- Conguer Thyself, "Tis a good thing sometimes to be alone, Bit calmly down and look self in the face, Ransack the heart, search every secret place; Prayful uproot the baneful seeds there sown, Pluck out the weeds ere the full erop is grown, Gird up the loins afresh, to run the race, Foster all noble thoughts, cast out the base Thrust forth the bad and make the good thine own. Who has the courage thus to look within ? | The foe may harass, but can ne'er surprise Or over him ignoble conquest win, Oh, doubt it not if thou wonidst wear the erown, Self, baer self, must first be trampled John down {shha The Old Farmer's Elegy. On a green, grassy knoll, by the banks of brook, thu FRIED Ix VOLUME XIV. That so long and so often has watered his flock, The old farmer rests in } X long and last sleep, While the waters a low, lapsing lullaby keg No morn shall awake him to labor again, ! Yon tree, that with fragrance 1s Alling the aly, | So rich with its blossom By his own hand was planted; and well did he | na so thrifty § BAY, i would live when AWAY, He has plowed his bs last grain; No morn shall awake hin 3 hack 3 lantar ha Hs plantar nad i It There's the well that he dug, cold, ith its wel, dripping bucket, old, No more from drawn, For the * pitcher is broken, gone, He has plowed fs last farroy last grain; No mor n shall awake him to lal "Twas a gloamy-giving day when the okd farmer The stout-hearted mourned, cried And th BRN, For they 0 He has plowed his fast grain: No morn shall f } i A NARROW ESCAPE. I