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LABOUR.
BY MRS. FRANCIS OSGOOD.
Pause not to dream of the future before us !
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o’er
us!
Hark—how creation’s deep musical chorus
Unintermitting goes up into Heaven !
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing:
Never the little seed stops in its growing ;
More and more richly the rose heart keeps grow
ing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
“Labour is Worship—the robin is singing,”
“Labour is Worship”—the wild bee is ringing ;
Listen ! that eloquent whisper upspringing,
Speak to thy soul from out nature’s heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life giving shower;
From the rough sod grows the soft breathing
flower ;
From the small insect the rich coral bower,
Only man in the plan, e’er shrinks from his part.
Labour is life !—’tis the still water faileth ;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assail
eth!
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labour is glory !—the flying cloud lightens,
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens,
Play the sweet keys would’st thou keep them in
tune !
Labour is rest! —from the sorrows that greet us ;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us ;
Rest from sin promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world syrens that lure us to ill.
Work—and pure slumbers shall wait on tliy pil
low,
Work—thou shalt ride over care’s coming billow,
Lie not down wearied ’neath woe’s weeping wil
low !
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!
Droop not tho’ shame, sin and anguish are around
thee!
Bravely fling ofT the cold chain that has bound
thee!
Look on yon pure Heaven smiling beyond thee !
Rest not content in thy darkness—a clod !
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly !
Labour—all labour is noble and holy ;
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
A QUEKR JOKE.
Several gentlemen, most of them tra
velled men, were chatting easily and fa
miliarly ahout one thing and another, and
being mostly Frenchmen, la belle France
of course formed one of the principal
themes of their discourse. Presently they
were joined by an old man who is slight
ly “cracked” on some subjects, but on
j others is sufficiently acute and ready of
repartee. One of the company immedi
ately attacked the old gentleman about
some of his peculiar ideas, and endeav
oured to turn the laugh against him. This
malicious fun was suffered to proceed
some time by its object without opposi
tion ; but suddenly he turned to his gay
and laughing tormentor and said—
“ You have been to Paris, Monsieur ?”
“Yes, sir,” said the other, with all that
self-sufficient and vain glorious air which
almost every young or middle aged
Frenchman unconsciously assumes when-
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
ever the great city is mentioned ; “yes,
sir, I know’ it by heart.”
“Then you would be able to give me
some information touching its topogra
phy.”
“Os course—easily.”
“Will you be kind enough to inform
me what is in the middle of Paris'?” and
the old gentleman took a pinch of snuff
in his usual deliberate, quiet manner.
“What is iu the middle of Paris, sir—
why, you are laughing at me.”
“Not at all. If you answer the ques
tion, I am willing to pay your expenses
to Paris and back.”
“Well, then, there’s the Louvre.”
“No!”
“The Palais Royal.”
“No!”
“The Tuileries.”
“No!”
“The Jardin des Plantes, Notre Dame,
etc., etc.”
“No ! was the imperative answer to
each prominent location mentioned.
“Well, what the deuce is it ?”
“Ah ! that’s your look out, sir,” said
the old gentleman, as coolly as ever.
“It must be the Marche des Innocens.”
“No!”
“Then it’s the Hotel de Villle!”
“No!”
A pause.
“I have it; it’s the Seine! The Seine
surely runs through the middle of Paris,”
said the seeker of localities, with a tri
umphant air.
“Not at all, my dear sir, not at all !
Try again.”
“Ma foi, I surrender, I can’t imagine
what it can be.”
“Here’s a pretty man,” said the old
gentleman, with the mien of a professor
using his scalpel, and laying open some
hidden anatomical treasure, to the delight
of his students, and agony of his sub
ject ; “here’s a Parisian for you ?’ He
tried to puzzle me 1 ? Why a child could
surpass him !”
“But what is it?” exclaimed the other,
much annoyed at the general laughter
that followed this exordium ; “what is in
the middle of Paris?”
“Well, my dear sir, it's simply ‘R.’ ”
“What! ‘The letter K?’ ”
“P-a-r-i-s; that spells Paris don’t it?”
A shout of laughter followed and
drowned the angry rejoinder of the mor
tified and duped individual, and the old
gentleman walked off, as he said, to take
his petit verve before dinner. Ashe went,
he stopped, turned round, and said, in the
same dry, sarcastic manner, “my dear
sir, when you take that next voyage to
Paris, please let me know ; I’ll be glad
to go with you and show you the city !”
That was a finisher.
The old man had method in his mad
ness. — Parker's Journal.
RANDOM READINGS.
—Swifts Wit.— ln the streets of Lei
cester, one day, Dean Swift was accosted
by a drunken weaver, who, staggering
against his reverence, said, “I have been
spinning it out.” “Yes, 5 ‘ said Dean, “I
see you have; and now you are reelinq it
home.”
On another occasion, in the course of
his travels, Swift called at a house where
he was a welcome visitor. The lady at
the mansion, glad to have so distinguish
ed a guest, asked, with great flippancy,
and somewhat officiously, what he would
have for dinner. “Will you have an ap
ple pie, sir? will you .have a gooseberry
pie, sir? will you have a cherry pie, sir?
will you have a plum pie, sir ? will you
have a pigeon pie, sir ?” “Any pie, ma
dam,” interrupted the Dean ; “any pie
but a mag-pie”
—A military officer, one day while re
viewing his company, happened to be
thrown from his horse —and as he lay
sprawling on the ground, said to a friend,
who ran to his assistance, “I thought 1
had improved in horsemanship, but I find
I have fallen off.
—A fellow stole a wood saw r , and on
trial told the Judge he only took it in a
joke.
“How far did you carry it?” asked the
Judge.
“Two miles,” answered the prisoner.
“That’s carrying the joke too far,” re
marked the Judge; and the prisoner was
committed for further examination.
—Political Economy. —Punch says it
has been proposed to tax stays, but it
was objected to on the ground that it
would diminish consumption.
—A gentleman seeing some cow r s in a
field grazing, said he did not wonder
“that the grass did not get high as it was
cow'd down.” Again, seeing a cellar near
ly finished, he remarked, “it was an ex
cellent foundation for a story”
—Tw r o men in dispute, reflected upon
each other’s veracity. One of them said,
that he was never whipt but once by his
father, and that was for telling the truth.
“1 believe then,” retorted the other, “the
truth was whipt out of you, for you have
never spoken it since.”
—One day, says Menage, I held with
both of mine one of the hands of Ma
dame de Sevigne. When she withdrew
it, Pelletier said to me, “That is the fin
est work which has ever gone out of your
hands.”
—The Oxygenated Bitters have elici
ted more sweet compliments than any
medicine before the public. Their effect
upon editors has been most salutary.
They are considered invaluable by ail
who have used them.
[October 30,