- A smile! Nothing on earth can smile but the race of man. Gems may flash reflected light, but what is a diamond flash compared with an eye-flash and mirth-flash? Flowers cannot smile. This is a charm which even they cannot claim. Birds cannot smile, nor can any living thing. It is the prerogative of man. It is the colour which love wears, and cheerfulness, and joy-these three. It is the light in the window of the face by which the heart signifies to father, husband, or friend, that it is at home and waiting. A face that cannot smile is like a bud that cannot blossom, and dries up on the stalk. Laughter is day, and sobriety is night, and a smile is the twilight that hovers gently between both, and more bewitching than either.-Beecher. The smiles which we assume, when we go into public, are often more wanted at home than abroad. Sneezing. What a moment! what a doubt! All my nose, inside and out, All my thrilling, tickling caustic Pyramid rhinocerostic Wants to sneeze, and cannot do it. Now it yearns me, thrills me, stings me; Now with rapturous torment wrings me; Ishi-ishi-most del-ishi (Hang it! I shall sneeze till Spring). Snuff's a most delicious thing. If you sneeze on Monday, you sneeze for danger; Sneeze on a Tuesday, you kiss a stranger; Sneeze on Wednesday, sneeze for a letter; Sneeze on Thursday, something better; Sneeze on Saturday, see your lover to-morrow. Old Rhymes. Snow-Drop. The fair maid of February.-Hone. Society. What place like London for the man who wants society? Here may he find the noblest in the world, since throughout the land, whenever a man begins to rise above his fellows, or possesses the qualities necessary to elevation, he directs his steps towards London as the only place fit for the struggles of his ambition or the testimonials of his success. All skill, all genius, all talent that the whole land can produce in all the arts and sciences, are drained from the provinces to fill up the glory of London, and take their proper place in that storehouse of wisdom and greatness. Soldier. A live target, set up by one nation for another to shoot at. Soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer.—Lord Burghley. Solitude. To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, And roam along the world's tired denizen With none to bless us, none whom we can bless; There is no solitude in thy domains Save what man makes, when, in his selfish breast, Who oft communeth in their language pure, Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dressed, Mrs. Sigourney. To the man that seeks retirement, what part of the world offers such advantages as London? The solitude of a country town or a village, is notoriety in a small circle, and the retired man has not only to undergo the ceremonious call and the salutation of every person who has once seen him, but the unremitted observation and supervision of every person in the neighbourhood. Should he resort to the solitary cruelty of fishing, he is accosted by a gentleman who sat beside him at church. If he take a book to the solitude of a wood, he will meet some one he saw at the library a few days back. If he stays at home, he will be called upon for his contributions and acquaintance. But London-what streams or woods have such solitudes as thy streets and courts? Even the inns and hotels, which in the country are the fountains of publicity, are in London resources for the quiet man. Who at No. 5 knows who lives at the first floor of No. 6! Nobody ever thought of inquiring. But if the streets are such solitudes, what are the lanes, alleys, and courts? Is there any solitude in the world so perfect as that of a third or fourth floor garret in a court that opens into an alley, which leads into a lane, which terminates in an obscure street? No passing acquaintance, no dear friend of a week's duration, would ever penetrate his dire abode. There might he exist, labouring, speculating, thinking, or writing, and there might he die, rich or poor, on down or on the boards, and there might he lie and fade away into a skeleton, and nobody know it save the landlord, when he called for his rent. Sorrow. Trip lightly over sorrow, Though this day may be dark, Sorrow treads heavily, and leaves behind a deep impression, even when she departs; while joy trips by with steps as light as wind, and scarcely leaves a trace of her faint footfalls upon our hearts. Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And then look down like mothers' eyes. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. Shakespere. Sorrows have often become avenues through which the light of heaven has entered to the soul, and made the imprisoned inmate long for release. Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them : Speak Gently. Speak gently! it is better far To rule by love than fear; Speak gently! let not harsh words mar The good we might do here. Speak gently! Love doth whisper low Speak gently to the little child! Teach it in accents soft and mild- Speak gently to the young; for they Pass through this life as best they may, Speak gently to the aged one— Speak gently, kindly to the poor; Speak gently to the erring-know Speak gently!-He who gave his life Speak gently!-'Tis a little thing Speech. Speech is morning to the mind; it spreads the beauteous images abroad, which else lie furled and clouded in the soul. -Lee. |