“I lub Brudder Beecher; I lub to hear him preach dis af'ernoon; he tole us a good many things. He's our good frien', and he sez, sez he, dat some folks goes up to glory noisy 'n shoutin', and some goes still like, 'z if they was ashamed ob what's in 'em, and he sez we better be more like de still kind, an' de white folks 'ill like us more, and den I thinks tain't much 'count no way, wedder we goes up still like, or shoutin', for heben is a mighty big place brudders, an' w'en we all goes marchin' up to see de Lord an' I's so full ob de lub, an' de joy, an' de glory, dat I mus' clap my han's an’ shout, de good Lord got some place whar we won't 'sturb nobody, an' we can shout 'Glory! b'ess de Lord ! I tell you, brudders an’ sisters, heben 's a mighty big place an' dar's room for Brudder Beecher an' us too. Dat's so! B’ess de Lord.

“Brudder Beecher sez dat tis'n de folks as makes de moy' noise as does de mos' work. He sez de ingines on de railroad only puff, puff, puff, reg'lar breavin like, when dey's at work haulin'de biggest loads, an’de bells an de whistles don't do no work, dey only make a noise. Guess dat's so. I don't know 'bout ingines much, an' I don't know wedder I's a puff, puff ingine, or wedder I's one dat blows de whistles an' rings de bells. I feel like bofe sometimes, an' I tell you what, w’en de fire is a burnin' an' I gits de steam up, don't dribe no cattle on de track, de ingine's a comin. Cl’ar de track.

“Au’de boys an' de gals, an' de clarks, an' de young lawyers, dey come up yar watch-nights an' dey peep in de win. dows, an’ stan' 'round de doors an’dey larf an' make fun, an Bruilder Beecher sez, 'Why don't we stop de noise now 'n den an'go out an' tell 'em 'bout it—'splain it to 'em. An I 'member w'at de Bible says, 'bout de outer darkness, an' de weepin'an'de wailin', an' de 'nashin' ob teeth. An'if dese boys an'gals stan' dar outside larfin', biemhy dey'll come to de weepin' an' de wailin,' dey know. An'den w’en we stan' 'roun' de great white temple ob de Lord, an' see de glory shinin' out, an’de harpers harpin', an' all de music, an’ de elders bowin', an' all shoutin' like many waters, an' de saints a singin-“Glory! Glory to de Lam,' 'spose God'll say, *Stop dat noise dar, Gabriel. You Gabriel, go out an’’splain.' Yes, I see dem stan' las' winter 'roun' de doors an' under de windows an' larf; an' dey peep in an'larf. An' I 'member wot I saw las' summer, 'mong de bees. Some ob de hives was nice an' clean an' still, like 'spectable meetin's, an' de oders was bustin' wid honey, an’de bees kep'a ccmin' an'a goin' in de clover, an' dey jes' kep' on a fillin' up de hive, till de honey was a flowin' like de lan' ob Canaan. An' I saw all 'roun' de hives was de ants, an' worms, an' de great drones, an' de black bugs, an' dey kep'on de outside. Dey wasn't bees. Dey couldn't make de honey for dareselves, Dey couldn't fly to de clover an' de honeysuckle. Dey jus' hang 'roun' de bustin' hive an' live on de drippins. An' de boys an’de gals come up yar an' hang 'roun'. Jes' come in an' we'll show you how de gospel bees do. Come in, an' we'll lead you to de clover. Come in, we'll make your wings grow. Come in, won't ye? Well den, poor things, let 'em stan' 'roun' de outside an' hab de drippins. We's got honey in dis hive.

“Part ob de hos' has crossed de flood,

An' part are crossin' now.”

THE VILLAGE SEWING-SOCIETY.

of

“Mis' Jones is late agin to-day :

I'd be ashamed now ef 'twas me.
Don't tell it, but I've heerd folks say

She only comes to git her tea.”
“Law me! she needn't want it here,

The deacon's folks ain't much on eatin':
They haven't made a pie this year!

course, 'twon't do to be repeatin';
“But old Mis' Jenkins says it's true

(You know she lives just 'cross the way,
And sees most everything they do).

She says she saw 'em t'other day—"
“Hush, here comes Hannah! How d’ye do?

Why, what a pretty dress you've got!”
(“Her old merino made up new :

I know it by that faded spot.”)
“ Jest look! there's Dr. Stebbins' wife”-

"A bran-new dress and hunnit !-well-
They say she leads him such a life!

But, there! I promised not to tell."

UBRH.

“What's that Mis' Brown? ‘AU friends,' of course;

And you can see with your own eyes, That that gray mare's the better horse,

Though gossipin' I do despise." “Poor Mary Allen's lost her beau”

“ It serves her right, conceited thing! She's flirted awfully, I know.

Say, have you heard she kept his ring?" “ Listen! the clock is striking six.

Thank goodness! then it's time for tea." “Now ain't that too much! Abby Mix

Has folded up her work! Just see!” “Why can't she wait until she's told?

Yes, thank you, deacon, here we come." (“I hope the biscuits won't be cold,

No coffee? Wish I was to hum !") “Do tell, Mis' Ellis! Did you make

This cheese ? the best I ever saw. Such jumbles too (no jelly cake):

I'm quite ashamed to take one more.” “Good-by: we've had a first-rate time,

And first-rate tea, I must declare. Mis' Ellis' things are always prime.

(Well, next week's meetin' won't be there!)"

PAPA CAN'T FIND ME.

No little step do I hear in the hall ;
Only a sweet little laugh, that is all.
No dimpled arins round my neck hold me tigh
I've but a glimpse of two eyes very bright,
Two little hands a wee face try to screen,
Baby is hiding, that's plain to be seen.
* Where is my precious I've missed so all day ?”
" Papa can't find me!” the pretty lips say.
“Dear me, I wonder where baby can be!”
Then I go by, and pretend not to see.
"Not in the parlor, and not on the stairs ?
Then I must peep under sofas and chairs."
The dear little rogue is now laughing outright,
Two little arins round my neck clasp me tight.
Home will indeed be sad, weary, and lone,
When papa can't find you, my darling, my own.

GOD SAVE OUR PRESIDENT.

Francis De Haes JANVIER.
All hail! unfurl the Stripes and Stars,

The Banner of the Free;
Ten times ten thousand patriots greet

The Shrine of Liberty!
Come, with one heart, one hope, one aim,-

An undivided band, -
To elevate, with solemn rites,

The Ruler of our land!
Not to invest a potentate

With robes of majesty;
Not to confer a kingly crown,

Nor bend a subject knee:
We bow beneath no sceptred sway,

Obey no royal nod;
Columbia's sons, erect and free,

Kneel only to their God!
Our ruler boasts no titled rank,

No ancient, princely line,
No regal right to sovereignty,

Ancestral and divine:-
A patriot at his country's call,

Responding to her voice,-
One of the people, he becomes

A sovereign by our choice!
And now, before the mighty pile

We've reared to Liberty,
He swears to cherish and defend

The charter of the Free!
God of our country! seal his oath

With Thy supreme assent.
God save the Union of the States,

God save our President!

WHAT IS A MINORITY?-John B. Gough.

What is a minority? The chosen heroes of this earth have been in a minority. There is not a social, political, or religious privilege that you enjoy to-day that was not bought for you by the blood and tears and patient sufferings of the minority. It is the minority that have vindicated humanity in every struggle. It is a minority that have stood in the van of every moral conflict, and achieved all that is noble in the history of the world. You will find that each generation has been always busy in gathering up the scattered ashes of the martyred heroes of the past, to deposit them in the golden urn of a nation's history. Look at Scotland, where they are erecting monuments--to whom?-to the Covenanters. Ah, they were in a minority. Read their history, if you can, without the blood tingling to the tips of your fingers. These were the minority, that, through blood, and tears, and bootings, and scourgings-dyeing the waters with their blood, and staining the heather with their gore-fought the glorious battle of religious freedom. Minority! if a man stand up for the right, though the right be on the scaffold, while the wrong sits in the seat of government; if he stand for the right, though he eat, with the right and truth, a wretched crust; if he walk with obloquy and scorn in the by-lanes and streets, while the falsehood and wrong ruffle it in silken attire, let him remember that wherever the right and truth are there are always

“Troops of beautiful, tall angels” gathered round him, and God himself stands within the dim future, and keeps watch over his own! If a man stands for the right and the truth, though every man's finger be pointed at him, though every woman's lip be curled at him in scorn, he stands in a majority; for God and good angels are with him, and greater are they that are for him than all they that be against him.

MAKIN' AN EDITOR OUTEN O' HIM.-WILL CARLETON,

Good mornin', sir, Mr. Printer; how is your body to-day?
I'm glad you're to home, for you fellers is al'ays a runnin'

away. Your paper last week wa’n’t so spicy nor sharp as the one

week before: But I s'pose when the campaign is opened, you'll be whoop

in' it up to 'em more. That feller that's printin' The Smasher is goin' for you perty

smart; And our fólks said this mornin' at breakfast, they thought

he was gettin' the start.