"WE'RE BUILDING TWO A DAY!"

REV. ALFRED J. HOUGH.

During the Freethinkers' Convention, at Watkins, N. Y., in response to statements that the churches throughout the land were losing all aggressive power, a message was received from Chaplain McCabe, of the Methodist Episcopal Church Extension Board, saying in substance and speaking only of his own de nomination, "All hail the power of Jesus' name; we're building two a day!" The infidels, a motley band,

In council met, and said:

"The churches die all through the land,
The last will soon be dead."
When suddenly a message came,

It filled them with dismay:
"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building two a day."

"We're building two a day," and still,
In stately forests stored,

Are shingle, rafter, beam, and sill,
For churches of the Lord;
And underpinning for the same,
In quarries piled away;

"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building two a day."

The miners rend the hills apart,
Earth's bosom is explored,

And streams from her metallic heart
In graceful molds are poured,
For bells to sound our Saviour's fame
From towers,-and, swinging, say,
"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building two a day."

The King of saints to war has gone,
And matchless are his deeds;
His sacramental hosts move on,
And follow where he leads;
While infidels his church defame,
Her corner-stones we lay;

"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're laying two a day."

The Christless few the cross would hide,

The light of life shut out,

And leave the world to wander wide
Through sunless realms of doubt.

The pulpits lose their ancient fame,
Grown obsolete, they say;

"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building two a day."

"Extend," along the line is heard,
"Thy walls, O Zion, fair!"
And Methodism heeds the word,
And answers everywhere.

A new church greets the morning's flame,
Another evening's gray.

"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building two a day."

When infidels in council meet
Next year, with boastings vain,
To chronicle the Lord's defeat,
And count his churches slain,
Oh then may we with joy proclaim,
If we his call obey:

"All hail the power of Jesus' name!
We're building THREE a day."

THE DRUNKARD'S THIRST. I know my wife weeps tears of blood, But give me rum;

That ruin boils in like a flood,

But give me rum;

I know my eyes are blank and blear,
I know my home is dark and drear,

I know an awful death is near,

But give me rum;

Yes! Give me rum! Mad, crazy-hurry, come! My brain's on fire! I must, I will have rum!

Who cares for children's rags and cries,

I will have rum;

A wife's entreaties I despise,

I will have rum;

What though the cross stands in my way,
The Bible, my old mother's stay,

Eternal life, eternal day!

I will have rum!

Away with all! Don't stand here pleading, come!
No matter who, or what, I will have rum!
Don't talk of home, the good and true,
But give me rum;

Don't tell me now what you will do,
But give me rum;

Who cares for wife, home, business, friends?
There's nothing here can make amends;
Life, death, eternity depends,

On having rum;

I trample all beneath my feet; come! come! Say, do you hear? Rum, rum, I WILL HAVE RUM!

Pay, did you say? Who talks of pay?

I must have rum;

Home, friends and reputation? Say-
I must have rum;

There's on me an infernal spell,

And if each cup my doom should knell,
If in the draught I plunge to hell,

I must have rum;

Pay? Yes, take all I have, but hurry, come!
Well, add soul then, for I MUST HAVE RUM!

They took for pay his bright, young life,
And gave him rum;

They took his children and his wife,
And gave him rum;

They took his health from day to day,
His peace of mind they bore away,
And in the wild blaspheming fray,
They gave him rum!

A raving maniac, wild, in ruin's slum,

He cried with his last gasp, PASS ON THE RUM! Oh, man, dost thou by voice or vote,

Pass on the rum?

Hands often, indirect, I note,

Pass on the rum;

With worldly policy in view,
To sturdy principle untrue,
Failing our honest work to do,
We pass the rum.

O Prohibition! Liberator; come!

And curse the curser, DARKEST RUIN, RUM!

HOW TO CHOOSE A WIFE.

A youth who determined to alter his station,
And had fair promotion-by marriage-in view,
Once asked an old man, for his edification,

What sort of a wife he'd advise him to woo!

"My friend," said the man, "that's a difficult question;
For marriage, like lottery, is not without blanks;
But as you seem willing to hear my suggestion,
I'll give it you freely, and heed not your thanks :-
"If beauty's possession your longing bewitches,
Choose elegant features, and manners of grace;
But if you are bent on estates and on riches,
You must not be scrupulous as to the face!
"If, further, you'd marry for title and honor,

Dismiss all the amiable girls from your sight,
And court some cld duchess, who, when you have won her
Perchance may have power to dub you a knight!

"But if for accomplishments-more of the spirit Than beauty, or riches, or honors-you'd strive, Endeavor a sensible woman to merit,

For charms of the soul must all others survive!" Th' advising good man here stopped short his oration, And smilingly looked at the venturesome beau, Who still, though obliged for the kind conversation, Observed: "This is not just the thing I would know;→ "I wish to obtain an explicit direction

A wife how to choose; for I'd like to enjoy

All the sweets of this life, in their highest perfection,
And-" "Oh!" cried the sage, "then keep single, my boy!"

MISS O'MULLIGAN TAKES A BICYCLE RIDE.* LOUISE H. SAVAGE.

Wud I till yez 'bout the toime I rid arn a flossy pade? Arrah! it makes me laff now, whin I thinks o' that same, but o-r-r! sorra the laff in the toime I did it. Bud I'll be afther tellin' yez.

Three Aisters gone, I wint over the big say, ter Paree, wid a 'Merikin lady as wint there ter visit the town; *Written expressly for this collection.

yez

that's the way wid big-bugs, ye know, an', av it was, thin, we sthayed in an English hotel, where they spake our own langwidge, but be the token, arl thim odther paple in Frince are haythin, an' carn't talk a dacint worrud, if ye'd belave me. They jist jabber, jabber, like wild bastes thimsilves, wid their onchristian lingo. Yer wudn't know what they'd be manin', at arl, at arl, unliss, be the token, had some wan wid cud till yez. ye But, av it was, thin, there wor a noice young feller a-sthoppin' there at the hotel wid us what knowed their "Parley Voo" (that's fwhat they calls talkin'), an' he wor varry perlite ter me, an' he used ter take me out wid 'im ter say the sights; an' mony's the big ruction I got into, too, be the manes av 'im. He wor the Ould Harry's own egg, so he wor, a-gittin' ivery wan inter schrapes; an' 'im wid 'is plisint face an' smilin' eyes, shure ye cudn't misdoubt 'im. Arrah! that's the way wid min, the whole o' them.

Well, be the token, wan day he tuk me wid 'im ter the Shangs Alazy, they calls it, as is a foine big field wid a race-course arn it. There wor paple, an' paple, there, a-ridin' arn flossy pades; there wor some wimmin there, too, a-doin' that same, an' raally, it didn't seem jist proper, an' I sed that mooch ter Mr. Sniggers (that's the name o' me foine bye, that med me arl the throuble). But, av it was, he sed it wor splindid fun, a-ridin' arn thim, an' that arl the ladies does it, as has ony sthyle, an' he kep a-talkin' that a-way ter me, an' a-sayin' how graceful they wor, an' how pritty an' foine I'd look arn wan o' thim, if I ownly dared ter thry it. An' whin he sed that, wid 'is eyes a-twinklin', it jist med me mad, an' whin he sed ownly a Frinch 'oman had the courage ter thry that same, I wor more mad, an' I jist toult 'im I cud bate the whole o' thim, not manin' ter do it, av course; but he dared me agin, bad look ter 'im, an' me blude wor up-an' if I worn't the idgit! So I axed the man cud arny wan ride, an' he sed, "Yis, wid payin',"