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k3 A. A. EARLE, PUBLISHER. I No Moro Oompromiso witli Slavery ITEiniS, 81,25 ix advance: VOLUME 1. UiASBUIlGII, VERMONT, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 185G. NUMBER 44. ; Citeraqi Selections. A SCHOOLMASTER'S DREAM. AN IRISH TALE. BY MRS, HALL. , James O'Leary was a schoolmaster of of great learning, and still g rcater re pute ; his school was the most crowded of any school within fifty miles of Kill gubbia yet lie modestly designated it his "Small College," and his pupils, " his trifles of boys." O'Leary never considered " the Vulgarians" as he termed those who only learned,. English, writing and arithmetic worth coming. No boy, in his estimation, merited nam ing or notice until he entered Virgil ; he began his 6chool catalogue with " the Vargils," but was so decided proud of " the Homarians," the he often regretted he had no opportunity of " taking the shine out of them ignorant chaps up at Dublin College" by a display of his " Gracians" fire or six clear headed, intelligent boys, whose brogues were on their tongue ; whose clothes hung upon them by a mystery ; and yet, poor fel lows ! were as proud of their Greek, and as fond of capping Latin verses, as their master himself. James O'Leary deserved his reputa tion to a certain extent, as all do who achieve one. In his boyhood he had been himself a poor scholar, and trav elled the country for his learning ; he had graduated at the best hedge school in the Kingdom of Kerry, and at one time had an idea of entering Maynooth ; but fortunately or unfortunately as it might be, he lost his vocation by falling in love and marrying Mary Bryne, to whom, despite a certain quantity of hard ness and pedantry, he always made a kind husband, although Mary, docile and intelligent in every other respect, never could acheive her ABC ; this he was fond of instancing as a proof of the in feriority of the fair sex. James looked with the greatest contempt at the system adopted by the National schools, declar ing that Latin wa3 the foundation upon which all intellectual education should be raised, and that the man who had no Latin was not worthy of being considered a man at all. Donnybeg, the parish in which he re sided, was a very remote, silent district an isolated place, belonging chiefly to an apoplectic Hi gentleman, whose father having g ranted long leases on re munerating terms, left him a certain in come sufficient for himself, and not dis tressing to others. The simple farmers had so long considered Master O'Leary a miracle, and he confirmed this opinion frequently, by saying in various lan guages what they had not understood if spoken in the vernacular, that when a National school was proposed in the parish by some officious person, they of fered to send up their schoolmaster, at tended by his Latin and Gieek scholars toil fashion to "bother the boord." This threw James into such a state of excitement that he could hardly restrain himself; and indeed his wife does not hesitate to say, that he has never been " right" since. The old landlord was as decided an enemy to the National school system as James himself; and the matter dropped without O'Leary's having an opportunity of " flooring the boord," which he bit terly regrets. James, for many years after his establishment of Donnybeg, was exceedingly kind to the itinerant class of scholars, of whose merits he was so bright an example. For a long time his college was the refuge of every poor scholar, who received gratuitous instruction from "the Master," and the attention and tenderness of a mother from " the Mis- tress." This generosity on the part of James O'Leary increased his reputation, and won him a great many blessings from the poor, while pupils thronged to him from distant parts of the kingdom not only the itinerant scholar, but the sons of snug farmers, who boarded in his neighborhood, and paid largely for the classics and &11 accomplishments. This James found very profitable; in due time he slate 1 his house, placing a round stone as a " finnacle" on either gable, representing, the one the terrestrial, the other the celestial globe; he paved the little court-yard with the multiplication table in black and white stone ; and con structed a summer-house, to use his own phrase, on " geometrical principles," whose interior was decorated with maps and triangles, and every species of in formation. If pupils came before, they " rained oa Lim" after hia Tusoulum" was fijuiUed' $ and he bad its name print ed on a Gothic arch above the gate, which, such was the inveteracy latch. But somehow, though James' fortune improved, there was something about his heart that was not right ; he began to consider learning only valuable as a means of wealth; he became civil to rich dunces ; and continually snubbed a first rate " Grecian," who was, it is true, only a poor scholar. This feeling like all others, at first merely tolerated, gained ground by degrees, until Master O'Leary began to put the question to himself " Why he should do good, and bother himself so much about those who did no irnnrl fn liim ?" TT( bad never ventured to say this out aloud to any one, but be had at last whispered it so often to him self, that one evening, seeing Mary busily occupied turning some preparation in a little iron pot, reserved for delicate stir about, gruel, or " sup of broth" which he knew on that particular occasion was intended for the " Gracian," who had been unwell for days after knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and closing and clasping his well thumbed Homer, he said " Mary, can't ye sit still at the wheel, now that the day's almost done, and nature becomes soporific? which signifies an inclination to repose." " In a minute, dear, it's for poor Aby he's sick entirely, and has no one to look to him. The place where he lodges has no conveyances for a drop of whey and if it had, they've nothing to turn it with, and nothing to make it of so I'll sit down at once." " Then why don't you sit down at once ? Why do you sit wasting your time to say nothing of the sweet milk and the" he was going to say " the sour," but was ashamed, and so added, " other things for one who does no good to us?" " No good to us !" repeated Mary, as she poured off the whey, keeping the curd carefully back with a horn spoon "No good to us, dear? why, it's for Aby, the what is it you called him Aby Gradus ? No ; Aby the Gracian your top boy as used to be he that his old grandmother (God help us! he had no other kith or kin) walked ten miles just to see him stand at the head of his class, that she might die with an easy heart it's for him, it is " " Well," replied the master, " I know that ; I know it's for him and I'll tell you what, Mary, we are growing not to say old but advancing to tha regions of middle life past its meridian, indeed and we can't afford to be throwing away our substance on the like of Aby " James !" exclaimed Mary. " Ah, indeed, Mary ; we must come to a period a full stop, I mean and," he drew a deep breath, then added " and take no more poor scholars f " Oh, James, don't say the like o' that," said the gentle-hearted woman : don't a poor scholar never came into the house that I didn't feel as if he brought fresh air from heaven with him I never miss the bit I give them my heart warms to soft homely sound of their bare feet on the floor, and the door a-most opens of itself to let them in." " Still we must take care of ourselves, woman dear," replied James with a dog ged look. Why the look should be called " dogged," I do not know, for dogs are anything but obstinate, or, given to it; but he put on the look so called ; and Mary, not moved from her purpose, cov- ered the mouth of the jug with a huge red apple-potato, and beckoning a neigh bor's child, who was hopping over the multipication-table in the court-yard, de sired her to run for her life while it was hot, to the house where Aby stopped that week, and be sure and tell him he was to take it after he had said his prayers, and while it was schreeching hot. She then drew her wheel opposite her hus band, and b'egan spinning. " I thought, James," she said, " that Abel was a strong pet of yours, though you've cooled to him of late ; I'm sure he got you a deal of credit." " All I'll ever get by him." " Oh, don't say that ! sure the bless ing is a fine thing ; and all the learning you give out, James, honey, does not lighten what you have in your head, which is a great wonder. If. I only take the meal out of the closet, handful by handful, it wastes away ; but your brains hould out better than the meal : take ever so much away, and there's the same still." " Mary, you're a fool, agra !" answer ed her husband ; but he smiled. The schoolmaster was a man, and all men like flattery even from their wives." " And that's one reason, dear, why you can't be a loser by giving your learn ing to them that want it," she continued ; it docs them good, and docs you no harm." The schoolmaster made no answer, and Mary continued. She was a true woman, getting her husband into a good humor before she intimated her object. "I've always thought a red head lucky, dear." " The ancients valued the color high ly," he answered. " Think of that now ! And a boy I saw to-day had just another lucky mole as yourself, under his left eye." MYbatboy?" inquired the master. " A poor fatherless and motherless craythnr, with hi3 Vosters and little books slung in a strap at his back, and a purty tidy second suit of clothes under his arm for Sunday. It put me in mind of the way you tould me you set off poor scholaring yerself, darling! all as one as that poor boy, barrin the second suit of clothes." " What did he want ?" inquired O' Leary, resuming his bad temper; for Mary made a mistake in her second hit. She judged of his character by her own, .Prosperity bad rendered her more thoughtful and anxious to dispense the blessings which she enjoyed, but it hard ened her husband. , " Just six months of your teaching to make a man of him, that's all." " Has he the money to pay for it ?" " I'm sure I never asked him. The trifle collected for a poor scholar is little enough to give him a bit to cat, without paying anything to a strong man like yourself, James O'Leary ; only just the ase and contentment it brings to one's sleep by night, and one's work by day, to be after doins a kind turn to a fellow Christian." " Mary," replied the schoolmaster, in a slow and decided tone, " that's aU botheration." Mary gave a start ; she could hardly believe she heard correctly ; but there sat James O'Leary, looking as hard as if he had been turned from a man of flesh into a man of stone. " Father of mercy !" she exclaimed. " spake again, man alive ! and tell us is it yerself that's in it !" James laughed not joyously or hu morously, but a little dry, half-starved laugh ; but before he had time to reply. the door opened slowly and timidly, and a shock of rusty red hair, surmounting a pale, acute face, entered considerably in advance of the body to whom it be longed. "That's the boy I told you of," said Mary. " Come in ma buchol ; the mas ter himself s in now, and will talk to you. dear." . " The boy advanced, his slight delicate form bowed both by study and privation and his keen, penetrating eyes looked out from beneath the projecting brows which overshadowed them. Mary told him to sit down ; but he continued standing, his fingers twitching convulsively amid the leaves of a Latin book, in which he hoped to be examined. " What's your name ? and stand up! said the master gruffly. The boy told him his name was Ed ward Moore, and asked " if lie would give him the run of the school, an odd lesson now and agin, and let him pick up as much as he could." " And what," inquired O'Leary, "will you give me in return ?" " I have but little, sir," replied the boy, " for my mother has six of us, pay ing to one whose face we never see. heavy rent for the shed we starve un der. My father's in heaven my eldest sister a cripple and but for the kind ness of the neighbors, and goodness of one or two families at Christmas and Whitsuntide, and, above all, the blessin ot uod, wmcn never laves us we might turn out upon the road and beg." " But this is all nothing to me," said O'Leary, very coldly. " I know that, sir," answered the boy, yet he looked as if he did not know it " though your name's up in the country for kindness as well as learning. But from inside his waistcoat the remnant of a cotton nightcap, and held it towards the schoolmaster's extended hand ; but Mary stood between her husband and his temptation. I was coming to it I have a trifle of about eighteen shillings, besides five which the priest wanted me to keep when I went for his blessing, as he said I might want it in case ol sickness ; and I was think- ing if yer honor would take ten out the eighteen, for a quarter or so; Ikno I can't pay your honor as I ought, only just for the love of God ; and if ye' please to examine me in the Latin, his reverence said I'd be no disgrace you." " Just let me see what you've got,' said the schoolmaster. The lad die w forth " Put it up, child," fihe said ; the masther doesn't want it; &e only had a j mind to see if it was safe," Then aside to her husband, " Let Fall yer hand, James; it's the devil that's under yer elbow keeping it out, "nibbling as the shes do at the hook ; is it the thin shill ings of a widdow's son you'd be afther taking ? It's not yerself that's in it at all." Then to the boy " Put it up, dear, and come in the mornbg,"- , But the silver had shone in the mas ter's eyes through the worn out knitting the " thin shillings," as Mary called them and their chink aroused his avar ice the more. So standing up, he 'put aside his wife, as men often do good counsel, with a strong arm, and declared that he would have all or none ; and that without pay he would receive no pupil. The boy, thirsting for learning, almost without hesitation, agreed to give him all he possessed, only saying that " the Lord above would raise him up some friend who would give him a bit, a sup, and a lock of straw to sleep on." Thus the bargain was struck, the penniless child turned from the door, knowing that, at least for the night, he would receive shelter from some kind-hearted cotter, and perhaps give in exchange tuition to those who could not afford to go to the " great master ;" while the dispenser of knowledge, chinking the "thin shillings," strode towards a well heaped hoard to add thereto the mite of a fatherless boy. Mary crouched over the cheerful fire, rocking herself backwards and forward in real sorrow, and determined to consult the .priest as to the change that had come over her husband, turning him out of himself into something " not rmht." This was O'Leary's first public at tempt to work out his determination, and he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. He did not care to encounter Mary's re proachful looks, so he bent over his blotted desk, and set with his back to her, apparently intent on his books but despite all he could do, his mind went wandering back to the time he was a poor scholar himself ; and no matter whether he looked over problems or turned the leaves of Homer, there was the pale face of the poor scholar, whom he had " flee ced" to the uttermost. " Mary," he said, anxious to be recon ciled to hjmself, " there never was one of them poor scholars that hadn't twice as much as they pretended." " Was that the way with yerself, avicKr sne answered. James pushed back the desk, flung the ruler at the cat, bounced the door after him, and went to bed. He did not fall very soon asleep nor, when he did, did he .sleep very soundly but tossed and tumbled about in a most undignified manner ; so much so, that his poor wife left off rocking, and, taking out her beads, began praying as fast as she could ; and she believed her prayers took effect, for he soon be came tranquil, and slept soundly. But Mary went on praying. She was ac counted what was called the steadiest hand at prayer in the country ; but on this particular night, she prayed on with out stopping until the gray cock, who had crowed at four told her what the time was, and she thought she might as well sleep for a couple of hours, for Mary could not only pray when she liked, but sleep when she pleased, which is fre quently the case with the innocent-hearted. As soon, however, as she hung the beads on the same nail that supported the holy water, cross and cup, James gave a groan and a start, and called her. " Give jour hand," he said, " that I may know it is you that is in it !,' Mary did so, and affectionately bade God bless him. "Mary, my own ould darling," he whispered, " I'm a great sinner, and all my learning isn't isn't worth a brass farthing." Mary wa3 really astonished to hear him say this. " It's quite in airncst I am, dear ; and here's the key of my little box, and go and bring out that poor scholor'a nightcap, and take care of his money, and as soon as the day breaks entirely, go and find out where he's stopping, and tell him I'll never touch cross nor coin belonging to him, nor one of his class, and give him back his coins of silver ; and, Mary, agra, if you've the power, turn every body ia the pariah into a poor scholar, that I may have the satisfaction of teach ing them ; for I've had a lream, Mary, and 111 tell it to you, who knows better than myself how to be grateful for such warning. There, praise the holy saints ! is a streak of daylight ; now isten, Mary, and don't interrupt me. I suppose it's dead I was first; but anyhow I thought I was floating about in a dark space, and every minute I wanted to fly up, but something kept me down. J could not rise and as I grew used Jo the darkness, you sec I saw a great many things floating about like myself mighty curious shapes, one of them, with wings like a bat, came close up to me : and after all, what was it but a Homer ; and I thought may be it would help me up ; but when I made a grab at it, it turned into . smoke. Then came a great white-faced owl, with red bothered eyes, and out of them glared a Voster, and out of the other a Gough ; and globes and inkhoms changed, Mary, in the sight of my two eyes, into vivacious tadpoles, swimming here and there, and making game of me as they passed. Oh, I thought the time was a thousand years, and everything about me talked bad Latin and Greek that would bother a saint, and I without power to answer or to get away. I'm thinking it was the schoolmaster's purgatory I wa3 in." " May be so," replied Mary, " parti cularly as they would'nt let you correct the bad Latin, dear." " But it changed, Mary, and I found myself after a thousand or two years, in the midst of a mist these was a mist iness all around me and in my head but it was clear, soft, downy-like vapor, and I had my full liberty in it, so I kept on going up up forever to many years, and by degrees it cleared away, drawing itself into a bohreen at either side, lead ing towards a great hill of light, and I made straight for the hill ; and having got over it, I looked up, and of all the brightness I ever saw, was the bright ness above me the brightest ; and the more I looked at it the brighter it grew ; and yet there was no dazzle in jny eyes ; and something whispered me that was heaven, and with that I fell down upon my knees, and asked how I was to get up there ; for mind ye, Mary, there was a gulf between me and the hill, or, to speak more to your understanding, a gap; the hill of light above me was in no ways joined to the hill on which I stood. So I cried, how wa3 I to get there. Well, before you could say twice ten, there stood before me seven poor scholars, those seven, dear, that I taught, and they that have taken the vestments since. I knew them all, and I knew them well. Many a hard day's work I had gone through with them, just for that holy blessed pay, the love of God thero they stood, and Abel at their head." " Oh, yah molla ! think of that now, my poor Aby ; did'nt I know the good pure drop was in him !" interrupted Mary. " The only way for you to get to that happy place, masther dear," they said, " is for you to make a ladder of us.' " It is a ladder of the " " Whish, will ye," interrupted the master. " 4 We are the stair,' said they, ' that will lead you to that happy man sion. All your learning, of which you were so proud all your examinations all your disquisitions and knowled, your algebra and mathematics your Greek ny, or even your Hebrew, if you had the same all are not worth a tran'.en. All tho mighty fine doings, the greatness of man, or of man's learning, are not the value of a single blessing here ; but we, masther jewel, we auk xoi'R charities; seven ot us poor boys, through your means learned their duty seven of us ! and upon us you can walk up to the shining light, and be happy forever." I was not a bit bothered at the idea of making a step ladder of the seven holy craturs, who though they had been joor schlars, were far before myself .where they were now ; but as they bent, I step ped first on Abel, then on Faddy Blake, then on Billy Murphy; but anyhow, when I got to the end of tho seven, I found there were five or six more want ing ; I tried to make a spring, and only for Abel I'd hare gone 1 don't know where. ' O the Lord be merciful 1 is this the way afther aU T I said. 4 Boys darlings, can ye get me no more than half way afiherall?" ' Sore there must be more of us to help you,' makes answer Paddy Blake. 44 Sure ye lived many years in the world after wo left you,' says Abel, and, un less you hardened your heart, it isn't Jos siblo but jott mu&t have Lad a dale tuore of us to help you. Sure you were never content, having tasted the cver-inerwi-ing sweetness of seven good deed, to stop short and lave your Uk unfinished. Oh, then, 4 if your did, masther, Mid the oor fellow, 4 it's myself that's sorry for you.' Well, Mary, agra I I thought my heart would bnrd open when I remem bered what came over mc la-it night and much moro arithmetical calcula tions when I had full plenty, of what the little you gave and I taught came to and every niggard thought was like a striking up dagger in my heart and I looked at a glory I could never reach, because of my cramped heart ; and just then I woke. I'm sure I must have had the prayers of some holy creature about me, to cause such a warning." Mary made no reply, but sunk on her knees by the bedside, weeping tears of joy they were she felt that her prayers had been heard and answered. "And now, Mary, let us up nnd be stirring, for life is but short for the doing of our duties. We'll have the ioor schol ars to breakfast and, darling, you'll look out for more of them. And, oh 1 but my heart's as light as the down of a thistle, and all through my blessed dream." THE FAR NORTH. Around the coasts of the Tolar Sea stretch far away lands and Wands, cov ered during the nine months of the year, f not longer, with snow and ice. They are mostly fearful snow desert3, where the furious storms of the north piny a mad game with high hills of snow, and in raging fury drive and drift huge masses through the howling wilderness, and over the silent fields. Here grows no tree, no shrub ; no grain ever ripens, no fruit ever matures; in well sheltered valleys, alone a few berries are found, a birch of a few inches high, and a wholesome acid sorrel. Gray mosses and lichens, how ever, cover the vast plain, clothe the bare, sterile rock with warm, cozy ver dure, and edge the banks of deep-hidden streams. A broad belt of such moss steppes surrounds the north pole, broken in upon by rugged rocks, or by immense swamps or morasses. These snow des erts would be without life, as they have not a tree for shelter, and not a plant for food or garment, if they were not the home of countless of reindeer. - How wondrous again, that where death and solitude reign, such fullness of life should appear of a sudden ! Whenever we glance at the broad hinds of our earth, cither in the blessed regions of the trop ics, or the barren steppes near the pole everywhere we find the same tender care and supreme wisdom of the Creator. When the cold of winter is most severe, and the season of storm is approaching. these 6tag-like, grayish-brown reindeer may be seen moving in dense columns towards the southern forest of evergreen pines. It is a noble sight, those uncount ed hosts of well-built, powerful animals, with their gracefully curved antlers car ried proudly on high, until they resemble the wintry forest when stripped of it foliaj-c. The flexible, well irotected fet locks rattle across the plain, as they chase each other in merry sport, and dash with win speed over tho snow covered fields. When they reach the safe shelter of the woods, they stand for hours rigid nnd motionless, but, for the sake of warmth closely pressed one against the other. As soon ns the storm has passed over their heads, new life is infused in the ap parent statues ; they tear bark and moss from the trees, and scrape with powerful hoof the snow from the ground, until they reach the welcome lichens beneath. And if it were covered under the thick ness of six feet their keen tnaxvtloui scent would never fail to find it in ample abundance. With the strinir come the strange enemies of these powerful ani mals, gnd-flies of terrible fierceness, that drive them true children of tho "fir in Egypt" with irresistible fury Lack to the north. These crowds are to den-se, that they'ebange diiy into night ; they lay their noxious egg in the skin, the rto-c and even the palate of the mi.rable reindeer, who soon are covered all over with pustules and swelling. They fill by the hundred, sad victims of a despised little insect. The survivors are reduced to mere skeletons, and so thoroughly frightened, that they flee ia wild terror it they but bear the Lumming of a distant gad fly. A they approach the nor'.li they ilud the rich pastures of tin, and fatten once more on the short of the polar sea. They fullow the tamo path from year to year, and the same fork across tl riven j wolves and Uars pur sue them with iungry hoiiility. When tho short, hut ummrr is pat, they wan der Lack again to the souUera foeot t, ruling in herd of a LwndrrJ elve by each other. But not all ra-h the Lateu. for tln-y era the bread rivers, Tun- gucs and Samojedes rush from their am bufdi,and with wild cries terrify them so, that they swim lielpiesly to nnd fro, in terlace their broad antlers, and soon suc cumb in bloody carnage. A skilful, ex perienced Tungus has been known to kill more than n hundred in one short half hour, dashing with his light birch canoe into the mid.-t cf the madencd and fright tned herd. Others again are caught by a noose thrown over their antlers, and thus dragged ashore. A short time suffi ces to train them, and then they are taught to draw the light sledge, a hollow trunk, covered with reindeer fur, and olcy the voice of their master. Thus the children of the north make their al most incredible journeys, bringing costly furs from America to distant Siberia, tho" it cots them a voynge of nearly six months! One or two reindeer are tied with thongj to the sledge, and they are off. At night he tetl.crs his faithful ser vants, nnd lets them find their scanty re past uuder the snow, while he creeps in to his narrow tent, mrulc of reindeer skins, and lights his little lamp to keep him warm. If he has no tent, ho wraps him self up in double reindeer skins, which by their peculiar mixture of wool and hair are proof against rain, snow and cold, and sleeps very comfortably on tho hard frozen snow, to continue his jour ney on the morrow. The numerous powerful nations, on this continent as well as in Europe, ex ists only by means of this invaluable ani mal, without which neither northern Si beria nor the upper regions of America would be a fit abode for man. Like the camel of the south, the reinder also re quires the hunter's nomadic life. Even the Laps and the Finns, who own im mense domestic herds, must travel with them for pasturage. Together they move down from their beloved mountains, to fi.-h at the sea shore during the short summer months, and together they return to their homes among the rocks. They ride them and drive them ; they milk them ; they know them by sight and call thorn by their names ; and their poor in sufficient language has no less than seventy-six different words for the beloved, indispensable rein deer. But what strange, terrible fate could ever lead men to still higher regions, where even the reindeer cannot exist ? where the summer sun shines but upon eternal ice and snow, and where winter has an unbroken night of more than three months f Still there are nomadic races living far leyond the northern coasts of America ; the only races on earth that have no history, not even tradition. Their religion consists of a few childish charms ; their society knows not the form of law, nor. alas! the snirit f Wo i i their existence is barely nWe vegeta tion. Copt. Boss discovered in the nor thernmost parts of Baffin's Bay, a tribe of two hundred men, who had never heard of other men, cut off as thry were, by the oceans, nnd by impassable mountains, from nil fellow beings. Their narrow country was to them the whole earth, and all the rest they believed to lie a desolate mass of Uc.Pulimm's Magaiine. HOW TO MAKE A FaSIHOXABLE Bo. set. lake a hnndSul of artificial roses, each of a different color; half a dozen yards of ribbon, ditto ; and half a doten yards of lace. Secure the whole to your bump of nmativeness with the long pins, and the article is complete. C5" Men are like bugles the more brass they contain, the farther you can hear them. Women are like tulips the more modest and retired they nppcar, the better you love them. Ci? To learn nothing but languages, is to spend out's money in buying purses to hold it ; or to study the Lord's prayer in till Lingunges, without praying it in any. CJ1V must walk through life as through the Swii mountain, where a hasty wurd may bring down an avalanche. tTT A strrnger U received according to hi dress and taken k-ave of according to his nirlf. O" Virtue is a rock from which re bound all arrows t.hoi against it. C2T l)i:!ieu!ii-t dissolve befure a cheer ful spirit like snow-drifts before the sun. CifT Keep your temper in dilutes. The cool hummer f.t-liiutu tbe red-hot treti into any hape needed. CST He who ina.irt hi pawion, sub due a fearful eneui'.