I kan sell for eighteen hundred and thirty-nine dollars, a pallas,
a sweet and pensive retirement, located on the virgin banks of the
Hudson, kontaining 85 acres. The land is luxuriously divided by
the hand of natur and art, into pastor and tillage, into plain and
deklivity, into stern abruptness and the dallianse ov moss-tufted
medder; streams of sparkling gladness (thick with trout) danse
through this wilderness of buty, tow the low musik of the kricket and
grasshopper. The evergreen sighs az the evening zephir flits through
its shadowy buzzum, and the aspen trembles like the love-smitten
hart of a damsell. Fruits of the tropicks, in golden buty, melt on
the bows, and the bees go heavy and sweet from the fields to their
garnering hives. The stables are worthy of the steeds of Nimrod or
the studs of Akilles, and its henery was bilt expressly for the birds
of paradice; while somber in the distance, like the cave of a hermit,
glimpses are caught ov the dog-house. Here poets have come and warbled
their laze, here sculpters have cut, here painters hav robbed the
scene of dreamy landskapes, and here the philosopher diskovered the
stun which made him the alkimist ov natur. As the young moon hangs
like a curting ov silver from the blue breast of the ski, an angel
may be seen each night dansing with golden tip-toes on the grass. (N.
B.--The angel goes with the place.)
To show what Josh’s Proverbs are like, I annex a few as a finale to
this sketch: