[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
H O X* E . 
BY V. H GtJIWITS 
0. wintw to the depth of despondency’* gloom 
My spirit retreat* from the conflict of life; 
When earth to my vision seems but a vast tomb 
To bury the many who fall in the atrife; 
On tho depth of the midnight I cast my wild cry, 
“ O, Father! thy world-weary child seekR to die, 
ADd free from thia wearisome bnrden to lie 
In the grave that no trouble shall know." 
Expectant I list., but no voice from that clime, 
In the atar-land above, where the ransomed have gone 
Is blent with the desolate night-wind'* low chime, 
Saying, “ Peace, weary soul, thy labor is done;” 
But torn by the anguish that dwells in my breast, 
And tossed on this pitiless ocean-wave’s crest, 
A glimmer 1 see In yon haven of rest,— 
The rest no disturbing shall know. 
'Tls the beacon of hope on the evergreen hills, 
Gleaming warm on the tempest and gloom of despair; 
There happiness flows in perpetual rills, 
And ravishing beauty distills from the air; 
And this vestal ray shedding its light on my heart, 
Its midnight dispels with a magical art, 
And for its deep wounds a balm doth impart;— 
Now I ask not for rest in the grave. 
Avoca, N. Y , I860. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
ONLY HERE. 
KNITTING WORK, 
Likh tiny birds with burnished wings, 
Just dropping to the sea-wave’s foam, 
And bearing from ita billowy home 
The snow that to their plumage clings, 
The (tnttcriug needles swiftly dip 
In soft white meshea of her work. 
Where quaint and loving fancies lurk 
The eye betray* tbe silent lip. 
The tiny needles loop the thread, 
Strung with sweet thoughts of unmmer hours, 
Of sunlight on the fragrant flower*, 
Of poem* in the woodland read, 
With prelude of the wild bird's song, 
And, blending with that warbled tone, 
The murmurs, evermore their own, 
That in the pine tree shadows throng. 
And still, meandering from the ball, 
Fond memory's chain unwinds and flows, 
Drops here a smile and there a rose, 
And hero a treasured word lets fall; 
So, on she knits, in twilight gray; 
The past and present, with the years 
Of morning life, its hope* and fears, 
Inwoven with her dreams to-day. 
Springfield (Matt.) Republican 
“Only Hkrk" the shadows gather 
O'er each true warm heart; 
Only here we feel the sorrow 
Of affliction's dart. 
There all tears are quenched forever, 
There the pure are blest, 
“ There the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary rest. 
“ Only here " we cherish idols, 
Which, with fatal grasp, 
Sood, too soon, are rudely severed 
From our loving clasp; 
There we'll meet in sweet communion. 
Nevermore to part, 
And no note of bitter discord 
Jar within the heart. 
Only here we walk in darkness— 
There are fields of light, 
Where they walk in shining beauty 
Glorious and bright; 
Only here—ah! sweet reflection, 
Never will we fear 
All the trials life assigns us, 
If 'tis “ only here” 
Firmly can we strive and conquer, 
Nobly can we bear; 
If at last wo reach “ green pastures " 
Where “still waters” are; 
Where no more the heart will murmur, 
And no teardrop* fall, — 
Where, in fields of regal splendor, 
God reigns over all. 
South Danby, N. Y., 1800. Maky A. B, 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WHAT’S IN A NAME I 
ending. So many “Saries,” and “Maries,” and 
“Jennies," jib to justify a certain writer in calling 
it “ the ie fever.” 
There certainly must be some strong objection 
to tho good, sensible nurnes which girls, in the 
old-fashioned times, never thought to feel ashamed 
of. If Gath A kink of Russia hud lived in this 
enlightened age, she would have learned what an 
improvement “Kate” would have been upon 
plain substantial Cathakink; and Lady Jane 
Gkey, seized with the mania, would soon have 
converted her Bober, common name, into “Jen¬ 
nie.” One can see at a glance how much better it 
would correspond with her tragic hiHtory. 
]t has alwayB seemed to me a great pity and a 
mistake in point of taste, that when they had set 
about changing Sakai’s name, Ahhaham or Lot, 
or some of the family, shouldn't have suggested 
Sauib instead of Sarah. It would have saved 
many that trouble since. But isn’t it a great 
consolation to think, when tho history of tbe 
present generation is handed down to the future, 
there will be nothing in the names to shock their 
taste, and history may prove more attractive to 
young ladies whose brains are too full of line 
sentiment to contain anything so commonplace as 
“ideas,” 
I have been astonished to see that some of our 
bcBt wa iters still continue to display their own 
sobriquets —how they can do so and retain their 
popularity with a discriminating public remains 
a mystery. If Mrs. Elizahkth Barret Browning, 
for instance, would only style herself Lizzie, how 
mncli character it would give to her writings. 
Strange she don't observe the fine effect it hus on 
when the coral strawberries were blushing in the those of her cotemporaries, 
dewy grass, and crying with their delicious But, farewell ! ye “Lena Mays,” “Lina Lin* 
breath to every passer by, " come, cat me,” when woodfi *« <• Gertie Grays,” Ac., Ac. You have my 
the blackberries hung their shining cones of g y m p a thies. Evidently you ought to bo ashamed 
ebony on their thorny hushes by the forest brooks; 0 py 0Iir owa names, and these are expressive sub- 
all through the dreamy Indian summer, when g^itutea! All I have to say further is, if I were an 
other children were joining their parents in gatli editor> j would first glam e at the name attached 
ering the stores ot luscious fruit from the well an (ir ti c ] e , and if it were not a sensible one, it 
laden trees, and singing with merry shouts the fl jj 0U ] d ]j e thrust without mercy into “the pigeon 
“harvest home, r these “little ladies sat in their i. ft u *i q'L« nnuntitv -whirl, would QrmrrmiQtp 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
‘‘LITTLE LADIES.” 
[Written for Moore’* Rural New-Yorker.] 
PEDESTHIANISM. 
“What little ladies,” every one exclaimed, 
when speaking of Mrs. C.’s children. There was 
no end to the wondrous patterns in embroidery 
which they wrought with their dainty white 
fingers,—and the number of hooks which they 
read and “sciences” which they understood at 
the ages of twelve and fourteen, was the marvel 
of tbe neighborhood whenever their fond mother 
repeated tbe “list” 
Their mornings were spent in reading and 
study,—their afternoons in the parlor, from which 
the free, glad sunshine was carefully excluded by 
blinds and curtains. There, In the “dim uncer¬ 
tain light,” they sat and stitched away industri¬ 
ously on their mysterious patterns of needlework. 
All through the pleasant springtime, when they 
should have been hunting violets and mosses in 
the leafy woods; all throngh the balmy summer, 
“A i,Linen * * * * are endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights, among 
which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happi¬ 
ness.”— Jefferson. 
Notwithstanding the assertion which I have 
quoted from the great “Apostle of Liberty,” has 
received the endorsement of a successful rebel* 
lion, and has been generally conceded to be a 
truth, it is equally true that but a very small por¬ 
tion of mankind have availed themselves of the 
right, so far as regards tho "pursuit of happiness." 
Every man has, undoubtedly, an idea of what is 
necessary to make him happy, but very few men, 
whatever their professions may be, follow even 
their own beau ideals— a still smaller number fol¬ 
low the true road to happiness. I am of the 
opinion that mankind do not differ so maeh in 
their estimates of what is necessary to true enjoy¬ 
ment, as in the different degrees of intensity 
wherewith they strive to attain it. The witty 
Horace, in his first satire, represents old misers 
as arguing that they lay up money in youth with 
the Idea of spending when they shall have reached 
old age; yet he shows, with troth, that theyjnever 
spend. Just so do the greater part of mankind 
pretend that they are striving to be happy, when, 
in truth, they are conscious that they pay atten¬ 
tion to everything but happiness. 
There is one thing, however, which is necessary 
to every one who would enjoy this life, whether 
he be iu academic groves, or in the world plunged 
in the rapid stream of buHinesB life. I allude to 
health—bodily health—worshiped by the ancients 
as a deity, scouted by the moderns as of no 
account. Yet, without this health, it is as useless 
to expect a sound mind, as to look for sweet 
grapes on the north side of your house. Neither 
the clear, active plans of the business man, the 
shrewd calculations of the politician, the calm 
judgments and observations of the statesman, 
the profound thought of the scholar, the bright 
wit of the author, nor the warm feelings and ac¬ 
tive sympathies of the philanthropist, can long 
maintain their strength or purity without health. 
Of all the means for the preservation of health, 
none has been more justly lauded in all ages than 
travel. Not that travel which has no other object 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
LICHENS. 
What is there so fearful as the expectation of 
evil tidings delayed? Sometimes in the midst of 
tears, or worse, amidst the convulsive gasping* of 
despair, we reproach ourselves for influencing the 
eternal fates by our gloomy anticipations; then, 
if a smile wreathe the mourner’s lip, it is arrested 
by a throb of agony. Alas! are not the dark 
tresses of the young, painted gray—the full cheek 
of Beauty delved with sad lines by the spirits of 
such hours? Misery is a more welcome visitant 
when she comes in her darkest guise, and wraps 
ub in perpetual black, for then the heart no longer 
sickens with disappointed hope. 
FIRST BABIES 
A somewhat extended observation, and a soli¬ 
tary experience, have convinced ua that first 
babies have a hard time. Parents muBt have two 
or three children before they know what a baby 
is—know how to treat it, and acquire patience 
sufficient to treat it properly. The poor little 
fellows that have the misfortune to come along 
first, have to educate parents to their task, and in 
the process they get spanked, and shakeu, and 
abused. After a man has three or four children, 
he learns that whipping or striking a child less 
than two yearB of age is barbarism. We know 
one “paternal head” who struck his first child 
when only six weeks old,—be actually believing 
that the child knew better than to cry, and that 
he stopped crying at that particular time because 
he struck him. We carry certain notions of child¬ 
ren and of family government into married life, 
and the first child is always tbe victim of these 
notions. And not alone of these, for tbe parents 
have not learned self-control, and a baby is whip¬ 
ped quite as often because the parent is impatient 
or angry, as because it is vicious or intractable. 
We inflict on our first children the floggings we 
ought to have for our own impatience or fretful¬ 
ness. This pounding children before they be¬ 
come, in God’s eye, morally responsible beings, 
is very strange business. Patience, good people, 
unwearying patience! Don’t wait to learn it until 
one of your little ones shall be hidden under the 
daisies.— Springfield Rej/ublica/i. 
“ Every one seems to love you,” said a gentle¬ 
man to a little girl. “Do they?” she replied, 
smiling; “ well, I guess its because / love 
them all.” 
Ah! never did philosophy, seeking for deeply 
hidden gems of wisdom, strike upon a truth more 
rare and pure; for a loving and kindly nature, 
like sweet music, awakens kindred echoes. It 
possesses the power of winning the love it freely 
gives. There is no harshnesa that love cannot 
soften, no anger that a gentle word will not 
disarm. 
The sun may shine brightly and gloriously, but 
if we murmur and repine at our lot, its brightness 
will never reach our perceptions, our hearts will 
be under a cloud. Mks. J. W. Smith. 
WOMEN KEEPING SECRETS, 
A new doctrine is being promulgated by “All 
the Year Round.” Hear it;—“Wo laugh at the 
women’s tongue, and wonder when a woman 
keeps a secret; bnt every true woman keeps a box 
of choice reserves for her own private indul- 
The man’s mysteries are not hcr’s; if he 
gence, 
cannot, keep them to himself, let. him expect them 
to be blown .abroad. Her own Becrets of love, of 
loss, of self-denial, of nnmispected suffering, no 
woman exposes altogether, even to her nearest 
friend. There never lived a husband happy in 
the true love of his wife, who fairly knew all the 
depths of her mind about him. Every man prof¬ 
its stupidly by the wise little perceptions that, 
arise so quietly and have no utterance except in 
deeds, of which we vaguely ascribe the fitness to 
a special faculty called woman’s tact Women, 
in short, keep to themselves four-fifths of the 
secrets of society, and do it with a winning air of 
frankness all their own. 
A man with a secret will be stony, or porten- 
tious, or provokingly suggestive; he will keep his 
mouth shut ostentatiously. A woman is too abso¬ 
lutely secret to set op a publio sign over whatever 
may lie buried in her mind. She gossips, prat¬ 
tles, pours out what she does not care to hold, 
with such an air of unreserved simplicity that all 
mankind is mystified, and says, iu friendly jest, ’a 
woman only hides what she don’t know.' Among 
the uneducated poor this difference between the 
woman and the man is most conspicuous, Tbe 
inate powers of her sex place her at once upon an 
eminence which man can only reach by educa¬ 
tion. She must often be tied to one in whom 
there is often not the grain of understanding re¬ 
quisite to the formation of true sympathy. By 
far the greater number of the wives of unskilled 
laborers and mechanics, live more or less happily, 
and more or less conscious of the hidden life 
within them, having such a seal upon their minds 
and heart.” 
Evert true child of God will earnestly desire 
to be conformed to hia will, not only in the way 
of submission, but in the discharge of active duty. 
The mind that is enlightened to discern the 
beauty of holiness, will desire to be arrayed 
in that holiness. The mind that perceives the 
excellence of the divine law, will desire to render 
that law all the obedience it demands. A spirit¬ 
ual view of tbe amiability of tbe divine character 
must excite the ardent aspiration to be conformed 
to that character. 
There are some who are satisfied with what they 
consider “just religion enough to carry them to 
heaven.” They regard it as they would the 
money requisite to hear the expenses of a journey 
—as the bridge which was strong enough to car¬ 
ry them safely over a chasm which could not 
otherwise be crossed. Of the genuineness of such 
piety we stand in doubt There i^littlc reason to 
believe that such persons have ever been spirit¬ 
ually enlightened to discover the vileness of their 
own hearts, or the purity of the law of God. He 
who is conscious of the defilement of sin 
seek to be utterly delivered, not only from its 
condemnation, but from its contamination. 
Every one who has hope in Christ will en¬ 
deavor to purify himself even as He is pure. 
But are such efforts consistent with being 
aatisfied with low attainments in ciety? How 
Lord Bkohoham on Washington. —In his re¬ 
cent installation address to the University of Ed¬ 
inburgh, Lord Brougham referred to Washington 
in the following eloquent words: 
“In Washington, we may contemplate every 
excellence, military and civil, applied to the ser¬ 
vice of his country and of mankind—atriumphant 
warrior, unshaken in confidence when the most 
sanguine had a right to despair; a successful 
ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly un¬ 
tried-directing the formation of a new govern¬ 
ment for a great people, the first time so rash an 
experiment had ever been tried by man—volun¬ 
tarily and unostentatiously retiring from supreme 
power with the veneration of all parties, of all 
nations, of all mankind, that the rights of man 
might be conserved, and that his example might 
never be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. It will 
be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all 
ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating this 
illustrious man, and until time shall be no more, 
will a test of progress which our race has made 
in wisdom and in virtue, be derived from the 
veneration paid to the immortal name of Wash¬ 
ington.” _ ___ 
A Little Story with a Moral. —The manner 
in which so many allow themselves to be sacri¬ 
ficed to their love of wealth, reminds one of the 
cupidity of the monkey—that caricature of our 
species. In Algiers, the Kabyle peasant attaches 
a gourd, well fixed, to a tree, and places within it 
some rice. The gourd has an opening merely 
sufficient to admit the monkey's paw. The crea¬ 
ture comes to the tree by night, inserts his paw, 
and grasps his booty. He trios to draw it back, 
but it is clenched, and he has not the wisdom to 
unclench it. So there he stands till morning, 
when he is caught, looking as foolish as may be, 
though with the prize in his grasp. 
A Good HotsEwtKEis one of the first blessings 
in tho economy of life. Men put a great value 
upon the housewife qualifications of their partners 
Offer marriage, however little they may weigh 
with them before; and there is nothing which 
tends more to mar the felicities of married life, 
than recklessness or want of knowledge, in the 
new housekeeper, of the duties which belong to 
her station. We admire beauty, and order, and 
system, in everything; and we admire good fare. 
If these are found in their dwellings, and are 
seasoned with good nature and good sense, men 
will seek their chief enjoyments at home,—they 
will love their homes and their partners, and 
strive to reciprocate the kind offices of duty and 
affection. Mothers that study the welfare of their 
daughters, will not fail to instruct them in the 
qualifications of married life; and daughters that 
appreciate the value of these qualifications, will 
not fail to acquire them.— Selected. 
Peace —Peace is better than joy. Joy is an 
uneasy guest, and always on tiptoe to depart It 
tires and wears us out, and yet keeps us ever fear¬ 
ing that the next moment it will be gone. Peace 
is not so —it comes move quietly.it Btays more 
contentedly, and it never exhausts our strength, 
uor gives us one anxious forecasting thought. 
Therefore, let us pray for peace. Jt is the gift 
God — promised to all His children; and if we 
have it in our hearts, we shall not pine for joy, 
though its bright wings never touch us while we 
tarry in the world. 
Enjoy the glory of the sun, and not put out your 
eyes by trying to count the spots upon his face. 
