]Crr‘<- 
irntf 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
SNOW. 
BT J1CXNY A. STOX'K 
Pure as a dream of Heaven 
Kalla tbo snow o’er bill and dale 
Weaving the old year's sbrond 
And the new year’s, bridal vail; 
And many a restless he.jrt 
JIas stilled its feverish beat; 
There i. rest for the toft-worn hands. 
There is rest for the weary feet. 
“ Sweet Mother Earth," they sighed, 
“ Let us go to rest with thee;” 
And the trembling bands were clasped, 
And the struggling soul ret free; 
To-day, from earth’s shrouded breast, 
They will raise one pearly fold, 
And lay to a dreamless rest 
The heart that has grown so cold. 
To die when the o.np is drained, 
When the future’s shrouding vail 
Hides never a hope or fear 
That the cheek could flush or pale; 
When the jewels all are fled 
And the empty casket left, 
And not a tear to fall 
On the heart of life hcreft. 
To die when the soul is filled 
With a dream for earth too bright, 
When the heart o’erilows with love, 
And the future bathes in light; 
la it sadder to die alone, 
With a spirit dead to pain, 
Or to feel the love tears fall 
On the brow, like summer rain? 
0, why should the beautiful snow 
But bring me this dream of death? 
And why should the shivering winds 
Bear this only upon their breath? 
Is my spirit to falter at last, 
In the path which my feet have pressed? 
Then raise thy white shroud, Mother Earth, 
And take mn again to thy breast. 
Hadley, Mich., 1800. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
SPIRIT VOICES. 
flirting with the flowers, playing all manner of 
freaks w ith the half-scared leaves,—a happy thieg 
it is. Iiut sadder the sighings of autumn wind— 
the dirge-like wailings, that awaken in the soul a 
Strange grief, half sorrow, half fear. Akin it 
seems to the voice of deatln 0, the voice of 
; death! Tremblingly the soul shrinks from its 
call—mingling all of woe in great sorrow, instinct¬ 
ively it clings to earth, fearing the great futurity 
—yet lingers not. Shrouding itself in shadows, 
it goes hence, “Through darkness unto light.” 
Hillsdale, Mich., 1860 Bkbrik Day. 
-- - »»♦- 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WHAT I HATE 
I’li. tell you one thing 1 hate, and that is dull, 
prosy, newspaper articles. 1 do not wonder that 
Mr. Moobe, and every other editor, is continually 
begging correspondents to he brief. If I were an 
editor, 1 would ask it in such a way they would 
understand it. Who wants to read long essays 
on Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, upon 
the Pleasures of Hope, the Necessity of Cheerful¬ 
ness, and the like? All these tilings are good 
enough in their place, but for “ conscience sake,” 
if yon must write something as long as the “moral 
law,” don’t send it to a newspaper, it does not 
do one particle of good, for people will Invariably 
turn to a shorter piece, that comes more to the 
point, even if it be of inferior merit. We live in 
an age when there is enough that is real to write 
about, without running off into long dissertations 
that are not worth the time spent upon them.— ’ 
And there i« one thing more 1 hate. It is this 
stuff called poetry, which tries to tuck itself into 
the corner of every newspaper, bearing no more 
resemblance to the true article than these lines of 1 
mine would, if they had a rhyme on the end of t 
each one. What, in the name of sense, Is the roa- j 
son that the “Mollies” and “Pollies” aud t 
“ Dollies," when they do read poetry, cannot see a 
the difference. Go on a farm, ye meek, sentb r 
[ mental “daughters of Eve,” whose melancholy n 
langor bespeaks the hidden poetry of your nature, p 
wash dishes, milk cows, Ac., for one summer, and e 
if the inspiration does not leave you, and you n 
do not come down to the level of ordinary mortals, 
J am mistaken. Do act as If you bad some sense, tl 
Cayuga, N, y., i860. Amelia « 
COME IN AND SHUT THE DOOR. 
Oh! do not stand so long outside, 
■Why need you be so shy? 
The people’s eyes are open, John, 
A* they are passing by! 
You cannot toll what they may think, 
They've said strange things before; 
And if you wish to talk awhile, 
Come in and shut the door! 
Don't say, “ No, I thank yon, Jane!’’ 
With such a bashful smile; 
You said when ladies whispered “No,” 
They meant “ Yes,” all the while' 
My lather, too, will welcome you, 
I told you that before; 
It doesn’t look well, standing there— 
Come in and shut the doorl 
You say I did not answer you 
To what you said last night; 
I hoard your question in the dark— 
Thought on it in the light; 
And now toy lipB shall utter what 
My heart has said before, 
Yes, dearest, I—but stay awhile— 
Come iu an shut the door! 
«! 
& ri-onr- 
[ Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 1 . , ,, , , , . .. 
WHAT DO vfiTT trim P ,re *> llt,vo boon of the warrior metal No Wbat a strange, thrilling interest, these words 
_ human being who habitually baits between two possess. Not that there is anything peculiar 
It behooves the young of the present day to opinions, who cannot decide promptly, and hav- a,,out names,—it is simply the incidents con- 
look well to their ways. The way to read, so as in R decided, act as if there was no such word as ncctcd with Mow sacred all those places, 
to derive benefit from reading, should especially fail. can ever be great, as Cjcsar would never have a " Miose events, which transpired “when Jesus 
receive their attention. The importance of at- crossed the Rubicon, nor Washington the Dela- waa herG arat >ng men,” seem to ns. How it nsed 
tending to this subject is evident from two rea- ware, liad they not fixed their stern gaze on objects t0 an i mute our childish hearts when our mother 
sons. First, there is such a flood of worthless far beyond the perils at their feet Mild us stories connected with that little town of 
FIXEDNESS OF PURPOSE 
When a child is learning to walk, if you can 
induce the little creature to keep its eyes fixed on 
any point in advance, it will generally “navigate” 
to that point without capsizing; but distract its 
attention by word or deed from the object before 
it, and down goes the baby. This rule applies to 
children of a larger growth. The man who starts 
in life with a determination to reach a certain 
position, and adheres unwaveringly to his purpose, 
rejecting the advice of tlie over-cautious, and de¬ 
fying the auguries of the timid, rarely fails, if he 
lives long enough, to reach the goal for which ho 
set out. If circumstances oppose him, he bends 
them to his exigencies by the force of energetic, 
indomitable will. On the other bund, he who 
vacilates iu his course, “yawing,” as the sailors 
say, towards all points of the compass, is pretty 
sure to become a helpless castaway before his 
voyage of life iB half completed. There can be no 
question among philosophic observers of men 
and events, that fixedness of purpose is a grand 
element of human success. Weathercock men 
arc Nature’s failures. They are good for nothing. 
Better downright pig-headed obstinacy than eter¬ 
nal vascillation; better willful blindness to dan¬ 
ger, however menacing, than the hesitancy which 
is forever weighing the possibilities of defeat 
against the chances of victory. The men of 
action, whose names arc written imperishably on 
the pages of history, were men of iron. Silky 
fellows may do for intrigue; but the founders and 
conquerors, and liberators, and saviors of era- 
'"O/M 
"'%%& .1 
mm 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HYMNS FOR DEVOTIONAL HOURS. 
BY EDWARD KNOWLES. 
Sick of tlie world’s illusive show, 
I long for real peace and joy, 
And turn from all else here below, 
To seek for bliss without alloy. 
What are the treasures I have sought 
But perishable toys, or less, 
Which, in possession, only brought 
A show of wealth and happiness. 
And now, nrising from the dust., 
I strive for something more than this, 
Which, in its realization, must 
Bring with it much the greater bliss. 
Long for the higher life, O, heart! 
Thirst for the Living Waters morel 
Till the sweet peace shall be a part 
Of each desire that goes before. 
Climax, Kal. Co., Mich., 1860. 
' • 1 a 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
MOUNTAINS OF PALESTINE. 
What a strange, thrilling interest, these words 
receive their attention. The importance of at- 
tending to this subject is evident from two rea¬ 
sons. First, there is such a flood of worthless 
reading matter deluging the land, that the reader 
must use much discrimination, else be will receive 
positive liarra; and, in tbe second place, reading 
exerts such a moulding influence over the whok 
mind and character. 
It is not necessary to bring statistics to show 
that the youth of our land,—saying nothing ol 
ACROSTICS. 
WALTER SCOTT. 
W ox droits Wizard of the North, 
A rmed with spells of potent worth! 
L ike to that greatest Bard of ours, 
any other eluss,— are, to an alarming extent, on- l !’ 0 ™ i - llt J ma ? ic of thy powers; 
... * E on thv hritfnt fiimrvV f 
INTERESTING TO LADIES. 
gaged in the perusal of trash—this fact comes 
under the observation of nil. The literature de¬ 
signated by the term just used, includes not only 
what is frequently called ‘yellow-covered,* but also 
m a 11 • „ — r> v " • *■ **-* J ItiVlUUVS UUl UUJV 
SPIRIT VOICES. " E 0 owin Sextract from a recent letter of what is frequently called ‘yellow-covered,* but also 
,, T , “ an English traveler, who has had the best oppor- tbe great mass of the fictitious productions placed 
I he story of life, from the cradle to the tumtiesof observation in the first circles of the before the public iD evervform that ran J,,;.-,. i, 
grave,” is not. all told in tones that are melody to United States, may surprise some of our idle fme attractive. A few gain their support by thus a - 
the heart of man nor yet alone in l.arsh unmelo- ladies, if any such there be among our readers; tempting to pamper and amuse the popular taste 
Si„T + h rv ar ° thftt ' U, would be well if a noble emulation could bo The effect of this literature is to fascinate the 
breaking in upon the discord of life, hush it all, fxcited among our women to imitate what is wor- m ind give false views of life and create a ; i 
inspiring the soul to noble purposes, and noble tliy of Imitation In the privileged classes abroad, appetite, which rejects the substantial material a 
deeds, Hpirit voices they arc, for they spoalc to They would then flood their country with light hoalthy mind enves. 
the heart alone. Not like the sounds of earth, and happiness instead of degrading it with poor Can it be possible that all realize the effect their 
that are heard lor a time, then die away-tliese copies from English and French novels, and reading produces upon them, in the course of a 
<lW l ‘ e ‘. ' tb ' 3 8pmt ’ 8broud<ld ln reproducing from parvenu Parisian society foreign ) ife ,. ime! ]t wte Mp0J1 the mind just M tbo food 
ness, heeds no more its own existence. From «//<*** and us eoncomitants-gossip. flirtation and taken into the system.-2, the body The body 
silence wc came, yet lie who taught the mornin" extravagance. , f ’ 
, . , ’ , , , , h morning * can not be healthy and vigorous, if its wants arc 
stars their minstrelsy, bade the deep waters, an,I 1 can assure yon that having lived all my life supplied by an unwholesome material; so, every 
the mighty winds, join in the universal chorus- about in the different castles and manor bouses thing that is taken into tbo mental organism be- 
the “music of the spheres” had tuned the of Great Britain, and having been accustomed to conics an insen&rable mrt of it. nmi if it 
tempting to pamper and amuse the popular taste. 
The effect of this literature is to fascinate the 
mind, give false views of life, and ereuto a morbid 
appetite, which rejects the substantial material a 
hoalthy mind craves. 
Can it be possible that all realize the effect their 
spirit’s harp to celestial melody, bidding it throb the industrious habits of Duchesses and Count- 
in joy and gladness. Woe to man! that so soon 
discordant sounds should mar the harmony, so 
soon the angels’ soug should be forgotten. 
Yet not entirely thus. In every heart there are 
chords that thrill and quiver, responsive to the 
voices that call them from their slumbering.— 
Many arc tlicso voices, ever are they with us. in 
the “holy hush of night*’ they whisper to us,—in 
the glad morning they call to us,—in every pass¬ 
ing emotion of the soul they speak, cheering ns, 
soothing us, guiding us aright. The voice of 
love—’Us the sweetest music upon earth, nay, in 
Heaven. In infancy it lulls our cradle slumbers, 
charms the baby life with its gentle influence, 
leading the little pilgrim on to the years of youth 
—not forsaking him then, but throwing a spell 
around the bright hours that even suffering can¬ 
chsor, I was utterly astonished at the idleness of 
cannot he healthy and vigorous, if its wants aro 
supplied by an unwholesome material; so, every 
thing that is taken into tbe mental organism, be¬ 
comes au inseparable part of it, and if it is of this 
meagre quality, its results are unavoidably mani¬ 
fest. Then, let every one take hoed, Jest, when 
E ’on thy bright fancy’s offspring find 
K osembhinco to his iuyri.nl mind. 
S neh the creations that wn see— 
C harseter, manners, life in thee— 
0 I' Scotia’s deeds, a proud display. 
T he glories of a bygone day; 
T hy genius foremost stands in all her long array. 
LAMB. 
L IKK the bright impress of thy genial mind, 
A re “ Elia’s" essays, humorous, gay, refined; 
M ost amiable wort thou, gentle, brave, 
B urying all thought or self, as in a living grave. 
SOUTHEY. 
S BRex-kly bright thy life’s pure stream did glide, 
0 n sweet romantic Derwentwater’s side. 
IT ndcr great Skiddaw—there, in Epic lays, 
T hou Arenm'dst a post’s tlrrutms ol olden days, 
H ow Madoc wandered o’er the Atlantic ware, 
E astern Kobarua, Ko.leric tlie brave; 
Y ears cannot from our fondest memory lave, 
WORDSWORTH. 
\V andkrino, through many a year, ’mongst Cambria’s 
hills. 
not tear away. In life’s decline, the weary way is themselves; and with all these occupations, by 
cheered by the soft whisperings of love,—yea, in early tours, they keep Up tlieir acquaintance 
tbo “valley ol the Bhadow of death” do they’ with the literature and politics of the day, and 
come, for a loving Father meets the spirit there, cultivate the accomplishments of music and 
cheering it iu its sorrow, guiding it Home. drawing, and often acquire, besides, some knowl- 
The beautiful things of earth seem never voice- edge of literary pursuits, 
less they speak to me, and well 1 love their The late Marchionncss of Lansdowne was so 
teachings. Me had watched all tlie weary day by well acquainted with the cottagers in her neigli- 
the side ol one we loved, but when darkness borhood, that she used to visit and look at the 
brooded over tlie si ill earth, the angels carried corpses of the dead, because she found that her 
our loved ono to their home. Then, bowing in doing so soothed and comforted the bereaved. I 
hopeless agony, 1 forgot, tlie hope, the rest, the have known her to shut herself up with a mad 
Heaven. Glancing upward, I saw a star, the woman in her poor dwelling, who used to lock 
“brightest iu night’s diadem,” looking in through 
the half-opened shutters, seeming, as it shone, to 
tell of the bright home where our loved and lov¬ 
ing ones are blest A sweet peace it breathed 
into my heart—a holy trust and confidence. Ever 
since, 1 hqyo lovfiJ the stars. Sentinels they seem try residence. She educated her own children 
to be, guarding the gates of day, pitying the sor¬ 
rows of mortals, pointing to the land where dark¬ 
ness never conies. 
The sweet returning summer-time, brings 
myriad voices with its lloral treasures, haunting 
the soul with old, buried memories—memories of summer and winter, lit her own fire, made some 
the bright summer gone. Chaplets of rose and tea for the Duke and herself, ami then, as he 
i « lit I \t T-* i, - 7 - * H11CU 
American fine ladles. No English woman of advancing years sha'll bring upon him its arduous °' erht?r wi,tl vales, and sonD y lakes, 
rank (with the exception of a few parvenns,) from duties, and place him in "constant contact with K ich 8,ort ‘ 8 of thonght th * " ,Uhin s “ ind distills, 
the Queen downward, would remain one half the truly intelligent, ho may have cause to lament **">*"”***- 
r u “f,r r r ,e “ **"- •- * •*« 
; v . ■ y ; ,’ V , 1 “ t ’ Wltb ll!irdJ y an for the future, so utterly worthless. 0 f beauty stirred thy fancy’s deeper mood, 
. cep o , < opy io e Iters ol business of their As those should he most watchful of their vari- R (-flection calmed the current of thy blood; 
husbands, fathers or brothers; attend minutely ous tendencies, who are at that agu when their Thus in the wide “Excursion” of thy mind, 
to tlie wants ot the poor around them, and even plastic natures are receiving influences which will 11 igh u ‘ ull k rhtb 1,1 tEur,h of w,,rlh we still may fin 
take part m their amusements, and sympathize give direction to their future character, to these, ervinq. 
willi their sorrows; visit and superintend the a few remarks concerning what to read, may not I * easy, natural, graceful charm of style, 
schools; work in their own gardens; see to their be out of place. R esembling Ooldy's “ Vicar,"-free from guile; 
household concerns; think about their visitors; Persons read for pleasure, or profit. By pleas- v ein of rich lluinor through thy “Sketch-Book 
look over the weekly accounts, not only of da- ur e, is meant present gratification, merely — 1 magi nation her bright colors nhow*. 
mastic expenses, but oflen those of the farm and Pleasure, however, should not bo the only object ? ° T" 1 bast thott ' ,u,mgst lh - v Mother band, 
the estate; manage penny clubs in conjunction of reading, any more than it should be the only ^ emal tky soul, worthy our own loved land, 
with the working classes, to help them keep end of life. Hence, this becomes unlawful, when macaulay. 
themselves; and with all these occupations, by it is immoderately gratified, even though bv M astkrly critic! in whose brilliant stylo 
early tours, they keep up their acquaintance means, in themselves, harmless. But these two A nd rich historic <’oforiog, breathes again- 
witl, the literature and politics of the day, and objects should be blended, and in tlie well-pro- ^ lothed in most picturesque eo.tume the while- 
"t “? mi ” d ’ d “ ,ro f ° r t»pr.r«e« *IU t 
r r ' r q , C ' •Ome'mowl. grow more anil more to V* the controlling ono, I. it. giren anew to o.r old hiitor,', ,» ge ; 
°' ,pf 0 ,le ™>’. y pursuits. while, at the samo time, the solid gratification A nd in thy stirring ballad poetry, 
" -l ' ’ ,llL lll - ,nI,es8 Of Lansdowne was so produced by tlie reception of new truths into the Youth’s dreams of ancient Rome oneo more oui 
w.-ll acquainted with the cottagers iu her neigh- mind, gradually grows into that insatiable thirst G0 S a K e - Tm »rmTnw 
borhood, that she used to visit ami look at the for knmdcdgr, which should be felt by every , AVq ,„ ... . L0NGFEU ^ W ’ 
corpses of the dead, because she found that her immortal mind Inur ‘- V * cbarm : 
t*™ 1 1 »•»<*«*« **« t.* 
. C Ii wn iici to shut herself up with a mad intelligence and judgment, waste your time over G rief and shame’s deep hues it throws; 
woman iu her poor dwelling, who used to lock this current mass of fiction, the more of which F iu- up Alpine heights is heard 
the door, and could not bo induced to admit any you read, the less you will relish any thing really “ E nnw the uttering word; 
one else. I.ady Lansdowne’s only daughter used profitable. All the light reading that anyone “ Lifo '» now, onward iz inviting, 
ono hundred guineas (given by her father-in-law, should reasonably desire, can be obtained from a 1‘ on £ ng8 for “ ob,er tiet ‘ ps exoiting; 
Lord Suffolk, to buy a bracelet) to build pig-sties, few 0 f the standard weekly and monthly periodi- S 
>mui mst perim^on, at hci husband a little coum cals, judiciously selected, as well as from an oc- 
try residence. She educated her own children casional selection of books from some of our tennyson 
without assistance, teaching tlie boys Latin, and most eminent anthors T1IV v< * rse is like rkl * music lo thc ear; 
the girls all the usual branches of education. f knowledge of history becomes to the mind t V**^ ^ 
discovered w hen ™ ! l , accidental^ an unfailing resource. It is that, alone, which n ow pensive us some song of olden days. 
Hi, TV r ! ■ Tv l ^ ° bUrn ’ ? d for canform a broad and 8lron S foundation — upon Y oung fancy revels in thy poet dreams, 
* y '* 8 0 . 111 ,I<1 Itl - «t C o clock, which to build the intellectual fabric. This fact S teeped in such melody ol' words as none 
mininer am wmtei, lit her own fire, made some should be impressed upon every mind. It is a 0 f elder laureate bards have poured— it seems 
ca lor the Duke and herself, and then, as he- good plan for the individual to murk out for him- N ow like zEolian strains from breezy zephyrs won. 
vrotc his own letters of business, she copied se ]f a course of historical reading, but if he is at dickens. 
one else. Lady Lansdowne’s only daughter used 
ono hundred guineas (given by her father-in-law, 
Lord Suffolk, to buy a bracelet) to build pig-sties, 
with his permission, at her husband’s little coun- 
without assistance, teaching the hoys Latin, and 
the girls all the usual branches of education. 
The late Duchess of Bedford, I accidentally 
discovered, when on a visit to Woburn, had for 
thirty years of her married life, risen at C o'clock, 
TY i » r .. ,. . ' - 7 guuu jiiau mu luuiviuuai io nmi’K OUI 101' mill* 
Hke buicies Ti ‘* T '1 ° f b " SlnC88 ' she C0 P ie(1 self a course of historical reading, but if be is at 
sweet nea • 11 ^ ' gIloI ^ tto ‘ aud bn sH them and then came down to a large parly of a loss to know what to take up first, and has no 
teve b^r^mute^n 01 ' -rt arC °T “ fe T f 10 0 ° Iock ’ t0 ,lis P CDBC breftk ^ wlfli- particular inclination for any one branch, some 
The htl wiT. iwt i fi g 13 I*- 1 " "i 0 °"f r r T 8aymg , 0ne W ° td ° f tbei> ^“tntinajy avoca- competent friend will give him the. necessary ad- 
’nettlte iJait and ^ ^ I”? "° ^ ^ “ viailor itt vice. There are works to be found in abundance, 
ncath the leaves and mosscs-O, how they speak tlie house without finding out that the Duke and suitable for every age, and able to gratify every 
sprhit Proved m!u ‘y ZTA ai ^ ® UC J"* 1 h ^ tr! > nsac ted «ie necessary business of taste. Let those who find history distasteful at 
spimg, vc ro\od, MARI and 1, chdrnitd by the the dav, before you perhaps had risen » -v - , , .. , 
woodland minstrelsy, nor dreamed, in on r jly, of I ra'ther mention those who are gone to their d It iTT ^^ ^ n? a ‘r T!** 
aught but coming pleasures. I am thinking that reward, than write of women still amonV" Z %**«*»?* their education will he deficient in 
when violets shall come again,! shall seek them you may believe me when I say that Am con- A™ r part, “ uIar ; aud ,r J 111 b ® 
in their forest home, and the yellow cowslip and atautly among those who live sue l hves of ener^ f n ttv A , ? ‘T T 
the butter-cup, but 1 shan fling them all upon the and LfulnA-but they so apply themsehS nTZulT* ^^ 5 
mosses—weeping for her who loved them too.— without ostentation, or an idea that they are » ' nt that only general rules can be laid 
Yet why do J weep? for flowers of bright, i m - doing more than their simple duty.” * in TiZlT“ g X > “ ^ ^ 77 
mortal bloom, are clustering ’round her brow, in 
the land where beauty fades not, where eternal 
summer dwells. 
I love the music of the winds. The little, 
laughing zephyr, sporting with the summer-time, 
U ay-drefhns of poesy thy soul awakes;_ 
8 UCh waa thy life— a poet’s life, l ween; 
W oi-ahiper thou of Nature! every scene 
0 f beauty stirred thy fanuy’s deeper mood, 
It efiectiou calmed the current of thy blood; 
T bus in the wide “ Excursion ” of thy mind, 
H igh thoughts In words of worth we still may find. 
ERVINS. 
I x easy, natural, graceful charm of style, 
R esembling Goldy’s “ Vicar,"—free from guile; 
V ein of rich humor through thy “Sketch-Book” flows, 
I magination her bright colors shows. 
N o equal past thou ’wongst thy brother bund, 
G enial thy soul, worthy our own loved land. 
MACAULAY. 
M ASTEKLV critic! in whose brilliant style 
A nd rich historic coloring, breathes again— 
C lothed in most picturesque costume the while— 
A 1! the dim past, with all Its hustling train. 
U nder this vivid, eloqnent painting, see 
I- ifo given anew to our old history’s page; 
A nd in thy stirring ballad poetry, 
Youth’s dreauis of ancient Rome once more our minds 
engage. 
LONGFELLOW. 
L ays like thine have many a charm; 
0 ft thy themes the heart must warm. 
N ow o’er Slavery’s guilt and woes, 
G rief and shame’s deep hues it throws; 
F iu- tip Alpine heights i6 heard 
“ E xcelrior,” now the stirring word; 
“ I.ife’s Psalm," now, onward is inviting, 
I, ongings for nobler deeps exciting; 
0 ’er Britain now resounds thy name, 
W bile Stales unborn shall swell thy fame. 
TENNYSON 
T itv vqrse is like rich music to the ear; 
E legant, tender, sweet, thy varied lays; 
N ow soft as lute, or as the clarion clear, 
N ow pensive us some song of olden days. 
Y oung fancy revels in thy poet dreams, 
S teeped in such melody of words as none 
0 f elder laureate bards have poured—it seems 
N ow like zEolian strains from breezy zephyrs won. 
DICKENS. 
D ELIOIiTKCL Novelist! loved by youth and age, 
I n many-colored life how rich thy page! 
C oniic. pathetic scenes alike to thee; 
K indliest benevolence iu all we see, 
E imubling humble worth and struggling poverty. 
X o sickly, sentimental trash we find; 
told us Btories connected with that little town of 
Bethlehem. How eagerly W e used to listen to 
the stories of thc star in the East,—the babe in 
tbe mnngcr,—and the song of the angel band 
which announced the advent of our Redeemer,_ 
and, in inter years, with what wrapt attention 
havo we listened while these things were de¬ 
scribed and pictured to ns from the sacred desk. 
Methinka if I was a traveler, if it waa my privi¬ 
lege to roam over distant lands, there is no place 
that would prove more attractive than the nucred 
plains of Palestine. How J should love to stand 
on that mount where Jesus sat and taught the 
multitude; orwnnder amid the solitude of Olivet, 
His favorite resort, wbero His disciples first 
listened to those words of instruction which we 
gather from the inspired volume,—those words 
which have come down to ns as a precious legacy. 
What could inspire us with that sacred awe which 
we feel at the mention of Mount Taber, were it 
not that the feet of Jesus had lingered there, and 
a halo of glory from the eternal world had 
crowned its summit, beside the glorionB presence 
of Moses and Elias just from Heaven resting 
upon it. llow on ere J in ufl la the memory of that 
garden where thc prayer firxt went up which has 
been so often repeated by earth’s sorrowing ones, 
“Father, not rny will, but thine, be done.” With 
joy would 1 hail thy rugged summits, 0, Moun¬ 
tains of Palestine! With joy would I tread in 
the footsteps of that little band who daily list¬ 
ened to the words of “ Him who spake as never 
man spake.” Yes, Jerusalem, though thou bast 
fallen,—though thou art reaping the fruit of thy 
disobedience and rejection of thy King, —yet 
will I remember thee with sacred pleasure, as 
being so nearly connected with the names of 
those whom I one day hope to meet in the city 
of God. Marion. 
Girard, Pa., 1860. 
Is the Would a Mistake?— One of the saddest 
mistakes which the good people havo made, is in 
supposing the world to be a mistake. To these 
people—and their number is not small—the oarth 
is but a theatre of pain and sickness, sorrow and 
death. Joy is illusive, pleasure a cheat, laughter 
a mockery, and happiness a thing impossible, and 
not even to be looked for on tiiiB side of the 
grave. The performance of all duty is the 
“taking up” of what they call “a cross.” They 
are actually atraid to be happy, under an over¬ 
shadowing impression that they have no right to 
be happy in this life. They believe there is some¬ 
thing intrinsically bad jn the world that they 
inhabit and all the joy that proceeds from it. 
They have an idea that the moral evil which 
afflicts the human race has struck in. To them 
life is a trial —severe, unrelenting, perpetual. 
All that seems good, and graceful, and glorious 
in the world, is a hollow sham, for the deception 
of the unwary and the ruin of tlie unwise. 
Divine Knowledge. —A perfect knowledge of 
nature is nowhere to be found but in the Author 
of it; no less wisdom and understanding than 
that which made the world, and contrived this 
vast and regular frame of nature, can thoroughly 
understand the philosophy of it, and comprehend 
so vast a design. But yet thore is a knowledge 
which is very proper to man, and lies level to 
human understanding; and that is the knowledge 
of our Creator, and of the duty we owe to him; 
the wisdom of pleasing God by doing what he 
commands, aud avoiding what lie forbids. This 
knowledge and wisdom may be attained by man, 
and is sufficient to make him happy.— 'l\l/o(sm. 
----»♦■» ■ ---- 
Joy and Sorrow. —There is much comfort in 
the word of God, and as much beauty in his 
Despondency is the last of all evils; it is the 
the most important particular, and it. will be 
strange if, instead of regarding it long as dry and 
dull, they do not, in time, find it a delightful study. 
It is evident that only general rules can be laid 
down concerning the subject in hand. Let every 
individual properly realize, on the one hand, the 
benefit, on the other the inquiry, of which read¬ 
ing may be the means,— lei biin carefully study 
1 -o J " v *•*-**- ••• v '»**** > U"IA VMIUUII | OIUU) 
Km eminent ol goo , the gning up the battle of hi s 0W n ta>stes, and seek to make the exercise, at 
vuti uc.id nothingness. He who can infuse all times conducive to some good end. 
courage into the soul, is the best physician. Rochester, N. Y., 1860. C. E. B. 
S weet sympathy pm ades tliv bright, tby glowing mind, works, and as ranch kindness in his di.spensa- 
alliteratiye acrostic. tions, as, admitted into the soul, would inundate 
The following alliterative acrostic is a gem in wl "Ui ecstasy. Bat many hearts are perverse; 
its way. Miss Kitty Stephens was the celebrated tlie,v 2* 0om >' thoughts and bitter fancies flow 
London vocalist, and is uow the Dowager Countess ^ ree ^’ * n ’ aud are almost jealous lest a drop of 
of Essex: • strong consolation should trickle through on this 
S he sings so soft, so sweet, so soothrag still, deluge ol Marab. Brethren, it depends on which 
T hat to the tone ten thousand thoughts there thrill; flood-gate- you open, whether you be drowned in 
E lysian ecstasies enchant each ear— a tide of joy or sorrow. It depends on whether 
P leas are's pure pinions poise— prince, peasant, peer. your well-spriuga are above or beneath, whether 
n ushiug high hymns, Heaven hears her harmony— your Consolation or your grief abounds. 
E arth's envy ends; enthralled each ear, each eye; --»-•-»__ 
N umbers need ninefold nerve, or nearly name, Uo all the good you can in the world, and make 
S oui-stirring Stephens’ skill, sure seraphs sing the same, as little noise about it as possible. 
