Love is our highest word, and the synonym of God. Truth is the summit of being; justice is the application of it to affairs.

The key to every man is his thought.

Defect in manners is usually the defect of fine perceptions.

In nature there are no false valuations.

Let us be silent, so we may hear the whisper of the gods.

The only gift is a portion of thyself.

All things exist in the man tinged with the manners of his soul.

No institution will be better than the institutor. We have seen many counterfeits, but we are born believers in great men.

A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature. When a man lives with God his voice shall be as sweet as the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the corn. Personal force never goes out of fashion. A divine person is the prophecy of the mind; a friend is the hope of the heart.

The whole of heraldry and of chivalry is in courtesy. He is great who confers the most benefits. He is base to receive favors and render none.

Real service will not lose its nobleness.

We pass for what we are.

our wills.

Character teaches above

A beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form; it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures; it is the finest of the fine arts.

MARY MALONEY'S PHILOSOPHY.

"Why are you singing?" said I to Mary Maloney.
Oh, I don't know, ma'am, only I feel happy."

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"Happy, Mary Maloney? Let me see; you don't own a foot of land in the world?"

"Foot of land, is it?" she cried, with a hearty Irish laugh; "ye be after joking! I haven't a penny."

"Your mother is dead?"

"God rest her soul, yes;" replied Mary Maloney, with a touch of genuine pathos.

"Your brother is still a hard case?"

ee You may
well say that! It's but drink, drink, drink!”
"You have your little sister's board to pay?'

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Sure, the bit creature; I don't grudge the money for that! She's a good little thing, is Kitty."

"You have no fashionable dresses at all?"

"Fashionable, is it? Ye says true! I hasn't but two gowns to me back."

"You haven't any lover, Mary Maloney?"

No, no, thank Heaven! I haven't got that to trouble me yet, nor I don't want it.”

"What on earth, then, have you to make you happy? "Where do you get all your happiness from?" said I.

"The Lord be praised, it growed up in me. A bit of sunshine, plenty of work, and a sup at the right time, make me laugh and sing. Then if trouble comes, God helpin', I'll keep me heart up. Sure, 'twould be a sad thing if Patrick McGrue should come and ax me, but, the Lord willin', I'd try to bear up under it."

THE COMICAL CHEBEC.

I had taken a long journey and penetrated into one of the obscure corners of New England, a far corner near the top of the map. I had taken possession of a charming room looking from one window into the woods, from the other down the only road leading to the every-day world. I had spent the usual hours "getting settled," and then I drew the one comfortable chair up to the window and seated myself to see who might be my neighbors.

I found myself at once an object of interest to a small personage in sober brown, standing on a half-dead tree near the house. He greeted me with a quick, emphatic "phit!" plainly resenting the opening of a window into his domain.

I saw with regret that I had pitched my tent beside the smallest of the flycatchers, the chebec. I say with regret, for I had never felt inclined to make his acquaintance. I had taken the verdict of the books as final. He was simply the least of the flycatchers, and nothing more was to be said about him.

I found on closer acquaintance, however, that — as usual - the books do not tell everything. My small neighbor proved to be a character, a person of ideas, and of individuality as pronounced as if his measure had been in feet instead of inches. It was evident that in his estimation the epithet "least" did not apply to anything about him, not even to his size, for have we not kinglets and humming birds?

As days passed and I learned to know him better and

appreciate his untiring vigilance, I wondered that the little fellow allowed me to sit at my window so near him; and if he had really resented it, he had it in his power to make it so uncomfortable for me that I should have been forced to abandon my seat. He did feel some misgivings, I am sure, for he kept a stern eye upon my slightest movement, and often expressed his sentiments with vehemence, though unfortunately - or perhaps, rather, fortunately, for my peace of mind - I could not understand him.

Sometimes chebec took no notice of me, or dismissed my case as if I had become too obvious, with a contemptuous "phit "; but again he would sit on the fence ten feet from my window, with his crest raised and looking very fierce, and address a good many remarks to me, which his manner forbade me to consider complimentary.

Once or twice he came nearer than usual, hovered before my window, poised gracefully on beating wings, taking observations and making remarks which I was sure were not altogether flattering. Yet I felt that I deserved well of him; for, if I did spy upon him, I never intruded beyond my bounds. The window sill was my limit, and how much farther my field glass took me he could not be supposed to know.

The least flycatcher is the most bumptious fellow I know. Not only does he demand a whole tree-sometimes more than one-to himself, a claim totally absurd for such a little fellow, but he will scarcely allow another bird in his neighborhood. My small friend was a fair representative of his family. If a bluebird came with his sweet call to the maple, instantly chebec precipitated himself

upon him with savage cries, crest erect and as fierce as if the lovely blue visitor were a hawk.

He was far more self-assertive than any of his relatives. No king-bird, notwithstanding his belligerent reputation, can compare in this quality with the insignificant-looking fellow, no bigger than one's thumb, which is called the least of the flycatchers.

While sitting at my window I would sometimes hear a strange bird-voice on the tree, and very carefully I would peep out to see. But chebec was always there before me, perched on the lower limb, turning his head this way and that. I knew his eyes were quicker than mine, and his position better, so I would look at him to see in which direction to turn my eyes. In an instant he would dart off toward the top of the tree, and something would vanish in a hurry. I was never quick enough to see the stranger.

There was once an amusing scene between chebec and a robin. The robin alighted on the fence nearer the old tree than was agreeable to its fiery little resident, who flung himself upon the larger bird with his harshest cry. The robin departed - and who would not before such a catapult? — but in an instant he returned with loud cries of rage and defiance, going through his whole vocabulary of insulting, mocking and taunting notes, flirting his tail and jerking his wings, daring the small foe to try it again.

He was evidently furious that he had been surprised into flight, and wished to wipe out the shame of it by his vehement defiance. Long after chebec returned to his own business the robin continued to remonstrate and explain from the fence.