not purer and better in proportion as he progresses in knowledge All the fancy-work that the lovely damsel, Improvement, has wrought for herself is destined to be torn from her by the rude fingers of Fate, and she will be left to commence her task anew, even as the spider's evening labor is lost by the morning broom of some obtruding house-maid. My hearers-if you had all improved internally as you have outwardly and artificially, where would you be by this time? Sitting upon the step-stones of heaven's high porch, sipping the sweets of happiness. You, men, would be demi-gods, and you, ladies, beautiful wingless angels, with bosoms as pure as your faces are lovely. Your hearts would be caskets for the bright gems of virtue-infants would no longer suck the poison of depravity from your breasts, and the stains of sin cast upon you by the errors of grandmother Eve would wash out as easily as common dirt from a towel. My dear friends-I must be allowed to remark, that all outside improvements are of but little real use to man, and of no benefit to the world, unless the moral, internal arrangements are proportionately improved. In speaking of internal improvements, I have no reference to such as are brought about by indulging in roast beef, plum puddings, wines and other et ceteras-for these are but wicked outlays for the stomach; but refer to such only as spring from a proper culture of the heart. It is the garden of the MIND that needs attending to; because there are planted our characters, our honors, and it is there that are sown the seeds of our everlasting happiness. If we neglect it, vicious weeds will soon o'ertop every virtuous flower, and then, when we come to gather in the harvest of our hopes, we shall reap nothing but the wild mustard of misery. It is foolish in the extreme to take pride in advancing without improving-to pay so much attention to the worthless, perishable portion of humanity while the intellect remains a sink for the filth of sin. My friends the heart is a depository for both good and evil; but it ought to be the home of piety alone. There is no necessity for having quite so much trash deposited there as there is. Skim off the scum that swims upon the surface of depraved human nature, as often as once a week at least ; and allow my moral physic to purify the inner man every Sunday. Then, if you should be unfortunate enough to go to destruction at last, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I pulled at your coat-tails till you slipped the garments of mortality. Endeavor to improve as you advance in the world, else you lose more than you gain; and you will finally become convinced that, with all your advancement, you have been growing more wicked, and the worse for wear. The time will soon come when the timbers of your carnal dwelling shall become rotten-its windows broken-its doors closed-and its fires extinguished in the dust and ashes. So mote it be! ON DEVILS. TEXT.-There are many devils that walk this world- Devils so meagre, and devils so stout, Shy devils that go with their tails up curled, Serious devils and laughing devils, But a laughing woman with two black eyes MY HEARERS-I've got to take a devilish subject by the horns this time; however, I am as bold as a lion, and don't care a straw even for that devil of all devils, old Beelzebub himself. He and I had a set-to long time ago, as the poet says-and the way I thrashed the old covey was a caution to his imps. He first came palavering round me, and tried to stuff me up with all sorts of Tartarean blarney. He said that vice, immorality, intemperance, and all such trash, was just the sort o' thing to carry a man safely round the corners of this octagonal world. Said I, (putting my thumb on my nose, as the boys do,) you can't catch an old bird with such chaff as that-you're a liar, Satan, from the very beginning of all that ever begun to be, and you know it, too. So I doubled up my two gospels, and let him have it, right over the left peeper-then hit his retrospective a kick, and told him to go to He cut his stick, for dear life, and never has troubled me since. That, my hearers, was what I call fighting the good fight; and you should all do the same when similarly molested. Just spunk up to the old codger-let him know you are not afraid of him, and you'll quick find out that he is one of the biggest cowards that ever wore hair. I say, stand your ground, in spite of the devil; and if you are only backed by faith and virtue, you can knock him down with a psalm book just as easy as nothing. ་ But, my friends, there are more devils than one that go about this world, seeking where they might catch somebody.' Some are monsters, and frightful to behold-others are little, and look pretty; but these are some of the worst kind, because you can't fight 'em, more than you can mosquitoes. Some devils have horns -some don't--and some have horns that shove in and out, like a pencil case-out when they want to use them--in at other times. Look out for these fellows! There are shy devils that mix up a great deal of mischief for us mortals. They may be found in great numbers in this goodly city of Gotham-ay, even in that filthy lane of lucre, which projecteth toward the two great rivers, called Wall street. They carry their tails curled up in a knot, or wind 'em round their legs, and tuck the ends into their boots. Keep away from these devils, if you please. There are devils among us that show their hoofs, their horns, and the whole length of their tails. I need not warn you against such; because, as my friend Alexander Pope says, they are monsters with such confounded ugly mugs that, to be shunned and despised, they have only to be squinted at. The meek devils belong to the cunning tribe; but we have a set of brawling devils around us, that are enough to bring the ten plagues of Egypt upon the kingdom of righteousness. They woke up Beelzebub on New Year's night by their infernal orgies. They are his disinherited children--and I verily believe that when they are cast back into the stagnant pools of damation that spawned them, they will give their kindred spirits the scurvy, and Tophet itself will have a touch of the black vomit. Now, my beloved friends, I must pass over a lot of other devils that are lying in ambush for us, to one of a very peculiar and bewitching nature, and (as my text says) the very worst devil of all. A laughing woman with two bright eyes, is the very animal. Whe can hold on the reins of sober reason when this beautiful devil is piercing the heart with the arrows of love that are propelled by the lightning of its eyes? I can't, and don't try to. There is something under the silken eye-lashes of a young feminine devil that shoots a load of harmless sin right into a body; and makes him feel as if strung up by the ears, and dancing in an atmosphere of bliss! Oh, it's a queer sensation! and I exonerate all from the blame of imprudence, who may be caught up and borne away on the demi-angelic wings of woman's love. I have sometimes thought that the devil which tempted Eve in paradise was her own beautiful shadow. No-it couldn't have been; for she never would have been driven out of the garden for such an unsinful act of worship. It was a blasted snake. Down with the snakes, I say! Death to all snakes! But, my hearers, I fear I am trespassing on your patience. I could expatiate on this subject from now till breakfast. I may touch upon it again, one of these days-wind, weather, and Providence permitting: but, for the present, I have only to say, that if you don't fall into the clutches of any worse devil than lovely woman (as bad as she may be) you may consider yourselves as favorable candidates for offices in the highest courts of heaven. So mote it be! ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. TEXT.- Good den, Sir Richard-God-a-mercy, fellow; And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter.' MY HEARERS--the world is strangely given to calling men and things by their wrong names. There are more Mr. Thing-um-bobs, Mr. What-d'ye-call-'ems, Mr. You-know-whos, and Mr. So-andsos, extant at present, than I ever knew since I shed my first shirt. If you hear a man called John now-a-days, you can't be certain that his name is not Jedediah, Jehoiakim, or Jerusalem. In fact, it matters but little to him what he is called, so long as he knows 'it means ME.' Nap. Han.- -a colored gentleman, whose proper cognomen is Napoleon Cæsar Augustus Hannibal-once said that hehab seben children: dey am all named Jim, 'cept Pete, and his name is Bob.' So it is with the human family: they are nearly all Smiths, par convenience, except the Browns, and they answer for Greens. A common, if not a fashionable, way of saluting or addressing an acquaintance, at the present day, is: Hallo, Pete!' 'I say, old hoss!' 'Look here, my covey! et cetera. All this shows familiarity of the most intimate kind, but very little of the gentleman. Let one of your 'hallo-Pete' chaps be sent to the legislature for a term, and when he comes back he forgets the names of nearly all his old-hoss' associates; for, as my old friend Shakspere says, new-made honor forgets men's names; but if he isn't elected to office again, he falls back into the ranks of his former coveys,' and is emphatically 'one of 'em.' We have by nomenclature innumerable Dicks, Bobs, Dans, Ikes, Alecks, Bills, Jakes, Peggys, Nabs, Molls, and Sukes; but I don't believe a child ever received either of the above names at its christening. Oh, reform your nick-name practices and forget-names altogether! Yes, and reform, too, the thousand and one other little sins and vices, which, like moths, are eating more holes in your moral gar. ments than Time had grey hairs before he had his head shaved. Be good folks, and divide my blessing among you-if there is enough to go round. TEXT.-A legion in itself and doubly dear To the dark prince of hell is-hypocrisy.' Look out, my friends, for those who boast of possessing the 'pure and undefiled,' and yet have nothing about them but pinchback piety, those sort of chaps who are always ready to put up a long pole of prayer and poke down a blessing on your heads for a shilling, or bestow a curse for a copper. Beware of them-they are thicker than thorns upon a rose bush, and abound in all the walks of respectable society as plentifully as dead leaves in Val Ambrosia. You can't always tell them by their loud and zealous preaching, and apparent interestedness in the cause of charity and benevolence; for the most cunning of them are still, like brooks where they run the deepest. Neither can you know their thoughts by their faces; for men's heads and hearts are so far apart they hold but little intelligence with each other. The mainspring of a hypocrite's movement is always in his head; and, therefore, like a counterfeit gold watch, he ever presents the same brazen face. When a single-born thought of his ever happens to live long enough to creep up and cradle itself in his brain, then, and not till then, may you look in his eyes and judge of his motives. Beware, |