A PSALM OF MONTREAL.
[The City of Montreal is one of the most rising and, in many respects, most agreecdte on the American continent, but its inhabitants are as yet too busy with commerce to care greatly about the masterpieces of old Creek Art. A cast, however, of one of those masterpieces—the finest of the several statues of Discoboli, or Quoit-throwers—was found by the present writer in the Montreal Museum of Natural History ; it was. however, banished from public view, to a room where were all manner of skins, plants, snakes, insects, etc., and in the middle of these, an old man, stuffing an owl. The dialogue—. perhaps true, perhaps imaginary, perhaps a little of one and a little of the other— between the writer and this old man gave rise to the lines that follow.] STOWED away in a Montreal lumber-room,
The Discobolus standeth, and turneth his face to the wail; Dusty, cobweb-covered, maimed, and set at naught, Beauty crieth in an attic, and no man regardeth.
Oh God ! oh Montreal r
Beautiful by night and day, beautiful in summer and winter,
Whole or maimed, always and alike beautiful,—
He preacheth gospel of grace to the skins of owls, And to one who seasoneth the skins of Canadian owls.
Oh God ! oh Montreal !
When I saw him, I was wroth, and I said, "0 Discobolus ! Beautiful Discobolus, a Prince both among Gods and men, What doest thou here, how calmest thou here, Discobolus,
Preaching gospel in vain to the skins of owls?" • Oh God ! oh Montreal !
And I turned to the man of skins, and said unto him, " Oh ! thou, man of skins,
Wherefore hast thou done thus, to shame the beauty of the- Discobolus ? "
But the Lord had hardened the heart of the man of skins, And he answered, "My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr.. Spurgeon."
Oh God! oh Montreal!
"The Discobolus is put here because he is vulgar,—
He hath neither vest nor pants with which to cover his limbs ;
I, Sir, am a person of most respectable connections,—
My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon."
Oh God ! oh Montreal!
Then I said, "0 brother-in-law to Mr. Spurgeon's haberdasher ! Who seasonest also the skins of Canadian owls,
Thou callest 'trousers' pants,' whereas I call them 'trousers; Therefore thou art in hell-fire, and may the Lord pity thee !
Oh God ! oh Montreal !
Preferrest thou the gospel of Montreal to the gospel of Hellas, The gospel of thy connection with Mr. Spurgeon's haberdashery to the gospel of the Discobolus ? "
Yet none the less blasphemed he beauty, saying, "The Discobolus bath no gospel,—
But my brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon."
Oh God ! oh Montreal !