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STORY is told of a clothing merchant on Chatham Street, New York, who kept a very open store and drove a thriving trade, the natural consequence being that he waxed wealthy and indolent. He finally concluded to get an assistant to take his place on the sidewalk to "run in" customers, while he himself would enjoy his otium cum dig within the store. Having advertised for a suitable clerk, he awaited applications, determined to engage none but a good talker who would be sure to promote his interest.

Several unsuccessful applicants were dismissed, when a smart looking Americanized Jew came along and applied for the situation. The "boss" was determined not to engage the fellow without proof of his thorough capability and sharpness. Hence the following dialogue:

"Look here, young man! I told you somedings. I vill gone up de street und valk me back past dis shop yust like I vas coundrymans, and if you can make me buy a coat of you, I vill hire you right away quick."

“All right,” said the young man, "go ahead, and if I don't sell you a coat I won't ask the situation."

The proprietor proceeded a short distance up the street, then sauntered back toward the shop, where the young man was on the alert for him. "Hi! look here! Don't you want some clothes to-day?"

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'No, I don't vant me nothing," returned the boss.

"But step inside and let me show you what an elegant stock we have," said the " spider to the fly," catching him by the arm, and forcing

him into the store.

After considerable palaver, the clerk expectant got down a coat, on the merits of which he expatiated at length, and finally offered it to "the countryman" at thirty dollars, remarking that it was "dirt cheap."

"Dirty tollar? My kracious! I vouldn't give you dwenty. But I don't vant de coat anyvays."

"You had better take it, my friend; you don't get a bargain like this every day."

'No; I don't vant it. I gone me out. Good-day."

"Hold on! don't be in such a hurry," answered the anxious clerk. "See here, now the boss has been out all day, and I haven't sold a dollar's worth. I want to have something to show when he comes back, so take the coat at twenty-five dollars; that is just what it cost. I don't make a cent on it; but take it along."

"Young mans, don'd I told you three, four, couple of dimes dat I don't vant de coat?"

"Well, take it at twenty dollars; I'll lose money on it, but I want to make one sale anyhow, before the boss comes in. Take it at twenty dollars."

"Vell, I don't vant de coat, but I'll give you fifteen tollar, and not one cent more."

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Oh, my friend, I couldn't do it! Why, the coat cost twenty-five; yet sooner than not make a sale, I'll let you have it for eighteen dollars. and stand the loss."

No; I don't vant it anyvays.

It ain't vurth no more as fifteen

tollar, but I vouldn't give a cent more, so help me kracious.”

Here the counterfeit rustic turned to depart, pleased to think that he had got the best of the young clerk; but that individual was equal to the emergency. Knowing that he must sell the garment to secure his place, he seized the parting boss, saying:

"Well, I'll tell you how it is. The man who keeps this store is an uncle of mine, and as he is a mean old cuss, I want to bust him. Here, take the coat at fifteen dollars."

This settled the business. The proprietor saw that this was too valuable a salesman to let slip, and so engaged him at once; and he may be seen every day standing in front of the shop, urging innocent countrymen to buy clothes which are "yust de fit," at sacrificial prices.

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588

THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN.

Finished work behind, in weaving?
See you not the reason subtle,
As the web and woof diminish,
Changing into beauteous finish,
Why the Weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle?

Glorious wonder! what a weaving!
To the dull beyond believing!
Such, no fabled ages know.
Only faith can see the mystery,
How, along the aisles of History
Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the purest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!

Soft and smooth, and even spreading
As if made for angel's treading;
Tufted circles touching ever,

In-wrought figures fading never;
Every figure has its plaidings,
Brighter form and softer shadings
Each illumined,-what a riddle !
From a Cross that gems the middle.

'Tis a saying some reject it,
That its light is all reflected;
That the tapet's hues are given
By a Sun that shines in Heaven!
'Tis believed, by all believing,
That great God himself is weaving-
Bringing out the world's dark mystery,
In the light of Truth and History;
And as web and woof diminish,
Comes the grand and glorious finish;
When begin the golden ages

Long foretold by seers and sages.

T

THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN.

WILL. M. CARLETON.

HEY'VE got a bran new organ, Sue, For all their fuss and search;

They've done just as they said they'd

do,

And fetched it into church.

They're bound the critter shall be seen, And on the preacher's right, They've hoisted up their new machine In everybody's sight. They've got a chorister and choir, Ag'n my voice and vote;

For it was never my desire,

To praise the Lord by note!

I've been a sister good an' true,
For five and thirty year;
I've done what seemed my part to do,
An' prayed my duty clear;

I've sung the hymns both slow and quick,

Just as the preacher read;

And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick,
I took the fork an' led!

And now their bold, new-fangled ways
Is comin' all about;

And I, right in my latter days,
Am fairly crowded out!
To-day, the preacher, good old dear,
With tears all in his eyes,
Read "I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,"-

I al'ays liked that blessed hymn-
I s'pose I al'ays will;

It somehow gratifies my whim,

In good old "Ortonville;"

But when that choir got up to sing,
I couldn't catch a word;

They sung the most dog-gonedest thing
A body ever heard!

Some worldly chaps was standin' near
And when I seed them grin,

I bid farewell to every fear,
And boldly waded in.

I thought I'd chase their tune along,
An' tried with all my might;
But though my voice is good an' strong
I couldn't steer it right;
When they was high, then I was low,
An' also contra'wise;

And I too fast, or they too slow,

A GERMAN TRUST SONG.

To" mansions in the skies."

An' after every verse, you know
They played a little tune;

I didn't understand, an' so

I started in too soon.

I pitched it pretty middlin' high,
I fetched a lusty tone,
But oh, alas! I found that I

Was singing there alone!
They laughed a little, I am told,
But I had done my best:
And not a wave of trouble rolled
Across my peaceful breast.

And sister Brown-I could but look

She sits right front of me ; She never was no singin' book, An' never meant to be;

But then she al'ays tried to do

The best she could, she said; She understood the time right through,

An' kep' it with her head;

But when she tried this mornin', oh,
I had to laugh, or cough—
It kep' her head a bobbin' so,
It e'en a' most came off!

An' Deacon Tubbs,-he all broke down, As one might well suppose,

He took one look at sister Brown,

589

And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn book through and through

And laid it on the seat,
And then a pensive sigh he drew,

And looked completely beat.
An' when they took another bout,
He didn't even rise,

But drawed his red bandanner out,
An' wiped his weepin' eyes.

I've been a sister good an' true,
For five an' thirty year;
I've done what seemed my part to do,
And prayed my duty clear;
But death will stop my voice, I know,
For he is on my track;

And some day, I to church will go
And never more come back.
And when the folks get up to sing-
Whene'er that time shall be-
I do not want no patent thing
A squealin' over me!

A GERMAN TRUST SONG.

LAMPERTIUS, 1625.

UST as God leads me I would go;
I would not ask to choose my
way;
Content with what He will bestow,
Assured He will not let me stray.
So as He leads, my path I
make,

And step by step I gladly take,
A child in Him confiding.

Just as God leads, I am content;
I rest me calmly in His hands;
That which He hath decreed and sent-
That which His will for me commands,
I would that He should all fulfil

That I should do His gracious will
In living or in dying.

Just as God leads, I all resign;

I trust me to my Father's will;
When reason's rays deceptive shine,
His counsel would I yet fulfill;
That which His love ordained as
right,

Before He brought me to the light,
My all to Him resigning.

Just as God leads me, I abide

In faith, in hope, in suffering, true; His strength is ever by my side—

Can aught my hold on Him undo?

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