But his sleep is bless'd with endless dreams of joy for ever fresh. I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings, And soothe him with a song that breathes of heaven's divinest things. I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I), Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. Whate'er befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain peace. It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss may sever, But, if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours for ever. When we think of what our darling is, and what we still must be ; When we muse on that world's perfect bliss, and this world's misery ; When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief and pain, Oh! we'd rather lose our other two than have him here again. Rev. J. Moultrie. THE STAGE-STRUCK HERO. A STAGE-STRUCK hero while at home "Woman, away!" aloud he cries, "I beg your pardon," she replies, He seized her hand, and that with speed- In tears, thou fool!" "Not I, indeed ! "But what's the meaning of all this?" "I'll tell thee." "Well, sir, well!" "But be thou plunged in hell's abyss If it thou e'er should'st tell!" Away she went, and in good truth "Here will I pitch my tent!" he cries, And on the sofa stretch'd; The servant-maid again appear'd, For she his breakfast fetch'd. "Give me another horse-bind up my wounds!" He, jumping up, did call ; The woman, startled at the sounds, Let all the tea-things fall! In came the man, who having said, "Buckram, sir, I am; "Off with his head!" he cries aloud"So much for Buckingham!" The man jump'd back, the woman scream'd, A bedlamite, our spouter seem'd, "I cannot sleep!" "And wherefore, pray?” But Buckram gave his bill, and so "Oh, no, I'd rather, sir, you'd pay !" "Reptile!" The exclamation shocks ; "I'll grapple with thee thus," he cried ; And soon the shears he won : The tailor was so terrified That he thought fit to run. A TEMPERANCE SONG. (By permission of the proprietors of Mr. Anderton's works.) I love the burning thirst to quench, Or lap the pure and snow-white juice I like good living; but not mine I welcome laughter, but my laugh I am no niggard, though I strive Is a nice thing when age comes on'; The ruling passion which pollutes Henry Anderton. MARC ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE BODY FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears : He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious? When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar hath wept : Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? And sure he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; You all did love him once, not without cause; And I must pause till it come back to me. * But yesterday the word of Cæsar might |