THERE'S ROOM ENOUGH FOR ALL.

"What need of all this fuss and strife,
Each warring with his brother?
Why should we in the crowd of life,
Keep trampling down each other?
Is there no goal that can be won,
Without a fight to gain it?

No other way of getting on,

But grappling to obtain it?'

No, my gracious! no! We have to fight like

ten thousand; contest every inch of ground; and if you get one step forward of your neighbor, envy and malice will be on your skirts in a twinkling; trying to hoist themselves up, or pull you down-they are not particular which. For every laurel you earn, you will gain the everlasting hate of every distanced competitor; not that they won't

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smile and congratulate you; but Judas left a few descendants, when he 'went to his own place.'

"Room enough for all?' not by a hemisphere ! For every crumb Dame Fortune tosses out of her lap, there's a regular pitched battle and no place to fight in. Well, if your blood leaps through your veins as it ought, instead of putting your thumbs in your mouth and whining about it, you'll just set your teeth together, make a plunge for your share of the spoils, and hold on to it after you get it, too! My gracious, yes. Peace, and love, and harmony are very pretty things, no doubt, but you don't see 'em often in this latitude and longitude.

"Well, there's no help for it. You just go pussy-cat-ting through creation once, with velvet claws, and see what lean ribs you'll have to show for it! At the mercy of every little pinafore ruffian that knows English enough to cry, scat!'

"If you earn anything beside cat-nips, I hope you'll come and tell me! No-I'm persuaded it's no use to talk through your nose, and look sanctified; male and female Moses-es always get imposed upon. Besides, you heathen, if you look in Genesis, you'll find yourself a fore-ordained victim— no dodging the curse. By the sweat of your brow,' you must earn your bread and butter. The

old serpent who fetched it on us, knows we are all fulfilling our destiny! Eve wasn't smart about that apple business. I know forty ways I could have fixed him-without burning my fingers, either. It makes me quite frantic to think I lost such a prime chance to circumvent the old sinner!"

LXXX.

THE CROSS AND THE CROWN.

ARE there no martyrs of whom the world never

hears? Are there no victories save on the battle-field? Are there no triumphs save where one can grasp earth's laurel crown? See you none who rise early and sit up late, and turn with a calm, proud scorn from a gilded fetter to honest toil? Pass you never in your daily walks, slight forms with calm brows, and mild eyes, whose whole life has been one prolonged self-struggle? Lip, cheek and brow tell you no tale of the spirit's unrest.

"The 'broad road' is passing fair to look upon. The coiled serpent is not visible amid its luxurious foli ge. The soft breeze fans the cheek wooingly; lad n with the music of happy, careless idlers. Youth, and bloom, and beauty; ay! even silver hairs are there! No tempest lowers; the sky is

clear and blue. What stays yonder slender foot? Why pursue so courageously the thorny, rugged, stumbling path? The eye is bright; the limbs are round and graceful; the blood flows warm and free; the shining hair folds softly away from a pure, fair brow; there are sweet voices yonder to welcome! there is an INWARD voice to hush! there are thrilling eyes there, to bewilder! What stays

that slender foot?

"Ah! The foot-prints of Calvary's SUFFERER are in that narrow path!' That youthful head bends low and unshrinkingly to meet its 'crown of thorns.' The 'Star in the East' shines far above those rugged heights, on which its follower reads: -'To him that OVERCOMETH, will I give to eat of the Tree of Life!'

"Dear reader, for a brief day, the CROSS; for uncounted ages, the CROWN!"

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