LIFE IS REAL! LIFE IS EARNEST !
And the grave is not its goal:
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act that each to-morrow

FIND US FARTHER THAN TO-DAY.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting;

And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

BE A HERO IN THE STRIFE!

LIVES OF GREAT MEN ALL REMIND US

WE CAN MAKE OUR LIVES SUBLIME;
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time.
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
SEEING, SHALL TAKE HEART AGAIN.
LET US, THEN, BE UP AND DOING,
WITH A HEART FOR ANY FATE;
STILL ACHIEVING, STILL PURSUING,
LEARN TO LABOUR AND TO WAIT.

I THINK IT'S WRONG-DON'T YOU? [Cheerfully and with vigour.]

While walking in the street one day
I saw a little Jew

Snatch quickly from a little girl

A toy both rare and new,

And never give it back to her :

I think that's wrong-DON'T YOU?

I saw a little girl at school,

With clothes all nice and new,
But with the crossest-looking face,
And ugly actions, too;

She never said a pleasant word:

I think that's wrong-DON'T YOU?

I saw a little girl at home,
With curls, and eyes of blue;
I heard her say, "I WON'T, MAMMA !"
And saw she meant it, too.

And then the eyes grew very fierce :

I think that's wrong-DON'T YOU?
I've seen the children in the street
Such wicked actions do,
That I have really been afraid
"Twould make me wicked, too.
I think if I had stayed there, I
Should have done wrong--DON'T YOU?
I think it's wrong to steal and lie,
To drink, and smoke, and chew;
It's wrong to disobey mamma,
As children often do ;

But to be Christ-like every day,

I THINK THAT'S RIGHT--DON'T YOU?

PLAYING CHURCH.

[A dialogue for a little boy and girl.]

Harry. Come, Eddie, let's play go to church (or chapel), and I'll be the minister, and preach you a sermon.

Eddie. Well, and I'll be the peoples.

Harry. (HARRY lifts EDDIE into a chair.) There! this is your pew, and you must listen to my sermon. My text is a very short one, and easy, too—a part of the one the minister had one Sunday, and all I can remember of it. There are some little texts in the Bible on purpose for little children, and this is one: Be kind! Now, these are the heads: First, Be kind to papa, and don't make a noise when he has a headache. I don' believe you know what headache is; but I do: I had it once; and I didn't want anybody to speak a word. Secondly, Be kind to mamma, and don't make her tell you to do a thing more than once. It is very tiresome for her to tell you to keep still twenty times a day. Thirdly, Be kind to baby, and don't let her cry. Eddie. You have leaved out, Be kind to Harry.

Harry. Yes; I did not want to say myself in my sermon. But I want you to be kind to Minnie, and let her have your red soldier when she wants it. Fourthly, Be kind to Jane, and don't kick and scream when she washes and dresses you.

Eddie. But she pulled my hair with the comb.

Harry. People must not talk in church (or chapel); besides, you must not let your hair get cross. Now, I don't know whether the next was fifthly or sixthly.

Eddie. I don't know what fifly is.

Harry. Oh, that's because you cannot count. See here; I will count them on my fingers for you. One, Be kind to papa. Two, Be kind to mamma. Three, Be kind to baby. Four, Be kind to Jane. Oh, yes, that's it! Now, the little finger is five. Fifthly, Be kind to kitty. Do what will make her purr; but don't do what will make her cry.

Eddie. Baby made her meow right out loud to-day. She pulled her tail, and kitty jumped right off the cradle, and ran to the door, and I shutted it for her.

Harry. Opened it, you mean.

Eddie. Isn't the sermon most done? I want to sing. sings, and just then the supper bell rings.)

Harry (running off the stage).

(He

There there is the bell for

supper.

Come, Eddie.

TABLE RULES FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.

BY REV. F. HATFIELD, D.D.

[Cheerfully.]

In silence I must take my seat,
And give God thanks before I eat;
Must for my food in patience wait
Till I am asked to hand my plate;
I must not scold, nor whine, nor pout,
Nor move my chair or plate about;
With knife or fork or napkin-ring
I must not play, nor must I sing;
I must not speak a useless word,
For children must be seen, not heard;
I must not talk about my food,
Nor fret if I don't think it good;

I must not say, "THE BREAD IS OLD,"
"THE TEA IS HOT," "THE COFfee's cold;

I must not cry for this or that,

Nor murmur if my meat is fat;

My mouth with food I must not crowd,
Nor while I'm eating speak aloud;
Must turn my head to cough or sneeze;
And when I ask, say, "If you please;
The tablecloth I must not spoil,
Nor with my food my fingers soil;
Must keep my seat when I have done,
Nor round the table sport or run;

When told to rise, then I must put
My chair away with noiseless foot,
And lift my heart to God above

IN PRAISE FOR ALL HIS WONDROUS LOVE.

THE NAUGHTY GIRL.
[Earnest and cheerful.]

66

The naughty girl never minds mamma;
Always says, I WON'T!" to dear papa;
Makes a great deal of noise about the house,
When her mother wants her as still as a mouse.

She pulls the cat, she pinches her tail,
And takes the bird-cage down from the nail;
Teases her brothers, and spoils her hair,
And when reproved says, I DON'T CARE!"
She worries poor grandma, makes baby cry;
She cannot please him, and I know why,-
She lets him lie in the crib and moan,
While she is amusing herself alone.

At school she forgets what the teacher said,
Sits idly leaning her hands on her head;
She never learns the task that's given,
And cannot tell even seven times seven.

At table she's careless, and spills her drink,
Can never be taught to "STOP AND THINK;"
Gets down from the table and goes to play,
To do the same over another day.

THE BOY'S SERMON.

[Bold and vigorous.]

I came to-night to try to preach
A sermon, if I can;

For little boys can preach to boys,
As well as men to men.

I never thought of such a thing
Until the other day;

I found a text so short and good;
So hear to what I say.

"MIND" is my text; 'tis for you, boys,
And something that you need.
The girls may listen to it all,

And, what they ought to, heed!

First: MIND YOUR TONGUE! don't let it speak

An angry, or unkind,

A cruel, or a wicked word;

Don't let it, boys; now mind!

MIND EYES AND EARS!

Don't even look

At wicked books or boys:

From wicked pictures turn away—

All sinful acts despise.

AND MIND YOUR LIPS! Tobacco stains!
Strong drink, too, keep away;

And let no bad words pass your lips—
Mind everything you say.

MIND HANDS AND FEET! Don't let them de
A single wicked thing.

Don't steal or strike, don't kick or fight,

Don't walk in path of sin.

But more than all, OH, MIND YOUR HEARI!
From Satan turn aside;

Ask Jesus there to make his throne,
And ever there abide.

ALL HAVE GOT THEIR WORK TO DO BY ERNEST WATMOUGH.

[Earnest and bold.]

Why these murmurs and repinings?
Who can alter what is done?
See the Future brightly shining;

There are goals yet to be won.

Grieving is at best a folly,

Oftentimes it is a sin;

When we see a glaring error

WE SHOULD A REFORM BEGIN.

WE MUST ALL BE UP AND STIRRING,

WITH DETERMINATION TRUE:

Young and old men, rich and poor men,
ALL HAVE GOT THEIR WORK TO DO.