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March 9, 1864—pg. 6

The Republican.
     What makes a fire so pleasant, is that it is a live thing in a dead room.
     Many a fellow, who talks of laying down his life, had much better elevate it.
     Great opportunities are generally the result of the wise improvement of small ones.
     God is great, and therefore He should be sought; He is good, and therefore He can be found.
     Many people have just enough conscience to keep them tolerably miserable all their lives.
     Don’t undertake to use big words without being first sure as to the exact calibre of your mouth.
     Half of our forebodings as to our neighbors are but wishes that we are ashamed to utter in any other form.
     A wit has just discovered the true cause of the bravery in negro troops; they are the color bearers of the human race.
     A soldier in one of the Kentucky camps says the motto with them is: “United we sleep; divided we freeze.”
     Large license is accorded to beauty. Every woman can venture to be saucy if she pleases, but not if she displeases.
     A shilling, spent idly by a fool, may be picked up by a wise man, who knows better what to do with it; so it is not lost.
     It would be a bad thing for a child to get a wasp in his mouth, but he can’t even say his alphabet without getting A B in it.
     Not in unmanly characters does mildness charm, but in manly ones; as energy does, not in unwomanly ones, but in the womanly.
     An exchange says: “A treat acts upon us like a spur upon a horse. We suppose he meant a threat, but are by no means sure.
     A victim of sea-sickness described his sensations thus: “The first hour I was afraid I should die; and the second hour I was more afraid I shouldn’t.
     An army chaplain, preaching to his soldiers, exclaimed: “If God be with us, who can be against us?” “Jeff Davis and the devil!” promptly exclaimed one of the boys.
     If we are loved by those around us, we can easily bear the hostility of all the rest of the world; just as, if we are before a warm fire, we need not care for all the ice in the Polar regions.
     If you would relish your food, labor for it; if you would enjoy your raiment, pay for it before you wear it; if you would sleep soundly, take a clear conscience to bed with you.
     A woman in Ayr, Scotland, found in the center of a potato a gold wedding ring, which the ambitious tuber must have enclosed in the process of growth. It probably was a “lady’s finger” potato.
     An old friend, whose domestic hearth is somewhat the warmer for his wife’s temper, remarks that, while bachelors like to be considered ‘cute bargainers, he prefers to conceal the fact of his being shrew’d.


The Singer.
               O lark! sweet lark!
                    Where learn you all your minstrelsy?
                    What are the realms to which you fly?
               While robins feed their young from noon till dark,
                         You soar on high,
                         Forever in the sky.

               O child! dear child!
                    Above the clouds I lift my wing,
                    To hear the bells of Heaven ring;
               Some of my music, though my flights be wild,
                    To earth I bring—
                    Then let me soar and sing.
                                     E. C. Stedman.

                    Flowers—well, if anybody
                       Can the ecstacy define,
                    Half a transport, half a trouble,
                       With which flowers humble men—
                    Anybody find the fountain
                       From which floods so contra flow,
                    I will give him all the daisies
                       Which upon the hill-side blow!

                    Too much pathos in their faces,
                       For a simple breast like mine!
                    Butterflies from San Domingo,
                       Cruising round the purple line,
                    Have a system of esthetics
                       Far superior to mine!
                                     Brooklyn Drum Beat.
No Cross, No Crown.
                         No cross, no crown!
               No cloud to shadow o’er our pathway here,
               No sunlight everlasting for us there;
               No sadness for our spirit now to bear,
                         No joy to come!

                         No cross, no crown!
               No “armor” on to meet the conflict here,
               No “palms of victory” to greet us there;
               No mourning here, no songs of joy to share
                         Around the throne.

                         No cross, no crown!
               For every sorrow that our hearts now bear,
               For every thorn that wounds, for every care,
               There is a bliss laid up—a wondrous share
                         In that bright home.

                         No cross, no crown!
               Hereafter will the brightest pleasure know,
               The heart that bears the heaviest weight of woe,
               Where rest and joy, and peace eternal flow,
                         Through Christ the Son.

                         No cross, no crown!
                ‘Tis only for a little while that we
               Must walk so burdened; even now we see
               The shining crown awaiting us, when we
                         Our cross lay down.

                         No cross, no crown!
               And He who bore the darkest, heaviest cross,
               Without one stain of sin or earthly dross,
               Metes out with gentleness each gain or loss,
                         To save His own.

                         No cross, no crown!
               The way is rough, but we are not alone;
               For He who once the same dark path has gone
               Goes now with us; and He will not disown
                         The Weakest one.