ill 
, Ml. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker ] 
THEN AND NOW. * 
Unokk the shadowy tree* I have stood, 
In the days of long ago, 
Watching the sway of the locust boughs, 
Laden with blossomy snow. 
Far in th« distance the wild sea moaned, 
With a waiting note of pain, 
And the fleeting sail* of the home-bound ships 
Shone on the billowy main. 
The air was haunted with summer songs, 
Tender, and silvery clear; 
Rut a dearer and sweeter voice than of birds 
Fell on n)y listening ear. 
Under the shadowy trees I stand, 
And, listening wearily 
To the 'plaining cry of the ocean wave, 
Moaning ail unceasingly, 
The wandering scent of the IocubI bloom 
Is flung on the summer breeze, 
And I catch, as or yore, the gleam of sails 
Gliding over the sea*. 
But the carol of birds is wearisome now, 
For the voice is hushed for aye, 
That spake sweet words to my glad girl heart, 
In the Junes that have passed away. 
Cohocton, N. Y., 1800. Lacra E. W. 
--*-*-*-- 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
A CHAPTER ON BEAUX 
“ Wiiat a girl you are, Mart Allen! Tell me 
you never had a beau in all your life, and here you 
are twenty-two!” 
(WrttteD for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.) 
“BRING ME A SHOWER OF ROSES.” 
Bring roses, fresh and rare, all glistening with 
dewy tcaia,— biiug “budding sprays from wood 
and wild,”—0, biiqg me a shower of roses, for I 
have need of t.h ir beauty and fragrance. There, 
toss those half-opened buds to the smiling infant 
See, he grasps them in his chubby fingers, and 
roughly separating their delicate parts, scatters 
them on the floor at bis feet fiweet child,^bose 
buds resemble thee, thou too art a bud of promise, 
slowly expanding into mental and moral beauty. 
God grunt that thy parent#’ hopes be not so rudely 
severed. Let us weave a garland for the bloom¬ 
ing maiden, blighter than glittering diamonds, 
richer than costly peaila; and when faded and 
withered, may it be a silent monitor of the frail 
and fleeting things of earth. We will twine a 
snow white wreath for yon blushing bride. It will 
well compare with the purity and truthfulness of 
that trusting heart. 
Bring roses. We will scatter them in the path of 
the weary and care worn, and place them amid 
the gray hairs of the aged. We will bind a chap¬ 
let upon the brow of the faithful teacher, which 
shall dispel the anxious cares there hovering. 
We will place them before the weary, dejected 
student,—they will give him new strength and 
inspire him with fesh couruge. Throw a cluster 
to the sad prisoner in his lone dungeon,—he trem¬ 
bles, he weeps, as he gathers them one by one, 
and presses them to his bosom. They speak to 
him of sister flowers, of fresh air, pure sunshine 
and evening dew. Cast them at the feet of the 
haughty conqueror, and link them with the gall- 
iug chains of the conquered. 
Bring, O, bring a shower of roses. We would 
scatter them profusely over this fair earth,—we. 
would decorate each hall, and hang festoons * 
around every hearth-stone. We would spread 
them in the Valley of Pleasure, and fling them 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
DISTRUST. 
ar LAUKA W. CI.AISE 
Distrust is that which makes the curse of life. 
Heaven would*; thou know? Heaven’s charm is confidence. 
Towtvshknb. 
Distuhst, Ihon art the curse of life 
To many beings pure; 
Unjust suspicions ever rife, 
Engendering hate and deadly strife, 
And thus thine aim’s secure. 
A fiend in serpent's guise thou art, 
And well thy part doth play; 
Thy subtle poison* pierce the heart, 
And tears of sorrow quickly start 
When loving one* betray. 
Oh, leave this earth, thy mission here 
Is one of sin alone; 
Dire discontent, doth oft appear 
To tempt the heart when thou art near_ 
Oanst thou for this atone? 
True confidence alone will yield 
PJcamre* without alloy; 
Its dear delights will be revealed 
To loving hearts till then concealed, 
And doubling thoughts destroy 
Oh, haste thee now from saddened hearts, 
Let truth assert her sway; 
Thy base designs, thy cruel arls, 
To inooceuoa thy gnilt imparls,— 
Unkind Distrust, away. 
Rochester, N Y., I860. 
mm 
-jjr 
taJak 
fiw mmmi 
m. 
“ I see you don’t believe me, Jane, and I'm mire upon tbe Hi K h WU F °1 Vice and Sin. Bring rA- 
it makes no difference. You can think as you 
please.” 
“But, Mary, how unlikely,—how absurd!— 
Never had a beau! 1 shouldn't like to be in your less,—Hue the coffin with their beauteous bios- vidual8 ’ each exerting more or less influence but t 
plaoe. Why, here, I'm only twenty, and I’ve had som 8 *—and when the last sad oflioes of love are upon tbe roat > in proportion to their n tual 8,ielf of the 1 
beaux by dozens, these five years.” fulfilled, when the sod has been plaoed above the taIeDto » mental improvement, and consequmt man 'vylio iutil 
“ Please say what you call a W Define the 8leeping duBt * plunt tbcr0 lho cherished rose-tree, povver ' Thi8 influenoe '» S ood <>r bad, according SeH>tor ' s ® t0 ^_ 
word, Jane.” that it may bud, blossom, and shed its fragrance t0 1,10 earIy home training of each, and, if we 
“Nonsense, Moll,— you are teasing. Why I on lllc new ' m,lde 8 rave - Then, bring roses— wou,d bftv, ‘ BOciet J r witb an elevated tone c.f 
only mean a gallant to attend upon you wherever Sca,ch trough the fertile fields of the south, wito facilities for intellectual culture,— The followi 
you go, and to call and see you often, and take WB,,dcr ovcr tho 8unr ^ plains of tbo far Ctt8t , and , «» ner,jUI) ^tlon* and noble aspirations of Jatc WQ 
you out riding, and, may be, set up lialrthe night cuU their choiceexott ««- 15rin K unfading roses,- B0 “J- wo must bu,ld upon tho right foundation. |jt8 a gub 
occasionally, to chat with him,—sparking if you brIng “ II08 '' 8 ot Aharon,” whose beauties never I " irit mprCH81 ' iaa arfi ,,10sl lasting; early lessons Btood ljy pa , 
choose. Now, Mom, tell honest -will you me- dim — la y tliera upon 'be alOnr of every heart, and are not casllj ' eftaced from memory. Parents children; 
grant roses. Arrange they by the bed side of the 
sick,— lay them gently upon the pillow of the dy¬ 
ing,—place them in tho cold hands of t he Hie, 
less, Hue tho coffin with their beauteous blos¬ 
soms,— and when the last sad offices of love are 
fulfilled, when the sod lias been placed above the 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HOME INFLUENCE. 
Society is formed by a combination of 
fiom her lips. I said to my heart, learn a lesson X O a j 
fiom this. May we not all learn a lesson ? We A/\a 'AASSATH M MSB 
may not meet our influence in the hoar of death, »,Vv 
as did that teacher, but we shall have to meet it ^ lEoi 
tumetun* in the future. We shall stand face to yf.tfw. £ 
lace, with it, see it in its full extent, and feel its •"!**-■ ~ iMiww 
pot' nt power. Then, as parents, as teachers, com- l 
panions, brothers, sisters, friends, let us watch . 
Carefully oar own heaits, keeping pure the great — — 
source from which emanate* our Influence, and [Written for Moore’* Rural New-Yorker.] 
thus send forth from our firesides a hallowed NOON. 
power which shall make the woild tbe better *- 
from our having lived. Mary Brioht Phoouts had kissed the teardrops away 
__ From the cheek of the sobbing morn, 
£o »be gave him a smile for his kindly ray, 
OPERATIONS OF CONSCIENCE. Ami banished her grief forlorn. 
- - But.tho morninghtui waned—’ti* the noontide hour- 
Wiien the nervous energy is depressed bv any Earth, bathed lu the sun's pure light, 
bodily cause, or exhausted by over-working, there 18 r *’’P |<fn,3 cnt with gem*, which last night's Bhower 
follow effects which have often been misiuter- Glided o'er with it* pencil bright. 
I?** ..w T 
“* ,l b ° '“"If beewno. nqumlgic, wttak .^otooi tout. „ a w 
sometimes actually inflamed, so that the least She lavishly distills 
touch is agony. Of all liars and false accusers, a . , 
sick conscience Is the most inventive and indefat- n T, ‘° f peerle8s goId 
t ’ '. r T i ' 0,ed dilU « h,er - Wlf °. mother, That tbe pearl of beauty, and price untold, 
wno*H life has been given to unselfish labors, who Shine chief of the heart’s rich board, 
ha# filled a place which it seems to other* only an P tho ruuruiug of life, while its moments last, 
angel would make good, reproaches herself with To * epkin s these treasures be given, 
incompetence mid neglect of duty. The humble It* tbric* joyous mid-day and sunset past, 
Christian, who has been a model to others, calls We 811,111 l ' a ' k in th ° D000 ' ti,]e of Heaven, 
himself a worm of the du«t uu one page of his Mic blgan, 186». A 
diary, and arraigns himself on the next for com- ^ 
ing short of tbe perfection of an archangel. (Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker ] 
Conscience itself requires a conscience, or noth- A CHRISTIAN CHILD. 
ing can be more unscrupulous. It told Saul that *- 
lie did well in persecuting the Christians. It has little fraotley. 
goaded countless multitudes of various creeda to Death stood watching over him, friends were 
end ,,* forms of K- -torture The cit.es of India gathered about his bed, witnessing, with dewy 
^ ^ l , ' C bill8i,le8 .? f W the tho spirit which was evi- 
IWritten for Moore’s Rural New-Yorkw-.J 
N O ON. 
Brkiht Phcrbus had kissed t.hs teardrops away 
From the cheek of the sobbing morn, 
So she gave him a smile for his kindly ray, 
And banished her grief forlorn. 
But.the morning ha# waned—'tis the noontide hour— 
Earth, bathed iu the sun's pure light, 
Is resplendent with gems, which last night's Bhower 
Gilded o’er with it* pencil bright. 
The glorion* Noon, with a joy to rare, 
Her golden treasure-house fill*, 
Which, o'er saddened hearts and nature fair, 
She lavishly distills. 
Let us strive that with jewels of peerless gold 
Our mental garner be stored; 
That tbe pearl of beauty, and price untold, 
Shine chief of tbe heart’s rich hoard. 
If the morning of life, while its moments last, 
To seeking these treasures he given, 
Its thrice joyous mid-day and sanset past, 
We Khali bask in tho noon-tide of Heaven. 
Michigan, 1868. A 
(Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
A CHRISTIAN CHILL. 
little fhattkfv 
Syrin are riddled with holes, where miserable 
hermits, wJjomj Jives ll bud palsied, lived and died 
like the vermin they harbored. Our libraries are 
crammed with book* written by spiritual hypo¬ 
chondriacs who inspected all their moral secre¬ 
tions a dozen times a day, They are full of 
luv uuticnug im me spirit winch was evi¬ 
dently about to poise its wierd wing and quit 
forever the earthly tenement Tears stood beneath 
the trembling lashes of those who thus looked 
upon the fair boy, whose white and wasted cheeks 
had been kissed by the zephyrs of a little over a 
dozen summers. IIIh thin hands mted like 
V.,* At* t 111 * WVWVi * *>«**..mvao* mill iiailUH rCBiea UK© 
,1 52 S22. 4 -•* « «■*. «b«™, or „,„eo in 
shelf of the theologian to that of the medical 
man who makes a study of insanity.— The Pro- 
EVILS OF MENTAL PRECOCITY, 
The following paragraph from Dr. W. A. Cor¬ 
nell's late work, entitled “Mow to Enjoy Life,” 
presents a subject which should be well under¬ 
stood by parents and teachers of precocious 
children: 
gentle gesture as the departing soul spoke its love 
and joy through lips which so soon would be 
cold in the silence of that sleep which “knows 
no waking.” 
“Dear tna!” said the sweet voice, in tones 
whose unutterablo affection partook already of 
the angelic in their music, “dearma, I am dy- 
i°8.—y° u must not mourn my departure,—I’m 
going to my homo in heaven. Why do you cry, 
dear ma? I am going home, to die; no more the 
of the bent of gallants,—brother Will. No one 
could be more attentive und kind, and we are 
always so happy together. I don’t know what 
more you would have.” 
“ 0, I dare nay he is well enough, but I would 
not give a fig for my brother Joe, for a beau. lie 
never thinks of going out with me, for, lu truth, 
I never give him a chanci-. How dull it. would 
ho, indeed, to be forever tied to one’s brother! 
And, besides, I should expect some would think 
SINGING TO HER BABE. 
I fassed a dwelling in Duke street Tbe 
front door was open, and close by the step Hat a 
young wife singing to her babe. There was a 
low, sweet melody in her voice. True, the words 
were very simple, but all tho fascination of 
song WHS there. The little babe, not y.a able to 
make the adventurous circuit of the room, lay 
quietly upon her lap; its little hands were folded 
that other gents did not care enough for me to aCr ° 88 , Ua 1,reast * ,lDd ilH Hoft > beautiful eyes 
offer their attentions. In short, I should consider , t0 diIat ® wi,h J°Y and wonderment as the 
myself unpopular,” musical sound fell upon his ears. 
“ Well, may he I am very unpopular, unattraet- „ Sinfii ? KT ^ hw . babe! A 8CeI,e ' indtJed - to toncl » 
ive, and all that I’m sure I never thought of tho ie 80,11 with quiet pleasure. A mother's heart 
matter, Jane, nor will it trouble me in the least. wnlpped ap ,u her 'inborn; her joy, her light, 
As long as brother Will is my protector, I don’t ' C17 ‘ fC ' Alread ? 8be was droppin « 8 °ft> 
care for all your beaux.” welcome sounds into the teachable bouL I could 
“And what will von do whon nai*o— w.. . h°t help murmuring: 
offer their attentions. In short, I should consider 
myself unpopular.” 
“Well, may he I am very unpopular, unattract¬ 
ive, and all that I’m sure I never thought of tho 
matter, Jane, nor will it trouble me in the least. 
As long as brother Will is my protector, I don’t 
care for all your beaux.” 
“And what will you do when paragon Will 
gets married, eh, Mary?” 
“I never thought of that contingency,—glad 
yoo remind me. I can go with father, or Uncle 
Titomas, or, at least, 1 can stay at home. You 
don’t frighten ine, at all.” 
M Mary A i.i.en ! Yon are a perfectold maid, 
aren’t you? Cut out for one exactly! If I were 
you, I’d go straight to a convent Joe and I have 
often spoken of you,—bow you mope yourself up, 
here at home, always clinging to Will, like his 
shadow. All the gills arc vexed enough at you, 
for monopolizing such a handsome gallaut If 
you d do as 1 do, they’d have a chance to receive 
some of las attentions.” 
natures, and he able' to govern themselves. A 
fretful word or an impatient gesture, indulged 
toward a child, or in its presence, lias a baneful 
influence; whilo a detected effort at deception 
ice 1)0 T rr WaS planUho McdTof°futi^rmtdguc anTfalse- ' oU /’ ^ r °' ,d uuntK ’ anddotUl « « rand - ['' r ^“ lb ) L ; rill « lbat ^ da ‘ lin 8 haa to 
I the . b r°‘ f Uood on the part of the child,. When once ,,, Hnd l,1J “ di f 0U8 frU,,,da - lo ll ’° . . __ 
1 the lascination of .-. U, •<* once p i- serious injury, and almost certain destruction of Why do you cry, dear ma? T ou see I don't 
“->• »”*•«. - Ci,.;. r: o -: b ? «** '««"'«• n «' »-*• »-*- ^ »<• <• * ^ « m ., to ,, . 
Ult of the room, lay ' , . . .. ... . upon their w ittid*m are but the indications of an over- 8ba11 80011 be out of this suffering world, and be 
Je hands were folded o^t^olTi^Tfamiirof Wretched mind, and a neglected body. Our many with tbe angels. Dry up those scalding tears, 
soft, beautiful eyes i , . systems of education thus destroys many children dt ' ar ma > a “ d °nly smile when you see me going, 
<! woQderment afi the J^ U "» "«»'"» wry ,«r. Thi, „ i , U,L„, Jt 
cara . mum to a leader uflectinn fi ll —n , ., b f r ! utimulutinR tb« uicntul man, 1. the moie to be tie- 1,1 IunKua«e ao comforting, the dying hoy ad- 
cenc, indeed, to touch { n ..... , ’ " I’lorcd, from the fact that this early precocity is dre88ed a11 thoao who surrounded his bed, warn- 
:. A mother's heart up t h e whole of a child's nr* .1 *. m . abc wholly unnecessary; because, muny of the best inR tbe carelt '' a » to prepare for the hour which 
a; her joy, her light, , ... ‘ ' u ”" t,us u >« educated and useful men the world has ever seen s,ue ly enmes to all,— speaking words of consols- 
— dropping M ft, °’ ll 7 ,b ““ ^ lh ' ie ” « “‘'•“Mi »«„ Ml pupil., Mrly cbi“bood A™! «™ <» •HI.Wp- puiuliu* all. »ilh ,„e pro- 
chable bouL I could ^ _with in ever nr'csiTt 1 ' 7 ^ dieW Fuller ’ Slr WaItur Scott, and Daniel Web- pb<jtio ,inger of one cven ,10w uot this earth, to 
nil ror, dull .cholu™ „bcn chlltea, *!«•'.* '»««. »»1 »«-er-cndlb g Uto in tb.t 
circumutubce, c»n .ever- ib. r « il\°,l “T'* di, ™ Blon the former! Or, who, in the ond bappiuc-aa, in tbe rudiunt .unligbt of tbe 
she mugs, infinenee Htmnirri-Ilian All II ♦ gU cred fta whole world of intellect than the second? Or Bavior ' a smiles. And so death came to him while 
t'tz ... . r;: : s ., ;;; ..^^.....»^ j u; ?*... —red,-^^„«*, 
find great, satisfaction iu showing to others the I>0 you envy ,DC my ha ppiness, when I shall be 
brilliancy and mental sprightlineBS of their preco- wi,h ray Savior r Rln g'ng praises forever?” 
cious darlings. Such parents know not what Tbo motber ’ 8 b '- art WaR too full. She faltered 
they arc doing. All the praise lavished by such ^ 0ltb ' "No, dear Fkankby, I shall be happy in 
parental folly, and fond uuntK, and doting grand- rt ‘ tnem l H ' r l n K that my datliiig has gone homo to 
Heaven.” 
"Why do you cry, dear ma? You see I don't 
cry? This is a happy hour to me, for I know I 
shall soon be out of this suffering world, and be 
“ Rich, though poor! 
That low-rooft«l cottage is thi* hour a heaven— 
Music in in It—ami the songs she hings, 
That sweet-voiced wife, arrests tho ear 
Of the young child awake upon her knee.” 
Singing to her babe! Would it be hers to lead 
those tiny teet Into the way of righteousness, and 
by the river of everlasting life? 
“ She wag one who Lehl a treasure, 
A gem of wondrou* oodt; 
Did it mar her heart * deep pleasure, 
The fear it might bo lost}" 
up the whole of a child's life. Without lhit it is 
impossible to bind tbe heart of the child; with 
il,—with a felt interest in whatever interests tho 
child,—with an ever-present wish to draw in¬ 
structive lessons from passing events and present 
scenes,—there is formed a tie that*no' earthly 
circumstances can sever; there is gathered an 
influence stronger than all that may oppose. In¬ 
creasing years will not diminish the strong affec¬ 
tion. Families may be separated by trackless 
seas, or towering mountains intervene, but the 
heart of the child will turn to the parent, and l'eel 
the power oi former influence just as truly as the 
needle turns to the pole, in obedience to its 
magnetic mandate. 
“ Tak « the bright Khidl I'ruro it* limne on the lea, 
And wherever it goes It will sing of tbe *ea; 
So, take the fond heart from it* home and its hearth, 
'Twill siDg of tho loved to the eud* of the earth." 
FINE OLD GENTLEMEN. 
A good old man is the best antiquity, and which 
wo may with the least vanity admire; one whom 
time hath been thus long a working, and, like win¬ 
ter fruit, ripened when others are Bhaken down. 
He hath taken out as many lessons of the world 
the thin lips murmured, “Glory, glory to God! 
Y on must all pray, —God will hear you,—He has 
said so iu Ilia word.” After taking a last fare¬ 
well of those he loved so dearly, and sinking 
softly back upon his pillow, the white lids drooped 
calmly over the loving eyes, and little Frankky'h 
spirit winged its joyful way from tbe earthly ten 
ement Upward to its “Father in Heaven.” 
The sunlight of that lovely spring morning 
you'd do as 1 do, they’d have a chance to receive Sbo could instill into that young, impressible So take t>« f ,n AZ rZ i ll ", Z' „ „ aa days, and learned the best thing in It-tho Z m D,> ° n the f “ ir forra of tbo lovt Iy ««*« 
—0 of to -to. to ‘>..1.11. or S ood and evil, tbe life- Srtff“.d ITSond.”“to e“5“ ’ of it lie look, o.o, W, former » . die ^ .oom.d to creato « divine Wo ebon. 
“And you, for one, Jank. No doubt he could toned integrity of the soul, the earnest faith that A certain writer oner. s«i i . *, « . ^ well past, and would not hazard himself to , P , UrG a " d y br0W ' Llttlc Fl,AKKKY 1(vrea i 
‘have a chonco' to flirt with yoo awhile, end bo Uo I' eUl Wieveth all tl,i„ s , in Christ As t ra year, of, d.lld'. life ,nd .lill i ? b “« i " “K* 1 "- Tbo ne« door of death »»),. him «»0 bl. eurthy frnmo lie* quiet and cold, in the 
turned off for the neat new comer. Hot J.nn, I to ***** if Mow, yet deligb.fo, npyrecintlon Ihet "pile. dJ'pUe 1! „ e, ,1 eo^- Tf to*#** »b»«rn In n',,t„,e“ ^ 
have always respected your brother,-tell me of ob J ecta ar,d words-as she noticed its develop- this be true we ehonM no. ‘ ,1, aild f 0 «r a more his recoiling bad to childishness ' Vl,h 6,U ' nt 1,ps Le baa e one to rest . 
tndjq does he really ridicule me?” ing inbdlec^did she feel her responsibUity? wis ^o. tha " du8t * A » look cm him as a common A “ d «" his Uttl8 «>^' 
What,_JoK? Bah, Mary, yon are really in abo conscious that she held the silken cords in i ove , and a disposition of heart that secul faUler ' “ d ° M °’ d ” gC ’ f ° r h ‘ S 8llkG ’ 88 a teverent ’ JL ‘' Ter!i0n C °‘’ N ' Y '’ 186 °' 
earne* Why, you onght.to hear him lecture me, h^r own hands that were to hind the present to brings of the great liSroftte^X^ 1,C his **P*™»ce on youth c -- -- 
and hold you Bp for a model,—a very paragon of the future. but we should select with cure the teachers who without baistinesa or reproof, and ?n his counsel Tl ' a Habbath. The Babbath is the loveliest, 
all feminine perfections. I ask him why he docs ^°ging to her babe! As I gazed upon the are to share Jn tllia is ROod com ^ bas 8onil ‘ ° ld Tories Btill ^ ,ghte8t ^ of the wee,{ ’ to a 8p iritual mind. 
not proffer Ins services, and turn gallant, and yon *«»«, I could not help wondering wlmt the fate Next to home influence stands t),„t rf SJt of bia own 8Gein g to Confirm what he says, and 1,ie8c ‘ rnt * rtfr0ab ,be 80ul ia (; ° d . that finds 
would laugh to see bis look of horror. I verily of that dear child might be. Would it treasure rworu There, too, mus^th^conlidln'cm makea lhem bet,er in the telling; yet is not trou- but tu, ' mo11 m tbo creature. Should not 
believe ho does not feel worthy to look at the ^ and follow her example? or would pupJ1 be ' ht bcfora “ catt T! blesome, neither, with the same tale again, but this dud ’ be weIu0nj0 t0 the eoul . aeta it free 
ground Where you stop. He says you are not to >t drift idly about ou the seaoflife, careless where a |d e( } in calnine a knowledge of n„ S remembers, with them, how oft he has told them. to ni,ud na °wn business, which has other days 
be caught by every bait its world of truth might he, and sinking at last If children feel that their teachers have ut an Ho is n * jt “ pt to put ^ <>» “ JOunger man, ^ t0 tb(s ^vant, the body? 
“ Hold, JANB-oease your joking. lamthank- into a dishonored grave? Would it exclaim, imperfect knowledge of what they profess to the foot on a boy, but can distinguish gravity And these arc a certain pledge to it of that ex- 
ful if he respects me. Even if I am an old maid, when age lined the dark locks with silver, and teach _ lf tb( . y KOe an ( vhihition arflr » fro '» a «»onr look; and the less testy he is, the f cted frecdom when lt shaU °° a « eternal 
1 " 'T CtCd *” u t i , a treD,0r l ° thC * VOiCC - Sis, more he is regarded. You must pardTu him if he ^ “ nd J* ?)« who is the only 
I ’ MAK Y, ®“ tImu f t '°ave non-, for “To*, I Lav., left the goWon shore, confidence in their qualifications or judgment llkcS b ' S 0wn lirnes belter ,llan tbese ' becanae ie8t0lthc Bou1, L *£ ,Uon ‘ 
, m ... p* < ing a call, this evening. And away " bl!ra cl,ll<i h°“'l 'midst the roses play’d; jf t bc pupils respect and love the teacher then those tbiD B 8 ftro f 01111 ’ 8 to him now that were wis- * " -—- 
she tripped, pitying the girl who had “never had Tho** sunny dmm* will come no more t) t J ‘ ni ,n ^ domto him then; yet he makes usof thatopinion, Pkaver.-:P rayer is the application of want to 
a beau,” and picturing for her all the woes of «h a long bright Sabbath made. ™ Cfln CXWt an Dnhmited too, when we see him, and conjecture tile tta£ Him who only can relieve it; the voice of sin to 
81 Jtuu'ier^'this conv f A Artao In many a gUttrringTndn 0 " A. lady once had, among a group of scholars b F 80 fiue a rolic ‘ He goes away at lust, too soon H>m who alone can pardon it It is the urgency 
Reader, his conversat.on occurred some years My soul goes back ?o infancy ’ one little boy who was very .full At the close whensoever, with all men’s sorrow but his own; 01 povert 7. t bo pr° 8 tration of humility, the fer- 
z%:irzx “ r* ~ - fre,h ^ - - --» 
y«u„ g men of no very lea, prlndplee, .ho found The rit»u!. r >ie do , 2. T Xt ‘ f f lins » r The, ,a, little. The few word, heed „„ rlg jt le - Loid «,e w. p'rieb" of drowning feiir- 
amuaement In her .oel.fr while .he ... young, lEta S „ r ' ! T' L**“". w ' ""t “T T' 1‘ *** “ icd to mnrk. They let you talk, and gold, will, their the cry of faith to the o„r ot mercy, 
and gay, and pretty. Bet gr.dn.lly, „ the ye« 2 ™ !^ 1 Z *. totlcj «poduot. <tu- r another by which to erouee him eye ond fho* on eod on, till ,h.t you ,.y eeo be _ __L_ 
p„,od them left her for younger lime,, m no one , J aild .ommer l,recr.e»- wLt’wwe tteta^S Fta r»Zr2,‘o‘nU r ““ W< ' r<!d * '" ,rd " l "“' a, “ 1 tb< '“ w “ Mlobrnto nobler oh.eqoie.to thoee we love 
wished to make a wife of one who was a favorite, hearin" and sitrhk and tbe - , e, ^ J. d . j inill >- months of unceas- out a sentence, pierce the matter to the quick, and by drying the tears of others, than bv shedding 
end bottled .» many ntaltm. She fee,. . usfr* toe, hee^rttf «* *"t Y ~ k "”« yen’ are with oLfnnS !he f.ireet fneere, “e^,““ 
bitter toward her more fortunate sister-in-law, _ . . k .H»K*ri.d long in suffering, and them, lour conversation falls into their mind, hang on their tomb, is a fruitoffering of good 
Mary Bradley, who did marry; and her husband The greatest thoughts seem degraded in their bedside “a! i!m mt?' T ^ feh .° 8t °° d by h , is 88 rivcr8 fal1 int0 deep cbtt8nis - fttid l°*t from deeds.-^« Paul. 
honors her the more for the great control Le. t i.».L , g „ g . d . Cir bedsldo * As blH little hfew as ebbing away, At sight hy its depth and darkness. The v will some- -*•-*■- 
A certain writer once said, “Give me the first 
ten years of a child’s life, and I will make him 
what I* please, despite all after influences.” If 
uly, does he really ridicule me?” ing intellect—did she feel her responsibility? Was i n fl„pm>n .1 1 * no • 00 } Heo °re a /1 
“ What,— Joe? Bah, Mary, yon are really in ebe conscious that she held the silken cords in i ove and a'dlmisitum ofTcmt tlnt"^ 38 
earnest. Why, yon ought to hear him lecture me, her own hands that were to hind the present to blessings of t he great Parent J „ ‘ r,Tl 
vanity of it He looks over Ills former as a dan¬ 
ger well past, and would not huzard himself to 
begin again. The next door of death Baps him 
not, hut he expects it calmly as his turn in nature; 
and fears more his recoiling bad to childishness 
than dust All men look on bin as a common 
father, and on old age, for his sake, as a reverent 
thing, lie practices his experience on youth 
without harshness or reproof, and in his counsel 
is good company. He has some old stories still 
of his own seeing to Confirm what he says, and 
“ Hold, Jane,— ceaBe your joking. I am thank- 
fu 1 if he respects me. liven if I am an old maid, 
I would be respected.” 
“ Of course, Mary. But I must leave now, for 
I am expecting a call, this evening.” And away 
she tripped,pitying the girl who had “never had 
a he.iu,” and picturing for her all the woes of 
singleness. 
Reader, this conversation occurred some years 
ago. Need wo prophesy which, now, is the old 
maid, and which tho happy wife? Jane Bradley 
ilirtod with this one, that one, and the other, and 
sleeper, and seemed to create a divine halo about 
the pure and holy brow. Little Fkankky lives; 
only bin earthly frame lies, quiet and cold, in the 
ubode here below. 
With 6ilent tips he has gone to rest, 
Ami white Lands clasped on his little breast. 
Burrville, Jefferson Co., N. Y., 1860. 
---- — -- 
The Sabbath.—' The Sabbath is the loveliest, 
brightest day of the week, to a spiritual mind. 
These re.vt.v refresh the soul in God, that finds 
nothing but turmoil in the creature. Should not 
this day be welcome to the soul, that sets it free 
to mind its own business, which has other days 
to attend to the business of its servant, the body? 
added a tremor to the voice— 
“ Yea, 1 liHvi! loft the golden shore, 
Where childhood 'midst tbe roses play’d; 
Those sunny dreams will cotne no more 
That youth a long bright Sabbath made. 
Yet, while those dream* of memory's eye; 
Arise In many- a glittering train, 
My soul goes hack to infancy, 
And hears my mother's song again!" 
likes bis own times better than these, because rtatoftbe bouL— Leighton. 
those things are follies to Him now that were wis- ' ■*■*'* -- 
dom to him then; yet he makes usof thatopinion, Prayer. Prayer is the application of want to 
too, when we see him, and conjecture tho*e times H j m wbo ou ^ cau relieve it; the voice of sin to 
by so fine a relic. He goes away at last, too soon Him wbo a,onc can P ardon it. It is the urgency 
whensoever, with all men’s sorrow but his own; ol pove ‘ t y. the prostration of humility, the fer- 
and his memory is as fresh when it is twice as venc ^ Of penitence, the confidence of trust. It is 
old .—Bishop Earle. not elo qRt-nce, but earnestness; not the definition 
---- ot helplessness, hut the i'celiDg of it; not figures 
Rome men use words as riflemen do bullets, of speech, but compunction of soul. It is the 
They say little. The few words used go right to “Lord save us, we perish,” of drowning l'eter; 
the mark. They let you talk, and guide with their the cry of faith to the oar of mercy. 
and boasted so many admirers. Rhe feels a little 
bitter toward her more fortunate sister-in-law, 
Mary Bradley, who did marry; and her husband 
honors her the more for the great contrast be¬ 
tween her tastes and principles, and those of his 
trifling sister. Dn>o, 
heaven tlmsuu'fTti ^ Hh Tb 1> . rc8 J nU f sl,e ^pressed times surprise you with a few words, that gorig£t He who is false to present duty breaks a thread 
through a key-hole g 1 TI T Tjf ho “ r ’ thal to the mark like u gun-shot, and then they are in the loom, and will find the flaw when be may 
nd word had ever fallen upon his ear Bilent again, as if they were reloading. have forgotten the cause. 
| eye and I'aoo, on and on, till what you say cari be 
answered in a word or two, and then they lapce 
out a sentence, pierce the matter to the quick, and 
are done. You never know where you are with 
them. Your conversation falls into their mind, 
its rivers fall into deep chasms, and are lost from 
eight by its depth and darkness. They will some- 
We celebrate nobler obsequies to those we love 
by drying the tears of others, than by shedding 
our own; and the fairest funeral wreath we can 
hang on their tomb, is a fruit-offering of good 
deeds.— Jean Paul. 
He who is false to present duty breaks a thread 
have forgotten the cause. 
i 
