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Yea, yea! a look the fainting heart may break, Or make it whole,
And just one word, if said for love's sweet sake, May save a soul!
MAY RILEY SMITH.
READ THIS, BOYS.
Do waust Arst be good and true;
you want some day to be great, boys?
Would you rise to high estate, boys?
Stand up for the small and the weak, boys,
In a well-bred gentleman.
Don't mind if your jacket be old, boys,
Don't rail at the aged and poor, boys,
For their poverty's hard to bear, boys,
You should cheer them whene'er you can.
And let each of you have a care, boys,
And always stand up for the right, boys,
AILY living seemeth weary
DATo the one who never works;
Duty always seemeth dreary
To the one who duty shirks.
Only after hardest striving
Cometh sweet and perfect rest
C. M. SHELDON,
NEW YEAR'S RESOLVE.
S the dead year is clasped by a dead December, So let your dead sins with your dead days lie. A new life is yours, and a new hope! Remember We build our own ladders to climb to the sky.
Stand out in the sunlight of promise, forgetting
you missed in your aim? Well, the mark is still shining;
you faint in the race? well, take breath for the next; Did the clouds drive you back but see yonder their lining;
Were you tempted and fell? let it serve for a text. As each year hurries by let it join that procession Of skeleton shapes that march down to the past, While you take your place in the line of progression, With your eyes on the heavens, your face to the blast
I tell you the future can hold no terrors
For any sad soul while the stars revolve,
If he will but stand firm on the grave of his errors,
It is never too late to begin rebuilding,
Though all into ruins your life seems hurled; For look! how the light of the new year is gilding The worn, wan face of the bruised old world! ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
TWO PICTURES FROM LIFE.
HE dram-seller's wife wears fine silken robes,
And jewels most precious flash dazzling light
The dram-drinker's wife looks careworn and pale,
For rags are her laces, salt tears are her gems,
The dram-seller lives in a beautiful house,
Oft his table is spread with naught but a crust,
The dram-seller's children are tenderly raised,
While every advantage which wealth can procure,
The dram-drinker's children know little of joy, Their birthright is shame and disgrace,
The pitiful story of each little life
May be read in each sad little face.
The dram-seller's wealth increases each day,
The dram-drinker's purse grows lighter each day,
'Twould be better for children
were he dead, and wife."
O'er the dram-seller's grave a monument stands,
Inscribed with the name and the many good deeds,
The dram-drinker's grave is unnoticed, unmarked,
From the dram-seller's grave a solemn voice sounds,
Thy brother, nor tempt him to walk in the way
By the drunkard's lone grave memory brings from her
Words found in the volume divine,
Woe! woe! shall be his who follows strong drink,
ET others write of battles fought
Where honor greets the man who wins,
And death the man who yields;
He is a hero staunch and bold
Who fights an unseen foe,