termining the object which he had in view when he wrote the piece. This is the first step, but by no means the most important. Having discovered the meaning of the author, the next and most important step is to seize and embody in himself the spirit and the character of the passage. The last step consists in putting one's self in the place of the person for whom we speak, and creating in one's self, for the time at least, a tone and habit of thought similar to his, and striving to feel as he most likely felt while writing, or as he would probably feel were he to deliver orally what he had written. Thus prepared, the speaker or reader may rest assured that, with ordinary speaking ability, he will be able to do justice to the sense and sentiments of the author from whom he reads.

II. How To MAKE UP A QUARREL.

WILLIAM LADD was the President of the American Peace Society, and he believed that the principle of peace, carried out, would maintain good will among neighbors as well as nations. But there was a time when he had not fully considered this subject; had not thought much about it, as I dare say many of my hearers have not, and he believed that if a man struck him a blow, it was best and fair to strike right back again, without considering if there were not some better way of overcoming the offender; or, if a man did him an injury, why, as people commonly say, he would "give him as good as he sent."

He then had a farm; and a poor man, who lived on land adjoining his, neglected to keep up a fence which it was his business to keep in order; and, in consequence, his sheep got into William Ladd's wheat-field and did much mischief. William Ladd told his man Sam to go to the neighbor, and tell him he must mend the fence and keep the sheep out.

But the sheep came in again, and William Ladd, who is a very orderly man himself, was provoked.

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"Sam," said he, "go tell that fellow if he don't keep his sheep out of my wheat-field I'll have them shot." Even this did not do the sheep were in again. "Sam," said William Ladd, "take my gun and shoot those sheep." "I would rather not," said Sam. "Rather not, Sam? Why, there are but three; it's no great job." No, sir; but the poor man has but three in the world, and I'm not the person that likes to shoot a poor man's sheep." poor man should take proper care of them. warning, why did he not mend his fence?" guess it was because you sent him a rough kind of a message; it made him mad, and so he wouldn't do it."

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Then the I gave him "Well, sir, I

"I considered a few moments," said William Ladd, "and then I told Sam to put the horse in the buggy." "Shall I put in the gun?" said Sam. "No," said I. I saw he half smiled, but I said nothing. I got into my buggy and drove up to my neighbor. He lived a mile off, and I had a good deal of time to think the matter over.

When I drove up to the house, the man was chopping wood. There were few sticks of wood, the house was poor, and my heart was softened. "Neighbor!" I called out. The man looked sulky, and did not raise his head. Come, come, neighbor," said I, "I have come with friendly feeling to you, and you must meet half way."

He perceived that I was in earnest, laid down his ax, and came to the buggy. "Now, neighbor," said I, “we have both been in the wrong: you have neglected your fence, and I got angry and sent you a provoking message. Now, let us face about and both do right. I'll forgive you. Now let's shake hands." He didn't feel quite like giving me his hand, but he let me take it. "Now," said I, "neighbor, drive your sheep down to my pasture. They shall share with my sheep till next spring, and you shall have all the yield, and next summer we shall start fair."

His hand was no longer dead in mine, and he gave me a good friendly grasp. The tears came into his eyes, and he said, "I guess you are a Christian, William Ladd, after all." "And the little fracas with my neighbor about the sheep was," said William Ladd, "the first step to my devoting myself to the Peace Society."

III. DEEDS, NOT WORDS.

NOT forever on thy knees,

Would Jehovah have thee found;

There are griefs Jehovah sees;

There are burdens thou canst ease:

Look around.

Work is prayer if done for God,

Prayer which God delighted hears;

See beside yon upturned sod

One bound 'neath affliction's rod:
Dry her tears.

Not long prayers, but earnest zeal,
This is what is wanted more:
Put thy shoulder to the wheel;
Bread unto the famished deal
From thy store.

Not high-sounding words of praise,

Does God want 'neath some grand dome;

But that thou the fallen raise;

Bring the poor from life's highways

To thy home.

Worship God by doing good;

Works, not words; kind acts, not creeds;

He who loves God as he should,

Makes his heart's love understood

By kind deeds.

Deeds are powerful; mere words, weak,
Batt'ring at high Heaven's door;

Let thy love by actions speak;
Wipe the tear from sorrow's cheek:
Clothe the poor.

Be it thine life's cares to smother,

And to brighten eyes now dim;
Kind deeds done to one another,
God accepts as done, my brother,
Unto him.

V. THE ART OF THINKING.

Are not all men en

Is thinking an art to be acquired? dowed with the power of thought? Is there any thing more necessary than for one to close his eyes and let his mind have free course, in order to think? To answer these questions, it is necessary to define what is meant by thought. If day-dreaming-that act of mind in which thought roves at random, purposeless, and without effortis thought, then even the idiot thinks, in his poor fashion. There are no rules applicable to this sort of thinking. But much indulgence in this kind of dreamy thinking weakens the mind, and begets a mental laziness that is fatal to progress. It benumbs all but the purely animal faculties and instincts. It is, therefore, to be deprecated in the strongest terms. It has proved, and will yet prove, the ruin

of many a promising youth.

The kind of thought worthy the name, which strengthens instead of weakening the mind, is what we mean when we speak of thinking as an art. This kind of thought is the pleasant labor rather than the luxurious ease of the mind. It is only perfect when under complete subjection to will.

The first great thing in learning to think is to bring thought under subjection to will. There has been a great

deal said about the importance of gaining mastery over our animal passions, propensities, and emotions. Many an earnest prayer for help to conquer these fleshly lusts has been breathed. The fact is, however, that with minds trained to perfect subservience, the passions can have but little sway. It is unrestrained imagination that kindles the fires of passion. Cool blood generally goes with cool heads. Too much stress can not be laid upon the fundamental importance of perfect command over thought. How many a student finds a lack of this power the chief hinderance to progress! How many a page must be re-read, how many a lesson conned over and over, to compensate for lapses of thought! In the possession or absence of this power over mind, lies the chief difference between mental strength and mental weakness. Some men think as a child plays with a hammer, striking little blows here, there, anywhere, at any object within reach. The action of a strong mind may be compared to the stone-breaker's sledge-hammer, dealing stubborn blows successively upon one spot till the hard rock cracks and yields.

When this command over thought has been acquired through the long exercise of resolute will, the power to arrange ideas and to think systematically will come with it, and no thinking amounts to much unless it is systematic. This, then, may be considered as the second important acquirement in the art of thinking.

The power to classify and arrange ideas in proper order is one that comes more or less slowly to even the best of minds. In proportion as this faculty is strengthened, desultory and wasted effort diminishes. When the mind acts, it acts to some purpose, and can begin where it left off without going over the whole ground again to take up the threads of its ratiocinations.

Concentration and system are thus seen to be the chief elements of the art of thinking. To cultivate the first, constant watchfulness to detect the least wandering, and the