sausages ere they arrive at seven; and cats, with their nine livesreckoning seven years to an existence-can't brag much over man concerning their remarkable longevity. But our days have latterly been reduced to a very narrow space, for some providential reason or other, which it wouldn't appear modest in me to inquire into at present. I suppose, however, that if we were allowed to live longer than we do, there wouldn't be room for other folks to live. "Come up to the bar, take a drink, fall back and make room for the rest," seems to me to be the grand regulations, relative to life, as well as to taking toddy. My dear friends: what is life? It is the twin brother of Nothing —a shade of a shadow-an empty dream—a mere name. We persuade ourselves that we live, and are satisfied; but to whom shall it be left to say that we are not labouring under a mighty delusion ?* No matter "Vot's the hodds, so long as we are 'appy!" as the Cockney would say. That's it-so long as we can enjoy ourselves, it is all right. We must eat, drink, make love, and be merry; and if, in the end, we find that life has been short, we can console ourselves with the idea that its sweetness has more than equalled its brevity. So mote it be! FALSE COURAGE. TEXT.-O, how courageous, valiant men! How chicken-hearted, too! "You'd fight a giant-yet you dare Not truth and right pursue. MY HEARERS: I don't know why it is, but you don't often find the flowers of both physical and moral courage flourishing upon the same bush of humanity. Now, you are ready and anxious to go into a bloody war, with all the grit and greediness of a bulldog, because it is a popular one; but did the dear people proclaim against it, you would set Right, Wrong, Justice, and Equity aside, and keep on digging your potatoes in peace, with an imaginary prospect of glory to come. You talk about having the pluck to pitch into a panther! Why, you haven't courage enough to cast an insinuation at a mosquito. You are wanting in the very rudiments of courage. In nine times out of ten, you lack the courage to tell a simple truth; so you sneak round the corners, and hide yourselves under the fence of falsehood. What is your courage? You haven't the courage to take a tiger by the teeth, when you know that precaution, in such a case, is "the better part of valour." You are wanting in courage when you flee from the goddess of Truth, and seek for protection beneath the folds of Self-interest. You dare not pursue the right path when the wrong is considered the most popular one. You dare not bid defiance to the Devil, and cut your way singlehanded to God and everlasting glory. You don't possess the courage to treat with considerate contempt a challenge to fight a duel. No, you are frightened into a fight: if you fall, the earth hides you, and the fragrance of your virtues is wafted away for ever upon the winds of forgetfulness: if you live, you live to rue the hour that you engaged in the deed. You haven't the courage to oppose Fashion in her freaks and follies. You may whine at them for awhile; but, eventually, you yield by inches, and, finally, are found kissing her heel. You haven't the courage, half of you, who call yourselves BOYS MATURED, to pop the question at once, and bring to TERMS a fond, affectionate, loving FOE, who is an enemy to your single enjoyments, and arrays herself in hostile attitude against your bacheloric blisses. You haven't the courage to stay away from a fashionable church, and pray in your own closets. You haven't the courage to face a man in the street to whom you owe a few dollars, and say to him blandly, "My dear friend, I believe you have a lock of my hair; and I trust you will keep it, for old acquaintance' sake, till fortune favours me with sufficient PEWTER to pay you off according to your deserts." My dear friends: I give a very short sermon this morning, but in it are contained seeds which, if properly planted, will produce an hundred-fold—relating to your happiness here, and your hopes of an hereafter. So mote it be! PLAIN PREACHING. TEXT.-On Bible stilts I don't affect to stalk, Nor lard with Scripture my familiar talk: For man may pious texts repeat, MY HEARERS: I suppose you have found out, by this time, that I never meddle much with the Bible in my homespun discourses— never poach upon the possession of gospel preachers; but, upon my own hook, perfectly free and independent, giving the truth, the whole truth, and sometimes (to be liberal) more than the truth— uninfluenced by favour, unswayed by motive, and undeterred by fear. This is the way I do-I, myself, Dow, Jr., P. P., Patent Preacher, and F.R.S., First Rate Sermonizer. I never lard with scripture my plain, familiar talk; because I don't think myself qualified to the task of explaining the hidden meanings contained in the book of mysteries. While others "holler" upon religion, I hammer upon morality—and I do believe that, take it in and out, altogether, and every way, morality operates more beneficially upon society than religion. Because why-about half the religion, nowa-days, is as impure as the water of a goose-pond-a counterfeit mess of stuff, unfit for the redemption of a Bedouin Arab: whereas, morality is more palpable, and admits of no disguise. It is plain, say. unassuming, and unchanging the saltpetre that saves a man's reputation, and the brine in which his earthly happiness is pickled. My friends: in my sermons, I, most generally, mean what I I tell you to live virtuously, because I believe you will be the happier for it; to live honestly, and you will get through the world smoothly; live prudently, and you will be prepared for all the little unexpectancies of life, that seem to rise from the ground, like moths and millers in the dusk of evening; live temperately, and probably neither Death nor the Devil will catch you napping at the half-way house upon the high road of existence. My hearers: endeavour to be contented with your situations till the time arrives for bettering them. Uneasiness wastes the body and undermines the health; and the soul may easily fret itself out of house and home. If you were all to govern yourselves, the world would need but little governing. But man is a hog, anyhow-he will neither be coaxed nor driven, and yet he wants somebody to look after him. Yes, and woman is a hogess. Learn to bear disappointments cheerfully. What has happened can't be altered; a bad-fitting coat may be, however-ay, the coat may be altered, but the FACT of the tailor having made a mistake can never be helped. Try hard to promote the happiness of others. If you succeed, your own happiness will be put up several notches. It always gives me pleasure to see even a dog tickled. Have a sacred regard for truth and honesty; a fond regard for each other; a generous regard for the different principles and opinions of mankind; and a particular regard for the fair sex. Live as you ought to live, and take good care not to die “ as the fool The lady who sent me the billet-doux commencing with "What is that thing we call a kiss?" &c., is solicited to send me another equally as rich. dieth." So mote it be! THE THREAD OF NATURE. TEXT.-My thread is small, my thread is fine; A stronger than thee Who can break this thread of mine. MY HEARERS: The thread of mystery is a fine one indeed; and yet it is so strong that neither a Hercules in sinew nor a giant in wisdom can snap it. There are thousands and thousands of mysterious cobwebs clustering about the dark corners of this world, which seem as if they might be as easily brushed away as the spidernets of a night; but when you give them a brush with the broom of philosophy, they are still THERE. My hearers: the thread of Nature is very delicately drawn, but none can rend it in twain, nor rub off a particle of the mysterious furze that encompasses it. Why a young duck, as soon as it shakes its shell from its hindermost, should take to the water, is a mystery. How new-born babes should know enough to draw at the lactescent fountain, and how the milk should happen there exactly in time to meet the demand, is a mystery. How tadpoles (incipient frogs) contrive to get rid of their tails, what becomes of their discarded extremities, and how their little pin-punctured mouths longitudinate to such awful capaciousness as they exhibit in after years, is a mystery. Why women naturally prefer the company of men, and men that of women, is a mystery. Why the tendrils of the hopvine curl to the left, and why ladies, in walking, look over the left shoulder to examine a dress behind them, is a mystery. How the invisible filaments of the moon fasten thunderbolts upon, and drag about the waters of the wondrous deep; what power causes the magnetic needle to point, like a finger, to the pole; and why humans, with all their wisdom and intelligence, should have bestial propensities, is all a mystery. My dear friends: the thread of Nature is somewhat tangled, as well as strong; and the more you pick at it, the tighter the knots appear to become drawn. You can neither unravel nor snap it, nor make it different from what it is, any more than you can alter the rays of the everlasting sun, or tarnish the eternal lustre of truth. Society may assume an outward artificial aspect: and yet Nature must and will take its course. Your teeth were made to masticate both vegetable and animal food; and Nature never will allow more than a few notionalists to live upon "greens" entirely. Let Shakers, monks, hermits, old maids, and bachelors, say what they may, it is your DUTY to get married, and thereby accomplish one of the most important ends for which you were sent into the world. Eat when you are hungry-drink when you are dry-sleep when you are sleepy-rest when you are weary-sing when you are merryout with the truth before it can have time to turn to a lie-and kiss whenever you can. In short, follow the simple dictates of Nature in everything, and you will find far more happiness, and meet with fewer ills and difficulties, than by arraying yourselves in opposition to her ways-which are not to be barked at. So mote it be! NOTHING IMPOSSIBLE. TEXT.-E'en guides may sometimes miss their way, And strong temptation may prevail 'Gainst those whom most we've trusted. MY HEARERS: The best miss it, sometimes-I know I do myself. Practising at pistol-shooting the other day, at my friend's, Mr. Ottignon, I had the heart to endeavour to hit the heart of one whom they call a "man;" but I missed it. Trying again, however, I had the fortune to effect my cruel purpose; and yet, moreover, whereas, nevertheless, as he hadn't the courtesy to fall, I looked upon him as "no gentleman," but a " HARD character," and one with whom neither words nor dealings were of any avail. With all my selfreliance and natural confidence, I not only missed my WAY for once, but got hold of the wrong customer entirely. I can "teach the young idea How to SHOOT," a good deal better than I can do the shooting for it. If it only does as I SAY, it will do well enough; but if it always does as I Do, the mark will sometimes be missed. Even guides may sometimes miss their way, rightly says my text. If you expect me, or any other poor but honest preacher, to guide you along a dark and dubious world like this without getting into an occasional moral mudhole, you put your expectations where they will be likely to get damaged. We can't always go right, if we would; and, if we could, I doubt whether a hundredth of us would-for it is human to err and go astray. So then man's nature must be changed before he can follow strictly the path of propriety, without deviating to the right or to the left. When he shall have instinct instead of reason for his guide, he will walk straight-but not until then. My friends: that virtuous men may be led astray by change of circumstances is a melancholy fact. When a man becomes poor, and gets hard up, with big owl-eyed starvation staring at him from a short distance, he will turn off and go devilward, in spite of all pious pushings to the contrary. Righteousness and roast beef are luxuries that he can't afford; and so he serves Satan for something to season and make palatable the cold porridge of poverty. There is no knowing, my friends, what we might do if our circumstances were unfortunately to change. Destitution will sin for a sixpence, and Hunger and Thirst will keep themselves where they can get a chance, without regard to right or wrong. My friends: attempt to go as straight as you will, you are all certain, at times, to step off the moral track. Even pastors and bishops do things that heaven don't like to look at; and there is no one living in this little round world but whose soul is more or less F |