a public meeting, and whilst walking through the streets he was knocked down by a runaway horse, and sustained such serious injuries that he died within twenty-four hours, at the age of seventy. 15. His best epitaph' is not written in marble or brass, but in those vast and innumerable public works with which his name was associated for more than a quarter of a century, and which tell far better than words can express how large was his heart and how boundless were his sympathies with his fellow-creatures. Narrowness of mind and pettiness of feeling were qualities altogether foreign to his fine nature. As has been already remarked, he never lost or discarded a friend, and he was always more ready to give others the credit of his own acts than he was to claim it for himself. Some men, as they rise in social position, think it necessary to throw overboard the friends of their youth; but George Moore was not a man of that stamp. His poorest neighbour from the fell-sides of Cumberland had as genial a welcome, as hearty a shake of the hand, and as cordial assistance when it was needed, as his most opulent acquaintance. 16. How many young men have owed their start in life to the generosity and personal influence of George Moore! How many a heavy heart has been lightened by the reflection that in him was to be found a kind and indulgent friend! Even the failings and faults of his acquaintances were never visited harshly upon them. It was this high principle and the extreme generosity of his character that made his name a household word in Cumberland. He had built Epitaph, an inscription upon a monument or tombstone in honour of the dead. himself a home in the hearts of the people among whom he was bred and reared, and among whom he spent a great portion of the later years of his life; and there his good deeds will dwell, and his memory will be cherished for generations yet to come. Carlisle Journal. DAILY WORK. 1. WHO lags for dread of daily work, A paltry knave— A clog upon the wheels of time. That he may live, His daily toil for daily fec. 2. No! Let us work! We only ask With mill, or bank No envy of a lord's estate. V. & VI. To satisfy our daily need, For age and pain, A fraction, we are rich indeed. 1 Feud, a long-standing quarrel. B 3. No dread of toil have we or ours, We know our worth and weigh our powers, The more we work, the more we win : Success to trade! Success to spade! And to the corn that's coming in! And never sinks His independence as a man. 4. Who only asks for humblest wealth, By chimney nook, Or stroll at setting of the sun. These are the men The best of men These are the men we mean to be! CHARLES MACKAY. ' Competence, a state which is out of dread of poverty, a con dition where one's income is sufficient for one's needs. A THUNDERSTORM IN THE HIGHLANDS. I. AN enormous thunder-cloud had lain all day over Ben Wyvis, shrouding its summit in thick darkness, blackening its sides and base, wherever they were beheld from the surrounding country, with masses of deep shadow, and especially flinging down a weight of gloom upon that magnificent glen that bears the same name as the mountain. Till now the afternoon was like twilight, and the voice of all the streams was distinct in the breathlessness of the vast solitary hollow. 2. The inhabitants of all the straths,2 vales, glens, and dells, round and about the monarch of Scottish mountains, had, during each successive hour, been expecting the roar of thunder and the deluge of rain; but the huge conglomeration3 of lowering clouds would not rend asunder, although it was certain that a calm blue sky could not be restored till all that dreadful assemblage had melted away in torrents, or been driven off by a stormy wind from the sea. 3. All the cattle on the hills and in the hollows stood still or lay down in their fear, the wild deer sought in herds the shelter of the pine-covered cliffs, the raven hushed his hoarse croak in some grim cavern, and the eagle left the dreadful silence of the upper heavens. Now and then the shepherds looked from their huts, while the shadow of the thunderclouds deepened the hues of their plaids and tartans ;4 ' Ben Wyvis, a mountain in the north of Scotland. 2 Strath, a wide open valley through which a river runs. 3 Conglomeration, a mixture of various bodies into one mass. 1 Plaids and tartans, checked and variously-coloured clothing worn by Highlanders, and at every creaking of the heavy branches of the pines or wide-armed oaks in the solitude of their inaccessible birth-place, the hearts of the lonely dwellers quaked, and they lifted up their eyes to see the first wide flash, the disparting of the masses of darkness, and paused to hear the long, loud rattle of heaven's artillery, shaking the foundations of the everlasting mountains. But all was yet silent. 4. The peal came at last, and it seemed as if an earthquake had smitten the silence. Not a tree, not a blade of grass moved, but the blow stunned, as it were, the heart of the solid globe. Then was there a low, wild, whispering, wailing voice, as if of so many spirits, all joining together from every point of heaven. It died away, and then the rushing of rain was heard through the darkness, and in a few minutes down came all the mountain torrents in their power, and the sides of all the steeps were suddenly sheeted, far and wide, with waterfalls. The element of water was let loose to run its rejoicing race, and that of fire lent it illumination, whether sweeping in floods along the great open straths, or tumbling in cataracts from cliffs overhanging the eagle's eyrie. 5. Great rivers were suddenly flooded, and the little mountain rivulets, a few minutes before only silver threads, and in whose fairy basins the minnow played, were now scarcely fordable to shepherds' feet. It was time for the strongest to take shelter, and none would have liked to issue from it; for while there was real danger to life and limb in the many raging torrents and in the lightning's flash, the imagination and the soul themselves were touched 'Disparting, parting asunder. |