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which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to day than he was yesterday (Pope). The best of men who ever wore earth about him was a meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit; the first true gentleman that ever breathed.—Decker.

The highway of the upright is to depart from evil. . Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right. . A foolish son is a grief to his father and a bitterness to her that bare him. . The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the backs of fools.— The Bible.

The fool hath said in his heart, “There is no God.” Corrupt are they and have done abominable iniquity. . He that planted the ear, shall he not hear ? . Thy word is very sure, therefore thy servant loveth it. . Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days. Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. . A word spoken in due season, how good is it !—The Bible.

Men resemble the gods in nothing so much as in doing good to their fellow.creatures (Cicero). Zeal for the public good is the characteristic of a man of honor and a gentleman, and must take the place of pleasures, profits, and all other private gratifications (Steele). Perish discretion, when it interferes with duty! (More). For they can conquer who believe they can.—Dryden.

He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are an abomination to the Lord. . Thou hast set our iniquities beforn thee: our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. . The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments; his praise endureth forever.- The Bible.

Vice is contagious: there is no trusting the sound and the sick together (Seneca). Vice, like disease, floats in the atmo. sphere (Fletcher). Virtue never dwelt long with filth (Rumford ). A singular fact—that when man is a brute, he is the most sensual and loathsome of all brutes (Hawthorne). The words sneak and snake are from the same old Saxon root (Eliot). Wherever the speech is corrupted so also is the mind.

The way of the wicked is as darkness: they know not at what they stumble. . Righteousness exalteth a nation : but sin is a reproach to any people. . The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord: but the words of the pure are pleasant words. . In the way of righteousness is life; and in the pathway thereof there is no death.— The Bible.


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The best hearts are ever the bravest, said my Uncle Toby (Sterne). There is no more potent antidote to low sensuality than the adoration of the beautiful (Schlegel). Even from the body's purity the mind receives secret sympathetic aid.

Virtue is that which must tip the preacher's tongue and the ruler's sceptre with authority (South). Such as thy words are, such will thy affections be ; such thy deeds as thy affections; such thy life as thy deeds (Socrates). I would give nothing for the Christianity of a man whose very dog and cat were not better for his religion.—Rowland Hill.

God made the human body, and it is by far the most exquisite and wonderful organization which has come to us from the Divine hand. It is a study for one's whole life. undevout astronomer is mad, an undevout physiologist is still madder (Beecher). Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep (Milton). The mind is the atmosphere of the soul.- Foubert.

Vicious habits are so odious and degrading that they transform the individual who practices them into an incarnate demon (Cicero). Age has deformities enough of its own; do not add the deformity of vice (Cato). Modesty is the con. science of the body (Balzac). "One soweth and another reapeth" is a verity that applies to evil as well as good.

Blessed is the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted from the world ! yet more blessed and more dear the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted in the world (Mrs. Jameson). Breed is stronger than pasture (Eliot). Moral beauty is the basis of all true beauty (Consin). Beauty is God's handwriting, a wayside sacrament.— Milton.

Behavior is a mirror in which every one shows his image (Goethe). Common sense, alas ! in spite of our educational institutions, is a rare commodity (Bovee). Ye may be aye stickin' in a tree, Jock; it will be growin' when ye're sleepin' (Scotch Farmer). He who plants a tree plants a hope.

He prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small;
For the dear Lord that loveth us, He made and loveth all.
My fairest child, I have no song to give you ;

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you

For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;

Do noble things, not dream them, all day long ;
And so make life, death, and that vast forever

One grand, sweet song. A Farewell,Charles Kingsley..

We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Life is but a means to an end ; that end
Beginning, mean, and end to all things-God.

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;
And, like an insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded by a sleep.


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Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow !
Filling the sky and the earth below;
Over the house-tops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet ;
Dancing, flirting, skimming along,
Beautiful snow! it can do nothing wrong;
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak-
Beautiful snow, from the heavens above,
Pure as an angel, and fickle as love !
Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow!
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go !
Whirling about in its maddening fun,
It plays in its glee with every one.
Chasing, laughing, hurrying by,
It lights up the face, and it sparkles the eye;
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around.
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.
How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song!
How the gay sledges like meteors flash by,
Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye!
Ringing, swinging, dashing they go,
Over the crest of the beautiful snow;
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by-
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet,
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
how-strange it would be, when the night comes again,
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!
Fainting, freezing, dying-alone!
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for my moan
To be heard in the crash of the crazy town,
Gone mad in their joy at the snow's coming down;
To lie and to die in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow !


By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.
From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
Under the roses, the Blue ;
Under the lilies, the Gray.
So with an equal splendor
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch, impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all ;-
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
'Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain ;-
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;-
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won ;-
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day ;-
Under the blossoms, the Blue ;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead !
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.


H. W. LONGFELLOW. It was the schooner Hesperus,

That sailed the wintry sea ;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,

To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy fax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,

That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,

His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow

The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old Sailor,

Had sailed to the Spanish Main, “I pray thee, put into yonder port,

For I fear a hurricane.
“Last night, the moon had a golden ring,

And to-night no moon we see!”.
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,

And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,

A gale from the Northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine,

And the billows frothed like yeast.

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