2. For rising to eminence in any intellectual pursuit, there is not a rule of more essential importance than that of doing one thing at a time; avoiding distracting and desultory occupations, and keeping a leading object habitually before the mind, as one in which it can at all times find an interesting resource when necessary avocations allow the thoughts to recur to it. If, along with this habit, there be cultivated the practise of constantly writing such views as arise, we perhaps describe that state of mental discipline by which talents of a very moderate order may be applied in a conspicuous and useful manner to any subject to which they are devoted. Such writing need not be made at first with any great attention to method, but merely put aside for future consideration, and in this manner the different departments of a subject will develop and arrange themselves as they advance, in a manner equally pleasing and wonderful. "Qualities of a Well Regulated Mind."

ABERCROMBIE.

3. To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable; and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.

"My Symphony."

WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING.

4. Genius is only the power of making continuous efforts; the line between failure and success is so fine that we are often on the line and do not know it. How many a man has thrown up his hands at a time when a little more effort, a little more patience, would have achieved success. As the tide goes clear out, so it comes clear in. In business, sometimes, prospects may seem darkest when really they are on the turn. A little more patience, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success. There is no failure except in no longer trying. There is no defeat except from within, no really insurmountable barrier save our own weakness of purpose.

LOW

1. It thunders! Sons of dust, in reverence bow!
Ancient of days! thou speakest from above:
Thy right hand wields the bolt of terror now;
That hand which scatters peace, and joy, and love.
Almighty! trembling like a timid child,

I hear thy awful voice,-alarmed, afraid,
I see the flashes of thy lightning wild,
And in the very grave would hide my head!

2. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

"Macbeth."

SHAKESPEARE.

3. In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face, the hair of my flesh stood up; it stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof; an image was before mine eyes; there was silence, and I heard a voice saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God! Shall a man be more pure than his Maker?

VERY LOW

1. 'Tis midnight's holy hour,—and silence now
Is brooding like a gentle spirit, o'er

The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling, 'tis the knell

Of the departed year.

"The Closing Year."

GEORGE D. PRENTICE.

2. Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
Her leaden scepter, o'er a slumbering world.
Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound!
Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds;
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause;
An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
"Night Thoughts."

3.

Now o'er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel the wolf,

YOUNG.

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.

"Macbeth."

SHAKESPEARE.

4. It must be so-Plato, thou reasonest well!—
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

"Cato,"

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought! Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;

'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before mé:
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.

ADDISON.

HIGH

1. Cry Holiday! Holiday! let us be gay,

And share in the rapture of heaven and earth;
For, see! what a sunshiny joy they display,

To welcome the Spring on the day of her birth;
While the elements, gladly outpouring their voice,
Nature's pæan proclaim, and in chorus rejoice!

2. "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting;

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian

shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door."

"The Raven."

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore !"

POE.

3. Freedom calls you! Quick, be ready,-
Think of what your sires have done;
Onward, onward! strong and steady,—
Drive the tyrant to his den;

On, and let the watchword be,
Country, home, and liberty!

"Polish War Song.”

JAMES G. PERCIVAL.

4. I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.

"The Voice of Spring."

HEMANS.

5. Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound!

We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,

Ye that through your hearts to-day

Feel the gladness of the May!

What tho the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,

Tho nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering:

In the faith that looks through death,

In the years that bring the philosophic mind.

"Intimations of Immortality."

WORDSWORTH.

6. O come, let us sing unto Jehovah; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, let us make a joyful noise unto him with psalms. For Jehovah is a great God, and a great King above all gods.

In his hand are two deep places of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also.

The sea is his, and he made it; and his hands formed the dry land. O come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before Jehovah our Maker. For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.

"Ninety-fifth Psalm."

THE BIBLE.