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lifting toward heaven our fellow-men? We have got to rely on appeals and addresses made to the heart of this nation, to the conscience of the people and the reason of the country. We have got to train up our children in the cause from inlancy. We must teach it in the schools and everywhere by word, and above all by example; and it seems to me that Christian ministers, in this dark hour of our country, when they see so much intemperance, and what looks to some of us like a reaction, should make the voice of the pulpits of this land heard.

Members of Christian churches should remember that they have something to do in this cause. If any thing stands in the way of Christianity it is the drunkenness in our land. A word for temperance at this time is the strongest blow against the kingdom of Satan and for the cause of our Lord and Master. Suppose you have been disappointed. Suppose that many of your laws have failed. We know that we are right. We personally feel and see it. The evidence is around and about us that we cannot be mistaken in living total abstinence lives and recommending such a course to our neighbors.

When it costs something to stand by the temperance car.se, then is the hour to stand by it. If I could be heard to-day by the people of the land, by the patriotic young men of this country, full of life, vigor and hope, I would say that it is among the first, the highest, and the grandest duties, which the country, God, and the love of humanity impose, to work for the cause of total abstinence.

POPPING CORN.

And there they sat, a popping corn,
John Styles and Susan Cutter—

John Styles as fat as any ox,
And Susan fat as butter.

And there they sat and shelled the corn.
And raked and stirred the fire,

And talked of different kinds of care,
And hitched their chairs up nigher.

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Then Susan she the popper shook,
Then John he shook the popper

Till both their faces grew as red
As saucepans made of copper.

And then they shelled, aDd popped, and ate,

All kinds of fun a-poking,
While he haw-hawed at her remarks,

And she laughed at his joking.

And still they popped, and still they ate—
John's mouth was like a hopper—

And stirred the fire, and sprinkled salt,
And shook and shook the popper.

The clock struck nine—the clock struck ten,
And still the corn kept popping;

It struck eleven, and then struck twelve,
And still no signs of stopping.

And John he ate, and Sue she thought—

The corn did pop and patter—
Till John cried out, " The corn's a-fire!

Why, Susan, what's the matter?"

Said she, " John Styles, it's one o'clock;

You'll die of indigestion;
I'm sick of all this popping corn—

Why don't you pop the question?"

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Twas only at Llewellyn's board

The faithful Gelert fed; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord,

And sentineled his bed.

In sooth, he was a peerless hound,

The gift of royal John;
But now no Gelert could be found,

And all the chase rode on.

And now, as over rocks and dells

The gallant chidings rise,
All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells

With many mingled cries.

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare;
And small and scant the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,

When, near the portal-seat, His truant Gelert he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained his castle door,

Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound was smeared with gouts of gore,

His lips, his fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,

Unused such looks to meet:
His favorite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed—

And on went Gelert too—
And still, where'er his eyes he cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found,

With blood-stained covert rent; And all around the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.

He called his child—no voice replied;

He searched—with terror wila; Blood! blood! he found on every side,

But nowhere found his child.

"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured!" The frantic father cried;

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And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert's side.

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,

No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell

Passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumberer wakened nigh:

What words the parent's joy could tell,
To hear his infant's cry!

Concealed beneath a tumbled heap,
His hurried search had missed,

All glowing from his rosy sleep,
The cherub-boy he kissed.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread-
But the same couch beneath,

Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead—
Tremendous still in death!

Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!

For now the truth was clear:
His gallant hound the wolf had slain,

To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe;

"Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic deed which laid thee low,

This heart shall ever rue!"

And now a gallant tomb they raise,
With costly sculpture decked;

And marbles storied with his praise,
Poor Gelert's bones protect.

There never could the spearman pass,

Or forester, unmoved;
There oft the tear-besprinkled grass

Llewellyn's sorrow proved

And there he hung his horn and spear;

And, oft as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds, would hear

Poor Gelert's dying yell!

And till great Snowdon's rocks grow old,
And cease the storm to brave,

The consecrated spot shall hold
The name of" Gelert's Grave."

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TEMPERANCE RHYME-ATION.

Ye friends of moderation,
Who think a reformation,
Or moral renovation,
Would benefit our nation;
Who deem intoxication,
With all its dissipation,
v In every rank and station
The cause of degradation,
Of which your observation

Gives daily demonstration;
Who see the ruination,
Distress and desolation,
The open violation
Of moral obligation,
The wretched habitation,
Without accommodation,
Or any regulation,
For common sustentation -
A scene of deprivation,
TJnequaled in creation;
The frequent desecration
Of Sabbath ordination,
The crime and depredation,
Defying legislation;
The awful profanation,
Of common conversation;
The mental aberration,
And dire infatuation,
With every sad gradation,
To maniac desperation;
Ye who, with consternation,
Behold this devastation,
And utter condemnation
Of all inebriation,
Why sanction its duration,
Or show disapprobation
Of any combination
For its extermination?
We deem a declaration,
That offers no temptation,
To any palliation
Of this abomination,
The onlv sure foundation;
And under this persuasion,
Hold no communication,
With noxious emanation
Of brewer's fermentation,

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