I have frequently seen in life a person preferred to a long list of applicants, for some important charge which lifts him at once into station and fortune, merely because he has this reputation, that when he says he knows a thing, he knows it, and when he says he will do a thing, he will do it. Muse over these maxims; practice them!

SIR E. B. LYTTON.

OUR CHURCHES AND SCHOOL-HOUSES.

ATTENTION to the wants of the intellect and of the soul, as manifested by the voluntary support of schools and colleges, of churches and benevolent institutions, is one of the most remarkable characteristics of the American people. It is not less strikingly exhibited in the new than in the older settlements of the country.

On the spot where the first trees of the forest are felled, near the log cabins of the pioneers, are to be seen rising together the church and the school-house. So has it been from the beginning, and God grant that it may ever thus continue!

"On other shores, above their mouldering towns,
In sullen pomp the tall cathedral frowns:

Simple and frail, our lowly temples throw

Their slender shadows on the paths below;

Scarce steals the wind, that sweeps the woodland tracks,

The larch's perfume from the settler's ax,

Ere, like a vision of the morning air,

His slight-framed steeple marks the house of prayer.

Yet Faith's pure hymn, beneath its shelter rude,
Breathes out as sweetly to the tangled wood,
As where the rays through blazing oriels pour
On marble shaft and tessellated floor."

WEBSTER.

THE ESQUIMAUX KAYAK.

The little skiff in which the Esquimaux (Es'ke-mo) hunts the seal is called a kay-ak'.

In spite of the weather, in spite of the snow:

What cares the hardy Esquimaux?

In my little skiff, with paddle and lance,

I glide where the foaming billows dance:
And when the cautious seal I spy,
I poise my ready lance on high,
And then like lightning let it fly.

Round me the sea-birds dip and soar;
Like me they love the ocean's roar.
Sometimes a floating iceberg gleams
Over me with its melting streams.
Sometimes a rushing wave will fall
Down on my skiff, and cover it all.
But what care I for the waves' attack?
With my paddle I right my little kayak;
And then its freight I speedily trim,
And over the waters away I skim.

Ye who lead a delicate life,

Far from the ice and the billows' strife,
What would ye think to be with me
One hour upon this desolate sea?

To glide where the young seals rise to breathe;
Where ridges of foam about them wreathe;
To stand on the ice where the walrus plays;
Or, hungry and savage, the white bear strays.
O! how would ye fancy sport like this?
Yet to me, ye men of the city, 't is bliss!

THE FRENCHMAN'S LESSON IN ENGLISH.

Frenchman. Ha, my friend! I have met one very strange word in my lesson. Vat you call c-h-o-u-g-h, eh?

Tutor. Chuff. A chough is a bird of the crow family. Fr. Tres bien, very well; c-h-o-u-g-h is chuff; and snuff you spell s-n-o-u-g-h, eh?

Tu. O, no, no! snuff is spelled s-n-u-f-f. In fact, our words in ough are a little irregular.

Fr. Ah! Very good! "T is beautiful language! C-h-o-u-g-h is chuff. I will remember; and of course c-o-u-g-h is kuff; I have one very bad kuff, eh?

Tu. No, that is wrong: we say kauff, not kuff.

Fr. Kauff, eh? Chuff and kauff. Ver' well; but, pardonnez moi, pardon me, how you call d-o-u-g-h - duff, eh ? Is it duff?

Tu. No, not duff.

Fr. Not duff? Ah, oui; I understand it is dauff, ha? Tu. No; d-o-u-g-h spells doe.

Fr. Doe! It is ver' fine! wonderful language! it is doe! Eh bien! Then t-o-u-g-h is toe, eh? My beef-steak is toe!

Tu. O, no, no! You should

say tuff.

Fr. Tuff? O, ver' well! We will find it out bientôt, by and by. The thing the farmer uses how call you him, p-l-o-u-g-h, — pluff, is it? Ha, you smile; I am wrong, I see; then it must be plauff. No? Then it is ploe, like doe? Beautiful language! Ploe!

Tu. You are still wrong, my friend; it is plow.

Fr. O, ver' well. Plow! I shall understand ver' soon. Plow, doe, kauff, chuff! I vill try to recollect. But here is one word, h-o-u-g-h, which means the joint of the leg of one beast. Do you call it huff?

Tu. No.

Fr. Hauff?

Tu. No.

Fr. Hoe?

Tu. No.

Fr. How?

Tu. No.

Fr. Huff?

Tu. No.

Fr. O, the beautiful language! Tell me what, then, is h-o-u-g-h ?

Tu. We pronounce the word hok.

Fr. Hok! O, but that is delightful! Ver' beautiful language! One more word I have: r-o-u-g-h is it rok? Do you call General Taylor, Rok and Ready? No? Is it then Row and Ready, or Roe and Ready? No? Is it then Rauf and Ready?

Tu. No, no! R-o-u-g-h spells ruff.

Fr. It is ruff, is it? Let me not forget. And b-o-u-g-h is buff, eh? The buff of a tree!

Tu. O, no! B-o-u-g-h is bow.

Fr. Ah! 't is ver' simple! Wonderful language! But I

have had

what you call e-n-o-u-g-h, ha? vat you call him?

Enok, or enow, or enoe?

Tu. We say enuff.

Fr. O! then I say enuff, too. I have had quite enuff for one lesson! Bon jour, monsieur!

A MOTHER'S GIFT.

REMEMBER, love, who gave thee this,
When other days shall come, -
When she who had thine earliest kiss
Sleeps in her narrow home.
Remember, 't was a mother gave
The gift to one she'd die to save!

That mother sought a pledge of love,

The holiest for her son;

And from the gifts of God above

She chose a goodly one:

She chose for her beloved boy

The source of light, and life, and joy.

And både him keep the gift, that when
The parting hour should come,

They might have hope to meet again,
In an eternal home.

She said his faith in this would be
Sweet incense to her memory.

And should the scoffer, in his pride.
Laugh that fond faith to scorn,
And bid him cast the pledge aside,
That he from youth had bōrne,
She bade him pause, and ask his breast
If she, or he, had loved him best.