124 



California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



ii^0mcit 



Blanche and rfell. 



O, Blant-he is a city lady, 



Bedeckttl iu her siikb and laco; 

 Slie walks with the mieu of a stately queen^ 



And a. queen's imperions grace. 



But Nell is a country maiden, 

 ller drt-Ks from ttie farmstead loom; 



Her atep is free as a breeze at sea, 

 And her face is a ruse in bloom. 



The house of Blanche is a marvel 



Of marble from base to di>nif ; 

 It hath all things fair, aud costly and rare, 



But ajas! it is not home! 



Nell lives in a lonely cottage. 



On the shores of a wave-washed isle; 

 And the lile she leads, with its living deeds* 



Ihe angels behold and smile. 



Blanche finds her palace a prison, 

 Aud oft, through the dreary years, 



In her burdened breast there is sad unrest, 

 Aud her eyes are dimmed with tears. 



But to Nell her toils are pastime, 



(Though mver till niyht they cease,) 



Aud her soul's afloat like a buoyant boat 

 Ou the crystal tides of peace, 



Ah I Blanche hath many a lover. 

 But she broodeth o'er old regret; 



Aud the shy, sweet red on her cheek is dead, 

 tor the day-star of hope has set. 



Fair Nell! but a single lover 

 Hath she in the wide, wide world: 



Yet waruily apart iu her glowing heart 

 Love bides, with his piuiuus furled. 



To Blanche all life seems shadowed, 



And bhe but a ghost therein; 

 Thro* the misty gray of her autumn day 



ateal voices of grief and sin. 



To Nell all life is sunshine, 



All earth like a fairy sod. 

 Where the roses grow and the violets blow. 



In the softest breath of God. 



REFORmATlON AND DISCRIMEN- 

 ATION. 



m 



BY DOEATHA. 



,' ATTENDED a meeting for the re- 



L claimatiou of fallen women. One 



of the speakers, in the fervor of his 



[ feelings, exclaimed, "Is there anj' 



character on the earth so degraded, 



so near the gaping pit, as the abandoned 



womau?" 



The sentiment was applauded, and no 

 one answered, "Yes, yes, the seducer!" 

 A thousand times lower — a thousand 

 times more to be despised is the man 

 whose smooth dissimulation, cunning 

 intrigues and deceitful suavity lead inno- 

 cence and virtue to prostitution. 



And yet, strange us it may be, people, 

 virtuous people, seem not to think that 

 the depraver of woman is himself de- 

 praved. Until the seducer can bear his 

 share of the shame — until society visits 

 on his head an equal share of the dis- 

 grace that weighs down his partner in 

 guilt, our cities and towns will be 

 thronged with his degraded victims. 



But how are the facts? A man, the 

 notorious corrupter of innocence, may 

 reform, or pretend to reform, become an 

 influential member of a church, and be 

 received in society as an honored guest. 

 He may not even reform. He may no- 

 toriously continue in his wicked ways; 

 and yet, if lus has m(uiey, or position, or 

 talent, there are not a few who welcome 

 him into the fashionable circle; and po- 

 lite and accomplished ladies who will 

 not blush to be seen walking Avith him 

 in the streets — who will even invite him 

 into their parlors and deUght to do him 

 honor are not fi^w. 



^ Is this right? Is not the seducer's 

 victim as lit for the favors of society as 

 he? Should the one be loaded with 

 honors — be caressed and fawned upon, 

 while the other, even when penetent and 



reformed, is spurned and spit upon, de- 

 nied admission into Christian churches, 

 driven back by the force of public senti- 

 ment into the compiany of her former as- 

 sociates of the brothel, — virtually com- 

 pelled to resume a life of infamy? 



I ask not that the road to prostitution 

 should be made more pleasant, or that 

 the odium of the public condemnation 

 should be withdrawn. But it is just that 

 the seducer should stand on the same 

 level with his victim and receive, at least, 

 one half of the lashes of the public con- 

 demnation. 



goujJdtoUl gvCiuUug. 



One Touch of SiTature. 



My sltetch was finished, aud 1 tnrued to go. 



Yet lingered for a minute to compare 

 The painted cottage iu my fidio 

 With that which stood within thelaudscape 



there. 

 How feeble was my picture, despite all my 

 care. 



1 he cotter's wife was standing at her door. 

 And saw her husband coming down the lane. 



And, catching up her baby from the floor. 

 She hurried out to meet liim once again, 

 Ijavish of treasured smiles that were nut spent 

 in vain. 



Their meeting all his weariness relieved; 



His drudgery to merriment gave place; 

 Eichau^'iug burdens, she his tools received. 



And h«. the baby, nestling to his face. 



So went they back contented to their dwelling- 

 place. 



Weak wap my sketch, aud weak the matchless 

 hufi 

 Which nature shed around on land and sea. 

 Beside the beauty of aftection true 

 That simple meeting there revealed to me. 

 Nothing on earth with humcn love ccmpared 

 can be! 



DOTTINCS AND JOTTINGS. 



BY PKOP. ISAAC KINLEY. 



PEN the windows — open the doors, 

 and let the sunshine in! See that 

 cold-blooded man, the thermometer 

 of whose afiVctions never rose above 

 zero. He loves no one, and none 

 loves him. He enjoys no smiles nor 

 even the sad luxury of tears. A living 

 embodiment of baseness, his emotions 

 are only appetite, and his aspirations 

 only for self-gratification. He belongs 

 to the race of reptiles, and has crawled 

 on his belly all the days of his life. A 

 lingering relic of the saurian period, he 

 fairly hisses at the smiling faces as they 

 pass. 



The rose is queen of flowers not more 

 for her beautiful colors than her sweet 

 odors; and the human face divine is 

 loveliest when radiant with the goodness 

 of the heart. It is no less the affections 

 than the intellect that raise man above 

 the brute — that exalt him in the scale of 

 being. 



Reason, indeed, is noble. Between it 

 and the affections there should be no in- 

 vidious line. These are the heat-rays 

 giving warmth where that does light. 

 Love and reason are correlatives, and the 

 two, as one, only can be beautiful or 

 great. 



Reason alone is an arctic day, bright 

 but cold. Reason and the passions are 

 the tropical tornado, leaving only ruin 

 iu its train. Reason and the affections 

 are the fair summer's day, with its verd- 

 ant valleys aud fruitful fields. 



If life is a winter, aud the north wind 

 blows, aud chills, and freezes; if the 

 fiowers of love iind htjpo wither and die 

 before their leaflets have unfolded, it is 

 that the blasts have not been warmed 

 and gentled by the soft south winds of 

 human affection. 



Nature is reciprocal, giving kind for 

 kind. Where the warm winds blow the 

 leaves unfold and the flowers bloom. 

 Who gives love, love receives, and is the 

 happier and nobler for his giving. 



If there were more of sunshine and 

 less of wintry darkness in human life, 

 how infinitely better it would be for man- 

 kind! Reader, open thou the windows 

 and doors of thy soul and let the sun- 

 shine in. 



We cannot become wise in a day, but 

 we can resolve to do so in a single hour; 

 and, if we heroically carry out the re- 

 solve, we shall from that time forth grow 

 in wisdom, gradually jiassing from little- 

 ness into greatness. 



We cannnot, in a single day, form a 

 perfectly beautifid character; but we can 

 resolve to do so in a single moment, and 

 we shall instantly begin to leave off' hab- 

 its of evil, habits that deform, habits 

 that degrade; and start in the growth of 

 all that is morally good and intellectually 

 great — we shall begin the formation of a 

 character worthy the admiration of an- 

 gels and men. 



Who climbs Mt. Hamilton begins at the 

 base; but with every step upward the 

 horizon enlarges and beautifies. The 

 summit attained, there lies before him, 

 as fcir as the eye can see a panorama of 

 mingled beauty aud grandeur. There, 

 too, will be placed the telescope, through 

 whose philosophic glasses the very heav- 

 ens seem nearer. 



The road to knowledge leads upward. 

 With every step the intellectual horizon 

 expands. And as we ascend higher aud 

 higher, the enlarged prospect becomes 

 the source of continual enjoyment. 



True culture does not consist alone in 

 extending the range of thought, or in 

 strengthening the powers of the intellect. 

 The educator should remember that man 

 is a moral and social, as well as an intel- 

 lectual being. The duties of life should 

 be studied; and, even though they be 

 disagreeable ones, the mind should be 

 educated up to the cheerful acceptance 

 and heroic performance of them. 



What though the mind be able to 

 grapple with the most difBcult questions 

 of philosoijhy — what though the imagin- 

 ation can soar to empyrean hights — if 

 the moral nature be not developed, if the 

 love of truth and justice and right be not 

 educated into a sentiment, the man with 

 all his learning is only a degradation. 



The scion from the root of the tree 

 that has been only cut down grows often 

 with more vigor than the parent tree it- 

 self. The evil tree of human slavery 

 should be taken up by the roots aud 

 burued in the fire. 



The spirit of slavery is not dead. It 

 has raised its foot indeed from the necks 

 of the black race in order to place it the 

 more securely on all races. 



See those immense monopolies that 

 tax the resources of the whole people in 

 order that the few may become million- 

 aires! See the corrupt rings that con- 

 trol legislatures and administrations, 

 state and national, for the purpose of 

 swindling the people and gathering to 

 themselves wealth aud power! See all 

 over this land the hateful spirit of aris- 

 tocracy spurning honest industry and 

 honoring only idleness and luxury ! 



Think you that slavery is quite dead? 

 Think you that this upas tree has been 

 taken up by tVe roots? 



hail about us; but in the face of the mul- 

 titude shouting "yes!" how few of lis 

 have the courage to say No ! even iu a 

 whisper, though our convictions be ever 

 so strong! 



In the long struggle against slavery, it 

 was not that the world had to be con- 

 vinced that slavery is wrong. This all 

 know by instinct. It was that the moral 

 courage required to be educated up to 

 the standard of accepting a title which 

 an ignorant prejudice had rendered 

 odious. 



We are all cowards— moral cowards. 

 We dare not openly avow our convic- 

 tions. We can face the cannon's mouth 

 — we can stand with unquivering nerve 

 where the death-shots are flying thick as 



Man, iu all his faculties and powers, 

 is hereditary. We are the children, not 

 of our fathers and mothers only, but of 

 our ancestors for a thousand generations 

 back; and the parents, not of our child- 

 ren only, but of their descendants for 

 endless ages to come. 



Our tendencies to virtue or vice, to 

 strength or weakness, to health or dis- 

 ease, are transmitted ; and it is not our- 

 selves alone whom we elevate by our 

 virtues or degrade by our vices. The 

 forces go on, often to be greatly exagger- 

 ated as they descend. 



The desires of the parent may ripen 

 into action in the child. The aspirations 

 for a better life, which, at times, even 

 the bad man feels, may be an inspiration 

 of positive virtue in his children, or his 

 children's children. The parsimony of 

 the parent which only covets the proper- 

 ty of another, developed into a ruling 

 passion iu the child or grandchild, may 

 take without asking consent of the law. 



Thus God visits the iniquities of the 

 parents on the children, not to the third 

 and fourth generation only, but to the 

 tenth or twentieth. The evil medita- 

 tions of a man may send his grandson to 

 the gallows. 



It is early day, and yonder lies a fel- 

 low whose couch for the night has been 

 the bare ground. Between comfort and 

 appetite he chose the latter, and gave the 

 price of a bed for last night's carousals. 



Well, what else? Pity him? Soldo. 

 Give? So I would, were it wise, or just, 

 or beneficial. •' 



The dollar in my pocket has cost me 

 toil, and I have a right to whatever of 

 comfort it will buy. IJut, if I am not a 

 niggard, or a villain downright, there is 

 a real pleasure in relieving want. 



The quality of mercy is twice bless'd. 



It biesseth him that gives aud him that takes. 



But if the gift is only a curse to him 

 that takes, there is no mercy iu the gift 

 nor blessing in the giving. A dollar to 

 him will only purchase another night's 

 carousal. Go your way, besotted man, 

 and hunger into soberness. 



Poor lellow! He trespasses and suf- 

 fers the penalties. The way of ihe trans- 

 gressor is hard. 



It is not pride of character, but the 

 want of it, that withholds au apology for 

 an insult given or an atonement for au 

 injury done. He who really values his 

 character will hasten to remove even the 

 slightest stain. We sometimes hear of 

 persons too proud to apologize. We 

 should rather say, too weak, or too vaiu. 

 The really noble person cannot rest quiet 

 on his pillow with the consciousness of 

 an uuatoucd wrc>ng against another. 'I'he 

 gifted Crittenden did many things to en- 

 clear himself to the American people; but 

 nothing which places his character in a 

 nobler light than his rising in the Senate 

 and, with tears in his eyes, apologizing 

 to Mr. Seward for undeserved words 

 spoken in debate. 



All capital is the product of labor. 

 Should not the creator of wealth have, 

 himself, enough of it for the needs of 



