fame? What power shall blanch the sullied snow of character? There can be no injury more deadly. There can be no crime more cruel. It is without remedy. is without antidote. It is without evasion.

It

The reptile, calumny, is ever on the watch. From the fascination of its eye no activity can escape; from the venom of its fang no sanity can recover. It has no enjoyment but crime; it has no prey but virtue; it has no interval from the restlessness of its malice, save when bloated with its victims, it grovels to disgorge them at the withered shrine where envy idolizes her own infirmities.

THE LAMENT OF JACOB GRAY.-H. ELLIOTT MCBRIDE. I am a lonely bachelor, my name is Jacob Gray,

I sit and smoke and yawn, and fuss, and grumble all the day; My life has been a checkered one, I've had great knocks and flumps;

I've had the measles, whooping-cough, and double-twisted

mumps.

At first, when only twenty-one, I courted Sally Spry;
She was a dashing lovely girl,-perfection in my eye;
I went to see her seven times, and then there came a stop;
She calmly took her leave of me, and whacked me off kerflop.
Says she, to me, "Now, Jacob Gray, I think you've come
enough;

You're rather young, a little green, and not quite up to snuff.
So, Jacob, please, don't come again-I've got another beau;
And he's a chap who wears a watch, and makes a dashing
show."

This crushed me down into the dust; I felt so mighty bad,
I thought I'd have to run right home and tell it all to-dad.
And then I thought I'd wipe my eyes before I went away,
And try to show the darling girl the error of her way.

Says I, "O Sal, dear Sally Spry! oh, would you treat me so?
Oh, would you cut the silken tie and bid me fortil go?
Oh, would you chuck and squash me down into the mire and
mud,

And nip the youthful, gushing love just coming to the bud?"

“Oh, Jake,” says she, “don't be a goose-don't blubber any

more;

You'll soon get well, and feel as good as ere you felt before. And ere ten weeks have gone away, you'll think no more of

me;

You'll be as gay, and happy too, as any sport can be."

I sniffled some, put on my hat, and straight I went from Spry's;

Got into bed and sniffled more, and wiped my weeping eyes; Says I, “I guess I feel used up and sorter middling cheap;” And then I turned me round again and-went right off to

sleep.

A year passed round, and Sal was hitched to Joseph Johnston Dobbs;

And I had fell down deep in love with Susan Rachel Blobbs. Now Susan had a farm and bonds, and piles of ready cash, And so I thought I'd court her quick, and take her with a dash.

Says I, "Dear Suze, I love you hard,-I think I love you

more

Than all the girls in Squabbletown, and they are twenty

score.

If you will be my wife, dear Suze, I'll be both kind and true; I'll let no care nor trouble come within ten feet of you."

Says she, a-twisting up her nose, and winking both her eyes, "I guess you'd better spark again at Simon Joseph Spry's." And then says she, “I heard you said that you'd go in and win,

And marry me because I had a little pile of 'tin.'

"Oh, Jacob, no! it cannot be, for now I've found you out; And so, in future, Jacob Gray, you need not come about." And then she bowed a crushing bow-I grabbed my hat and fled.

Since then I've never sparked a spark—I never mean to wed.

IT IS WELL WE CANNOT SEE THE END.

When another life is added

To the heaving, turbid mass;
When another breath of being
Stains creation's tarnished glass;

When the first cry, weak and piteous,
Heralds long-enduring pain,
And a soul from non-existence

Springs, that ne'er can die again;
When the mother's passionate welcome,
Sorrow-like, bursts forth in tears,
And a sire's self-gratulation
Prophesies of future years,―

It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

When the boy, upon the threshold
Of his all-comprising home,
Puts aside the arm maternal

That unlocks him ere he roam;
When the canvas of his vessel
Flutters to the favoring gale,-
Years of solitary exile

Hid behind the sunny sail,When his pulses beat with ardor, And his sinews stretch for toil, And a hundred bold emprises Lure him to that eastern soil,It is well we cannot see What the end shall be.

When the altar of religion

Greets the expectant bridal pair, And the vow that lasts till dying Vibrates on the sacred air; When man's lavish protestations Doubts of after change defy, Comforting the frailer spirit

Bound his servitor for aye; When beneath love's silver moonbeams,

Many rocks in shadow sleep

Undiscovered, till possession

Shows the danger of the deep,-
It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

Whatsoever is beginning,

That is wrought by human skill; Every daring emanation

Of the mind's ambitious will;

Every first impulse of passion,
Gush of love or twinge of hate;
Every.launch upon the waters
Wide-horizoned by our fate;
Every venture in the chances
Of life's sad, oft desperate game,
Whatsoever be our motive,
Whatsoever be our aim,-

It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

PERVERSION OF THE BIBLE.-ROBERT POLLOK.

Many believed; but more the truth of God
Turned to a lie, deceiving and deceived;
Each, with the accursed sorcery of sin,
To his own wish and vile propensity
Transforming still the meaning of the text.

Hear, while I briefly tell what mortals proved,—
By effort vast of ingenuity,

Most wondrous, though perverse and damnable,
Proved from the Bible, which, as thou hast heard,
So plainly spoke that all could understand.

First, and not least in number, argued some
From out this book itself, it was a lie,

A fable framed by crafty men to cheat
The simple herd, and make them bow the knee
To kings and priests. These in their wisdom left
The light revealed, and turned to fancies wild;
Maintaining loud, that ruined, helpless man
Needed no Saviour. Others proved that men
Might live and die in sin, and yet be saved,
For so it was decreed; binding the will,
By God left free, to unconditional,
Unreasonable fate. Others believed
That he who was most criminal, debased,
Condemned and dead, unaided might ascend
The heights of virtue; to a perfect law
Giving a lame, half-way obedience, which
By useless effort only served to show
The impotence of him who vainly strove
With finite arm to measure infinite;
Most useless effort! when to justify

In sight of God it meant, as proof of faith
Most acceptable, and worthy of all praise.
Another held, and from the Bible held,
He was infallible - most fallen by such
Pretense--that none the Scriptures, open to all,
And most to humble-hearted, ought to read,
But priests; that all who ventured to disclaim
His forged authority incurred the wrath

Of Heaven; and he who, in the blood of such,
Though father, mother, daughter, wife, or son,
Imbrued his hands, did most religious work,
Well pleasing to the heart of the Most High.
Others, in outward rite, devotion placed;

In meats, in drinks; in robe of certain shape,
In bodily abasements, bended knees;

Days, numbers, places, vestments, words, and names,Absurdly in their hearts imagining,

That God, like men, was pleased with outward show. Another, stranger and more wicked still,

With dark and dolorous labor, ill applied,

With many a gripe of conscience, and with most
Unhealthy and abortive reasoning,

That brought his sanity to serious doubt

'Mong wise and honest men, maintained that He, First Wisdom, Great Messiah, Prince of Peace,

The second of the uncreated Three,

Was nought but man,-of earthy origin;
Thus making void the sacrifice Divine,
And leaving guilty men, God's holy law
Still unatoned, to work them endless death.

These are a part; but to relate thee all,
The monstrous, unbaptised phantasies,
Imaginations fearfully absurd,

Hobgoblin rites, and moon-struck reveries,
Distracted creeds, and visionary dreams,
More bodiless and hideously misshapen
Than ever fancy, at the noon of night,

Playing at will, framed in the madman's brain,
That from this book of simple truth were proved→
Were proved as foolish men were wont to prove―
Would bring my word in doubt, and thy belief
Stagger, though here I sit and sing, within
The pale of truth, where falsehood never came.
-The Course of Time.