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4. But on the moors it dwelleth free,

Like a fearless mountain child,
With a rosy cheek, a lightsome look,

And a spirit strong and wild.

5. And there the peasant children come

To pull the cranberries red,
Where bold and booted sporting squires

Would scarcely dare to tread.

6. They only shoot the poor wild birds

And chase the timid hare,
For their diversion; they can live

In luxury without care.

7. But these poor peasant children's lot

Is full of human woe;
And hungry, thinly clad, and cold,

They o'er the mountains go,

8. With feet, that shoes have never known,

And legs all blue and bare;
And yet, so light are they of heart,

You'll hear them laughing there.

9. Such laughter makes my very heart

Leap up with joy to hear;
It tells that even poverty

Is not entirely drear.

10. It telleth what I ever think

That God is good indeed,
And that he suiteth, in us all,

Our spirit to our need.

11. But they, unshod, bareheaded too,

Fed sparsely with coarse food,
Go laughing on their gleesome way,

As God's bright creatures should.

12. They are bright flowers, that spring to cheer

E'en penury's wilderness,
And often, with a swelling heart,

Those human flowers I bless.

13. Kind blessings on their bold, clear eyes,

And elfish, unbound hair;
And blessings on their laughter wild,

'Mid crags and moorlands bare.

ROOM ENOUGH, AND WORK ENOUGH, FOK

ALL.

1. THERE is always room enough in the world, and work waiting for willing hands. The charm that conquers obstacles and commands success, is strong will and hard work. Application is the friend and ally of genius.

2. The laborious scholar, the diligent merchant, the industrious mechanic, the hard-working farmer, are thriving men, and take rank in the world; while genius, without toil, accomplishes nothing. The hare sleeps or amuses himself by the wayside, and the tortoise wins the race.

3. Even the gold of California cannot be had for the gathering. The patents of nobility on the Sacramento, are the hard hand and the sunburnt face.

4. Genius will, alone, do but little in this matterof-fact, hard-working world. He who would master circumstances, must come down from the clouds, and bend to unremitting toil.

5. To few of the sons of men is given an exemption from the common doom. It is not revealed, how much of the celebrity of gifted men has been dependent on "hard digging." The rough draughts of inspiration are not printed,

6. The wondrous efforts of the mightiest masters of art, have something in them besides genius. Not by sudden flashes came the graceful proportions, which give such exceeding beauty to the works of Raphael.

7. When Michael Angelo hewed out his thought. in marble, he produced the result of profound meditation, mingled with the severest application to the acquirement of all knowledge that could aid his unrivalled power.

8. The examples before us bid us work, and the changing present offers ample opportunity. Around us, every where, the new crowds aside the old. Improvement steps over seeming perfection. Discovery upsets theories, and overthrows established systems.

9. The usages of our boyhood become matters of tradition, for the amusement of our children. Innovation rises on the site of revered homes. The school books we used are no longer respected; and it is not safe to quote the authorities of our college days.

10. Machinery becomes old iron, as its upstart successor usurps its place. The new ship dashes scornfully by the naval prodigy of last year, and the steamer laughs at them both. The railroad engine, as it rushes by the crumbling banks of the canal, screams out its mockery at the barge rotting piecemeal.

11. The powers of man have not been exhausted. Nothing has been done by him that cannot be better done. There is no effort of science or art that may not be exceeded; no depth of philosophy that cannot be deeper sounded; no flight of the imagination that may not be passed by strong and soaring wing.

12. All nature is full of unknown things. Earth, air, water, the fathomless ocean, the limitless sky,

lie almost untouched before us. The chances of our predecessors have not been greater, than those which remain for our successors.

13. What has hitherto given prosperity and distinction, has not been more open to others than to us; to no one, past or present, more than to the young man of to-morrow. Sit not with folded hands, calling on Hercules. Thine own arm is the demigod.

14. It was given to thee to help thyself. Go forth into the world, trustful, and fearless. Exalt thine adopted profession, nor vainly hope that its name alone will exalt thee.

15. Look on labor as honorable, and dignify the task before thee, whether it be in the study, office, counting room, workshop, or furrowed field. There is an equality in all, and the resolute will and pure heart may ennoble either.

16. But no duty requires thee to shut out beauty or to neglect the influences that may unite thee with heaven.

17. The wonders of art will humanize thy calling The true poet may make thee a better man, and unknown feelings will well up within thee, where the painter's soul glows on canvas, and the almost breathing marble stands a glorious monument of the statuary's skill.

18. Nature, too, will speak kindly to thee, from field and forest, from hill and lake side. Go into glade and woodland, by the waving harvest, and the bright river hurrying to the sea.

Look up at the stars in the still night.

19. Listen to the gentle voice of the south wind, as it whispers with the pines. Watch the pulsations of the ocean, as they regularly beat on the sand. Such teachings will tell thee there is consolation in the struggles of this life, and may fore. shadow the repose of that which is to come.

DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.

1. The melancholy days are come,

The saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods,

And meadows brown and sere.

2 Heaped in the hollow of the grove,

The withered leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust,

And to the rabbit's tread.

3. The robin and the wren are flown,

And from the shrub the jay ;
And from the wood top caws the crow

Through all the gloomy day.

4. Where are the flowers, the young, fair flowers,

That lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs —

A beauteous sisterhood ?

3. Alas! they all are in their graves ;

The gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lonely beds,

With the fair and good of ours.

6. The rain is falling where they lie;

But the cold November rain
Calls not, from out the gloomy earth,

The lovely ones again.

7. The wind flower and the violet

They perished long ago;
And the wild rose and the orchis died

Amid the summer glow;

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