8

4. And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw
Their shadows at noon on the ruins below;
But where are the sisters who hastened to greet
The lowly Redeemer, and sit at his feet?

I tread where the TWELVE in their wayfaring trod;
I stand where they stood with the CHOSEN of God;
Where his blessing was heard, and his lessons were

taught;

Where the blind were restored, and the healing was wrought.

5. But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode
Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God!
Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim,
It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him!
Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when
In love and in meekness he moved among men;
And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of
the sea,

In the hush of my spirit, would whisper to me.

1 GEN-NĚS'A-RET. A sea or lake in |
Palestine, the borders of which, in
the time of Christ, were covered
with numerous towns and villages; 5
called also, Sea of Galilee.
BETH-V-LIA (or bẹ-thū'lj-a). A city

TA'BOR. An isolated mountain, of a

conical form, a few miles southwest of the Sea of Galilee. IS'SA-CHẠR. A son of Jacob and Leah; also, the tribe named after him.

which appears, to have overlooked 6 BETH'LE-HÉM. A celebrated city the plain of Esdrae'lon, and to have

near Jerusalem.

guarded one of the passes to Jeru-7 JU'DAH. The name of one of the salem. tribes of Israel, afterwards applied

GAD-A-RĒNE'. An inhabitant of

to the whole nation.

Gad'ara, a city in a mountainous 8 BETH'A-NY. A town near Jerusalem region near the Sea of Galilee. the residence of Martha and Mary.

XCIV. THE SONG OF THE SHIRT.

HOOD.

His life was

[Thomas Hood was born in London in 1798, and died in 1845. one of severe toil and much suffering, always sustained, however, with manly resolution and a cheerful spirit. He wrote much, both in prose and verse. He was a man of peculiar and original genius, which manifested itself with equal power and ease in humor and pathos.

The following remarkable piece of poetry appeared in the London Punch only a short time before the death of the lamented author. It was written at a time when the attention of benevolent persons in London had been awakened to the inadequate wages paid to poor needlewomen, and their consequent distress; and from the seasonableness of its appearance, as well as its high literary merit, it produced a great effect. It is valuable, as an expression of that deep and impassioned sympathy with suffering, which was a leading trait in Hood's nature, and forms an attractive element in his writings.]

1. WITH fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread-
Stitch-stitch-stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still, with a voice of dolorous' pitch,
She sang the "Song of the Shirt!"

While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work-work-work!

Till the stars shine through the roof!

It's O, to be a slave

Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If THIS is Christian work

3. "Work - work—work!

Till the brain begins to swim;
Work-work-work!

Till the eyes are heavy and dim!

Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in my dream.

4. "O men with sisters dear!

O men with mothers and wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch-stitch-stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A SHROUD as well as a shirt!

5. "But why do I talk of death,

That phantom of grisly bone?
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own-
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fast I keep:

O God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

6. "Work - work - work!

My labor never flags;

And what are its wages?

A bed of straw,

A crust of bread - and rags:

A shattered roof. and this naked floor

And a wall so blank my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

7. "Work-work-work!

From weary chime to chime;
Work-work-work!

As prisoners work for crime!

Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed',
As well as the weary hand!

In the dull December light;

And work-work — work!

When the weather is warm and bright;

While underneath the eaves

The brooding swallows cling,

As if to show me their sunny backs,
And twit me with the spring.

9. "O, but to breathe the breath

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet,
With the sky above my head,

And the grass beneath my feet!
For only one short hour

To feel as I used to feel,

Before I knew the woes of want,

And the walk that costs a meal!

10. "O, but for one short hour!
A respite, however brief!

No blessed leisure for love or hope,
But only time for grief!

A little weeping would ease my heart-
But in their briny bed

My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!"

11. With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread

And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch,
Would that its tone could reach the rich!-
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!”

I DŎL O-ROUS. Sorrowful; painful.

• A-LÔÔF'. At a distance; apart.

3 BE-NUMBED'. Made torpid.
4 RES'PITE. Delay; pause; interval

XCV.—A CURTAIN LECTURE OF MRS. CAUDLE.

JERROLD.

[Douglas William Jerrold was born in London in 1803, and died in 1857. He was first a midshipman in the navy, then a printer, and lastly, a man of letters by profession. His "Caudle Lectures" were published in the London Punch, and extensively read in England and America.]

1. BAH! that's the third — What were you to do? rain, to be sure. I'm very him that could spoil. Take cold, indeed! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than taken our umbrella. Do the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear the rain? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't St. Swithin's day!* Do you hear it against the window?

umbrella gone since Christmas. Why, let him go home in the certain there was nothing about

you

hear

2. Nonsense: you don't impose upon me; you can't be asleep with such a shower as that! Do you hear it, I say? O, you do hear it! Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle; don't insult me! he return the umbrella! Any body would think you were born yesterday. As if any body ever did return an umbrella!

There is an old superstition in England that if it rains on St. Swithin's day (15th July), not one of the next forty days will be wholly without rain.