A
Keep.
Keep to tlio right as the law
tlirects.
Keep from the world th}-
frieiid’a defects.
Keep all thy thoughts on pur
est themes.
Keej) from thine eyes the motes
and beams.
Kee]) true thy deed. Thy hon
or bright.
Keep firm thy faith in God
and right.
Keep free from every sin and
stain.
Keep from the ways that
bring thee pain.
Keep free thy tongue from
words of ill.
Kee]) right thj’ aim and good
thy will.
Keep all thy acts from passion
free.
Keep strong in hope no envy
see.
Keep watchful care o’er tongue
and hand.
Keep finn th}' feet, b}’ justice
stand.
Keep tnie thy word, a sacred
thing.
Keep from the snares the
tempters bring.
Keep faith with each you call
a friend.
Keep full in view the final end.
Keep firm thy courage bold
and strong.
Keep up the right and down
the wrong.
Keep well the words of wis-
donfs school.
Keep warm by night, and by
day keep cool.
WJIAT IS ms CISEKU !
He left a load of jiutliracite
In front of a poor widow’s floor,
Whan till} deep suow, frozen and wliito,
'Wraiiped street and square, luoimtaiii
and moor,
Tliat was his deed j
Ho did it well ;
“^Vliat Wii-s his creed
I cannot toil.
Blessed “in his basket and store,”
In sitting douir and rising «p :
hou more he got, lie gave the more,
AV'itlihoMiiig not the crust and clip;
He Umk llie lead
In sach good task ;
“Wliat was his creed ?”
I did nut ask.
BowiBBg; To Ootids Will.’
Whate’er God will.s, l(*t that be done
His will is ever wise.st ;
His grace will all tby hope out run.
Who to that fiiith arisest.
The gnu-ions Lord
Will help afford;
He chastens with forbearing;
Who in God believes,
And to him cleaves,
Shall not be left despiiiriiig.
Sly God is iny sure confideiieo.
My light and my existence.
Ilis coiuisid is beyond iny sense;
But stirs no weak resistance;
His Word dclares
'J’hc very hairs
Upon my head arc numbered;
His mercy large
H(dds me in charge
With care that never slumbered.
Tliere comes a day, when at His will,
The pulse jf nature ceases;
1 think upon it and am still.
Let ciuno whate’er he pleases.
To Him I trust
My soul, my dust,
When flesh and s])int sever;
The Christ we sing
Has plucked the sting
Away from ileath forever.
His charity was like the snoM^,
.Soft, white, und-sillu'ii in it.s fall;
Nut like the noisy winds tliat blow
From shivering trees the ieavcf. a pali
For flower ainl weed,
Dropiiing below;
‘‘What was his creed ?”
The poor may know.
Ho had groat faith in loaves of bread
For hungry people, young and old;
And hope juspirod, kind worils he said
'lo those ho sheltered from llio cold,
For we must feel
-As well as pray; ' •
“Wliat was his creed f” '
I cannot say.
AND) ONE,
Tw>
Twi
Tw.
Tw.
Tw.
little girls are better than one ;
littli* boys can double the fun ;
little birds can build a tine nest;
little arms can love mother be.st;
little ponies must go to a span ;
Two little pockets has my little man ;
Two little eyes to open and clo.se ;
Two little ears and one little nose ;
Two little elbows dimplc.l and sweet ;
Two little shoes on two,little feet;
Two little lips and one little chin ;
Two little cheeks with a rose shut in ;
'i'wo little shoHll(?rs, chubby and string
Two little legs running all day long;
Two little prayiTS does my darling say ;
'rwice lie kneels by my side each dav ;
Two little folded liainls, soft and brown ■
I’wo little eyelids cast meekly down;
Two little angels guard him in bed—
“One at the foot and one at the head.”
“The day is a-wasting, wasting, wasting.
The day is a-wasting—night is near;
Lord, in the twilight, Lord, in the deep
night,
Lord, in the midnight, be Thou near
ill tiic Sex.
An Irishman having taken his child to be
christened, (the mother not being able to go
with him,) Iwcainc frightened at the crisis,
and could not think of the baby’s name. Ho
bhindei-eil and stammered, nntil the priest, a
little weary, sai.l, “Cal! him Joiin. Call him
John,” and forthwith baptized it. Poor Pat
wont lown the aisle evidently viwy much dis-
tii;-b(‘d, and inutteriiig to himself, “Bo gorra !
I don’t know wlmt the old woimin will say to
this, for we’ve got another John at home, and
this is a [firl!’*
O.VE evening a lady wlio be
longs to the editorial staff of one
ot tlie leading diwlies in New
York liad been detained by office
duties until rather a late hour.
Living on the Heights in Brook
lyn, but a short distance from
Fulton feny, it was not much of
a venture to go home without es
cort, and so she started. On the
boat, standing outside, enjo3dng
the refreshing breeze after a day’s
toil, she perceived a gentleman
'“i in i-ather close pro.vimity to
where she was leaning over the
gu.ards, hut said nothing.
“Are you alone ?” said ho, as
the boat neared the ship.
“No, sir,” said the lady, and
without furtherinteiTuption, when
the boat touched, she stepped olT.
“I thought 3'ou were alone,”
said the fellow, stepping to her
side again.
“I am not,” replied tlie ladjn
“Whjy I don’t see anj' one;
wlio is with 3'ou ?”
“God Ahnightj' and the angels,
sir. I am never alone !”
“You keep too good company
for me, madam. Good-night
and he shot for a Fulton Avenue
car, then nearlj' a block awajn
The heroic woman was per
mitted to “keep to the riglit, as
the law directs,” and enj(y tliat
full measure of (piiet satisfaction
one ahvat’s feel from keeping
good eompain^.
T!SE BOY TO BE TBBSTEB.
Isaac and his Cousin Paul came
home from school at four o’clock
in the aftenioon. Of course thet'
were hungiy, as scliool is a hun-
gTV place, tho}- sa}'. Isaac went
directh’ to the dining-room clos
et, with Paul at his heels.
“Mother puts some cookies on
the sh.elf, if she has anj- for us.
I hope we shall find some,” said
Isaac, opening the door. There
was not a cookie to be seen, l)at
two crackers. The be^'s looked
disap[)ointed.
“'I'here is cake in that tin
trunk,” said Isaac, pointing to a
corner in tlie closet; “but it is
not to be liad.”
“Is It locked,” asked Paul.
“0 no, not locked,” said Isaac.
“Then can’t wo take a piece ?”
wliispered Paul ; “auntie would
not care, and slie might never
know it. We can forget to tell
her, 3'ou know.”
“Not for the woild,” said Isaiic;
“my mother trusts nu', and 1
never touch her dike or sweet
meats without leave.’’
“Pooh !” cried Paul, “fho3' ai-e
as much 3-ours as hors ; and she
would never iind it out. You a:e
a fool to be so squeamish.”
“Paul,” said Isaac squareh^, “I
call such a thing stealing, and I
shidl not do it for the best bite in
the world.”
“Every person to their choice,”
cried Paul, carelessKe “I onlv-
know wdiat I should do, and what
I do do at homo.”
“If 3mu steal, so much the
worse,” said Isaac.
‘T do not call it stealing,” cried
Paul, snaj)pi.slil3'; “no such
thing.”
“We had best call tilings b3’
their riglit names, I’aul,” said his
Cousin gravel)'.
“You to 3'our choice, I to
mine,” cried Paul.
And that is what we are al-
wa3's at^—choosintj. Life is made
up of little choices. Kemember,
bo3's, as you, choose while a hoy, so
will 3'ou be as a man ; noble or
sneaJciiig, upright or deceitful—
showing Christian manliness or
worldl)'- selfishness.—Child’s I'a-
per.
THE BltTIFUi, BOO,
A shepherd in the count)' of
Norfolk had a favorite dog, which
h.id been his favorite companion
for mail)' years. One da)-, tliis
sheiiherd u'ent to remove a flock
of sheep from one fold to another.
The)' had to pass b)' a gap in the
liedge, whore the shepherd told
his faithful servant to watch, so.)'-
ing, ‘Y^ou stand there. Jack !”
After the man had led liis
sheep to their new fold, he went
about other work, and tlionght
no more about the dog until the
evening ; but then, -when he was
sought tor, he was nowhere to be
found. The next da)-, the shep
herd chanced to remember wliat
he had told the dog to do the day
before, lie immediately set (mt
to the place where he had left
him, ami, to his delight, found
him at his post of duty. The
poor animal was much pleased to
see his master, but he did' not
move from Ids post until ho was
called. Might not mdny chil
dren learn li lesson of obedience
and steadfastness in duty from
the shepherd’s dog ?
A PIosBEtey Cmb’c»? of KMiaBS-.
Correct
YYe would advise all yoiuig
people to acquire, in early life,
the habit of correct .speaking and
writing ; and to abandon, as ear
ly as possible, any use of shuig
words and jibrases. The longer
you live, the more difficult the
language will be ; and if the gol
den age of youth, the proper sea
son for the acquisition of lan
guage, be passed in its abuse, the
unfortunate victim, if neglected,
is, very properly, doomed to talk
slang for lite.
Money is not necessary to pro
cure this education. Every man
lias it in hi.s power. He lias
merely to use tlie language which
lie reads, instead of the slang
which he Iiears ; to form his taste
from the best of siieakers and
poets in tlie country ; to treasure
up choice jihrases in.his memory
and habituate himself to their use,
avoiding at the same time that
pedantic jirecision and bombast
which show Ihe weakness of vain
ambition rather than thepolisliof
an educateij mind.—Youth’s Com
panion.
A gentleman once checked a'
duck’s fondness for a distant pen
by fastening a liook and line to
his log, wliicli caught a big pick-
eroL There was a hard fight be
tween duck and fish, but at length,
by the gentleman’s aid, a four-
pound pickerel was landed on the
shore, and the duck never cared
to go near the pond again. A
mon.key was cured of a mischiev
ous habit ill the same way :
The desire of riding seems to
be naturally implanted in the
monkey mind. Not long ago, a
gentleman, who rather prided
himselfon a very fine studofhun-
ters, found that 11)0 horses did not
appear properly refreshed by their
nightly rest.
One of th.e grooms, on being
desired to Iceep a strict watcli,
dis covered that a tame monkey,
belonging to the house, was ac
customed to ride on tlie horses’
backs all night, preventing tlieni
from Sufficient rest. His master,
on discovering his penchant for
riding, and being averse to kill
ing the monkey on aoooiint of
his horsemansliip, succeeded in
curing him effectually of his love
of horses.
The next time that tlie hounds
met, he had the monkey put into
a full hunting suit, and secured
b)' a strap to the saddle of his
most spirted hunter, and took him
away to the meet
YV hen tlie fox was found, the
horse pricked up Ins ears at the
well-known sound, and started off
at once.
The chase happened to be a
particularly long and severe one ;
tlie monkey, of course, from bis
light weight, being far ahead of
the legitlnuito lumtsinen. A coun
tryman, who was coming from the
direction whicli the fox had taken,
was interrogated by some of the
sportsmen who bad been thrown
out as to the position of the hunt,
and told them that tlie fox was
looking tired, but that none of the
huntsmen -were near, except a lit
tle geiitlenum in a yellow jacket,
wlio took his leaps beautifully.
Sure enougli, master Jacko
was in at the death, but did not
by any means ajipreciate tlie hon
or. After tlifi fox had been kill
ed, t! lere was a long ride homo
again, by the end of which time
the monkey seemed thoroiiglily
wearied out. After the experieno
that he had of a day’s hunting, lie
was never known toinounta horse
again.
A Eoifg- Promisee
The Kennebec Journal containg
the following incident: An old
farmer, in the vicinity of Augus
ta, about twenty )'eai's ago, after'
concluding a “trade” for a larglf
bill of goods with an Augusta
ilealer in furniture, as lie was
about to drive off, bailed him
with, “If yer ivill throw in a look
ing-glass, I will bring )’er dou'n
a barrel of nice ajiples.” The
mirror was “thrown in,” and this
was the last seen of the fanner
until a few d.ays since, when an
aged fanner backed his “apple
cart” up to the sidewalk opposite'
the furniture store, now oocltpfed
by sons of the former owhO)',''
opened the door and Ishouted;'
‘’Here’s yer apples The Burprise
of the sons ivere great; but tim '
father, who was present, remem
bered tlie circumstances of the'
trade and heartily greeted his old'
acquaintance, who, after a lapse
of twenty years, had not forgot
ten his promise.
■atn
Eittlc Kind ficnrt*
One cold, stormy morning, a
little girl of two years was stand
ing on a chair near a window,
looking at the few people who
were hurrying along through tlie
mud and rain.
‘There is a poor little dog; ho
lias no umbrella to keep the rain
from wetting his shaggy coat,’ ;
said her mother,
‘I’ll lend him mine, mamma.’
‘But he has no hands ; he can’t
cany an umbrella,’ her mother
replied, wishing to kno.v what
lier little daughter’s active and
ever fertile mind would suggest.
‘I'll wide him, mamma ; I'll get
on Ins back,’ the little tongue
quickly answered, whilst tlie
briglit e)'es looked thoughtfully
and wistfully towards the poor
vet dog.—Selected.
TEXAS FEVEIS.
A good many years ago the
“Texas fever” was the prevailing
epidemic. A good old lady, not
over -H-ell posted in matters per
taining to geography, had an pry
ly son who was badly afflictecl,
with it. So high did it run tliat
nothing short of a visit to the. ^
“land of promise” was likely t«r ■
prove efficacious as a remedy.
Go he would, much as it was
against the old lady’s irirficf.
The next day one of lier neigh- -
hors, without knowing lier causri,. .
of tronble, paid the old lady a
visit. She found her in inconsol
able grief, and -when slie -would,
fain comfort her by asking bpp
cause of grief, the old lady .s«J)'-
bed out,—• '
“O my son John, he’s left this
■worldl ' -
“Ybnir son deadexclaimed,
her neighbor, in surprise.
“O no !” again gasped the old
lady; “ho isn’t dead, but gone to
Teia,s.”—Lewiston Jourual.-