- .'■-"-■ - 



MOORE'S SURAL KEW-YORKER. 



KO¥. ll 





FOB THE MOTHER'S SAKE, 

 ■nddranil vigorous, was seized wtlu (he jetloi 



Honor ;e tbe Chi 



THE TWO HESTS. 



Roddy Rover rushed into bis mother's pri 

 one afternoon, his bright eyes sparkling 

 delight, and shouted,— as only little boys i 

 "Le-okhere, mother, see what I've found; a 

 nest,— a real, Hie bird's neat!" (Roboy bad found 

 ducarded nests before, in the currant bushes.se 

 he called this a U,c one, in contradistinction tc 



" Well, mercy on me, child, you need not scream 

 loud enough to make one deaf about it; and see 

 there," she continued in a tone of vexation, "you 

 have tracked clear across the floor with your dirty, 

 wet feet. You just be off with yourself, and see 

 that you don't brent those nasty eggs on your 

 clothes ; if jou do, you will be sorry for it." 



Robbt, somewhat abashed by this "sally, 

 retreated out doors with bi3 prize, which he can 

 fully placed in an old bos his father had given 

 him to keep his playthings in. There i 

 curious medley of things In il— halls, tops, 

 bles, sticks, twine, a button "buzz," and cou 

 other things very precious to the eyes of little 

 boys. But Roddy thought, (aDd rightly, 

 that there was nothing there so beautiful a 

 little, round nest, with those four pale blut 

 in it, so he viewed it o'er and o'er, with a confused 

 notion in his head that little boys should 

 "holler;" never have wet feet, and nevei 

 their clothes with broken birds' eggs, but without 

 one thought of the cruel wrong he had thought. 

 lessly done in taking that pretty nest from the 

 bush where the cunning architects bad with such 

 delicate skill woven it. Ah I who can tell 

 far-extending waves of desolation may circle from 

 that one childish act of wrong, which tbat mother, 

 "careful in many things," has suffered to 

 unrebuked. 



Turn we now to another home. Across that 

 floor there were marks of little feet leading to ar 

 outer door, where stood a little "barefoot boy 





a fill and his bosom 



miten in regard to 

 aild:— "To-day he is 



can persuade, coax, 



with recitals of good 

 mid him if 



vou will take the trouble. But look ahead some 

 years, when that little voice shall ring in deep 

 bass tones, when that small form shall base a 

 moo's weight and tramp; when a rough beard 

 shall cover that little round chin, and the willful 

 strength of manhood fill out that little form. 



]■/.;, 



...Id : 



worlds for the key t 

 i lit 





Xhe i! 



the t 



"Why, Willie, how 

 t away from the old birds ; bow 



her darling, 



held, her coi 



could you In 



sad they will feel when they 



by, and find their nest and little birdi 



"It was so pretty," said the child in a su"bducd 

 voice, " but I am sorry I look it if it was naughty." 



" It was very wrong, although perhaps you did 

 not think how Bad the old birds would fee). See " 

 she continued, "there is the mother bird now- 

 shc has missed her darlings, and how distressed 



Willie's little lips quivered, and the (oars 

 Bprang to his eyes, and banding the nest to bis 

 mother, be cried, " Put it back, ma. I don't want 



" Can you show me where you found it?" 



" Yes, I know the very bush." 



"Then como, and we will try and restore it." 

 Taking the nest in one hand, and ber little one's 

 chubby fingers in the othor, she walked slowly 

 away, talking in a low, sweet tone to him, striving 

 :> plant the priceless germ of kindness to all— and 



especially i 



nd unprotected things- 

 o nun; and the nest was soon resting in 

 oe bush whence those eoger little fingers 



*ason that noble mother thus instilled was 

 forgotten. The terror of the bereaved 

 gen c reproof from his mother's lips, 



nakei 



nfuding i 



checked thus early, which might Otherwii 1 

 led to much evil in after years; and kindly (-j. 

 ings were aroused and stimulated which hav 

 never ceased to grow and strengthen in his heart 

 nd which to-day form the crowning grace of his 

 noble, manly 



CBTXDRErTS' JOYS AND SORROWS. 



I can- endure n melancholy man, but not ( 

 melancholy child ; the former, in whatever slougt 

 he may sink, can raise his eyes either to the king 

 dom of reason or of hope ; but the little child if 

 entirely absorbed and weighed down by one black 

 poison-drop of the present. Think of a child led 

 to the scaffold ; think of Cupid in a Dutch coffin ; 

 or watch a butlerfiy, after its four wings have been 

 torn off, creeping like a worm, and you will feel 

 what I mean. But wherefore? The first has been 

 already given ; the child, liko the beast, only 

 knows purest, though shortest sorrow ; one which 

 has no past and no future ; one such as the sick 

 man receives from without, — the dreamer from 

 himself into hiB asthenic brain ; finally, one with 

 the consciousness not of guilt, hut of innocence. 



Certainly, all the sorrows of children are but 

 shortest uights, as their joys are but hottest days; 

 and, indeed, both so much so, that in the latter, 

 often clouded and starless time of life, the matured 

 mau only longingly remembers his old childhood's 

 pleasures, while he seems altogether to have for- 

 gotten his childhood's grief. This weak remem- 

 brance is strangely contrasted with the opposing 

 one in dreams and fevers, in this respect, that in 

 the two last it i3 always the cruel sorrows of child- 

 hood — and the fever, its distorting glass — both 

 draw forth from dark corners the fears of defence- 

 less childhood, which press and cut with iron 

 fangs into the prostrate soul. The fair scenes of 

 dreams mostly play on an after stage, whereas the 

 frightful ones choose for theirs the cradle and the 

 nursery. Moreover, in fever, the ice-bands of the 

 fear ofghosts, the striking one of the teachers and 

 parents, and every claw with which fate has 

 pressed the young heart, stretch themselves out 

 to catch the wandering man. 



Parents, consider then, that every childhood's 

 Rupert— the name given in Germany to the ficti- 

 tious being employed to frighten children into 

 obedience— even though it has lain chained for 

 years, yet breaks loose and gains mastery over the 

 man so soon as it finds him on a sick-bed. The 

 first fright is more dangerous the sooner it hop- 

 pens ; as the man grows older, be is less and less 

 easily frightened ; the little cradle orbed-canopy 

 of the child is more easily quite darkened than the 

 starry heaven of the man. 



HOUSEHOLD CARES. 



Mns. Kiuklakd has very truly said that woman 

 is it over really and healthily happy, without 

 household cares. But to perform housework is 



too frequently considered degrading. Even where 



youth, condescends to labor «ccasionally, the 

 doughters are frequently brought up in perfect 

 idleness, taking no bodily exercise, except that of 

 walking in fine weather, or riding in cust 

 carriages, or dancing at a party. Those, in 

 who can afford servants, cannot demean 

 selves, as they think, by domestic labors. The 

 result is, too frequently, that ladies of this cl; 

 lose what little health they started in life wi 

 becoming feeble in just about the proportion 

 tbey become fashionable. In the neglect of 

 household cares, American ladies stand alone. A 

 German lady, no matter how elevated her rank, 

 never forgets that domestic labors conduce to 

 health of body and mind alike. An English lady, 

 whatever may be her position in society, does not 

 neglect the affairs of her household, and, even 

 though she has a housekeeper, devotes a portion 

 of time to this, her true and happiest sphere. A 

 contrary course to this results in a lassitude of 

 mind often as fata] to health as the neglect of 

 bodrly exercise. The wire who leaves her house- 

 hold cares to her domestics, generally pays the 

 penalty which has been affixed to idleness since 

 the foundation of the world, and either wilts 

 away from sheer ennui, or Is i 



THE AUTUMN TIME. 



o light zephyr stirs 



And are gone— like t 



Is tbo blight upon 

 3U r earthly joys,' 





all sorts 

 t for her 



nind. If household cares were more generally 

 ittended to by ladies of the family, there would 

 je comparatively little backbiting, gossiping, 

 snviousneas, and other kindred sins; and women 

 n good society would be much happier, and much 

 nore truly lovea.ble.—Springfu/-d Republican. 





)D Natuiie.— Good natur 

 s brightly wherever it is found. It cheers 

 irknesB of misfortune, and warms the heart 

 is callous and cold. In social life who has 

 sen and fell its influences? Don't let little 

 rs ruffle you. Nobody gains anything by 

 cross and crabbed. If a friend has injured 

 if the world goes hard— if you wantemploy- 

 and can't get your honest dues-or fire has 

 med, or water swallowed up the fruits of 



many years hard toil— or your faults are magnified, 

 emies have traduced, or friends deceived, 

 mind; don't get mad with anybody; don't 



abuse the world or any creature; keep good na- 

 , and our word for it, all will come right, 

 outb winds and the gentle sun* ore not more 



effectual in clothing the earth with verdure and 

 flowers of spring, than is good nature in 



adorning the heart of men and women with blos- 

 of kindness, happiuess and affection— those 

 rs the fragrance of which ascend to heaven. 



ii I.U1 Hi 



his shadows deep. To the lover 



lhiv-e Unrigs are a source o( admirul 

 ness, for they reflect back upon the 

 of the first Great Author. God is 



There is beauty in the trusting confidence oi 

 the bride, standiog beside the manly form of bice 

 to whose keeping she is about to confide her hap 

 pincss — her destiny— her ell. There is beauty — 



tenonco of the prattling babe, and as il sleeps, 

 angels whisper in its willing ear. l'erh ape already, 

 the Death Angel bos lain his icy finger on the 

 "polished brow," and taken the "rose tint from 

 cheek and lip ;" ball! ill there beams a holy beauty, 

 which Death cannot destroy. There is beauty in 

 the heart-trusting grief of the bereaved and weep- 

 ing mother bending over the pale, cold form of het 

 loved one, and imprinting the last fond kiss on its 

 pure white brow; for with theeye of Faith she sees 

 ber babe among the angel band — she saw it pose 

 softly over the "cold stream," and encircled in 

 the loving arms of Him who said "suffer little 

 children to come unto me." 



Who can gaze, without seeing beauty 

 well regard with envy, upon the while-h 

 of three-score yeBrs and ten, whose calm, tranquil 

 face, and beaming eye, betokens a well-spend life, 

 and a looking forward to the realization of a 

 glorious hope of blissful immortality beyond the 

 grave, when the Heavenly Messenger shall whis- 

 per the joyful words :— " Well doDo, thou good 



There is a beauty, which all may see, stamped 

 in letters of living light, on the undying page 

 of the Book of Life. What lovelir 

 requirements, its promises, and il 

 There is beauty, how sublimely holy 

 ing love which characterized Him, 

 nailed to the shameful cross, cried 

 tones, "Father forgive them, they ki 

 they do." Such is beauty all divine. Sin 

 mars all oarthly grace here, had lost its 

 All other beauty fades and perishes with tii 

 the loveliness of the soul, the divine and iramort. 

 part of our natures, fades n 

 lives on through the endle 

 May we all attain the comeliness which will grant 

 us a passport to the Lund of the Beautiful which 

 lies beyond this vale of tears ; where naught can 

 enter to mar its perfection— where all is love, 

 peace, joy and happiness forever. 





MIDDLE LITE. 



It is perhaps not without some shade of sadness 

 that one comes lo rank himself in middle life. 

 Slowly it dawns upon him, reluctantly he admits 

 it. It is no sense of growing old that teaches him, 

 no flagging of the powers of the spirits, not even 

 the taunt of that opprobrious epithet now-a-days 

 flippantly flung at middle life — for the "fogy" is 



finds that, with the fuller flesh, and firmer muscle, 

 and stronger tread, and truer poise of Ii is faculties, 

 — while yet his sympathies are all young and 

 fresh, while yet he waits to follow where the older 

 and wiser lead,— the world waits and looks to 

 him,— pushes him forward where he hesitates, 

 until he discovers, that no longer looked upon as 

 young, he must take hie place in the toiling and 

 exposed van, and hew the way in which other 

 steps shall tread. 

 The character of middle lifo is the character of 



III; 



tbyw 



ichhet: 



:, that I 



j he does 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 



All objects, natural, spiritual, ordivine, possess 

 beauty, cither in themselves, or in their offects ■ 

 the mind of man, when rightly received and co 

 sidered. Happy is the individual whose mind 

 so constructed be can discern beauty in all It 

 Goo hath created — who can discover boneath 

 plain or homely exterior, the inner beauties of the 

 mind and heart— whose soul is keenly al 

 the pleasing associations by which be ma; 

 rounded, — and can see through the misty veil of 

 doubt and disappointment, <jl> ""• ing* of brighlnes. 



We may see beauty in every blade of grass wi 

 tread beneath our feet— in every flower that bloom 

 and fills the air with fragrance— iu the dewy wiug 

 of the butterfly that flutters and rejoices in t-hi 

 summer sunlight— in the gay-plumaged warbler 

 of the grove, and in their merry songs. We mai 

 love to listen to the sound of the summer rain, ai 

 it patters on the old home ro"f— to the gentli 

 whisperings of the summer breeze— and to tbi 

 quiet murmurings of the little brook, fl< 



,n-l, ty i 





splei 



ing sights and sounds to one who loves 

 muoe with Nature, and listen to her gentle 

 teachings." Who could gaze in aught save "awe- 

 struck wonder" and admiration, upon the awful 

 majesty of Niagara's c iturnct whoso waters rush 

 lid the roar and thunder of their fall, with 

 itible force, bearing all that como within 

 theirpowerto swift andsuredesiruclion. R.auty, 

 ; how sublime! There is beauty on 

 upanded bosom of the deep blue sea, 

 n, among tho myriads that inhabit the 

 sea of ocean's depths, where human 

 eye hath never seen, nor human ear ever heard, 

 n there does the beautiful obide. There is 

 uly, Oh, how fearful, in the lightning'a vivid 

 b— in the thunder's awful roar, in the storm, 

 and the whirlwind ; for God is there in majesty and 

 might. 0, the calm beauty of the " bow of prom- 

 ise," when it arches (he Bky at even— of the clouds 

 —of the pale orb of night— of the twinkling stars 

 that " sang together for joy." And thou, 0, Sun- 

 great dispenser of light and heat— thou loo, art 

 beaulilul,— too -luzzlingly beautiful, for mortal 

 T isioii. How much of beauty in his light, and in 



his good or evil ; it is the c^iaructc 



be carries with 



him into age, and into the dread 



presence of his 



Maker. Middle life makes for us 





self could not give. The bright v 



sions of youth 



are past. Sorrows, disappointmen 



ts, griefs, have 



overtaken us, and we are made to 



ee how solemn 



and how real a thing it is to live ; how vain, and 

 weak, and ignorant is the unsupported soul of man. 

 Amid trials and toils, the attendant witnesses of 

 a Father's discipline and oversight, amid defeats 

 which eneb day te-tiity to oui iusuilieient principle, 

 our advancing years lead us. Shall all this pass 

 us as the breeze passes the wheattield, leaving it 

 standing and smiling as before? Shall we not 



character, some other reverence than ourselves, 

 some other dependence? Shall the old frivolity 

 still cleave in us— the garb of childhood on the 

 frame of mau— the old love and pursuit of plea- 

 sure^ — tho old, often vanquished, self-conlidtiuce'i' 

 Shall we be grow ing iuto years with all the frippery 

 of childhood lingering about our hearts, our mon- 

 ners, our hopes, our attainments ? Not so, middle 

 life is for better things; for 1 lie editing off of the 

 childish and unworthy, for the putting on of the 

 whole man— even of the man after Christ. Saddest 

 of all sad sights is it to see tbo probation of a 



i 



MY HOME. 



FORGIVENESS OF SES THROUGH CHRIST. 



In this idea of the Divine forgiveness of sin we 

 have the sublimest exhibition of Goo's tender love 

 and compassion to man. Our ideas of law in the 

 abstract are not of the remission of punishment, 

 but rather an impartial rendering unto every 

 man what is his due, whether it be good, or whether 

 it be evil. And when we reflect that this justice 

 far tempered by mercy, that the guilt of the 

 expiated by the 



God, 



be thus mindl 



whole world hai 



s of our God ought truly to be 

 in that He has manifested so 

 in, and forbearance, and long- 



CHRISTIAN ENTHUSIASM. 



i take 



nerve, at each thrilling mention of that central 

 figure— the Cross ; or those dear scenes, so vivid to 

 tho sense— Calvary and the Garden. It was never 

 the utterance of smooth abstraction that wrought 

 with drastic energy on the dead in trespasses and 

 sins; brought three tbousaod converts into the 

 Church by a single sermon at Pentecost ; fascinated 

 Ihe young Florentine arlists, aud drew them away 



a their models and gal 



in the 



en the pic 



sofSavan- 

 r-w ,■ moved 

 a a percop- 



arola, the author of the Triumphu* Gru 



k an audience of French noblesse i 



e bodily recod from the Cathedral altai 



fingers of Massilon's imagination opened tho 



ers of the blazing pit; cast down thousands of 



sturdy English yeomanry upon their knees to prsy, 



Wbslby ordered the visible array of heaven 



and earth into the service of bis oratory ; bore the 



>us blessing of Bun van's enchanting dream 



world-wide errand of holy delight — a charm - 



'angel ; made the stout-hearted New England 



Puritans, at Northampton, clutch tbe railings of 



their pews, when Ebw.iijds fold them of the " due 



ime," as if their feet were that instant veritably 



tiding; and extorted from u brave but sensual 



oldier the confession, that he would rather storm 



the Bridge of Lodi than hear a chapter of the Epis- 



o the Corinthians.— Rev, S. D. Huntington. 



They Shall Obtain Mbrcy. — If you find a man 

 disposed to complain of tbe coldness of the world, 

 e you will find that be has never brought 

 uuy thing into the world to warm, it, but is a per- 

 sonal lump of ice set in the midst of it. If you 





tnplai 



world is all 



! and hollow, tap him, and he will probably 



I li.l.-r mill I 



Ands 



i the oi 







deepening linge lo character proclaims the ri; 

 ing within, while all things say how closely 

 wilfully it clings to its grosser delights. Old age 

 Jb not of necessity beautiful. All do not know the 

 secret of the art of growing old gracefully. It is 

 an art which middle life works at and perfects. 

 The secret lies back there. Serene and waiting, 

 and beloved age is the result of honorable and 

 rirtuous middle life; and age, querulous, exact- 

 Qg, burdensome to itself aud others, is the product 

 of selfish, frivolous middle life.-iW*. .t.J. 



>u(iK Hahoshif.— AsthegladLatorlraincd the 

 body, so must wo train the mind to self-sacntice, 



indure all things," to meet and overcome 

 difficulty and danger. We must take the rough 

 end thorny roads, us well as the smooth and 

 pleasant ; and a portion al least of our daily duty 

 must bo hard and disagreeable ; for the mind can- 

 not be kept strong aud healthy in perpetual sun- 

 shine only, and the most dangerous of all stales is 

 that of constantly recurring pleasure, ease, and 

 prosperity. Most persons will find difficulties and 

 hardships enough without seeking them ; let them 

 not repine, but take tbem as a part of that educa- 

 tional discipline necesBary to fit tbe mind to arrive 

 ut ii.-. highest good.— Selected. ■ 



id man will probably find kindness every- 



o about him. The merciful man, as a geneeal 



f, will obtain mercy. He who has always bad 



id excuse for others, who has looked at the 



brightest side of the case; be who baa rendered 



hispardou and his help whenever he could, who 



has never brought his fellow-man into any strait 



by reason of not helping him, will find that tbe 



mercy which ho has bestowed flows back upon him 



in a full and spontaneous spring. He will t 



ciful v 



ibyt: 



f ho himself shows. 



i Hi. 



■ suppose i 



would sin unpardonably if he did i 



ble any for o whole day. I don't believe God sits 



watching every man, and saying "There! he has 



not read the Bible for twenty-four hours! Put 



down against him 1" And wo ought not to 



the Bible for fear of any such accounting.— 



We carry in the Bible God's sweetest messages of 



cheer to US. If there is anything noble und deli- 



and teuder anywhere, it is found iu the Bible. 



ought we so to defile such messages as these 



i perfunctory reading oflheml" We should 



carry them as we carry letters from our dearest 



friends, and read them whenever the mood calls us 



eo; read tbem again and again, and if we 



found that we had forgot a sei 



back and read it over ogni", 



heart.— Beecher. 



rniOT religion is matter of feeling, rather 



yy$. jp *> ■ 



~r^ 



