“The procession at Judge Orton’s funeral was very fine and nearly two miles in length as was the beautiful prayer of the Rev. Dr. Swing from Chicago.” Another: “A cow was struck by lightning on Saturday belonging to Dr. Hammond who had a beautiful spotted calf only four days old.” A distressing accident is thus chronicled: “A sad accident happened to the family of John Elderkin on Main street, yesterday. One of his children was run over by a market wagon three years old with sore eyes and pantalets on that never spoke afterwards.” The next morning after lecturing at Jonesville, I saw this paragraph: “George Peck, an intemperate editor from Milwaukee fell over the gallery last night while Eli Perkins was lecturing in a beastly state of intoxication. “The coroner’s jury brought in a verdict that Mr. Peck came to his death by remaining too long in a cramped position while listening to Mr. Perkins’ lecture which produced apoplexy on the minds of the jury.” CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS. Some years ago, a poem in broken German verse, overflowing with the richest of humor, appeared in a Boston paper. It was entitled Leedle Yawcob Strauss, and commanded general attention immediately upon its publication. It was copied widely and was sent on its way across the ocean, delighting hundreds on the other side of the Atlantic. The poem ran thus: “I haf von funny leedle poy, Vot gomes schust to my knee; Der queerest schap, der createst roke As efer you did see; He runs, and schumps, und schmashes dings In all barts off der house-- But vot off dot? He vas mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. “He gets der measles und der mumbs, Und eferyding dot’s out; He sbills mine glass of lager pier, Poots schnuff into mine kraut; He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese-- Dot vas der roughest chouse; I’d take dot vrom no oder poy But leedle Yawcob Strauss. “He dakes der milk ban for a dhrum, Und cuts mine cane in dwo, To make der shtick to beat it mit-- Mine cracious, dot vas drue! I dinks mine head vas schplit about He kicks up such a touse? But nefer mind, der poys vas few Like dot young Yawcob Strauss. “He asks me questions sooch as dese: Who baints mine nose so red? Who vas it cuts dot schmoodt blace oudt Vrom the hair ubpon mine hed? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene’er der glim I douse? How gan I all dese dings eggsplain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss? “I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest Und beaceful dimes enshoy; But ven he vas ashleep in ped, So quiet as a mouse, I prays der Lord, ‘Dake anydings, But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.’”