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October 31. (HALLOWE'EN.)

GLEN.
HOT.

I CAN call spirits from the vasty deep.
Why, so can I, or so can any man.

But will they come when you do call for them?

Shakespeare.

A YOUNG lady sang to me a Miss Somebody's "great song," Live, and Love, and Die.

Had it been written

for nothing better than silkworms, it should at least have

added Spin.

IN the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over,

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The gray smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

Stevenson.

Ruskin.

November 1. (ALL SAINTS.)

IT singeth low in every heart,
We hear it one and all;

A song of those who answer not,
However we may call.

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The kind, the true, the brave, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.

They cannot be where God is not,

On any sea or shore;

Whate'er betides, Thy love abides,

Our God forevermore!

John W. Chadwick.

EVERY limit is a beginning as well as an ending.

November 2.

MARIE ANTOINETTE, 1755.

George Eliot.

It is not the object of education to turn a woman into a dictionary; but it is deeply necessary that she should be taught to enter with her whole personality into the history she reads; . . . chiefly of all, she is to be taught to extend the limits of her sympathy with respect to that history which is being for her determined, as the moments pass in which she draws her peaceful breath.

I SPOKE as I saw.

I report, as a man may of God's work

Ruskin.

All's love, yet all's law.

Robert Browning.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 1794.

TRUTH crushed to earth shall rise again:
The eternal years of God are hers.

Go forth under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings.

Bryant.

AN intelligent person, looking out of his eyes and hearkening in his ears, . . will get more true education than many another in a life of heroic vigils.

Stevenson.

Movember 4.

GUIDO RENI, 1575. JAMES MONTGOMERY, 1771.

ART is the reflection of the life of the many in the mind of one. He [the artist] must possess that calmness of nature which can only arise from a pure heart.

HERE in the body pent,

Absent from Him I roam;
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent

A day's march nearer home.

F. P. Stearns.

Montgomery.

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