BETTER THAN GOLD. 
Better than grandeur, letter than gold, 
Than yanks and titles a thousand fold 
Is a healthy body and mind at ease. 
And simple pleasures that always please; 
A heart that can feel for another’s woe, 
And share its joys -with genial glow, 
With sympathies large enough to enfold, 
All n. I n as brothers, is better than gold. 
Better than gold is a conscience clear, 
ThOuJ*i toil for bread is a humble sphere, 
Doubly blessed with content and health, 
Untired by the lust or cares of wealth; 
Lowly living and lofty thought 
Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot; 
For mind and morals in nature’s plan. 
Are the genuine test of a gentleman. 
Better than gold is the sweet repose 
Better than gold is the poor man’s sleep, 
And the balm that drops in his slumber deep. 
Bring sleepy draughts to the downy bed 
Where luxury pillows its aching head, 
But he his simple opiate deems 
A shorter route to the land of dreams. 
Better than gold is the thinking mind, 
That in the realm of books can find 
A treasure surpassing Australian ore. 
And lire With the great and good of yore; 
The sage’s lore and the poet’s lay, 
The glories of empire pass away; 
The world’s great dream will thus enfold. 
And yield a pleasure better than gold. 
Better than old is a peaceful home, 
When all the fireside characters come, 
The |hrine of love, the heaven of life, 
Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife; 
Or trAd with sorrow by Heaven’s decree, 
The bossings that never were bought or sold, 
And center there, are better than gold. 
The peasant Spring, the joyous Spring! 
His cburse is onward now; 
He comes with sunlight on his wing. 
And beatty on his brow; 
His impuls^ thrills through rill and flood. 
And throbs along the main, 
'Tis stirring in the .king wood, 
.yid trembling e . Athe plain. 
—Qornelius Webbe. 
JJan Bogart’s Bear. 
BY FRANK S. FINN. 
Mrs. Bogart went to the window lor the 
tenth time and endeavored to peer out into 
the darkness of the night. For the tenth 
time did she exclaim: “Ido not see why 
he does not come, or what can have detain¬ 
ed him. I feel almost sure some accident 
has happened to him.” 
“What a fuss-budget you are, mother; 
said Roger Bogart, “just as though Dan 
wasn’t old enough, and able enough to take- 
care of himself. There are a thousand 
things might keep him. He probably got 
talking at the store and the time slipped 
away before lie thought; or he may be 
waiting in hopes to get a ride. So where’s 
the use of worrying?” 
“But if he doesn't get a ride, he will have 
t« come home through those lonesome, 
dreary woods—gloomy enough in the day¬ 
time, but doubly so at night—when it is as 
dark as it now is; and it seems to me a 
storm is coming on. Dan is not over-cour¬ 
ageous, and since he heard some one talk 
about bears being numerous he has been, 
more timid than ever. Can’t you go, Roger r 
and seek for him ? you claim to be afraid 
of nothing, and he will be so glad of your 
company home. Dan should have been 
sent to the store earlier, so he would bo 
home by light,” said Mrs. Bogart. 
“No, Roger cannot go,” replied her hus¬ 
band, “I don’t want Dan to be molly-cod¬ 
dled and made a silly baby of. He is timid 
*enough in all conscience, and I want him 
to overcome all this. I want him to ‘mako 
a man of himself’; to be ‘brave and bold’; 
and to be equal to all emergencies, and to 
overcome all obstacles. That is the way to 
bring up boys.” 
“Perhaps, Dan thought as it was so 
dark, he would stay with Sam Estes or 
Will Conway until morning,'’ said Roger, 
endeavoring! to quiet his mother, whom he 
saw was suffering terribly from anxiety.. 
“That is not a supposable case. I have 
always told him when he had errands to- 
do, to do them, and to let nothing stand in 
his way of accomplishing them. He 
wouldn’t dare to disobey me. I sent him 
at the time I did, and on such a night as I 
knew this to be, to test his coruage and to 
let him see he had nothing to be afraid of. 
When people are timid, I believe in knock¬ 
ing the nonsense out of them. Dan will be 
here ere long and I shall make him give a. 
strict account of the time he has been 
absent; and he must have a less allowance 
of supper for his unnecessary delay, if it 
was unnecessary. It is getting late and I’m 
tired and sleepy, so I’m going to bed; and 
its Sime you went too. Roger; for mind 
