SAINT PATTY. St. Patty was an orphan, and dwelt in a cot with a sour old aunt. It chanced, it being bitter cold, that three hunters came and craved for meat and drink. "Pack," said the sour aunt; "neither meat nor drink have ye here." "Neither meat nor drink," said Patty, "but something better." And she ran and brought some milk, some eggs, and some flour, and beating them up, poured the batter in the pan. Then she took the pan, and tossed the cake once; and then a robin alighted at the window, and kept singing these words: "One good turn deserves another." And Patty tossed and tossed the cakes, and the hunters ate their fill and departed. And next day the hunter baron came in state to the cot, and trumpets were blown, and the heralds cried, "One good turn deserves another!" And in token whereof, Patty became the baron's wife, and pancakes were eaten on Shrove Tuesday ever after. SAINT NORAH. St. Norah was a poor girl, and came to England to service. Sweet-tempered and gentle, she seemed to love everything she spoke to. And she prayed to St. Patrick that he would give her a good gift, that would make her not proud, but useful; and St. Patrick, out of his own head, taught St. Norah how to boil a potato. A sad thing, and to be lamented, that the secret has come down to so few. SAINT BETSY. St. Betsy was wedded to a knight who sailed with Raleigh, and brought home tobacco; and the knight smoked. But he thought that St. Betsy, like other fine ladies of the court, would fain that he should smoke out of doors, nor taint with 'bacco-smoke the tapestry. Whereupon the knight would seek his garden, his orchard, and in any weather smoke sub Jove. Now it chanced, as the knight smoked, St. Betsy came to him and said, “My lord, pray ye, come into the house." And the knight went with St. Betsy, who took him into a newly-cedared room, and said, "I pray, my lord, henceforth smoke here; for is it not a shame that you, who are the foundation and the prop of your house, should have no place to put your head into and smoke?" And St. Betsy led him to a chair, and with her own fingers filled him a CCCCC pipe; and from that time the knight sat in the cedar cham. ber and smoked his weed. SAINT PHILLIS. St. Phillis was a virgin of noble parentage, but withal as simple as any shepherdess of curds-and-cream. She married a wealthy lord, and had much pin-money. But when other ladies wore diamonds and pearls, St. Phillis only wore a red and white rose in her hair. Yet her pin-money bought the best of jewelry in the happy eyes of the poor about her. St. Phillis was rewarded. She lived until fourscore, and still carried the red and white rose in her face, and left their fragrance in her memory. SAINT PHOEBE. St. Phoebe was married early to a wilful, but withal, a good-hearted husband. He was a merchant, and would come home sour and sullen from 'Change. Whereupon, after much pondering, St. Phoebe, in her patience, set to work, praying the while, and made of dyed lamb's-wool a door mat. And it chanced, from that time that never did the husband touch that mat that he didn't clean his temper, with his shoes; and he sat down by his Phoebe as mild as the lamb whose wool he had trod upon. Thus gentleness may make miraculous door-mats! SAINT SALLY. St. Sally, from her childhood, was known for her innermost love of truth. It was said of her that her heart was in a crystal shrine, and all the world might see it. Now, once, when other women denied, or strove to hide their age, St. Sally said, "I am five-and-thirty!" Whereupon, next birthday, St. Sally's husband, at a feast of all their friends, gave her a necklace of six-and-thirty opal beads; and on every birthday added a bead, until the beads amounted to fourscore and one. And the beads seemed to act as a charm; for St. Sally, wearing the sum of her age about her neck, age never appeared in her face. Such, in the olden time, was the reward of simplicity and truth. SAINT BECKY. A very good man was St. Becky's husband, but with his heart a little too much in his bottle. Port wine-red port wine-was his delight, and his constant cry was a bee'swing. Now, as he sat tipsy in his arbor, a wasp dropped into his glass; and the wasp was swallowed, stinging the man inwardly. Doctors crowded, and with much ado the man was saved. Now, St. Becky nursed her husband tenderly back to health, and upbraided him not. But she said these words: “My dear, take wine, and bless your heart with it; but wine in moderation. But never forget that the bee's-wing of to-day becomes the wasp's sting of to-morrow." SAINT LILY. St. Lily was the wife of a poor man, who tried to support a family, and the children were many,-by writing books. But in those days it was not as easy for a man to find a publisher as to say his Paternoster. Many were the books that were written by the husband of St. Lily; but to every book St. Lily gave at least two babies. However, blithe as a cricket was the spirit that ruled about the hearth of St. Lily. And how she helped her helpmate! She smiled sunbeams into his ink-bottle, and turned his goose-pen into the quill of a dove! She made the paper he wrote on as white as her name, and as fragrant as her soul. And when folks wondered how St. Lily managed so lightly with fortune's troubles, she always answered that she never heeded them, for "Troubles were like babies, and only grew the bigger by nursing!" SAINT FANNY. St. Fanny was a notable housewife. Her house was a temple of neatness. Kings might have dined upon her staircase! Now, her great delight was to provide all things comfortable for her husband, a hard-working merchant, much abroad, but loving his home. Now, one night he returned tired and hungry, and by some mischance there was nothing for supper. Shops were shut, and great was the grief of St. Fanny. Taking off a bracelet of seed pearl, she said, "I'd give this ten times over for a supper for my husband." And every pearl straightway became an oyster; and St. Fanny opened, and her husband ate, and lo! in every oyster was a pearl as large as a hazel-nut; and so was St. Fanny made rich for life. SAINT JENNY. St. Jenny was married to a very poor man; they had scarcely bread to keep them; but Jenny was of so sweet a temper that even want bore a bright face, and Jenny always smiled. In the worst seasons Jenny would spare crumbs for the birds, and sugar for the bees. Now, it so happened that an autumn storm rent their cot in twenty places apart; when behold, between the joists, from the basement to the roof, there was nothing but honey-comb and honey. A little fortune for St. Jenny and her husband in honey. Now, some said it was the pees, but more declared it was the sweet temper of St. Jenny that had filled the poor man's house with honey. SAINT FLORENCE, OR SAINT NIGHTINGALE. St. Florence, by her works, had her lips blessed with comforting, and her hands blessed with healing. And she crossed the sea, and built hospitals, and solaced, and restored. And so long as the mistletoe gathers beneath it truthful hearts, and English holly brightens happy eyes, so long will Englishmen, at home or abroad, on land or on the wave, so long-in memory of that Eastern Christmas-will they cry," God bless St. Florence! Bless St. Nightingale !” THE SAUSAGE MAKER'S GHOST.-THOMAS HOOD. A LONDON LEGEND. Somewhere in Leather Lane I wonder that it was not Mincing, Dealt in those well-minced cartridges of meat However, all such quibbles overstepping, Right brisk was the demand, Preferred to all polonies, saveloys, So sleek, so mottled, and so “friable,” Meanwhile a constant thumping But though he had a foreman and assistant, (Besides a wife and two fine chopping boys) To meet the call from streets, and lanes, and passages, However Mr. Brain Was none of those dull men and slow, And, therefore, in a kind of waking dream Accordingly, in happy hour, A bran new engine went to work Chopping up pounds on pounds of pork With all the energy of two-horse-power, And wonderful celerity When lo! when everything to hope responded, His anxious wife in vain And all the suburbs with descriptive bills, The sausage-maker, spite of white and black, |