a ! 1 —* - '- '" ' 1 1 ' ■" '""'" " ‘ * "— ———--- — —... 
192 MOORE'S RURAL NEW-YORKER; AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
COKDBCTEB 3Y SZILE. 
LOVED ONOE. 
BY KUZABRIH BARRETT BROWNING. 
I class’d, appraising once, 
Earth’s lamentable sounds, the well-a-day, 
The jarring, yea and nay, 
The fall of kisses on unanswering clay, 
The sobb’d farewell, the welcome mournfUUer ;— 
But all did leaven the air 
With a less bitter leaven of sure despair, 
Than these words—“ I loved once.” 
And who saith “ I loved once?” 
Not angels, whose clear eyes, love, love, foresee. 
Love through eternity ! 
Who, by To Love, do apprehend To Be. 
Not God, called Love, his noble crown-nam e,—casting 
A light too broad for blasting I 
The Great God, changiug not from everlasting, 
Saith never, “ I loved once.” 
Nor ever the “ Loved onco” 
Dost thou say, Yictim-Clirist, misprized friend f 
The cross and curse may rend ; 
But, having loved, thou lovest to the end I 
It is min’s saying—man’s ! Too weak to move 
One sphered star above, 
Man desecrates the eternal God-word Love, 
With his No More and Once. 
How say ye, “ We loved onoe,” 
Blasphemers? Is your earth not. cold enow, 
Mourners, without that snow? 
Ah, friends ! and would ye wrong each other so r 
And could ye say of some, whose love is known, 
Whose prayers have met your own, 
Wh03e tears have fallen for you, who e smilos have shone 
Such words, ‘-We loved them once?” 
Could ye “ Wo loved her onco” 
Say calm of me , sweet friends, when out of sight? 
When hearts of better right 
Stand in between me and your happy light ? 
And when, as flowers kept too long in the shade," 
Ye find my colors fade, 
And all that is not love in me, decay’d ? 
Such words—“ Ye loved me once t”' 
Could ye “ We loved her onco” 
Say cold of me when further put away 
In earth’s sepulchral clay ? 
When mute the lips which deprecate to-day ?— 
Not so 1 not then— lent then ! when life is shriven. 
And Death’s full joy is giveu ;— 
Of those who sit and love you up in Heaven 
Say not, “We loved them once.’’" 
Say never, “ ye loved once I” 
God is too near above, the grave below, 
And all our moments go 
Too quickly past our souls, for saying so f 
The mysteries of Life and Death avenge ! 
Affections light of range— 
There comes no change to justify that change. 
Whatever comes—Loved once I 
And yet that world of “ once” 
Is hu manely acceptive ! Kings have said. 
Shaking a discrowned head, 
“We ruled once,”—idiot tongues. “ We once jested;” 
Cripples once danced i’ the viuo3 ;—and bards approved 
Were onco by scornings moved I 
But love strikes one hour—Love. Those never loved, 
Who dream that they loved once. 
GUDBRAND OF THE MOUNTAIN SIDE. 
KROM THE GERMAN. 
Thekk was once a man named Gudbrand, 
“ Oil!” answered Gudbrand, “ but so, so; I 
cannot boast of my luck, neither can L exact¬ 
ly complain of it.” He then began to relate 
all lie had done from first to last. 
“ You’ll meet with a warm reception when 
you get home to your wife,” said his neigh¬ 
bor. “ I would not be in your place.” 
“ I think things might have been much 
worse,” said Gudbrand; “but. whether they 
are good or bad, I have such a geutle wife 
that she will never say a word, let me do what 
I may.” 
“ Yes, that I know,” answered his neigh¬ 
bor, “ but I do not think she will be so gentle 
1 in this instance.” 
“ Shall we lay a wager ?” said Gudbrand of 
the Mountain side. “ 1 have got a hundred 
dollars in my chest at home; will you venture 
the like sum?” 
“ Yes, I will,” replied the neighbor, and 
they waged accordingly, and remained until 
evening drew on, when they set out together 
for Gudbrand’s house—having agreed that the 
neighbor should stand outside and listen while 
Gud Grand went in to meet his wife. 
“ Good evening,” said Gudbrand. 
“ Good evening,” said his wifi?, “ thank God 
thou art here.” 
Yes, there he was. His wife thc-u began 
asking him how he had fared in the town.— 
“ So, so,” said Gudbrand ; “ I have not got 
much to boast of; for when I reached the 
town there was no one to buy the cow, so 1 
chai grd it for a horse.” 
“ Many t lanks for that,” said his wife, “ we 
rate 
THE BEAM OF DEVOTION. 
BY GEORGR P. MORRIS. 
I nkykr could And a good reason, 
Why sorrow unbidden should stay, 
And all the bright joys of life’s season 
Be driven unheeded away. 
Our cares would wako no more emotion.. 
Were we to our lot but resigned, 
Than pebbles flung into the ocean, 
That leave scarce a ripple behind. 
The world has a spirit of beauty. 
Which looks upon all for the best ; 
And while it discharges its duty, 
To Providence leaves all the rest ; 
That spirit’s the beam of devotion, 
Which lights us thro’ life to Its close. 
And sets, like the sun in the ocoam, 
More beautiful far than it rose. 
Written for Moore's Ilurol New-Yorker. 
“ HOW MUCH HAS HE LEFT?’ 
“ And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls. 
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.” 
Moore. 
“ Fred, have you heard the dcws?” 
“ No, what?” 
“ Our friend F-is dead.” 
“ Indeed !—though I had anticipated it. I 
we practice what we believe? Faith without RIIY7M M ARETES . 
works is deoil. We n»jr lean, lessons from ; « nsRD TnmUL ^ m _ 
every providence. What is all-present be- j _ 
comes unnoticed once lost, gone, and we Pa—(Reading a newspaper, mutters)—No 
miss it. We prize the teachings of the wise, rise in the rivers—never goiug to rise again, I 
their presence and example. They decay— believe, wife. 
die! Remorse seizes us. Guilty! We re- . Daughter I wish the river would 
member the admonitions,—re-a waken the sen- ri8 « w , , , , .. , 
, „ ’ ‘ —Why, what have you got to do with 
sations, by the power ct memory, which were the river’s rising ? 
produced by a simple, yet meaning act. How Little Daughter —A great deal, papa ; for 
he must have suffered at our indifference ! then the boats will run. 
Rut he was sowing upon the waters—must ^ nd what have you to do with the 
j o tt boat’s running, my child, hey? 
sow —did sow, and what is his reward? He rv ,,„ r. J m, ’ J ,, , . ,, 
. ,, , , . ... , , Little Daughter — I hey would bring the 
shall be rewarded, vve will remember and cotton down. 
hey would bring the 
follow him. These, Ben, are the resolutions Pa —(Looking over his spectacles)—And 
which follow reflections which result from the what have you to do, pet, with cotton bales ? 
But you are 
loss of such a friend as F-. But you are Little Daughter Why, it the cotton was 
still waiting for my answer. I cannot answer, i-?,!!!!’ y ° U ' v ? ldd .£ e ablC *° sell it, you 
, , , ® know, dear papa! smilingly, 
although I know all — I wrote his will. Be- p n _And <i»>„ v 
although I know all — I wrote his will. Be- p a And what then ? ” ’ 
lieve me, it is worthy the man who has spent Little Daughter —You would have plenty 
his life in doing good.” of money. 
Pa _Wei I ? 
“Fred, I like vou. You tell ine truths r 1tl n ,, , T . , , , 
, T . , , Little Daughter —(Laying her little hand oa 
which, although self-evident, I am yet pleased i, i8 shoulder, and looking Sp info his face)- 
and at the same time displeased with hearing Then you could pay ma that gold twenty dol- 
“ Fred, I like you. You tell ine truths 
which, although self-evident, I am yet pleased 
them reiterated.” lar piece you borrowed of her, you know, 
“ Why displeased, Ben ?” papa. 
“I'll tell you. I have no real cause for ja—-A what then, minx ? 
being out of humor with you, but with myself. Auut Sarah thc ten dollar3 she owes her . p ' 
The fact is, I find myself really displeased with 
—V — v ' o»iu mo nuc, rrc ... , • 1 , • i 1 i . - - - Til All, indeed ! ouu nuau I. lie LI ; 
are so respecmble, that we ought to ride to was Wltb 11111 !ast n, S ht ’ and Wft9 convinced myself. Th's you will at once perceive is not Little Daughter —And Auut Sarah wonld 
church as well as others; aud if we can af his days on earth were few. Although it is strange. The Gospel mirror exposes our de- pay sister Jane the dollar she promised to give 
ford to keep a horse we may certainly have hard to part with triends—hard to spare one formities without flatterv. Write ail these in her on New Year’s, but didn’t, because she 
one. “Go and put the horse in the stable, so useful, yet I can honestly say, Ben, lam bold relief. I am doomed. I have been a didu’t have no cotton, I mean no money, pa. 
cb « op 11 .'- pnfiKmnrt « w T ho f <■ conv,nced ‘ it is all for the best ’ — our loss is star-gazer—wishing mvse’f a ‘ genius ’—wish- ' a ^ ell, and what else ? Pa lays down 
Uu, said Gudbrand, but I have not got j • • » . „ U1 . " , . .. , the paper, and looks at her curious y with a 
the horse; for as I went along the road I ex- h g ? in S for wealth, not simply for itself, but as a half smile. 3 
changed the horse for a pig.” “ ^ es > welI > hut do you know how much he means—burning with ambitious fire—chafing Little Daughter —Cousin Jane would pay 
“ Well,” said the woman, “ that is just what has left, Fred ? I hear—” like a chained lion—pining like a captive au- brother John his fifty cents back, and he said 
Ishould ha\e done myself; I tliauk thee for “Ben! — how much he has left? The tel ope, for when he got it he would give me the half 
house to Tffor anvhndVwhpn^l^v pn >U ^ whole world ! —see it,—this broad beautiful ‘The free pure air and broad forest track.’ dime he owes nie, and two times to buy mar- 
house to oner anybody when they come to see , .. , , ... . . . . w , , , T . 9 , . . , bles, and th 13 is what I want the rivers to rise 
me. What should we have done with a horse? earth—this vaulted canopy illumined by its What have 1 done?—what item of good? for, and the big boats to run! And I owe 
People would only have said we were grown myriads of silver torches,—all, all is left, and Every act of mine has been rebellious—my nurse the other dime, and must pay my debts, 
too proud to walk to church. Go, children, you are become so much of a materialist as to own glory, let God take care of himself. I I’ 11 looked at ma. 
and put the pig in. _ startle me with such a question—you star- have been called generous. IIow little I ** ^ iere i* i®*” l 16 Pa 'd> “ we are all big aud 
said (’TLlhrnnd- Uirwlln 1 ! Kui” g azin g- a3 P irin S’ a ir-castle builder 1 What merit that name. Not a deed but has been br .L Ck !:, t T? U S„ the . head 
And what then? 
A.nd Aunt Sarah wonld 
sitti-traioer—wumns mvsei u 'nonius —WISH- . , . , . . - 
e . . , , , . th:< paper, and looks at her curious y with a 
ing for wealth, not simply for itself, but as a half smile. 3 
like a chained lion—pining like a captive au- 
Little Daughter —Cousin Jane would pay 
brother John his fifty cents back, and he said 
when he got it he would give me the half 
dime he owes me, and two times to buy mar¬ 
bles, and thi3 is what I want the rivers to rise 
“ But I have not brought the pig with me,” • •• • u 
said Gudbraod ; for when l had go.,e a litl e f”?* alr ' cas “ 0 bu,ldcr 
A . < T -m ° . hno bn nnOnArt V ttai-i n.hn 1 
And 1 owe 
pay my debts. 
little, like a row of bricks. Touch the head 
said Gudbrandlor when l had gone a little ° * 9 ° , Y , " ,, t one and presto! away we all go, down to my 
further on, I exchanged it for a milch goat.” has ha PP ened J ou who regard, have pro- prompted by selfishness—not a sentiment ex- little Carrie here. She has, as a child, m 
“ How admirably thou dost everything,” fessed to regard, pelf as pelf, and hardly wor- pressed, but if traced to the fount, would have great ati interest in the rise as I have. We 
exclaimed his wife. “ What should we have thy a thought from rational beings.” been loathsome. I have envied the names ure all, old and young, waiting for money to 
said that we eat up everythn g we own. Yes, « Well, indeed ! you cau be scarcely more of the wise and good, but have neTer taken a bu ? marbles.” 
and^ cheese, an^sL^keep mvgfat 'oo'and startled than m ^ self at such an m^rruption. step in the path which leads to such a Fame. J ’ _ ‘ " 
tie up the goat, children.” What is there smacking of materialism in the mie happiness I have sought would result OH, 1 WISH I COULD! 
“ No,” said Gudbrand, “ I have not brought question? You are arriving at conclusions from the building up of self. The glory I , 
home the goat; for when I came a little fur- by a jumping process. I am no more of a would have obtained would have been vapory What? you envy that fashionably dressed 
F—was wealthy,- Lransieat a bubbfe I hawe soagbt those The 
everything just as I could wish ; just as if 1 * bear< * s0 > — an ^ tbat aB had been left for a pleasures described by Burns, which are for what? Because he has such fine times of 
had been there myself. What should we have noble P ur P ose - 1 supposed you might have -‘ '>ko poppies spread. it—so little to do—seeking pleasure, his whole 
done with a goat ? I must have climbed up possibly heard of the amount, and for what 8et f® the flow r oi ;“ iu b ' 00m is - shoJ : occupation, and you, unfortunate man, toiling 
the mountains, and wandered through the this accumulation of years, by an honest, in- A^oraent whife-then^ ? 0 st foi-eve” out your monotonous life—work—work- 
valleys, to bring it home in the evening. — dustrious, noble minded, benevolent man, had Or like tbo borealis race, 1 W0 5 
With a sheep I shall have wool and clothing been annronriated This was the nuestinn T That flit ere you can point their place; How many are they who know not the 
ia the house, with food into the bargain. So ^ f ^ Or like the sunbeam’s love'y form, pleasure of industry who think they have 
transient, a bubble. I have sought hose “ a °’ who lounges so iistlesslyalong thestreet, 
’ lazily gazing into the store windows ? And 
go, children, and put the sheep into the field.” was P ro P°sing ior your sags 
“ But I have not got the sheep,” said Gud- t ' oa ' tbere aD Y tb * n & 
brand ; “ for as I went on a little further, I m y ‘ star-gazing’ character?” 
changed it for a goose.” »< yw your pardon, Ben. 
That fl't ere you can point their place ; 
. e . .. Or like the sunbeam’s lovely form, 
was proposing for your sagacious cousidcrn- EranlsWng » ml „ lh , 
tion. Is there anything in it coluproraisiug gacb htre ba ,„ my objectSi and „ ow tbQt 0De 
so good, so benevolent,—one who has wept 
for what ? Because he has such fine times of 
it—so little to do—seeking pleasure, his whole 
occupation, and you, unfortunate man, toiling 
out your monotonous life—work—work— 
work ! 
How many are they who know not the 
pleasure of industry who think they have 
nothing to do, being a gentleman of ease tho 
very essence of happiness? And how it 
would surprise some of these “ wishers ” if 
they only knew the affliction of fashionable in- 
“TEU! Si 1 Taubs for that," said hi, I ** T ^ „ 1 1“* aad P"»- f “' —K- I-Wri me to tie 
wife “What Should I have done with a an(1 P osslbl Y y ou wl11 reaJll 7 °' er l°°k it all, little gate over which is written, ‘ Knock and some ease. Let only industry for a week or 
sheep ? For I have neither a spinning wheel wben 1 te y0U that a9 y0U Came in 1 was it shall lie opened unto you’—now that he is tw0 dress itsclt ' U P M iadtieuce, strut its brief 
nor a distaff; nor have I much desire to toil thinking of F- and his prospects in this and t vet rebellious, a traitor Fp.n G b( ? ur ’ . aud . endare . L s enjoyments ; and with 
who had a farm, which lay on the side of a nor a distaff; nor have I much desire to toil thinking of F- 
mountain, whence he was called Gudbrand of and labor to make clothes ; we can purchase world and another 
Up i:_j . , t 
the Mountain Side. He and his wife lived in 
such harmony together, and were so well shall have roast goose, which I have often 
matched that whatever the husband did, seem lontred for : and then I can make a little nil- 
clothing as we have done heretofore; now I tory—his systematic benevolence, his uncom- 
shall have roast goose, which I have often promising hatred of wrong, and his fearless 
hat as you came in I was j t s } ia n be opened unto you’—now that he is tw0 dress itselt ' u P tw indolence, strut its brief 
- and his prospects in this gone; and i yet rebellious, a traitor, Fred, is b< r; at)d endare , ia ®“i°/ m ® nt8 i and ^, th 
— reviewing his whole his- t b er e not reason for disn’easure ave fnr wbat J 0 ^ 11 Wl1 * , doff mip.ements of idio¬ 
tic benevolence, his uncom- ZL ir r P ’- ayG ’ f ° r ness, and renew its rusty suit of work. Yes, 
7 despair / thero is no ereatpr nnstaleo than t/r snnnnoA 
despair ?” there is no greater mistake than to suppose 
“ No, Ben, not a moment of despair. You ba PP ii esa cau be fouud uu der the cloak of 
matched that whatever the husband did, seem longed for ; and then I can make a little nil- i ° 07 . . . : No, Bex, not a moment of despair. You na PP lLess cuu De rouua imaer ine cloaJi of 
ed to the wife so well doae, that it could not low of the feathers. Go ai,d bring in the adv(,cac > of «»d _ adherence to right, how mi ht were not (j 0Dg mercy unbounded frivolity. Life without work; to breathe 
be done better; let linn, therefore, act as he goose, children.” mucb soever he might be m the minority— y • , t t , , , * your existence into vacuity; dissipating your 
might, she was equally well pleased. ' “ But I have not got the goose,” said Gud- how he had won the hearts of all, his success .,; Kn „ o] A, r , •, 7 atl tlme > without a useful action to achieve; 
They owned a plot of ground and had a brand; “as I came on a little farther, I in the accumulation of dollars as well as . y , ,, 1 ’ . , S inan wa ^ n £ away your energies and allowing vi- 
hundred dollars lyiug at the bottom of a chest, changed it away for a cock.” hearts and what an amount of snecu'ation s ^ >es ’J ad g el " IlLlt a? judges. Y eep over tality itsell to evaporate into inanition, may 
and in the stall two fine cows. One day the “Heaven only knows how thou couldst wmi ] d he exnended in surmisinir w, nil tbe g rave °f y°ur fneud; shed there tears of seem to the thoughtless, enjoyment; but, to 
woman said to Gudbrand: “ I think we might think of all this,” exclaimed his wife; “it is ... ,. ’ , r ,' , ... .. jieuitence ; breathe vows worthy the record- » , ™ au v nund, it is punishment. No one 
ao wall JrivR one of the ROWS to town and call inot no. if T UnH mnnfloeil it mvoeif • a 1 wou d bc apposed of—who he would will this • „ . ; n „ n u a -A *1_, feels life so burdeusome as he who has time to 
6 6 ^ ’ . v do nothing. No one feels monotony and un¬ 
rue source. Every inducement is offered, happiness so much as your man of pleasure.— 
Seek and ye shall fiud, knock and it shall be A short lime serves to cloy satiety, and to 
peued.’ This promise is not binding upon nmke his very leisure the torment of bis exist- 
he Creator, except the creature complies ence< Life ’ t0 be e "j°J ed ’ mu9t be employed, 
nth the conditions. Whv not i{ M L „ It is industry, and industry alone, no matter 
milk and look alter. „ oue a i ong way _ ^ became so hungry that I parties had tullilled their obligations.” . 1 . , ... T * ,, . , y.. 1011 on anu 06 nappy, work is tne Dless- 
These words Gudbrand thought both just was obliged to sell the cock for tSelve skil- “My charity is returning, Fred. I can of ? our mind Wl11 be brou S ht iato . requisition mg of nature, crownwg man with dignity.and 
and reasonable ; so he immediately took the lings to keep me alive.” nrmreciafp vmir state of mind „ m i wi \ a 8 ragg e wor f b y J our aspiring nature, making him sovereigu upon earth. .When 
cow and went to the town in order to sell it- “ Well 1 thank God thou didst so ” exclaim- i J , ! arfab ‘ laurels such as the unredeemed know not of— the tempter comes, and seeksby false views to 
but when he came there he could not find any ed his wife Whatever C S, Sou S- my query sounded,—how ridiculous, viewed triumphs imrnorta l ia their character and d ^ e jou into indolence, and makes industry 
one who wanted to buy a cow. ways dost just as I could wish to have it done. from your S,and P 01nt ' 1 et ’ to me ’ waa eternal in their consequences. He is un-rate- g ’ 1““ d nv? / ^ 
“Well! well!” thought Gudbrand, “I can Wbat should we have done with a cock ? We far from ridiculous, as I was Blinking F- ful who despairs-is lost / The whole glorious bS by“te swea^of ht brow~ ^ 
go home again with my cow ; I have both are our own masters, we can lie as long as we had been the medium through which God had D i an of salvation bids mortals hone' 3 
stall and collar for her, and it is no farther to like ia tbe morning. God be praised, I have lavished (not unnecessarily,) mercies upon His P L — - 
go backwards than forwards.” So saying, he got thee hero safe again, and as thou always creatures — how the disconsolate had been gharlie ghkstnut. Advice to Parents.— Be ever gentle with 
began wandering home again. dost everything so right, we want neither a d t reioice the d i SCO uraffed to hone and the children God has given you ; watch over 
When he had gone a little way, he met a cock nor a goose, nor a pig, nor a sheep, nor J ® 1 Excess ok Exercise —or exercise to the de- them constantly ; reprove them earnestly but 
man who had a horse he wished to sell and a cow -” the suffering re ie\ed, a because one heart gree of fatigue—is an occasional error of con- not in anger. In the forcible language of 
Gudbrand thought it better to have a horse Hereupon Gudbrand opened the door :— had sought to lay up treasures where moths valesence. The opposite error is so much scripture, “ Be not bitter against them.”— 
than a cow, so he exchanged with the man._ “ Have1 won your hundred dollars?” asked cannot corrupt nor thieves break through and more common, that exercise is over preached. ‘‘Yes, they are good boys,” I once heard a 
Going a little further still, he met a man driv- he of his neighbor, who was obliged to confess steal; and was wondering, now that earth A man will think he can hardly walk too much; kind father say, “ I talk to them very much, 
ing a fat pig before him ; and thinking it bet- tbat be bad> claimed him no longer, how he had provident- yet be ma 7 come . to bis food witb not strength hut do not like to beat my children—the world 
ter to have a pig than a horse, he made an ex------, ,. ■. of ^ t j . , • di , „ enough left for digestion, and he may get to his will beat them.” It was a beautiful thought 
change with him also. A little further on he “ We'll all meet again in the morning. ' . r ‘ pillow with an exhaustion which makes sleep though not elegautly expressed. Yes, there 
met a man with a goat. “ A goat,” thought Such was the exclamation of a dying child, “ We are easily mistaken. The world is rather a torpor than a refreshment. It is for is not one child in the circle arouud the table, 
he, “ is always better to have than a pig so as the red rays of the sunset streamed on him full of mistakes. this that horseback exercise is the medicine it healthful and happy as they look now, on 
he made an excharge with thc owner of the through the casement. “ Good by, papa, ‘ Reasoning at every stop he treads, is—the horse having the fatigue and you the whose head, if longer spared, the storm will 
goat. He now walued on for an hour, when good by ! Mamma has come for ine to-night; Man oft mi -tikes hu way.’ exercise. lo sufficiently jar and agitate the not beat. Adversity may wither them, sick- 
he met n. man wirli n. thpen • writh Kim 1,^ n*rr v.an.i I nail oil moat oo-alr. ti.« it • a i i i a liver and Other internal oro-ans. ffnr ssnme ness mav fade, a cold world mav frown nn them 
When he had gone a little way, he met a 
man who had a horse he wished to sell, and 
Gudbrand thought it better to have a horse 
i a- ut . ,. enougu icit ior aigesuon, anu ne may get to bis wm oeannem. it was a beauti u thought 
ly disposed of what nas left at his disposal.” pillo a witb e | bsuati i„ whicb 8 , Mp though not elegantly expressed. Yes, thim 
“ We are easily mistaken. The world is rather a torpor than a refreshment. It is for is not one child in the circle arouud the table, 
full of mistakes. this that horseback exercise is the medicine it healthful and happy as they look now, on 
‘ Reasoning at every stop he treads, is —the horse having the fatigue and you the whose head, if longer spared, the storm will 
Man Oft mi -tikes his way.’ exercise. To sufficiently jar and agitate the not beat. Adver.-ity may wither them, sick- 
fie met a man with a sheep ; with him he ex- don’t cry, papa ! we’ll all meet again in the Here is a world of beauty before us Can we llver and otIi ef internal organs, (for some ness may fade, a cold world may trown on them, 
changed his goat; “ for,” thought he, “ it is morning!” It was as if an angel had spoken nn) nnnr • t _ it v W j f , , ' , . conva'escents,) the legs and loins must be over- but amid all, let memory carry ihem back to 
always better to have a sheep than a goat.” to that fa'her, and his heart grew lighter un- appreciate u >viui wnat a bursting wor ked. Pedestrian exercise, particularly, u home where the law of kindness reigned. 
Afier walking some way agaiu, meeting a man der its burden, for something assured him beart) swell,n S wnh joy and thanksgiving, exhausts the spine and brain — “ therefore where the mother’s reproving eye moistened 
with a goose, he changed away his slfeep fur that his little one had gone to the bosom of rna Y ad <read fields, colored and shaded (says the most celebrated English physician) with a tear, and the father frowned “ more iu 
the goose ; then going on a long way, he met Him who said, “ Suffer little children to come by touch divine 1 How indelibly may we kind of exercise least suited to intellect- sorrow than in anger.’ 
a man with a cock, and thought to himself, unto me. for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” write our names, record our deeds, upon the aad -^ hard-working men. I he thorough -» n u >- 
“ it . i3 better to , bave a cnck tb an a goose,” There is something cheering and inspiring hearts of humanity. What a legacy he may If I" tbe paddle ’ ia wit, ‘- Development.— My neighbor by building 
and so he gave his goose fur thc cock. Hav- to all who are in trouble, m this, “ We’ll all ,i ia nL ^ i; e , • out ellort, or with the effort of only such mus- ti ( , n to Lis li™ i„„ ’ *' ” 
ing walked on till the day was far gone, and meet again in the morning.” It rouses up l ' ’ ^ a ' 7 \ >er ^ rnis ild cles as can best afford it ; and the student ri- j j j his family's comfort ' We 
loginning to feel hungry, he sold the cock for the fainting soul like a trumpet blast, and du, >'’- and g athers around him the chords of der comes back with physical forces all re- no fie t(, bnild anTitMl^ 
twelve skilling--!, aud bought some food: “for,” frightens away forever the dark shapes throrg- affection, who listens not to the poisoned freshed, beside the exhilerauon of movement {, our own selves—mor*\ ad d itions—ffnew l'fe- 
an addition to his house, hopes to promote 
his owu and his family’s comfort. We pur¬ 
pose to build an addition afier addition to 
twelve SKiumgs, ana oougur, some tood: “for,” frightens away forever the dark shapes throrg- anecuon, wno listens not to tne poisoned h»bhi, u«iuo uie uDiierauon oi movement ;, our 0W)l orUiirn.tV—nfne^lift. 
lh »nght he, “it is better to support life than ing tho avenues of the outer life. Clouds tongue of malice and slander. ‘ Faith, Hope ,o r the spirits and the change of scene for the „ 10 ti V es • npw mineinlM of nntin». • nil 
to erry back the cock.” After this be con- n,a, gather our paths-carcs pres ,beir J> Charity,' bat the greatest of these is v,mi-Uom e Journal. and pSn’s“Zfi yti »ThigK™ 
to carry back the cock. After tins lie con- may gather upon our paths-cares press their and Charity,’ but the greatest of these is . ... aud plans ; and to place you on a higher plane 
h a iZ Of hH nein .r P i^hor tlTto u i T agaulst , 0Ur ^k^d.sappomt- Chari , We see the imperfections of others. r „ —....of being, intellectually ami morally, than you 
house of his nearesl neighbor, where he called mems gather around us like an army with y 1 deI10unce hy . The idea that to be great is to be happy, is would otherwise occupy. To develop you-to 
lu - . banners, but all this cannot destroy the hope ^ an . e f ou o n r \ e denounce liy one ()f ,he errors of the age. But, that to be enlarge your range of thought exnand vour 
“How have matters gone with you in wuh.n us, it we have this mott .upon our lips, P™n»y. Are we hypocrites ? We profess to good is to be happy, is something known, at comprehensiveness tone up your ambition, 
town . asked the neighbor. “ All will be right m the morning.” admire virtue, and believe it essential. Do least to tho wise and virtuous. I and direct it toward more ennobling objects. 
