If you have not gold and silver
Ever ready to command,
If you cannot towards the needy
Reach an ever open hand,
You can visit the afflicted,

O'er the erring you can weep,
You can be a true disciple,
Sitting at the Saviour's feet.

If you cannot in the conflict,
Prove yourself a soldier true,
If where fire and smoke are thickest,
There's no work for you to do,
When the battle-field is silent,

You can go with careful tread,
You can bear away the wounded,
You can cover up the dead.

Do not then stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do,
Fortune is a lazy goddess,

She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard,
Do not fear to do or dare,
If you want a field of labor,
You can find it anywhere.

JOSH BILLINGS ON "MANIFEST DESTINY."

Manifess destiny iz the science ov going tew bust, or enny other place before yu git thare. I may be rong in this centiment, but that iz the way it strikes me, and i am so put together that when enny thing strikes me i immejiately strike back. Manifess destiny mite perhaps be blocked out agin az the condishun that man and things find themselfs in with a ring in their nozes and sumboddy hold ov the ring. I may be rong agin, but if i am, awli hav got tew sa iz, i don't kno it, and what a man don't kno aint no damage tew enny boddy else. The tru way that manifess destiny had better be sot down iz, the exact distance that a frog kan jump down hill with a striped snake after him; i don't kno but i may be wrong onst more, but if the frog don't git ketched the destiny iz jist what he iz a looking for.

When a man falls into the bottom ov a well and makes up hiz minde tew stay thare, that aint manifess destiny enny more than having yure hair cut short iz; but if he almoste gits out and then falls down in agin 16 foot deeper and brakes off his neck twice in the same plase and dies and iz buried thare at low water, that iz manifess destiny on the square. Standing behind a cow in fly time and gitting kicked twice at one time, must feel a good deal like manifess destiny. Being about 10 seckunds tew late tew git an express train, and then chasing the train with yure wife, and an umbreller in yure hands, in a hot day, and not getting az near tew the train az you waz when yu started, looks a leetle like manifess destiny on a rale rode trak. Going into a tempranse house and calling for a little old Bourbon on ice, and being told in a mild way that "the Bourbon iz jist out, but they hav got sum gin that cost 72 cents a gallon in Paris," sounds tew me like the manifess destiny ov moste tempranse houses.

Mi dear reader, don't beleave in manifess destiny until yu see it. Thare iz such a thing az manifess destiny, but when it occurs it iz like the number ov rings on the rakoon's tale, ov no great consequense onla for ornament. Man wan't made for a machine, if he waz, it waz a locomotiff machine, and manifess destiny must git oph from the trak when the bell rings, or git knocked higher then the price ov gold. Manifess destiny iz a disseaze, but it iz eazy tew heal; i hav seen it in its wust stages cured bi sawing a cord ov dri hickory wood. I thought i had it onse, it broke out in the shape ov poetry; i sent a speciment ov the disseaze tew a magazine, the magazine man wrote me nex day az follers: "Dear Sur: Yu may be a phule, but yu are no poeck. Yures, in haste."

THE QUAKER WIDOW.-BAYARD TAYLOR.

Thee finds me in the garden, Hannah-come in! 'Tis kind of thee

To wait until the friends were gone, who came to comfort

me;

The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed,
But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need.

Come, sit thee down! Here is the bench where Benjamin would sit

On First-day afternoons in spring, and watch the swallows

flit;

He loved to smell the sprouting box, and hear the pleasant bees

Go humming round the lilacs and through the apple trees.
I think he loved the spring: not that he cared for flowers;

most men

Think such things foolishness-but we were first acquainted then,

One spring; the next he spoke his mind; the third I was his wife,

And in the spring (it happened so) our children entered life.
He was but seventy-five: I did not think to lay him yet
In Kennett graveyard, where at Monthly Meeting first we

met.

The Father's mercy shows in this: 'tis better I should be
Picked out to bear the heavy cross-alone in age-than he.
We've lived together fifty years; it seems but one long day,
One quiet Sabbath of the heart, till he was called away;
And as we bring from meeting-time a sweet contentment
home,

So, Hannah, I have store of peace for all the days to come.
I mind (for I can tell thee now) how hard it was to know
If I had heard the spirit right, that told me I should go;
For father had a deep concern upon his mind that day,
But mother spoke for Benjamin-she knew what best to

say.

Then she was still: they sat awhile: at last she spoke again, "The Lord incline thee to the right!"--and "Thou shall have him, Jane!"

My father said. I cried.

shocks,

Indeed, 'twas not the least of

For Benjamin was Hicksite, and father Orthodox.

I thought of this ten years ago, when daughter Ruth we

lost:

Her husband's of the world, and yet I could not see her

crossed.

She wears, thee knows, the gayest gowns, she hears a hireling

priest

Ah, dear! the cross was ours; her life's a happy one, at

least.

Perhaps she'll wear a plainer dress when she's as old as I— Would thee believe it, Hannah? once I felt temptation nigh!

My wedding-gown was ashen silk, too simple for my taste: I wanted lace around the neck, and a ribbon at the waist. How strange it seemed to sit with him upon the women's side!

I did not dare to lift my eyes: I felt more fear than pride, Till, "in the presence of the Lord," he said, and then there

came

A holy strength upon my heart, and I could say the same. I used to blush when he came near, but then I showed no sign;

With all the meeting looking on, I held his hand in mine. It seemed my bashfulness was gone, now I was his for life: Thee knows the feeling, Hannah,-thee, too, hast been a wife.

As home we rode, I saw no fields look half so green as ours; The woods were coming into leaf, the meadows full of flow

ers;

The neighbors met us in the lane, and every face was kind— "Tis strange how lively everything comes back upon my mind.

I see, as plain as thee sits there, the wedding-dinner spread; At our own table we were guests, with father at the head; And Dinah Passmore helped us both-'twas she stood up with me,

And Abner Jones with Benjamin-and now they're gone, all three!

It is not right to wish for death; the Lord disposes best;
His Spirit comes to quiet hearts, and fits them for His rest;
And that He halved our little flock was merciful, I see:
For Benjamin has two in heaven, and two are left with me.
Eusebius never cared to farm-'twas not his call in truth,
And I must rent the dear old place, and go to daughter Ruth.
Thee'll say her ways are not like mine-young people now-
a-days

Have fallen sadly off, I think, from all the good old ways.
But Ruth is still a Friend at heart; she keeps the simple

tongue,

The cheerful, kindly nature we loved when she was young: And it was brought upon my mind, remembering her, of late,

That we on dress and outward things perhaps lay too much weight.

I once heard Jesse Kersey say, "A spirit clothed with grace And pure, almost, as angels are, may have a homely face."

And dress may be of less account; the Lord will look within:

The soul it is that testifies of righteousness or sin.

Thee mustn't be too hard on Ruth; she's anxious I should go,
And she will do her duty as a daughter should, I know.
'Tis hard to change so late in life,but we must be resigned;
The Lord looks down contentedly upon a willing mind.

FOUND DEAD.-ALBERT Leighton.

Found dead,-dead and alone,

There was nobody near, nobody near

When the outcast died on his pillow of stone,

No mother, no brother, no sister dear,

Nor a friendly voice to soothe or cheer;

Not a watching eye or a pitying tear.

Found dead,-dead and alone,

In the roofless street, on a pillow of stone.

Many a weary day went by,

While wretched and worn he begged for bread,

Tired of life and longing to lie

Peacefully down with the silent dead.

Hunger and cold and scorn and pain,

Had wasted his form and seared his brain,

Till at last on a bed of frozen ground,

With a pillow of stone was the outcast found.

Found dead,-dead and alone,

On a pillow of stone in a roofless street.

Nobody heard his last faint moan,

Or knew when his sad heart ceased to beat.

No murmur lingered with tears or sighs,
But the stars looked down with pitying eyes,
And the chill winds passed with a wailing sound,
O'er the lonely spot where his form was found.

Found dead-yet NOT alone;

There was somebody near, somebody near,
To claim the wanderer as his own,
And find a home for the homeless here.

One, when every human door

Is closed to children, accursed and poor,
Who opens the heavenly portal wide;
Ah! God was there when the outcast died!