THE BRITISH AMERICAN.

85

on so: auuxnn’s conn'rslur.

There was a body met a body

la a bag of beans, Can a body tell a body

What a body means ?—Old Song. Ever body in the County ofEssex has heard unker, and the quips and cranks by im enacted. Intruth he was a famous fellow 'n his day. so noted for his bushwacking rusti- ity ofbreeding that his name has passed into a proverb and made him immortal. Joe Bunk- er’s character is now regarded by all the old cranes and gossips in the North East corner of Massachusetts in the bean ideal of a genuine unsophisticated Yankee clad-hopper.

Ilis fame for ten miles round the country ran And all the old ladies called him a queer man.

He was the first mortal in these parts that e- ver picked his teeth with a wooden shoe. Va- rious other fashions introduced by him are in the remembrance of many, but it is not our purpose now to specify them. The story of his courtship and the ag of beans is not so common, it runs thus.

I: was sometime in the month of April or May, or at any rate, just at the timeof the plant- ing of beans, ofall the days in the year of a Sunday, that Joe being at meeting, spied Colo- nel Shute’s daughter Hannah. It was in prayer time ; (they make terrible long prayers in that

art of the country) and, Joe was hanging over the pew door in about the shape of a figure 5, tired to death and wriggling himself about in as awkward and slouching a fashion as can be Well imagind. Joe looked at Han- nah, a’nd Hannah looked at Joe, It is pretty certain that the little hedgehog Cupid shot off a pair of his quills at the same instant, for Hannah was struck with a very queer sensa- tibn, and as for Joe, he felt something which he could not describe except by saying it was a kind‘of an alloverness like.

This is all we happen to know of the first item in this chapter of accidents. The next morn- ing Joe lay in bed so long that his father he- gan to grumble, and presently his mother came up stairs. .

~‘ Come Joe,”sa1d she. “ get up and go plant- ing your beans.”

“ I cant,” said Joe, “ l’m sick.”

“ Sick. What’s the matter with you 3‘ What ails ou?”

“ {don’t know what ails me; I dont want to tell."

“ Don’t want to tell! fiddlestick! know what it is.”

Joe hid his face under the blanket for some time, and at last blubbered out, “ I want to go and see the Colonel’s Hannah.” Down goes the oldsmman and reports proceedings to her hus— band. “ What.” says old Bunker, “ he go to see theC nel’s Hannah! tell him to come instantly and}; not his beans.” The old woman runs back and tells this to Joe.

But Joe was hard to work upon. He was granite; he was adamant, there was no softening him, no moving him. You might as easily have shouldered Oldtown Hill, from its foundation as have made him start a peg. “ I won’t go to planting beans; I will go and see the Colonel’s Hannah.” This was all she could get out of him, and so she paddled off again to her husband.

“ Really, Mr. Bunker, there’s no getting Joe to mind; he says he won’t go to (planting beans nor touch to; and he will go an see the Colo- nel’s Hannah. Now do let the poor boy have his way for once; remember you was once a young man yoarself.” This Was bringing the

let us

matter home, and old Bunker though he was no logician, nor imagined how the thing could be proved in Barals'pton or Ferilo,yet he thought the reasoning so pat to the purpose that be fairly yielded. Well, well, let him take Dob- bin and go, but not stay long.”

“ But,” said Joe on hearing this, “ I won’t go without I go grand, and I won’t have Dobbin.” Ofi'goes the old woman once more with this in. telligence. “ Well then,” said old Bunker, “he may go grand, “ and let him take old Bob.”

“But! won’t ride u on old Bob.” said Joe, “ I’ll have Posset.” “ hen take Posset, says his father, “ and make haste back.”

Hereupon Joe began to hustle about with all speed and bedizen himself out in his Sunday’s best. He was a strapping, honey, long-sided- fellow. It Would do yon good to see him dressed in the fashion of that day, astride of his

nag.

Joe hadjust bestowed a hearty kick upon the ribs of his Rozinanti at setting out for the Colonel’s. when old Bunker bawled out after him, “ Halloo, Joe ! stop there, come back again. You are going by Pearson’s mill, and you shall take a cOUple of bags of corn to be ground, while you go the Colonel’s; and bring it back with you when you come away, so you can kill two dogs with one stone."—Joe was in. clined to demur to this plan of mixing business, but hating to waste time in arguing with his fa. ther, he assented, and shambling od‘to the barn brought out his two bags and bestowed them snug y en croupe. Thus fairly accoutred he trotted off to the mill.

“ Pearson, can e rind m rist while I o to Colonel Shute’z.”g y g g “ Yes, Joe, but what are ye going a courting for, so early ?”

“ 0h, who the dickens told you ?”

“ Never mind, Joe, pluck up coura e: faint heart never won fair lady.” Than ye for nothing,” said Joe. “ 1 shall be back in an hour. Don’t let your horse eat out of the hopper.” So ofl'he started for the Colonel’s

Joe bolted in at the Colonel’s door without knocking. (Indeed it is affirmed he never was known to be guilty of making such a superflu- ous noise in all his life.) “ Ah Mrs- Shute, the top of the morning to ye; where’s Hannah?

Ah Joe Bunker! is that you? where’s Han- nah? why she’s up stairs a spinning. At this Joe stumped ofl‘up stairs without any further idle palavar.

Hannah’s wheel was humming right merrily when Joe entered. She blushed like a blue cat upon seeing him.—“ How d’ye do Hannah,” said Joe, and shambling up toward the window he slouched himself into a marvellously un- comfortable skewing position on the corner of a chair. .

Well! now was Joe fairly seated alongside of his Dulcinea; but how to begin conversa- tion; ah there was the difficulty. What was he to say ? Indeed he never thought of that. However he looked out of the window and saw a flock of shee ; there is nothing like taking a hint from the first thing that offers,—

“ Are these your father’s sheep, Hannah?

“ Yes,.loe.”

Joe gave a hem and tried to think of some- thing else to say about the sheep, such as how much wool they gave, and whether they were of the Byefield breed; but he could not make it fadge. Presently he espied some cows—-

“ Are these your cows?”

“ Yes.”

“ How many have you got?”

“ Twent '.”

“ Twenty! that’s a tarnation lot of ’em

Here was another pause in the conver- sation, and Joe felt more awkwardly than ever.

As for Hannah she kept her wheel going, so she did not fee altogether quite so sheepish. Joe looked Out ofthe window again. but could see nothing to talk of. He looked round the room and up to the ceiling. but there was nought ex- cept a seed cucumber, three red peppers, and a crooknecked squash. They would not suit. He drummed with his fingers upon the table, and began unconsiously to whistle the stave of “The Tongs and The Bones ;” this uavered away into Yankee Doodle, and finally e found himself humming a mixture of the old Hun- dred and little Malborough:

At last he was struck with an idea, and out it came—

“ Did you ever see a crow ?” “ Yes.” “ How black they are ! a’nt they ?

“ Yes ”

Another pause. Joe began to wipe his fore, head with his coat sleeve. Presently the ap- parition of another idea dawned upon him.

“ Did you ever see an owl?”

“ Yes.” it What great eyes they’ve got! ha’nt they?" “ Yes.”

6‘

t‘ Y

“ Next timel come, I’ll bring a great gob.”

Joe fairly madea hit in this remark. for he touched upon a sweet subject and it completely broke the ice. Remembering the advice of the miller, he plucked up courage and stood bolt upright; then making a sidelong blunder. ing sort of a hitch a little nearer, ‘- Hannah,” says he “ Iloves you.” Hannah let go her wheel from pure awkwardness, and Joe grow. ing still bolder, made a sudden grapple with both paws and bestowed upon her a smacking buz that made the very windows rattle. How long it lasted never was known, but Hannah’s mother not hearing the wheel buzzing, bawled out below, “ Hannah! what are you doing up there with Joe Bunker?” gave them a rouse like an electric shock. Joe clawed off in a terrible fright. thinking it was time to cut and run. “Hannah,” says he, “1 must clear out; but I’ll come again next Sun. day night. So saying he made the best of his way off, hardly looking behind him.

“ Well Pearson, have you ground my corn ?" —“ Yes. Joe, and your beans too.—“ Beans! what d’ye mean ?”—“ What do! mean! why was not one a bag of corn and t’other a bag of beans ?”—“ No it wan’t.”—Yes it was though." —“ Bugs and tarnation! was it? then I’m ruined I’ve made a mistake and took the wron bag. 1 snaggers! Father’ll kill me; ’twas a l the beans we'd got for seed! What the dickens shall 1 do? Oh murder and white-oak cheese !"

In a terrible peek of troubles, Joe got upon Posset with his bags, now thinking of Han- nah and now of his unfortunate grist. Half way home he met his father upon old Bob: he was belabouring his sides with might and main, hoping to get to the mill in time to save his beans, for he had discovered Joe's blunder on going out to plant. " Oh Joe, Joe, you chow- derhead, you blundermg numskull! you’ve carried the beans to the mill! and I’ve come on acanter to save them from being ground." “ It’s too late father, for the are all ground to smash!"

How the old man stormed and vowed Joe should pay for them and how Joe attempted to clear himself by tellin lies about the finding the bags in the wrong p ace, we have not time to state. The old man laid an embargo on Joe‘s courting eXpeditions, and spoke to the Colo- nel about keeping Hannah snug at home, but Joe stole a march upon the old ones, and struck

0 you love maple sugar,Hannah P” es."

This interruption:

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