That day he wore a riding coat,
But not a whit the warmer he:
Another was on Thursday bought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.

"Twas all in vain, a useless matter,

And blankets were about him pinn'd:
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
Like a loose casement in the wind.
And Harry's flesh it fell away;

And all who see him say 'tis plain
That live as long as live he may,
He never will be warm again.

No word to any man he utters,
Abed or up, to young or old;
But ever to himself he mutters,
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
Abed or up, by night or day,

His teeth they chatter, chatter still:
Now think ye farmers all, I pray,
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.

WORDSWORTH.

JUST FOR TO-DAY

Let me be slow to do my will,
Prompt to obey,

Help me to sacrifice myself

Just for to-day.

AMERICA'S GIFT TO HER CHILDREN

What more could America give a child? Ah, much more! As I read how the patriots planned the Revolution, and the women gave their sons to die in battle, and the heroes led to victory, and the rejoicing people set up the Republic, it dawns on me gradually what was meant by my country. The people all desiring noble things, and striving for them together, defying their oppressors, giving their lives for each other all this it was that made my country. It was not a thing that I understood; I could not go home and tell Frieda about it, as I told her other things I learned at school. But I knew one could say "my country" and feel it, as one felt "God" or "myself." My teacher, my schoolmates, George Washington himself, could not mean more than I when they said "my country," after I had once felt it. For the Country was for all the Citizens, and I was a Citizen. And when we stood up to sing "America," I shouted the words with all my might. I was in very earnest proclaiming to the world my love for my new-found country.

"I love thy rocks and rills,

Thy woods and templed hills."

Boston Harbor, Crescent Beach, Chelsea Square-all was hallowed ground to me. - Selection from "The Promised Land," by Mary Antin, a little girl who came from Russia.

Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any praise, think on these things. PAUL.

A LETTER TO HIS MOTHER

HONORED MOTHER:

We received your kind letter of the 2nd instant, by which we were glad to hear you still enjoy such a measure of health notwithstanding your great age. We read your writing very easily. I never met with a word in your letters but what I could easily understand, for, though the hand is not always the best, the sense makes everything plain. My leg, which you enquire after, is now quite well. I shall keep these servants; but the man not in my own house. I have hired him out to the man that takes care of my Dutch printing-office, who agrees to keep him in victuals and clothes, and to pay me a dollar a week for his work.

Sally grows a fine girl, and is extremely industrious with her needle and delights in her work. She is of a most affectionate temper and perfectly dutiful and obliging to her parents, and to all. Perhaps I flatter myself too much, but I have hopes that she will prove an ingenious, sensible, notable, and worthy woman like her aunt Jenny. She goes now to the dancing-school.

For my own part, at present I pass my time agreeably enough. I enjoy, through mercy, a tolerable share of health. I read a a great deal, ride a little, do a little business for myself, now and then for others, retire when I can, and go into company when I please; so the years roll round, and the last will come, when I would rather have it said, "He lived usefully," than, "He died rich."

GENIUS

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

Genius is merely a capacity for hard work.

THE NATIONAL ENSIGN

Behold it! Listen to it! Every star has a tongue; every stripe is articulate. There is no language or speech where their voices are not heard. There is magic in the web of it. It has an answer for every question of duty. It has a solution for every doubt and perplexity. It has a word of good cheer for every hour of gloom or despondency.

Behold it! Listen to it! It speaks of earlier and of later troubles. It speaks of victories, and sometimes reverses on the sea and on the land. It speaks of patriots and heroes among the living and the dead.

But before all and above all other associations and memories, whether of glorious men, or glorious deeds, or glorious places, its voice is ever of Union and Liberty, of the Constitution and the Laws.

Behold it! Listen to it! Let it tell the story of its birth to these gallant volunteers, as they march beneath its folds by day, or repose beneath its sentinel stars by night! Let it recall to them the strange eventful history of its rise and progress; let it rehearse to them the wonderful tale of its trials and its triumphs, in peace as well as in war, and never let it be prostituted to any unworthy or unchristian purpose of revenge, depredation or rapine. And may a merciful God cover the head of each one of its brave defenders in the hour of battle. – R. C. WINTHROP.

So many plans, so many creeds,
So

many paths that wind and wind
When just the art of being kind

Is all this sad world needs.

THE SCHOOL ALMANAC

FEBRUARY

The Republic may perish; the wide arch of our raised Union may fall; star by star its glories may expire; stone after stone its columns and its capitol may molder and crumble; all other names which adorn its annals may be forgotten; but as long as human hearts shall anywhere pant, or human tongue shall anywhere plead, for a sure, rational, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall enshrine the memory, and those tongues shall prolong the fame, of George Washington.

- R. C. WINTHROP.

February. As the month wears on its silent work begins, though storms rage. The earth is hidden yet, but not dead. The sun is drawing near. He whispers words of deliverance into the ears of every sleeping seed and root that lies beneath the snow. The day opens, but the night shuts the earth with its frost-lock; but day steadily gains upon the night.

Die when I may, I want it said of me, by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower when I thought a flower would grow. - LINCOLN.