shillings that never were spent yet. Gentlemen, freeholders of the county, the election for this loyal and independent borough having terminated in favour of the constitution by the return of my friend Rumblegrib, I come to solicit your votes for the county. What do you say? I've a mind to be a candidate myself. Shall I have your votes?

Thus spoke Snow, Esquire, who at the first glance was a fine looking animal certainly. He was a well built man; but a large head of hair, a large fist, and a devil-may-care air, were the ornaments to a head and face with sleepy eyes, the phrenological and physiognomical appearance of which bespoke a low order of intellect, combined with all the animal virtues and vices. One of his companions-the bottled shoemaker— was comically drunk, and the other, the draper, was a little farther gone, so that his character was non est inventus, or buried in oblivion. "Gentlemen," said Snow, Esquire, in continuation, "my sentiments are universal and particular, I'm a jolly good-for-nothing fellow, and I like everybody like myself. I give more than I take. Everyone's at liberty to call for what he likes, for I have a few shillings that never were spent yet, and the man that won't drink with me I look upon as an enemy. Winny, my dear, bring in a large quantity of everything."

"And a bottle of ginger beer," whined in the attorney's hopeful sprig, John.

"A glass of gin for self," quoth the uncommon-nosed attorney, "and a bottle of pop for John. John's an exemplary boy; he prefers ginger to gin."

"John's a nincompoop," declared Snow, Esquire. "Winny, my dear, bring me a glass of soda water, and make it strong."

"Class of sota water will freeze in your pelly, Mr. Snow," simpered Morgan Jones.

"You're right, old horsepond Jones, and that's why I tell Winny to make it strong. If you can't pour the brandy into the soda water, Winny, my dear, get your sweetheart to help you, and I'll show him how. By the immortal Croesus I'm in luck's way! Here's another sovereign that never was spent yet, although it's getting a hard frost with my pocket. Almost down to zero, by Jingo! Never mind, to-night ends the election spree. So drink of good October, and to-morrow we'll be sober!"

"Goot healt, Mr. Pland an' Mr. Snow."

"Hold your noise, Morgan."

"Good healt."

Snow, Esquire, who, at the outset had stood to address the worthy electors, had by this time floundered into a chair, and as soon as a pause occurred in the conversation, by Morgan Jones being requested to hold his noise, Snow, Esquire, eager for political agitation, ejaculated

"Rumblegrib for ever! Gentlemen, electors for the county"Muddleford for ever!" interrupted the comical shoemaker,; "Muddleford and Principle !"

"Principle, you created vagabond-what has principle to do with an election? Or rather, what principle is there in it but spreeing?"

"Sir, I hope you will change your principles. In this very glass, sir, which I drink to you as a customer and a gentleman, I hope."

"Gentleman, you slow badger-I'm no gentleman! Yes, I am; we're all gentlemen-gentlemen, freeholders of the county; if you return me to parliament, I will uphold the constitution in church and state. Gentlemen, I make no promises, but what will you take to drink?” "You are a gentleman," said the shoemaker, in a decided manner, handling his glass and addressing himself to Snow, Esquire.

"Shiver my upper story, but you are an ass!" responded the gentle

man.

"I will drink with you, sir," said the cordwainer, meekly; "but there is no occasion to call names. If I am an ass, I - I

"Your are you are!"

"I'm not."

"How sir? D'ye think you know better than I do, who have been at college, and learned the seventeen regular sciences, with various others, too numerous to mention?"

"Confound your impudence; dy'e mean to contradict me eh, you infuriated brute?"

"Don't call such names, or I shall retortilate upon you, sir."
"You'll do what, you cobbled piece of neat's leather, eh?"
"I'll retailiate upon you, if you go on so.'

66

Why, you villanous brute, you can't spell the word!"

"Words have nothing to do with principle, Mr. Snow. You call me an ass, and a cobbled villanous brute. 'What principle is there in that? I ask you, sir, how can you, as a customer and a gentleman, defend such conduct to a person who feels, and who acts as

as

66

Why, how you go on? Don't you see it's all a joke? D'ye think I'd call any one but a dear friend or a fellow-townsman such names? No, sir, I'd see any one dd first. But it's no matter; take your own opinion. There's more real friendship in my calling you an infuriated brute and an ass, than in my saying, dear sir, and be hanged to you!"

"Sir, you're a gentleman. I've always said so of you: I make a principle of it. Rony,' says I to my wife, Snow, Esquire, is a gentleman, every inch of him. Ne'er a baron of the castle ever wore such a pair of Wellington boots, or paid for them as punctually as Snow, Esquire.' You are a gentleman, sir, and no mistake."

"You talk of principle: answer this. The duty of leather was taken off, but how much did you take off the price of boots in consequence? Nothing. Then if you didn't take off no more, would the baker, if corn were cheap."

"I hope you will change your principles, sir." "Never, old Stitch-and-chalk-one!

Here's a shiner that never was

spent yet. Drink up your heeltaps, and lay it out. Winny, my dear, resist temptation, like your namesake, St. Winifred, and give my particular friend the bootmaker some polishing compound without squeezing his hand. Rumblegrib for ever!"

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Snow,

A patient observer of this rather eccentric gentleman, Esquire," for half an hour, I at last became quite tired of him and his string of repetitions, or round towel speaking, and beat a retreat. We see a similar effect sometimes at a theatre. Be the comic actor ever so comic, yet if the gods will have his most laughable and comic song

repeated a third time, half a dozen gentlemen in the pit, who have previously been highly amused, immediately arise and proceed to the door.

Whilst waiting for a candle at the bar, for the chambermaid could not well be called into the smoking room, out came Morgan Jones to fetch the landlord news of his horned cow. Alas! the poor animal was deceased, without providing the slaughterer with a fee.

"Now, Mr. Jones," said the landlady.

"Yes, Mrs. Pland.”

"I can always manage you, Mr. Jones; so go to your home, Mr. Jones."

"Yes, Mrs. Pland; but a want to trink Mr. Pland's goot healt, now the cow ees tead."

"It's better to go home, Mr. Jones, for Mrs. Jones to have some of your company, than to sit here so long, Mr. Jones, while Mrs. Jones is sitting by herself, poor thing, Mr. Jones!"

"Goot night, goot night, Mrs. Pland," replied Morgan, and bent his steps to the door, muttering something in that fine language the Welsh, which to my Saxon ears sounded very like-" Dym schulia in pooblic hoos, e nuf ov dhatt hatt ome, Mrs. Pland-dym schulia, dym, dym!"

HYMNS OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.

66
BY EDWARD KENEALY, AUTHOR OF BRALLAGHAN," ETC.

Pange lingua gloriosi
Corporis mysterium,
Sanguinisque pretiori
Quem in mundi pretium,
Fructus ventris generosi,
Rex effudit gentium.

Nobis datus, nobis natus,
Ex intactâ virgine;
Et in mundo conversatus
Sparso verbi semine,
Sui moras incolatus
Miro clausit ordine.

In suprema nocte cœnæ,
Recumbens cum fratribus,
Observata lege plenè
Cibis in legalibus,
Cibum turbæ duodena
Se dat suis manibus.

Verbum caro, panem verum,
Verbo carnem efficit:

Filque sanguis Christi, merum,
Et si sensus deficit,
Ad firmandum cor sincerum,
Sola fides sufficit.

PART II.

Pange Lingua.

Sing, O my tongue, in strains of rapture praise
To erring earth, our Lord's mysterious ways;
How for our sins in human form he stood
And offer'd up for man his precious blood;
How, with immortal love, at length inspired,
The King of Hosts upon the cross expired.

Sent from the skies to save the sons of earth,
A virgin's womb conceived, and gave him birth,
The world beheld its Mother and its Lord,
In lowly guise, diffuse the heavenly word;
This done, he closed his missions from above,
With one more wondrous proof of power and love.

"Twas on that last eventful solemn night,
Pass'd with observance of each olden rite,
The twelve disciples round their Lord reclined;
He in the midst the Saviour of mankind-
Bestow'd with smiles unto that chosen band,
His flesh and blood with his own hallow'd hand.

The Word made flesh, took up and brake the bread;
"Eat ye
of this, it is my flesh," he said.
Into twelve cups he pour'd the rosy wine,
"Drink ye of this-'tis blood, and it is mine:
In outward form though bread and wine appear,
Doubt not the truth-be silent, and revere.'

To this most wondrous sacrament we bow
With humbled hearts, and many a grateful vow;
To this, all ancient forms and rites give way,
As stars when shines the golden light of day;
What, though 'tis bread and wine that meets our eyes?
Our faith in Christ the mystery supplies.

O God the Father! O Eternal Son!
O Holy Spirit! Wondrous Three in One!
Enthroned in thunder, clemently look down
On prostrate man, nor blast him with Thy frown;
Turn not away thine ears, while here we raise
Our voices in thy worship, love, and praise.

Panis angelicus fit panis hominum:
Dat panis calicus figuris terminum :
O res mirabilis! manducat Dominum
Pauper, servus et humilis.

Te, trina Deitas unaque, poscimus,
Sic nos tu visita, sicut te colimus :
Per tuas semitas duc nos quo tendimus
Ad lucem quam inhabitas.