68 The Caliph and the Cripple. Next morning the Cadi came into the court, First calling the scholar, who sued for his spouse, His Honour thus settled the doubt: "The woman is yours; take her home to your honse, And don't let her often go out." Then calling before him Ben Akas, whose cause "And as for the beggar, I further decide A good hundred lashes well laid on his hide; Ben Akas that night sought the Cadi's abode, The Cadi, abashed, made the lowest of bows, Cried: "Great is the honour you do to my house; "I fain would possess," was the Caliph's reply, "Your wisdom; so tell me, I pray, How your Honour discovered where justice might lie In the causes decided to-day." "Why, as to the woman," the Cadi replied, "It was easily settled, I think; Just taking the lady a moment aside, I said, 'Fill my standish with ink.' "And quick, at the order, the bottle was taken, The standish was washed; the fluid was shaken; A Word to the "Moderate" Drinker. "I see!" said the Caliph; "the story is pleasant; The scholar swore truly,-the spouse of a peasant "And now for the horse?" 69 "That was harder, I own, For, mark you, the beggarly elf (However the rascal may chance to have known) "But the truth was apparent, the moment I learned The impudent cripple he savagely spurned, Ben Akas sat musing and silent awhile, Then, raising his head with a heavenly smile, "Sure Allah is good and abundant in grace! I would that the Caliph might rule in his place A WORD TO THE "MODERATE" DRINKER. REV. EDWARD HAYTON. YOU "pity the drunkard," but will not abstain From the drink that enslaves him and maddens You bid him be temperate, and check the desire You speak of his home, of his children, his wife : You read out time's worth as it flies hour by hour: 70 Come, Labour on! He walks by the very example you set, And finds himself snared in the eneiny's net : Be silent forever! The drunkard is dead, And the chance that you had to redeem him is fled ! COME, LABOUR ON! Come, labour on: Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain, Come, labour on: The labourers are few, the field is wide; New stations must be filled and blanks supplied: Come, labour on: The enemy is watching, night and day, Come, labour on: Away with gloomy doubt aud faithless fear! Come, labour on: The toil is pleasant and the harvest sure; The Twins' Mishaps. THE TWINS' MISHAPS. IN form and feature, face and limb, Yet not a soul knew "which." When quite a little infant child For when I called for nourishment One day to make the matter worse, My brother John got christened "me," This fatal likeness even dogged This close resemblance turned the tide For somehow my intended bride Became my brother's wife. Year after year, and still the same Absurd mistakes went on; And when I died the neighbours came 71 72 SA Saved! SAVED! G. LINNEUS BANKS. AVED from the streets! Saved from the streets! Of the city's haunts, where death-worms spin So many Arabs saved from the streets, So many Arabs saved from the streets! And the free, glad spirit mounting on high, Saved from the streets! Saved from the streets! So many Arabs saved from the streets! Not by the parish, or pauper's fare Not alone by the power of prayer— Not by politic creed, or saw Not by the fangs, or the curse of the law Saved! saved! by the labour of Love, And the blessings sent down from the courts above! |