{"character_count": 5505, "word_count": 1036, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9661999940872192], "ccnet_perplexity": [994.0999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
With pompous pretensionS, the one strive valnly to explain mysteries which are forev CT hidden from his sight. The other, in it humbleness, simply tells us of the heetnes of time. The lessons of this are of practica utility, and if we were to listen to them as W, ought, we should think less of ourselves, ant look upon futurity as the period when ou knowledge of God and the universe woult be consummated. Why, then, should thu ticking of a watch be beneath our notice If we were but conscious of our own utter lit tleness, we would not dare look with con tempt on the smallest atom in the world.- Even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without attracting the notice of its Creator

 There is something in the nature of s lence which always affects me deeply. Why 1t is know not; '; but do know that love tt be alone at such an hour as this. love tC forget the outward world, and hold commun. ion with the beings of the mind. And in q 1 lonely place like this, if we invite them, they Will always come with their beautiful smiles and sorrowful tears, whispering thoughts in- | to the soul about another and better world With them, too,

 | -the forms of the departed

 | Enter at the open door;

 | The loved ones, the true hearted

 | Come 10 visit me once more.-Longf gfeUon. | Yes! they come-the young, the good, the beautiful-those whom l loved long years ago, when life was but a pleasant dream.- That dream is now q sad reality.

 What an impressive night a slumbering city. The beating of its mighty heart has ceased. Filled as it is with the power of man, 1t Is now as helpless as an infant on its mothers breast.

 Go we back only few years, and we be- hold this spot small portion of an uncultiva- ted wilderness. Here the Indian lover WOOL ed his dusky mute, and the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer" Is there spot on the face of the earth where change and decay have not been? Alas there is not. In that delightful land enbosomcd in the | Mediterranean sea, there once stood in its pride and strength, one of the most delight ] full cities in the world. It had seven hills for its foundation, and thousand domes glitter | ed above its battlements. It was the seat of 1 the learning and the arts. She was mistress ofthe world. Pleasure and fame were sought, and their votaries were satisfied just the same as they are in these our days. Since then, many centuries have rolled away and are lost in oblivion. They have gone, and O, how 1 many millions of men have gone with them ] to the shoreless ocean of eternity. The spot where this city once stood may he pressed by the foot ofthe traveller, but he cannot behold her former glory, for that has passed away. Her palaces have crumbled, and the owl builds her nest within the moulderng cham bers of her kings. I he poets Tyre is broken. The voice of eloquence is forever hushed.- The wine cup is in the dust. The voice of their merriment has long since ceased. The good, the brave, the noble, the wealthy, and the poor. are all forgotten. Spirit of change! these mighty revolutions are thine. Thou art the eldest born of time thy lessons arc precious to the soul, and ever should they be treasured in the memory. Nf1>s

 saw beautiful child sporting in is ss2;s. sss2s. horison ot her hope. i retGrnedEss we mother was in her grave. The buch .' changed. Trembling with thepo he said years, he stood the last of his geShct mus. il stranger amidst tho perishing Iaon to please V earth. -, bargains q, l I saw a river, whose bosom was C:';o.o =, mirror, picturing the beauties of earth ana sky. l returned, but it was marble, and heard the skaters steel ring upon its surface.

 1saw youth kneeling at the feet of fair girl, who was the idol of his heart A few years were gone, and the VOWS of each were forgotten and they were weeping for differ ent sorrows in separate homes.

 Change and decay are written upon every thing earthly. As surely will the proudest monuments of human labor pass away, as the morning mist among the hills. live can look upon the past and behold the ravages oi time, or on the present and not feel hIs pow. erful influence upon ourselves and the things around us, then indeed will our future be I dark and cheerless. Let us remember, that although this is but theatre of change. there is a world beyond the skies where the Sa. viour reigns supreme, and where change and decay can never come: e..

 That man was a philosopher, who said the history of the world was history of ruin.- It is so. Wherever we turn our eyes, wo cannot fail to behold some magnificent rlllz. Our daily footsteps are imprinted in theaft of things which were once the admira nl men. They are the hieroglyphics zinlo Silent and holy are their teachings. Some. times they remind us of beaptYHnR peace and sometimes of terror, tun'z N.'4 Woe.- They have nothing to do( 1lliirc and present. but the past is thk5E zIk and yet huii wise, how important teIE eozee

 In the spring ima 1l lie. unE 'Rs .E'ael ot the year, Onc fff pn ahs

 Superior. Fremesi sa,urday y' 'iSs..

 the ruin of an Ini- . 0" p. sn a,nen. was in the wasce. E Tf'"'u ''ea 'es' ""'o" Ethe black bass f0una se snrrSp while the horse . were covered with ua6ss .csn her body. So iniu I was alone, and lnihat faf-oll cesaory to sh' the voice of that simple ruin eauIg PaIlsdisn. 10 my soul, and looked upon il q <e: ful but melancholy type ~ tlie

 '" I have hayes seen | flowes.b' Soming ia ' in secluded vale. agsaycfA ! hnd q clll to look again. a chilly aEif Df ar mn =