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opinion free as to details, it was self-evident that a czar who had been murdered was a usurper. Seriously considered, the case for Demetrius hardly amounts to more than that his enemies failed to prove his identity with Outrepief; the disappearance of Outrepief, we may admit, proves very little, because on the hypothesis of imposture, we should look for the original of the claimant, amongst persons of obscure birth and doubtful history, and such persons may have many motives for keeping out of sight. But the obscurity of his antecedents is a sufficient explanation of the difficulty, or as it may be, the impossibility of tracing them.

The undoubted personal merits of the first Demetrius have contributed to make historians reluctant to denounce him as a common impostor, and we have already pointed out one loophole for a charitable construction. Supposing him to have been entirely ignorant of his parentage, he could not be certain that he was not Marfa's son, and as a foundling always hopes to be of noble descent, it is just barely possible, that he was a willing dupe of a rumour which said that the Czarowitch Demetrius was of his age, was in his neighbourhood, was unknown to himself, and to everyone else; so many points of resemblance were surely enough to convince a man of what he wished. Margeret, who believed in him, concludes his discussion of the Jesuit theory, by arguing that if they had taken one boy by chance out of five hundred, and trained and tutored him for the part, they could have had no reasonable expectation that their pupil would be able at twenty to do all that Demetrius did. But this reasoning savours rather too much of divine right to seem conclusive now, for if the whole of his story had been true, nothing in his situation would have been changed, except his parentage, and descent from a peculiarly ferocious lunatic is a doubtful advantage. On the whole, we may say that Demetrius's success, so far as he did succeed, was owing to the faculty of the Russians for believing in flocks, while his fall was really the indirect consequence of his baseless claim, for if he had been heartily believed in by his new subjects, the conspiracy against him would have broken down; and, he would have been believed in, if there had been a knot of faithful followers, watching over him from childhood, and preserving the tradition of his identity unbroken.

H. LAWRENNY.

COLONEL SHARK.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "ST. ABE AND HIS SEVEN WIVES."

"A full-formed Horse will, in any market, bring from twenty to as high as two hundred friedrichs d'or: such is his worth to the world. A full-formed Man is not only worth nothing to the world, but the world could afford him a round sum would he simply engage to go and hang himself."-Sartor Resartus.

I was raised in the land where the sun don't set,

And the men aint crook-neck squashes;

I can see as fur as most I've met,

I

And know what almighty bosh is.
I rile when I see a snake,

guess

And I jedge a dog by his bark,

I'm putty consid'rable wide-awake :
So I do admire at my own mistake

In the matter of Cunnle Shark.

The Cunnle he was the pride of the place,
And his ways were most amazin';

The hair was singed from his cheeks and face
With etarnal powder-blazin';

His skin was cover'd with red tatoo

Like a tree with a streak'd-up bark;

He'd been ripp'd and riddled till all was blue,—
You'd star' a spell if you heard a few
Of the ways of Cunnle Shark.

One eye was glass, and the other real,

His cheeks were scarr'd and bony,
A bullet had blown away his heel,

So he limp'd on an iron pony.
For hands he'd only a thumb on his right,
And nothin' else to remark;

With his left, I guess, he used to fight,
And to see his style was a pleasant sight,
For a cur'ous man was Shark.

The Cunnle he had a hickory stick,

All notches you couldn't number,

For he took his knife and he made a nick
When he sent a man to slumber;

He notch'd it neat as an almanack,

Or a ledger kept by a clerk;

"Twas "Blood and thunder! stick slick! crick crack!”

And he wiped his tools, and he turned his back

To nick the slain, did Shark.

His style in the street was a sight to see,

And the way'd be cleared politely,

And he'd chaw and swagger and spit so free,
With his glass eye glaring brightly.

At the bar he'd stand and the paper read,

As ready to bite as bark,

And the folk would whisper, they would indeed, "Ah! there's a man who's no punkin seed!" The pride o' the place was Shark.

What hed he done? Why, he'd fought and bled, And was ready late and early;

He shot his own brother as dead as lead,

On a p'int of honour, fairly.

He'd never flinch, and he paid his way,

And he never drew in the dark;

He'd been known to sarse six men in a day,—
And sure as ever there rose a fray,

Why, in went Cunnle Shark.

Though the bullets were thick as hail, somehow He'd keep as fresh as a tulip,

Then out he'd come and wipe his brow,

And call for a sherry-julep.

His life by a sort of charm was kept,

And the smartest missed their mark ;
So when on the shady side he stept,
To the other side creation crept,

At the sight o' Cunnle Shark.

The Cunnle drank with his friends down here,
And let 'em pay for the liquor;

But his way with strangers was rayther queer,
Sharper, I guess, and quicker.

When a stranger enter'd, he'd rile a few,

And his brow would wrinkle dark : "Stranger," he'd say, "I'll liquor with you!" And if the poor cuss said, "I'm dern'd if you do," Why, in went Cunnle Shark.

There was a man!-Jest the sort o' grit
You don't raise out of Ameriky,

Honest and ready, lickity split,

For white man, nigger, or Cherokee ; And useful in bringin' of Cain to book When thieves were beginnin' to lark ; And the Sheriff of Grizzly, R. S. Rooke, Was the only party that dared to look In the eye of Cunnle Shark.

Whenever the Sheriff had work on hand,
And a dern'd deep case to tunnel,

He'd load his persuaders and dress up grand,
And send up town for the Cunnle;

Then off they'd slip, and the thieves pursue,
And hunt 'em light and dark,

And livin' or dead they'd nail the crew;
And drunk for a week they'd be, them two,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark,

Now, when two men are particklar great,
Of the same proud flesh and feather,
The same free airth, by a kind o' fate,
Won't hold them both together.

And it came about that these two fine cocks,
All flitter, flutter, and squark,
Began to fret in the same old box;
And each grew sarsier in his socks,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark.

Friends they had been, and wal content;
But the best o' weather grows windy,
And they saw the chaps wherever they went
Lookt out by rights for the shindy;
To funk because they were bosom friends,
Would be to miss the mark,

And so, for to serve the public ends,
To Cheriss's Store each party wends,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark.

Wal, how it riz, and which side began,
I know no more 'n a nigger,

But the Cunnle he clean ript up his man

Before he could touch a trigger;

And R. S. Rooke, for a partin' spell,

Made this yer dyin' remark,

"Cunnle, yur hand!" (then he flopp'd and fell): "Of all the game critters that's out o' hell

The gamest is Cunnle Shark!"

So Cunnle Shark was left alone

For our particklar glory,

And he stalk'd about, and the place was his own,

And was praised in song and story:

And when the Sheriff had run his race,

And been snuff'd like any spark,

It soon was settled in all the place
That the Sheriff's post, as an act of grace,
Should go to Cunnle Shark.

So we wash'd our faces and fix'd our clothes,

And got up a deputation,

And down to the end of the town we goes

For the Sheriff's consecration;

And cockin' under his Kansas hat
His old glass eye to mark,

With his legs in the air, as lean as a rat,
Squirting the juice around him, sat

The pride o' the people, Shark.

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66

Ongcore!" cries one, and the Cunnle set
His eye in the chap's direction.

"I was born in the sunny South, I bet !
And to sarse I've some objection;

My words is few, and my deeds is known—
I never kept 'em dark.

You want me to be your Sheriff? Done!"

And he rose and stretch'd his limbs in the sun : "Let's liquor!" says Cunnle Shark.

That very moment we hear a cry,
And in rush'd Abner Yoker
(Though Abner's small, he's fierce and spry,
And as hard as any poker).

His cheek were hollow and all aghast,
And he spoke with a gulp and a jark;
"Stop! stop!" he shrieks, all fierce and fast:
"I've found who stole my hosses at last―
Thet cuss of the airth, E. Shark!"

We stared and shiver'd, and gasp'd for breath,
And each was a panting funnel,

For we thought that Abner was in for death,
To talk so fierce to the Cunnle;

But the Cunnle he was pale a few,

And he seem'd all staring stark.

"He stole my hosses, and sold 'em too!" Pale and shivering through and through, "It's a Lie!" gasped Cunnle Shark.

He skew'd one eye, and he twitch'd his mouth,
And the glass eye glared and glisten'd:

"O yes! I was riz in the sunny South,

And Ephraim Shark I was christen'd!'

"What's this? The Cunnle a thief!" we cried

"Thet man-of honour the spark!

Couldn't be true! What-creation's pride!"

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