"0 «L 
A NEGRO CAMP-MEETING HYMN. 
Why don’t you do as 1’eter did, 
A-walking on the sea? 
He throwed both arms above his head, 
Crying, “ Good Lord, remember me.” 
Then remember the rich and remember the poor, 
And remember the bound and the free, 
An d when you are done remembering around. 
Then, good Lord, remember me. 
If I could stand where Moses stood, 
And view the landscape o’er. 
I’d throw these legs as fast as I could— 
And I’d go for the milk-white shore. 
Then remember the rich and remember the poor, 
And remember the bound and the free, 
And when you are done remembering around, 
Then, good Lord, remember me .—Chicago Tribune. 
Lively Butter. —There is an old goat owned in 
Detroit which has received a great deal of training 
from the hoys. Last Fourth of July they discovered 
that if they stuck a fire-cracker in the end of a cane | 
and held it at Wil¬ 
liam, he would lower 
his head and go for 
them ; and they have 
practiced the trick so 
much that the goat 
will tackle any human 
being who points a 
stick at him. A few 
days ago he was loaf¬ 
ing near the corner of 
Third and Lewis 
streets, when a cor¬ 
pulent citizen came 
up and stopped to talk 
with a friend. They 
happened to speak of 
sidewalks, when the 
corpulent citizen 
pointed his cane just 
to the left of the goat, 
and said: 
“ That’s the worst 
piece of sidewalk in 
this town.” 
The goat had been 
eyeing the cane, and 
the moment it came up 
he lowered his head, 
made six or eight 
jumps, and his head 
struck the corpulent 
citizen just on “the 
belt.” The man went . 
over into a mass of 
old tin, dilapidated 
butter kegs and abandoned hoop skirts, and the goat 
turned a somersault the other way, while slim citizen 
threw stones at a hoy seated on a doorstep, who was 
laughing tears as big as chestnuts, and crying out: 
“ Oh, it’s ’nuff to kill a feller! ” 
Preaching Politics. —A worthy deacon hired a 
journeyman farmer from a neighboring town for the 
summer, and induced him—although he was unac¬ 
customed to church-going—to accompany the family 
to church on the first Sabbath of his stay. Upon their 
return to the deacon’s house, he asked his hired man 
how he liked the sermon. He replied : 
“ I don’t like to hear any man preach politics/’ 
“ I am very sure you heard no minister preach poli¬ 
tics to-day,” said the deacon. 
“ I am sure that I did,” said the man. 
“ Mention the passage,” said the deacon. 
“I will,” he said. “If the Republicans scarcely 
are saved, where will the Democrats appear ? ” 
“ Ah,” said the deacon, “ you mistake ; these were 
the words, ‘ If the righteous scarcely are saved, how 
will the ungodly and wicked appear ? ’ ” 
“ Oh, yes,” said the man, “ he might have used 
those words, hut I know mighty well ivliat lie meant.” 
Cyrus, King of Persia, when a hoy, was asked 
what was the first thing that he learned. In reply, he 
said : “ To speak the truth.” This is one of the most 
important lessons of life, and cannot be learned too 
early. There is no attribute of our being more beau¬ 
tiful than truthfulness; it sheds a glory upon rhe 
whole character; it does away with all distrust, in¬ 
spiring, in its stead, sentiments of faith and confidence. 
A story is told of a shrewish Scotchwoman who 
tried to wean her husband from the public house by 
| employing her brother to act the part of a ghost and 
Grandmother’s Tea-Party. 
frighten John on his way home. “Wha are you 1 ?” 
said the guidman, as the apparition rose before him 
from behind a hush. “I am Auld Nick,” was the re¬ 
ply. “ Come auui’ man,” said John, nothing daunted; 
“ gie’s a shake o’ your hand—I am married tae a sis¬ 
ter o’ yours.” 
A learned and eloquent bishop was very anxious 
to convert a Parsee, who was making some stay in 
London. “ I cannot think,” said he, “ how any man 
of intelligence and education, whose mind has been 
enlarged by travel and association with men of differ¬ 
ent opinions, can worship a created object, such as the 
sun.” “ Oh, my lord bishop,” returned the Parsee, 
who had not been fortunate in -the weather since his 
arrival in England, “you should see it; you have no 
idea what a glorious object it is.” 
Spoilt his Poetry. —There are few jokes that 
make better fun than secretly piecing out a friend’s un¬ 
finished line. The trick is a practical and verbal joke 
in one, and harmless—unless a sacred beginning is 
burlesqued by a ridiculous sequel. 
It is related of Dr. Hansel that when an under¬ 
graduate of Trinity College, Cambridge, he chanced to 
call at the rooms of a brother Cantab, who was ab¬ 
sent, hut who had left on his table the opening of a 
poem, which was in the following lofty strain :— 
“ Tlie sun’s perpendicular rays 
Illumine the depths of the sea,”— 
Here the flight of the poet, by some cause, stopped 
short; hut Mansel, who enjoyed a joke, completed the 
stanza thus:— 
“ And the fishes, beginning to sweat, 
Cried, " Goodness! how hot we shall be! ’ ” 
On the Wrong Lay.—A certain Lincoln county 
huckster, who deals principally in butter and poultry, 
invariably asks a lit¬ 
tle more for these 
luxuries than any of 
his neighbors. When 
asked his reasons for 
so doing, he always 
replies after this fash¬ 
ion : 
“Well, sir, that’s 
an extra quality of 
butter: it was made 
by my wife’s aunt, sir 
—one of the best 
housekeepers in the 
State. Those chick¬ 
ens are a superior ar¬ 
ticle, sir; they were 
raised by my wife’s 
aunt, sir, and what 
she doesn’t know 
about raising chick¬ 
ens ain’t worth know¬ 
ing, sir.” 
This peculiarity 
has been remarked 
by his customers, and 
they are in the habit 
of commenting on it 
quite freely behind 
his back. The other 
day a very solemn- 
looking individual en¬ 
tered the store, and, 
walking up to a bas¬ 
ket of eggs, in¬ 
quired : 
“ What do you ask for eggs ? ” 
“ Fifteen cents a dozen,” was the bland reply. 
“Fifteen cents?” exclaimed the melancholy cus¬ 
tomer. “ Why, I can buy them, anywhere at ten— 
but, may be your wife’s aunt laid these eggs! ” 
The owner of the hen fruit hung his head, looked 
thoughtful for a moment, and replied : 
“ Take ’em along at ten ! ” 
A letter from one tramp to another was picked up 
in Fair Haven, Vt., the other day, which closed as fol¬ 
lows : “ u won’t ketch me in this stat agin, my advise 
to u iz to go bak to york stat, ceep clere of Vermont 
for it iz not a good hum fur a sensativ tramp.” 
“ Skip the hard words, honey, dear,” said an Irish 
school-mistress to one of her pupils ; “ they are only 
the names of foreign countries, and you will never be 
in them.” 
