ason with head, heart and soul." The young man is
still plodding on in pessimism. This best friend Emma is still
alone, yet working out some of the noble purposes of her
helpful, progressive life, knowing that "her own will surely
come to her" some good time, and that this brief school-life is
not the end of anything nobly sought for. Simulating big things
allowed the young man to belittle many noble facts in nature,
thus stunting his manly growth, and overgrowing this chilling
pessimism with smart retorts.

One really desiring to aid humanity can become inspired into
consistent kindness, well centered in the lines of forecast, as
also in the cup reading pleasure. So observe the figures, point
them out, summing up as these gems of thought come to life.
One too lazy or disobliging cannot grow these many latent
powers. These are as yet but dimly apprehended. All persons
possess some special gift. God meant it so, and that we give
hope and joy in all honest ways. So try your gift in this
mingling of your aspirations for lofty expressions, which
transmit pleasing convictions, strange as at first these may
appear. Each soul, as reading or listening, creates an atmosphere
of either flippancy, depression, courage, trust, or some vital
power.

Some persons there are, who make us feel happy and well by
simply looking at us, or thinking of us, with that subtle power
that cures one of melancholia, discouragement, or irritability.
Writing a letter with a soul is good. You know there is the soul
of things, a fact in nature. I know of many cases, on turning
backward in memory's pages. One special one of a dear musical
friend, who became very ill from over-work, with nervous
headache and sick stomach, so that all hope of an expected
musical evening had to be abandoned, as she took her bed in
disgust, with sore disappointment. About an hour later, not
entirely unexpected, there called at her home a beloved brother,
whose melodious voice in song proved to the lady better than
any medicine, as he quietly sat down to the piano to sing that
sweetly pathetic song:

"Only waiting till the shadows
Have a little longer grown."

Hark? said the sick lady quickly sitting up at hearing the first
notes. Oh, that is my dear brother, Peter--his name signifieth
Lord. Please aid me to dress. I am really better, I am, indeed, do
not fear. I must go down to hear him sing. His charming voice
has lifted me into strength. I will take the