with "Mad dog! Let's kill him!" You need not wonder I sometimes turn
round, and snap at my pursuers. I think you would snap, too, if you were
chased through street and lane and alley, till your blood was in a
perfect fever, and you hardly knew which way you were running! I have,
on many such occasions, actually run past a beautiful bone that lay
handy on the side-walk, and never stopped to smell it.

Oh! I wish some one would take me prisoner, and continue to own me, and
keep me in bondage as long as I lived! I should only be too happy to
give up my liberty, and settle down and be a respectable dog!

* * * * *

A Bute-Iful Idea.

The Marquis of Bute denies that he is going to return to the Protestant
fold. With reference to the rumor, the Pope stated in the Ecumenical
Council that "the Bute was on the right leg at last, and that he would
launch his thunder against him who should dare that Bute displace."

* * * * *

WHAT IS IT?

As the shades of night descend (in the neighborhood of Mecklenburg,
N.C.,) and harmless domestic animals begin to compose themselves to
sleep, suddenly the drowsy world is awakened by a roaring like that of a
lion! It proceeds from the forest, in whose bosky recesses (as the
Mecklenburgers suppose) some terrible creature proclaims his hunger and
his inclination to appease it with human flesh! All night long the