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GOOD LIFE, LONG LIFE. 
He liretli long who llveth well; 
All else is life hut flung away; 
He liveth longest who can tell 
Of true things truly done each day. 
Then fill each hour with what will last; 
Buy up the moments as they go* 
The life above, when this is past, 
Is the ripe fruit of life below. 
Sow love and taste its fruitage pure; 
Sow peace and reap its harvest bright; 
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor, 
And And a harvest-home of light. 
and between his spasms of laughter he mumbled 
something about a pun. Our friend, who was now 
the centre of attraction, repeated all his exercises, 
much to the delight and good humor of everybody. 
Here are some proverbs which Alphonse Karr says 
are Russian: “If you are a mushroom let them 
put you in a basket. Debts are not noisy, but 
they keep one awake. One is not loved because 
he is handsome, but handsome because he is beloved. 
Make friends with the bear, but keep hold of your 
hatchet.” 
COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
A foreigner is seated in 
his room poring over a 
French and English diction¬ 
ary. He is swamped in the 
intricacies of our language. 
He has rumpled his hair so 
much that it stands on an 
end with perplexity. At 
last he gets an exercise book 
and asks for advice from his 
landlady in broken English. 
The landlady, in her vain 
attempts to make him un¬ 
derstand, raises her voice to 
a high key, and then sud¬ 
denly lowers it as the thought 
occurs to her that he is not 
deaf. Why do we raise our 
voices in such cases? After 
several months’ practice, our 
friend translates into English 
the following sentences: 
“My dog is cold. My hat 
is wet. The dog’s legs are 
weary. Beer is good. The 
judge is happy.” 
For more advanced les- - 
sons: 
“The boy is full of cake. 
The long-tailed coat was 
made by a tailor. (He is 
puzzled here. He does not 
see how Hailed’ can be the 
past tense of tailor.) Is the 
haymaker well ? Have you 
seen my aunt’s umbrella f 
Let us walk by the mill, and 
look at the dammed water.” 
(Puzzled again.) 
Our friend blundered at 
the breakfast table next 
morning. He turned to a 
young lady next to him and 
casually remarked, as if he 
were referring to the weath¬ 
er, “Have you seen my 
aunt’s umbrella ? ” 
The young lady looked 
surprised, and said she had 
not. He followed this ob¬ 
servation with the remark: “The judge is happy.” 
Everybody laughed and looked at a little fat man who 
was supping soup. It was Judge Dox. 
Our foreigner was now so elated with satisfaction at 
his mastery of the English language that he said: 
“ Let us walk by the mill and looked at the dammed 
water.” Again everybody laughed, and the little fat 
Judge snorted so much soup into the upper part of his 
head that he had a fit of coughing ten minutes long, 
Come Birdie, Come. 
A Young Lady said to her beau, after fifteen years’ 
courtship: “Charles, I am going out of town to¬ 
morrow.” “Where?” “ I don’t know.” “What are you 
going for ?” “I am going to look for something which 
you have not, never had, and yet can give me without 
loss to yourself.” “ You’re welcome to it, I am sure, 
but what is it ?” “ A husband.” “ Why, you might 
have had that fifteen years ago, if you had only said 
the word, but I was afraid to ask you the question.” 
Shoe Latin. —A shoemaker in England who had an 
education of which he was not a little proud, wrote out as 
his motto in Latin, and set it up in his shop window, 
the words “mens conscia recti,” which, as most of our 
readers understand, signifies “ a mind conscious of 
right,” or in other words, “ a good conscience.” The 
man who kept a shoe store on the other side of the 
street, thinking this must be a new name for a shoe, 
and determined not to be outdone, set up in his win¬ 
dow the notice, “Men’s and Women’s Conscia Recti.” 
A Peddler calling on an old lady to dispose of 
some goods, inquired of her 
if she could tell him of any 
road which no peddler had 
travelled. “Yes,” replied 
she, “I know of one, and 
that’s the road to heaven.” 
A Three-year-old 
youngster saw a drunken 
man “tacking” through the 
street. “Mother,” said he, 
“did God make that man?” 
She replied in the affirma¬ 
tive. The little fellow re¬ 
flected for a moment, and 
then exclaimed, “I wouldn’t 
have done it.” 
The Alpine Horn.— 
The Alpine horn is an in¬ 
strument made of the bark 
of a cherry tree, and, like a 
speaking trumpet, is used to 
convey sounds to a great 
distance. When the last 
rays of the sun gild the sum¬ 
mit of the Alps, the shep¬ 
herd who inhabits the high¬ 
est peak of these mountains 
takes his horn and cries with 
a loud voice, “Praised be the 
Lord!’’ As soon as the 
neighboring shepherds hear 
him, they leave their huts 
and repeat these words. 
The sounds are prolonged 
many minutes, while the 
echoes of the rocks repeat 
the name of God. Imagina¬ 
tion cannot picture anything 
more solemn or sublime than 
such a scene. During the 
silence that succeeds, the 
shepherds bend their knees 
and pray in the open air, 
then repair to their huts to 
rest. The sunlight gilding 
the tops of these stupendous 
mountains upon which the 
vault of heaven seems to 
rest, the magnificent scenery 
around, and the voices of 
the shepherds sounding from 
rock to rock the praise of the 
Almighty, fill the mind of every traveller with enthu¬ 
siasm and awe. 
Talmudic Proverbs. 
Even when the gates of prayer are shut in heaven, 
those of tears are open. 
The reward of good works is like dates—sweet and 
ripening late. 
To slander is to murder. 
