A SERMON ON MALT.

DR. DODD was a minister who lived many years ago a few miles from Cambridge; and having several times been preaching against drunkenness, some of the Cambridge scholars (conscience, which is sharper than a thousand witnesses, being their monitor) were very much offended, and thought he made reflections on them. Some little time after, Dr. Dodd was walking towards Cambridge, and met some of the gownsmen, who, as soon as they saw him at a distance, resolved to make some ridicule of him. As soon as he came up, they accosted him with, "Your servant, sir!" He replied, "Your servant, gentlemen." They asked him if he had not been preaching very much against drunkenness of late? He answered in the affirmative. They then told him they had a favor to beg of him, and it was that he would preach a sermon to them there, from a text they should choose. He argued that it was an imposition, for a man ought to have some consideration before preaching. They said they would not put up with a denial, and insisted upon his preaching immediately (in a hollow tree which stood by the road side) from the word MALT. He then began-" Beloved, let me crave your attention. I am a little man-come at a short notice—to preach a short sermon-from a

short text-to a thin congregation-in an unworthy pulpit. Beloved, my text is Malt. I cannot divide it into sentences, there being none; nor into words, there being but one; I must therefore, of necessity, divide it into letters, which I find in my text to be these fourM.A.L.T.

M-is Moral.

A—is Allegorical.
L-is Literal.

T-is Theological.

"The Moral is to teach you rustics good manners : therefore, M-my Masters, A-All of you, L-Leave off, T-Tippling.

"The Allegorical is, when one thing is spoken of, and another meant. The thing spoken of is Malt. The thing meant is the spirit of Malt, which you rustics make, M-your Meat, A-your Apparel, Lyour Liberty, and T-your Trust.

“The Literal is, according to the letters, M—Much, A— Ale, L—Little, T—Trust.

"The Theological is, according to the effects it works: in some, M-Murder, A-Adultery, L-Looseness of life, T-Treachery.

"I shall conclude the subject, First, by way of Exhortation. M-My Masters, A—All of you, L-Listen to, T-my text. Second, by way of Caution. M-My Masters, A—All of you, L-Look for, T-the Truth. Third, by the way of Communicating the Truth, which is this:-A Drunkard is the annoyance of modestythe spoil of civility-the destruction of reason-the

robber's agent-the alehouse's benefactor-his wife's sorrow his children's trouble-his own shame-his neighbour's scoff-the picture of a beast-the monster of a man!"

DR. DODD.

A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY.

I'VE a guinea I can spend,

I've a wife, and I've a friend,

And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown ; I've a cottage of my own

With the ivy overgrown,

And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown; I can sit at my door,

By my shady sycamore,

Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown; So come and drain a glass

In my arbour as you pass,

And I'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John Brown.

I love the song of birds,

And the children's early words,

And a loving woman's voice low and sweet, John Brown; But I hate a false pretence,

And a want of common sense,

And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown;

I love the meadow flowers,

And the brier in the bowers,

And I love an open face without guile, John Brown; But I hate a selfish knave,

And a proud, contented slave,

And a lout who'd rather borrow than he'd toil, John Brown.

I love a simple song

That awakes emotions strong,

And the word of hope that raises him who faints, John Brown;

And I hate the constant whine

Of the foolish who repine,

And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; But even when I hate,

If I seek my garden gate,

And survey the world around me, and above, John
Brown,

The hatred flies my mind,

And I sigh for human kind,

And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John
Brown.

So if

you like my ways,

And the comfort of my days,

I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown;
I never scorn my health,

Nor sell my soul for wealth,

Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John
Brown;

I've parted with my pride,

And I take the sunny side,

For I've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown; I keep my conscience clear,

I've a hundred pounds a year,

And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown.

CHARLES MACKAY.

THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.

A GOOD old man, no matter where,
Whether in York or Lancashire,
Or on a hill, or in a dale,—

It cannot much concern the tale,-
Had children very much like others,
Composed of sisters and of brothers;
In life he had not much to give,
Save his example how to live;

His luck was what his neighbours had,
For some were good and some were bad!
When of their father death bereft 'em,

His good advice was all he left 'em.
This good old man, who long had lain
Afflicted with disease and pain,
With difficulty drew his breath,
And felt the sure approach of death.