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DON’T TAKE IT TO HEART. 
There’s many a trouble 
Would break like a bubble, 
And into the waters of Lethe depart, 
Did not we rehearse it, 
And tenderly nurse it, 
And give it a permanent place in 
the heart. 
There’s many a sorrow 
Would vanish to-morrow, 
Were we but willing to furnish 
the wings ; 
So sadly intruding, 
And quietly brooding, 
It hatches out all sorts of horri¬ 
ble things. 
How welcome the seeming 
Of looks that are beaming, 
Whether one’s wealthy or wheth¬ 
er one’s poor ! 
Eyes bright as a bei’ry, 
Cheeks red as a cherry, 
The groan, and the curse, and 
the heartache can cure. 
Resolved to be merry, 
All worry to ferry 
Across the famed waters that bid 
us forget, 
And no longer fearful, 
But happy and cheerful, 
We feel life has much that’s 
worth living for yet. 
—Georoiana C. Clark. 
A SUCCESSFUL HOTEL 
KEEPER. 
There is an interesting story 
of a king who was fond of chil¬ 
dren, and took great delight in 
playing with little children; one 
day a courtier entered the king’s 
presence unannounced andfound 
the king playing and rollicking 
with his happy little ones upon 
the floor; nothing abashed,, the 
king looked up and asked of the 
courtier, “Are you a father'?” The courtier re¬ 
plied, “ I am! ” “ Then,” said the king, “ I will 
keep on with my play.” 
Now, we find in a Carson paper quite a compli¬ 
mentary notice of the proprietor of the famed “ Orms- 
by House ” at Carson City, and we feel it a pleasure 
to copy this pleasant compliment to Mr. Pantlind, 
who is, like the king, fond of children, and we will 
certainly crown him, for the happy little one’s sake, 
“King of hotel keepers in that region of Washoe 
zephyrs and snow-storms.” 
Here is the notice we copy from the Carson paper : 
“ PANTLIND TO THE FRONT. 
n Friend Pantlind, of the Ormsby House, besides 
being a live business man and enterprising citizen, 
is a great lover of children, and would walk fifty 
miles to do them a service or conduce to their plea¬ 
CRADLE SONG. 
A mother sang beside her little child, 
Who, knowing not the meaning of the strain, 
Still gazed on her with eyes wide open mild, 
And listened, pleased with cadence and refrain. 
“ Only the pure in heart see God.” 
Those were the words the singing mother said, 
As in the firelight laughing baby played. 
From day to day this was her 
household hymn. 
As shadows of the evening gath¬ 
ered there, 
As through the twilight showed 
the homestead dim, 
Her song wing-like did seem to 
cleave the air : 
“ Only the pure in heart see 
God.” 
It floated up to some altar place, 
Where spirits gaze for aye upon 
God’s face. 
The mother’s .spirit passed into 
the boy, 
Grafting upon his soul her cra¬ 
dle words. 
As old birds teach their offspring 
to employ 
Their tuneful throats to imi¬ 
tate the birds : 
“Only the pure in heart see 
God.” 
As thrushes teach their young the 
thrush’s lays, 
She taught her deathless one a 
hymn of praise. 
It bore its peaceful harvest to the 
child ; 
In all the thoughtful after¬ 
years of life 
It often stilled tfie raging unrest 
wild 
That frets the spirit in our 
worldly strife : 
“ Only the pure in heart see 
God.” 
It sometimes gave the wounded 
spirit rest. 
When heavily with many cares 
oppressed. 
It ran for aye a cool, life-giving 
rill, 
Sparkling and sweet and hidden in the heart. 
And sometimes seemed to overflow and fill 
His life ; sometimes it seemed to roll : 
“Only the pure in heart see God.” 
A stream of brightness from a high, far throne, 
Whose beauty was for him alone. 
A very little boy had one day done wrong, and 
he was sent, after maternal correction, to ask in se¬ 
cret the forgiveness of his Heavenly Father. His 
offence was passion. Anxious to hear what he would 
say, his mother followed to the door of the room. In 
lisping accents she heard him ask to be made better ; 
and then, with childlike simplicity, he added: “ Lord, 
make ma’s temper better, too.” 
sure. Some time ago he promised the scholars ot 
the South Ward school (Miss Woods, teacher) a sleigh- 
ride the first time an opportunity afforded. He 
proved true to his word, for this afternoon he came 
out with a four-in-hand, with Hank Monk as piloter, 
and coasted the youngsters all over the city. The 
little ones were perfectly delighted, and filled the air 
with joyous shouts, and bid defiance to the storm- 
“Go ’Way.” 
king. Right in the centre of the happy throng stood 
Pant, just the biggest and the happiest boy of the lot. 
A man who loves children will do to tie to, and is 
bound to succeed in the journey of life. Woe to the 
man who speaks ill of Pant in the presence of the 
South Ward youngsters!” 
Some one sought to comfort a mother who had 
lost her little boy by reminding her that he was then 
happy with the saints in bliss. “ Oh ! yes,” cried the 
afflicted mother, “ but Tommy always was a shy boy, 
and lie’s now among perfect strangers.” 
Toodles’ notice of the death of his little friend is 
very affecting: 
No more will taffy candy please him, 
No more will dysentery seize him, 
No more will paregoric ease him. 
Little Mike. 
