At a festival party of old and young, the question waa asked, which season of life is most happy 'i After being freely discussed by the guests, it waa referred. to the host, upoa whom was the burdon of four-soore years. He asked if thoy had noticed a grove of trees before the dwelling, and said : " When the spring comeB and in the soft air the buds are breaking on the trees, I think how beautiful is spring ! And when the summer comes, and covers the trees with its heavy f'oliage, and singing birds are all among theni, I thimk, how beautiful is summer ! Wheu autuiun loads thein with golden fruit, and their leaves bear the gorgeous tint of frost, I think how beautiful is autumn. And when it is sere winter, and there is neither foliage nor fruit, theu I look up, and through the leatless branches, as I could never uiitil now, I seo the stars shine through."