Dead for our love—for very love of me!
“One unto one”! O Jesus, my Redeemer,
Grant that my life may die for love of thee.
Grant that thy cross may be my only treasure,
Thy blood my riches, and thy grace my prize;
Until, my penance done, my sins all pardoned,
“One unto one,” to thee my spirit flies!
HIS IRISH COUSINS.
Mr. Eugene Percival was seated in the dining-room of the Garrick Club, London, engaged in discussing a quiet little dinner consisting of a plate of real turtle, a red mullet, and a pin-tailed duck, preparatory to turning into Covent Garden to hear Titiens in Semiramide, when a servant approached him, bearing two letters upon a silver salver.
“Irish mail, sir.”