which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to day than he was yesterday (Pope). The best of men who ever wore earth about him was a meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit ; the first true gentleman that ever breathed.—Decker.

The highway of the upright is to depart from evil. . Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right. . A foolish son is a grief to his father and a bitterness to her that bare him. . The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the backs of fools.—The Bible.

The fool hath said in his heart, "There is no God." Corrupt are they and have done abominable iniquity. . He that planted the ear, shall he not hear?. Thy word is very sure, therefore thy servant loveth it. . Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days. . Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. . A word spoken in due season, how good is it !-The Bible.

Men resemble the gods in nothing so much as in doing good to their fellow creatures (Cicero). Zeal for the public good is the characteristic of a man of honor and a gentleman, and must take the place of pleasures, profits, and all other private gratifications (Steele). Perish discretion, when it interferes with duty! (More). For they can conquer who believe they can.-Dryden.

He that ju tifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are an abomination to the Lord. . Thou hast set our iniquities beforn thee: our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. . The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom a good understanding have all they that do his commandments; his praise endureth forever.-The Bible.

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Vice is contagious: there is no trusting the sound and the sick together (Seneca). Vice, like disease, floats in the atmo sphere (Fletcher). Virtue never dwelt long with filth (Rumford). A singular fact-that when man is a brute, he is the most sensual and loathsome of all brutes (Hawthorne). The words sneak and snake are from the same old Saxon root (Eliot). Wherever the speech is corrupted so also is the mind.

The way of the wicked is as darkness: they know not at what they stumble. . Righteousness exalteth a nation: but sin is a reproach to any people. The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord: but the words of the pure are pleasant words. . In the way of righteousness is life; and in the pathway thereof there is no death.-The Bible.

The best hearts are ever the bravest, said my Uncle Toby (Sterne). There is no more potent antidote to low sensuality than the adoration of the beautiful (Schlegel). Even from the body's purity the mind receives secret sympathetic aid.

Virtue is that which must tip the preacher's tongue and the ruler's sceptre with authority (South). Such as thy words are, such will thy affections be; such thy deeds as thy affections; such thy life as thy deeds (Socrates). I would give nothing for the Christianity of a man whose very dog and cat were not better for his religion.-Rowland Hill.

God made the human body, and it is by far the most exquisite and wonderful organization which has come to us from the Divine hand. It is a study for one's whole life. If an undevout astronomer is mad, an undevout physiologist is still madder (Beecher). Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep (Milton). The mind is the atmosphere of the soul.-Foubert.

Vicious habits are so odious and degrading that they transform the individual who practices them into an incarnate demon (Cicero). Age has deformities enough of its own; do not add the deformity of vice (Cato). Modesty is the conscience of the body (Balzac). "One soweth and another reapeth" is a verity that applies to evil as well as good.

Blessed is the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted from the world! yet more blessed and more dear the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted in the world (Mrs. Jameson). Breed is stronger than pasture (Eliot). Moral beauty is the basis of all true beauty (Consin). Beauty is God's handwriting, a wayside sacrament.—Milton.

Behavior is a mirror in which every one shows his image (Goethe). Common sense, alas! in spite of our educational institutions, is a rare commodity (Bovee). Ye may be aye stickin' in a tree, Jock; it will be growin' when ye're sleepin' (Scotch Farmer). He who plants a tree plants a hope.

He prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small:
For the dear Lord that loveth us, He made and loveth all.
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make life, death, and that vast forever

One grand, sweet song. "A Farewell," Charles Kingsley.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

291.-WRECK OF THE HESPERUS.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

It was the schooner Hesperus,

That sailed the wintry sea;

And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,

And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now West, now South.

Then up and spake an old Sailòr,

Had sailed to the Spanish Main,

"I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.

"Last night, the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!"
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the Northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;

She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.

"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;

For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat
Against the stinging blast;

He cut a rope from a broken spar,
And bound her to the mast.

“O father! I hear the church-bells ring,
O say, what may it be?"

"T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!" And he steered for the open sea.

'O father! I hear the sound of guns, O say, what may it be?"

"Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!"

"O father! I see a gleaming light,

O say, what may it be?

But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be:

And she thought of Christ who stilled the wave,
On the Lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,

And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool;

But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair,

Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;

And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman's Woe!

292.-AT THE LAST.

JAS. B. BENSEE.

There must be something after all this woe;
A sweet fruition from the harrowed past;
Rest some day for this pacing to and fro;

A tender sunbeam and dear flowers at last.

There will be something when these days are done, Something more fair by far than starry nights— A prospect limitless, as one by one

Embodied castles crown the airy heights.

So cheer up, heart, and for that morrow wait!
Dream what you will, but press toward the dream;

Let fancy guide dull effort through the gate,

And face the current, would she cross the stream.
Then when that something lies athwart the way—
Coming unsought, as good things seem to do-
'Twill prove beneath the flash of setting day
A nobler meed than now would beckon you.

For lifted up by constant, forward strife,
Hope will attain so marvelous a height,
There can be nothing found within this life,
After this day to form a fitting night.