Sidor som bilder

on the curbstone and roosting round on the back fence all the morning with shot-guns and other murderous weapons, and looking as if they were in earnest. We give notice here that we have moved the fire-proof safe against the door of our sanctum, and have lined the front stairs with spring-guns, cross-eyed Irishmen, and insane bull-terriers, who have not been fed for a week. The privileges of a free press shall not be interfered with while we wield a pen or possess a bull-dog." The Milky Way, however, died next day, Mr. Gumbs having slid down the water-spout and taken the early train for Kansas.

And so, too, not every one knows how to edit a family, and come out of the trial right side up with care. Often they, after repeated experiments, come off even worse than did Mr. Gumbs. Well, here is a book containing THE GRAND SECRET, and he or she who reads it understandingly, will find the ROAD TO HAPPINESS; be able to detect the counterfeit, appreciate the true and real, and say with those who have read it, "THIS IS THE GREATEST AND BEST Book on Human Love, that ever fell from mortal pen."

Glorious John Brougham, in his play, "The Dark Hour Before Dawn," hits the truth exactly, when he, in speaking of Women as not being queens, precisely, says: They are, as they always were, and always will be, secret agents, advisers and instigators, darling creatures and affectionate institutions generally, but in and through all, the absolute and irresistible movers of circumstances, the unseen influences that work the world's machinery, while the befooled, self-satisfied lesser half flatters himself that it's all his doing." And John Brougham was right! And also when he says: "It is sad that one should forget even in thought or for a single instant, that the UNERRING HAND holds the balance, and howsoever the world's tempest may assault the TRUTHFUL HEART, it must in time outride the storm."

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SAD, sad, are they who know not love,

But, far from passion's tears and smiles,
Drift down a moonless sea,
and pass
The silvery coasts of faëry isles.

But sadder they, whose longing lips


Kiss empty air, and never touch
The dear warm mouth of those they love, -
Waiting, wasting, suffering much.

But clear as amber, sweet as musk,

Is life to those whose lives unite!
They bask in Allah's smile by day,
And nestle in His heart by night.

- The Song of Fatima.

Thus sang she. Thus singeth every true soul. And to tell the world where to find the music, and how to pitch the eternal tune, is the object of this book from the soul and pen of



Words and Music by "CASCA LLANNA." Arranged for piano-forte.


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