Mies’ fjfjmtwcut 
, EXPRESSION. 
It 1b not much that heart to heart 
Can tell In words of human speech; 
Its deep recesses lie apart 
Where only thought to thought can reach. 
That is not friendship which can aek 
And tell the best it seeks and gives ; 
That Is not love which can unmask 
Itself to anything that lives. 
The deeper motions of the eouJ 
Are never heard by human ear; 
That which we can not speak is all 
That we most truly hope or fear. 
[Springfield Republican. 
Written for Moore’s Bnral New-Yorker. 
SUMDEER VISITORS. 
This article is written with the hope that all who 
expect to entertain visitors during the present sea¬ 
son, and all who anticipate the felicity of being 
entertained, will give it a perusal. 
It is a really pleasant thing, as we housekeepers 
know very well, when the tolls and trials of house¬ 
cleaning are over and every room has been thor¬ 
oughly put to rights from cellar to garret,— when 
one’B neck no longer aches from whitewashing ceil¬ 
ings or one's arms from washing quilts and blankets 
in Doty’s Washer and running them through the 
Universal Wringer, an excellent easy way of cleans¬ 
ing them,— when all the winter clothing is packed 
away in chests of fragrant cedar and all the rags col¬ 
lected for rugs and the paper-rag man,— when you 
aint afraid to have any closet door in the house left 
carelessly open lest untidy bundles come into view,— 
it is a very pleasant thing to have company come and 
stay two or three days, and admire the order and 
perfection of your domestic arrangements, praise 
the taste you displayed in the selection of your new 
parlor paper, sip y«ur coffee and extol its flavor, in¬ 
quire how you made this cake, and what is your mode 
of cooking steak so nicely. Truly, the pleasure of 
dispensing hospitality, of seeing guests enjoying 
themeelveB in the atmosphere of comfort, cheer and 
domestic felicity thrown around them by your efforts, 
is indeed very great. We are never purely happy 
except in the reflected happiness of those around us, 
and a table full of beaming faces is as pleasant a 
sight as a housekeeper may wish to see, 
But right in the midst of it all your girl leaves you, 
and you don’t succeed in getting another one. Nev¬ 
ertheless, cooking and dishwashing and sweeping 
and dusting mast go on with cruel regularity. The 
baby left to herself more than Is usual gets, into all 
sorts of mischief. Yon catch sight of her dancing 
up and down in a mud puddle left by the last shower, 
her fresh clothes all bespattered and bedaubed, and 
you hurry out, with Bleeves rolled op and hands in 
dough and dishwater, to the rescue. By-and-by the 
dinner hour comes, and all flushed and weary you sit 
down — a cooked lady at the head of the table, prob¬ 
ably as thoroughly done for as any dish you have pro¬ 
vided. Your guests leisurely descend to the dining¬ 
room, cool, calm, unconscious o f fatigue. Ice j ingles 
in the glasses, savory steams the Btew or roast, the 
vegetables are done to a nicety, the pie is excellent, 
the fruit deliciously flavored, and the dinner a success. 
Towards Its close, refreshed by food, by pleasant 
conversation, by the rest of sitting still for an hour, 
your spirits begin to rally and you are happy in the 
consciousness of making others so. But the trial 
of your faith is in Btore for you. Hitherto the ex¬ 
citement of hope has kept you up. Now that is 
vanished, or rather has had its fruition, find there 
remain two tables full of dishes to be gathered up, 
washed and put away, the floors to he swept, aud 
nobody knows how many pots and kettles and spi¬ 
ders and broiling irons to be cleaned and hung up 
in place. 
As the last rustle of dainty skirt6 dies away from 
the dining-room, and your lady guests betake them¬ 
selves to the cool parlor or the breezy gallery, and 
in easy chairs with fans and 6toiy books or chatty 
talk pass the warm hours till it is cool enough to 
walk or ride abroad, don’t you half envy them? 
Saintly and angelic, entirely mper woman , is 6he 
who can lovingly and caressingly toy with her dish¬ 
cloth in hot water, and sport with her cup-towel 
over long rows of steaming plates, and not feel that 
this wearisome drudgery is not a heavy penalty 
attached to the delights of hospitality. Where is 
the woman that under such circumstances would 
not be quite willing to lend her guestB aprons and 
permit them to bear a part in clearing away and put¬ 
ting things to rights again ? Would she not feel, 
when, by their aid her work was quickly and easily 
done, that she was entertaining angels unawares V 
My dear lady visitor, instead of weeping after din¬ 
ner over the fancied woes of imaginary heroines, go 
down into the kitchen and alleviate the real woes of 
your sister hostess. Share the toil your presence 
imposes. The odor of dishwater on your hand6 will 
be more to your credit thau that of Phalon’s Night 
Blooming Cereus, though you needn’t retain it there; 
should some unlucky drops bespatter your frock 
they will be an honor to you rather than a reproach. 
Have compassion on her who is so solicitous for 
your enjoyment, and do not leave her to serve alone 
except it be to sit at the feet of the Great Master 
himself. Your assistance, 6light though it may be, 
will be gratefully appreciated, and you will feel that 
it is more blessed to give than to receive. * 
-■#-♦« • »!. »- 
BEAUTY. 
What is beauty after all P Each eye makes it for 
itself. You think Smith’6 lady-love raw-boned and 
hard-featured. He calls her a 4< magnificent woman,” 
and wonders what you see in your little angel with 
her baby face and stature. Bo it is the world over; 
and yet, we would each give something to be beau¬ 
tiful after our own fashion. How the powders and 
lotions which are to bestow upon poor billious mor¬ 
tals Bkin6 of satin and snow, and the hair-dyes and 
pomades, and cosmetics of all sorts, sell, we need 
not mention to prove the facts. In France, old ladies 
are being made over, at the co6t of half their for 
tunes. Yes, we all want to be beautiful; ami, if 
only our ideas of beauty were what they should be, 
we might accomplish our desire easily. Meekness 
and love make all faces pleasant. Were we good we 
should be beautiful. We all feel this. There are 
plain features so charming with the sparkle of 
good humor, that we love them, There are blem¬ 
ished faces so sweet that they are pleasanter to 
look upon than the most perfect. After all, it is in 
the expression that the actual charm lies. So that 
were some one to promise the secret of beauty for 
twenty-five cents and a post-paid envelope, he would 
scarcely be an impostor should be return the golden 
rale with instructions to learn and practice it. If 
we only could do this earnestly and truly for one 
generation, the next might wonder whether it were 
not a fable that such a thing as ugliness was ever 
known upon earth. 
E RIVER. 
Choose her fairer face, I do not reckon 
Man’s love such an estimable prize; 
Others are there who, did I but beckon, 
Would see all earth’s pleasure in mine eyes. 
Choose her, an thou carest, 
If her faee he fairest, 
Lo! my hatred growetb, and love dies. 
Yet remembrance one day like a painter 
May limn for thee such a scene as this; 
Were the odors of that May-time fainter; 
Was there lese of passion In my kiss ? 
On the stream reclining, 
See the lilies shining, 
As they shone through all those hours of bliss. 
PRACTICAL EDUCATION. 
Why have we, now-a-days, so many simpering, 
silly girls about, who know nothing, can do noth¬ 
ing, and are nothing? They have beeR at school 
long enough to get a little knowledge, and they do 
not appear to be wanting in natural capacity; and 
yet, so empty are they of sense and rellection, that, 
often when 1 look into their expressionless counte¬ 
nances, 1 find it difficult to believe in the immortality 
of their souls. It seems more reasonable to think 
that such abortive efforts of Nature would be qui¬ 
etly absorbed or dissipated, like the leaves which 
flutter to the ground, and are seen no more. 
What is the matter with tb esc poor creatures ? The 
matter is, they never have boiled potatoes, ironed 
clothes, made puddings, cleaned paint, made bed6, 
nor in any other way seriously applied their minds 
and hands to the exact and skillful performance of 
homely tasks. They have missed the precious edu¬ 
cation which comes of carefully done work. If any 
good soul would take half a dozen of these unfortu¬ 
nate beings and give them a good three years’ drill in 
the work of a well-ordered house, the educating 
effect would astonish every one who knew them. 
Y ou cannot boil an egg precisely right without get¬ 
ting a little education out of it .—James Parton. 
-- 
GOSSIPY PARAGRAPHS. 
It is said a young heiress is working incognito in 
one of the Meriden manufactories in Connecticut, in 
order to escape from fortune hunters, and be wooed 
and won for herself alone. 
A marriage between the eldest daughter of the 
King of Sweden and the heir presumptive of the 
throne of Denmark, which has been repeatedly 
spoken of, is at last definitely arranged. 
Mrs, 8towb, in her Chimney Corner papers, 
quotes the story of a young Methodist who felt that 
he had a call to preach, and who was crushed by the 
question of an elder, who asked, 11 Hast thou noticed 
whether people seem to have a call to hear thee V” 
A young lady— a sensible girl—gives the following 
catalogue of different kinds of loveThe 6 weetest, 
a mother’s love; the longest, a brother’s love; the 
strongest, a woman’s km ; the dearest, a man’s love; 
and the sweetest, longest, strongest, dearest love— 
a 'love of a bonnet.’ ” 
Woman is asserting her rights in France as well as 
in this country. The ladies have appeared on the 
French Bourse in great numbers, and buy and sell 
stock with a vigor and earnestness completely un¬ 
known to the less favored sex. In England they are 
subscribing liberally toward the election expenses of 
to eir special champions, and so will go to Parliament 
by proxy, if not in person. If our own ladies are 
not active, they will be completely outstripped by 
their transatlantic sisters. 
Dr. Holland, writing of his late voyage to 
Europe, alludes to some fellow passengers, one of 
whom was 11 a maiden lady on her way to Pari&witll 
a Jap dog in order to consult a physician there' 
touching her pet’s health.” He says The dog 
is sixteen years old. The lady desires that he may 
live until he is twenty-five. He has bronchitis and 
a cough. He is ugly. He looks like a dirty mop, 
but he is tenderly beloved by a woman who ought to 
be married and to have childveu to absorb her 
affections, fl’he affcctious of a spotless maid, the 
powers ol the immortal soul surrendered to a pup I” 
The ladies will scarcely forgive the Doctor for add¬ 
ing—“ After all, a woman may as well worship a dog 
as worship herself.” 
Can I pity her ? A fate scarce brighter 
Than my fate awaits her in the years: 
Now she deems thee true, when no heart lighter 
Ever played upon a maiden’s fears. 
Ere her doom be certain, 
Shall I draw the curtain, 
Show her all the future’s endless tears ? 
Rather would I have her never know it; 
Love, while love is lasting, is divine: 
I have lived and loved, as sings the poet ; 
I can gee thee change and make no sign. 
Hold the spring-flow’rs o’er her, 
In the years before her 
May she taste no bitter cup like mine! 
Clioicc 
Written for Moore’B Rural New-Yorker. 
BE HAPPY. 
Go out under the bright, glad sky; listen to the 
songs of the happy birds, the shout of dancing 
brooks; Bee how the sunlight glorifies hill and 
meadowland, and comes shimmering down through 
uncounted forest-leaves, these mellow, golden sum¬ 
mer-days. Turn your faces from the thronged city, 
forget a little while busy care, and let your soul 
thrill and glow under the wondrous touch of divine 
harmony that fills all nature. 
Ah, we love to think, as we look at the beautiful 
earth, that our Fatiiek made it all,— the same dear 
God who sends the clouds shifting over our paths 
sometimes, only to teach us how precious the sun¬ 
light is. These souls of ours were never made to 
be prisoned by high brick walls, to be shut in from 
the free glorious earth by plodding business cares. 
They cannot be happy thus; they must have space 
for development — they must have food; and by so 
much as they are higher, more Goo-like than our 
bodies, so much greater are their demands for cul¬ 
ture—a pure holy culture, befitting a being whom 
! the Almighty has created. They need associations 
that will call into full play all their infinite powers 
of comprehension, all that ardent devotion which a 
God of love has Implanted deep within the spirit’s 
holy of holies. 
The glad earth seems ever calling to an enjoyment 
of the all-true, and the all-beautiful. Morning after 
morning we know the rills clap their bandB for joy, 
away off in the greenwood, and the hearts of the 
tiny birds thrill and thrill, again and again, because 
they are glad. And we have so much more to make 
us happy, than they have,—so many hopes and 
loves that bird-hearts never know. How can we go 
up and down the highways with sad countenances, 
when the whole earth seems so happy! It seems 
like ingratitude to God to do 60. And our smiles 
and pleasant faces will bring such sunlight to other 
hearts, too: that alone can satisfy the true, loving 
soul. Gbacb G. Blough. 
Rochester, N. Y., July, 186S. 
- <«»♦ <» » 
SILENT TEACHERS. 
“ What! another liower, Tom; is not your win¬ 
dow-sill full already?” 
“ They don’t eat nor drink, bless ’em, and it does 
me and my wife good to look at ’em.” 
It was but a passing bit of conversation that I 
heard, and yet it set me thinking. The man with 
the flower-pot in his arm was a rough —no, I shall 
not say 11 rough he was a sturdy son of toil, and 
I was amused to hear his fervent blessing on his 
flowers. His acquaintance, who had expressed sur¬ 
prise at another flower in Tom’s possession, had 
pulled a short pipe out of his mouth when he 
spoke, and no doubt his love for tobacco cost him 
much more thau Tom’s love oi dowers. 'Alien as to 
the gain. The smoker would gain a dry, hot 
month, a foul breath, yellow teeth, sallow skin, 
dull eyes, drowsiness, and headache—that’s what 
his pipe would do for him, eveu if he did not drink. 
But Tcm with the flower would refresh his eyes 
with its bloom, and his smell with its sweetness, 
aud he would adorn his window with its beauty, and 
gladden his wife and his children by bringing them 
such a pretty gift. What innocent delight would 
they all feel in looking at it! And more than all 
that, they would learn something from the flower. 
It would tell them of the wisdom and love of God; 
how he sent these beautiful flowers into the world 
to please the eye of man: 
“ To comfort man, to whisper hope 
Whene'er his faith grows dim, 
For who so careth for the (lowers 
Will much more care for him.” 
I think flowers teach neatness and order. The 
wife and children like to have a clean room, so that 
the flower, in its purity and grace, may not shame 
them. And then, too, a poor man likes to feel that 
he has an ornament in his dwelling similar to that 
which a rich man chooses as the best embellishment 
of his drawing-room. The cottage and the mansion 
differ very much in structure and in furniture; not 
one article of furniture may at all resemble the 
other, but a pretty flower, carefully watered and 
tended, often blooms as well in a cottage as in a 
palace window.— British Workman. 
-—-- 
THE FLAW HUNTERS. 
Thhre are people who have a preternatural fac¬ 
ulty for detecting evil, or the appearance of evil, in 
every man’6 character. They have a fatal scent for 
carrion. Their memory is like a museum I once 
saw at a medical college, and illustrates all the hid¬ 
eous distortions, and monstrous growths, and re¬ 
volting diseases by which humanity can be troubled 
and afflicted. They thinkj they have a wonderful 
knowledge of human nature. But it is a blunder to 
mistake the Newgate Calendar for a biographical 
dictionary. 
A less offensive type of the same tendency leads 
some people to find apparent satisfaction in the dis¬ 
covery and proclamation of the slightest defects in 
the habits of good men, and the conduct of public 
institutions. They cannot talk about the benefits 
conferred by a gTeat hospital without lamenting some 
insignificant blot in its laws, and some trifling want 
of prudence in its management. Speak to them 
about a man whose good works everybody is admir¬ 
ing, and they cool your w ardor by regretting that he 
is so rough in his manner or so smooth — that his 
temper is 60 hasty, or that he is so fond of applause. 
They seem to hold a brief, requiring them to prove 
the impossibility of human perfection. They detect 
the slightest alloy in the pure gold of human good¬ 
ness. That there are spots in the 6un is, with them, 
something more thun an observed fact—it takes 
rank with a priori and necessary truths. 
Ihere are people who, if they hear an organ, find 
out at once which are the poorest stops. If they 
listen to a great speaker, they remember nothing 
but some 6lip in the construction of a sentence, the 
consistency of a metaphor, or the evolutions of aa 
argument. While their friends are admiring the 
wealth and beauty of a tree whose branches are 
weighed down with fruit, they have discovered a 
solitary bough, lost in the golden affluence, on 
which nothiag is hanging. 
Poor Hazlitt was sorely troubled with them in his 
time. “ Littleness," he said, 41 is their element, and 
they give a character of meaning to whatever they 
touch. They creep, buzz and fly-blow. It is much 
easier to crush thaD to catch these troublesome in¬ 
sects ; and when they are in your power, your self- 
respect spares them ."—Good Words. 
-^« > » »» » - 
HOW TO BECOME A MILLIONAIRE. 
The writer of an article in the Galaxy on the New 
York Millionaires thus sums up what is to be done 
by a man who would join the order: 
You must be a very able man, as nearly all million¬ 
aires are. 
You must devote your life to the getting and 
keeping of other men’s earnings. 
You muBt eat the bread of carefulness and you 
must rise early and lie down late. 
You must care little or nothing about other men’s 
wauts, or sufferings or disappointments. 
You must not mind it that your great wealth 
Involves many other’s poverty. 
You must not give away money except for a 
material equivalent. 
You must not go meandering about nature, nor 
spend your time enjoying air, earth, sky and water; 
for there is no money in it. 
You must not distract your thought from the 
great purpose of your life with the charms of art and 
literature. 
You must not let philosophy or religion engross 
you during this secular time. 
You must not allew yonr wife or children to 
occupy much of your valuable time or thoughts. 
Yon must never permit the fascinations of friend¬ 
ship to inveigle you into making loans, however 
small. 
You must abandon all other ambitions or purposes; 
and, finally— 
You must he prepared to sacrifice ease and all 
fanciful notions you may have about tastes, and 
luxuries, and enjoyments, during most, if not all of 
your natural life. 
If you think the game is worth the candle, you 
can die rich— 60 me of you can. 
-♦< « - »». -»- 
WISDOM IN BRIEF. 
Piety, prudence, wit and civility are the elements 
of true nobility. 
When God means to punish a nation he deprives 
the rulers of wisdom. 
Time marks the title page of onr lives, death the 
finis, and the grave becomes the binding. 
Glory is well enough for a rich man, but is or 
very little consequence to a poor man with a large 
family. 
Law has been called a bottomless pit, not so much 
because of its depth, as that its windings are so 
obscure nobody can see the end. 
Over all movements of life religion scatters her 
favors, but reserves the choicest, her divine bless¬ 
ings, for the last hour. 
A character which combines the love of enjoy¬ 
ment with the love of duty, and the ability to 
perform it, iB the one whose unfoldiugs give the 
greatest promise of perfection. 
Small minds easily find objects, trifles amuse 
them; but a high soul covers things beyond its 
daily reach; trifles occupy its aim mechanically; the 
thought still wanders restless.— Ihdwer. 
Goodness of heart is man’s best treasure, his 
brightest honor, and wisest acquisition. It is a ray 
of divinity that dignifies humanity, attracts admira¬ 
tion, and assimilates him to his Creator, but, like 
pure gold, is liable to be counterfeited. 
When I see leaves drop from their trees in the 
beginning of autumn, just such, think 1, is the 
friendship of the world. While the sap of mainten¬ 
ance lasts, my friends swarm in abundance, but, in 
the winter of my need, they leave me naked. He is 
a happy man that hath a true friend at his need; but 
he is*more truly happy that hath no need of his 
friends. 
TRUST. 
And when we meet true friends. Oh I must we darken 
Their hearts and ours by doubting and distrust? 
To cold suspicion’s whispers ever hearken, 
Too timid to be generous and just 1 
No, never;— we would say trust, but trust slowly; 
Clasp not each hand: believe not every smile; 
Be sure the offering js sincere and holy. 
Undimmed by selfishness, unstained by guile. 
Then trust. Believe no more the mocking story, 
Which says all love deceives and then departs, 
For there are richeB and exceeding glory 
In the affections of pare, earnest hearts. 
Forget them not—the loving and true-hearted 
Who, ail too early, left the friendly band; 
Forget them not, be sure the dear deponed 
Do not forget you in the spirit-land. 
Fear not to leave their futare in the keeping 
Of that beet Friend ” who doeth all things well 
Trust Him, trust them; and still the voice of weeping 
By thinking of the country where they dwell. 
Virginia. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 
“ You are now at the foot of the hill, old man, 
At last at the foot of the hill.” 
8o sings the poet. Why is it, I wonder, that the 
aged are thus spoken of? At the foot of the hill ? 
11 1 love the man ol early years 
Who turns with reverence above, 
Acknowledging the 4 God of love.’ ” 
Such an one, we feel, is surely trying to 44 climb up 
Zlon’6 Hill.” He feels that to reach those bright 
mansions he must look up; aud not only look up, 
hut his course must be upward. He must be stead¬ 
ily ascending. The darker aud more rugged the 
path, with the more fervent zeal will he press on, 
until we see him 
“ The man of riper years, 
With love supreme, and faith in God, 
Who sinks not ’neath the chastening rod." 
Then his way is certainly up, and upward still. I 
fancy him up so near to the 44 Celestial City” 
that he can now and then catch a glimpse of the 
44 light in the window. ” He feels his Father's 
house is still up and ahead. Shall we call him now 
at the top of the hill, and start him down on the 
other side, where this hill he has been all his life 
climbing must rise up betwixt him and all those 
pleasant memories of his childhood days that the 
aged are so fond of recalling, and forever hide from 
his sight those great and fiery trials that it seemed 
at the time must bow him to the earth, each one of 
which he now feels to be a brighter star in his 
crown of rejoicing ? Oh no! for 
44 1 love the man of hoary hair, 
Who feels his race is almost ran, 
And seeB by faith the vict'ry won.” 
I love to still fancy him toiling upward. Though 
his steps be weary and slow, call him not back to 
earth. Give him a 44 cup of cold water,” and send 
him on refreshed. Even now be may hear faint 
echos from the songs of the redeemed. Those man¬ 
sions shine bright, right before him. A few more 
days of upward toiling and you will be there, oh, 
weary traveler! There is a robe of righteousness 
awaiting you. 44 And they shall walk with me in 
white,—for they are worthy." So says onr Priest 
and King. Nell. 
THE DISOrPT.mE OF SORROW. 
Ip the block of marble that lies before the sculptor 
was capable of feeling, how it would deplore and 
bemoan every stroke of the hammer, chipping off 
piece after piece of substance. It would deem its 
lot a pitiable one indeed. Yet that hammer and 
chisel are transforming the rough and shapeless 
stone into a form of life, grace and beauty fit to 
adorn the palace of a king. 
8o it is with us. Onr characters are like unhewn 
blocks of marble, rude, misshapen, comparatively 
worthless. And God is sculpturing them into forms 
of divine symmetry aud beauty, that may forever 
illustrate to the Universe the power of His grace. 
The heavy block of adversity aud the rasping cares 
and petty annoyances of our daily life are hut dif¬ 
ferent parts of the same divine and loving process. 
And shall we look simply at the hammer and 
chisel, and doubt the glorifying work for which God 
is using them? Shall we think only of the chips 
which the blows of Iiis presence strike from us, and 
overlook the immortal characters which the Great 
Sculptor is seeking thus to perfect for His celestial 
temple ? 
-<» » > ♦< «»- 
WHAT GOD DOES IS BEST. 
A Rabbi reached a city late in the evening; the 
gates were shut, and he must sleep outside in the 
open air. What God does is the best for me, said 
the Rabbi, and laid himself down to rest. 
In the night a Btorm arose which extinguished the 
light of his lantern, and a lion came and devoured 
the ass on which he rode. Still the Rabbi said, What 
God does is best for me. 
At daylight he found that a band of robbers had 
plundered the city in the night and murdered the 
inhabitants. Said I not, continued the Rabbi, what 
God does is best for me? 
We sometimes learn in the mpmiDg why God put 
ub to inconvenience the night before.— The Talmud. 
-*« »♦♦ . » - 
The Way to Listen to the Gospel.— A gentle¬ 
man once said to Rowland Hill, l4 !t is sixty-five 
years Bince I first heard you preach, and the sermon 
was well worth remembering. You remarked that 
some people are very squeamish about the manner 
of a clergyman in preaching, hut you then added : 
4 Suppose one was hearing a will read, expecting to 
receive a legacy, would you employ the time In 
criticising the lawyer’s manner while reading it ? 
No; you would give all your interest to ascertain if 
anything were left to yourself, and how much. Let 
that, then, be the way in which you listen to the 
Gospel.'" 
-- »«»♦»« »- 
Perfection.— Christian perfection is the perfec¬ 
tion of love, of desire, of effort,— not the climax of 
attaintneni. A man can never be too righteous to 
grow,—not until a cedar can be too healthy and 
strong to grow,—too full of sap to put forth a new 
bud, expand a new leaf, start out a new bough, 
fashion a new cone, and enlarge its own trunk.— 1'hc 
Gospel in the Trees, by Alex. Clark. 
-- »«*♦»« » - 
• Don’t be Idle.— Rather do nothing to the pnr 
pose than be idle, t hat the devil may fiud thee doing. 
The bird that sits is easily shot, when flyers"escape 
the fowler. Idleness is the dead sea'that swallows 
virtues, and the self-made sepulchre of a living man. 
«r 
