On the day of the Creation, the trees exultingly extolled themselves one towards another, every one about itself. "The Lord, by whom I was planted," said the lofty Cedar, "has united in me firmness, fragrance, duration, and strength." "Jehovah's affection has rendered me blessed," said the widely-spreading Palm-tree; "in me has He conjoined utility and beauteousness." "Like a bridegroom among the youths," said the Apple-tree, "I parade among the trees of Paradise." "Like the rose among the thorns," said the Myrtle, "I stand among my sisterhood, the lowly shrubs." So all extolled themselves, the Olive, the Fig, and the Pine. The Vine alone was silent, and drooped to the ground. "To me," said he to himself, "appears everything to be denied--trunk, branches, blossoms, and fruit; but such as I am, I will yet hope and wait." He then sank down, and his tendrils wept. He had not long waited and wept, before the friendly man, the godhead of the earth, stepped up to him. He saw that a feeble plant, the sport of the breezes, had sunk, and required help; he compassionately raised him up, and twined the tender tree to his bower. More gladly now the breezes played with his tendrils; the glow of the sun penetrated their hard, greenish buds, preparing in them the sweet juice, the drink for gods and men. Adorned with rich clusters, the Vine soon bowed himself down to his master, and he tasted the enlivening juice, and named him his friend. The proud trees now envied the feeble shoot, for many of them already stood without fruit; but he was glad of his slender form and of his steadfast hope. The juice, therefore, even now gladdens the heart of man, and lifts upwards the courage of the dejected, and refreshes the afflicted. Despair not, forsaken one, and abide enduring. In the unsightly cane springs the sweetest juice, and the feeble tendril brings forth inspiration and rapture. TEARS. As Hillel and his disciple Sadi wandered, on a moon and starlight night, among the gardens of the Mount of Olives, "See," said Sadi, "the man yonder, in the ray of the moon; what does he there?"--"It is Zadok," answered Hillel, "he sits at the grave of his son and weeps."--"Cannot he moderate his mourning?" said the youth, "for the people term him the just and wise."--"Shall he therefore," answered Hillel, "not experience pain?"--"But," asked Sadi, "what preference then has the wise man before the fool?" Then answered the teacher, "See, the bitter tear of his eye sinks to the earth, but his countenance is turned up to heaven." W.G.C. * * * * * THE SKETCH-BOOK. * * * * * THE OLD SOLDIER.