83. Mount Washington.

I have been something of a traveler in our own country, though far less than I could wish,-and in Europe have seen all that is most attractive, from the Highlands of Scotland to the Golden Horn of Constantinople, from the summit of the Hartz Mountains to the Fountain of Vancluse,—but my eye is yet to rest on a lovelier scene than that which is discovered from Mount Washington, when, on some clear, cool, summer's morning, at sunrise, the cloud-curtain is drawn up from nature's grand proscenium, and all that chaos of wildness and beauty starts into life,-the bare, gigantic tops of the surrounding heights: the precipitous gorges a thousand fathoms deep, which foot of man or ray of light never entered;-the sombermatted forest, the moss-clad rocky wall weeping with crystal springs,-winding streams, gleaming lakes, and peaceful villages below, and in the dim, misty distance, beyond the lower hills, faint glimpse of the sacred bosom of the eternal deep, ever heaving as with the consciousness of its own immensity,-all mingled in one indescribable panorama by the hand of the Divine Artist.

Edw. Everett, Mass., 1794-1865.

84. How to be Remembered.

If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write things worth reading or do things worth writing.

B. Franklin, Mass., 1706-1790.

83. True Living.

God has written upon the flower that sweetens the air, upon the breeze that rocks the flower on its stem, upon the rain-drops which swell the mighty river, upon the dew-drop that refreshes the smallest sprig of moss that rears its head in the desert, upon the ocean that rocks every swimmer in its chambers, upon every penciled shell that sleeps in the caverns of the deep, as well as upon the mighty sun which warms and cheers the millions of creatures that live in its light,-upon all hath he written, "None of us liveth to himself."

John Todd, Vermont, 1800-1872.

86. Education.

Education is a better safeguard of liberty than a standing army. If we retrench the wages of the schoolmaster, we must raise those of the recruiting sergeant.

E. Everett, Mass., 1794-1865.

87. Pride.

Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and a great deal more saucy. When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but it is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it.

B. Franklin, Mass., 1706-1790.

88. A Christian's Life.

A Christian man's life is laid in the loom of time to a pattern which he does not see, but God does; and his heart is a shuttle. On one side of the loom is sorrow, and on the other is joy; and the shuttle, struck alternately by each, flies back and forth, carrying the thread, which is white or black, as the pattern needs; and, in the end, when God shall lift up the finished garment, and all the changing hues shall glance out, it will then appear that the deep and dark colors were as needful to beauty as the bright and high colors. H. W. Beecher, Conn., 1813—.

89. Intemperance.

The depopulating pestilence that walketh at noonday, the carnage of cruel and devastating war, can scarcely exhibit their victims in a more terrible array than exterminating drunkenness. I have seen a promising family spring from a parent trunk, and stretch abroad its populous limbs, like a flowering tree, covered with green and healthy foliage. I have seen the unnatural decay beginning upon the yet tender leaf, and gnawing like a worm in an unopened bud, while they dropped off, one by one, and the scathed and ruined shaft stood desolate and alone, until the winds and rains of many a sorrow laid that, too, in the dust.

W. Irving, New York, 1783-1859.

90. Happiness.

Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is a mirror, transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and evershining benevolence.

Washington Irving, New York, 1783-1859.

91. Christianity.

The real security of Christianity is to be found in its benevolent morality, in its exquisite adaptation to the human heart, in the facility with which its scheme accommodates itself to the capacity of every human intellect, in the consolation which it bears to the house of mourning, in the light with which it brightens the great mystery of the grave.

T. B. Macaulay, England, 1800-1859.

92. Profaneness.

Profaneness is a low, groveling vice. He who indulges it is no gentleman. I care not what his stamp may be in society,-I care not what clothes he wears or what culture he boasts,-despite all his refinement, the light and habitual taking of God's name in vain betrays a coarse nature and a brutal will.

E. H. Chapin, New York, 1814-.

93. Labor.

Labor hews down the gnarled oak, shapes the tim ber, builds the ship, and guides it over the deep, plunging through the billows, and wrestling with the tempest, to bear to our shores the produce of every clime. Labor brings us India spices and American cotton; African ivory and Greenland oil; fruits from the sunny South, and furs from the frozen North; tea from the East, and sugar from the West; carrying, in exchange, to every land, the products of industry and skill. Labor, by the universally-spread ramifications of trade, distributes its own treasures from country to country, from city to city, from house to house, conveying to the doors of all the necessaries and luxuries of life; and, by the pulsations of an untrammeled commerce, maintaining healthy life in the great social system.

Newman Hall, England, 1816-.

94. A Kind Act.

Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost every one remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the days of his childhood? The writer of this recollects himself at this moment as a barefooted lad, standing at the wooden fence of a poor little garden in his native village. With longing eyes he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there