6
UNIVERSITY COURIER.
permit small trespasses, because it would be troublesome or profitless or unpopular to oppose, which leads to the habit of acquiescence in wrong and the decay of free institutions." Neglect of individual rights naturally promotes indifference to the rights of others. The principle is illustrated by the license with which individuals are dealt with by the newspapers, the popular notion that "the public have a right to intrude on private life as far as they like," the impunity with which corporations encroach upon private rights and dominate over courts, legislatures and governments, and the facility with which political machinery is worked by unscrupulous managers until "the sovereign people is fast becoming a puppet which moves and speaks as wire-pullers determine." Mr. Spencer does not affirm that republican institutions have failed in America. He denies it most strenuously, and evinces a profound appreciation of the magnitude of the work which our people have had to do in incorporating "vast bodies of immigrants of various bloods," and in solving social and geographical problems that are essentially new and inconceivably complex. Yet he cannot conceal his disappointment at finding that material progress has not been accompanied by "equal progress of a higher kind," that professional politicians have become the ruling power in public life, and that individuals are not "jealous of their own rights and also sympathetically jealous of the rights of others"—a condition which he considers essential to the proper working of free institutions.-N.Y.Tribune.
LITERARY.
SUBMISSION.
The trees in their majesty bowed down When the Lord in His might passed by; Not a leaf was stirred, not a murmur heard. While the little birds uttered their cry.
Submissive they bowed and held their heads. The mighty oaks and the strong;
Not a branch rebelled while their breath they held. As the storm-blast swept along.
But the trees uplifted their heads again When the Lord withheld His hand And stood with pride on the great hill side The kings of the vast woodland.
Upper Montclair, N. Y.
HELEN.
THE BEAUTIFUL GOLDEN DAYS.
The brightest and most beautiful days of all the year have come, and are too rapidly going; though they are cheering and exalting, they are also quieting and calming; every morning brings a new, bright hope, and every evening hour of sunset renews the calm and repose of the mind. Nature has many charms for all the year, but when she puts on her evening dress for September and October she is richer and more lavish than ever before.
My window looks out upon a most magnificent scene. The mountain is arrayed in great beauty, every shade and delicate tint, from the dark olives to the faintest, palest golden. The hedges, too, are in their gayest dress, and some of the fields look as though no one had
toiled there, but they alone had done some fine spinning.
We sometimes speak of the fairies, of their magic skill and nimble work at night, almost as though we believed some of these beauties sprang up at their bidding, but this work is more glorious, great in magnitude and perfect harmony.
When the first faint tints of the change began to appear, and the forests looked as though cloud-shadows were passing over them, while the sky was perfectly clear, we knew the beautiful days were coming, and when the thick mist like a grey veil rolled down and hid the mountain from our eyes, we missed its company even in the night; so much there is in nature to comfort and to cheer.
But when the morning sun stretched his great arms and lifted the veil, we beheld such glories that it almost seemed as though, in the dark night, behind that veil, the King in His beauty and majesty had come down and walked upon the mountain and through the valley, touching and breathing upon all, and the fields and hedges, knowing of His coming, had caught at His garment, holding it to check Him that He might stop and tarry for a while; for are not their hands full of His purple robe, and are not His golden scepters standing all about?
And the sun rode high at His bidding, and lighted up the work of His hand, making it brilliant and so glorious that in spirit we bowed before Him and worshiped.
Though the spring resurrection is joyous in life and freshness, the evening of the year, the bright sunset and twilight before the long winter night, is more glorious.
What could be more lovely and grand than the woods and the fields and hedges in these beautiful golden days? And who could have done it but the King in His greatness? No one on earth, not even the angels, nor those standing nearest His throne could create such wonderful beauty, such magnificence!
Yet He inspires a few of His children on earth to copy it, to try to put it on canvas. HELEN.
Upper Montclair.
ONLY BIRDS UPON THE WIRE.
"He gave to misery all he had, a tear;
He gain'd from Heaven, 'twas all he wish'd,
A friend."
Life is a struggle for happiness and a friend. We sometimes forget, in grasping after these, how beautiful a flower grows upon the thorny stalk of duty. It often seems hard and homely but despise it not for in it sleeps the breath of angels. If we knew how deep an import the next things had in making up our life we would not scorn them. Our offering may be meager, or our words may fall like the snow flakes upon the ocean—soon losing their identity. But each little flake adds its drop to the force of the mighty billows which sway the ship of public sentiment.
The path of duty, 'tis said, is full of thorns and slippery stones. And if our eyes are fixed upon the heavens we are apt to stumble and fall. But the heavens are fairer than the thorns and the blinding sands below, and cuts and bruises matter but little if we can catch a few glimpses of the reflection of that glorious light above and hear but a few faint echoes of the undying music of the land beyond our view.
Let us do earnestly and willingly the work of each day ere it shall have passed into the forever. Thinking of brighter, happier days often fills the present with a