fus' as las'. Well, I jes' let her hab more rope, as de sayin' is, tell she got whar I 'cluded was 'bout de end ob her tedder. Dat were on last Sunday mornin', when she went to meetin' in sich a rig, a-puttin' on 66 a'rs, tell she couldn't keep a straight track. When she comed home she brung kumpny wid her, an', ob course, I couldn't do nuthin' then; but, I jes' kept my ears open, an' ef dat gal didn't disqualify me dat day, you can have my hat. Bime-by dey all gits to talkin' 'bout 'ligion an' de chu'ches, and den one young fellow, he step up, an' says he, "Miss Meriky, give us your 'pinion 'bout de matter." Wid dat she flung up her head proud as de Queen Victory, an' says she, "I takes no intelligence in sich matters; dey is all too common for me. Baptisses is a foot or two below my grade. I 'tends de Pisclopian chu'ch whar I resides, an' 'spects to jine dat one de nex' anniversary ob de bishop. Oh! dey does ebery thing so lovely, an' in so much style. I declar', nobody but common folks in de city goes to de Baptiss chu'ch. It made me sick at my stomick to see so much shoutin' an' groanin' dis mornin', 'tis so ungenteel wid us to make so much sarcumlocutions in meetin'.” And thar she went on a giratin' 'bout de preacher a-comin' out in a white shirt, and den a-runnin' back and gittin' on a black one, and de people a-jumpin' up and a-jawin' ob de preacher outen a book, and a-bowin' ob dey heads, and a-sayin' ob long rigamaroles o' stuff, tell my head fa'rly buzzed, and I were dat mad at de gal I jes' couldn't see nuffin in dat room. Well, I jes' waited tell the kumpny riz to go, and den I steps up, and, says I, "Young folks, you needn't let what Meriky told you 'bout dat chu'ch put no change inter you. She's sorter out ob her right mine now, but de nex' time you comes she'll be all right on dat and seberal oder subjicks;" and den dey stared at Meriky mighty hard, and goes away. Well, I jes' walks up to her and I says, "Darter," says I, "what chu'ch are dat you say you gwine to jine?"—and, says she, very prompt like, "De Pisclopian, Par," and says I "Meriky, I'se mighty consarned 'bout you, kase I knows your mine aint right, and I shall jis' hab to bring you 'roun' de shortest way possible." So I retch me a fine bunch ob hick'ries I done prepared for dat 'casion. And den she jumped up, and says she, "What makes you think I loss my senses ?" "Bekase, darter, you done forgot how to walk, and to talk, and dem is sure signs," and wid dat I jes' let in on her, tell I 'stonished her 'siderably. 'Fore I were done wid her she got ober dem dyin' a'rs and jumped as high as a hoppergrass. Bime-by she 'gins to holler, "Oh, Lordy! daddy! daddy! don't give me no more!" And, says I, 745350 A "You're improvin', dat's a fac'-done got your natʼral voice back. What chu'ch does you 'long to, Meriky?" And says she, a-cryin', "I don't 'long to none, Par." Well, I gib her anodder lettle tetch, and says I, "What chu'ch does you 'long to, darter?" and says she, all choked like, "I doesn't 'long to none." Den I jes' make dem hick'ries ring for 'bout five minutes, and den I say, "What chu'ch you 'long to now, Meriky?" And says she, fa'rly shoutin', "Baptiss, I'se a deep-water Baptiss." "Bery good," says I, "you don't 'spects to hab your name tuck offen dem chu'ch books?" And says she, "No, sar; I allus did despise dem stuck up Pisclopians; dey ain't got no 'ligion nohow." Brover Simon, you never see a gal so holpen by a good genteel thrashin' in all your days. I boun' she won't never stick her nose in dem new fandangle chu'ches no more. Why, she jes' walks as straight dis morning, and looks as peart as a sunflower. I'll lay a tenpence she'll be a-singin' before night dat good old hymn she usened to be so fond ob. You knows, brover Simon, how de words run : Baptis', Baptis' is my name, My name's written on high; BROTHER SIMON.-Yes, dat she will, I be boun'; ef I does say it, brover Horace, you beats any man on chu'ch gubernment an' family displinement ob anybody I ever has seen. BROTHER HORACE.—Well, brover, I does my bes'. You mus' pray for me, so dat my hands may be strengthened. Dey feels mighty weak after dat conversion I give dat Meriky las' night. JULIA PICKERING. WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, |