flowers that never fade. Or, mayhap it was a youth, hopeful and generous-one whose path was hemmed with flowers, with not a serpent lurking underneath-one whose soul panted after communion with the great and good, and reached forth with earnest struggle for guerdon in the distance. But that heart of his is still now, for he "died yesterday.” "Died Yesterday." A young girl, pure as the orange flowers that clasped her forehead, was stricken down as she stood at the altar, and from the dim aisles of the temple she was borne to the "garden of the slumbers." A tall, brown man, girt with the halo of victory, and standing, at the day's close, under his own vine and fig tree, fell to the dust, even as the anthem trembled upon his lips; and he, too, was laid "where the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." An aged patriarch, bowed with years and cares, even as he looked out upon the distant hills for the coming of the angel host, sank into the dreamless slumber, and on his door-step was next day written, "Died yesterday." “Died yesterday.” Daily men, women and children are passing away, and hourly, in some graveyard, the sod is flung over the dead. As often in the morning we find that some flower, that blushed so sweet in the mellow sunset, has withered up forever, so daily, when we rise again from the bivouac to stand again at our post, we miss some brother soldiers, whose cheery cry, in the sieges and struggles of the past, has been as fire from heaven upon our hearts. Each day some pearl drops from the jeweled thread of friendship-some lyre to which we were wont to listen-is hushed forever. But wise is he who mourns not the pearl and the music lost, for life with him shall pass away gently as an eastern shadow from the earth, and death as a triumph and a gain. WORTHY MODELS.-Odd Fellows' Lodges, like all other deliberative bodies, sometimes suffer from those long-winded speakers and "everlasting talkers" who are earsores in any society. No little subject can be introduced but they must speak upon it. They must talk to every point of order, and weary the patience of almost every member in the room. Indeed they have indulged in this miserable habit until, we have supposed, they honestly think that unless they speak and enlighten the members, the question will undoubtedly be decided wrongly. We recommend to the consideration of these " 'talkers" the following remarks of President Jefferson: "I served with General Washington in the Legislature of Virginia, before the revolution, and during it, with Dr. Franklin in Congress. I never heard either of them speak more than ten minutes at a time, nor to any but the main point, which was to decide the question. They laid their shoulder to the great points, knowing that the little ones would follow of themselves." Odd Fellows' Melodies. Blest are the hearts that feel, Blest are the hands that give, Blest are the deeds that bring That wake the widow's heart to sing, And orphans sigh no more. Blest are the sons of peace, Who love and quiet shed; They shall have mercy, and their bliss Blest in affliction they The good that they have done, Blest in God's Paradise, Like stars forever glow, "LOVE THY NEIGHBOR," God dost say. "BE THOU MERCIFUL!" We hear- To the man who helps the poor, In the Savior's path of peace, GLEANINGS. For "WHAT WILL MY MOTHER SAY?" said a young man a few days since, when apprehended for appropriating his neighbor's property. Oh what a sermon is there! The pious instruction-the consistent example-the earliest recollections of youth burst upon him with fearful vividness! himself he cared nothing, he offended the law, and was willing to submit to the penalty; yet the frail form of that dear one who taught him to lisp his evening prayer, appeared before him, tottering toward her last resting place, there to lie down in pleasant dreams. The silver hairs has strayed beneath her cap-the eye has lost some of its brilliancy, but none of its benevolence-the skin is not so fair as when she was led to the altar-the hand, as she leans upon the staff, has not the delicate proportions of other days-the step has lost its elasticity, but a firm reliance on her father's sustaining her children that have grown up in honor, so far as she knows, makes her willing to go when her summons comes. Then do you wonder that the poor culprit sighs out in the agony of his heart: " Dont let my mother know it, for she's almost worn out now, and this would kill her!" Young man, when tempted to sin, ask yourself, "What would my mother say?" When the evil one has assumed his most alluring form, before you yield, stop long enough to ask your better nature, "What would my mother ?" say FIVE SWEET WORDS.-There are five beautiful words commencing with the letter H, the synonyms of all the soul holds dear-Heart, Hope, Home, Happiness, and Heaven. Delicious memories to the mind they bring, To cheer in solitude and suffering. A Heart that's true, a Hope that strength supplies, A Home where joys from purest springs arise, Afford us Happiness, when we're absent, even, And intimate the radiant bliss of Heaven. A CLERGYMAN, happening to pass a boy weeping bitterly, halted and asked, "what is the matter, my little fellow?" The boy replied: "Before, we could hardly get enough to eat, of any thing, and now what shall we do? for now, there's another one come." 66 Hush thy mourning, and wipe off those tears," said the clergyman, "and remember that He never sends mouths without He sends victuals to put into them." "I know that," said the boy, "but then He sends all the mouths to our house, and the victuals to your house." ELOQUENT EXTRACT.-The sea is the largest of cemeteries; its slumberers sleep without a monument. All grave-yards in other lands show symbol of distinction between the great and the small, the rich and the poor; but in that ocean cemetery the king and the clown, the prince and the peasant, are all alike undistinguished. The waves roll over all the same requiem song by minstrelsy of the ocean is sung to their honor. Over their remains the same storm beats, and the same sun shines; and there unmarked, the weak and the powerful, the plumed and unhonored, will sleep on until awakened by the same trump when the sea will give up its dead. A YANKEE boy had a whole Dutch cheese set before him by a waggish friend, who, however, gave him no knife. "This is a funny cheese, Uncle Joe," said he, "but where shall I cut it ?" "Oh," said the grinning friend, "cut it where you like." "Very well," said the Yankee, coolly putting it under his arm, "I'll cut it at home." FORGIVENESS.-A blind girl, on being asked to give the definition of forgiveness, replied, "It is the fragrance which flowers yield when they are trampled upon." GOOD HUMOR is the clear blue sky of the soul, on which every star of talent will shine more clearly and the sun of genius encounter no vapors in his passage. 'Tis the most exquisite beauty of a fine face-a redeeming grace in a homely one. It is like the green in a landscape, harmonizing with every color, mellowing the glories of the bright, and softening the hue of the dark. WHEN We reflect that every mother has children of surprising genius, it is a matter of serious inquiry, where all the ordinary men come from, who cross our path in every day life. THE following is recommended as a reading exercise: "I saw five brave maids, sitting on five broad beds, braiding broad braids. I said to these five brave maids sitting on five broad beds, braiding broad braids: "Braid broad braids, brave maids." HYPOCRISY AND AFFECTATION.-Hypocrisy is the necessary burden of villainy, affectation part of the chosen trappings of folly; the one completes a villain, the other only finishes a fop. Contempt is the proper punishment of affectation, and detestation the just consequence of hypocrisy. MANY a man will retract praise; none but a high spirited mind will revoke its censure, or can praise the man it once attacked. BEAUTIFUL AND TRUE.-The late eminent judge, Sir Allen Park, once said at a public meeting in London: "We live in the midst of blessings till we are utterly insensible to their greatness, and of our civilization, our arts, our freedom, our laws, and forget entirely how much is due to Christianity. Blot Christianity out of the pages of man's history, and what would his laws have been-what his civilization? Christianity is mixed up with our very being and our daily life; there is not a familiar object around us which does not wear a different aspect because the light of Christian love is not on it-not a law that does not owe its truth and gentleness to Christianity—not a custom which cannot be traced in all its holy, healthy parts to the Gospel." JOHN Randolph met a personal enemy in the street, one day, who refused to give him half the sidewalk, saying that he never turned out for a rascal. "I always do," said Randolph, stepping aside, and raising his hat"pass on, sir-pass on." A GOOD LIBRARY.-Says Southey: I no sooner set a foot in a good library and fasten the door, but I shut out ambition, love, and all those vices of which idleness is the mother, and ignorance the nurse; and in the very lap of eternity among so many illustrious souls, I take my seat, with so lofty a spirit, that I then pity the great, who nothing know of such happiness. GOOD. We overheard a queer thing from a little fellow about six years of age, a short time ago. The subject of "wedding cake" had been introduced in the course of conversation, in which the father was taking a part. "Father," said the little fellow, after having apparently reflected intently on something, "I shan't send you any of my wedding cake when I get married." 66 Why so?" was the inquiry. Because," answered the little fellow, "you didn't send me any of yours." HOW TO LIVE. The following lines embody noble sentiments: "We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feeling, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives CONTENTMENT." I never complained of my condition," says the Persian poet Saadi, "but once, when my feet were bare, and I had no money to buy shoes; but I met a man without feet, and became contented with my lot." |