:: : : . 
ibnllaiuinrs. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
MORNING MIST. 
BY ELIZABETH J. KAMES. 
Hovering like an actual glory—’tween the earth and sky, 
Clear along the orient, the morning mist doth lie : 
Quivering line and delicate over all the scene, 
Resting like a dawn of light on the landscape green; 
Tints of purest Emerald change to pale Amethyst, 
Through those trembling wreaths of azure:—subtle morn¬ 
ing mist. 
Flinging o'er the distant mountains, many streaks of light, ... 
Robing all the taller hill-tops, in a shadowy white : Sllllp C }CAU y 
Over every streitm, and valley, in the scented air, forest, that \Y. 
In light cloud-shapes moving, changing, shimmering here acllill 0 " hearts. 
and there 1 T? f , 
Till too often by the ardent warm lip a sunshine kiss'd, a " 3 al ^ 
Melts the delicate and dainty, subtle morning mist I I lore are but! 
“ By fragrance do they wliiBper, 
As we speak by words; 
As the brook by melody; 
As by song the birds; 
Softly in their gen’leness do the violets speak. 
Of love and trustfulness, and their words are low and 
meek." 
The profusion with which they are scattered 
over the earth, so varied in beauty and per¬ 
fume, for our delight, affords a demonstration 
of the goodness of that Power which ruled at 
creation, and still continues mindful of the 
happiness of all that dwell upon the earth.— 
How often, when we turn from the proudest 
works of man unsatisfied, may we find in the 
simple beauly of the flowers which adorn the 
forest, that which shall bless and soothe our 
1 too often by the ardent warm lip a sunshine kiss’d, luit VC aiC mol alizillg, instead of rambling, 
its the delicate and dainty-, subtle morning mist I Here are butterflies to tempt us in the same 
-- path, but we will only describe them.— one as 
[ For the Rural New-Yorker.] white, the other yellow,— with gold-powdered 
RURAL RAMBLES AND REVERIES. wings that glitter in the sunbeams, when they 
„ T „ chance to struggle through a loop-hole in our 
“ In those fair seasons of the year when the a f 
, , . J . . root oi leaves. J hey pass on—fluttering from 
’ is calm and pleasant, it were an imury . • • , ,, ,. f c , 
\ “ flower to flower — toying with the first fresh 
And it is with kindred scenes and fancies, tho’ alternations. 
with no claim to kindred powers of describing We may not ramble further, and now turn 
them, that we shall have to do in these simple homeward. It is becoming fashionable to do- 
sketches. mesticate the robin, and it is not to be wond- 
That Spring, in all its fresh and verdant eret * a U w ^ en h* s beauty and powers of song 
beauty, is here, we can discover anywhere, jet are considered; but here it would hardly be 
only in the country can be enjoj’ed all its full- nece s?ary to cage them for this purpose. They 
ness and fragrance. Our corn is planted, and are u ' m ost tame around our dwelling, and at 
our “Spring’s” work done — so this Saturday a ^ b° urs °l the day you may see them attend- 
afternoon we will go back a few years to the ”'8 ^‘eir house-keeping duties, or hear their 
privileges of boyhood again, and have a holi- c ' ear mus i cu l notes swell out lrom some fruit 
day;—we will go out among the trees, beside 01 b ^ iu ‘ e '■ rce > 33 sweetly, and tar more sugges- 
the brooks, across the meadows, through the *‘ve of happy thoughts to the listener, than any 
orchards and over the hills — anywhere that “ ff a y birds in cages pining, though they come 
the beauty of Nature may lead us; keeping on a ^ ar > a!K * wear a brighter plumage, 
the look-out for scenes and thoughts of pleas- sm bing day of spring-time, is drawing 
antucss, and bringing back a bunch of wild to an end. I he sun sinks softly in the crim- 
flowers, fresh from the wood-sides, for those son " es ^ 8' v ' n 8 to the clouds which cluster 
who love us. Who of the Rural family will there ’ tints vidn 8 with the “seven-fold glory ” of 
accompany us on our ramble to-day? lainbow. Nearest the sun all is light uudim- 
m. ... , , , r . , u , med light—seeming as tho’ the splendors of the 
I hrough the orchard, at first, where “ show- ,, ° / 
... world unseen,were there unveiled to mortal gaze, 
ers ot pearl' — the delicate apple blossoms— on- , , ,, . , , ° . 
, . 1 , 11 • email crimson clouds float in the sea of bnght- 
have just fallen upon the trees. We love this 
scene and season the more, that the only auni- 
ness like burning censors, while above darker 
folds, as of flame and smoke from some vast 
versary we are entitled to on our own account, ,, , . , , 
/ . . „ . , , ’ conflagration, lend grandeur to the scene.— 
ever shares lints fragrance. And the orchard ot . , , 
, .. c , And, here and there, where the curtaining 
the homestead is all the dearer because it first , , ... . , , . 
. . ,, , „ , ... clouds are rent, the eye may rest on the sky, its 
began to blossom when we first began to live, , , i • , . , , , , 
* . . ® beautiful azure heightened by the contrast, and 
and many of our joys seem twined, twin-like, , . , . ,. . 
... , , , awakening thoughts ol purity, the peacefuluess, 
with the trees beneath which they tound aud , , , c \ ,, , 
... . , , , „ a , . «the holy rapture of that Heaven where muo- 
gladdened our boyhood. Rut the humming . ; , . .. , , . , 
f. . , J „ c , , . ° cence, quiet, and joy, forever make their home. 
birds are here as ol yore, bee! one alights ,, , , 
, . . . , — Have we seen aught worth notice in our 
on a slender twig, and arranges Ins delicate , ,, „ , , 
, °. °. .. , rural ramble? May we not go back to our 
plumage. I he leathers ol his throat and , . , , , , . , , , , 
f 7° . , . . . . . labors refreshed and strengthened by the nun- 
breast are of the brightest crimson, a deep • , 
, ° , . , , 1 istry of thoughts and scenes like these ? 
velvet-like green arc those on Ins back — or, KoyaltoI1) Xillgu . aC o., n. y. j. n. B. 
viewed in some lights, a rich purple; under- -» 4 _ 
neath, how purely white. Ah! he is off—far TAKEN AT HIS WORD 
away — ere we can tell how many colors he - 
plumes himself upon displaying. Cromweijl was thinking of marrying his 
Royal ton, NiigiraCo., N. Y. 
neath, how purely white. Ah! lie is on — tar TAKEN IT HIS WORD 
away — ere we can tell how many colors he - 
plumes himself upon displaying. Cromweijl was thinking of marrving his 
Aye! we love to watch the birds-the ^bter a wealthy gentleman ofClouces- 
,, . , .. tei-slnre, when he was led to believe, by domes- 
blcssed birds. I heir songs are melodies of tic gossip, that one of his own chaplains, Mr. 
love and happiness, their flight a movement of Jeremy White, a young man of pleasing man- 
careless aud easy gracefulness, their lives a year ners .> U1K \ “ a t0 P "K ot his court,” was secretly 
without a winter, full of cheerful sunshine, and l ,a H ll o addiesses to Lady h ranees, who was 
... lar trom discouraging his attentions. Entering 
redolent with the perfumed blossoms ot joy. his daughter’s roo.n suddenly, one day, the 
We love them, and shall start them again and protector caught White on his knees kissing 
again in this rural ramble, and their notes will the lady’s hand. “ What is the meaning of 
often be the key-tone of our reveries. For now J*? 3 ’’ iie demanded. “May it please your 
<<T . , ” ,. - .. . . highness,” replied White with great presence 
“There are notes of joy from the blue-bird and wren, _• i 1 , 0 , . *, . . 
» j , * u 4l or miau, pointmor to one ot the ladv s maids 
And a gossip of swallows through all the sky, , , ’ 1 1 ^uwj o mamo 
, ; . _ ...... Who happened to be in the room, “I have a 
and one of the first is building a nest not far ] ong time coul . ted that young gentlewoman, 
away, while the second has his already com- and cannot prevail; I was therefore humbly 
pleted, and two little treasures of eggs therein; pi aj iog her ladyship to intercede for me.”— 
and the last — the gossiping swallows—are ^ ow now, hussy! said Cromwell, to the 
iir • ~ young woman, “ why do you refuse the honor 
holding a mass meeting, or something of the \i„ wi.im , 11 i n • , 
° ° Mr. White would do you? He is ray friend, 
sort, on the sunny-side of the barn roof, be- and 1 expect you should treat him as such.”— 
neath whose eaves aud rafters so many of them "If Mr. White intends me that honor,” an- 
can fly to their birth-nests, though they may swered the woman, with a low courtesy, “ I 
also tell oflong aud perilous journeys in regions he against him. “ Goodwin! this 
. , J ° business shall be done presently, before I go 
to <8 unknown. out of the Uo the ohupluin, £. 
Rut let us go on to the forest We can rived; White had gone too far to recede, and 
follow the brook there, and listen as we go to was married on the spot to the young woman, 
its tinkling ripple o'er the white pebbles, watch (-’iiizot s History oj Oliver Cromwell. 
the swift and bright, but little fishes that dart 
through its crystal waters, and rest if we wish, 4 jX1 1 " aiEiN0K - ; j reat is the difference be- 
. J , . . , P ’ tween the experimental reality ol human life 
beneath the pendant branches of the graceful and that beauteous picture of earthly bliss 
golden willows, upon its grassy banks. Soon which the young and buoyant heart is wont to 
it leads us, like a friend who takes one into the paint. Ripened experience aud matured judg- 
sanctuary which lie loves, to the great old me _nt go tur to modify the hasty and crude de- 
j .. ,, cisious ot the untutored and untried inuunna- 
wood—one ot the undisturbed retreats o t,. • nv ,l f ^ 
.. T , „ , , tion. In the morning of hie the future appeai-s 
Nature. On either hand are the giant trunks bright, and the prospect altogether lovely; but 
that have braved the storms of a hundred more mature age, without extinguishing this 
years, and over our heads are the gnarled and joyous feeling, chastens and subdues it, enables 
mossy branches, which have a hundred times a more substantial basis, teaches it 
to cling more to that which is really aud in- 
trinsicully good, and to be guided more by the 
In the thick forest, lifting the dead leaves sound deductions of wisdom than by external 
of seasons gone, the sweet small flowers spring fascinations, which fade away whilst we admire 
u% department. 
. . . , . ... . . i-iuoo vu —iiuucriii” irum, 
air is calm and pleasant, it were an imury . • . , ,. f c , 
. ,, 1 -v-r J ” flower to flower — toying with the first fresh 
and sullenness against Nature, not to go forth .. , .... , 
° ^ blossoms ot spring-time. And this thrush—no 
and partake m her rejoicings m the heavens_. c , 
.V „ , rnl J ® ,, , great beauty in form or feather —bursts into 
and the earth. Ihus spoke Milton, who, - e , ,, 
, . , . . \ ’ , ’ an ecstacy ot song, as it he would pour out 
though lie sung m immortal strains the noblest hu joyful n0(ess0 , llusicall m t0 eonrince all 
of cpies jet did not disdain to tell in simpler who hear _ of hi3 happincss ., No one ca „ doabt 
veiae, 0 ...... it, and we feel our heart made lighter, as it 
“Iledge-row elms and hillocks green, . ° ’ 
Meadows trim with d.tisies pied, shells out upon tlie air in all its melodious 
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.” richness—in all its voluble windings and 
up beneath the step of May, most beautiful in 
their unaffected simplicity. We look with 
reverent awe upon the hoary patriarchs of the 
forest, but the lowly flowers inspire us only 
with tender and pleasing emotions; theirs is a 
language for the heart. 
them, and perish iu using them. 
Forget not that life is a flower, which is no 
sooner fully blown than it begins to wither. 
Men of profound thoughts and earnest minds 
are at a great disadvantage with the public. 
CONDUCTED BY A-E. 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
ROSE RAY-A VERNAL INVOCATION. 
BY J. C. MILLER, 
Spring flowers in the forest are blooming, Rose Ray, 
The graves are all vocal with song; 
The skies, like your blushes, are glowing, Rose Ray, 
Then why should we tarry so long? 
We'll go through the meadows and over the lea, 
To git her sweet posies, Rose Ray : 
The breezes will blow till your dimpled cheeks glow, 
And emulate roses, Rose Ray. 
The scenes which we loved in our childhood, Rose Ray, 
Have lost not a charm that they wore; 
The flowers which then bloomed in tho wildwood, Rose 
Ray, 
Still bloom as they bloomed there of yore. 
Then come, roam with me, over meadow and lea, 
To gather sweet posies, Rose Ray ; 
The breezes will blow till your dimpled cheeks glow, 
And emulate roses, Rose Ray. 
Russell, Ohio, 1854. 
Cnms-lMlaittic 
TO COUSIN KATEY. 
Communicated thro’ Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EPISTLE FOURTH. 
Tirlemont, Belgium, Feb., 1854. 
Dear Cousin Katey: —In one of my previ¬ 
ous letters I told you tliat there were two 
American girls here, in a boarding-school kept 
by the “ Sisters of Notre Dame.” Our com¬ 
mon nationality made U3 excellent friends at 
once, and now we call upon them quite fre¬ 
quently, partly for the pleasure of chatting a 
little in our own mother tongue, instead of la¬ 
boring with giant efforts to clothe the little 
nothings of conversation in a French garb, and 
partly from the benevolent desire of alleviating 
as far as lies in our power, the imprisonment of 
the unfortunate damsels. Imprisonment I say, 
and in legal phrase I speak advisedly, for no 
other word expresses the close confinement 
and the constant espionage exercised in these 
establishments, which resemble a veritable nun¬ 
nery more than an American boarding-school. 
If the Misses in our own land, whose com¬ 
plaints are so loud and long, with regard to the 
restrictions imposed upon them, could be trans¬ 
ferred for a time to a French Pensionnat, I 
fancy they would return to their own schools 
with spirits somewhat subdued by the discipline, 
and better prepared to appreciate the compara¬ 
tive liberty they now enjoy. In these Contin¬ 
ental boarding-schools young ladies are never 
for a moment alone. They sleep in a common 
dormitory under the surveillance of teachers, 
and often with a guard whose duty it is to 
watch while they slumber. Their hours 
of study are all spent in the school-room, un¬ 
der the eye of the teachers, and there is also a 
large room assigned to their recreations, where 
they are equally subject to supervision. When 
the weather is fine, they are allowed to pursue 
their sports in the garden, attached to the in¬ 
stitution, which is surrouuded by walls so high 
as to screen them effectually from any intrud¬ 
ing eye. These walls they never pass, except 
as they are occasionally treated, under careful 
guardianship, to a walk of two or three miles 
into the country. No letter or package of any 
kind can enter or leave the building without 
being first submitted to the inspection of 
“Madame Superieure .” Even the correspon¬ 
dence between children and parents is not free 
from this scrutiny. 
It is astonishing to see the entire transfer of 
parental responsibility to teachers iu this coun- 
try. The schools seem to be organized aud 
designed for the express purpose of relieving 
parents from all care of the physical and mor¬ 
al, as well as intellectual education of their 
children, and a Belgian mother is perfectly sat¬ 
isfied that she has done her duty to the young 
immortal committed to her charge, if‘ she has 
placed her in a pension at eight or ten years 
of age. After that she takes no further care 
of her, and, in fact, almost appears to lose the 
consciousness that she still sustains the mater¬ 
nal relation. For example, one of the pupils 
in the school here, has received but two visits 
from her mother during a year, and both of 
these were occasioned by notes from the Su¬ 
perior, stating that her conduct had been re¬ 
markably good. How far, thiuk you, does 
this tender mother live from the establishment 
that contains her darling child? Only a few 
doors, her house and the school-buildimr beiiiff 
upon the same street! 
The vacations are about the same in length, 
and arranged in the same manner as with us. 
These are usually spent at home, but when a 
child is sent to school at any considerable dis¬ 
tance, several years will often elapse without 
his paying any visit to his parents, while the 
correspondence is limited to a formal statement 
of health and progress in studies, despatched 
once in three months or thereabouts. A single 
illustration, taken from what we have inci¬ 
dentally learned of the management of the 
school here, will give you an idea of the sys¬ 
tematic manner in which children are trained 
to have no will or judgment of their own, but 
to seek the direction of their superiors iu all 
matters, however trivial. If a good aunt or in¬ 
dulgent grand-mama has brought her darling a 
paper of bon bans, as soon as the kind relative 
has taken her departure, the little girl or the 
young lady, as the case may be, for no distinc¬ 
tion is made between these classes in the dis¬ 
cipline of the school, must at once carry the 
gift to her teacher, who will tell her what pro¬ 
portion she may retain for herself, and how 
much she must distribute to her playmates. 
Religious instruction is made a prominent 
part of the regular course of study, particular¬ 
ly in the establishments conducted by the dif¬ 
ferent religious orders. In fact, one great ob¬ 
ject for which these schools are instituted, is to 
“prepare children for their first communion,’’ 
as it is termed, a process which consists in 
teaching them the catechism of the Catholic 
church, and which is usually completed by the 
timejhey are ten or twelve years of age. The 
day of their first communion is a great fete; 
the young girls are dressed as well as the 
means of their parents will allow, all with 
white veils and wreaths of flowers upon their 
heads, as if for the marriage ceremony. The 
veil which is purchased on this occasion often 
serves a few years later for the bridal toilette. 
Friends from far and near come to celebrate 
the happy event. The children are loaded 
with presents and bon bons, and no effort is 
spared to make that day what they are taught 
to believe it is, the happiest of their lives. A 
young lady here, with whom I have become 
quite intimate, and whose youthful indepen¬ 
dence of character, even the rigid discipline of 
a Pensionnat could not entirely curb, has given 
me an amusing account of her reasoning on 
the occasion of her first communion. During 
th efete which followed the ceremony, the cure, 
with whom she was quite a favorite, took her 
on his knee to chat a little with her. “ Dost 
thou know, my child,” said he, “ that this is the 
happiest day of thy life?” (In French, as in 
several other European languages, thou is em¬ 
ployed instead of you, in familiar and endear¬ 
ing conversation. You remember, Katey, 
how much stress Frederika Bremer lays up¬ 
on this mode of address in her novels.) “No,” 
frankly replied the spoiled child, “in some 
years I think I shall be much happier.” “ But 
to-day thou hast for the first time received thy 
Creator (a favorite expression of the Catho¬ 
lics, when referring to the Eucharist, inasmuch 
as it implies their cherished doctrine, the real 
presence.) “Well, I might have done that 
four or five years ago,” said she, “ for I knew 
then that there is a God, and I do not know 
any more now, and,” she innocently added, “ I 
do not believe the good God cares about our 
fine clothes.” Yet the very child who made 
this frank confession of ignorance, had been 
selected from all the others, on account of her 
perfect knowledge of the catechism, to answer 
the questions in the examination which pre¬ 
cedes the communion. 
Catholic children are not taught to exercise 
their reason upon matters of religion. On the 
contrary, they are made to believe that any 
attempt to investigate the whys and wherefores 
of a particular doctrine or practice, is a sin.— 
If the church commands its reception, that is 
an all-sufficient reason which none may gaiu- 
say or resist. They learn their prayers, their 
creed, and their catechism by rote, like so many 
parrots, and if they wish to know whether a 
given thing is right or wrong, they— go and 
asfc their priest! Not long since, the young 
ladies of the school here, went iu a body to 
their spiritual guide to inquire if there was any 
harm in drawing embroidery patterns on the 
Sabbath. He replied in the negative; so they 
doubtless applied themselves to the work with¬ 
out the least compunction of conscience, and 
will probably go on through the remainder of 
their lives, doing this or something similar on 
Sunday. There is some difference, is there not, 
Katey, between this way of observing the Sab¬ 
bath, and the manner in which we were taught 
to reverence it? How we should have stared 
with astonishment if in those days of yore, 
when through the long, still, summer afternoons 
we watched the sun that we thought never 
icovld go down, our good minister had entered 
with the announcement that embroidery pat¬ 
terns were a proper theme for Sunday medita¬ 
tion ! 
Religions instruction is not limited in the 
schools kept by Religieuses, to the prepara¬ 
tion for communion, but more or less time is 
devoted to it da.ily, throughout the whole 
course of study. Extraordinary occasions, such 
as the visit of some holy father to his spiritual 
sisters, or a remarkable fete daj T , are usually 
made the opportunity of conveying some les¬ 
son of piety, or of relating some Popish legend, 
often as wild and incredible as any fairy tale. 
On St. Antoine’s day, which occurred not long 
since, the pupils of the Pensionnat here, were 
edified with the following narrative. This 
saint, who was a missionary in foreign parts, 
was oue day preaching near the borders of the 
sea, to » cougregatieu of pagans. His hear¬ 
ers being quite irreverent and inattentive, the 
good man finally exclaimed in a reproachful 
tone, “ even the dumb fishes of the sea are 
more ready to hear the word of their Maker 
than you.” No sooner had he pronounced 
these words than an immense multitude of 
fishes at once issued from the sea, and advanc¬ 
ed towards him in regular order, the largest in 
front, the smallest behind. They listened with 
attention while he finished his discourse, and, 
when he had pronounced the amen, retired 
with a reverent obeisance to their watery 
home. This is a specimen of the legends 
which Catholic children are taught to receive 
as absolute truth. Do you wonder that they 
grow up slaves to superstitious fears, and with 
consciences which their priests can sway at 
will? A favorite mode of overawing a frac¬ 
tious child, in the school I have already cited 
so many times, is to exclaim—“ How do you 
know but j'ou will have a hundred years in 
Purgatory for the sin which you are now com¬ 
mitting?” This mysterious insinuation could 
hardly be relied upon a3 a means of discipline 
in a Protestant school, but the Catholic child 
who dares resist it, must be bold indeed. 
The course of study pui-sued by girls in this 
country is quite limited, in comparison with 
that adopted in America. Geography, His¬ 
tory, the rudiments of the natural sciences, and 
a thorough grammatical and practical knowl¬ 
edge of the French language, are the branches 
usually attended to. The German language ;s 
sometimes learned, and English is becoming 
quite popular, but young ladies here seldom, if 
ever, dabble in the higher mathematics, the 
ancient languages, or the intellectual sciences. 
What they do learn, however, is well learned, 
and much attention is paid to forming the man¬ 
ners, and to acquiring the strictly feminine ac¬ 
complishment of needle-work. Mending is 
made a distinct branch of needle-work, and a 
young lady is not considered well educated un¬ 
less she can fill up an unlucky vacuum in a 
stocking, by following the stitch so exactly as 
to make it next to impossible to distinguish 
the piece thus inserted from the original fabric, 
and darn table linen in such a manner that her 
stitches shall imitate precisely the pattern of 
the damask. Methinks some of our American 
girls would find such accomplishments as use¬ 
ful, to say the least, as the poor smattering of 
Geometry or of Latin which they so laborious¬ 
ly acquire during their school-dav r s, only to be 
thrown aside as useless when they assume the 
cares and duties of married life. But I am 
making my letter most unconscionably long, 
and must close abruptly, before I weary your 
patience. Truly yours, Minnie. 
A HAPPY HOME. 
In a happy home there will be no fault-find¬ 
ing, over-bearing spirit — there will be no 
peevishness nor fretfulness. Unkindness will 
not dwell in the heart or be found on the 
tongue. O, the tears, the sighs, the wasting of 
life, and health, and strength, and time—of all 
that is most to be desired in a happy home, 
occasioned merely by unkind words! The cel¬ 
ebrated Mr. Wesley remarks to this effect, 
namelj’, that fretting and scolding seem like 
tearing the flesh from the bones, and that we 
have no more right to be guilty of this sin, 
than we have to curse, and swear, and steal. 
In a perfect happy home all selfishness will 
be removed. Even as “ Christ pleased not 
himself,” so the members of a happy home will 
not seek first to please themselves, but will 
seek to please each other. 
Cheerfulness is another ingredient in a hap¬ 
py home. How much does a sweet smile, em¬ 
anating from a heart fraught with love and 
kindness, contribute to render a home happy 1 
How attracting, how soothing is that sweet 
cheerfulness that is borne on the countenance 
of a wife and mother! How do the parent 
and child, the brother and sister, the mistress 
and the servant, dwell with delight on those 
cheerful looks, those confiding smiles that beam 
from the eye, and burst from the inmost soul 
of those who are near and dear! How it has¬ 
tens the return of the father, lightens the cares 
of the mother, renders it more easy for youth 
to resist temptation! and, drawn by the cords 
of affection, how it induces them with loviug 
hearts, to return to the parental roof! 
0 that parents would lay this subject to 
heart—that by untiring effort they would so 
far render home more happy, that their chil¬ 
dren and domestics shall not seek for happi¬ 
ness in forbidden paths! 
Children. —A popular writer speaks of lit¬ 
tle children as the poetry of the world; the fresh 
flowers of our hearths and homes, little conju¬ 
rers, with “ natural magic,” evoking by their 
spells what delights, and enriches all ranks, and 
equalizes the different classes of society. Of¬ 
ten as they bring with them anxieties and cares, 
aud live to occasion sorrow aud grief, we 
shock! get on very badly without them. Only 
think if there was never anything anywhere to 
be seen but great grown-up meti and women! 
How we should long for the sight of a little 
child! 
Thf. setting of a great hope is like the set¬ 
ting of the sun. The brightness of our life is 
gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and 
the world seems but a dull reflection—itself a 
broader shade. We look forward into the 
coming lonely night. The soul withdraws into 
itself The stars arise, and the night is holy.— 
Thackeray. 
Correction does much, but encouragement 
does more. Encouragement after censure, is 
as the sun after a shower. 
Little things should not be despised. Many 
threads will bind an elephant Many drops 
make a river. 
