"Ye must remember the Sabbath day— In it ye neither shall work nor play, Tell the strangers your gates within That to do otherwise is a sin. But at twelve o'clock it begins, I'm sure, And at twelve o'clock at night it ends- Off with his head!" they wrathful say, How he abuses our Sabbath day!" Up comes another to take his place, Slaves there have been from the first man's fall, And a righteous God upholds it all. 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 text: "Say that we fell in Adam's fall, A moment they wait to hear the word, Another cry in the stifled air, The dire assassins are making yet: Say that our sins we must all forsakeThat the yoke of Christ we must willing take; Our tongues from evil we must restrain, And we who are somewhat older grown- own, Must now and then be allowed to speak, And though we are not inclined to drink But "Be ye holy," he calmly saith ; "Brethren, this is my Shibboleth." A sudden cry and a sudden gleam SELLING A COAT. 585 In his pious hands, and they hear him through, "We believe it all, and so do you; We must have it said in a particular way- To the small word can't, have a due regard, But such an excuse will never do; Forty-two thousand fell that day, Of the Ephraimites, in the narrow way But the good man says: And they quick reply, "We're sorry to make But you have incurred our holy ire; For still to the crossing do they hie, A 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 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?" 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." "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. 588 THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN. Finished work behind, in weaving? Glorious wonder! what a weaving! Soft and smooth, and even spreading In-wrought figures fading never; 'Tis a saying:- -some reject it, Long foretold by seers and sages. THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN. WILL. M. CARLETON. T HEY'VE got a bran new organ, Sue, And I, right in my latter days, Am fairly crowded out! For all their fuss and search; They've done just as they said they'd To-day, the preacher, good old dear, 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 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, I've sung the hymns both slow and quick, And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, And now their bold, new-fangled ways 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- It somehow gratifies my whim, In good old "Ortonville;" But when that choir got up to sing, They sung the most dog-gonedest thing. 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, When they was high, then I was low, An' also contra'wise; |