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"Ye must remember the Sabbath day—
Down sits the parson in his seat,
Up rise his enemies from the pit;
"Off with his head!" they wrathful say,
"How he abuses our Sabbath day!"
Up comes another to take his place,
Heated and panting from the chase,
And again the foe their menace make:
"Shibboleth say, or your head we'll take!
Say that the Lord made bond and free,
Slavery's an evil, not sin per u;
Slaves there have been from the first man's
fall, And a righteous God upholds it all. This is the pass-word—speak it plain."
And the good man answers back again,
"I know that the Lord made bond and free
All of one blood—' and cursed is he,'
Saith a righteous God in his holy ire,
'Who useth service and giveth no hire!'"
"This man will never our Shibboleth say!" Thus cry the foe, as they eager lay Their violent hands on the clerical crown, "He is not one of us—hew him down!"
And again to the next in the sacred desk, They look from below and propound this
A moment they wait to hear the word,
Another cry in the Btifled air,
Another head with its gory hair
By the rolling stream, and another threat
The dire assassins are making yet:
"Shibboleth say, and the stream shall flow
Right and left as you onward go;
Sibboleth say, and your head shall fall
Right in the pass, as fell they all.
Say that our sins we must all forsake—
That the yoke of Christ we must willing
take; Our tongues from evil we must restrain, And from the alluring cup abstain; But we have made an amendment fair, And due allowance, here and there, For such as have but little grace,— Every one understands the case; We who are young in grace must grow, But still in the ways of folly go; We must have our pleasures, and perchance Amuse ourselves in a little dance, And we who are somewhat older grown— Though our lips are the Lord's and not our
But "Be ye holy," he calmly saith;
A sudden cry and a sudden gleam
Of a glancing sword by the crimson stream,
And " Off with his head !" they vengeful cry.
"He is an Ephraimite,—let him die;"
And quick dispatch him with all their might.
Just as another one comes in sight.
Glad welcome give to the next who stands
With the " bread of life " In his pious hands.
In his pious hands, and they hear him
But the good man says: "He can, but won't;
And they quick reply, " We're sorry to make
But such an excuse will never do;
Forty-two thousand fell that day,
Forty-two thousand more will fall,
For still to the crossing do they hie,
SELLING A COAT.
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 Bhop 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?"
586 SELLING A COAT.
"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."
"Veil, I don't vant de coat, but I'll give you fifteen tollar, and not one cent more."
"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 valu able a salesman to let slip, and so engaged him at once; and he may be Been every day standing in front of the shop, urging innocent countrymen to buy clothes which are " yust de fit," at sacrificial prices.
Jbi^hey've got a bran new organ, Sue, Wjfck For all their fuss and search;
They've done just as they said they'd
♦ And fetched it into church.
J They're bound the critter Bhall be seen, And on the preacher's right, They've hoisted up their new machine
In everybody's eight.
Ag'n my voice and vote;
To praise the Lord by note!
I've been a sister good an' true,
For five and thirty year;
An' prayed my duty clear;
Just as the preacher read;
I took the fork an' led!
Is comin' all about:
And I, right in my latter days,
To-day, the preacher, good old dear,
With tears all in his eyes,
To mansions in the skies,"—
I s'pose I al'ays will;
In good old " OrtonvDle;"
I couldn't catch a word;
A body ever heard!
Some worldly chaps was standin' near
And when I seed them grin,
And boldly waded in.
An' tried with all my might;
I couldn't steer it right; When they was high, then I was low.
An' also contra'wise;