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toe, still more frequently loses her balance. We know that she is subject to such overturnings, but keep constantly trying to assure ourselves that she is more reliable now than formerly, and so we let her lead us on by the fingertips over slippery tracks or dizzy heights, always with some new rose color in the distance, fairer than the last she showed us, but fading just as quickly on our approach.

Men say that experience is our best teacher ; surely she is a Ainty-hearted dame, when she trusts us to the will-o' wisp guidance of idle expectation. The young author sends forth his bantling verses upon the world. He knows they are poor, little, featherless creatures, yet hopes, somehow, their wings will grow and carry his fame over the lands. But they sicken in the unwholesome atmosphere of the conntry newspaper, and seem to fade into nothingness before his eyes. Their fate is more pitiable than he expected, though he knew it would be so all the while. The disappointment is deeper than he thought, and he feels as if the world had done him an injury.

The maiden is ready to sacrifice all things for love. No life is too mean, no surroundings too poor, in company with the beloved ; and she assures him that, if necessary, it will be better to count the sixpences together than to live longer apart. But she never expects to count the sixpences; she thinks, by careful handling of the shillings, to avoid that, and the gripe of poverty is as real as if it had never been colored by her rainbow dream.

The young housekeeper has her little store of household maxims, her theory on the management of servants, her notions of domestic economy, and is impatient to try them; but, too often, the disappointment is disastrous to health and comfort, when it is found that by some sad perverseness, realities will not conform themselves to theories.

A man fancies that he possesses extraordinary executive capacity; he thinks he can combine materials and men, and make them serve his purposes of selfishness or of philanthropy; but, to use a homely phrase, the bottom falls out of his calculations, and he is forced to be content with the lesser work that he can accomplish single-handed. Slowly and painfully he learns that to be well served one must himself learn to serve others, for there is great meaning to the soubriquet which the French gave to one of their kings, the “ Wellserved!”

We think sometimes we hear ringing in the air the merry laugh of Puck, with his tantalizing words, “ Lor, what fools these mortals be!" Some one will begin to ask us pretty soon what we mean, and whose follies we have in mind. Did we not say, curious ones, in the beginning, that this was a curtain lecture for ourselves. Our knuckles are smarting sufficiently for the present; if we have hit anybody else's, perhaps they will find comfort, as we do, in anointing the sores with a little of the all-healing ointment of selfconceit.

G. F. T.

NO SECT IN HEAVEN.

VALKING of sects till late one eve,

Of the various doctrines the saints believe,
That night I stood in a troubled dream,
By the side of a darkly flowing stream

And a “ Churchman” down to the river came :
When I heard a strange voice call his name,
Good father, stop; when you cross this tide,
You must leave your robes on the other side."

But the aged father did not mind,
And his long gown floated out behind,
As down to the stream his way be took,
His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book.

“ I'm bound for heaven, and when I'm there,
I shall want my book of Common Prayer;
And though I put on a starry crown,
I should feel quite lost without my gown."

Then he fixed his eye on the shining track,
But his gown was heavy, and held him back,
And the poor old father tried in vain,
A single step in the flood to gain.

I saw him again on the other side,
But his silk gown floated on the tide ;
And no one asked in that blissful spot,
Whether he belonged to “the Church” or not.

Then down to the river a Quaker strayed,
His dress of a sober hue was made;

My coat and hat must be all of gray,
I cannot go any other way.”

Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin,
And staidly, solemnly, waded in,
And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight
Over his forehead, so cold and white.

But a strong wind carried away his hat;
A moment he silently sighed over that,
And then, as he gazed to the farther shore,
The coat slipped off, and was seen no more.

As he entered heaven, his suit of gray
Went quietly sailing-away-away,
And none of the angels questioned him
About the width of his beaver's brim.

Next came Dr. Watts with a bundle of Psalms
Tied nicely up in his aged arms,
And hymns as many, a very wise thing,
That the people in heaven, “all round," might sing.

But I thought that he heaved an anxious sigh,
As he saw that the river ran broad and high,
And looked rather surprised as, one by one,
The Psalms and Hymns in the wave went down.

And after him, with his MSS.,
Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness,
But he cried, “ Dear me, what shall I do?
The water has soaked them through and through.”

And there on the river, far and wide,
Away they went down the swollen tide,
And the saint astonished, passed through alone,
Without his manuscripts, up to the throne.

Then gravely walking, two saints by name,
Down to the stream together came,
But as they stopped at the river's brink,
I saw one saint from the other shrink.

“ Sprinkled or plunged, may I ask you, friend,
How you attained to life's great end?”
Thus, with a few drops on my brow.”
« But I have been dipped, as you'll see me now.

“ And I really think it will hardly do,
As I'm close communion,' to cross with you;
You're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss,
But you must go

that

way, and I'll go this.”

Then straightway plunging with all his might,
Away to the left-his friend at the right,
Apart they went from this world of sin,
But at last together they entered in.

And now, when the river was rolling on,
A Presbyterian church went down;
Of women there seemed an innumerable throng,
But the men I could count as they passed along.

And concerning the road, they could never agree,
The old or the new way, which it could be,
Nor ever a moment paused to think
That both would lead to the river's brink.

And a sound of murmuring long and loud
Came ever up from the moving crowd,
“ You're in the old way, and I'm in the new,
That is the false, and this is the true,"—
Or, “ I'm in the old way, and you're in the new,
That is the false, and this is the true.”

But the brethren only seemed to speak,
Modest the sisters walked, and meek,
And if ever one of them chanced to say
What troubles she met with on the way,
How she longed to pass to the other side,
Nor feared to cross over the swelling tide,
A voice arose from the brethren then:
“Let no one speak but the holy men ;'
For have ye not heard the words of Paul,
Oh, let the women keep silence all ?'”

I watched them long in my curious dream,
Till they stood by the borders of the stream,
Then, just as I thought, the two ways met,
But all the brethren were talking yet,
And would talk on, till the heaving tide
Carried them over, side by side ;
Side by side, for the way was one,
The toilsome journey of life was done,
And all who in Christ the Saviour died,
Came out alike on the other side.
No forms, or crosses, or books had they,
No gowns of silk, or suits of gray,
No creeds to guide them, or MSS.
For all had put on Christ's righteousness.”

NICK-NACKS FOR THE SENATE.

W

[The following reflections are the result of a perusal of the senate's yearly bill of stationery

and small wares.]
OMEN are often rated for their extravagance, but we think that the

same number of woman selected as indiscriminately as are these fiftytwo gentlemen, would hardly run up so large a bill of nick-nacks at the nation's expense as these gentlemen have. The immense number of pocketknives reminds us of the criticism of an English traveller who said that the toilet of the Americans was never finished in their chambers, for they might be seen cleaning their finger-nails on the piazza of the hotel, etc. ticular these gentlemen must be in that respect. Then the four hundred and five pen knives; do all the gentlemen write with quills, and write so incessantly that they use up eight pen knives apiece in oue year; this cannot be or there would be a charge for quills.

How par

It is fashionable in certain classes of society, to express contempt and malignity by pulling out the hair of the enemy. Probably congressmen have substituted shears for fingers in this operation ; the seven hundred and three pairs of shears would suggest something of the kind, for surely one thousand one hundred and thirty-seven pairs of scissors should be sufficient for the of. fice use of the same fifty-two members.

The number of sponges is not stated but they cost almost four hundred dollars ; enough one would think to wipe out all the private quarrels of the senators, with some clean ones left to go towards expunging the national debt.

We know so little of public life that we could not surmise the use of the two hundred pairs of kid-gloves, unless it were to give an air of refinement and gentility to some backwoods members ; but a friend reminds us that they must have been black kids to wear at funerals of public men. How much would it cost to furnish them with gloves to attend each other's funerals, one at a time till they had chawed each other up Kilkenny fashion, and would not this be a cheap mode of ridding the nation of this expensive nuisance.

The number of diaries is small, only two each, from which we would infer that the gentlemen are not very methodical in their manner of conducting business, or have very little business except public affairs which are every body's business, and expected to manage themselves.

Perhaps five or six portfolios each is a moderate allowance for men who must keep up a constant correspondence with constituents and deliver them. selves of several four-hour speeches during one session.

It would be a fair inference that the emoluments of the post are not insignificant when each gentleman requires eight pocket-books per annum. Perhaps however greenbacks have a sort of explosive force while they linger so near the treasury department, and rend their bonds in endeavors to get back to their native element.

Brushes ; are they for boots, hats, coats or heads. If the gentlemen have any hair left after the possible shearing we have hinted at, one would suppose that the thought of four hundred and nine brushes would frighten it out of existence.

But the pin-cushions, five hundred and fifty-six pin-cushions; we think fifty-two old maids would scarcely consume more than ten pin-cushions each in one year. Perhaps the gentlemen are all bachelors or are temporarily divorced from their families and are forced to the somewhat feminine resource of pins to supply the place of missing buttons. Would it not be charitable and economical to furnish a matron whose sole duty should be to sew on buttons for these unfortunates, saving both pins and pin-cushions.

There! we thought they could not use quills ; that would be impossible when we are charged for one thousand and eighty-five boxes of pens, and two thousand two hundred and three lead-pencils. By the way those pencils cost $724; what were they made of?

Lastly, it requires one million eight hundred and seven thousand four hundred and fifty-one envelopes to scatter abroad the speeches and the wisdom of this company

of sages.

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