Remembering the day when first she came, Then Dora went to Mary's house, and stood So the women kiss'd Each other, and set out, and reached the farm. From Allan's watch, and sparkled by the fire. Or William, or this child; but now I come I had been a patient wife; but, sir, he said 'God bless him!' he said, 'and may he never know The troubles I have gone through! Then he tuned His face and passed-unhappy that I am! But now, sir, let me have my boy, for you Will make him hard, and he will learn to slight His father's memory; and take Dora back, And let all this be as it was before." So Mary said, and Dora hid her face By Mary. There was silence in the room; And all at once the old man burst in sobs; "I've been to blame-to blame. I have killed my son. I have killed him-but I loved him-my dear son! May God forgive me !—I have been to blame, Kiss me, my children." Then they clung about The old man's neck, and kissed him many times. So these four abode Within one house together; and as years THE LITTLE CHURCH ROUND THE CORNER. REV. Dr. Houghton officiated at the burial of George Holland, a Comedian, in New York City, after another minister had refused his services. For this act of Christian duty, as he considered, he was made the recipient of large sums of money;-the proceeds of numerous testimonial benefits, in various parts of the Union; all of which he conscientiously declined on his own account, and that of his Church, but accepted in trust, to be used only for charitable purposes. This selection and the one following, relate to the Occurrence, "BRING him not here where our sainted feet Bring him not here, where our Saviour sweet Go, take him where such things' are done,- So spake the holy man of God Of another man, his brother, Whose cold remains, ere they sought the sod, Might be read above them by one whose light Had only asked that a prayer be read Whilst his spirit looked, with suppliant eyes, But the priest frowned "No," and his brow was bare And they looked for Christ and found Him-where? Ah, well! God grant, when, with aching feet, That we may hear some accents sweet, And kiss, to the end, fond faces! God grant that this tired flesh may rest, ('Mid many a musing mourner) While the sermon is preached, and the rites are read, And the pastor a pious prig at best, But in some small nook where God's confessed- THE POOR PLAYER AT THE GATE*. WISELY, good Uncle Toby said, "If here, below, the right we do, "Twill ne'er be ask'd of us above What coat we wore, red, black, or blue." At Heaven's high Chancery, gracious deeds And humble virtues, clad in weeds, So the poor player's motley garb, May pass unchallenged through the gate, 'The Lord of Love, the world's great Light, And Pharisees alone demurred That such His gifts should share. But still He held his gracious way, For comfort "round the corner." Written and spoken for the Holland Testimonial, at Wallack's, the Fifth Avenue, Niblo's Theatre, and Academy of Music, by George Vandenhoff. DD The woman that in sin was ta'en, The Pharisees all gathered round He raised from death the widow's son, He healed the palsied, halt, and blind, A Doctor-"round the corner." Some modern saints too dainty are The widow's friends ask prayers o'er him From whom death's hand has torn her; The saintly man refers him to "The small church round the corner." What is there in the player's art He who on earth plays well his part The lessons he has wreathed with smiles, The hearts his mirth made lighter Shall plead like angels' tongues for grace, And make his record brighter. And though not nearest to the Throne, The actor in the veriest bar, All honor to the little Church, And when this fleeting scene is past MR. CAUDLE HAVING LENT FIVE POUNDS TO A FRIEND.--DOUGLAS JERROLD. I wonder You ought to be very rich, Mr. Caudle. who'd lend you five pounds! But so it is: a wife may work and slave. Oh, dear! the many things that might have been done with five pounds! As if people picked up money in the streets! But you always were a fool, Mr. Caudle! I've wanted a black satin gown these three years, and that five pounds would have pretty well bought it. But it's no matter how I go-not at all. Everybody says I don't dress as becomes your wife-and I don't; but what's that to you, Mr. Caudle? Nothing. Oh, no! you can have fine feelings for everybody but those that belong to you. I wish people knew you as I do-that's all. You Like to be called liberal-and your poor family pays for it. All the girls want bonnets, and when they're to get 'em I can't tell. Half five pounds would have bought 'embut now they must go without. Of course, they belong to you; and anybody but your own flesh and blood, Mr. Caudle. The man called for the water-rate to-day; but I should like to know how people are to pay taxes who throw away five pounds to every fellow that asks them. Perhaps you don't know that Jack, this morning, knocked the shuttlecock through his bed-room window. I was going to send for the glazier to mend it; but, after you lent that five pounds, I was sure we couldn't afford it. Oh, no: the window must go as it is; and pretty weather for a dear child to sleep with a broken window. He's got a cold already on his lungs, and I shouldn't at all wonder if that broken window settled him: if the dear boy dies, his death will be upon his father's head: for I'm sure we can't now pay to mend windows. We might, |