little gills need their feet as well covered as little 
boys, and what woman would think of putting 
such drab gaiters on her little boy? 
Oak Hall, Iowa, 1860 . Aba Brown. 
[Written for Moore's Karal New-Yorker.1 
STANZAS. 
BT HATH OAMKKON 
Thu magic seal of genius 
Set on a noble brow; 
The strange epell of eloquence, 
Before which all hearts bow— 
Hare power to thrill the spirit, 
And rnako the soul a shrine 
For thought* in which the mortal 
la linked with the divine. 
The beaming glance of beauty, 
The form of faultless grace, 
The nameless charm that lingers 
-Around a lovely face,— 
May win our fond devotion, 
Our worship from afar. 
While shining on us coldly. 
Like a calm, distant star 
But give me warm affection, 
That liveB in look and tone, 
A faithful, loving nature, 
Which I can call my own; 
For when the glow of gening 
And beauty’s smile depart, 
One treasure will be lasting— 
A true and Iruiling heart.' 
Rochester, N. Y., 1860. 
before we can say, “Peace, be still!” to all the 
warring elements of our natures, and accept, with 
a cheerful trust, whatever life may bring, believ¬ 
ing that what we need we ahull receive. 
*’ Much must be borne that It is hard to bear, 
Much given awsy that it were sweet to keep,— 
Qon help n* all,—we need, indeed, His care, 
And yot 1 know the Shepherd loves Hig sheep.” 
Nor are our own experiences onr only teachers. 
In the lives of others are lessons of deep and 
earnest meaning, jnoiting us to emulate the good 
and noble, or shun the path that led the weak to 
ruin. Nor this alone, but the etudy of human 
nature, as it is everywhere presented to our view, 
should teach us an almost boundless charity for 
our fellows, and lead ns, while we avoid, to pity 
the errors that we see. Every weakness has its 
meed of suffering,—every sin committed leaves a 
sting behind,—every vice indulged, in bluuting 
the finer sensibilities, and destroying all the betr 
t6r elements of humanity, works its own punish¬ 
ment; and many on whom we heap our bitterest 
scorn, deserve, far more, our kindred pity. And 
in the eyeB of Omniscience,—to whom all hearts 
are alike visible, and who weighs every circum- 
[Writtcn for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.) 
’T El gY R S . 
There is magic in a tear. We never sec a crys¬ 
tal drop quivering on drooping lashes, or wan¬ 
dering down a fair, young check, but, ere we are 
aware, our own eyes twinkle with the same dewi¬ 
ness, and a low voice from our hearts bidsuswipe 
awsy those tears with the gentle band of Bympar- 
thy. Yes, these silent tears, bow often do they 
weave themselves into a chain of love, whereby 
the hearts of strangers, even, are bound together. 
It ia enough that such hearts aro in sorrow, that 
tear-drops rest on either cheek,—instinctively the 
curtain oi formality is druwn aside, and the two 
souls blend iuto one. A tear is more attractive 
to my heart, anywhere, than a smile. Smiles 
come and go, like little bright winged summer 
birds, too full Of peace and happiness to care for 
sympathy,—oftentimes ns devoid of meaning as 
is the careless, merry twitter of tbo song-bird; 
but tears uro full of eloquence, and no true heart 
can resist their silent oratory. 
How beautiful is the tear of gratitude! 
[Written for Moors’* Karal NcW-Vorker-l 
TOO LATE- 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
SABBATH EVENING. 
BT i KNNY A. STONE. 
BT MBS. S. r HADDOCK 
Under the vine-wreaVhed arbor sat a maiden, 
8weet Amt of the vale, both proud and fair, 
And as she dreamed she w reathed the purple blossoms 
Amid the braided darkness of her hair. 
A flowery crown In meet for youth and beauty, 
Bat Amt dreamed of pearls and rabies red,— 
Her step was music in the bumble cottage, 
But velvet, carpet* waited for her tread. 
Through all the starry night* her maiden slumber 
Was sweet upon the cottage chamber bed; 
But brighter dreams must come when gorgeous curtains 
Should fall in graceful folds about her head. 
And then her heart leaped up within her bosom, 
And questioned her of nil the happy Pa§t— 
“ Wilt give up love, and hopes, that youth will cherish;” 
’Twaa hard, hut Amt answered it at last 
“ Better to wed with bleak and old December, 
Than trust to fierce and ever stormy March; 
Should streamlet* flow by peasant doors forever 
Because they spring not from a golden arch? 
“ The old man’s heart is dead, I cannot wake it, 
And mine shall sleep when once I am a wife; 
The bitterest cold can only freeze a fountain, 
While too much beat would parch its very life." 
And so the church wan decked for Amt’s bridal, 
The vail WM folded from her snowy brow, 
The hand that clasped her own wax brown and withered, 
Trembling with age tho voice that spoke the vow. 
She passed the threshold, and before her floated 
A vision Bt«rn of dark, reproachful eyes,— 
The marriage chain drew clone about her spirit, 
She knew the grief that never, never dies. 
And every night, just ns the eve was waning 
Into quick life, that spirit form would start, 
No word it spoke, but sternly gazed upon her, 
Each glance a dagger to her shrinking heart. 
Sood all the nights were spent in bitter weeping, 
Curtains of richest texture falling round, 
And all the days with listless step anil weary 
She paced tho halls that echoed back no sound. 
And thus the heart once lulled to quiet slumber— 
The heart she once hud thought so surely sleeping— 
Sweet 
it is to watch U bursting into the eye from the 
over-charged heart, expressing, as it does, n thou¬ 
sand times more feelingly than mere words, the 
happiness which Benevolence occasioned. 
Equally beautiful and touching is the tear of 
reconciliation. They had been estranged now, for 
many a long year, that father and his wayward 
son. But all the dreary time an angel had been 
whispering in each heart sweet words of healing. 
The son came at last, and threw bis arms upon his 
father’s nock and wept. It was sufficient. Tears 
healed the wound, and the dear eyes of their 
guardian angel grew tearful too as she blessed 
thorn and departed. 
Rweetponitential tears! Such were thine, dear, 
repentant Mao»ai.en, when, weeping, thou didst The incomprehensible principle that unites Jm 
pour rich ointment on the Saviour's feet, and mortal mind with earthly, perishing matter,_s 
wash them with thy glistening tears. Ah, at such ray of light from the great central and eternal 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.) 
SYMPATHY. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 
ui-KHSKDig he who succeeds in smoothing one wrinkle 
from the brow of care, and In lighting up the smile of 
Hope on the face of sorrow.” 
The lines quoted above aro from the pen of a 
popular author, und they are as true as they aie 
beautiful. It is indeed a blessed task- tn 
non. many a compressed lip, in whose curves we 
see now only reserve and haughty self-reliance, 
would tell of a sensitive nature, with sympathies 
thrown back upon itself, by a consciousness of 
being unappreciated apd misunderstood,—many 
an eye whoso dreamy light shows only listlcssness 
or indifference, would reveal the languor of a soul 
wearied with the cares and perplexities of life,— 
and on many a brow whose pale, calm surface seems 
only to bear the impress of coldness and pride, 
we should read the record of deep, often sad and 
painful thought And were our senses less ob¬ 
tuse, many a voice that sounds careless now, 
would come to our ears In tones deepened by th<- 
melody of unshed tears. 
And yet, all life’s lessons, stern and painful as 
they are, are lessons of mercy to fallen man; for 
were no lips sealed by suffering, none would be 
prepared to speak truth or warning to the hearts 
of others,—were no brows “sieklied o'er with the 
pale cast of thought,” none would be encircled by 
crowns that cannot fade when tlir-y themselves 
have faded,—and were no eyes dimmed or voices 
saddened here, none w ould beam with unutterable 
joy or sing songs of gladness in the land where 
sorrow cannot come. 
Let us learn to thank Got> then, for life’s storm 
and tempest not less than for its sunshine and 
calm, since repining because clouds darken our 
horizon but, adds to their blackness, and brooding 
over life’s ills only robs us of the strength to bear 
them. While, if we will but believe that there ia 
a Bow of Promise in every cloud, though our 
earth-darkened eyes cannot see it; and will be 
persuaded that human affairs are presided over, 
not by an inexorable tyrant who delights in the 
miseries of his subjects, bnt by a loving father who 
suffers his children to be tried only that the gold 
of their natures may be separated from its dross; 
that faith will bear us 
irom me eyc^t the sorrow-stricken,—to lighten 
the burden of the weary,-to smooth the pathway 
of the despairing traveler on life’s bleak road,—to 
whisper a word of comfort to the hopeless, and 
bind up the wounds of the sorrowing. 
Ob, there are broken hearts upon the earth, 
that need onr sympathy and love,—there are err¬ 
ing ones to be led gently back to the paths of 
virtue and honor,—there are sorrowing hearts 
that wait bnt for a kindly spoken word and a 
smile of encouragement, to conquer grief and 
look above for aid and comfort And shall we 
withhold that word,—refuse to bestow that smile? 
Oh, no, let us help our fellowrncD, and our reward 
will be great hereafter. Let us not waste our days 
in useless pininp and regrets, but go forth and 
work in the Master’s vineyard. There is much 
for us to do, and time Is passing. These opportu¬ 
nities to do good may pass from us unimproved, 
if we do not work “ while it is day.” 
Brooklyn, N. Y , 1800. Wn.ua Wave. 
songs and praises, bear to Heaven each precious, 
pearly drop, to gleam forever in their Soverign'a 
diadem. 
But more divine than all is the blest tear of 
pity, for such our Saviour shed. Methinks I see 
it now, bedimming his lustrous eyes, as he gazes 
upi n this sinful, sorrowing world, and weeps over 
it, us over the glorious temple and holy city in 
ages past. Ah, truly doth this sad world need 
such tears, and let us pour them freely forth, for 
they are sanctified. 
Yet, strange nuomaly, joy, too, hath her tears. 
In her happiest, hours, when rarest gems bedeck 
her brow, then it is she borrows tho radiant 
pearls which meekeyed sorrow wears amidst 
dishevelledlocks, and twines them into her golden 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THAT LITTLE DRAB GAITER. 
I cannot keep out of my mind the thin gaiter 
on that little tiny foot, this windy March day. 
The little girl sat beside me in church, arid I could 
have taken her in my arms, and pressed her to my 
heart with many a fond kiss,—wo know what a 
treasure a little girl is,—the twining arms, and 
the sweet caresses, fco quietly she sat, that little 
one of three years; hushed was her merry prattle, 
and serious her pretty race, for it was the house 
of God. My heart was full of pity for the child, 
and indignation that a woman could be so foolish 
as to risk the life of her child, by changing the 
thick, every-day shoe for a light prunella gaiter, 
with a sole as thin ns paper, and take a long walk 
to church. All the child's other clothing was 
suitable, from the satin hood, tho delaine dress, 
to the lambs-wool stockings. 
. life is mode up of the same elements,—alternale 
. good and evil, pain and pleasure, weakness and 
. strength, gloom and gladness,—yet each so unlike 
, all others, and marked by phases so peculiarly Us 
own, that probably no two lives ever flowed in 
precisely the same channel since the creation of 
man. 
0 
All are subject to the laws of change, and the 
control of ungovernable circumstance, yet while 
every change weakens and impoverishes one, it 
strengthens and enriches another,—while, with 
every shadow of circumstance that gives direc¬ 
tion to our course, or coloring to our destiny, one 
life grows dimmer and darker, another becomes 
deeper and brighter,— one nature seeming to 
gather from life nothing but its bitterness, while 
another but extracts its sweetness. Much of this 
difference is doubtless owing to dissimilarities of 
temperament, diversities of mental and physical 
organzations and conditions, and much to oor 
different practical use of the daily lessons of life, 
all of the events of which are teachers of wisdom 
if we bnt heed their admonitions. 
One of the first truths experience beings home 
to our understandings, is, that life is not what we 
planned it when first our barks were launched 
upon its tide: and that many a cup we grasp with 
eager hands, believing that the wine of happiness 
sparkles within, proves a draught of unmingled 
bitterness. Many a path which seemed to us 
bright and sunny, and carpeted with softest ver¬ 
dure, and which we hastened, with impatient 
steps, to enter, grows rough and thorny beneath 
our feet; while, beside, another that seemed bleak 
and barren in the distance, grows many a flower 
of rare beanty and fragrance, if we will but stoop 
to find them. And often when some glittering 
prize presents itself afar off, almost beyond our 
reach, we gain it after long and weary effort, only 
to earn a disappointment like his, who 
“Saw, on thu top of a mountain high, 
A gem that shone like fire by night, 
And thought it a star that had left the sky, 
And dropped to sleep on the mountain’s height; 
But climbed the peak and found it soon, 
A lump of ice in the clear cold moon." 
Even while we toil to win the brilliant cheats, 
close beside us, aye, at our very feet, are treasures 
which, if gathered to our hearts, would beautify 
and brighten all our future lives; but our eyes are 
Seed to tub Sower.— 1 There are two ways of 
treating the seed. The botanist splits it up, and 
discourses on its curious characteristics; the 
simple husbandman eats and sows; bows and 
eats. Similarly there are two ways of treating 
the gospel. A critic dissects it; raises a moun¬ 
tain of debate about the structure of the whole, 
and the relation of its parts; and when he is 
done with his argument, he is done. To him, 
the letter is dead; he neither lives on it himself, 
nor spreads it for the good of his neighbors, 
lie neither eats nor sows. The disciple of Jeens, 
hungering for righteousness, takes the seed 
Ladles Carrying the Crops.— The following 
originated with the Terre Haute Express. It is 
applied to ladies of the editor’s locality, but its 
homely figures have point and application else¬ 
where. IV e, however, leave all such applications 
to our readers: 
Here is lady No. I, with ten acres of wheat 
gracefully thrown around her person—twelve 
bushels to the acre. Ten times twelve are one 
hundred and twenty, at 80 cents a bushel; 120x80 
— $06. 
Lady No. II toddles under four tuns of hay at 
seven dollars and a half per tuu; 4x$7 60—$So. 
She stands erect, as stifily as I see Norwegian 
women every day with a load of kindling wood 
on their heads. 
Lady No. Ill sweeps the path and circumjacent 
dog-fennel with a train in which are exhibited 
two yoke of steers at $35—$70. 
Lady No. IV is enrobed in twenty acres of corn, 
forty bushels to the acre, worth thirty cents to the 
bushel; 800x30—$240. 
Lady No. \ has a mule colt suspended from 
each ear, at $15—$30. 
Her mother sat be¬ 
side her, wrapped in cloak and furs. 
T beard a gentleman say, not many days since 
that nine women iu ten would run the risk of 
burying their children in order to have tinm 
dressed fashionably to go to Church or Sabbath 
School. Tho mother’s heart within me would not 
admit that; hut is it not too true that mothers 
are really cruel to dress their children in the way 
they do? Mill the women of this generation, 
with all the light and knowledge that physiologi¬ 
cal science gives them, and the good sense with 
which God has endowed them, thus put the little 
feet of their own offspring in the cold grafl, 1 ? 
Or, if the child have sufficient constitution to live 
through, will the mother so act as to make her 
offspring a puny, sickly being all the days of its 
life? Is there not a fearful load of guilt resting 
upon 6ueh mothers,—is it not her duty to be us 
wise and ns judicious in the physical training of 
the little ones of her household, as of their moral 
training? Do not thus expose your child, and say 
" the Lord has taken her 
upon its wings into a moral 
atmosphere, where, like the Alpine climber who 
stands in unbroken sunshine upon the mountain’s 
brow, and sees the clouds gather blackness and 
break in gloom and desolation over the valleys 
below; we may look unmoved upon the brooding 
darkness and the tempestuous storms of life; and 
while our own lives are permeated by the celes¬ 
tial radiance that makes glad the city of our God, 
diffuse over other and more darkened existences 
around us, a reflected light from the sunshine of 
our own. Elizabeth Bouton. 
Avoca, Steuben Co., N. Y., 1860. 
Devotion.— The most illiterate man who is 
touched with devotion, and uses frequent exer¬ 
cises of it, contracts a certain greatness of mind, 
mingled with a noble simplicity, that raises him 
above those of the same condition. It is hardly 
possible it should be otherwise; for the fervors 
of a pious mind will naturally contract such an 
earnestness ami attention, towards a better Being 
as will make the ordinary passages of life go on 
with a becoming indifference. By this, a man in 
the lowest condition will not appear mean, or in 
the most splendid fortune, insolent. 
Johnson 
Constant Employment. 
The man who is 
obliged to earn the necessities of life and support 
his family, knows not the unhappiness he prays 
for when he desires wealth and idleness. To be 
constantly busy is to be always happy. Persons 
who have suddenly acquired wealth, broken up 
their active pursuits, and begun to live at their 
ease, waste away, and die in a very short time. 
Thousands would have been blessings to the 
world, and added to the oommon stock of happi¬ 
ness, if they had been content to remain in an 
humble sphere, and earned every mouthful of 
food that nourished their bodies. Persons who 
are always busy, and go cheerfully to their daily 
tasks, are the least disturbed by the fluctuations 
of business, and at night sleep with perfect com¬ 
posure. 
away,” for it is blas¬ 
phemy. 
What a blessed thing it would be if mothers 
would have independence enough to discard ever v 
foolish fashion, and dress their children comfort¬ 
ably; then might the coming generation improve 
upon the present, and American women not be a 
reproach and by-word for European nations, who 
are continually saying we are thesickliest women 
on the face of the earth. Does a thin cloth shoe 
look as well or us suitable for the winter season, 
as a nice calf skin or morocco? It seems to me 
that it is as iuueli out of place as a lace bonnet or 
lawn dress. 
Another little girl I saw, of perhaps five yearii 
quite decently clad, with bare arms, and three or 
four inches fiom stockings to panteletts. Do not 
wonder at the mortality of children,—let ns rather 
wonder that so mauy live to mature years. Do 
not wonder that the young girls and women of 
our country are pale and delicate; notable to do 
a quarter of the work that their mothers and 
grand-mothers accomplished at their age; but let 
us rather wonder that it is no worse. 
Joy. —He that, to the best of his power, has 
secured the final stake, has a perennial fountain of 
joy within him—he is satisfied from himself. 
They, his reverse, borrow all from without. Joy 
wholly from wilhoutis false,precarious, and short. 
From without it may be gathered; but, like gath¬ 
ered flowers, though fair and sweet foi a season, 
it must soon wither and become offensive. Joy 
from within, is like smelling the rose on the tree; 
it is more sweet and fair,—it is lasting,—and, I 
must add, immortal.— Young. 
Submission, 
Trials not felt are easily borne 
Mr. Peabody one day came in from a walk. His 
wife said to him, “I have been thinkiug of our 
situation, and have determined to be submissive 
and patient.” 
‘'Ah! ’ said he, "that is a good resolution; let 
us sec what we have got to submit to. I will 
make a list of our trials. First, we have a home,_ 
we will submit to that Second, we have the com¬ 
forts of life,—we will submit to that Thirdly, 
we have each other. Fourthly, we have a multi¬ 
tude of friends. Fifthly, we havo God to take 
We, who are saved by grace, have room enough 
in our Redeemer’s character for eternal love and 
wonder. His characters are so varied, and all of 
them so precious, that we may still gaze and adore. 
The Shepherd folding the lambs in his bosom, 
the Breaker dashing into pieces the opposing 
gates of brass, me Captain routing all his foes, the 
Brother born for adversity, and a thousand other 
delightful pictures of Jesus, are all calculated to 
stir the affections of the thoughtful Christian. 
The Good and the Bad, 
•The following true 
and pleasant passage occurs in one of Frederika 
Bremer’s books: 
There is much goodness in the world, although 
at a superficial glance one is disposed to doubt it. 
What is had is noised abroad—is echoed back 
from side to side, and newspapers and social cir¬ 
cles find much to say about it—while what is 
good goes, at best, like sunshine, quietly through 
the world. 
We cannot have it too strongly impressed on 
our minds, that there is no reason why we should 
be better off than Christ, our Master, was. 
no more 
