slave, villain, peasant, and laborer, to artisan and
working-man--there is a vision of progress as bright as the light which
fell upon Saul of Tarsus as he journeyed toward Damascus.

To the man whose whole mind is given to the work he does, the time goes
swiftly. Many a man whom success has translated from the grocery, the
plow-factory, the farm, to the matting and the yellow bedsteads of the
seaside hotel, finds that he was happier at home, when he was poor, and
that he was then often far more comfortable in body.

THE ATHEIST

does not "look upon a beautiful face and see a grinning skull." He must
not, then, gaze upon the freest body of workingmen of all the ages and
see but a chain of quarry-slaves scourged to their dungeons.

"God is a worker, He has thickly strewn
Infinity with grandeur. God is love;
He yet shall wipe away Creation's tears,
And all the worlds shall summer in His smile."

FAILURE IN LIFE.

Macbeth. If we should fail--
Lady Macbeth. We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.--Shakspeare.

You see that scrag over in the woods there? Crack! goes
the lightning! The scrag has been hit again! Unfortunate! Now, perhaps
you know somebody who is a scrag in society. When the thunder storms of
life roll and rumble, tell him to look well to himself. He is very
liable to another dose of disaster. Why is this? The reason is plain.
There is some particular attraction for the bolt which hits him. There
is a loadstone of reason in the earth at his roots for this constant
attack of misfortune. However badly off he may be, something still worse
will happen to him. If he have something profitable to do with his
hands, he will get a felon on his finger. If he have walking to do, he
will get a peeled heel. If he have only to sit and attend to a certain
thing, he will get the brain fever. If he be expected at seven in the
morning, his child will suffer an attack of croup at 6:45. The lightning
is darting around him silently all the time, a good deal like the
movements of a snake's tongue. After all, it is a scrag that has been
struck, and everybody laughs and seems to think it a good joke. It is,
indeed, close to the ridiculous to see the number of undoubted
afflictions which will beset

"A REAL OLD FAILURE IN LIFE."

He is a good old fellow. He hates with a mortal hate only one thing, and
that is hard work; that wil