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feet—when none of these things come to him as the “God bless you” of the departed day, how he must hate himself—how he must try to roll away from himself and sleep on the other side of the bed—when the only victory he can think of is some mean victory, in which he has wronged a neighbor. No wonder he always sneers when he tries to smile. How

pure

and fair and good all the rest of the world must look to him, and how careless and dreary must his own path appear! Why, even one isolated act of meanness is enough to scatter cracker crumbs in the bed of the average man, and what must be the feelings of a man whose whole life is given up to mean acts? When there is so much suffering and heartache and misery in the world, anyhow, why should any one add a pound of wickedness or sadness to the general burden? Don't be mean, boys. Suffer injustice a thousand times rather than commit it

BURDETTE.

once.

SING A SONG A SIXPENCE.

Popular Style.

VOCALIZE in silver strains, and with pennies six,

, Measured farinaceous grain deftly intermix ; Take of ebon-tinted birds twenty-five or nigh, Place in crust-bound earthen vase, quickly then apply Calorific rays until the temp'rature is high ; Intersect the outer crust and a portion raise ; Hark! the feathered choristers are chanting hymns of

praise ! Wasn't that a sight to fill the monarch with amaze ? Rex was in his business room at the iron chest, Accurately estimating coin that he possessed ;

Fair Regina, striving hunger's cravings to appease, Ate with bread a product of the industry of bees; A servant in the garden hung apparel out to dry : Watched by an ebon-tinted bird, escaped the pie; He, full of righteous wrath, a swift avenger proved, And quickly her nasal protuberance removed.

TO THE DESPONDING.

TAKE this for granted, once for

all

There is neither chance nor fate, And to sit and wait for the sky to fall,

Is to wait as the foolish wait.

The laurel, longed for, you must earn

It is not of the things men lend,
And though the lesson be hard to learn,

The sooner the better, my friend.
That another's head can have your crown

Is a judgment all untrue.
And to drag this man, or the other down,
Will not in the least raise you !

ALICE CARY.

A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD.

say
But if you look above the pines
You cannot see our God : and why?
And if you dig down in the mines

You never see Him in the gold ;
Though from Him all that glory shines.

God is so good, He wears a fold

Of heaven and earth across His face-
Like secrets kept, for love, untold.
But still I feel that His embrace

Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
Through.sight and sound of every place.
As if my tender mother laid

On my shut lids her kisses' pressure, Half-waking me at night, and said, "Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser ?"

MRS. BROWNING.

THE MODEL WOMAN.

I KNOW a woman wondrous fair

KNOW a woman wondrous fair

A model woman she
Who never runs her neighbors down

When she goes out to tea.
She never gossips after church

Of dresses or of hats ;
She never meets the sewing school

And joins them in their spats.
She never beats a salesman down,

Nor asks for pretty plaques ;
She never asks the thousand things

Which do his patience tax.
These statements may seem very strange

At least they may to some.
But just remember this, my friends-
This woman's deaf and dumb.

A WISÉLY ANONYMOUS MAN.

THE LIGHT THAT IS FELT.

A

TENDER child of summers three,

Seeking her little bed at night, Paused on the dark stair timidly. “Oh, mother! Take my hand,” said she,

“And then the dark will all be light.” We older children grope our way

From dark behind to dark before; And only when our hands we lay, Dear Lord, in Thine, the night is day

And there is darkness nevermore. Reach downward to the sunless days

Wherein our guides are blind as we, And faith is small and hope delays; Take Thou the hands of prayer we raise, And let us feel the light of Thee.

J. G. WHITTIER.

A CONTRAST.

I.
T her easel, brush in hand,
AT

Clad in silk attire,
Painting “sunsets,” vague and grand,

(Clumsy clouds of fire !)
Flaxen hair in shining sheaves ;

Pink and pearly skin ;
Fingers, which, like lily leaves,

Neither toil nor spin ;

At her belt a sun-flower bound,

Daisies on the table,
Plaques and panels all around-

That's ästhetic Mabel !

II.
In the kitchen, fork in hand,

Clad in coarse attire,
Dishing oysters, fried and panned,

From a blazing fire:
Dusty hair in frowsy knots ;-

Worn and withered skin ;
Fingers brown and hard as nuts,

(When the frosts begin ;)-
Baking-board, one side aground;

Wash-tub, on the other;
Pots and skillets all around,
That is Mabel's mother!

ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.

THE SMILE AND THE SIGH.

A
BEAUTIFUL babe in her cradle bed lay;

Her age might be reckoned by less than a day.
Two fairies stood watching her tiny clenched fist,
And rose-bud mouth that the angels had kissed.
Said one to the other, “ What fairer abode
Could heaven, in its bounty, on us have bestowed ?”
Said the other, “ None fairer; I claim her my own
By right of discovery: I came here alone."
“Ah, no," said the first," that cannot be true,
Since no one denies I'm the shadow of you.”

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