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So nigh is grandeur to our dust,

So near is God to man,

When Duty whispers low, Thou must,

The youth replies, I can.

-Emerson.

We speak with awed tenderness of our guardian angels; but have we not all had our guiding angels, who came to us in visible form, and recognized or unknown, kept beside us on our difficult path until they had done for us all that they could?

-Lucy Larcom.

Seek not to pour the world into thy little mould,
Each as its nature is, its being must unfold;
Thou art but as a string in life's vast sounding-board,
And other strings as sweet may not with thine accord.
-W. W. Story.

Associate reverently, and as much as you can, with your loftiest thoughts.

-Thoreau.

You have not fulfilled every duty, unless you have fulfilled that of being pleasant.

-Charles Buxton.

Reputation is in itself only a farthing candle, of wavering and uncertain flame, and easily blown out; but it is the light by which the world looks for and finds merit.

Give to a gracious message

-Lowell.

A host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell

Themselves when they be felt.

-Shakespeare.

Good intentions are, at least, the seed of good actions; and every one ought to sow them, and leave it to the soil and the seasons whether he or any other gather the fruit. -Sir William Temple.

"In bright or brighter places, wheresoever ye may

roam

Ye look away from earth-land and ye murmur,

'Where is home?'

Homeless hearts, God is home."

"If fortune, with a smiling face,

Strew roses in our way,

When shall we stoop to pick them up?
To-day, my love, to-day.

"But should she frown with face of care, And talk of coming sorrow,

When shall we grieve, if grieve we must? To-morrow, oh, to-morrow."

CHRISTMAS IN CALIFORNIA.

Can this be Christmas-sweet as May,
With drowsy sun, and dreamy air,
And new grass pointing out the way
For flowers to follow, everywhere?

Has Time grown sleepy at his post,
And let the exiled summer back,
Or is it her regretful ghost,

Or witchcraft of the almanac?

Before me, on the wide, warm bay,
A million azure ripples run;
Round me the sprouting palm-shoots lay
Their shining lances to the sun.

A languor of deliciousness

Fills all the sea-enchanted clime;
And in the blue heavens meet, and kiss,
The loitering clouds of summer-time.

O wondrous gift, in goodness given,
Each hour anew our eyes to greet,
An earth so fair-so close to Heaven,
'Twas trodden by the Master's feet.
-Edward Rowland Sill.

OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA.

No process is so fatal as that which would cast all men in one mould. Every human being is intended to have a character of his own, to be what no other is, to do what no other can do. Our common nature is to be unfolded in unbounded diversities. It is rich enough for infinite manifestations. It is to wear innumerable forms of beauty and glory. Every human being has a work to carry on within, duties to perform abroad, influences to exert, which are peculiarly his, and which no conscience but his own can teach.

-Channing.

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