--_Chrysostom._ 944 Hunger is the mother of impatience and anger. --_Zimmerman._ 945 They must hunger in frost who spring-time have lost. --_German._ 946 The full stomach cannot comprehend the hungry one. 947 Wait is a hard word to the hungry. --_From the German._ 948 HUSBAND--EXCELLENCIES OF A. Faithful--as dog, the lonely shepherd's pride; True--as the helm, the bark's protecting guide; Firm--as the shaft that props the towering dome; Sweet--as to shipwreck'd seaman land and home; Lovely--as child, a parent's sole delight; Radiant--as morn, that breaks a stormy night; Grateful--as streams, that, in some deep recess, With rills unhoped the panting traveler bless, Is he that links with mine his chain of life, Names himself lord, and deigns to call me wife. --_Aeschylus._ 949 Between husband and wife there should be no question as to material interests. All things should be in common between them without any distinction or means of distinguishing. 950 WHAT A SONG DID. A Scottish youth learned, with a pious mother, to sing the old psalms that were then as household words to them in the kirk (church) and by the fireside. When he had grown up he wandered away from his native country, was taken captive by the Turks, and made a slave in one of the Barbary States. But he never forgot the songs of Zion, although he sang them in a strange land and to heathen ears. One night he was solacing himself in this manner when the attention of some sailors on board of a British man-of-war was directed to the familiar tune of "Old Hundred" as it came floating over the moonlit waves. At once they surmised the truth that one of their countrymen was languishing away his life as a captive. Quickly arming themselves, they manned a boat and lost no time in effecting his release. What joy to him after eighteen long years passed in slavery! Is it strange that he ever afterwards cherished the glorious tune of "Old Hundred?" --_Old Magazine._ I 951 The I is worthy of aversion when it is principally confined to the person who uses it. --_Pascal._ 952 What am I? Naught! But the effluence of Thy light divine Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too. Yes, in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine, As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. Naught! But I live, and on Hope's pinions fly Eager toward Thy presence; for in Thee, I live, and breathe, and dwell, aspiring high, Even to the throne of Thy divinity. I am, O God, and surely Thou must be!