Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day: On other days the man of toil is doom'd To eat his joyless bread--the ground Both seat and board--screen'd from the winter's cold And summer's heat, by neighboring hedge or tree; But on _this_ day, embosom'd in his home, He shares the frugal meal with those he loves. --_Grahame._ 1687 A well-spent Sabbath on earth, prepares us for the spending of a better one in heaven. 1688 Better a little in safety, than an abundance, surrounded by danger. 1689 More can be said in one minute than can be forgotten in a lifetime. 1690 SALT. When Henry Drummond was traveling in tropical Africa, he found that salt was regarded by the natives as a rare luxury. Often he offered the native boys the choice between a pinch of salt and a lump of sugar, and they always chose the salt. Once he presented the head man of a village with a spoonful of salt. The chief twisted a leaf into a little bag, into which he poured the salt. Then he held out his hand to the children who crowded around, and each was allowed one lick of his empty palm. 1691 A NAME ON THE SEA SAND. Alone I walked the ocean strand: A pearly shell was in my hand; I stooped and wrote upon the sand My name, the year, the day. As onward from the spot I passed, One lingering look behind I cast; A wave came rolling high and fast And washed my lines away. And so, methought, 'twill shortly be With every mark on earth from me. The above pretty lines are only superficially true. No man can live on earth without leaving, "footprints on the sands of time," which will influence those who come after him for good or evil. 1692 EMULATION IN A SCHOOL. More is learned in a public than in a private school from emulation: there is the collision of mind with mind, or the radiation of many minds pointing to one centre. --_Dr. Johnson._ 1693 THE DAME--SCHOOL. Here first I entered, though with toil and pain, The low vestibule of learning's fane: Entered with pain, yet soon I found the way, Though sometimes toilsome, many a sweet display. Much did I grieve, on that ill-fated morn, When I was first to school reluctant borne; Severe I thought the dame, though oft she tried To soothe my swelling spirits when I sighed; And oft, when harshly she reproved, I wept, To my lone corner broken-hearted crept, And thought of tender home, where anger never kept. * * * * * * * *