CLXXXI.-THE BORE.

AGAIN I hear the creaking step!
He's rapping at the door!

Too well I know the boding sound
That ushers in a bore.

I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes;

But Heaven defend me from the friend
Who comes but never goes.

He drops into my easy chair,
And asks about the news;
He peers into my manuscript,
And gives his candid views.

He tells me where he likes the line,
And where he's forced to grieve;
He takes the strangest liberties,
But never takes his leave.

He reads my daily papers through
Before I've seen a word,

He scans the lyric that I wrote,
And thinks it quite absurd.
He calmly smokes my last cigar,
And coolly asks for more;
He opens every thing he sees,
Except the entry door.

He talks about his fragile health,
And tells me of his pains;

He suffers from a score of ills

Of which he ne'er complains;

And how he struggled once with death

To keep the fiend at bay.

On themes like those away he goes,

But never goes away!

He tells me of the captious words,

Some shallow critic wrote,

And every precious paragraph

Familiarly can quote,

He thinks the writer did me wrong,
He'd like to run him through!
He says a thousand pleasant things,
But he never says "Adieu!"

Whene'er he comes, that dreadful man,
Disguise it as I may,

I know that like an autumn rain,
He'll last throughout the day.
In vain I speak of urgent tasks,
In vain I scowl and pout;
A frown is no extinguisher,
It does not put him out.

I mean to take the knocker off;
Put crape upon the door;
Or hint to John that I am gone
To stay a month or more.

I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes;

But Heaven defend me from the friend
Who never, never goes!

-John G. Saxe.

CLXXXII-JOHN JANKIN'S SERMON.

THE minister said last night, says he,

Don't be afraid of givin';

If your life aint nothin' to other folks,

Why, what's the use of your livin'?"
And that's what I say to my wife, says I,
There's Brown the mis'rable sinner,
He'd sooner a beggar would starve than give
A cent toward buyin' his dinner.

I tell you our m'nister's prime he is,
But I couldn't quite determine,

When I heard him a-givin' it right and left,
Just who was hit by his sermon.

Of course there could n't be no mistake When he talked of long-winded prayin', For Peters and Johnson they sot and scowled At every word he was sayin'.

And the minister he went on to say,
"There's various kinds o' cheatin';
And religion's as good for every day
As it is to bring to meetin’.

I don't think much of a man that gives
The Lord "Amens" at my preachin',
And spends his time the followin' week
In cheatin' and overreachin'."

I guess that dose was bitter enough
For a man like Jones to swaller;
But I noticed he did n't open his mouth,
Not once, after that last holler.
"Hurrah," says I, for the minister,
Of course I said it quiet,

"Give us some more of such plain talk;
It's very refreshing diet."

The minister hit 'em every time;

And when he spoke of fashion,

And a riggin' out in bows and things,
As woman's rulin' passion,

And a-comin' to church to see the styles,

I couldn't help a-winkin'

And a-nudgin' my wife, says I, "That's you," And I guess it sot her to thinkin'.

Says I to myself, "That sermon's pat;

But man is a queer creation;

And I'm much afraid that most of the folks

Didn't make the application.

Now, if he had said a word about

My personal mode of sinnin',

I'd have gone to work to right myself,
And not sot there a-grinnin'."

Just then the minister says; says he,

"And now I've come to the fellers

Who've lost this shower by usin' their friends
As sort o' moral umbrellas,

Go home," says he, “and find your own faults,
Instead of huntin' your brothers';

Go home," he says, “and wear the coats
You've tried to fit for others."

My wife she nudged, and Brown he winked,
And there was lots o' smilin',

And lots of lookin' into our pew;

It sot my blood a-bilin'.

Says I to myself, "Our minister

Is gittin' a little bitter;

I'll tell him when meetin''s out that I
Aint at all that kind of a critter."

CLXXXIII. TO MAKE MISCHIEF.

KEEP your eye on your neighbors. Do not let them stir without watching.

Take care of them.
They may do some-

thing wrong if you do. To be sure, you never did know them to do any thing very bad, but it may be on your account they have not. Perhaps, if it had not been for your kind care, they might have disgraced themselves a long time ago. Therefore do not relax any effort to keep them where they ought to be. Never mind your own business; that will take care of itself. There is a man passing along, he is looking over the fence, be suspicious of him; perhaps he contemplates stealing, some of these dark nights; there is no knowing what queer fancies he may have got into his head.

If you find any symptoms of any one passing out of the path of duty, tell every one else what you see, and be particular to see a great many. It is a good way to circulate such things, though it may not benefit yourself or any one

else particularly. Do keep something going; silence is a dreadful thing, though it is said there was silence in heaven for the space of half an hour; but do not let any such thing occur on earth; it would be too much for this mundane sphere.

If, after all your watchful care, you can not see any thing out of the way in any one, you may be sure it is not because they have not done any thing bad; perhaps in an unguarded moment you lost sight of them; throw out hints that they are no better than they should be; that you should not wonder if the people found out what they were after awhile; then they may not carry their heads so high. Keep it going, and some one may take the hint and begin to help you along after awhile, then there will be music, and every thing will work to a charm.

CLXXXIV.-THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST.

"T WAS night; the clock had just struck ten
When, with a mighty din,

The stage-coach halted at the door
Of Smith's Hotel in Lynn;

An inside passenger got out,

Who straight went in the inn.

His portly figure was enwrapped

In overcoat of shag,

While one hand grasped a traveling trunk,

The other held a bag;

And in the twinkle of his eye

You recognized a wag.

"Waiter," he cried, "show me a room;

I'm tired and travel-sore."

The waiter showed him to a room

Upon the second floor.

"Just stay a moment," said the man,

The waiter closed the door.