calls of the poor, and his plans
looking toward educating and ennobling the lives of working men, giving
more sunshine and joy, were such that he determined to dispose of all
the remainder of his wealth except a sum sufficient to yield him $1,500
a year on which to live."

Our own Peter Cooper, in his last days, was one of the happiest men in
America; his beneficence shone in his countenance.

Let the man who has the blues take a map and census table of the world,
and estimate how many millions there are who would gladly exchange lots
with him, and let him begin upon some practicable plan to do all the
good he can to as many as he can, and he will forget to be despondent;
and he need not stop short at praying for them without first giving
every dollar he can, without troubling the Lord about that. Let him
scatter his flowers as he goes along, since he will never go over the
same road again.

No man in England had a better time than did Du Maurier on that cold day
when he took the hat of an old soldier on Hampstead road, and sent him
away to the soup kitchen in Euston to get warm. The artist chalked on a
blackboard such portraits as he commonly made for "Punch," and soon
gathered a great quantity of small coins for the grateful soldier; who,
however, at once rubbed out Du Maurier's pictures and put on "the
faithful dog," and a battle scene, as more artistic.

"Chinese Gordon," after serving faithfully and valiantly in the great
Chinese rebellion, and receiving the highest honors of the Chinese
Empire, returned to England, caring little for the praise thus heaped on
him. He took some position at Gravesend, just below London, where he
filled his house with boys from the streets, whom he taught and made men
of, and then secured them places on ships,--following them all over the
world with letters of advice and encouragement.

HIS HEAD IN A HOLE.

"I was appointed to lecture in a town in Great Britain six miles from
the railway," said John B. Gough, "and a man drove me in a fly from the
station to the town. I noticed that he sat leaning forward in an
awkward manner, with his face close to the glass of the window. Soon he
folded a handkerchief and tied it round his neck. I asked him if he was
cold. "No, sir." Then he placed the handkerchief round his face. I asked
him if he had the toothache. "No, sir," was the reply. Still he sat
leaning forward. At last I said, "Will you please tell me why y