profound-free from the remotest approximation to egotistical ostentation; humble, argumentative and insinuating. I delight in bold burning and sublime metaphors and met-an'-y-miss in the spiritual sciences of me-tem'-psy-cho-sis met-a-pas-co-py and sci-ag-raphy. I delight to revel amid postulates an-no-to'tions on all oec-u-men'-i-cal om-ni-per-cip'-i-an-ces. The pandiculation of the universe is seen by perlustration and per-i'-grin-a-tion. I wish to make a short comprehensive oration, full of great principles and unsophisticated truths.

I desire not to blot my production with a transcursionary discussion of the doctrine of transelementation; but introducing the utmost latitudinarianism into this wonderfully clear exergesis of the mysterious tide of human affairs. I desire to give my mind sea-room and expansion-or soar aloft amid the radiations and lofty effluxions and generalizations of the master spirits of the age. Standing here on the grand panorama of life, gazing aloft amidst the effulgent constellations of terrestrial immortal worthies, my soul is dilated to the extreme limits of metaphysical extension and restriction.

I feel the imposing and awful grandeur of my existence. I feel the high impulses stirring within my corruptible tabernacle; the psychological movements of the mysterious spiritual machinery; the impressive prognostications of immortality and the selfevident nonsemiperspicuous manifestations of the mental appurtenances.

I feel the lofty sublimity, the towering glory, the immense perfection of this glorious being.

Indeed I am filled with floods of overpowering emotions as I leave this listening audience.

NOT TIME ENOUGH.

time enough?

So the gilt edges of the

Noble remain untarnished, and it leaves its own

profile of dust on the table. Not time enough to study its teachings! But there is time enough for other things.

Time enough to coil around the soul the web of wealth, which, when completed, forms its shroud.

Time enough to amuse the fancy, to excite passion, to trifle with time, and to banish reflection.

Time enough to simmer away afternoon after afternoon in the maudlin sympathy of romantic sentimentalism, until the heart, in its voluptuous impotence, becomes incapable of real love to God or man!

Time enough to lay plot upon plot and scheme upon scheme for the gratification of ambition or vanity!

Time enough to be sick, though then, when the heart is troubled, and the body faint, and the head sluggish, there is indeed not time enough to repent! TIME ENOUGH TO DIE.

ALL ABOUT EYES. Blue eyes are tender, Blue eyes are true, Blue eyes are lovely

Their smiles ever new.

Brown eyes are merry,
Brown eyes are mild,
Brown eyes are beautiful
As a fair child.

Brown eyes are dazzling

When their orbs roll;

Brown eyes speak volumes
Deep from the soul.

But black eyes are witching

Black eyes are bright,

Black eyes are the index
Of the souls light.

Black eyes are glancing,

Black eyes are sweet,
Black eyes keep dancing,
When other's they meet.

ANGRY WORDS.

ANGRY words are lightly spoken,
In a rash and thoughtless hour;
Brightest links of life are broken

By their deep, insidious power.
Hearts inspired by warmest feeling,
Ne'er before by anger stirr'd,
Oft are rent past human healing
By a single angry word.

Poisoned drops of care and sorrow,
Bitter Poison drops are they,
Weaving for the coming morrow
Saddest memories of to day!
Angry words, oh! let them never

From the tongue unbridled slip;
May the heart's best impulse ever
Check them ere they soil the lip!
Love is much too pure and holy,
Friendship is too sacred far,
For a moment's reckless folly,

Thus to desolate and mar.

Angry words are lightly spoken,

Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred,

Brightest links of life are broken,

By a single angry word.

COME one has said, and wisely too, that "there is

SOM

an angel in every house," though oft its inmates know it not. Methought the other day as I gazed on the face of "our Bertie," sleeping in quiet innocence in his cradle bed, that surely, an angel had taken up its abode with us. Who can gaze upon the sweet face and rose-bud lips of such a sleeper without feeling as if in the presence chamber of the