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Kep' his spirits jest like wine,
Bubblin' up an' "feelin' fine!"

"Feelin' fine"-I hope he'll stay
All his three score that-a-way,
Lettin' his demeanor be

Sech as you could have or me
Ef we tried, an' went along
Spillin' little drops o' song,
Lettin' rosebuds sort o' twine
O'er th' thorns and "feelin' fine."

From "Tales of the Trail,"

E. P. Dutton & Co.

James W. Foley.


"Know yourself," said the Greeks. "Be yourself," bade Marcus Aurelius. "Give yourself," taught the Master. Though the third precept is the noblest, the first and second are admirable also. The second is violated on all hands. Yet to be what nature planned us to develop our own natural selves-is better than to copy those who are wittier or wiser or otherwise better endowed than we. Genuineness should always be preferred to imitation.

DE sunflower ain't de daisy, and de melon ain't de rose

Why is dey all so crazy to be sumfin else dat grows? Jess stick to de place yo're planted, and do de bes yo knows;

Be de sunflower or de daisy, de melon or de rose.
Don't be what yo ain't, jess yo be what yo is,

If yo am not what yo are den yo is not what you is,

If yo're jess a little tadpole, don't yo try to be de frog;
If yo are de tail, don't yo try to wag de dawg.

Pass de plate if yo can't exhawt and preach;

If yo're jess a little pebble, don't yo try to be de beach;
When a man is what he isn't, den he isn't what he is,
An' as sure as I'm talking, he's a-gwine to get his.



The poet in lonely mood came suddenly upon a host of daffodils and was thrilled by their joyous beauty. But delightful as the immediate scene was, it was by no means the best part of his experience. For long afterwards, when he least expected it, memory brought back the flowers to the eye of his spirit, filled his solitary moments with thoughts of past happiness, and took him once more (so to speak) into the free open air and the sunshine. Just so for us the memory of happy sights we have seen comes back again to bring us pleasure.


WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee :—
A Poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company!

I gazed and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth.

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No man is without a reason to be thankful. If he lacks grati tude, the fault lies at least partly with himself.

OR what are we thankful for? For this:

FOR are weth and the sunlight of life.

For the love of the child, and the kiss
On the lips of the mother and wife.
For roses entwining,

For bud and for bloom,
And hopes that are shining
Like stars in the gloom.

For what are we thankful for? For this:
The strength and the patience of toil;

For ever the dreams that are bliss-
The hope of the seed in the soil.
For souls that are whiter
From day unto day;
And lives that are brighter
From going God's way.

For what are we thankful for? For all:
The sunlight-the shadow-the song;
The blossoms may wither and fall,
But the world moves in music along!
For simple, sweet living,

('Tis love that doth teach it)
A heaven forgiving

And faith that can reach it!

Printed in and permission from "The Atlanta Constitution."

Frank L. Stanton.

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