conscience ever since, and I'm come now for the 'dentical purpose of giving every one on 'em back again."

LEARNING is no longer dreaded as the enemy of piety: nor is it supposed that the orthodoxy of a public teacher of religion derives any security from his professed ignorance of every other subject.

SIGN OF A BAD CAUSE.

VIOLENCE is the argument of falsehood; and to impose a creed authoritatively is the index and proceeding of a tyrant.

MATHEWS WRITING FROM AMERICA.

I SHALL be rich in black fun. I have studied their broken English carefully. It is pronounced the real thing, even upon a preacher. I know its danger, but perhaps the absurdity might give a colour to it-a black methodist! I have a specimen from life, which is relished highly in private. A leetle bit you shall have. By the bye, they call the nigger meetings "black brimstone churches." "My wordy bredren, it a no use to come to the meetum-house to ear de most hellygunt orashions if a no put a de cent into the plate; de spiritable man cannot get a on widout de temporalities; twelve 'postles must hab the candle to burn. You dress a self up in de fine blue a cot, and a bandalore breechum, and tink a look like a gemman, but no more like a gemman dan put a finger in a de fire, and take him out again, widout you put a de money in the plate. He lend a to the poor, lend to de Law (Lord); if you like a de secoority, drop a de cents into de box. My sister in a de gallery, too, dress em up wid the poke a de bonnet, and the

furbelow-tippet, and look in the glass and say, Pretty Miss Phyllis, how bell I look!' but no pretty in de eye of the Law (Lord), widout a drop a cent in the plate. My friend and bredren, in my endeavour to save you, I come across de bay in de stim a boat. I never was more shock dan when I see the race a horse a rubbin down. No fear o' the Law afore dere eye on the Sabbat a day, ben I was tinking of de great enjawment my friend at a Baltimore was to have dis night, dey rub a down de horse for the use of the debbil. Twixt you and I, no see what de white folk make so much fun of us, for when dey act so foolish themselve, dey tink dey know ebery ting, and that we poor brack people know noting at all amose (almost). Den show dem how much more dollars you can put in de plate dan de white meetum-houses. But, am sorry to say, some of you put three cent in a de plate, and take out a quarter a dollar. What de say ven you go to hebben? Dey ask you what you do wid de twenty-two cent you take out of the plate when you put in the tree cent? where you go do den ?"

CURE OF DRUNKENNESS.

A MAN in Maryland, notoriously addicted to this vice, hearing an uproar in his kitchen one evening, had the curiosity to step without noise to the door, to know what was the matter, when he beheld his servants indulging in the most unbounded roars of laughter at a couple of his negro boys, who were mimicking himself in his drunken fits; showing how he reeled and staggered, how he looked and nodded, and hiccupped and tumbled. The picture which these children of nature drew of him, and which had filled the rest with so much merriment,

struck him so forcibly, that he became a perfectly sober man, to the unspeakable joy of his wife and children.

CHOICE PHRASEOLOGY.

A CERTAIN lady in one of the cities of the Far West, whose fondness for fine words prevailed in her conversation, at the expense of her etymology, was desirous of intimating that she had been out walking in the rain and got wet to the skin: the language she used to express her meaning was the following:-"I merely went out to take a little exorcism (exercise), when the rain came down in a perfect cataplasm (cataract), and my hippopotamus (epidermis) was perfectly satiated (saturated).”.

QUICK REPARTEE.

"WHY, Mr. B.," said a tall youth to a little person who was in company with half-a-dozen huge men, "I protest you are so small I did not see you before."-" Very likely," replied the little gentleman: "I am like a sixpence among six copper pennies, not readily perceived, but worth the whole of them."-This reminds us of the anecdote of a young lady of high birth, who having married, as her friends calculated, beneath her, complained of having been deserted by all her former associates-"Never mind," replied one who still continued her intimacy, "you have only exchanged twenty-one shillings for a guinea."

MATRIMONIAL ADVICE.

MARRY the woman you like. Do not be guided by the recommendations of friends. Nothing will atone for or overcome an original distaste. will only increase from intimacy; and if you are

It

to live separate, it is better not to come together. There is no use in dragging the chain through life, unless it binds one to the object we love. Choose

a mistress from your own equals. You will be able to understand her character, and she will be more likely to understand yours. No woman ever married into a family above herself who did not try to make all the mischief she could in it. Be not in haste to marry, nor to engage your affections where there is no probability of return. It is not what you think of them that determines their choice, but what they think of you. Endeavour, if you would escape lingering torment, and the gnawing of the worm that never dies, to find out this, and to abide the issue. If a woman does not like you of her own accord that is, from involuntary impression -nothing you can say, or do, or suffer for her sake can make her, but will set her face the more against you. Study first impressions above all things; for everything depends upon them, in love especially. Women are armed by nature and education with a power of resisting the importunity of men, and they use this power according to their discretion. They enforce it to the utmost rigour of the law against those whom they do not like, and relax their extreme severity proportionably in favour of those they do like, and who in general care little about them. Hence you see so many desponding lovers and forlorn damsels.

THE DEPARTING YEAR.

"FAREWELL, farewell," oh, dying year!
Away thou speedest fast

Unto that region strange and drear,

The country of the past!

For now to that dim unknown shade,
Where by-gone Time is flown,
Thy own fast fleeting moments fade,
Oh, Traveller, old and lone!

Where doth it lie, that far-off clime,
Where sleep the days of old?
And all those long long hours of time
Unreck'd of and untold?

And where are all the treasures laid
That in the past were found?
Oh, could we pierce the hiding shade,
And view that haunted ground!

What hast thou done, thou Spoiler old,
With those departed things?
The summer floweret's silken fold,
The wild bird's rainbow wings?
From the gold ringlets of the child

Thou 'st stole the first bright hue,
And the clear flash of laughter wild
From the maiden's eye of blue.

Away, away, thou bearest all

Earth's fairest things that be; Come back! come back! we vainly call, Still onward thou dost flee. And from the fulness of the heart

Each day that glideth by,

Bears from our hopes and joys a part,

And darkens o'er our sky.

Then answered low the dying year,
I go to join the past;

I go unto those realms of fear,
Where all things hasten fast.