Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice,
Pardon me if a human soul I prize

Above the gifts upon His altar piled!

Take what thou askest, and redeem thy child."
But his hand trembled as the holy alms
He laid within the beggar's eager palms;
And as she vanished down the linden shade,
He bowed his head and for forgiveness prayed.

So the day passed; and when the twilight came
He rose to find the chapel all a-flame,

And, dumb with grateful wonder, to behold
Upon the altar candlesticks of gold!

BILLY'S FIRST AND LAST DRINK OF LAGER.

"Poy Pilly" was the adopted son of Father Zende, an eccentric Teuton, who was much shocked one day at seeing the boy in a lager-beer saloon, taking off a foaming glass of lager. He bade the boy go home, but said nothing about the matter till evening. After tea, Zende seated himself at the table, and placed before him a variety of queer things, whereon Billy looked with curiosity.

"Kommen zie hier, Pilly!" cried Christian. "Vy vast du in te peer shops te tay, hein? Vy drinks peer, mein poy?” "O-0-because it's good," said Billy, boldly.

"No, Pilly, it vast not gute to dein mout. I did see neffer so pig vaces als didst make, Pilly. Pilly, you dinks it vill dast gute py-ant-py, and it ees like a man to trinks, an' so you trinks. Now, Pilly, eef it is gute, haf it; ef it ees likes ein man, trinks, Pilly. I vill not hinders you vrom vat ees gute ant manly, mein shilt; but trinks at home, dakes your trink pure, Pilly, and lets me pays vor it. Kom, mein poy! You likes peer. Vell, kom, open dein mout, heir I haf all te peer stuff simons pure vrom te schops, mein poy. Kom, opens dein mout, ant I vill puts it een."

Billy drew near, but kept his mouth close shut. Said Zende, Don you makes me madt, Pilly! Opens dein mout!"

Thus exhorted, Billy opened his mouth, and Christian put a small bit of alum in it. Billy drew up his face, but boys can stand alum. After a little, Christian cried, "Opens dein mout, peer ist not all alums!" And he dropped in a bit of aloes. This was worse. Billy winced. Again, "Opens dein mout!" The least morsel of red pepper, now, from a knife point; but Billy howled.

66

"Vat! not likes dein peer!" said Zende. "Opens dein mout!" Just touched now with a knife point dipped in oil of turpentine. Billy began to cry. Opens dein mout, dein peer is not hafs mate, yet, Pilly!" And Billy's tongue got the least dusting of lime, and potash, and saleratus. Billy now cried loudly. "Opens dein mout!" Unlucky Billy! This time about a grain of liquorice, hop pollen, and saltpetre.

"Looks, Pilly! Here ist some arsenic, and some strychnine; dese pelongs in te peer. Opens dein mout!"

"I can't, I can't!" roared Billy. "Arsenic and strychnine are to kill rats! I shall die!-0-0-0-do you want to kill me, father Zende!"

"Kills him; joost py ein leetle peer! all gute and pure! He dells me he likes peer, and eet ees manly to trinks eet, und ven I gives heem te peer he cries I kills heem! So, Pilly, heir is water; dere ist mooch water in peeririnks dat !"

Billy drank the water eagerly. Zende went on, "Ant, dere is mooch alcohol in peer. Heir! opens dein mout!" and he dropped four drops of raw spirit carefully on his tongue. Billy went dancing about the room, and then ran for more water.

"Kommen zie heir, dein peer ist not done, Pilly," shouted Christian; and seizing him, he put the cork of an ammonia bottle to his lips, then a drop of honey, a taste of sugar, a drop of molasses, a drop of gall; then, “Pilly! heir is more of dein peer! Heir ist jalap, copperas, sulphuric acid, acetic acid, and nux vomica: opens dein mout!"

"O no, no!" mourned Billy. "Let me go! I hate beer! I'll never drink any more! I'll never go in that shop again; I'll be a good boy-I'll sign the pledge. Oh, let me be! I can't eat those things! I'll die! My mouth tastes awful now. Oh, take 'em away, father Zende!”

“Dakes em avay! dakes avay dein goot peer!" cried the old man, innocently, "ven I hafs paid vor eet, ant mein Pilly can trinks eet pure at his home, likes ein shentilman! Vy, poy, dese ist te makins of peer, ant you no likes dem? All dese honey, ant sugar, ant vater, poy?"

But the other things," said Billy. "Oh, the other

things-they are the biggest part-ugh--they make me sick."

"Mein poy, you trinks dem fast to-day! Looks, Pillya man he trinks all dese pad dings mix up in vater, ant call peer. Ach! he gets redt in hees faces-he gets pig in hees poddy-he gets shaky in hees hands, he gets clumsy on hees toes, he gets veak in hees eyes, he gets pad in hees breat, he gets mean in hees manners. Vy? Pilly, you sees vy. All dese dings on mein dable ees vy!"

Happy Billy! Few boys get so good a temperance lecture, such home thrusts, such practical experiments as fall to your lot. Billy was satisfied on the beer question.

“He ees all goot now," said Zende. “I hafs no more droubles mit mein Pilly."

-A Strange Sea Story.

THE SPELLING BEE AT ANGELS.-BRET HARTE.

REPORTED BY TRUTHFUL JAMES.

Waltz in, waltz in, ye little kids, and gather round my knee, And drop them books and first pot-hooks, and hear a yarn

from me.

I kin not sling a fairy tale of Jinny's* fierce and wild,
For I hold it is unchristian to deceive a simple child;
But as from school yer driftin' by I thowt ye'd like to hear
Of a "Spellin' Bee" at Angels that we organized last year.

It warn't made up of gentle kids-of pretty kids-like you,
But gents ez hed their reg'lar growth, and some enough for

two.

There woz Lanky Jim of Sutter's Fork and Bilson of La

grange,

AndPistol Bob," who wore that day a knife by way of change.

You start, you little kids, you think these are not pretty

names,

But each had a man behind it, and-my name is Truthful James.

Thar was Poker Dick from Whisky Flat and Smith of Shooter's Bend,

And Brown of Calaveras-which I want no better friend.

*Genii.

Three-Fingered Jack-yes, pretty dears-three fingers you have five,

Clapp cut off two-it's sing'lar, too, that Clapp ain't now alive.

'Twas very wrong, indeed, my dears, and Clapp was much to blame;

Likewise was Jack, in after years, for shootin' of that same.

The nights was kinder lengthenin' out, the raius had jest begun,

When all the camp came up to Pete's to have their usual

fun;

But we all sot kinder sad-like around the bar-room stove, Till Smith got up, permiskiss-like, and this remark he hove: "Thar's a new game down in Frisco, that ez far ez I kin see, Beats euchre, poker and van-toon, they calls the 'Spellin' Bee.'"

Then Brown of Calaveras simply hitched his chair and spake:

"Poker is good enough for me," and Lanky Jim sez "Shake!" And Bob allowed he warn't proud, but he "must say right

thar

That the man who tackled euchre hed his education sqar." This brought up Lenny Fairchild, the school-master, who said,

He knew the game and he would give instructions on that head.

"For instance, take some simple word," sez he, "like 'separate,'

Now who can spell it?" Dog my skin, ef there was one in eight.

This set the boys all wild at once. The chairs was put in row, And at the head was Lanky Jim, and at the foot was Joe, And high upon the bar itself the school-master was raised, And the bar-keep put his glasses down, and sat and silent gazed.

The first word out was "parallel," and seven let it be,

Till Joe waltzed in his double "1" betwixt the "a" and "e"; For, since he drilled them Mexicans in San Jacinto's fight, There warn't no prouder man got up than Pistol Joe that night

Till "rhythm" came! He tried to smile, then said, "they had him there,"

And Lanky Jim, with one long stride, got up and took his chair.

O little kids! my pretty kids, 'twas touchin' to survey
These bearded men, with weppings on, like school-boys at

their play.

They'd laugh with glee, and shout to see each other lead the

van,

And Bob sat up as monitor with a cue for a rattan,

Till the chair gave out "incinerate," and Brown said he'd be durned

If any such blamed word as that in school was ever learned.

When "phthisis" came they all sprang up, and vowed the man who rung

Another blamed Greek word on them be taken out and hung. As they sat down again I saw in Bilson's eye a flash,

And Brown of Calaveras was a-twistin' his mustache,

And when at last Brown slipped on "gneiss" and Bilson took his chair,

He dropped some casual words about some folks who dyed their hair.

And then the Chair grew very white, and the Chair said he'd adjourn,

But Poker Dick remarked that he would wait and get his

turn;

Then with a tremblin' voice and hand, and with a wanderin'

eye,

The Chair next offered "eider-duck," and Dick began with "I," And Bilson smiled-then Bilson shrieked! Just how the fight begun

I never knowed, for Bilson dropped and Dick he moved

up one.

Then certain gents arose and said "they'd business down in camp,

And "ez the road was rather dark, and ez the night was damp, They'd here got up Three-fingered Jack and locked the door and yelled:

'No, not one mother's son goes out till that thar word is spelled!"

But while the words were on his lips, he groaned and sank

in pain,

And sank with Webster on his chest and Worcester on his

brain.

Below the bar dodged Poker Dick, and tried to look ez he
Was huntin' up authorities thet no one else could see;
And Brown got down behind the stove, allowin' he " was
cold,"

Till it upsot and down his legs the cinders freely rolled,
And several gents called "Order!" till in his simple way
Poor Smith began with "O" "R"-"or"-and he was dragged

away.

Olittle kids, my pretty kids, down on your knees and pray! You've got your eddication in a peaceful sort of way;