And sought the black, accursed pool
With a wild, misgiving eye;

And I saw the dead in the river-bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,

I took him up and ran ;

There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began ;

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,

I hid the murdered man!

"And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwhere;
As soon as the mid-day task was done,
In secret I was there,

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare!

"O God! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake!

Again — again, with dizzy brain,

The human life I take;

And my red right hand grows raging hot, Like Cranmer's at the stake.

"And still no peace for the restless clay

Will wave or mould allow ;
The horrid thing pursues my soul,
It stands before me now!"

The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin's eyelids kissed,

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn

Through the cold and heavy mist;

And Eugene Aram walked between,
With gyves upon his wrist.

A MODERN SERMON.

The following exhibits the method upon which the average parson constructs his delectable discourses:

"Brethren, the words of my text are:

"Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard To get her poor dog a bone;

But when she got there the cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.'

"These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with them a solemn lesson. I propose this evening to analyze their meaning and to apply it, lofty as it may be, to our everyday life.

"Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard To get her poor dog a bone,'

"Mother Hubbard, you see, was old; there being no mention of others, we may presume she was alone; a widow-a friendless, old, solitary widow. Yet, did she despair? Did she sit down and weep, or read a novel, or wring her hands? No! she went to the cupboard. And here observe that she went to the cupboard. She did not hop, or skip, or run, or jump, or use any other peripatetic artifice; she solely and merely went to the cupboard.

"We have seen that she was old and lonely, and we now further see that she was poor. For, mark, the words are 'the cupboard.' Not 'one of the cupboards,' or the 'right-hand cupboard,' or the 'left-hand cupboard,' or the one above, or the one below, or the one under the floor; but just the cupboard the one humble little cupboard the poor widow possessed. And why did she go to the cupboard? Was it to bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious stones,

The

or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other attributes of wealth? It was to get her poor dog a bone! Not only was the widow poor, but her dog, the sole prop of her age, was poor too. We can imagine the scene. poor dog crouching in the corner, looking wistfully at the solitary cupboard, and the widow going to that cupboard-in hope, in expectation, may be to open it, although we are not distinctly told

that it was not half

open or ajar, to open it for that poor dog.

"But when she got there the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.'

"When she got there!' You see, dear brethren, what perseverance is. You see the beauty of persistence in doing right. She got there. There were no turnings and twistings, no slippings and slidings, no leaning to the right, or faltering to the left. With glorious simplicity we are told she got there.