A LAY SERMON.
(Suggested by certain recent manifestations of the Nonconformist conscience.)
Thou shalt not steal! That's a command
Which grips us with an iron hand;
And "he who prigs what isn't his'n,
When he is cotched shall go to prison!"
So runs the Cockney doggerel, clear
If ungrammatical, austere,
With not a saving clause to qualify
Its rigid Spartan rule, or mollify
Theft's Nemesis. Thou shalt not steal!
At least,—ahem!—well, all must feel
That property in thoughts and phrases,
The verbal filagree that raises
Flat fustian into "oratory,"
And makes the pulpit place of glory,
Such property is not so easy
To settle, and a conscience queasy
O'er picking pockets, oft remains
Quite unperturbed while—picking brains!
A Sermon is not minted coin;
It you may borrow, buy, purloin,
In part or wholly, and yet preach it
As your own work. Who'll dare impeach it,
This innocent transaction? Not
Your "brethren," save, perchance, some hot
And ultra-honest (which means "rancorous")
Parsonic rival. "How cantankerous!"
The reverend Assembly shouts.
It mocks at scruples, flames at doubts,
Hints at the stern objector's animus,
In the prig's praises is unanimous.
Oh, Happy Cleric Land, where unity
Breeds such unquestioning community
Of property—in Sermons! True it
Strikes some as queer; but they all do it,
If one may trust advertisement,
And an Assembly's calm content
At what to the Lay mind seems robbery.
Steal? Nay! But do not raise a bobbery,
If hard-up preachers glean their shelves
And take the credit to themselves.
How wise, how good, how kind, how just!
And how the poor Lay mind must trust
Those who so skilfully reveal
The meaning of "Thou shalt not Steal!"
"REGRETS AND GREAVES."—But for a recent trial, who of the outside public would even have guessed that the unromantic and quite Bozzian name of "Mr. and Mrs. TILKINS" meant the clever musician, Mr. IVAN CARTEL and the charming and accomplished actress and soprano, Miss GERALDINE ULMAR? The TILKINSES are to be congratulated on their winning the recent action of Tilkins v. Greaves with the award of one thousand pounds damage, which is the price the transmitter of scandal to the New York World has had to pay for his industry.
THE OTHER "WESTMINSTER STABLE."
POLITE STRANGER. "I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR: WOULD YOU KINDLY INFORM ME IF HE'S BEEN—'GOT AT'?"
NOBLE OWNER. "H'M!—AH!—WOULDN'T THE BACKERS OF DISSOLUTION LIKE TO KNOW!"