"Shew, shew, shew, there!" screamed the girl, setting down the basket, taking her skirts in both hands, and shaking them violently towards the intruder. Then the goat who evidently considered her movements in the light of a challenge, suddenly dropped his wicked old head, and darted at her with the force of an Erie locomotive; and just one minute later by the city-hall clock that girl had tumbled a back somersault over the clothes-basket, and was crawling away on her hands and knees in search of a place to die, accompanied by the goat, who was butting her unmercifully every third second. It is likely that he would have kept on butting her for the next two weeks, if Mrs. Burdock, who had been a witness of the unfortunate affair, had not armed herself with the family poker, and hurried to the rescue. "Merciful goodness, Anne! do get up on your feet!" she exclaimed, aiming a blow at the beast's head, and missing it by a few of the shortest kind of inches. It was not repeated, owing to the goat suddenly rising up on his hind-feet, waltzing toward her, and striking her in the small of the back, hard enough to loosen her finger-nails, and destroy her faith in the blessed immortality. When Mrs. Burdock returned to her consciousness, she crawled out from behind the grindstone where she had been tossed, and made for the house; stopping only once, when the goat came after, and butted her, head first, into the grape-arbor. Once inside the house, the door was locked, and the unfortunates sought the solitude of their own rooms, and such comfort as they could extract from rubbing and growling; while the goat wandered around the garden like Satan in the Book of Job, seeking what he might devour; and the eleven little Boblink boys fairly hugged themselves with pleasure over the performance. By the time Burdock returned home that evening, and learned all the particulars from his arnica-soaked wife, the goat had eaten nearly all the week's washing, half the grapevine, and one side out of the clothes-basket. Why in thunder didn't you put him out, and not leave him there to destroy every thing?" he demanded angrily. "Because he wouldn't go, and I was not going to stay there to be killed; that's why," answered his wife excitedly. "Wouldn't fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed, making for the garden, followed by the entire family. "Get out of here, you thief!" he exclaimed as he came into the garden, and caught sight of the shaggy and highlyperfumed visitor. The goat bit off another mouthful of the basket, and regarded him with a mischievous twinkle of his eye. "You won't go, hey?" exclaimed Burdock, trying to kick a hole in the enemy's ribs. “I'll show you wheth—” The sentence was left unfinished, as the goat just then dropped his head on Burdock's shirt-bosom; and before he could recover his equilibrium, he had been butted seven times in seven fresh spots, and was down on his knees, and crawling around in a very undignified manner, to the horror of the family, and the infinite glee of the eleven young Boblinks next door. "Look out he don't hurt you!" screamed Mrs. Burdock as the goat sent him flying into a sand-pile. When Burdock had got his bald head out of the sand, he was mud all over his clothes, and tried to catch the brute by the horns, but desisted after he had lost two front teeth, and been rolled in the mud. "Don't make a living show of yourself before the neighbors!" advised his wife. "Come in, pa, and let him be!" begged his daughter. "Golly, dad, look out! he is comin' agin!" shouted his son enthusiastically. Mr. Burdock waxed profane, and swore three-story oaths in such rapid succession that his family held their breaths; and a pious old lady, who lived in a house in the rear, shut up her windows, and sent out the cook for a policeman or a missionary. "Run for it, dad!" advised his son a moment later, when the goat's attention seemed to be turned away. Burdock sprang to his feet, and followed his offspring's suggestion. He was legging it in superb style, and the chances of his reaching the house seemed excellent, when the fragrant brute suddenly clapped on more steam, gained rapidly, and darting between his legs, capsized him into the ash-box. His family dragged him inside, another candidate for rubbing with arnica and a blessed haven of rest. The back of the house has been hermetically sealed; and Burdock now proposes extending an invitation to the militia regiments of Boston to come down and practice marksmanship off the roof; promising to furnish a live goat for a target, and a silver napkin-ring as the first prize. SENTENCE OF DEATH ON THE HIGH SEAS. Aboard o' the good ship Margaret Ann, Nigh twenty-five year ago, I sailed from here to fair Cadiz town, A stiffer gale never swept the sea Than we had the fourth week out An' pretty well pickled I've been in brine, But this wind, my hearties, blowed great guns, 'Twas a mercy, mates, as the stout old ship - Hows'ever, we swum, but hard times we had For we'd been at sea three weeks too long, But once on the shore, and safe from harm Little we cared for the dangers past We was ready to brave 'em again! But there, I'm a-veerin' away from my yarn- Sailed with us a lass from old Cadiz town, And in less than a week the mate and the lass A finer young fellow ne'er stepped a plank, We'd hired some sailors while we was in port, As might ha' been good for summat on land, He kept as much out o' sight as he could His eyes blazed up, and he muttered low But she turned and ran right straight to her love, An' she told him slow, in her broken tongue, But she wouldn't have had him-no, no, not she- An' she, trembling, told how he swore revenge- But the mate took her face in his big broad hands, "If the swab comes anear thee, my pretty dear, And these arms, so gentle with you, my love, And the sneaky Creole, he slunk away But his eye had a devilish glare as he went, * * * * * Slow an' sure sailed the Margaret Ann- The mate never thought of the lubber at all, One moonlight night, 'bout the end of May, On deck the two lovers sat; And she laughed till she cried, as his hair she pulled, At last both her teasing hands he caught, A leap! a gleam! with a quick, fierce blow! And the Creole's sharp knife his blood has drunk, On the deck he falls in death; And the curs'd blade 's sheathed in as manly a breast As ever did draw life's breath. Afore he could stir half a step from the spot I grappled his coward throat; An' if some o' the crew hadn't dragged me away, He was ironed and tumbled below like a dog; And his dear "little wife" was led gently away, It's strange, lads, whenever grim death comes aboard, At noon the bell tolled, the crew mustered on deck, The Creole scowled yet on the dead, and fierce hate He laughed as he glared on that low-stricken form, And-but wait till you hear the end! The captain just then caught a glimpse of the shark, And some thought come into his head, For his eye lit up with a terrible light, And his white brow flushed all red! And full on the Creole he turned his gaze It made me shiver to look; For I read an awful doom on his face, As plain as if writ in a book. "Bo'sun," said he, "bring a rope," and 'twas brought; The murderer laughed to see, And bared his neck, as if for to say: Hang quick! if so must be. But his laughing stopped, and his face grew wild, When they led him towards the dead; For he guessed his dreadful fate-he too Had seen that hammer-head! And he crawled on the deck to the captain's feet, With pitiful cry and groan; But he knelt in vain, for the captain's face |