A ball of gilt was mounted high upon a lofty tower,
Above a great and faithful clock that told the time each hour.
"What service do you render man, though you are placed so high?"
Inquired the clock. The gilty ball, ashamed, made no reply.
One day while roaming through the earth, Adversity espied
The gleaming sphere upon the tower, aloft at eventide.
And straightway shot an arrow with a quick, unerring aim,
Into the hollow useless ball while yet it was aflame.
Again inquired the faithful clock, "Though you are reared so high,
What service do you render man, ablaze up in the sky?"
"I tell the point from which the wind in passing by doth blow,
So all that gaze upon my face that fact shall quickly know.
No longer but a gilded ball—an object of disdain—
Am I, but poised 'twixt earth and sky I am a weather-vane."
RUN NO RISK.
Scorcher (to novice). "The more wheels the better. Try a cycle first, then buy a cycle, and try that. Tricycle, bicycle—see? Start right, and you'll be able soon to get along without any wheel at all."
Rob and Arthur were looking at a picture in a Sunday-school paper, which showed two South-Sea Islanders rubbing noses, after the cordial manner of these natives when meeting a friend.
"What are they doing?" asked Rob.
Arthur, who had heard something about the custom, quickly replied, "Oh, just scraping acquaintance."