August 27th.

To me at eve and morn,

In waking dream, or vision of the night,

The face of knowledge looked from out the clouds
With such a wondrous beauty, that I longed

To make her mine for ever.

WHO saw his wife might well have thought

God loves this man. He chose a wife for him,

E. H. Plumptre.

The true one.

August 28th,

I WAS a crank wit, a brisk young boy;
But naturally abhorr'd hypocrisie,

And craft, the upshot of experienced age ;
And more than life I lov'd my liberty,

Jean Ingelow.

And much suspected all that would engage

My heart to their own sect, and free-born soul encage.

Henry More.

WHEN enters she

A drawing-room, what world of gracious things

Her curtsey says!-she sinks with such a sway,

Greeting on either hand the company,

Then slowly rises to her state again!

Sheridan Knowles.

August 29th.

I'm very sure that all

Who seek or sigh for Beauty's thrall

May breathe their vow, and feed their passion,
Though whist and waltzing keep in fashion,
And make the most delicious sonnets,
In spite of diamonds and French bonnets!

Praed.

OH, you will never hide your soul from me;
I've seen the jewel flash, and know 'tis there,
Muffle it as you will,

George Eliot.

August 30th.

HE is so full of pleasant anecdote;

So rich, so gay, so poignant in his wit,
Time vanishes before him as he speaks,

And ruddy morning through the lattice peeps
Ere night seems well begun.

WHITE mist from the valley,

Wild wind from the sea,

A shimmer and rustle
From upland and tree;
The lowing of cattle,
Some far distant bell,-
Oh! voices of evening,
I love you so well!

August 31st.

LOVE that lifts us, love that dowers
With purer riches, higher powers!
That purges vision to the starry sight

Of things immortal! love that showers.
Upon the poorest life a grander light
Than bathes this earth of ours.

OH! I would walk

A weary journey, to the farthest verge

Of the big world, to kiss that good man's hand,
Who, in the blaze of wisdom and of art,

Preserves a lowly mind; and to his God,
Feeling the sense of his own littleness,
Is as a child in meek simplicity.

W

September 1st.

ITH thee good-humour tempers lively wit;
Enthron'd with judgment, candour loves to sit,
And nature gave thee, open to distress,
A heart to pity and a hand to bless.

Joanna Baillie.

F. L. M. B.

J. B. Selkirk.

Kirke White.

Churchill.

LABOUR with thy spirit willing-labour with thy soul's best feeling;
With thy whole heart do whatever finds thy hand to labour o'er ;
For thy body, soul, and spirit, they are God's; and all thy merit
Is with thankful, patient courage still to labour evermore.

"Laborare est orare," grave this legend in the core of thy heart for evermore,

J. F. Waller.

August 28th.

August 27th.

To me at eve and morn,

In waking dream, or vision of the night,

The face of knowledge looked from out the clouds.
With such a wondrous beauty, that I longed

To make her mine for ever.

WHO saw his wife might well have thought

God loves this man. He chose a wife for him,

E. H. Plumptre.

The true one.

August 28th,

I WAS a crank wit, a brisk young boy;
But naturally abhorr'd hypocrisie,
And craft, the upshot of experienced age;
And more than life I lov'd my liberty,

Jean Ingelow.

And much suspected all that would engage

My heart to their own sect, and free-born soul encage.

Henry More.

WHEN enters she

A drawing-room, what world of gracious things
Her curtsey says!-she sinks with such a sway,
Greeting on either hand the company,
Then slowly rises to her state again!

Sheridan Knowles.

August 29th.

I'm very sure that all

Who seek or sigh for Beauty's thrall

May breathe their vow, and feed their passion,
Though whist and waltzing keep in fashion,
And make the most delicious sonnets,
In spite of diamonds and French bonnets!

Praed.

OH, you will never hide your soul from me;
I've seen the jewel flash, and know 'tis there,
Muffle it as you will,

George Eliot.