WORTH WHILE,
Can the flower Jook sunward pnd lovelier
grow ¥ ay
Comes not more than mere color with life's
overflow 2
Come not sweetest of odors to float through
the breeze?
With the long days “of summer amid’ the
green trees?
Can the river forget the spring in the
helght
Where mem’ry gleams, mountain-like,glis-
tening and white? .
Does not infancy fasten its touch on the
boy
1s not man more a man for the earlier joy ?
Oh ! flowers that look upward, oh ! rivers
and trees,
Ye mountains in distance, what messages
these ?
All tell the old story, the story of life,
Sometimes a carnival, sometimes a strife;
But out of the fighting as out of the earth,
The buds of rejoicing and victory have
birth.
Is not sleep the sweeter that soothes weary
eyes?
Are not stars the brighter that shine from
dark skies? Ce
Is not living best lived that most of life is
Is not life most of life that is nearest to
Hig
Nearest His whose life is the truest of all?
The life that is light with no darkness at
¥
Nearest His whose life is the light and the
way,
pa nile.
alway.”
doue is thiv—“0 am wiih
Whe you
of who slumber
awhile,
irs for above
stile,
Ye are singing a song, the song of the soul
That, fet*ered so off, yet speeds towards its
goal,
Man's spirit immortal gaios highest of skies
Whose wings most are tried cre upwards
Oh! the weary
Mite
i
Oh lst us that sparkle and
he lies.
AE SIRT
“A WOMAN'SLOYVE."
“1 can’t imagine, Estelle, how you
came to be so decidedly plain; beauty is
rather a characteristic of our family.”
[Tere Mare Darcy glanced with a satis-
fied air at lds handsome face reflected
in an opposite mirror, while a slight
flush arose tothe dark, almost swarthy,
cheek of the young girl seated vis-a-vis
to hmm, and the delicately shaped
hands trembled slightly as they sought
to continue the work they were occu-
pied with.
ss] believe vou favor your father?"
contmued the gentleman, J
“Yes, Lam like my father. He was
not handsome, but so noble, so good.
Iwas so proud of lum, Inpever thought
about his looks. 1 am sorry, more for
your sake than mine, that 1 am not
beautiful. Your wife should be, but
Marc——" with a quick, impulsive
motion, the young girl bent down be-
side her betrothed and laid her dips ca-
ressingly to his hand, adding:
“Fou will not love me the less?
You who are so handsome, who could
have chosen from so many, yet asked
me to be your wife. You are all the
world to me, Marc. No one could
love you more than 1.”
With rather an uneasy laugh, Mac
Darcy, placing his arm about his com-
panion, replied:
“Tears. Estelle? Why, what kas
come over yeu? It just happened to
strike me that it was rather strange
vou were not as beautiful as the rest of
the women in our family, but thea you
have some redeeming points. Pretty
eyes and good teeth—no small item
toward good looks, I can assure yeu,
wy dear.”
A pleased cok crossed Estelle’s face
at the last words of her intended, and
twining both arms about his neck «he
said:
“* And you don’t mind it 50 very much
if I am plain? You will always love
me?”
“+f course 1 shall,” came the reply,
as Mare kissed her lightly on the fore-
head, adding, half laughingly:
“Perhaps, Estelle, 1 shall put yeur
love to the test some day. Will it {ail
;me, I wonder?”
Raising her head from its resting
place upon Marc’s shoulder, Estelle’s
eyes sought his.
There was a strange intensity «dn
their dark depths and she answeged
slowly, as if weighing each word:
“1. do not think you quite understaad
me, or my love for you, Mare. It is
as the breath of my life; vet if ever
came to believe that it was for your
happicess for me to give you up, {
would do so at any cost to myself.”
Before Mare could reply, Estelle had
passed quickly from the room. .
selecterla cigarette from a handsomely-
embroidered case, thinking;
**What a strange girl Estelle is, She
is right. 1 don’t kelieve I do under-
stand her, poor little thing, how earn-
est she js. I should not have spoken
about her plainness; but there it is,
thete is ne denying t. However, as
she is to be say wife, [ suppose I shall
Jave to make the best.of it. I'll buy
Jer the handsomest bragelet 1 can find
far a pease-affering.’”’
Mare Darcy was an only son, Hand-
some as ahi Adonis, with @ fascinating
mawner, which, svken he chose to exer-
cise it, few could resist, Mrs. Darcy
had Been left a widow with consider-
able property, but her son’sextravagant
drains npon ber purse had greatly re-
duced ker income,
Maze was not by aw weans a bad
fellow, hut simply se ind ulgent
toward himself, Estelle Merten was
the daughter of 3 comsin of Mrs,
Jarcy’s, On the death of her father,
which oceurzed about Sighteen pniha
before my 0 Estel
taken a at Kenn the
home of Mrs, Darcy. Aunt t,
as Estelle always called her, was her
only velati
ons
woman, although
minded, with but dne engrossing idea—
S01. :
Estelle had been an inmate of Mrs,
home only a few weeks before
t to the widow, how
woul if Marc and Hstelle
ps jo pressing poser!
ea Toy
off out o une
she was an As Estelle’s hus.
band, Marc's future would be
for, and when ber tune came #he would
boy.
Estelle was a passionate admirer’ of
beauty, and, almost ere she was con-
scious of it, she loved Mare with her
whole soul, and Mare at his mother’s
instigations had carelessly drifted into
the situation of Estelle’s lover.
Of too noblé a nature to see aught
but the good in others, Estelie never
dreamed that it might be her money,
and not herself, that had induced Marc
to choose her for his wife, Some few
weeks after the opening of our story
found Mrs. Darcy and Estelle seated
at breakfast, Marc had run up to town
for a day or two, As Estelle returned
a letter she had just been reading to its
envelope, Mrs. Darcy remarked ;
From your triend, is it not, dear?”
Does she say when we may expect
her?’
“ Yes, she writes we may look for
her to-morrow, by the 2:40 train, Oh!
aunt ! think how sad it is for her, left
alone so young ; only 17, and obliged to
earp her own living, I am so glad you
are willing I should ask her here for a
few weeks, She is sobright and pretty,
I cannot imagine Inez being sorrowful.
me—it was only my money,’’ seemed to
stab itself into her heart,
Fighting with her despair, the strick-
en woman cried out, unselfish even in
her agony:
“Mare! Mare! my husband!
make you happy if'1 could!”
They were nearing their journey’s
end, and Mare had perceived no differ-
ence in his wife. His thoughts were
elsewhere. Had they nof been he
would have seen how pale and thin she
had grown, and that never of her own
accorfl did ber lips caress him,
Then came the night when they were
startled from their sleep by the cry of
danger, ‘
Women shrieked and clapsed their
little ones to their breasts, while men,
white to the lips, hurried on deck to be
driven back by the wild flerceness of
the storig. Waves like gigantic moun-
tains hurled themselves against the
ship, under which she staggersd and
reeled and righted herself again, only
to be struck down anew. :
Valiantly the good boat fought her
fight against the deep. Mast after
mast was torn away, till she lay bare,
trembling hike a wounded human, at
the mercy of the angry waters, She
I would
We will try and make it very pleasant
for her, won't we, aunt?”
“Of course, my dear,” answered
Mrs, Darcy. -* I always wish to make
my guests happy and comfortable,”
and thus the subject was dismissed for
then.
The following week Marc arrived
one afternoon at home. In his care-
less manner, he had omitted to send
word of his return; consequently Murs,
Darcy and Estelle were out, returning
calls.
Learning this from one of the serv-
ants, Marc made his way to the west
drawing-room, the coziest room in the
house, Opening the door, he stood
transfixed upon its threshold, A young
girl was reclining, fast asleep, on the
One dimpled arm, bare to the elbow,
while one tiny hand rested under the
baby chin. Soft, floss-like hair curled
in golden rings about the white fore-
head and fair neck.
With an exclamation of surprise,
Mare turned to go; at which a pair of
bewildered blue eves opened and gazed
had sprung a leak. All night the men
| worked at the pumps, cheered by their
{ brave captain, who told them they must
{ be close to the Dover cliffs, and they
might yet all reach the shore in safety.
Inez clung trembling to Mare, while
Estelle, calm and collected, moved
about amongst the women, helping
with a ready hand.
Little children grew quiet at her
touch, and wmathers ceased to bewail
their fale,
Mare never forgot the pale graudeur
of his wife's face as she passed to and
fro amongst all the confusion
Towards dawn the storm abated
somewhat, but a dense fog enveloped
them like a shroud,
{ At last the order was given to man
lifeboats, Sobbing women and
frightened children were quickly lifted
over the ship's side; while warm-hearted
sailors bade them cheer up, for land
wis close at hand,
As they lowered the last boat Es-
telle, laying her nand upon her hus-
band’s sim, sald:
“Marc, if anything sboulll happen Wo
i the
questioningly at him. Then hastily
springing from her recumbent position,
the young girl stood blushing before
him.
As Marc made his apologies, she
terrupled with :
“Oh! I know. You are the gentle-
man Estelle is engaged to; then I don’t
mind. It’s pot so bad as if you had
been astranger. How you scared me,’
Here one little dimple, then another,
crept forth, till a merry peal of laugh-
ter rippled through the room, in which
Mure joined.
When Mrs, Darey and Estelle
turned they found Inez, for it was she,
and Mare chatting away like old friends,
In spite of Inez’s recent loss, which
dated only two months back, her child-
ish, mirth-loving nature could take no
hold of sorrow. Her tears were like
April showers, quickly over.
ii
having spent most of her life at board-
ing-echool. Mr. Cline had been a self
ish, pleasure-loving man, who took but
hittie thought of his motherless child;
lived close up to his iocome, leaving
Inez penniless at Lis death,
she owed to Estelle’s generosity.
The weeks slipped by, and still Inez
remained a guest at Sunnyside, At
first she talked a good deal of going
out asgoverness, but later on she ceased
to do so.
Somehow Estelle and Mare were very
seldom alone these days. Inez, with
her pretty, helpless ways, contrived to
monopolize a great deal of Marc's time,
Yet Estelle was pleased that it should
be so.
In her noble heart there was no room
for jealousy. No thought that Inez,
with her saucy, kittenish ways, might
win her lover from her. Her faith and
trust in Mare were perfect.
The wedding day drew nigh. Inez
was to be bridesmaid, and then Es-
telle with her warm impulsive nature
had proposed that she should accom-
pary them to Europe on their bridal
tour, and Inez had clapped her hands
like a cehild, exclaiming:
“Oh, if I only could! How I should
like it!” Mrs, Darcy, wisor than the
rest, perhaps, had judged it best for
Inez to remain with her; but Inez had
pouted and come as near showing
temper as such a weak little creature
could, and had gained her way.
It was decided that she should
company the bridal pair,
Marc and Estelle were man and wife,
and the steamer was bearing them on
teward England's shores. Inez, too
sick to move and wishing herself Lack
on land, was in her state-room, with
ever thoughtful Estelle tending and
petting her, rewarding ber busband
with a fond smile whenever he came
to inquire after the sick girl, How
good of him, Estelle thought, when he
so disliked the sight of sickness or
anything unpleasant,
It wie Mare who carried Inez on
deck aud arranged the ruge and pil
lows, bearing with her whisas when
Estelle grew almost indignant at her
friend's peevishness toward her hus-
band. .
One evening Estelle, suffering from
a severe headache, retired early to her
state-room, but finding the air below
very close she seturned to the deck.
Seeking ber husband and Inez she
drew near the wheel-house, Suddenly
she paused and stood still as if turned
to stone. In the shadow of the wheel.
house were her husband and Inez
Inez’s golden head lay apes his breast,
aud there was a fond ring to Mares
tones that Estelle had never heard be-
fore as he uttered these words:
“For God's sake stop y little
one! You will drive me . You
know that 1 love you as 1 never loved
Estelle, but I was forced to marry her,
If I bad been rich then I could have
ygolt, but as it was it would
ing
AC»
Jlennd folly.”
Noe ay the ps of the woman
whose heart had been crushed
by these words of her husband,
onl
us she blindly groped her way back x
me, I want you to believe thal my
| greatest wish was for your happiness.
| You once said that perhaps some day
{ you would put my love to the test,
| You wondered if it would fal you.
{ It shall not fail you. Mare, my hus-
! band, kiss me just once as—as if you
| loved me. ”’
| “Estelle! my wile, I and Mare
{clasped his wife to heart with
| something of the love that should have
| been hers from the first, For a mo-
i ment she clung to him; then gently
| withdrawing herself from his arms, she
sald:
| “See, Inez is faint.
her, 1 am strong—now,
{ myself.”
| The little crowd pressed eagerly for-
| ward, and were rapidly lowered to their
i places, The captain was the last to
{quit the ship. Wich fast - look
to see that none were left he
| drew his hand quickly across his eyes
odash away the tears that would come
t the thought of the fate of the good
| ship that had carried him in safety for
| many a year. Then, dropping into the
| boat, he gave the word to pull off.
In the darkness and hurry none bad
| missed the gentle woman who had come
i forted them all in their boar of need.
| Estelle’s husband, to do him justice,
| believed hex safe in the boat with them
| all; but, instead, she stood alone upon
the deck of the now ‘ast sinking ship,
her eyes trying to pierce the darkness
that hid the man she loved better than
her life forever from her sight.
Alone! no, not quite. Something
touched her hand. It was Carlo, ber
hushand’s great Newfoundland dog.
Patting him, she pointed to the water
and bade him go; but be only whined
and licked her hand. Then Estelle
kpelt down upon the deck and with
her head resting upon her faithfal
friend's shagey coat awaited her fate.
Almost at the same moment as the
last life-boat was drawn up on the
beach by eager, willing bands, the
great ship, with one heavy toss, went
dowa into the mighty deep, and Mare
Darcy learned too late the value of a
true woman's love.
I TOC OR
his
Take care «
I cansee tl
of
ane
Con tesy at Home,
i
written or spoken. ‘['bere is an Orien-
tal iegend of a poor Arab, who on going
through the desert, met with a spark].
ing spring. Accustomed to brackish
water, a draught from this sweet well
in the wilderness seemed, in his simple
mind, a fit present to the Caliph, So
he filled the leathern bottle, and, after
a weary tramp, laid his gift at his
sovereign's feet, The monarch called
for a cup and drank freely, and then
with a smile, thanked the Arab, and
presented lnm with a magnificent
reward. The courtiers pressed eagerly
around for adraught of the wonderful
water which was regarded as worth
such a princely acknowledment To
their surprise, the Caliph forbade them
go touch a drop, Then, after the
simple<hearted giver left the roval
presence, with a new spring of joy
welling up in his heart, the monarch
explained his motive of prohibition,
“During the long journey the water in
his leathern bottle had become impure
and distasteful; but it was an offeri
of love, and as such I accepted it wi
pleasure, I feared, liowever, that if I
allowed another to taste it he would
not conceal his disgust. Therefore it
was that 1 forbade you to partake, lest
the heart of the poor man would be
wounded.” W or. not our
courtesy would equal tnat of the Arab
we all instinctively applaud so noble an
instance of courtesy.
“I DONT care,
the cabin the thought, “He never loved
flouse Purnshin®.
A lady of limited nieans, but of rare
taste, whose touch molded almost every-
thing into something beautiful, and
whose success in all practical matters
pertaining to everyday home life made
er an oracle to the young and inex.
perienced, recently sald: ‘I have never
coveted any lady's jewels, silks and
laces, or even her position in ‘society;
but I am afraid I have sadly broken the
Tenth commandment when I have seen
the beautiful, well-ordered homes of
my frienas, where every department
seemed complete and filled with all that
could be desired for health, comfort and
beauty,” There are thousands of la-
dies with the same longings, and who,
if they have an extra five dollars, would
much rather spend it for home decora~
tion than on dress for themselves, It
is possible with limited income to
make a very modest home more at-
tractive than a much richer one, and
its influence on the family, especially
upon children, cannot be estimated.
Such a home does more to form the
character for good than the teachings
or discipline of parents, We would like
occasionally to help those trying to
make pleasant, cheery homes, who have
not the means to employ a professional
decorator, but whose own heads and
hands must design and do all, For
their comforts we would say: A home
where the furnishing of each room has
been thought olt, and perhaps worked
out by mother and daughters, has a
value to father and sons far beyond one
committed to some stranger to ‘‘fur-
nish throughout as stylish as possible,”
at any cost, Its influence does not
cease when it is broken up, but reaches
down through generations in other
homes,
Harmony of color is of the first im-
portance in furnishing. Not that car-
pet, walls, curtains, chairs, ete,, should
be of the same color; that would make
a room cold and uninviting. There
should be two or three colors in a room
but these should barmouize., If one is
conscious that she has no eye for color,
she should consult some one of known
taste before purchasing articles which,
although by themselves might be desir-
able, would perhaps if placed with
others spoil the effect of the whole,
and be a disappointment to be endured
for years, A carpet, for instance,
should not be purchased without con-
sidering what the color of the pant is;
Land of the sofge and chairs, if
they upholstered. A carpet is
like background of a picture;
it brings effect the whole.
Styles for earpets have entirely changed
within a few years, Patterns of huge
bouquets of impossible flowers used to
be seen almost everywhere; now a
very small, set figure, so small as-w
look almost like a plain color at a little
distance, is in much better taste. This
may be enlivened by a border of bright
The lovely pearl and gray
grounds, with vines or tracery of a
darker shade, and bright borders of
Perstan patterns are very desirable and
look well with almost evervthing, The
fashion of staining floors black-walnut
color for a yard or more around the
walls, and having a square of bordered
carpet in the center, is gaining ground
and much liked for the pretty style and
the convenience of taking it up for
cleaning. There are now plain, ingrain
carpetings, in solid colors, called *“'&l-
which are used around these
rugs, instead of staining the
floor. We have seen parlors carpeted
with dark, turqueise-biue filing, with
Persian rugs over them, not in any set
or regular order, The effect was very
good,
Curtains are a very important part of
furnishing, Of course there must be
shades. There ought to be doapery,
however simple; no one thing adds
more to the pleasant cheery look of a
room. Shades are now rarely white,
but tinted, either gray, cream or old
gold color, They should never be of a
very deep shade, Many use red for the
dintog-room, but that color is better
suited to rome public place. A fringe
about two and one-half inches wide fin-
ishes the bottom. For drapery there
are many beautiful and artistic pat-
terns in Nottingham lace, which is
low-priced and durable. They may be
selected to look so like real lace that
they can hardly be distipguished from
it. The xellowish tint should be chosen
and in light patterns. Linen scrim
with inserting and edging of guipure
lace, is always handsome, Simple
cheese cloth, piain or figured muslin, or
cretonne, are all pretty. Heavy fabrics
should be used only in large and richly
furnished rooms, They may be used
with good effect for portieres, to hide
or replace a door, or {o separale rooms,
Heavy lambrequing are pot in style,
Curtains are hung with rings on poles
of bLirass or wood, and the lambrequin,
if any, is straight across, marrow or
broad, embroidered or trimmed with
fringe, or it may be a simple plaiting.
Mantel lambrequins are a plain scarf
across the front, with decorated ends
hanging low. There is often, as a
background for ornaments above the
mantel, a curtain, plain or plated, of
the material of the Iambrequin, about
haif a yard wide, hung upon a rod with
rings. This may be of velvet paper,
beaded by a narrow gilt molding.
Halls are rio longer the barren entrances
to the home, but are a part of it, OW
and quaint chairs look well here, and if
tere 18 a window, a drapery curtain
with a large plant on a small stand is
very pretty. An ornamental umbrella
stand is often seen in halls, instead of
the old heavy marble top stand,
Ems I OS i
=
are
th
0
nwo
colors,
ling,
center
The Woman -Hasband.
A correspondent at Waupun, got a
carriage recently and started om a
search for Frank Dubois and Gertie
Fuller, finding them after much trouble
at the Bristow farm-house, Repeated
knocks brought Mr, Bristow to the
door, who admitted the correspondent
into the sitting-rootm, couple were
gtified that company was awaiting
weir appearance below, but they re.
Tne i I ran A ny
hit to bear, however, w
resulted in thelr yice, Dubois
a y © person. 4
feet, 11 inches ln height, weishs about
100 pounds, ad hag »
bigs, a fuil
ehiest, short mms and very small and
slender hands aud feet,
known as Mrs, Dubois Gertie Fuller—
is apparently about 17 years oid, about
Dubois’ height, and is rather a pretty
blonde, with dark hair. She was in
tears and appeared greatly distressed
when the question of her husband’s sex
was mentioned. Dubois was uneasy
and cast nervous glances toward the
door, and the small hands were worked
and twisted in apparent mental agony.
Her features, small and delicate, and
her face, smooth and beardless, ap-
seared to be those of a lad of 19 years,
Wrinkies under the eyes, teeth badly
or two gray hairs
suggested the possibility that she might
be a woman of 40 years, Dubois
stoutly persisted that she was a man,
“Oh, Frank, for God’s sake, tell all
and have it over at this moment!” ex-
claimed the young and pretty wife,
tears streaming down her face.
decayed, and one
bling lip, and in a moment bugst into
tears. **It is true,” she said at last and
then endeavored to leave the room, but
she was finally induced to tell her story.
She said she was really Mrs. Hudson,
and had tired of her husband and fam-
ily, and determined to lose all identity
guise of nan,
“My husband,’’ said Lhe {female hus-
baud, “went to Illinois last spring. I
jramediately assumed male attire and
went to Wanpun, where | had pre-
viously met and admired Gertie Fuller.
1 courted her, and we were married—
she not knowing me to be a wolnal
until the night after the ceremony was
performed, I then induced herto keep
silent. wlich she has While
living with my husband, I helped him
support the family—peddiing soaps and
compounding extracts, which I disposed
of. I was thus led {o depend 1
self, and when 1 took !
ders the support of Gertie, 1 felt fully
able to carry the burden. 1 pupered
painted, and made and sold exty
and we were happy.
ing to move to Elgin, lilinois, when
my Lusband came upon the scene.
After he came to the house, 1 concealed
myself for the tire itl
done,
ana taen
train for Brandon, Gertie remaining at
the house of a friend, and following on
‘Tuesday to Brandon, where we stopped
at the house of an acquaintance, coming
here on Tuesday evening. 1 will
return to live with Hudson, and jwopose
to wear pants, and sinoke, and earn my
living as a man.”’
Mrs. Dubois, or,
Gertie Fuller, appeared
broken, sobbing continuously during
the recital of the story. She, however,
confirmed the statement. She said hex
parent resided in Waupun, where her
father and brother were engaged in the
nursery business, Sne had married
Frank Dubois, or Mrs, Hudson, and
had on the night their i
discovered that her husband
own sex. They had agreed fo live 1
gether and had done so, It was an
affair of their own and nobody was con-
cerned but themselves, They proposed
to go to Fou du lac arrange to
move to Hllinois as was intended,
the sensational story was
the parties were both wi
Notwithstanding the apparent frank-
more propery,
ot
1
naen,
parties, there is evidently something
connected which they will
public except when eompelled to do so
by the strong arm of the law.
Hudson as the husband, wields a pow-
erful influence over the young girl, who
is wedded, out not a wife--au i#uence
far more powertul than would be pos-
sible for one woman to wield
seat
LEH
together than those existing belween
the Hudson woman and Gertrude Faller
The couple expressed a determination
to go to Fon du Lac immediately.
——
The Vigaro,
The Figaro, of Paris, is a mighty
power on the continent ot Europe, Its
earlier years were years of struggle and
poverly, but its profits last year were
over $500,000, No journalhssa bolder,
more talented editorial staff, and no pa-
per is mote widely quoted, praised and
blamed. M. De Villemessant, a born
journalist, was the founder of the Figa-
ro. For along time he was editor-in-
chief, head reporter and business mana
ger of his journal. When he died this
work was parceled out among three men,
Magnard, Perivier and Rodays. To
these three men De Villemessant said
on his dying bed: ‘Always make up the
paper as though you knew I was going
to read it the next morning.” The
placing of this triumvirate at the head
of the Figaro was a wise selection.
Magnard originated the piquant epitome
headed *‘Paris from Day to Day”—a
column made up of many articles con-
densed from the newspapers of the pre.
ceding day. Each paragraph is short,
terse and to the point—the quintessence
of common sense and condensation,
Magnard’s leaders are signed “F, M.»
and never exceed forty lines of lo
primer. This phenomenal Rall
a man the size and build of General
Grant, and is apparently about 44 years
of age. He is highly educated, a severe
judge of “copy,” and is withal a
pleasant gentleman, The staff of edi-
torial writers is quite numerous. One
of the writers, M. Wolff, earnsas much
as $15,000 4 year. He is the dramatic
eritie. On this journal reporters receive
from six to twenty cents a line. The
editorial rooms are fitted up with every
luxury and convenience, embracing
fencing rooms, card tables, ete. An
American would not consider the Figa-
ro oa great newspaper, but it certainly
displays more enterprise in the collection
ot hei than any ht Journal io Pu
'y goes everywh rea
with as much pleasure on our
coast, in South America, and the
of Good H in short, all over
sivitined , 88 it Is in the Parisian
i vOOD FOR THOUGHT,
| Good manners are made up of petty
| sacrifices,
Energy well directed
the mark,
Man must become wise by his own
experience,
Bix days of labor makes the seventh
comfortable,
What a rich man uses and gives con.
stitutes his wealth,
A man’s wisdom is his best friend,
folly his worst enemy.
If any man offend not in word, the
same is a perfect man,
He that doeth nothing, hath little
time for anything else,
Have a place for everyihing,
everything in its place.
Heaven will be the sweet surprise of
a perfect explanation.
He that maketh haste to be
i shall not be innocent,
We often do more good by our sy mp-
athy than by our labors.
Eccentricity is often used as a high
sounding title for a fool.
Luck 1s first utenant in
pany of Captain Sncee
People who have more
principle, use it lavishls
never misses
and
rich
the com
Lay thy plans with pruden
prepared for emergencies,
What we need 5 10
up a philosophy of pray
Do all the good in
let every action be usef
DIay
Zeal without ¥
pedition to a man i
One should seek for «
13478
Cultivate thy mi
be a store of pleasin
Value tl
stands by 3
Knaves il where
plainness knows not how to live,
hn all difficulties patient,
overcome them by perseverance.
It is our own vanity that makes
vanity of others intolerable to us,
(Greatness lies nol in bel
but in the right using of strengt
Pride is seldom delicate
teelf with every mean advantage,
thrive
L$
thie
; nian sas ’ 2d hs
Great hearts alone, understand bow
inch glory there is in being good.
is with i
IOUS,
he
Our actions must cist
immortality loathsome ¢r 2
TT ‘ z al x
There is always
{ shine; it 18 the shadow of «
He who wishes ure the good of
has already secured his own.
To be happy is the purpose
our being, bul to preserve DApPPIness.
4 BPOL 10 OuX
JUTSeIVes,
haar
oLhers
tres forever to
i the sentinel,
The virtue which re
be guarded is scarce
A man
dough without leave 1
A round of pleasure s
ders it difficult to make
To be happy wi
nature, and carry our age along
us,
Be not sorry if
but be
nen,
A silent
whisper to you
nity.
The largest
given to any man 1s
right.
It is one of the
| friendship to tell your friend of 1}
! faults,
{ The power to do great things gener-
| ally arises from the willingness to do
| small things,
Eternity is needed to adjust the ine-
| qualities of time; the good man cannot
| lose by dying.
| An humble knowledge of thyself is a
surer way to God than a deep search
after learning.
A failure establishes only this, that
out determination to succeed was not
strong enough.
Thought is the property of him who
can enter it, and of him who can ad-
equately place it.
Intemperance in aims 1s the source of
many” of the life-failures, which we
constantly witness,
If ye dowell, to your own behoof will
ye do it; and if ye do evil, against your-
| selves will ye do it.
She who will nol reason is a bigot;
she who cannot is a fool, and she who
dares not is a slave,
Tet us learn to appreciate and value
at their true price the little blessings
that come to us daily.
The effects of no man’s sins texmi-
pates with himselij often he involves
others in his own ruin.
Show me a people whose trade is
d by and 1 will show you a people
ea is a sham,
The life of man consists not in seeing
visions and in dreaming dreams, but in
active charity and willing service.
When you speak to a person look
him in the face. Good company and
good conversatson are the very sinews
of virtue,
alas : the truth, Make few
prom Ave up to your
ments. Keep your own secrets if you
have any.
A head properly constituted can ac-
commodate itself to whatever pillows
the vicissitudes ot torture may place
under it,
Mankind are too apt to julge of
things SOIHY. bY events, and to connect
wisdom with good forlune, and folly
with disaster. '
Lat those who would affect siy
wit ; ¥ AF
i. } ngular, |
ean understand people’s losing
ing too litle to tad, but T camnot
understand s :
too much to KH ng by trusting
Whatever your situation in life
i8 Ake
without ambition
) IGAKES IU Fas
pnetimes ren
thangs sat re
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wi
t know you
sorry if ignorant oi
hour stars may
aE
great thoughts of eter-
gr
liberty thal can ever be
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thertiy
verest tests
: hag rity
it determine to be yery
will bs sure to be
y on without ©
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