to
accomplish what he did. If we will strive as hard for the society of
good angels as he did to reach the artificial one, we shall be sure of
their society and a place in the new earth.

The golden sun shone brightly down the world,
Soft shadows gathered on the twilight track;
The day is gone; with all our sighs and tears
We can not call one little moment back.

Ah, soul, what loss is thine! awaken now!
Let not the moments slip unheeded by;
For just such moments make the golden hours
That bring us nearer to eternity.

RICHEST MAN IN THE PARISH.

The richest man in our parish was the squire. He dwelt in a great
house on the hill that overlooked, with its broad white face, the
whole of the village below, with its clustering cottages and neat
farmers' houses, and seemed to say proudly, as it looked down, "I have
my eyes on you all, and intend to keep you in order." And in truth, a
great many eyes it had, with its rows of high windows brightly
reflecting the summer sun, from early morning till evening, when not
unfrequently the last flush in the west left them glowing as with red
fire. When strangers looked up at the great house, and inquired about
it, the people of our parish used to tell them with some awe what
treasures of grand furniture, and pictures, and choice specimens of
art, the squire had collected in its many handsome rooms; what was the
worth of one picture alone, that he had refused thousands of pounds
for, and the number of others that were beautiful enough, and valuable
enough, to have adorned a palace.

They were very proud to be able to say that so rich a man belonged to
them, and lived among them, and to point out his crimson-lined and
curtained pew at church, and the great tombstone that stood behind the
pathway in the churchyard, recording the virtues of his ancestors, and
testifying, as well as it could, to his own riches.

I suppose the squire knew the homage that was paid to him, and liked
it, and was proud in his turn, not of his neighbors, but of himself,
and of the wealth he possessed. Whenever he rode abroad, he met with
bows and smiles from rich and poor, everybody made way for him,
everybody courted him. A man with so much money, and so much land, and
such fine furniture, and pictures, and statues, and gardens, was not
to be pushed in a corner and thought little of, and he knew it, as he
went along the lanes and roads on his thorough-