i0>] 
m 
g&SfcSlfi&S 
m 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE CRUSADER’S WIFE. 
Tiik roses by Castle Raby 
Glefoiied in the soft. June air, 
Some tinted with regal crimson, 
Some as a lily fair; 
But the cheek of the lady Edith, 
And her brow, no calmly white, 
And her lips like cleft pomegranates, 
Ware fair as the roses bright. 
Alas for the lady Edith! 
Sir r.At'NcKt.oT had gone 
To the distant land of the I’aynim, 
Where lance aud buckler shone. 
“ I will bring tbec a wreath of laurel,” 
Were the parting words he said, 
“And thy loving baud shall bind it 
About the victor's head.” 
Thus spake the stern Crusader, 
Rut his gentle,hearted bride 
Had boon content with the ivy 
That decked their castle's side. 
Months passed, and the soft-eyed summer 
Perished among her (lowers, 
And the golden days of autumn 
Gave place to wintry hours. 
Three times had the 11 Merry Christmas” 
Come to the welcoming earth, 
To tell to monarch and peasant 
Of the West Hicdkkmbb'b birth. 
And oft had the lady Edith 
L ooked over the foamy main, 
And her eyes were dim with watching, 
And her heart was sick with pain. 
At last the bark of tbo pilgrim 
Came slow over the emerald wave; 
He brought the wreath of laurel 
And she placed it n/t his ffrave! 
When next June brought her roses 
To smile by the castle wall, 
To scent tlm tapestried chamber, 
And the wide emblazoned hall, 
The cheek of the lady Kihth 
M ocked no more the red rose bloom, 
But the white rose paled with envy 
'Till it flourished on her tomb! 
Cohocton, N. Y., 1859. I.auiu E. W. 
of the life of our dear boy, do bo. There will be 
more visitors, likely, before the day is out, and 
Gon only knows bow much worse it makes him.— 
His fever is on again—see bow excited lie is. I 
do detest this visiting the sick, when no good can 
i be done by it. Give Harry some of those sooth¬ 
ing drops, and I will look the outside door, and 
friend or foe will not come in again without I In¬ 
vite them.” 
“ Do, Mr. Barlow. I am sure our Harry's life 
and comfort are of more consequence than any¬ 
thing else in the world.” 
They were troubled no more with friendly calls; 
the morning visitors spread the news that Mrs. 
Barlow did not wish her friends to come there 
while her babe was sick—that they were treated 
uncivilly. Many ladies thought about it, and 
brought the case homo to their own hearts, and 
they acknowledged that Mrs. Barlow was right, 
while others were offended, and dropped her ac¬ 
quaintance. 
What cared that happy mother, as the shades of 
evening deepened around their elegant little cot¬ 
tage home, that, she had lost some friends, when 
she saw her darling in quiet, gentle slumber, the 
[ fire' of fever and excitement gone—the smile of 
returning life playing on the delicate, beautiful 
features? There was a holy joy and thankfulness 
in her soul, and father and mother bowed together 
in humble prayer, by the side of the cradle of 
their first-born child, and returned thanks that the 
life and joy of their household had not departed 
forever, and that they had been spared the mis¬ 
taken kindness of their neighbors. 
Mrs. Adair and Mrs. Carr never called again, 
always passing with a cold bow, but Mr. and Mrs. 
Barlow are too happy in their blooming, bright- 
eyed and gloesome little Harry, to mourn the 
loss of such friendship. 
Tulip Hill, Iowa, 1880. Mrs. Lurlla A. Morris. 
BY KLLKN c. LAKE. 
Count the friends the world has willed you 
From her millions wealth of men,— 
Count, but let no triumph (ill you 
At what is, 'gainst “ might have been;” 
For however smooth the grading 
Of the truck your car ia on, 
Days may come when sorrow's lading 
“ Ruins stock and breaks the bond.” 
Mark the lips that count all blessings 
Into crowns that you should wear, 
Trusting you, or thus professing, 
With the gifts none else may share. 
Then, let but Dame Fortune fail you, 
Slander dare yonr name to touch, 
First and foremost to assail you, 
“ AH their lives they’ve thought as much.” 
Number all the gifts you’ve given 
To the poor and pinched by need, 
Those that called you, under heaven, 
Friend in word aud friend in deed; 
Yet, when first you failed in granting 
Other wish or dearer boon, ' 
All your good was pious canting, 
And you’d “ turned your coat" full soon. 
YOUNG LADIES, READ! 
[Written for Mooro’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
MISTAKEN KINDNESS. 
Good morning, Mrs. Adair. I called to have 
you go with me to see Mrs. Barlow— her babe is 
very sick. I hear they think it extremely doubt¬ 
ful whether it recovers.’’ 
‘Certainly, Mrs. Carr. ] always make it a 
point to call wberover there is sickness, oven if I 
havo to neglect Kruno of my borne duties. Sit 
down a moment, until T get my cloak and bonnet.” 
Mrs. Adair entered the parlor in a few moments, 
ready for the walk, and the two friends wore soon 
on their way to Elm street, the residence of Mr. 
Barlow, a young and prosperous merchant, and 
his amiable wife. It was a sorrowful time for the 
young couple—their first born, tlieir only child, 
the little, bright boy, was very sick; so sick that 
What a number of idle, useless young women 
—they call themselves young ladies—parade our 
streets! “ They toll not, neither do they spin, yet 
Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one 
of them.” J)o they ever look forward to the time 
when the real cares and responsibilities of life 
will cluster around them? Have they made, or 
are they making any preparation for the onerous 
duties which will assuredly lull to their lot — 
duties to society, the world, aud God? They 
lounge or sloop away their time in the morning, 
they never take hold of the drudgery, the repul- 
[ sive toil, which eacli son and daughter of Adam 
should perform in this world. They know nothing 
of domestic duties. They have no habits of indus- 
[ Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] GROWING OLD 
WORLDLY FRIENDS. _ 
BY RI.I.KX c. lake. If one haa a y° Dn E heart Mb left breast- 
- pocket, and everything has gone right with him 
OL-.VT the friends the world has willed you ever since he can remember, and be sits in his 
From her millions wealth of men,- arm .chair, he may easily fancy himself young- 
>unt but let no triumph fill you indeed, quite young-in fact, a Juvenile, but it will 
A what is, gams - might have been;” not all do; he is old i„ spice of his heart, and his 
however smooth the grading arm ^ „„„ ^ fftnc j 
Of the truck yonr car ja on, T . . . 
iys may come when sorrow’s lading Jt 18 a pa,nful Process, that beginning to find 
“Ruins stock and breaks the bond.” out wbat al * World has known ever so long— 
that one is growing old. How it. *hnrta Rim 
irk the lips that count all blessings nnm „ At f , V- , ° M 
t 4 , , ,, 8 some day, as he is walking in the garden to hear 
Into crowns that you should wear, .. , " gaiiieu, near 
usting you, or thus professing, J0 S ardenftI ' talk to the cook about “ the old man" 
With the gift* none else may share. an< ^ the old man, nobody in life but bis own ado- 
en, let but Dame Fortune fail you, lescent Belf, Old man! And he steps as spry as 
Slander dare your name to touch, a cat, and discharges the unfortunate gardener, 
rst and foremost to «s«aii you, and is too much in a passion to give him “a eliar- 
‘ All their lives they’ve thought as much.” acter.” 
mher all the gifts you've given Then, again, “ the grass-hopper is a burden,” for 
ro the poor and pinched by need, little tilings trouble him, as they never did years 
osfi that called you, under heaven, ago, but, lie thinks, little things have got their 
nend in word and friend in deed; jn-nwth „i i , , , 
.I . , ,,, .. ’ giowtti since those old times. But this doesn’t, 
t, when first you failed in granting ,, uus uoesn l 
Ither wish or dearer boon, • qu,te 8at,Bf > !lim ’ and he muses over it, and he 
your good was pious canting, wonders why his shadow extends so far to the 
ind you’d “ tinned your coat" full Boon eastward. 
II, i. .... a. .tronger, .. * “T*" * 
ounUug tbo fri.QiJ. u„t 4 , 11 , * ' llk « » «™>|ior, and bcartsd like a part; 
rned are wo to trunt no longer le 00 <H llm s 'l uare in t he eye. He iB glad to 
eas whore treach'rouB barks we hail; see him; wonders if he don't remember him; de- 
held sacred In your keeping dares that ho is little Bill Stokes that was, that he 
11 your life'* true good must lie, made basswood whistles for when he “kept” in 
•nd 01 foe, or j'oy or weeping, the old red school-house at Bogg's Corners; nud 
ightful alms mu*t not put by. there lie is right before him, man to man. There 
i ail the dark unfolding * s 110 use denying jt; he cannot prove an alibi, aud 
ou can find one slender gain, be falls into a brown study as be thinks of it. 
true heart about you holding Then again, there’s something the matter with 
weAhat Share* voiir joy or pain, his back, but he always calls it a “ crick,” when all 
::“^r ngi the t 3 ? 5 i ; c Tiine ** « the 
le your life writes law* of being, mischief. Jlc knows it will not do for him to sit 
atched by conscience aud your God. neai an open window as he used to do, but it bus 
e centre, N. Y., 1880. latterly been a favorite idea with him that the 
— - __ summers grow briefer, and the winters colder — 
And what work they make now with the baking; 
5 ° such crusts of granite to them. Not such did bis 
1 /’ M ° Id mother bring out from the old oven on the 
^ JJUJUOUJ.Jilili.ya long-handled shovel, on those long-gone Ratur- 
,Wlltn llC fam ' eJ KinKer ' ,,roaJ tljt llai| y fare 
By-and-by he begins to experience some diffi- j, 
'■ --!• < cult .v in reading his old newspaper—something *, 
___ ~ with an L or an ),X vol. in the corner of it, that ^ 
~ ~ ~ TT 3 I bc never remembers that lie has taken since it was i 
bjh 
jguii 
, - ... .f. . 
mm 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
NATURE. 
by Caroline a. Howard. 
Faith in man grown none the stronger, 
Counting up the friend* that fail, 
Learned are we to trunt no longer 
Seas where treach'j-ou# barks we hail; 
But held sacred in your keeping 
All your life's true good must lie, 
Friend or foe, or joy or weeping, 
Rightful aims must not put by. 
If in all the dark unfolding 
You can find one slender gain, 
One true heart about you holding 
Love, that share* yonr joy or pain, 
Leave the rest to clearer seeing, 
To a stronger, w iser rod, 
WJdle your life writes law* of being, 
AVatched by conscience and your God. 
Charlotte Centre, N. Y., 1880. 
0, dolt mother Nature! Unto thee I fly, 
From all the toil and strife, 
The turmoil of a life 
Of strangely intermingled hope and agony. 
0, tender mother Nature! Unto thee I pour 
The tide of my full heart! 
For thou wilt heal its smart, 
As lovingly and often thou hast done before. 
While lying on thy bosom, soothingly and sweet 
Thy low voice whispers me 
In breeze, and bird, and tree; 
I hear in ev’ry streamlet thy soft pulses beat. 
Daughter of the Infinite! Minister to men 
Of peace, and hope, and love! 
Thou callost those who rove, 
And at thy gentle bidding they return again. 
0, hear me, mother Nature! For my brain is wild 
With all the shame and wrong, 
With which the World so long 
The weak hearts of thy children deeply hath defiled. 
0 , speak! and let the music of thyjvoico be heard 
In every home and land, 
’Till heart and soul expand 
With love as pure as ever angel bosoms stirred; 
’Till ev'ry creature, ev’ry Uewer of the sod 
Has pow'r to teach and bless— 
With gentle loveliness 
Leading us “thro’ Nature, up to Nature’s God.” 
Dedham, Mass., 1859. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
SOWING AND REAPING. 
hi uuge or Steep away th.-ir tune m the morning. f.,r . . . 1:,,™! Nmv-Vorker., two X’sand an I; but then he charges it unonthe 
They never take hold of the drudgery, the repul- MAN, TUB ARCHITECT OF HIS OWN FORME. type, ami pronounces at. anathema upon nonpa- 
■ ive toil, which each son and daughter of Adam - reil and minion, when it is nothing but brevier. 
should perform in this world. They know nothing An artist was bending with earnest solicitude He fancies, too, that the girls have changed, 
of domestic duties. They have no habits of indus- over a block of marble. The well-worn chisel was when the change is nearer home, for the man is 
try. no taste for the useful, no skill in any reully firmly grasped by his steady and unerring hand. B row ing old, and those same maidens are won- 
useful art. They are in the streets, not in the His eye was fixed and his whole soul seemed to dering the while, if he ever had a sweetheart, or 
performance Of their duty, or for the acquisition enter into his work. You could not understand coul(i possibly, at any time, have been young 
ol health, but to see and be seen. They expect the delicate touches he was giving the yielding enough to love. 
thus to pick up a husband who will promise to be stone. They were cautious and oft repeated. The So Hiis painful process of discovery progresses, 
ns indulgent as their parental have been, and sup- image of beauty was In his soul, and lie was en- a prisoner, lie keeps the old arm chair, and 
port them iu idleness. They who sow the wind deavoring to transfer this image to the marble the old clock dial grows dim, and the old clock 
in this way are sure to reap the whirlwind. No column. Day by daylie had toiled, and day by 1h 'Heounde n great way ofT, and he dozes in the 
ble can be exempt from cares. How mistaken an 'lay had hope bid him toil on, as he saw the ada- °I )en door, and loves to look at tko setting sun, 
education do these girls receive who are allowed mantine stone yield to Ills firm endeavor. This an<1 B,,arcs tho <diildren , B toys and talks himself to 
to imagine that life is always to he a garden of artist did not begin with some blind purpose, some slc,i,) ' His a summer evening; yellow light falls 
roses! Labor is the great law of our being. How indefinite design. He saw in the clear mirror of u P° n Hie threshold, and along the floor, and in- 
worthlcss will she prove who is unable to per- his sensitive soul the bright ideal of his fond ve:<lsl hc old man’s form with an old glory. Hesits 
f° rm H! purpose and desire. He well understood his work. in tllc dwelling of his eon’s son; his head reclines 
Jt 1ms been observed that “by far the greatest He could almost lmve counted the strokes of his u P on h'S breast Light steps steal softly around 
amount of happiness in civilized life is found in chisel, before the first blow was struck. There him, but he hears them not A set of little fingers 
ns indulgent as their parents have been, and sup¬ 
port them in idleness. They who sow the wind 
in this way are sure to reap the whirlwind. No 
life can be exempt from cares. How mistaken an 
education do these girls receive who are allowed 
“ As ye have sown so shall ye reap that day.” 
Notwithstanding the great value of time, most 
men use it in pursuit of unworthy objects. This 
is the Course of the miser, who thinks that the 
great end of life is the acquisition of wealth. 
Such a creature is or no use to the world, and often 
his heirs impatiently await his death. Can a more 
favorable judgment be passed upon the ambitious 
man than upon the miser? The applause of the 
multitude is more apt to be bestowed upon the 
villain and the madman than upon the wise and 
virtuous. Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, was 
not the only hero who ought to have been con¬ 
fined in a irfad-house. Byron would have been 
less a curse to the world than he was had be been 
a cobbler. And, what shall he said of the pleasure 
seeker? He lives as though ho were born merely 
to cat, drink, sleepand die. A million such beings 
would bo donrly purchased were they gained in 
exchange for one true man. They are mere bur¬ 
dens upon society, and a nation of Chesterfields 
would be a nation of fools. All these characters 
are wasting their time in the pursuit of unworthy 
objects, as is every one who does not labor for the 
glory of God and the good of mankind. No man 
can innocently be a cipher in society. 
There is enough to do in the cause of God aud 
Mr. Barlow had not gone to his store that la - uusincu 'v greatest uc couiu almost nave counted the strokes of his 8lc l ,s «eiu sottiy around . ' ' . 
but remained with his wife watching cverv* 5 ’ ammmt of happiness i'i civilized life is found in chisel, before tlm first blow was struck. There him, but he hears them not, A set of little fingers There is enough to do in the cause of God aud 
tom of their precious little one JJttl u " P U ‘° relations, and most of these depend was nothing but steady toil and unyielding pur- arc 1,h U in L T with his thin, white hair, but be does humanity. The ignorant are to be instructed, and 
was sinking into a quiet slumber ills n ? 0,1 lbo h “ m ® 1,aV ’’ ts of lUe wife and mother.” pose which might hope for success. But the most not heed iL Two generations call to him; the tbc vicious reclaimed,-the youth of our land arc 
were hushed and the red fliwh had left ' Vbat a r "' st: ‘ lic is th ® n made by our young girls laborious portion nf hia task was accomplished,— second ia Btron S an <l manly; it is "father” they to bo shielded from tho allurements of vice and 
—he needed'sleep and quid. M rs. 1; uu ' \v'i * l an<i their parents when domestic education is un- he had hewn away the rough edges, and the gross utter » ti,e tlj | rd ia cliilddike and gentle; it is led into paths of virtue,—tile oppressed are to be 
just placed him in hia crib dronnJd th' ' •( ' U attonded to! 0ur daughters should bo taught, material was beginning to assume a form of “godfather ” they say, but he returns no answer released from their burdens, and the inebriate 
to exclude the morning light aud sat dow/lT pmcttcal! ^ to tr ' cook, to arrange tlm table, beauty. How his eye kindled,—how lightly and to eit,lC ‘ r ' brought back to sobriety,—the Church is to be 
sido the cradle looking anxiously unon 11 •"* lo wash and ir0 "’ to swee h- smd to do everything rapidly ho dropped his shining steel upon the “ Thc sun has sct -” Bom ebody says; "the clock amused to her duty toward those who are desti- 
face and the loved features’ iilVmi ht | ."!' thal l )ertuinB to the order and comfort of the solid marble. 1 saw him give it the last stroke. has J’ lst down,” cries another; “the old man tute of the Gospel; and the Empire ofSupersti- 
Dnglivo—the silent nraver went in 'tV 'V ' "i '" H18rdl<dd ' 1,01 ucstica may be necessary, but they aud heard the proud exclamation, “Jt is finished,” is asleep,” whispers a third; and sure enough he tion is to be overthrown. If we are ever saved we 
that mother’s heart, for life-liiv \L \l!l'ZZ. always ft oecoa9a ‘Tevil, and the best •• help " a ring thro’ the studio. Was there no joy there?— is ’ for the old man is deacL mast ’ the blessing of God, work out our own 
her cheek was nab- will, !' I, " woman can have is hn-xetj. If her husband is ever no self-congratulation?—no conscious pride, as ± salvation by overcoming our evil passions and 
fell fast from lier .Tear blue e ’ " * C L U ' fi0 rich, the time may conic when skill in domestic his eyes now beheld thc iinuge which had Inin en- HAPPINESS E VENLY DISTRIBUTED. keeping a constant watch over our spiritual foes. 
There whs a knook at I he d«or, and her two “ ."■*”* wM <* * W “ I “f 1 «• »“ l «• >•**. *l*<rt»* *«l I inui to think that were our minds capahie “ ”* e , nou f 10 ?“ “f «* ’"“S' 5 ' »«>» 
_ . r 110 dotllHSiH* f!lll Hl'nriirn Ptmu 11 * lAia f.i w. ^~ _ cnool r !»\ u l.nfnr.v k 1»«0 fPi. .a . 1 MOW lk ttrnp in tvilot'i/in 
has just run down,” cries another; “the old man tute a, ‘ the Gospel; ami the Empire of Supcrsti- 
is asleep,” whispers a third; and sure enough he tion is to be overthrown. If we are ever saved we 
is, for the old man is dead. must, by the blessing of God, work out our own 
excitement might close that little life— an hour eaurauon cannot be acquired in thc 
when rest and quiet were absolutely necessary HtrcoU !t cam,ot be lcurned am ' ds t the frivoli- 
m. , .. ‘ ties of modern society. A good, and worthy and 
holadn.rmadomanyioa.nrn.aahoouhohahc, c „ m ,, K bc 
gave some advice and some prescript.ons-as per- up ou tUe p averacn t. 1 
OriTie ab.<nii ...Ml 4 ..11 At. „ *i . n . A 4 
gave some advice and some proscriptions—as per¬ 
sons always will—told thc news, that Mrs. Dow’s 1 
little girl was dead—that Mrs. Eldridge's child 
was not expected to live, and so on; their strange 
voices wakening the babe, who moaned and cried, 
while the bright flush again came to his check.— 
He could not be quieted; the ton.] mother walked 
salvation by overcoming our evil passions and 
keeping a constant watch over our spiritual foes. 
Is not all this enough to fill up the longest life? 
How important is time In relation to eternity. 
The poet who wrote the profane couplet, 
“ Life is a droatn and all things show it, 
I thought so once ami now I know it,” 
for his own epitaph, has, doubtless, by this time, 
found out his mistake. Life is a fearful reality, 
and in a very important sense, 
“ Man is tho maker of immortal fates.” 
Domestic education cannot be acquired in the statlIC ’ 3 11 the result of chance. It did not as well aathe lord,aud takes into his soul all the ten- ^ 01 b ' s own epitaph, has, doubtless, by this time, 
streets, it cannot bc learned amidst the frivoli- ba Pl’® n to bo. It is the product of calculation, der and iirecious influences that flow to him through found out 11 mistake. Life is a fearful reality, 
ties of modern society. A good, and worthy, and und care, ’ ul > assiduous toil. their love as well ns his. Food tastes as sweet to and in a very im P°rtant sense, 
Comfort-bringing husband can rarely be picked Man models and moulds his own fortune. He is the plowman as the placeman. If the latter have “ Man is tho maker of immortal fatos.” 
up on the pavement emphatically an artist, and the character he forms the dftintier dish > the former has thc keener appe- lie is here forming a character that is to fix his 
“ The nymph who walk* the public streets, is the statue he makes. The boy who is striving, tilc ' * u, ° ad oars the brook pours the same destiny beyond the grave, and none but lie who 
And sets her cup for all she meets, with all Iris powers of mind, to master the dillicul- s t ream °f music, and the birds never vary their has ca refully used the talents committed to his 
May Catch the fooJ Who turns to stare, ties in the road of knowledge, who wastes no P^ntamme with reference to their audience. The charge shall stand approved when his Master 
Rut men <.i sens® avoid the snare.” time in careless, idle sport, is engaged on an im- SIRing scatters violets broadcast, and grass grows reckons with him. How many a life that has 
Tlm highest and best interests of society in the poriant work of art,—is carving from the most b T tlic ' toadside ns well as in the park. The breeze gained thc armlausc of the world, will loan nil ita 
“ The nymph who walk* the public streets, 
And sets her cup for all she meets. 
May catch thc fool who turns to stare. 
But men of sense avoid thc snare.” 
gained thc applause of the world, will lose all its 
still heard the strange voices which caused him to 
start and his eyelids to open. Half an hour they 
remained thus chatting, thinking they were doing 
a great kindness to Mrs. Barlow —an hour bad 
passed, and still they lingered. That mother's 
heart was deeply pained by the cry of her little 
One, and the effort to keep np the conversation 
with her visitors, whom she did not wish to offend, 
made her about distracted. When they took 
leave, she innocently, though truthfully, said, 
“Call again when Harry gets well.” 
The door was closed. “Did you hear that?” 
the floor, trying to hush tho little sufferer but he I f . UtlU ' e de ' nand a b f er ’ a mor f usefld > a more delicate material a statue far more worthy and thc < ;' nrls of ,iu ‘ e (,Dr ' s and glory when it comes to be viewed iu the'light of 
still heard the Lance voice* wMM, ” . I ‘l?’ ' nm " 0Ur y ° U “ g Afford beautiful than ever the chisel of Angelo polish- 183101 «° ftCF m lts caresses «' a « tbos ® who bound eternity. It will then afford no consolation to 
Courant. cd,—a noble character, an unsullied reputation, a UVL1 „„ Vt ‘ V0t t0 auu shines, the him who has lived to himself, that his fellow men 
’- fortune over which the golden lines of beauty rain tillls ’ t,K! trces drcss themselves in green, the once thought him fortunate. The man of misap- 
PLEASANT WORDS. shall linger forever. This is his own work. No 1 ander rolls, and the stars flash all alike. Health plied talents will not then congratulate himself 
Courant. 
PLEASANT WORDS. 
How little these cost, yet how full of power they 
are. A writer sayH of them: 
one else may do it for him. I know one such 
noble boy,—lie is looking up with eager, fond 
desire. Think you there arc no images of the 
ram falls, the trees dress themselves in green, tho once thought him fortunate. The man of misan- 
tlmnder roils, and the stars flash all alike. Health plied talents will not then congratulate himself 
knows nothing of human distinctions, and abides upon the use he has made of bis mental powers - 
wUh bint who treats it best. Bleep, the gentle the miser will be fully convinced of his folly iu 
ungel, does not come at the call of power, aud sacrificing the eternal interests of bis soul for the 
t< mi , . ... . * -- va tuv „ . * % --"*© >*ui umivnin \j i ii I rt in/uiiui ClUJ 
i hoy come bubbling up m a good natured grand and beautiful floating over his spirit? Has neVer proffers its ministry for golil. The senses love of gold,—bitter to the man of pleasure will 
heart, like the freely gushing waters of a fountain, he no ideal after which he is toiling? He would take bribes ^'luxury; but deal as honestly and be the recollection of his hours of hilarity and 
It is as easy to speak them as it is to breathe, bc a man. Some uoble statue has charmed him. f 1H ' n,usl T ^ tho l 100r as b y tbe «ch; and tbc revelry. But while all these shall shrink from the 
“ Call again wbon iURRv "gets well'” ' “ Tho -> come forth as easily and naturally from the With conscious, noble pride he toils early and 
gam w ben Harry gets w ell. bps 0 f kindness as the rays from the sun. There late. He is not wearied with a few feeble stroke* 
The door was closed. “Did you hear that?” is no pains-taking about tl.e matter. Pleasant He knows this will never accomplish his high 
said Mrs. Carr—" ’Call again when lUltny gets words beget other words, like themselves, in oilier purpose. That boy will succeed. I can see in the 
well. I guess she did not thank ns for our trouble, people. M c have been in a crowded omnibus. A determination and energy with which he labors 
Just think, too, of the morning’s work that I have lew sna ppish, sulky words have multiplied their sure omens of complete triumph. But let the 
neglected—the pics for dinner, and the loaf cake species, till most of the travelers liuve taken shares idler never deceive liis heart with" vain delusive 
for tea, that should have been baked by this time, in the same stock. But a genial soul enters. His dreams. The statue of noble manhood Is not the 
For my part. I shall let such people alone alter kind words get wings. They produce an epidemic, product of blind circumstance. It will not, some 
this '” Growler number one, and number two, change future day, spring up beside your pathway in 
“And I, too. Did you notice how cross Mr. voice and visage. The magic of a few kind words beauty and loveliness. It must be produced by 
Barlow looked? I don't think bespoke three has done wonders. Ill nature has jumped out of your ever careful, unremitting toil. If yon would 
words while we were there.” the coach, and is off for narts unknown • nn.i hn in oi'im- At_i. 
President of the United States would whistle him¬ 
self blind before be could call our dog from us_ 
Timothy Titcomb. 
lor tea, max snoum nave Been Dake.i by this time, m tut- same stock. But a genial soul enters. His dreams. The statue of noble manhood is not the 
For my part, I shall let such people alone alter kind words get wings. They produce an epidemic, product of blind circumstance. It will not, some 
this '" Growler number one, and number two, change future day, spring up beside your pathway in 
“And I, too. Did you notice how cross Mr. voice and visage. The magic of a few kind words beauty and loveliness. It must be produced by 
Barlow looked? I don't think bespoke three has done wonders. Ill nature has jumped out of your ever careful, unremitting toil. If you would 
words while we were there. ’ thc coach, and is oil for parts unknown; and good bo rejoiced in after life to gaze upon the work 
“Poor Harry, poor little one,” said hismother, nature keeps all things in excellent trim for the your bands have made,—if you would bless and 
pressing him to her heart, “ I am afraid you will rest ol the trip. If all this is so, then let us fling honor your own being with happiness._if you 
4 btv up our caps in thc air, and go into a revolution, would adorn the world in which yon live, then 
“ It is a shame, Janette— these gossiping Hot words and sharp words, have had the sreptre seek to carve out for yourself thc bright, undying 
women! What did you try to keep up a conver- long enongli. Let us overset the government, and statue of a noble Character. J. W. Barker. 
sation with them for? ’ put the dominion iu a better band. Pleasant Niagara Falls, N. Y., 1859. 
“I did not like to offend them, when they meant words, born of kind and loving hearts, are to be -_ 
it for a kindness. I hope they will not call again.” welcomed back to supremacy. They will fill the He who never changes any of his opinions 
“Well, if you think more of yonr friends than throne with honor. never cnr ,. eRtB a 1 
Hobby-Riding.— The Archbishop of Dublin tells 
of a horseman, who, having lost liis way, made a 
complete circle; when the first round was finished, 
seeing the marks of horse’s hoofs, and never 
revelry. But while all these shall shrink from the 
frowns of thc infinitely just God, the good man 
shall then receive the reward for his life of labor 
in the vineyard of Ot R Father. 
Bristol, Wis., 1859. S. S. Leonard. 
God's bo w is never bent at a venture. He never 
loses sight of bis arrows. No word of his ever 
dreaming tb.it they were those of his own beast, m ‘ sses * ts niark, but each accomplishes its pur¬ 
lin rejoiced arid said, “This, at least, shows me p08e ’ And - vot il irf llot tbc loss a joy to him when 
that I am in some track!” When the second cir- tbat word ,mdB ft welcome, ami of all men he is to 
euit was finished, the signs of travel were double tbc ^ ust tut ‘ ‘loarest, in whose affections 
and he said, “Now. surely I am iu a beaten wn v .u God's words are hidden tbc most deeply,' and in 
appear. 
Niagara Falls, N. Y., 18&y. 
He who never changes any of his opinions, 
never corrects any of his errors. 
increased, till he was certain that he must be in-**-- 
some frequent thoroughfare; but all the while he ^ lamp lighted while it is yet day, such a lamp 
was riding after bis horse’s tail, and deceived by as is let into the roof of a railway carriage, and 
the track ol his own error. So it is with men that the little child wonders why they should put it 
title a hobby. there at noon, hut for which no one is more grate- 
~ /*’*'’ ftd when they plunge into thc tunnel; such a Jan* 
he noblest contribution for thc benefit of tern as the prudent traveler provides before ho is 
posterity, is a good character, formed by. good benighted, —such a lamp is no bad emblem of our 
conduct. . # ovm case in re i ation to the Bible> 
