the flowers were drooping; the corn leaves rolling (sure sign of drought); and we longed for the luxury of a river-bath. At this juncture, our friend Robin announced his need of a bunch of shingles. It was our business to see that his wants were supplied. Now, the shingles were deposited for safe-keeping in some break-neck place in the shed-loft; men and oxen were straining every nerve and muscle to secure the English hay while the fair weather lasted, and could not be induced even for a moment to turn their attention to any affair of less importance. Here, then, occurred an interruption of nearly a fortnight, while we waited for the shingles. The fates were unpropitious. Before the end of that time, vacation was was over; and our visitors were summoned home, while the bathhouse was not yet done. We began to despair, but at length rang the last stroke of the hammer, and with joy we received the announcement," It is finished." Again were heard jocose allusions concerning a dedication of our temple to Hygeia. Songs and speeches were spoken of as among the musthaves, yet we did not go so far as to engage either orators or poets. The question now is, how to locate our building conveniently on the river-bank; for the work has all been wrought at a distance of some thirty or forty rods froms its destined standing-place. In vain we solicited means for transportation; the only reply was, "It can't be done just now, at any rate; teams and men are overdriven with work." Then came days of rain, rafn, continually pouring; the river rose and over-flowed its banks; the grassy meadow, the muddy pond, the running stream, had the appearance of a lake of a thousand islands, more or less. Had a dozen teams been at our command, we could not easily have neared the river's edge. The waters gradually subsided; the river flowed peacefully in its old channel; the weather grew colder and colder; and so, I may say, did our passion for bathing. Soon we had

"No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member-
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!"

bath-house is an object of questionable utility. "All ready for next summer," do you say? Certainly, and, although I may not be here to share the enjoyment, having it in mind to follow the "star of empire" in its progress toward sunset, and spend the approaching dog-days in Sitka, I sincerely hope that Nell and the other girls at home may reap the benefits thereof.

More truly lamentable than perished hopes, more heart-sickening than hopes deferred, are hopes that, when realized, prove to be, not comforts, but aggravations. With what ineffable disdain do we pass by on the other side, after having persuaded ourselves that the grapes which hang beyond our reach are sour! But if, without having attained that enviable state of mind, we succeed, after repeated trials, in grasping some of that selfsame fruit, how are we provoked beyond endurance, if it proves distasteful! A striking incident of this nature was recently related to me by a friend in very nearly the words which follow:

took

No? Well, this is the

What with his indo

"Did I ever tell you how old Bhis wife out to ride? way the story goes. lence, lack of energy, and love of strong drink, old B, as he was always called, earned for his family but an indifferent living, even in the best of times. When high prices ruled, business was dull, and labor of all kinds but poorly paid, the state of his affairs grew visibly worse; and by-and-by cold weather and destitution stared them in the face. By dint of borrowing and begging, they managed to keep the frost out, and life in a while longer. At length, one morning, B

666

went to his neighbor F―, and said, My wife has been teasing me for several years to give her a ride, and now, if you'll let me have your horse and wagon an hour or two, I'm going to carry my whole family -to the poor-house!'"

Unfortunate woman! her longed-for pleasure excursion left her a town-pauper. Perhaps, however, she had sufficient equanimity to admit that " 'tis better to have hoped and lost, than never to have hoped at all.” So, let us hope.

PROUD characters love those to whom they do a service.

the Sabbath bells, I have watched with curiosity and interest, the passing worshippers as they wended their way to the temples and altars of religious devotion.

Here passed the light-hearted maiden with her comely face, and beaming eye, inviting with a graceful toss of her head, an examination of the tasty, new bonnet, with its bright colored ribbons; and there, the ambitious youth, with his quick, manly tread, anxious, in his "Sunday best" to make a favorable impression on the heart of the laughing girl he secretly adored; there goes a troop of boys and girls, disregarding those Puritan. conventionalities, that prescribes a rule of soberness for the observance of the day, rivalling with their happy laughter the music of the summer birds; and there, the grave citizen with slow and measured tread, his every look and act at variance with the brightness and glory of the day, his every thought clinging to the cold formalities of the Past, as the evidences of sincere, religious faith, watching the romping troop before him, with a look of stern severity that seems to plead for the services of the ancient "tything man;" there, again goes the stately matron, in rustling silks, conscious of the social power and influence which wealth commands, but with a grace and dignity of movement that commands our admiration; while here passes the poor and humble widow, clad in the faded garments of another generation, with a heart purified by trials of adversity and affliction, accepting this holy day as a precious gift from God, when she can forget the heavy weariness that comes from a constant struggle for daily bread, and approaches the consecrated altar, sincerely grateful, for those unnumbered blessings that the Universal Father can alone bestow.

But among them all, none challenges my attention with so much interest, or suggests such thoughts for serious reflection and meditation as two simple-minded paupers, that mingle with the throng of worshippers on their way to the house of God. Long past the middle age of man, their thin locks marked with the silvery threads of Time,

with forms slightly bending with the infirmi ties of age, and clad in the plain, but substantial garments of public charity, these two men with hands united, move along almost nnnoticed, towards the sacred sanctuary. That intelligence that illuminates the human face with a divine light, never gleamed from their faces, for their comprehension of life's responsibilities has been limited to its simplest forms and acts of duty.

One is blind. The blue, etherial arch above, the glittering stars, the rolling, restless sea, the waving fields of grain, the green grass, the blooming flower, the maiden's form and face, the triumphs of human art and genius, and every form of taste and beauty, are all shut out from him, and he dwells in one ceaseless night of life-long darkness. A burden to his kindred, he has been consigned to the pauper's home.

The other drew the first breath of life in the grandest mansion in our town, and was "nursed in the lap of luxury." The mother bent over his infant cradle, possibly with the fond hope, that this dear treasure of her heart and home, would one day become rich, powerful, and great in the world of trade and commerce, or his name secure that immortality that genius wins from the grateful homage of mankind. O, the vanity of human hopes, and expectations, and purposes ! Wealth could purchase the comforts and luxuries of life, but it could not buy for its wellborn child that glorious mind and intelligence that elevates man above the brute creation. And so with the passing years, wealth" took to itself wings," death robbed him of his loving kindred and he at last found a shelter in the public pauper's home.

But these two paupers, limited in their comprehension as they are, understand the meaning of the Sabbath-bells, and humbly seek the altars of religion, accepting possibly with child-like simplicity and confidence, that faith that shall one day open the gates of heaven to their astonished gaze.

That mercy and that conviction that gives us the assurance of immortality, also assures us, that when these poor unfortunates shall pass on to the scenes beyond the grave, then shall all human imperfections and infirmities disappear; and that sense of sight which is here denied to one, and that comprehension

The circling year still finds us as of yore
Full weary pilgrims on the shores of time;
Yet looking calmly to another shore,
Which lies beyond the Jordan waves of death,
Where dwell our lov'd who pass'd on from our gaze,
Leaving our homes and hearts so sad and drear.
Friend of the sad, sweet past! as back we look
Adown the vista of life's vanish'd years,
How beautiful the flowers around our path,

What islands of delight, in deep, blue seas,
Wooed us with merry bird song to their bowers;
How sweet the lights and shadows through the trees,
Fell on the velvet grass bestrewn with moss,
And braided in with simple, wildwood blooms!
How looked the stars from heights serene, above,
Down to our hearts with many a loving glance,
And speaking to us of that Lovely Land,
Where sin and sorrow cannot shade the sky.
How to the rhythmic music of the stars
Our spirits leaped with many a glad refrain,
While winds and waves a holy chanting kept,
Making a sacred Sabbath of the scene!

O Youth and Hope! and was it all a dream,
These sweet, mysterious chimings of the soul,
With all of Nature's beauteous sights and sounds!
When from the mountain-top we caught a view
Of earth and sea and sky sublimely fair,
Did we not feel our Father's hand was there,
Yea, that His spirit in our spirits woke
Melodious utterances but half-expressed,
Yet fully felt, and kindling a deep glow
Of sacred fire in our whole inner life?
Yea, as we lingered by the purling stream,
Sweet as the murmurs of Siloa's fount,
How near we seemed unto that city fair,
Builded on high for the whole human race!
O friend, 'tis not a dream! no feeling here,
No aspiration of the burden'd beart,
Shall fall into the void, but like the seed
Of precious flowers, shall blossom in that dawn,
When we shall truly wake to life and love,
And bliss too great to utter-
when the clasp
Of spirit-hands shall thrill us with a joy
We cannot now conceive of when the pain
And weariness of earth-life shall depart
With the old frame, and we shall learn to live
With saints and angels, with our own fond ones
In an eternity of Love and Joy!

If you doubt of the propriety of an action, take time for prayer, consideration,and searching God's word, before you attempt to perform it.

In God's great, busy hive, thronged with active intelligences, he has made no room for mortal drones, no provision for idle indolence, or inactivity. There is a place for every patient, busy worker. There are boundless opportunities for each to lay out for himself a great plan of action, to work out in accordance therewith a great, human mission, to make his place in the world an important one, important in itself, important to society, and to the world; but there is no mortal realm, where inactivity can reign, and idleness hold sway.

When God formed man a living, acting, sensitive being, he gave him not only power, but motive to accomplish, he set before him, not only the capability, but the necessity for exertion. He must have exercise of mind and body, in order to maintain the life that has been given him, and the more active and vigorous that exertion, limited, of course, by the varying boundary of endurance, the more serviceable and healthy, will be his mental and physical powers.

Having then the mental, moral, and bodily power with which to accomplish, the impelling force of motive, impulse, and necessity, to move us forward, not only to our work, but in our work, having before us unlimited opportunities, never-ceasing inducements, having before us the wide world, with its ships of trade, carrying the products of human minds, and human hands, from land to land, from port to port, with its internal, intermingled, yet distinct, lines of commercial intercourse, with its spreading, increasing facilities for transmitting thought, intelligence and treasure, to the four quarters of the globe, with its unlimited, illimitable possibilities for improvement in Agriculture and in Art, in Society and in Science, in Morality and in Theology, with its great national battle-fields, and nobler labor-fields,

We are not all called to the same vocation. The world was never built for a single workshop,- for in our tastes and faculties we are not all alike; neither is it best that we should be. The various requirements of physical life and comfort, call for manifold employments on the part of men, thus giving greater variety and scope to human ingenuity, and opening a wider field for the investigations of human genius.

Now, evidently, these vocations were to be all combined in each separate and single life, or else the labor of each individual worker was to be a fragment of the whole, different and peculiar, yet needed in its appointed place. God has dictated which hypothesis shall be followed, and written on the mind of man his evident intention, for there are certain absolutely necessary and indispensable employments, professions, and trades, for which some men are mentally, morally, or physically, incapacitated, while there are others equally indispensable and necessary, for which, by nature and experience, they are peculiarly adapted. Then there are certain avocations upon which the very life of trade and industry depend, for which men are fitted only by the cultivated skill, and continual experience of years, calling for entire attention, devotedness, and stability on the part of the worker.

Plainly, then, we are called to that vocation for which we are eminently qualified. Our calling is to that work which our natural ability, our study and cultivation, has fitted us to do. God never called man to a work he could not do, never set before him a duty he could not perform.

"So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,

When duty whispers low, Thou must,'
The youth replies, 'I can.'"

Half the financial failures of the world, aye, social and moral failures, too, have arisen VOL XXXIX.-24

| from the mistaken callings of mistaken men. They enter the arena of busy life, to compete with those who are qualified for their vocation, who are fitted for their work, and competent to gain success. Experience is a powerful rival, and ability is greater than inability. A blind man can never be an artist, nor a dumb man, Demosthenes. So it is impossible for man to merit the laurel-wreath of coveted fame, or the golden talisman of success, without a certain degree of fitness, and competence in his chosen occupation. Qualification, then, is a proof of calling ability, the first test of duty.

Secondly, we are called to that vocation that we love. Into our pursuit, we must carry not only an ability to do, but a desire to do. From the heart of the worker rises his God-given force, his power to accomplish. From his inmost soul, must come that steady and continual love for his chosen toil that carries with it the great weight of earnestness, the irresistible momentum of sincerity. His heart, with all its great, deep love, must be in his work, lending its mystic influence, its loving interest, to his chosen toil. Without this he shall fail, utterly fail, perhaps not knowing why. Without it the protecting web affection weaves around its chosen toil, to guard it in security, shall fall away, and the dust of carelessness and disregard, shall cover all our labor.

In our voca

Being qualified for our work, and having a love therefor, we are called to that vocation, toward which the sacred voice of duty and of conscience prompts us. tion, we must regard God, our fellow-beings, and ourselves. We are to render love and obedience to God, aid and service to our neighbors and ourselves. We are called to no vocation that conscience does not approve, that morality does not dictate. No man ever yet was called to deal in rum, and no man ever will be. No voice of duty, or of right,

no voice of conscience, or morality, ever yet prompted man to spread this liquid fire of hell among his fellow-men. The traffic is accursed, and duty, conscience, and the voice of God, all plead against it. No one is called to that vocation that shall work a lasting injury to his fellow-men, and leave a lingering curse upon humanity; neither to that work against which duty and conscience both protest, ever sounding their sorrowful warning. Our own impressions of duty and of right, are our most sacred guide, and we must follow them. Here, then, are the tests that indicate our calling, fitness, love, duty. In that vocation toward which they point, most worthily let us walk, feeling that our calling, whether it demand sweat of the brow, sweat of the brain, or of the heart, is to us a sacred, and a noble one. It has its trials and its difficulties, but, shining through them all, is the sunlight of duty, and the smile of God. "Let us, then, walk worthy of the vocation wherewith we are called." If we walk worthily, we shall walk with punctuality. Look at the long line of noble men who have risen from the dust and smoke of humble toil, to higher positions of usefulness and activity. Look at the long list of heroes who have come up from lowly places in the empire of the earth, flushed with the pride and victory of successful labor. Show me one of them, if you can who had not this element in his character. The golden opportunities of life, the richest products of the richest fields, are grasped by him, who standing punctually at his post, notes carefully the varying changes of the times. Every great work has a crisis, when the events of a single moment, will decide forever, its success or failure. When it comes no one can tell, until its day is past. Then he who was not at his appointed place, promptly, punctually, sees success beyond his grasp, and fast receding, while to him there is nothing left, save disappointment. Punctuality, too, as a habit, and he who is prompt in few things, by virtue of the habit, will be likely to be prompt in all. Straws show the current of the mighty river. Added trifles, make the sum of human life. If in our vocation we would walk worthily and prosper, if we would enjoy the confidence of fellowmen, we must, first of all, be punctual.

We do not walk worthy of our vocation,

unless we walk honestly. I do not say that honesty is the best policy, for that implies comparison. It is the ONLY policy. Who are our successful men? Not those who have gained merely wealth, or have been lifted by it into power, but those who have gained respect, confidence, true success. They are those who make the code of honesty, morality, the rule and guide of all their practice.

The third test of worthiness, and the last essential condition of success, is fidelity. Work that is fragmentary is unavailing, that which is patient and earnest, is strong and mighty. That which is continued by abrupt and fitful efforts, will not be crowned with high achievement. It may grasp the instruments of labor, with strong and hopeful hand, it may clear away the rubbish to the rock, but there it stops for better opportunities, till time obliterates the mark it has already made, and so it never gets below the surface; - while patient Fidelity, with her pick and spade, if she cannot remove the mountains of difficulty that interpose, will go through them.

Here, then, are the essential elements of worthiness in our vocation, three bright and sparkling diamonds that constitute the jewel of success, - Punctuality, Honesty, Fidelity. Let us use them in that high vocation of Christian life and effort, to which we all are called. In that life let us walk with punctuality to every Christian duty, and in every Christian work, answering promptly to every just demand of our most holy faith, fulfilling every promise our profession can imply. With honesty of purpose, and sincerity of heart, let us go forward with a virtuous endeavor, worthy of our righteous cause.

But above all, let us be faithful. We have a mission and a destiny, a field of labor, and a victory. Let us be faithful to the cause of Christ, faithful in his spirit, to the work of our great mission, faithful in all our duties, and our labors. Then to that destiny, and that victory, we shall carry the approval of our conscience, and our God.

So with punctuality, honesty, fidelity, "let us walk worthy of the vocation wherewith. we are called."