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Our moral is this: That selfishness brings

No happiness, soul-felt and glad;
Its purpose o’erreaching, it finds but the stings

Of conscience, accusing and sad.
BYRON, Mich.

S. E.



So here you are, hard, at work!” exclaimed Walter Evans to his

, Burton “ Yes, I study every night till ten o'clock, and am up again betimes at my books," answered Lionel, scarcely looking up, and apparently in a great hurry for Walter to depart.

“Well, I'll not stay to interrupt you, if you'll tell me one thingwhy do you work so hard ?"

"Why? How can you be so ignorant! I study hard to win the highest honors and the prize. Of course I would like to have Lionel Burton's name on every tongue when examination-day comes, and so I study hard that none may outstrip me in the race and win the crown I covet." The eye

of the ambitious student flashed, and he seemed absorbed in the thought of ultimate triumph. Walter bade him “good-evening,” and turned away thinking that an ambitious student must necessarily be a selfish one.

The next evening he had occasion to ask of a fellow-student some explanation of a difficult passage in his Latin lesson, and observed that the one whom he asked, Arthur Montague, cheerfully laid aside his own studies to accommodate him, though when he had finished all Walter desired, he turned immediately to his books again. “He is not ambitious,” thought Walter," and therefore he is not selfish.”

What was his surprise, after arriving at this conclusion, to hear a professor one day say to a gentlemen visitor of Walter's acquaintance, “We have two very ambitious students here-Lionel Burton and Arthur Montague."

“ Arthur Montague !” exclaimed Walter, unable to keep silent, why, he is too unselfish to be called ambitious.”

The professor smiled. “Go to him," said he," and ask him why he studies so hard, and you will find that he is ambitious, though his




aim is far higher than Lionel's, and he will probably do most good in the world, though Lionel may make the most stir at first.”

Walter heeded the advice, and as soon as convenient hastened to Arthur, and asked him why he pored over his books both late and early.

“I study incessantly, and 'burn the midnight oil,'” answered Arthur, “not because I wish for fame or the prize offered, but because I love study, and desire to be a learned man. I am ambitious to attain great knowledge, but I do not care whether others know it or not, for I seek wisdom for its own sake, as a .pearl of great price,' and really love to study."

“ Your ambition has a noble end in view then-a well-stored mind, fitting you for the proper performance of the duties of future life, and that is the reason you are so unselfish, and can pause to assist a poorer scholar, not fearing that he will become the sooner your competitor, and take the crown from your brow."

The pale brow of the true student was flushed for a moment at this burst of praise from his fellow-pupil, and then he replied, calmly: “I am not insensible to the voice of praise or blame, but I am fast learning that the great desideratum is to become deserving of commendation, and it is of lesser moment whether the laurel wreath be mine or not. I have bowed at the holy shrine of duty, and believing that I ought to become wise and learned, I am striving to attain a high standard as a student; the honors and praises for which others strive are, with me, I trust, a secondary consideration.”

“ Arthur's is true ambition,” thought Walter, as he sat alone in his own room, a short time after, " because his is a noble and worthy aim; but Lionel's is false, because the end he had in view is puerile, and of little real value. I will try to follow Arthur.” . . . Studentreader, which will


follow ? NANTUCKET, Mass.



ELL me, lovely daughters of the rough black earth, who gave to

you your beautiful forms ? For truly you are fashioned by delicate fingers. What little spirits rise out of your cups? And what pleasure did you feel when goddesses were rocking themselves upon your leaves ? Tell me, friendly flowers, how did they distrib



ute among themselves their joyous task, and beckon to one another while they so skillfully spun, so skillfully adorned and embroidered their delicate texture.

But you are silent, sweet children, and enjoy your existence. Very well, the instructive fable shall tell me what you are unwilling to reveal.

Once when the earth stood a naked rock, behold a friendly band of nymphs brought the virgin soil upon it, and kind genii were ready to adorn the naked rock. In various ways they divided among themselves their task. Already under the snow, and among the cold, tender grass, modest meekness began to weave the retiring violet. Hope walked close after her and filled with cool fragrance the little calyx of the refreshing hyacinth.

Now came, since those succeeded so well, a proud train of many colored beauties. The tulip raised its head, the narcissus glanced around with its longing eyes. Many other goddesses and nymphs were busied in various ways, and adorned the earth, rejoicing over their beautiful creation. And behold, when a large portion of their work with its glory, and their delight in it had faded away, Venus spoke thus to the Graces: “Why are ye idle, sisters of gracefulness? Arise, and weave of your charms, blossoms, visible to mortals.”

They went down to earth, and Aglaia, the Grace of Purity, formed the Lily. Thalia and Euphrosyne wove with sisterly hand the flower of joy and love, the virgin Rose. Many flowers of the fields and of the gardens envy one another. The Lily and the Rose envy none, and are envied by all. As sisters they bloom together and adorn each other, for sister Graces wove them conjointly.

COME WHEN THE BIRDS SING.–The following beautiful thought was uttered by Professor Caldwell, of Dickinson College, a short time before his death, in conversation with his wife : “ You will not, I am sure, lie down upon your bed and weep when I am gone. And when you visit the spot where I lie, do not choose a sad and mournful time; do not go in the shades of evening, or in the dark of night. These are no times to visit the grave of one who hopes and trusts in a risen Redeemer. Come, dear wife, in the bright sunshine, and when the birds are singing."

Children's . Department.

THINK AGAIN. ANY times have we seen little boys and girls get angry

egnally to blame.

If such children would only “think again” before they allow themselves to lose their tempers, they would seldom have occasion to quarrel.

Edward and Emma, a brother and sister, were children who used to get angry at each other sometimes, but they have since learned how much happier it is to laugh and be kind, than to cry and quarrel.

One day as Emma came running home from school with blood on her lips, she cried, “Mother, oh, mother, I wish you would whip Edward; he struck me on my face with his hoop-stick."

“Why, Edward,” exclaimed the mother, “how came you to hurt your sister so badly? Surely you could not have done it on purpose ?"

“No, mother, sister knows that it was an accident. She came running in my way when I was driving my hoop, and the stick struck her; I did not."

Come to me, Emma, and let me wash the blood from your face; then I will punish your brother if you wish me to. Shall I do so ?”

“Yes, mother. He is a careless, naughty boy.”

“But think again, Emma. You may be sorry after it is done. You are satisfied that it was an accident, and that you were as much to blame as your brother. You were both careless, and that was the way the accident occurred. If I punish him, I shall hurt him more than he did you. Would it do you any good to see him cry? Would it make your face feel any better to know that he was suffering? Think again. I will do just as you wish. Shall I punish him ?”

“No, no, mother,” said Emma, quickly, and the tears fell

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faster than before; “I knew he did not mean to hurt me."

“Then go and kiss him, and tell him you forgive him for his carelessness, and ask him to forgive you for your anger toward him."

It was a sweet sight to see the loving children locked in each other's arms, and kissing away each other's tears.


What is it makes me happiest ?

Is it my last new play?
Is it my bounding ball or hoop

I follow every day ?

Is it my puzzles, or my blocks ?

My pleasant solitaire ?
My dolls, my kitten, or my books ?

My flowers, fresh and fair ?

What is it makes me happiest ?

It is not one of these ;
Yet they are treasures dear to me,

And never fail to please.

Oh, it is looks and tones of love,

From those I love the best,
That follow me when I do right ;
These make me happiest !

-Fresh Flowers for Children.


A NOBLE boy is an honor to his parents and to his school

. love to tell other boys of their noble acts, that they may learn to imitate them.

One day as a boy had passed a basket of pears, another boy said to him :.“Why did you not pocket some of those pears £—there was nobody there to see you."

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