MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
DEC. 11. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE FLOWER-LANGUAGE OF THE HEART. 
BY AMANDA T. JONES. 
Through my heart's lone garden stealing, 
Filled with memories of the past, 
Mourned I, for the flowers of feeling 
Withered at life’s wintry blast. 
“ Once the lowly-bending Violet, 
Like a spirit free from art, 
With the sweet Wild-Roses flourished 
In this garden of my heart. 
“And the rosy Almond-blossoms, 
Hope's sweet spell around them thrown, 
Downward looked with smiling faces 
On the dreamy Anemone. 
“ That was long ago in childhood ; 
But my eyes are full of tears, 
When I muse upon the freshness 
Of those unforgotten years. 
“ O’er my heart, so light and merry, 
Flow life's gleeful summer-hours ; 
But the dayB, deceitful, pilfered 
One by one my precious flowers. 
“ Yet one dainty thing I cherished, 
Watching every bud unclose, 
Till my heart was filled with fragrance 
By this beautiful White Rose. 
“ ’TwaB a free heart's sweetest emblem— 
Empress-flower of my youth— 
'Twas an aDgel-form appareled 
In the snowy garb of truth. 
“ But it faded—brown and dusky 
Fell its withered leaves apart— 
And there swept a fearful tempest 
O'er this garden of my heart. 
“ Crimson rose-buds, just out-starting, 
Blasted, and beside them grew 
Sorrowful Adonis-blossoms, 
And the sad, disdainful Rue.” 
Crowned with mocking, Thistle-flowers 
Underneath the Judas-Tree— 
Sighing for the sweet White Roses 
That I never more might see— 
Thus thro’ my heart’s garden stealing, 
Filled with memories of the past, 
Mourned I, for the flowers of feeling 
Withered at life’s wintry blast. 
But there rose a starry blossom, 
And its mystic language said— 
“Look, despairing mortal, heavenward— 
There are angels o’er thy head.” 
Upward in my sorrow glancing, 
Praying for a swift release, 
Came a snowy dove from Heaven 
With the V Olive Branch of Peace.” 
Round my forehead angel-fingers . 
Twined the wreath with heavenly art— 
And a holy presence lingers 
In this garden of my heart. 
Black Rock, N. Y,, 1858. 1 
frown and mutter, at first, but I would convince 
him that it was for his good as well as mine. It’s 
my firm belief that what people eat, influences 
their thoughts and actions. Yes, there is many a 
short, unkind word concealed in that rich pie¬ 
crust—many a gloomy, weary feeling imbedded in 
masses of cake and floating in highly seasoned 
dishes. 
Then, my domestic care3 so much lightened, I 
would devote more time to husband and children, 
1 would have an interesting book on hand, and, 
after supper, while he reclined on the sofa, I would 
read aloud to him, wooiDg his thoughts away from 
labor and care. I would tell the children stories; 
just such stories as I loved to hear when I was a 
child, and I would teach them of Heaven, and point 
out the way. In a short time I think Mr. Care 
Much would be applying to the Legislature for a 
change of name. 
Mamma at the door! Indignation and sorrow 
resting on her face—and a tin in each hand, filled 
with the blackened ruins of that bread. “I knew 
you would burn it, Win — I felt sure of it And 
now what shall I do?” 
Dear me! if I had not been minding the affairs 
of Mr. and Mrs. Care Much, I might have remem¬ 
bered my own. However, if it does them any 
good I shall not care for one baking of bread. 
Rochester, Nov. 1858. Winnie Willi an. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOOPOLOGY, AGAIN. 
I confess myself surprised that any sensible 
reader of our Rural should be so firm a supporter 
of this hoop delusion, still I do not consider myself 
vanquished, and, as the lady thinks I have only 
ridiculed her favorite science, I am ready now 
to meet her, together with every other hoope 
lady in Christendom, with no other weapon tha 
plain, common sense, and, if I am not victorious 
DARE AND DO. 
BY WILLIAM C. CAMERON. 
Upward— onward! Fellow-workman; 
Ours the battle-field of Life ; 
Ne’er a foot to foemen yielding, 
Pressing closer midst the strife ! 
Forward ! in the strength of manhood— 
Forward ! in the fire of youth— 
Aim at something : ne’er surrender— 
Arm thee in the mail of truth. 
Though thy ways be strewn with dangers, 
Summer rain-drops lay the dust; 
Faith and hope are two-edged weapons 
Which will ne’er belie tby trust. 
Shrink not, though a host surround thee, 
Onward ! Duty’s path pursue ; 
All who gild the page of story, 
Knew these brave words—Dare and Do ! 
Miller was a rough stone-mason ; 
Shakspeare, Goldsmith, K ats, and Hood, 
Franklin, Jerrold, Burns, a ' Gifford, 
Had to toil as we for foed 
Yes : these men, with minds majestic, 
Sprang from ranks the rich call poor ; 
Cast a halo round brown labor ; 
Had to wrestle—fight—endure. 
Forward, then ; bright eyes are beams ; 
Fight, nor lose the Conqueror’s Crown ; 
Stretch thy right hand—seize thy birthright— 
Take it—wear it— 1 ’tis thine own ; 
Slay the giants which beset thee ; 
Rise to maiiftTtrod— glory—fame ; 
Take thy pen, and, in the volume 
Of the gifted, write thy name. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EIDER BROTHER 
Written for Mooies Rural New-Yorker 
THE PHYSICIAN. 
How largely is the world indebted to the medi¬ 
cal profession. How much of the skill and knowl¬ 
edge that is the means of alleviating the woes of 
suffering humanity is committed to physicians; 
yet how few give them that respect and true sym¬ 
pathy every true member of the profession de¬ 
serves. Whose toils more arduous—whose respon¬ 
sibilities more pressing—than his, who, regardless 
of personal comfort, in darkness and tempest 
hastens to obey the summons that calls him to the 
bedside of a suffering fellow-creatnre, well aware 
that upon his promptitude life and death may de¬ 
pend. How many have toiled until prematurely 
old and care-worn: yet one-half the world regard 
their obligation to their physician as entirely a 
pecuniary one, nor think that a debt of love, and 
gratitude, and veneration is due to one who, under 
God, has raised them from the weary couch of 
pain—brought back from the borders of the tomb 
those dear as life itself, or ministered by the dying 
bed of departed ones. That there are those who 
are a disgrace to the profession, we will not deny, 
—that it has given to the world seme of the lofti¬ 
est specimens of philanthropy and manhood, we 
confidently affirm. We have no sympathy with 
that littleness that regards paltry dollars and cents 
as the only merited compensation of those who 
bear the lamp of science in the midst of pestilence 
contagion, and death. We regard them as the in¬ 
struments of God’s benevolence—we reverence the 
profession and every member who worthily bears 
its insignia. Lina Lee. 
Sherburne, N. Y., 1858. 
MONOTONY. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE ANGEL OF HOPE. 
BY IDA FAIRFIELD. 
I come to the sorrowing sons of earth, 
And lo ! in their hearts, new joys find birth 
When the wild, dark storm, the heaven enshrouds, 
I weave my brow in the blackest clouds ; 
And the Mariner looks from the foaming wave 
To the bright land, stretching beyond the grave. 
I wave my wand in the Beggar’s eight, 
And he dreams of a home in a palace bright, 
Where hunger, and cold, and want come not, 
And the bittter present is all forgot. 
Weary with toil and worn with care, 
The Laborer bends in weak despair, 
All life’s energies must he give 
For the paltry bread on which to live, 
And he turns from his work with a wear}- sigh, 
Praying only that he “might die.” 
But I speak to him of a “ coming time ” 
Still in his manhood’s glorious prime, 
When he shall sit at well-filled board, 
With granaries heaped, and gold well stored, 
His wife and little ones by his side, 
Filling his heart with a loving pride, 
Happy with books, and friends, and fiowerp, 
Dreaming away life’s golden hours. 
With the pleasant thought, his heart beats quick, 
And the anvil rings with the hammer’s click, 
And the hours flit by on unseen wings, 
Bright with the joys which the future brings. 
When Friendship whispers a sad “ good-bye," 
Or sorrowing Love with a tesrful eye, 
Extends the parting hand, still near, 
To wipe from beauty’s cheek the tear, 
I draw and paint with magic power 
The pleasures of the “ meeting hour.” 
If friends prove false as fortune fails, 
Or grim disease the young cheek pales, 
Or sorrow comes, all tears I dry, 
With visions of a bright hour nigh. 
And not alone of earth I sing, 
Around the dying hovering, 
I whisper of that Better Shore, 
Beyond the Unknown River’s roar, 
And life’s last hour in triumph dies, 
Like suns which set in gorgeous skies 
New HaveD, Conn., 1858. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GLEANINGS-No. IV. 
lady in Christendom, with no other weapon thai - Monotony is pleasant initself; morally pleasant, riencs prove false as fortune fails, 
plain, common sense, and, if I am not victoriou Brother! Is there in any language and morally useful. Living in the same house is 7 gnm disease the young cheek pales, 
then success go with them. Her first plea ij another name, besides the matchless one of uotonous; but three removes, say the wise, are With^glons^f^a bri^th 1 l 
“ heavy skirts.” No one disputes their being in “Mother, v so hallowed as this? It expresses bad as a fire. I delight in that same monotony. And notalone of earth I siT] " '' 
juiious, but “common sense” asks, is a skirt wbi more tban ^ ather - tister, child, and even more than 1 fayca curiosity, anxiety, excitement, disappoint- Around the dyiDg hovering, ’ 
stands at an angle of forty-five degrees from b; iband, or wife. AJatlur is something to be ment, and a host of bad passions. It gives a man I whisper of that Better Shore, 
body, the remedy we need for this evil? Aprc, e eemed and reverenced; a sister is the kind ph • blessed invigorating feeling that he is at home; Beyond the Unknown River’s roar, 
degree of heat is just as essential to health as the mate y° ur childhood, and the loviDg gym- ‘ it he has roots, deep and wide, struck down into And life’s last hour in triumph dies, 
want of it. and how happens it that these hoops, P at hizer in after years, bather woman's nature, so he sees; and that the only being who will do NewHaven C h n h 8 l8.- Q gorgeous skies 
which are so cool in summer, become so very Bke your own, precludes the possibility of great ; nothing cruel or useless, can tear them up. It is ^ 3 
warm in winter? With the Indian, I am ready to Tar * et 7 tastes and emotions. A wife is to be T'leisant to look down on the same parish day after 
exclaim, “It must be an evil breath that blows both loved ’ fondled, and protected; concerning a hus- d; y, and say, I know all that lies beneath, and all Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
hot and cold.” There is no sense in it—this is only —although you may love and respect him, beneath know me. If I want a friend, I know ABSENT, 
one of the many excuses for this foolish fashioi’. 6cd tbou £ b ? oc make hi® interests your own. yon where to find him; if I want work done, I know •‘They come a’ the e i 7 e--tc tv 
It is very common to hear persons descant upon feel he is E0 P art of ? onr real «//-none of the who will do it. It is pleasant and good to see the The noble who\ave w^ndetedTJheiovely who have died ” 
their met Its, and say they shall always wear them, mood of your loved family courses through his ■‘-ame trees year after year; the same birds coming To night as T uif . . . ' 
whatever change may come, but when the “fickle VC * EB ’ and the natural impulses of the heart arenot in springtothe same shrubs; thesame banks . n - f ' .,, *. e g owln g re ’ >8 * abt ' 
goddess” proclaims “thy days, oh, hoops, areen tbe Bame ’ To a female there can be no relation bo covered with the same flowers, and broken (if they , ,, , ° ' .* WI 1 J W1I1 ° b . wai wu 1EU ’ ' cu ' ,;i Rhts cf 
ed!” the lady who still persists in wearing them dear > 60 P ure > as that of brother. He is fond and 1x5 8tifr ones) by the same gaps. Pleasant and d .., wn 77 TL’*''*7 777 ai0l,n '‘. -sau, am! 
will deserve a place in Barncm’s Museum. There P rotuJ of sister; for her he will forego more good it is to ride on the same horse, to sit in the ful tores I n ed ^ ° inea ec oin S * e , ee ' 
is not one who will have the moral courage to do Privileges, and endure more hardships than even 8 arae chair, to wear the same old coat. That man a " ai „ ‘ ith 7 [ i d .rt ni 77i fld 7 Smg 7? t iri 
it. She says, too, “ she has never found them in the interests of selj would induce him to do. This who offered twenty pounds reward for a lost carpet- a "evcrie As I rouse from mydream fa Me ^ d 
convenient in traveling.” I, too, have traveled in ie trne of E Mother, but elder brother -how infinitely ba S fal1 of old boots, was a sage, and I wish I knew fainter to mv ear co me these well L 
company with hoop, and, if I ever found anything above all this! Brother ie a sweet word, full of him - Why should one change one’s place, any while at mv side the nrattlim? voiers nf little b-nth’ 
a nuisance, it is that. With the frogs in the old melod y to every sister’s ear, but “elder brother” more tlian one's wife and one’s children? Is a e -s bid me turn from t- - vs(i. t r .e 7 
f«Me T .on «Tt- Lo --* .. • is most nernlisrU. «nri ernnhsHooll^ oo hermit, erah alinm’,,rr hio toil ™t of.___ e™ Did me tum trOHl the mystic past, to listen tO 
“ They come at the geDtle even-tide, 
fable, I can say, “It may be sport for you who is m0Bt peculiarly and emphatically so. For this hermit crab - slipping his tail out of one strange their wo . ds of chi . diab i 0V e and innocence Yet 
wear them, but it is death for us who are obliged reason, when Christ graciously styled himself our shell into another, in the hopes of its fitting him a thev 0ajn!Of di ‘ S1 .„ nv 
4-n 4-z.lnvafA 11 Z ~ - ... _ "FMpr nmtVior Tin oil n o */", V,«o. A 11 ft 1A llPtfAr AltliAv Q rli _r .v * ^ ^ 1 J *1101*.C5 ttlli- 
vjuntkixinyjz,— ISO. IV. to tolerate them.” Here h common sense a*,a; great Elder Brother, he allowed ns to bestow npon little ^ter, either a digi 
« T “ ” —every hooped lady occupies sufficient room for him a dearer appellation than even “Abba, Father.” a nim al ? The oftener on 
mnthc ti " Vi!' c ' UH derstana, Winnie”— and my two, and as Ruch should :>ay extra t aro f 01 - « Elder brother! What are the thourths that knows; an<i the better oi 
I want you'to nnde B ratand U fW*«.i li h« L1Jb ‘ Jo ° r — trouble she makes. If you wish to get out o. throng yonr busy brain, as you repeat that phrase? , lores.—Fraser’s Magazine. 
.. 1 ^‘1(1 IS ill the omnibus, von must c:rntv<i r t,hrnvi<rVi aapTi nnp T)npc it rpmind von of nPfrV>pt . -V* ♦ 
litUe better either a dignified, safe, or graceful crowd my heart to-night 
animal? The oftener one sees, the better one Arrayed in immortal t 
knows; and the better one knows, the more one nns 
oven.” ^ ° * 11 10 iea( ** s * ut he omnibus, yon must crow d^through, each one lc ' Does it remind yon of neg’^ct and nnkindness, of! 
“Verv en«v .-if r in ^ aa if Elie would annihilate you for troubling ! angry words, or haujrhty-H r i'Dtinvnt?--f)n, no: Tt 1 
what have I to dr with the v ’ f, ^ SUre ’. But hor hoo J )B ’ rt is the same everywhere, in'the ct, brings up naugiT but thepleasing recollec- 
, T f . hieads being in the in the street—they are nuisances, nothing else tioDB - In childhood, vouz : '“ elder brother ” ever 
nvPn? T Qm n nrffl fl 11* • -tucj aiu i-iuiooiiv;co, UULUIDg ei8t nv-uo, aaj luuuuuuu. \ vu: VJLJCJ UrVUlVI €Ver 
t} „ *■ 1 1 1 W1 mg lt should remain do not wonder “ penny editors ” and “street rov £ ave you the prettier toy—he led you over the 
know, nn 7t J >Ttt» T 1 tr 0ne Arrayed in immortal beauty comes the form of 
m ■ ° ne ’ m0re 0ne H much loved ’ tc me glad tidings from 
reiser s aga^ e. _ thc't«>ririt-land, and portrajing to my vision the 
^ ■ beauties of her home in Paradise. List! she sings 
SET A GOOD EXAMPLE, to me the exulting soDgs taught her by the Most 
x- • -i 3 High. Upon my cheek I feel her breath and hov- 
Nothing is so easily done as to preach and talk ering 0 , e ? me 7 her aD gel wings, “Daughter If 
of obligations which we are under to do justly and , . 16 ’ u f aier 01 
to walk humbly: but it is altogether a different ear ll! , 8 he says, “thou hast a work to do. Lay 
. ... „ . . dies” ridicule them, so does every person \ smooth path—he climbed the rugged hill-side to to walk humbly: but it is altogether a different ' .... 6 , , io ao. Lay 
ig ro„n. e, wish you to attend to | has one particle of “common sense,” at hear secure for you the treasure which lay at the top— matter to write, and preach, and talk by example. th ...7!-, y arn ltlon an g ory, and improve 
byword. Who makes these fashions? Some in his woodland rambles, he gathered the And yet, though the former be useful, how much e - u - L 5 l0D asgnenthee. Go and minister, 
l nto the sorrowing and oppressed, 
And tell them of eternal re6t. M 
How refreshing to the weary heart these sacred 
communions with those who have long wandered 
the baking of that bread, as I’m going ouL Now, not by word. Who makes these fashions? Some in all his woodland rambles, he gathered the And though the former be useful, how much the S ift thy God has given thee. Go and minister, 
(out /urn it up, W innie ! ’ of them are p a vj s ian, and what greater stain uoon flowers and the mosses for you, his loved sister, i: more valuable and effective is the latter? What into the sorrowing a ud oppressed, 
J n t au f hed > n ®tf th 8 tan d ing this pathetic us as American women than this aping of forei. He could jump over the laughing brook which ; r ’ e those most beautiful essays on the cardinal “ * em 0 e ernal reet -” 
appea . cou d not help it. I had a slight pre- styles? But all do not come from there, they e. dauced through the meadow.' but be would make l virtues compared with the excellence of the life in How to the weary heart these aacred 
sen mien t at Lie bread would be burned. An- manufactured in our cities by Mademoiselles md the stony bridge for your dainty leet to tread. He ‘ which these virtues have a living and vital exist- colI!niuIlions w | l h those who have long wandered 
o er moment she was gone, the bread safe in the Madams, who never even saw Paris, and we. m was ever ready to explain the meaning of a beauti- uce ? It was not alone the doctrines, advanced ^’ om U8 » ai) d who we never expect to meet this 
oven, an so comfortably seated in my arm-chair, eager for new things, follow them, and dare not ful picture, or an exquisite piece of statuary. Hi 6 with such dignified and persuasive eloquence by s ’ d e ol eternity. But we are fast hastening on to 
a arc y think I would have changed my po- say a word. Wear hoops, not I! They are of no collection of stories and anecdotes, which here- our Savior, nor the wonderful miracles performed 8 reet; them, and our barks mid wrecks and fears, 
snion if all the bread in the universe were in one practical benefit to the female race —they are latcfl as be cracked nuts for yen in the long by him, which made the hearts of men follow after are Pushing their way through time's pathless 
vas eon agration. But I really did mean to at- nothing but a gigantic humbug. winter evenings, was inexhaustible. His willing ’ itn; these were rendered doubly effective by the dee P’ and when a few more winds and storms have 
at bread. Cayuga, N. Y., 1858. amfl fingers placed the frame to support your feeble ! example which he set at all times, even under the ^ eat a 8 a iust them, “ Our Father” who ever Btancs 
a a snow-storm! I watched the pearly --- > flowers, and formed the trellis for your little vine : lost trying circumstances. belm will anchor us safely on the “fair 
flakes-cogitating the while, something like this: Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. when he in .71 And so it is now. in «„ hnnUJn banks of ^iverance.” Rosa Baker. 
Cayuga, N. Y., 1858. 
What a pity folks can’t live without eating. I pos¬ 
itively think it is sad. However, “ what must be, 
must be,” and there’s more truth than poetry in it] 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
OUR MOTHER. 
Peace to her memory. She has gone. The 
winter evenings, was inexhaustible. His willing ! im > tuese were rendered doubly effective by the “ “ atormsnave 
fingers placed the fr^me to support your feeble example which he set at all times, even under the I )eat i a S a ' nst them, “Our Father” who ever Btancs 
flowers, and formed the trellis for your little vine, 1 lost trying circumstances. at tke helm will anchor us safely on the “fair 
When he was in College, loving letters he wrote] And so ifc is n °w, in an humble sense, by mere b o^ondag^HiirN 11 y’ 1S58 R ° SA BaKEF " 
to you, detailing all piecing incidents in his buman hopes. Men may preach and the world * ' '* _ 
college-life; and when he came home in the vaca- j wiUlisten, but profit comes by example. A parent, . 
l“S 5 ^ ; ion - he always for instance, inculcates gentleness to his children LIFE’^OyIgERS^ 
care, would be abolished, coold wl aubZ wUh «> o«en goae n„ ,o Bob in pr.jer for ue, iabnahe” t0 .,ri , n“ J0 “, 8l,rted ,or bo^ing-school, ^ the, eee h,m treat Lie —— 1?“™“ 
out— victuals. Now, there’s mamma, walking out cold > silent in death - It is good to remember her WUh W ^ af [ ectl0nate earnestness did he caution 8t111 a 1Ede and aD 8 r y manner, and. in conse- I know' him, a man of years, with silver locks 
in this snow-storm, never heeding the beautiful as a friend—as a Christian friend—but, oh, how ' on agaiES ie snare® ana temptations into which ’ Eruc .*° Ea ai ®7!.^!.!, f 7 Z S }’ for and gentle eyes, that give a genial warmth to his 
flakes —so large and feathery—never minding dear to remember her as a kind and affectionate - >ou wou 6 1 ,° f a ' " 1,11 kow much _ , , , . speetc . ns ex- wan face, where dwells the smile of Content. H 13 
the human figures passing and re-passing; ^ut hui^ mother. t ^ i Ae listen to the recital of 88 J * man, would have is a face that the friendless and the stranger !ove 
rying on, worrying all the time because “she’s We are orphaned-not by every tie, but from a f ve J atl0 . np ’ and with what ,;oy did he ^ hlS chlIdrB n without one word to look upon, for there they read the truth of Friend- 
sure Winnie will !et the bread burn!” dear mother's sympathy and a mother’s love ^ hi T ™ ^i simiiar tastes, e1 ^ “ ship. He was blessed with a companion /hat fully 
(I wonder if it needs turning yet? I’ll take it There is a void in our hearts-a loneliness we t ^ h ! ? gf maE i.y natare > he ennobled and " p d f 0d example , whi.e pre- possessed his virtues, and where such hearts meet, 
for granted that it don’t.) never before have realized. Grief softens our TdT t ,*7 + T fe 7 enCy did - he othe. Pa " ^ ^ e&r and ° nt at the what a halo of brightness must surroxnd the^ 
People hurry, and worry, and drudge —that is, hearts, gives all worldly objects and worldly V ? r .° 6a , y0U 0 u0w CnRIS . T! ^ i,; h ' __ pathway. Hers was a spirit to cheer the despond- 
most of them do—from “morn till dewy eve,” schemes a careless attention, and fits onr “better Zu 7 V1D f 1D | W01 f f DU sweet e nt re aties aid he ___ a a •< ,, ing and lonely—to lift the dark curtain of sorrow 
with the grim demon Care, ever urging them on. natures ” for an examination. She has left a 77! ° f a . Sa : ior ’ 6 lo !f’ aad ar « e to accept Z T ~ °“ ^ from wounded hearts, and shed a mother’s love 
hastening? ! wot not For, if it were so they ^ Beath-bed scenes, the grave] and the ah-' When the fortunate one at length arrived, and ^ ottered its life-giving rays about them. If 
would have thought less of secular affairs, and re- sence of one beloved, will have their influence on - 1 ’ 0U w e re betrothed, yon loved your brother _ ,7.7-7. „ , J . . ‘t c ‘ as P 8 the ever dark clouds cast a shadow o’er the scene, it 
membered mercy, faith, and judgment to come. I the living—may it follow us to manhood and to E ° ne tke la8S becaa9 f you kad fou . nd a lov e; ,, w j t h a fl its ^ W3S but a momentary darkness that, when past, 
never believed in living a life of idleness, but I do “ green old age,” (should it be ours,) Spirit Mother. W f. 8 S * allowed the old place in your heart's ! ^ rId > aB itS pa f siDg evantp - circIes ’ Ia oar more fully revealed the brightness of those stars 
think it is onr duty to pause once in a while and Be our Guardian Angel, for 8 ectl0ns - can wspapei is ru y that shone forth in t.tiAir ™racial oVtt 
bask in the sunshine — to stop now and then and 
gambol gaily on the green spots which dot our 
road-side. Now, if I were Mr. Care Mucn, that 
bowed, anxious-looking man, I would lock up my 
business, look, thoughts, and all, with my boxes 
and bales, and as I neared home, I would whistle 
“Begone, dull care!” or shout “Get thee behind 
Earthly ties are broken ; 
But as Heavenly bonds are dearer, 
Our hearts will love to cherish 
The fond memory of a “ beacon light,” 
Trimmed and kept by Angel hands. 
Onondaga, N. Y., 1858. 
anecnon8 - . ..*.» «*»*»*«» irujjr that shone forth in their congenial sky. 
In aftei years, when he and yourself are sur- ‘A real world A change came — how great a change! The 
rounded with family cares, he was still advising wh.cb, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, mother had Speared beneath Death’s dark 
schemes for your happiness, and you looked up to P 111 our happmess ma V s rovv - waves; and as they closed over her, she whispered, 
that “elder brother” with the same respect and ‘ In lt; tbe steamship arrives and unloads her “Peace — Peace.” Alas! for the lone voyager 
affection that you did when a girl. And now that he f rei S bt age; in it the lightning flashes for thought; who is now upon Time’s river companionless. But 
has passed away from this world’s cares, and vour I 111 the Clt ? bo °ms, the corn blades glitter, the he looketh up, and saith—“my Father doeth all 
head is silvered with age, your form bent, and your 7 heat ru8tles in its S olden beadB * the cattle low things well-in Him will I trust” Methinks I see 
me, Satan!” to the invisible spirit Then 1! would J™™ 0 *’ ** 7°“^’ aDd the laundre9s are "tep feeble, you still love to think of that sainted ^m a thousand hills and the market hums; in it him nea ring the great Ocean'of Eternity-nc 
surprise Mrs. Care Much by being pleasant and tke pillara on whl « h our aomestlc CGmfo >'t rests, one, and his virtues lie deeply enshrined within the spring blooms and the autumn blows; initthe gnnken rocks are in his pathway, nor falls the 
sociable. Yes, I believe I would kiss her and tell t , hem ’ notbin « 18 Possible in family or in- your memory's casket. P oe ) 8ia gs, and with his song the low wind oomes sn ii e n roar of angry billows npon his ears. In 
her she Is the best little trife in the worid I ?! V l ” ell ' c0 “ kcd dlmCT . « he N - T - 18M - «»»* L - a “ d sw ' et “ vct oI j m6aa0 “'"' «“ d f *“> calmness he awaits the heavenly breeze that will 
wonld be a new scene in her life drama and i am ? ? e w ,‘ hn ^ ,re 'f" d “" k8 - gleam from forgotten doom Yes, the world toms waft Mm to hi. glorious home. tr.A.tt.n. 
sure Mr° C would like the chance Th t m cml,zatlon - Below them all is barbarism. Tiie duties which we owe to our own moral be- every day m the daily newspaper. Its columnsare Shuean, N. Y, 1858. 
have a regular game of romps with the childmn- o - 7 - 7 - 77- are ' b f , sro " nd an ' 
those little one. who sre almost afraid ?he rJSSt ^ fj °"J 
Cora L. Latimer. 
sure Mrs C would like tbe chance Th t h civilization ’ Below them all is barbarism. The duties which we owe to our own moral be- every day in the daily newspaper. Its columnsare Shuean, N. Y , 1858. 
have a regular game of romps with the children- c -^- ?!• &re ^ gr ° UEd &nd C ° nditi ° n ° f &U ° ther !S’ ghted ^ th6 W01 ' ld ,' S “ erchant . ize ’ Throu » b - 
those little ones who are almost afraid of the S ™ PA f Y , 18 mach more catching than intelli- d «ties: and to set our nature at strife with itself hetr avenues ring merrily the marriage bells, and There is not a spider hanging on a king’s wall 
gloomy, taciturn man they call papa. I think Mr « eECe ’ caa /<f ba t everybody cannot for a good purpose implies the same sort of pru- through them heanes move and funeral knells are but hath its errand; there is not a nettle that 
Cake Much would feel like a “new creature ” * ^stand. Hence pity for a person brought into deuce as a priest of Diana would have manifested, toll ed. groweth in corQer of the church-yard but hath 
And Mrs. Care MucH-what a pale, wear^ look distres8 by hia °, wn act9 ’ often outweighs all the who should have proposed to dig up the celebrat- -—- itspurpose: thereisnota single insect fluttering. 
she has. No need of it, whatever. A mere slave convictloa P roduce<i by a knowledge of his ed charcoal foundations o. the mighty Temple of Reading— Reading is one of the greatest conso- in the breeze but accomplisheth some divine de- 
to domestic drudgery. All useless. I would care Cnmes ‘_ _ _ phesus, m order to furnish fuel for the burnt of- lations of life; it is tbe nurse of virtue, the up- cree; and I will never have it that God created any 
less for “ creature comforts” and be more mindful We cannot all of ns be beautiful v.nt'fh* ! ! & f TrUtb ’ viptua ’ and ha PP iness bolder iK adversity, the prop of independence, the man, especially any Christian maD, to be a blank, 
of the souls of mv familv I would not cool-sn untnec- nf . pleas- may be distinguished from each other, but cannot support of a just pride, the strengthener of eleva- and to be a nothing— Spurgeon. 
£ I woilia hive lighter stoZ £ * s » od ' kl,mored look “ daa “ d '» k » d l" d8d l * metesl eolnherence, ted opinion,; it is the shield sgLst the tyranny -f—_ 
food and fewer diihes. Perhaps hnshank would the family affeettns ,n“ dlhihu ofTome HTjtoZ * Cot™°‘ <iillnl,J '’ e ' en 0 ” r °' w 11 '? tke "I> allar af tka '<">•’■ HuxiLiw.-The sntllciency of my merit is to 
j cLiums ana me aenguts oi home. man nature— Colendge. scoff and the knave’s poisson. know that my merit is not sufficient—S. Augustine. 
Humility. —The sufficiency of my merit is to 
know that my merit is not sufficient.—S, Augustine. 
