in two one-word columns, down which one could run and test one's knowledge of the equivalent in the other language, the purpose would be served. But one who learns a language must be constantly testing his knowledge of equivalents in order that they should come in handy when he wishes to write or speak. This is not a new method; it is recognized and adopted by all who wish their pupils to make rapid progress, and not dawdle away their years, knowing as much at the end as at the beginning, advancing no more than a squirrel revolving in its cage.'

The vocabulary, the phrase, the sentence, the stanza, the paragraph, the poem-whatever fills and feeds the mind with wholesome thought, that must aid in moulding character and shaping destiny-all this should be gathered and garnered in the memory, and especially in the memory of youth. The following are the selections memorized for the dates named by a school that makes this an essential feature of its work, from week to week, during the annual session:

A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat

With the dragon-fly on the river?

He tore out a reed, did the great god Pan,
From the deep, cool bed of the river;
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,

Ere he brought it out of the river.

High on the shore sat the great god Pan,
While turbidly flowed the river,
And hacked and hewed as a great god can
With his hard, bleak steel, at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of a leaf, indeed,
To prove it fresh from the river.

He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,

Then notched the poor, dry, empty thing
In holes, as he sate by the river.

'This is the way,' laugh'd the great god Pan,
(Laughed while he sate by the river!)
"The only way since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed."
Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the
He blew in power by the river.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan,
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!

[reed,

The sun on the hill forgot to die,
The lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man.
The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain-
For the reed that grows never more again
As a reed with the reeds of the river.
E. B. Browning.

AMERICA UNCONQUERABLE.

I cannot, my lords, I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment: it is not a time for adulation; the smoothness of flattery can not save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the darkness and delusion which envelop it; and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation! Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them? Measures, my lords, which have reduced this great and flourishing empire to scorn and contempt. "But yesterday, And England might have stood against the world: Now, none so poor to do her reverence."

The people whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against you, supplied with every military store, their interest consulted and their ambassadors entertained by your inveterate enemy; and our ministers do not and dare not interpose with dignity and effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honors the English troops than I do : I know their virtues and their valor: I know they can achieve anything except impossibilities: and I know that the conquest of America is an impossibility.

Yon cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst, but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. You may swell every expense, and strain every effort, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot; your attempts will be forever vain and impotent; doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which

you rely; for it irritates to an incurable resentment the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop were landed in my country, I would never lay down my arms-never, never, never! -William Pitt. Oct. 31.

ONCE TO EVERY MAN AND NATION.

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,

In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;

Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right,

And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.

Careless seems the great Avenger; History's pages but record

One death grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word; Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown,

Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.

Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust,

Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 'tis prosperous to be just;

Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside,

Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified,

And the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.

For humanity sweeps onward: where to-day the martyr stands,

On the morrow crouches Judas with the silver in his hands;

Far in front the cross stands ready, and the crackling fagots burn,

While the hooting mob of yesterday in silent awe return

To glean up the scattered ashes into His

tory's golden urn.

New occasions teach new duties; time makes ancient good uncouth;

They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast with Truth;

Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be,

Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea.

Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.

James Russell Lowell.

THE TONGUE.

For in many things we offend all. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body. Behold, we put bits in the horses' mouths, that they may obey us; and we turn about their whole body. Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whither soever the governor listeth. Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!

And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell. For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind: but the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.—James. Nov. 7.

CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward.
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew

Some one had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die;
Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them,

Volleyed and thundered.
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well;
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell.

Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while

All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery smoke,
Right through the line they broke ;
Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the sabre stroke,

Shattered and sundered.

Then they rode back; but not-
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them,

Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them-

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade-
Noble six hundred.

ENDURING INFLUENCE. We see not in this life the end of human actions. Their influence never dies. In ever-widening circles it reaches beyond the grave. Death removes us from this to an eternal world; time determines what shall be our condition in that world. Every morning, when we go forth, we lay the moulding hand upon our destiny; and every evening, when we have done, we leave a deathless impression upon our characters. We touch not a wire but vibrates in eternity, we breathe not a thought but reports at the Throne of God. Let youth especially think of these things; and let every one remember that, in this world,-where character is in its formation state, it is a serious thing to think, to speak, to act.

PROCRASTINATION.

Nov. 14.

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
If not so frequent, would not this be strange?
That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still.

Of man's miraculous escapes this bears
The palm, "that all men are about to live,"
Forever on the brink of being born;
All pay themselves the compliment to think
They one day shall not drivel, and their pride
On this reversion takes up ready praise;
At least their own, their future selves applaud;
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's 'vails;
That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they consign;
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone.
'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool,
And scarce in human wisdom to do more.

All promise is poor dilatory man,

And that thro' every stage. When young, indeed,

In full content we sometimes nobly rest,
Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish,
As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise.
At thirty man suspects himself a fool;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought,
Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same.

And why? because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal but themselves;
Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate
Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the sudden
dread;

But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where passed the shaft no trace is found;

As from the wing no scar the sky retains,
The parted wave no furrow from the keel,
So dies in human hearts the thought of death;
E'en with the tender tear which nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Edward Young.

TRIBUTE TO CHARITY.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a

child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child but when I became a man I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.-Paul. Nov. 21.

THE MAN WITH THE HOE.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,

And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back his brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within his brain?

[Millet's World Famous Painting.]

Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land,
To trace the stars and search the heavens for
power;

To feel the passion of Eternity?

[suns

Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the
And pillared the blue firmament with light?
Down all the stretch of hell to its last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this-
More tongued with censure of the world's blind
greed-

More filled with signs and portents for the soul-
More fraught with menace to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop:
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Judges of the world.

A protest that is also prophecy.

O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands
Is this the handiwork you give to God-
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-
quenched?

How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Touch it again with immortality;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters. lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the Future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings-
With those who shaped him to the thing he is-
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God,
After the silence of the centuries?

Edward Markham.

THE BEATITUDES.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. Nov. 28.

ON DUTY AT CALAMBA.

IN THE PHILIPPINES.

WE look for news of the war in the

The campaign in these islands means far more than to be victorious in the military struggle waging there that is costing so much, both in money and in the lives of men. It will mean advance in manhood civilization and enlightenment. War is in itself a terrible evil, but in its consequences it may prove an infinite good. The history of the race has often shown this; and we think the present will take its place along with those wars marking eras and epochs, in whose train have followed blessings.

The extracts given below are from private letters of Capt. Edward W. McCaskey, of Lancaster, now serving as Quarter-Master of the 21st U. S. Infantry. This regiment has for the past three months been stationed at Calamba, an inland town some thirty miles from Manila, on the Baie river, which empties into a large laguna or lake. Capt. M. is a very busy man, with all the wide range of duties of the army quartermaster in active service; but he carries a large envelope well-stocked with blank paper, writing rapidly as he would talk when time or topic is presented, and mailing three of these envelopes per week to his wife at home. An interesting book could be written from these sketchy letters and accompanying notes, since he started for the Philippines. The following cover about twenty days, and are from letters of the latest dates received:

Sept. 25-Landing flooded, a large part of the track for quarter of mile under four feet of water. Got off cargo and lot of smuggled stuff. Just in, a big lot of clothing and supplies of all sorts badly needed, and about four tons of ordnance stores. The smuggled stock included four cases Bourbon, eight large packages wine, two kegs vino, a lot of beer, and much besides. Had a pointer to look out for something crooked. It was a big haul, running into thousands. Rained hard. Hot enough to make one dizzy. Had a dug-out ride in the bay, while getting off the boat for the city. Business piled up high. Major Wittich got in to-day. will command the five companies in town and on the south line.

He

Sept. 26. Sun out strong at 6 a. m. Plenty of hustling all day. Got a big ice chest across the river that filled a four-line wagon; mess chests, tentage, canteen stuff, etc. Boat passed Pasig at 2 p. m., due here towards six o'clock. Seven sacks mail aboard. Hope we get good home news. Also a ton of mutton, lot of ice, and other odds and ends. Must drive to get it off. When she gets in, mail goes first load, ice next, meat next, then general cargo. Some breeze going, not of much account, rode out in thin shirt this afternoon. Awful hot till the rain came. Took a short cut when riding the line and got stuck in the mud.

Sept. 27.-Same to you all. Hot, got Q. M. business at every company to look up. Always hustle for those five companies beyond the river. They have little, and the duty is tough, and the mud awful. Got meat away to the companies with four-line team at 6 a. m., and boat off to city at 8 a. m. Chino troubles galore with our sixty-eight slaves. Have two more cscaped Spanish prisoners. They report passing 5,000 rebels, traveled thirty miles. Load of horses coming up

for artillery. Usual labor gangs working slowly. We are still in a state of siege, but the firing has fallen off. My end of the work, in quartermaster's department, has no end to it, and generally it seems to be in a snarl, but I get some results. Have unloaded and brought up and stored all stores promptly and kept them out of the wet; repaired and raised the tram railway and fixed the roadway with ditches and grades so that it remains a road for use in wet spells, when it used to be a river and full of bad places. Have a tug making three trips a week with a casco in tow from Manila; also three trips to Banos, our outpost, with stores. We cannot connect by land, the rebels between here and there. It is said that 4,000 rebels are opposed to us, but they are spread out for chow, and are expecting us to advance towards St. Thomas. Three hundred Spanish prisoners are within twelve miles of us, at St. Pablo. Six got away and came in here yesterday. 1500 Spanish prisoners are said to be within thirty miles of us and in dire want. We are selling rice here to poor women and children. They were starving. I employ 30 to 40 Filipino men per day, refoading cargo. Pay 30 cents Mexican and pairing, and in sanitary cleaning and unchow worth as much more. We have very many sick, probably six hundred effective men who can march and fight.

Sept. 28.-Heavy rain, harder than ever. Waiting now for hospital boat. All ready to take the sick down and put them aboard. Spy just in, reports attack coming soon. very slow to work. But work must go on, The gangs know something is up and are and we keep them moving. The landingplace for the boat is a nest of rebels. Just as well it was late to-day. It took twenty sick men.

That job of getting them down to the landing and on to the boat is a dre dful one. When will it end! The rebels have more men than usual on our front. Something will happen soon, I suppose. This morning a big casco with a very heavy cargo of rations stuck on the outer bar. After getting the city trip away, I had a rebel paddle me out to it and the men lighter off some of the stuff in bancas, so that we got it afloat and up to the landing. The people were ugly and surly, and my gang didn't want to work. They expected trouble from Bocolon, on our left. A general and a large force and cannon are reported there. An attack on our right is due to-morrow, the spy says. That will be made on C, K, D, and around to our right and rear across the lower ford. Hard crowd in that puebla. We will "do" them any way they come.

Sept. 29.-No scrap yet. Rode the line and picked up plenty of needs. Saw Walter. He looks fit. Up nearly all night on lookout business. The moon came up about I a. m., and sky and stars were fine. We must be ready at all times day and night, but the waiting for an attack by night is long. Got in coal, a ton of meat, half ton