time go, in its strong grasp upon eternity. This is the way that men are made, to make a state.

The men to make a state are made by self-denial. The willow dallies with the water, and is fanned forever by its coolest breeze, and draws its waves up in continual pulses of refreshment and delight; and is a willow, after all. An acorn has been loosened, some autumnal morning, by a squirrel's foot. It finds a nest in some rude cleft of an old granite rock, where there is scarcely earth to cover it. It knows no shelter, and it feels no shade. It squares itself against the storms. It shoulders through the blast. It asks no favor, and gives none. It grapples with the rock. It crowds up toward the sun. It is an oak. It has been seventy years an oak. It will be an oak for seven times seventy years; unless you need a man-of-war to thunder at the foe that shows a flag upon the shore, where freemen dwell; and then you take no willow in its daintiness and gracefulness; but that old, hardy, storm-stayed and stormstrengthened oak. So are the men made that will make a

state.

The men to make a state are themselves made by obedience. Obedience is the health of human hearts; obedience to God; obedience to father and to mother, who are, to children, in the place of God; obedience to teachers and to masters, who are in the place of father and of mother; obedience to spiritual pastors, who are God's ministers; and to the powers that be, which are ordained of God. Obedience is but self-government in action; and he can never govern men who does not govern first himself. Only such men can make a state.

A COUNTRY COURTSHIP.-FRANCIS O'Connor.

It was a night in harvest time;
The full, clear moon was gleamin'
With light that leads a fellow straight
To where bright eyes are beamin';
And earth and air were bathed all round
In just such milky splendor

As soaks a fellow through and through,
And makes him soft and tender.
You'll see young lovers on such nights,
Paired like the lights and shadows,
And hear low voices on the paths
That lead across the meadows.

The hands had both gone up to bed,
Tired out with all day sweepin'
Their cradles through the heavy grain,
And you could hear them sleepin';
But somehow Cousin Jake hung round
As restless as a swaller,

Till I slunk by to leave him free
And watch a chance to foller,
Then off he struck across the fields
To see the parson's darter-
He thought he scooted mighty sly,
But I was right straight arter.
Well, now, you'd ought to seen him go,
Down by the old stone-quarry,
And out through Jones's pasture, like
A Shanghai in a hurry!

At last I saw the parson's house
A-peepin' through the maples,
While dark behind the orchard lay,
All loaded down with apples.
There wa'n't a light about the place,
Save one in the back kitchen,
And by it sat the parson's wife,
A-stitchin' and a-stitchin'.
Jake he stole round into the yard,
All this here time supposin'
That I was safe at home at dad's,
And snug in bed a-snoozin';

I crawled along close by the fence,
And through the rails kept peekin',
While he went dodgin' round the barn,
And through the garden sneakin';
You see the parson drove his folks
With a patent pious snaffle,
And was the sort of parent

That a feller's got to baffle.

Just then Jake whistled low and clear, And then a little louder:

Thinks I," If you wake up the dog,

He'll chaw you into chowder!"

I knew he was a surly brute;
One night he bit our Barney,

Who come to tip the hired girl
A little Irish blarney;

Another time when Gridley's steer
Broke in the parson's clover,

He jumped and ketched him by the none
And keeled him right square over.
I heard a growl so awful deep,

I knowed at once 'twas Towser's,
And waited just to see him rush

And grab Jake by the trousers;
But no such thing: he wagged his tail
When Jake said, "Poor old fellow,"
And clapped him on his shaggy back,
All striped with black and yellow.
He nosed around a little while,
Pronounced the guest all right,
And just a kind o' doggedly

Wished him a pleasant night.
I watched Jake all this time, and saw
His eyeballs both a-glistenin',
And by the way his ears stuck up
I knew he was a-listenin'.

At last I heard the shed-door creak
Upon its rusty hinges,

And saw two little bright eyes peek
From out their silken fringes-

I heard him snicker as he took
Her little hand in his'n;
She tried to draw it out, but no-

Seemed 's though 'twas in State's-pris'n.
The moonlight was a-streamin' down
Too bright for Libbie's blushes,
And so they turned and took the seat
Beside the lilac-bushes;

Where sitting safely in the shade,
Among the moon-paled roses,
They got their heads so mighty close
I thought they'd bunk their noses;
And there they whispered for awhile,
As soft as kittens purrin':

Thinks I, "It's just about the time
For me to be a-stirrin'."

I stepped right back among the corn,
And got a rousin' punkin,

All rosy ripe, but soft in spots:
"By gum!" says I, "that's bunkin!
You'll never keep for cattle-feed
Nor makin' pies; but gosh!
Although you're spoiled for punkin,
You're exactly right for squash!"

I crept just as I've seen our cat
A-huntin' of a squirrel,
Until I come to where he sat
A-talkin' to his girl.

He had his head a-kind o' down,
A-sayin' suthin' tender:

I saw there wa'n't no time to lose-
Now was the time to send her!
I heaved her up, and let her zip,
Right square atween his shoulders:
The way that punkin smashed and flew
Would terrify beholders!

I guess he thought 'twas his own head
That fell around him shattered,
And that 'twas surely his own brains
By which he was bespattered-
(A very natural mistake.

Both heads were of one color,
If anything the punkin's was

A leetle mite the duller)

And though Jake always went well-dressed, And wa'n't by no means needy,

I never saw one in my life

Look so confounded seedy!

Jemima! what a yell he let!

And then he made a bound,

And cleared that 'ere old seven-rail fence,
While Lib she screamed and swound!

Great Cæsar! what a fearful mess
I'd made on't with my larkin'!
I thought I heard the side-door slam,
The dog began a-barkin'.

I knew if ketched in such a scrape,
I'd look almighty silly;

But Lib-I couldn't leave her there,
Stretched like a wilted lily!

So down I bent, more scared than Jake,

A-thinkin' every minit

That such a fuss would rouse the house
With every critter in it.

And there she lay as still as death,
Her face all set and white;

I raised her in my arms-and gosh!
My heart did beat with fright;

It made me tremble just to see
Her look as pale as starlight,

And find her forehead and her lips
As cold, too, as that far light.

But soon I noticed, as I watched,
Her color grow less pallid,

As one by one, back to their homes,
Her scattered senses rallied-

And then--you'd ought to seen her blush,
And stare in blank surprise,

At seein' me, instead of Jake,

On openin' her eyes!

Till, all at once, she tried to rise,

And bu'sted out a-cryin',
And then I felt most awful mean,
That 'ere there's no denyin'.
And "Lib," says I, still holdin' her,
"You're dreadful mad, I know;
Now, do forgive me, won't you, come?"
She sobbed out, "Let me go!"
I said she must forgive me first,
My arm around her tightened-
She didn't struggle very hard,
She was so weak and frightened.
And then I told her how, for fun,
I'd watched and followed Jake up,
And lammed him with the punkin just
To see him kind o' wake up;

And when I pictured how he jumped
And bellowed like a calf,

And how the punkin smashed and flew,
You'd ought to seen her laugh!

Now, though I ain't by no means soft,
I didn't know how tryin'

Twould be to have Lib in my arms,
A-laughin' and a-cryin';

And though I felt 'twas rather rough,
The way she chanced to come there,
I fairly longed to hold her clasped
Until she'd grown to home there.

Sometimes, mayhap, afore that night,
At singin'-school or meetin',

I'd dreamed of more 'twixt her and me
Than cold and distant greetin’;
And now I wished her all my own,
The precious little beauty;
But she grew shy, and I released
My rudely captured booty.

I didn't hurry home that night,
I'd caught the self-same fever
I tried to cure in Cousin Jake,
Before I turned to leave her.