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Sometimes our estimate of men and womenOn short acquaintance is very much at fault.

A gentleman and his wife—Pierrepont by name—passengers on one of the great Atlantic steamers, not knowing any of the other passengers, kept very much to themselves; he usually reading aloud to his wife, and she occupied in some needle work; for this, they were commented upon,and not very favorably, and generally were called the "stupid couple." Little did these same passengers know the true character of that gentleman and lady. An incident that occurred on board soon proved the bravery and heroism of the one, and the gentleness and self-sacrifice of the other. The captain had with him his only son, a boy of some eight summers, a great favorite of all on board from fore to aft. The little fellow, climbing on the side of the ship, somehow fell overboard. The lady happening to be on the other side of the deck, saw the child climb up, and immediately missed him. She quickly laid her hand on her husband's shoulder, looking in his eyes, and cried out, "Oh, save the boy, he has fallen overboard." In one moment he was on his feet, kicked off his canvas shoes, threw his hat on the deck, and turning his face toward the bridge, where he knew some of the ship's officers were always stationed, he called out in a voice which rang like a trumpet call over the ship, "Man overboard." Then, with a quick run and leap, he cleared the rail, and the broken twisting water of the ship's track had closed over him. He was on the surface again in a moment, and taking a glance back at the ship to know his position, stretched out into a long steady stroke in the direction where he knew the child was.

Instantly the captain's hand was on the engine-room telegraph, and down into the depths of the ship went the signals. First to "stop," and the tremor all over the ship ceased. The bell rang again, and the index moved to "astern-slow;" then in a minute or two, to, "half;" then he called out to the second officer—"Man overboard! Stand by to lower away the gig," which was quickly obeyed, and four hands, a coxswain, and a man for the boat's bow were instantly off and rowed fiercely.

In a little while Mrs. Pierrepont—who was on the bridge with Captain Hood—said, "Do you see them; are they together?"

"Yes," replied the captain, "I believe they are." But his voice was now broken, and he took hold of Mrs. Pierrepont's hand. "I have watched my child from here with the glass, till at last he floated so low that I could scarcely see him, and just as he seemed sinking your husband dashed across the spot where he was, and I saw by a wave of his hand towards the ship that he caught him. He is now waiting for the boat."

It was getting dark when they returned. The child, who was shivering, was immediately carried away to have a warm bath, and a little later was in the saloon with dry clothes on, as merry as if nothing had happened.

When Pierrepont stepped on the deck, a rush was made at him, and both hands were shaken till he thought his arms would be pulled off.

The captain said all he had to say in a very few words, and with a hand-grasp which said more than words.

A man to whom God hath given riches, wealth, and honor, so that he wanteth nothing for his soul of all that he desireth, yet God giveth him not power to eat thereof, but a stranger eateth it.

—Eccles. 6, 2v.; Saint Luke 12, 20v.

To love applause is praiseworthy; to seek it is weakness.

Eat an apple on going to bed, and you will very soon send the Doctor begging his bread.

Appointments may be given,Not the capacity to fill them well.

Dr. Johnson to Boswell—"If general approbation will add anything to your enjoyment, I can tell you that I have heard you mentioned, as a man whom everybody likes. I think life has little more to give."

If you arbitrate a dispute between two of your friends, you are sure to make an enemy; if you arbitrate between two of your enemies, you are sure to make a friend.

—Bias, a Greek.

Never contend with one that is foolish, proud, positive, testy; or with a superior, or a clown, in matter of argument.

Those who are constrained to solicit for assistance are really to be pitied; those who receive it without, are to be envied; but those who bestow it unasked, are to be admired.

Associates—A man should live with his superiors as he does with his fire; not too near, lest he burn; nor too far off, lest he freeze.

—Diogenes.

If you always live with those who are lame, you will yourself learn to limp.

—Latin.

Never forget that if you are not interesting your audience, you are fatiguing it.

The beautiful are never desolate,For some one always loves them.

Beauty of face is but a fleeting dower,A momentary gleam, a short-lived flower,A charm that goes no deeper than the skin;Beauty of mind is firm enthroned within.

There is the beauty of infancy, the beauty of youth, the beauty of maturity, and, believe me, ladies and gentlemen, the beauty of age.

Beauty with selfishness, is a flower without perfume.

What is beauty?

'Tis the stainless soul withinThat outshines the fairest skin.

—Sir A. Hunt.

Fragile is beauty: with advancing years'Tis less and less, and, last, it disappears.Your hair too, fair one, will turn grey and thin;And wrinkles furrow that now rounded skin;Then brace the mind and thus beauty fortify,The mind alone is yours, until you die.

Beauty without kindness dies unenjoyed and undelighting.

—Johnson.

O bed! Delicious bed!That heaven upon earth to the weary head!

Generally men are ready to believe what they desire.

—Caesar.

The kindest benefactors have no recollection of the good they do, and are surprised when men thank them for it.

A beneficent person is like a fountain watering the earth, and spreading fertility; it is, therefore, more delightful and more honorable to give than receive.

—Epicurus.

There is no benefit so small, that a good man will not magnify it.

—Seneca.

To receive a benefit is to sell your liberty.

—Laberius.

He who receives a benefit should never forget it; he who bestows one should never remember it.

To act always from pure benevolence is not possible for finite beings. Human benevolence is mingled with vanity, interest, or some other motive.

Bereavement makes the heart tender and sympathetic.

If you wish to become acquainted with your betrothed, travel with him for a few days—especially if he is accompanied with his own folks—and take your mother along.

—Unknown.

The Bible isThe Index to Eternity;He can not missOf endless blissThat takes this chart to steer his voyage by.

—Herbert.

The following lines of Sir Walter Scott are said to have been copied in his Bible:

Within this awful volume liesThe mystery of mysteries.Oh! happiest they of human race,To whom our God has given graceTo hear, to read, to fear, to pray,To lift the latch, and force the way;But better had they ne'er been bornWho read to doubt, or read to scorn.

Remember, that in prayer, you are speaking to God; that in reading the Bible, God is speaking to you.

The learned prince of Grenada, heir to the Spanish throne, imprisoned by order of the Crown for fear he would aspire to the throne, was kept in solitary confinement in the old prison at the Palace of Skulls, Madrid. After thirty-three years in this living tomb, death came to his release, and the following remarkable researches, taken from the Bible, and marked with an old nail on the rough walls of his cell, told how the brain sought employment through the weary years.

The 35th verse, 11th chapter of John, is the shortest.The 9th verse of the 8th chapter of Esther is the longest.The 8th verse of the 97th Psalm is the middle verse of the Bible.Each verse in Psalm 136 ends alike.The 37th chapter of Isaiah and 19th chapter of 2d Kings are alike.The word "girl" occurs but once in the Bible, and that in Joel, 3d chapter and 3d verse.The word "Lord" is found 1853 times, the word "Jehovah" 6855 times, the word "reverend" but once, and that in Psalms 111th chapter and 9th verse.The four most inspiring promises are in John, 14th chapter, 2d verse, 6th chapter and 37th verse; Matthew, 11th chapter and 28th verse, and in Psalms, 37th chapter and 4th verse.The finest chapter is in Acts, 26th.

The 35th verse, 11th chapter of John, is the shortest.

The 9th verse of the 8th chapter of Esther is the longest.

The 8th verse of the 97th Psalm is the middle verse of the Bible.

Each verse in Psalm 136 ends alike.

The 37th chapter of Isaiah and 19th chapter of 2d Kings are alike.

The word "girl" occurs but once in the Bible, and that in Joel, 3d chapter and 3d verse.

The word "Lord" is found 1853 times, the word "Jehovah" 6855 times, the word "reverend" but once, and that in Psalms 111th chapter and 9th verse.

The four most inspiring promises are in John, 14th chapter, 2d verse, 6th chapter and 37th verse; Matthew, 11th chapter and 28th verse, and in Psalms, 37th chapter and 4th verse.

The finest chapter is in Acts, 26th.

—Christian Observer.

Who, coming to this sacred book, with a sincere desire to know God's will for the direction of his life, will say that he can not find it? Who, desiring to be instructed in the way of salvation "through faith which is in Christ Jesus," will consult its pages, and say it is not made plain to him? Who, coming to it for equipment of his spiritual life, will say that there are still needs of that life which are left unprovided for? Who, seeking direction in the way of the life everlasting, can doubt that, if he faithfully obeys its teaching, he will reach that goal? The Scripture fulfils the ends for which it was given; no higher proof of its inspiration can be demanded. * * * * * What the closing verse of the 20th chapter of John's Gospel says of that book: "But these are written, that ye may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing ye may have life through His name," may with equal truth be applied to the Bible as a whole.

—James Orr, D. D.,Glasgow.

A Little Bird Told Me—The origin of this phrase is doubtless to be found in Ecclesiastes, x, 20:—For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.

Old birds are hard to pluck.

A man ashamed of his humble birth is never alone, because all good people are ashamed of him for being ashamed.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;The soul that riseth with us, our life's star,Hath elsewhere had its setting,And cometh from afar.

—Wordsworth.

My birthday!—What a different soundThat word had in my youthful ears!And now each time the day comes round,Less and less white its mark appears.

—Moore.

Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others, can not keep it from themselves.

—Barrie.

Boasters—For boasters the world has no use; but it is always on the lookout for men who do things. Solomon said: "Let another man praise thee, and not thine own lips."

Sir Walter Scott, in lending a book one day to a friend, cautioned him to be punctual in returning it. "This is really necessary," said the poet in apology; "for though many of my friends are badarithmeticians, I observe almost all of them to be goodbook-keepers."

I lent my love a book one day;She brought it back; I laid it by:'Twas little either had to say,—She was so strange, and I so shy.But yet we loved indifferent things,—The sprouting buds, the birds in tune,—And Time stood still and wreathed his wingsWith rosy links from June to June.For her, what task to dare or do?What peril tempt? What hardship bear?But with her—ah! she never knewMy heart, and what was hidden there!And she with me, so cold and coy,Seemed like a maid bereft of sense;But in the crowd, all life and joy,And full of blushful impudence.She married,—well, a woman needsSomeone, her life and love to share,—And little cares sprang up like weedsAnd played around her elbow-chair.Years rolled by—and I, content,Trimmed my own lamp, and kept it bright,Till age's touch, my hair besprentWith rays and gleams of silver light.And then it chanced I took the bookWhich she perused in days gone by;And as I read, such passion shook,That, I needs must surely cry.For, here and there, her love was writ,In old, half-faded pencil-signs,As if she yielded—bit by bit—Her heart in dots and underlines.Ah, silvered fool, too late you look!I know it; but let me here recordThis maxim: Lend no girl a bookUnless you read it afterward!

I lent my love a book one day;She brought it back; I laid it by:'Twas little either had to say,—She was so strange, and I so shy.

But yet we loved indifferent things,—The sprouting buds, the birds in tune,—And Time stood still and wreathed his wingsWith rosy links from June to June.

For her, what task to dare or do?What peril tempt? What hardship bear?But with her—ah! she never knewMy heart, and what was hidden there!

And she with me, so cold and coy,Seemed like a maid bereft of sense;But in the crowd, all life and joy,And full of blushful impudence.

She married,—well, a woman needsSomeone, her life and love to share,—And little cares sprang up like weedsAnd played around her elbow-chair.

Years rolled by—and I, content,Trimmed my own lamp, and kept it bright,Till age's touch, my hair besprentWith rays and gleams of silver light.

And then it chanced I took the bookWhich she perused in days gone by;And as I read, such passion shook,That, I needs must surely cry.

For, here and there, her love was writ,In old, half-faded pencil-signs,As if she yielded—bit by bit—Her heart in dots and underlines.

Ah, silvered fool, too late you look!I know it; but let me here recordThis maxim: Lend no girl a bookUnless you read it afterward!

—F. S. Cozzens.

We should make the same use of a book that the bee does of a flower; she steals sweets from it, but does not injure it.

—Colton.

Be as careful of the books you read, as of the company you keep; for your habits and character will be as much influenced by the former as the latter.

If thou art borrowed by a friend,Right welcome shall he be,To read, to study, not to lend,But to return to me.Not that imparted knowledge dothDiminish learning's store;But books, I find, if often lent,Return to me no more.

If thou art borrowed by a friend,Right welcome shall he be,To read, to study, not to lend,But to return to me.

Not that imparted knowledge dothDiminish learning's store;But books, I find, if often lent,Return to me no more.

—Murphy.

The feeling that books are real friends is constantly present to all who love reading. "I have friends," said Petrarch, "whose society is extremely agreeable to me, they are of all ages, and of every country. They have distinguished themselves both in the cabinet and in the field, and obtained high honors for their knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to gain access to them, for they are always at my service, and I admit them to my company, and dismiss them from it, whenever I please. They are never troublesome, but immediately answer every question I ask them. Some relate to me the events of past ages, while others reveal to me the secrets of Nature. Some teach me how to live, and others how to die. Some, by their vivacity, drive away my cares and exhilarate my spirits; while others give fortitude to my mind, and teach me the important lesson how to deport myself, and to depend wholly on myself. They open to me, in short, the various avenues of all the arts and sciences and upon their information I may safely rely in all emergencies. In return for all their services, they only ask me to accommodate them with a convenient chamber in some corner of my humble habitation where they may repose in peace; for these friends are more delighted by the tranquility of retirement than with the tumults of society."

—Petrarch.

Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see them as if they were really alive; we are participators in their thoughts; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.

Those who have collected books, and whose good nature has prompted them to accommodate their friends with them, will feel the sting of the answer made by a man of wit to one who lamented the difficulty which he found in persuading his friends to return the volumes that he had lent them:

"Sir," said he, "your acquaintances find, I suppose, that it is much more easy to retain the books themselves, than what is contained in them."

The following gives a pathetic description of a studious boy lingering at a bookstall:

I saw a boy with eager eyeOpen a book upon a stall,And read, as he'd devour it all;Which, when the stall-man did espy,Soon to the boy I heard him call,"You, sir, you never buy a book,Therefore in one you shall not look."The boy passed slowly on, and with a sighHe wished he never had been taught to read,Then of the old churl's books he should have had no need.

—Mary Lamb.

Books that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are the most useful after all. A man will often look at them, and be tempted to go on, when he would have been frightened at books of a larger size and of a more erudite appearance.

—Dr. Johnson.

How foolish is the man who sets up a number of costly volumes, like superfluous furniture, for mere ornament, and is far more careful to keep them from contracting a single spot of ink, than to use them, as the means of instructing his ignorance, and correcting his faults! Better a man without books, than books without a man.

—Scriver.

There are two bores in society—the man who knows too much, and the man who knows too little.

—London Paper.

Those who would scorn to "accept"—Borrow, and keep without qualm.

A boy of 17, 18 or 19 has reached an age when he should win his own way, and seek his own sustenance, physical and mental.

"My boy," said a father to his son, "treat everybody with politeness, even those who are rude to you, for remember that you show courtesy to others, not because they are gentlemen, but because you are one."

It is reasonably safe to assume from a story in the New York Tribune that the late Henry Harland, the novelist, was seldom kept after school in his boyhood.

Among Harland's early teachers was a charming young lady, who called him up in class one morning and said to him:

"Henry, name some of the chief beauties of education."

"Schoolmistresses," the boy answered, smiling into his teacher's pretty eyes.

—From Youth's Companion.

John Ruskin, in one of his lectures, said: "There is just this difference between the making of a girl's character and a boy's: You may chisel a boy into shape as you would a rock, or hammer him into it, if he be of a better kind, as you would a piece of bronze; but you can not hammer a girl into anything. She grows as a flower does—she will wither without sun; she will decay in her sheath as a narcissus will if you do not give her air enough; she must take her own fair form and way if she take any, and in mind as in body, must have always—

"'Her household motions light and free,And steps of virgin liberty.'"

You bring up your girls as if they were meant for sideboard ornaments, and then complain of their frivolity.Give them the same advantages that you give their brothers; teach them, that courage and truth are the pillars of their being.

Again: "The man's work for his own home, is to secure its maintenance, progress, and defence; the woman's to secure its order, comfort, and loveliness.

"What the man is at his own gate, defending it if need be, against insult and spoil, that also, not in a less, but in a more devoted measure, he is to be at the gate of his country, leaving his home, if need be, even to the spoiler, to do his more incumbent work there.

"And in like manner what the woman is to be within her gates, as the centre of order, the balm of distress, and the mirror of beauty, that she is also to be without her gates, where order is more difficult, distress more imminent, loveliness more rare."

You can lead a boy to college, but you can't make him think.

The boy who does not respect parental authority, will very soon be apt to repudiate all law, both civil and ecclesiastical, human and Divine.

"O say! What is that thing call'd light,Which I must ne'er enjoy?What are the blessings of the sight?O, tell your poor blind boy!You talk of wond'rous things you see,You say the sun shines bright;I feel him warm, but how can heMake it day or night?With heavy sighs I often hearYou mourn my hapless woe;But sure with patience I can bearA loss I ne'er can know.Then let not what I can not haveMy cheer of mind destroy;Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,Although a poor blind boy."

"O say! What is that thing call'd light,Which I must ne'er enjoy?What are the blessings of the sight?O, tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wond'rous things you see,You say the sun shines bright;I feel him warm, but how can heMake it day or night?

With heavy sighs I often hearYou mourn my hapless woe;But sure with patience I can bearA loss I ne'er can know.

Then let not what I can not haveMy cheer of mind destroy;Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,Although a poor blind boy."

—Old Magazine.

Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,And hear a helpless orphan's tale,Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.Yet I was once a mother's pride,And my brave father's hope and joy;But in the Nile's proud fight he died,And I am now an orphan boy.Poor foolish child! how pleased was IWhen news of Nelson's victory came,Along the crowded streets to fly,And see the lighted windows flame!To force me home my mother sought,She could not bear to see my joy;For with my father's life 'twas bought,And made me a poor orphan boy.The people's shouts were long and loud,My mother, shuddering, closed her ears;"Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd;My mother answered with her tears."Why are you crying thus," said I,"While others laugh and shout with joy?"She kissed me—and with such a sigh!She called me "her poor orphan boy."

Poor foolish child! how pleased was IWhen news of Nelson's victory came,Along the crowded streets to fly,And see the lighted windows flame!To force me home my mother sought,She could not bear to see my joy;For with my father's life 'twas bought,And made me a poor orphan boy.

The people's shouts were long and loud,My mother, shuddering, closed her ears;"Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd;My mother answered with her tears."Why are you crying thus," said I,"While others laugh and shout with joy?"She kissed me—and with such a sigh!She called me "her poor orphan boy."

—Mrs. Opie.

Emerson said: "Give a boy address and accomplishments, and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes wherever he goes; he has not the trouble of earning or owning them; they solicit him to enter and possess."

A great man being asked what boys should learn, he replied, "That which they will use when men."

It is good to rub and polish our brain against that of others.

—Montaigne.

Eaten bread is soon forgotten.

—English.

Birth is much, but breeding is more.

Good breeding consists in having no particular mark of any profession, but a general elegance of manners.

—Dr. Johnson.

Good breeding is the result of much good sense, some good nature, and a little self-denial.

Climate—The climate of Great Britain, as that of no other country in a like latitude, derives its peculiarity from its situation and from the prevailing winds, which are from the southwest, except in the months of April and May. The thermometer for six months in the year averages near 60 degrees, and seldom, if ever, drops below 36 degrees during the remaining six months, thus affording, according to all authorities, one of the healthiest climates in the world.

—Students' Reference Work,Edited by Chandler B. Beach, A. M.

The Nobility of Great Britain—The British nobility is the most enlightened, the best educated, the wisest, and bravest in Europe.

A brother's sufferings claim a brother's pity.

—Addison.

When thy brother has lost all that he ever had, and lies languishing, and even gasping under the utmost extremities of poverty and distress, dost thou think to lick him whole again only with thy tongue?

—South.

A Saying of Napoleon—Once at St. Helena, when walking with a lady, some servants came along carrying a load. The lady, in an angry tone, ordered them out of the way,on which Napoleon interposed, saying, "Respect the burden, madam." Even the drudgery of the humblest laborer contributes towards the general well-being of society; and it was a wise saying of a Chinese Emperor that, "If there was a man who did not work, or a woman that was idle, somebody must suffer cold or hunger in the Empire."

—Dr. H. D. Northrop.

No one knows the weight of another's burden.

—German.

The more we help others to bear their burdens, the lighter our own will be.

Burns has been one of the world awakeners. His voice rang out of the stillness, like the clear sweet notes of a bugle horn, and his songs were sung with a nerve and strength of nature that stirred to its depths the popular heart.

Describing Robert Burns' conversational gifts, Mr. Carlyle wrote: "They were the theme of all that ever heard him. All kinds of gifts, from the gracefullest allusions of courtesy to the highest fire of passionate speech, loud floods of mirth, soft wailings of affection, laconic emphasis, clear piercing insight, all were in him."

He awoke the poor and the despised to the dignity of man as man, irrespective of the accidents of poverty or wealth.

"The rank is but the guinea's stamp,The man's the man for a' that."

Thus helping to deliver men from the debasing worship of sordid gold, and of such rank as kings can confer on even the most worthless.

"The man of independent mindHe looks and laughs at a' that."

He opened the eyes of the Scottish people, at home and abroad, to the glory of their nation's history, and glowing with the hope of a day—

"When man to man the world o'erShall brithers be for a' that."

He also opened men's eyes to the hatefulness of all shams and hypocrisies; of meanness, selfishness and pride; of all narrowness and greed and cruelty thus—

"Man's inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn."

And again: He opened men's eyes to the cruelty and injustice of harsh judgment, seen oftenest perhaps in people judging, or misjudging others, who have yielded to temptations, or sunk under debasing influences, to which they themselves have never been exposed. Where has Christian charity and kindly consideration for others been more nobly taught than in these lines:

"Who made the heart, 'tis He aloneDecidedly can try us;He knows each chord, its various tone,Each spring, its various bias.Then, at the balance, let's be mute,We never can adjust it;What's done we partly may compute,But know not what's resisted."

He opened many eyes when he wrote the following:

"O, wad some Pow'r the giftie gie usTo see oursels as ithers see us!It wad frae monie a blunder free us,And foolish notion;What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,And even Devotion!"

We all, according as our business prospers or fails, are elated or cast down.

I'll give money to any well deserving friend, but in the matter of business, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

—Shakespeare.

Sentiment is not now recognized in business affairs.

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