F.

For all who swell the pean there,

Must sing of sins and faults forgiven.

L. The worldling is like the hind wheel of a carriage: always following after the front wheel of happiness, but never reaching it.

13.

G. When well-formed features beauty's offspring speak,
And health's warm blushes tinge the youthful cheek,
When words polite, and sentiments refined

Are vouchers for the beauty of the mind,
Whate'er the station, be it poor or rich,

You're then in danger-she's a very witch..

L. Of undergoing extinction in drawing-rooms,—of surrendering your divine faculties to wither in lamp-light, and be wafted away in perfume and praise.

"Literary Lions."

14.

It may be that thou wilt forget thy grief,
It may be time has good in store for thee;
It may be that thy heart will find relief

From sorrows now unknown. Futurity
May bear within its folds some hidden spring,
From which will issue blessed streams; and yet,
Whate'er of joy the coming year may bring,
The past-the past-thou never will forget.

Mrs. S. J. Hale.

F.

15.

Your days, though few, will pass below
In much of joy, though much of woe;
Yet still, in hours of love or strife,

You'll 'scape the weariness of life.

Byron.

Thou must suffer, ere thy spirit

Shall attain its highest goal!
Opens there no smoother pathway
To the upward struggling soul?
No-like seed that through thick darkness
Gropes its way above the sod,
So that soul of thine must ever
Struggle through the dark to God.

Light untempered pales the blossom,
Suns unclouded blight the grain-
So the Love that's winged with Wisdom,
Calls the clouds and gives them rain.
Thou, a plant in God's great garden,
Grain within His guarded field,
Need'st thou not, as well as sunshine,
Rain, to make thee thrive and yield!

Life is toil they live, they only,
Who amid their daily cares,

See a mighty end upspringing,

Like choice wheat among the tares.

They who patience glean from trial,

Strength from struggle, hope from pain,

F.

They twice live-on earth, in heaven-
They who live once, live again!

Caroline A. Briggs.

16.

'Tis folly all for us, poor worms, to trace
The map of our own path-for oft ere years
With their dull steps the brilliant lines efface,
Stern disappointment blots them out in tears.

17.

Misfortune does not always wait on vice;
Nor is success the constant guest of virtue.

Havard.

18.

A needless question that, for you to ask,
And certainly of very little use-

None that you know would undertake the task,
Where "impudence" itself can introduce.

19.

G-Take an opportunity of praising her to her most intimate friend, but with a solemn injunction of secrecy. Of course, the friend will infallibly inform her principal, the first moment she sees her, and this is a mode of flattery which always succeeds.

Colton.

F.

L.-'Tis o'er the empire of the heart
That woman holds the reign,
Where what she conquers not by art
Her tears will e'er obtain.

20.

G-Perhaps this cruel nymph well knows to feign
Forbidding speech, coy looks, and cold disdain,
To raise your passion: such are female arts,

When a blush, or a smile, on that cheek would beguile His heart from its safety with witchery's wile.

Then, lady, look kindly,

Or frown on him still,
No longer all blindly

He'll yield-to your will;

Too tightly you drew the light reins of command,
And your victim is free, for they broke in your hand.
Mrs. Osgood

21.

Most fond of the theatre, concert, and ball,

In the city or country to roam;

Of fashion's loud frolic-of gaiety's hall

Of any place, rather than home!

F.

22.

G.-A nature which has the carbonized tinder of irritability, the nitre of latent passion, and the sulphur of illhumor-all lying in hot neighborhood, and close by a reverberating furnace of fancy. We have here the components of driest gunpowder, ready on occasion of the smallest spark to blaze up! And she finds, too, that sparks are nowhere wanting.

Carlyle.

L.-He, fairly looking into life's account,
Sees frowns and favors are of like amount;
And viewing all--his perils, prospects, purse--
"Content-'tis well it is no worse."

He

says,

Crabbe.

A happy man is he; he knows the world, and cares not for it; after many traverses of thought, he is grown to know what he may trust to, and stands equally armed for all events; and he can so frame his thoughts to his estate, that when he hath least he cannot want, because as far from desire as superfluity, for he walks cheerfully the way that God hath chalked, and never wishes it more wide, or more smooth. His strife is ever to redeem, and not to spend time. In spiritual things he is graciously ambitious. He walks ever in the midway betwixt hopes and fears, resolving to fear nothing but God, to hope for nothing but that which he must have. If all the world were his he could be no other than he is, no whit gladder of himself, no whit higher in his carriage, because he knows content.