April.-The Husband's Song.

dens that the brass plate was carried away, and probably sold for the price of old metal, by some heartless wretch, who, we trust, did not know the iniquity of such an act.

In spite of the gross Vandalism which thus deprived Tallis's remains of the honour done to them, nothing short of the end of all things will oust his name from the memory of English Churchmen. His fame will surely last as long as the sound of organ and the voices of the choir continue to roll through the long minster aisles that music of his which seems to suit them so well.

April.

APRIL hath come on,

And the cool winds feel softer, and the rain
Falls in the beaded drops of summer-time.
You may hear birds at morning, and at eve
The tame dove lingers till the twilight falls
Cooing upon the eaves, and drawing in
His beautiful bright neck; and from the hills
A murmur, like the murmur of the sea,
Tells the release of waters, and the earth
Sends up a pleasant smell, and the dry leaves
Are lifted by the grass-and so I know

That Nature with her delicate ear hath heard
The droppings of the velvet foot of Spring.-BULWER.

The Husband's Song.

AINY and rough sets the day,

RA

There's a heart beating for Somebody:

I must be up and away,

For Somebody's anxious for Somebody.
Thrice has she been to the gate,

Thrice has she listened for Somebody:

Midst the night stormy and late,
Somebody's waiting for Somebody.
There'll be a comforting fire,

There'll be a welcome for Somebody;
One, in her neatest attire,

Will look to the table for Somebody.
Though the star's fled from the west,
There is a star yet for Somebody,
Lighting the home he loves best,
Warming the bosom of Somebody.

There'll be a coat o'er the chair,

There'll be slippers for Somebody:
There'll be a wife's tender care-

Love's fond embracement for Somebody.

There'll be the little one's charms,

Soon 'twill be wakened for Somet ody:
When I have both in my arms,

Oh! but how blest will be Somebody!

CHARLES SWAIN.

Smell or Taste?

CONDENSED FROM A NORWICH TEMPERANCE TRACT BY A. PEERS.

OME to church-Come to church!' rung out the bells, one fine Sunday morning. And many, with clean clothes and faces, were hastening up to thank God for His goodness through another week. Not so with Bill Thompson: the sleep was still hanging over him, and the dull ache of a drunkard's head told him he had stopped too late at the Pink Lion' last night.

I wish I had gone home when Smith did,' said he. 'Oh, my head! I do wish these people would go all of them to church, then I shall be able to get a pint. Well, how my hand shakes! I do believe it gets worse every Saturday night. I used to stand it better than I do now.'

The crowds vanished, the streets seemed clear, and in many churches the organ was pealing forth its sweet sounds, and leading the voices of the congregation in praise to the Creator. But Bill by this time had got to a different sort of place :-up a long entry, with doors at some distance apart, so that one should be shut before another was opened. He crept in when he had opened the last door: he was met by Mr. Brown, the landlord.

Hullo!' he said; 'did anybody see you coming up the entry, Thompson?'

'Oh, no,' said Bill, 'I looked all round; there was nobody.'

Mr. Brown had been nearly frowning till he heard no one had seen him; but now he smiled as he said, What will you take?' jerking his head towards the public-house door.

We have read of a Teetotaller who chanced to meet a friend near a public-house. The friend asked, 'Will you take something to-day?' 'I don't care if I do,' answered the other.

'What shall it be?' asked the thirsty soul.

'Well, let's take a walk!' said the Teetotaller.

But Bill, not so wise, said to Mr. Brown, that he would take 'a pint of ale!' all the while rummaging in his pocket. Well,' thought he, 'I am sure I had ten shillings when I came in last night, and now only two and threepence left!' He took out the threepence, which he handed over for the liquor; then, taking one long pull, the ale went where he had put so many gallons before. Fill it again, Mr. Brown.' And Mr. Brown-for he was a very obliging man, was Mr. Brown-did as he was bid.

'You must make haste, Bill,' he said, for I am rather afraid of the Bluebottles.'

Money does fly!' thought Bill, as he came down the long entry again. 'Well, never mind, money was made to spend. I'm not a miser, I'm not; and I'm glad of that. I should not like to be a miser; but still I do wish my money would last a little longer.'

It was a little house Bill lived in, with only one room, and when he entered it again the smell of the dinner which his wife was preparing was more than he could bear; he felt ill, his pulse throbbed, and the large dose of barley physic which he had just swallowed made him worse. Poor Bill! he was paying dearly for his overnight's excess.

Smell or Taste?

He could not bear the room, so, standing in the street, he saw the crowds passing along from church, and sometimes when he saw a working-man whom he knew pass along with his children, he would think there might, after all, be quite as good places as the tap-room of the 'Pink Lion.'

What should he have for his dinner? He could not eat that small amount of meat, with the large amount of onions, which was being fried for the children; and yet there was nothing else: whatever could he do? But just then such a smell reached his nose, that he almost felt he could eat, and eat heartily. Looking round, he saw Fred the ostler coming from the bakehouse with a tray, on which was one of the finest sucking-pigs he ever beheld.

Oh, what a sight! and better still, oh, what a smell!'

Bill looked after it with longing eyes, till the door of the 'Pink Lion' closed on the ostler and the pig.

'I could eat a bit of that—just a little bit of crackling, and a morsel of stuffing. And poor Bill thought till his mouth began to work as though he had got a bit of the pig inside.

He began to walk towards the place where the tempting vision had disappeared. Well,' thought he, I will just have one more pint;' so he walked in. There are few pleasanter sights than a well-to-do family seated round a well-furnished table; and that was the sight which met his gaze. There was Mr. Brown, and Mrs. Brown, and all the little Browns: they seemed to be doing it brown, even down to the pig, and he looked as brown as any of them.

Mrs. B. was as fine as velvet and satin could make her, while the flowers in her cap stood up as bright and as large as the real flowers in the garden, and the little Browns were dressed out with fine things. There were few men who went to the Pink Lion' who could dress their children as Mrs. Brown could; and Mrs. Brown thought so too.

'Let me have another pint,' said Bill. What a contrast he looked there! unshaved, unwashed, his hair not combed; while all around was neatness complete.

'Let me have another pint, Mrs. Brown. How delicious your pig smells!'

'Ah, and it tastes delicious, too,' said Mrs. Brown; it was one of Farmer Brookes's: It's a beauty?'

Bill looked at the pig in the distance, but the sweet smell came too close to him, he could not hear it; so, drinking up his beer, he toddled home, as he used to say afterwards.

*

There was a great difference in the two homes; the one he had just been in had every comfort, the tables were loaded with plenty, while the backs of the inmates showed that there was no expense spared, for there was broadcloth, and velvet, and everything to look smart, and keep the wearer warm.

But in the other home there were few comforts; true, there was a heap of potatoes, but little of anything else: but the children ate heartily, for they had not spoiled a natural appetite by sottish indulgence.

There was nothing to tempt the father, he could still smell the pig; go where he would, that stuck to him. He could not eat, but he could think, and think he did. First, he thought how much comfort

Smell or Tuste?

he could have purchased with the money he had spent the night before; and then he thought what one of his shopmates had told him, that the publicans lived better than most people, and yet sold that which did the community no good. True, his shopmate was a man they all laughed at, and called Waterbutt' when they wished to be witty, and Teetotal' when he was needed for anything. True, he was laughed at, yet he had a cheerful face withal, and only laughed when they laughed. But many who laughed at him went to him when they were in trouble just to borrow a trifle, for he had to lend; nor did he refuse when he knew there was a little one dead,' or any one badly.

6

And Bill began to think, 'If I can do without going into the publics, I'll try.' He told no one, but in the evening he went early to bed; and didn't they stare when at seven the next morning he entered the shop to his work! But he felt no fear-no man does when he knows he is doing right.

Weeks passed on, and still he kept out of that Pink Lion's' claws. Those wise people who at first said, 'Ah! wait a bit,' said nothing now. But the year rolled round, and when Bill went in for his wages he said to the master, I want to be away on Monday.'

His master smiled and said, Not another "out," I hope.'

'Oh, no, sir! I've done with them: but, you see, it is twelve months since I was first teetotal, so I thought I would just have a day's holiday.'

'Well,' said the master, 'you used to have a great many days at one time, so you ought to have one now; but take care-take care; don't get into the old groove again.'

'Never fear, sir!' was the cheerful answer.

It was a great day, was that Monday. A few friends had come to dinner, and among them was the shopmate who had cheered Bill up when he first made a start. But what was the dinner to be composed of?-no one knew. But Bill was noticed to look at the clock when the finger got near the figure one.

'Where's my clean apron, missis?' he said. Now, whatever could he want with his apron ? he was not going to work; nevertheless, he put it on.

The clock struck one, and with the stroke out walked Bill, as solemnly as a judge, without speaking a word to any one. But there was not much time for wonderment. Loud laughs were heard outside; and before anybody could get out to see what was the cause the door opened, and in he came bearing in his arms a large sucking-pig. He looked almost as red as though he had been in the oven instead of the pig; but there was a pleasant smile on his face as he placed his burden in the middle of the table.

Isn't

There's something better than the smell to-day,' he said. it a beauty? and one of Farmer Brookes's, too! I didn't tell any one,* said he, but all the year I've thought, if I only carried through this year I'd have a pig, and a good one-so there he is, and now let's eat him.'

Oh there was rare fun at that dinner! first one and then another would have their joke at the secret being so well kept. And when the pig had shown his ribs to the company, Bill grew merry, and told them