  By J. LOGIE ROBERTSON. All the mill-horses of Europe Were plodding round and round, All the mills were droning The same old sound. The drivers were dozing, the millers Were deaf—as millers will be; When—startling them all—without warning, Came a great shout from the sea! It startled them all: the horses, Lazily plodding round, Started and stopped; and the mills dropped, Like a mantle, their sound. The millers looked over their shoulders, The drivers opened their eyes; A silence, deeper than deafness, Had fallen out of the skies. “Halloa, there!”—this time distinctly It rose from the barren sea; And Europe, turning in wonder, Whispered “What can it be?” “Come down! come down to the shore here!” And Europe was soon on the sand;— It was the great Columbus Dragging his prize to land!—Good Words. decorative line The periods of our lives which give us the most joy at the moment, and which are most exquisite in memory, are those when we have gone most wholly out of ourselves, and lived for others. She who seeks excellence and not reputation alone, rises highest in her pursuits; and she who foregoes her own pleasures—ignoring, it may be, her own rights—and forgets herself, in her genuine interest for others, attains to the surest and most satisfactory enjoyment. The secret of many low and miserable lives is the complete absorption of the man and the woman in their own pleasures and wants, cares, character and prospect.—Mary A. Livermore, in “What shall we do with our Daughters?” decorative line
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