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"Ye must remember the Sabbath day—
la 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,
Not on Saturday at half-past four!
And at twelve o'clock at night it ends—
This is the fourth command, my friends."

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

text:
. " Say that we fell in Adam's fall,
And that in Adam we sinned all;
Say that in him we all are dead,
Else you'll oblige us to take your head."

A moment they wait to hear the word,
But shout as soon as his voice is heard,
"Oh, hear ye now what this rebel saith?
Sibboleth only—not Shibboleth."

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

own,—
Must now and then be allowed to speak,
Though our words be truly not over meek;
And should we happen to speak in a hurry,
Why surely the parson needn't worry,—
Not even though we should blast his fame,
For the poor church members are not to

blame;
And though we are not inclined to drink
Of the sparkling cup, yet we surely think
It will never answer to fully put down
The sale of the article in our town.
These things we willingly, freely tell,
That you may learn our Shibboleth well.
Thus do we all of our sins forsake,
And the yoke of Christ thus easy take.
For hath He not called the burden light f
Shibboleth say, as we indite."

But "Be ye holy," he calmly saith;
"Brethren, this is my Shibboleth."

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.

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In his pious hands, and they hear him

through,
"We believe it all, and so do you;
But this is not enough to say,
We must have it said in a particular way—
Say that the sinner can't repent
Without the Spirit is on him sent;
To the small word can't, have a due regard,
Else things will be apt to go very hard."

But the good man says: "He can, but won't;
1 know that my danger is imminent."

And they quick reply, " We're sorry to make
Such a very small word as this to take
Your head from your shoulders,—thus,—

entire,—
But you have incurred our holy ire;
The meaning of both is the same, 'tis true,

But such an excuse will never do;
'Tis a very important word, my friend,
You will please to perceive you are near
your end."

Forty-two thousand fell that day,
Forty-two thousand bodies lay
Of the Ephraimites, in the narrow way
That led to the running river.

Forty-two thousand more will fall,
For when they accept the " unanimous call"
They may be assured they have staked their all
By the theological river.

For still to the crossing do they hie,
And still the " Shibboleth " eager try,
But stop in the narrow pass to die,
And go not over the river.

SELLING A COAT.

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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 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.

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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

m do,

♦ 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.
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 " OrtonvDle;"
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;

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