bSRss 



'I ALWAYS COVERED MOTHER.' 



precision, and without shedding a (ear, I 

 words were spoken at (he grave, when too sex 

 raised his spade to throw cnrlli upon tho coffin, 

 cried Katie, arresting his srm and showering 



lap* 



of flowers Into the grave, " I always covered 

 Up, and she used to say I did II so gently." Tiie 



..... 







And she said I did H gently— 

 None else shall do it now. 





■ .'>.i- -, deep and nsi 

 e rnnde tby bod I kne 

 til not soil tby robes, 



And the daises a 



ingel's wings are free, ij 



THE COTTAGE AND THE MANSION, 



Or Cottages and Mansions we ail hav* ofter. 

 heard, and possess some knowledge of the splen- 

 dor and regal magnificence of the one, and the 

 homelike beauty of the other. Though peace and 

 contentment may dwell in the Mansion as wi 

 the Cottage, yet this is the exception and m 

 rule. Follow me,reader. In the cityof B. stands 

 a stately mansion,— wealth and magnificence reign 

 around, and the heart of its proud owner is as col< 

 and formal as the marble columns that adorn it 

 freestone front. So icy is the atmosphere tha 

 pervades the mansion grounds, that it freezes tin 

 flowers until they dare not lift their rosy cups ti 

 receive the rays even of the noonday sun, am 

 they hide their perfume in their heart's secret un 

 until the mansion occupants have passed by, and 

 then give it to the wooing breezes or the beggar- 

 child who pauses by tho garden paling. And i r , 

 perchance, a woodland songster strays so far from 

 home as to enter the rich man's garden to purloin 

 a tempting cherry, he hushes his warbtinga as he 

 nears the proud mansion, for instinct teaches him 

 that happiness reigns not where all so studied and 

 so stately is; and the love-music that gushes from 

 his throat might not accord with the selfish hearts 

 around. And the song-bird in the mansion sor- 

 rows in his gilded coge, and pines for freedom and 

 a humbler homo. Thus as even the glad things of 

 Nature feel the chilling influence of wealth and 

 selfishness; so the inmates of the mansion wran- 

 ped in this world's pleasures, pursuing the laby- 

 rinthine path to earthly honor and glory, feel not 

 the heavenly peace and happiness of the soul that 

 knows that " in his Father's house are many man- 

 sions," in glory and splendor, excelling all Earth's 

 crumbling palaces. 



Bui listen —there's music— let us adrance. Ah ! 

 we have it now. There's a grand festival given to 

 introduce the heiress "Sosik h\f." to "Mr. Some- 

 body" just arrived from "Somewhere." Youth, 

 folly and fashion meet to "chase the glow-lug 

 hours with flying feet," and in this giddy whirl 

 they circle to the grave. The children of the man- 

 sion read of the beautiful country, of trees arid 

 sunshine, and wouder if it can be more bcaulifui 

 than the Park. The rich miser, the mansion's 

 owner, has gained bis wealth by fraud, deceit and 

 robbery; by crushing to the earth his brother, and 

 by reaping where others have sowed and toiled. — 

 Tbe multiplication table is his "Creed, his Pater 

 Sobterand bis Decalogue," and bo bows to "no 

 idolsbut his m..ney l,B S s." ffi B heart is shriveled 



'''"' '""■ -'I'd the mendicant eyes with scorn 



and deii«,i„ n the nabob who, but yesterday was 



'".robed not in ermine as now, call- 



I'^lnce bis home but clad UJ mgf, and 



E not a mansion but a cottage. Yet, 



;P«K*«..»ddi. 8 ,he,,UU,cuslJ 



Lmidst we ifilse laments of ti™« .. e , . 



the hoy-field yond. 



by the 



music of contentment 

 steps of the tripping houi 

 of rural bliss." But happy 

 ) busy hum o!' the spinning- 

 wheel tempt w» to enter, for surely happiness with 

 love must mingle where industry smiles o'er all.— 

 We are uuseen visitants and do not interrupt the 

 various occupations of those within, nor the cheer- 

 ful song they are singing. 'Tis pleasant to be 

 poor, fur they know that though they inhabit a 

 Cottage here, they will be received with as much 

 splendor in bowen, if there they have stored their 

 treasures, as though they came from a mansion on 

 earth. The children here have ample room to 

 frolic and sport, and are up in the morning to see 

 the sunrise, not from behind brick walls and 

 clouds of dust, but in the crirosnued eastern sky. 

 With such a picture drawn, wilh such a contrast, 

 who would exchange bis Cottage, hi? contentment 

 and pleasure, for a mansion, with luxury and dis- 

 content ! For though the elegant abodes in which 

 our country abounds, may add some of the fairest 

 ornaments and sweetest attractions to our charm- 

 ing landscapes, still these external attractions dif- 

 fer materially from moral loneliness and internal 

 beauty; for there are a thousand unpretending 

 the cottage, where Jesus presides, far ex- 

 celling those of tho royal edifice where the Saviod 

 ; and it matters not how rural the cot, or 

 how sequestered its site if there be happiness, 

 and peace within its walls. Then gtvo 

 3e in a snug little cottage where though 

 other sheaves bow not to mine, I may, more blest 

 than kings, bask ever in a Savior's smile j and, 

 wheu this earthly tabernacle I forsake, who will 

 ask whether in a lonely collage or a splendid man- 

 reared; or whether in some Tbessalian 

 vale I dwelt, 'mid beauties peerless to the eye, or 

 green and sunny spot, where Nature's 

 works arose in majestic grandeur and strik; 

 sublimity 



fY-r'.Wt i, 



, ii-uO 



occup> ii 



amidst 



Heads. lie lives 

 D„t,l c , us tun, from Ik. ^> M „7,lZl^~ 





inmates, and tarry by 



Ah! here is a snug little Cottaob oa" thThUl- 

 iida, A uiible river makes music & B it E ijd 

 through the rural vale. Bweel flowers adorn the 

 door-yard ond lend their fragrance to the passor- 

 ■ 



WOMEN AND LITERATURE. 



The literature of three centuries ago is not 

 decent to be read; we expurgate it. 'Within a 

 hundred years woman baB become a reader, and 

 at reason, as much or more than aojthiog 

 else, literature has sprung to a higher level, 

 need now to expurgate all you read. Woman 

 is now an author; and I undertake to say, that the 

 literature of the next century will be richer 

 the classic epochs, for that cause. Truth if 

 ere, absolute; but opinion is truth filtered 

 through the moods, the blood, the disposit 

 tbe spectator. Man has looked at creatiot 

 given us his impression, in Greek literatim 

 in English, one-sided, half-way, all awry. Woman 

 now takes her stand to give her views of God's 

 works, and her own creation ; and exactly in pro> 

 portion, as woman, though equal, is eternally 

 different from man, just in that proportion will 

 the next century be doubly rich because we shall 

 have both sides. 



You might as well plant yourself in tbe desert, 

 under the changeless gray and blue, and asseri 

 that yon have seen all the wonders of God't 

 pencil, as maintain that a Male Literature, Latin, 

 Greek, or Asiatic, can be anything but a half-part, 

 poor and one-sided; as well develop only muscle, 

 shutting out sunshine and color, and starving tbe 

 flesh from your angular limbs, and then advise 

 man to scorn Titian's flesh and the Apollo, since 

 you have exhausted manly beauty, as think to stir 

 all the depth3 of music with only half the chords. 

 The diapason of human thought was never struck, 

 till Christian culture summoned woman into the 

 republic of letters; and experience as well 

 nature tells us, " what God bath joined, let 

 man put asunder." — Wind-ell Phillip*. 



HOW VICTORIA TRAINS HER CHILDREN. 



A pniMAfiT regard is paid to moral aud religious 

 duties. They rise early, breakfast at eight, and 

 dine at two. Their various occupations are allot 

 ted out with almost military exactness. Om 

 hour finds them engaged in the study of thi 

 ancient — another of the modern authors, theii 

 acquaintanceship with the languages being first 

 founded on a thorough knowledge of theirgrammat- 

 ical construction, and afterwards familiarized and 

 perfected by conversation. Next they are trained 

 in those military exercises which give diguityand 

 bearing. Another hour is agreeably filled up with 

 the lighter accomplishments of music and dancing. 

 Again the happy party assemble in the riding 

 school, where they may be seen deeply interested 

 in tho various evolutions of the fnmagt. Thence, 

 —while drawing and the further exercise of music, 

 and the lighter accomplishments, fall off the atten- 

 tion of their sisters— the younger Princes proceed 

 to busily engage themselves in a. carpenter's shop, 

 fitted up expressly for them, at the wish of the 

 Royal consort, with a turning lathe and other 

 tools essential to a thorough knowledge of the 

 craft. They thus early become, not enly theoreti- 

 cally, but practically acquainted with the useful 

 arls of life. A small laboratory is occasionally 

 brought into requisition, at the instance also of 

 their Royal father, aud the minds of the children 

 are thus led up from a contemplation of the curios- 

 ities of chemical science and the wonders of nature 

 to an inquiry into their causes. This done, tho 

 young carpenters and students throw down their 

 saws and axes, unbuckle their philosophy, and 

 shoulder their miniature l-ercusMon-guns-wbich 

 they bandlo with the dexterity of practiced sports- 



shooting stroll 

 gardens. The eve-tag meal, theprepan 

 the morning lessons, and brief religious 

 tion, close the day .-.V 



. for 



wiefluchtig!" Ah, how fain.' oA, hov> JUding 

 The flight of Time, which is silently, butsorel 

 and uniformly, bearing oa from scenes, pernor," 



loved too well, 



The worth of o 

 upon it depends all; t 

 are gone beyond our reach; those that* 

 future may never come. All is uncertainty— a , 

 the least part of tim 

 nomenthemaybloo 

 struggling with then 

 on changes will take plae 

 and soon the present generatio 



lasting 

 ■qulty , 



Harolt has the world gro 

 lot better, in all its long sin-freighted centnri 

 of experience. Secure in the invulnerable mail of 



selfishness, man isolates himself from charity 



sacrifices brotherly kindness— wipes out sensibil- 



r— buries love, and prostitutes that intellect 



th which Omniscience crowned him an image of 



Himself, ' 



With iron 

 want, clutches 

 fiendish glee at the mourning and wailing of its 

 countless victims, deep-toned and terrible ia their 

 iish. Gilded misery, in flaming ap- 

 s abroad in unshamed calmness, only 

 unsaved, in its path of wretchedness 

 down to the gates of death. The 

 hatchet unburied, the emblem of friendship and 

 eace ignored brotherhoods are changed to 

 :uds and never ceasing strile. 

 Wilh as little compunction or regret, birth- 

 igbts are bartered for pottege today, and no 

 jedtat ing angel to wrestle us into repentance and 

 restitution. Oar nativity and life's holy relations 

 ed and renounced that our heritage maybe 

 rgtd, or one more be numbered on tbe 

 calendar of our days— and no piercing conscience 

 wakens to contrition sod confession. The blood 

 brothers unavenged, crieth out from tho 

 ground. Slowly dragging misery's chains, the 

 weary nations toil on in their pollution. Seeth- 

 ing up from suffering human hearts, the feeble 

 moaning prajer for light,— the bitter wailing of 

 burdened millions — tbe agonizing grcan cf 



passes, and it is gone forever. We know 

 whence it cometh, or whither it goeth; one 

 ment cometh and quickly passeth away, while 

 another and another rush in to fill up the pi; 

 of its predecessor. " Time," says Young, " is 

 stuff that life is made of," and we would do well 

 not to waste such a precious possession. How ap 

 propriate the inscription on the dial in the tempi 

 at London, "Begone about your business." 1 

 wholesome admonition to the loiterer. 



Time has wrought many changes. Nation 

 have fallen, cities have sunken in ruin, I'rinco', 

 palaces have become hovels for the poor, while 

 Time, cruel Monster, has marked thousands upon 

 tens of thousands with decay! What changes 

 he not wrought? The young have grown older, 

 the middle aged and aged have grown old, 

 dropped one by one into the narrow house 

 pared for all living. Gray hairs are whitening the 

 heads of millions, and the first silver hair, tiki 

 truant nymph, is sown by the band of old Tu 

 among our own locks. The rose tints that painted 

 the cheek of some fair lady have been vanquished 

 by the wrinkles of riper years, and the vigor and 

 strength of youth is followed by tottering steps, 

 and slow and measured tread. 



Many that embarked on life's tempestuous sea 

 with us, and enjoyed much of pleasure, happiness 

 and joy, will meet with us no more. They have 

 already been cut down by Turn's unsparing hand, 

 and gone to join the millioas of the dead. They 

 have launched their barks on the unfathomed and 

 unbounded sea of Eternity. The golden moments 

 of childhood fly quickly by, and we heed them not 

 until it is too late, and we think " Of Time, soon 

 past ; soon lost among the shades of buried years." 

 Time is ever making rapid strides; aud should it 

 pass as the idle wind and we heed it not? Solo- 

 mon says there is a time for everything under the 

 sun. The duration of a moment is but the swing 

 of tho pendulum, the tick of the watch ; it is short, 

 short, and its flight is beyond our compre- 

 hension. No one has ever been able to compute 

 the velocity with which it moves, although the 

 nomer has already measured the distance to 





id told us their 

 is. Would that we knew 

 ght be prepared to meet it 



d diurnal revolu 

 ; velocity, that we 



its calling. Time is ever moving onward; ii 

 rits not for youth or old age; its pace- is firm 

 d steady; it is true to its purpose; its motto is 

 ward ; it turns aside for no one, but is ever on ! 

 I until it reaches the vast and unbounded ocean 

 of Eternity, and there it bathes its never- wearied 

 limbs in its unfalhomed depths. This is 



"The sparkling cream of ah Time's ble*st- Jn.. *•, 

 The silken dowuof happlueas complete." 

 I'ime is from everlasting to everlasting, but a 

 ■ment comes like some truant nymph and steals 

 an us uuiiwarcs. It is SO shod we hardly realize 

 approach until it is past arid gono forever. 

 :t is said there is a moral iu everything to the 

 bealadywho would moralizing mind. Since, then, Time once gone 

 ound or mortify auother. No matter how beau- never returns, let ua make the best use of it ; not 

 tlfal, how refined, how cultivated Sho may be, she sad or serious bul oh i and reasonable— 



's in reality coarse, aud tbe iunule vulgarity of ready to lubor in tho hour of labor, and rest in the 

 ier nature manifests itself here, Uniformly kind, hour of rest. We shall not, then, look back on 

 ourteous and polite treatment of alt persons, is misspent moments, with that feeling SO aptly ex- 

 memarkofa true woman, and of a true man also, pressed in tbe German "Aoh'evie niehtig, ach 



earth's oppressed r 



tions,— swells a tide of \ 

 supplication. Pity plu; 



iblrng haste to liberate 

 and save. And onward drag the leaden years. 

 In silence each bleeding heart folds its crushing 

 anguish to itself, the spirit bows in utter desola- 

 tion, groping iu a labyrinth of woe. 



Is there no sufficient power, that, wakened from 

 its apathy of years, shall yet stretch forth its 

 mighty arms to burst the fetters from im- 

 prisoned nations, and bid tbe captive soul once 

 more breathe the free, gladsome atmosphere of 

 purity and hope. Shall Mercy plead in vain? 

 Shall Pity fold her wings and wait? tihatl tyrant 

 error yet trample truth to earth, and ignorance 

 and misrule hold despairing nations in abject 

 slavery. Thou who "taketh away the captives of 

 the mighty, and delivereth tbe prey of the terri- 

 ble," may thine Omnipotent arm save us from 

 degradation, desolation and ruin. 



Mam 



thousand 

 'ery person 



pretty, engaging little ways, which 



may put on, without running the 



deemed either affected or foppish, 



smile, the quiet, cordial bow, the i 



ment in uddressing a friend, or, mi 



a stranger, whom one : 



good regards, the ioquir 



attention, which is so captivating when 



wilh self-posseBsion — these will insure 



good regards of even a churl. Above all, there 



is a certain softness of manner which should be 



cultivated, and which, in either ma: 



adds a charm (hat always entirely 



for lack of beauty. — Taylor. 



especially 

 nd to our 

 ) graceful 



CONFESSIONS OF LNFIDEUTY. 



An unbeliever :n the Ctristiaa system rarely 

 has any clear or well-defined faitb, or any sure 

 ground of comfort in hours of trial and depres- 

 Rejecting Christ as a, Savior, he is left to 

 "in darkness, not knowing whither he 

 goeth." The Lutheran Observer compares very 

 itrikingly the experiences of Voltaire and Hume 

 vith that of Paul : 

 "I i 



my philosophy. When I look abroad, c 

 side, I see dispute, contradiction. Wheu I turn 

 ward, I tied nothing but doubt and 

 Where am I ? or what am I ? From 

 what cause do I derive my existence? To what 

 condition shall I return? I am confounded wjth 

 questions. I begin to fancy myself in a most 

 deplorable condition, environed with darkness ox 

 every side." Voltaireaays:— "The world abounds 

 ith wonders, and also with victims. In man is 

 iore wretchedness than in all other animals put 

 jgether." How did he judge of it '( By bis own 

 heart. He adds :— " Man loves life, yet he knows 

 lie ; spends bis existence in diffusing the 

 he has suffered — cutting the throats of 

 ■-creatures for pay— cheating and being 

 cheated. The bulk of mankind," he continues, 

 crowd cf wretches, 

 fortunate. I wish I 

 what St. Paul says. 

 I have finished my 

 kept the faith. Henceforth there 

 laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which 

 .e Lord, the righteous Judge, will giveme at that 



equally c 

 had neve; 

 "I have fought 





Links foe Meditation.— Beautifully 

 dorly wrought out is the comparison of the 



loot; suffering of God, to the affectionate 

 of a nurse, in these lines from one of Qui 

 Meditations: 



Even as a nurse, whogo child'* imperfect pace 



Can hardly lei 









length begin 



Then 



aplenty of WiV 



•n every whei 

 dainty creatures with soft hands and softer beads, 

 pulled with hoops iu tbe lower story and nonsense 

 the upper — but genuine, sensible women are 

 demand all over creation. They arc scarcer 

 that dlmnonds, and for more valuable-better 

 than gold, and safer to tic to than tbe best State 



stocks. f 



The Sleep ov Youra — Oh! let youth cherish 

 the happiesi of earthly boons while yet it is at its 

 command; for there cometh the day to all, wheu 

 " nei the r the voice of the lute nor the birds," shall 

 bring back tbe sweet slumbers that fell ou their 

 young eyes, as unbidden as the dews —Bultstr 



" SHUTS OUT THE WORLD." 



kw yearssin.ee, on visiting a mother in Israel, 

 ho wrestled and prevailed in prayer, she led 

 a small room in a retired part of her low- 

 roofed dwelling, and showing me tbe basp which 

 :ed the door of that quiet retreat, said :— " I 

 often think that this little piece of iron is more to 

 than all the treasures of the rich in yonder 

 ■ are to them — for this 'vkvts ovt the world.'" 

 : was a sacred spot, that room of prayer. For 

 re than fifty years it had been a Bethel to the 

 soul of this aged disciple ; and how many in that 

 tain village, aye, and in the world, are in- 

 debted to the prayers offered there, eternity alone 

 will reveal. It seemed to me holy ground, hard 

 by the very gate of heaven. 

 Reader, have you any bar, or bolt, or key, which, 

 ben you enter your place of prayer, keeps away 

 the intruding cares acd perplexities of the world 

 thout? Alas! alas! bow many weary, aching 

 arts, burdened with earthly treasures, would 

 give all they possess for the "little piece of iron," 

 the something which would "shut out the world," 

 and give the sublime repose which He gives to 

 " His beloved."— Tract Journal. 



No- 



-Hope 



Life's prospects may appear to you dreary ond 

 uninviting; life's realities may be painfully op- 

 pressive to your sensitive feelings ; but with trust- 

 ful confidence, believe that He who made a way 

 through the Red Sea for his redeemed ones to 

 pass over, can easily light up your palh with sun- 

 shine, and strew it with fairest flowers. He who 

 forms tbe night, creates also the day; He who 

 directed the course of the storru-oloud also sends 

 tbe fair weather out in the north. The railway of 

 life does not always lie through tunnels. Another 

 moment aud your gladdened spirit may be enjoy- 

 ing the fine balmy air, aud revelling in the 

 beauties of earth and sky. It may bo that you 

 are even just now upon the verge of liod's choice- 

 est blessings. 



it Pwspabbd.— No man knows what meroies a 

 may bring forth, what miseries, what good or 

 t evil, what afflictions, what temptations, what 

 ■ly, what bonds, what good success, or what 

 success, a day may bring forth ; and, there- 

 fore, a man need every duy be iu his closet with 

 God, that he may be prepared aDd fitted to enter- 





whicb may i 



i the 



There are two words which 

 should take much of our thoughts and c 

 . time, becaus 



