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possess your memory like a spirit. And while some books, like steps, are left behind us by the very help which they yield us, and serve only our childhood or early life, some others go with us, in mute fidelity, to the end of life—a recreation for fatigue, an instruction for our sober hours, and solace for our sickness or sorrow. Except the great out-doors, nothing that has so much life of its own gives so much life to us.-BEECHER.

The Blessing of Books.

Precious and priceless are the blessings which books scatter around our daily paths. We walk, in imagination, with the noblest spirits through the most sublime and enchanting regions-regions which, to all that is lovely in the forms and colors of earth,

" Add the gleam,
The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration and the poet's dream."

A motion of the hand brings all Arcadia to sight. The war of Troy can, at our bidding, rage in the narrowest chamber. Without stirring from our firesides, we may: roam the remotest regions of the earth, or soar into realms where Spencer's shapes of unearthly beauty flock to meet us, where Milton's angels peal in our ears the choral hymns of Paradise. Bishop WHIPPLE.

Books That Help.

The books which help you most are those which make you think most. The hardest way of learning is by easy

reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and with beauty.—THEODORE PARKER.

The Pleasant World of Books.

There are who find their happiness in strolling near and

far, As if perchance their birth had been beneath some errant

star; The trackless desert beckons them, they scale the mount

ain peak, And ever just beyond them see some gladness coy to

seek. For me—I sit beside my fire, and with benignant looks From dear, familiar shelves they smile—my pleasant

friends, the books.

A world of sweetest company, these well-beloved ones

wait For any mood, for any hour; they keep a courteous

state. Serene and unperturbed amid the ruffles of my day, They are the bread my spirit craves; they bless my toil

ing way.

A pleasant world is theirs, wherein, though battles wax

and wane,

There rolls the sound of triumph, and there dwells sur

cease of pain. On pages sparkling as the dawn forever breathes and


Through ages red with patriot blood, white freedom's

stainless rose.

la this fair world of calmest skies, I meet the martyr's

palm; There float to it dear melodies from coasts of heavenly

balm. All comfort here, all strength, all faith, all bloom of wis

dom lives, And, be the day's need what it may, some boon this wide

world gives. The freedom of the city, where one walks in crowds,

alone, The silence of the upland, where one climbs anear the

throne, The blitheness of the morning and the solemn hush of

night, Are in this pleasant world of books, for one who reads


Here, pure and sharp, the pictured spire its cleaving

point uplifts; There, swept by stormy winds of fate, time's sands are

tossed in drifts; And I who sit beside the fire, an heir of time and sense, My book to me, the angel of God's sleepless providence.

Who will, may choose to wander far over sea and land. For me, the table and the lamp extend a friendlier hand. And I am blessed beyond compare while with benignant From home's familiar shelves they smile—my pleasant world of books.




The Inspiration of Brotherhood.

Charles Kingsley said: “Each man can learn something from his neighbor; at least, he can learn this—to have patience with his neighbor; to live and let live.”

No doubt this is one of the lessons. People are meant to be means of grace to us. We are to be helped by our contacts with them. From some we are to learn, through the beautiful things in them, their excellences of character. From these we get inspiration. Others help us through our sympathies. They appeal to our thought and care. They need help. We must carry burdens for them. They have sorrows, and it becomes ours to give them comfort. They are in need or distress, and we must deny ourselves for them. The blessing that may come to us through these is incalculable. (Every human sorrow or infirmity that makes its appeal to us is a new chance for us to do a beautiful thing, to grow in Christlikeness.) Every new burden of care rolled upon us, demanding self-denial, sacrifice or service, carries in it a new blessing for us, if only we will accept it.-J. R. MILLER.

Our Neighbor. A man must not choose his neighbor; he must take his neighbor that God sends him. In him, whoever he be,

. lies hidden or revealed a beautiful brother. The neighbor is just the man who is next to you at the moment. This love of our neighbor is the only door out of the dungeon of self. GEORGE MACDONALD.

The Ministry of Brotherhood. It is not possible, ordinarily, to change the hard conditions of those who are in life's stress; but it is possible to give them brotherly sympathy and encouragement. The cup was not taken away from Jesus, but an angel from Heaven appeared and strengthened Him. No other ministry which human love can render is so angel-like as that of him who gives cheer. Those who have learned this lesson are indeed ministering spirits sent forth to do service for the sake of them who shall inherit salvation. --J. R. MILLER.

The World Would Be the Better For It.

If men cared less for wealth and fame,

And less for battle-fields and glory,
If writ in human hearts a name

Seemed better than in song or story;
If men, instead of nursing pride,
Would learn to hate it and abhor it,

If more relied

On Love to guide
The world would be the better for it.

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