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If you see the hot tears falling

From a brother's weeping eyes,
Share them. And by kindly sharing

Own your kinship in the skies.
Why should anyone be glad
When a brother's heart is sad?
If a silvery laugh goes rippling

Through the sunshine on his face,
Share it. 'Tis the wise man's saying-

For both grief and joy a place.
There's health and goodness in the mirth
In which an honest laugh has birth.

work is made more easy
By a friendly, helping hand,
Say so. Speak out brave and truly

Ere the darkness veil the land.
Should a brother workman dear
Falter for a word of cheer?
Scatter thus your seeds of kindness

All enriching as you go-
Leave them. Trust the Harvest-Giver:

He will make each seed to grow.
So, until the happy end,
Your life shall never lack a friend.


Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, —

The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.

William Cullen Bryant.


Three dudes were walking along the street one morning and met an aged, decrepit minister, with long white hair and beard. Desiring to poke fun at the old man, the first called out, "Hello, Father Abraham." The second said, "Hello, Father Isaac," and the third chimed in, "Hello, Father Jacob." The minister, seeing the situation, and likewise using Scripture, quietly replied, “I am neither Abraham, nor Isaac, nor Jacob, but Saul, the son of Kish, who went forth to hunt his father's asses; and behold I have found them."


Oh, I done read de Good Book cl'ar plum thro

An' I tells you, hit's a mighty fine story:
l's fahmiliar with de Gospel, ol' an' new,

An' I 'low I's a-walkin' in de glory.
I like fo' to read 'bout de blessed Holy Ghos'.

An' de saints an de mahacles an' veesions,
But de part ob de Book dat I likes de mos

Is where Paul p'ints his pistle at de 'Phesians.

When I looks down deep in mah po' ol' heart,

I wondah ef de Lod kin evah like me!
Pears like a lightnin''s gwine ter send a dart

Out ob de thundah-cloud ter strike me.
But I know ef we's good an' does what's right,

De great Judge is kin' in his deceesions,
An' I turns to de Book an' I gits mah light

Where Paul p'ints his 'pistle at de 'Phesians.

Ef yo' faith's kinder shaky an' you donjes' know

Ef yo' feet is on de rock or in de mire,
'Postle Paul kin tell you de way you orter go

Fo' to keep you from gettin' in de fire.
You kin slip by Satan ez slick ez a dart,

An' you won't hev no wrecks er no colleesions.
Ef you read de Good Book till you git it all by heart
Where Paul p'ints his 'pistle at de 'Phesians.

Nixon Waterman, in "In Merry Mood."

S. S. COX'S FAMOUS "SUNSET" This extraordinary production gave the writer, Senator Cox of Ohio, the immortal name of "Sunset Cox.”

What a stormful sunset was that of last night! How glorious the storm, and how splendid the setting of the sun! We do not remember ever before to have seen the like on our round globe. The scene opened in the west, with a whole horizon full of a golden interpenetrating lustre which colored the foliage and brightened every object into its own rich dyes. The colors grew deeper and richer until the golden luster was transfused into a storm cloud, full of finest lightning, which leaped in dazzling zigzags all round and over the city. The wind arose with fury, the slender shrubs and giant trees made obeisance to its majesty. Some even snapped before its force. The strawberry beds and grass plots “turned up their whites" to see Zephyrus march by. As the rain came and the pools formed, and the gutters hurried away, thunder roared grandly, and the fire-bells caught the excitement and rung with hearty chorus. The South and East received the copious showers, and the West

all at once brightened up in a long, polished belt of azure, worthy of a Sicilian sky.

Presently a cloud appeared in the azure belt, in the form of a castellated city. It became more vivid, revealing strange forms of peerless fanes and alabaster temples, and glories rare and grand in this mundane sphere, reminding us of Wordsworth's splendid verse in his "Excursion:"

"The appearance instantaneously disclosed
Was of a mighty city, boldly say
A wilderness of buildings, sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth,

Far sinking into splendor without end.” But the city vanished only to give place to another isle, where the most beautiful forms of foliage appeared, imaging a Paradise in the distant and purified air.

The sun, wearied of the elemental commotion, sank behind the green plains of the West. The great eye in Heaven," however, went not down without a dark brow hanging over its departing light. The rich flush of the unearthly light had passed and the rain had ceased; when the solemn church-bells pealed, the laughter of children, out and joyous after the storm, is heard with the carol of birds, while the forked and purple weapon of the skies still darted illumination around Starling College, trying to rival its angles and leap into its dark windows.

Candles are lighted. The piano strikes up. We feel it is good to have a home; good to be on the earth where such revelations of beauty and power may be made. And as we cannot refrain from reminding our readers of everything wonderful in our city, we have begun and ended our feeble etching of a sunset which comes so rarely that its glory should be committed to immortal type.

From the Statesman of May 19, 1853.


Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming. Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous

night O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?


On the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream.

CHORUS 'Tis the star-spangled banner, oh, long may it wave, O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

And where is that band, that so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave,
From the terror of death and the gloom of the grave;

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

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