the business of the school, relieve the officers and teachers
of much of their labor, and make the school itself beautiful for its
order and harmony, and invaluable for its usefulness and success.

THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE.

"God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm."

We may understand by Providence the all-providing care of God over his
creatures. He is our staff. Without his aid and support, we should sink;
all our efforts would be of no avail. Without his sustaining power, we
could not endure the cares and troubles attending this life. He cares
for us in the broad day, urging us to resist temptation. He watches us
by night, that no harm shall befall us. Mighty was the power of our
Savior at the marriage feast, when he turned water into wine, and many
were the miracles he performed during his stay in this world, in healing
the sick, the lame, and the blind. The ways of God appear mysterious to
us, because we cannot understand his motives. We know that all he does
is right, and for our good; therefore we should not indulge a murmuring
spirit at anything that may happen to us. It is our duty, as we cannot
understand His manifold ways, and all-wise purposes, to study deeply the
Holy Scriptures, and be willing to be taught by those wiser and better
informed than ourselves. We should confidently rely in God's wisdom and
knowledge, which are so much greater than ours; yielding all things to
him; looking forward to that bright and happier world, where there is no
sorrow, and striving to make ourselves worthy of his love, which is
unbounded.

Philanthropy.--He is the wisest philanthropist who employs his energies
and resources in the promotion of virtue.

Preparation For Death.--He who is prepared to live, is prepared to die.
And he who thinks and feels aright, is prepared for both.

TO ALBERTA.

And thou art gone, Alberta,
No sound shall wake thee now;
The dreamless sleep thou sleepest,
Death's shadow on thy brow.

Like a bright summer flower.
Borne by rude winds away,
Whose odors yet shall linger,
Though the fair form decay,--

So, long thy spirit, wafted
In fragrance back to earth,
Shall bloom in memory's bowers,
Mid plants of heavenly birth.

We tune our harps to sadness,
And songs of sorrow sing,
And to the Father's altar,
A mournful tribute bring.

No more thou strowest flowers
Of sunsh