wore away, casting his eyes up to the sun, as he turned each furrow. He was humming to himself, keeping time with the monotonous music of the crickets, when a blast from the horn burst suddenly upon his ear. Quick as a flash, he made his appearance before Mrs. Tuttle, according to order.

'Well, Ephraim,' said the good woman, 'what now?'

Come to dinner,' responded the ploughman.

'Law! massy me!' said Mrs. Tuttle, lifting both hands in astonishment; it is only ten o'clock !'

The horn blew, any how,' was Ephraim's reply.

'Why no it did'nt !' said the dame; you are crazy!'

Ephraim yoked up,' and returned to his labor. În about an hour, he heard another blast from the dinner-horn. Away he went to the house.

There is no mistake this time, Mrs. Tuttle, I guess!' said Ephraim, grinning from ear to ear.

'Why what ails you? - are you possessed?' vociferated the astonished Mrs. Tuttle; dinner wont be ready this hour!'

What the devil did you blow the horn for, then?' exclaimed Ephraim, with great apparent rage.

I did n't no such thing!' retorted Mrs. Tuttle.

There it goes ag'in!' said Ephraim.

'Why that's our jack; 't aint the dinner-horn!' exclaimed Mrs. Tuttle.

A jack, eh? Well, d. -n me if I ever heard a jack afore!' It has never been satisfactorily decided whether Ephraim was playing a hoax or not. He kept the secret in his own bosom.

Ephraim engaged himself for six weeks with Deacon Browning. Mrs. Browning always had pudding-and-milk for supper. It so happened, that owing to a press of household duties, the good lady ventured upon pudding-and-milk for dinner a thing of rare occurrence. Ephraim sat down to the table, as usual, and ate heartily, apparently well satisfied. He rose from his seat, yawned and stretched three or four times, and then went to bed! The old lady at length called to him, asked him what he was doing up-stairs.'

6

'Gone to-bed!' said Ephraim; we always go to bed, after eating pudding-and-milk!'

Ephraim Pipkin was a native of New-England, as our readers must have discovered. Parson Dutton once had the honor of his services for a week. Now, the parson was a poor man. His parish was composed of poor men. He had ten acres of land, the base of which covered about one acre; the remainder, like Mahomet's coffin, hung between the heavens and the earth. The parson was in the possession of one horse and a yoke of cattle. Ephraim was requested to turn the whole stock out to pasture; but the hill was so steep, he thought if the animals ever reached the summit, they must inevitably dash out their brains in attempting a descent. He had a tender heart for man and beast; and to obviate any accident, he very prudently put breetching' on them, that they might 'hold back,' and let themselves down gently, and thus avert their otherwise certain destruction,

Now when the parishioners passed by, they could not but blush at the spectacle before them. That Parson Dutton should be compelled to hazard the life of his horse and cattle on the little spot given to him, was unchristian-like and ungrateful. There was a stir among the people; a subscription paper, a new land purchase, and more prosperous times. Ephraim had contrived it all, and to him alone was the credit due.

Ephraim Pipkin was an inquisitive man. While under the roof of the parson, it so happened that Miss Lucretia Dutton, his eldest daughter, received the devoted and undivided attention of the head clerk in the village store. Miss Dutton and Mr. Bruce were the very cream of society, and they had assimilated together from the natural force of circumstances. Mr. Bruce was as punctual a man in love as in business. He came early, and remained late. It was September, an inspiring season of the year, when our story has its date. Night after night the happy couple were to be seen at an open window, listening to the melancholy murmur of the crickets, and talking solemn things, spiced with love. Ephraim determined to be a participator in the conversation.

One night about twelve, when church-yards yawn,' Ephraim, who slept in a distant part of the house, rose, and without any apparel, save his robe of white, sans coat, vest, and pantaloons, moved down the stairs, and putting a ladder to the roof, ascended the house-top. Mounting a chimney, he very carefully commenced his descent. The chit-chat of Mr. Bruce and Miss Dutton waxed more and more distinct, as Ephraim moved downward. The fireboard had been removed, to make room for a couple of flower-pots, and there was no obstruction to a free transmission of sounds. experiment was a most desperate one. Ephraim was as black a night, when he reached his tarrying place. Through his sooty mask might be detected a few streaks of his natural color, rendering him still more hideous. His hair stood up 'like quills upon the fretful porcupine.' Braced up firmly, he established himself at the throat of the chimney, and lent his whole attention to the wooing below.

The

The lovers were in the depth of a most chilling ghost-story. They had been talking of death-warnings,' and 'second-sights,' until they shook with terror. Ephraim, finding the amusement dull, and being weary with over-exertion, began to wax drowsy; and losing himself in a short nap, his muscles relaxed, his feet gave way, and down he rushed into the room, carrying a cloud of soot with him, the very image of his Satanic Majesty himself. Mr. Bruce and Miss Dutton plunged out of the window, the former leaning' for home, and the latter fainting, fell on the grass senseless. Ephraim darted out at a side door, washed himself at a brook near by, returned to his room, reapparalled himself, and flung himself upon his bed. Miss Dutton revived, and went her way. It was current, for years, that the devil appeared to the lovers, and the parson was so superstitious, that he finally forbade the match.

No man was more feared than Ephraim Pipkin. His wit and waggery were an omnipotent weapon. Dr. FORBES, a gentleman. celebrated for his meanness and dishonesty, fleeced Ephraim out of a few dollars, by taking dishonorable advantage of him. Now it so

happened that one rainy, tempestuous night, in the spring of the year, when the roads were deep mire, that a gentleman rapped at the door of Doctor Forbes, requesting his immediate attendance on a friend of the doctor's, who was lying in a fit, five miles distant, declaring that the family would receive no other physician. Let the physician make all haste, or the patient dies before his arrival!' were the concluding words, as the messenger closed the door.

The physician arose, hurried on his clothes, mounted his horse, and dashed out amid the awful storm, urging his steed along at a most rapid rate. On arriving, he rapped at the door. All was silent within. He rapped again. No answer. What could be the reason? A third time he shook the door with tremendous fury.

'Who's there!' was the surly inquiry.

'Doctor Forbes.'

'What are you after, this terrible night?' asked the master of the house, as he opened the door full upon him.

I am sent for. How's this! Why, word was left at my house, ago, that you were lying in a fit!'

an hour

'Never was better in my life!' replied the farmer.

'Well, then, d―n that Ephraim Pipkin! He is the scoundrel who has deceived me!' The doctor mounted his horse like a madman, resolving vengeance and brimstone, on his fearful way home. As there was no proof that Ephraim was 'the man,' although no doubt existed that such was the fact, the whole thing passed off, and finally became one of the best traditionary stories of the village.

Not many months after the above affair, the doctor lost a favorite horse, after a short illness, for which his master had prescribed. He drew him off some distance from the village, and resigned him to the birds of the air. On the following morning the doctor arose, and throwing up his window, beheld his deceased steed, clad in harness, and standing before the door, attached to the gig which he had whirled along for so many years. 'Good God!' exclaimed the doctor, wild with astonishment; the dead is risen!' Away he flew to the street. It was the same- but alas! without life. Ephraim Pipkin!' was his only exclamation. The public understood it all. There was no evidence; but the joke was laughed at for weeks.

Reader, did you ever hear of the Universal Band?' In the village of Ephraim's nativity and residence, such a band flourished, and our hero was captain thereof. It was termed the Universal Band,' because it was open to all, without reference to musical or any other qualifications. This band numbered about an hundred. Their instruments were tin-pans, pot-lids, dinner-horns, cracked bells, drums, and fifes, and a thousand unique vehicles of noise; in brief, ' musical instruments, and that of all sorts.' Yes, Ephraim was captain. At midnight, beneath the bright moon, when all was still and solemn, the band marched through the streets, and serenaded the people. Windows flew up, and night-capped heads were thrust forth, to listen to the divine melody. Ephraim marched at the head, with a firm step, full of stateliness and dignity, striking two cymbalic pot-lids together, in perfect harmony, leading the union of sounds in his rear. and stoical, he suffered nothing to divert his attention. was onward.' Dogs, roused from their dreams, might

Impassive 'His march bark; cats

snarl; cows bellow; horses snort; yet the Universal Band moved on. It was enough that the whole people were up and listening. No one wished to sleep on such an occasion; and I venture to say, that if there is a man living who knew Ephraim Pipkin, he will first think of him as the Captain of the Universal Band.

Ephraim Pipkin was an old man when he died. His light went out gradually, waxing dimmer and dimmer each day, until the shadows of death settled around him. His head was full of wit, and his face full of humor, to the last. It was not in the power of fate to depress him. He was above her arrows. All the world was a stage' to him, and he played his part well, even to his last exit. Poverty might pinch, sickness assail, scandal deride; it was all the same to Ephraim. He was too much of a philosopher to care a straw for them. He kicked the whole catalogue of miseries from him, as he would a mad-dog. As a man thinketh, so is he,' was Ephraim's creed, drawn from the best of books.

Ephraim left no property for posterity to quarrel about. He had seen the folly of it. He had seen affectionate' and 'dutiful' children of deceased parents break open the will on the funeral-day, and fight like cats and dogs, during their natural lives, about dollars and cents! He had seen families split, brothers curse brothers, and sisters war with sisters; and all for money! He had seen the profligacy of the sons, through intemperance, and gambling, and every other vice. Although childless, the greedy world might contend for his smallest pittance; and Ephraim blessed his stars that he died poor.

Our philosopher was never tormented with imaginary troubles. He was not always trembling lest he should fall. He was not high enough for that. No person envied him; and what was better, he fully reciprocated the feeling. He was never charged with officiousness, pride, ostentation, or tyranny. He was beneath those tempests that at times sweep every village. A want of courtesy was no infirmity of his nature, for he made no courteous professions.

But enough. The world has many Ephraim Pipkins, who pass through it and die, without regret or remark. Common justice, howbeit, seemed to demand this tribute; and in closing it, I would say, in true tomb-stone phrase:

'SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF EPHRAIM PIPKIN."

THE CRAYON PAPERS.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE

KNICKERBOCKER.

SIR: In the following memoir, I have conformed to the facts furnished by the Arabian chroniclers, as cited by the learned Conde. The story of Abderahman has almost the charm of romance; but it derives a higher interest from the heroic yet gentle virtues which it illustrates, and from recording the fortunes of the founder of that splendid dynasty, which shed such a lustre upon Spain, during the domination of the Arabs. Abderahman may, in some respects, be compared to our own WASHINGTON. He achieved the independence of Moslem Spain, freeing it from subjection to the caliphs; he united its jarring parts under one government; he ruled over it with justice, clemency, and moderation; his whole course of conduct was distinguished by wonderful forbearance and magnanimity; and when he died, he left a legacy of good example and good counsel to his

successors.

G. C.

ABDERAHMAN:

FOUNDER OF THE DYNASTY OF THE OMMIADES IN SPAIN.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.

'BLESSED be God!' exclaims an Arabian historian; in His hands alone is the destiny of princes. He overthrows the mighty, and humbles the haughty to the dust; and he raises up the persecuted and afflicted from the very depths of despair!'

The illustrious house of Omeya had swayed the sceptre at Damascus for nearly a century, when a rebellion broke out, headed by Aboul Abbas Safah, who aspired to the throne of the caliphs, as being descended from Abbas, the uncle of the prophet. The rebellion was successful. Marvau, the last caliph of the house of Omeya, was defeated and slain. A general proscription of the Ommiades took place. Many of them fell in battle; many were treacherously slain, in places where they had taken refuge; above seventy, most noble and distinguished, were murdered at a banquet to which they had been invited, and their dead bodies covered with cloths, and made to serve as tables for the horrible festivity. Others were driven forth, forlorn and desolate wanderers in various parts of the earth, and pursued with relentless hatred; for it was the determination of the usurper that not one of the persecuted family should escape. Aboul Abbas took possession of three stately palaces, and delicious gardens, and founded the powerful dynasty of the Abbassides, which, for several centuries, maintained dominion in the east. 'Blessed be God!' again exclaims the Arabian historian: it was written in His eternal decrees that, notwithstanding the fury of the Abbassides, the noble stock of Omeya should not be destroyed. One fruitful branch remained, to flourish with glory and greatness in another land.'