his hardihood amidst the various perils he encountered, and at the same time evinced that from whatever evils and dangers, whether mortal or spiritual, such a spell could protect the wearer, spirits of wine were not in the category. One of his later comrades, to whom his secrets became so far known, stripped him of the now useless appendage, and wore it till the end of his days in the cloister at **** where a full account of its miracles is said to be preserved; and upon whose abbot he enjoined its delivery (after his death) to the brother of Arnoldi. In his family it has been religiously preserved through succeeding generations.

"AND is it there ye are?" said a long-legged, long-sided, longsnouted pig, whose gaunt appearance bespoke his Milesian origin, while the rich musical twang of his grunt told of Tipperary intirely. He addressed himself to a compact brindled animal with a crisp twist in his wool, and a tightly-curled tail, who was couchant in a deep kennel near one of the Market street corners in Philadelphia.

Irish Pig. Ah, then, the tip-top o' the morning to you intirely. Its myself that's seen ye here before, and mighty snug ye are in that

same place-I'm thinking that a dray-wheel would move ye out o' that in a pig's whisper, though its mighty pig-turesque yere lookin' that sow-lution of slush, any how.

Curly-tail Pig, rising, with an aristocratic air. Do not imagine, because I decline reposing any longer in the slimy softness of this balmy kennel, that your guttur-al gruntings annoy me. Philosophy has long ago taught me that we cannot make a sow's ear out of a silk purse. For the present, then, I forgive your impertinence! but I impignorate my promise to make sausages of your intestines if you ever bore me again with your pig-my prittle prattle.

Irish Pig. Give us none o' yer cheek. Edad, ye 're as fierce as a Sow-wester. Sure I roused ye out o' that in regard o' the drays, but if my son-licitude is hurtin' yer chitterlings, why be smashed into a hog's-pudding, and see if its myself that will interfere. Arrah, then, and did ye see anything o' them niggers of hog-catchers last night? Curly-tail. I really was so engaged in paying my devoirs to a delicate young creature up Sixth, that I had no time to indulge in such vulgar ideas.

Irish Pig. Och, get out! is it the black piggeen up the alley convanient to the bakehouse? The darlint! Don't I know her, I'd like to carry her a pig-a-back over the whole world.

Curly-tail. She is an exquisite charmer, 'pon honour; but as proud as she is pretty. I stole a cantaloupe from the corner there, and placed it at her feet, as a sow-ve-neer of my esteem, but she turned it over to that old hog her papa, who devoured it before my face. Laughing at my melancholy look, she said, " Pork, you pine,' which you must own was very pointed. I haven't been so hurt since my lamented mama committed sow-i-cide by cutting her throat with her thumb-nails while trying to swim across a creek.

Irish Pig. And ain't her brother a saucy shote? he'll be bringin' his hogs to a fine market some day. But what can you expect from nigger's pigs? them swine swill such slush, one can't pig with them if he wants to keep a dacent cheek.

Curly-tail. You are as dull as a pig of lead in your perception of the beautiful. She has the whitest hand of pork and the prettiest fore-quarter I have ever seen. Her hams are plump and wellshaped.

Irish Pig. Wid as swate a snout as ever turned over a tater.

Curly-tail. If she would Siamese our fates, I have a nice sty in my eye; and I flatter myself she'd find me as warm a boar as ever hung round a lady's neck. But I am not such a Piggy-ninny as to play upon one string. I've more sweethearts than her, if I want to choose a spare rib, and she refuses me her foot.

Irish Pig. Honamondioul! don't stand there wid yer snout cocked up in the wind, but come over here, and have a chaw at them swate taters and an inyon or two, what the darkey girl has jest chucked out. Here's a beautiful post right agin yer starn, for an illegant scratch bechuxt bites. Ain't them squashed peaches colluptuous?

Curly-tail. Nice, really. But talking of luxuries, did you ever taste a nigger baby?

Irish Pig. Ah, then, I niver had a chance; but I nibbled off a black man's thumb once, as he was tryin' to insinnervate a pet kitten out o' my gills; but its mighty old he was, and the jynt was hardly

a taste-to say nothing o' the kick I got on my hind line. Sure it was hard times in them snows last winter, when the divil a bit o' grub ye'd find in a day's grubbing. Oh, thunder and turf, wasn't I almighty sharp set? them frosts friz ferocious.

Curly-tail. And to freeze our souls we daily expected, in consequence of the war, that we should all be killed and salted down as ship-meat for the sailors.

Irish Pig. All pigged together in a hogshead.

Curly-tail. I should not be loth to afford my share of sustenance to the sinews of the war, as I am heroically inclined, being lineally descended from the boar of the Plantaganet-the crest, you know, of the gallant Richard the Third.

Irish Pig. To be sure I do. Didn't B- the great tragedy man, pig alongside o' me in a gutter one night, when he was salty, or fresh, I dunno' which they call it. Sure he talked all night of that same bloody and devouring boar, which I thought mighty personal, in regard o' the company he was in. But for them haythens, sure I'd like to seen them whipped. There's a Spanish pug in the alley forenenst the tebakky-store, that's bitten all sorts of letters of mark on my hind-quarters, the blackguard.

Curly-tail. Ah, my friend, philosophy has long ago taught me that pigs are not arbiters of their own fate.

Irish Pig. Though pugs are biters of our fat, and be hanged to 'em. But the whole bilin' of our family is going west in the spring, where I'm sure to be skivered and salted down. My brawn is sartin to be collared then. So, if I can but preserve myself till I'm pickled, I'll be able to save my bacon, any how.

Curly-tail. Well, good morning, stranger; I must pay my morning's call, a slight offering at the shrine of beauty-an attempt to em-broil the heart of that tender little sow.

Irish Pig. Good luck to ye, and a stiffer curl t' yer tail, if possible, which it aint. Och, the omadhawn! to have his eye on my own delicate piggeen! I'll put a sow-thistle into his piggin of hogwash. See at him! how consated he walks, the thief of the world! Sure, he thinks himself a whole ship-load of the primest mess, No. 1, but it's a pretty piece of pork and greens I'll make of that same shote, big pig as he is. By the piper that played before Moses, but there's the hog-catchers, the slaughterin' divils. How they skeet after my friend wid the curly tail. Och, there's a porker in a pucker. Edad, but he moves his trotters in double quick time. Run, ye divil, the high nigger has ye by the tail! no, he's off again, bad luck to him. Sure, that pace will melt his lard, this same hot day. Grabbed, by jakers! Its a gone case wid him, any how, for into the cart he goes, the entire swine. Why, they are shillooin' arter me, the murtherin' thieves! Hurrish! no catchee, no havee. Here goes, a bolt for life!

[Exit Pig, " down all manner of streets.”