Jog along, my brother,
Jog along, I say;
There's no cozy corner
For one that wants to play;
Don't stop to whistle,--
Whistle good and strong,
But be careful that you always
Jog along.

Jog along, my brother,
Jog along, I say;
Keep yourself in motion,--
You needn't stop or stay;
Someone will hear you
And will help your song,
If you do your part and always
Jog along.

Jog along, my brother,
Jog along I say,
Doing God good service
Till the final day;
For He will crown you
After all the wrong,
With his choicest blessings, if you
Jog along.

The Kingbolt Philosopher.

"There be some things," says Uncle Ezra Mudge, "that it is best to take
on faith. I don't know for certain that the devil has split hoofs and a
forked tail and carries a four-tined fork along with him in the hope of
finding a hay-field handy; but rather than make a private appointment
with him to find out, I am willing to take the word of the picture books
on the subject."

Whatever weaknesses he may have, the man who is so thick-skinned that he
can go on about his regular business and pay no attention to the little
distractions of this life, has a great advantage in the world. The
rhinoceros would not look well in a beauty show, but it can always sleep
well, even if hundreds of mosquitoes are buzzing around hunting for a
full meal.

Spring is that season of the year when the new plow-boy and the old
plow-mule patiently learn again the world-wide difference between "haw"
and "gee."

The Harvest Time.

I.

The harvest time is over! And across the fertile plain
Stand the winrows of the meadows and the stocks of golden grain;
And the aching limbs of labor take the rest of happy ease
From the scorching suns of noon-day in the shadows of the trees.

The harvest time is over! And the husbandman receives
For the days of hard endeavor all the wealth of garnered sheaves;'
And the land of hill and valley smiles exalt with joys untold
Heaping high above the stubbles in the piles of ripened gold!

Harvest time! Harvest time!
Hours of toil are told;
Hill and valley both rejoice
With their wealth of gold!

II.

The harvest time is over! After all the years of strife
There's a joy for every sorrow and a crown for every life;
And the songs of Heav