"I shall certainly remonstrate with Henry," said Louisa; "but you have not yet told me who it is." 66 Why, George Cameron, Dr. Hilliard's servant," said Mrs. Cline, pompously. Louisa drew a long breath, and then, with a laugh, observed, "Forgive me, cousin Sarah, but I am much relieved by finding that my brother's friend is George Cameron. Surely his character is irreproachable, and I think him a talented and amiable young man." "I am shocked and grieved, Louisa, that you have imbibed such plebeian notions," returned Mrs. Cline, drawing herself up. "Your brother associating with a common servant, and you approving it!" and the lady tossed her head indignantly. "As I understand the matter," said Louisa, mildly but firmly, "the only objection to George Cameron is, that he is poor, and obliged to work for the means to defray the expenses of his education. He possesses talent, and the highest moral character, and though nurtured in poverty and obscurity, he is determined to be something in the world. He has no money, but he has what is better, a will, influenced by the purest and loftiest motives. "To secure his position in school he works night and morning for Dr. Hilliard, and thus pays his board. For this he is called a servant, but I see nothing humiliating in it. He possess es the esteem and confidence of his teachers, and I think he deserves it. I, too, am acquainted with him, for he "Perhaps they will," returned Louisa; "but remember that Martin Luther supported himself when at college by singing and by sawing wood for the students. Look at Franklin. We are justly proud of him, and admire him for his economy, ay, for his very poverty. Why, then, should we despise George Cameron for following his example." "Louisa, good night," said the lady, as with an air of offended dignity she left the room. Louisa had defended her brother's friend with so much tact that the weak-minded Mrs. Cline could not refute her arguments. George Cameron's parents were very poor. His father, by endorsing for a friend, had lost all his property, and after this event he sunk into an apathy from which it was impossible to arouse him. It seemed as if all motives to exertion were lost, and he toiled as one without hope. George felt that burning desire for knowledge which no adverse circumstances could overcome, and though his sensitive spirit was often wounded at school by the cold neglect of some, and the coarse remarks of others, he found an unfailing source of pleasure in the friendship of William and Henry Rossiter. Charles Cline, following the example of his prudent mother, took it upon himself to remonstrate with Henry for his non-aristocratic notions, telling him that unless he desisted he should be obliged to cut his acquaintance. But he received such an indignant and eloquent reply from the generous young man that he was glad to escape from further conversation on the subject. After bearing off the highest honors of the academy, George Cameron left for the West, resolving, as he told his friends, to work or teach till he should acquire a sufficient sum to take him through college. Charles Cline, and William and Henry Rossiter, graduated in a year or so; the former with a superficial knowledge of whatever he undertook, the latter with the well-deserved reputation of thorough and practical scholars. Charles entered one of the village stores as a clerk, William prosecuted his studies as a lawyer, Henry as a physician. Some four years subsequent to the conversation we have just related, Louisa Rossiter received from her brother Henry, who had gone to Ohio to establish himself in business, a letter which contained the following intelligence. 66 expressions flashed on his delighted. audience. 66 'He spoke of the divine nature of the mind, its aspirations for the holy and beautiful; its deep sympathies; its godlike capacities, and in a burst of enthusiasm he raised his hands to heaven and exclaimed, I thank thee, O my God, that thou hast given me an intellectual being.' The effect of his masterly production was wonderful and the applause was deafening, yet how modestly did he bear his triumph. "You may imagine our meeting after the close of the exercises. We spent the evening together, talking over old times and forming plans for the future. Do you remember how our goodly cousins, Mrs. Cline and her son, used to reason with me on the impropriety of associating with such a person ?", aim. George Cameron has since received the appointment of Professor of Belles Lettres in one of the colleges of this state, a noble example of what a Being in the vicinity of C-young man can accomplish when he college, and hearing much about the directs his efforts to a true and lofty exercises of the following day, I resolved to attend. Several addresses were delivered by fine-looking, elegantly-dressed young men, but these were of the usual class. At length a young man very plainly dressed made his appearance on the stage. His hair was thrown back from his intellectual forehead, he was very pale, and his thin lips quivered as he looked on the vast audience, but his eye beamed with the light of true genius. 66 6 Judge of my surprise when I recognized in the pale student before me, our old friend, George Cameron. His theme was: The Intellectual Powers; the opening was beautiful, though his evident embarrassment made me fear for him; but as he warmed with his subject he seemed to forget himself, and gem after gem of the most sparkling thoughts and brilliant THE LITTLE MATCH BOY. BY MRS. LYDIA BAXTER. Ir was December, cold and drear, And stormy was the weather, The snow-flakes clung together. With garments thin, and bare red feet, For none appeared that day to buy, To none he told his bitter woe, For he had now no mother; His sister all alone did stay, Benumbed and sad he sat him down, Drawing his cold feet under; He feared his father's angry frown, But more his sister's hunger. He said, "A dreary world is this, And bending o'er him stood a form, He knew that boy, so marble cold, And bade him not to sorrow, Placed in his hand some shining gold, And told him, "On the morrow, "Sister of plenty shall partake; And you, her noble brother, Shall have a home for her own sakeYour dear departed mother." TO GIRLS. ERE is some excellent advice which we wish all the girls to read and remember. There is nothing lovely about a girl who is unkind to her mother, and we sincerely hope, if you have a mother to love, that you will always treat her with kindness. Have you a father? Have you a mother? Do you love them? Girls, do you know the value of your mother? Nobody loves you, nobody will love you, as she does. Do not be ungrateful for that love; do not repay it with coldness. Unloved and unloving you will live and die, if you do not love and honor your father and mother. Never call either "old man," or There should be something sacred, something peculiar, in the word that designates parents. The tone of voice in which they are addressed should be affectionate and respectful. A short, surly answer from a child to a parent falls very harshly on the ear of any person who has a true idea of filial duty. Be sure, girls, that you each win for yourselves the name of a dutiful daughter. It is so easy to win that no one should be without it. It is much easier to be a good daughter than a good wife, and mother. A child's duties are much more easily performed than a parent's; so that she who is a good daughter may fail to be a good wife or mother; but she who fails in this first, most simple relation need never hope to fill another so well. Be sure, then, that you are a good daughter. It is the best preparation for every station, and will be its own reward. The secret you dare not tell your mother is a dangerous secret, and one that will be likely to bring you sorrow. The hours you spend with her will not cause you regret; and you should never feel disappointed, or out of humor, for not being permitted to go to some place to which you wish to go. You should love her so well that it would not be felt a punishment to give up the gayest party to remain with her. Nothing is more beautiful than to see a girl take off her things and sit smilingly down with her mother, because she wished it. Go and kiss your mother, as you used to do when a child, and never grow too large or wise to be a child at her side. T THE GNU. BY HENRY WILSON. o the casual observer the Gnu | seen above the tall grass on the left, appears to be compounded of looking at his fellow struggling for several animals. His body re- freedom. sembles that of a horse; his limbs and feet are like those of a stag; his head and horns are similar to those of the Cape buffalo. However, zoologists class him with the Antelope. The Gnu is about the size of a mule or a small horse. It is covered with long hair, of a brown color. The mane stands erect, and the hair of the tail is long, like that of a horse. The horns are flattened at the base, and bend downward and forward over the forehead, and, turning up, become round and form a pointed hook. In the above cut the Gnu is represented as having caught, in the hook of one of his horns, a small tree, which seems to be holding him against his desire. The head of another may be The nostrils of the Gnu are large, and covered by a fold of skin, which, being under the control of the animal, answers all the purposes of a valve, to defend the olfactory organs against those particles of dust, which the slightest breeze wafts in clouds from the shifting surface of the desert. This animal is found roaming in small herds over the vast plains of Southern Africa. There he spends his time in grazing the long grass and the luxuriant vegetation of those regions. It is a fleet animal, and bounds away over the plain with great speed. When seen running in the distance the traveler might easily mistake them for the wild zebras which inhabit the same localities, were it not for their dark and uniform color, and from the fact that they always run in lines, one behind the other. Sometimes travelers, on meeting a herd of them, hoist a red handkerchief, which excites these creatures in such a manner that they come prancing about, and then fly away at a rapid bound. M MY MOTHER'S GENTLE WORD. Y precious mother died when I was six years of and age, though long and weary years. have gone by, and I have seen changes sad and many, yet a little incident of my childhood, some two years previous to her death, will never be erased from my memory. I had one Sabbath morning been taken to church by an elderly lady who resided with us-my mother being too ill to go out. I remember that it was the season of Christmas, and the little Church of Dwas gayly decorated with wreaths of evergreen. To my childish eye it was beautiful. I began playing with the spruce and myrtle which hung near the pew, and despite the angry looks and whispered reprimand of my friend, I kept on plucking the leaves and throwing them all about, until at last, mad-cap as I was, I put some of the dried pieces in the foot-stove to make a smoke! 66 Service being ended, my attendant pulled me along through the aisle, and observed, when we reached the door, Now, you wicked child, I shall take you to your mamma, and she must whip you." I made no reply, for conscience told me I deserved it well. We reached home, and I was taken to my mother's chamber, and the whole scene is as vividly before my mind as though it passed but yesterday. My mother was seated in her easy chair, supported by pillows, I felt her tears upon my cheek; there was no need to say more. I clung to her arms, and sobbed as though my heart would break. Her gentle word had done what punishment, in my case, could not have effected. This little incident, so trifling in itself, has indelibly impressed my mind. To this day I feel the hallowed influI have ence of those loving tones. been a wanderer "o'er the world's wide waste," yet my early home, and the lessons learned there still linger at my heart, perhaps influence my daily life. Selected. WORK IF YOU WOULD RISE. RICHARD Burke being found in a reverie shortly after an extraordinary display of powers in the House of Commons by his brother Edmund, and questioned by Mr. Malone as to the cause, replied, "I have been wondering how Ned has contrived to monopolize all the talents of the family, but then again, I remember, when we were at play he was always at work.” The force of this anecdote is increased by the fact that Richard Burke was considered not inferior in natural talents to his brother. Yet the one rose to greatness, while the other died comparatively obscure. Don't trust to your genius, young man, if you would rise, but work! work! work! Selected. |