to win, and if he could only take home to his pa- | had rebuked her teachings, and scorned her words rents the testimony that he stood the highest in-but, alas! this was not most frequently the case the graduating class, what a boon it would be to his tears were not always tokens of amendment. them! It was not for himself only or chiefly that It was only at times when the serpent spoke too he struggled to surpass his fellow students-it was loudly and too grossly for his delicate ear, that he for those he held dearer than life, for his old scorned her counsel! He did not love the presence father and mother, to whom he would fain give an of the emblem of purity, and meekness, and love, earnest of what he yet might do! which so often came before him on pure white wings. And this was not all-nor the most. Of that crafty spirit he learned craftiness--he learned to speak with stammering lips and a false tongue he learned to hide beneath soft smiles a treacherous heart and evil desires. Alas for such an one! alas for them with whom he has to deal→→ for himself it were better that a mill-stone were hung about his neck, and he drowned in the depths of the sea, than that he should live among men a curse in disguise! a shame to the mortal form he wears!

There was but one rival in any degree to be feared. He had wealth and a title-proud friends -the nobles of the land were on his side, which, however, perhaps, do not have any influence in the minds of teachers and professors! That rival was Walter Cunningham. And could he suffer a poor, unknown plebian to triumph over him? No! no!

For a few days the proud and ambitious youth gave deeper attention and greater diligence to his studies. He had a more active, quicker mind than the poor man's son-he mastered difficulties with more ease and grace, the path of learning was not to him a rough and hilly way. Of far keener and subtler intellect, and with much of that natural cunning, which Bacon says a man must possess in order to seem to know that which he does not know, there was but little doubt in the minds of those who watched the struggle that he would win the prize-and he did win it!

But he was rich and powerful. In the House of the Peers of England his voice was often heard, and his smooth words had weight. The young and the old applauded him, and sought his favor, and yet was there ever, in those speeches, which, by their eloquence, enchained every listener, and might, had he so willed it, have worked incalculable good, was there ever a burning word let fall in behalf of the oppressed, the down-trodden, the There was none of that generosity in his nature starving poor? Was ever an indignant rebuke that would have enabled him to see that his rival of wrong known to issue from his lips; a token needed the honors, all of which he grasped. Need- of a virtuous and generous heart ever given? ed them as an encouragement for himself in the Never! never! No human heart, or mind, or life of labor to which necessity had dedicated him desire, was ever a whit the better because of him. -needed them to keep up his often flagging He might charm by his glitter and show, (it was hopes-needed them to assure those, who, of their the glitter and show of the serpent!) but never need, had given him the means to buy learning, winged his words over the land borne by the dove as a promise of his progress and ultimate success. of peace and purity, telling hope to the famishing The poor youth went from the college, suffering-assuring the wronged and abused that there was under a disappointment, such as none but a boy one pleading for them in the high places of the struggling as he had struggled could feel, broken land! down in constitution, to be nursed for a few months by his more miserable parents, and then to be laid by them, their heart's best love, in the grave.

He married. Interest and a gratification of pride were the basis of this union on his part. Ah the curse that almost invariably follows a connexI do not mean to assert that in another event ion such as that! The miserable, gradual awakthis had not been so that, had he won the prize, ening of the wife, who, at the first, did love the his life would then have received an impetus that man she wedded-the coldness and disesteem would have overcome the disease struggling with- which every day increased and strengthened—the in him, and fostered by long and intense applica- views less noble and lofty she began to entertain tion; that he would have thenceforth gone on for virtue-the readiness and pleasure with which conquering and to conquer-surmounting all ob-ere long she listened to the voice of the beguiler— structions and overcoming readily all difficulties, the tempter! but I say that I believe it would have been so→ The wife of Walter Cunningham was not of the success of the first endeavor is with many such innately strong and lofty mind—a lover of pleasure an all-important thing! And I say, too, that many more than a lover of goodness, if that was only to a time in pursuing that one, and as it were a tri-be found and attained by travelling in the hard fling object, (comparatively,) the white dove flitted many a time over the head of Walter Cunningham, bidding him not to strive for victory then, but the serpent was all the while nestling at the feet of the youth, and his hand rested lovingly upon it!

But I would not have the reader suppose that the nobly-born, the heir of Rossford never heeded the presence of the dove-that the voice of the serpent was the only voice he ever heard. Many a time he wept over his weakness when he had given way to the plausible reasonings of the spirit who came to him in the shape of evil. Often he

path of self-denial, she was not long in learning to seek out for herself a mode of life which was seldom troubled with thoughts of her husband.— United by the marriage vows, but wide asunder in thought and inclination as can well be conceived each determining at last to seek his and her own happiness in the way they saw fit—that was their wedded life. Fame does not spare such people-though perhaps the notoriety they acquire is not exactly that they would prefer!

She, the abused, wronged woman, as she believed herself, sought in coquetry and extravagant display a solace for the mortified affections of her

A heart that had an inclination always to listen to such a voice could not be very far removed from safety. Industry, honesty, loftiness of aim and desire, There was not one thought satisfying to him together with firmness and perseverance, accom-left to cheer-not one hope pointing to the future plish great things for a man, no matter how hum--not one joy or consolation on which, as a ble his birth, the end he reaches will be necessari-"steady help," he might rely. The opportunities ly lofty. Almost always we see the strong minds were for ever gone when he might have prepared and powerful workers in all departments of labor, for such an hour a peace that could not pass away. intellectual and physical, springing from the peo- There was but one friend left with him in the ple. The ambition of such men, as it is the high-hour when "heart and flesh fail”—a bosom friend est, is often the noblest, too-the objects they seek it was! The serpent had crept in there; it coil

ed and lay in mock humility, no longer at his feet, | despondency, over the dark sky of whose life his but cold and heavy, like an iron weight, it lay close on his heart, and the strength of a Hercules could not have removed it! It sang no longer its sweet, syren songs it had no more allurements and be guilements, there was no longer need for tempting, when the life-deed of sin was completed-it was a demon to fear-a friend who had, by his alluring smiles, destroyed!

words and kindliness had been as the rainbow of promise,children whom he had given labor and remuneration ample, who were content and glad to work when he was their master-women whom his kindly voice had not led into temptation, whom he had saved from vice and degradation-women who were not, some of them, guiltless of crime, whom his words of counsel had saved from further He died-the Lord of Rossford. They buried sin-girls whom his words had encouraged-boys him in state. A monarch was among the funeral whom his seasonable notice and aid had tended train-and the most honorable men of the realm to make worthy, laboring men. Most of these wore the badge of grief-papers were dressed in had found employment in his factories—there mourning-obituaries of length, narrating all the never had been heard of a "strike" among them particulars of the brilliant life of the departed, af--their wages were sufficient, and never unjustly forded meat and drink for readers of reflection-withheld-and the "last ounce" was never reah, had the serpent and the dove but been suffer-quired of them; for their master did not look uped to speak as loudly of their dealings with that dead man!

Poems, in honor of the illustrious departed, were written by gifted men, and women tuned their harps to sing their admiration. A biography was written and emblazoned gorgeously-it occupied an honorable place in the libraries of all the land. But aside from all that, when considered but as a man gone to judgment-forgetting the worldly honors heaped upon him in his life and after his death! What then?

*

Doubtless there were many who were spurred on in the courses of life, by his brilliant example, many who were made more ambitious many who became great and honored men, who received in their youth fresh impetus from the course of this rich and titled man. Yes and there were his children made miserable for life by the dissensions, by the disgraceful private history of their parents children whose greatness of station hardly compensated for the total absence of parental love and care, which they felt "from their youth up." Yes-and also there was more than one obscure and humble home the great world never heard of, where Walter Cunningham had sown, with his own lordly hand, the seeds of bitterness, of sorrow, and of ruin!

Alas, the serpent!

on them as mere cattle, who were made but to eat, and work, and die. It was no wonder then that there was weeping and sorrow when this man was departed from among them—for it was not probable they would soon "see his like again.”

There was a bell that, on his funeral day, tolled long and mournfully, and was but a faint expression of the grief of the hundreds who gathered at Peter Whitney's burial-there were tears, such as the poor have little occasion to shed often by the graves of the rich, that watered the sod of his grave-there were hearts that have but little time to think of life or death-save of the misery of the one, and the release given by the other, that sorrowed on that day over their dead friend, as few are lamented. There is a monument raised to that man's memory by the factory laborers, and he is known now, not as the powerful noble-not as the gifted and accomplished author, but as " the poor man's friend." There was a white dove, which, from the day of his death, brooded over many another heart, whose pure white radiance has made holiness where sin, in the blackness of its darkness, lived before.

Joy! joy to the man and the women in whose soul so peaceful and heavenly an influence is reigning!

People may be ambitious-I think they should be-it is the bounden duty of every person to enThere was another man who died, and was deavor to excel-it is ridiculous to suppose there buried. And to this day his memory remains a is no battle to be fought-no crown to be wonblessing on the earth. In the hour when the the only danger is, that we may fight under the death angel drew nigh to him there hovered over broad gay banners and in the glittering armor of his bed the faithful dove, her white wings fanned Satan, and so, in the end, wear the crown-of everand revived him. Her meek eyes pointed up-living, ever-piercing thorns. In many cases the wards, she seemed impatient to bear his spirit warfare is a long, a wearying one, before the solaway to the land of bliss. dier hears the welcome words, "enter thou into Children were there; and the wife who had the joy of thy Lord"-but if he at last does hear shared his early struggles and his after-life's bless-them, he will have little occasion to lament the ings. Children, whom the mother might always days when he "endured the cross!" lead without fear in the footsteps of their father, and wish for them no greater honor than was already theirs in being his sons.

And there were myriad others, who, in their homes, prayed for the dying man's recovery, and united anxiously to know if God would hear their cry. Men, redeemed from despair-whose feet he had set in the right way, whose hearts he had encouraged when they were bowed down with

In which way would you like your ambition to eventuate, my dear, sweet listener? Do not speak without you are particularly desirous, I know already, or, at least, I hope I know.

And now farewell-FAREWELL do not forget that "man doth not live by bread only:" do not forget that there is a blessing and a curse set before you-and it is impossible for you to not choose between them!

DAY DREAMS.

BY CAROLINE

THERE'S A MEMORY YET.

BY LAWRENCE LABREE.