But when the clouds of sorrow lower,
They're ever by our side,

To aid us with their helping power
Against affliction's tide.

They come-not only when we're blest

With affluence and health;

Not only when they are caress'd,
And fed upon our wealth;

But by the bed of death they're near,
To soothe the fever'd head;
To shed the sympathetic tear,
And mourn for us when dead.

They come not as the butterfly,
When Summer's sky is bright,
And, when life's roses droop and die,
To wander out of sight;

But round our hearts their mantles throw,
When winter's snow descends;

Who follow us through weal and woe

Such are our Winter Friends.-Exonius.

See SUMMER FRIENDS.

Winter Winds.

The properties of the winds of the winter months have been thus described :

North winds send hail, south winds bring rain;
East winds we bewail, west winds blow amain :
North-east is too cold, south-east not too warm;
North-west is too bold, south-west does no harm.

Wisdom.

Tusser.

Wisdom is humble, said the voice of God.
'Tis proud, the world replied. Wisdom, said God,
Forgives, forbears, and suffers, not for fear
Of man, but God. Wisdom revenges, said
The world, is quick and deadly of resentment,

Thrusts at the very shadow of affront,

And hastes, by death, to wipe its honour clean.
Wisdom, said God, loves enemies, entreats,
Solicits, begs for peace.-Pollok.

Wise (The).

Who are the wise?

They who have govern'd, with a self-control,
Each wild and baneful passion of the soul-
Curb'd the strong impulse of all fierce desires,
But kept alive affection's purest fires;
They who have pass'd the labyrinth of life,
Without one hour of weakness or of strife;
Prepared each change of fortune to endure,
Humble though rich, and dignified though poor-
Skill'd in the latent movements of the heart-
Learn'd in the lore which nature can impart-
Teaching that sweet philosophy aloud-
Which sees the "silver lining in the cloud,"
Looking for good in all beneath the skies :-

These are the truly wise!

Wish (A).

O, be thou bless'd with all that heaven can send,
Long health, long life, long pleasure, thee attend;
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear;

Till death, unfelt, thy tender frame destroy,
In some soft dream or ecstasy of joy;
Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb,

And wake to rapture in the world to come.-Humby.

Tasso, on being told that he had a fair opportunity of taking advantage of a very bitter enemy, said, "I wish not to plunder him, but there are things I wish to take from him --not his honour, his wealth, or his life-but his ill-will."

Wit.

The lightning of the mind-beautiful but dazzling.— Mental shavings and chips, which flash and flame, but afford no permanent light or heat.-A sword that requires a delicate edge. A bird that takes prey on the wing.

What is wit? Wit is a two-edged sword, sharp and polished, and of course of a good temper. It is not every blade that is a wit, for many even lack a point, who in their own opinion are particularly sharp! Perhaps, too, as it exalts a man, it may be called a raiser (razor), and requires a skilful hand in the handling; for to cut one's own fingers would be folly-in the extreme; and to wound others who are unskilled in the weapon, or unarmed, would render one's conduct (like the wounded) defenceless. I despise the man who delights to cut his jokes, and pass his jibes upon the opaque skull of another. For he is truly a poor sportsman who wastes his powder and shot on carrion, or kills what he cannot eat! A pun is merely the feathered shuttlecock of a true wit, struck to and fro by the battledores of Fun and Goodhumour, while genuine Mirth and sprightly Laughter, in applauding, cry, "Keep it up!" Some would-be wits, mere unfledged witlings-imagine that they show their sense by having all the talk to themselves; this is by no means sound-sense, notwithstanding the noise. Such youths might be invaluable to an attorney as engrossing clerks; although perhaps their skill therein would be shown more in words than deeds! O! their eternal gabble! shallow streams running over a pebbly bed! How such a noise annoys me! What is wit? The essence of good sense, distilled by the fire of true genius; and the test is, that, like a reverend Doctor of Divinity, it will bear-translation!-Hal Willis.

Make the doors fast upon a Woman's Wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and it will out at the keyhole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue.

X

Wit is a sparkling beverage that is highly exhilarating and agreeable when taken at the expense of others; but when used at our own cost, it becomes bitter and unpleasant.

Wit and Judgment.

Wit is brushwood, judgment is timber: the former makes the brightest flame, but the latter gives the most lasting heat.

Woman.

To the honour, to the eternal honour of the sex, be it stated, that on the part of duty no sacrifice is to them too high or too dear. Nothing is with them impossible, but to shrink from love, honour, innocence, and religion. The voice of pleasure or of power may pass by unheeded; but the voice of affliction-never. The chamber of the sick—the pillow of the dying the vigils of the dead—the altars of religion, never missed the presence or the sympathies of woman. Timid though she be, and so delicate that the "winds of heaven may not too roughly visit her," on such occasions she loses all sense of danger, and assumes a preternatural courage, which knows not and fears not consequences. Then she displays that undaunted spirit which neither courts difficulties nor evades them; that resignation which utters neither murmurs nor regret; and that patience in suffering which seems victorious even over death itself.

Gone from her cheek is the summer bloom,
And her lip has lost all its faint perfume;

And the gloss has dropp'd from her golden hair,
And her cheek is pale, but no longer fair.

And the spirit that sate on her soft blue eye
Is struck with cold mortality;

And the smile that play'd round her lip has fled,
And every charm has now left the dead.
Like slaves they obey'd her in height of power,
But left her alone in her wintry hour;

And the crowds that swore for her love to die,
Shrunk from the tone of her last faint sigh,
-And this is man's fidelity!

'Tis woman alone, with a purer heart,
Can see all these idols of life depart,
And love the more, and smile and bless
Man in his uttermost wretchedness.

Barry Cornwall.

More lovely than a vision brought
From out the fairy realms of thought;
Serene and silent with a grace
Divinely breathed o'er form and face,
In full array of love and light,
That dazzled his adoring sight,
By soul and sense to be revered,
The Angel of the World appear'd!
Then what a starry welcome rang!
Each orb an hymeneal sang,
While shapes unutterably bright,

From heaven gazed down with new delight,
When first the ground a woman trod,

Just moulded by the hand of God!
Around her breast, in wreathy play,
Her locks like braided sunbeams lay;
And limbs unveil'd a radiance cast
Of purity, as on she pass'd
Amid the bloom and balm of flowers,
That cluster'd round Elysian bowers :
The bird and beeeze together blent
Their notes in mildest languishment;
The sun grew brighter as he shed
His glory round her living head,—
As if no orb of space were free
From one fine spell of sympathy,
When woman rose upon the scene,

Creation's fair and faultless queen.-R. Montgomery.

An ingenious commentator says, that woman was made out of the rib, taken from the side of a man; not out of his head, to rule him, but out of his side to be his equal, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved.