n who are imperfect,
we should not be in such a fever when we find out our friend's failings;
what's rotten will rend, and cracked pots will leak. Blessed is he who
expects nothing of poor flesh and blood, for he shall never be
disappointed. The best of men are men at the best, and the best wax will
melt.

"It is a good horse that never stumbles,
And a good wife that never grumbles."

HOME.

That word _home_ always sounds like poetry to me. It rings like a peal
of bells at a wedding, only more soft and sweet, and it chimes deeper
into the ears of my heart. It does not matter whether it means thatched
cottage or manor-house, home is home; be it ever so homely, there is no
place on earth like it. Green grows the house-leek on the roof forever,
and let the moss flourish on the thatch. Sweetly the sparrows chirrup
and the swallows twitter around the chosen spot which is my joy and
rest. Every bird loves its own nest; the owls think the old ruins the
fairest spot under the moon, and the fox is of opinion that his hole in
the hill is remarkably cozy. When my master's nag knows that his head is
toward home he wants no whip, but thinks it best to put on all steam;
and I am always of the same mind, for the way home, to me, is the best
bit of road in the country. I like to see the smoke out of my own
chimney better than the fire on another man's hearth; there's something
so beautiful in the way in which it curls up among the trees. Cold
potatoes on my own table taste better than roast meat at my neighbor's,
and the honeysuckle at my own door is the sweetest I ever smell. When
you are out, friends do their best, but still it is not home. "Make
yourself at home," they say, because every body knows that to feel at
home is to feel at ease.

"East and west,
Home is best."

Why, at home you are at home, and what more do you want? Nobody grudges
you, whatever your appetite may be; and you don't get put into a damp
bed.

MEN WHO ARE DOWN.

No man's lot is fully known till he is dead; change of fortune is the
lot of life. He who rides in the carriage may yet have to clean it.
Sawyers change-places, and he who is up aloft may have to take his turn
in the pit. In less than a thousand years we shall all be bald and poor
too, and who knows what he may come to before that? The thought that we
may ourselves be one day under the window, should make us careful when
we are throwing out our dirty water. With what