"It must be right: I've done it from my youth."
816
INNOCENCE AND GUILT.
A painter, desiring to paint a picture of Innocence, found a beautiful boy playing at the side of a stream, who became his model. He painted him kneeling, with his hands clasped in prayer. The picture was prized as a very beautiful one. Years passed away, and the artist became an old man. He had often thought of painting a counterpart, the picture of guilt, as a companion to the other; and at last he executed it. He went to a neighboring prison, and there selected the most degraded and repulsive man he could find. His body and eye were wasted; vice was visible in his very face. But what was the artist's surprise when, on questioning the man as to his history, he found that it was he who, as a lovely boy, had kneeled for him as the model of Innocence! Evil habits had gradually changed him, not only in heart and mind, but in face and form.
817
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
818
Old habits are hard to break; new habits are hard to make.
819
Taste may change; our inclinations never change.
820
Habits are soon assumed—acquired—but when we strive to strip them off,—if of long standing—'tis being flayed alive!
821
(If a man will not work, neither shall he eat.)
822
ELOQUENCE OF THE HANDS.
The hands are, by the very instincts of humanity, raised in prayer; clasped in affection; wrung in despair; pressed on the forehead when the soul is "perplexed in the extreme;" drawn inward, to invite; thrust forth objectively, to repel; the fingers point to indicate, and are snapped in disdain; the palm is laid upon the heart, in invocation of subdued feeling, and on the brow of the compassioned in benediction. The expressive capacity of the hands was never more strikingly displayed than in the orisons (prayer) of the deaf and dumb. Their teacher stood with closed eyes, and addressing the Deity by those signs made with the fingers which constitute a language for the speechless. Around him were grouped more than a hundred mutes, following with reverent glances every motion. It was a visible, but not an audible, worship.
823
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HAND.
A dispute arose among three ladies as to which had the most beautiful hands. One sat by a stream, and dipped her hand into the water and held it up; another plucked strawberries until the ends of her fingers were pink; and a third gathered violets until her hands were fragrant. An old, haggard woman, passing by, asked, "Who will give me a gift, for I am poor?" all three denied her; but another who sat near, unwashed in the stream, unstained with fruit, unadorned with flowers or perfume, gave her a little gift, and satisfied the poor woman. Then the woman asked them what was the subject of their dispute; and they told her, and lifted up before her their beautiful hands. "Beautiful indeed!" she exclaimed, as she saw them. But when they asked her which was the most beautiful, she said: "It is not the hand that is washed clean in the brook; it is not the hand that is coloured with crimson tints; it is not the hand that is perfumed with fragrant flowers; but the hand that gives to the poor, that is the most beautiful."
824
TRUE HAPPINESS.
Consists not in the multitude of friends,
But in the worth and choice: nor would I have
Them popular:
Let them be good that love me, though but few.
825
Happiness consists in being perfectly satisfied with what we have got, and with what we haven't got.
826
Happiness consists not in possessing much, but in being content with what we possess. He who wants little, always has enough.
827
A cottage will hold as much happiness as would stock a palace.
828
With "gentleness" his own character, "comfort" in his house, and "good temper" in his wife, the earthly felicity of man may be said to be complete.
829
Far happier the man of lowly station.
830
We are happy in this world just in proportion as we make others happy.
831
A HAPPY COUPLE.
I think you the happiest couple in the world; for you are not only happy in one another, but happy in yourselves, and by yourselves.
832
Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven; and every countenance bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence.
833
To rejoice in the happiness of others is to make it our own; to produce it, is to make it more than our own. There is happiness in the very wish to make others happy.
834
Unmixed happiness is not to be found in this world.
835
Hatred always hurts the hater most of all.
836
It is the nature of the human disposition to hate him whom you have injured.
837
I am almost frozen by the distance you are from me.
838
If a man makes me keep my distance, the comfort is, he keeps his at the same time.
839
Health is rightly appreciated only when we are sick.
840
A man too busy to take care of his health is like a mechanic too busy to take care of his tools.
841
Better a healthy beggar, than a sick king.
842
It is better to have less wealth and more health.
843
Health is so necessary to all duties, as well as pleasures of life, that the crime of squandering it is equal to the folly.
844
HEALTH.
Bestow'd by Heaven, but seldom understood.
845
The only way for a rich man to be healthy is, by exercise and abstinence, to live as if he were poor.
846
An innocent heart suspects no guile.
847
A BROKEN HEART.
Dr. Mitchell of Philadelphia, in lecturing to his pupils upon the diseases of the heart, narrated an anecdote to prove that the expression "broken heart" was not merely figurative. On one occasion, in the early period of his life, he accompanied, as surgeon, a packet that sailed from Liverpool to one of the American ports. The captain frequently conversed with him respecting a lady who had promised to become his bride on his return from that voyage. Upon this subject he evinced great warmth of feeling, and showed Dr. Mitchell some costly jewels, ornaments, etc., which he intended to present as bridal presents. On reaching his destination, he was abruptly informed that the lady had married some one else. Instantly the captain was observed to clap his hand to his breast, and fall heavily to the ground. He was taken up, and conveyed to his cabin on board the vessel. Dr. Mitchell was immediately summoned; but, before he reached the poor captain, he was dead. A postmortem examination revealed the cause of his unfortunate disease. His heart was found literally torn in twain! The tremendous propulsion of blood, consequent upon such a violent nervous shock, forced the powerful muscle tissues asunder, and life was at an end. The heart was broken.
848
Every heart has its secret sorrow, which the world knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he is only sad.
849
PARTING.
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart.
850
Some men's hearts are as great as the world, and still have no room in them to hold the memory of a wrong.
851
How small is the human heart, and yet even there, God enters in.
852
A ROYAL HEART.
A woman walked in a Scottish town;
And through the crowd, as she wound her way,
One saw her loiter and then stoop down,
Putting something away in her old, torn gown.
"You are hiding a jewel!" the watcher said—
(Ah, that was her heart, had the truth been read.)
"What have you stolen?" he asked again;
Then the dim eyes filled with a sudden pain,
And under the flickering light of the gas
She showed him her gleaning. "It's broken glass,"
She said. "I hae lifted it up frae the street
To be oot o' the rood o' the bairnies' feet!"
Under the fluttering rags astir
That was a royal heart that beat!
Would that the world had more like her
Smoothing the road for its bairnies' feet!
853
IS IT INSTINCT?
How is it that instinct
Prompts the heart to like or not like
At its own capricious will?
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking or disliking,
Oft before a word is said?
Bright eyes turn our feelings cold?
What is it that comes to tell us
All that glitters is not gold?
Oh! no feature, plain or striking,
But a power we cannot shun
Prompts our liking and disliking,
Ere acquaintance hath begun.
Which protects us, and controls
Every impulse we inherit,
By some sympathy of souls?
Is it instinct? is it nature?
Or some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking or disliking
Limits to a single glance?
Though the sky no shadow flings;
Or that inner sense, still stranger,
Of unseen, unuttered things?
Is it? oh! can no one tell me,
No one show sufficient cause
Why our likings and dislikings
Have their own instinctive laws?
854
The Bitterness of Estrangement.—To be estranged from one whom we have tenderly and constantly loved, is one of the bitterest trials the heart can ever know.
855
There is no place where weeds do not grow, and there is no heart where errors are not to be found.
856
We open the hearts of others when we open our own.
857
Earth hath nothing more tender than a woman's heart, when it is the abode of piety.
858
The heart still overrules the head.
859
The All-Seeing Eye, whom the sun, moon and stars obey, and under whose watchful care even comets perform their stupendous revolutions—pervades the inmost recesses of the human heart, and will reward us according to our merits.
860
There's many a good bit o' work done with a sad heart.
861
Is the sad tale of many a human heart.
862
The heart is a small thing, but desireth great matters. It is not sufficient for a kite's (bird of the hawk kind) dinner, yet the whole world is not sufficient for it.
863
MY HEART.
And many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below.
864
Lies through their mouths; or I mistake mankind.
865
While a sad one tires in a mile-a.
866
DISSENSION BETWEEN HEARTS.
Dissension between hearts that love—
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fell off,
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When the ocean was all tranquility!
A something light as air—a look—
A word unkind or wrongly taken;
Oh, love that tempests never shook,
A breath—a touch like this hath shaken.
867
Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings; indeed nine times in ten it is so.
868
HEAVEN.
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful, beyond compare,
Will Paradise be found!
868a
One law to cherish, and to track one line—
Straight on towards heaven to press with single bent,
To know and love my God, and then to die content.
869
Many a man who prides himself on doing a cash business, regards his debts to Heaven with indifference.
870
THE DELIGHTS OF HEAVEN.
"Of the positive joys of heaven we can form no conception; but its negative delights form a sufficiently attractive picture,—no pain; no thirst; no hunger; no horror of the past; no fear of the future; no failure of mental capacity; no intellectual deficiency; no morbid imaginations; no follies; no stupidities; but above all, no insulted feelings; no wounded affections; no despised love or unrequited regard; no hate, envy, jealousy, or indignation of or at others; no falsehood, dishonesty, dissimulation, hypocrisy, grief or remorse. In a word," said Professor Wilson, "to end where I began, no sin and no suffering."
871
BELIEVE AND LIVE.
Heaven's easy, artless, unencumbered plan!
No clustering ornaments to clog the pile;
From ostentation, as from weakness free,
It stands majestic in its own simplicity.
Inscribed above the portal, from afar,
Conspicuous as the brightness of a star,
Legible only by the light they give,
Stand the soul-quickening words—Believe and Live.
Too many, shocked at what should charm them most,
Despise the plain direction, and are lost.
Heaven on such terms! (they cry with proud disdain,)
Incredible impossible, and vain!
Rebel, because 'tis easy to obey;
And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way.
872
IS THAT ALSO THINE?
A beautiful reply is recorded of a peasant, whose master was displaying to him the grandeur of his estates. Farms, houses, and forests were pointed out in succession, on every hand, as the property of the rich proprietor, who summed up finally by saying, "In short, all that you can see, in every direction, belongs to me." The poor man looked thoughtful for a moment; then, pointing up to heaven, solemnly replied, "And is that, also, thine?"
873
THE BETTER LAND.
Thou callest its children a happy band:
Mother! oh where is that radiant shore?
Shall we not seek it and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?"
"Not there, not there, my child!"
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"
"Not there, not there, my child!"
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?—
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?"
"Not there, not there, my child!"
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child!"
874
They have their nourishment.
875
Lame dogs over stiles.
876
It is not enough to help an erring brother out of the mire,—we must help to get him upon a rock.
877
History is little more than the register of the crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind.
878
My precept to all who build is, that the owner should be an ornament to the house, and not the house to the owner.
879
HOME.
Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head,
And some poor plot, with vegetables stored,
Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board,—
Unsavory bread, and herbs that scattered grow
Wild on the river brink or mountain brow,
Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide
More heart's repose than all the world beside.
880
DEFINITIONS OF "HOME."
Having offered a prize for the best definition of "Home," London Tit-Bits recently received more than five thousand answers. Among those which were adjudged the best were the definitions as follows:
A world of strife shut out, a world of love shut in.
Home is the blossom of which heaven is the fruit.
The best place for a married man after business hours.
Home is the coziest, kindliest, sweetest place in all the world; the scene of our purest earthly joys, and deepest sorrows.
The place where the great are sometimes small, and the small often great.
The father's kingdom, the children's paradise, the mother's world.
881
The ornaments of a home are the friends who frequent it.
882
God hath often a great share in a little house, and but a little share in a great one.
883
Home is the grandest of all institutions.
884
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,
For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble, and full of care;
To stay at home is best.
885
There's little pleasure in the house when our gudeman's awa'.
886
How many fine, well furnished and pretentious houses we now see around us, occupied and owned by successful people, in which there is hardly a market-basket full of books! Evidently showing that the material is of more importance than the intellectual.
887
We neglect the things which are placed before our eyes, and regardless of what is within our reach, we pursue whatever is remote. This is frequently and properly applied to the rage for visiting foreign countries, in those who are absolutely unacquainted with their own.
And neglects the fine things which lie under his nose.
888
A man without a home is like a bird without a nest.
889
Many a home is nothing but a furnished house.
890
ONE'S OWN HOME.
Travel is instructive and pleasant, but after all there is nothing so enjoyable as the independence and the luxury of one's own home. Travel is pleasant, but home is delightful!
891
Without hearts, there is no home.
892
A man unconnected is at home everywhere; unless he may be said to be at home nowhere.
893
HOME—DEVOID OF LOVE.
For without hearts there is no home—and felt
The solitude of passing his own door
Without a welcome.
894
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
895
THAT LAND THY COUNTRY.
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;—
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;—
"Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found?"
Art thou a man?—a patriot?—look around!
O, thou shalt find, where'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home!
896
It is a great happiness, if after being absent from home for a time you find no troubles awaiting your return.
897
Filling a house with bargains is apt to keep a couple from owning the house in which they place them.
898
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home;
'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
899
Thou art to me a palace.
900
TRUE NATURE OF HOME.
This is the true nature of home—it is the place of Peace; the shelter not only from all injury, but from all terror, doubt and division. In so far as it is not this, it is not home; so far as the anxieties of the outer life penetrate into it * * * it ceases to be home; it is then only a part of that outer world which you have roofed over and lighted fire in.
901
THE WANDERER'S RETURN.
Leaving the dazzling haunts of vain ambition;
And now, he longs to meet a kindly gaze
And hear a warm and cheering recognition.
Long hath he striven with care, want, and danger;
Their iron grasp has wrought the work of Time,
And all who view him, deem him as a stranger.
How oft, beneath yon trees, in summer weather,
They sat, and pictured scenes of future joy,
When they should tread the far-off world together!
One feels long vanished memories steal o'er him;
The other sees, yet recognizes not
His blithe companion in the form before him.
His footsteps had upheld with patient guiding;
Wise in his counsel, steadfast in his truth,
Prompt in his praise, and gracious in his chiding.
The object of his care and admonition?
He hath not—yet he casts no glance behind;
The wanderer fails to make his recognition.
Have all expelled him from their recollection?
Lo! a sweet lady comes—the cherished one
To whom he breathed his vows of young affection.
And mantling bloom that won his boyish duty;
And yet a winning charm pervades her face,
In the calm radiance of its mellowed beauty.
Failing his former features to discover,
Will not her faithful heart instruct her eye
To recognize her dear, her long-lost lover?
Of the gay, gallant youth from whom she parted;
A brief and careless glance alone she deigns
To the poor sufferer, chilled and broken-hearted;
A strange, a sad, a separate existence,
Gazing awhile on those he loves on earth,
But to behold them fading in the distance.
And aspect of subdued and gentle sadness;—
Fondly she clasps him in a warm embrace,
And greets him with a burst of grateful gladness!
"All human love is not a mocking vision:
Through every change, in every varied guise,
The son still claims his mother's recognition!"