degree of success. These people have come together here on a somewhat unusual occasion; they will probably never have a similar one, for people of our age do not often marry. I feel very much obliged to you all for this reception. My acquaintance with this lady began quietly at first. I lived away up north. Last summer, when I read that her sister had departed, I wanted to express my sympathy in some way, but knew not how to do it exactly, but finally sent her a volume of my poems, having written on the margin, 'With deep sympathy of the author.' Thereupon she sent me a pamphlet entitled Abby Smith and her Cows.' On the cover of that pamphlet I saw an advertisement saying that Miss Julia Smith, unaided, had translated the entire Bible, and that it was for sale at Hartford. I immediately sent for it, and found that it was unlike the usual version, or King James's Bible, as it is called. I then began reviewing the Bible, and the first thing that I noticed was the tenses, how different they were from those in the common version. I then wrote to the translator, and she replied. Then I wrote again, and got another reply; and finally I wrote to her that such a large book as the Bible could not be gone over by correspondence, and said I would like to visit her. She then cordially and frankly invited me to come. I came, and we chatted together. I think on the first visit we chatted three hours at one sitting. I did not expect to call again. And at last, when I got ready with my satchel in my hand to walk down to take the stage, I found a carriage at the door. I asked her who was to drive. She said, 'I must, as you would not know where to go.' From that time I found her acquaintance so pleasant that I asked leave to call again. She thought it not advisable to marry at all; that she had better wend her way through the remainder of her life alone. But at last I convinced her that I was a man of honor and somewhat of a scholar, and not a tramp; and so she finally said, 'Upon the whole, if we can live happier together, I don't know why we should not. The house is large At nine o'clock the guests were invited out to supper. After supper there was music and dancing. Quite a number urged the bride to dance a figure with the groom, who was quite willing to dance, but said he would n't unless his wife did. She said it would get into the papers, and she didn't wish folks to say that she had gone to pieces completely. They finally made a compromise by taking hands and walking up and down one of the sets. Mrs. Tracy apologized for not having called the services of the gentlemen into requisition any more than they had in getting up the celebration. She said: "Women have always ruled here, and they propose to hold the fort. Our friend the bride has placed her foot on the good old ship of state, and she will never, never yield." The bride was so delighted with these remarks, that she went up and embraced the speaker, and perhaps in token of her indorsement of the remark that she would never take her foot from the good old ship of state, or rather in indorsement of the spirit of the remark, and to signify that she would not give up her efforts to place her foot there, for the state has not yet allowed her to put it there. THE following epitaph was written on Mr. Anderson, a Provost of Dundee, Scotland, in the olden times. It was the joint composition of four of his surviving colleagues, each of whom contributed a line: Here lies Anderson, Provost of Dundee, GREY FRIARS' BOBBY. MORE than eight years ago, a poor man, named Gray, died, and was buried in the old Grey Friars' Churchyard, Edinburgh. His grave is now levelled by time, and nothing marks it. But the spot has not been forgotten by his faithful dog. James Brown, the old curator, remembers the funeral well, and that Bobby was one of the most conspicuous of mourners. James found the dog lying on the grave the next morning, and as dogs are not admitted, he turned him out. The second morning the same; the third morning, though cold and wet, there he was, shivering. The old man took pity on him and fed him. This convinced the dog that he had a right there. Sergeant Scott, R. E., allowed him his board for a length of time, but for more than six years he has been regularly fed by Mr. Trail, who keeps a restaurant close by. Bobby is regular in his calls, being guided by the midday gun. On the occasion of the new dog-tax being raised, Mr. Trail was called upon to pay for Bobby. He would have done so had the dog acknowledged him as his master, but he will attach himself to no one. On hearing the facts of the case, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh exempted him, and to mark his admiration of fidelity, presented him with a handsome collar, with brass nails, and an inscription: "Grey Friars' Bobby, presented to him by the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, 1867." MEMORIAL FOUNTAIN. A memorial fountain has been erected near the entrance of old Grey Friars' Churchyard. It is of Peterhead granite, stands seven feet high, and is surmounted by a figure of Bobby in bronze. The pedestal bears the following inscription: "A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Grey Friars' Bobby. In 1856 this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Grey Friars' Churchyard, and lingered near the spot till his death in 1872." The fountain has been erected at the expense of Lady Burdett-Coutts, and with the permission of the city authorities. ANOTHER ANCIENT WATCH. TO THE EDITOR OF THE TRANSCRIPT, We have in our store a watch which is quite as old as, if not older than, the one mentioned in your paper last evening as being the oldest in the country, and which has been in the possession of the Bond family as far back as its history can be traced, and was in daily use by a member of the family in England as late as 1815. It is a calendar watch, and must have been a remarkable piece of workmanship for that time, as we have seen nothing approaching it in perfection in the descriptions of the loan exhibitions of ancient watches in London. The watch is 2% inches in diameter, 14 inches thick, and weighs 71⁄2 ounces. The dial is of silver and gold, engraved with the arms of the city of Paris, and shows the hours (having no minute hand), the day of month, the month, the signs of the zodiac, and the moon's age and phases, and the hour is struck on a bell, as in a French clock. It had no balance spring originally, although one has been added in modern times, as well as a fusee chain, in place of the original catgut cord. It was made in Paris, probably soon after 1582, when France adopted the change from old to new style, for on the dial the day of the month is shown through two openings, one giving the date by old style, and the other by the new. The case is of silver, a beautiful specimen of medieval art work. It is divided into fourteen segments from the centre to the edge, each segment being filled with an elaborately chased pattern of flowers, leaves, &c., no two alike, the pattern being entirely perforated round the edge of the case, to render the sound of the bell more clear. The glass is formed of a real crystal, ground to shape, the outer and inner surface being of different curvature, so that it forms a lens, which magnifies the dial and makes it more distinct. We shall be happy to show the watch to any person interested in such matters. WILLIAM BOND & SON. HEALTH IN LAUGHTER. [From the Philadelphia Ledger.] WHEN a prominent English statesman, some years ago, completely disabled by the cares and fatigues of his great office, consulted Sir Henry Holland, the court physician, as to what course he should adopt to regain his health and vigor, Sir Henry, with profound wisdom, told the Chancellor to go down to Brighton for a month, and take only one book with him. "Shall it be Homer?" asked the scholar and statesman of the physician. "By no means," said the Doctor; "the volume I recommend is Edward Lear's 'Book of Nonsense,' one of the healthiest works ever written in the kingdom." "And who is Edward Lear?" inquired the man of state affairs. "Sir," said the physician, "I am amazed at your question. Edward Lear, sir, is the biographer of 'That Globular Person of Hurst,' of 'That Uneasy Old Man of the West,' of 'That Courageous Young Lady of Norway,' of That Morbid Old Man of Vesuvius,' and others of like distinction." The statesman retired with his one book to the sea-coast, and came back to Downing Street at the end of his vacation a wiser and a healthier man, it is said. Edward Lear is a great broad-shouldered, healthy Englishman, who spends a large portion of his valuable time in making children happy. He is the classmate and much-loved friend of Alfred Tennyson (whose beautiful poem to "E. L." means Edward Lear), and if you chanced, a few years back, to go to Farringford about Christmas time, you would have been likely to find a tall, elderly man, in enormous goggles, down on all-fours on the carpet, and reciting, in the character of a lively and classical hippopotamus, new nonsense verses to a dozen children, amid roars of laughter, -a very undignified position, certainly, for one of the best Greek scholars in Europe, for a landscape painter unrivalled anywhere, and the author of half a dozen learned quartos of travels in Albania, Illyria, Calabria, and other interesting countries. But what a delight he is personally to the juniority of England wherever he is known! A few years ago he was obliged to build a cottage in Ravenna, in Italy, and live there a portion of the year, in order to get time for painting and study; for when he is in London the little people, whom he passionately loves and cannot live without, run after him, as they did after the Pied Piper of Hamelin, to that extent he has no leisure for his profession. When it is known that the delightful old fellow is on his way back to England for the holidays, many of the castles and other great residences are on the alert with invitations to secure him for as much time as he can give them. Generations of children have clustered about him in different Christmas seasons. He dedicates his first book, "Book of Nonsense," "To the great-grandchildren, grand-nephews, and grand-nieces of the Earl of Derby, the greater part of the book having been originally composed for their parents." Prime favorite as he is among the Argylls and the Devonshires, he has an immense clientèle among the poor and overworked peasants of various countries. Having been a traveller so many years, and being so conversant with the languages of the Continent, he is just as much at home with his fun and wide goggles in the mountain passes of Switzerland and Spain as he is in the great houses of England. He promised not long ago he would come to America, before he got too old, to see our country. One of his sayings at least deserves immortality. "The world will never grow old so long as it has little children and flowers in it." A LITTLE School-girl asked her teacher what was meant by "Mrs. Grundy." The teacher replied that it meant "the world." Some days afterward, the teacher asked the geography class to which this little "bud of promise" belonged, "What is a zone?" After some hesitation this little girl brightened up and replied, "I know; it's a belt around Mrs. Grundy's waist.” ANECDOTE OF FRIEND HOPPER. [From Our Dumb Animals.] FRIEND ISAAC T. HOPPER, though very sturdy and persistent in his resistance to all wrong, had a natural vein of humor, which often caused his rebukes to excite a smile. When he lived in Third Street, New York, a passing teamster one day stopped in front of his house and began to beat his overloaded horse. Friend Hopper stepped out and said, "Friend, didst thou ever hear that some folks believe that when we die, if we have n't behaved ourselves in this world, we shall have to come back here again, in the shape of dogs and horses?" The man stared, as if a little doubtful of the speaker's sanity, and then slowly answered, “No, I never heard anybody preach such a doctrine." "But I assure thee," replied Friend Hopper, "there are a great many people in the world who do believe it; and I am thinking if thou shouldst have to come back in the form of a horse, thou wouldst be glad to have a kinder master than thou art." The man smiled, took the hint good-naturedly, and walked away, gently leading his tired horse by the bridle. Perhaps, in after times, if tempted to beat his horse, he remembered the pleasant old Quaker, and imagined how he should feel if he were a horse. L. MARIA CHILD. A POET'S BIRTHDAY. TO-DAY is the seventy-second birthday of Professor Henry W. Longfellow, and it has been made the occasion of the presentation of a testimonial of regard from the children of Cambridge and their friends, which will assuredly please and gratify the venerable poet very much. The widening of Brattle Street, Cambridge, a few years ago, brought the old horse-chestnut tree, celebrated in the "Village Black smith," that shades the smithy, opposite what is now School Court, and not far from the corner of Appian Way, outside of the sidewalk, and the city government deemed it necessary to remove the tree. The wood of the tree was preserved by the city, and a part of it has recently been given to be wrought into an elaborately carved chair, to be presented by the children of Cambridge to Mr. Longfellow this morning. The design of the chair is very pleasing, and seems to be in perfect keeping. The heavier parts are all made large, which is partly owing to the nature of the wood, so that the chair has the appearance of solidity, and at the same time is not denied whatever contributes to an appearance of comfort and utility. The color is a dead black, — an effect produced by ebonizing the wood. The upholstering of the arms and the cushion is in green leather. The castors are glass balls set in sockets. In the back of the chair is a circular piece of exquisite carving, consisting of horse-chestnut leaves and blossoms. Horse-chestnut leaves and burrs are presented in varied combinations at other points. Around the seat, in raised German text, are the following lines from the poem, "And children coming home from school Look in at the open door, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor." Underneath the cushion is a brass plate on which is the following inscription, ΤΟ THE AUTHOR OF THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH, This chair, made from the wood of the spreading Chestnut-tree, Is presented as an expression of grateful regard and veneration by THE CHILDREN OF CAMBRIDGE, |