Groping and raking in the dirt,

And all without success; but that
Is hardly to be wondered at,

Because no shilling had been dropped;
So he gave o'er the search at last,
Regained the door, and found it fast.

With sundry oaths, and growls, and groans,
He rang once,-twice, and thrice; and then,
Mingled with giggling, heard the tones
Of Harry, mimicking old Ben :-
"Who's there? 'Tis really a disgrace
To ring so loud,-I've locked the gate,
I know my duty; 'tis too late,—
You wouldn't have me lose my place ?"

"Psha! Mr. Dashington; remember This is the middle of November;

I'm stripped; 'tis raining cats and dogs". "Hush, hush!" quoth Hal. "I'm fast asleep;" And then he snored as loud and deep

As a whole company of hogs.

"But, hark ye, Ben, I'll grant admittance At the same rate I paid myself."

66

Nay, master, leave me half the pittance,"
Replied the avaricious elf.

“No,—all or none,—a full acquittance;
The terms, I know, are somewhat high;
But you have fixed the price, not I;

I won't take less; I can't afford it."
So, finding all his haggling vain,
Ben, with an oath and groan of pain,

Drew out the guinea, and restored it.

"Surely you'll give me," growled the outwitted
Porter, when again admitted,

"Something, now you've done your joking,
For all this trouble, time, and soaking.
"Oh, surely, surely," Harry said;
"Since, as you urge, I broke your rest,
And you're half drowned, and quite undressed,
I'll give you," said the generous fellow,
Free, as most people are when mellow,
"I'll give you-leave to go to bed."

J. R. Planche.

THE CHANGED CROSS.

It was a time of sadness, and my heart,
Although it knew and loved the better part,
Felt wearied with the conflict and the strife,
And all the needful discipline of life.

And while I thought on these as given to me,
My trial tests of faith and love to be,

It seemed as if I never could be sure
That faithful to the end I should endure.

And thus, no longer trusting to his might

Who says, "We walk by faith and not by sight,"
Doubting, and almost yielding to despair,
The thought arose,

My cross I cannot bear."

Far heavier its weight must surely be,
Than those of others which I daily see;
Oh! if I might another burden choose,
Methinks I should not fear my crown to lose.

A solemn silence reigned on all around,
E'en Nature's voices uttered not a sound;
The evening shadows seemed of peace to tell,
And sleep upon my weary spirit fell.

A moment's pause,—and then a heavenly light
Beamed full upon my wondering, raptured sight,
Angels on silvery wings seemed everywhere,
And angels' music filled the balmy air.

Then One, more fair than all the rest to see,
One, to whom all the others bowed the knee,
Came gently to me, as I trembling lay,

And, "Follow me," he said, "I am the Way."

Then, speaking thus, he led me far above,
And there, beneath a canopy of love,
Crosses of divers shape and size were seen,
Larger and smaller than my own had been.

And one there was most beauteous to behold,-
A little one, with jewels set in gold;

Ah! this, methought, I can with comfort wear,
For it will be an easy one to bear.

And so the little cross I quickly took,
But all at once my frame beneath it shook;
The sparkling jewels, fair were they to see,
But far too heavy was their weight for me.

“This may not be,” I cried, and looked again,
To see if any there could ease my pain;
But, one by one I passed them slowly by,
Till on a lovely one I cast my eye.

Fair flowers around its sculptured form entwined,
And grace and beauty seemed in it combined,
Wondering I gazed,-and still I wondered more,
To think so many should have passed it o'er.

t oh, that form so beautiful to see,

Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me:
Thorns lay beneath those flowers and colors fair;
Sorrowing I said, "This cross I may not bear."

And so it was with each and all around,
Not one to suit my need could there be found;
Weeping I laid each heavy burden down,
As my guide gently said, "No cross,-no crown."
At length to him I raised my saddened heart;
He knew its sorrows, bade its doubts depart;
"Be not afraid," he said, "but trust in me;
My perfect love shall now be shown to thee."
And then, with lightened eyes and willing feet,
Again I turned, my earthly cross to meet;
With forward footsteps, turning not aside,
For fear some hidden evil might betide;
And there,-in the prepared, appointed way,
Listening to hear, and ready to obey,—
A cross I quickly found, of plainest form,
With only words of love inscribed thereon.

With thankfulness I raised it from the rest,
And joyfully acknowledged it the best,—
The only one, of all the many there,
That I could feel was good for me to bear.

And while I thus my chosen one confessed,
I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest;
And as I bent, my burden to sustain,
I recognized my own old cross again.

But, oh! how different did it seem to be,
Now I had learned its preciousness to see!
No longer could I unbelieving say,
"Perhaps another is a better way."

Ah, no! henceforth my one desire shall be,
That he, who knows me best, should choose for me;
And so, whate'er his love sees good to send,
I'll trust it's best,—because he knows the end.

BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CÆSAR.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly,-any dear friend of Cæsar's,to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar. was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you

rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved • ́me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition.

Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply..

None? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying,-a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart :-That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. Shakspeare,

ANTONY'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.

Friends, Romans, countrymen! lend me your ears; I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones: So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious; If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Cæsar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,For Brutus is an honorable man,

So are they all, all honorable men,-
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious,

And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

And Brutus is an honorable man.

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse.

Was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And, sure, he is an honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause:

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?

O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!-Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O Masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men.
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,