that Fashion will favor short skirts very soon. 
Meanwhile, the number of women having thick 
ankles, distorted spines, crooked limbs, and an 
awkward, clumsy gate, will go on increasing. 
But will this reform stand still? No, because 
their are true-hearted women engaged in it, 
and these are encouraged by the best and most 
intelligent men, not a few of them are among the 
readers of the Rural. 
Public opinion is slowly changing, and women, 
who care more for the right than for the world’s 
favor, arc continually breaking away from the 
ranks of Fashion, and are beginning to dress in 
accordance with their own ideas of proprietv. 
The time will come when all sensible women will 
be ashamed to dress in their present style—a style 
■Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
I No home ! tlie lamps are blazing in the halls, 
The fire burns cheerily upon the hearth, 
Bright eyes are beaming with the joy of youth, 
And merry voices mingle tones of mirth. 
No light for me! no fire-no song—no smiles— 
No thought of gladness wheresoe’er I roam ; 
No rest for the o’erwearied, suffering 
No peace, unquiet soul! no love- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ALICE. 
Whene’er I hear her silvery voice 
Float out upon the listening air, 
Some power doth whisper, “ Heart, rejoice! 
Look up ! around thee still the world is fair.” 
And when within her eye there gleams 
A gem whose home was once her heart, 
My soul floats on a tide of dreams— 
Bright golden dreams to Hope’s dear mart. 
And thus my Alice is to me 
The Shrine whereon I lay my heart’s pure vow, 
The Compass that directs me o’er Life’s sea, 
The Goal my once lone spirit rests in now. 
An Angel that doth watchful hover near 
When Sin’s alluring form comes tempting nigh, 
A Seraph who hath left her blissful sphere 
To lead me up beyond the distant sky. 
Grand Rapids, Mich., 1S59. Mrs. J. W. S. 
spirit- 
no home. 
No home! tlio’ flitting on the pictur'd walls, 
The shadows of my kindred I can see; 
I know their presence in my heart no longer— 
Living to others, they are dead to me. 
Still shine the stars in all their olden brightness 
And still the golden sunlight tints the wave, ’ 
But beauty greets no more my spirit's vision— 
I mourn in darkness by Affection’s grave. 
No home! the leaves from out Life’s opening blossoms 
Have fallen, sere and faded, to the ground ; 
And while the cold winds rudely rustle through them, 
I hear, and tremble as I hear, the sound. 
For all too plainly do I know the meaning 
My deadened present—and for years to come 
No hope to calm the rushing tide of feeling— 
No refuge from my thoughts-no restA-no home ! 
No home ! tho’ from unnumbered voices 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. 
BY IDA FAIRFIELD. 
Oh ! not for the dead, the holy and good, 
Let the tears of sorrow flow, 
Too sacred and pure is the mystical flood, 
To waste it in useless woe. 
And they are enjoying a home of rest 
In that land where care cannot come, 
Give smiles, not tears, for the pure and’blesi 
Who have now their eternal home. 
1 e may weep for the living, the hearts all w 
By the impress of sorrow and care, 
Who all the ills of life’s burden have borne, 
And still the sad mantle must wear. 
In your tears, perchance, may be found a ba 
To bind up the sorrowing heart, 
Filling the soul with a holy calm 
As its eartldy joys depart. 
Ye may weep for the withering blight 
Which the true heart often knows, 
For the deepening gloom of poverty’s night. 
And the orphan’s myriad woes • 
For the fleeting joys which time, ' 
From the scroll of years, hath ’reft 
For the cankering stain which sin and crime 
On the heart’s pure shrine hath left. 
Y e may weep for the shame and wrong, 
Wrought by injustice’s hand, 
For the weak, who suffer from the strong, 
In every clime and land. 
For all earth’s weary, suffering sons, 
Who have meekly borne the rod— 
But not for those triumphant ones 
At rest in the arms of God. 
Independence, N. Y., 1S58. 
TOO FINE FOR USE, 
Tiie New York Times bas some sensible com 
ments upon the lack of comfort in many of tki 
dwellings of modern times. The writer truly sayi 
that too many houses in American cities are so fine 
that the people who own them are afraid to use 
them. The following parlor sketch is well drawn: 
Call in at any brown stone front, “ above Bleek- 
er, at any time except on the occasion of a great 
spiead, and it has the air of a very nice old 
maid in morning gown and curled papers—a cross 
between iron precision and- painful desolation.— 
Everything exists in a state of bagginess. The 
sofa is a mute inglorious corpse in a dimity wind¬ 
ing-sheet. The chairs are put away in aprons and 
pantalettes. The chandelier wraps its night-gown 
around it. The shutters are closed to keep "from 
fading the carpets, and only here and there, thro’ 
the cracks, a little bit of scared light peeps in and 
looks around, in a tremulous and sickly way.— 
Everything smells of brown Holland, and every¬ 
thing looks as if it considered you fearfully imner- 
No home ! my soul beyond tlie dreaded waters, 
Which earth from the celestial homes divide,’ 
Is it not promised, even for thee, in Heaven, 
The blessing Heaven on earth to thee denied ? 
Savior, Thy aid ! the way is dark and thorny— 
Father, have mercy! ’tis the path He trod ; 
Help me ! tho’ faith is weak, for I am weary— 
Lead me to rest! Oh, guide me home to God ’ 
Hastings, N. Y., 1859. Roselia. 
Irom the strict narrative, they seem to speak di- 
rectly to the individual reader. Thus, we are be¬ 
ginning to have novels without a hero and novels, 
without a denouement. Works of fiction, whether 
of the reform or sentimental school, can no longer 
be judged solely by the writer’s skill in drawing 
Ins characters and developing his plot—their sue” 
cess often depends in equal and, many times in 
superior measure on the thought that is woven 
into the story—the classical, poetical, mythologi¬ 
cal and other allusions—the delicate fancy—the 
quaint conceit—the wit—the humor—the satire_ 
the pathos—and the numberless graces that a wri¬ 
ter of varied powers introduces to make his work 
something more than a bald narration of incidents 
or a fiery record of passion. Devourers of fiction 
read such books with bated speed. Lingering ovqr 
what may be called its more accidental beauties, 
they forget the tedium of waiting till the end of a 
long story to learn what becomes of the characters 
they could even open the book at any page and 
read with interest-just as, in real life, we”make 
acquaintance with people of all ages, wait, without 
the least impatience, for the principal events of 
their after lives, and oh, how willingly wait for 
them to die ! how much longer would gladly wait 
than we arc permitted, mauy times! Take, for 
example, 1} ilhelm JReister j a work named by 
Goethe a novel; but, as Carlyle truly says,pos¬ 
sessing almost no romance-interest and having the 
lightest imaginable plot; yet, how overwhelming 
in its richness ! The characters come before us in 
the most natural, matter-of-course way, like figures 
in a painting; and after helping to illustrate the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
I have often wondered why it is that the Bibl 
is so little studied, even by those who profess < 
bear the name of Christ. Aside from its literar 
and historical attractions, there is so much to ac 
mire in its adaptation to the wants of every indi 
vidual, so much to revere in its justice and majesty 
so much to love in its mercy and simplicity, tha 
we are at once constrained to acknowledge it 
authority, and to make it “ the man of our coun 
sel.” But, for the believer, there is a more power 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
fiction. 
MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 
All parents, and others, having the control and 
management of children, should remember that it 
is difficult to make a child really understand pre¬ 
cisely what is meant by truth and honesty. It is 
not every departure from veracity in a child just 
learning to speak, or every misappropriation of 
property into which it may slide, that should be 
branded with the opprobrious name of falsehood 
or theft. The culprit may be clear of any bad in¬ 
tention, and ignorant of any fault, although the 
fact may be clearly proved. Caution, discrimina¬ 
tion and much kindness are, therefore, requisite in 
correcting these evident faults, while advantage 
should be taken to inform the understanding and 
quicken the conscience, as to the broad difference 
between right and wrong. With those children 
novel. So deeply are the feelings of the better 
classes enlisted in favor of efforts for the elevation 
of the less fortunate, that any picture of present 
society which has not a strong color of philanthropy 
—which is not presented with an evident design to 
help forward some humanitarian movement, or, at 
least, strike down obstacles that stand in the way 
of reformation—seems to the thoughtful, benevo¬ 
lent reader, frivolous and unprofitable, even as a 
means of amusement. Thus, we see that the most 
successful novels of our time are not such as are 
addressed solely or chiefly to the imagination, but, 
rather, those that by their more or less earnest 
treatment of social evils, or by their keen ridicule I 
°r sad or stern reproof of the follies and hypocri- 
cies of mankind, speak to the reason and conscience 
of the reading public. Even the historical tale has 
lost ground immensely within these last years; 
and, to take a signal example, though the novels of 
Sir Walter Scott are universally admired as pro¬ 
ductions of the past, there is reason to believe that 
if these wonderful creations were to-day, for the 
first time, brought before the world as the recent 
work of a living author, they would meet with far 
less general favor than they now receive. For 
though the world is still willing to be entertained’ 
it has a feeling that the entertainment should be of 
a different sort from what has until lately been 
furnished; caterers may find suitable, if sad ma- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BASHFULNESS. 
Bashfulness is not such a common malady 
among young people as it used to be when I was 
young—a long time ago. But nowand then one 
meets a timid boy, or maiden, too shy and bashful 
to take a moment’s comfort anywhere. For such 
I always feel the utmost sympathy, and let me ask 
them, did you ever ask yourselves the reason, or 
did any one ever encourage you to feel otherwise? 
Nothing makes a young person appear to better 
advantage than a proper degree of reserve, and a 
modest demeanor; but these are not necessarily 
associated with an awkward, blushing, stammer¬ 
ing, trembling speech and gait. If you will get 
i id of the idea that every one is observing you, and 
cultivate a sort of indifference to what every one 
may say or think, provided you do the best you 
'an, could you not then appear and feel calm, easy, j 
ind be frank willing to oblige, and not tremble, 
est you should not do and look according to any 
Riches of the Bible.— “ Book of books ” is the 
Bible. It is a book of laws, shows the right and 
wrong. It is a book of wisdom, that makes the 
foolish wise. It is a book of truth, which detects 
all human errors. It is a book of life, which shows 
how to avoid everlasting death. It is the most 
authentic and entertaining history ever published. 
It contains the most remote antiquities, the most 
remarkable events and wonderful occurrences. It 
is a complete code of laws. It is a perfect body of 
divinity. It is an unequaled narrative. It is a 
book of biography. It is a book of voyages. It is 
a book of travels. It is the best covenant ever 
made, the best deed ever written; it is the best 
will ever executed, the best testament ever signed; 
it is the young man’s best companion; it is the 
schoolboy’s best instructor; it is the learned man’s 
masterpiece; it is the ignorant man’s dictionary, 
and every man’s dictionary; it promises an eternal 
reward to the faithful and believing. But that 
which crowns all is the Author. He is without 
partiality and without hypocrisy; “with whom 
there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BENEVOLENCE IN DRESS. 
Learning and Wisdom.— The learned 
only useful to the learned; the wise i 
useful to the wise and the simple, 
learned \ * 
of others; his judgments are not more 
his remarks not more delicate, 
man is 
man is equally 
. i. The merely 
man has not elevated his mind above that 
~ -a penetrating, 
, nor his actions 
more beautiful than those of others. It is wholly 
different with the wise man; he moves far above 
the common level, he observes everything from a 
different point of view; in his employments there 
is always an aim, in his views always freedom, and 
all with him is above the common level .—Jean Paul 
Richter. 
uiiaympuuii/.mg spectator oi tlie strivings 
and the miseries of his fellow-men. 
But not alone in its choice of subjects does the 
fictitious literature of to-day differ from the fash¬ 
ionable novels of an earlier time. Formerly, the 
plot was perhaps the distinguishing feature of a 
story; and the writer who contrived the most inge¬ 
nious complication of incidents and brought it°to 
the most unexpected though satisfactory conclu¬ 
sion, possessed one ot the first, if not the very first 
qualification of a successful novelist. Such im¬ 
portance being attached to the plot, and it being 
the aim to concentrate so large a share of interest 
in its development, a greater number of char¬ 
acters than the exigencies of the story required 
would, of course, be burdensome; while the in¬ 
troduction of interesting matter, not useful in un¬ 
folding the scheme or adding intensity to the cir- 
misery, we advise you to asso¬ 
ciate with the intelligent and good. Strive for 
mental excellence, and strict integrity, and you 
never will be found in the sinks of pollution, and 
on the benches of retailers and gamblers. Once 
habituate yourself to a virtuous course—once se¬ 
cure a love of good society—and no punishment 
would be greater than by accident to be obliged, 
for half a day, to associate with the low and vul” ar ’ 
A Very Common Mistake. —Many Christians 
imagine that, now since they have believed, they 
must draw their comfort from some other source, 
or in a different way from what they did at first- 
they turn their whole attention to themselves, their 
experiences, and their graces. Forgetting’ that 
the true way of nourishing these is by keeping 
their eye upon the cross, they turn it inward, and 
try to nourish them by some process of their own 
devising.— Selected. 
The ground of almost all our false i 
that we seldom look any further than 
of the question. 
reasoning is 
i on one side 
