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from out the great world's rush and din There camC a guest; The inner court he entered in, And oat at rest. glow on the wild tide of affairs The gstes were closeil Afar the hungry host of cares At last reposed ¶1i"n through the dim doors of the past, All Iure of bl amm, Curne boyi.h memories floating fast lli3 mother's name. .#Ah! all this loud world calls the best I'd give," he said, 1'o feel her hand, on her dear breatd To lean my head. if cry within the crowned day, That would he jiv, Couil'l h,' but bear me far away, Olce More her boy." Thn's streagth is weakness, after all iHe ;toot! confh('.3erl; .NonC ijuite can still the heart's wild call, None quile uar ble: sed. Across the CeC that knows no fear A saei n weplt fast, As if s following ange' near ':hat momelnt 1 ased . The sacroi ,silence of the room Diid softly stir; A spleni'rIr vuew within tliC gloom of hey, ±'f h'r! Out to the great world'sirush and 4i1 Has g, C ry gue t; 'hie battle blamC, the preiise men win Are his-uot rest. Far out timil the earth's tarmuoils A strrirg m": 1 Et int , Upheld in tI jumiph anl in toils By uieeli hlands. lint who may lift with subtle wand The mot r > we wear ? I only kir 'w his mother's hand Is on iiis hair. I only know through all life's hnrma, 'Through s~in' alloy, Somnehow, si.newhere tist mother's arms Will reacth her hrbv. THE JT3H4E CItCLE. ffE NLEU OF FMIENDSHIP. :elfish an! drettul people, who feel that they have no friends, because they love none hut thieiiselves, and their yearning for iriends and love but adds to their fretful= iess.-"Jewell," in Iealth Topics. It is only the seltish and fretful who yearn forfriends and lov e? Yearn, but do not re veive? Away from society and friends; away from those who made our youthful days bright and pleasant; never to see them again, perhaps-only to hear that one after another is laid away for the long sleep; sep arated front youthful friends; unable, by circumstances beyond control. to form new friendships, is it to be wondered at that lennetinmes the patience and temper will give way and one will be fretful and appear sel ti h? It new friendships are formed it must be with those with whom we have no eon :geniality. Awi what are such friendships worth, who we instinctively feel have no sympathy with the finer and more elevated (lepartmients of nature? who are incapable of appreciating refinement of action or lan :guge? who meet every effort at selt-eleva tion, every endeavor to reach the "higher life," with a wrrd oYt ridiculer Some writer hras said, ' We have all the love and synpa thy we deserve. If these are not worth working for, we ought not to have them." flow can we week for them? By being gen tle, patient and loving, you would answer. 'l'oo often is it the case that those who should be the first to encourage are the ticst to deride, anl ,this continues till the heart gVOWs sick and the hands weary, long before the tuie conies to lay down the burden of life and he at rest; uwtil one feels "Wears` and tired of staying here Where hearts are so sellioh and cold,'' And that it. i aallno- inpossiole to Rear with the world as it is, Nor nurmer with tliugs as they are. A LOAD FROM HER HEART. A lovely kind of beatific happinmesa played for a umoament like sunshine on her lips, and then she whispered : 'Oh, George; Iike to hear you talk like that, you have been so good to me ! You have given nmve a diamonid locket, and a gold watch and chain. and rings that an angel rmight wear outside her gluves and not be ashamed ; and if 1 thought that one day you'd be sorry you'd given me all these nice things, and want them back again, 1 should break my heart!" Hle held her gently against his manly breast, and answered with quivering voice "Oh, my own darling, there is nothing on earth that could happen that would mnake we repent giving you a few tokens of my love, or make me want them back aguia." She sprung from his arms like a joyous deer, she shook back her sunny curls, and. with a whole poem in her hazel eyes, ex claimed: "Oh, George, you have taken a load from my heart! I've come to say that I can't marry you, after all. because I have seen somebody I like better, and I thought you'd want your presents back again." THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. He is above a low act. He cannot stoop to commit a fraud. Hle invades no secret in the keeping of another. Hle takes selfish advantage of no man's mistakes. H1te is ashamed of inuendoes. He uses no4gnoble weapons in controversy. Hle never stabs in the darik. lie is not one thing to a man's fact and another to his back. It by accident he comes into possession of his neighbor's counsels, he passes them into instant obliv ion. Hle bears sealed packages without tampering with the wax. Papers not meant for his eye, whether they flutter in at his window, or lie open before him in unregard ed exposure, are secret to him. Hle profanes no privacy of another however the sentry sleeps. Bolts and bars, locks and keys, bonds and securities, notices to trespassers, are not for him. He may be trusted out of sight-near the thinnest partition-any-. where. Hle buys no office, sells none, ia trigues for none. Hle would rather fail of his rights than win them through dishonor. Ile will eat honest bread. lie tramples on no sensitive feelings. Hle insults no man. If he has a rebuke for another he is straight forward, open and manly. He cannot ties centl to seurility. Billingsgate does not lie on his track. Of woman, and to her, he speaks with decency and respect. In short, whatever he judges ihonorable he practices toward every one. IIeis not always dressed in broadcloth. "Some people," says a dis tinguished bishop, "think a gentleman means a man of independent fortune-a man who fares sumptuously every day.; a man who need, not labor for his daily bread. None of these makes a gentleman-not one of them-nor all of them together. I have known men of the roughest exterior, who have been used all their 'lives to follow the plow and to look after horses, as thorough gentlemen in heart as any noblemen who ever wore a d'ioal coronet. I mean, I have known them as unselfish, I have known them as truithtful, I have known them as sympathizing; and all these qualities go to make what I understand by the term 'gentle man.' " "It is a noble privilege which has been sadly prostituted; and what I want to tell you is, that the humblest man, who has the coarsest work to do, yet, if his heart be tender, and pure, and true, can be, in the most emphatic sense of the word, 'a gentle man.'"-The C0/ristian Staiesmpan. BILLINGS ON MARRIAGE. Sum marry for love, without a cent in their pocket or a drop of pedigree. This looks desperate, but it is the strength of the game. Sum marry because they think wimmin will be scarce next year, and live to wonder how the crop holds out. uam marry to get rid of themselves, and cover that the game was one that two cou d play at and neither of them win. Sum marry the second time to get even, and find it a gambling gamie the more they put down the less they take up. Sum marry tu be happy, and not find ing It, wonders where all the happiness goes to when it dies. Stum marry, they can't tell why, and live, they can't tell how. Almost everybody gits married, and it iz a good joke. Sum may ry in haste, and then set down and think it carefully over. Sum think it carefudly over first, and then set down and marry. Both ways are right, if they hit the mark. Sum marry coquets. This is like buying a poor harm, heavily mortgaged, and working the balance ov yor days to clear oph the mortgages. But, after all. married lite is full as certain as the dry goods business. Kano man kan swear exact ly where he will fetch up when he touches calico. Kno man kan tell jist what calico has made up its mind to do next. Calico don't know herself. Dry goods ov all kinds is a child ov eirctunstances. The man who stands on the brink shivering, and dasent. is more apt to ketch cold than he who pitches his head fast into the river. If ennybody asks you whi you got married (if it need be) tell hint you don't reeollekt. TWILIGHT. "The day is done, and the darkness Fails from the wing of -night, As a feather is walled downward, From an eagletin his flight." IHow beautifully the poet has portrayed the twilight hour ! As the sun fades from sight and the shadows fall softly over moun tain aid plain, we let the cares of the day slip from us a garment, and, seated by the window, gaze out into-the twilight. Before we are aware, the misty tears steal into our eyes-yet not 'wholly because we feel sad, but a certain something we cannot define seems to hover in the air at this hour which causesithe tears totilow. We look back to the home circle we have 'left. Happy they who find thatihousehold bhand complete, who miss not one face, who see not one vacant chair, t-twhose door the dark Death-angel has never knocked. Then, too, we Indulge in dreaming, and far down the dim future we see ourselves-after yeirs of patieuit toil, crowned with honor and flune-perhaps. For but few of these 'dreams may ever be realized. Yet they give us courage to strug gle on, and sometimes we turn away, with nobler purposes and alms than we have had for many a day, just because we watched the day fade into twilight, the twilight into night.-Dirigo Rural. SHE PREPARED FOR THE WORST. Like a dutiful uncle, he was striving hard to marry off his scapegrace of a nephew, and almost in despair of accomplishing his purpose in any other manner, resorted to a matrimonial agency. He is well received, and the agent hands him a register contain ing the list of ladles she has in stock, de scriptions of them, their fortunes, and so on. He carelessly turns over the pages till at once his attention is riveted by the sight of his wife's name. He rubs his eyes and reads it over; there is no mistake. She seeks an alliance with a man between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five, not less than five feet six inches high, a blonde preferred. Stricken with horrow, and fancying that there was a queer in his coffee at breakfast, he drops the fatal book and makesfor home. Yes," says the wife, "that is my name. I put it down when you were so sick with pneumonia last spring, and the doctor said we should prepare for the worst.-French Paper. TRANSIENT TROUBLES. Most of us have had troubles all our lives, and each day has brought all the evil that we wished to endure. But if we were asked to recount the sorrows of our lives, how many could we remember? How many that are six months old should we think worthy to be remembered or mentioned? To-day's troubles look large, but a week hence they will be forgotten and buried out of sight. "" If you would keep a book, and everyday put down the things that worry you, and see what becomes of them, it would be a benefit to you. You allow a thing to an noy you, just as you allow a fly to settle on you and plague you ; and you lose your* temper (or rather get it; for when men are surcharged with temper they are said to have lost it); and you justify yourself for being thrown ofT your balance by causes which yoi (10 not trace out. But if you would see what it wvas that threw you off' your balance before breakfast, and put it down iin a little book, and follow it out, andl ascertala what becomes of it. you would see what a fool you were in the matter." The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but the art of overlooking is quite as important. And if we should take time to Write downm the origin, progress, aind outcome of a fewv of our troubles, it would nmake us so asham edl of the fuss we make over them, that we should be glad to (Irop such things and bury theim at once in eternal forgetfulness. Life is to short to be worn out iin petty worrics, fretting hatreds, and vexalions, Let us banish all these, and think oau what soever things are pure, and lovely, and gen tie, and of good report. SUCCESSFUL HEN. "Who are they?" They art those met who, when boys, were compeled to work, either to help themselves or their parents, and who, when a little older, were under the stern necessity of doing more than their le gitimate shaire of labor; who as young men had their wits sharpened by having to devise ways and means of making their time more available than it would he uni er ordinary circumstances. Hence, In readJingthe lives Qf eminent men who have greatly 4istin guished themselves, . We find their youth passed in self-denials of food, sleep, rest and recreatlon. They sat up late, rose earty to the performance of imperative duties, do ing by daylight the work of one man, anu by night that of another.. A banker of high integrity, and who started in life without a shilling, said, the other day, "For years I was in my place of businpas at sunrise, and oftenrdid net leave it for 'it teen or eighteen hours." Let 'not any youth be discouraged if he has to make his own living, or even to stip port a widowed mother or sick sister, or un fortunate relative, for this has been the road to eminence of many a proud name. This is the path which men have often trod thorny enough at times, at others so beset with obstacles as to be almost impassable; but the way was cleared, sunshine camne, success followed-then the glory and re nown. THE celebrated Henderson, the actor, was seldom known to be in a passion. When be was at Oxford he was one clay debating with a fellow student, who, not keeping his tem per, threw a glass of wine in his thee. Mr. Henderson took out his handkerchief, wiped hisaface, and coolly said: "That, sir, was a digression; now for the argument." THAT the beautiful scenery around Am herst is duly appreciated by the students, and that they do all in their power to show its charms to others, can be seen from the 4following: On a very dark, rainy evening, recently, a student went to call on a young lady. "Is Miss - at home this evening ?" 'Oh no, sir," was the reply, "she has gone out with Mr. W-, of the senior class, to v4ew the Holyoke range by moonlight." MARRIAGE Is decidedly the most import ant part of the ordinary woman's destiny. She can do very well without marrying, If she only thinks so; but if she marries, her whole future depends on her choice of a hue band, for "to marry" means to most to fol low the fortunes of the man chosen, abide by the laws he lays down for his h ehold, dwell where he decides, and take ofom his hands as much or as little as lie is able or willing to bestow. Wastes make little differ ence in destiny after the wedding ring is on. A CLERGYMAN was recently annoyed by people talking and giggling. lie paused, 'looked at the disturbers, and said, "I am always afraid to reprove tnose who misbe6 have, for this reason. Some years since, as I was preaching, a young man who sat be fore me was constantly laughing, talking and making uncouth grimaces. I paused and administered a severe rebuke. After the close of the service agentleman said to me: ' Sir, you have made a great mistake; that young man is an idiot.' Since then I have always, been afraid to reprove those who mxisbehave themicives in chapel, lest 'I should repeat that mistake and reprove are other idiot." During the rest of the service there was good order. GOLDEN SHEAVES. Henuceforthl I'll bear Aflhiction, till it do cr~y out itself, Enough, enough, and die. Sh~akepeare. -Rise early, if you wvlbh to become rich and conquer an enemy. -We must mnot itidge a man by a word or a single action. Life is oomposed of so many inconsistencies, that we should elten take the exception for the rule. -What is the most beautitul tlhing.? The universe. Tfhe strongest ? Necessity. The most difficult? To know ourselves. The easier't?. To give advice. The rarest? A true friend. -Every man ought to aim at eminence, not iy putting others down, hut hy raising hmimself ; and en~joy the pleasumre of' his ownm superiority, imnoginary or real, without in terrupting others in tile same telkiciy.