Puslapio vaizdai

out, and you will understand him the better, and be able to give him the better answer.

5. Consider before you speak, especially when the business is of moment; weigh the sense of what you mean to utter, and the expressions you intend to use, that they may be significant, to the point, and inoffensive. Inconsiderate persons do not think till they speak; or they speak, and then think.

6. Some men excel in one thing, some in another. In conversation learn, as near as you can, where the skill or excellence of any person lies; put him upon talking on that subject, observe what he says, keep it in your memory, or commit it to writing. By this means you will glean knowledge from every one with whom you converse, and at an easy rate acquire what may be of use to you on many occasions.

7. When you are in company with light, vain, impertinent persons, let the observing of their failings make you the more cautious both in your conversation with them and in your general behavior, that you may avoid their errors.

8. If any one, whom you do not know to be a person of truth, sobriety, and weight, relates strange stories, be not too ready to believe or report them; and yet, unless he is one of your familiar acquaintances, be not too forward to contradict him.

9. If the occasion requires you to declare your opinion, do it modestly and gently, not bluntly nor coarsely; by this means you will avoid giving offense, or being abused for too much credulity.




1. TELL me, fe winged winds,
That round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot

Where mortals weep no more?

Some lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley in the west,
Where, free from toil and pain,
weary soul may rest?

The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity, as it answered-“No.”

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And friendship never dies?
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer-"No."

3. And thou, serenest moon,
That, with such lovely face,
Dost look upon the earth

Asleep in night's embrace,
Tell me, in all thy round,

Hast thou not seen some spot
Where miserable man

Might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,
And a voice, sweet but sad, responded—“No.”

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Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whispered-“YES, IN




1. CHILD', amid the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away';
Mother', with thine earnest eye
Ever following silently';
Father', by the breeze at eve
Call'd thy harvest work to leave'—
Pray': ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart and bend the knee'.

2. Traveler', in the stranger's land,

Far from thine own household band';
Mourner', haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone';
Captive', in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell';
Sailor', on the darkening sea',-
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

3. Warrior', that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun';
Woman', o'er the lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain';
Ye that triumph', ye that sign',
Kindred by one holy tie',
Heaven's first star alike ye
Lift the heart and bend the knee'.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed-
The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try—
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.



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1. I HAVE a son, a little son, a boy just five years old,

With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould;
They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears,

That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond his childish years.
I can not say how this may be-I know his face is fair,
And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and serious air:

I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me,
But loveth yet his mother more with grateful fervency.

2. But that which others most admire is the thought which fills his mind; The food for grave inquiring speech he every where doth find:

Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we together walk;
He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk;
Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball,
But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimics all.
3. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplex'd

With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next;
He kneels at his dear mother's knee, she teaches him to pray,
And strange, and sweet, and solemn then are the words which he will say.
Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years like me,
A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be:
And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow,
I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now.

4. I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three;

I'll not declare how bright and fair his little features be,
How silver sweet those tones of his when he prattles on my knee.
I do not think his light blue eye is, like his brother's, keen,
Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his hath ever been;
But his little heart's a fountain pure of kind and tender feeling,

And his every look's a gleam of light, rich depths of love revealing.
5. When he walks with me, the country folk, who pass us in the street
Will shout with joy, and bless my boy, he looks so mild and sweet.
A playfellow is he to all, and yet, with cheerful tone,
Will sing his little song of love, when left to sport alone.

His presence is like sunshine sent to gladden home and hearth,
To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth.
Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove
As sweet a home for heavenly grace as now for earthly love.
And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim,
God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him.

6. I have a son, a third sweet son; his age I can not tell,

For they reckon not by years or months where he is gone to dwell.
To us, for fourteen anxious months, his infant smiles were given,
And then he bade farewell to Earth, and went to live in Heaven.
I can not tell what form is his, what looks he weareth now,
Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow.
The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he doth feel,
Are number'd with the secret things which God will not reveal.
7. But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest,
Where other blessed infants be, on their Savior's loving breast.
I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh,

But his sleep is bless'd with endless dreams of joy forever fresh.
I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings,
And soothe him with a song that breathes of Heaven's divinest things.
I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I),
When God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye.


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