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the momentous extremes of infinite happiness and infinite woe. And now, we ask, what object, ever undertaken by man, can compare with this same design of evangelizing the world? Patriotism itself fades away before it, and acknowledges the supremacy of an enterprise, which seizes, with so strong a grasp, upon both the temporal and eternal destinies of the whole family of man.

And now, deliberately consider the nature of the missionary enterprise. Reflect upon the dignity of its object; the high moral and intellectual powers which are to be called forth in its execution; the simplicity, benevolence, and efficacy of the means by which all this is to be achieved ; and we ask you, Does not every other enterprise to which man ever put forth his strength, dwindle into insignificance before that of preaching Christ crucified to a lost and perishing world?

CHO-CHE-BANG AND CIII-CHIL-BLOO.

AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE.

Away, far off in China, many, many years ago,—' In the hottest part of China, where they never heard of snow,—

There lived a rich old planter in the province of Ko-whang,
Who had an only daughter, and her name was Cho-che-
Bang.

The maiden was a jewel, a celestial beauty rare,
With catty-cornered eyebrows and carrot-colored hair;
One foot was scarce three inches long, the other knew no
bounds,

She'd numbered fourteen summers, and she weighed three hundred pounds.

On the dreary shores of Lapland, 'mid its never-melting snows,

Where the Roly-boly-Alice in her ruddy beauty glows, Lived a little dwarfish tinker, who in height stood three feet two,

And from his endless shivering, they called him Chi-chilBloo.

The crooked little tinker, as he dragged his weary way From hut to hut to ply his craft, scarce seemed of human clay;

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His eyes were like to marbles set in little seas of glue,
His cheeks a sickly yellow, and his nose a dirty blue.

Now Chi-chil-Bloo, though born in snow and reared upon its breast,

Loved not the bleak and dismal land in which he knew no rest;

He bid adieu unto the scenes of never-ending storm, And traveled forth to seek some land where lie might keep him warm;

He trudged two years his weary way far from the land of snow,

Inside the walls of China, to where strangers seldom go; When wearied with his pilgrimage he halted at Ko-whang, And there became acquainted with the lather of Che-Bang. The old man heard his wondrous tale of sights that he had seen,

Where nature wore a winding-sheet, and shrouded all things green,

And pondering o'er within his mind if wonders such could be,
At last engaged poor Chi-chil-Bloo to cultivate his tea.

It had always been the custom of the fairy-like Ohe-Bang,
Ere evening shadows fell upon the valley of Ko-whang,
To wander mid the tea-groves like an oriental queen,
On the shoulders of her servants, in a fancy palanquin.
As she 'merged from out the shadow of a Chma-berry tree.
She spied the little tinker stripping down the fragrant tea,
She gazed upon his wondrous form, nis eyes, his nose of blue,
A moment gazed, then deeply fell in love with Chi-chil-Bloo.

She stepped from out her palanquin, and then dismissed her tram,

With instructions that an hour past thev might return again; She then upraised the filmy veil that hid her charms from sight,

And poor Chi-chil-Bloo beheld a face to him surpassing bright;

He gazed transfixed with wonder,—to him surpassing fair Were her rounded-up proportions and her salmon-colored hair,—

He lingered in a dreamy trance, nor woke he from his bliss
Till her loving arms entwine him and her lips imprint a kissl

She led him to a bower, and beside the dwarf she kneeled,
And sighed like Desdemona at his 'scapesby blood and field;
He told of seals and rein-deer, and tears that live at sea;
He told her tales of icicles, and she told tales of tea;
Ixing, long they lingered, fondly locked in each other's arms,
He saw in her and she in him a thousand glowing charms;

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When looking down the distant vale the sun's fast fading sheen

Fell faintly on the gold of her returning palanquin.

"Yonder come my slaves," she cried, " and now, Chil-Bloo, we part;

My father, t hough my father, has a cruel, flinty heart, He has promised me to Chow-Chow, the Croesus of Kowhang,

But Chow-Chow's old and gouty, and he wouldn't suit CheBang;

Oh! come beneath my window at a quarter after three, When the moon has gone a bathing to her bath-room in the sea,

And we will fly to other lands across the waters blue— But hush, here comes the palanquin, and now, sweet love, adieu!"

They placed her in her palanquin, her bosom throbbing free, While Chi-chil-Bloo seemed busy packing up his gathered tea;

As rested from his weary rounds the dying god of day, They raised her on their shoulders and they trotted her away.

At the time and place appointed, 'neath her lattice stood the dwarf;

He whistled to his lady, and she answered with a cough; She threw a silken ladder from her window down the wall, While he, gallant knight, stood firmly to catch her should she fall;

She reached the ground in safety, one kiss, one chaste embrace,

Then siie waddled and he trotted off in silence from the place.

Swift they held their journev, love had made her footsteps light,

They hid themselves at morning's dawn and fled again at night;

The second night had run her race and folded up her pall, When they reached the sentry's station underneath the mighty wall;

Che-Bang told well her tale of love, Chil-Bloo told his, alas!
The sentry had no sentiment, and wouldn't let 'em pass;
He called a file of soldiers, who took 'em to Dom-Brown,
A sort of local magistrate or Mufti of the town.

The vile old lecher heard the charge, the tempting maiden

eyed,

Theu feigning well a burning rage, in thunder-tones he cried,

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