"The end of man is an action, and not a thought, though it were the noblest."
Now, for our final crumb, comes a well-clothed thought that I like better than quarreling Indians or familiar wonders. It is the reason why selfish people are never really happy. Carlyle thinks they have only themselves to blame, for he says:
"Always there is a black spot in our sunshine; it is even, as I said, the shadow of ourselves."
JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.
Hurrah for June!—bright, rosy June! "Joy rises in me like a summer's morn!" as one of those pleasant people, the poets, has said.
Let everybody be glad! But most of all, you, my youngsters! The month properly belongs to you. Don't I know? Wasn't it set apart by Romulus, ages and ages ago, especially for the young people, or "Juniores," as they then were called? And hasn't their name stuck to it ever since? Yes, indeed! So, be as merry as you can, my chicks; but, with all your fun and frolic, be thankful, and make June weather all about you. June time—any time—is full of joy when hearts, brimming over with thankfulness, carry cheer to other hearts, making
"A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune,"—