men, however pressed with business, are always found capable of doing a little more; and you may rely on them in their busiest seasons with ten times more assurance than on idle men. 6. There is an instinct that tells us that the man who does much is most likely to do more, and to do it in the best manner. The reason is, that to do increases the power of doing; and it is much easier for one who is always exerting himself to exert himself a little more, than for him who does nothing to rouse himself to action. Give a busy man ten minutes to write a letter, and he will dash it off at once; give an idle man a day, and he will postpone it till to-morrow or next week. There is a momentum in the active man which of itself almost carries him to the mark, just as a very light stroke will keep a hoop agoing, while a smart one was required to set it in motion. 7. The men who do the greatest things do them not so much by prodigious but fitful efforts, as by steady, unremitting toil,-by turning even the moments to account. They have the genius for hard work,-the most desirable kind of genius. A continual dropping wears the stone. A little done this hour and a little the next hour, day by day, and year by year, brings much to pass. Even the largest houses are built by laying one stone upon another. 8. Complain not, then, of your want of leisure to do anything. Rather thank God that you are not cursed with leisure; for a curse it proves, in nine cases out of ten. What if, to achieve some good work which you have deeply at heart, you can never command an entire month, a week, or even a day? Shall you therefore stand still, and fold your arms in despair? No; the thought should only stimulate and urge you on to do what you can do in this swiftly passing life of ours. 9. Try what you can build up from the broken frag ments of your time, rendered more precious by their brevity. It is said that in the Mint the sweepings of the floor of the gold-working room are melted and coined. Learn from this the nobler economy of time: glean up its golden dust; economize with the utmost care those raspings and parings of existence, those leavings of days and bits of hours,-so valueless singly, so inestimable in the aggregate,-which most persons sweep out into the waste of life, and you will be rich in leisure. Rely upon it, if you are a miser of moments, if you hoard up and turn to account odd minutes and half-hours, you will at last be wealthier in intellectual acquisition, wealthier in good deeds harvested, than thousands whose time is all their own. 10. The biographer of George Stephenson tells us that the smallest fragments of his time were regarded by him as precious, and that "he was never so happy as when improving them." For years Benjamin Franklin strove, with inflexible resolution, to save for his own. instruction every minute that could be won. Henry Kirke White learned Greek while walking to and from a lawyer's office. Livingstone taught himself Latin grammar while working at the loom. Hugh Miller found time while pursuing his trade as a stone-mason, not only to read, but to write, cultivating his style till he became one of the most brilliant authors of the day. 11. The small stones that fill up the crevices are almost as essential to the firm wall as the great stones; and so the wise use of spare time contributes not a little to the building up of a man's mind in good proportions, and with strength. If you really prize mental culture, or are sincerely anxious to do any good thing, you will find time, or make time for it, sooner or later, however engrossed with other employments. failure to accomplish it can only prove the feebleness of your will, not that you lacked time for its execution. 59. THANATOPSIS. Read this poem to the class, calling attention to the rhetorical pauses and inflections, and questioning pupils about the rules that apply to the markings. Then let the class read the poem in concert. Next, require pupils to read singly; and, finally, assign a part of the poem to be memorized for recitation. To him who | in the love | of Nature | holds | Of the stern ágony, and shróud, and páll, In all his course; nor yet | in the cold gròund, Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim To mix forever | with the èlements. To be a brother | to the insensible rock | And to the sluggish clòd, which the rude swain | Turns with his sháre, and treads upon. The oak | Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish | In májesty, and the complaining brooks | Of the great tomb of man. The golden sùn, Their mirth and their employments, and shall come | The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes | To that mysterious realm, where each shall take WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 60. RIENZI TO THE ROMANS. I come not here to talk. Ye know too well Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great In that strange spell,-a name! Each hour, dark fraud, |