rend gentlemen of radically different opinions was altogether a matter for unmixed thankfulness at such a time, or of much benefit to the departed, and the concluding line has an unmistakable Barnum ring about it. Not a few persons avail themselves of the advertising columns to relieve themselves of their indignation and wrath, which, when reduced to black and white, generally takes the form of "bitter irony." Here is a rather curious specimen : "MR. W-- T AGAIN. "I suppose Mr. W—— T- -,-Yonge Street, will deny sending, on Wednesday afternoon, a lady that wears a cloth Raglan, bound with red braid, to my room to get a squint at the improvement to our American skirt-lifter to pattern from. Can any other conjecture be made? When the lady called, suspicion on her was put, and in consequence she was traced to Mr. T―'s store, on Yonge Street. "Now, Mr. T, I would come to the conclusion that "Your will is made, Your day is past ; You never more shall rattle; When you go off, you wont come back to make any more Yankee skirt-lifters. "E. R. T- "Over Wesleyan Book Room." This is dreadfully cutting and would seem to indicate feminine authorship, and it is to be hoped the advertiser felt better after it, because this method of relieving one's wounded feelings is almost as expensive as employing a physician. Here is another of the fair sex, whose sense of wrong found harmless vent in a somewhat similar explosion. She had evidently had the misfortune to sit near some rattle-brained young folk at an entertainment which she had hoped would have proved "a feast of reason and a flow of soul," but which appears to have been sadly marred in her estimation by the clatter of her neighbours' tongues. But let her speak for herself: 66 A CARD OF THANKS. "A lady presents her compliments to those young people who sat almost behind her at the Music Hall last night, and desires to thank them for their very valuable remarks on back hair, ear-rings, soldiers' coats, ear-piercings, &c., &c. In ad The sarcasm here is too apparent, and E. R-, we think, will have to try again before she can be said to have mastered that particular style of composition. More progress is manifested in that line by J. E, who advertised for his melon seeds under somewhat adverse circumstances. This is what he said: "A Modest Request.-Will the gentleman. who stole my melons on last Sabbath night be generous enough to return me a few of the seeds, as the melons are a rare variety? "J. E The phrase "gentleman who stole is decidedly rich. Here is an advertisement by an unfortunate Benedick, announcing the departure from "bed and board" for the sixth time of his truant wife: On the principle of audi alteram partem, one would naturally like to know what Mrs. J. V————, might have to say regarding this "good, indulgent husband," from whom she found it necessary to take leave so often. Another unfortunate Benedick was made to eat "umble pie" in public in the following fashion. The gray mare in this case had proved the better horse: "The notice appearing in Thursday's daily Globe, as to my not becoming responsible for any debts contracted by my wife, J————— A-, I hereby withdraw the same, being personally to blame. "JACOB A-." Here is another, in the satirical vein, from an irate Balloon speculator. It will be best explained by prefacing it with a short extract from the "City News :" "Balloon Ascension by Professor King.Yesterday afternoon, the first of a series of balloon ascensions to be made in Canada, by Prof. S. A. King, the celebrated aeronaut, took place on the Toronto Cricket Ground. The number of spectators present on the ground was not so large as might have been expected, as, unfortunately for the promoter of the enterprise, the ascent could be witnessed far and near without any charge. As a consequence, there were five times the number of spectators on the commons on the west of Beverly Street, that there were on the grounds." This is how the disappointed entrepreneur of the aëronaut relieved his feelings : "A CARD.-In consequence of the Toronto Cricket Ground being so far from the present centres of attraction, I deem it advisable to withdraw the programme advertised to take place on these grounds to-day, as I do not desire to enjoy a repetition of yesterday's experiences. And could I have exchanged the number of inside spectators for the thousands in broughams, waggonettes, phætons, and on foot, enjoying a CHEAP outside view, financially the 'swop' would have been a success, though the exchange would have been silver for SHODDY. "J. T. K—.” Poor man! It might have been thought that an enterprising balloonist would have known by experience that, in this mercenary age, few are to be found who will pay for that which they can get for nothing. Sometimes the printers play havoc with the type, and two advertisements get "mixed" in rather an incongruous fashion. For instance, we have one before us, from which it would seem that clothing for gents and youths is "sold in pint and quart bottles." In these days of refinement, it is not surprising to learn from an advertisement of certain coal and wood dealers, that "our carters will be found both gentlemanly and obliging." Here is a man who evidently desires to have the supreme satisfaction of being able to say, "I told you so." He therefore advertises : "AN ARITHMETICAL PROPHECY.-The last seven years to commence August 1st, 1878; renewal of Jewish Sacrifices, May 29th, 1879; day of the Consummation, September 13th, 1885." One can almost picture this arithmetical prophet on that fatal September day, seated on some elevated pinnacle-who knows but that it may be the summit of St. James's cathedral-with the Mail newspaper in his hand, pointing to his solemn warning, and perhaps proclaiming with a loud voice to us heedless mortals, when it will be, alas, too late: "Ah! I knew how it would be, I gave you due notice." But if, peradventure, this inexorable world should happily continue to go on in spite of the arrival of the "day of Consummation," the advertiser will hardly think it necessary to remind his readers that his prediction, like scores of others, has proved untrue. It is somewhat difficult to the uninitiated to understand how a suitable response could be made to the following :— "WANTED, a respectable person of neat habits, and that has passed 'from death unto life,' otherwise than by outward baptism, as housekeeper, where occasional assistance may be obtained. Address, stating full particulars, F. D., Post Office, Ottery, St. Mary, Devon." And yet we presume the law of supply and demand proved equal even to that emergency. We conclude with a warning for the benefit of all bad little boys and girls, clipped from a recent English paper:— "A WIDOW, a great invalid, wishes to place two of her daughters, aged twelve and thirteen, under the charge of a lady, who would, when necessary, administer the birch rod, as they are extremely troublesome. Terms liberal. Address, Mrs. Jno. C. T————, Post Office, B―." THE ROSE. FLO BY REV. T. T. JOHNSTON, QUEENSVILLE. The one gave the sweetest perfume, and the other caused it to fructify in its season. Flora then completed all by placing on its head a beautiful corona, and in grateful acknowledgment crowned it the queen of the flowery realm. Thus, according to traditionary lore, the white rose adorned the Elysium of the gods. In process of time man was created; Paradise bloomed; and the lord of creation fell. One of the consequences of that calamitous event, which deluged this fair and faultless world with sin and all our woe, was that the first human pair were driven forth from the garden of Eden to battle with the realities of a sin-cursed world. Shrinking from the presence of their Creator, and filled with the first emotions of shame, our first parents snatched the broad leaves of the figtree to cover themselves as they passed along. But when Eve saw the rose bloom LORA, the presiding deity over the, flowery kingdom, had an attendant goddess once who lived in the woods, and whose virtues were as great as her beauty was remarkable. But Death's cruel shaft strikes the virtuous as well as the vicious, the fair as well as the ill-featured. The poor little dove, stricken by some ruthless hand, quietly folds its tired wing over the arrow that has stricken it, and in the throes of an untimely death patiently waits its happy release. The wounded deer, true to the instincts of its nature, immediately seeks the deep shade of some secluded spot, apart from life and danger, where it may die in solitude. So this woodland nymph was found dead, far away from loved ones in her own sylvan home, and Flora was wild with grief when she heard the sad news. Desirous of doing something to perpetuate the memory of this beloved deity, she appealed to all the gods and god-ing so lovely and fair beside their path, she desses of the universe to help her to change the nymph into an immortal flower, whose perfections would surpass the rest. This would be a monument appropriate to the deceased and to the mourning deity, and lasting as the lives of "nymphs and godheads yet unknown." In answer to her request the different gifts of the divinities were cheerfully made. As she was moulding the fair flower with every charm and perfection her faultless skill could devise, Cupid, eager through love to have a part in this meritorious work of remembrance, emptied his quiver of the bee-stings which served him as arrows, and adorned the queenly flower with its thorns. But beautiful though it appeared after its formation was complete, it was still dead to its mission and work. Flora then besought Apollo to give it life, which he did with condescending grace, and Bacchus, the lord of wine, with a rollicking spirit bathed it in the nectar of the gods. Vertumnus, the deity of spring, and Pomona, the goddess of fruit -whom he passionately loved-then came to render gifts as tokens of remembrance. could not refrain from plucking the emblem of the innocence, purity, and immortality which on earth were theirs no longer. A fast hold of it she kept, as the threshold of Eden was crossed for the last time, and the flaming sword burned across the way. Then with a sigh she placed it in her bosom, as the only memento of her bridal home, till she could find out some favoured spot where she could plant it that it might blossom again. Thus, according to traditionary lore, the snowy rose-the only thing that survived the wreck of Paradise to tell of a brighter to-morrow-was transported into the world. After a while white roses became plentiful and gods and men enjoyed their matchless beauty. On one occasion, Venus, the mother of Love, was completely enamoured with a beautiful young man named Adonis. He was reclining in the midst of a bed of roses, and, full of affection, she ran to meet him. Love is said to be blind and regardless of results, and so she did not see the blooming flowers that wasted their sweet perfume around her beloved. Cupid never dreamed that his mother would ever be so blinded by passion when he poured out his quiver at the feet of Flora, and his bee-stings were sharp as they stood in array beneath the green leaves and white petals of the roses, so that the blood of the goddess dyed them many a delicate hue of pink and purple. "On every nodding stem bright roses bloomed, And scattering petals crimsoned all the ground: And the rich atmosphere, with sweets perfumed, Diffused a languid ecstasy around. "In tints of bright carnation some were dyed, And others gleamed with golden gorgeousness, And some in purest white-like a young bride Peeping timid forth in virgin bashfulness." And thus, according to traditionary lore, the many-tinted roses beautified the world. Perhaps it was about this time that "the angel who takes care of the flowers and sprinkles upon them dew in the still night, slumbered on a spring morning in the shade of a rose bush. When he awoke, he said: 'Most beautiful children, I thank thee for thy refreshing odour and cooling shade. Could you now ask any favour, how willingly would I grant it.' mind us to hide them beneath the rosy petals of a fragrant life-loving our neighbour as we love ourselves. "Live like the rose; so bud, so bloom, So sweeten life with rich perfume Yet all flowers bloom to fade, and earthly blossoms wither. The lovely petals soon fall to the earth, and the emblem of purity, secrecy, and love soon breathes out its sweetest perfume in death. Has it then lived in vain? The meteor all aglow with borrowed light lives brightly for a moment and then suddenly dies out in the spacious darkness. Dies the rose unread and unknown as that erratic child of the sky? Let the parable of Krummacher answer : "It is a pity,' said a youth to his father, 'that the rose, when her flowers are faded, does not produce sweet fruit, and thus express her thanks to Nature in the summer for the beautiful season of her bloom in spring. Thou callest her the flower of innocence and joy; ought she not then to be the image of gratitude also?' "Adorn me, then, with a new charm,' 666 'And does she not then offer all her lovesaid the spirit of the rose-bush, in a beseech-liness,' replied the father, to beautify the ing tone. "So the angel adorned the loveliest of flowers with simple moss. Sweetly it stood there in its modest attire-the moss rosethe most beautiful of its kind.” Some time afterwards Cupid gave the red rose to his friend Harpocrates, who was the god of silence, and by him it was made the joint emblem of secrecy and love. From this circumstance the custom has arisen of placing a rose over the doors of guest-rooms, to signify an entire freedom of conversation and absolute secrecy afterwards. So when the strife was raging between the houses of York and Lancaster, their secret councilrooms had their emblematic rose painted on the ceiling, intimating that the members were sub rosa, and by this observance that feud was called the "War of the Roses." But interesting as the legends of the rose may be, its moral teachings are far more profitable. It instructs us in the duties of life, and occupies a well-thumbed page in the compendious book of Nature. It speaks of a virtuous, faultless character, bathed in the highest and purest love for all around. And in telling us of faults that are as thorns to wound the affections of others, it would re spring, the darling child of Nature? For the dews and the sunbeams which fall upon her from above, does she not render to the air her delicate fragrance? Born for the spring, she dies with it; and believe me, dear child, a delicate and unobtrusive gratitude is the most beautiful of all. And how is it possible for innocence to be unthankful?'' "Die like the rose; that when thou'rt gone, Thus the rose, in life, is a teacher of morality, but in death it speaks of mortality. Solomon was a botanist, and he wrote about roses. To the west of his palatial home, in that fertile valley extending between Cæsarea and Joppa, they bloomed to perfection. Their fragrance was exquisite; their bell-shaped flowers were faultless; and their colours rivalled the tints of the rainbow. He found none in his researches to surpass the queen of the flowery kingdom, and, in his pastoral dialogue between the Messiah and the redeemed, he represents the Spouse as saying in his grace and beauty-"I am the Rose of Sharon." "And in the whole wide world that Rose shall bloom, Beauteous beyond compare, I know full well; A rainbow in the darkness of earth's doom Art thou, O lovely Rose, Emanuel." But when the days of the beauty of the Sharonic rose were over, and the lessons of morality taught, then, as it took up the subject of mortality, its leaves circled round the dry and crispy blossoms like the wrapping of a shroud around the lifeless marble mould. Little by little the supporting stalk withered away, and the flower became changed into a faded ball. Then, loosened by the summer's stormy blast, the angry breeze took it up and sported with it over the plain at its will. But when the strength of the tempest was exhausted, there, down in the quiet shades of the valley, the breeze, dying away to the faintest zephyr, sighed a mournful dirge as it gently laid it at rest. Thus endeth the second lesson of the rose of Sharon. The last that it teaches is the best of all. The little shrivelled ball carried the seeds of another life in its bosom. Morality, mortality, and immortality, these three, but the greatest of these is the power of an endless life. "Roses bloom In the desert tomb, Because the Saviour once lay there." Soon the seeds germinated, and as lovely a flower bloomed beside the lilies of the valley as ever shed its fragrance over the plains of Sharon. The Jews called the rose an emblem of the resurrection, and venerated it for the precepts it taught. What a pity they did not believe that the Rose of Sharon was the one altogether lovely, the resurrection and the life! They lost half of the lessons it teaches to us, but let us have a care lest we, too, in our blindness, lose the end to be gained, and have the rose to blossom and die in vain. |
