wildly and sez, "gin me the daggurs--Ile let his bowels out," or wurds to that effeck--I say, this is awl, strickly, propper, I spoze? That Jack Fawlstarf is likewise a immoral old cuss, take him how ye may, and Hamlick is as crazy as a loon. Thare's Richurd the Three, peple think heze grate things, but I look upon him in the lite of a monkster. He kills everybody he takes a noshun to in kold blud, and then goze to sleep in his tent. Bimeby he wakes up and yells for a hoss so he kan go orf and kill sum more peple. If he isent a fit spesserman for the gallers then I shood like to know whare you find um. Thare's Iargo who is more ornery nor pizun. See how shameful he treated that hily respecterble injun gentlemun, Mister Otheller, makin him for to beleeve his wife was too thick with Casheo. Obsarve how Iargo got Casheo drunk as a biled owl on corn whiskey in order to karry out his sneckin desines. See how he wurks Mister Otheller's feelins up so that he goze and makes poor Desdemony swaller a piller which cawses her deth. But I must stop. At sum futur time I shall continner my remarks on the drammer in which I shall show the varst supeeriority of wax figgers and snakes over theater plays, in a interlectooal pint of view. Very Respectively yures, A WARD, T. K. THE SHAKERS The Shakers is the strangest religious sex I ever met. I'd hearn tell of 'em and I'd seen 'em, with their broad brim'd hats and long wastid coats; but I'd never cum into immejit contack with 'em, and I'd sot 'em down as lackin intelleck, as I'd never seen 'em to my Show--leastways, if they cum they was disgised in white peple's close, so I didn't know 'em. But in the Spring of 18--, I got swampt in the exterior of New York State, one dark and stormy night, when the winds Blue pityusly, and I was forced to tie up with the Shakers. I was toilin threw the mud, when in the dim vister of the futer I obsarved the gleams of a taller candle. Tiein a hornet's nest to my off hoss's tail to kinder encourage him, I soon reached the place. I knockt at the door, which it was opened unto me by a tall, slick-faced, solum lookin individooal, who turn'd out to be a Elder. "Mr. Shaker," sed I, "you see before you a Babe in the woods, so to speak, and he axes shelter of you." "Yay," sed the Shaker, and he led the way into the house, another Shaker bein sent to put my hosses and waggin under kiver. A solum female, lookin sumwhat like a last year's bean-pole stuck into a long meal bag, cum in and axed me was I a thurst and did I hunger? to which I urbanely anserd "a few." She went orf and I endeverd to open a conversashun with the old man. "Elder, I spect?" sed I. "Yay," he said. "Helth's good, I reckon?" "Yay." "What's the wages of a Elder, when he understans his bisness--or do you devote your sarvices gratooitus?" "Yay." "Stormy night, sir." "Yay." "If the storm continners there'll be a mess underfoot, hay?" "Yay." "It's onpleasant when there's a mess underfoot?"