22 miner's AMERICAN 



looks upon her loaded combs, as the reward of her toils, 

 and laughs at the raging winds and pitiless storms. 



But how stands the case with man — the being who 

 is made but a grade inferior to Angels ? Does he show 

 himself worthy of his vocation — does he even show him- 

 self equal to the little puny honey bee, in foresight of 

 those evils that delay, neglect, procrastination, inaction, 

 or downright laziness produce ? • 



For an answer, just cast your eye around. — In yon- 

 der hovel is a human being clothed in rags, surrounded 

 by a large family of children, who are crying for bread. 

 The emaciated mother, the unwilling victim of the fa- 

 ther's improvidence, is fast approaching the grave. Her 

 leaky tenement has, year after year, caused the seeds of 

 disease to germinate, and now friends call to console — 

 to alleviate ; it is too late. Ah ! how is this ? has this 

 man had his health — has he had the use of his limbs, in 

 this land of prosperity, where poverty need be known 

 only in name, to be thus impoverished, and to have his 

 house falling around his head ? Indeed, he has been 

 as hale and hearty as the most robust among us. He 

 is also an excellent workman, but he has never heeded 

 the old adage, " make hay while the sun shines ;" and 

 when winter comes, it finds him naked and penniless — 

 his children cold and hungry, and his wife without the 

 ordinary comforts of life. Would he but follow the ex- 

 ample of the little bee, and from her learn wisdom, pov- 

 erty would be banished from his door, and the bleak 

 winds of winter would bring no terrors, and their howl 

 would be music in the ears of the little fire-side group, 



