cupboard in the whole of that cottage, and that one-the sole hope of the widow, and the glorious loadstar of the poor dog-was bare! Had there been a leg of mutton, a loin of lamb, a fillet of veal, even an 'ice' from Gatti's, the case would have been different, the incident would have been otherwise. But it was bare, my brethren, bare as a bald head. whom Many of you will probably say, with all the pride of worldly sophistry," The widow, no doubt, went out and bought a dogbiscuit." Ah, no! Far removed from these earthly ideas, these mundane desires, poor Mother Hubbard, the widow, many thoughtless worldlings would despise, in that she owned only one cupboard, perceived—or I might even say saw at once the relentless logic of the situation, and yielded to it with all the heroism of that nature which had enabled her, without deviation, to reach the barren cupboard. She did not attempt, like the stiff-necked scoffers of this generation, to war against the inevitable; she did not try, like the so-called men of science, to explain what she did not understand. She said nothing. "The poor dog had And then at this point our information ceases. none !" But do we not know sufficient? Are we not cognizant of enough? Who would dare to pierce the veil that shrouds the ulterior fate of Old Mother Hubbard, the poor dog, the cup board, or the bone that was not there? Must we imagine her still standing at the open cupboard-door; depict to our selves the dog still dropping his disappointed tail upon the floor, the sought-for bone still remaining somewhere else? Ah ! no, my dear brethren, we are not so permitted to attempt to read the future. Suffice it for us to glean from this beautiful story its many lessons; suffice it for us to apply the m, to study them as far as in us lies, and bearing in mind the natural frailty of our nature, to avoid being widows; to shun the patronymic of Hubbard; to have, if our means afford it, more than one cupboard in the house; and to keep stores in them all. And, oh! dear friends, keeping in recollection what we have learned this day, let us avoid keeping dogs that are fond of bones. But, brethren, if we do, if Fate has ordained that we should do any of these things, let us then go as Mother Hubbard did, straight, without curvet. ing or prancing, to our cupboard, empty though it be-let us like her, accept the inevitable with calm steadfastness; and should we, like her, ever be left with a hungry dog and an empty cupboard, may future chroniclers be able to write also of us in the beautiful words of our text-" And so the poor dog had none." MARC ANTONY'S ORIGINAL ORATION. Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears;— To bury Cæsar,-because the times are hard, And his folks can't afford to hire an undertaker. In the shape of progeny, who reap the So let it be with the deceased. Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious. What does Brutus know about it? It is none of his funeral. Would that it were! Make a speech at Cæsar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me,- Brutus should wipe off his chin. Cæsar hath brought many captives home to Rome,- When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar hath wept-- Made him solid with the masses. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff; Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. Brutus is a liar, and I can prove it. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse, because it did not fit him quite. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. Brutus is not only the biggest liar in the country, But he is a horse thief of the deepest dye. If you have any tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this ulster. I remember the first time Cæsar put it on; It was on a summer's evening, in his tent, With the thermometer registering 90 in the shade. And cost him $7 at Marcaius Swartzmeyer's Corner of Broad and Ferry streets, sign of the red flag. But finally came down to $7, because it was Cæsar! Brutus has a monopoly on all that business. In the penitentiary, and don't you forget it. Kind fri ends, sweet friends, I do not wish to stir you up To such a flood of mutiny. And as it looks like rain, The pall bearers will please place the coffin in the hearse, BEN ISAAC'S VISION.-ANNIE M. LAWRENCE. Ben Isaac walked in solitude one day, Vain were his sacrifices, and the prayers he said While wrapped around him folds of sackcloth lay. The weight seemed heavier than his heart could bear, To Thrice had the glorious sun, in golden rays, Smiled out o'er earth and called to loving praise. It shone as mockery on Ben Isaac's grief, While day and night he vainly sought relief. At last, the angel sleep his weary frame Touched with her wand, and suddenly there came Ben Isaac gazed, until, with voice that fell "Your prayers are heard, your fastings seen," she said, 66 And by whose love your blessings all are given, "Faith to prove true must lead to loving deeds, From grief, and find life's roughness round to peace, Go view your Saviour in each suffering soul, And mend your own crushed joys by making others whole" Ben Isaac woke. In lingering music crept .The words his heart had garnered while he slept. THE LITTLE CUP-BEARER. The little cup-bearer entered the room, Kneeling beside his master's feet, He raised the goblet, " Drink, my liege, The offering that I bring." "Nay, nay," the good king smiling said, But first a faithful sign That thou bringest me no poison draught: Taste thou, my page, the wine." Then gently, firmly, spoke the lad, Though at thy lightest wish my feet "Rise up, my little cup-bearer," "Rise up and tell me straightway, why The young page rose up slowly, With sudden paling cheek, "I vowed to my dear mother That for her sake I would not taste "Away with this young upstart!" HAY-FEVER. A song of the man who sneezes, His habits are peripatetic, And nothing his ardor can damp; For from early hay-cutting in harvest, His eyelids are heavy and drooping, |