e feller thet sets around an' kicks on
the kind of a job he has never gits many others offered him, while the
chap thet does good work at whatsumever he gits giner'ly finds a ladder
to climb up to the top.

"I reckon David out there herdin' the sheep never kicked much on his
job, an' I'll bet four 'coon-skins thet he wuz the best sheep-herder in
all the Promised Land, er the Lord wouldent a-picked him out an' set him
to work at the job of bein' king."

Little Sermons.

Where the world is going is not of much consequence. It's where you are
going that cuts the ice.

When the sermon gets over thirty minutes long, the Devil comes to church
and takes a seat in the Amen corner.

Heaven is in every man's easy reach, but some are too contrary to even
tip-toe for the blessings of the other Kingdom.

"Don't Worry or Fret, My Dearie!"

Don't worry or fret, my dearie!
The shadows will soon go by;
Before half your tears have vanished
The sun's in the happy sky;
There's trouble enough, my dearie,
In days of a glad life long,
But Sorrows will die with no one to sigh
With Love and a little of Song!

There are some things about "our island possessions" which will bear
imitation this hot weather. The costumes Of the Igorrotes, for
instance.

Caught on the Fly.

Mr. Knowing How commands a princely salary while Hard Work is on the bum
hunting for wages.

Some people are so anxious for happiness that they make themselves
miserable in running it down.

Whether we learn much in the school of experience or not, we all
register for the full term and pay the entire tuition mentioned in the
catalogue.

Charity is something of which the mills of human life never turn out an
over-production. Even some of the blessed saints could use a little more
in their daily walk and conversation.

Hope.

All the path is dark with shadows
And the road is hard to see,
But there's sunshine on the hill-tops
And that's the way for me!

There are many blessings in this world, but a shade-tree at the end of
the cotton row, and a water-melon cooling in a seventy-foot well are two
of its greatest joys.

To One Departed.

I.

This life, Dear Heart, seems all so small and mean
Since thou art gone,--its prizes vague and vain,
Its efforts fruitless and its glories lean,
And all its heaped-up treasures worthless gain!

II.