Mistime. 
At a recent spiritual sitting in this city 
there was present a woman who mourned the 
loss of her consort; and, as the manifestations 
began to respond, the spirit of the departed 
Benedict appeared upon the scene. Of course 
the widow was now anxious to engage in con¬ 
versation with the absent one, and the follow¬ 
ing dialogue ensued: Widow—“Are you in 
the spirit world ?” The Lamented—“ I am.” 
Widow—“ How long have j-ou been there?” 
The Lamented—‘‘0 ! some time.” Widow— 
“ Don’t you want to come back and be with 
your lonely wife?” The Lamented—“Not if 
I know myself 1 It’s hot enough here.” 
Dieij Right. —“ I hab hearn,” said a colored 
preacher, while enforcing the duty of liberality 
on his congregation, “ ob many a church what 
hab died bekase it gib away too little for de 
Lord; but I neber hearn ob gny what died 
bekase it gib away too much. If any ob you 
know ob any church ob dis kind what died 
from liberality, jes tell me where it is. and I 
will make a pilgrimage to it, and by de soft 
light ob de pale moon I will crawl up on its 
tnoss-cobored roof, and write upon its topmost 
shingle, ‘ Blessed am de dead what die in de 
Lord.’ ” 
We had a maid in our family once who, in 
the place she was last, spent the most of her 
time reading novels to her sick mistress, and 
so acquired a stock of long words, with but a 
dim idea of their meaning. She used to amuse 
us very much by her misapplied jaw-breakers. 
One day she came in out of breath:' “ 0/ 
ina’ain, there’s aboy out there abusing George, 
calling him the most upronious epitaphs." 
Another day she said, “ I prevailed on George 
to take his overcoat, ma’am, but he wouldn’t.” 
** Dak are,” said a sable orator, “ two roads 
through dis world. De one am de broad and 
narrow road dat leads to perdition, an’ de udder 
am de narrow an’ de broad road dat leads to 
sure destruction.” “If dat am de case,” said 
a sable hearer, “ dis eullucl individual takes to 
de woods.” 
A gent, while passing through Vicksburg, 
was struck by a sign in front of an auction 
store. As he was not very badly hurt, he 
stopped and copied said sign verbatim. Here 
it is: 
“ Waggir. Fur Sail 
Cheep Fur Kash.” 
When Arthur was a very small boy his 
mother reprimanded him one day for some 
misdemeanor. Not knowing it, his father be¬ 
gan to talk to him on the same subject. Look¬ 
ing up in his face, Arthur said, solemnly, “ My 
mother has ’tended to me." 
An old lady called at a drug store in this 
city the other day, and breathlessly remarked, 
“There! I have serenaded all the way down 
here to get a receipt prescribed, and disremem- 
ber the combustibles.” 
“ Kepatomeataterin.” —This was the note 
sent by a farmer to a school-teacher in the 
potato-digging season, to explain his boy’s ab¬ 
sence from school. 
The Future.—T he future is always fairy¬ 
land to the young. Life is like a beautiful and 
winding lane; on either side bright flowers, 
and beautiful butterflies, and tempting fruits, 
which we scarcely pause to admire and to 
taste, so eager are we to hasten to an opening 
which we imagine will be more beautiful still. 
But, by degrees, as we advance the trees grow 
bleak, the flowers and butterflies fail, the 
fruits disappear, and we find wo have arrived, 
to roach a desert waste; in the centre, a 
stagnant and lethean lake, over which wheel 
and shriek the dark-winged birds, the em¬ 
bodied memories of the past. 
The art of being happy lies in the power of 
extracting happiness from common things. If 
we pilch our expectations liigli, if we are arro¬ 
gant in our pretensions, if we will not be 
happy except when our self-love is gratified, 
our prido stimulated, our vanity fed, ora fierce 
excitement kindled, then wo shall have but 
little satisfaction out of this life. 
Two persons who have chosen each other 
out of all the species, with the design to be 
each other's mutual comfort and entertain¬ 
ment, have, in that action, bound themselves 
to be good humored, affable, discreet, forgiv¬ 
ing, pa.i no and joyful, with respect to each 
other’s frailties and imperfections, to the end 
of their lives.— Addison. 
In middle life we hesitate to sit in judgment 
upon any one; we read slowly and reverently 
the untranslated scripture of another’s heart; 
but in youth we are confident, and assign 
motives and intentions as glibly as children 
pretend to read nursery tales which they have 
learned by rote.— Celia Burleigh. 
Good, kind, true, holy words, dropped in 
conversation, may be little thought of, but 
they are like seeds of flowers or fruitful tree 
falling by the wayside, borne by some birds 
alar ; haply, therefore, to fringe with beauty 
some barren mountain side, or to make glad 
some lonely wilderness. 
Choose Good Friends.—T here is nothing 
which contributes more to the sweetness of 
life than friendship; there is nothing which 
disturbs our repose more than friends, if we 
have not the discernment to choose them well. 
No man is born into the world whose work 
is not bora with him; there is always work 
and tools to work with for all those who 
will, aud blessed are the heavy hands of all 
toil.— Lowell. 
Almost the best rule of life is to be worthy 
of one’s self. : —/S'. P. Herron. 
Solitude shows us what we should be; 
society shows us what we are.—Cecil. 
Partial culture runs to the ornate; extreme 
culture to simplicitjc— Bovee. 
That is true plenty, not to have, but not 
to want, riches.— Si. Chrysostom. 
Every temptation is. great or small aocoru- 
ing as the man is.— Jeremy Taylor. 
BY GEItALD MASSEY. 
A little flower so lowly grew, 
So lonely was it left, 
That Heaven looked like an eye of bine 
Down in its rocky cleft. 
What could tho little Flower do 
In such a darksome place, 
But try to reach that eye of blue 
Aud climb to kiss Heaven’s face 1 
And there’s no life so lone an d low 
But strength may still be given 
From narrowest lot on earth to grow 
The straighter up to Heaven. 
If the world seems cold to you, 
Kindle fires to warm it I 
Let their comfort hide from view 
Winters that deform it. 
Hearts as frozen as your own 
To that radiance gather; 
You will soon forget to moan, 
“ Ah 1 the cheerless weather.” 
If the world’s a wilderness, 
Go! build houses in it! 
Will it help your loneliness 
On the winds to din it ? 
liaise a hut, however slight, 
Weeds and brambles smother. 
And to roof and meal invite 
Some forlorner brother. 
If the world’s a vale of tears. 
Smile till rainbows span it! 
Breathe the love that life endears! 
Clear from clouds to fan it. 
Of your gladness lend a gleam 
Unto souls that shiver; 
Show them how dark Sorrow’s stream 
Blends with Hope’s bright river. 
Nay, speak no ill; a kindly word 
Can never leave a sting behind: 
And, oh ! to breathe each tale we’ve he£ 
Is far beneath a noble mind; 
For oft a better seed is sown 
By choosins: thus a kinder plan; 
For if but little good we’ve known. 
Let’s speak of all the good we can. 
Give me the heart that fain would hide, 
Would fain another’s fault efface; 
How can it please our human pride 
To prove humanity but base ? 
Ho, let it reach a higher mode, 
A nobler estimate of man ; 
Be earnest in the search of good, 
And speak of all the best we can. 
Then speak no ill, but lenient be 
To other’s feelings as your own; 
If you’re the first a fault to see, 
Be not the first to make it known. 
For life is but a passing food; 
No lip can tell how brief the stay; 
Be earnest in the search of good, 
And speak of all the best we may. 
Babes and Angels grudge no praise; 
But elder souls, to whom His saving ways 
Are open, fearless take 
Their portion, hear the Grace, and no meet answer 
make. 
