But, hark ye, masters and misses!――don’t take undue advantage of what I say――don’t ask for unreasonable or unsuitable amusements. Of these points, your parents are the best judges. I say to parents――your children need their frolics; I say to children――even in your frolics, obey your parents. It is said, and truly, that “all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” It maybe added, that all play and no work keeps Jack always a boy. As to the girls――they need less training than boys; whether it is that they are more discreet, or more heedful, or more docile, I will not say. Boys require line upon line, precept upon precept――here a little and there a little――or rather a good deal. Don’t scowl, my lads, and think that old Merry is turning preacher. Not a bit of it――and if I say that the girls behave better than you do, surely you have gallantry enough to bear me out. But as to the girls――while I would enjoin suitable amusements――such as are adapted to their sex――yet I wish to ask one favor in their behalf, of their parents. And what do you suppose this may be? That they may generally spend two hours, each day of winter, in the open air; and at least three, of each day, in other seasons. In this way alone can they ensure enduring health and enduring beauty. * * * * * CONTRADICTION.――It was said of a certain Englishman, that so great was his love of contradiction, that when the hour of the night and state of the weather were announced by the watchman beneath his window, he used to get out of bed and raise both his casement and his voice to protest against the accuracy of the statement. * * * * * BULL.――An Irishman remarked to his companion, on observing a lady pass, “Pat, did you ever see as thin a woman as that?” “Thin,” replied the other, “bathershune, I’ve seen a woman as thin as two of her.” [Illustration] All by Themselves. GENTLE READER! Did you ever hear a flock of children――hearty, healthy hoidens――girls and boys――black eyes and blue eyes――when all by themselves, in an attic, or a barn, or a school-room? Whew, what a racket! But excuse me, reader, if I ask another question. Was you ever, of a summer evening, in the swamp of a southern climate――as that of Okefonoco in Georgia, or one of those which border the southern portions of the Mississippi? If not――then you have never heard one of the queerest concerts that can be listened to. How shall I describe it? We may pourtray things to the eye by pictures, but we cannot paint sounds. To what shall I compare the swamp serenade of the tropics? Alas, it is without a parallel. The congregated uproar of the poultry yard――roosters crowing, turkeys gobbling, hens cackling―― “Cut-cut-cadaw cut―― Lay an egg every day, And have to go barefoot!”