“I love to hear the bee sing amid the blossoms sunny;
    To me his drowsy melody is sweeter than his honey: 
      For, while the shades are shifting
        Along the path to noon,
      My happy brain goes drifting
        To dreamland on his tune.

    “I love to hear the wind blow amid the blushing petals,
    And when a fragile flower falls, to watch it as it settles;
      And view each leaflet falling
        Upon the emerald turf,
      With idle mind recalling
        The bubbles on the surf.

“I love to lie upon the grass, and let my glances wander
Earthward and skyward there; while peacefully I ponder
How much of purest pleasure
Earth holds for his delight
Who takes life’s cup to measure
Naught but its blessings bright.”

Upon every side of us are to be found what one has happily called—­

UNWORKED joy Mines.

And he who goes “prospecting” to see what he can daily discover is a wise man, training his eye to see beauty in everything and everywhere.

“One ought, every day,” says Goethe, “at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.”  And if this be good for one’s self, why not try the song, the poem, the picture, and the good words, on some one else?

Shall music and poetry die out of you while you are struggling for that which can never enrich the character, nor add to the soul’s worth?  Shall a disciplined imagination fill the mind with beautiful pictures?  He who has intellectual resources to fall back upon will not lack for daily recreation most wholesome.

It was a remark of Archbishop Whately that we ought not only to cultivate the cornfields of the mind, but the pleasure-grounds also.  A well-balanced life is a cheerful life; a happy union of fine qualities and unruffled temper, a clear judgment, and well-proportioned faculties.  In a corner of his desk, Lincoln kept a copy of the latest humorous work; and it was frequently his habit, when fatigued, annoyed, or depressed, to take this up, and read a chapter with great relief.  Clean, sensible wit, or sheer nonsense,—­anything to provoke mirth and make a man jollier,—­this, too, is a gift from Heaven.

In the world of books, what is grand and inspiring may easily become a part of every man’s life.  A fondness for good literature, for good fiction, for travel, for history, and for biography,—­what is better than this?

The queen of the world.

This title best fits Victoria, the true queen of the world, but it fits her best because she is the best type of a noble wife, the queen of her husband’s heart, and of a queen mother whose children rise up and call her blessed.

“I noticed,” said Franklin, “a mechanic, among a number of others, at work on a house a little way from my office, who always appeared to be in a merry humor; he had a kind word and smile for every one he met.  Let the day be ever so cold, gloomy, or sunless, a happy smile danced on his cheerful countenance.  Meeting him one morning, I asked him to tell me the secret of his constant flow of spirits.