'_Non dum_,' 'not yet,' was the motto of a great king, who, when the time came, shook Europe with his victories. 'Not yet,' says the Christian, struggling through trial and temptation towards the peace which passeth understanding and a heavenly crown. 'Not yet,' says the brave reformer, fighting through lies and petty malice, and all the meanness of foes lying in wait, ere he can convince the world that he is in the right. 'Not yet,' says the soldier, as he marches his weary round, waiting to be relieved, and musing on the battle and the war for which he has pledged his life and his honor--and they are a world to _him_. 'Not yet,' says every great man and woman, laying hands to every noble task in time, which is to roll onward in result into eternity. Wait, wait, thou active soul,--even in thy most vigorous activity let thy work be one of waiting, and of great patience in thy fiercest toil. There will come a day of triumph, when the fresh wind will banish the heat, and fan the laurel on thy brow. Such is the true moral of the following lyric:-- FALLEN. BY EDWARD S. RAND. Blow gently, Oh ye winter winds, Along the ferny reaches, Nor whirl the yellow leaves which cling Upon the saddened beeches; And gently breathe upon the hills Where spring's first violets perished,-- Died like the budding summer hopes Our hearts too fondly cherished. Oh memory, bring not back the past, To brim our cup of sorrow; The drear to-day creeps on to bring A drearier to-morrow. Can streaming eyes and aching hearts Glow at the battle's story, Or they who stake their all and lose Exult in fame and glory? Oh, lay them tenderly to rest, Those for their country dying,-- Let breaking hearts and trembling lips Pour the sad dirge of sighing. Yet louder than the requiem raise The song of exultation, That the great heritage is ours _To die to save the nation_. In patience wait, nor think that yet Shall Right and Freedom perish, Nor yet Oppression trample down The heritage we cherish! For still remember, precious things Are won by stern endeavor,-- Though in the strife our heart-strings break, The Right lives on forever. * * * * * When you write let your chirography be legible. Strive not overmuch after beauty of finish, make not your _a_'s like unto _u_'s or your _o_'s like _v_'s; let not your heart be seduced by the loveliness of flourishes, and be not tempted of long-tailed letters. Above all, write your own name distinctly,--which is more than many do, and much more than was done by the gentleman described in the following letter from a kindly correspondent:-- MADISON, WIS. DEAR CONTINENTAL: