“put the critter up a tree.”  Feargus, being a Radical, should have kept to the root instead of venturing into the higher branches of political economy.  At all events the Doctor, as the Yankees say, “put the critter up a tree,” where we calculate he must have looked tarnation ugly.  The position was peculiarly ill-chosen—­for when a fire-and-faggot orator begins to speak trees-on, it is only natural that his hearers should all take their leaves!

* * * * *

AN UNDIVIDED MOIETY.

The Herald gives an account of two persons who were carried off suddenly at Lancaster by a paralytic attack each.  We should have been curious to know the result if, instead of an attack each, they had had one between them.

* * * * *

THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.

CHAPTER IX.

SHOWS THAT DOCTORS DIFFER.

[Illustration:  H]Having christened his child, Agamemnon felt it to be his bounden duty to have him vaccinated; but his wife’s mother, with a perversity strongly characteristic of the genus, strenuously opposed Dr. Jenner’s plan of repealing the small pox[1], and insisted upon having him inoculated.  Poor Mrs. Applebite was sorely perplexed between her habitual reverence for the opinions of her mama and the dread which she naturally felt of converting the face of the infant heir into a plum-pudding.  Agamemnon had evidently determined to be positive upon this point, and all that could be extracted from him was the one word—­vaccination!

    [1] Baylis.

To which Mrs. Waddledot replied,

“Vaccination, indeed!—­as though the child were a calf!  I’m sure and certain that the extreme dulness of young people of the present day is entirely owing to vaccination—­it imbues them with a very stupid portion of the animal economy.”

As Agamemnon could not understand her, he again ejaculated—­“Vaccination!”

“But, my dear,” rejoined Mrs. Applebite, “Mama has had so much experience that her opinion is worth listening to; I know that you give the preference to—­”

“Vaccination!” interrupted Collumpsion.

“And so do I; but we have heard of grown-up people—­who had always considered themselves secure—­taking the small pox, dear.”

“To be sure we have,” chimed in Mrs. Waddledot; “and it’s a very dreadful thing, after indulgent and tender parents have been at the expense of nursing, clothing, physicking, teaching music, dancing, Italian, French, geography, drawing, and the use of the globes, to a child, to have it carried off because a misguided fondness has insisted upon—­”

“Vaccination!” shouted pater Collumpsion.

“Exactly!” continued the “wife’s mother.”  “Now inoculate at once, say I, before the child’s short-coated.”