FRENCHMAN'S DINNER.-Anon.

A Monsieur from the Gallic shore,

Who, though not over rich, wished to appear so; Came over in a ship with friends a score

Poor emigrants, whose wealth, good lack!

Dwelt only on their.ragged backs,

Who thought him rich, they'd heard him oft declare so, For he was proud as Satan's self,

And often bragged about his pelf,

And as a proof-the least

That he could give-he promised when on land, At the first inn, in style so grand,

To give a feast!

The Frenchmen jumped at such an offer
Monsieur did not forget his proffer;
But at the first hotel on shore,

They stopped to lodge and board,
The Frenchman ordered in his way,
A dinner to be done that day,

But here occurred a grievous bore;
Monsieur of English knew but little,
Of French, the host knew not a tittle;
In ordering dinner, therefore, 'tis no wonder,
That they both should make a blunder.

For, all that from the order he could trace,

Was "Monsieur Bull, you lette me have, I say, Vich for vid money, I sall you pay:

Fifteen of those vid vich de sheep do run!" From which old Tapps could only understand, What Monsieur desired with air so grand, Was, fifteen legs of mutton !

They seemed a set of hungry curs,

And so without more bother or demurs,

Tapps to his cook his orders soon expressed,

And fifteen legs of mutton soon were dressed;

And now around the table all elate,

The Frenchman's friends the dinner doth await;
Joy sparkled in each hungry urchin's eyes,
When they beheld, with glad surprise,
Tapps quick appear with leg of mutton hot,
Smoking and just ejected from the pot!
Laughed, stared, and chuckled more and more,
When two they saw, then three, then four!
And then a fifth their eager glances blessed,
And then a sixth larger than all the rest!

make

"Mon Dieu! Monsieur, vy for you
Dis vera great blundare and mistake?

Vy for you bring to me so several mouton legs ?"
Tapps, with a bow, his pardon begs-
"I've done as you have ordered, sir," said he,
"Did you not order fifteen legs of me?
Six of which before your eyes appears,
And nine besides are nearly done down-stairs!
Here, John!"

"Sacre! You Jean! you fool! you ass!
You one great clown to bring me to dis pass;
Take vay dis meat for vich I shall no pay,
I did no order dat !"

"What's that you say?”

Tapps answered with a frown and with a stare,
You ordered fifteen legs of me, I'll swear,

Or fifteen things with which the sheep do run,
Which means the same; I'm not so easy done!"
"Par bleu! Monsieur! vy you no comprehend?
You may take back de legs unto de pot;

I tell you, sare, 'tis not de legs I vant

But dese here littel tings vid which de sheep do trot !" "Why hang it !" cried the landlord in a rage, Which Monsieur vainly tried to assuage,

"Hang it !" said he, as to the door he totters:
"Now after all the trouble that I took,
These legs of mutton, both to buy and cook,
It seems, instead of fifteen legs,

You merely wanted fifteen poor sheep's trotters!"
"Oui, Monsieur 5 the Frenchman quickly said:
At which John seemed very much dismayed,
And to the kitchen, he with horror totters,
To blow up cook about the fifteen trotters.

UNION AND LIBERTY.-O. W. Holmes.

FLAG of the heroes who left us their glory,

Borne through their battle-fields' thunder and flame, Blazoned in song and illumined in story,

Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame!

Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,

Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
While through the sounding sky

Loud rings the Nation's cry—

UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!

Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation,
Pride of her children, and honored afar,
Let the wide beams of thy full constellation
Scatter each cloud that would darken a star!

Empire unsceptred! what foe shall assail thee,
Bearing the standard of Liberty's van?
Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee,
Striving with men for the birthright of man!

Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted,

Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw, Then with the arms to thy millions united,

Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law!

Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,

Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun!
Thou hast united us, who shall divide us?
Keep us, O keep us the MANY IN ONE!
Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,

Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore,
While through the sounding sky

Loud rings the Nation's cry-
UNION AND LIBERTY! ONE EVERMORE!

NO SECTS IN HEAVEN.

TALKING of sects till late one eve,
Of the various doctrines the saints believe,
That night I stood, in a troubled dream,
By the side of a darkly flowing stream.

And a "Churchman" down to the river came;
When I heard a strange voice call his name,
"Good father, stop; when you cross this tide,
You must leave your robes on the other side."

But the aged father did not mind;
And his long gown floated out behind,
As down to the stream his way he took,
His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book.

"I'm bound for heaven; and when I'm there,
Shall want my Book of Common Prayer;
And, though I put on a starry crown,
I should feel quite lost without my gown."

Ther. he fixed his eyes on the shining track,
But his gown was heavy and held him back,
And the poor old father tried in vain,

A single step in the flood to gain.

I saw him again on the other side,

But his silk gown floated on the tide;
And no one asked, in that blissful spot,
Whether he belonged to the "Church" or not.

Then down to the river a Quaker strayed;
His dress of a sober hue was made:
"My coat and hat must all be gray-

I cannot go any other way."

Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin, And staidly, solemnly, waded in,

And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight,
Over his forehead so cold and white.

But a strong wind carried away his hat;
A moment he silently sighed over that;
And then, as he gazed to the further shore,
The coat slipped off, and was seen no more.

As he entered heaven his suit of gray
Went quietly, sailing, away, away;
And none of the angels questioned him
About the width of his beaver's brim.

Next came Dr. Watts, with a bundle of psalms
Tied nicely up in his aged arms,

And hymns as many, a very wise thing,

That the people in heaven, "all round," might sing

But I thought that he heaved an anxious sigh,
And he saw that the river ran broad and high,
And looked rather surprised, as one by one
The psalms and hymns in the wave went down.

And after him, with his MSS.,

Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness;
But he cried, "Dear me! what shall I do?

The water has soaked them through and through."

And there on the river far and wide,
Away they went down the swollen tide;
And the saint, astonished, passed through alone,
Without his manuscripts, up to the throne.

Then, gravely walking, two saints by name
Down to the stream together came;
But, as they stopped at the river's brink,
I saw one saint from the other shrink.

"Sprinkled or plunged? may I ask you, friend,
How you attained to life's great end ?"
"Thus, with a few drops on my brow."
"But I have been dipped, as you'll see me now,

"And I really think it will hardly do,

As I'm close communion,' to cross with you;
You're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss,
But you must go that way, and I'll go this."

Then straightway plunging with all his might,
Away to the left-his friend to the right,
Apart they went from this world of sin,
But at last together they entered in.

And now, when the river was rolling on,
A Presbyterian Church went down;

Of women there seemed an innumerable throng,
But the men I could count as they passed along.

And concerning the road, they could never agree
The old or the new way, which it could be,
Nor ever a moment paused to think
That both would lead to the river's brink.

And a sound of murmuring, long and loud,
Came ever up from the moving crowd;
"You're in the old way, and I'm in the new;
That is the false, and this is the true "

Or, "I'm in the old way, and you're in the new;
That is the false, and this is the true."

But the brethren only seemed to speak:
Modest the sisters walked and meek,
And if ever one of them chanced to say
What troubles she met with on the way,
How she longed to pass to the other side,
Nor feared to cross over the swelling tide,