And then methought my dream was changed;—­
       The streets no longer rang
       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang. 
       The sun grew dark with mystery,
       The morn was cold and chill,
       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;—­
       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill. 
       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
       Hosanna in the highest!  Hosanna to your King!

       And once again the scene was changed—­
       New earth there seemed to be;
       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
       The light of God was on its streets,
       The gates were open wide,
       And all who would might enter,
       And no one was denied. 
       No need of moon or stars by night,
       Nor sun to shine by day;
       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,—­
       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away. 
       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o’er,
       Hosanna in the highest!  Hosanna forevermore!

* * * * *

47

trea’ son eu’ lo gies de bat’ ed phi los’ o phy in ge nu’ i ty ap pro’ pri ate con’ sum ma ted

THE FEAST OF TONGUES.

Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure.  The first course consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with appropriate sauces.  This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks by the guests.  The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so with the third and fourth.  This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, “Did I not tell you to provide the choicest dainties that money could procure?” “And what excels the tongue?” replied Aesop, “It is the channel of learning and philosophy.  By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on, contracts executed, and marriages consummated.  Nothing is equal to the tongue.”  The company applauded Aesop’s wit, and good feeling was restored.

“Well,” said Xanthus to the guests, “pray do me the favor of dining with me again to-morrow.  I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow,” said he, turning to Aesop, “provide us with the worst meat you can find.”  The next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided.  “How, sir,” said Xanthus, “should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?” “What,” replied Aesop, “can be worse than the tongue?  What wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in?  Treasons, violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and communicated by the tongue.  It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of private friendships.”  The company were more than ever struck by Aesop’s ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.