Two old banqueters banqueted at a banquet. They banqueted all night long, and kept the banquet up together all the next day after the banquet had ended. They kept up their banqueting a week after the banquet was over. But they got separated one morning and met again in the afternoon. One of them said: "Good mornin':" The other said: "Good evenin'!" "Why;" said one, "It's mornin' an' that's the sun; I've investigated the queshtun." "No-sir-ee," said the other, "You're mistaken, it's late in the evenin' an' that's the full moon." They concluded they would have no difficulty about the matter, and agreed to leave it to the first gentleman they came to to settle the question. They locked arms and started down the street together; they staggered on till they came upon another gentleman in the same condition, hanging on a lamp post. One of them approached him and said: "Friend (hic) we don't desire to interfere with your meditation, (hic) but this gen'lman says it's mornin' an' that's the sun; I say it's evenin' an' that's the full moon, (hic) we respectfully ask you (hic) to settle the question." The fellow stood and looked at it for a full minute, and in his despair replied: "Gen'lmen, (hic) you'll have to excuse me, (hic) I'm a stranger in this town!" [Illustration: AFTER THE BANQUET.] THE OLD TIME SINGING SCHOOL. Did you never hear the music of the old time singing school? Oh! who can forget the old school house that stood on the hill? Who can forget the sweet little maidens with their pink sun bonnets and checkered dresses, the walks to the spring, and the drinks of pure, cold water from the gourd? Who can forget the old time courtships at the singing school? When the boy found an opportunity he wrote these tender lines to his sweetheart: "The rose is red; the violet's blue-- Sugar is sweet, and so are you." She read it and blushed, and turned it over and wrote on the back of it: "As sure as the vine clings 'round the stump, I'll be your sweet little sugar lump." Who can forget the old time singing master? The old time singing master with very light hair, a dyed mustache, a wart on his left eyelid, and with one game leg, was the pride of our rural society; he was the envy of man and the idol of woman. His baggy trousers, several inches too short, hung above his toes like the inverted funnels of a Cunard steamer. His butternut coat had the abbreviated appearance of having been cut in deep water, and its collar encircled the back of his head like the belts of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn. His vest resembled the aurora borealis, and his voice was a cross between a cane mill and the bray of an ass. Yet beautiful and bright he stood before the ruddy-faced swains and rose-cheeked lassies of the country, conscious of his charms, and proud of his great ability. He had prepared, after a long and tedious research of Webster's unabridged dictionary, a speech which he always delivered to his class.