ON Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread;

And Glory guards with solemn sound
The bivouac of the dead.

Theodore O'Hara.

THE hand of the reaper

Takes the ears that are hoary,

But the voice of the weeper
Wails manhood in glory.

Scott.

SUCH graves as theirs are pilgrim shrines—
Shrines to no code or creed confined-
The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
The Meccas of the mind.

God never meant that we should call this home,
This world of woe;

We use a strange misnomer and cheat ourselves
In thinking so.

If this were home, no flower would lose its bloom,
No leaf would fall;

No life decay, no shadow from the tomb
Our hearts appal.

This home? then none would lay their armor down
In helpless weakness;

But, step by step, life's work would rounded be
To full completeness.

If this were home, then walking with us here,
With glory crowned,

Were those we laid to sleep, covered with scars,
Beneath the ground.

No palsied limb, nor weary brain, nor aching heart
Is found at home;

But joy and peace, and strength, and life divine
Are there alone.

Thank God, we know this earth is not our home!
No fond delusion

Can make us think our Father left us here
To blind confusion.

Thank God, that in life's little day, through all
Our care and sorrow

We have the promise from His lips, of home,
Sweet home, to-morrow!

A home unclouded by a grief, and where,
In mansions fair,

We'll clasp once more our missing ones! No hearts Are broken there.

M. E. K.

HEROIC spirits! take your rest!
Ye are richer; we are poorer;
Yet, because ye have been with us,
Life is manlier, heaven surer.

XXXVI.

PARTING BEACONS.

How brief this drama of our life appears! The good die not! This heritage they leaveThe record of a life in virtue spent ;

For our own loss, at parting we may grieve

Lives such as theirs build their own monument.

COULD we see when and where we are to meet again, we would be more tender when we bid our friends good-bye. Ouida.

NEVER part without loving words to think of during your absence. It may be that you will not meet again in life.

Richter.

WHAT is sadder in our reflection, and yet what more frequent, than our unconscious farewells!

George Eliot.

THE Lord watch between me and thee,
When we are absent one from another.

Bible.

FAREWELL! a word that hath been and must be-
A sound which makes us linger; yet farewell!

Byron.

WHEN two persons dearly attached to one another separate, how much more to be pitied is the one who remains than the one who goes!

ALL farewells should be sudden, when forever!

Ruffini.

Byron.

I NEVER cast a flower away,

The gift of one who cared for me,

A little flower-a faded flower,
But it was done reluctantly.

I never speak the word farewell
But with an utterance faint and broken,
An earth-sick longing for the time
When it shall never more be spoken.

Mrs. Southey.

SUCH parting were too petty.

LIFE! we've been long together,

Shakespeare.

Thro' pleasant and thro' cloudy weather;

'Tis hard to part when friends are dear,
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;

Then steal away, give little warning,

Choose thine own time;

Say not good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me good-morning.

IF thou dost bid thy friend farewell,

Mrs. Barbauld.

But for one night though that farewell may. be,
Press thou his hand in thine;

How canst thou tell how far from thee

Fate or caprice may lead his steps ere that to-morrow comes? Men have been known to lightly turn the corner of a street, And days have grown to months,

And months to lagging years, ere they have looked in lov ing eyes again.

Parting, at best, is underlaid

With tears and pain;

Therefore, lest sudden death should come between,

Or time, or distance-clasp with pressure firm the hand
Of him who goes forth;

Unseen, fate goeth too.

Yea, and thou hast always time to say some earnest word, Between the idle talk, lest with thee henceforth,

Night and day, regret should walk.

GOOD night! good night! parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Shakespeare.

LIFE is very critical. Any word may be our last. Any farewell, even amid glee and merriment, may be forever. If this truth were but burnt into our consciousness, would it not give a new meaning to all our human relationships? W. R. Alger.

THE separation of the righteous and the wicked in the day of judgment will be by its own nature final; renewal of fellowship will be forever undesirable.

Prof. E. D. Morris.

On to be ready when death shall come;

Oh to be ready to hasten home;
No earthward clinging,

No lingering gaze,

No step at parting,

No sore amaze,

No cloud-like phantom to fling a gloom

'Twixt heaven's bright portals and earth's dark tomb; But sweetly, gently to pass away

From the world's dim twilight into day.

WE are ever taking leave of something that will not come back again. We let go, with a pang, portion after portion of our existence. However dreary we may have felt life to be here, yet when that hour comes-the winding up of all things, the last grand rush of darkness on our spirits, the hour of that awful sudden wrench from all we have ever known or loved, the long farewell to sun, moon, stars, and light-brother men! I ask you this day, and I ask myself, humbly and fearfully, what will then be finished? When it is finished, what will it be? Will it be the butterfly existence of pleasure, the mere life of science, a life of uninterrupted sin, and selfish gratification; or will it be, "Father, I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do"?

F. W. Robertson.