husband's pleasure to please his wife, and the wife's care to care for her husband. He is kind to himself who is kind to his wife.-SPURGEON. One's Own Home. Every bird loves its own nest. The owl thinks the old ruins the fairest spot under the moon, and the fox is of the opinion that his hole in the hill is remarkably cozy. When my master's nag knows that his head is toward home he wants no whip, but thinks it best to put on all steam; and I am always of the same mind, for the way home, to me, is the. best bit of road in the country. I like to see the smoke out of my own chimney better than the fire on another man's hearth. There is something so beautiful in the way in which it curls up among the trees. -SPURGEON. The Home and the State. The virtues cultured in the family circle are an absolute necessity for the State. If there be not enough moral principle to make the family adhere, there will not be enough political principle to make the State adhere. "No home" means the Goths and Vandals-means the Nomads of Asia-means the Numidians of Africa, changing from place to place, according as the pasture happens to change. Confounded be all those Babels of iniquity which would over-tower and destroy the home! The same storm that upsets the ship in which the family sails will sink the frigate of the Constitution. Jails and penitentiaries and armies and navies are not our best de fense. The door of the home is the very best fortress. Household utensils are the best artillery, and the chimneys of our dwelling houses are the grandest monuments of safety and triumph. No home-no republic. - TAL MAGE. In the Morning. If I had known in the morning The words unkind Would trouble my mind I said when you went away, With look and tone We might never take back again. For though in the quiet evening That never for me The pain of the heart should cease. That sorrow can ne'er set right. We have careful thoughts for the stranger, And smiles for the sometime guest, Though we love our own" the best. Were the night too late To undo the work of morn. MARGARET SANGSTER. Prize Answers to the Question: "What Is Home?" "A world of strife shut out—a world of love shut in.'' "Home is the blossom of which Heaven is the fruit." "The only spot on earth where the faults and failings of fallen humanity are hidden under the mantle of charity." "The father's kingdom, the children's paradise, the mother's world." 66 'Where you are treated best and grumble most." A little hollow scooped out of the windy hill of the world, where we can be shielded from its cares and annoyances."--THE PRESBYTERIAN. Our Sphere. Our home and our society are to us what the world is to a great man-the sphere we may fill with work that can not die. The statesman molds a people into order and progress-partly by the force of character, partly by great measures. We are the statesmen of our little world. Every day father and mother stamp their character upon their children's lives, mold their manners, conscience and future by the measures with which they direct the household.-STOPFORD A. BROOKE. Condensed Comments. The pleasant converse of the fireside, the simple songs of home, the words of encouragement as I bend over my school tasks, the kiss as I lie down to rest, the patient bearing with the freaks of my restless nature, the gentle counsels mingled with reproofs and approvals, the sympathy that meets and assuages every sorrow and sweetens every little success-all these return to me amid the responsibilities which press upon me now, and I feel as if I had once lived in Heaven and, straying, had lost my way.-J. G. HOLLAND. A Christian home! What a power it is to the child when he is far away in the cold, tempting world, and voices of sin are filling his ears, and his feet stand on slippery places !—A. E. KITTRedge. There is no happiness, there is no misery, like that growing out of the dispositions which consecrate or desecrate a home.-E. H. CHAPIN. HOPE. Song of Hope. Children of yesterday, Heirs of tomorrow, What are you weaving— Labor and sorrow? Look to your looms again; Faster and faster Fly the great shuttles Prepared by the Master. Life 's in the loom ! Room for it- room! Children of yesterday, And sweeten the sorrow. Now while the shuttles fly Faster and faster, Up and be at it At work with the Master! He stands at your loom! Room for Him-room! Children of yesterday, |