The truth is, sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, sir!) even of my dog. But he sticks by, through thick and thin; and this old coat, with its empty pockets, and rags that smell of tobacco and gin, he'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.

There isn't another creature living would do it, and prove, through every disaster, so fond, so faithful, and so forgiving, to such a miserable thankless master! No, sir!-see him wag his tail and grin! By George! it makes my old eyes water! that is, there's something in this gin that chokes a fellow. But

no matter!

We'll have some music, if you're willing; and Roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, sir!) shall march a little. Start, you villain! Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute your officer! Put up that paw! Dress! Take your rifle! (Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your cap while the gentlemen give a trifle, to aid a poor, old, patriot soldier! March! Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes, when he stands up to hear his sentence. Now tell us how many drams it takes to honour a jolly new acquaintance. Five yelps, that's five; he's mighty knowing! The night's before us, fill the glasses!Quick, sir! I'm ill,-my brain is going!-Some brandy, thank you,-there!-it passes! "Why not reform?" That's easily said; but I've gone through such wretched treatment, sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, and scarce remembering what meat meant, that now, alas! I'm past reform; and there are times when, mad with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something warm, to prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think? At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, a dear girl's love, but I took to drink :-the same old story; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features, you needn't laugh, sir; they were not then such a burning libel on God's creatures: I was one of your handsome men! If you had seen HER, so fair and young, whose head was happy on this breast! If you could have heard the song I sung when the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed that ever I, sir,

should be straying from door to door, with fiddle and dog, ragged and penniless, and playing to you to-night for a glass of grog! She's married since,-a parson's wife: 'twas better for her that we should part,better the soberest, prosiest life than a blasted home and a broken heart. Have I seen her? Once I was weak and spent, on a dusty road: a carriage stopped: but she little dreamed, as on she went, who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped!

You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry!-it makes me wild to think of the change! What do you care for a beggar's story? Is it amusing? you find it strange? I had a mother so proud of me! 'Twas well she died before -do you know if the happy spirits in heaven can see the ruin and wretchedness here below? Another glass, and strong! to deaden this pain; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden, aching thing in place of a heart! He is sad sometimes, and would weep if he could; no doubt, remembering things that werevirtuous kennel, with plenty of food, and himself a sober respectable cur I'm better now; that glass was warming,-You rascal! limber your lazy feet! we must be fiddling and performing for supper and bed, or starve in the street. Not a very gay life to lead, you think? But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, and the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink ;-the sooner, the better for Roger and me!

THE ENCHANTED SHIRT.

BY COL. JOHN HAY.

THE King was sick. His cheek was red,
And his eye was clear and bright;
He ate and drank with a kingly zest,
And peacefully snored at night.

But he said he was sick, and a king should know,
And doctors came by the score,

They did not cure him. He cut off their heads,
And sent to the schools for more.

At last two famous doctors came,
And one was as poor as a rat,-
He had passed his life in a studious toil,
And never found time to grow fat.

The other had never looked in a book;
His patients gave him no trouble:
If they recovered they paid him well;
If they died, their heirs paid double.

Together they locked at the royal tongue,
As the King on his couch reclined;

In succession they thumped his august chest,
But no trace of disease could find.

The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." Hang him up," roared the King in a gale—

66

In a ten-knot gale of royal rage;

The other leech grew a shade pale;

But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose,
And thus his prescription ran-

The King will be well, if he sleeps one night
In the Shirt of a Happy Man.

Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode,

And fast their horses ran,

And many they saw, and to many they spoke,
But they found no Happy Man.

They saw two men by the roadside sit,
And both bemoaned their lot:

For one had buried his wife, he said,
And the other one had not.

At last they came to a village gate,
A beggar lay whistling there!

He whistled, and sang, and laughed, and rolled
On the grass in the soft June air.

The weary courtiers paused and looked
At the scamp so blithe and gay;

And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend!
You seem to be happy to-day."

"O yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed,
And his voice rang free and glad;
“An idle man has so much to do

That he never has time to be sad."

"This is our man," the courier said;
"Our luck has led us aright.

I will give you a hundred ducats, friend,
For the loan of your shirt to-night."

The merry blackguard lay back on the grass,
And laughed till his face was black;

"I would do it," said he, and he roared with the fun, "But I haven't a shirt to my back."

Each day to the King the reports came in
Of his unsuccessful spies,

And the sad panorama of human woes
Passed daily under his eyes.

And he grew ashamed of his useless life,
And his maladies hatched in gloom;
He opened his windows and let the air
Of the free heaven into his room.

And out he went in the world, and toiled
In his own appointed way;

And the people blessed him, the land was glad,
And the King was well and gay.

INTEMPERANCE-AN ORATION.

BY ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.

I AM aware there is a prejudice against any man engaged in the manufacture of alcohol. I believe from

the time it issues from the coiled and poisonous worm in the distillery until it empties into the hell of death, that it is demoralizing to everybody that touches it, from the source, to where it ends. I do not believe that anybody can contemplate the subject without being prejudiced against the crime. All they have to do is to think of the wrecks on either side of the stream of death, of the suicides, of the insanity, of the poverty, of the destruction, of the little children tugging at the breast of weeping and despairing wives asking for bread, of the man struggling with imaginary serpents produced by this devilish thing; and when you think of the jails, of the almshouses, of the asylums, of the prisons, and of the scaffolds, on either bank, I do not wonder that every thoughtful man is prejudiced against the vile stuff called alcohol.

Intemperance cuts down youth in its vigour, manhood in its strength, and age in its weakness. It breaks the father's heart, bereaves the doting mother, extinguishes natural affection, erases conjugal love, blots out filial attachment, blights parental hopes, and brings down mourning age in sorrow to the grave. It produces weakness, not strength; sickness, not health; death, not life. It makes wives widows, children orphans, fathers fiends, and all of them paupers and beggars. It feeds rheumatism, nurses gout, welcomes epidemics, invites cholera, imports pestilence, and embraces consumption. It covers the land with idleness, poverty, disease, and crime. It fills your jails, supplies your almshouses, and demands your asylums. It engenders controversies, fosters quarrels, and cherishes riots. It crowds your penitentiaries, and furnishes the victims for your scaffolds. It is the life-blood of the gambler, the aliment of the counterfeiter, the prop of the highwayman, and the support of the midnight incendiary. It countenances the liar, respects the thief, and esteems the blasphemer. It violates obligation, reverences fraud, and honours infamy. It defames benevolence, hates love, scorns virtue, and slanders innocence. It incites the father to butcher his helpless offspring, helps the husband to massacre his wife, and aids the