A word, a look, aye, even a tone may be the making or undoing of a soul. My brother! remember that to those amongst whom you are thrown, you must be, morally, either air or water. Air, to fan the smouldering spark of good, till its white flame mounts higher and higher, encircling your head with a halo of glory; or water, to quench that same spark, which, in dying, will envelop you in the blackness of darkness for ever and ever. HASTY JUDGMENT. How little, in this world of ours, One heart doth know another; Man treads alone the path of life, A stranger to his brother. The heart hath its own depths--it strives With sacred awe to hide, E’en from those round us, journeying on Unconscious at our side. Recesses, which, to the world’s gaze, Are dark and barred from view; Hence comes it that the public eye So rarely reads us true. And yet a light does reach those depths-- Those Portals have a key; They’re brightened by Love’s silver beams, Unlocked by Sympathy. Those ashes, which, to common view, Cold, dark, and lifeless seem, When stirr’d by Sympathy’s soft touch, Send forth a brilliant gleam. Then pause, nor judge thy fellow man; Remember it may be, The heart is beating underneath, But thou dost lack the key. CHRISTMAS AT THE U.S.A. HOSPITAL, ---- ----. I promised, when we parted, dear C., that you should have some account of our Christmas doings; but the busy days have slipped by, till now, without my finding a moment to redeem that promise. You know how we are all occupied at that time; but no matter how much there is to be done, in these days “private interests” have a different signification, and demand attention. The morning of Christmas Eve, therefore, found ---- and myself on our way to the hospital. With that ready interest which, with her, always rises to meet the emergency, even at the busiest moments, she has offered to go with me and help us in our work; and you know how it doubles my pleasure for her to do so. Several of the ladies have agreed to meet here to-day; some for the purpose of superintending the cooking for the Christmas dinner, plum-puddings, etc.; others to make and put up the greens for the Christmas decoration; we, as you may suppose, are among the latter class. Our quiet ladies’ room is quite a scene of bustle this morning; the ladies in charge for the week carrying on, or attempting to carry on, their usual duties; others flying in and out for various purposes; green wreaths strewing the floor, and vain attempts are being made to twist them into some available shape.