Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Little feet - The pilgrims - Golden...
 The robin and the chicken...
 Good manners - Do not wait, but...
 George Frederick Handel
 To our baby - Mother and child
 The cold world - A very small lion...
 The old house at home
 Winding up time - A tough old Yorkshireman...
 I thank Thee, o my God! - St. Mark's...
 The brighter day - Jack's life-preserver...
 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
 Rip Van Winkle - The pied piper...
 A song of a nest
 What became of a lie - Be honest...
 The pied piper of Hamelin (continued...
 Mother's good night to her...
 Scraps of wisdom - Tommy's lonesome...
 Francis Joseph Haydn, composer...
 The dead birds - Twelve wise maxims...
 Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra - Who...
 Ten little toes - Wise counsel...
 Country children - The use of flowers...
 Our Maggie is a bride
 Sweet, be not proud - Cheery people...
 On grandpapa's knee
 The missing ship
 Clara Louise Kellogg
 No, thank you, Tom - On ventnor...
 Beyond the haze - John Ruskin
 The queen of the May - A very young...
 Let us go a-maying - Two invitations...
 Morning hymn
 Who is it? - The personal appearance...
 Robert Schumann, the great German...
 The summer moon - The journey of...
 Evening hymn
 A cloud - Stick to your bush -...
 A visit to the Falls of Niagar...
 The old grandfather's corner -...
 Let well enough alone - How Rover...
 John Bunyan
 The nightingale - Visit to the...
 Gems of thought
 Forgetting - The first Sabbath...
 Abdiel and the fallen angel
 A breath of spring - John Bunyan...
 Song of the brook
 An Easter song - Pearls of thought...
 Annie Louis Cary, America's favorite...
 Beside the bars - The bottom of...
 The talking rose-bud - The largest...
 The is to be - 24,000 feet above...
 The frost - Words of wisdom - Repeating...
 Remember the glories of Brien the...
 The sunbeam and the captive - Words...
 The little gossips (picture)
 Ten true friends - The boyhood...
 18,250 reasons why boys should...
 The nine parts of speech - Martin...
 Shakespeare's home (picture)
 The discontented pendulum...
 Richard Wagner
 Mosses - A baby's soliloquy - Keep...
 Georgie and his white mice
 Write soon - The fickle frog
 An autumn long ago
 Pater noster - Sunny-face - Thanksgiving...
 The two angels - The railway of...
 Tabbyblue and her family
 Forgetting - The sense of hearing...
 Christine Nilsson
 A winter scene - Age of animals...
 An art study from nature (pict...
 Eyes and no eyes - Malice
 The country home
 Bob White - The material life of...
 Love's lesson - Adventure with...
 More than we deserve
 Ancient Jerusolem
 Ye ballad of Christmas - An apostrophe...
 Theodore Thomas
 Nowhere - Dore's great picture
 Lord Shaftesbury
 The Bible - Good life, long life...
 Good morning - The hermit's looking-glass,...
 Esther, the little housewife
 The mistletoe bough
 Charms for Christmas - Two kings...
 Back Cover

Title: Glorious times
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00078671/00001
 Material Information
Title: Glorious times
Physical Description: x, 128 p. : ill., ports ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Handford, Thomas W ( Editor )
Allen, Walter I ( Illustrator )
Belford, Clarke & Co ( Publisher )
R. & E. Taylor (Firm) ( Engraver )
Publisher: Belford, Clarke & Co.
Place of Publication: Chicago
Publication Date: 1890, c1887
Copyright Date: 1887
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1890   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1890   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1890   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1890
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- California -- San Francisco
Statement of Responsibility: edited by Thomas W. Handford ("Elmo") ; beautifully illustrated.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements on back cover.
General Note: Some illustrations engraved by R. & E. Taylor after Walter I. Allen.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00078671
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223588
notis - ALG3838
oclc - 49962938

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    List of Illustrations
        Page ix
        Page x
        Page 11
    Little feet - The pilgrims - Golden gleams
        Page 12
        Page 13
    The robin and the chicken - Chips
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Good manners - Do not wait, but work - God's sparrows
        Page 16
    George Frederick Handel
        Page 17
    To our baby - Mother and child
        Page 18
        Page 19
    The cold world - A very small lion - The dreary days will end
        Page 20
    The old house at home
        Page 21
    Winding up time - A tough old Yorkshireman - The watermillion - Debtors to every great heart
        Page 22
        Page 23
    I thank Thee, o my God! - St. Mark's cathedral, Venice - Bell of justice
        Page 24
        Page 25
    The brighter day - Jack's life-preserver - Redwing's song - Dull fellows
        Page 26
    Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
        Page 27
    Rip Van Winkle - The pied piper of Hamelin
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    A song of a nest
        Page 31
    What became of a lie - Be honest - Books - Plain John Bunyan
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The pied piper of Hamelin (continued from page 30) - A good book
        Page 34
    Mother's good night to her bairnies
        Page 35
    Scraps of wisdom - Tommy's lonesome day
        Page 36
    Francis Joseph Haydn, composer of "The creation"
        Page 37
    The dead birds - Twelve wise maxims - What might be done
        Page 38
        Page 39
    Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra - Who made them?
        Page 40
        Page 41
    Ten little toes - Wise counsel - How evil is wrought - Argument - Good-night
        Page 42
        Page 43
    Country children - The use of flowers - A close, hard man - What constitutes a friend
        Page 44
    Our Maggie is a bride
        Page 45
    Sweet, be not proud - Cheery people - Workers and thinkers
        Page 46
    On grandpapa's knee
        Page 47
    The missing ship
        Page 48
    Clara Louise Kellogg
        Page 49
    No, thank you, Tom - On ventnor Downs - Always bear in mind
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Beyond the haze - John Ruskin
        Page 52
        Page 53
    The queen of the May - A very young musician
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Let us go a-maying - Two invitations - The holy spirit
        Page 56
    Morning hymn
        Page 57
    Who is it? - The personal appearance of the savior - Faithful service - Robins have come again
        Page 58
    Robert Schumann, the great German composer
        Page 59
    The summer moon - The journey of a million - Kindly words - Eager to be heard
        Page 60
    Evening hymn
        Page 61
    A cloud - Stick to your bush - Do your best - Twelve golden rules for boys
        Page 62
        Page 63
    A visit to the Falls of Niagara
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    The old grandfather's corner - Difficulty
        Page 67
    Let well enough alone - How Rover told the time - You will remember me
        Page 68
    John Bunyan
        Page 69
    The nightingale - Visit to the Falls of Niagara (continued from page 66)
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Gems of thought
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Forgetting - The first Sabbath in New England - The thrush's nest
        Page 74
    Abdiel and the fallen angel
        Page 75
    A breath of spring - John Bunyan - An April fool
        Page 76
    Song of the brook
        Page 77
    An Easter song - Pearls of thought - The brown-faced country boy
        Page 78
    Annie Louis Cary, America's favorite singer
        Page 79
    Beside the bars - The bottom of the sea - The courage of Daniel - Be like the flowers
        Page 80
        Page 81
    The talking rose-bud - The largest cave in the world - Mother's girl
        Page 82
        Page 83
    The is to be - 24,000 feet above the sea - Hundreds! - Books
        Page 84
        Page 85
    The frost - Words of wisdom - Repeating - The grammar of science
        Page 86
    Remember the glories of Brien the brave
        Page 87
    The sunbeam and the captive - Words - Origin of genius
        Page 88
    The little gossips (picture)
        Page 89
    Ten true friends - The boyhood of Charles Dickens - Truth more than accuracy
        Page 90
        Page 91
    18,250 reasons why boys should not smoke - Good luck and lad luck - All honest industry honorable
        Page 92
        Page 93
    The nine parts of speech - Martin Luther's letter to his son Hanschen - The seven ages of man
        Page 94
    Shakespeare's home (picture)
        Page 95
    The discontented pendulum - Solitude
        Page 96
    Richard Wagner
        Page 97
    Mosses - A baby's soliloquy - Keep your temper - The love of money
        Page 98
    Georgie and his white mice
        Page 99
    Write soon - The fickle frog
        Page 100
    An autumn long ago
        Page 101
    Pater noster - Sunny-face - Thanksgiving - Book of job
        Page 102
        Page 103
    The two angels - The railway of life - Books
        Page 104
    Tabbyblue and her family
        Page 105
    Forgetting - The sense of hearing in man and brutes - The supremacy of God - Gazing steadfastly on eternity - Trifles
        Page 106
    Christine Nilsson
        Page 107
    A winter scene - Age of animals - Daniel Webster on early rising
        Page 108
    An art study from nature (picture)
        Page 109
    Eyes and no eyes - Malice
        Page 110
    The country home
        Page 111
    Bob White - The material life of a planet - Learn to climb
        Page 112
        Page 113
    Love's lesson - Adventure with a leopard
        Page 114
        Page 115
    More than we deserve
        Page 116
    Ancient Jerusolem
        Page 117
    Ye ballad of Christmas - An apostrophe to water - We ought to reverence books
        Page 118
    Theodore Thomas
        Page 119
    Nowhere - Dore's great picture
        Page 120
    Lord Shaftesbury
        Page 121
    The Bible - Good life, long life - Ignorance
        Page 122
        Page 123
    Good morning - The hermit's looking-glass, almost a fairy tale
        Page 124
    Esther, the little housewife
        Page 125
    The mistletoe bough
        Page 126
        Page 127
    Charms for Christmas - Two kings - To book borrowers
        Page 128
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


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Adventure With a Leopard........................................Anonymous 114
Age of Animals............ ........... ............................Anonymous 108
Always Bear in Mind............................................A.. anonymous 50
A Baby's Soliloquy..............................................A.. nonymons 98
A Good Book.................................................... John Milton 34
A Tough Old Yorkshire Man.......................................Anonymous 22
A Very Small Lion.............................................. Anonymous 20
A Very Young Musician.............................................Anonymous 54
A Visit to Niagara Falls.................................. Tomas W. Handford 64-70
All Honest Industry Honorable.................................. Samuel Smiles 92
An Apostrophe to Water........................................John B. Gough 118
'Be Honest...................................................... Anonymous 32
Be Like the Flowers................................................ Alexander Maclaren 80
Bell of Justice............... .................................... Anonymous 24
*BIOGIRAPHICAL SKETCHES .................................. Thomas W. Handford
Bunyan, John..................., ........................ ... ....... 69
Cary, Annie Louise....................... ... ......................... 79
Handel, George Frederick................................. .................... 17
Kellogg, Clara Louise........................................ ..... 49
Haydn, Joseph ................... ........ .................... ..... 37
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus ......................................... 27
Nilsson, Christine .................................................... 107
Schumann, Robert...................... ........... ............... 59
Shaftesbury, Lord..-. ............ ..... .. .... ....... ... ........ 121
Thomas, Theodore ...................... ............................ 119
W agner, Richard............ ..... ........ ...... .... .......... ...... 97
:Bob W hite ....................................... ................Anonymous 112
Books............... ........ ....... ......................... P. Whipple 32
Books................................................... .Sir S. E. Brydges 84
Books...............-.......... ............................... Tomas Fuller 104
Book of Job................................................... Thomas Carlyle 102
Charms for Christmas................................................ Various 128
Cheery People.... ..................................... ............... H. S. 46
Chips ..................................................... Gertrude B. Duffee 14
Debtors to Every Great Heart.............................. R. W. Emerson 22
Do Not Wait, But Work ......................................... MB. Buckley 16
Do Your Best........................... ... ..................... Anonymous 62
Dor6's Great Picture...................................... Tomas W. Handford 120
Dull Fellows ..................... ............................ Richard Steele 26
LEager to be Heard............................................Duncan Macgregor 60

Early Rising............................ .......................Daniel Webster 108
Eyes and No Eyes ............................................... Anonymous 110
Faithful Service................................................. Anonymous 58
Gazing Steadfastly on Eternity... ..... .......................Charles Caleb Colton 106
Gems of Thought..................................................... Various 72
Golden Gleams...................................................V Various 12,
God's Sparrows...... ....................................... ...Anonymous 16
Good Manners....... ....... ... ......... ... ...... .......... .... ail Hamilton 16
Hope .................................. .................... Anonymous 30
How Rover Told the Time............................................ Anonymous 68
Ignorance....................... ....................................... Colton 122
Jack's Life Preserver................................. ............ ...Anonymous 26
John Bunyan............................................. .... H. Spurgeon 76
John Ruskin.................. .............. .. ...... ..... Anonymous 52
Keep Your Temper............................................ Anonymous 98
Kindly Words................. ......................................nonymous 60
Leave to Climb.............................. ...................... Arthur Helps 112
Letter to my Son.............................................. Martin Luther 94
M alice........................................................ Charles Backus 110
Mother and Child............................................... Anonymous 19
Mosses................................................. ....... .John Ruskin 98
Origin of Genius .............. .................................. Anonymous 88
On Ventnor Downs...................................... Thomas W. Handford 50
Plain John Bunyan........................................... Lord Macaulay 32
Pearls of Thought........... ............... ........... ....... ....... Various 78
Reasons Why Boys Should Not Smoke ....................... Tomas W. Hlandford 92
Rip Van Winkle................. .................. .......... ...... Anonymous 28
Scraps of Wisdom ...................... ................... ....... Various 36
St. Marx's Cathedral, Venice.................................. T. W. Handford 24
Stick to Your Brush..................... ............................Anonymous 62:
Sunny Face........................................................ Anonymous 102
Ten Little Toes..................................................... Anonymous 42
The Bible ..... .................................... Joseph Parker 122
The Bottom of the Sea............................................ Anonymous 80-
The Boyhood of Charles Dickens ......... ......................... Anonymous 90
The Courage of Daniel....................................... Wi. M. Punshon
The Discontented Pendulum.........................................Jane Taylor 96.
The Fickle Frog...............................................Miss Shufeldt 100
The First Sabbath in New England................................. Anonymous 74
The Grammar of Science ...................................... Lawrence Stern 86
The Hermit's Looking Glass: ..... ..................... ....... Matthew White 126
The Journey of a Million.......... ...... .... ..... I..........Anonymous 60
The Largest Cave in the World..................................... Anonymous 82
The Love of Money..................... .......... ............. Anonymous 9&
The Material Life of a Planet...................................... ,Anonymous 112
The Missing Ship .............................................John B. Gough 48;
The Nine Parts of Speech........................................ anonymous 947

The Old Grandfather's Corner. ...............................Brothers Grimm 67
The Personal Appearance of the Saviour........................... Anonymous 58
The Pigeons of Venice............................................Anonymous 128
The Pilgrims ...................... ........ ............... George W. Curtis 12
The Railway of Life.......................................... ...... Anonymous 104
The Sense of Hearing in Man and Brutes............................. Anonymous 106
The Sunbeam and the Captive............................... Hans C. Andersen 88
The Supremacy of God......'.................................. Joseph Parker 106
The Use of Flowers.................. ..................................Anonymous 44
Tommy's Lonesome Day....................................... Ella Guernsey 36
Truth More Than Accuracy....................................... Dean Alford 90
Twelve Golden Rules for Boys..................................... Anonymous 62
Twelve Wise Maxims.......................................... Samuel Smiles 38
Twenty-four Thousand Feet Above the Sea.......................... Anonymous 84
To Book Borrowers ......................................... Charles Lamb 128
Two Invitations.................................................................Anonymous 56
What Constitutes a Friend .................................... Rev. S. Brooke 44
We Ought to Reverence Books .............................. Carles Kingsley 118
W ords .............. ..... ........ ....... .... ... ............ ..... Lavater 88
Words of Wisdom ................................................F. B. Taylor 86
Wise Counsel....................... ............ .................Samuel Smiles 42
Workers and Thinkers.................. ... ................... John Ruskin 46
Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra.........................................Anonymous 40


Abdiel and the Fallen Angel.............. .................. ......... John Milton 75
Ancient Jerusalem ........................... ................... Thomas Moore 117
A Breath of Spring.................... .............................. W. L. 76
A Close, Hard Man ............................... ................Anonymous 44
A Cloud........ ..................... ..... ................... ..... Fay Axtens 62
A Lovely Thought...................... ..... ............ ...... Mrs. Hemans 118
A Song of a Nest........ ................ ........... ...... Jean Ingelow 31
A Winter Scene..............................................J. G. Holland 108
An April Fool .............................................Susan Coolidge 76
An Autumn Long Ago............................................Anonymous 101
An Easter Song ............ .................................Thomas W. Handford 78
Beside the Bars. ..................... ............................ Anonymous 80
Beyond the Haze............................................... Anonymous 52
Country Children.................. ....... ...... ............. ..... Anonymous 44
Esther, the Little Housewife...................................... Anonymous 125
Eventide ............................................... ......... Anonymous 81

viii POETRY.
Evening Hymn .................... .......... ... ....... ........John Keble 61
Forgetting..............................................A. D. T. Whitney 74
Forgetting........................... ............. ............ ....... Anonymous 106
Good Life, Long Life.............................. ............. Ben Jonson 122
Good Luck and Bad Luck ......................................... John Hay 92
Good Morning........................................... Annie Letitia Barbauld 124
How Evil Is Wrought ......................................... Thomas Hood 42
Hundreds!.. ............................ .......................A anonymous 84
I Thank Thee, 0 My God ........................................ Lucy Larcom 24
Little Feet......................................................Anonymous 12
Let Well Enough Alone...... .......................................Anonymous 68
Let Us Go A-Maying ........................................ ...AAnonymous 56
Lizzie ........................... ...... .................... .. Anonymous 15
Love's Lesson.............................................Miriam Merrimac 114
More Than We Deserve............................................Celia Thaxter 116
Morning Hymn .................................................John Keble 57
Mother's Girl .................................... ............. Anonymous 82
No, Thank You, Tom ........................... ............ E. Weatherly 50
Nowhere ....... ............................. :....... Ella Wheeler Wilcox 120
On Grandpapa's Knee.............................. Thomas W. Handford 47
Our Maggie Is a Bride.................... ........ .... ............ Anonymous 45
Pater Noster............ ............................... Tomas W. Handford 102
Redwing's Song................................................S. J. Douglas 26
Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave.................. ...... Thomas Moore 87
Repeating ...............................................Ella Wheeler Wilcox 86
Robins Have Come Again ........ ............................... Mrs. Harry Don 58
Solitude ........................ ............................... James Young 96
Song of the Brook ............................................Lord Tennyson 77
Sweet, Be Not Proud............................................ Robert Herrick 46
Ten True Friends................................................. Anonymous 90
Thanksgiving .................................................. Anonymous 102
The Brighter Day .............................................. ..Anonymous 26
The Brown-Faced Country Boy.............................. Edgar L. Wakeman 78
The Cold World ............ ...................................Lucy Larcom 20
The Country Home ......................................... R. H. Stoddard 111
The Dead Birds.................. ..... ........................Anonymous 38
The Dreary Days Will End..................................... .......E. L. Beers 20
The Frost ................. ...............................Hannah F. Gould- 86
The Holy Spirit.............. ...........................T. T. LTynch 56
The Is to Be.......................... .............................. Anonymous 84
The Little Cavalier................................................ anonymous 16
The Mistletoe Bough ................................ Thomas Haynes Bayly 126
The Nightingale.............................................. Mathewo Arnold 70
The Old House at Home ........................................ Thomas Hood 21
The Pied Piper of Hamelin................................... Robert Browning 28-34
The Queen of the May.......................................... Lord Tennyson 54
The Robin and the Chicken................................ .... Anonymous 14

The Seven Ages of Man.................................. William Shakespeare 94
The Summer Moon ...................................... Thomas W. Handford 60
The Talking Rose-Bud ..........................................S. H. Palfrey 82
The Thrush's Nest............................................. Anonymous 74
The Two Angels...................... ............. ......John G. Whittier 104
The Watermillion............................................ Anonymous 22
To Our Baby ................... ............. ........ ............... Anonymous 18
Trifles ........................................... William Morley Punshon 106
Two Kings...................................................John James Piatt 128
You Will Remember Me......................................... Ada P. Ayer 68
What Became of a Lie.................................... Mrs. M. A. Kidder 32
What Might be Done................................................Anonymous 38
Who Is It? ..................................................... Anonymous 58
Who Made Them?................... .............................Anonymous 40
Winding up Time............................................ Hannah B. Gage 22
Write Soon....................................................... Anonymous 100
Ye Ballad of Christmas...........................................Anonymous 118


Abdiel and The Fallen Angel.......... ........... ....................... .... 75
Adventure With a Leopard.................................................. 115
Ancient Jerusalem ...................................... ................... 117
A Song of a Nest.......... .............................................. 31
A Visit to Niagara.... ................. .................................... 65
An Art Study from Nature................................................. 109
An Autumn Long Ago................ ..... .................................. 101
Brien the Brave.............................................................. 87
Charles Dickens ............. .... ...................................... ... 91
Esther, the Little Housewife............ .................................. 125
Eventide .... .............................................................. 81
Geoigie and His White Mice. ................................................ 99
Lizzie.................................................................... 15
Mother's Good-Night to Her Bairnies ........................................ 35
Mr. Piggie Goes to Market, Dr. Doggie Stays at Home.......................... 85
,On Grandpapa's Knee ........................... .......................... 47
On Ventnor Downs .......................................................... 51
Our Maggie is a Bride ................................ ...... ..... ........ 45
Bunyan, John ......................... ............................ 69
Cary, Annie Louise ................ .................................. 79
Handel, George Frederick......................... .................. 17
Haydn, Joseph ..................................................... 37
Kellogg, Clara Louise.................. ............. ............. 49
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus.......................................... 27

Nilsson, Christine ..... ................................. ........ .......... 107
Schumann, Robert ................................ ..... ... .......... 59
Shaftesbury, Lord... ............. ......... ........ .............. 121
Thomas, Theodore...... ................. .. ................. .. .. ... 119
W agner, Richard.......... ......... ............. ........ .......... 97
Shakespeare's H ome .............. ...................................... ... 95
Song of the Brook ................................................... 77
St. Mark's Cathedral, Venice...................... .. ........ ...... ....... ... 25
Tabby Blue and Her Family.............. ............. ..................... 105
The Country Home ................ ............................ ........... 111
The Dead Bird .......................... ...................... ........ 39
The Grave of the Sailor's Wife ...................... ............................. 71
The Little Gossips............... ................................. ....... 89
The Old House at Home................... ...... ............ 21
The Old Man and His Grandson .............................................. 67
The Mistletoe Bough................................................. ........ 127
January ............................................................ 13
February ........................................................... 23
M arch ............................. ................................. 33
April............................................................... 43
May ............................................................... 53
June .. ........................................................... 63
July .............. ............................................. 73
August ....... ....... .............................. ......... 83
September .. ...................................................... 93
October ......................................................... 103
NQvember ......................................................... 113
December ......... ................................................ 123
The Queen of the May ................................................... 55
The Ratcatcher's House, Hamelin................... ................ ....... 29
To Our Baby .............................................................. 19
Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra. ............................................. 41



______________________ __ ______ __ '

ABABY'S feet, like sea-shells pink
Might tempt, should heaven see fit,
An angel's lips to kiss, I think,
A baby's feet.

Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat
They stretch, and spread, and wink,
Their ten soft buds that part and meet,
No flower-bells that expand and shrink
Gleam half so heavenly sweet
As shine on life's untrodden brink-
A baby's feet.

THE Puritan came to America seeking
freedom to worship God. He meant
only freedom to worship God in his own
way, not in the Quaker way, not in the
Baptist way, not in the Church of England
way. But the seed that he brought was
immortal. His purpose was to feed with it
his own barn-yard fowl, but it quickened
into an illimitable forest covering a conti-
nent with grateful shade, the home of every
bird that flies. Freedom to worship God
is universal freedom, a'free state as well as
a free church, and that was the inexorable
but unconscious logic of Puritanism. Hold-
ing that the true rule of religious faith and
worship was written in the Bible, and that
every man must read and judge for himself,
the Puritan conceived the church as a body
.of independent seekers and interpreters of
the truth, dispensing with priests and
priestly orders and functions; organizing
itself and calling no man master. But this
sense of equality before God and toward
each other in the religious congregation,
affecting and adjusting the highest and
most eternal of all human relations, that of
man to his Maker, applied itself instinct-
ively to the relation of man to man in
numan society, and thus popular govern-
ment flowed out of the Reformation, and
the republic became the natural political
expression of Puritanism. Banished, more-
over, by the pitiless English persecution,
the Puritans, exiles and poor in a foreign
land, a colony in Holland before they were
.a colony in America, were compelled to
self-government, to a common sympathy
and support, to bearing one another's bur-
dens, and so by the stern experience of
:actual life they were trained in the virtues
most essential for the fulfillment of their

august but unimagined destiny. The pal
triots of the Continental congress seemed
to Lord Chatham imposing beyond theS
lawgivers of Greece and Rome. The Con-
stitutional convention a hundred years agq
was an assembly so wise that its accom-
plished work is reverently received by con-
tinuous generations as the children of Israel
received the tables of the law which Moses
brought down from the holy mount. Happy,
thrice happy, the people which to such scenes
in their history can add the simple gran-
deur of the spectacle in the cabin of the
Mayflower, the Puritans signing the com-
pact which was but the formal expression
of the government that voluntarily they had
established-the scene which makes Plym-
outh Rock a stepping-stone from the
freedom of the solitary Alps and the dis-
puted liberties of England to the fully-
developed, constitutional and well-ordered
republic of the United States.
George W. Curtis.

HE rays of happiness, like those of
light, are colorless when unbroken.
H. W. Longfellow.
I knowof no such thing as genius; genius
is nothing but labor and diligence.
W. Hogarth.
When a man has no desire but to speak
plain truth, he may say a great deal in nar-
row space. Steele.

Some people's hearts are shrunk in them
like dried nuts. You can hear 'em rattle as
they walk. Douglas Jerrold.

Many people take no care of their money
till they have come nearly to the end of it,
and others do the same with their time.
Do not say, "It does not pay to begin
what we will probably never finish." The
beginning may be the part assigned to you.
W. H. Best.
Death is the liberator of him whom free-
dom cannot release, the physician of him
whom medicine cannot cure, and the com-
forter of him whom time cannot console.



EVEN in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the
frost's icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that
rightfully belong tu Spring drop down upon us with birds that have
come '-efore their time. But such days may end in a northeast
snow-storm and Jhe birds perish. E. P. Roe.


A PLUMP little robin flew down from a tree
To hunt for a worm, which he happened to
A frisky young chicken came scampering by,
And gazed at the robin with wondering eye.

Said the chick: "What a queer-looking chicken is
Its wings are so long and its body so fat!"
While the robin remarked, loud enough to be heard:
" Dear me! an exceedingly strange looking bird! "

" Can you sing?" robin asked, and the chicken said.
No ";
But asked in its turn if the robin could crow.
So the bird sought a tree, and the chicken a wall,
And each thought the other knew nothing at all.

C HIPS was a little ragged ten-year old
boy who sold newspapers. He had
no father or mother, in fact, he never re-
membered having any; as for a name Chips
was all the one he owned, and he didn't even
know who gave him that.
But for all this Chips was happy, and
gayly plied his trade. One morning he
had bought his papers and was standing on
the street waiting for customers.
In about an hour his papers were all sold
but one. Tucking it under his arm he be-
gan to walk slowly up the street, gazing at
the things displayed in the windows. As
he was passing a jewelry store a gentleman
came hurrying out, and in doing so knocked
against Chips.
"Ah! I beg your pardon, boy. Is that
one of to-day's newspaper's you have
there? "
"Yes, sir," answered Chips.
"How much?"
"Two cents, sir."
The gentleman gave him two coins and
passed on.
Chips looked at the money in his hand;
there lay a bright dime and one cent.
"Jiminy! he has given me nine cents too
much," and in went Chips to the jeweler's.
On inquiring he learned that the gentle-
man's name was Mr. Leonard Armstrong.
The jeweler did not know where he lived,
but said he would be at the store next
morning to get something he was having
The next morning Chips started for the
store, but learned to his disappointment

that the gentleman had been there and left
about half an hour before.
For a day or two after this Chips came
around in the neighborhood of the jeweler's
in hopes of seeing the gentleman, but he
did not meet him. At last he concluded
that he would use the nine cents in buying
newspapers, and every day, as he counted
up his gains, he laid by one cent for the use
of the nine cents, putting it all away to
give to the gentleman if he ever saw him
Eight years passed and Chips was still
selling newspapers, but his business had
grown so large that he served his customers
at their homes. He could afford to keep
himself dressed nicer than when we first
made his acquaintance. He also managed
to attend a night school, and thus kept him-
self more respectable than a good many
other boys of his rank in life. One sum-
mer Chips thought he would go a fishing,
and started for the country, leaving his
affairs in charge of two boys whom he had
hired to help him.
Arriving at his destination, a small town
about ten miles from the city, he hired
fishing tackle and set off for a stream to
which he had been directed.
Fishing was something new to Chips, so
it is no wonder that he did not catch any-
thing. In about two hours he became so
disgusted that he packed his things and
was just going to start for home, when he
heard a cry for help. He followed up the
sound and arrived just in time to see two
men hurrying off, leaving another man ly-
ing in the road.
Chips went over and examined the man,
who, though somewhat older looking, was
recognized by the astonished boy as Mr.
Fortunately he was only stunned, so he
soon recovered and explained to Chips that
while walking along the road a man sud-
denly caught and held his arms, while his
confederate took his money and jewelry,
but on hearing the footsteps of Chips both
men made off, having first given their vic-
tim a blow which knocked him down.
"Mr. Armstrong! Ah, I see you are as-
tonished that I know your name, but listen
and I will tell you," said Chips.
He then related all to the gentleman, who
listened attentively until Chips took the
money (which he always carried with him)
out of his pocket and handed it to him.



Is always busy,
She's never a minute still,
And kind is she,
For she makes the tea
When poor, dear Father is ill.

And she sits at night
By the candle light,
In a chair beside his bed,
And tries to cheer
His heart, the dear-
With some story she has read.


He protested, but Chips would hear of
nothing but acceptance, so, after a hearty
laugh at the whole affair, Mr. Armstrong
took the money with the interest added.
Mr. Armstrong asked: "What is your
name, boy?"
"Chips, sir."
"Chips what?"
"I have no other name."
"Come, now, that is too bad. How
would you like to go with me, and I will
give you a position in my banking house?"
"Oh!" gasped Chips, "I would like it
ever so much, but I am afraid I would not
know how to do things properly."
Can you read, write and cipher?"
Yes, sir."
"Well, my boy, that will do; but you
must have a name."
Chips went to the city with Mr. Arm-
strong, and under the name of Ralph Arm-
strong entered into his new life, after hav-
ing transferred his old business to two
deserving boys.
* *
Twenty years have gone, and again we
see Chips, or rather Ralph Armstrong, sur-
rounded by his family, wealthy, honored,
and the partner of his benefactor and dear-
est friend.
Fortune has smiled upon him. His motto
is, Honesty is the best policy."
Gertrude B. Dufee.
S4 W "HAT shall be the education of a
VW young woman? First, good
manners. And last and all the way between,
good manners. Reading and writing are
often convenient, often obnoxious, never
indispensable. Good manners imply every
saving grace known under heaven among
men and women. Good manners are the
absolutely transparent medium of convey-
ing to the world the benevolence of a good
heart; music is a matter of throat and ears;
painting is a matter of eyes and fingers;
dancing is a feat of feet, and housekeeping
is a question of the will. Good manners
involve and include every department of
the human being, body, soul and spirit,
heart and mind, imagination and conscience,
discrimination and moral judgment. The
whole duty of man-to man-is embraced
in good manners, and if bad manners were
admitted into heaven it would cease to be
heaven. Gail Hamilton.

DO not wait for an opportunity, but
work for it. J. M. Buckley.

HE walks beside his mother,
And looks up in her face;
He wears a glow of boyish pride
With such a royal grace!
He proudly waits upon her;
Would shield her without fear-
The boy who loves his mother weli,
Her little cavalier.

To see no tears of sorrow
Upon her loving cheek,
To gain her sweet, approving smile,
To hear her softly speak-
Ah! what in all this wide world,
Could be to him so dear?-
The boy who loves his mother well,
The little cavalier.

GOOD woman, searching out the chil-
dren of want one cold day, tried to
open the door in the third story of a
wretched house, when she heard a little voice
say, Pull the string up high." She looked
up and saw a string which, on being pulled,
lifted the latch, and she opened the door
upon two half-naked children all alone.
Very cold and pitiful they looked.
"Do you take care of yourselves, little
ones?" asked the good woman.
"God takes care of us," said the elder
"Are you not very cold ? No fire on a
day like this!"
"Oh, when we are cold we creep under
the quilt, and I put my arms around
Tommy, and Tommy puts his arms around
me, and we say 'Now I lay me'; then we
get warm," said the little one.
"And what have you to eat, pray?"
"When granny comes home, she fetches
us something. Granny says God has got
enough. Granny calls us God's sparrows;
and we say Our Father' and 'daily bread'
every day. God is our Father."
So the good lady that God sent fed these
little attic sparrows. Remember that not
one of the sparrows, or the children, or the
men or the women, is forgotten by Him to
whom we say, "Our Father."



Halle, in Lower Saxony, on the 24th of Febru-
ary, 1685. Some men stand alone in history. The
world has one Homer and one "Iliad;" one Shak-
speare and one "Hamlet;" one Milton and one
Paradise Lost," and no more. The world has had
one Handel and one "Messiah," and history is not
likely to repeat so great a gift. Handel was the son
of a surgeon, and the child of old age; his father was
sixty-three years of age when George was born.
Zachhau, organist of the Cathedral of Halle, was his
first teacher. After an ex-
tensive tour through Flor-
ence, Venice, Rome and
Naples, Handel returned
to Germany and became
Kappel-Meister to George,
Elector of Hanover, after-
ward George I. of England. -
The year 1720 was an -
important year in Handel's -.: i -
history. The Royal Acad- -`.
M emy of Music was insti-
tuted in London with
George I. as chief patron.
Most of the nobility of
England were interested
in this movement, from the
fact that they were exceed-
ingly anxious for the pro-
duction of Italian operatic
music. For a time there / .
was a fierce struggle. Bo-
noncini was pitted against '
Handel by a number of the
friends of the former; their
comparative powers were
to be tested in the opera
Muzio Scevola." That opera and Bononcini have
both passed away, but Handel remains!
In the year 1729, Handel was said to be worth
$40,ooo. But wealth has wings, as Handel found to
his sorrow. His theatrical ventures were not suc-
cessful. He fought bravely, but the odds were against
him, and in the end, he found himself very rich in
fame, and with a good store of experience, but his
$40,ooo all were gone; and to make matters worse,
he was smitten with partial paralysis.
In the year 1741, we find Handel in Ireland. He
had received many warm and flattering invitations to
visit the Emerald Isle. On the 4th of November, he
landed in Dublin, taking with him the finished MSS.
of the "Messiah." The first performance of this

king of all the oratorios was given in Dublin, on
behalf of charitable institutions. The first perform-
ance of the Messiah marked a new era in the his-
tory of music. Handel himself had little thought of
the place this grand composition was destined to take
in the musical world. The "Messiah" was an
undoubted acquisition to the world's best wealth.
That grand composition is too grand for description.
If you want to know the poverty of language, go the
Falls of Niagara, or listen to a worthy performance of
Handel's "Messiah." There is soothing for the
soul in those sweet strains,
He shall feed his flock
like a shepherd," and "I
know that my Redeemer
liveth;" while all that is
noble and heroic and hope-
,- fil in man, is aroused by
the grand clash of the
S'-" Hallelujah Chorus." The
"Messiah" has been per-
formed in all the great
S centres of the civilized
S world. In England, espe-
cially, where every large
town or city has its Phil-
harmonic Society, it has
become a standing custom
that the performance of
the "Messiah shall form
part of the Christmas fes-
tivities. The world never
tires of its rich melodies;
its religious sentiment
appeals to the heart, its
music enraptures the soul.
While there are "ears to
hear," and souls to be
charmed with sweet sounds, the Messiah will hold
its place in the front rank of the most majestic of
musical compositions. The first performance of the
"Messiah" in London was on behalf of the Found-
ling's Hospital. It was repeated annually, and from
1749 to 1777, that institution received into its ex-
checquer as the financial result of these annual per-
formances, the sum of $41,200. Handel now devoted
himself wholly to the composition of oratorios, and
his fortunes from this time wore a brighter aspect.
It is said that in the last year of his life he made
$8,000 by oratorios alone. Handel died on Good Fri-
day, April, 1759. He died in the simple faith of the
Evangelical Church, and was justly awarded a public
funeral and a resting place in Westminster Abbey.


APRIL brought you to us, dear-
April, with its sun and showers,
April, with its dainty flowers,
April, with its strong, young breeze
Whispering through the leafless trees:
"Now the dreary winter's done,
Now comes spring with flowers and sun."

So upon an April morn
Our dear baby girl was born.

Quickly flew the days away,
Came the "merrie month of May."

Cool, fair morning, sunny noon,
Welcomed in the month of June.

Soft we sang the lullaby
Through the long days of July.

Flowers drooped and pined away
In the heated August day.

Raindrops falling low and clear,
Breathed aloud, "September's here.'

Leaves grew purple, red and gold,
As October days were told.

And each day much shorter grew
As November by us flew.
Low and sweet the anthem rings
To the day December brings.
White and cold the snowdrifts lay-
January passed away.
Colder still the sharp winds blew-
February days were few.
Birds again began to sing;
March had come and with it spring.
Clouds are bright in April sky;
Summer's coming by-and-by.
And these twelve months make the year
That we've loved you, baby dear.

T HE tenants of Plumpton Hall had re-
tired to rest somewhat earlier than
wa their wont, for it was the last night of
The old low rooms were in darkness, and
all was silent as the grave; for though the
residents, unfortunately for themselves,
were not asleep, they held their breath,
and awaited in fear the first stroke of the
hour from the old clock in the kitchen.

Suddenly the sound of hurried footsteps
broke the silence; but with sighs of relief
the terrified listeners found that the noise
was made by a belated wayfarer, almost
out of his wits with fright, but who was un-
able to avoid passing the hall, and who,
therefore, ran by the haunted building as
quickly as his lhgs could carry him. The
sensation of escape, however, was of but
short duration, for the hammer commenced
to strike; and no sooner had the last stroke
of eleven startled the echoes than loud
thuds, as of a heavy object bumping upon
the stairs, were heard.
The quaking occupants of the chambers
hid their heads beneath the bedclothes, for
they knew that an old-fashioned oak chair
was on its way down the noble staircase,
and was sliding from step to step as though
dragged along by an invisible being who
had only one hand at liberty.
If anyone had dared to follow that chair
across the wide passage and into the wain-
scoted parlor, he would have been startled
by the sight of a fire blazing in the grate,
whence, ere the servants retired, even the
very embers had been removed, and in the
chair, the marvelous movement of which
had so frightened all the inmates of the
hall, he would have seen a beautiful woman
seated, with an infant at her breast.
Year after year, on wild nights, when the
snow was driven against the diamond panes,
and the cry of the spirit of the storm came
up from the sea, the weird firelight shone
from the haunted room, and through the
house sounded a mysterious crooning as the
unearthly visitor softly sang a lullaby to
her infant. Lads grew up into gray-headed
men in the old house; and from youth to
manhood, on the last night of each Novem-
ber, they had heard the notes, but none of
them had ever caught, even when custom
had somewhat deadened the terror which
surrounded the events of the much-dreaded
anniversary, the words of the song the
ghostly woman sang. The maids, too, had
always found the grate as it was left before
the visit-not a cinder or speck of dust re-
maining to tell of the strange fire, and no
one had ever heard the chair ascend the
stairs. Chair and fire and child and mother,
however, were seen by many a weary way-
farer, drawn to the house by the hospitable
look of the window, through which the
genial glow of the burning logs shone forth
into the night, but who, by tapping at the




pane and crying for shelter, could not at-
tract the attention of the pale nurse, clad
in a quaint old costume with lace ruff and
ruffles, and singing a mournful and melodi-
ous lullaby to the child resting upon her
beautiful bosom.
Tradition tells of one of these wanderers,
a footsore and miserable sea-faring man on
the tramp, who, attracted by the welcome
glare, crept to the panes, and seeing the
cosy-looking fire, and the Madonna-faced
mother tenderly nursing her infant, rapped
at the glass and begged for a morsel of food
and permission to sleep in the hay-loft-
and, finding his pleadings unanswered,
loudly cursed the woman who could sit and
enjoy warmth and comfort and turn a deaf
ear to the prayers of the homeless and
hungry; upon which the seated figure turned
the weird light of its wild eyes upon him
and almost changed him to stone; a laborer,
going to his daily toil in the early morn,
finding the poor wretch gazing fixedly
through the window, against which his ter-
ror-stricken face was closely pressed, his
hair turned white by fear, and his fingers
convulsively clutching the casement.

F the world seems cold to you,
Kindle fires to warm it!
Let their comfort hide from view
Winters that deform it.
Hearts as frozen as your own
To that radiance gather;
You will soon forget to moan
"Ah! the cheerless weather!"
Lucy Larcom.

N Africa, deep pits are often made by
human hunters to capture game, and
among the insects we find the ant-lion (Myr-
meleon) adopting a similar ruse. Its eggs
are laid in sandy places, and when the
young ant-lions appear they have no wings
and are flat little creatures with immense
jaws. As soon as born, the curious larvae
proceed to work. Each young ant-lion se-
lects a soft place in the sand, and by turn-
ing itself around and around, it traces an
exterior circle, and by continuing the spiral
motion, and gradually retreating to the
center, it marks out and forms a cavity
having spirals like those of a snail shell.

Next, these are smoothed down by an in-
genious process. If a pebble rolls in, or is
found in the slope, the ant-lion places it
upon its head, and with a sudden jerk sends
it far out of the pit. But sometimes peb-
bles are found that are too heavy to be
thrown out in this way, and then another
plan is adopted. The pebble is carefully
rolled upon the flat back of the ant-lion,
which starts up the incline with its tail high
in the air, so that the load is kept upon
a level and finally deposited upon the out-
side. If the pebble is round, many at-
temps have to be made. The pit completed
is seen to be a circular or conical depres-
sion, at the bottom of which the wily hun-
ter conceals itself, only its jaws and many
eyes being visible; and here it awaits its
prey, that sooner or later comes tumbling
in. Ants that happen to be off on a forag-
ing journey are the most frequent victims.
The ant comes running along rapidly, and
is over the edge of the pit before he knows
it, the treacherous sand giving way and
precipitating him down toward the con-
cealed lion. A moment more and two (to
him) enormous jaws open, and the ant
quickly disappears from sight forever.
Sometimes, instead of tumbling down into
the pit, the ant obtains a foothold and al-
most escapes; but in such a case the ant-
lion throws aside all concealment, rushes
out and shovels sand upon its struggling
victim, and by successive jerks bombards it
with such a fusilade of sand that beaten
and confused it rolls down into the open
jaws of the cruel hunter. For two years
the ant-lion carries on this predatory war-
fare, gradually growing larger and enlarg-
ing its pit, until finally it is ready to change
into a chrysalis. It then envelops into a
round ball of sand, cemented together by
fine silken cords. In this cocoon it lives
for about three weeks, when it emerges a
perfect four-winged insect resembling the

W HAT if the days are dre-ary?
What if the desert glows
Beneath life's bitter sun-beat?
What if the wild wind blows
Out of the North-land stormy?
What if Earth wears no smile ?
A gate will open outward
In such a little while!
.E. L. eers.


BE it nvr so hamblg,

Thrg's no plaGg likg hIog,

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fres'n
To swallows on the wing.
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now;
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember,
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky;
It was a childish ignorance;
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Ze -fPV 1)ouze af at0tQ.


A WEE, brown maid on the doorstep sat,
Her small face hid neathh a wide, brimmed
A broken clock on her baby knee
She wound with an ancient, rusty key.
"What are you doing, my pretty one?
Playing with Time?" I asked, in fun.
Large and wise were the soft dark eyes,
Lifted to mine in a grave surprise.
I'se windin' him up, to make him go,
For he's so drefful pokey and slow."
Winding up Time? Ah, baby mine,
How crawl these lengthened moments of thine,
How sadly slow goes the staid old man,
But he has not changed, since the world began
He does not change, but in after years,
When he mingles our cup of joy with tears;
And duties are many, and pleasures fleet,
And the way grows rough neathh our tired feet,
When the day is too short for its crowd of cares,
And night surprises us unawares,
We do not wish to hurry his feet,
But find his going all too fleet.
Ah, baby mine, some future day,
You will throw that rusted key away
And to Phoebus' car will madly cling,
As it whirs along, like a winged thing,
And wonder how, years and years ago,
You could ever have thought that Time was slow.
Hannah B. Gage.

N these days of great pedestrian feats it
is worth while to record the doings of
an old Yorkshireman who has just died at
the ripe age of eighty-four years, at Masham,
in Yorkshire. James Heap was a school-
master, and carried on his calling in a wild
and bleak part of the country, walking every
day a distance of eight miles. He lived at
a cotton-mill just below the village of Hea-
ley, which is in the western part of that
portion of Yorkshire called Mashamshire.
His school-house was four miles distant, at
Coltersdale, which is still further west, and
among the bleak moors and wild hills lead-
ing away to Westmoreland.
A storm of wind and rain is no trifling
matter in these parts, and during a snow-
storm the snow very often drifts so thickly
as to make the roads almost impassable; but
no condition of the weather or the atmos-
phere could shake James Heap's steadfast
purpose, and he never had any ailment or
accident which kept him from going his
daily round to the school and home again.
Many a time had he to wade through snow-
drifts to find that his pupils were not able
to reach the school, and he was constantly

subjected to a drenching rain in the winter
months. Yet from December, 1822, to Jan-
uary, 1867, he never missed a single day,
and during 2,292 consecutive weeks he
walked more than one hundred and ten
thousand miles, or nearly five times round
the world.
Nor was he altogether idle on Sundays,
for during forty-two years of this period he
shared with others the teaching of a Sunday-
school at a place called Summerside, about
the same distance from his home, and in an
equally dreary and wild district on the
moors with Coltersdale; seventeen Sundays
in each year, during these forty-two years,
did he walk eight miles to teach, which
adds an aggregate of 5,712 miles to the
former sum, so that, taking Sundays and
week days into the reckoning, he would, if
he had continued his work for rather more
than another year, have covered a distance
equal to half the space between the earth
and the moon.


T HERE were a watermillion
Growing on a vine,
And there were a pickaninny
A-watching it all the time.

And when that watermillion
Were a-ripening in the sun,
And the stripes along its jacket
Were coming one by one,

That pickaninny hooked it,
And toting it away,
He ate that entire million
Within one single day.

He ate the rind and pieces,
He finished it with vim,
And then that watermillion
Just up and finished him.

W E have a debt to every great heart, to
every fine genius; to those who have
put life and fortune on the cast of an act of
justice; to those who have added new sci-
ences; to those who have refined life by
elegant pursuits. 'Tis the fine souls who
serve us, and not what is called fine society.
Fine society is only a self-protection against
the vulgarities of the street and the tavern.
R. W. Emerson.


.,I ------s-

''i .-~.-I1-' ~

r -.,.' .' -


* --." 7 -.

-- '-~i'A ..K"i,

0 00 C,

'f HE days are growing longer, and often something in their sunnier
Slight and warmer breath reminds us of the friends in the garden,
who are sleeping in their winter graves, still deep under the snow; but
we know t the 6!e of resurrection is coming, when in robes new and
rainbow-hued, they ivll rie from the earth into beautiful life. E. P. Roe.


FOR the rosebud's breath of beauty
Along the toiler's way;
For the violet's eye that opens
To bless the new-born day;
For the bare twigs that in summer
Bloom like the prophet's rod;
For the blossoming of flowers,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For the lifting up of mountains
In brightness and in dread;
For the peaks where snow and sunshine
Alone have dared to tread;
For the dark or silent gorges,
Whence mighty cedars nod;
For the majesty of mountains,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For the splendor of the sunsets,
Vast mirrored on the sea;
For the gold-fringed clouds that curtain
Heaven's inner mystery;
For the molten bars of twilight,
Where thought leans, glad, yet awed;
For the glory of the sunsets,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For the earth in all its beauty,
The sky and all its light;
For the dim and soothing shadows
That rest the dazzling sight;
For unfading fields and prairies
Where sense in vain has trod;
For the world's exhaustless beauty,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For an eye of inward seeing,
A soul to know and love;
For these common aspirations,
That our high heirship prove;
For the hearts that bless each other,
Beneath Thy smile, Thy rod;
For the amaranth saved from Eden,
I thank Thee, O my God!
For the hidden scroll o'erwritten,
With one dear Name adored;
For the Heavenly in the Human,
The Spirit in the Word;
For the tokens of Thy presence,
Within, above, abroad;
For Thine own great gift of being,
I thank Thee, 0 my God! -Lucy Larcom.

ONE of the most famous and remarka-
ble of the cities of the Old World is
Venice, a city of Northern Italy, built on a
cluster of little islands on the north-west
coast of the Adriatic sea. Venice-the
Queen of the Sea-was once one of the
most gorgeous cities of the earth. It was
the cradle of art, and the mart of commerce.
All the world of wealth and fashion flocked
to its canals and crowded its fair lagoons with
romantic gondolas. Its palaces abounded

with the works of Titian and Tintoretto;
and Shakspeare made the Rialto famous by
his "Merchant of Venice." The awful
Bridge of Sighs spans the dark gulf that
lies between the palace and the prison.
Venice is very famous for her churches. On
the preceding page will be found a sketch
of the wonderful Cathedral of St. Marks,
dedicated to the second of the Apostles.
The first church of St. Mark's was built in
813 but was destroyed by fire in 976. It
was rebuilt in 1071. Above the main en-
trance are the four horses which Marino
Zeno brought from Constantinople in 1202.
In 1797 they were carried away by Napoleon
to Paris, and were restored to Venice in
1815. A great dome arises high into the
air, surrounded by other smaller domes that
give the stately edifice a most imposing ap-
pearance. The structure is of red brick
interspersed with costly marbles. Its
shape is that of the Greek cross, and it is
in all respects one of the most wonderful
edifices in the world. It was once a proverb
that he who had not seen Venice had not
seen the world." It may be said of her as
Byron said of Greece:

Eternal summer gilds her yet,
But all except her sun has set.


T is a beautiful story that in one of the
old cities of Italy, the king caused a bell
to be hung in a tower in one of the public
squares, and called it the Bell of Justice,"
and commanded that any one who had
been wronged should go and ring the bell,
and so call the magistrate of the city, and
ask and receive justice. And when, in the
course of time, the lower end of the bell-
rope rotted away, a wild vine was tied to it
to lengthen it; and one day an old and
starving horse, that had been abandoned
by its owner and turned out to die, wan-
dered into the tower, and, in trying to eat
the vine, rang the bell. And the magistrate
of the city, coming to see who had rung the
bell, found this old and starving horse. And
he caused the owner of the horse, in whose
service he had toiled and been worn out, to
be summoned before him, and decreed, that
as this poor horse had rung the Bell of
Justice," he should have justice, and that
during the remainder of the horse's life his
owner should provide for him proper food
and drink and stable.



IT'S coming on the steeps of time,
And this old world is growing brighter;
We may not see its dawn sublime,
But high hopes make the heart throb lighter.
We may be sleeping in our graves
When it awakes the world in wonder,
But we have felt its coming sound,
And heard its voice of living thunder.
It's coming! Yes, it's coming!

M ANY a time have shipwrecked per-
sons recorded how their struggles
for life have been aggravated by the ten-
dency of the sea birds to swoop on floating
objects, but very rarely has i been turned
to such practical account as when, on a re-
cent voyage of the hark "Gladstone from
London to Australia, a seaman fell over-
The bark was scudding before a fair
. eeze in a rough sea. She had run some
distance b-fore the Lfe-boat could be low-
ered and return in search of the unhappy
man. So long a time had elapsed, and so
rough was the sea, that it was difficult to
steer for the spot, and the crew well-nigh
despaired of finding their luckless comrade,
when, to the amazement of all, he was dis-
covered, almost exhausted, but clinging to
a huge dead albatross.
The bird had swooped upon him very
soon after he fell overboard, and proceeded
to attack him with its strong beak and
claws. Though battling with the waves,
the d-sperate man contrived twice to beat
,ff th: hungry bird, but a third time it
approached, and the great white wings
overshadowed him once more. Suddenly
the thought flashed acr him that his foe
might become his savior. Gathering up
all his remaining strength, he grappled
with the bird, and, contriving to catch it
by the throat, he actually succeeded in
stranglin- it.
In its death-agony the huge bird battled
with its strong wings, its powerful beak
and its great webbed feet-no mean defen-
sive a;mor. The sailor was beaten black
and bl.,, and cruelly lacerated, but he was
able to hold his own in the contest, and the
I ird, to which he clung, supported him on
the waves.
Slowly it quivered and died, but the car-
i.-s continued to float lightly on the sur-

face, and the man, though faint and giddy
from the pain of his wounds and Lhe excite-
ment of his prolonged contest, contrived
to maintain his grasp. Passing one arm
around the albatross's body beneath the
wings, and with the other hand clutching
the bird's feet, he was comparatively at
rest, and in this position anxiously awaited
the chance of being found by his comradess
in that wild waste of tossing waters.
When all but worn out, and growing
fainter and fainter, came the joyful sound
of a sailor' shout, and he knew that nelp
was nigh. A few moments later he was
on board the life-boat, and welcomed back
to the bark, the hero of such an adventure
as to make him the envy of all untried
y-rng sailors.

HE bogs show green in the meadow,
The brook goes babbling along; -
High-perched on dead-limbec willow,
Gay redwing is ,whistling his song:
"O-ka-lee! 0-ka-lee!
Here are we; come and see'

"My little wife cares for the babies-
I see them in y n grassy clump;
Do you think I will tell you just which one?
Be careful now; look where you jump!
O-ka-lee! O-ka-lee!
Babies wee, babies three.

Oh, fine is this bright, warm weather!
The tender leaves whisper around;
The shad-birch now whitens the hill rides,
And violets s' rinkle th., ground.
O-ka-lee! O-ka-lee!
Envy me? Envy me?

I cannot sing all I would like to,
My wife says: Be still as a mouse.'
But I do just dote on u:i I illow,
And I dreadfully hate keeping house.
0-ka-lee 0-ka-lee!
Pity me? Pity me?

"We redwings are singers and poets;
In meadows and brooks we delight;
But, though glossy our shining black dress coats,
Our family cares are not light.
0-ka-lee! Children Lhree;
Don't you see? 0-ka-lee!"
S. f Douglass

ULL fellows frequently prove good
men of business. Richard Steele.



The Father of the Modern School of Music."
He was born on the 27th of January, 1756, at Salz-
burg, in Germany. The father of this remarkable
man, Leopold Mozart, Vice Kappell-Mleister to the
Archbishop of Salzburg, was himself a great lover of
music; and it was with great pride, that was surely
pardonable, that he discerned what he believed to be
the germs of musical genius in his young son and
daughter. It is said that when only an infant, so
young that he could scarcely reach up to the key-
board of the rickety old-
fashioned piano, young
Wolfgang would amuse
himself by picking out sim-
ple harmonies. In the year
x7.62, when the boy was '
just past his fifth birthday, -
and his sister was only ten
years old, their father took
them with him and made
professional tours through
Munich, Vienna, Paris and .
London. In London espe-
cially they were successful. ---
While in London, young
Mozart surprised a party of
musicians, his father among
the rest, by taking part at
sight in a trio for stringed
instruments. The progress
of this young aspirant for
musical honors was most
astounding. Before he was
seven years of age he per-
formed on the piano, the
violin, and the organ, and
was already laying the
foundation for a great repu-
tation as an accurate musical composer. In 1770 he
was appointed Director of the Concerts of the Prince
Archbishop of Salzburg. In this year he visited
Italy. Honors crowded thick upon him. If he had
been-a'gray-haired veteran in the world of music,
instead of a lad in his teens, he could not have
received more enthusiastic welcomes to the fair cities
of sunny Italy. Besides the adoration of the multi-
tudes, this boy ofthirteen received honors from Papal
orders and diplomas from the Philharmonic societies
of Bologna and Verona. His brilliant career in Italy
was followed by some years of comparative quiet.
He stayed for a little while in Salzburg, but growing
tired of its dullness and inaction, he removed to Paris.

Mozart had long cherished the dream of composing
an opera for the Theatre of Paris, but he was "too
proud to pander to the bad taste which reigned in the
French capital." He renounced the idea of the
opera, and contented himself with playing trifling
parts at small concerts. While he was thus fighting
fortune in Paris, the organist and the Kappell-Meister of
Salzburg cathedral both died. The office of organist
was offered him, and the post of Kappell-Meister was
to follow. He was to be comparatively free to enter
into any other engagements that would not absolutely
interfere with his cathedral
A ray of sunshine nbw
Sell upon the path of Mo-
S'zart. His long cherished
desire to compose an opera
was fulfilled in an unex-
pected manner. His opera
3- "Idomeneo" was com-
,'i.t, -. posed at the request of the
V'* 1 Elector of Bavaria.
Mozart's next great work
was his "Eutfihirung aus
S dem Seraii" This opera is
full of sparkling, charming
beauty, which some of Mo-
zart's friends account for
on the ground that it was
inspired by love. Mozart
was now bowing in adora-
tion before the shrine of
S the fair Constance Weber,
to whom he was united in
August, 1782. Hogarth
says: This union was the
wisest act, as well as the
Happiest event in his life."
She was the sunlight and
gladness of all his after life. Her sympathies with
him in his great work were deep and delicate and
tender. She shared his great .passion for music,
cheered his heart when he grew sad, and wept for
joy when the world crowned him with honor. The
world has no happier union to record than that of
Wolfgang Mozart and Constance Weber.
One day-the last of his earthly sojourn-he gath-
ered some friends around him; they played and he
sang alto; the gentle but heart-broken Constance
joined the strain. He faltered in his singing and fell
into a delirium, and at midnight, December 5, 1791gr,
he died. Mozart's sun went down while it was yet
day. He died at thirty-seven years of age.



C HILDREN did you ever read the story
of Rip Van Winkle? It is one of the
most beautiful of all the beautiful stories
written by Washington Irving. Poor Rip
was a dissolute but a kind hearted fellow
who bartered fortune, home and happiness
for the demon drink. He was driven from
his home by his indignant wife and as the
story goes, went up one stormy night into
the Katskill Mountains, where he fell into a
deep sleep which lasted twenty years. Then
he returned to his home and found the old
homestead in ruins and nearly all his old
friends dead, and no one knew him. But you
should read the story for yourselves.


H AMELIN town's in Brunswick.
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;
A pleasanter spot you never spied;
But when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity

They fought the dogs, and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cook's own
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's chats,
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.

At last the people in a body
To the Town Hall came flocking:
"'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy;
And as for our corporation-shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
For dolts that can't or won't determine
What's best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope because you're old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease?
Rouse up sirs? Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we're lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing! "
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.

An hour they sate in council-
At length the Mayor broke silence;

"For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;
I wish I were a mile hence!
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain-
I'm sure my poor head aches again,
I've scratched it so, and all in vain.
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!"
Just as he said this, what should hap
At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
" Bless us," cried the Mayor, what's that? "
(With the Corporation as he sat,
Looking, though little, wondrous fat;
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister
Than a too long opened oyster,
Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous
For a plate of turtle green and glutinous)
" Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?
Anything like the sound of a rat
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat! "

" Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger,
And in did come the strangest figure:
His long, queer coat from heel to head
Was half of yellow and half of red;
And he, himself, was tall and thin;
With sharp, blue eyes, each like a pin;
And light, loose hair, yet swarthy skin;
No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin
But lips where smiles went out and in-
There was no guessing his kith and kin!
And nooody could enough admire
The tall man and his quaint attire.
Quoth one, It's as my great grandsire,
Starting up at the trump of doom's tone,
Had walked this way from his painted tomb-

He advanced to the council table:
And Please your honors," said he, I'm able
By means of a secret charm, to draw
All living creatures beneath the sun,
That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,
After me so as you never saw,
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm-
The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper-
And people call me the Pied Piper."
(And here they noticed around his neck
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
To match with his coat of the self same check;
And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;
And his fingers they noticed were ever straying
As if impatient to be playing
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old fangled.)
Yet, said he," poor piper as I am,
In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats:
I eased in Asia the Nizam
Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats;
And as for what your brain bewilders-
IfI can rid your town of rats,
Will you give me a thousand guilders?"
" One? fifty thousand! "-was the exclamation
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

Into the street the piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,




As if he knew what magic slept
In his quiet pipe the while;
Then, like a musical adept,
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled;
Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled,
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives-
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step by step they followed, dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser
Wherein all plunged and perished
-Save one, who, stout as Julius Caesar,
Swam across, and lived to carry
(As he the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary,
Which was, At the first shrill notes of the pipe
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
And putting apples wondrous ripe,
Into a cider-press's gripe-
And a moving away of pickle-tub boards,
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,
And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks,
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks;
And it seemed as if a voice
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast drysalteryl
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,
All ready staved, like a great sun shone
Glorious, scarce an inch before me,
Just as methought it said, Come, bore mel
-I found the Weser rolling o'er me."

You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;
"Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles!
Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters and builders,
And leave in our town not even a trace
Of the rats! when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a "First, if you please, my thousand

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
So did the Corporation too.
For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock!
And half the money would replenish
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow,
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
a Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing

Our business was done at the river's brink;
And the dead can't come to life, I think:
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something to
And a matter of money to put in your poke:
But as for the guilders, what we spoke
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty;
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

The Piper's face fell, and he cried,
No trifling! I can't wait! beside,
I've promised to visit by dinner-time
Bagdat, and accept the prime
Of the head-cook's pottage, all he's rich in,
For having left in the Caliph's kitchen
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor-
With him I proved no bargain-driver;
With you don't think I'll bate a stiver!
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe to another fashion!"

"How?" cried the Mayor," d'ye think I'll
Being worse treated than a cook!
Insulted by a lazy ribald
With idle pipe and vesture piebald?
You threaten us, fellow. Do your worst?
Blow your pipe there, till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street;
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane,
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musicians cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)
There was a rustling that seemed like a bust-
Of merry crowds jostling at pitching and toss-
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clatter-
(Continued on page 34.)


T RUE Hope is based on energy of char-
S acter. A strong mind always hopes,
and has always cause to hope, because it
knows the Mutability of human affairs, and
how slight a circumstance may change the
whole course of events. Such a spirit, too,
rests upon itself; it is not confined to partial
views, or to one particular object. And if at
last all should be lost, it has saved itself-its
own integrity and worth. Hope awakens
Courage, while Despondency is the last of all
evils; it is the abandonment of good,-the
giving up of the battle of life with dead
nothingness.- Von Knebel.



A SONG of a nest:-
There was once a nest in a hollow:
Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed,
Soft and warm and full to the brim-
Vetches leaped over it purple and dim,
With buttercup buds to follow.

I had a nestful once of my own,
Ah, happy, happy I!
Right dearly I loved them: but when they were
They spread out their wings to fly-
0, one after one they flew away
Far up to the heavenly blue,
To the better country, the upper day,
And-I wish I was going too.

I pray you, what is the nest to me,
My empty nest?

I pray you hear my song of a nest,
For it is not long:-
You shall never light, in a summer quest
The bushes among-
Shall never light on a prouder sitter,
A fairer nestful, nor ever know
A softer sound than their tender twitter,
That wind-like did come and go.

And what is the shore where I stood to see
My boat sail down to the west?
Can I call that home where I anchor yet,
Though my good man has sailed?
Can I call that home where my nest was set,
Now all its hope hath failed?
Nay, but the port where my sailor went,
And the land where my nestlings be:
There is the home where my thoughts are sent,
The only home for me-
Ah mel
yean Itzgelow.


F IRST, somebody told it,
Then the room wouldn't hold it,
So the busy tongues rolled it
Till they got it outside;
When the crowd came across it,
It never once lost it,
But tossed it and tossed it,
Till it grew long and wide.
From a very small lie,
It became deep and high,
Till it reached to the sky,
And frightened the moon.
For she held her sweet face,
In a veil of cloud lace,
At the dreadful disgrace
"Ihat had happened at noon.
This lie brought forth others,
Dark sisters and brothers,
And fathers and mothers-
A terrible crew;
And thus, headlong and hurried,
The people they flurried,
And troubled and worried,
As lies always do.
And so, evil-boded,
This monstrous lie goaded,
Till at last it exploded
In smoke and in shame;
While from mud and from mire
The pieces flew higher,
And hit the sad liar,
And killed his good name.
Mrs. M. A. Kidder.

A FEW days after a large fire a gentle-
man who had kept a hat store which
had been burned was accosted in the street
by a boy, who said; "Mr. I- I have a
whole armful of hats that belonged to
you. I carried them home the day of the
fire, so that no one should steal them. If
you will tell me where to bring them, I will
go right home and get them."
The gentleman appointed a place, and
the boy ran away toward his home. Soon
he appeared with his hats, and sure enough
he had all that his two arms could hold.
When he had laid them down the gentle-
man began to try first one and then an-
other on his head. When he found one
that fitted him he said, "There, my little
man, that is yours."
He was a poor boy, and a nice new hat
that was "just the fit" was a greater treat
to him than to many boys. When the little
fellow fully realized that the hat was his

own he began to caper about and cried:
"See, see! I have got a new hat and didn't
steal it, either. I know another boy that
has got an armful of hats, and I don't think
he means to bring them back at all."
The boy that wears that hat can hold his
head up straight and look every one in the
face, because he is an honest boy. But
that other boy-there must be a hard spot
somewhere in his heart that must feel very
heavy when he thinks of those hats. Man
may not know, but God sees; and when h&
looks down on that 'reart he sees "thief"
written there. Which boy will you be like?

SROM the hour of the invention of
printing, books, and not kings, were
to rule the world. Weapons forged in the
mind, keen-edged, and brighter than a sun-
beam, were to supplant the sword and
battle-axe. Books! lighthouses built on
the sea of time! Books! by whose sorcery
the whole pageantry of the world's history
moves in solemn procession before our eyes.
From their pages great souls look down in.
all their grandeur, undimmed by the faults
and follies of earthly existence, consecrated
by time. E. P. Whi/zfle.

THE style of Bunyan is delightful to
every reader, and invaluable as a study
to every person who wishes to obtain a
wide command over the English language.
The vocabulary is the vocabulary of the
common people. There is not an expres-
sion, if we except a few technical terms of
theology, which would puzzle the rudest
peasant. We have observed several pages
which do not contain a single word of more
than two syllables. Yet no writer has said
more exactly what he meant to say. For
magnificence, for pathos, for vehement ex-
hortation, for subtle disquisition, for every
purpose of the poet, the orator, and the
divine, this homely dialect, the dialect of the
workingmen, was perfectly sufficient. There
is no book in our literature on which we
would so readily stake the fame of the old
unpolluted English language, no book which
shows so well how rich that language is in
its own proper wealth, and how little it has
been improved by all that it has borrowed.
Lord Macaulay.



A H, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets. Mrs. H. H. Jackson.

-- '11


(Continued from fage So.)

Little hands clapping, and little tongues chatter-
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is
Out came the children running;
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes, and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music, with shouting and laugh-

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step or cry
To the children merrily skipping by-
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack,
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat
As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However, he turned from south to west,
And to Koppelberg hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
He never can cross that mighty top!
He's forced to let the piping drop,
And we shall see our children stop! "
When, lo, as they reached the mountain's side
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
And the Piper advanced and the children fol-
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain side shut fast.
Did I say all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole of the way;
And in after years if yot would blame
His sadness, he was used to say-
," It's dull in our town since my playmates left
I can't forget that I'm bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the Piper also promised me;
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town, and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,
And flowers put torth a fairer hue,
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter "than peacocks
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagles' wings;
And just as I became assured
Mv lame foot would be speedily cured,
Thfe music stopped arid I stood still,
And found myself outside the hill,
Left alone against my will.
To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country morel "

Alas, alas for Hamelin!
There came into many a burgher's pate
A text which says that Heaven's gate
Opes to the rich at easy rate
As the needles eye takes a camel in!
The Mayor sent east, west, north and south,
To offer the Piper by word of mouth,
Wherever it was men's lot to find him
Silver and gold to his heart's content,
If he'd only return the way he went,
And bring the children behind him,

But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,
And piper and dancers were gone for ever,
They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If after the day of the month and the year,
These words did not as well appear,
"And so long after what.happened here
On the twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six;"
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children's last retreat
Thep called it the Pied Piper's street-
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labor.
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
To shock with mirth a street so solemn;
But opposite the place of the cavern
They wrote the story on a column,
And on the great church window painted
The same, to make the world acquainted.
How their children were stolen away;
And there it stands this very day.
And I must not omit to say
That in Transylvania there's a tribe
Of alien people that ascribe
The outlandish ways and dress
On which their neighbors lay such stress
To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterranean prison
Into which they were trepanned
Long time ago, in a mighty band,
Out of Hamelin Town in Brunswick land,
But how or why they don't understand.

So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
Of scores out with all men especially
And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from
If we've promised tnem aught, let us keep our

--Robert Browning.


GOOD book is the precious life-blood
of a master-spirit, embalmed and treas.
ureup on purpose to a life beyond.

-- ohn Mlilton.


I~otier's Good Niglht to Ier Bairgies.
"Then draw the blankets up and cry,
'Noo, bairnies, cuddle doon.'"


OBSTINACY'S never so stiff
As when 'tis in a wrong belief.
Butler's Hudibras.
Charity is never more admired
Than by the negligent.
Shakespeare's Ant. and Cleo.
Great men undertake great things because they
are great, and fools because they think them easy.
What seems only ludicrous is sometimes very se-
rious. Rabelais.
The most completely lost of all days is the one on
which we have not laughed. Chamfort.
Common sense is not a common thing.
Little things console us, because little things afflict
us. Pascal.
To brag of benefits one hath bestown,
Doth make the least seem less, and most seem more.
Brome's Novella.
Variety alone gives joy;
The sweetest meats the soonest cloy.
John Prior.
To follow precedents, and wink
With both our eyes, is easier than to think,
William Cowper.
Our souls much farther than our eyes can see.
Michael Drayton.
Want is a bitter and a hateful good,
Because its virtues are not understood.
John Dryden.
Audacity of thought is seldom forgiven.
IMme. Louise Colot.
Love thyself last; cherish those
Hearts that hate thee.
Shakespeare's Hemy VIII.

TOMMY DODDS had a sore throat,
and he couldn't play in the snow.
His mamma gave him a scrap-book, a bottle
of mucilage, some "lovely picshers" and a
sunny corner of her sitting-room.
Into the scrap-book, zigzag, topside down,
the "picshers" of lovely ladies, big ships
and wild animals were arranged just as
Tommy's taste suggested.
A friend of mamma's called, somebody
whom Tommy admired ever so much. Why
not decorate her, too? So, while pretty

Miss Susie talked, the small artist worked
with paste and brush upon the folds of the
"shiny" new satin dress.
"Don't she look fine, though," said
Tommy, admiring the group of cats, ele-
phants and mice the young lady was inno-
cently and unconsciously wearing "down
town." Unfortunately, mamma's argus eyes
had not seen this proof of her small son's
artistic work.
The cat, dog and parlor walls were not
neglected, and, as grandpa slept in his easy
chair, another idea came to Tommy.
How nice to ornament the smooth, bald
head with a motherly hen and chickens.
And grandpa slept on, never heeding the
light touch of the paste-brush and Tommy's
small fingers.
Uncle Ray came in, natty and trim in his
new light suit. As he lingered long before
the glass, 'twas only the work of a moment
to decorate the lavender-colored trousers
with a pair of ferocious-looking lions.
"Oh, my! Uncle Ray, you do look just
splendid!" and Tommy clapped his chubby
hands together.
"You think so, Tommy?" and the young
man laughed good-naturedly.
Oh, yes, an' I've pasted 'em facing each
other; looks as if they are 'most ready to
"Who- what- where- and Uncle
Ray looked inquiringly at his young nephew.
"The lions-I pasted 'em on while you
twisted that mustache," and Tommy began
to wish he hadn't.
"You are a meddlesome monkey!" and
Uncle Ray angrily snatched the offending
"picshers" from his new spring suit, look-
ing daggers at the small offender.
Just then mamma came back into the
"Sister, Tommy has- "
"Mamma, I only wanted- "
"Daughter," said grandpa, roused from
his nap, "my head feels queerly."
"Yes, yes, I see," and mamma looked at
the cat and dog, all paste and "picshers,"
her beautifully-white walls showing Tom-
my's handiwork, grandpa's pasty head, and
the soiled spots upon the new clothes, and
somebody was banished to the children's
room to think it all over.
"Oh, dear me, it's lonesome! Wish't I
hadn't done so much mischief. What if
gran'papa takes cold in his head! Oh, deaf
me!'" Ella Guernsey.



FRANCIS JOSEPH HAYDN will be remem- and officials of the count, and in addition the mag-
bered, as long as music sways the souls of men, nificent salary of 200 florins per annum, or about
by that sublime oratorio the Creation,"second only $1oo. But this was wealth indeed compared with his
to Handel's incomparable Messiah." He was also former condition.
the inventor of the most interesting kind of chamber On the death of Prince Esterhazy in 1790, Haydn
-music. He introduced the quartette, and gave to the went to London and joined Salomon. The musical
world those grand symphonies that are becoming world received him with great enthusiasm. The King
more and more ._..----- --- and the Prince
appreciate d :' : of Wales showed
.every day. He him marked dis-
found music in .tinction, and the
-the school and in nobles paid him
*the church, and high honors; the
he carried it with University of Ox-
.all its charms to 'ford conferred
-the homes of ,. ,I .. on him the hon-
men and women, -orary degree of
who found in it Doctor cf Music,
-a new element of i and the public at
social delight. large applauded

ket town of Roh- erty now be-
ran, near Pragg, -- came compara-
on the banks of timely rich; the
*the river Leitha, just rewards of
ein LowerAustria. work and genius
His father was a rendered his fut-
wheelwright in Ture wholly free
the employ of from financial
Count Harrach. .- -. areas.
He, wias a greater eths of por
lover of musical years of hias life
oand played ba the o, tnHaydn lived in
tharp most ex- just reti ardment. He

in LowerAustria no house and gare

music. Haydn na, and here he
ells us how, when a boy of five, e was accustomed composed the Creation" and the Seasons." Cen-
to sing while his father played, and so charmed was cerning the Creation," it is said that he received
the Austrian wheelwright with the vocal powers of the first suggestion of his masterpiece from Baron
his son, that he sent him to the school at Hainburg, Von Swieten. Haydnentereduponhis work in a most
where, with other useful acquirements, he might learn devout spirit, and is said to have prayed daily for
the first elements of music. In his sixth year he was direction fro heaven. The great work was com-
bold enough," he says, to sing masses in the choir, pleted in April, 1798. It was first performed at the
,and played fairly well on the clavecin and violin. Schwarzenberg Palace, in Vienna, on the inth of
In 1759, Haydn was engaged by Count Morzin as March, 1799, and was at once a grand success.
tells musical director and composer, in return for which Haydn war a devoutly religious man. lie died in
to sing while was to have fire, bed and board with the secretaries his cottage home, on the 31t of May, 1809.that he received
.h~e was to have fire, bed and board with the secretaries his cottage home, on the 3Ist of May, 18o9.



WE meant to be very kind;
But if ever we find
Another soft gray green, moss-coated, feather-lined
nest in a hedge,
We have taken a pledge-
Susan, Jimmy, and I-with remorseful tears, at this
very minute,
That if there are eggs or little birds in it,
Robin or wren, thrush, chaffinch or linnet,
We'll leave them there
To their mother's care.

There were three of us-Kate, and Susan, and Jim,
And three of them-
I don't know their names, for they couldn't speak
Except with a little, imperative squeak,
Exactly like Poll,
Susan's squeaking doll.
But squeaking dolls will lie on the shelves
For years, and never squeak of themselves.
The reason we like little birds so much better than
Is because they are really alive, and know how to
make a noise.

There were three of us and three of them;
Kate-that is I-and Susan and Jim.
Our mother was busy making a pis,
And theirs we think, was up in the sky,
But for all Susan, Jimmy, or I can tell,
She may have been getting their dinner as well.
They were left to themselves (and so were we)
In a nest in the hedge by the willow-tree,
And when we caught sight of three red little fluff-
tufted, hazel eyed, open-mouthed, pink-throat-
ed heads, we all shouted for glee.

The way we really did wrong was this:
We took them for mother to kiss,
And she told us to put them back,
While on the weeping-willow their mother was cry-
ing Alack! "
We really heard
Both what mother told us to do and the voice of the
mother bird,
But we three-that is Susan and I, and Jim-
Thought we knew better than either of them;
And in spite of our mother's command and the poor
bird's cry,
We determined to bring up the three little nestlings
ourselves on the sly.

We each took one,
It did seem such excellent fun!
Susan fed hers on milk and bread;
Jim got wriggling worms for his instead,
I gave mine meat.
For you know, I thought, "Poor darling pet! why
shouldn't it have roast beef to eat? "
But, oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! how we cried
When, in spite of milk and bread, and worms, and
roast beef, the little birds died!

It's a terrible thing to have heart ache.
I thought mine would break

As I heard the mother-bird's moan,
And looked at the gray-green, moss-coated, feather- -
lined nest she had taken such pains to make.
And her three little children dead and cold as a-
Mother said, and its sadly true,
"There are some wrong things one can never-
And nothing that we could do or say,
Would bring life back to the birds that day.

The bitterest tears that we could weep
Wouldn't wake them out of their stiff cold sleep..
But then
We-Susan and Jim and I-mean never to be so sel-
fish and cruel again.
And we three have buried that other three
In a soft, green, moss-covered, flower-lined grave at:
the foot of the willow-tree.
And all the leaves which its branches shed,
We think are tears because they are dead.


IFE is of little value unless it be conse--
crated by duty.
Character is made up of small duties faith-
fully performed.
Our acts are the only things that are in our
The back-bone of character is laid at home..
We have the willingness to do, but we fail
to do it.
A man is a miracle of genius because he is-
a miracle of labor.
Self-control is at the root of all the virtues..
Life is a battle to be fought valiantly.
Man is not made for fame or glory.
Sympathy is one of the greatest secrets of
Fidelity seems to be a lost art.
Duty begins with hope and ends with-
death.-Samuel Smiles.


S7HAT might be done if men were wise-
What glorious deeds, my suffering bro-
Would they unite
In love and right,
And cease their scorn of one another?

Oppression's heart might be imbued
With kindling drops of loving-kindness;
And knowledge pour
From shore to shore,
Light on the eyes of mental blindness,

All slavery, warfare, lies and wrongs,
All vice and crime might die together




AiY ~





BEAUTIFUL, exceedingly, with Orien-
tal eyes, teeth like pearls, and a voice
of wondrous sweetness, Septima Zenobia was
the daughter of an Arab chief, Amrou, the
son of Dharb. Nothing is known of her
early years till, as a very young widow, she
is spoken of as making a second match with
Odenathus, a prince of great valor, and
chief of several Arab tribes near Palmyra.
As a wife of this prince, who was an able
and successful ally of the Romans in their
wars against Sapor, king of Persia, Zenobia
began her public career, and won her cour-
ageous following of her husband in his war-
like and hunting expeditions, as well as by
her prudence, enlightened mind, and superior
understanding, the admiration of the Roman
people. For revenging the fate of Valerian,
who had been captured and put to death by
the Persian king, Odenathus received from
the Romans the titles of Augustus and Gen-
eral of the East; but he only enjoyed these
honors for a short time, as he was assassinated
while out hunting by his nephew Moronius.
From this point Zenobia's name shone
alone. She avenged her husband's murder,
assumed in the name of her infant sons the
chief power in the State, and finally the dia-
dem and the title of Augusta, queen of the
East. This assumption on the part of a wo-
man the Roman Emperor, Galienus, refused
to acknowledge, till Zenobia, taking the field
against his general, Heraclinus, totally de-
feated him, carried her arms into Egypt,
where she again was victorious, and added it,
together with some parts of Asia, to her own
Passing over Jerusalem, Antioch, and Da-
mascus, all of which were included in her
dominions, she fixed on Palmyra as her capi-
tal, and as during the rest of the reign of
Galienus and his successor, Claudius, she was
not molested by the Romans, she devoted
herself to the embellishment of her beautiful
capital, to the cultivation of letters, and to
friendship with learned men, one of whom,
Longinus, she invited to her court, and made
her secretary and minister. With the acces-
sion of Aurelian came a change to Zenobia.
Fierce, active, and ambitious, he could not
brook opposition of any sort from a woman;
so, having subdued his enemies in the west,
he turned his arms against the Queen of Pal-
myra. Placing herself at the head of her
troops the Queen encountered the Emperor at

Antioch, where the first of several severe de.
feats befell her. Falling back on her capital
she again defied her enemies, only after
some slight successes to be again undone.
Conscious that Palmyra could not hold out
much longer, the Queen resolved herself to
seek succour from without, and mounted on
a fleet dromedary, and eluding the vigilance
of the Romans, she took the road to the
Euphrates. Here her flight having been dis-
covered, she was pursued by the enemy, and
brought back as a captive to Aurelian, who,
after destroying her splendid capital, carried
her and her children to grace his triumph at
Rome. There, amid the gorgeous display of
treasure and the long train of captives, every
eye sought for 'the beautiful and majestic
figure of the Syrian queen, who walked in
the procession before her own sumptuous
chariot, attired in her diadem and royal robes,
blazing with jewels, her eyes fixed on the
ground, and her delicate form drooping un-
der the weight of her golden fetters, which
were so heavy that two slaves were obliged
to assist in supporting them on either side.'
Of her subsequent fate tradition says that,
refusing to survive her own and her country's
disgrace, she starved herself to death.


S OTHER, who made the stars which light
The beautiful blue sky?
Who made the moon so clear and bright,
That rises up so high?'

''Twas God, my child, the glorious One-
He formed them by His power;
He made alike the brilliant sun
And every leaf and flower.

He made your little feet to walk,
Your sparkling eyes to see,
Your busy, prattling tongue to talk,
Your limbs so light and free.

He paints each fragrant flower that glows
With loveliness and bloom;
He gives the violet and the rose
Their beauty and perfume.

Our various wants His hands supply,
And guard us ever hour;
We're kept beneath His watchful eye,
And guided by His power.

Then let your little heart, my love,
Its grateful homage pay
To this kind Friend who, from abts,'
So gently guides your way.


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. -' -* -. ,:, .; .. .
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t;* .'-. 2



B ABY is clad in her nightgown white;
Pussy cat purrs a soft good-night;
And somebody tells, for somebody knows,
The terrible tale of ten little toes.

This big toe took a small boy, Sam,
Into the cupboard after the jam;
This little toe said: Oh, no! no!"
This little toe was anxious to go;
This little toe said: "'Tisn't quite right!"
This little toe curled out of sight.

This big toe got suddenly stubbed;
This little toe got ruefully rubbed;
This little frightened toe cried out, Bears!"
This little timid toe ran up stairs;
Down came a toe with a loud slam! slam
This little tiny toe got all the jam!


SIMPLE industry and thrift will go far
toward making any person of ordinary
working faculty comparatively independent
in his means. Even a workingman may be
so, provided he will carefully husband his
resources, and watch the little outlets of
useless expenditure. A penny is a very
small matter, yet the comfort of thousands
of families depends upon the proper spend-
ing and saving of pennies. If a man allows
the little pennies, the results of his hard
work, to slip out of his fingers-some to the
beer-shop, some this way, and some that-
he will find that his life io little raised above
one of mere animal drudgery. On the other
hand, if he take care of the pennies- put-
ting some weekly into a benefit society or
an insurance fund, others into a savings-
bank, and confiding the rest to his wife to
be carefully laid out with a view to the
comfortable maintenance and education of
his family-he will soon find that this at-
tention to small matters will abundantly
repay him in increasing means, growing
comfort at home, and a mind comparatively
free from fears as to the future.
Samuel Smiles.

VIL is wrought by want of thought
As well as by want of heart.
Thomas Hood

A SAYING is current to the effect that a
sneer is an argument that cannot be
answered; but this is not true. A sneer
can be answered, but it takes time and la-
bor, and these cannot always be available.
To one who wishes to be fully equipped for
every form of hostile attack, nothing is more
important than a knowledge of the history
of the ridiculous. In such a history not the
least important part would be that which
would be devoted to the sneerers of all
ages. We should find that nearly every-
thing which we now most revere has at one
time been an object of these malignant as-
saults. We should see Socrates caricatured
by Aristzphanes; St. Paul mocked at by the
Athenians; Columbus ridiculed by navi-
gators, Galileo by philosophers, Milton by
courtiers, Harvey and Jenner by physicians,
George Peabody by brokers. We should
find the steamboat, the railroad, and the
el ctric telegraph assailed in their infancy
by the same class of enemies. But time
comes forward at length to vindicate the
great teacher, or the great inventor, and the
shafts thus misdirected recoil with fearful
effect upon those who sent them forth. In
view of the abuse of the ridiculous, we per-
ceive the truth of the saying, "A sneer is a
fool's argument." James De Mille.

G OOD-NIGHT! the sun is setting,
"Good-night!" the robins said.
And blue-eyed dolls and blue-eyed girls
Should soon be allowing.
Come! lay the Lady Geraldine
Among the pillows 'white;
'Tis time the little i..)ther kissed
Her sleepy doll good-night.
And Willie, put.the cart away,
And drive into the shed
The pony and the muley cow;
'Tis time to go to bed.
For, listen! in the lilac tree
The robin does not sing;
"Good-night!" he sang, and tucked his head
Beneath his weary wing.
Soon all the world will go to rest,
And all the sky grow dim;
God giveth His beloved sleep,"
So we may trust in Him.
The Lord is in the Shadow,
And the Lord is in the Light,
To guard His little ones from harm;
Good-night, dear hearts, good-night!


S rAv T s often laugh as often cry,
.j I And I cannot tell you why.
Z. B. Gustafsen.

April cold with dripping rain,
Willows and lilacs brings again,
The whistle of returning birds
And trumpet lowing of the herds.
R. W. Emerson.


LITTLE fresh violets,
Born in the wildwood;
Sweetly illustrating
Innocent childhood;
Shy as the antelope-
Brown as a berry-
Free as the mountain air,
Romping and merry.

Blue eyes and hazel eyes
Peep from the hedges,
Shaded by sun-bonnets,
Frayed at the edges!
Up in the apple trees,
Careless of danger,
Manhood in embryo
Stares at the stranger.
Out in the hilly patch,
Seeking the berries-
Under the orchard trees,
Feasting on cherries-
Trampling the clover blooms,
Down 'mong the grasses,
No voice to hinder them,
Dear lads and lasses!
No grim propriety-
No interdiction;
Free as the birdlings
From city restriction!
Coining the purest blood,
Strength'ning each muscle,
Donning health armor,
'Gainst life's coming bustle.

via, has lately discovered that ozone is
generated in immense quantities by all
plants and flowers possessing green leaves
and aromatic odors. Hyacinths, mignon-
ette, heliotrope, lemon, mint, lavender,
narcissus, cherry-laurel, and the like, all
throw off ozone largely on exposure to the
sun's rays. So powerful is this great at-
mospheric purifier that it is the belief of
chemists that .whole districts can be re-
deemed from the deadly malaria which in-
fests them by simply covering them with
aromatic vegetation. The bearing of this
upon flower-culture in our large cities is
also very important. Experiments have
proved that the air of cities contains less
ozone than that of the surrounding country,
and the thickly inhabited parts of cities less
than the more sparsely built,or than the parks
and open squares. Plants and flowers and
green trees can alone restore the balance,
-so that every little flower-pot is not merely

a thing of beauty while it lasts, but has a
direct and beneficial influence upon the
health of the neighborhood in which it is
A HARD, close man was Solomon Ray,
Nothing of value he gave away;
He hoarded and saved;
He pinched and shaved;
And the more he had the more he craved.
The hard-earned dollar he tried to gain
Brought him little but care and pain;
For little he spent,
And all he lent
He made it bring him twenty per cent.
Such was the life of Solomon Ray,
The years went by and his hair grew gray;
His cheeks grew thin,
And his soul within
Grew hard as the dollar he worked to win.
But he died one day, as all men must,
For life is fleeting and men but dust.
The heirs were gay
That laid him away
And that was the end of Solomon Ray.
They quarreled now who had little cared
For Solomon Ray while his life was spared.
His lands were sold
And his hard-earned gold
All went to the lawyers, I am told.
Yet men will cheat, and pinch, and save,
Nor carry their treasures beyond the grave,
All their gold some day
Will melt away.
Like the selfish savings of Solomon Ray.

A FRIEND is one to whom your heart
has opened itself as freely as a flower
to the sun, to receive from whom is
pleasure, for whom to sacrifice yourself is
the purest joy, the secret springs of whose
life you have stood beside with awe and
love, whose silence is as vocal to you as
speech, whose passing expressions of coun-
tenance convey histories; whose being has
passed into yours, and yours into his, each
complementing and exalting each; with
whom you have shared existence and all its
passions, whose sorrow and whose joy
move you as the coming spring moves the
woodland, who has received as much from
you as you from him. This is true friend-
ship, and its particular mark is that,
through participation in the life and feel-
ings of your friend, you have become at
home iv. his nature. Rev. S. Brooke.



O UR beautiful Maggie was married to-day-
Beautiful Maggie, with soft brown hair,
Whose shadows fall o'er a face as fair
As the snowy blooms of the early May;
We have kissed her lips and sent her away,
With many a blessing and many a prayer,
The pet of our house who was married to-day.
The sunshine is gone from the old south room,
Where she sat through the long, bright summer
And the odor has gone from the window flowers,
And something is lost of thiir delicate bloom,
And a shadow creeps over the house with its gloom;
A shadow that over our paradise lowers,
For we see her no more in the old south room.


The pictures seem dim where they hang on the wall;
Though they cost but a trifle, they always looked
Whether lamplight or sunlight illumined then thdre;'
I think 'twas her presence that brightens them al.
Since Maggie no longer can come to our call,
With 1e. eyes full of laughter, unshadowed by care,
The r i turs seem dim where they hang on the wall.

She loved us and left us-she loves and is gone
With the one she loves best, as his beautiful bride.
How fondly he called her his joy and his pride,
Our joy and our pride, whom he claims as his own]
But can he, like us, prize the heart he has won-
The heart that now trustingly throbs by his side?
God knows! and we know that she loves and is gone.

_^__~_ _~ __


WEET be not proud of those two eyes,
Which, star-like sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see,
All hearts your captives,-yours yet free.
Be ye not proud of that rich hair,
Which wanton's with the love-sick air;
Whenas that ruby vhich you wear
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone,
When all your worth of beauty's gone!
--Robert Herrick.

OH, the comfort of them! There is but
one thing like them-that is, sunshine.
It is the fashion to state the comparison the
other end foremost-i. e., to flatter the cheery
people by comparing them to the sun. I
think it is the best way of praising the sun-
shine, to say that it is almost as bright and in-
spiring as the presence of cheery people.
That the cheery people are brighter and
better even than sunshine, is very easily prov-
ed; for who has not seen a cheery person
make a room and a day bright, in spite of the
sun's not shining at all in spite of clouds
and rain and cold, all doing there very best
to make it dismal? Therefore, I say, the fair
way is to compare the sun to cheery people,
and not cheery people to the sun. However,
whichever way we state the comparison, it is
a true and good one; and neither the cheery
people nor the sun need take offence. In fact,
I believe they will always be such good
friends, and work so steadily together for the
same ends, that there is no danger of either's
grudging the other the credit of what has
been done. The more you think of it, the
more you see how wonderfully alike the two
are in their operations on the world. The
sun on the fields makes things grow-fruits
and flowers and grains; the cheery person in
the house makes everybody do his best-
makes the one who can sing feel like singing,
and the one who has an ugly, hard job of
work to do, feel like shouldering it bravely,
and having it over with. And the music and
mirth and work in the house, are they not
like the flowers and fruits and grains in the
The sun makes everybody glad. Even the
animals run and leap, and seem more joyous
when it shines out; and no human being can
be so cross-grained or so ill that he does not
brighten up a little when a great, broad,
warm sunbeam streams over him and plays

on his face. It is just so with a cheery per-
son. His simple presence makes even ani-
mals happier.
People who have done things which have
made them famous, such as winning great
battles or filling high offices, often have what
are called "ovations." Hundreds of people
get together, and make a procession, perhaps,
or go into a great hall and make speeches, all
to show that they recognize what the great
man has done. After he is dead, they build
a stone monument to him, perhaps, and cele-
brate his birthday for a few years. Men
work very hard sometimes for a whole life-
time to earn a few things of this sort. But
how much greater a thing it would be for a
man to have every man, woman and child in
his own town know and love his face, be-
cause it was full of kindly good cheer! Such
a man has a perpetual "ovation," year in and
year out, whenever he walks on the street,
whenever he enters a friend's house.
"I jist likes to let her in at the door," said
an Irish servant, one day, of a woman I know,
whose face was always cheery and bright;
"the face of her does one good, shure!"-H.
H. S.
ON a large scale, and in work determin-
able by line and rule, it is indeed both
possible and necessary that the thoughts of
one man should be carried out by the labor of
others; in this sense I have already defined
the best architecture to be the expression of
the mind of manhood by the hands of child-
hood. But on a smaller scale, and in a design
which cannot be mathematically defined, one
man's thoughts can never be expressed by
another; and the difference between the spirit
of touch of the man who is inventing and of
the man who is obeying directions is often all
the difference between a great and a common
work of art. How wide the separation is be-
tween original and second-hand execution, I
shall endeavor to show elsewhere: it is not so
much to our purpose here, as to mark the
other and more fatal error of despising man-
ual labor when governed by intellect; for it is
no less fatal an error to despise it when thus
regulated by intellect, than to value it for its
own sake. We are always, in these days,
endeavoring to separate the two: we want
one man to be always thinking, another to be
always working; and we call one a gentle-
man, and the other an operative; whereas,

r;, .

&n Grancpapa's DTnee.

THE cosiest place and the snuggest spot,
In the summer time
When the days are hot,
And Jessie is tired as tired can be,
Is just to climb up on grandpapa's knee.
Oh! the dearest place
To nestle in,
Is on grandpapa's knee, just under his chin.



the workman ought often to be thinking, and
the thinker often to be working; and both
should be gentlemen in the best sense. As
it is, we make both ungentle, the one envy-
ing, the other despising, his brother; and the
mass of society is made up of morbid thinkers,
and miserable workers. Now, it is only by
labor that thought can be made healthy, and
only by thought that labor can be made hap-
py; and the two cannot be separated with im-
punity. It would be well if all of us were
good handicraftsmen in some kind, and the
dishonor of manual labor done away with
altogether; so that, though there should still
be a trenchant distinction of race between
nobles and commoners, there should not,
among the latter, be a trenchant distinction
of employment, as between idle and working
men, or between men of liberal and illiberal
professions. All professions should be liberal;
and there should be less pride felt in peculi-
arity of employment, and more in excellence
of achievement. And yet more, in each
several profession, no master should be too
proud to do its hardest work. The painter
should grind his own colors; the architect
work in the mason's yard with his men; the
master-manufacturer be himself a more skil-
ful operative than any man in his mills; and
the distinction between one man and another
be only in experience and skill, and the au-
thority and wealth which these must naturally
and justly obtain.-Ruskin.


T was long before the cable stretched
across the ocean, when the steamers did
not make such rapid runs from continent to
continent, that the ship Atlantic was missing.
She had been due in New York for some
days, and the people began to despair. "The
Atlantic has not been heard from yet!"
" What news from the Atlantic on Ex-
"None." Telegraph dispatches came in
from all quarters. "Any news from the
Atlantic?" And the word thrilled along the
wires to che hearts of those who had no
friends on board. "No."
Day after day passed, and people began to
be excited when the booming of the guns
told that a ship was coming up the Narrows.
People went out upon the Battery and Castle
Garden with their spy-glasses; but it was a
British ship, the Union Jack was flying; they

watched her come to her moorings and their
hearts sank within them.
"Any news from the Atlantic?"
"Has not the Atlantic arrived?"
"She sailed fifteen days before we did, and
we have heard nothing from her." And the
people said, There is no use hoping against
hope, she is gone, like the President. She
has made her last port."
Day after day passed, and those who had
friends on board began to make up their
Day after day passed, and the captain's
wife was so ill that the doctor said she would
die, if suspense were not removed.
Day after day passed, and men looked at
one another and said, "Ah, it is a sad thing
about the Atlantic."
At length one bright and beautiful morning
the guns boomed across the bay, and a ship
was seen coming into port. Down went the
people to the Battery and Castle Garden. It
was a British ship again, and their hearts
seemed to die within them. But up she
came, making a ridge of white foam before
her, and you could hear a heavy sigh from
that crowd, as if it were the last hope dying
out. Men looked at one another blankly; by
and by some one cried out, "She has passed
her moorings, she is steaming up the river."
Then they wiped away the dimness of
grief and watched the vessel. Round she
came most gallantly, and as she passed the
immense crowds on the wharves at the Castle
Garden, the crew hoisted flags from trucks
to mainchains. An officer leaped upon the
paddle box, put his trumpet to his lips, and
cried out, "The Atlantic is safe. She has
put into port for repairs!"
Then such a shont! Oh, how they shout-
ed! Shout! shout! shout! The Atlantic
is safe!"
Bands of music paraded the streets, tele-
graph wires worked all night long, The
Atlantic is safe," bringing joy to millions of
hearts; and yet not one in a hundred thou-
sand of those who rejoiced had a friend or
relative on board that steamer. It was sym-
pathy with the sorrows of others, with whom
they had no tie in common, save that which
God created when he made of one blood all
the nations of the earth, and permitted us, as
brethren, to call him the common Father of
us all.-- ohn B. Gough.



CLARA LOUISE KELLOGG is among the most
eminent of modern singers. Her voice is a
high soprano of wonderful compass and clearness.
It is capable of rendering the finest inflections in a
most effective manner. Her masterpiece of song is
in Margherita in "Faust." As an operatic perform-
ance, this is admitted on all hands to be wholly unap-
proachable. She has made this impersonation unique.
The conception is entirely her own. There is no more
acceptable "Margherita" on the operatic stage to-
day than that presented by Miss Kellogg. Her act-
ing is in all respects
worthy of her singing.
Miss Kellogg is a na-
tive of New York; and
while Americans are
not slow to appreciate
foreign talent, it is only
reasonable that they
should be proud of their
own children of genius.
An amusing incident
transpired not long
ago, well worthy of
mention here. Miss
Kellogg and Madame
Pauline Lucca were
singing in St. Louis in
friendly rivalry. The
Germans rallied around
Lucca and the Ameri-
cans were just as en-
thusiastic for Kellogg.
On the first night Lucca
was presented with a
bouquet costing $35.
Not to be beaten, the
American brokers on
'Change arranged for a colossal turret of rare roses,
reaching eight feet high and costing $135. This
floral tribute was presented to Miss Kellogg amidst
most uproarious applause. The Germans then re-
turned to the attack, and presented the fair Lucca
with an exquisite laurel wreath lined with pure gold,
costing over $2oo. The house was crowded when
the presentation was made. The plaudits were
long and loud, and the Lucca party thought the con-
test was at an end. But Americans, like their Eng-
lish ancestors, never know when they are beaten; so
they turned out in great force, and presented Miss
Kellogg with a magnificent gold medal and chain
costing $350. This closed the contest, and the Ger-
mans agreed that if they were not Lucca they would

be Kellogg, and the Americans as generously averred
that if they were not Kellogg they would be Lucca.
In the recent development of musical taste, in the in-
creasing number of concert and musical festivals,
Miss Kellogg has done good work, and is deservedly
one of the most popular singers of the day.
No one individual has done more than Miss Kel-
logg in introducing Opera to the lovers of music in this
country. She had many difficulties to overcome and
many prejudices to confront, but she has succeeded
in a most remarkable degree in awaking a just and
pure taste for Ope-
ratic music. Miss Kel-
logg is a great musical
enthusiast. She does
not consider that nearly
enough attention is
paid to the study of
music and the cultiva-
tion of the musical tal-
ent. She would have
genuine good music
taught in the public
schools, and in the
homes of the people.
And while, of course,
she does not expect
that every student of
music shall become a
musical genius, yet she
holds that we are all
more or less musical,
and that by the neglect
of this study much la-
tent talent is hidden.
The influence of Miss
Kellogg on the musical
taste of her country
cannot well be measured. While she has all possible
respect for the talented artists from other lands who
have charmed the men and women of America, she
still believes that there must be amongst the teeming
millions of her sons and daughters hundreds if not
thousands of sweet voices that only need culture and
careful training to make worthy of the highest places
of the musical world. In this she is no doubt right,
and it will only require a few years to bring to the
front thousands of candidates for musical fame who
will vie with the finest singers Europe has ever heard.
This is a worthy ambition of which any lady may
well be proud. It is no light thing to help fill the
world that has too many dreary noises with the
sounds of melody and the soul of music.


T HEY met, when they were girl and boy,
Going to school one day,
And "won't you take my peg-top, dear?"
Was all that he could say.
She bit her little pinafore,
Close to his side she came,
She whispered, "No! no, thank you, Tom,"
But took it all the same.
They met one day, the selfsame way,
When ten swift years had flown;
He said, "I've nothing but my heart,
But that is yours alone."
"And won't you take my heart?" he said,
And called her by her name;
She blushed and said, "No, thank you, Tom,"
But took it all the same.
And twenty, thirty, forty years,
Have brought them care and joy,
She has the little peg-top still,
He gave her when a boy.
"I've had no wealth, sweet wife," says he,
I've never brought you fame;"
She whispers, No, no, thank you, Tom,
You've loved me all the same."
-F. E. Weatherly.

IHAVE traveled much in many lands, but
I have not seen many more lovely spots
in this beautiful world than the Isle of Wight,
which lies, like a gem in the ocean, on the
southern coast of England. It is divided
from the main land by the river Solent.
Standing on one of the crowded quays at
Portsmouth, and looking over the rippling
waters of the "narrow stream to that fair
garden beyond, its quiet, peaceful beauty
becomes all the more impressive by its con-
trast with the noise and bustle of this busy
port. It was this contrast that inspired
Isaac Watts with that beautiful hymn which
describes the heavenly land, as a land of
perpetual spring-time, where the flowers
never fade, and the beauty never grows
dim. Looking out from his study window
over the placid Solent to the fair, green
fields of the Wight, the Christian poet sang
of another and a fairer land:
"There everlasting Spring abides,
And never withering flowers;
Death like a narrow sea divides
This heavenly land from ours."
This little island has figured considerably
in history. On the eastern coast, is Carris-
brooke Castle, where Charles I. was im-
prisoned for a while; and it is here, he is
said to have written that pathetic poem, in
which, with the prospect of execution im-

mediately before him, he appealed from
his earthly cares to the comfort of the King
of Kings. A few miles from this old castle
is the summer residence of the poet Tenny-
son. I was quite as anxious to see the
home of the author of The May Queen,"
and "In Memoriam," as the Castle-prison
of the King. I found it at last, half buried
in a shady wood. Just beyond, a field of
lavender in full bloom waved its purple
beauty and wafted its perfume; and all
about the poet's home flowers were bloom-
ing, and the gentle murmur of the sea came
over the jutting cliffs and mingled with the
songs of birds. On the western coast of
the island, the Queen of England has a
summer residence, called Osborne. But if
there is a busy spot in the island it is Ven-
tor. It is worth going a thousand miles to
gain the view from Ventnor Downs. Though
why they call these majestic hills "downs"
I don't know. After climbing for half an
hour you feel that they ought to be called
" ups" rather than "downs." On the pre-
vious page is a picture of a pleasant little
group who have climbed the downs; they
are all tired, and glad to rest. Aunt Hilda
and Flossie, and Laura and Mabel and Kit,
and poor weary Jim-whose attitude is more
easy than graceful-sprawling on the rich
grass declares that he can never walk down,
he'll just have to roll home. There are
wild flowers in abundance, and the golden
corn waves in perfect splendor. Over the
cliff is the deep blue sea and there are the
ships passing to and fro. All agree that the
sight is worth the climbing, and Aunt Hilda
says that all through life we shall find out
that the visions on the summits of the hills
will well repay the climbing.-Elmo.

THAT there is no resurrection for a dead oppor-
That a little of everything really amounts to noth-
That nothing can come out of a sack but what is
in it.
That it is much easier to be critical than to be
That the good paymaster is lord of another
man's purse.
That there would be no shadows if there were no
That the only way to learn the value of a dollar is
to earn one.
That to-morrow has no overflow to make good
lost yesterdays.



HE road was straight, the afternoon was gray,
The frost hung glistening in the silent air,
On either hand the rimy fields were bare;
Beneath my feet rolled the long white way,
Drear as my heart, and brightened by no ray
From the wide winter sun whose disk declined
In distant copper dullness far behind
The broken network of the western hedge-
A crimson blot upon the fading day.

Three travelers went before me-one alone-
Then two together, who their fingers thrust
Deep in their pockets; and I watch the first
Lapse in the curtain the slow haze had thrown
Across the vista which had been my own.
Next vanished the chill comrades, blotted out
Like him they followed, but I did not doubt
That there beyond the haze the travelers
Walked in the fashion that my sight had known.

Only "beyond the haze," oh, sweet belief!
That this is also death; that those we've kissed
Between our sobs, are just beyond the mist;"
An easy thought to juggle with; to grief
The gulf seems measureless, and death a thief.
Can we, who were so high, and are so low,
So clothed in love, who now in tatters go,
Echo serenely, "just beyond the haze,"
And of a sudden find relief?

BRANTWOOD stands on one of the
pleasant slopes which margin Coniston
Lake. It is the residence of John Ruskin,
an English gentleman of sixty-six years,
whose name is well known, but concerning
whose character and teaching a considera-
ble amount of ignorance and prejudice
exists. His parents were Scotch, and his
early training was-may it be said conse-
quently?-severe-severe in discipline: pow-
erful in example. He was a good child.
He responded splendidly to his parents'
efforts to train him in the right way; for
when quite young, he began an unbroken
loyalty to the first, chief law of life: Obedi-
ence. The care and method of that early
training, and also the way in which he re-
ceived it, were the seeds from which have
sprung his almost unique, his certainly no-
ble, manhood.
Concentration of attention was a power
which was fostered from the first. Its
prominence in his character is very largely
explained by the wise method of his train-
ing. The objects which his child-world
bounded were few, but well chosen. A
bunch of keys; and later; a cart and a ball;

and later still, two boxes of wooden bricks
were his only toys. He had no companions,
and only a few books; but they were of the
best. Walter Scott and Pope's 'Homer,' '
he himself says, were reading of my own
election, but my mother forced me, by steady
daily toil to learn long chapters of the Bible
by heart, as well as to read it every syllable
through, aloud, hard names and all, from
Genesis to the Apocalypse, about once a
year; and to that discipline-patient, accu-
rate and resolute-I owe, not only a knowl-
edge of the book, which I find occasionally
serviceable, but much of my general power
of taking pains, and the best part of my
taste in literature." He had the same care-
ful training when he became capable of
appreciating art. His father, whose judg-
ment was natural, and remarkably good at
that, would never let him look at a bad
picture, but would let him study, without
stint, the finest productions, and would con-
trive to bring under his observation the best
examples of the greatest masters. Such
were the select influences in the midst of
which the child became a youth; the youth
a man.
In choosing that path of life in which he
has become so eminent an art student, and
so great a writer, John Ruskin disappointed
many of his friends who cherished the hope
that he would enter the church. Indeed,
his mother thought he had made a mistake,
and lost a grand chance. Her ambition was
to see John a bishop, and she is reported to
have wept because, by his own act, he put
that distinction out of the question. But,
though never recognized as a teacher of
any section of the church, he-has been and
is a teacher for all that; and one of the
most dauntless teachers, too, that this cent-
ury has seen. He has dared to live and
speak the truth though it has brought
neither popularity nor profit to him. Be-
yond a limited circle, the more he has
become known, the more he has been re-
garded as an enthusiast,-a kind of amiable
madman. But the vox populi has never
been the vox Dei to him; he scorns such
voluntary slavery, and has purchased his
freedom and independence by his adherence
to truth. His life has set these words to
sweet music:
"They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;
They are slaves who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse.


a I1I r 1

LOCKS on the mountains,
And birds upon their spray,
" AV Tree, turf and fountains,
M Y I All hold holiday.

And love, the life of living things,
Love waves his torch, love claps his wings,
And loud and wide thy praises sings,
Thou merry month of May! R. Heber


- -z~t~t~h~d~



Y OU must wake and call me early, call me early
mother dear;
To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad
new year-
Of all the glad new year, mother, the maddest, mer-
riest day;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye they say, but none
so bright as mine;
There's Margaret and Mary, and Kate, and Caro-
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they
So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall
never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds, and
garlands gay;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

As I came up the -valley, whom think ye should I
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him
But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in
And I ran by him without speaking, just like a flash
of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love-but that can never
They say his heart is breaking, mother-what is that
to me?
There's many a bolder- lad'll woo me any summer
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the
And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the
For the shepherd lads on every side'll come from far
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its
wavy bowers,
And by the meadow trenches blow the faint sweet
cuckoo flowers;

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in
swamps and hollows gray;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

The night winds come and go, mother, upon the
meadow grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as
they pass;
There will not -be a drop of rain, the whole of the
livelong day;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, '11 be fresh, and green, and
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the
And the rivulet in the flowery dale '11 merrily glance
and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be
Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early
mother dear,
To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad
new year:
To-morrow '11 be of all the year the maddest, merri-
est day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm o be
Queen o' the May.
-Alfred Tennyson.

W HEN the famous Mozart was three
years old, he began to show signs of
his wonderful powers. Leopold Mozart, the
father, was then giving his daughter lessons.
on the clavier-an instrument something like
the modern piano. The little Wolfgang was
always present at these lessons, and used to,
amuse himself by striking thirds and produc-
ing other harmonies.
At four years of age he could remember
with accuracy very difficult airs which he
had heard played, and his father at once began
to give him lessons. The boy needed no,
corn pulsion to learn, and showed the most re-
markable aptitude. A minuet he could learn.
in half an hour, and then, having once
mastered his piece, it was always played with
the greatest accuracy in every respect. At
the same time he began to compose little
pieces which were carefully noted down by
his father, and some of which are still extant.
The child was reared in an atmosphere of
music, and it was natural that he should love
it. His compositions soon took a more am-
bitious form, and at six he wrote pieces for
an orchestra. Mozart's life was a short one;,
but it fully realized the promise of his child--





O H, let us go a-Maying, and all of us together!
Oh, let us go a-Maying in the dear old woods!
The earth is now rejoicing, all clad in tender verdure,
And spring, joyous spring, is in her happiest moods.
Wildwood flowers are blossoming beautiful as ever;
Let us forth to gather them-driving back the
As in days of happy childhood, here within the wild-
We will laugh with Nature, and lose our griefs and

In sheltered, sunny places, hide and bloom the early
Bloodroot, sweet arbutus, and pale anemone,
Hepatica and violets, in all their fragrant beauty;
Away then to the woodlands-to fields and wood-
lands free!

And hark! the birds are singing; all Nature is so
Let us, too, be joyous these bright and sunny days;
In woods and fields, 'tis pleasant with springtime
birds and flowers,
Then hie we gaily thither, singing merry lays.
One thought alone of sadness is mingled with our
Of those who went a-Maying with us, long ago;
To-day, ah, yes, we miss them-those dear and child-
ish faces;
They'll never go a-Maying here again, we know.
But let us go a-Maying, for they are nearer to us,
As here we are a-Maying in these dear old woods.
Then let us go a-Maying, for all the earth is smiling;
Spring, joyous spring, is in her happiest of moods.

AST winter the confidential clerk in an
inland town was sent to Philadelphia
on important business. He had alwaysbeen
a steady fellow, was married, and was fond
and proud of his home, wife and child.
But he was young, and it was his first visit
to a large city. He was elated with the
importance of his errand, and had a vague
idea of "seeing life." A single secret sip
of the intoxicating pleasures of a large city
could surely do him no harm! He hid the
thought away almost out of his own sight.
Arriving at the city on Saturday night,
he went to one of the principal hotels,
registered his name carefully, reading it
over after the manner of unaccustomed
travelers, and went to supper. Before he
had finished, the waiter brought him two
"Already! Why, they are from the city!
Nobody knows that I am. here!" he ex-

"City folks mighty wide awake! ejacu-
lated John.
Our traveler tore open one envelope.
Within was an invitation to a variety thea-
ter of bad reputation, that evening, with a
hint of a sacred concert" on the next day,
and "unlimited fun."
The young man's face reddened, and his
heart throbbed hotly. The door was open
for that secret glimpse into iniquity! What
harm could it do him or anybody?
He opened the other letter. It contained
a few words:

Dear Sir,-In order that you may not pass a lonely
Sunday in a strange city, we inclose a list of the
churches open to-morrow near your hotel, in any of
which you will be cordially welcomed. Our rooms
and libraries are also open and at your disposal. You
will find friends there who will be glad to serve

It was signed by an officer of a Christian
"These invitations of both kinds are left
at the hotel, and directed to each guest as
soon as he registers his name," explained
the clerk. "Which will you accept?"
The young country man colored and
laughed. The first is tempting. But that,"
touching the second, "has the true ring
about it. I'll accept that."
He kept his word. It seemed to him as
if he was close to his wife and little boy all
day. Going to the hotel in the evening, he
saw a group of pale, bloated creatures com-
ing out of the sacred concert hall." One
or two were arrested for disorderly con-
They have been 'seeing life,' said the
clerk. "They accepted the other invita-
The stranger looked after them.
"I very nearly stood in their place," he
said to himself, and went to his room a wiser
and a humbler man.
The incident is true in every particular.
Who can say what an effect the acceptance
of that invitation had upon that man's fut-

HOLY Spirit! dwell with me;
I myself would holy be;
Separate from sin, I would
Choose and cherish all things good;
And, whatever I can be,
Give to Him who gave me Thee.
T. T. Lynck.



OH! timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things newly

New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove;
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.

New mercies each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;
New perils past, new sins forgiven,
New thoughts of God, new hopes ofheaven.

If on our daily course our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be,
As more of heaven in each we see:
Some softening gleam oflove and prayer
Will dawn on every cross and care.

Only, 0 Lord, in Thy dear love
Fit us for perfect rest above;
And help us this and every day
To live more nearly as we pray.

--ohn Keble.


N OW, children, there's somebody coming,
So try to think sharply and well;
And, when I get through with my story,
Just see if his name you can tell.
His hair is as white as a snow-drift;
But then he is not very old.
His coat is of fur at this season:
The weather, you know, is so cold.
He'll bring all the children a present-
The rich, and I hope, too, the poor.
Some say that he comes down the chimney:
I think he comes in at the door.

THE following found on the fly-leaf of
an. old Bible printed at Oxford, in
1679, may be of interest to many of our
readers: "A description of the person of
Christ. It being the usual practice of the
Roman governor to advertise the people
and the senate of such material things as
happened in their respective provinces in
the days of Tiberius Casar, Publius Len-
tulus at that time being president, wrote
the following concerning Christ: 'Con-
script Fathers: There appeared in these
our days a man of great virtue named
Jesus Christ, who is now living among us,
and of the Gentiles is accepted as a Prophet
of Truth; but his own disciples call him the
Son of God. He raiseth the dead and cur-
eth all manner of diseases. A man of stat-
ure somewhat tall, and comely, with a very
reverend countenance, such as beholders
may both love and fear. His hair is of the
color of a filbert fully ripe, plain to the
ears, whence downward it is more orient of
color, somewhat curled and waved about
his shoulders. In the midst of his head is
a seam or partition of his hair, after the
manner of the Nazarites. His forehead is
smooth and delicate; his face without spot
or wrinkle, beautified with a comely red;
his nose and mouth exactly formed; his
beard thick, the color of his hair, not of
any great length, but forked; his look in-
nocent; his eyes gray, clear and quick; in
reproving, terrible; in admonishing, cour-
teous; in speaking, very modest and wise;
in proportion of body, well shaped. None
have seen him laugh, but many have seen
him weep; a man for his singular beauty
surpassing the children of men.' "

W HEN once a sense of the great ef-
fects of what we call trifles seizes
the mind, life resolves itself into a devout
practice of duties. The feeling flies that
we can do nothing tor religion or humanity
because our lives are taken up with house-
keeping and shopkeeping, professional
work and earning a living. Carelessness or
ignorance on one of these points may
make more scandal, and undo more good,
than one can ever accomplish directly.
Read in the light of the consequences of
small things, we understand the order of
life: Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as to
the Lord." A floor ill swept leaves organic
dust to breathe, which lowers vitality, if it
does not kill, by lung disease. A house
kept without taste often leaves a man, or
leaves children, without that strong attach-
ment to home and its ways, which, next to
religion, is the strongest tie for good in the
world-nay, which is the only symbol of
good that many ever know. What a hind-
rance to usefulness and good living it is for
a man to be always in debt or hampered by
the needless poverty which comes of igno-
rance and unthrift. Where one woman
ought to neglect her housekeeping for
other duties, a hundred ought to find their
duty in their housekeeping. And every
man ought to show his piety by striving to
make an honest, comfortable living.

T HERE'S a call upon the housetop, an answer
from the plain;
There's a warble in the sunshine, a twitter in the rain;
And through my heart at sounds like these
There comes a nameless thrill,
As sweet as odor to the rose,
Or verdure to the hill;
And all these joyous mornings
My heart pours forth this strain:
'God bless the dear old robins,
That have come back again."
For they bring a thought of summer, of dreamy, lus-
cious days-
Of daisies in the meadow, making a golden haze:
A longing for the clover blooms,
For roses all aglow,
For fragrant orchards where the bees
With droning murmurs go;
I dream of all the beauties
Of summer's golden reign,
And sing: God keep the robins,
That have come back again."
Mrs. Harry Don.



ROBERT SCHUMANN, the prince of German
composers, was born at Zwickau, on the 8th of
June, 18Io. In the year 1819, when young Schumann
was a boy of nine years of age, he was in very feeble
health, on account of which he paid a visit to Carls-
bad; and during this visit he heard the renowned
Moscheles play, and from that time he became an
ardent lover of music, and the purpose was now first
dimly formed of making music the profession of his
life. Seven years after his father died, and the ques-
tion of Robert's future
became now a matter
of great importance .
His mother was decid-
edly opposed to his
adopting music as a
profession; and in ac-
cordance with her wish
he went to Leipsic in
the year 1828, to study '
law. From Leipsic he
went the following year
to Heidelberg, and
here, at what was
known as the Students'
Concert, Schumann
made his first public
performance on the
piano-forte. An occa-
sional visit to Italy
fixed his determination
to study music, what- .
ever was the result.
In 1831 he com-
menced the study of
composition under H.
Dorn, who afterward
became Kafpell-Meister
in Berlin. In 1834 he started in Leipsic the publica-
tion of the Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik, which was in-
tended to develop what was called the romantic
school of music. During the years 1838 and 1839 he
became quite a voluminous publisher. His music
was distinguished by a most marked individuality; so
bold and strange and original were many of his com-
positions, that while some regarded them as evi-
dences of the highest musical genius, others thought
such genius was nearly allied to madness.
In the year 1844 Schumann gave up the Neue
Zeitschrift fiir Musik, and left Leipsic to undertake
the direction of a vocal society in Dresden.
Poor Schumann's life was always shadowed with
a great calamity; he was the victim of mental in-

firmity which was hereditary in the family. His eld-
est sister wholly lost her reason, and ether members
of his family were more or less afflicted with the
same malady.
On the 27th of February, 1854, after a long spell
of deep abstraction, Schumann quietly left his com.
panions and, wandering to the river side, plunged
in with the evident intention of putting an end to his
sad life. He was happily rescued by some boatmen,
who were not far away. After this sad event he was.
placed in an asylum at
Endenich, where he was.
provided at his own re-
quest with a piano.
With this he amused
himself, or at least-
wiled away the weary
hours. Those who had
Access to him tell of
the wild, weird music-
he played in angry dis.
'-cords, that seemed the-
only fitting expression
f of his disordered mind.
After two years, during
S -- which time he never re-
:gained perfect sanity,
the weary tragedy came
to an end, and Robert
Schumann died in the-
p prime of his early man-
hood, on the 29th of
g July, 1856.
Among the notable-
works of this great mas-
ter of music are: Pa..-
pillions," "Davids.
bundlertanze," "Car.-
neral," and Kreisleriana." Further productions,
the "Kinderscenen," Fantasiestucke," "Wald--
scenen," etc., are thought to be more carefully fin-
ished as regards form. The mind of Schumann,
always more or less absorbed in the ideal, was taking-
now a more practical form. From this point onward
Schumann's music became more truly original and
It is very difficult to assign the exact place Schu-
mann should occupy in the world of music, and it is
too soon to speak definitely of the influence he has
exerted on the art he loved so well. He was a great.
musician, composer and critic. The strange, sad.
and sometimes wild undertones of his music were but..
the echo of a sad life.



O WHAT are you doing away up in heaven!
0 golden moonI
I saw you, a silvery, shining crescent,
One night in June;
And you lay afloat
Like a beautiful boat,
And now you are robed in perfect splendor,
O fair, full moon!

Away where a thousand stars shine bright,
Sparkling like gems on the brow of night,
You sail like a queen
In a sea of stars,
And Saturn and Jupiter,
Venus and Mars,
Attend your state like shining guards.

O happy, summer mo
"With your silvery beams you bring me dreams,
Not dreams in sleep, that are never deep,
But waking dreams
Of patient love, of a heart so true,
-Of gentle words that like falling dew,
Refresh the soul that is weary.

O silver moon!
_Are you shining your heart right out up there?
Does it please you to make the world look fair
Beneath your shimmering beams ?
There's a smile, I think, on your beautiful face;
Is that meant to gladden our mortal race,
O beneficent moon?

O summer moon, if you had a voice,
And could sing as you shine,
I would teach you a song, and it should not be
You should sing a song so soft and sweet,
That at every strain one heart should beat
With a calm and sacred joy!

You should tell my sweetheart I love her well,
With more of love than words can tell;
You should tell her I love her as flowers do the
Lifting their heads to be shined upon-
And if ever the sun should refuse to shine,
That moment the flowers would droop and de-
And tell my sweetheart, if she grows cold,
There is nothing in life I would care to hold.
I should tire of your beauty that charmed me in
I should tire of you, full-orbed summer moon

S TATISTICS, as carefully studied by
Dr. Farr, tell us that of a million chil-
-dren ushered into life, nearly a hundred
.and fifty thousand pass away by the end of
the first year. Twelve months later, fifty-
three thousand more will have followed.

At the end of the third year, the number
living will be diminished by twenty-eight
thousand more. Each year of the decade
following will make its inroads upon the
ranks, but less serious in amount, till the
thirteenth year will call for less than four
thousand. Those remaining will fall out
by twos and threes till the end of the forty-
fifth year, when it will be found that in the
intervening period about five hundred
thousand have succumbed to the hardships
of the way. At the end of sixty years three
hundred and seventy thousand gray-haired
veterans would still be keeping step with
the duties of the passing days. Eighty
years would see thirty-seven thousand re-
maining with strength impaired and steps
growing feeble. At the end of ninety-five
years but two hundred and twenty-three
would linger in the darkening path. And
these would be rapidly thinned till in the
one hundred and eighth year the last sur-
vivor of the million would disappear, and
join the ranks of his predecessors in the
great host of the majority.

G EORGE HERBERT says that "good
words are worth much, though they
cost but little." There are very few of us
who rightly estimate the value of daily
speech. Many a word, thoughtlessly spoken,
inflicts a wound that lingers long and pain-
fully. We should not only avoid the
speech that hurts and wounds, but be gen-
erous of the speech that cheers and gladdens.
Speak gently; in this world of ours,
Where clouds o'ersweep the sky,
And sweetest flowers and fairest forms
Are ever first to die;
Where friendship changes, and the ties
That bind fond hearts are riven,
Mild, soothing words are like the stars
That light the midnight heaven.
There are enough of tears on earth,
Enough of toil and care;
And e'en the lightest heart hath much
To suffer and to bear.
Within each spirit's hidden depths
Some sweet hope withered lies,
From whose soft, faded blood we turn
In sadness to the skies.

OME men are so eager to make noise in
the world that, if they had their choice,
they would rather beat a drum than touch
a lyre. Duncan Macgregor.



SUN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear.
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes.

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
And all the flowers of life unfold:-
Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I Thee discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

Watch by the sick; enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store;
Be every mourner's sleep to-night,
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take;
Till in the ocean of Thy love,
We lose ourselves in heaven above.


ASUDDEN gleam-a glimpse of blue,
A flash of light athwart the grass;
Cool raindrops, softly sliding through
The woven branches, cease to fall.
A glint upon the insect's wing,
A rustle of light winds that pass,
A swell of song-that sunbeams bring,-
And then a cloud came over all.

A sudden glance, not wholly meant,
A lingering in the leafy walk;
Hand clasping hand with warm intent
That after-thoughts can scarce recall.
Smiles flashing out of keen blue eyes,
Deep thoughts concealed in idle talk,
Love waking with a glad surprise,
And then-a cloud-that darkened all.
Fay Axtens.

A RICH man, in answer to the question
how he became so successful, recited
the following story:
I will tell you how it was. One day when
I was a lad, a party of boys and girls were
going to pick blackberries. I wanted to go
with them, but was afraid father would not
let me. When I told him what was going
on, he at once gave me permission to go
with them, and I could hardly contain my-
self. I rushed into the kitchen, got a big
basket, and asked mother for a luncheon.
I had the basket on my arm, and was just
going out at the gate, when my father called
me back. He took my hand, and said, in a
very gentle voice:
"Joseph, what are you going to do ?"
"To pick berries," I replied.
"Then, Joseph, I want to tell you one
thing. It is this: when you find a pretty
good bush, do not leave it to seek a better
one. The other boys and girls will run
about, picking a little here and a little there,
wasting a good deal of time and getting but
few blackberries."
I went, and had a capital time. But it
was just as my father had said. No sooner
had one found a good bush than he called
all the rest, and they left their several
places, and all ran eagerly off to their
new-found treasure. Not content more
than a minute or two in one place, they
rambled over the whole pasture, got very
tired, and at night had very few berries.
My father's words kept running in my
ears, and I "stuck to my bush." When I
had done with one, I found another, and

finished that; then I took another. When
night came, I had a basketful of berries,
more than all the others put together, and
was not half so tired as they were. I went
home happy.

A GENTLEMAN once said to a physi-
cian: I think that at night you would
feel so worried over the work of the day
that you would not be able to sleep."
"" My head hardly touches the pillow till
I fall asleep," replied the physician. "I
made up-my mind," he continued, "at the
commencement of my professional career,
to do my best under all circumstances, and
so doing I am not troubled with any mis-
A good rule for us to follow. Too many
are disposed to say, No matter how I do
this work now; next time I'll do better."
The practice is as bad as the reasoning.
" No matter how I learn this lesson in the
lower class; when I get into a higher de-
partment, then I'll study." As well might
the mother, in knitting stockings, say, "No
matter how the tip is done; even if I do
drop a stitch now and then, I'll do better
when I get further along." What kind of
a stocking would that be?
As well might the builder say, "I don't
care how I make the foundation of this
house; anything will do here; wait till I
get to the top, then I'll do good work."
Said Sir Joshua Reynolds once to Doctor
Samuel Johnson: "Pray tell me, sir, by
what means have you attained such extra-
ordinary accuracy and flow of language in
the expression of your ideas?"
I laid it down as a fixed rule," replied
the doctor, to do my best on every occa-
sion, and in every company to impart what
I know in the most forcible language I can
put it."

OBSERVE good manners.
Hold integrity sacred.
Endure trials patiently.
Be prompt in all things.
Make good acquaintances.
Dare to do right, fear to do wrong.
Never be afraid of being laughed at.
Watch carefully over your temper.
Fight life's battle manfully, bravely.
Sacrifice money rather than principle.
Use your leisure moments for study.
Shun the company of loafers.




F t TIS heaven alone that is given away
SITis only God may be had for the asking;
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.

And what is so rare as a day in June ?
Then, if ever, come perfect days,
Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays.
James Russell Lowell.


_ ~-


WE had been a very happy party. From
that sunny afternoon on the 24th of
June, 1883, when we said good bye to our
friends on the landing stage at Liverpool, till
the 7th of September, we had not been sepa-
rated for a single day, unless you count those
three dreadful days on the Atlantic, when we
were passing through what the captain was
pleased to call "just the tail-end of a cyclone."
During those tempestuous days Mrs. Bur-
leigh, Maud, and Isabel, and even the gallant
Jack, for very good and sufficient reasons,
preferred the seclusion of their state rooms.
On the 7th of September we parted.
Though my journey was for the most part a
pleasure trip, I had engaged to visit certain
of our branch establishments in the States.
Mr. and Mrs. Burleigh had promised to spend
a few days with old friends in Kentucky, and
I had to visit that most marvellous of all
modern cities- Chicago -the metropolis of
the West. Mr. Carmichael and the girls-
Maud and Isabel-with the ever enthusiastic
young Jack, were to spend two weeks on the
banks of the Hudson-Jack promising that
he would keep a faithful diary of all that
It was arranged that we should meet at the
Tifft House, in Buffalo, on the Ist of Octo-
ber, and from that point commence our jour-
ney home. We were to visit Niagara Falls,
thence across Lake Ontario to Toronto, then
by boat down the bioad St. Lawrence, pas-
sing through the Thousand Islands to Mont-
real, thence to New York, from which port
we were to sail for Liverpool, on the 15th of
On Thursday, September 29th, I found
myself at Buffalo. I was right glad to see
jack's bright face at the depot, and as I
grasped his hand he affected to wipe away a
tear, as he sang out with mock emotion:
"Should auld acquaintance be forget?"
We had a very happy meeting. Mr. and
Mrs. Burleigh had had splendid times down
in Old Kentucky. I thought the girls were
looking lovelier than ever, especially Isabel.
Mr. Carmichael was full of praises of Jack,
whose conduct during the time of our sepa-
ration he declared had been most thoughtful
and gentlemanly.
Buffalo did not very greatly interest us,
though we were assured that the suburbs

were really very beautiful. Next day was
Sunday, which we spent very quietly com-
paring notes of what we had seen since we
parted. Jack read part of his diary, which
was really very interesting. We strolled
along Main Street about church time, and the
girls were quite charmed with a large church
edifice, covered with ivy and trailing vines of
American growth, from the thick folds of
which thousands of English sparrows were
twittering and chirping in the happy sun-
shine. Maud confessed that the sparrows
made her feel just a wee bit homesick. I
bade her be of good cheer, and assured her
that our faces were now really set east-
On the following morning we left Buffalo
by the 9:30 train to visit that greatest of all
nature's wonders-the Falls of Niagara.
I had seen many majestic scenes in my
time. I had climbed the steep brow of the
lofty Ben Lomond; I had wandered through
the Lakes of Cumberland-made sacred by
the pastoral poems of Wordsworth; I had
seen Paris in grandeur and in gloom; I had
sailed down the Clyde and seen the sunset
fade on the sombre boskage of the Kyles of
Bute, and the frowning cliff of Ailsa Craig;
I had journeyed over the Bernese Oberland,
but was much too wise to attempt to climb
the Matterhorn-I was quite content to gaze
on its boundless, snowy heights. And now
the day had come to which I had looked for-
ward so long, when I was to take my first
look at the stupendous Falls of Niagara.
Jack informed us that we were journeying
under happy stars, for it would be our good
fortune to see the Falls by moonlight, unless
the queen of night should happen to be in a
sullen mood.
We arrived at the neat and airy depot
about noon. I had quite an interesting little
argument with a couple of hackmen, whose
only difficulty seemed to be that they didn't
quite know how much to charge for driving
us over to the Clifton House, which is on the
Canadian side of the river, and from which
the most extensive view of the Falls is ob-
As I had been the treasurer of the party all
along, I had to make the best terms I could,
which were only poor at best.
The Clifton House is par excellence the
hotel of this neighborhood, and is patronized
by the elite of the traveling public. Mine
Host of the Clifton is justly proud of his




register, and regards it as one of the finest
collections of autographs in the world, and no
doubt he is quite right. The house was full,
and there was a large-sprinkling of those
who had chosen these majestic scenes for the
rambles of their honeymoon.
After a little rest and refreshment, we
started out to visit the Falls, and as the day
was cool and fine, we determined that our
first pilgrimage should be on foot; so dis-
daining the entreaties of the clamorous hack-
men, we started forth, laying a special em-
bargo on Jack that on his honor as a gentle-
man, he would maintain a reasonable reti-
cence, and leave us to compare notes on our
And now, how shall I describe the abso-
lutely indescribable? Immediately in front
of us the American Falls in two immense
sheets of deep-green liquid beauty swept all
their wealth of waters down to the river far
below. Any attempt at mere statistical de-
scription would be simply absurd. The
width of the stream-the volume of water-
the depth of the fall-all these points are lost
sight of in the apparent boundlessness and
complete majesty of the scene. The torrent
rolls on, not in angry tempetuous fury; but
calm and swift and strong, with ceaseless and
irresistable force. There is no haste, no hur-
ry, no confusion, but on, forever on, the
mighty waters flow in grand eternal calm.
Passing onward the Horse Shoe Falls pre-
sent their sublime front to your astonished
gaze. Here all is changed. The silent
sweep of the American cascade gives place to
wild tempestuous fury. Above the frowning
front you see the white-crested tides dashing
on like crystal warriors impatient for the fray.
Over rock and boulder and jagged cliff-
washed with the waves of many centuries-
the marshalled torrents roll; till pausing for
one moment on the brink, as if to gather all
their forces for the final charge, they plunge
headlong down the steep abyss: and roar
and moan and bellow with tumultuous sound
that makes the ground thrill and tremble be-
neath your feet.
Nothing I have ever seen, or heard of, or
read ever gave me such a conception of wild
ungovernable fury, of absolute irresistable
force as this vision of Niagara's wild leap.
But that was only one of a thousand ele-
ments that go to make up its matchless
beauty. Down to the river bed the torrents
have fallen, but only to be dashed back again

in foam and spray and mist. Up they soar
those fleecy clouds, sparkling in the sunlight,
shot through and through with golden
glories, and arched with rainbows, as resplend-
ant in beauty as they are matchless in form,
and while you are looking at the seething
foaming volcano below it assumes innumer-
able varied forms; now dashing and tumbling
in angry confusion, rearing its massive bulk
in bold defiance; and now, as if exhausted
seeming to sink to rest-then after a mo-
ment's pause, tossing its cloud-born glories
high up into the ambient air, till it may be
seen for miles around reminding one of that
pillar of cloud that led the pilgrim tribes of
ancient Israel.
What colors gleamed and flashed in that
wondrous spectacle! What streams of amber
and green and gold came roaring down the
mighty cataract! What marvelous combina-
tions of form! What a ceaseless roar, as if
the many-voiced waters were chanting a
solemn requiem! It was a scene of awful
beauty. There was nothing for it but to
stand still, and gaze and wonder, and won-
der and gaze! Language was poor indeed
in this august and solemn presence.
Maud and Isabel clasped each others hands
and simply whispered "wonderful." Even
Jack was silent. Mr. Carmichael was the
prophet and patriarch of our party. He was
clinging in fatherly fashion to Mrs. Burleigh.
His eyes filled with tears, he uncovered his
venerable head, and repeated very slowly,
but very impressively a couplet from .his
favorite Milton.
These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty Thou! The maker of this universal
..a e "
This served to break the silence. We all
found speech at last. But none of us found
speech enough, nor ever will, to express the
emotions that majestic scene had inspired.
Isabel said she had never wished to be a
poet before, but she did wish so now, for only
a poet of the first order could describe such a
scene. And she sighed when she thought
how everybody at home would want to
know what Niagara Falls were like, and
how utterly impossible it would be to tell.
We wandered along the banks of the river
till sunset. And what a sunset! Turner's
loveliest scenes were poor and tame com-

(Continued on page 70.)



ONCE upon a time there was a very old
man who lived with his son and
daughter-in-law. His eyes were dim, his
knees tottered under him when he walked,
and he was very
deaf. As he sat .
at table, his
hand shook so
that he would
often spill the
soup over the
table- cloth, or
on his clothes,
and sometimes
even he could
not keep it in
his mouth when
it got there.
His son and
daughter were
so annoyed to
see his conduct
at the table, \',\\\\\
that at last they t, '
placed a chair
for him in a .
corner behind
the screen, and
gave him his
meals in an
basin quite a-
way from the
rest. He would
often look sor-
rowfully at the
table with tears
in his eyes, but
he did not com-
One day,
thinking sadly -_
of the past, the
basin, which he I- --- -.
could scarcely The Old Mn a
hold in his
trembling hands, fell to the ground and
was broken. The young wife scolded him
well for being so careless, but he did not
reply, only sighed deeply. Then she bought
him a wooden bowl for a penny, and gave
him his meals in it.
Some days afterwards his son and daughter


saw their little boy, who was about four year
old, sitting on the ground and trying to fasten
together some pieces of wood.
"What are you making, my boy?" asked
his father.
"I am making a little bowl for papa and
mamma to eat
Their food in
_when I grow
---up," he replied.
The husband
and wife looked
at each other
without speak-
ing for some
minutes. A t
last they began
to shed tears,
and went and
brought their
old father back
to the table,
and from that
day he always
took his meals
with them, and
was never again
treated unkind-
ly.- Grimm.


may intimidate
the weak, but
they act only
as a wholesome
stimulus to men
of pluck and re-
solution. All
experience of
life, indeed,
serves to prove
that the impedi-
ments thrown
in the way of
his Grandson. success may, for
the most part
be overcome by steady conduct, honest zeal,
activity, perseverance, and above all, by a de-
termined resolution to surmount difficulties,
and stand up manfully against misfortune.
Honor and shame from no condition rise,
Act well your part, there all the honor lies."


AFARMER, so the story goes
Near Massachusetts Bay,
A comfortable team of mules
Drove into town one day.
'Tis true they were but common mules,
Uncommon common, too,
They had'nt even paint-brush tails,
As mules are wont to do.
Yet they were useful in their way,
They'd hawl a heavy load,
And though they were not very fast,
They'd get along the road.
'Tis true, also, they had a bray
Of tenor most forlorn,
A wild, wierd, penetrating sound,
Like Gabriel's final horn.
The farmer, on that summer day,
As to the town he went,
Looked on his patient, trusty mules,
With serious discontent.
He had been reading much of late
Of progress, art and schools,
And somehow thought it not the thing
To drive a pair of mules.
His discontent grew, as the way
Was shortened to the town,
And when he reached the market place,
He thought he was a clown,
To ride behind a team of mules,
When other folks he knew
Behind a team of thoroughbreds
In speedy grandeur flew.
"Ho, here," he cried, "who wants to trade
Two horses for my mules?"
"I do," replied a Yankee shrewd,
Who had an eye for fools.
And so the farmer made his trade,
That pleasant summer day,
And with his fancy thoroughbreds
Took up his homeward way.
About a half a mile from town
The thoroughbreds took fright
And all along the country road
There was a painful sight
Of broken wheels, of broken man,
Of straps, and stuff, and tools,
And every thing to teach a man,
He'd better stick to mules.

WHEN I was in the country last sum-
mer, an old lady told me this dog
story, which she knew to be true. Rover,
it seems, was in the habit of sleeping in the
shed at night, and he had never offered the
least objection to going to bed early. Kate,
the invalid of the family had spent months
upstair, when it was finally judged best to
bring her down to an unoccupied bed-room.

Rover watched the business of moving with
interested and anxious eys. He seemed to
feel that something might be going on
which would call for his interference.
"Come, Rover," said his master, "bed-
time! But Rover did not stir.
"You'd rather stay with me, wouldn't
you?" said Kate. "Crawl under the bed
and hide."
Rover took her at her word and motion,
lying down flat under the bed, where his
master left him; and every night after this,
when his time for banishment came, he
sought the same hiding-place.
At midnight the nurse was always ready
to give Kate her medicine; and then Rover
would come out and stay until things were
quiet once more.
But there came a time when Kate was so
much better that the midnight dose was
The first night of its omission, Rover
came out at precisely twelve, and looked
about for the nurse. There she was, sound
asleep on the sofa, and what should the dog
do but touch her hand with his nose until
he had waked her.

W HEN earth is robed in spring's soft, verdant
Or summer breathes its perfume o'er the lea.
In pleasure's happy hours, or in life's sternest duty,
You will remember me.
When autumn leaves are slowly, softly falling,
And summer birds have ceased their melody,
From out the sunset's glow, you'll hear my voice still
You will remember me.
Should chilling winds be o'er your pathway sweeping,
, And winter's snows disturb your reverie,
The heart will still be warm, love's silent vigil keeping,
You will remember me.
And when the morning light is brightly gleaming;
When noontide spreads its beauty full and free;
At twilight's peaceful hour; when moonbeams soft are
You will remember me.
In sickness or in health, in joy or sorrow,
When no light shines across your lonely sea,-
The midnight never fails to bring a glad to-morrow,-
You will remember me.
When, at the last, earth's fondest ties shall sever,
Should you or I be first to cross the narrow sea,"
Among the endless greetings of the happy, bright for-
You will remember me.
Ada F. Ayer.


JOHN BUNYAN. was a bitter strife between the Established
Church and Nonconformists, and the law
T HE name and fame of John Bunyan was exceedingly severe on those who would
will last while the English language not conform to the doctrines and practices of
endures. He was one of the most remark- the Established Church. John Bunyan per-
able men of the latter part of the seven- sisted in his Nonconformist teachings and
teenth century; and, although he never made practices, and because of this he was arrested
any pretensions to scholarship or literary and imprisoned in Bedford jail. It was dur-
skill, he produced many valuable theological ing this incarceration that he wrote his won-
works, and notably"The Pilgrim's Progress," derful allegory, "The Pilgrim's Progress."
a book which has gone through hundreds of This book is one of wonderful simplicity of
editions; has been translated into nearly all style, the majority of words are of one or two
the popular languages of the earth. John syllables at most. So simple is this book


was the son of a traveling tinker, and in his
early days was wild and reckless, and especi-
ally given to the use of profane language.
Falling in with some Puritan people, he ex-
perienced that change of heart and life called
conversion. From that time he became a re-
ligious enthusiast, and went about preaching
in the towns and villages near Bedford. From
thence he went to London, where so great
was his popularity, that he frequently had
thousands to hear him, as early as seven
o'clock in the morning. At this time there

that little children are able to grasp the mean-
ing, and are charmed with the vigor and in-
terest of the story, while older people are
astonished and instructed by the deep spiritual
meaning that lies hidden in the simple story.
Bunyan became minister of a Nonconformist
Church in Bedford, and a few years ago
Lord John Russell unveiled a marble statue
of Bunyan, in that place, almost within sight
of the prison where "The Pilgrim's Pro-
gress was written.


H ARK! ah, the nightingale!
The tawny-throated!
Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark,-what pain!
O wanderer trom a Grecian shore,
Still,-after many years in distant lands-
Still nourishing in thy bewildered brain
That wild, unquenched, deep-sunken, Old World
Say, will it never heal?
And can this fragrant lawn,
With its cool trees and night,
And the sweet, tranquil Thames,
And moonshine, and the dew,
To thy racked heart and brain
Afford no balm?
-Matthew Arnold.

(Continued from fage 66.)
pared with this. Every step we took we
seemed to be chasing rainbows. Every step
revealed some new beauty, some fresh en-
We returned to the Clifton, and spent
most of the evening in quiet conversation.
Jack said he didn't feel exactly miserable, but
somehow he felt serious, and he wished
Maud would sing.
"Yes, my dear," said Mr. Carmichael,
" sing me that sweet song of Marion
And so on Isabel's agreeing to accompany
her, Maud sang,"I built a bridge of Fancies."
But all through Maud's sweet singing we
could hear the murmur of the Falls in solemn
We were up bedtime the next morning, but
Jack was ahead of us. And just as we were
sitting down to breakfast,in he came looking
as bright and cheerful as the morning.
Morning Mr. Carmichael," said Jack,
" morning Auntie, morning Uncle Jim, morn-
ing Professor, morning girls," and with that
he fired off two most matter of fact kisses at
his sisters, landing one on the tip of Maud's
left ear and the other on Isabel's nose.
" Say," continued Jack, I've had quite a lit-
tle episode this morning, it'll make quite an
item for my diary."
Oh! Jack do get your breakfast," said
Maud, "you're always having episodes. You
have episodes enough to set up a wholesale
"Don't be hard on the boy," said Aunt
Burleigh, he's been real good, and I'm go-

ing to stand up for him, tell us about your
episode Jack."
Thanks Auntie," said the hungry boy,
"You're a real angel you are, the.angel that
'sits up aloft, keeping a watch o'er poor
Jack.' But I notice that girls are generally
down on their brothers, they save most of
their sweetness for some other girl's brother.
That's one for you Miss Maud, and I guess
one of the reasons why you are getting so
home-sick is because you are so anxious to
see the other girl's brother. I wonder if
he'll be at the Landing Stage to meet his,
darling Maud.' "
':Jack, Jack," said Mr. Carmichael, don't
teaze, tell us about your episode. "
Oh, its nothing much,'" answered Jack,
"I thought I'd have a good look at the Falls
all by myself, so I got up a little before six
o'clock and wandered at my own sweet will.
I bought a magnificent pincushion for
mamma from an Indian squaw whom I tried
to get to talk. But it was all in vain. She-
just answered 'yes' or 'no,' and that was all. I
went a little further till I reached that beau-
tifi! bridge, that looks more like a spider's
web, than a bridge. I met a strange looking
man with a square of glass and a piece of
wash-leather in one hand and a large photo-
graphic view in the other. He wanted to.
take my portrait with the falls in the back
ground. I told him that I was hardly satis-
fied with the back ground. But he didn't
see the joke."
Oh! there was a joke, was there?" said
Isabel with a merry twinkle in her eye.
"I told him," continued Jack not deigning
to notice Isabel's interruption, that I had
determined not to have my portrait taken till
I could sit to one of the old masters. I
thought that would settle him, but no, he-
very cooly said that he was about the oldest
man in what he called this section o' country.
He.was sure I should make a beautiful pic-
ture. I told him I knew it. He wanted
three dollars, then two and a half, and finally
as it was me, and as it was early in the morn-
ing, he'd make a picture of me for two dol-
lars. I paused a moment, reflected, and said:
I would go and ask mamma. If that estim-
able artist waits till I get mamma's consent
I'm afraid he'll catch a very severe cold."
Pretty good for you, Jack," I said. Now
get your breakfast with all the speed you%
may for we have a busy day before us."
It was a charming day, one of those early,


"bere?; is seormv, sorrPoe f- fie pulses faf aSre eafig),
Jauf uiufferably blessed "re ie f dead."





autumn days that come freighted to us with
mystic meanings. The trees were just pal-
ing into yellow and trembling into red," giv-
ing promise of that golden pomp that crowns
the Canadian woodlands in the Indian Sum-
Our next view of the Falls was from be-
low. A boat was chartered and we were
conveyed by a trusty boatman along the
river. The scene was magnificent, and
though our trip in the boat was somewhat
trying to the nervous members of the party,
it was only from this point looking upward,
that we could gain anything like a clear im-
pression of the immense volume of water
that pours its incessant torrents over the
awful cliff. The most remarkable thing is
not that the water comes down with such
terrific force-for as the logical Irishman
said: Sure and what's to hinder it coming
down anyhow!" but coming down in such ter-
rific force, it plunges fathoms deep beneath
the stream, and yet the surface of the river
quite close to each of the gigantic Falls,
is as placid as a river running through
the most peaceful vale. The Cave of the
Winds was next visited, and the sight of that
rolling torrent as you stood underneath was
awful in its grander; the blinding spray, the
deafening roar, the howling wailing moaning
wind-made the place terrible. We were
heartily glad to escape to terra firm, and
after gaining another and a nearer view of
the American Falls from Prospect Park, we
sauntered through the quiet streets of what
has become quite a pleasant little city on the
American side of the great cataract. Here
there is an immense Hotel, opened only dur-
ing the season. There are numerous bazars
and fancy stores where articles of virtu,
photographic views, Indian work, and sou-
venirs of the neighborhood, wrought in
spar, and marble, and choice woods may be
obtained for a consideration.
We designedly waited till after sunset, on
Jack's account, before we visited Goat Island.
He had pleaded hard that we should save
Goat Island for our moonlight iew of the
Falls. The matter was finally submitted to
Mr. Carmichael, who was our final court of
appeal in all such affairs.
"Well, Jack," said the kindly old gentle-
man, with a merry twinkle directed especi-
ally at the girls, "if you'll promise not to
write a poem on the subject, I'll consent!"

All right," said Jack, "I'11 be as prosy as
a parson."
Shall I ever forget that moonlight walk
through Goat Island? The soft sweet breath
of that October night came loaded with a
thousand pleasant odors. There seemed to
be a nameless enchantment in the air. Not
far away, convent bells were chiming their
vespers sweet and low. Our honored patri-
arch, with Jack on one side and Maud on the
other, went first, Mr. and Mrs. Burleigh fol-
lowed, and Isabel and I loitered behind.
Now and again that mischievous Jack would
call out to know if Bel had lost the Professor,
which, even in the moonlight, I could see
sent blushes up Isabel's sweet face. The
scene grew more and more enchanting.
Through the misty moonlight the Horse-
Shoe Falls looked ghostly and sublime. As
the uplifted spray met the shimmering moon-
beams, a combination of lunar splendors such
as no poet ever dreamed, flashed before us.
I pressed Isabel's hand gently. We neither
of us spoke. It was a night for silence and
admiration-and perhaps for love!
How it happened I hardly know, but I
found myself with Isabel on a little rustic
bridge, all alone. The rest of the party must
have taken a different turn. It was a lovely
spot. Down below, the waters were rolling
onward in terrific force. So strong was the
roll of the current that we could scarcely
hear our voices; and yet what was said was
to be the turning point in two young lives.
In the midst of all that strange tumult, the
old story was told. And, now, though many
months have passed away, the scene comes
back with vivid power. Oh! blessed are the
memories of that happy night on the rustic
bridge on Goat Island.-Elmo.
Light suppers make long days.
Prettiness makes no pottage.
More die from food than famine.
Silence is always safe.
Rich men have no faults.
We shall all be bald-headed in a century.
Two in distress makes sorrow less.
Speech is silver, silence is gold.
Business neglected is business lost.
A blythe heart makes a blooming visage.
A closed mouth catches no flies.
Better be half hanged than ill wed.
Better the foot slip than the tongue.
A dogmatical tone, a pragmatical pate.

Ill i

A *

T HERE, sweep those foolish tears away,
I will not crush my brains to-day!
Look, are the southern curtains drawn?
Fetch me a fan, and so begone.

O Nature bare thy loving breast,
And give thy child one hour of rest,
One little hour to be unseen
Beneath thy scarf of leafy green.
O. W. Holmes.

! ed", )




WE climb up the hill of the world;
The past slippeth under our feet.
Our morning horizon is furled,
Though we move in a circle complete.

Far forward the curtain of time
Lifts slow as the way stretches on.
Oh! is it a curse or a crime
That behind us the vision is gone?
Ves; new every morning." But see
How I shrink from the strangeness away
And fresh every evening." Ah, me!
If the peace of past evenings might stay!

I know every line that was there;
I know, but I never may hold!
In spite of my striving and prayer,
It is but a tale that was told.

All full is the pitiless space
Of a Now, while I call for my Then,
Faded out, like a fair, precious face
That I cannot make present again.
Forgetting? I will not forget!
I will turn in the way I have trod!
Nay; never was wayfarer yet
Who could turn back the courses of God.

Be quiet; yes, restful in change!
In a circle of love you are bound,
Still meeting a different range,
Because its great measure is round.

As sure as in vanishing haze
Your beautiful distance is rolled,
So surely in new-risen days
You shall its restoring behold.

Although the whole earth swell between,
Though eyes may be blinded and wet,
No vision is blotted, once seen;
For in getting again we forget!
Up over the height of the world
The sun walks with glorious feet;
Full eastward the planet is whirled,
And life and the day are complete!
A. D. T. Whitney.


THE ioth of December, 1620, was the
first Christian Sabbath in New Eng-
land. The "Mayflower," a name now im-
mortal, had crossed the ocean. It had borne
its hundred passengers over the vast deep,
and after a perilous voyage, it had reached
the bleak shores of New England in the be-
ginning of winter. The spot which was to
furnish a home and a burial-place, was now
to be selected. The shallop was unshipped,
but needed repairs, and sixteen weary days

elapsed before it was ready for service..
Amidst ice and snow, it was then sent out,
with some half a dozen Pilgrims, to find a
suitable place where to land. The spray of
the sea, says the historian, froze on them,
and made their clothes like coats of iron.
Five days they wandered about, searching
in vain for suitable landing-place. A storm
came on, the snow and rain fell; the sea
swelled; the rudder broke; the mast and
the sail fell overboard. In this storm and
cold, without a tent, a house, or the shelter
of a rock, the Christian Sabbath approached
-the day which they regarded as holy unto.
God-a day on which they were not to "do
any work," What should be done? As the
evening before the Sabbath drew on, they
pushed over the surf, entered a fair sound,
sheltered themselves under the lee of a rise
of land, kindled a fire, and on that island
they spent the day in the solemn worship,
of their Maker. On the next day their feet
touched the rock now sacred as the place
of the landing of the Pilgrims. Nothing
more strikingly marks the character of this
people, than this act. The whole scene-
the cold winter-the raging sea-the driv-
ing storm-the houseless, homeless island
-the families of wives and children in the
distance, weary with their voyage and im-
patient to land-and yet, the sacred observ-
ance of a day which they kept from princi-
ple, and not from mere feeling, or because
it was a form of religion, shows how deeply
imbedded true religion is in the soul, and
how little it is affected by surrounding diffi-


A NEST like a little brown mortar
Shoots up a thrush
Out of the brush
Into the skyey quarter.
Inthe grass and twigs I find it,
Warm from the shot!
What a queer spot!
Very few people would mind it

Little shells speckled and comical
Lie in the gun
Aimed at the sun!
Who shall the shooting chronicle?

At a time when I was not peering,
The shells flew high
Into the sky,
But they burst with a cry
That was quite within my hearing!


S O saying, a noble stroke he lifted high
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight,
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield,
Such ruin intercept; ten paces huge
He back recoiled; the tenth on bended knee
His massy spear upstayed; as if on earth
Winds under ground, or waters forcing way
Sidelong, had pushed a mountain from his seat
Half sunk with all his pines.-John Milton.


I HAVE a secret to tell you,
Listen and you shall hear;
The winds laughed low as they whispered
Its purport into my ear,
The larks sang it over the marshes, away in the morn-
ing clear.

All day the joy-of its music
Abode in my heart and brain,
And I hoped, though I sometimes doubted,
In the pauses of sun and rain;
But at night, when I fell a dreaming, I believed it all

For I thought the sun was setting,
And away in the western glow
There journeyed a long procession,
With step that was solemn and slow,
And the land to winch they were passing was a land
1 did nut know.

Nor had I need to learn it,
For there, in his snow-wreathed gown
With many a look back glancing,
And many a tear dropped down,
In their midst moved old King Winter, despoiled of
scepter and crown.

But my tears-I could not shed them--
For, after that mournful train,
The earth broke forth into laughter,
And the sun flashed out on the rain.
And the bow stole out of God's heaven, and smiled
His peace on the plain.

And away in the far blue ether,
Upborne on a butterfly's wing,
To the sound of bees in the clover,
And the song that the throstles sing,
With flowers down dropped from her raiment,
'on the spirit of Spring.


And nature uprose at her coming;
The river, which lay in a dream,
Awoke with a start and a ripple,
And murmured her banks between,
And fields, and forests, and hedgerows, drew on them
a mantle of green.

Not only the birds and the blossoms
That ielt her marvelous sway,
Not only the glad little children,
Or the boys that shouted at play,
But men in the toil-worn cities, said, God is among
us to-day."

So I've told you, and don't forget it;
Tho' it won't be a secret long,
For I saw Jim down by the river-
He was humming a boating song;
.And Charlie's so deep in his cricket that his Latin is
far from strong.

But thou and I, little Nannie,
Will'gather the wild woodbine,

And wander out into the copses
Smelling sweet with the eglantine,
And the soft south wind will brighten that pale little
face of thine.
How strong she will grow, my darling!
With the lesson-books all flung by:
With never a prosier teacher
Than old Will Shakespeare or I,
And never a harder lesson than the calm of the sum-
mer sky.
We'll find for ourselves his beauties,
That bank where the wild thyme blows;"
We'll drink in all the romances
The river sings as it flows;
We'll turn over nature's pages, and see how her wis-
dom grows.
Not that we, child, can imagine
One half of the pleasures to be,
Of that bliss in the August stillness,
"When the wind blows in from the sea;"
Let others sing praise of winter; but the summer for
you and for me! O. W. L.

SOHN BUNYAN, while he had a sur-
passing genius, would not condescend
to cull his language form the garden of
flowers; but he went into the hayfield and
the meadow, and plucked up his language
by the roots, and spoke out in the words
that people used in their cottages.
C. H. Surgeon.

O SILLY Violet!
To think that Spring was tapping
at your latch:
I-er fingers smell of flowers. Did you not know it?
Her pretty voice is like the rain on thatch-
The tinkling rain, with never a wind to blow it.
Incautious Violet!
You sprang from out your bed in such a hurry,
Tied on your cap and laced your kirtle blue,
Opened the door, all bright with joyful flurry,
And there stood naughty March, awaiting you!
Poor foolish Violet!
Mischievous March, who loves to fool and tease,
To tickle flowers with hands all chilly-fingered,
Nip them and pinch, and make them shrink and
And wish that they in the warm earth had lingered.
Misguided Violet!
The moment that he saw you standing there,
He seized and pulled and roughly dragged you out,
Out of the door into the frosty air,
And "April fool!" he cried, with laugh and shout,
Dear little Violet!
The tears are standing in her blue, blue eyes;
Next time my pretty one must be more wary,
Keep fast her door, lie still, refuse to rise,
And wait the summons of the April fairy.
Susan Coolidge.


oono of tie Brool.

I COME from haunts of coot and hern;
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges;
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles;
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.-Alfred Tennyson.


T HE mists of Easter morning
Roll slowly o'er the hills,
The joy of Easter morning
The heart of nature thrills.

The songs of birds are calling
Good people from repose,
To sing of that first Easter
When Christ the Lord arose.

Upon a thousand altars
Are flowers of richest bloom,
Proclaiming with sweet voices
How Jesus left the tomb.

And choirs with choirs uniting
In sweet melodious breath,
Chant forth their glad hosannas
To Him who conquered death.

Nor shall our lips be silent
By Joseph's empty grave;
Wake, heart, and sing His praises
Who came the world to save.

He lives! No grave could hold Him,
He broke death's cruel bands,
And now He reigns triumphant,
The glory of all lands.

And north and south in anthems,
And east and west in song,
Through all this happy Eastertide
His praises shall prolong.

For from that garden sepulcher
Immortal hopes arise,
The portals of that house of death
Lead straight to Paradise.


N OT in the clamor of the crowded street,
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,
But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.

Hope is like the sun, which, as we jour-
ney toward it, casts the shadow of our bur-
den behind us.
Conduct is the great profession. Behav-
ior is the perpetual revealing of us. What
a man does, tells us what he is.
The body of our prayer is the sum of our
duty; and as we must ask of God whatso-
ever we need, so we must labor for all that
we ask. Jeremy Taylor.
Sow; and look onward, upward,
Where the starry light appears;

Where, in spite of the coward's doubting,
Or your own heart's trembling fears,
You shall reap in joy the harvest
You have sown to-day in tears.
Adelaide A. Procter.

Every good principle is more strength-
ened by its exercise, and every good affec-
tion is more strengthened by its indulgence,
than before. Acts of virtue ripen into hab-
its; and the goodly and permanent result
is the formation or establishment of a virt-
uous character.
Garner up pleasant thoughts in your
mind; for pleasant thoughts make pleasant
lives. Strive to see all you can of the good
and the beautiful, so that bright, cheerful
pictures may be impressed upon memory's
tablets, and give you materials of which to
think sunny and lovely thoughts.
God is attracting our regard in and
through all things. Every flower is a hint
of His beauty; every grain of wheat is a
token of his beneficence; every atom of
dust is a revelation of His power.

ERE in the years wherein I stand
I gaze across the fallow land;
Across the conquest and its cost;
Beyond the sought-for and the lost;
And look into thy eyes of joy-
Thou brown-faced, tunicked country boy!

Just thou and thine, with naught between,
Make up that sweetest olden scene.
O tender scene, and sight, and sound!-
The farm-house with its lilacs 'round;
The poppy-bed; the locust trees;
The stillicidic hum of bees;

The well, with sturdy oaken sweep;
The morning-glories half-asleep;
The swallows, gossiping; the croon
Of doves about the barn; the noon
When kine, breast deep, stand in the strea
And thy world pauses in a dream!

Beyond, the uplands; then, the hills,
Where, interlacing, creep the rills;
Here, forests, sentinels of peace;
There, fields with opulent increase;
Below, the valley, stretching far
And dim to the horizon's bar.

My brown-faced lad, I look again
From out the lairs and lives of men.
I see the longing in thy face
To grow beyond the commonplace;
I know the hurts that 'tween us lie,
And pity thee! For thou wert-I.
Edgar L. Wakeman.



ANNIE LOUISE CARY is a native American, and such laurels as she has won, she has won under her
own name. She rejected the idea cf :'nging under an assumed Italian name, judging, probably, that
a woman with an American name might sing just as sweetly. She is a native of the State of Maine, and
though the proverb holds good, as a rule, that "a prophet is not without honor save in his own country,"
this acknowledged queen of song gathered her first spoils of fame in her native State of Maine. Her name
was soon heard in Boston, and for a time she pursued her musical studies under various competent teachers,
and soon became a general favorite in that ci'y of culture. So thoroughly was Boston impressed with Miss
Cary's gifts, that at a concert given it her honor at Music Hall, sufficient funds were gathered to send her to
Europe, that she might pursue her studies under the direction of the ablest masters,-a step which reflected
as much credit on Boston as it did honor on the lady whose talents met with such wise practical appreciation.
After completing her studies in Germany with Madame Gracia, she accepted engagements for two years in
opera, and sang with brilliant success in most of the cities of Northern Europe. On her return to America,
in 1870, she appeared in opera, and met with a most enthusiastic welcome, and now is acknowledged on all
hands to be the most accomplished contralto singer in America. Miss Cary has developed her histrionic
powers to such an extent that it is said that "her acting is as good as her singing." In operas, such as "La
Favorite," she shows her magnificent powers to the best advantage. To her honor it has been said by one
most intimately acquainted with her, her abilities as a singer are no more conspicuous than her worth as a
woman." It is to be regretted that her work has, to some extent, been interfered with through ill-health.
The probabilities are that the public life of this great singer will not be extended far into the future. On the
29th of June, 1882, Miss Cary was married at Portland, in her native State of Maine, to C. M. Raymond,
Esq., of New York.


G RANDMOTHER'S knitting has lost ..s
Unheeded it lies in her ample lap,
While the sunset's crimson, soft and warm,
Touches the frills of her snowy cap.
She is gazing on two beside the bars,
Under the maple-who little care
For the growing dusk, or the rising stars,
Or the hint of frost in the autumn air.
One is a slender slip of a girl,
And one a man in the pride of youth;
The maiden pure as the purest pearl,
The lover strong in his steadfast truth.
Sweet, my own, as a rose of June,"
He says full low, o'er the golden head.
It would sound to her like a dear old tune,
Could grandmother hear the soft words said,
For it seems but a little while ago,
Since under the maple, beside the bars,
She stood a girl, while the sunset's glow
Melted away 'mid the evening stars.
And one, her lover, so bright and brave,
Spake words as tender, in tones as low;
They come to her now from beyond the grave,
The words of her darling so long ago.
"My own one, sweet as a rose of June! "
Her eyes are dim, and her hair is white,
But her heart keeps time to the old love-tune
As she watches her daughter's child to-night.

A world between them, perhaps you say,
Yes. One has read the story through;
One has her beautiful yesterday,
And one to-morrow fair to view.

But little you dream how fond a prayer
Goes up to God through His silver stars,
From the aged woman gazing there,
For the two who linger beside the bars.

T HERE has been much dispute as to
the quantity of light at the bottom of
the sea. Animals dredged from below
seven hundred fathoms either have no eyes,
or faint indications of them, or else their
eyes are very large and protruding. An-
other strange thing is that, if the creatures
in these lower depths have any color, it is
orange, or red, or reddish orange. Sea
anemones, corals, shrimps, and crabs have
the brilliant color. Sometimes it is pure
red or scarlet, and in many specimens it
inclines toward purple. Not a green or a
blue fish is found. The orange-red is the
fish's protection; for the bluish green light

in the bottom of the ocean makes the orange
or the red fish appear of a natural tint, and
hides it from its enemies. Many animals
are black, others neutral in color. Some
fish are provided with boring-tails, so that
they can burrow in the mud. The surface
of the submarine mountain is covered with
shells, like an ordinary sea-beach, showing
that it is the eating-house of vast shoals of
carnivorous animals. A codfish takes a
whole oyster into its mouth, cracks the
shell, digests the meat, and spits out the
rest. Crabs crack the shells and suck out
the meat. In this way come whole mounds
of shells that are dredged up. Not a fish
bone has ever been dredged up. A piece
of wood may be dredged up, but it is honey-
combed by the boring shell fish and falls to
pieces at the touch of the hand. This shows
what destruction is constantly going on in
these depths. If a ship sinks at sea with all
on board, it will be eaten by fish, with the
exception of the metal, and that will cor-
rode and disappear. Not a bone of a hu-
man body will remain after a few days. It
is a constant display of the law of the sur-
vival of the fittest.

HE courage of Daniel is true heroism.
It is not physical daring, such as be-
neath some proud impulse will rush upon
an enemy's steel; it is not reckless valor,
sporting with a life which ill-fortune has
blighted or which despair has made intol-
erable; it is not the passiveness of the stoic,
through whose indifferent heart no tides of
feeling flow; it is the calm courage which
reflects upon its alternatives, and deliber-
ately chooses to do right; it is the determi-
nation of Christian principle, whose foot
resteth on the rock, and whose eye pierceth
into heaven. Wm. M. Punshon.

AS the flowers follow the sun, and silently
hold up their petals to be tinted and
enlarged by its shining, so must we, if we
would know the joy of God, hold our souls,
wills, hearts and minds still before Him,
whose voice commands, whose love warns,
whose truth makes fair our whole being.
God speaks for the most part in such si-
lence only. If the soul be full of tumult
and jangling voices, His voice is little likely
to be heard. Alexander Maclaren.




ST IS true I'm aged, gray and worn;
IL That ruthless Time, who harvests
Will soon, with sickle sharp and dread,
Upon my hapless shoulders fall.
'Tis true my days are nearly spent,
My youth and vigor gone;
That there now shines the evening star
Where shone the star of dawn.
The light of life is fading fast,
And I at last
Will leave this troubled shore
To nevermore

But though Time's wheel is almost turned
For me on this vain earth below,
I'll cross when its dull motions cease
To where the living waters flow,-
Where griefs are found not, clouds un-
Where all is joy and light;
Where morn's eternal sunbeams chase
Away all shades of night.
Then bless the day I stand
Upon the strand
To leave this troubled shore
And nevermore


1 "R OSE-bud, nodding from thy tree,
J[. Art thou beckoning to me ?
I will open my mind's ear;
Speak, and I will try to hear.
Do thy blooming lips unclose?
I am listening, baby rose.

"Little friend, although I play
With the breeze this livelong day,
With my noiseless, sweet-breathed speech,
A good lesson I can teach,
That our God hath taught to me:
To be gay with ;irrmn.ess glee;
When I smile, I make all glad;
When I laugh, I make none sad.
My small thorn is for defense,
Not violence nor insolence.

"When my sisters, tilting now
With me on the mossy bough,
And I die, with fragrance shed
All around our grassy bed,
And the blue-bell tolls our knell,
Dying, we make others well;
From our withering shall be
Drawn a saving remedy.

"Mourn not for us dying thus,
Over Death victorious:
An attar I will leave to thee
As sweet as is my memory.
S. H. Palfrey.

T HE Mammoth Cave of Kentucky is
situated near to Green River, on the
road from Louisville to Nashville. Some
explorers claim to have penetrated it to a
distance of ten miles; but they probably
exaggerate, as the paths through it are so
tortuous, and the progress of the traveler is
so much obstructed, that they might easily
be deceived. Stalactites of gigantic size
and fantastic form are seen here, though
they are not as brilliant as those that adorn
other and smaller caves elsewhere. But if
the Mammoth Cave is deficient in pretty
effects, it is crowded with wild, fantastic,
and deeply-impressive forms, that almost
forbid the intrusion of the curiosity-seeking
tourist from the surface of the earth. The
.entrance is abundantly supplied with vege-
uation. The conductor lights the lamps,
.and, in a severe voice, calls, "Forward!"
A few lichens wander a little way in from
the entrance, with the daylight, and then
all vegetation abruptly ceases. You are
ushered into a primitive chaos of wild lime-
stone forms moist with the water oozing
from above. A strong current of air is

behind you, as you think; but it is in reality
the "breath" of the cave. In explanation
you are told that the temperature of the cave
is fifty-nine degrees Fahrenheit, the year
round, and the cave exhales or inhales, as
the temperature outside is above or below
this uniform standard. As you proceed
farther, the chill felt near the entrance passes
away, and the air is still, dry and warm.
For nearly half a mile on your way you see,
in the dim light, the ruins of the saltpetre
works that were built in 1808, by persons
in the employ of the United States govern-
ment. The huge vats and tools still remain
undecayed. Advancing farther, you enter
the rotunda, which is illuminated for a mo-
ment by a.sheet of oiled paper lighted by
the guide. It is over seventy-five feet high,
one hundred and sixty feet across, directly
under the dining-room of the hotel, and the
beginning of the main cave. One chamber,
entered from the rotunda, bears the unat-
tractive name of Great Bat-Room; and
here thousands of the little creatures are
found snarling and curling their delicate
lips at all intruders. These and the rats, a
few lizards, a strange kind of cricket, and
some eyeless fish, constitute the entire ani-
mal life of this kingdom of everlasting

LEEVES to the dimpled elbow,
Fun in the sweet blue eyes,
To and fro upon errands,
The little maiden hies.
Now she is washing dishes,
Now she is feeding the chicks,
Now she is playing with pussy,
Or teaching Rover tricks.

Wrapped in a big white apron,
Pinned in a checkered shawl,
Hanging clothes in the garden,
Oh, were she only tall!
Hushing the fretful baby,
Coaxing his hair to curl,
Stepping around so briskly,
Because she is mother's girl.
Hunting for eggs in the haymow,
Petting old Brindle's calf,
Riding Don to the pasture,
With many a ringing laugh.
Coming whenever you call her,
Running wherever sent,
Mother's girl is a blessing,
And mother is well content.


S Over the fields by winding ways Round about us, afar and near,
5 We wandered on together, We heard the locusts humming,
\ n S Under the flashing azure skies, And the asters starring the lonely path
f In a hush of August weather. Laughed out to see us coming.


H, there are no cares in the Is To Be,
No winds ever blow,
And calm rivers flow;
It is filled with a wondrous minstrelsy.
The year has no pall,
And leaves never fall
In the fairy land of the Is To Be.
We shall all be good in the Is To Be;
The trinkets we hold
Will be turned to gold,
And honey and milk will be rich and free.
All paths will be straight-
No bar and no gate
Will cumber the shores of the Is To Be.
Old Time hath no wings in the Is To Be;
Love is never forgot-
Friendship faileth not,
And the dimples from the cheeks never flee;
Sweet lips never pale,
Kind words never fail
.n our pictured land of the Is To Be.
Ah! brother of mine, in life's Is To Be
There will still be care,
And truth will be rare,
Till'the veil is drawn from eternity.
There, behind that veil,
Is the pure and real-
The only safe land of the Is To Be.

AT 4:30 a. m. we three started, roped to-
gether, for the difficulties began at
once. A long couloir, like a half-funnel, had
to be crossed in a slanting direction. Then
came two hours step-cutting up the steep
slope, and we reached a long snow incline
which led us to the foot of the true peak.
After nearly one thousand feet rise, at xo
a. m. we reached the top of the ridge, and
not more than fifteen hundred feet above
us rose the eastern summit. A short halt
for food, and then came the tug of war.
All this last slope is pure ice, at an angle of
from forty-five up to sixty degrees. Under
ordinary circumstances, step-cutting up this
would have occupied many hours. Owing,
however, to the recent heavy snow and the
subsequent cold, it was coated three or four
inches deep with frozen snow, and up this
we cut notches for our feet. Kauffmann
led all the way, and at 12:15 we reached the
lower summit of Kabru, at least twenty-
three thousand seven hundred feet above
the sea. The glories of the view were beyond
all compare. However, we had short time
for the view, for the actual summit was

connected with ours by a short arete, and
rose by about three hundred feet of the
steepest ice we have seen. Soon the ridge
narrowed to a wall of ice. From my left
hand I could have dropped a pebble down
the most terrific slopes to the glacier ten
thousand feet below; from my right down
a steep slope for a hundred feet, and then
over what we had seen from below to be a
rock cliff of many thousand feet. The ice
was so hard that it took us an hour and a
half before we reached our wished-for goal.
The actual summit was exactly like a great
ice wave cut about thirty feet deep by
three gashes; into one of these weclimbed.
A bottle with our names was left to com-
memorate our ascent, and then we turned
to retrace our steps. Going down is al-
ways worse than going up, and we had to
proceed backward, just like descending a
ladder. At last we reached the rocks, and
had a glorious meal, heightened alike by
keen appetites and a delightful sense of an
undertaking successfully accomplished. We
fixed a large Bhootia flag to a smooth slab
of rock, and then hastened downward, the
latter part of the descent being performed
in the dark, till the moon rose and lighted
us into camp. This we reached about o1
p. m., having thus been nineteen and a half
hours on foot.
As this was the highest of our ascents, so
was it the most dangerous. The last three
hundred feet were the hardest of any, yet
no more difficulty in breathing was noticed
than if they had been ten thousand feet

HUNDREDS of stars in the pretty sky;
Hundreds of shells on the shore together;
Hundreds of birds that go singing by,
Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.
Hundreds of dew-drops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover;
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the wide world over.

OOKS instruct us calmly; they wait
the pace of each man's capacity; stay
for his want of perception; go backward
and forward with him at his wish; and fur-
nish inexhaustible repetitions.
Sir S. E. Brydges.


V//// _




T HE frost looked forth one still, clear night,
And whispered, Now I shall be out of sight,
So through the valley and over the height
In silence I'll take my way;
I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much clatter and noise in vain,
But I'll be as busy as they."

So he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest,
He lit on the trees and their boughs he drest
In diamond beads, and over the breast
Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin far and near,
Where a rock might rear its head.

But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
He went to the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare,
"Now, just to set them a-thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
"This costly pitcher I'll break in three,
And this glass of water they've left for me
Shall tinkle-to tell them I'm drinking !"
Hannah F. Gould.

G OD gives all things to industry; then
plow deep while sluggards sleep, and
you will have corn to sell and to keep.
The sleeping fox catches no poultry, and
there will be sleeping enough in the grave.
He that rises late must trot all day, and
shall scarce overtake his business at night.
Drive thy business, let not that drive
He that hath a trade hath an estate.
One to-day is worth two to-morrows.
Have you somewhat to do to-morrow, do it
Handle your tools without mittens. A
cat in gloves catches no mice.
Three removes are as bad as a fire. A
rolling stone gathers no moss.
If you would have your business done,
go; if not, send.
If you would be wealthy, think of saving
as well as getting. A fat kitchen makes a
lean will.
Beware of little expenses. A small leak
will sink a great ship.
Buy what thou hast need of, and ere long
thou shalt sell thy necessaries. Silks and
satins, scarlet and velvet, put out the kitchen
If you would know the value of money,
go and try to borrow some. A child and a

fool imagine twenty shillings and twenty
years can never be spent.
Pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a
great deal more saucy.
Rather go to bed supperless than rise in
debt. The borrower is a slave to the lender,,
and the debtor to the creditor.
They that will not be counseled cannot
be helped. If you will not hear reason, she
will surely rap your knuckles.

HAT was that song we sang together,
You and I in the long-lost June?
Something to-day in the dreamy weather
Brought back a strain of the tune;
And it carried me back to a moonlit even-
Roses, music, beautiful eyes;
And you seemed an angel out of heaven,
And I was in Paradise.

I think it was something that night we were singing
About the sea-but I cannot say,
For only a strain of the song came ringing
Into my life to-day.
Our barks on the sea of life have drifted
Widely asunder since that June night,
And clouds have gathered, and clouds have lifted,
And days have been dark and bright.

But I think the love that brightened our May-time,
Though lost and forgotten in time's swift flow,
Has been with us always, in night-time or day-time-
I think it is always so.
Love is never outlived completely-
Is never wasted or thrown away;
Some part of it lives, and comes back to us sweetly,
Like the strain of that song to-day.

The glamour fades, and the spell is broken
That bound us so closely in bonds of gold;
But the nameless something, that cannot be spoken,.
Forever keeps its hold.

.Words we forget, but a strain of the measure
Floats back to us ever, now and then,
In days of labor or hours of pleasure,
As we move about with men.
And our steps keep time to it, beating, beating
Into our lives the measured time.
So ever and ever we go on repeating
The song of our youth's glad prime.
Ella Wheeler.

EARNING is the dictionary, but sense
the grammar, of science.
Lawrence Sterne.



REMEMBER the glories of Brien the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er;
Though lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kinkora no more.
That star of the field, which so often hath poured
Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword,
To light us to victory yet.

Mononia! when Nature embellished the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footsteps of slavery there?
No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.

Forget not our wounded companions, who stood
In the day of distress by our side;
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood,
They stirred not, but conquered and died.
That sun which now blesses our arms with his light,
Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain;-
Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain.
Thomas Moore.



T is autumn. We stand on the ramparts,
and look out over the sea. We look at
the numerous ships, and at the Swedish coast
on the opposite side of the sound, rising far
above the surface of the waters which mirror
the glow of the evening sky. Behind us the
wood is sharply defined; mighty trees sur-
round us, and the yellow leaves flutter down
from the branches. Below, at the foot of the
wall, stands a gloomy looking building en-
closed in palisades. The space between is
dark and narrow, but still more dismal must
it be behind the iron gratings in the wall
which cover the narrow loopholes or windows,
for in these dungeons the most depraved of
the criminals are confined. A ray of the set-
ting sun shoots into the bare cells of one of
the captives, for God's sun shines upon the
evil and the good. The hardened criminal
casts an impatient look at the bright ray.
Then a little bird flies towards the grating,
for birds twitter to the just as well as to the
unjust. He only cries, "Tweet, tweet," and
then perches himself near the grating, flutter
his wings, pecks a feather from one of them,
puffs himself out, and sets his feathers on end
round his breast and throat. The bad, chain-
ed man looks at him, and a more gentle ex-
pression comes into his hard face. In his
breast there rises a thought which he himself
cannot rightly analyze, but the thought has
some connection with the sunbeam, with the
bird, and with the scent of violets, which
grow luxuriantly in spring at the foot of the
wall. Then there comes the sound of the
hunter's horn, merry and full. The little
bird starts, and flies away, the sunbeam grad-
ually vanishes, and again there is darkness
in the room and in the heart of that bad
man. Still the sun has shone into that heart,
and the twittering of the bird has touched it.
Sound on, ye glorious strains of the hunt-
er's horn; continue your stirring tones, for
the evening is mild, and the surface of the
sea, heaving slowly and calmly, is smooth as
a mirror.-Hans Andersen.


OLATILITY of Words is Carelessness
in actions; Words are the wings of


C OLUMBUS was the son of a weaver,
and a weaver himself.
Rabelais, son of an apothecary.
Claude Lorraine was bred a pastry cook.
Moliere, a son of a tapestry maker.
Cervantes served as a common soldier.
Homer was a beggar.
Hesiod -vas the son of small armer.
Demosthenes, of a cutler.
Terence was a slave.
Richardson was a printer.
Oliver Cromwell, the son of a brewer.
Howard, an apprentice to a grocer.
Benjamin Franklin, a journeyman printer,
Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Worcester, son of
a linen draper.
Whitfield, son of an inn-keeper at Glou-
Sir Cloudesly Shovel, Rear Admiral of
England, was an apprentice to a shoemaker,
and afterward a cabin boy.
Bishop Prideaux worked in the kitchen at
Exeter College, Oxford.
Cardinal Wolsey, was the son of a butcher.
Ferguson was a shepherd.
Neibuhr was a peasant.
Thomas Paine, son of a staymaker at
Dean Tucker was the son of a small farmer
in Cardiganhire, and performed journeys to
Oxford on foot.
Edmund Halley was the son of a soap
boiler at Shoreditch.
Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich, son of a
farmer at Ashby de la Zouch.
William Hogarth was put apprentice to an
engraver of pewter pots.
Dr. Mountain, Bishop of Durham, was the
son of a beggar.
Lucian was the son of a statuary.
Virgil of a potter.
Horace of a shopkeeper.
Plutus, a baker.
Gay was apprentice to a silk mercer.
Dr. Samuel Johnson was the son of a book.
seller at Litchfield.
Akenside, son of a butcher at Newcastle.
Collins, son of a hatter.
Samuel Butler, son of a farmer.
Ben Johnson worked for some time as a
Robert Burns was a plowman in Ayrshire.
Thomas Chatterton, son of the sexton of
Redeliffe Church, Bristol.





SEN true friends you have,
Who, five in a row,
Upon each side of you
Go where you go.
Suppose you are sleepy,
They help you to bed;
Suppose you are hungry,
They see that you're fed.
They wake up your dolly
And put on her clothes,
And trundle her carriage
Wherever she goes.
And these ten tiny fellows,
They serve you with ease;
And they ask nothing from you,
But work hard to please.
Now, with ten willing servants,
So trusty and true,
Pray who would be lazy
Or idle-would you?

ON the following page our.readers will
find a life-like portrait of the great
English novelist. It will be interesting to
know something of his early days.
Charles Dickens was a very little and a
very sickly boy, but he had always the be-
lief that this circumstance had brought to
him the inestimable advantage of having
greatly inclined him to reading. He had a
wonderful attraction for children and a
quick perception of their character and dis-
position; a most winning and easy way
with them, full of fun, but also of a graver
sympathy with their many small troubles
and perplexities, which made them recog-
nize a friend in him at once. I have often
seen mere babies, who would look at no
other stranger present, put out their tiny
arms to him with unbounded confidence,
or place a small hand in his and trot away
with him, quite proud and contented at
having found such a companion; and al-
though with his own children he had some-
times a sterner manner than he had with
others, there was not one of them who
feared to go to him for help and advice,
knowing well that there was no trouble too
trivial to claim his attention, and that in
him they would always find unvarying jus-
tice and love. He had a peculiar tone of
voice and way of speaking for each of his
children, who could tell, without being

called by name, which was the one ad-
dressed. He had funny songs which he
used to sing to them before they went to
bed. As with his grown-up company of
actors, so with his juvenile company, did
his own earnestness and activitywork upon
them and affect each personally. The
shyest and most awkward child would come
out quite brilliantly under his patient and
always encouraging training. One year be-
for a Twelfth Night dance, when his two
daughters were quite tiny girls, he took it
into his head that they must teach him and
his friend John Leech the polka. The les-
sons were begun as soon as thought of, and
continued for some time. Charles Dickens
was always a great walker, but in these
days he rode and drove more than he did
in later years. He was fond of the game
of battledore and shuttlecock, and used
constantly to play with friends on summer
evenings. One of the little daughters had
very chubby, rosy legs, and the raven used
to run after and peck at them, until poor"
" Tatie's leds" became a constant subject
for commiseration. Yet the raven was a
great source of amusement to the family,
and there were countless funny stories
about him. He was especially wicked to
the eagle; as soon as his food was brought
to him, the raven would swoop down upon
it, take it just beyond the eagle's reach,
mount guard over it, dancing round it, and
chuckling. When he considered he had
tantalized the poor bird enough, he would
eat the food as deliberately and slowly as
possible, and then hop away perfectly con-
tented with himself. He was not the cele-
brated "Grip" of "Barnaby Rudge," but
was given after the death of that bird. Not-
withstanding his constant and arduous
work, Charles Dickens was never so busy
as to be unmindful of the comfort and wel-
fare of those about him, and there was not
a corner in any of his homes, from kitchen
to garret, which was not constantly in-
spected by him, and which did not boast of
some of his neat and orderly contrivances.
We used to laugh at him sometimes and
say we believed he was personally ac-
quainted with every nail in the house.

T RUTH does not consist in minute ac-
curacy of detail; but in conveying a
right impression. Dean Alford.


gr iK I: 3 I\; \:J
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I~r!,I '\ YILI-rI Bii I: a ~,,

Bharles DiektPs.

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BOYS let me give you a word of good
advice, DON'T SMOKE! There is no
good sound reason why you should, there are
hundreds of reasons why you should not. No
man was ever healthier, wealthier or wiser
because he smoked. The world owes but
little gratitude to the man who introduced
tobacco into common use. Now listen to
what four very wise men have said on the
subject: Sir Benjamin Brodie, M. D., F. R.
S. says "Boys, even at the best schools, get
the habit of smoking, because they think it
manly and fashionable to do so: not unfre-
*quently because they have the example set
them by their tutors: and partly because
there is no friendly voice to warn them as to
the special ill consequences to which it may
give rise, where the process of growth is not
yet completed, and the organs are not yet
fully developed."
Professor Parkes, M. D., F. R. S. says
"When a boy takes to smoking he frequently
becomes pale, and he has an unhealthy skin.
Moreover, boys who smoke much are less
-disposed to bodily exertion. Smoking inter-
feres with appetite, impairs bodily activity,
and in some way must damage the circula-
tion or the composition of the blood."
Dr. B. W. Richardson, F. R. S., says:
" Smoking tobacco, and the use of tobacco in
every form, is a habit better not acquired, and
when acquired, is better abandoned. The
young should specially avoid the habit. It
gives a doubtful pleasure for a certain pen-
Mr. John Ruskin says: "It is not easy to es-
timate the demoralizing effect on the youth
*of Europe of the cigar, in enabling them to
pass their time happily in idleness."
But I said there were hundreds of reasons
why boys should not smoke, and I am going
to give you a few. For one thing boys
hardly ever know what they are smoking. I
don't mean merely that what they smoke is
dreadfully adulterated, though that is always
the case unless they pay a very high price for
their tobacco, or cigars, or cigarettes; and very
.often the case when they do. What I -mean
is that the money spent in smoking might be
.spent to much greater advantage. The truth
is, boys you are blowing money or what
money would buy through your lips every
time you smoke pipe, or cigarette or cigar. If
I were to ask a group of boys what they

were smoking, one would say a pipe," an-
other "a cigar," and another a cigarette."
How these boys would stare if they were told
they were smoking horses and buggies, and
pianos and organs and libraries of books!
And yet such is the case. Smokers are lit-
erally blowing these things into the air. Now
to make this plain let us suppose that a boy
smokes only one cigar a day, and that that
cigar only costs five cents. These very mod-
erate expenditures amount to the sum of
$18.25 in the year. Now think how many
really useful things might be bought for that
sum. Every cent so smoked becomes a rea-
son why boys should not smoke. The
boy who smokes five cents a day smokes
away $91.25 in five years and that amount
would buy him a splendid library of books.
In ten years he smokes $182.50 and that
would buy him a horse and buggy. And as
we have said every cent so squandered is a
reason against smoking; here are 18,250 rea-
sons against the use of the weed. Boys,
think on these things and don't smoke.
OOD Luck is the gayest of all gay girls
Long in one place she will not stay,
Back from her brow she strokes her curls,
Kisses you quick and flies away.
But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes
And stays-no fancy has she for flitting-
Snatches of true love-songs she hums,
And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.
-fohn Hay.
SHERE is no discredit, but honor, in
every right walk of industry, whether
it be in tilling the grounds, making tools,
weaving fabrics, or selling the products be-
hind a counter. A youth may handle a
yard-stick, or measure a piece of ribbon; and
there will be no discredit in doing so, unless
he allows his mind to have no higher range
than the stick and ribbon; to be as short as
the one, and as narrow as the other. "Let
not those blush who have," said Fuller, "but
those who have not a lawful calling." And
Bishop Hall said, -Sweet is the destiny of all
trades, whether of the brow or of the mind."
Men who have raised themselves from a
humble calling, need not be ashamed, but
rather ought to be proud of the difficulties
they have surmounted.-Samuel Smiles.





SEPTEMBER strews the woodland o'er Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
With many a brilliant color; Sad thoughts and sunny weather!
The world is brighter than before- Ah me! this glory and this grief
Why should our hearts be duller? Agree not well together.
T. W. Parsons.

, eptember,





THREE little words you often see
Are ARTICLES-a, an, and the.

A NouN's the name of anything,
As school, or garden, hoop, or swing.

ADJECTIVES tell the kind of noun,
As great, small, pretty, white or brown.

Instead of Nouns the PRONOUNS stand--
Her head, his face, your arm, my hand.

VERBS tell of something to be done-
To read, count, sing, laugh,junmp, or run.

How things are done the ADVERBS tell,
As slowly, quickly, ill or well.

CONJUNCTIONS join the words together,
As man and woman, wind or weather.

The PREPOSITION stands before
A Noun, as at or through the door.

The INTERJECTION shows surprise,
As Ah! how pretty, Oh! how wise.

The whole are called Nine Parts of Speech,]
Which reading, writing, speaking teach.


GRACE and peace in Christ to my
heartily dear little son. I see gladly
that thou learnest well and prayest earnestly.
Do this, my little son, and go on. When I
come home I will bring thee a beautiful fair-
ing. I know a pleasant garden wherein
many children walk about. They have little
golden coats, and pick up beautiful apples
under the trees, and pears, cherries and plums.
They dance and are merry, and have also
beautiful little ponies, with golden reins and
silver saddles. Then I asked the man whose
the garden is, whose children these were.
He said, These are the children who love
to pray, who learn their lessons, and are
good." Then I said, "Dear man, I have
also a little son; he is called Hanschen
Luther-might not he also come into the
garden, that he might eat such apples and
pears, and ride on such beautiful little ponies,
and play with these children?" Then the
man said, If he loves to pray, learn his les-
sons, and is good, he also shall come into the
garden-Lippus and Tost, also, (the little

sons of Melancthon and Justus Jonas;) and
when they all come together, they also shall
have pipes, drums, lutes, and all kinds of
music; and shall dance, and shoot with little
bows and arrows."
And he showed me there a fair meadow in
the garden, prepared for dancing. There
were many pipes of pure gold, drums, and
silver bows and arrows. But it was still
early in the day, so that the children had not
had their breakfast. Therefore I could not
wait for the dancing, and said to the man,
"Ah, dear sir, I will go away at once, and
write all this to my little son Hanschen, that
he may be sure to pray, and to learn well,
and be good, that he may also come into this
garden. But he has a dear Aunt Lena-he
must bring her with him." Then said the
man Let it be so, go and write him thus."
Therefore, my dear little son Hanschen,
learn thy lessons, and pray with a cheerful
heart; and tell all this to Lippus and Justus
too, that they also may learn their lessons and
pray. So shall you all come together in this
garden. Herewith I commend you to the
Almighty God; and greet Aunt Lena and
give her a kiss from me.
Thy dear father,


ALL the world's a Stage,
And all the men and women merely Players;
They have their Exits and their Entrances,
And one man in his time plays'many parts;
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms;
And then the whining school-boy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like a pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden'and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big, manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes,
And whistles in his sound Last scene of all,
That ends this strange, eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


F eis 1)f fo rj ai ce bu~f for. e11 fin~e."
T4 b~gf. d i I) edl ve sb io lo upoi) biS ii 5It

~' ~---Il-~as~x~-~- ~P~gi~-ra~a --~-~-~Q7~r~.-~I~rsr~-~~- 1E=e~--~~~----- ==-I --


AN old Clock, that had stood for fifty
years in a farmer's kitchen without
giving its owner any cause of complaint, early
one summer's morning, before the family was
stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this the
Dial plate (if we may credit the fable)
changed countenance with alarm; the Hands
made an ineffectual effort to continue their
course; the Wheels remained motionless with
surprise; the Weights hung speechless. Each
member felt disposed to lay the blame on the
At length the Dial instituted a formal in-
quiry into the cause of the stop, when Hands,
Wheels, Weights, with one voice protested
their innocence. But now a faint tick was
heard from the Pendulum, who thus spoke:-
I confess myself to be the sole cause of
the present stoppage, and am willing, for the
general satisfaction, to assign my reasons.
The truth is, that I am tired of ticking."
Upon hearing this, the old Clock became so
enraged that it was on the point of striking.
Lazy Wire!" exclaimed the Dial-plate.
"As to that," replied the Pendulum, "it is
vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have
always, as everybody knows, set yourself up
above me-it is vastly easy for you, I say, to
accuse other people of laziness-you who
have nothing to do all your life but to stare
people in the face, and to amuse yourself with
watching all that goes on in the kitchen.
Think, I beseech you, how you would like to
be shut up for life in this dark closet, and wag
backward and forward year after year, as I
do." As to that," said the Dial, is there
not a window in your house on purpose for
you to look through?"
"But what of that?" resumed the Pendu-
lum. Although there is a window, I dare
not stop, even for an instant, to look out.
Besides, I am really weary of my way of life;
and, if you please, I'll tell you how I took
this disgust at my employment.
" This morning I happened to be calculat-
ing how many time I should have to tick in
the course only of the next twenty-four
hours-perhaps some of you above there can
tell me the exact sum?" The minute-hand,
being quick at figures, instantly replied,
"Eighty-six thousand, four hundred times."
"Exactly so," replied the Pendulum.
"Well, I appeal to you all if the thought
of this was not enough to fatigue one? And
when I began to multiply the strokes of one

day by those of months and years, really it is
no wonder if I felt discouraged at the pros-
pect; so after a great deal of reasoning and
hesitation, thought I to myself, 'I'11 stop!"
The Dial could scarcely keep its counte-
nance during this harangue; but, resuming
its gravity, thus replied: Dear Mr. Pendu-
lum, I am really astonished that such a useful,
industrious person as yourself should have
been overcome by this suggestion.
It is true, you have done a great deal of
work in your time; so have we. all, and are
likely to do; and though this may fatigue us
to think of, the question is, Will it fatigue us
to do? Would you do me the favor to give
about half a dozen strokes, to illustrate my
argument?" The Pendulum complied, and
ticked six times at its usual pace.
Now," resumed the Dial, was that ex-
ertion fatiguing to you?" "Not in the least,"
replied the Pendulum; "it is not of six
strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of
Very good," replied the Dial; but recol-
lect that, although you may think of a million
strokes in an instant, you are required to exe-
cute but one; and that, however often you
may hereafter have to swing, a moment will
always be given you to swing in."
"That consideration staggers me, I con-
fess," said the Pendulum. Then I hope,"
added the Dial-plate, "we shall all immed-
iately return to our duty, for the people will
lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus."
Upon this, the Weights, who had never
been accused of light conduct, used all their
influence in urging him to proceed; when, as
with one consent, the Wheels began to turn,
the Hands began to move, the Pendulum be-
gan to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud
as ever; while a beam of the rising sun, that
streamed through a hole in the kitchen-shut-
ter, shining full upon the Dial-plate, made it
brighten up as if nothing had been the matter.
When the farmer came down to breakfast,
he declared, upon looking at the Clock, that
his watch had gained half an hour in the
night.--ane Taylor.

O SACRED solitude divine retreat!
Choice of the prudent! envy of the great!
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade,
We court fair wisdom, that celestial maid:
The genuine offspring of her lov'd embrace,
(Strangers on earth!) are innocence and peace.



RICHARD WAGNER was born at Leipsic, on the
Ioth of May, 1813. Very early in life he lost
his father. At the age of fifteen he heard Beethoven's
symphonies for the first time, and this settled his
mind to devote himself wholly to music, with the
exception of occasional excursions into the realms of
poetry, which he said he only cultivated from a musi-
cal point of view.
In 1830 Wagner was greatly interested in the fate
of unhappy Poland. He was too young to take any
share in the revolution,
but he gave vent to his
patriotic emotions by
composing sonatas and
overtures full of martial
music. He became Di-
rector of Music in the
Theatre of Magdeburg.
Here he composed an
opera, entitled "The
Faries," which he drew
from one of Gozzi's
He had a hard, rough,
toilsome life in Paris.
Music utterly failed him;
he turned to literature
and wrote novels which
were regarded as quite
remarkable. He had
composed "Rienzi" ana
the "Flying Dutch-
man," and he resolved
to procure a representa-
tion of the former in
Germany. On his way
to fulfill this purpose he
passed the Castle of the
Wartburg, on the borders of the Thuringian forest,
and there the first dream of his Tannhauser" broke
upon his mind.
In the years 1849 and 1850 the venerable Liszt was
doing all he could to awaken a true sense of the
genius of Wagner in the minds of the people. Through
his influence the operas of Wagner were brought out
in the court at Weimar. Wagner's star began to rise.
It took twenty years before his operas and dramas
were appreciated in Germany, and before they
seriously occupied the minds of musical critics. But
the music of Wagner was talked of now as "the
music of the future."
He always hoped that some day his works would
be appreciated, and his new ideas; and that he would

gain a position which would at last shelter him from
the daily cares of making his living. With the help
of the King of Bavaria, Wagner has realized his
wishes and dreams, in his house in Bayreuth. Whilst
building his house, he had his tomb made, covered
with a gray marble slab, and only hidden from sight
during the summer weather. Then it is covered with
green. But now, alas! his grave is filled. When the
snows of January, 1883, lay deep and white, the
grave at Bayreuth was opened, and the great singer
was laid at rest.
He had been suffering
from heart disease for
some time past, and the
immediate cause of
death was syncope, of
which he had previously
had two serious attacks.
He died seated in his
Sarm-chair, in the pres-
ence of his wife and
S children. The body was
embalmed, and a cast
of the features taken.
Before the coffin was
closed his widow cut off
her long hair and placed
some of it within. On
Friday the remains were
placed on the train for
conveyance to Bay-
reuth, and a long train
of gondolas accom-
panied the cortege from
the Vendramini Palace
to the depot, where the
train, draped in black,
was waiting to receive
them. The funeral train passed on to the little Fran-
conian town where Wagner had built a home. Twenty-
seven citizens watched over the bier till the funeral
ceremonies began. The funeral march from "Seig-
fried" was played, while the various German and
foreign deputations laid wreaths upon his coffin.
Amid the solemn tolling of all the bells the procession
set out. The hearse, drawn by four black horses,
was preceded by two carriages loaded with wreaths.
The clergy and a representative of King Ludwig, of
Bavaria, many deputations and numerous artists,
followed. And thus, at Wahnfried, the scene of his
greatest triumphs, with the simplest religious service
and amid the tolling of bells, Richard Wagner was
laid at rest.



MOSSES and Lichen--though these last
in their luxuriance are deep and rich
as herbage, yet both for the most part hum-
blest of the green things that live-how of
these? Meek creatures! the first mercy of
the Earth, vailing with hushed softness its
dintless rocks; creatures full of pity, covering
with strange and tender honor the scared
disgrace of ruin,-laying tender finger on
the trembling stones, to teach them rest. No
words that I know of will say what these
mosses are. None are delicate enough, none
perfect enough, none rich enough. How is
one to tell of the rounded bosses of furred and
beaming green, the starred divisions ot
rubied bloom, fine-filmed, as if the Rock
Spirits could spin porphyry as we do glass,
-the traceries of intricate silver and fringes
of amber, lustrous, arborescent, burnished
through every fibre into fitful brightness and
glossy traverses of silken change, yet all sub-
dued and pensive, and framed fdr simplest,
sweetest offices of grace. They will not be
gathered, like the flowers, for chaplet or
love token; but of these the wild bird will
make its nest, and the wearied child his
And, as the earth's first mercy, so they are
its last gift to man. When all other service is
vain, from plant and tree, the soft mosses,
and gray lichen, take up their watch by the
headstone. The woods, the blossoms, the
gift-bearing grasses, have done their parts for
a time, but these do service for ever. Trees
for the builder's yard, flowers for the bride's
chamber, corn for the granary, moss for the
grave.-- ohn Ruskin.
I AM here. And if this is what they call
the world, I don't think much of it. It's
a very flannelly world, and smells of para-
goric awfully. It's a dreadful light world,
too, and makes me blink, I tell you. And I
don't know what to do with my hands; I
think I'll put my fists in my eyes. No, I
won't. I'll scratch at the corner of my
blanket and chew it up, and then I'll hol-
ler; whatever happens I'll hollor, and the
more paragoric they give me the louder I'll
yell. That old nurse puts the spoon in
the corner of my mouth in a very un-
easy way, and keeps tasting my milk her-
self all the while. She spilled snuff in it last

night, and, when I hollered, she trotted me.
That comes of being a two days' old baby.
Never mind: when I'm a man I'11 pay hei
back good There's a pin sticking in me
now; and if I say a word about it, I'll be
trotted or fed, and I would rather have cat-
nip-tea. I'll tell you who I am I found out
to day. I heard folks say. "Hush, don't
wake up Emeline's baby!'" and 1 suppose that
pretty, white-faced woman over on the pillow
is Emeline. No, I was mistaken; for a chap
was in here just now, and wanted to see Bob's
baby, and looked at me, and said I was a
funny little toad, and looked just like Bob."
He smelt of cigars, and I'm not used to them.
I wonder who else I belong to. Yes, there's
another one, that's "Gamma." Emeline
told me so, and she took me up, and held me
against her soft cheek, and said, "I was
Gamma's baby, so I was." I declare I do
not know who I do belong to; but I'll holler,
and maybe I'll find out. There comes Snuffy
with catnip-tea. The idea of giving babies
catnip-tea, when they are crying for informa-
tion! I'm going to sleep. I wonder if I
don't look pretty red in the face. I wonder
why my hands won't go where I want them
Y OU will accomplish nothing by losing
it. Many men date their failure in
business to some hasty and ill-considered
statement made during a fit of temper. When
things go awry, business is dull, and the
prospect is dark ahead, it is very poor conso-
lation to indulge in passionate and angry re-
marks to those with whom you are associ-
T HE saving of money for the mere sake
of it is but a mean thing, even though
earned by honest work; but where earned by
dicethrowing. or speculation, and without
labor. it is still worse. To provide for others,
and for our own comfort and independence
in old age, is honorable, and greatly to be
commended; but to hoard for mere wealth's
sake is the characteristic of the narrow-souled
and the miserly. It is against the growth of
this habit of inordinate saving, that the wise
man needs most carefully to guard himself;
else, what in youth was simple economy,
may in old age grow into avarice, and what
was a duty in the one, may become a vice in
the other.

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