MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
SEPT. 25. 
A MOTHER’S KISS. 
A child whose infancy was joy, 
A little boy of noble mien, 
Now tossing gaily many a toy, 
Now romping through the garden green— 
His parents’ blue-eyed little pet, 
He tripped one morn, and down he fell; 
His mother cried, “ Come, Willie, let 
Me kiss the spot and make it well.” 
A mother's kiss hath power to cure; 
Her love is balm for every wound; 
Her gentle smile, her words so pure 
Can heal the bruise and make us sound; 
And if there come a bruised heart, 
And bitter tears arise and swell, 
A mother’s love still soothes the smart— 
A mother’s kiss will make it well. 
What matter if the world forget 
To praise us for the good we do, 
Or, if it never pays the debt 
Which to our truthfulness is due! 
A mother's sympathy is ours 
Wherever on the earth we dwell; 
Though gone forever childhood's hours, 
The mother’s kiss still makes us well. 
My mother’s hair is grey, and mine 
Is slightly touched with silver streaks; 
I am a full-grown man—but Time 
Has deeply marked my mother’s cheeks; 
Yet still her thrilling kiss is warm 
Upon my brow imprinted well; 
Through all my life it hath a charm, 
My mother’s kiss! to make me well. 
From infancy until to-day, 
In sickness, sorrow, and mistrust, 
Her gentle words drive care away 
And lift my spirit from the dust; 
She tells me that the angels call, 
That she must go with God to dwell; 
My broken heart! if such befall, 
No mother’s kiss will make thee well. 
Written for Moore's Kural New-Yorker. ♦ rvn 
MY GRANDMOTHER. SIGNS ° F THE GO mG YEAR. 
“ Farewell, Farewell, we meet no more - ____ ( However heedless man may be, Nature has taken 
On this side Heaven.” ~ “--— “ note of time,” since our last country gossip, two 
Softly, mournfully proceeded these words from Tn j WntU;D for Moore’s Rnrai Now-Yorker weeks ago. That twittering people, the Swallows, 
the choir in our quiet church, while a large OUn PILGRIM FATHERS. who flashed in more diamonds than all the beauties 
circle of sorrowing friends were gazing, for the . . , „ , t . of the West, held a grand mass meeting upon the 
last time, upon the cold and lifeless form of my From th/dark ^g^e^The vaieyTbZT’ ^ufh °/ 0l J gray barD ’ the 0ther day ’ and after 
Grandmother. Gently those Bweet harmonious And Ocean’s rude waves, with thei/deep“snllenroar, m0r ® flatter ’ WCnt Up in S cloud > 
strains fell upon our ears, but how heavily came Were dashing their crests ’gainst the ice-fettered shore- d commenced their southern flight. It was as 
SIGNS OP THE GOING YEAR. 
However heedless man may be, Nature has taken 
“ note of time,” since our last country gossip, two 
weeks ago That twittering people, the Swallows, Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
who flashed in more diamonds than all the beauties ANGEL LISTENERS 
ot the West, held a grand mass meeting upon the __ 
ridge of the old gray barn, the other day, and after Whey the night her plumes are spreading 
mucn talk and more flatter, went up in a cloud, Slowly o’er her sable nest, 
and commenced their southern flight. It was as And the weary and the careworn 
if fifteen or twenty notes of the tune you are sing- ’ n quietude to rest, 
ing, should rise in a flock and fly away just before Tis deli « htfa] > then, to fancy 
i, y° u to them; a pleasant chorus has fallen out T . Wb ? n \ he e ! eniDg prayer is said > 
of the music of summer, and the hamlet of mud- g y 
i, cotta g es along the rafters, is already that emptiest „ * U8 ’ ° T * r ** ’ 
l of aR things, “last year’s birds’ nests.” Heap, as Every feeble faint petition, 
you will, the broad “bay ” of the barn like Fnndv a a weIcome mid ,he throng, 
in h\ah fid* nrifb ♦»,; oi rne Darn, llKe F undy And they bear it gently upward, 
! , ’. , fragrant drift from the Praising as they float along, 
meadow, let it swell above “the big beam ” that That the power to them is given 
never blossoms with anything but memories; and Thus to minister to man, 
yet without swallows enough to make a summer, Sweetly singing richest praises 
bow desolate and dumb it all seems. The fellows, For the world’s redeeming plan, 
too, in red epaulettes, that swung on the reeds in Though the shadows round us gather, 
the pasture, and the Bob-o-links, that rsng their stiI1 the angels bask in light; 
sweet bells in the morning, are soldiers and sextons Ayl we hear them chant of Heaven, 
“off duty;” they will not leavens until October Where is neither shade nor night, 
but they are already breaking up housekeeping If the heart be faint and weary > 
and will lead idle, gipsy lives for the remainder of of^Sd ,0W 
the season. Of a land all free from sorrow- 
™ „ ,. , Of a rest we soon may know. 
The Butternuts are among the first trees that T . ,, .. 
render tribute to Autran; they have begun to 
Zb r ."T* ’r” Sl ,' U “ r ’ mar,J a br 'l! ht Waiting to be joyous bearers' 
double-eagle of a leaf, and the paths are strewn Of repentant thoughts to Heaven; 
with the yellow coin. Here and there a flowering •And it soothes the heart to fancy, 
shrub has grown weary of holding up its bright That > ' mid shades of life’s dark night, 
chalice of beauty, and whole families of violets They will bear the spirit heavenward 
have shut their blue eyes for the year. But the o T ° the realms of endless H 8 ht - 
little ponds are spangled over with lilies; their BrockportCoUeg!ate lD8tHute - 1858 ' L ' H - w - 
leafy islands make an Archipelago of beauty, each * 
with its fair white temple of a flower. But what PRAYER. 
£“!? ?l g !* heyare - alw / ys keepiDg jUSt 0Ut 0f “S^h-ORY TEKsoNS^TRev. H. W. Beecher 
.. m e 8 ore ’ and ln att€m Pte to secure “who come to my door for bread do not descant 
lilies.’ The Katy^didshavecwn^too Ind wrang^ TVl T™ g wheat4 “ d * the valne of 
the night out with the same old story.’ gnst-mi Is and bakeries; nor do they preach horn- 
Let the grain crop be as vulgaV a fraction as E °° daes8 of God and ^e ex- 
you will, nobody can say he ever beheld a ranker caUence f Cbrl8tian beneficence. ‘Bread, if you 
luxuriance of vegetation; vines and grasses, weeds f° *”?■ ” ^ °’ t ^ 8ba11 W * h&Ve 
and corn have fairly leaped into life; they grow 1! °J/ ormaMm and more of the *pzri? of prayer; 
over the old paths; they tangle all the fields; you ^°J f m0r ? ° f **““*"* in prayer 5 
must work your way through them, like a fly thro’ Z ’ 83 thC rC8Ult - Bh ° WerS 
a green veil. But you do not feel quite so merry, Tf P " ““ b ® B8ing8 ' . 
, .... ^ -I, If a nfircrm Vina o roal Lrn-rior, Via Vaa.A a* 
they upon onr agonized and grief-wrung hearts,— Old Winter had breathed out his frost-laden breath, 
filled with anguish too deep for utterance,— when Enshrouding the earth in a mantle of death, 
if fifteen or twenty notes of the tune you are sing¬ 
ing, should rise in a flock and fly away just before 
we realized that the waxen lids had closed forever, wbeD the gallant “May Flower,” with her patriot band, y°u get to them; a pleasant chorus has fallen out 
and we should behold no more the love-light of Fir8t part * d lhe waters of Plymouth’s wild strand. of the music of summer, and the hamlet of mud- 
those mild eyes beaming upon us. The gentle O'er her tempest-tossed deck the fierce billows had passed, cottages.along the rafters, is already that emptiest 
hands that had performed many good deeds in life, WhiIe tbrou 8 h her torn sails swept the wild, howling of a11 things, “last year’s birds’ nests.” Heap, as 
hands that had performed many good deeds in life, Wbile throu 8 h ber torn sails swept the wild, 
were meekly folded over the pulseless heart that . ^ last > 
had ceased to beat in unison with our own. Death t , T ° P had / rt( l« ntI y 
t.j Ln.i.j t ,, CL . ,, . , As slowly o er ocean s dark waters they rode, 
had hushed forever the soft, musical tones of that From the gree n shores of Engiand-from kind 
voice whose gentle admonitions had often stayed home— 
childhood’s wayward footsteps — footsteps that To the land of the forest and savage they oome 
would have strayed from the path of rectitude. The To rear there an altar for Liberty’s fire, 
kind cheering words,which, in adversity’s darksome And offer tbeir h °P es on its hallowed pyre. 
you will, the broad “bay ” of the barn, like Fundy 
wed ’ in k’S 11 tide, with the fragrant drift from the 
’ . . mea ^°w; let it swell above “the big beam ” that 
kindred and nev er blossoms with anything hut memories; and 
ne yet without swallows enough to make a summer, 
how desolate and dumb it all seems. The fellows, i 
too, in red epaulettes, that swung on the reeds in 
hours, like rays of sunshine penetrated our souls, There were maidens as pure as the morning’s first beam the pasture, and the Bob-o-links, that rxng their 
___,, r\ _,_1_A_t_ . ° _ ’ sweet hells in the morniTwr STOO.U.V__ J . , 
urging us on to duty and making smoother the 0n whose beauteous brows gems of intellect gleam; sweet bells in the morning, are soldiers and sextons 
rough and ragged pathway of life, were forever And matrons whose hearts were as bold and as true “ off dut y;” they will not leave ub until October, 
silent. Bhe had gone; and though earth was bright As warrior, or knight, or king ever knew— but they are already breaking up housekeeping, 
and joyous, and rife with the songs of merry birds, There . ^ e t ’ e husbands and fathers, whose courage and and will lead idle, gipsy lives for the remainder of 
we participated not in its gayety; for deeply our No Cdsh’ips could fetter, no dangers could blight, ^TheTnriPrnnts » <v , 
hearts responded to the solemn strokes of the tolling As for freedom and virtue, united to stand b T A h Eatteynuta are among the first trees that 
bell as they bore her from the church to the quiet They pledged the warm heart and the unflinching hand. rend8r tnbute to Autumn; they have begun to 
graveyard, where Mother Earth opened her bosom , pa ? down through the still air, many a bright 
to receive her, and when she had wrapped her man- To crush the free“plit that globed inTh^brlLtT^ withthe vfll ^ 3 ^ PatbS ar ° 8treWD 
tie about that precious form hiding it forever from Yet deep in their souls but the brighter it burned ’ h v v J ° W C ° 1D ' HerC 8nd . there aflow-erin g 
our view, with sorrowful hearts we turned away As from their loved country their footsteps were turned. 3 rU . as 8 rown weary of holding up its bright 
and sought our homes. And, when from America’s wilderness sod, chalice of beauty, and whole families of violets 
There was One, a white-haired, aged maD, whose Their prayer for di f ection aecended 10 G o«. have shut their bl °e eyes for the year. But the 
home was far more desolate than the rest The Hlgh throbbed their brave heart8 > beati ng nobly and true, little ponds are spangled over with lilies; their 
light of his household had gone out,- he had lost ** ^ th@ bright future Unr ° Ued to their view - leafy . islands make an Archipelago of beauty, each 
the companion of his bosom, the participant of his And 48 years fled away ’ wben °PP resBi on’s dread blight its white temple of a flower. But what 
joys and sorrows, and now he must tread life’s s P read °' er their loved country the darkness of night, timid things they are, always keeping just out of 
dreary path alone. 0, to think of loved ones gone Above . the fierc «■ »t°nn-b n ™t of carnage and blood reach from the shore; and in attempts to secure 
-5-“es: 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. FlS & sorrowful thought that strains the heart’s For God and our Homes, give us freedom or death! 
THE TRUE WIFE OF THE FARMER H bres , but the blest assurance of a re union beyond An< l when tyranny’s legion fled back o'er the sea, 
■- ' the grave, like a joyous stranger, breaks the strings; Daw ned Liberty’s light in the homes of the free. 
Yes,, the farmer’s true wife—for what class of P ermits us to gaze on the other side of the picture, Oh! sons of such sires, shall the record of fame, 
wives is more worthy the appellation of true? or and through the misty veil of tears catch a faint B y your forefathers written, die out in your nome? 
what class of men more deserving the warm love glimpse of that brighter world. Ah! methinks, Shall tyranny’s minions on freedom’s fair plains 
and tender affections of a true-hearted companion tbat w hile we wept o’er my grandmother’s depar- ® tiU rivet tbeir fetters > and fasten their chains? 
than the faithful agriculturist, who, by honest toil ture from earth ’ An 8 els welcomed her in Heaven, Sha11 the ster-ppangled bannor in mockery wave 
and steady application, supplies not only the wants and while the choir in our church were singing a tbe bl1 ' 8 ° f Colu “ bia -°’ er liberty's grave? 
but place. U.e.UoT",': .be, with ,be heaven,, ch.lf, L 
within the reach of all classes of mankind chantlng the praises of Jehovah. Then let ns ’ 
throughout the world? But, in speaking of true cease to monrn ’ and ma J her gentle spirit ever be f’” 0 ? 7 tbe / ev ' r ! nc i e we b8ar to H'ustrions dead- 
wivea we do not wish to be nnderstood that the nTlivhf P “'” '“I *1■ hed ' J1 "S > h^pVof 
farmer alone is capable of giving comfort and ho, f h «bt upon our darkened pathway, guiding to We’ll cheerfully struggle and strive to the last' 
happiness to the better half-on the contrary, we tbat . land wherc we 8ha11 feel n ° more sin ’ 8 R alli ug Aud though fortune may frown, by the clear eye of faith 
heartily congratulate all, in whatever profession or ckaiD ' Minnie. We’ll pierce the thick storm-clouds of darkness anc 
calling they may be laboring, because of their Car]ton » N - Y -. 1858. death; 
good fortune in obtaining loving and chprishnhio „. * And see Liberty’s light beaming out o’er the sea, 
.,o.w. 
something within the farmer's bosom that seems Memories of days which have fled come to me ___ __........ 
more scriptural prayer, and, as the result, showers 
of spiritual blessings.” 
If a person has a real burden upon his heart to 
though, as you did in “leafy June,” when you , “ X!TdT ™raen upon 
were as frisky, if not as innocent as a lamb. The 7 ™° ie G ° d> hlS pray6r WlU almost 
of course he 
truth is, you have not drank so much oxygen of 1°^ A 7 A Ar CXC !“ g 8tr °° g ,? 6liDg8 fillS 
late. The leaves-many of them-are beginning f ® exclusion of all irrelevant 
to close up the season’s business; they liberate ^theworld 3 ° Ur interc ° n / sa 
more carbonic acid, and yield less of Nature’s true of a sn bier>t that hn 'H 0t a # Pe ?i?- n S ° / U , 
“be joyful” 0f a 8U bject that he will speak of nothing else? 
The thoughtful .adneas that Aetama induces, is Lc* , C f °XTh? ^ ??. b ™ S “ 
not altogether the apirtlnal effect men like to fancv ' h . e wl " ? rcak “ »>"> the 
to close np the season’s business; they liberate 
o emand a cordial response from the heart of as I sit musing in the deepening twilight, like 
the one who has sworn to love, cherish, and obey, bright-winged messengers richly laden with cher- 
And, as we contemplate her willingness, and the ished scenes from the “dim halls of the shadowy 
pleasure she experiences as she engages in the past,” and I live over again the sunny days of 
Jhnrr n “ d Af 68 ” b ° W gCnial 86e “ 8 the youth ’ 8 gay morn * A « ain I clamber up yonder 
We’ll pierce the thick storm-clouds of darkness and 
death; 
And see Liberty’s light beaming out o’er the sea, 
Awaking the earth to her grand jubilee. 
Somerset, N. Y., 1858. W. C. W. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LEAVES FROM MY PORT-FOLIO.-No. IL 
LIFE AND DEATH. 
cheerfulness for Autumn use; laid away like the 
marrow in his bones, for a time of need. Show us 
0, my reader, let your prayers be the real ex- 
a womaa whoisasmerryin “the melancholy day.’' P”"*' 0 , 1 ! of ‘■“rt-nothing le.» 
when the hoarac windage caagh,S3 ”? “ T, “‘T f 
Withered lenvea m.tu _ a lor re member God IS net mocked." And pray in 
,. ., * „ , —r nve over again me sunny aavs of withered _* . ., . • , ioi lcmemoer croa is net moc/cea." Ana pray in 
;2 e ? b0U + fA d dat / es - b0w genial see “ 8 the youth’s gay morn. Again I clamber up yonder rnKEK are , tw0 angels who attend of Jn^ftj biS? Saw^ vine tw^AAAd^ h ’ faith and the Holy Ghost > and y0Q 8haI1 the very 
chord of love that binds two mutual hearts in one. precipitous hill, long ere the glittering stars have ’ e I ery m ° rtal ! and ^ a ”i« d - a °d petition you desire of God .-Morning Star. 
Much depends on the energy and perseverance d8d before the refulgent light of day, and watch ° ft ? n pandering hand m hand, yet we view them low -—- 
of thewife. How hallowed the influences she is them as they disappear one by one from the sky. not in the same light; for we call the one, warm, whgn there is a ^Uweetson^ZI^ZrZ FAITH. 
wont to diffuse throughout the family circle; and Th en, as bright, rosy streaks of light began to gl ° 1 wlng ’ beautiful Life, and with a shudder and a violets „ t make , t . ° d * bank of - 
through her instrumentality how the husband’s 8tart ath wart the heavens, diffusing a flood of 81 8 h we - the other, cold, relentless Death. woman that will gracefullV bend to mi fri God bas marked implicitness and simplicity of 
heart is cheered as he retires from the toil and « lor Y over the drowsy earth, and crowning the When one is seated at onr hearth-stone, all around a flower to the wind and when tl e s °” unellke faith with peculiar approbation. He has done this 
heat of the day to taste the bounties of his own mist-enshrouded hills with a coronet of gold, my are gay and j°y° u s. Eyes sparkle, lips smile, cheeks w ni 8 t an d as erect and as lovel ’ a ^ A g ° De tliron gb the Scriptures, and he is doing it daily in 
table, made thrice welcome from the fact that they youthful spirits readily drank in the ideal fancy blush, and Life irradiates each countenance with Nature indeed has a great ma ^ l 8 ^ Mb’ the Christian life. An unsuspecting, unquestion- 
have been prepared by the one in whose society he that in a world so beautiful there could be naught happiness. Sweet, silvery voices respond to our to say many “a sentiment ” d ^ P , GaSan 1DgS ing, unhesitating spirit, he delights to honor. He 
so much delights to dwell. During the long but joy and happiness. own in tones of love, and hand clasps hand with she bids us “fill nn ” but ho wofr/ “ doe8 not delight in a credulous, weak, and unstable 
winter evenings, as he is permitted to sit by his A b-' how Boon my dreams of perfect bliss were the ardor of friendship. drain the cup without bearine t r T mind ’ He 8 ives ns fnll evidence, when he calls 
own fireside and peruse the contents of useful dissolved in the bitter waters of sorrow, when Death enters the circle; and eyes, perchance the man who thinks he loves Nature and HstAo At! and leads; but he expects to find in us a disposed 
books and read the news of the day from his Death with icy fingers touched the heart of a loved very ones that beamed most brightly, are closed, teachings, first take an inventory of his stomal heart Thon « h be 8 ives 08 not the evidence of 
iamily paper; or as he playfully indulges the little sister—the youngest, fairest, dearest of our house- the lips are cold and motionless, the cheek is pallid, Give us a look at his cash-book tell us which wa ' sense ’ yet be gives us such evidences as will be 
ones in child-like glee, he looks around him, and, bold band. Well do I remember the hour —that the voice is no longer heard, the hand presses ours the wind is blowing and we c-n hotter riotermii heard by an open ear ’ and folI owed by a disposed 
iamily paper; or as he playfully indulges the little sister—the youngest, fairest, dearest of our house- the lips are cold and motionless, the cheek is pallid, Give us a look at his cash-book tell ns whieh ^ 
'T.?.::! ' 8 ; \ e hold b..d Well do I remember the honr-tte the rolce is no longer heard, the band prej, onm the wind i, bbwZ totter 
strained to revert with pleasureable emotions to Sorter and shorter—then ceased entirely. So last time; and then we make the resting-place of his chimney tops, and yet with a a uick ear and a ear and a disposed heart will do in men of the 
her in whom all his affections centre. Then it is calmly and quietly the pure spirit—too pure for the dear one among the trees and flowers, and loving faith, he repairs to that same Nature for world ’ If wealth is their pursuit; if a place pre- 
Re is ready with willing hands to render any as- earth—left its clayey tenement it seemed it could above the hallow’d turf we shed bitter tears. consolation and repairs you may he sure he re sent itself before them; if their persons and fami- 
h^rferi 6 for C ! m l 0rt ^ Sbe Deed8 ’ f ° r the trU6 ' fA bS A® C ° Uld neVGr 8mUe ° n US again; but as Gloom and d^kness fall like a pall upon our K ard8 it with a sentiment “ passing the love of ^ End affairs are the object; a whisper ’ a hiat ^ a 
nearted iarmer knows how to esteem her excel- that pallidness which indicates that the “ King of home, and not until years have pass’d away can we woman.”—!?. F. Taylor. probability, a mere chance, is a sufficient ground 
ence and appreciate her worth. Then why so Terrors ” has done his werk, began to creep over utter the name of the departed without a sich and--- of action - Jt is this very state of mind with re- 
m^y discontent^ and unhappy wives? It can- her once smiling face, the heart-crushing truth tear. Ah! were it not for the tears that dims our STORY OF A WORKING pgft gard to religion, which God delights in and hon- 
not be owing to their aversion to the toil and pa- that my sister, my only sister, was dead came home eyes we should know that we have naughtTo fear WORK ING POET. or& He seems to put forth hands, and to say,- 
uence incumbent on them as wives? It is no less to my heart with a weight of sorrow before nn- from that Heavenly Messenger-Death We see Mk ' j - g - Wa tts, an English writer who has just “ Pat thy hand into mine : follow a11 fading; 
r W C D \ dHly t0 direCt aU , kn °1 I l t0 me ‘ LiUle did 1 think bow much 1 not the celestial beauty of her countenance the Polished a volume of poems marked by refine- beep thyself attentively to every turn .”-CeciL 
preside on the Am ^ri A, , l ™ ^ l ° ?° W Cl ° 9 * ly “ y affeCtion8 were inter ' holy ’ star ‘ like radia ”ce of her eyes and her lobng “ent and feeling, gives the following account of _ -— 7 *:- 
A f th , e . famand t0l! on from day to day, woven with her very being, till the waxen lids smile, as she beckons with gentle hand to the himselfr-Ten years ago I could scarcely write a Pb ovidence.-No inferior hand hath eketched 
TrnJAV rIA 8 0W V Etere ? alS0 f0r heiU Were f0rever Cl0Sed 0Ver th08e eyes 0f heaven ’ s children of earth to follow her to the Paradise half dozen bnes correctly, and six years since I ® ven 80 “ uch as the most minute P arts of p ™vi- 
irue, the happiness of the wife depends much on own purest, brightest blue-that form, once so above. Oh! Death is no grim warrior no insati wore a canvass smock, and worked hard, physical- dence ’ lt waa aU - from its A1 P ba to its Omega, 
^ a Wri° Ur t ge T en 8nd k / Dd lnduIgence of the actlve - cold and motionless. able tyrant; bnt a fair and lovely spirit’who opens Iy hard > as a P° rter j n Billingsgate market. True, f rom i ts divine preface to its solemn finis, marked 
, . ‘ e ’ 00 , must show due respect to her, Af ter the casket which once contained the the portal of Eternity to the homeward bound 1 have not made a fortune, nor have I a tithe of the oat > designed, sketched, and planned by the mind 
ana pe Kind and obliging in giving assistance in spirit of my loved sister was borne to its long, un- pilgrim. knowledge which many a man has, without one- of the all ' wise ’ all knowing God. Hence not even 
every possible way. But when each labors with an disturbed resting-place, as the still hours of twi- Life and Death! The one leads us through fourth the aids possessed by the present genera- Chri8t,s deatb was exempt from it. He that wings 
fje single to mutual happiness, nothing is wanting Ught drew on I would sit for hours gazing far green vales and flowery dells, beneath the azure tion l nevertheless, I have succeeded in shaking aa aD g e l and guides a sparrow, he that protects 
to render a lasting fraternity complete. away into the depths of the azure sky, till I fancied dome of Heaven, but hourly do we see those the Porter’s knot from my shoulders (not necessa- the bairs of our head from falling prematurely to 
1 m °ng the many attributes characteristic of the tb e spirit of my angel sister was hovering over flowers fade, that sky darkened by clouds. She r HY a badge of degradation, hut terribly irksome tb e ground, was not likely, when he took notice of 
tine wife, we will only stop to mention the follow- me > and then I would listen to hear the rustling of calls fond and trusting friends to our side, but when surmounted by a couple of hundred weight,) 8Ucb fbings, to omit in his solemn decrees 
iUg. Above all, she loves home and cares for her her wings as she soared away again to her home estrangement often divides their hearts from ours. and * hope that I have learned to pen my native tbe greatest w °uder of earth’s miracles, the death 
children. Unlike many who are inclined to regard among the seraphs. I have since thought it might Doubts, and cares, and fears meet us at every step- tongue, if not elegantly, with something like re- Gbrist No; the blood stained page of that 
ome merely as a drudge, and the theater of dis- not have been all fancy; then I think if angels are our pathway grows rough and wearisome; still we spectahility. Instead of toiling from four o’clock book, the page which makes both past and future 
quietude and irksome toil, she loves her own fire- not susceptible of sorrow, they would not witness cling to Life. We believe her to he our most the morning until as late as four or five in the K lor ious with golden words—that blood-stained 
si e, and delights in educating herself for the some °f the scenes of earth without shedding faithful guide. afternoon, I commence my fish-selling_for I have P age ’ ^ Bay ’ was as m uch written of Jehovah, as 
prope; training of the offspring which God has tears over tb s erring ones. Be that as it may, it is But Death comes. No bright roses garland her now a standi ug of my own in the market_about any ot b er - Spurgeon. 
given her, and by her mild and temperate example a Peasant fancy—one to which I readily yield, for brow, but pure, snowy blossoms mingle with her five 0 ’ cl °ck A. M., and finish business at ten. Thus --- 
strives to influence them in paths of rectitude and restrains from wrong-doing and from the utter- tresses. She takes our hand in hers, and leads us 1 antt in tke possession of a comfortable living, Holiness.—N o gifts, no duties, no natural en- 
honoi. Alias her heart is ever enlisted in en- ance thoughtless words which would cause on. We pause not upon the hillside, nor in the wpb an amount of time at my disposal, which, at dowmen tswill evidence a right in heaven; bntthe 
deavonng to make the associations of home many hours of bitter reflection. Maria. glen; seek not the sparkling rill, nor gushing on3 period of my life, I little dreamed of. Need leaat measure of holiness will secure heaven to the 
ways p casantness and paths of peace,” and as 0xford > N. 1858. fount; through the narrow gateway of the grave 1 say * am mor e contented? My leisure moments souk As holiness is the soul’s best evidence, so it 
ar , 0Und) formiDg one Talents no Prot*-™* -W*™ ™ 8be makes m and into the glori ™ 8 realms are employed alternately in reading, stringing J? '* < 5 ° nti “ u L ed spring ^ comfort to p 011 «he way 
“ wa T s of pleasantness and paths of peace,” and as 
husband and children cluster around, forming one 
grand fraternity of love, they have’not the least JuM™ beyond-that land\f fadeiL -rses, Siting storie, cultivating^ £ STi tbitber ' The purest and sweetest pleasures in th/s 
inclination of leaving their own roof-tree to seek , W a ° Uld nevei have taken a bribe, nor would Dodd River of Life flows with a never-failing current Occasionally—twice a week, perhaps—I have a world are tbe result of holiness. Till we come to 
recreation in the tavern or stores of the village . ., T , lge !f ; ., ° n '^ aire migbt iave She restores to ns our “loved and lost,” and they goring of two or three literary working men liv . e holily > we never live comfortably. Heaven is 
when leisme moments or long winter evenings t1 „ , er; T ,. aVld , f IIU . m . e another Mat ' never leave us more. From whom do we receive as wel1 as other8 of a higher social position, at my e P itom5zed in holiness; and, to say no more, it is 
come. Of such material is composed the affec- a *!\ d " tan h™ 8 ^ n^ght yet be in the the moat p rec ious heritage—Life or Death? bouse, when we talk of poetry, politics, and some- the P eculiar mark wb ieh God has visibly distin- 
tionate mother, the successful housekeeper, and J ^ P f ? beaven > an ° rb of tbe first m egmtnde. Rochester, N. Y., 1858. Kate cameroy times theology, the night often waxing late ere we guisbed bis own from other men—Psalms 4: 3— 
the true wife of the farmer. / P T Indeed - high talent, unless early cultivated, as was ___‘ adjourn. “The Lord hath set apart him that is godly for 
Akron, N. Y., 1858. that of Moses, and Milton, and Baxter and Ed- The Heaet . s Desires _ The hpflr+ n m5m --—- himself.” As if he had said, This is the man. and 
--wards, and Wesley, and Robert Hall, is the most _ _ , sa The great see the world at one end by flattery, that th e woman, to whom I intend to be good for- 
e little at the other end by neglect; the mean- ever ! this is a man for me. Oh, holiness, howsur- 
iss which both discover is the same; but how passingly glorious art thou!— Flood. 
much and too little. Grace is the medium of mo in ex P osiD g it88 lf to temptation; is the most ready - ’ “ 7 ’ y , greax in ca P acit J-yea, so n( 
tion; beauty is the medium of form; and genteel- to lay itself on tbe la P of Delilah, trusting in the indadmte m d ® 81 J®’ A bat tbe round globe of tbe di 
ness is the medium of fashion.— Reynolds. locks of its strength. And, alas! like Sampson, J orld cannot fill tb e thr,ee corners of it! When it j s 
---bow often is it found blind and grinding in the de8ires “°re, and cries, “Give-give!” I will set 
Give your children an education and no tvrant pr ! 80n house ’ U mi e b t be wielding the high- . over to tbe infimte g° od > where the more it hath 
will trample on their liberties. ’ Gons”—n’ °!7 cml!zmg and evangelizing the na- lt ma Y de sire more, and see more to he desired.— ki 
tions!— Dr. Murray. 
is seen. We say of the blind man from whom the visible 
~ ^— - world is shut out, that he is poorer by half the 
vv ords indeed are bnt the signs and counters of world than the man who sees. 0, ye spiritually 
knowledge, and their currency should be strictly blind, ye indeed are poorer than we by a whole 
regulated by the capital which they represent. world!— Tholuck. 
