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tionnaire; and, derefore, I vill not say ver moch to de point Ven I vas a boy, about so moch tall, and used for to promenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, vid no feet to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have expose dat dis day vould to have arrive. I vas to begin de vorld as von garcon-or, vat you call in dis countrie, von vaitaire in a café-vere I vork ver hard, vid no habillemens at all to put onto myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old bleu blouse vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep myself fit to be showed at; but, tank goodness, tings dey have change ver moch for me since dat time and I have rose myself, seulement par mon industrie et perseverance. (Loud cheers.) Ah! mes amis! ven I hear to myself de flowing speech, de oration magnifique of you Lor Maire, Monsieur Gobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von étranger to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, as dat graud, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis; and who is also, I for to suppose, a halterman and de chief of you common scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire to no greatare honneur dan to be von common scoundrelman myself; but, hélas! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are not freeman of your great cité, not von liveryman servant of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must not forget de toast. Milors and Gentlemans! De immortal Shakispeare he have write, ‘De ting of beauty are de joy for nevermore.' It is de iadies who are de toast. Vat is more entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, de vinking eye of de beautiful lady! It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebriate, and, derefore, vid all homage to dere sex, de toast dat I have to propose is, De Ladies! God bless dem all!'”

And the little Frenchman sits down amid a perfect tempest of cheers.

A few more toasts are given, the list of subscriptions is read, a vote of thanks is passed to the noble chairman ; and the Fifteenth Annual Festival of the Society for the Distribution of Blankets and Top-Boots among the Natives of the Cannibal Islands is at an end.

THE PALACE O’ THE KING.-WILLIAM MITCHELL. It's a bonnie, bonnie warl' that we're livin' in the noo, An’sunny is the lan’ we aften traivel thro'; But in vain we look for something to which our hearts can

cling, For its beauty is as naething to the palace o' the King. We like ihe gilded simmer, wi' its merry, merry tread, An' we sigh when hoary winter lays its beauties wi' the dead; For though bonnie are the snawflakes, an' the down on win:

ter's wing, It's fine to ken it daurna' touch the palace o' the King. Then again, I've juist been thinkin' that when a'thing here's

sae bricht, The sun in a' its grandeur an' the mune wi' quiverin' licht, The ocean i' the simmer or the woodland i' the spring, What maun it be up yonder i’ the palace o' the King. It's here we hae oor trials, an' it's here that he prepares A' his chosen for the raiment which the ransomed sinner

wears, An' it's here that he wad hear us, 'mid oor tribulations sing, "We'll trust oor God wha reigneth i' the palace o' the King. Though his palace is up yonder, he has kingdoms here below, An' we are his ambassadors, wherever we may go; We've a message to deliver, an' we've lost anes hame to bring To be leal and loyal-heartit i’ the palace o' the King. Oh it's honor heaped on honor that his courtiers should be

ta'en Frae the wand'rin' anes he died for, i' this warl' o' sin an'

pain, An' it's fu'est love an' service that the Christian aye should

bring To the feet o’him wha reigneth i' the palace o' the King. An' let us trust him better than we've ever done afore, For the King will feed his servants frae bis ever bounteous

store. Let us keep a closer grip o' him, for time is on the wing, An' sune he'll come and tak' us to the palace o' the King. Its iv'ry halls are bonnie, upon which the rainbows shine, An' its Eden bow'rs are trellised wi' a never-fadin' vine. An' the pearly gates o' heaven do a glorious radiance filing On the starry floor that shimmers i' the palace o' the King.

Nae nicht shall be in heaven, an' nae desolatin' sea,
An' nae tyrant hoofs shall trample i' the city o' the free.
There's an everlastin' daylight, an' a never-fadin' spring,
Where the Lamb is a' the glory, i' the palace o' the King
We see oor frien's await us ower yonder at his gate:
Then let us a' be ready, for ye ken it's gettin' late.
Let oor lamps be brichtly burnin': let's raise oor voice an

sing, * Sune we'll meet, to pairt nae mair, i’ the palace o' the King."

THE GIFT OF TRITEMIUS.-J. G. WHITTIER.

Tritemius of Herbipolis one day,
While kneeling at the altar's foot to pray,
Alone with God, as was his pious choice,
Heard from beneath a miserable voice,-
A sound that seemed of all sad things to tell,
As of a lost soul crying out of hell.
Thereat the Abbot rose, the chain whereby
His thoughts went upward broken by that cry,
And, looking from the casement, saw below
A wretched woman, with gray hair aflow,
And withered hands, stretched up to him, who cried
For alms as one who might not be denied.
She cried : “For the dear love of Him who gave
His life for ours, my child from bondage save,
My beautiful, brave first-born, chained with slaves
In the Moor's galley, where the sun-smit waves
Lap the white walls of Tunis !"

“ What I can
I give," Tritemius said," my prayers.” “O man
Of God!" she cried, for grief had made her bold,
“ Mock me not so; I ask not prayers, but gold;
Words cannot serve me, alms alone suffice;
Even while I plead, perchance my first-born dies!"
“Woman!" Tritemius answered," from our door
None go unfed; hence are we always poor.
A single soldo is our only store.
Thou hast our prayers; what can we give thee more po
“Give me," she said, “the silver candlesticks
On either side of the great crucifix;
God well may spare them on His errands sped,
Or le can give you golden ones instead."
Then said Tritemius, “Even as thy word,
Woman, so be it; and our gracious Lord,

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 Saming glass of lager. He bade the boy go home, but said nothing about the matter till evening. After tea, Zende stated himself at the table, and placed before him a variety of queer things, wbereon 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?”

“0--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.

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“Vat! not likes dein peer!" said Zende. “Opens dein mont!" 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 sult petre.

"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, and ven I gives heem te peer he cries I kills heem! So, Pilly, heir is water; dere ist mooch water in peertrinks 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! V'y, 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

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