120 
^OO&E’S 
2 ) 
14 . 
THE AFFECTIONS. 
[Written for Moore’* Rural New-Yorker.] 
MY NATIVE VALE. 
BY MBS. 
CRDZIER, 
IN thin delightful western clime 
That give* a forest home to me, 
I think of that sweet vale where passed 
My sunlit days of infancy; 
And where the years, like bumming birds, 
Just poised a moment, on the wing, 
To sfp the nectar from the cups 
Of life's sweet floral offering; 
The homestead's old, familiar halls, 
The grassy meadow, where 1 played; 
The orchard, with its melting fruit, 
And soft, refreshing shade; 
The blacksmith's shop, w here, all /lay long, 
My noble father toiled and sang, 
Where, In the morning and at eve, 
The music of the anvil rang; 
The garden, with its spreading vines, 
Its ruses and its daffodil*; 
The dark old forest in tho east. 
Beyond the heaven-aspiring hills; 
The old, red school-house where 1 sat, 
And studied in my spelling book; 
The common, where, in glad recess, 
We children wandered ’long the brook, 
And sailed our chips upon its breast; 
The church, that lifted tip its spire 
To point us to the Father, Go»; 
The grave-yard, whore dear sisters lie 
And rest beneath the sod,— 
All these come back to roe again, 
And, like some sweet and tender tale, 
Thy memories linger in my heart, 
Dear Honeyoe, my native vale. 
’Twtis there 1 woke a mother’* Smiles 
With infant caroling* and mirth, 
And there my soul began to grow, 
And lift itself above tho earth; 
'Two* there that first I learned to love, 
And trust the faithful heart of God, 
And there ho caused hi* erring child 
To pass beneath the cliuht'uing rod; 
'Two* there T first bogau to tread 
The flowery path* of ,Science' hill 
And then the musn oft softly came 
My sonl with poetry to fill; 
'Twas there iny sympathies became 
Enlisted for the true and right, 
And there I joined the battling host 
That war against Satanic might; 
Twin; there Ar Came -my huahaud now.— 
And stole away my girlish lore; 
And there 1 left a father* care, 
IIis faithfulness to prove. 
0, often when tny roving thoughts 
On memory's golden circles sail, 
They pause to linger lung with thee, 
Sweet Itonooye, my native vale, 
Grand Rapids, Mich., 1860. 
\ The very first lesson which you should teach 
t ^ your children should he the just value of your 
affections, since it is through their medium, 
7 'TO chiefly, that you can hope properly to influence 
'jJ' their obedience; it is idle to expect that you can 
Cv train him properly ip his ways of life. You are 
to teach him this lesson, by a careful discrimina¬ 
tion between right and wrong, in your consid¬ 
eration of his conduct. You are to permit no 
misconduct, however trilling in itself, to pass 
without due notice; it must he promptly checked 
to he effectually conquered. Error is like that 
Genius in the Arabian Talc, who, though his bulk, 
when unconfined, reached from earth to heaven, 
could yet squeeze himseff into the compass of a 
quart pot. It is surprising from what small 
beginnings most monsters grow. The first lesson 
which the boy learns from this observant discrim¬ 
ination is the value you place upon your affections, 
lie soon sees that they are valuable—only to be 
acquired upon certain terms, and for a certain 
consideration. You have nothing to do but. to 
prescribe the terms—to declare the conditions. 
You may make your affections cheap or dear, at 
your own pleasure. If too cheap, he will not 
value them; if too dear, lie will despair of pro¬ 
curing them. Tho true principle by which to 
determine the conditions for securing them, is the 
simple one of always doing justice. If he de¬ 
serves praise, praise him; if he merits blame, do 
not withhold it In neither case be immoderate, 
for a boy seldom deserves any great degree either 
of praise or blame. The terms of yonr favor you 
are to unfold to him, not by set lessons, but by 
liabitunl conduct; and he will find it easy to com¬ 
ply with reasonable conditions in order to secure 
those affections, which, moved as they are by 
inflexible justice, be will soon discern, are beyond 
all prioc. This principle is one of the most obvi¬ 
ous of every day experience. We see it in the 
public thoroughfare, at all hours, at every turning. 
Affections are moral rewards! They are to be 
given, like money, very sparingly, and not til! yon j 
have carefully inquired whether they be due or | 
not. They arc to be given to justice, not to par- i 
tiality. The ill advised and lavish affection of the , 
parent, like indiscriminate charity in the high- , 
ways, soon makes the receiver wasteful of the , 
treasure he receives. Besides, when the parent < 
has been giving because of his blind love, what j 
lias lie left himself to bestow, when the child i 
deserves, and when it is the parent’s duty, to ( 
reward! ft is from this profligacy of bounty that t 
children become capricious in moral judgment, i 
perverse and wanton in disposition. From this t 
they grow up preferring wrong to right; or, t 
rather, practicing the wrong quite as commonly { 
as the right, from an absolute incapacity to per- c 
ceive the difference between them. K 
[Written for Moore’* Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE EVENING HOUR. 
BY 1. M. BKBBRE. 
IIkavkx-wovkd hour! delicious evening hour! 
How well the sun, a* sinking far away, 
Cools, with mysterious and grateful power, 
The hot and fevered pulses of the day* 
Toil and turmoil fade with thee beneath 
The gray horizon of our dally life; 
And the soft influence of thy soothiDg breath 
Calms in our hearts the throng of hitter strife; 
Or, if the memory of the past day’s toil 
Comes gloomily upon onr weary mind, 
Tho sunset sheds a tint, ns golden foil, 
And gilds the thought* that linger yet behind. 
Yet, as the deep’ning ere usurps the light, 
Return again our iife-engendered woes, 
And mero’ry, dark aud gloomy as the night, 
On dreamy wing invades our brief repose 
Oh, in the sunset's goldeu-flooded beams, 
) would resign this life’s ephemeral breath, 
And fade into tho deep, eternal dreams 
That hover o’er tin? endless sleep of death! 
I see the bird, at evening, fold its wings, 
Aud drop tbe silver head upon its breast; 
And so, in evening’s gentle murmurinjs, 
I'd fold my arms, and know the hidden rest. 
Watertown, S, Y., 1800. 
Y 
f- —-. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
PKOCTRHSSS. 
Life ! This strange, mysterious life of ours, is 
dom of the great and gifted,—to spend his days 
in tending Bheep beside Arcadian fountains, and 
celebrating, with an oaten pipe, tbe charms of 
some rustic Amaryllis. London, wrapped in fog 
and smoke, may be a less romantic object of con¬ 
templation, than a group of Arab tents, bathed in 
the mellow sunlight of Oriental climes, with palm 
trees fluttering their plumy leaves over (hem and 
the purple cones of mountains visible in the dis¬ 
tance; but in reality there is more of the true 
poetry withiu the walls of the prosaic-looking 
city, than ever dwelt in tbe rndc homes of the 
sons of the desert. We are so accustomed to think 
of the literary production? of by-gone ages, as 
embracing the highest order of intellect, that we 
are very apt to undervalue our own literature. 
The present, is, indeed, the product of the pant, 
but it surpasses if, as the fully ripened fruit, is 
better than the flower. We contend that there is 
more pure and just sentiment,—higher views of 
man, his duties and destiny,— more exulted ideas 
of woman’s worth,—and as much poetic, bril¬ 
liancy in the writings of modern bards, as in the 
well-filled pages of Homer and Vino it.. The sub¬ 
lime strains of Milton, — the melting pathos, ex¬ 
quisite harmony, and justness of composition 
exhibited by the myriad minded Shaiwkake,— 
the lays of quiet beauty that Wordsworth bro't 
from his lyre of many strings,—are unsurpassed 
by anything in the whole range of ancient litera¬ 
ture. Our historians, orators, and philosophers 
are, at least, equal to those of Greece and Rome, 
while they have struggled under disadvantages of 
which the classical never even dreamed. 
The indiscriminate laudation of ancient authors 
indulged in by those who cannot hope to rival 
their fame, would have repressed, if possible, the* 
manifestations of genius in later ages; and when 
America awakens to the idea that there may be a 
progress in literature, as well as in art, science, 
and morals; then may our country witness tbe 
[Written for Moore'B Rural New-Yorker.] 
JESUS, OUR FRIEND. 
Jesus, we come to thee; 
Bo thou our Savior be; 
Cleanse us within. 
Onr hearts feel dread alarms; 
They know sins fatal charms; 
Extend thy powerful arras,_ 
Save ns from sin. 
Be thon our constant guide; 
0, keep us by thy side 
Through all the way 
Then shall we fear no ill; 
Our hearts shall do thy will; 
Our lives thy law fulfill; 
Guide us, we pray. 
May thy great love and free 
Our wondrouB blessing be. 
Thy spirit send 
To make our spirits know 
That thou dost love u* so, 
We may, though bending low, 
Call thee our friend. 
Now, in our early years, 
Ere worldly doubts and fears 
Have bound us fast, 
Our hearts we give to thee; 
Guide, Savior, Friend, thon’lt te; 
And through eternity 
Our praise shall last. 
Rochester, N. Y., I860. Nkt 
Nettie. 
viewed from mauy different stand-points, and rise of a national literature, to which that of 
each man colons the seene he looks upon with Greece, in her palmy days, will appear hut as the 
"anxiliar light, coming from the Imagination, day-star heralding the glorious sun! 
Some are led by their own peculiar mental con- Cohocton, N. Y., 1800 . Laura e. W. 
stitntion to abide in the Present with quiet con- -. __ 
lent, and take no more thought for the morrow GARRETS 
than the lilies of the field. If they have no sunny _ 
glimpses cl the Ely&ian fields of the great here- We can never enter a garret—a place where 
after, they are amply repaid by the immunity I hey Goldsmith flourished and Ohatterton died_with- 
enjoy from their far-reaching, prophetic insight out paying a tribute of reverence to the presiding 
into future sorrows,—such as tbe wizard gave to deity of the place, flow venerable does it up- 
the dauntless Louhikl. Others cJiDg as tena- pear, at least if it is a genuine garret, with singu- 
cionnly to the ruins of the past, as the ivy docs to lar projections, like the fractures in poor Gold- 
the towers and buttresses of an ancient castle, smith’s face: its battered and threadbare wall?, 
To them there is no light, no glory.no vitality, like old Johnson’s wig, aud its numberless loop- 
no abiding place and comfort in anything that is holes of retreat for the north wind to peer thro’ 
uot of the Past. The word, “froorkss,” sug- and cool the poet’s imagination, 
gesta nothing but frightful images and disasters, It was a lonely garret, far removed from all 
of “noble crafts,” alone on the “wide, wide sea,” connection with mortality, in which Otway con- 
sweeping with all Rails set, with creaking masts ccived and planned his affecting tragedy of “Ven- 
and straining cordage, upon the rocks of dc- ice Preserved,” and it was in a garret that he ate 
struction, while the master and helmsman see not the stolen roll which terminated in his death.— 
tlieir peril in their mad haste to get onward! And it was in a garret that poor Butler indited 
But surely, there is a “ progress” toward a sure his inimitable tludibras, and convulsed the Kine 
and nuiet haven nn,l !) .. _j ,i . « . .... . . ■ 
LIGHT AND RAIMENT. 
Ock ladies need to be taught the Value of 
light, Independently of air. ’• When a gardener,” 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HEATJTY. 
- light, Independently of air. ” When a gardener,” and quiet haven, and U Is for this that a third and the Court with Inughter, while he himself 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] sn y 8 Johnson, “wishes to etiolate, that is, to class is struggling with all the energy that the writhed in the gnawing pangs of starvation A 
AUNT BETSEY “ RILED UP.” blanch, soften, and render juicy a vegetable, as P™ud “ I will,” of a powerful mind gives to man! gentleman found Dryden, in his old age, exposed 
- lettuce, celery, etc., he binds the leaves together, It always has been and still is “tho conflict of to the ills of poverty, and pining in a garret in an 
“I declare if I wan’t riled up,” said Aunt 80 that the light may have us little access as pos- ages.” In all climes and seasons, in every stage obscure corner of London. “ You may ween for 
Betsey Green, dropping her knitting-work into Bible to their surfaces.” In tho same manner, the of man’s destiny,—from tbe infancy of nations to my situation,” exclaimed the venerable poet on 
her lap, and pushing her spectacles up over her ladies, instead of opening their petals to the sun, their vigorous maturity,— this “conflict” has seeing him, “but never mind, my young friend 
cap-border, “T declare if I wan’t! If I could as do the plants naturally and instinctively, cover gone on with ever-varying results, but undimin- the pang will be over soon.” He died a few days 
only have taken that man by the collar, as I used their faeea with veils and parasols to shut out its ishod courage. The ultimate success of many afterwards. ' * 
to my Reuben, when he didn’t ‘toe up’ to suit me, impertinent rays, in order that they may etio- great minds haa been ruthlessly darkened by per- Poor Clmttcrton! “the sleepless boy who per- 
I’d have given him such a shaking as he never late themselves as completely as possible. Take secution and prison walls,—the superficial “time- ished in his pride,” overcome by poverty und 
heard on, I’ll l.e bound. some pains to convince your patrons, and espc- servers” of the day ending the eventful tragedy stung to the quick by the heartless neglect of u 
“There ho set in that rocking chair, his feet on daily to convince mothers of the value of light; with the assassin’s dagger, or an official (V; bigoted aristocrat, commenced his immortality in 
the fender, and kept growling out at Lizy Jane assure them, however, that to compensate for the “Boone” on the scaffold; because they had, in a garret in Shoreditch. For two day* previous to 
to bring him his boots, or fasten his collar, or loss of the lily, where the sun has cast hia shadow, their presumption, dared to believe that man was his death he had not eaten anything Hi? ^and^ 
some such unreasonable thing, all the while that be seldom omits to plant the rose. a progressive being; and acting upon this inher- lady, pitying his desolute condition invited him 
she was trying to dress them four young ones, Thcre ia ft natural connection between dress ent principle, disturbed somewhat, the lethargic to sup with her. He declined her invitation and 
and had the headache so she looked more like a and exercise, although I suspect it has never sleep nf their sell-righteous tyrants. Other put an end to his existence by poison 
ghost than a breathing woman. If Twas in that occurred to yon to consider dreBS in this light champions have, however, rushed impetuously _ 
ere place they call legislate! - , I’ll bet thero’d lie a Ladies’dress, which lms constituted tho point of forward and filled the vacated places — the ma- __ 
law passed to build a penitenshry, or some other 80 man . v j ests afl d sarcasms, and has l/een the jesty of Truth, ever opposing the madness of FU N AT HO ME. 
kind of pen, for such critters ns he is,—with no burden of so many cruel philippics und sober L’rror! Don , t bf} afmid Qf & M „ 
mercy on a woman whether she’s sick or well, bomiiics, still needs, I am sorry to say, some The adventurous Spaniard, gazing from the people' Don’t shut up VO ur 1 Z 0 ? 1 * 6 ?' 8 °° 
just keeping up their 'yon do this,’or ‘you do reform; and ungracious as the service may seem mountain-peak, out upon the blue and radiant vmip P y , ‘ UbbS lest tae 8un 
that,’ from sun-rising to sun-setting. to Jou, gentlemen, you will not be at liberty to waters of the new-found Pacific, experienced no ,, J i , 1pc 3 and J our hearts, [ eat a 
. — ^4^.010...' such deligbl. ». them, tb. e„ ra „- ££»SSjS h ! “% ?Z ““ 
their faces with veils and parasols to shut out its whed courage. The ultimate success of many afterwards. 
impertinent rays, in order that they may etio- great minds haa been ruthlessly darkened by per- Poor Clmttcrton! “the sleepless hoy who per 
late themselves as completely as possible. Take secution and prison walla,—the superficial “time- ished in his pride,” overcome by poverty and 
some pains to convince your patrons, and espc- servers” of the day ending the eventful tragedy stung to tho quick by the heartless neglect of a 
cially to convince mothers of the value of light; with the assassin’s dagger, or an official (?j bigoted aristocrat, commenced his immortality in 
assure them, however, that to compensate for the “Beene” on the scaffold; because they had, in a garret in Shoreditch. For two days previous to 
loss of the lily, where tbe sun has cast, hia shadow, their presumption, dared to believe that man was his death he had not eaten anything His land 
he seldom omits to plant the rose. a progressive being; and acting upon this inher- lady, pitying his desolate condition invited him 
Ihere is a natural connection between dress >-■'--*■ -*’ «-• 
and cxc 
re is a natural connection between dress ent principle, disturbed somewhat, the lethargic to sup with her. He declined her invitation and 
xerciac, although 1 suspect it has never sleep of their self-righteous tyrants. Other put an end to his existence by poison. 
to blame as he is. If she’d had a bit of spunk 
he never’d have got her under his thumb that 
way. Most likely he begun to order her ’round 
before the honey moon was set, when Rhe hadn't 
got her eyes open no more’n « three-days-old 
kitten, and thought she should be blessed forever 
’cause she’d got her nock in the same yoke with 
his’n. If she haint found out her mistake, and 
had some tears to shed over ‘cracked idols,’as 
they tell about in poetry, I don’t know what kind 
of stuff she's made of. 
“ When / was married,—thank my lucky stars,— 
I didn’t get tied to any such kind of crockery. 
Joshua wasn’t uncommon handsome to look at, 
to he sure,—any one might have thought of a 
brown earthen plate side of a china vase, com¬ 
paring him with such a whiskered, scented-up 
chap as Lizy Jane's husband was, but I can tell 
you he is Just what 1 took him to be, and I never 
shed one single tear, finding that my ‘idol ’ must 
be handled careful, fussed over, waited on and 
It ia not a question of hoops and bustles, of 
mutton or of bishop-sleeves; these are matters of 
taste, which we would leave them to settle among 
themselves; only claiming for ourselves the same 
exemption from officious criticism. Bat how can 
any lady go out of doors who “lias nothing to 
wear?” Can she go out in cloth shoes? — 1 mean 
in this climate — in cambric dresses and without 
any bonnet upon her head? Yet they have actu¬ 
ally, for the most part, no shoes, or dresses, or 
bonnets, which are suitable, or which were ever 
designed to protect them from tho rain or snow, 
or from the cold.— Dr. Frank Hamilton. 
- ’ ’ 
A MOTHER’S LOVE. 
tured pioneers of progress, when they look down 
from the calm heights they have attained, and see 
the glad Future smiling before them. Of this 
class was the great Columbus, whose brave heart 
faltered not during the moons that waxed and 
waned while he was exploring a boundless sea, 
and searching for the fragrant hIioicb of the nn- 
knowuland,—hidden so h>ng,aDd hidden still, but 
for him, and those like him. Buch was the heroic 
Lctiiuk, whose life was a stern battle to preserve 
the never-to-be extinguished light, brought from 
the shades of antiquity, and leave the world to 
grope onward in the rayless obscurity of a rnuon- 
Ciuliiren, look in those eyes, listen to that prison-cell, not even his gray hairs shielding him 
dear voice, notico the feeling of even a single f rom malice. 
touch that is bestowed upon you by that gentle Many others there have been who dated to act 
hand! Make much of it. while yet yon have that and think beyond their age, and received in return 
most precious of all good gifts—a loving mother. no meed but the crown und palm of martyrdom: 
r‘ , , ,7 C 7 y UOn ' perfectly understand. Don't repress the buoyant 
Pll 5 7 ^”‘ e 1 ’ T •**« of , 00 ,■ CUM*., half „ l,„u, mmh 
Hoienlme, Oalil,:o, wlo.ae explorafoo. Into the r ,„ uid lll0 allJ firelight of ll0me ,., ut9 
mysteries of nature, were rewarded with the m , )liarani ...^_ 8 
run for to keep it in good humor without fear of Read the unfathomable love of those eyes; the and Lave since been consecrated in all eyes, by a 
breakage. 
“I did feel kind of spiteful when Lizy Jane 
set her head up and acted like she kind of crowed 
over me’cause she’d got a city husband; but ever 
since I stoppod there, I’ve felt real Christian 
about it. 1 forgive her from the bottom of my 
kind anxiety of that tone and look, however slight [ a “e that will never die. Y r et tee, reaping the rich b i e88ing than to be born in the light and air of a P ,>8ition 
your pam. In alter life yon may have friends, Larvests they have sown, dare to stand with the cWu]) loving Lome> It not on] ingQrcs does it t 
loud, dear, kind friends, but never will you have Lght Of the nineteenth century falling upon us, happv c hiIdhood-if there be health and a good P ro P s aB 
again the inexpressible love and gentleness lav- aad 'ament that the march of progression has constitution - hut it also makes sure a virtuous from bei 
ished upon you, which none but a mother he- ™ept 8 ” many flowers from onr pathway. We and happy manhood, and a fresh young heart in 
stows. Often do I sigh in my struggles with the B.gh wearily over the unceasing toil demanded of ol(1 j think it every parent’s duty to try to Weab 
day-star heralding the glorious sun! Beauty is written on the sun-bright clouds of 
Cohocton, N. Y., i860. Laura e. W. morning, and on the star-gemmed sapphire of 
--night,—on high-soaring mountain-top, and lowly 
GARRETS violet bed,—on tbe snowy chalice of the lily, and 
___ on tho gauzy wing of the ephemeral butterfly. 
Wk can never enter a garret—a place where ( *° 1011 *‘ ’ n tlie dew J morning, and lo! what a 
Goldsmith flourished and Ohatterton died—with- wei,ltl1 of beauty will claim your eye on every 
out paying a tribute of reverence to the presiding sitl0! , See ’ Ko'Jen orient gates wide unfold to 
deity of the place, How venerable does it ap- USl “ r in tIle raa J t ' 8t ' io day-god. See how royally 
pear, at least if it is a genuine garret, with singu- flC mounts tc> "urd the zenith of hia glory, while 
lar projections, like the fractures in poor Gold- tc ! n t ' 10,IBUud timid dew-drops, under his fervid 
smith's face: its battered and threadbare walls, k ! 8S ’ are transfor med into as many brilliant 
like old Johnson's wig, and its numberless loop- dla “ on,j *’ 
holes of retreat for the north wind to peer thro’ beauty in tbe trilling bird-note that 
ind cool the poet's imagination. greets hia entrance, — splendor untold in the 
It was a lonely garret, far removed from all f?lo ' VIIlg brightness of n°°n, but a fur deeper and 
connection with mortality, in which Otway eon- t0 ‘, 1D ® beaut J ia tbe eloquent, yet voicc- 
icived and planned his affecting tragedy of “Ven. , 11 'f, hxquifiltc ^ u j etude » 8 J«mgled stars, 
ce Preserved,” and it was in a garret that he ate * lair J mooniighf, glimmering wierdly over 
he stolen roll which terminated in his death.— ‘‘ , 18 I’ ,eturo “pon which we earnestly 
4nd it was in a garret that poor Butler indited “““ wlst, " n J 8 az e,—not with the glance of admi- 
tis inimitable tludibras, ami convulsed the King , ‘ WD ’, ® 801,1 18 t0 ° dee l ,l J stirred witll in os for 
md tbe Court with laughter, while he himself l ' mt —but will, a riveted, unblanching gaze, as if 
vrithed in the gnawing pangs of starvation. A ? S ° U 1D tUt hour of “J 81 *' 5 communion with 
rentlcman found Dryden, in his old age, exposed y ® arncd 1 t0 look tbrough tho darkness of 
o the ills of poverty, and pining in a garret in an “W-through its own trammels of day,-up 
ibscure corner of London. “You may weep for U1 0,1Vfftld * P a8t the burning stars, to the infini- 
ny situation,” exclaimed the venerable poet, on J udo pelting beyond. And the weight of that 
ecing him, “but never mind, my young friend " lfini, y bearing down upon the awakeued soul, is 
he pang will bo over soon.” He died a few days mi '"bty to bo lightly shaken off'. Surging 
fterwards. through it, rush thoughts grand and solemn; 
Poor Clmttcrton! “the sleepless hoy, who per- " rand a * lhc thander of tho P'nes when the 
shed in his pride,” overcome by poverty, und wrathful storm-spirit is abroad,-solemn as the 
tang to tho quick by the heartless neglect of a e '' clling or k' a u peal in the pauses of Te Deum. 
igoted aristocrat, commenced his immortality in Wh °. 6Ver came in from sad spirit-stirring corn- 
garret in Shoreditch. For two days previous to mu “ ion witb a scene like this, without feeling, 
is death he had not eaten anything. His land- WUk Holtnm uwe » tb at they have drawn nearer the 
vdy, pitying his desolate condition, invited him Veil than ever before,—without feeling invisibly 
a Bup with her. He declined her invitation, and strengtbened t0 witk valor lbc « rea t Battle 
ut an end to his existence by poison. ' oi Life ? 0! kow lke heart is filled witb unutter- 
___ able longings to leap from its fetters of clay, 
FUN AT HOMF aWay l ° 8upernai brightness, where expectation is 
_ ' ' 08 t iu fruition,— away, away from earth’s dis- 
Don’t be afraid of a little fun at home good qutetude » and tears > and hourl y disappointments, 
eople! Don’t shut up your houses lest the sun *° Where lhe rMtIe9S and unCb ‘ rta '« of the 
aould fade your carpets and your hearts, lest a may rep08e ‘ U everlasting tranquility. As 
earty laugh should shake down some of the 1 T b ° 1U ^ SpUrnS h5s ) "' ilded cage > and 
lusty old cob-webs there! If you want to ruin pant8 t0 . 8 ° ar ’ boiindle8s 8 ™ a P, to his moun- 
sur sons, let them think that all mirth and soeial ^ ^ 80 th ° u P«' ard -fe«ding soul yearns to 
ajoyment must be left on tbe threshold without, CleaVC ^ wa y through the empyreal ether,-to 
hen they come home at night. When once a gat * er ^ dust-defiled wings “and stretch on- 
omo is regarded only as a place to eat, drink and ^ J? ^ Up mt ° Heavea ” where ir H ' la11 
eep in, the work is begun that ends in gambling ^ “ ^e “beauty of holiness” with 
Mines and reckless degradation. th D e Great r Maker of a11 Beaut J' 
Young people must have fun and relaxation COi>ta ’ Co., Iow^. Olive Kenneth. 
imewhere; if they do not find it at their hearth- 
ones,it will he sought in other, and perhaps less Christianity. The defensive armor of a 
ofitable places. Therefore, let the fire burn shrinking or timid policy does not suit her. Hers 
•ightly at night, and make the home-nest de- tbe Naked majesty of truth; and with all the 
ghtful with all those little hearts that parents so graTldcu r of age, but with none of its infirmities, 
trlfectly understand. Don’t repress the buoyant ' l!l8 fc ' K ‘ come down to us, and gathered strength 
lirits of your children; half an honr of merri- from tkc maT| y battles she bus won in the many 
ent round the lamp aud fire-light of home blots contBOTersics b ‘ f nian y generations. With such a 
it the remembrance of many a care and annov- u ‘"S' on as 'his, there is nothing to hide. All 
ice during the day, aud the best safeguard they Bbou ' d be above board; and the broadest light of 
n take with them into the world is the unseen day sll onld be made fully and freely to circulate 
fluence of a bright little domestic sanctum._ throughout all her secrecies. But secrets she has 
dected. none. To her belong the frankness and simplicity 
- *+* - of conscious greutness; aud whether she grapple 
Early Influences. —There can be no greater pride of philosophy, or stand in front op- 
essing than to be born in the light and air of a P 08 ' tion t0 " j e prejudices of the multitude, she 
ieerful, loving home. It not only insures a does it upon her own strongth, and spurns all the 
ppy childhood — if there be health and a good P ro P s and all the auxiliaries of superstition away 
nstitution—but it also makes sure a virimms from her.— Dr. Chalmers. 
FUN AT HOME. 
Don’t be afraid of a little fun at home, good 
people! Don’t shut up your houses lest the sun 
should fade your carpets and your hearts, lest a 
hearty laugh should shake down some of the 
musty old cob webs there! If you want to ruin 
your sons, let them think that all mirth aud social 
enjoyment must be left on the threshold without, 
when they come home at night. When once a 
home is regarded only as a place to eat, drink aud 
sleep in, the work is begun that ends in gambling 
houses and reckless degradation. 
Young people must have fun and relaxation 
somewhere; if they do not find it at their hearth¬ 
stones, it will be sought in other, and perhaps less 
profitable places. Therefore, let the fire burn 
brightly at night, and muko the homc-nest de¬ 
lightful with all those little hearts that parents so 
ot-'inw ui your cuuuren; nan an nonr ot merri¬ 
ment round the lamp aud fire-light of home blots 
out the remembrance of many a care and annoy¬ 
ance during the day, aud the best safeguard they 
can take with them into the world is the unseen 
influence of a bright little domestic sanctum.— 
Selected. 
chair long enough to find his boots, or not, and 
whether you are to be head-waiter or heip-meet 
after your arrival in the County of Matrimony, 
State of Bliss.” e, c. l, 
Charlotte Center, N. Y., 1860. 
- 4 - 
We are not rich, I think, by that which we are 
of ourselves, hut by the ten thousand favors which 
we receive from hearts worthy to confer favors 
upon us.— Beecher. 
appeared to sleep; never her kiss of peace at 
night! Years have passed away since we laid her 
beside my father in the old churchyard: yet, still 
her voice whispers from the grave, and her eye 
watches over me as I visit spots long since hal¬ 
lowed to the memory of my mother.— Macaulay. 
—--- 
The love that has naught but beauty to keep 
it in good condition, is short-lived, and subject to 
shivering fits. 
The man of letters, as he wipes the moisture 
from his brow, and pores over his manuscripts in 
bis little attic amid the noise and murmur of a 
without a heartache. Not that all the appliances 
which wealth C3D buy are necessary to the free 
aud happy unfolding of childhood in bodj-, mind, 
or heart—quite otherwise, God be thanked; but 
crowded city, may think of the lovely vales of children must at least have love inside the house, 
Arcadia with something akin to regret that his 
lot is cast in an age when these peaceful pictures 
of Grecian life are regarded as mere fictions of 
the poet-laureate; but would lie exchange his life 
of active intellectuality,— his meetings with kin¬ 
dred minds,—his enjoyment of the garnered wis- 
and fresh air, und good play, and some good com¬ 
panionship outside — otherwise young life run? 
the greatest danger in the world of withering, or 
growing stunted, or sour and wrong, or at best 
prematurely old and turned inward on itself.— Dr. 
Oldham, at Grey stones. 
M eaky of Like. —And comes it ever to the 
Christian, in his conflicts with self, and sin, and 
Satan, to grow weary of the ceaseless warfare, 
and say, " I am weary of life?” Let him remem¬ 
ber the promise is, “ Ho that endureth to the end 
shall be saved. llow much is included in the 
word* “endureth;” how much of stern toil, of 
care, of hitter sorrow. He who gave this prom¬ 
ise knew well all that His children would be 
called to endure. He Himself trod life’s darkest, 
roughest paths. He was tempted, even as we, 
but never, never from His lips went up the mur¬ 
mur, “I am weary of life.” How much more, 
were we like Christ, could we, in all our trials, 
lift to Heaven an unclouded brow, and say, in all 
sincerity, “Not my will, but Thine.” 
