It comes to this, dear Robert Burns- For a' that, and a' that, 'Tis soul and heart and a' that, THE BLARNEY STONE.--Anon. In Blarney Castle, on a crumbling tower, Thus, when I see some flippant tourist swell And hear him vaunt his bravery, and tell How once he snubbed a marquis-I infer The man came back, if but the truth were known, So, when I hear a shallow dandy boast (In the long ear that marks a brother dunce,) What precious favors ladies' lips have lost, To his advantage, I suspect, at once, The fellow's lying; that the dog alone (Enough for him!) has kissed the Blarney Stone! When some fine lady-ready to defame An absent beauty, with as sweet a graceWith seeming rapture greets a hated name, And lauds a rival to her wondering face; E'en Charity herself must own Some Women, too, have kissed the Blarney Stone! When sleek attorneys, whose seductive tongues, "Breathe forth huge falsehoods from capacious lungs ”* (The words are Juvenal's), 'tis plain to see A lawyer's genius isn't all his own; The specious rogue has kissed the Blarney Stone ! When the false pastor from his fainting flock * "Immensa cavi spirant mendacie folles." Gentlemen, my name is Smith, and I am proud to say I am not ashamed of it. It may be that no person in this crowd owns that very uncommon name. If, however, there be one such, let him hold up his head, pull his dicky, turn out his toes, take courage, and thank his stars that there are a few more left of the same sort. Smith, gentlemen, is an illustrious name, And stands very high in the annals of fame; Let White, Brown, or Jones increase as they will, Gentlemen, I am proud of being an original Smith-not a Smithe nor a Smythe, but a regular, natural, original S-m-i-t-h, Smith. Putting a y into the middle, or an e at the end, won't do, gentlemen. Who ever heard of a great man by the name of S-m-y-t-h or S-m-i-t-h-e? Echo answers Who, and everybody answers, Nobody. But as for Smith-plain S-m-i-t-h, Smithwhy, the pillars of fame are covered with that honored and revered name. Who were the most racy, witty, and popular authors of this century? Albert and John Smith. Who the most original, pithy, and humorous preacher? Rev. Sydney Smith. To go farther back, who was the boldest and bravest soldier in Sumpter's army in the Revolution? Smith. Who palavered with Powhattan, galivanted with Pocahontas, and became the ancestor of the first families of Virginia? Smith again. And who, I ask, and I ask the question seriously and soberly-who, I say, is that man, and what is his name, who has fought the most battles, made the most speeches, preached the most sermons, held the most offices, sung the most songs, written the most poems, courted the most women, kissed the most girls, run away with the most wives, and married the most widows? History says, you say, say, and everybody says, John Smith. To go back still farther, the Scripture speaks of one Alexander the Copper Smith. Farther back still, we read of Tubal Cain, who was an artificer in brass and iron. He must, undoubtedly, have been a Black Smith. And I have no doubt, gentlemen, that the great progenitor of our race would have been called Smith, if his name hadn't been Adam. Now, who, in this congregation, realizing all this nobility of blood and ancestry, dares to lay claim to greater greatness-to nobler nobleness--to wiser wisdom than is concentrated in the name of Smith? Surely not Tompkins, nor Jones, nor Williams, nor White, nor Black, nor Brown, nor Green, nor-well, nor any other man. I-am-S-m-i-t-h,proud of my descent from the first Smith, and willing to meet half-way any lady or her half-sister whose name isn't Smith, but would like to make it so. That's all. WEEK-DAY SERMON.-W. W. D. My Hearers,-You had better leave any certain matter entirely alone, than overdo it. Overdoing is next to making a fool of one's selt, and the perpetrator gets simply laughed at for his pains. If you have not judgment enough to set the proper limit to an act, the world will be none the less wise if you do nothing at all. Preserve equilibrium in all things, from a kiss to a speech in the Senate; but if the thing is overdone, equilibrium is lost, and the situation is decidedly ridiculous. Some persons overdo everything they undertake. Old men will smoke one cent clay pipes till the perfume from them is strong enough to make a marble statue turn pale-just to economize. Ministers roll their eyes upward, and draw their mouths downward, as if in the agonies of hanging, for reason of one of his flock having been seen enjoying himself when he thought the temptations of a tempting world might tempt him to irreligious attempts. Deacons will pray as though the clouds were hundred-foot walls of stone between them and Heaven, or as though its inhabitants were sleeping amidst the deep recesses of oblivion, where no eye could penetrate, and no arm could save. Speakers will roll out volumes of big swelling words to an audience whose heads have not been combed for a week, and who are too slovenish and ignorant to comprehend the first lesson in "Cobb's Elementary SpellingBook." Men and women will sit in church on Sunday as sanctimoniously as Watts himself, and on any week-day jump at the chance of stealing the last hoe-cake from a blind negro's tin platter, or take the pennies from the eyes of a dead pauper.. One person dresses "to kill," and lives on a crust, while another buys his fancy satisfied in things for the house, and at the same time goes ragged on the streets, neglects his business, and is considered a drone in the public hive. My Friends,-Space would not allow me here to enumerate the many things overdone in every day life. We are all to fault in this, and he who thinks he is not, overdoes his own judgment in thinking so. Because you are excited in an act, it does not follow that others are excited with you, and hence the necessity of conforming yourself to their feelings in the matter, and unless you do, you will appear to them in a light both ridiculous and amusing. Study human nature and your own interests and capabilities, and you will be able to do just right in your own estimation, and in the sight of others. To overdo in many things is to exaggerate, and when you would say of a speech that it was good, or able, do not say it was the "best you had ever heard," and keep on saying it every time you chance to hear a different speech made. This, by some, would be called white lying, but I choose to call it overdoing; and I believe of all the human organism, the tongue over ZACHARIA SPICER'S OPINION. 145 does the most. It is a habit, and the habit becomes chronic, and you do not rely on what it says, but simmer and figure it down tc suit your own judgment, or, in other words, take it for what it is worth. It is said there is no such thing as doing too much good; but there is, and the man who makes himself penniless in helping others, or wears himself out, physically, and thus shortens and makes miserable his own existence, for some one else, overdoes, and makes himself fully as responsible for such crime-for such it is—as though he had done nothing at all, when he could have rendered assistance. My Hearers,—Do not either do too much or too little, for either extreme is simply overdoing. When you have done just enough, you will be the wiser, rest the easier, make more, and die happier. Bridle your tongue, calm your passions, keep constant equilibrium in everything, even to riding a velocipede, and my word for it, you will be a model of society, a good neighbor, always liked for what you are, and never scorned, and all from not overdoing. For which advice I am well paid by your evident appreciation of what I say, and you are well paid by listening to what is said, We are, therefore, mutually benefited-which is more than can usually be said of speaker and hearers. ZACHARIA SPICER'S OPINION. Mr. President and Gentlemen,—I rise to advocate the cause of the married man. And why should I not? I claim to know something about the institution--I do. Will any gentleman pretend to say I do not? Let him accompany me home. Let me confront him with my wife and seventeen small children, and decide. High as the Rocky Mountains tower above the Mississippi Valley, does the married man tower above that of the bachelor. What was Adam before he got acquainted with Eve? What but a poor, shiftless, helpless creature! No more to be compared with his after self than a mill-dam to the roaring cataract of Niagara. Gentlemen, there was a time, I blush to say, when I was a bachelor, and a more miserable creature you could hardly expect to find. Every day I toiled hard, and at night I came home to my comfortless garret--no carpet, no fire, no nothing. Everything was in a clutter, and in the words of the poet :— "Confusion was monarch of all I surveyed." Here lay a pair of dirty pants, there a dirty pair of boots, there a dirty play-bill, and here a pile of dirty clothes. What wonder that I took refuge at the gaming-table and bar-room? I found i would never do, gentlemen, and in a lucky moment I vowed to reform. Scarcely had the promise passed my lips, when a knock was heard at my door, and in came Susan Simpkins, after my dirty clothes. "Mr. Spicer," says she, "I've washed for you for six months, and I haven't seen the first red cent in the way of payment. Now I'd like to know what you are going to do about it?" I felt in my pocket-book. There was nothing in it, and I knew it well enough. "Miss Simpkins," said I, "it's no use denying it, I haven't got the stamps. I wish for your sake I had." 66 Then," said she promptly, "I don't wash another rag for you." 66 'Stop," said I. "Susan, I will do the best I can for you. Greenbacks I have none, but if my heart and hand will do, they are at your service." "Are you in earnest?" says she, looking a little suspicious. "Never more so," says I. "Then," says she, "as there seems to be no prospect of getting my pay any other way, I guess I'll take up with your 66 offer. Enough," said I. We were married in a week; and what's more, we haven't had cause to repent it. No more attics for me, gentlemen. I live in a good house, and have somebody to mend my clothes. When I was a poor, miserable bachelor, gentlemen, I used to be as thin as a weasel. Now I am as plump as a porker. In conclusion, gentlemen, if you want to be a poor, ragged fellow, without a coat to your back or a shoe to your feet; if you want to grow old before your time, and uncomfortable generally, as a "hedgehog rolled up the wrong way," I advise you to remain a bachelor; but if you want to live decently and respectably, get married. I've got ten daughters, gentlemen, and you may have your pick. LAUGH WHEN YOU CAN.-Anon. After all, what a capital, kindly, honest, jolly, glorious good thing a laugh is ! What a tonic! What a digester! What a febrifuge ! What an exorciser of evil spirits! Better than a walk before breakfast, or a nap after dinner. How it shuts the mouth of malice, and opens the brow of kindness. Whether it |