He stooped not at the foot-stool stone, His only words-"Be just, oh king!" On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high, Yet on the chief of Israel No arrow of his thousands fell; All mute and moveless as the grave Stood chilled the satrap and the slave. "Thou'rt come," at length the monarch spoke, The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare? To build the never-ending pile, Shouted in pride the turbaned peers, * Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun. There came no word-the thunder broke! Wide flew the men of spear and shield; Lay, corpse-like, on the smouldering ground. Echoed from earth a hollow roar Still swelled the plague-uprose the blast, Thundered at once the mighty gale. And, lo! that first fierce triumph o'er, To heaven the sage upraised his wand; George Croly. A THANKSGIVING SERMON. MY FRIENDS,-Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man it comes as frequently as the heart of gratitude will allow, which may mean every day, or once in seven days, at least. I know that occasionally, in meeting, perhaps, a person confesses that he is a poor, miserable sinner, but you tell that person the same fact, out of doors, and he will get mad and tear round dreadfully. We are all honest, good, conscientious people, my friends, no matter what any body says. Now, I propose, my friends, to state a few of the things for us to be thankful for-when we are in the mood, of course; for when we are not inclined, who can make us give thanks for any thing? We should be thankful that we know more than any body else; for, are we not capable of talking and giving lectures upon every subject ever talked of? I should like to see the male or female in this audience, who didn't know a great deal more than any body has any idea of! We should be thankful that we are all good looking. Ain't we? Just look around this audience, and see if you can "spot" the person who is, in his own estimation, not good looking. It would be a curious study to be sure, to find in what particular some people are good looking; but it's none of our personal business if a man has carroty hair, eyes like a new moon, nose like a split pear, mouth like a pair of waffle-irons, chin like a Dutch churn, neck like a gander's, and a body like a crow-bar :-comparatively he is good-looking; that is, there are homelier men and animals than he; so everybody is good looking and has a right to put on airs. Let us be very thankful, my friends, that this is so; for, otherwise, some of us would be shut up in "homes for the scare crows," which government would have to provide. We should be thankful that we are more pious than any body else. That we are pious is evident from the manner in which we treat poor creatures who have most unfortunately been driven to sin; from the fact that we pay our preachers occasionally, and always require them to be unexceptionable, in all respects; from the fact that we don't work on Sunday, and eat the big dinners which it has made the women-folks almost tired to death to prepare. Who is the person in this room that is not pious? I do not care to know him for the present. We should give thanks that our house is, in many respects, superior to our neighbors. True it may not be as big, nor as fine-looking, nor, indeed, as attractive generally; but it is superior, nevertheless, as we always inform any man who wants to purchase:-we should be very thankful that we can turn things so favorably for our own interests. We should be thankful that our teachers, and our editors, and doctors, and lawyers, are such superior men, as we learn they are, when they come to die and have their epitaphs written. We should be thankful, in fact, that this world was especially created for our own comfort, convenience, and use; that we have a perfect right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,-no matter if these do conflict with some other persons' wishes, and happiness, and rights. I hope you will thank me for this recognition of your good qualities, your rights, your glory; and trust I shall be permitted to say of myself, when I retire, "Here lies an honest young man." Le Grand. ONLY WAITING. A very aged Christian who was so poor as to be in an alms-house, was asked what he was doing now. He replied, “ Ouly waiting.” Only waiting till the shadows Of the day's last beam is flown; From the heart once full of day; Only waiting till the reapers Have the last sheaf gathered home; And the autumn winds have come. Only waiting till the angels Only waiting till the shadows Of the day's last beam is flown; NOTHING TO WEAR. MISS Flora McFlimsey, of Madison Square, Spent six consecutive weeks, without stopping, At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather, |