with the simile, "More beautiful than a black horse with white feet;" as well as that maxim, "The eye of a good horse serves for a tooth;" for as long as the eye flashes, there is no need to look for agemarks in the mouth. "If one, two, three, say you are an ass, put on a tail," is Spanish advice; and "A braying ass eats little hay," is Italian experience. And not to multiply canine, feline, and vulpine adages, we may give a specimen of Gallic lycanthropy, "Wolves do not eat each other.” This must be the effect of French civilization, for in Russia they have the reputation of being cannibals; and they have modified the proverb into, "Provender is scarce when the wolf eats his comrade." But there can be no doubt about the following: "The death of the wolf is the health of the sheep;" "When the wolf is dead, all the dogs give him a bite ;""Talk of the wolf, and you will see his tail;" "He who kennels with wolves must howl;" "Counted sheep are eaten by the wolf;" "The wolf is not so big as he is reported;" and, "The wolf will die in his skin."

As proverbs are meant to be portable, it is essential that they should be packed up in few words, and it is very desirable that they should assume the shape most convenient for the memory. Hence, in every language, a large number have taken the form of poetry; and, in the languages of Europe, they have extensively availed. themselves of the mnemonic aids supplied by rhyme and alliteration. "A cat may look at a king;" "He that comes unca'd sits unserved;" "Out of debt out of danger;" All is not gold that glitters;" "Time tries a';" are instances where much of the pith depends on that sort of initial rhyme so native to our tongue and so agreeable to the Scotch and English ears. Of rhymed endings the examples are equally abundant. In English, we have, “Safe bind safe find;" "A friend in need is a friend indeed;" "When the cat's away the mice will play ;" Early to bed and early to rise, is the way to be healthy, and wealthy, and wise;" "He who would thrive must rise at five;""He who has thriven may sleep till seven ;" and a multitude besides, but not more than can be paralleled in Dutch, Spanish, and German. The following may be regarded as having a universal reputation; most, if not all of them, being found, with occasional slight variations, throughout continental Europe,

All is not gold that glitters.
All keys do not hang at one girdle.
An old ox makes a straight furrow.
As you make your bed so you must lie on it.
Better alone than in bad company.
Better he envied than pitied.
Better bend than break.

Better late than never.

"Twixt the cup and the lip there's many a slip.
Claw me and I'll claw thee.
By night all cats are gray.
Empty vessels make most noise.
Every hair casts its shadow.
Everybody's friend is everybody's fool.
Every one for himself and God for us all.
Every one knows best where the shoe pinches
him.

Faint heart never won fair lady.
Four eyes see more than two.
God cures, and the doctor gets the thanks.
Get a good name and go to sleep.
God helps him who helps himself.
Good wine needs no crier.

He that lies down with dogs will get up with fleas.

Those who live in glass-houses should not throw stones.

Ill weeds grow apace.

It is an ill bird that fouls its own nest.
It is a wise child that knows its own father.
Like master like man.

Look not a gift-horse in the mouth.

Matthew Henry, in his Commentary on the Bible, abounds in proyerbs. And as we turn over the leaves of his "Exposition," so rich in sanctified wisdom, and through which there reigns such an atmosphere of perpetual summer, we cannot fail to recognize the frequent occurrence of these fruitful sayings, as one great element of our instruction and enjoyment. "When the wine is in the wit is out;" "The wicked cut their throats with their own tongues;" "Drive the nail that will go, and draw out that which goes amiss;" "Forecast is as good as work;" "To keep doing fairly and softly goes far in a day;" "Many a beau becomes a beggar ;" "God blesseth the giving hand, and makes it a getting hand," and similar sentences, flashing out from every page, some of them the old current coin of the realm, and others newly struck in the Henrican mint, surprise the reader by their vividness, and enrich him by their sterling solidity. Like

I

THE END OF A GOLDEN DREAM.

DREAMED that I returned home, a few evenings since, somewhat earlier than usual. The "wee ones" gathered around me in a group, and, sans ceremonie, commenced to rifle my pockets of what was in them, and felt sorely disappointed, as I could perceive, when they found such a small variety of coin. A profound silence was maintained on all sides for a few moments, when the oldest lassie, with all that presence of mind peculiar to her sex, particularly about money matters, assured the younger "riflers" that they should have more when papa made it. The word made immediately caught my ear, and, folding my arms, I paced the floor up and down, asking myself the question, "What is the difference between making and earning money?" To Webster I, of course, referred; but laid down the ponderous volume dissatisfied with the definition he gave of each word. I thought I knew more about the matter than the great lexicographer himself, (which, to be sure, was quite modest in me,) and at once came to the sage conclusion that it was only he who amassed a very large sum in a very short time who made money, and only he who toiled from morning until night, and sometimes from night until morning, who earned it. Impressed with this belief I betook me to my sanctum, and throwing myself into my old oak chair, made a resolution to lose no time, but set my wits to work to make money, hard, golden pieces; no paper trash would suit me. Yet how was I to do it? I gazed around me; I looked up at what used to be my greatest treasure, my books; but now they had no charms for me; I needed money! My eyes rested on the burning coals in the grate, and they glistened like so many lumps of the pure metal, ready for transmission to the Philadelphia mint, and I laughed a hearty laugh at the brilliant

but on the back of each was plainly stamped MONEY! Even the words Holy Bible appeared to me to read HARD MONEY!

"What does this mean?" I asked. "Surely these insignificant articles don't want to change masters. I might dispose of them; but the auctioneer's fees, and the advertising of their sale would swallow nearly all they would bring." Here I was aroused from my thoughts by the arrival of the evening papers. No sooner had I opened the first than my attention was attracted to a number of advertisements, some professing to cure incurable diseases, others to eradicate corns, and others to make hair grow on heads as sapless as mahogany chips. "Ha! ha!" roared I, as I cast the paper from me. I need no elixir to transmute stones into gold; I will invent a medicine to cure, or an ointment to heal, and make my fortune! It is infinitely better to do so than to speculate in real estate or stocks, having but little capital; and to start what Jones and I were speaking of, an Australian Quicksilver Mining Company, is at present not feasible, therefore I will confine myself to my patent medicine.

But here a new difficulty beset me. What was I to invent? What ill to which flesh is heir that has not, ere this, commanded the prayerful and earnest consideration of philanthropic men like me, and for which infallible remedies had not been discovered? I could not follow in any beaten path; I should come out with something original to take. I racked my brain, and I scratched my head, but all in vain; nothing new would turn up. Perseverance will, however, accomplish miracles, and at length I hit upon a most charming invention, could I only make it succeed. I was satisfied I could, and, before I properly considered it, I sat down and wrote the following advertisement, which I immediately forwarded to the daily papers:

TEETH FOR ALL!!!

THE OIL OF SALINOTERRENE.

I stood astounded, but was not to be baffled. I looked again up at the books;

PROFESSOR MUNGELESS, the world-renowned dentist, has just arrived in this City from Europe, where he has had the honor of being patronized by all the reigning Monarchs, from whom he received the highest testimonials for his invaluable Oil of Salinoterrene, which, after years of labor and research-years

Our heads are sometimes in heaven, contemplating the nature of God, the blessedness of saints, the state of eternity; while our hearts are held captive below, in a conversation earthly, sensual, devilish. It is possible we may sometimes commend virtue convincingly, unanswerably; and yet our own hearts be never affected by our own arguments; we may represent, vice in her native dress of horror, and yet our hearts be not at all startled with their own menaces; we may study and acquaint ourselves with all the truths of religion; and yet all this out of curiosity, or hypocrisy, or ostentation; not out of the power of godliness, or the serious purpose of good living. All which is a sufficient proof that the consent of the head and of the heart are two different things.

AIMING AT THE IMPOSSIBLE.

THE writer last quoted, in alluding to man's attempts to do what Christ declares to be an impossibility, that is, to serve two masters, thus advises:

Learn to be one man; that is, learn to live and act alike. For while we act from contrary principles, sometimes give, and sometimes defraud; sometimes love, and sometimes betray; sometimes are devout, and sometimes careless of God; this is to be two men, which is a foolish aim, and always ends in loss of pains. "No," says wise Epictetus; "learn to be one man:” thou mayest be a good man, or thou mayest be a bad man, and that to the purpose; but it is impossible that thou shouldest be both. And here the philosopher had the happiness to fall in exactly with the notion of the text: "We cannot serve two masters."

NOTES OF WARNING.

IN former days, on a dangerous rock on the coast of Scotland, a deep-toned bell was so placed as to be rung by the motion of the waves. To this warning bell Mrs. Hemans alludes in the lines:

When the tide's billowy swell

Had reach'd its height,

Then toll'd the Rock's lone bell

Sternly at night.

Far over cliff and surge

Swept the deep sound,
Making each wild wind's dirge
Still more profound.

Yet that funereal tone
The sailor bless'd,
Steering through darkness on
With fearless breast.

E'en so may we, that float

On life's wide sea,

Welcome each warning note, Stern though it be.

THE COMFORTER.

THE word Paraclete, from the Greek word used by Saint John to designate the third person of the Trinity, sounds strangely to English ears. Found in dictionaries, and used occasionally by poets, as in those lines of Charles Wesley,

O source of uncreated heat
The Father's promised Paraclete,

it has never taken root in the language. It VOL. XII.-34

sounds stiff, pedantic, un-English. On the contrary, as is well said by a writer in the Dublin University Magazine,

How gracious and tender, how divine, yet how English, is that word Comforter as the equivalent of the Paraclete in the latter part of St. John's Gospel. Yet most of us, perhaps, are not aware who it was to whom our language owed that glorious translation. Five hundred years has this word been passing from lip to lip, wherever English is spoken. It has been ascending in hymns and prayers, alike in the music of cathedrals and in the simplicity of family worship, by the giant flood of the Mississippi, in the plains of Australia, and beneath the palms of India. Who first employed the word that has sunk into so many hearts, and risen from so many lips? A poor priest, with bare feet and russet mantle; but that priest was John Wiclif!

HEAD WORK.

In

THE visible, from the nature of the case, takes precedence over the invisible. nothing is this more manifest than in the general appreciation of manual over intellectual toil. As has been well said:

Literary labor is undervalued, chiefly because the tools wherewith it is done are invisible. If the brain made as much noise as a mill, or if thought-sowing followed hard after a breaking-up plow, the produce of the mind would at once assert a place in the prices current. If a writer could be so equipped with wheels and pinions as to entirely conceal the man within, like the automaton chess-player, and sentences were recorded by a wooden, instead of a living hand, the expression of thought would be at a premium, because the clock-work would seem to show. that it cost something to make it.

CHARITY.

THERE is, at times, a remarkable point and pithiness in the moral teachings of the Eastern sages. A Persian thus relates an item in his own experience:

Having in my youth notions of severe piety, I used to rise in the night to watch, pray, and read the Koran. One night, when I was engaged in these exercises, my father, a man of practical virtue, awoke while I was reading. "Behold," said I to him, "other children are lost in irreligious slumber, while I alone wake to praise God." "Son of my soul," said he, "it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of your brethren."

ADMIRATION.

RUSKIN, in his "Elements of Drawing," has some very good practical advice. He says:

Never force yourself to admire anything when you are not in the humor; but never force yourself away from what you feel to be lovely in search of anything better, and gradually the deeper scenes of the natural world will unfold themselves to you in still increasing fullness of passionate power, and your difficulty will be no more to seek or compose subjects, but only to choose one from among the multitude of melodious thoughts with which you will be haunted; thoughts which will of course be noble or original in proportion to your own depth of character and general power of