MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
AUGUST 21. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LAKE AND THE KILL. 
BY JENNY A. STONE. 
Which shall I be, the lake or the rill? 
Tell me, dear mother, 1 question thee still, 
Say, shall I go leaping and bounding along, 
My voice full of laughter, my heart full of song? 
I must either be dancing or else very still; 
Which shall I be, then, the lake or the rill? 
The rivulet, dashing, so happy and free, 
Is the brightest thiDg that on earth can be. 
Let your song be clear and your heart be true, 
Pure thoughts like the pebbles be shining thro’; 
For the moon gives it silver, the sun gives it gold, 
And the rivulet’s heart should never grow cold. 
But the lake, my daughter, so dark and still, 
Like a deep heart teeming with good and ill, 
Sunshine a moment the surface may wreath, 
But dark and cold are the waters beneath. 
Graves and Dead Hopes, dim chambers are there, 
Filled with the secrets of guilt and despair, 
The surface a mirror, while fathoms below, 
Thro’ a secret channel the dark waters flow. 
When the rivulet’s laughter grows hollow and cold, 
When the waters are turbid, the pebbles are old, 
When all the heart's jewels are scattered and fled, 
When hopes have departed and loved ones are dead, 
When doubts and misgivings the spirit shall know, 
And feelings and fancies too bitter for show. 
’Twill be time enough then for a lingering rest, 
For the stream to glide into the lake’s calm breast. 
Till then the bright rill my darling should be, 
The sweetest thing in the world to me; 
For the moon gives it silver, the sun gives it gold, 
And the rivulet’s heart need never grow cold. 
Hadley, Mich., 1858. 
quarts of them, and we had, besides, all the fun of 
gathering them, so they were worth at least double 
the market price; we knew we should be the envy 
of a score of girls, who couldn’t go blackberrying, 
but then, after all, did it pay ? This question was 
mentally put by, at least, one of the number, and, 
bathing the scratches and musquito bites, she 
unanimously decided no. We rode home in silent 
meditation, but when, an hour afterwards, with the 
aid of cool baths and clean dresses, we were pre¬ 
sentable at the supper-table, where we feasted on 
such berries and cream as none but hungry people 
know the taste of, we began to conclude that per¬ 
haps it might pay; and this morning, after waking 
from dreams of blackberries and musquitoes, to a 
pleasant breakfast-table chat and a gallop on 
Lucy’s little Indian pony, I, for one, am ready to 
vote blackberry parties a “ glorious institution ,” and 
set down the profits as follows: 
Six quarts of berries, at double the market price,__.$1 20 
Pure fuD, ___6 00 
Healthful exercise,.... .5 00 
Beauty, in a bunch of scarlet lobelia,. 5 00 
$10 00 
Making, as you may see, quite a total at my very 
moderate estimate. Very truly yours, 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
vvnen Hopes Have departed and loved ones are dead, UNWRI TTEN P OETRY. Northville Mch!, Wm" Mrs. Socthworth, in her story of the Deserted 
When doubts and misgivings the spirit shall know, ’ ’ ' Wife rsmarta- i n 
And feelings and fancies too bitter for show. Whoever clothes the prose of life in a robe of [’ “ says the descent to hell 
’Twill be time enough then for a lingering rest, beauty is a poet—they mistake who imagine none Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. is easy. She is mistaken. It was Virgil who 
For the stream to glide into the lake’s calm breast. are poets except those who dabble in rhyme. Of LAMP MUSINGS. said that. N'importe, though. 
Till then the bright rill my darling should be, all the forms of poetry, that which is unwritten is _ ' A G00I) cause may sometimes suffer more from 
The sweetest thing in the world to me; moBt widely diffused, and most worthy to be cher- Nature is always eloquent. In whatever way the intemperate zeal of its friends than from the 
I or the moon gives it siher, the sun gives it gold, ished. Is there a spot on earth where tho “Poetry she speaks to us, whether it be with the hoarse determined hostility of its most violent opposers. 
Hadley Mich^lSSS ^ 1166 neVergr ° WCOld of Love” is not felt? Rhymers have written, time voice of the tempest as it rolls through the trem- People often allow themselves to be strangely 
' _ 111 __ and again, but can they portray in verse the hid- bling hills, or in the softest whisperings of a summer oioved by the enthusiasm of an advocate; but 
., ,, , , . den feelings of the heart? Speak! ye who can, breeze, there is still the same irresistable appeal to then comes the reaction, 
fllll? ID Amur PI! V nt ii t v from experience, and say, are there not thoughts our hearts. There is something in this darkness, Of Shakspeare’s plays Hamlet is, beyond all 
ULll BLilMlHinKl JAliJi. and feelings that never found their way on paper? this foreshadowing of a storm that appeals strongly question, the greatest study, though for wit and the 
Indianapolis Ind ,'ui 1858 Fbe P aren ‘ ,s ‘ ee b n 8 8 ‘ or the darling child — the to my souL Many persons hide from the light- entertainment of the fancy, one should read As 
,, ^ _ t _ . _ ’ ’ U) ’ ° ' lover for the chosen one—a brother’s and a sister’s ning’s flash, and tremble when thunder crashes You Like It, Much Ado About Nothing, The Tem- 
ns.. ™ AL ' hi-omife a cy, (you know who love?—does it not seem like mockery to attempt among the clouds, and breaks over the “firm set pest, Midsummer Night’s Dream, first and second 
Lucy is, don t you.) that I would write to you to portray in words where words fall so far short earth.” I do not claim to be courageous, but I am Henry Fourth, Ac. 
about our blackberry party, so, before I lose the of the re»lUv? , . ., . ,. ° 
inspiration, or rather before the scratches get well T , reallt ? ? not afraid of these manifestations of the “inner Uniform coldness is preferable to caprice.- 
and the musquito bites stop itching I will make ^ A P°° ranle ‘‘ er8d man, who goes whistling to life.” See, up there where the clouds are darkest, Spasmodic exhibitions of friendship are worth but 
the attempt. People who live blissfullv in e t hlS d< “ y tGl1 and retarnB wlth a S0Dg; who greetB howtke lightning gleams. There is a broad sheet little; we must soon lose confidence in one who 
country houses with miles of ureen mead ^ l the J oyous 8houts ° f b ‘ S children ’ and the smiling of flame, spreading like a rapid stream that has meets us with alternate smiles and averted looks, 
brown wheat fields around them, with thick woods T° ^ ^ cont ^ ted and overflown its banks, and gone wandering at wilL All mankind are anglers; some angle in water, 
near by, nodding all sorts of pleasant invitations 6 ^ thoug \ he be but a m tbe al P ba ' Plllar8 ’ domes and m,Dai ’ e ‘ 8 ’ and a11 tbe moving others on dry land; some fish for one thing, some 
to coo( quiet shades-such people are very apt to ’ 8 ’ y *l and ™‘‘ ei1 ‘°° ( a P on the heart) forms that fill etherial space, glow in that flood of for anotlier . 
• • „ ., . ., . p ^ P more pages in the “ Poetry of Life” than the mil- light, until the foundations of the vaulted sky are T .. , ... 
imagine all the good things of life are especially . , , ... ,, .. , K \ , . xl , , y Is there any such thing as abstract evil? Would 
in a. i • L, uonaire who knows nothing of domestic happiness, wreathed with crowns of glory. ’Twasbutamo- .. „ „• iLj A. . , „ 
appropriated to their benefit, to the exclusion of t . bonffb bis , ihrar „ wlHl wnr J orion 15fo . L there be wickedness if there were no wicked peo- 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
BE KIND TO THE AGED. 
BY M. M. GARDNER. 
Be kind to the aged, 
Young maiden I pray, 
Though thine eye now is sparkling, 
Thy heart blithe and gay; 
For time never lingers, 
And thy portion may be 
To stand by Life’s wayside 
A blossomless tree. 
Be kind to the aged, 
Young man, in thy pride, 
For the sake of thy mother, 
Thy sister, thy bride; 
Give heed to their sorrows, 
Lest thy loved ones be left 
Amid tempest and trial, 
Of succor bereft. 
Be kind to the aged, 
When sorrow and woe 
Overshadow thy dwelling, 
Thy bowed heart shall know 
That Our Father, in mercy, 
Himself, watches o’er 
Their griefs who remember 
The aged and poor. 
Northville, Mich., 1858. 
storms like an omen of good shone this bright 
star. At length the storm-king came and rolled 
dark shadows over it until died. It was like the 
form of Hope seen above life’s troubled sea. For 
a season it shone undimmed by sorrows’ shades, 
but it paled and died as Hope dieth in our hearts. 
Yet it taught me a lesson. It is thus with man’s life, 
said L He may shine as bright as that star for a 
season, but death will shroud him with the dark¬ 
ness of the tomb. The waves of time will bear him 
away to the land of the shadowy past, and he will 
be forgotten. “Wait,” said a voice within, “until 
the coming of another night” At the close of the 
next day when the sun had lain down to sleep in 
his western home, and the gems appeared in the blue 
sky, I looked for the star. It shone brightly and 
beautiful. True, it did not seem quite so brilliant, 
but still it was there, twinkling with a clear light as 
if conscious that its end and purpose was to shine. 
Again spoke the voice, but in words of reproof.— 
“ It is thus with man’s life,” I repeated. Through¬ 
out his seasons of adversity—amid the darkest 
hours, and even when Hope can no longer be seen, 
still he should let the light within him shine. May 
that star be the emblem of my life. s. e. w. 
Stanton Copper Mines, Franklin Co., Mo., 1858. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SCRAPS. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY. 
Earthly joys are passing fair, 
Bnt they speed away; 
Earthly pleasures fleeting are 
As a winter’s day; 
Earthly honors, fame, and power, 
Soon have spent their little hour. 
Heavenly joys are fairer still 
Than earth's fairest flowers; 
Heavenly pleasures fully fill 
This craving mind of ours; 
Heavenly honors perish never, 
But increase and brighten ever, 
Wealth may soon take wings and leave us, 
Beauty fade away; 
But heavenly riches ne’er deceive us, 
Nor beauties e’er decay; 
O, then seek eternal joys, 
Though you lose these earthly toys. 
Albion, N. Y., 1858. Q. E. X. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LAMP MUSINGS. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorkor. 
OUR BLACKBERRY TARTY. 
Indianapolis, Ind., July, 1853. 
to cool, quiet shades—such people are very apt to 
imagine all the good things of life are especially T 10 ™ 1511 ^ 8 \ n the “ P ° e . tr y °f Life ” than the miI ‘ W uutil the foundations of the vaulted sky are 
armronrifttod to their henetit to tho A Bonaire who knows nothing of domestic happiness, wreathed with crowns of glory. ’Twas but a mo- 
appropriated to their benefit, to the exclusion of 
ouoru oiao tlott * i o ‘ kon gb kis library be filled with works of the ment in its span of life; yet it would have flown . , T , 
citv folks, as noor wreielmn who live choicest writers. The philanthropist, though he from pole to pole in another existence. Hark!- P . 
city folks, as poor wretches who live in a stifling 
atmosphere of dust, with only a little strip of blue ^ verseeabo ° k - , bas blled ? age ln tbe Among the peaks of those distant clouds a sullen wicke } d> 
sky, visible between brick walls, and to whom a 1 ^ of ^ ehng -’ The youth who respects the sound is heard. It is buried in deep blackness, but Towns, villages, cities and neighborhoods have, 
genuine country frolic would be incomprehensi- T J ^ TJ 1°' "IT ritin « tbe ^ it rises fr ° m its grave as the whirlwind springs no leg8 than individualf)) their di8tinctive charac . 
ble. Now, I assert this is all a mistake, and in wit- °J.^ ‘ ? f J"” ™° m and ,° f fr0m ltB tem P e fJ ome - “ lagers awhile to gather terigticB> 0ne cit is noted for its commercial im . 
ness thereof, listen while I describe to you om- L °7 e * , Tbe ^1 housewife too would greater force but now it conies like a giant in his taQC another for its political consequence; a 
blackberry party. P erba P 8 be lightened at the thought that she strength shaking the lofty crags of the flame-lit third is prominent for its devotion to> ; sg 
„ „ „ . „ „ T „ could be a poet. View it by contrasts ye faithless clouds — rising and swelling higher and louder — • . . . „ . 
There were six of us in all, Lucy, Sarah Hat- i«ii«,. • . . . . 6 ° ® , , in, Literature and the Arts another is spirited m 
,, ’ .’ at ones who believe there is no poetry in a cup of raising sound upon sound, and echo upon echo i , \ . , , 
ty, Anna, and myself—all pretty girls, I give vou «• „ , , , J . 1 ° , 1 . ,, , ., 1 , the construction of railroads, canals, electric tele- 
. e . 1 , « vc you coffee, or a savory steak; place before thy hungry until the heavens tremble and the earth seems to 
rzi? L Wl10 WM ‘° f 0i,te konreMd the n»t the eeeo.d burnef- pause affrighted In ita rolling course. Mark the ^ " nd °‘ hCr “f . 
.... a r company. or this last with the addition of some sour bread and mouldy silence that ensues. You can think great thoughts ' PlIE n f WB P a P er i® i^ e m06t democratic of literary 
named individual, I will state that, according to cake-then the opposite, and view the lighting up now, for the “Divinity is stirred within,” and you Publications; in matter, for it contains what every 
tbe o a ^ ° f tbG Commonwealth, he will be a man of tbe glooray face8 , the grateful smile, and see stand upon your little home and realize the great- one ™ heB ^ pnce ’ for the Uirma at 
in about ten years. the returning „ Poetry of IIa p pine8S .„ negg of nature when ehe 8peak8 in a 8torm . The which it is afforded bring it within reach of rich 
The day (this should have come first,) was a re- We are not all spiritual, and though the mind lightning’s flash, the loud-voiced thunder rolls, and an , P °°, r ’ , ? 6 pamp et and bound 
markably fine one for midsummer, so, immediate- may, and does need its own peculiar aliment, yet the rain falls like a deluge upon the earth. vo um v, nc n r son wi it, an exc usive, 
y aftar dmner ’ we equipped for our jaunt, armed the body must not be forgotten, and to sit down We may stop and muse awhile. The storm has SU8 ° Lr , a ^ aPP 
curse ves with baskets and tin cups, and stowed ju8t as contentedly to an unsavory meal, argues a passed by. It was a great picture done by a mas- TlIE be8 ’ and ’ iadeed ’ oal y substantial proof we 
ourselves away in the wagon. Pray don’t imagine coarse and vulgar mind, and though I would not ter handf Can any mortal sketch such a scene as can glve of 0ur ablllt * to do a tblng ’ 18 to do lL 
some tancitul turn-out when I say wagon-it was have men epicures, I would that all women un- this, and write beneath it “A True Copy?” It is When calamities overtake us, we call them dis- 
a genuine red wagon, without seats or cover, ex- der stoodthe “Poetry of Housekeeping.” The poor still and calm. The sky is tinted deep with blue, Peasations of Providence; when we experience a 
cepting as some stray boards furnished the one washer-woman, left alone to struggle with the ills and bright upon its surface shines the evening 8troke of 8 ood fortune, we find some other name 
an ourumuc astie otier. Our one beast”, re- of life, who goes forth to her daily toil that she stars. Peacefully they shone even when the storm f° r it- a. 
joiced m the name of Mouse, a very appropriate may obtain wherewith to feed and cloth the little was raging,—emblems of'a true friendship that South Livonia, N. Y., 1858. 
one, too, itting or co oi and disposition. Candor ones at home—who is willing to endure toil and never pales nor grows dim, though adversity wraps 
compe s me to sta e t at louse is no beauty, and privation if they may but be spared—has more of its dark folds around us, and hides every vestige of FAMILY FAILINGS, 
rat lei o le conserva ive than progressive order, t rne poetry, yea and of refinement within her prosperity from our sight. It is this never-failing . 
yet he played liis part on this occasion well. A heart> than her mi8tress who letg her children friendship that gives to life its greatest charm. In TlIE hablt of viewlDg everything in a ridiculous 
dusty ride of about three miles brought us within badly clothedi her husband , 8 sbirt8 remain button . a new country like this, a Friend is invaluable; ligbt is one of T tbe famil y failin S 8 that 1 w ™l d 
a mile of the blackberry patch,” so we dismounted j and her own dre88 in digorde while waitin and th at home where Friendship, Love and Peace T arn aga ’ n8t T,** lead8 - t J ° a “ UEamiable 
and prepared to walk the rest of the way through for a Beam8 tress that never comes, though she are household gods, is a blessed retreat from the de81ra to dete <* aad bold U P to ndlcule the faults 
the woods Taking a guide from a house near by, gcribble rh e with a8 much faoility as McDonald many cares of life, and a sure haven wherein our o ; °? ers ’ and ? almost destroys the finer feelings 
we set out through swamps and bushes, at a pace nf WTnBA , f B « rp i v rPBt while the. R t.nrm r nt re« w ithnnt of admiration for what is beautiful, and the tender 
TnE newspaper is the most democratic of literary 
publications; in matter, for it contains what every 
volume have, in comparison with it, an exclusive, 
aristocratic appearance. 
The best, and, indeed, only substantial proof we 
can give of our ability to do a thing, is to do it 
When calamities overtake us, we call them dis- 
FAMILY FAILINGS. 
The habit of viewing everything in a ridiculous 
ght is one of the family failings that I would 
irn against. It too often leads to an unamiable 
the woods. Taking a guide from a house near by • uy “ .„ T, T; ’ Z r? . T --. I . 
, , v, . , , , scribble rhyme with as much facility as McDonald many cares of life, and a sure haven wherein 
we Bet out through awamps and tabes, ata pace Cube saidof himself, that it 
that would astonish some country girls, I wot of. 
Some one suggested snakes, butfailed to be reward- “ W “ h 1 a rackety ’ railroad pcwer 
, , . .. , . Forty lines in an hour.” 
ed by a scream; occasionally a false step would H Adrelia allen. 
send the careless explorer to a near examination ___ ' 
of the mother earth, but at last the berries were IMPORTANCE OF TRTTTHFTTT nfss 
reached without any serious accidents. There is IMPORTANCE OF TRU THFULNESS. 
an old proverb which declares that •‘there are al- In childhood, if ever, the ha 
souls may safely rest while the storm rages without. ™ 0 UC “ UU1UJ , lcuucl 
Friendship, Love and Truth. What a trinity of and more lovable < l uallties of P utting the be8t 
joys - what a trio of gems in the crown of Beauty, ^ruction upon the actions of others, Ac. A 
I love to look upon those beautiful stars after such cntlca1 ’ i cen80n0u8 ’ ‘-finding woman is a most 
a storm. They are old friends of mine. Many 
unamiable being; and let us not conceal the true 
times have they been the companions of solitary odioa8ne88 of 8Uch Propensities in ourselves, under 
hours; and often have I looked up to them and the gaise of a 8 f nse of tbe ^dicrous 
In childhood, if ever, the bad passions must be felt their soft light was shining down into my soul, 
In many families, however, where both love and 
ways briers where the berries grow,” and I think a weeded out, just as they begin "to appear’ The turning UsTarkness tetolly.' 6 g° od temper prevail, there is what may be called 
moralizer might prove this true, in a figurative weeds are easily removed from a garden before We commune too much with Art, and not enough an irk80me ’ rather thau a sinfaI ’ mode of car P ing 
sense, at least, of all the fruits that have ripened they have taken deep root. And here, first of all, with Nature. Here, in the silent woods, away from and contradicting one another. No harm is 
since Eve first tasted that wonderful apple. One let every tendency to prevarication and lying be the din of a large city, I can realize it in a great meant ’ and D0 offen8e is taken ^ but what can be 
thing, at least, is certain, blackberries form no ex- checked. Truthfulness is the foundation of char- degree; and at night, when I light my evening more irksome than to hear two sisters, for instance, 
ception to the general rule. Do you know how acter. Let the manfulness, moral dignity, and the Lamp and feel conscious that its rays fall not upon continually setting each other right upon trifling 
the attack is made? The berries, of course, are imperative duty of always speaking the truth, be pavements vocal with the sounds of busy feet, and P oints > and differing from each other in opinion 
not to be reached from the paths, having been inculcated. Let the meanness, the turpitude, and restless beneath the surges of that ceaseless tide of ‘ or 110 apparent reason, but from a habit of contra- 
carefully gleaned by hands that came earlier in the guilt of lying and prevarication be equally incul- humanity that continually ebbs and flows within a diction? and such a habit does it become that one 
day, but they nod temptingly at you from the tops cated. Every sentiment of honor, and the whole city’s walls, I am sensible that a calm and tranquil ma y sometimes see persons who have acquired it 
of high bushes, safely hedged in a mass of bram- moral sense, should be arrayed against lying, under feeling takes possession of my heart, that its contradict their own statements just made the 
bles. Gather yourself into as small a compass as every form and degree. Speak the truth in all sympathies are awakened by a genial influence, and moment any one advances the same opinion. It 
possible, carefully open a road with one hand, set things, on all occasions, under the strongest temp- that its strongest yearnings are for a closer inti- i® generally on such trifles that this bad habit 
your foot down upon some of the more obstinate tations not to speak it; in the face of shame and macy with that undying element that writes upon shows itself, so that it may seem needless to advert 
briers, and then move forward a step or two. Of suffering, speak it; for there is no gain or advan- the brow of man the name of Immortality. There i‘> ku ‘ * 8 a ‘ am ily f au lL aD< l should be watched 
course you are fast by a thousand little hooks that tage to be put in the balance against speaking the is too much of excitement in a city life—too much &g&inBt, for it is an annoyance, though but a petty 
have taken sure hold of your clothes, to say truth. Thus ought we to teach our children from art — too much that is unreal. Our hearts beat to one > never ‘° ke ak ^ e to open your lips without 
nothing of those which have formed a personal the earliest dawn of moral apprehension. These the impulse of artificial thought,— the atmosphere being harassed by such contradictions as, “ O, no ; 
attachment for you. One such trial will convince three things once gained, viz: thehabitof implicit we breathe is composed of artificial elements, and tkat happened on Tuesday, not M ednesday;-’ or, if 
you that this is not “ the way it is done,” at least obedience, the habit of prayer, and undeviating our whole being is chained by artificial bonds that y° u remark that the clouds look threatening, to be 
it abundantly satisfied your correspondent, and I truthfulness, and then the way is open for every press out the warm life that nature has given us.- asked > with a tone of surprise, “Do you think it 
immediately retreated, leaving various specimens gracious influence, and every form of holy nurture. It is fashionable to admire Art more than Nature, looks like rain? I am sure there is no appear- 
o r} goods hanging from the bushes, like sam- y 0 u have now withdrawn your child from the cir- but it is natural to love Nature more than Art* i ance of such a thing.’ Narrate an incident, every 
imm ia e y retreated, leaving various specimens gracious influence, and every form of holy nurture. It is fashionable to admire Art more than Nature, 
o ry goods hanging from the bushes, like sam- You have now withdrawn your child from the cir- but it is natural to lone Nature more than Art. 
pies in a shop window. My next attempt was made c le of worldly snares and unholy powers, and Speaking of stars, a few nights ago I observed j 8ma11 item is corrected; hazard an opinion, it is 
upon the principle set forth in an olden couplet, brought him to the place where heavenly order one shining in the west A black mass of clouds wondered at or contradicted; assert a fact, it is 
whic declares reigns, where sacred altars are kindled, and where came steadily up from the south-east, putting out doubted and questioned till you at length keep 
“ If you gently grasp a nettle, 
It will sting you for your fee; 
Seize it like a man of mettle, 
It will soft as velvet be.” 
angels pay their visits .—British Mother's Journal, the “ Heavenly Lights” one after another, until my sdence ‘ n despair. Friends' Intelligencer. 
-_ little star was left solitary and alone. Never did 
Moral Rkatttv.— Ah amber attracta a at.raw ao star 8kine m0re brightly than this. It Seemed COn- ^ PkKTTY F . ANC y—, Wben the ^ beginS t0 g0 
I cannot testify to finding the briers soft as vel- does beauty admiration, which only lasts while the 
vet, bnt the berries were reached and gathered in warmth continues; but virtue, wisdom, goodness, 
ir.. r>„, ______ a „ otai oumc rnuic uukghy man min. 11 dcuucu tuu- — * « « 
... ta„t. XLli JLh .1 t,l TZZ P* Ut »P tie sky, End »P to at Bight, it does not apread a pair of 
so it gleamed and sparkled with greater intensity, 
“ Like a diamond on the brow of night.” 
wings and fly aloft like a bird, but it just climbs 
softly upon a ladder. It sets its red sandal on the 
spite of the envious thorns. The Bport came to an and urd woitli, like the loadstone, never lose their a pp rec j a t e the meaning of those authors who shrub you have watered, these three days, lest it 
end, at last, as all sports do, and, after aweary walk P° we J*. Tkese are ‘be tiue. graces which, as the wr j te 0 f the great effects which nature produces, should perish with thirst, then it steps to the tree 
back to our wagon, with rather fewer jokes by the P° et ‘eigns are linked and tied hand in hand, be- we mugt? Uke them) obgerve her in all her wonder . we git under> and the nce to the ridge of the roof, 
road than before, we scattered ourselves upon the cause i is y eir in uence t at uman leartsare work i D g 8# No contrast could be greater than that From the ridge to the chimney, from the chimney 
grass under a big beech to rest, and drink from 80 rm ^ um o eac ot er. uiton. presented by this glittering star as it shone in the to the tall elm; from the elm to the church-spire, 
the spring. Rather a comical group we presented, -face of those dark clouds. The lightnings were and then to the cloud, and then to the threshold of 
with torn dresses, novel arrangement of crinoline, Excess of ceremony shows a want of breeding; loosened and the voice of thunder was heard in heaven; and thus, from crimson round to crimson 
sun-burned faces, and hands sadly tattooed with that civility is the best which excludes all super- the heavens—“thick darkness covered the earth”— round, you can see it go, as if it walked upon red 
scratches. There were our berries, to be sure, six fluous formality. but serene and calm, undisturbed by tempests, or roses. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
“NOT MY WIJLL BUT THINE, O LORD, BE DONE.** 
How full of signification are these beautiful 
j words! How happy must be the heart of him who 
j in all sincerity can enunciate them! In the hour 
, of danger and distress, when the soul has fought 
vainly, in its own strength, for victory; when every 
hope has failed, every anchor drifted away, every 
frail thread broken, how comforting it is to re¬ 
nounce all—to give all our fears into the hands of 
God — to cease the fruitless struggle, fold the 
^ hands upon the breast, and rest the weary wings 
of the spirit upon the Everlasting Arm! What a 
trustweean put in God! With what full confi- 
* dence we can leave all in his care! We fear no 
! treachery, no falseness, no betrayal. This is an un- 
' failing love, a support which will never be with¬ 
drawn, a comfort which age, sorrow, sickness and 
1 death cannot remove! Perfect faith in His good¬ 
ness will ever bring us happiness; for to the 
■ humble soul trusting in Him, He has promised not 
< to take away the light of His countenance. 
1 Prayer draws us near to God! The more we 
pray, the nearer we approach the Divine Presence, 
and the more confidence we feel in sovereign 
mercy! Sometimes we have loved the hour of 
danger and trial, because from our heart prayer 
bursts forth, as it were, involuntarily, and Heaven 
seemed to come down unto us in response to the 
fervent petition. It is a convincing proof of our 
inborn faith in God, that when in the midst of 
happiness and pleasure, we go not so often to the 
foot of the cross, asking Him to remember us; but 
when troubles come, whom have we but Him to 
flee to? Whose love can we trust when the last 
change comes upon us—when our feet press the 
shore which prisons the sea of Eternity? When 
we are about to sail out upon the unbroken waters, 
who will go with us? Who will uphold us in the 
last terrible agony? Who will be with us in our 
loneliness, and guide our life barque into the port 
called Heaven? God! and let us trust Him thro’ 
life, that at death He may know us as among those 
whom He has chosen! Clara Augusta. 
Farmington, N. H., 1858. 
Immortality. —There is nothing strictly immor¬ 
tal, but immortality. Whatever hath no beginning 
may be confident of no end, which is the peculiarity 
of that necessary essence that cannot destroy itself; 
and the highest strain of omnipotency, to be so 
powerfully constituted as not to Buffer even from 
the power of itself; all others have a dependent 
being and within the reach of destruction. But 
the sufficiency of Christian immortality frustrates 
all earthly glory, and the quality of either state af¬ 
ter death makes a folly of posthumous memory. 
God who can only destroy our souls, and hath 
assured our resurrection, either of our bodies or 
names hath directly promised no duration.— 
Wherein there is so much of chance, that the bold¬ 
est expectants have found unhappy frustration; 
and to hold long subsistence seems but a scape in 
oblivion. But man is a noble animal, splendid in 
ashes, and pompous in the grave, solemaizing na¬ 
tivities and deaths with equal lustre, nor omitting 
ceremonies of bravery in the infamy of his nature.— 
Sir Thomas Browne. 
Charity.— Charity is a universal duty which it 
is in every man’s power sometimes to practice, 
since every degree of assistance given to another 
upon proper motives is an act of charity, and there 
is scarcely any man in such a state of imbecility 
that he may not on some occasions benefit his 
neighbor. He that cannot relieve the poor, may 
instruct the ignorant; and he that cannot attend 
the Bick, may reclaim the vicious. He that can 
give little assistance himself, may yet perform the 
duty of charity by inflaming the ardor of others, 
and recommending the petitions he cannot grant 
to those who have more to bestow. The widow 
that shall give her mite to the treasury, the poor 
man who shall bring to the thirsty a cup of cold 
water, shall not lose their reward.— Selected. 
Spiritual Healing. —It iB observed that our 
Lord Christ, when he was upon the earth, in the 
days of his flesh, wrought no half cure; but whom¬ 
soever they brought to him for healing, he healed 
them throughout. This was to show what a per¬ 
fect and complete Savior he was throughout; and 
shall not we be Saints throughout?— Mead. 
Mussulman writers speak of an ignorant Arab 
who, being asked how he knew anything about the 
existence of God, replied, “Just as I know by the 
tracks in the sand whether a beast has passed 
there; so when I survey the heavens with its bright 
stars, and the earth with its productions, do I feel 
the existence and power of God.” 
Judas may divest himself of his body, but he 
does not thereby lay aside his guile. He may part 
with his life; but sin does not on this account, de¬ 
part from him. He can leave the world, but his 
impious act follows him across its boundaries.— 
Krummacher. 
He loves you better who strives to make you 
good, than he who strives to please you. 
