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And then 'twas whispered, mournfully,
His miller's coat his only shroud— "Dust to dust," the parson said,
And all the people wept aloud.
And not a grain of over toll
To weigh upon his parting soul.
Of wasting wood and crumbling stone;
BETTER THAN GOLD.
[Deliver the following in a manly strain.]
Better than grandeur, better than gold—
Better than gold is a conscience clear,
Sweet contentment with his lot
Better than gold is a thinking mind,
The glories of empires passed away,
Better than gold is a peaceful home,
Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decrce,
BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD.
T. DE WITT TALMAGE.
We must stay exactly in our place-not an inch above, not an inch below. But how shall I tell if I stand in my exact appointment, not a particle above, not a particle beneath? This is the test. If you can perform your duty easily, without being cramped or exhausted, that is the right place. That man is in a horrible condition who is ever making prodigious efforts to do a little more than he can do. It is just as easy for a star to swing in its orbit as for a mote to float in the sunbeam. Nature never sweats. The great law of gravitation holds the universe on its back as easily as a miller swings over his shoulder a bag of Genesee wheat. The winds never run themselves out of breath. The rivers do not weary in their course.
The Mississippi and the Amazon are no more tired than the mea dow brook. Himalaya is not dizzy.
Poets talk about the waters of our great cataract being in agony, but I think they like it, How they frolic and clap their hands miles above, as they come skipping on toward the great summersault, siuging, "Over we go, over we go!" When the universe goes at such tremendous speed, and the least impediment might break one of the great wheels, is it not a wonder that we do not sometimes hear a prodigious crash, or thunders bang loud enough to make the world's knees knock together? Yet a million worlds in their flight do not make as much noise as a honey bee coquetting among the clover tops. Everything in nature is just as easy. Now, if the position you occupy requires unnatural exertion, your only way out is either to take a step higher up, or take a step further down. Providence does not demand that you should break your back, or put your arm out of joint, or sprain your ankle. If you can only find out just what you are to do, you can do it perfectly easy.
Young man, be sure you begin right. It is dangerous work, this changing an occupation or profession. Not once in a thousand times is it done successfully. The sea of life is so rough that you cannot cross over from one vessel to another except at great peril of falling between. Thousands of men have fallen down to nothing between the mason's trowel and the carpenter's saw; between the lawyer's briefs and the author's pen; between the medicine chest and the pulpit. It is no casy matter to switch off on another track this thundering express train of life. It takes about ten years to get fairly started in any business or profession, and I tell you we have not got many decades to waste in experiment.
THE TOY OF THE GIANT'S CHILD.
FROM THE GERMAN OF CHAMISSO.
[Boldly and with vigor.]
Burg Niedeck is a mountain in Alsace, high and strong,
The Giant's daughter once came forth the castle gate before
With few and casy steps she passed the mountain and the wood; At length, near Haslach, at the place where mankind dwelt, she stood;
And many a town and village fair, and many a field so green, Before her wandering eyes appeared-a strange and curious scene;
And as she gazed, in wonder lost, on all the scene around,
"Oh, pretty plaything!" cried the child, "I'll take thee home with
Then with her infant hands she spread her 'kerchief on her knee, And cradling horse, and man, and plough, all gently on her arm, She bore them home with cautious steps, afraid to do them harm!
She hastes with joyous steps and quick (we know what children are),
And spying soon her father out, she shouted from afar,
Her father sat at table then, and drank his wine, so mild,
She opens her 'kerchief carefully, and gladly, you may deem,
But her father looked quite seriously, and shaking slow his head, "What hast thou brought me home, my child? this is no toy," he said; "Go take it quickly back again, and put it down below; The Peasant is no plaything, girl-how could'st thou think him so?
Go, go, without or sigh or sob, and do my will," he said,
JOHN G. SAXE.
[Give this in a pithy, humorous vein.]
"God bless the man who first invented sleep!"
His great discovery to himself; or try
Yes-bless the man who first invented sleep
But blast the man, with curses loud and deep,
Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station,
"Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed!"
But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl,