rothers--Christian
brethren, I should say, for you are Christian brethren--Lord Cumber's
health is a good thing, and his property is a good thing; and I--I
return you thanks for it, as I am bound to do, as a Christian. Am I
Christian? Well--' (here he smiled, and laying his hand upon his heart,
added,) 'well I know what I feel here, that is all. My dear friends, I
said that Lord Cumber's health and property were good things, but I know
a thing that's better, more valuable, richer--and what is that? It
is here, in this poor frail--but not frail so long as that thing is
here--that thing, what is it? Oh, if you had prayed for it, wrestled
for it, fought for it, as I did, you would know what it is, and all the
delightful and elevating consolations it brings along with it. Surely
some one drank Lord Cumber's health! That was well; he sitteth in a high
place, and deserveth honor. Let us drink his health, my friends--let us
drink it, yea, abundantly, even unto rejoicing. But what is this thing?
Why, it is the sense of inward support, a mild, sweet light, that
diffuses pleasant thoughts through you, that multiplies every good gift
about you, that makes one cup of pleasant liquor seem two. It is not
to many that these things are vouchsafed; not, I believe, to any here,
always with humility and fear be it spoken, excepting Bob Spaight and
myself--

"'--July the first in Oldbridge town,

responded Bob,

"' There was a grievous battle,
Where many a man lay on the ground,
By the cannons that did rattle.'--

"'Yea,' pursued Bob, 'the gift is come, brother Solomon--the fifth cup
always brings it--

--'King James he pitched his tents between'--

"'Aye, but, brother Bob,' resumed Solomon, 'the gift is a little too
soon on this occasion. Let me give the words, and, Bob, if you could
manage the 'Protestant Boys,' rather than 'Croppies lie Down,' it would
suit it; and, indeed, it would be well if the whole congregation joined
us in it. I shall give the words--let me see, long measure, eight lines,
four nines, and four six-sixes;--

"'There's nought but care on every hand,
In every hour that passes, oh,
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere not for the lasses, oh."

eh, let me see--am I right?'

"'Right,' they shouted, 'never were half so right, Solomon. We'll join
you to a man,' and accordingly, with one voice, they gave the stanza
at the top of their voices, little Bob leading them, to