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Some few upon their tasks intent,

But more on furtive mischief bent;
b The while the Master's downward look

Was fastened on a copy-book ---
When suddenly, behind his back,
Rose, loud and clear, a rousing SMACK !
As 't were a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss!

"What's that?" the startled Master cries; d - That thir,” a little imp replies,

"Wath William Willith, if you pleathe

I thaw him kith Thuthannah Peathe!” e With frown to make a statue thrill,

The Master thundered, f « Hither, Will!”
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came —
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun---
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The threatener faltered -g “I'm amazed
That you, my biggest pupil, should
Be guilty of an act so rude!
Before the whole set school to boot-

What evil genius put you to 't?” h "'Twas she, herself, sir,” sobbed the lad,

6 I did'nt mean to be so bad
But when Susannah shook her curls,
And whispered I was 'feard of girls,
And dass'nt kiss a baby's doll,
I could'nt stand it, sir, at all!
But up and kissed her on the spot,
I know-boo hoo-I ought to not,
But, somehow, from her looks, boo noo,
I thought she kind o' wished me to !"

6 Imitate the teacher. c High pitch d Low pitch; lisping. e Narrative. f Personation. g Personation. I Like u bashful booby, crying, talking. Do not be afraid of overdoing it.

XXXVIII.

THE LOST PANTALOONS.

1. It chanced to be on washing day,

And all our things were drying,
The storm came roaring through the lines
And set them all a-flying;
I saw the shirts and petticoats
Go riding off like witches,
I lost-ah! bitterly I wept,-
I lost my Sunday breeches.

2. I saw them straddling through the air,

Alas! too late to win them,
I saw them chase the clouds as if

The mischief had been in them.

They were my darlings and my pride,
My boyhood's only riches;
Farewell, farewell, I faintly cried,
My breeches, O, my

my breeches.

3. That night I saw them in my dreams,

How changed from what I knew them;
The dew had steeped their faded seams,
The wind had whistled through them;
I saw the wide and ghastly rents
Where demon claws had torn them:
A hole was in their hinder parts
As if an imp had worn them.

4. I have had many happy years

And tailors kind and clever;
But those young pantaloons have gone
For ever and for ever;

And not till fate has cut the last

Of all my earthly stitches,
This aching heart shall cease to mourn
My loved---my long lost breeches.

XXXIX.

GOTTLIEB's TOGGY BUP.

'SIRIUS.

Vonce I pyed me a toggy bup, vot vas plack all over shust, except his dail, unt dat vas der zame golor, so I call him Shpot. Den I zents him mit tog school unt learns him some liddle dricks. Von vas to shtand him town in a blace mit himself unt dell him shtay dere till I gome pack. Den I coes avay shust so a liddle dimes, unt ven I gets pack, I never vints him more ash dree miles yrom der place !--Anoder vas, do blay ted. I lays him town on a dable mit a pox py der site for a goffin ; den I says, “ven I vires dish gun you sh ist go ted in der pox.

ted in der pox.” Den I shoots, unt ven der schmoke glears away, ven I looks in der pox, vot you dinks? Vy, he'd shumped out der vinder unt hided in der shtable mit. Put der pest drick vas dish: I zent mine prudder a den dollar pill in der post office mit a ledder, unt zents Shpot mit it. You pleve dat raskal shlips der monish out, unt teposits mit his own gredit in a putcher's shop? I nefer plays him dat drick put vonce. Afder a vile, Shpot gits der vleas padder as vorse, den I rups him all ofer mit vet cunbowder, unt pids him shtay avay vrom der vire. Burdy soon he shlips unter der shtove, unt so, soon he gits try, he plows himzelf up, unt dat vas der last of Shpot unt der vleas doo. I vears grape on my left leg vor dirty years.

XL.

THE ELOCUTION OF THE PULPIT.

REV. JAMES TORDYCE,

I cannot forbear regretting here, that a matter of such vast importance to preaching, as delivery, should be so generally neglected or misunderstood. A common apprehension prevails, indeed, that a strict regard to these rules would be deemed theatrical; and the dread, perhaps, of incurring this imputation, is a restraint upon many. But is it not possible to obtain a just and expressive manner, perfectly consistent with the gravity of the pulpit, and yet quite distinct from the more passionate, strong, and diversified action of the theatre? And is it not possible to hit off this manner so easily and naturally, as to leave no room for just reflection ? An affair this, it must be owned, of the utmost delicacy; in which we shall probably often miscarry, and meet with abundance of censure at first. But still, I imagine, that through the regulations of taste, the improvements of experience, the corrections of friendship, the feelings of piety, and the gradual mellowings of time, such an elocution may be acquired, as is above delineated; and such as, when acquired, will make its way to the hearts of the hearers, through their ears and eyes, with a delight to both, that is seldom felt; while, contrary to what is now practiced, it will appear to the former the very language of nature, and present to the latter.the lively image of the preacher's soul. Were a taste for this kind of elocution to take place, it is difficult to say how much the preaching art would gain by it. Pronunciation would be studied, an ear would be formed, the voice would be modulated, every feature of the face, every motion of the hands, every posture of the body, would be brought under right management. A graceful, and correct, and animated expression in all these would be ambitiously sought after; mutual criticisms and friendly hints would be universally acknowledged ; light and direction would be borrowed from every quarter, and from every age. The best models of antiquity would in a particular manner be admired, surveyed, and imitated. The sing-song voice, and the seesaw gestures, if I may be allowed to use those expressions, would, of course, be exploded; and, in time, nothing would be admitted, at least approved, among performers, but what was decent, manly, and truly excellent in kind. Even the people themselves would contract, insensibly, a growing relish for such a manner; and those preachers would at last be in chief repute with all, who followed nature, overlooked themselves, appeared totally absorbed in the subject, ana spoke with real propriety and pathos, from the immediate impulse of truth and virtue,

XLI.

THE BLACK REGIMENT.

PORT HUDSON, MAY 27, 1863.

GEO, H. BOKER.

Dark as the clouds of even,

In the guns' mouths they laugh; Ranked in the western heaven, Or at the slippery brands Waiting the breath that lifts

Leaping with open hands, All the dread mass, and drifts Down they tear man and horse, Tempest and falling brand

Down in their awful course; Over a ruined land;

Trampling with bloody heel So still and orderly,

Over the crashing steel, Arm to arm, knee to knee,

All their eyes forward bent, Waiting the great event,

Rushed the black regiment. Stands the black regiment.

“ Freedom!" their battle-cry,Down the long dusky line

6 Freedom! or leave to die!" Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine ; Ah! and they meant the word, And the bright bayonet,

Not as with us 'tis heard,
Bristling and firmly set,

Not a mere party shout:
Flashed with a purpose grand, They gave their spirits out;
Long ere the sharp command Trusting the end to God,
Of the fierce rolling drum

And on the gory sod
Told them their time had come, Rolled in triumphant blood.
Told them that work was sent

Glad to strike one free blow, For the black regiment.

Whether for weal or woe;

Glad to breathe one free breath, Now," the flag-sergeant cried, Though on the lips of death. - Though death and hell betide, Praying --alas! in vain!Let the whole nation see

That they might fall again, If we are fit to be

So they could once more see Free in this land; or bound

That burst to liberty ! Down, like the whining hound, - This was what freedom" lent Bound with red stripes of pain To the black regiment. In our old chains again!” 0, what a shout there went

Hundreds on hundreds fell; From the black régiment !

But they are resting well ;

Scourges and shackles strong “Charge!" Trump and drum awoke, Never shall do them wrong. Onward the bondmen broke;

0, to the living few, Bayonet and sabre-stroke

Soldiers, be just and true! Vainly opposed their rush.

Hail them as comrades tried ; Through the wild battle's crush, Fight with them side by side; With but one thought aflush,

Never, in field or tent, Driving their lords like chaff, Scorn the black regiment!

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