Sunday; and the horses will be restin' in the cars."

As the man made his preparations and departed, Mr. P. stood and watched
him until he slowly faded out of sight.

When he had entirely disappeared, Mr. P. sat down upon the rock and
reflected. Now that he was here, what had he best do? He had never seen
the rock before, and as it struck him that possibly some of his patrons
might be in the same unfortunate condition, he concluded that he would
take a few sketches of it for their benefit. But he did not succeed very
well. The first drawing he made had a strange appearance. It looked more
like an old woman tied to a post, and surrounded by what seemed to be
flames, than anything else. This surely was not a correct view of this
famous rock, and so Mr. P. commenced another sketch. This, however,
looked so much like a man with a broad-brimmed hat, hanging by his neck
to a rope, that he concluded to try again.

His next sketch bore a striking resemblance to something that certainly
did not seem like a rock, but which, after some deliberation, he found
to look very much like a shrinking Southern negro, forced into the ranks
to supply the place of a citizen of Massachusetts. Everybody might not
be able to see this, but Mr. P. thought he perceived it plainly.

The last sketch made by Mr. P. somewhat resembled one whose connection
with "The Plymouth Rock" has certainly been of more practical benefit to
the public than that of any of the " old founders," or anybody else--at
least so far as Mr. P. can see. If any one doubts this, let him ask
General GRANT.

Now should his readers see anything at all suggestive of sober and