

MOOEE'B KUKAL MEW-Y0R1X3SK. 



THE VASE OF WITHERED FLOWERS. 



Tool weeping left it* lllfcOD 

 Tbolllj, Jal.),OD0l>j "nr. 



luloklj drooped by alow d 



culiarly beautiful flowers, but they could scarcely 

 be so lovely to my childish eyes os were tliose 

 scented tbyrses or outvie lilacs, with their pcreu- 

 aial bloom and beauty. 



That ancient dwelling in the pten-.nnt tounof 

 Fairhaveu ia doit much changed — the place is 

 changed— tht inhabitants are changed— and could 

 [return to mv early home, I should dnubtlcss feel 

 the like a slrongcrin a strange land ; but if I found 

 sweet itariliar blossoms of the lilac iu their olden 



place by tbo HI 





■ do 



Thoi 



md the flight ufyei 

 simple floi 



...Cl.l 



would be forgotten, 

 elight in 



beauty," 



WHAT HAS WOMAN D0NE1 



lv I 



l of July IGtb I observed an effusion 

 from "Qiieecby," which appears to me quiteuftrs. 

 Men are denounced as "monsters and tyrants."— 

 frutedf are they I By whom, pray, except it be 

 • few, a very small number of misguided females, 



in tome specimens of the genu* homo. Yet who 

 of us would say that, as a race, " they are tyranni- 

 cal, egotistical, and mercenary?" No one, I trust. 

 We will judge not the many by the few. Our 

 legislature is more generous than " Queechy, " for 

 it has granted to woman not only the right to hold, 

 but to control property, not doubting her ability 

 to do so. 



"Queechy," with great dignity, advances tho 

 idea that " women me iucapa'.ile of hi- cumulating, 

 or keeping properly." I think there is a great 

 mleta] i this, for many of our most prosperous 







ollic ( 



eful 



All tbi 



crowded, proving that sbo not only ci 

 maintain herself when opportunity poi 



Again, "Queechy" inquires, with the greatest 

 simplicity, " What have our race overdone worthy 

 of » monument/" Is it possible one so wcll-in- 

 formed n.s " Queechy" sunu to be, is in such la- 

 iii.-iitjl.li -ignorance of the noble deeds and heavenly 

 fortitude of women in tho past as well as the pres- 

 ent age? Out of pity I will endeavor io ilium i- 

 nd.'. First let mo point to the days of antiquity, 

 to Paulina, the devoted wife of Senbca, who, 

 when her husband was compelled to kill himself, 

 Opened her own veins that her life might ebb with 

 his,— to Epposika, who cheerfully shared all the 

 hardships and privations of exile, and made her 

 home in a cave for her husband's sake,— to Arria 

 and AoniiTixA,— to the Horn an duughtcr, Pjsito, 

 who Bavcd tho life of ao honored father, daily 

 visiting him in his cell, where "the blood of a 



pious daughter returned to its source," to Yoldu- 



KIA, mother of Cobiolancs,— or, more recently. 

 to Madam Roland, aud Josephine, where we be- 

 hold a strength of mind almost supernatural. Out 

 of tlic multiplicity in the present age I will men- 

 lion only a Moke, a Stowb, a Patoit, Asa H., the 

 wife of the missionary JuDSOK, a Floiikxce NionT- 

 imivle. Iluvo these doue nothing for which a 

 monument could with propriety be raised? Have 

 thty done nothing worthy u f Vemutkr Such in- 

 stances of self denial are not rare, as some may 

 ■appose. The world contains may who, in their 

 flpniliea, daily perform more noble deeds and build 

 fui tli.n.-h,-, ,„„„. luting monument* than the 

 building of bridges, steamboats, or railroads, for 

 theirs is tho sacred task to mould the minds of the 

 youth of our laod — to leach the future " states- 

 men, oralora, and editors," to be mighty in the 

 cause of right " I'm just 

 tree's inclined." 



i twig is bent tho 



81m 



, N. ' 



"SO COMMON." 



' 'Wiiu's the use of petting a lilac:'" asked my 

 cousin JoKIl, as I bent caressingly ovcrafavoritc 

 L-niit Juno morning,— "uoono thinks 

 anything w f l uftC a j n Liberty— they're so common," 

 and tho curve y f the speaker's red lip expressed 

 sovereign contempt fur those so weak minded as 

 to show liking for any flower except some queenly 

 patrician blossom, just from, the tropics. She bed 

 ~o rra|ic c i for tho floral ■• democratic throng 1 



■ho. Straigbtway tho fair spring landscape, smil- 

 ing before, mo in its young beauty, faded ow»y, 

 mi in its atead Wjl3 u q u j e j jj flW England village 

 -one of tteftbtat jewels on the green old breast 

 .!£ Th « dim, aiirty Iea line, the pinej 

 woods, he mrtatiing bi us , toc vcrdunt mC adows, 

 wrionily.mb»ide W d vilhaowew _ IioWTer/fi| j r 

 they were, crowned with the g ,>id C n diadem of pure 

 May sunshine! somewhere, m this scasid II 

 was an old red farm-house, embowered in eliding 

 noes, and, furthermore, in the front yard two 

 beautiful lilac bushes budded, and blossomed and 

 filled tho balmy air win. i 



succeeding spring-time. I have do doubt that ihe 

 fruit of the Hesporldes was very nice in iu way ; 

 or that the gardens of Armida contained some n G - 



mr obildieti 



that they arc as a living presence to ttua nay, ana 

 stand as a type of the simple pleasures oi child- 

 hood. Through the brief scasoo of their bloom 

 how many hearts tbey gladdened, bow many dim 

 eyes and sad faces brightened at their loveliness. 



faced girlish teaclier who presided at the white 

 school-bouse on he corner, and were carefully 

 placed by her taper fingers in the broken pitcher 

 ornamenting tho carved and buttered desk, nnd 

 how tbey strengthened In r tim id little heart tbro'- 

 out the weary day 1 They cheered sick chambers 

 with their sunny presence, blinking to the languid 

 suflerer bright thoughts of tho leafy woods, and 

 purple-eyed violets nestling in the cool shadows, 

 and murmuring fountains foaming up from the 

 heart of jeweled moss, and, more than all, bearing 

 sweet messages from a fairer country, even a 

 heavenly. As I thought of what a blessing tbey 

 bad been to me, nnd how they were blessing 

 myriads of children dwelling by hsppy hearth- 

 BtODes scattered over our wide country— aye, and 

 grown folks, too, for that matter— 1 thanked Goo 

 that they were, indeed, "So Common .'" 



„ N. ' 



Laui 



FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 



At first I thought t-lj 1 -' wit 

 dress and close cap. She v 

 yet Edmund and I looked u 



GOOD NIGHT. 



My tin rtiiiT M spirit b 



THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. 



BtTOBB mvdoor, i 



gh the ■ Ir i (.[..■ ■ I lim 







- gljd ii 



■■> hr obliged 





I looked at 

 wn hair combed 



is black, made 

 L being a large 

 < me like the 

 tba wreath of 



I felt 

 wasted figure, and the short, br( 

 over her forehead like a child's, 

 life was despaired of from fever 

 ago. Her dress, as I have said, 

 high to the throat, its only ornam 

 enameled broach which looked 

 colors of a regiment surmounted 

 laurel, no doubt some grateful offering froi 

 men. To hide the close white cap a little, she had 

 tied awhitecrape handkerchief over the back of 

 only allowing the border of lace to be seen ; and 



me on her entering the room, otherwise Miss 

 Nightingale is by no moans striking in appearance, 

 obly her plain black dress, quiet manner and great 

 renown, told so powerfully altogel" 

 bly o( brilliant dresses and uoifo 

 slight, and rather above iho middle height; her 

 face is long and thin, but tins may be from recerj 

 illness and great fatigue. She has a very prom 

 nent nose, slightly Roman, and small dark eyes 

 kind, yet penetrating ; hut her face does not give 

 you at all the idea of great talent. She looks a 

 quiet, persevering, orderly, lady-like woman. ] 

 have done my best to give you a true pen-and 

 ink portrait of this celebrated lady. I suppose 

 there is a hum all over tho world of " What is she 

 like?"— Sketches by Jfrt. Hornby. 



"PLEASE LET ME BE A LITTLE BOY." 



"Ob, Johnny!" cried a nervous mother, "do 

 iave seme mercy on my poor head! Can't you 

 play without shouting so?" 

 Poor Johnny drew up the tape reins with which 

 i was driving two chairs tandem, and called out 

 a loud, hoarse whisper — " Get up, whoal" But 

 length finding little mcc.sure in this suppressed 

 jusement, ho threw down the reins, and laying 

 s hands on his breast, said, with a long breath, 

 3h, mother, U's full of noise in here, and it hurts 

 b to keep it in. Don't all little boys make a 

 use when they play?" 

 '■Yes, Johnny, I believe they all do," replied the 



Oh, then, mother dear," cried Johnny, in a 

 whining tone, " please let me be a little hoy." 



We join poor Johnny heartily in this petition. 



ease, mother, let your sons be little boys while 



ey may. Let tbem have a free and happy child- 

 hood—that when your bead is low iu the- grave 

 they may point back to those days and say — ■■ We 



ere happy children, for there was sunshine where 



.ir mother was." 



CHILDHOOD. 



Let no man smile, in the self-sufficiency of bis 

 acquisition, at the perceptions of early, very early 

 childhood. Deep aud rapturous are tbey, as some 

 of those rare old springs of limpid water that bub- 

 ble in brawling beauty to the earth's service Irom 

 rocky recesses that never may see the light of day. 

 To childhood all is real — that which appears to 

 be, is. The little hand that, with no mental guid- 

 ing notion of distauce, mil-stretches to grasp the 

 moon for its silvery beauty, is hut a type of the 

 young mind Out has made no moral comparisons. 

 Viridity of conception and absolute faith in all 

 they see, combined with an intuitive and deeply 

 philosophical judgment of gentleness or harsh- 

 ness, make up the early mysteries of human intel- 

 lect; perception aud moral education, acting and 

 re-acting in their thousands of after conditions, do 

 all the rest. Happy is that tiny lord ot the cre- 

 ation whose first tottering mental steps are guided 

 by kindness. Woe, woo to those who, with so 

 sacred a trust as a human soul, fresh, und unsul- 

 lied from the hands of its Maker, confided to them, 

 abuse the confidence of nature and betray their 

 God.— Stammerer. 



"A RAINY DAY IN HAYING TIME." 



Ir is raining, raining— clouds settling on the 

 hill- tops— mists floating through the valleys— rui n- 

 drops drawing long lines, slantwise, across the 

 features of the landscape, like tbe graining in 

 sttet portraits. How the rain-drops patter on the 

 broad, scaly roofs of the farm buildings— on the 

 arbor, with its roof of leaves and its ceiling of 

 clusters— on the starched 1-vJ/tes of tho cabbage 

 rows — and on the hoof-worn pasture ledge ! flow 



rtboi 



,H,_. I 



II s 



carried i 



fell..* -Li' 



ought, of school or its require 

 >uogoead. "Captain Bill"wu 

 j of another of this band of wor 

 that though hi 



I I ■ 



. tin 



n could still carry as wide a 

 ewatb as tho best of them. Tho old Captain had 

 been a powerful man iu his day, no doubt, but 

 the many days of toil nnd exposure be had 

 seen, and the many glassos of " Pinglnj " he had 

 taken, bad shown their effects in weakening his 

 strong limbs and quenching the lire of his eye.— 

 Dut as ho grew older, nod as his other powers 

 failed him, bis tongue seemed to gain what tbeso 

 had lost, and as a rainy-day story-teller, his supe- 

 rior was not to be found. Besides, as be had seen 

 a longer life than the rest, his library of unwritten 

 experience— upon which be relied for the founda- 

 tion, at least, of his stories— was, consequently, 

 much larger tban theirs. But he usually required 

 a good drink of cider, fresh from the cellar, to 

 sharpen his wits before commencing. Aod did 

 not tbo cunning old fox know, if ho should just 

 hint that " when tbe boy came back ho would tell 

 a wonderful fine story," the cider would come all 

 the sooner* My only wonder is that I did not 

 sometimes, in my baste, leave the tap looso in the 

 barrel, thus meriting the tongutabU displeasure of 

 higher powers. But I do not remember that such 



The memory of these curly friends has always 

 been dear to me. The quaint maxims and rules of 

 life learned from them, often contained much ater- 

 ling con 



them up as sacred. I i 

 them, and never allied 

 of their number, tint i 





is readily granted. Ii 



tm were not altogethe 



They well knew tho 



absolute sway over i 



ilher important favors 



which I' 





Alas! Time's changes! The two brothers now 



sleep side by side in the country grave-yard, where 



y of tbo graves are sunken, and the stones 



leaning, and some of them fallen. My father w 



th CnAHLES tbe night he died, and I rememt 



w anxious I was to ask about him, but cor 



t,— for the death of one who had always been 



happy aod cheerful himself, and who could do 



much to make others bo, seemed very strange and 



n to roe. The Captain, too, is there 



, not as familiar to his friends as th. 

 Most of the rest are there also. Their 



moved away, or are broken up, and when I 

 he old place I find few traces of them, 



New York, Ohio, and amon 

 ipenings of tbo Far West— 

 n the usual course of my pi 



HAGAP, IN THE WILDERNESS. 



l many ptat 



'arm and fragrant air of the fresh buy— the chirp- 

 ig of grasshoppers, and the clucking and prating 

 f the feathered dames, anxious about their m 

 lerous families! It is raining— raining— rainitu 

 Memories of past haying seasons come flockir 

 cross the mind— banishing the present like tl 

 tfBf&aa&amokedpaiht (on tbe window pane,) whic 



icldsa 



0-doy. Fifteen or twenty years ago there 



rainy day like this came, they claimed il 

 olidoy, aud sat about the barn or leaned ugmnst 

 lie new made mow, whiliog away tho time w 

 many a. long story. How deeply interesting to 

 the " long yarns " told in that ring of mo 

 hay-makers! Many an hour have I sat listen 

 them, rejoicing that the same cause which cc 

 pelled them to hang up scythe and rufce, ulio gi 

 i excuse for "staying home from school.' 

 ainy patter on the roof seemed all the whilo 

 ding them that they were spending 

 is profitably as could be expected, binco there 

 could be no work fur them in the field. 



n kl that my pen could do justice to tho 



actor which my young imagination gave these 



heroes of my youth. Memory prosonts then 



Kactly as tbey seemed to me then. In i 



band there is a leader, and Charles Harm 



itint of superior merit, held this place at 



party which yearly swung their scythes 



father's meadows. The man was not I 



found who could turn as smooth and brc 



in tho buy -field— who could outshine hi 



j field a 







11 a better story for a rainy day. In youth be 

 id been rcmiirkahly strong aud active, and many 

 ere tho stories he told of his exploits at tho foot- 

 ice, at leaping, wrestling, aod the like— which 

 atches woro moro in vogue in New England 

 venty years ago than they are now. Ho had 

 been, in earlier days, a raftsman on the Merrimac, 

 this part of his life abounded in rare incidents. 

 :ould embellish these interesting epochs with 

 ho skill of a Walter Scott, though I presume 

 .ad never read a hook through in his life. He 

 one of those uncultivated, yet gifted spirits, 

 uif all the more lively and entertaining, he- 

 SC Uieir .-v,' [a natural and unforrual, and 

 iso stories arc the more interesting because. 

 their lives have been a wild race through the 

 gh places of the world. Ho had a very fine 

 little farm of his own on the banks of the Merri- 

 ae, but he always finished his own haying white 

 o wore " mowing around the tdgo" and was on 

 hand by tho lime the business commenced with us 

 earnest. His brother William was usually one 

 our company of bay-makers. Though his 

 itch in tho field, he could not have entered the 

 ts with him in the story-telling circle of the 

 ny day. His part, on these interesting ocea- 

 ns, was usually to sit by and listen, now aud 

 brother with his better memory. 



They bad been raftsmen 



seemed to recall the adventures and act 



their various ••./.■..-." more a adil ythi 



Very often, when tbe latter was pi 



paring for a grand effort, bis brother would s 



GRAVE AND GAY. 



Be contcot with enough. You may butter your 

 bread nntil you are unublo to eat it. 



What tree represents a person who persists in 

 incurring debts? Willow (will owe.) 



Whek ill news comes too late to bo serviceable 

 to your neighbor, keep it to yourself. 



The first time a woman marries is generally to 

 please another; tbe second lime is invariably to 

 please herself. 



Good sense is the father of Wit, Truth his grand- 

 father, and Mirth and Good-humor his boon com- 



■ bflri 



r the 



value of a house, the answer was, " That depeud 

 upon what sort of a wife there is in it." 



Tre following direction appeared on a letter re 

 cently delivered in Auckland, Durham:— "Foi 

 Elizabeth .Jane Spencer, a tull woman, with twt 





A snortT time ago tho following notico was stuck 

 p ot a tailor's window, near Manchester: — 

 'Wanted, two apprentices; tbey will be treated 

 I e^.of the family I" 



Voltaire, on one occasion, when his friends 

 rere conversing on tho antiquity of tbe world, ob- 

 irld is like an old coquette — she 



■ed, "The 



ige. 



We notice scores of poetical elliisions directed 

 to friends who nre in beaveu. Hotter give poetry 

 of the heart utterance in words and deeds of kind- 

 ness to friends upon earth. 



A wag being told by un acquaintance that Miss 

 Brown (who is rather a broad-featured yonng 

 ludy,)had a benign countenance, he replied, "Per- 

 haps you mean tticn-by-iiine." 



An outside passenger on a coach bad his hat 

 blown over a bridge into the stream. " True to 

 nature," said a gentleman who was sealed beside 

 him, " a butter naturally takes to the water.' 



A teacher wishing to explain to a little girl the 

 manner in which a lobster casts its shell when it 

 OH OfttgtOWTJ it, said, " What do you do when you 

 have outgrown your clothes? V'ou throw them 

 aside, don't you?" "Oh, no," replied the little 

 one, " we lot out tbe tucks!" 



An old divine, cautioning the clergy against en- 

 gaging in violent controversy, uses tbe following 

 happy timili :—" If we will bo contending, let ua 

 nd like the oln e and tbo vine, who shall pro- 

 the most and the best fruit ; not like Iho as- 

 pen and the elm, which shall nuke the most noise 



Dow many sickly ones wish they were healthy; 

 how many beggarmen wish they were wealthy; how 

 muny ugly ones wish thej were.pfej^y; hon manj 

 I ones wish they were witty; how many bach* 

 ".J; how mauy Benedicts 

 wish llu-y bad tarried! Single or doubl 

 of trouble— riches are Btabhle, pleasure's a bubble. 



GOODNESS OF GOD. 



I ah less and less anxious to make formal vindi- 

 cators of the goodnessof God. It needs no advo- 

 cate. It will take care of itself, in Bpite of clouda. 

 Men, who have eyes, believe in the sun, and none 

 but the blind can seriously question the Creator' a 

 goodness. We hear indeed of men led into doubts 

 on this point by their sufferings ; bnt tbeso doubts 

 have generally a oeeper source than the evils of 

 life. Such skepticism is a moral diseoio; the 

 growth of aoroe open or lurking depravity. It is 

 not created, but brought into light by the pressure 

 of suffering. It is indeed true that a good man, 

 in seasons of peculiar, repeated, pressing calami- 

 ties, may fall into dejection and perplexity. Ilia 

 fhilh may tremble for the moment, Tbo passing 

 cloud may bide the sun. Dut deliberate, habitual 

 questions of God's benevolence argue groat moral 

 deficiency. Whoever sees the glory and feels 

 within himself the power of disinterested good- 

 ness is quick to recognize it in others, especially in 

 his Creator. lie sees in bis own love a sign, ex- 

 pression, und communication of Uncreated, Un- 

 bounded, All -originating Love. Tho idea of 

 malignity in tbo Infinite Creator shocks bis moral 

 nature, just as a palpable contradiction offends his 

 reason. Ho repels it with indignation and horror. 

 — Chaw;,,?. 



MODERN ELIJAHS 



well always to look on the shady side 

 of affaire. There are men who came into existence 



under a shadow, and the shadow has dogged their 

 lives, aud all that is bright, and pure, and beauti- 

 ful, takes the sombre buc of their own fancies, 

 bemoaning (be evils of 

 the world, in lamenting the gradual decadence of 

 good, and in regarding all home evils and foreign 

 plications as " signs of the times. " They are 

 the Elijahs, who retire iuto tbe wilderness of thoir 

 itemplations, saying, 



l.-fi," 



that all the t 



I there 



he "seven thousand who have not bowed tho 

 knee unto Haul," but that multitudes are every- 

 where obeying the gospel call. They are tho Jo- 

 nahs sitting under tbe gourds of their own security, 

 mazed that the judgments of God do not descend 

 [ion a guilty world. These hypochondriacs are 

 seldom found among the earnest workers, who 

 : to leave the world better tban they found it, 

 among those who see its evils und sit by with 

 folded hands. * 



OS Tama. — Hen of the world are 

 shamed to pray, and ore unwilling to 

 i praying circle; but they only pro- 

 spiritual ignorance und blindness. 

 The following paragraph indicates more wisdom 

 umenti— As John Foster approached 

 the close of life, aud felt his strength gradually 

 nwuy, ho remarked on his incicasiug 

 weakness, and added, "lint I can pray, and that 

 is a glorious thing." Truly a glorious thing; 

 more glorious than an atheist or pantheist can 

 ever pretend to. To look up to an omnipotent 

 Father, to speak to him, to love him ; to stretch 

 upward as u babe from tbe cradle, that he may 

 lift bis child in his everlasting arms to the resting- 

 place of his own bosom— this is the portion of the 

 dying Christian. lie was overheard thus speaking 

 with bjm elf:— "0, death, where is thy sting/ 

 O, grave, where is thy victory? Tlianks be U 

 God, who giveth us the victory, tur 

 Jesus Christ.'' Tbo eye of the 

 upon him, and 



