That old Sabbath schoolroom we hail as a treasure;
For often, when weary and anxious with care,
We’ve found it the place of a heavenly pleasure
We seek for with ardor, but find not elsewhere. 
How eager we enter, with hearts that are glowing,
And quick to our places,—­we all know them well,—­
And then with our song-books, and souls overflowing,
The anthem of praise we unitedly swell,
  That old Sabbath schoolroom, that dearly-loved schoolroom,
  That blessed old schoolroom where all love to be.

Blest truth,—­from our teachers with joy we receive it,—­
That God is our Father, our Savior and Friend! 
There’s nought so alluring could tempt us to leave it,
Though fraught with all pleasures the fancy can lend. 
And when far removed to some distant location,
The tears of regret will intrusively swell,
As mem’ry reverts to our former vocation,
And longs for the schoolroom we all loved so well. 
  That old Sabbath schoolroom, that dearly-loved schoolroom,
  That blessed old schoolroom we all love so well.

THE HUNTER, AND HIS DOG JOWLER.

A FABLE.

A famous hunter in the woodland country had a dog which was particularly fond of certain kinds of game, but exceedingly averse to other kinds of much better flavor.  Now it happened that, whenever the hunter wished to give chase to moose or deer, Jowler was sure to scare up a woodchuck, or some still filthier game, leaving the deer to make good his escape.

Day after day thus passed away, leaving the hunter’s labors no suitable reward.  It was in vain that the hunter expostulated with his dog.  Neither threats nor blows were of any avail.  When the master would hunt one thing, the dog was sure to be hunting something else.

At length, both master and dog seemed to tire of their constant conflict, and to desire some adjustment, whereby each might accommodate his own taste to some extent, and yet live in harmony with the other.  With this view, a friendly conference was held, in which Jowler appeared so tenacious, that the hunter well-nigh despaired of any adjustment whatever.

It was, however, finally agreed, that Jowler should hunt game to his own taste five days in the week, and devote the remaining hunting day to such game as his master preferred.  Jowler, however, was careful to stipulate that, if he chanced to find himself ill, or not in hunting trim, on the sixth day, he should be considerately dealt by, and not forced to go beyond his strength.

The arrangements being fully made, a paper was drawn up containing the articles of agreement, and both Jowler and the hunter affixed their names thereto.  Jowler, no doubt, congratulated himself on having it all to his liking five days out of six; while the hunter, perhaps, flattered himself that the taste of venison one day in the week, would so improve the standard of Jowler’s tastes, as to bend him, at length, altogether to his own wishes.