My sharp-eyed friend, there are no such words!" said Ching. "They're there," said Chang, "if I see anything, As clear as daylight." "Patent eyes, indeed, You have!" cried Ching; "do you think I cannot read?" "Not at this distance as I can," Chang said, "If what you say you saw is all you read." In fine, they quarreled, and their wrath increased, GIVE ME THE HAND.-GOODMAN BARNABY. Give me the hand that is kind, warm, and ready; Give me the hand that is true as a brother; Lovely the palm of the fair blue-veined maiden; Give me the grasp that is friendly forever. Give me the grasp that is honest and hearty, Give me the hand that is true as a brother; THE KING'S TEMPLE. A mighty king on his couch reclined, And its fairest maid would be proud to wear Then the site was chosen, the builders wrought To give his labor for naught to God, Then the poor man's mite by the king was spurned, Till at last, on a gorgeous autumn day, Now there lay in the chancel a great white stone, And far away where the melody came Her garment was worn, and her hair was thin, “Thank God that His house is complete at last!” * * * * * The monarch, that night, on his couch reclined, ་ And he sought his own royal name to read, 'Twas a woman's name he never had heard, And his heart with wonder and wrath was stirred. And when he awoke, throughout his land On the second day, as he sat alone, The courtiers who stood about his throne And they thought, of course, she would have to wait (For even so did the royal kin,) For the kingly pleasure to let her in; But he stamped his foot with a stern "Begone! Then, slowly and trembling, in there came, And when she grew used to the splendid place, He begged, if she could, she would make it known And the old dame lifted her streaming eyes, The king said nothing. Ere morning shone MIND, THE GLORY OF MAN.-D. WISE. The mind is the glory of man. No possession is so productive of real influence as a highly cultivated intellect. Wealth, birth, and official station may and do secure to their possessors an external, superficial courtesy; but they never did, and they never can, command the reverence of the heart. It is only to the man of large and noble soul, to him who blends a cultivated mind with an upright heart, that men yield the tribute of deep and genuine respect. But why do so few young men of early promise, whose hopes, purposes, and resolves were as radiant as the colors of the rainbow, fail to distinguish themselves? The answer is obvious; they are not willing to devote themselves to that toilsome culture which is the price of great success. Whatever aptitude for particular pursuits nature may donate to her favorite children, she conducts none but the laborious and the studious to distinction. Great men have ever been men of thought as well as men of action. As the magnificent river, rolling in the pride of its mighty waters, owes its greatness to the hidden springs of the mountain nook, so does the wide-sweeping influence of distinguished men date its origin from hours of privacy, resolutely employed in efforts after self-development. The invisible spring of self-culture is the source of every great achievement. Away, then, young man, with all dreams of superiority, unless you are determined to dig after knowledge, as men search for concealed gold! Remember, that every man has in himself the seminal principle of great excellence, and he may develop it by cultivation if he will TRY. Perhaps you are what the world calls poor. What of that? Most of the men whose names are as household words were also the children of poverty. Captain Cook, the circumnavigator of the globe, was born in a mud hut, and started in life as a cabin-boy. Lord Eldon, who sat on the woolsack in the British parliament for nearly half a century, was the son of a coal merchant. Franklin, the philosopher, diplomatist, and statesman, was but a poor printer's boy, whose highest luxury, at one time, was only a penny roll, eaten in the streets of Philadelphia. Ferguson, the profound philosopher, was the son of a half-starved weaver. Johnson, Goldsmith, Coleridge, and multitudes of others of high distinction, knew the pressure of limited circumstances, and have demonstrated that poverty even is no insuperable obstacle to success. Up, then, young man, and gird yourself for the work of self-cultivation! Set a high price on your leisure moments. They are sands of precious gold. Properly expended, they will procure for you a stock of great thoughts-thoughts that will fill, stir and invigorate, and expand the soul. Scize also on the unparalleled aids furnished by steam and type in this unequaled age. The great thoughts of great men are now to be procured at prices almost nominal. You can, therefore, easily collect a library of choice standard works. But above all, learn to reflect even more than you read. Without thought, books are the sepulchre of the soul,-they only immure it. Let thought and reading go hand in hand, and the intellect will rapidly increase in strength and gifts. Its possessor will rise in character, in power, and in positive influence. TEMPTATIONS OF ST. ANTHONY. "He would have passed a pleasant life of it, despite of the Devil and all his works, ff his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mor tal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was a woman."-SKETCH BOOK. St. Anthony sat on a lowly stool, And a book was in his hand'; Never his eyes from its page he took, But with steadfast gaze as was his rule, The holy page he scanned. "We will woo," said the imp, "St. Anthony's eyes Off from his holy book; We will go to him in all strange disguise, And tease him with laughter and whoops and cries, |