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and save all we get; to stint ourselves and everybody belonging to us; to be the friend of nò man, and have no man for our friend; to heap interest upon interest, cent upon cent; to be mean, miserable, and despised for some twenty or thirty years, and riches will come as surely as disease, discontent, and disappointment. The esteem of mankind depends upon quite a different thing. To escape the censure of the world you must so live as to avoid the censure of your own heart.


If wisdom's ways you truly seek,

Five things observe with care :
Of whom you speak-to whom you speak-

And how and when—and where.

Never give up! it is wiser and better

Always to hope, than once to despair ,
Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter

And break the dark spell of tyrannical care ;
Never give up! or the burden may sink you,

Providence kindly has mingled the cup,
And in all trials or troubles, bethink you-

The watchword of life must be, Never give up.
Never give up! there are chances and changes

Helping the hopeful a hundred to one:
And through the chaos High Wisdom arranges

Ever success—if you'll only hope on:
Never give up! if adversity presses,



Providence wisely has mingled the cup,
And the best counsel in all

Is the stout watchword of Never give up!


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Take life as it is—’tis a folly to sigb,

Or seek for a treasure where seeking is vain ;
If friendship's a light that goes speedily by,

Regretting its loss is but adding to pain;
Perfection's a thing rarely found upon earth,

We may cherish the hope, and our fancy exalt,
But tbough we meet many of honor and worth,

We find before long-every man has his fault.

If a world we require that will always be true,

We must learn where it is from the fairies or elves;
The errors of friendship are easy to view;

Not so easy the errors that lie in ourselves.
Perfection's a thing rarely found upon earth;

We may cherish the hope, and our fancy exalt;
But though we meet many of honor and worth ;
We find before long-every man has his fault.

Charles Swain.


That not each flower that blossoms bright

Diffuses sweets around ;
That not each dream sleep gilds with light,

Will light be found.



In wedlock a species of lottery lies,

Where in blanks and in prizes we deal;
But they wonder that you, such a capital prize,

Should so long have remained in the wheel.


A bird of free and careless wing
Were you through many a smiling spring,
Now caught within Love's subtle snare
You sigh and feebly flutter there.


You'reweary of the crowded hall, you're weary of the mirth
Which never lifts itself above the grosser things of earth.

of the flatterer's tone, its music is no more, And

eye and lip may answer not its meaning as before; You're weary of the heartless throng, of being deemed as one Whose spirit kindles only in the blaze of fashion's sun.

You speak in very bitterness, for you have deeply felt
The mockery of the hollow shrine at which your spirit knelt.
Yours is the requiem of years in reckless folly passed,
The wail above departed hopes, in a frail venture cast,
The vain regret that steals above the wreck of squandered

hours, Like the sighing of the autumn wind over the faded flowers,

J. G. Whittier.



G.–Shun such as lounge through afternoons and eves,
And on thy dial write—“Beware of thieves !"

Felons of minutes, never taught to feel
The worth of treasures they unthinking steal.

0. W. Holmes.

L.-Pause ere thy choice has clasped the chain

Which may not be unloosed again,
For though of gold its links may be,
They will not press less painfully.


G.–Thy night of oppression shall end,

The sun of thy glory shall rise;
And the star of thy hopes shall ascend,

To its zenith again, in the skies.

L.—The music of the nursery,

And cares of married life,
Will make you think of happy days,

Before you were a wife.

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G.-Oh, poor man's son, scorn not thy state :

There is worse weariness than thine,
In merely being rich and great ;

Toil only gives the soul to shine,
And makes rest fragrant and benign;


A heritage it seems to me,
Worth being poor, to hold in fee.

J. R. Lowell.

L.-If ever lot was prosperously cast,

If ever life was like a lengthened flow
Of some sweet music, sweetness to the last.
'Tis thine.



If you believe a thing impossible, your desponding will make it so; but they who persevere shall overcome all difficulties.


Oh sad estate
Of human wretchedness! so weak is man,
So ignorant and blind, that did not God
Sometimes withhold in mercy what we ask
We should be ruined at our own request.

H. More.


Oh; if you wish that happiness
Your future days and years may bless,

And crown your early vow;
Seek not where you would seek in vain,
Ask not for things you can't obtain,

But be content as now.

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