SOLOMON AND THE SOWER.
In open field King Solomon
Beneath the sky sets up his throne;
He sees a sower walking, sowing,
On every side the seed-corn throwing.
"What dost thou there?" exclaimed the King.
"The ground can here no harvest bring;
Break off from such unwise beginning,
Thou'lt get no crop that's worth the winning."
The sower hears; his arm he sinks.
And, doubtful he stands still and thinks;
Then goes he forward, strong and steady,
For the wise King this answer ready:
"I've nothing else but this one field;
I've watched it, labored it, and tilled;
What further use of pausing, guessing?—
The corn from me, from God the blessing."
Translated by N. L. Frothingham.
The next thought is from the Green Book of Mrs. Maria Hare:
"The praises of others may be of use in teaching us not what we are, but what we ought to be."
And now for the last hint for which I can spare space. It is from John Ruskin, and is intended as a reproof for an affectation of modesty. Modesty is always beautiful, but affectation, like other forms of insincerity, is the sign of a defect in character:
"If young ladies really do not want to be seen, they should take care not to let their eyes flash when they dislike what people say; and more than that, it is all nonsense, from beginning to end, about not wanting to be seen. I don't know any more tiresome flower in the borders than your especially 'modest' snow-drop, which one always has to stoop down and take all sorts of tiresome trouble with, and nearly break its poor little head off, before you can see it; and then, half of it is not worth seeing. Girls should be like daisies, nice and white, with an edge of red if you look close; making the ground bright wherever they are; knowing simply and quietly that they do it, and are meant to do it, and that it would be very wrong if they didn't do it. Not want to be seen, indeed!"
May.—Caoutchouc is obtained from plants which afford a milky juice, white as it flows from the plant, but darkening with exposure to the weather. It is commonly called India rubber, and is so useful and convenient an article that civilized people could hardly get along comfortably without it. It forms an important article of commerce. Mexico, Central and South America, and the East Indies are the principal places from which India rubber comes. The East India rubber is the juice of a species of fig-tree. The South American product is taken from the syringe-tree, which is sometimes as high as an eight-story house. To erase pencil marks is one of the uses of India rubber which will occur to you first, and then you will think of water-proof cloaks and shoes, without which we could not go out comfortably in stormy weather. But these only begin to be the list of articles which this obliging gum aids in constructing. Tubes, fire hose, elastic bands, mats, belts for machinery, door springs, etc., are made of it. Combined with sulphur, it forms combs, canes, buttons, picture-frames, brush backs, and surgical instruments, and combined with sulphur and coal tar, and polished like jet, it is used to make beautiful ornamental jewelry.
Lois T.—Yes, when I was a little girl I liked to go to parties; but our parties, dear, always began about three o'clock in the afternoon, and were over at eight, when we were sent for by our mothers, and went home to sleep well and have happy dreams. Such a thing as an evening party, with full dress, was considered too great a dissipation for little folks when I was young.
The boy members of the C. Y. P. R. U. will find in this issue an inspiring sketch, entitled "The Boyhood of Daniel Webster," by Mr. George Cary Eggleston, showing what an "idle boy" could do in the way of astonishing his teacher by his industry; and a pleasant article by Sherwood Ryse, entitled "On Skates," which gives both information and practical suggestions regarding one of our pleasantest winter pastimes. The girl members can not fail to be interested in "The Life of a Little Girl in 1782," by Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, while they will heartily congratulate themselves on the changes in the way of training children that a century has brought about.
PUZZLES PROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA.
'Tis black and brown, 'tis blue and gray,
'Tis changeful as an April day;
And yet, no matter what they say,
'Tis not without attraction.
It has a language all its own.
Though mortal never heard its tone;
It tells the sufferer's moan,
It tells of satisfaction.
Inclosed within a narrow cell,
It moves on hinge invisible.
Securely kept, and guarded well
From all approaching danger.
It often speaks, yet never talks;
It freely runs, but never walks;
And every passing thing remarks—
In fact, is quite a ranger.
It swims, and yet arms has it none;
And dances out of very fun
Without a leg to stand upon,
Or foot to follow after.
It has a brother—twin, they say—
And when cross-purposes they play,
They look the very oddest way;
To some they're cause for laughter.
As shining crystal it is bright.
'Tis dark or dull as winter night,
Its very nature, too, is light,
For all were dark without it.
It forms the poet's constant theme,
It haunts the lover in his dream,
And really paramount would seem,
So much is said about it.
Rip Van Winkle.