November 11.

November 12.

Live not without a friend! The Alpine rock must

Own

Its mossy grace or else be nothing but a stone.

Live not without a God! however low or high,
In every house should be a window to the sky.
W. W. Story.

November 14.

So from the trodden ways of earth,

Seem some sweet souls who veil their worth,
And offer to the careless glance,

The clouding grave of circumstance.

They blossom best where hearth-fires burn;
To loving eyes alone they turn

The flowers of inward grace, that hide
Their beauty from the world outside.

November 15.

7. G. Whittier.

I know a little damsel as light of foot as the air,
And with smile as gay as the sun o' the May,

And clouds of golden hair.

To plague me and to please me she knows a thou

sand arts,

And against my will I love her still

With all my heart of hearts!

Alice Cary.

November 14.

November 15.

Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage.

That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done,

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to

others.

November 17.

H. W. Longfellow.

For looking backward through the year,
Along the way my feet have pressed,
I see sweet places everywhere,

Sweet places where my soul had rest.

My sorrows have not been so light,
The chastening hand I could not trace;
Nor have my blessings been so great
That they have hid my Father's face.

November 18.

Phoebe Cary.

Sometimes the arrowy sharpness of a sorrow,

Piercing life's common calm,

Smites hidden rocks of comfort, which to-morrow

O'erflow in healing balm.

'Neath burdens that we stagger in the taking

We walk erect at length;

And bitter blows that bowed almost to breaking,

Reveal our secret strength.

Mrs. M. L. Dickinson.

November 17.

November 18.