Stimulants

The Louisville Journal beautifully aays: - "There aro times when the pulse lies low in the boiioni and beats flow in the veins; wben the spirit sleeps the sleep, appnrently, that knows no waking in its hous of elay, and the wiudow shutters are closed, and the door hung with the iovisible crape of melanoholy; whea .ve wish the golden sunshine pitchy darknees, and very willing to fancy 'clouds were no clouds be.' This ia a etate of sicknesa when physic may be thrown to the dogs, for wo will have none of it. What ahall raiee the sleeping Lazarus? What hall make the heart beat musió again, and the pulses dance to it thiough all the myriad thronged halls in our house of 1 i fo? What shall make the aun kiss the Ea8tern hills again for us, with all hia own awaking gladneas, and the night overflow with 'moonlight, inusic, love, and flowers?' Love itself is the great stiraulant - the most intoxicating of all - and performs all these tniraeles; but it is a mirado itself, and it ia not at the drug 8toro, whatever thcy say. The counterfeit is in the markot, but the winged god is not a raoney hanger, wo awon you, "Men have tried many things - but still they ask lor stimulants. The Btimulants we uso, but require the ue of more, Men try to drown the floatiug dead of their own soula in the wine cup, but the corpsea will rise. We ?ee their face in the bubbles. The toxication of drink sets the world whirling gain, and the pulses playing wildest musio, and the tboughts gulloping- but the fast clock runs down gooner; od the unnatural eiknulstion only leaves the house it filis with wildot revelry, more Ment, more sad, more deserted, more dead. "There is only one gtimnlant thát nevor fails, and nnver mtoxicutes - Duty. Dnty puts a blue sky over evory man - up in his henrt may ba - into whioh the ökylark, HappineaB, alwayg goeg singing."