IMliiHi 
- _ thy the information you would convey of his error, 
j§|i) show him that although his conclusion is wrong, 
l^p'v^ * yet be bas done n °bly in his search, and by further 
YslJla/ trial may ver ^ ^ ke ^ r succeed,— if necessary put 
viy him upon the right track, and his ambition will be 
(jERy viv\S?^v V..„ .’7 Aa •' “IvSk likelv to remain unquenched, and he be ready for 
renewed effort. 
But, while nothing discouraging should be said, 
— and a great deal of encouragement given to the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, child, there is a limit to the praise which should 
THE ECHO be bestowed. He should be made to feel that it is 
* - his duty to do the best he can, and to look for his 
by Adelaide 8 TOCT. greatest reward in the approbation of God, and the 
., ” T „ consciousness of having done right. His mental 
Where, amid the opening flowers, . . , . .. . . .. 
, , , ’ attainments should not often be spoken of in com- 
The light-winged zephyrs stray’d; , , ,,, \ , 
Beside a merry, tinkling rill P an . v > and the P arent should be ' vatchful of the ten ‘ 
\ little maiden played; dency to self-conceit. He should be made to feel 
Where the brightest flowers grew wild how very little he knows of what is to be known, 
Sweetly sang the happy child. how very little the wisest of mankind have learned 
Now, with rosy lips apart, of the mysteries of Nature. Thus may his desire 
The bright-ey’d maiden stood, to learn be kept brightly burning, white his heart 
Listening as her merry notes is humble. Thus will he occupy a teachable posi- 
Were echoed through the wood; tion, and there may be anticipated a rapid advance- 
Half in wonder, half in fear, ment in knowledge. But if the idea obtains with 
To hear the echoes silvery clear. him that he already “ knows a little more than any- 
’Twas no fairy’s voice, my child, body else,” he will see little necessity of further 
Softly falling on thine ear, exertion, and be likely to content himself with very 
But thine own sweet merry tones imperfect culture. 
Kinging in th’ greenwood near; Each mother should try to stimulate within her 
The joyous laugh—th’ silv ery (one— children the laudable ambition of “ true nobleness” 
Twas but th echo of thine own. — the ambition to do something in the world. They 
So methinks we ever arc should be reminded of their indebtedness to society, 
Waking echoes like the child, and 0 f their duty to pay up that indebtedness with 
And they ever come to us full usury; and this they should be taught it will 
Silver} sb eet, or ars am wi > b e impossible for them to do if they lay away in 
The notes of love, or angry tone, j. - - / 
Are but the echoes of our own. a na P km the talent wlth which the - v have been 
_, t ( _ intrusted, and repose in “ imbecile idleness.” Ac¬ 
tion, action, should be taught them as the watch- 
’(V i itten for Moore s Rural New -Yorker. word 0 f the true life. They should learn to look upon 
Plain Talks to American Women.-No. 13. labor as the wise ordination of God, without which 
- men would be the most miserable, as the most use- 
bt mrs. m. p. a. crozier. less 0 f beings. The pearls upon the temples of the 
— ... humble laborer in the field should be in their eyes 
Following, or accompanying, m a course of ... ... , 
...... . ,° ... , . . gems of the purest lustre — the silver threads that 
mental culture, the acquirement of the art of read- , ,, . , . ,, ,, ,, 
, ,, , . A , _ ,. „ gleam out among the locks of the noble thought- 
mg, we should advise that of penmanship. Bythe f ° ,, f. , 
... , , , \ toiler, as but the record of the lines of light which 
use of the pen, much knowledge which might oth- ’ . , , . , . , . , .... 
. , , , , ,, ° T have radiated from his brain as sunbeams into the 
erwise be lost, may be permanently secured. In a . , ... ,, 
c ,. ...j , , , darkness of the world, 
course of reading, children should be encouraged . . ., ., , 
, , r 7 ...... ,, , There is in the world too much of the pride of 
to make frequent abstracts of the author s senti- , . . , 
ments, and of the instruction conveyed in his work, nsdessness. It may not assume in any mind ex- 
Blank books should be furnished them for preser- actl - y this P ha f e ofa PP earance to bim who cherishes 
vation, and in which they may be allowed to write Jt ’ but what tl else ‘ s that aristocracy which says «I 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE ECHO. 
BY ADELAIDE 8T0UT. 
Where, amid the opening flowers, 
The light-winged zephyrs stray’d; 
Beside a merry, tinkling rill 
A little maiden played; 
Where the brightest flowers grew' wild 
Sweetly sang the happy child. 
Now, with rosy lips apart, 
The bright-ey’d maiden stood, 
Listening as her merry notes 
Were echoed through the wood; 
Half in wonder, half in fear, 
To hear the echoes silvery clear. 
’Twas no fairy’s voice, my child, 
Softly falling on thine ear, 
But thine own sweet merry tones 
Kinging in th’ greenwood near ; 
The joyous laugh—th’ silvery tone— 
’Twas but th’ echo of thine own. 
So methinks we ever are 
Waking echoes like the child, 
And they ever come to us 
Silvery sweet, or harsh and wild; 
The notes of love, or angry tone, 
Are but the echoes of our own. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BT MRS. M. P. A. CROZIER. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
THE SONG OF OCEAN. 
I love to sit at “ eventide ” 
By the side of the “ deep blue sea,’’ 
And gazing out on the waters wide, 
Catch the song they bear to me, 
A mournful story they unfold - 
Of maiden fair and proud, 
Lying there “ in death so cold,” 
With bridal dress for shroud. 
They sing of mariner brave 
Who sank ’neath the foeman’s steel, 
Chanting a requiem o’er his grave 
When kindred may not kneei. 
Of the sighs of those who languish 
Morn and night upon the shore, 
Shedding tears of bitter anguish 
That their friends come back no more. 
Of the hopes of many more 
Watching for their treasures dear. 
Friends beloved in days of yore, 
Home returning—drawing near 1 
Telling of jewels rich and rare, 
Of stores of shining gold, 
Of countless gems that glitter there 
In the halls of ocean old, 
Whisp’ring of scenes of murd’rous strife, 
Oppressor’s wrong and captive’s woe, 
Of savage lust and hellish life 
That have marked their restless flow 
Telling of sleeping hate and love 
Lying side by side in peace, 
To wake at the call of Him above 
When ocean’s 80Dg shall cease. 
West Macedon, N. Y., 1859. T. C. H. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE CHANGING SEASONS, 
“ For this the golden sun the earth divides, ■ 
And wheel’d through twelve bright signs his chariot 
guides. 
Five zones the heaven surrounds, the centre glows 
With fire unqueneh’d, and suns without repose ; 
At each extreme the poles in tempest tost, 
Dark with thick showers and unremitting frost; 
Between the poles and blazing zones confined, 
Lie climes to feeble man by Heaven assigned. 
’Mid these the signs their course obliquely run, 
And star the figured belt that binds the sun.” 
[Sotheby's Virgil. 
The contemplation of the changing year is to 
i mi 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GOD’S PROMISES. 
What sweet and gracious promises are made to 
I us one of deep and thrilling interest, perhaps in " “VI * \ “ 5. t * • *. 7 
, , ^ those who trust in the Lord, promises that apply 
rendered more so by the beautiful poetry of a arrar ^. - . . ’ F 
m „ t> ~ F . to every case, that meet our every want. God s 
Thompson, a Bloomfield, a Cowper. A theme i • . T , ,, , 
, - , n ’ H. tueme sweet promises ! what could we do without them? 
which, even to Chaucer, and Spencer, and Shaks- wbni „ i. ,, ,. 
, ’ VY nat a stall to lean upon when our path lies 
phare, and Milton, was a passion. Spring, Sum- , ,, - . , , , ** 
. 1 s ’ through the steep and rugged places of life— 
mer, Autumn and Winter comes and goes_we u * , , , , °° , , 
ii , , ,, 7, . we what an anchor to stay the soul when the tide of 
=.d ’ ,r W “ r 5T* P r S 10 lhe <» “P»ff What a light to 
f . ’ . e SID S 1D g birds, the humming illumine our hearts in the deeper than midnight 
of insects, the blooming of flowers, the green, gloom of affliction’s darkness, 
grassy meadows The sear and yellow heath puts « He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; 
on a new garb, beautiful and soft as the velvet He leadeth me beside the still waters.” Oh, hap! 
down of other years In reflecting on the beauties i ess wanderer, led by the syren’s voice over track- 
of spring we are lea to say with Howitt, in his less wastes w from followi the mir of 
Booh of he Seasons: Oh, that I could but Pleasure, longest thou not for ttJVeen pastures 
touch a thousand bosoms with that melancholy the balmy breeze, the overshadowing tLs, ani 
which often visits mine when I behold little chil- cooHng waters? Unsatisfied as thou canst but be 
dren endeavoring to extract amusement from the with earth’s illusive pleasures, reach out for the 
very dust and straws, and pebbles of squallid Guiding Hand that would surely and quickly bring 
alleys, shut out from the free and glorious counte- thee safe across the desert plains to fountains of 
Dance of Nature, and think how differently the 
children of the peasantry are passing the golden 
living waters. 
There is a happiness, there is a “peace that 
hours of childhood, wandering with bare heads passeth understanding,” that may be experienced, 
and unshod feet, perhaps, but singing a childish, even in this world of sin and sorrow; but that 
wordless melody through vernal lanes, or prying hallowed peace oftener folds its wings in the straw- 
mto.a thousand sylvan, leafy nooks by the liquid thatched cottage-in the haunts of poverty-thaa 
music of running waters, amidst the fragrant in the stately homes of affluence, 
neatb, or on the flowery lap of the meadows, oc- 
f ,, , , , ", T.. v 1 - , / toiler, as but the record of the lines of light which _ _ , „ 
use of the pen, much knowledge which might oth- , ’ . . , . , 6 . , Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
. , . , , ,, ° T have radiated from his brain as sunbeams into the __ 
erwise be lost, may be permanently secured. In a f , ., THOROUGHNESS 
course of reading, children should be encouraged da rkness ot tbe world - 
, r ° , , , - ,, , There is in the world too much ot the pride of ,, , 
to make frequent abstracts of the author s senti- . . ihorougoness is a quality indispensaDle to fiid- 
ments, and of the instruction conveyed in his work. us ® es ® ness - mat no assume in any min ex rate success in any business or pursuit. It is the 
Blank books should be furnished them for preser- act * 1S ^ a f e °. a PP ( ' araace 0 lim " c ens ^ product of energy, patience, and perseverance— 
.. , . , . , ,, , ,, , , it. but what else is that aristocracy which says “I . ... . 
vation, and m which they may be allowed to write ’ .... , energy to overcome difficulties and perform the 
, , . a j- • - am greater than thou, because of the wealth which , ,, , .. . ., . , r 
out also their own reflections upon, and inquiries , b , , ’ , hard labor; patience to wait for slow results, and 
, ... , ? ., . releases my hands and my head from toil, because_,_ ,. ,, . . . , ’ 
r.mifflirninfr fnp enniPftf wnip.n nn« DnrronroH j j 7 Gnaiirft thfi VP’jrn.t.inns t.nnt. «ri«P frhm Inccaa 
concerning, the subject which has engaged their 
endure the vexations that arise from losses and 
„ —- of my “lily hands” and unbrowned face ? Oh, let -,.... 
attention. They may thus become accustomed, ., , , miscalculations; and perseverance to keep the 
, , ... , , ... ’ us feel, let our children feel, that God made labor , na .. _ „ . ,, , . y . 
very pleasantly, to composition. And, as aiding , ’ , , , , ,. , T mind, as it were, in the harness, when every m- 
further the easy acquisition of the latter very useful ^ , ., , , ,, fluence tends to divert it from its proposed obiect. 
, ,, , , , J , , Christ dignified it when he worked at the humble J 
art, they should be permitted and encouraged to , . . .. . , „ . , , ,, -o-—-- .»v U . g ,, 00 . umi , TO 
frequent letter-writing, and to the keeping of a ^ ° ecai P en e ^- a ' e u0 e ru ^.j° e of cleanliness and order; gets rid of the rubbish 
journal of their daily life. This latter employment ° a a ^ 6S a yes P® c . 0 iaoy maace ' 1 on the shelves, and lades them with salable goods; 
may also become the means, if conducted under the incinnatus, a er aving 01 e in ecause o is attends with alertness to the wants of customers, 
direction of ajudicious mother, of exerting a pow- ^ ouldr - v > re urn 0 1S , 01 a ie P ow ’ 1 not dispatches duties with neatness and precision, and 
erful moral influence. The child’s diary should ^ asiungton, aftci' e mos arduous labors as the givesabusinesscharactertotheestablishment.— 
ever be open to the maternal eye. How pleasantly at f 1 0 . ia ° aU r * y ’f e ^ e ° ia ° un ernon > In the counting-room it keeps with accuracy the 
might she spend a half hour each evening with her ^ a ^ 6 mi ® a ° r ° a m e um er av ’ oca 10I | o books of the merchan ^jmd regularly balances his 
children, recalling the incidents of the day, the f ar ' uei ]' ! 110 , * es ° ®' oes 0 P a ri accounts, keeping biflrclhima statement of his 
sources of their enjoyment, the lessons they have ? 1Sm ’ ayi °? S . ea 6 , ves ou ® pinnae e o affairs, succint, systematic, and correct, so that at 
learned, whether physical, mental or moral, and aaor ’ 0 eir aa s ’ an re P°- e m ie uxury o an y ^our he may know whether he is on the safe 
assisting them in classifying and arranging all for L eir ° 7 ? a ™ e ' . I rei ] e . 00 men 0 • waters of success, or hovering near the shoals of 
an entry into their diaries And it has occurred J"^ le * l ET** Tl° i “"Pa¬ 
tous that a family journal, kept perhaps by some ° S ? a ,, S . r ? ia .? ann ® e * r J ar In the work-shop it produces the best specimens 
older member, might be useful. Here, on opposite ai U W f G Gr , ieir u ? ie in e 16 0 of art, and finds reputation abroad for the quality 
pages, might be recorded the pleasant and the un- manua or 0 mcn a exer 1011 ' of its manufactures. It finds for the mechanic 
pleasant incidents which have taken place, and But something more than the desire to be, and to ready employment, and insures him the highest 
memoranda made of everything worthy of special do ’ some ^bing more than a willingness to under- wages, while, at the same time, it adds to the cor- 
notice, as new ideas, moral sentiments illustrated, ^ ake du ^ es which are ‘ thrust upon them, must rectness of his eye and the skill of his hand. It 
&c. In the moral discipline of the family, this f be m i Q d s °f those who would become raises him by degrees from the condition of ap- 
rnight be made a powerful instrument for the great and wise. “The longer I live,” re- prentice to that of employer, while his careless and 
accomplishment of good. And how pleasant, in mar ^ s Giethe, “ the more certain I am that the Jess thorough fellow-workman remains, in truth, a 
after years, for the children to be able to look over great difference between men, the great and the in- journey- man, journeying from place to place in 
these records of the past, to trace the growth of significant, is energy invincible determination— search of employment. 
their own minds, and the advancement of their an honest purpose once fixed and then victory.” In the school-room it may not always distinguish 
souls in the ways of wisdom ! We must arouse our children’s energies. The the scholar who takes the prizes, or the lead in his 
Thoroughness in the sales-room gives an aspect 
cupied with winged wonders without end. Oh, 
that I could but baptize every heart with the 
sympathetic feeling of what the city-pent child is 
condemned to lose; how blank, and poor, and joy¬ 
less must be the images that fill its infant bosom 
to that of the country one, whose mind 
Will be a mansion for all lovely forms, 
His memory be a dwelling place 
For all sweet sounds and harmonies!” 
Spring-time is the loveliest of the year, all things 
start anew, all life is full of animation. The swal¬ 
low skims the placid lakes and sings to his nest 
in the wall. The glow-worm emits a tiny spark 
at nightfall to guide him in the shades of night. 
The robin builds her nest in the apple tree by the 
door; sings us sweet notes of music at dawn 
of day, and hops upon the old stone step to 
pick her scanty meal. The innocent lamb skips 
and jumps by its mother’s side, while the shepherd 
pipes his horn to call his flocks from the neighbor¬ 
ing hills, and leads them away to the fold. We 
talk of Spring, we read of Spring, and poets sing 
of Spring. Yes, our hearts grow glad at the ap¬ 
proach of Spring when we read what has been 
written by our loved poetess, L. H. Sigourney : 
“ Break from your chains, ye lingering streams; 
Kise, blossoms, from your wintry dreams ; 
Drear fields, your robes of verdure take ; 
Birds, from your trance of silence wake; 
Glad trees, resume your leafy crown; 
Shrubs, o'er the mirror-brooks bend down ; 
Bland zephyrs, wheresoe’er ye stray; 
The Spring doth call you—come away.” 
Fluvanna, N. Y., 1859. H. A. Whittemore. 
“TEE SHADOWS WE CAST.” 
In this great world of sunshine and shadow, 
we are constantly casting shadows on those around 
us, and receiving shadows from them in return. 
There is no pathway in life which is not sometimes 
in the shade, and there is no one who walks over 
ujlo in wiv vi rv touuui ; " ~ - - -»--- tuc ov/Liviai v> uu taivco tuc pilZCfe, UT llie lead Ill DlS if -aa . » • • ,, _ 
In connection with reading and writing, spelling genuine Yankee “ go-a-headitiveness ” should be classes, but it will not be found wanting in the one who does not nowa^th" ^ +' U h' ^ 
In the round of earthly pleasure 
Trodden by the young and gay, 
Long I sought the priceless treasure 
Of a heart at peace alway. 
Yet to me the search was ever 
But a vain and joyless one; 
Pure contentment deigneth never 
To abide in Pleasure’s dome. 
Sad, dispirited, returning 
From the gay, deluded throng, 
In my heart-depths woke there burning, 
Sweeter words than syren’s song; 
Words that thrill me through with gladness, 
Words of charmed melody, 
Quick disperse the clouds of sadness— 
’Tis my Father calling me. 
Kindest Shepherd, rough and dreary 
Is the wanderer’s dangerous track ; 
At thy call, careworn and weary, 
To thy fold I hasten back; 
Where the tender grass is springing 
Close the cooling stream beside, 
Where o’erhead the birds are singing 
From the dawn till eventide— 
Thitherward thy footsteps wending, 
Thou dost gently lead the way: 
In thy arms the young ones tending, 
Lest they faint in noontide’s ray. 
Here it is that living waters 
Quell the soul’s tumultuous flow; 
Here it is earth’s sons and daughters 
Only lasting peace may know. 
Here may those, depressed by sorrow, 
Lay their burdens down and rest ; 
Patiently the glad to-morrow 
Waiting on the Savior’s breast. 
From that fold, 0, Shepherd, loving, 
Nevermore let me estray, 
Till the hand of Death, removing. 
Leads me to eternal day. 
Upsonville, Susq. Co., Pa., 1S59. 
Sabbath Bells. —Said Daniel Webster:—“I 
once defended a man charged with the awful crime 
and defining will naturally be taught; then sue- stirred up within them; they must feel that to w ho is to make the man of strongest, soundest 
cessively will the child be introduced to other accomplish anything great, there must be grea mind, or the one most likely to be “heard of” in 
studies. In everything there should be an aim at e ff° r L and that the reward is worthy the toil _ the future. It is the thorough scholar, he that 
thoroughness — at mental discipline. The child Point out to them how great have been the exer- labors with a determined will to know all within 
should learn to thinJc. It is thinking which con- tions of the Humboldts, the Wilsons, the Kanes, his reach upon the subject he is studying, and not 
stitutes the great difference between the intellec- ^ be Millers, who have so indelibly written their he that is ambitious to get over the greatest amount 
tual giant, and the mental Lilliputian. The one names u P on the temples of science; of the Wash- of text, who gets the discipline, 
may have had greater opportunities, but thinking INGT0NS > the Jeffersons, the Adams, and the Frank- Thoroughness on the farm is the precursor if not 
alone has caused those opportunities to benefit LINS > wbo ^ ave engraven theirs so deeply in the the attendant of fertility and profit. It turns up 
him. It was thought that led Galileo to the con- hearts of their countrymen; of the Pauls, the Lu- the unemployed subsoil, converts the low-lands 
elusion that the world moved, that led Harvey to THERS » the "Wesleys, the Chalmers, the White- and swamps into fertile meadows and grain-fields, 
ascertain the fact of the circulation of the blood, FIELDS > wbo bave done so much for religion; of the economises in seed while it increases the produc- 
that led Columbus to the discovery of America, Howards, the Frys, the Nightingales, whose tiveness of the soil, and surrounds the farm-house 
that led Newton to adopt the theory of gravitation, names ' vdd Rover be forgotten while human hearts with choice orchards and convenient appurtenances, 
that led Franklin to identify lightning with elec- b ' eed > and tbe an gM of Philanthropy finds a dwel- In connection with any useful or honorable pur- 
tricity, and Morse to the invention of the Electric lin g'P lace in human souls. su jt it i s a quality which never fails to command 
Telegraph. Thought has been the parent of all the But in order that the requisite energy be devel- respect. The thorough teacher is respected by his 
noble works which fill our libraries,— thinkers have oped, physical health is almost indispensable. How pupils and by his patrons; the thorough mechanic, 
been the individuals whose names have been writ- can a mind dependent from childhood upon a poor, by his employers and those who make use of his 
ten upon “ the walls of fame,” and live in the tired, weakly body, be expected to arouse itself to wares; the thorough business man, by all with 
hearts of a grateful posterity. Teach, then, the great endeavor? And how can a frame borne whom he transacts business; and in all cases thor- 
child to think —to reason —to investigate! When down by disease, sustain long the additional bur- oughness is an evidence of good sense, and superior 
informed how an effect results from a certain cause, den of laborious exertion ? But let the vital forces endowments of character. c. b. c. • 
lead him to inquire also why it is so. This little be strong, let health bound like a mountain stream Mendon, N. Y., 1859. 
word “why,” —frame it in gilt and hang it up in through the arteries, and then, with a mind prop- m r, ^ I ^ , 
your school-room, a motto for each day’s practice! erly disciplined, and a heart governed by Gospel , 7 HE , YlKG 1 E '' EK EE ^. ! S a S E11G f. aC 
For the exercise of the reasoning and investigat- principles, we may look for something worthy of agonizi hearts around produces not one tear, 
mg faculties <>f her children, it would be well for humamty-of beings created in the image of God. Js u that he is insensib i e and stiff already in the 
the mother to have at hand a list of scientific and -—- chill dissolution ? That cannot be; forheasksfor 
other questions, from which she may occasionally The Child’s Answer.— Little Nellie L., had lost his father’s hand, as if to gain strength in the mor- 
select,—say once a week—one for their examina- her father, and her mother was poor. Her sweet tal struggle, and leans on the breast of mother, 
tion. This will add variety and interest to their temper and her winning ways gained her many brother, or sister, with still conscious affection; 
studies. Care should be taken that the questions friends. Among them was an excellent lady, Miss and just before expiring, at eve, after a long day’s 
selected be adapted to the degree of advancement N. A glimpse of Nellie’s bright face peeping in at converse with the Angel of Summons, he says to 
and intellectual discipline which the child has the door always brought a smile of peculiar tender- his oldest brother—the last audible goodnight 
attained, that he may not be disheartened by ness over Miss N.’s placid features. She loved to of earth_“Kiss me kiss me 1 ” It must be be 
repeatedly failing of success in liis search for truth, sit by the child, softly stroking her hair, and while cause the dying have'reached a point too deep for 
Let them at least be such questions as he can gazing thoughtfully into her smiling eyes, would 0 ur earthly crying and weeping. They are face 
answer in some way, and if he make mistakes, do often say, “ Poor, poor NelUe! ” to face with higher and holier beings,* with the 
not, by laughing at them, discourage him from try- When Nellie shook her head, with a heart too Father in heaven, and bis anael led nn iw 
who does not, now and then, cast his shadows muyd f At the conclusion of the trial, I asked 
with the rest. How often do we, by a mere bim J hat could induce bun to stam his hands with 
mind, or the one most likely to be “heard of” in thoughtless word or a careless act, cast a shadow tbe blood °/ a fellow bein S‘ Turnin g ^ b l°°d- 
on some heart which is longing for sunlight. 
How often does the husband, by a cold greeting, 
cast a gloom over the happy, trusting face of his 
young wife, who, it may be, has waited anxiously 
for the first sound of his footsteps to give him a 
joyous welcome to his home. How often has the 
parent, by a harsh reproof, chilled the ever-flowing 
spring of confidence and love which is bubbling 
up from the fountains of the heart of the innocent 
prattler at his knee. How often are the bright 
shot eyes full upon me, he replied, in a voice of 
despair, ‘Mr. Webster, in my youth I spent the 
holy Sabbath in evil amusements, instead of fre¬ 
quenting the house of prayer and praise.’ Could 
we go back to the early years of all hardened 
criminals, I believe, firmly believe, that their first 
departure from the path of morality, was when 
they abandoned the Sabbath School, and their sub¬ 
sequent crimes might thus be traced back to the 
neglect of youthful religious instruction. 
“Many years ago I spent a Sabbath with Thomas 
rays of hope torn from the clinging grasp of the T ir , , . ., * 
, r iC . , f & j, ., Jefferson, at his residence in Virginia. It was in 
souls of those w*rn out by poverty and by the - T j ° m 
,. . the month of June, and the weather was delight- 
nfiver-endin.or r*onflu»t of life, hv t.ho sfinonno- _ _ ' ° 
never-ending conflict of life, by the stinging 
ridicule, or the sordid avarice of those whom the U ’ , S ,'.' Ge ' ’ ow vei -> sweetly 
world honors-ave, loves to honor. How often e ^ ^ distin S uished 
does the child-even after it has grown to the full stat “ fora “ om ^t seemed lost in thought, 
bloom of manhood, and is clad in garments of aD en 16 ’ . os ’ m ' deai Webster, yes, 
strength and beauty—bring sorrow to the parent 1 f 16 S 16 ear . ’ ^ ca ms our P ass i° ns > and 
already tottering on the brink of eternity. Then ‘ ° 
beware, lest you cast a deeper shadow over those 
which are already darkening his happiness. The Little Graves.— Sacred places for pure tho’ts 
shadows we cast—can we escape them? Can we and holy meditation are the little graves in the 
look back, as we walk on in life’s journey, and see church-yard. They are the depositories of the 
no shadowy marks about our footprints ? 
---- 
Sidney Smith on Enjoyment.— Mankind are al- 
mother’s sweetest joy, half unfolded buds of inno¬ 
cence, humanity by the frost of time, ere yet a 
single canker worm of corruption had nestled 
not, by laughing at them discourage him from try- When Nellie shook her head, with a heart too Father in heaven, and his angel throng, led on by 
ing again. Show him kindly, and carefully, how happy to forbodc evil, her friend would caress her the Son himself; and what are griefs of a morning, 
and why he is wrong, and be sure to give him due still more fondly, and then say, “Poor little Nellie!” tears of a dying farewell-be it that they are shed 
credit for all he deserves, in the patience, thought- The child’s heart seemed troubled by these pity- b y the dearest on earth—in that vision bright of 
fulness and thoroughness of his investigations. A mg words, for she asked one day,—“ Why do you immortal life and everlasting reunion! 
word of encouragement from the mother, how like call me poor? Please don’t, Miss N. I’m not poor; _ +++- _ 
an electric thrill will it give new life to the despond- why, I’ve got twenty-five cents and a good mother!” If a man all his life-long should do no other good 
ing spirit! The child has, perhaps, labored hard, “Rich little Nellie,” said her friend. “A good thing than educate his child right in the fear of 
has become all flushed with excitement at the mother! Ah, how long I was in learning what this God, then I think this may be an atonement for his 
thought that he has achieved a triumph — how like little one already knows.” “ A good mother neglects. The greatest which thou canst do is 
a chill will come over his heart the idea that all his could any earthly treasure have made her so truly even this —that thou educatest thv child well.— 
toil has been of no avail! But guard with sympa- rich?— Selected. Luther. 
ways happier for having been happy — so that if amon g its embryo petals. Callous, indeed, must 
you make them happy now, you make them happy be ^ be bear ^ who can stand by a little grave- 
twenty years hence by the memory of it. A child- s ^ de aud ncd bave * be holiest emotions of his soul 
hood passed with a due mixture of rational indul- a "’ a kened to the thought ot purity and joy which 
gence, under fond and wise parents, diffuses over belongs alone to God and heaven; for the mute 
the whole of life a feeling of calm pleasure, and in P reacb er at his feet tells him of life began and life 
extreme old age is the very last remembrance which ended > without a stain; and surely this be the 
time can erase from the mind of man. No enjoy- spirit-land, enlightened by the sun of infinite good- 
ment, however inconsiderable, is confined to the ness wbence emanated the soul of that brief so- 
present moment. A man is the happier for life j ourner aiR ong us. How swells the heart of the 
from having once made an agreeable tour, or lived P aren ts> with mournful joy, while standing by the 
for any length of time with pleasant people, or en¬ 
joyed any considerable interval of innocent pleas- 
cold earth-bed of lost little ones!— mournful be¬ 
cause a sweet treasure is taken away —joyful, be- 
ure, which contributes to render old men so inat- cause tbat P rec i° us jewel glitters in the diadem of 
tentive to the scenes before them, aud carries them tbe Redeemer, 
back to a world that is past, and scenes never to 
be renewed again. Refuge in Trouble. — It is a poor relief from 
- sorrow to fly to the distractions of the world; as 
Take the hand of the friendless; smile on the sad well might a lost and wearied lord, suspended over 
and dejected; sympathize with those in trouble; the abyss of the tempestuous ocean, seek a resting 
strive everywhere to diffuse around you sunshine place on its heaving waves, as the child of trouble 
and joy. If you do this you will be sure to be be- seek a place of repose amid the bustling cares and 
loved. intoxicating pleasures of earth and time .—Spring 
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