TPSfStl . 
«®wP 
descendants have been gathered to rest beside 
him. Aunt Abby now graces the fireside of an¬ 
other, and stranger footsteps wake the echoes in 
the roomy hallB of Mount Prospect house. 
Cobocton, N Y., I860. Laura E. W. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE BURIAL OF THE POOR 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
MY BROTHERS. 
BY BKLLK bbach. 
Georgk, my eldest brother, companion of my early years 
My confident and refuge true, 
The sharer of my cblldls 1 joys and tears, 
Wbat tribute will I bring to you? 
I will not wish what cannot be — 
A wish I know were vain — 
A life of eare, from care and sorrow free, 
Unknown to sighs, er griefs, or pain; 
But 1 can wish that through life’s ills, 
And o’er its changing sen, 
That faith in Goo thy heart may fill, 
And lie thy solace he. 
lionKnr, stricken one, whose hopes are crushed — 
Whose day-dreams, fond and bright, 
Have crumbled into dust, 
And shrouded thy young heart in sorrow’s night— 
Brother, that with trusting, out-stretched hand, 
Went forth to seek the Future's joys unknown. 
Art left & wanderer on life’s weary strand, 
Thy bark to guide alone—yea, all alone. 
1 et not alone, for GOD to thee hath given 
A bud to watch and guard with care, 
A treasure lent to thee from heaven, 
Ere long to he transplanted there. 
Live, then. Yield thee not uuto despair, 
Mourn o’er thy withered joys no more, 
But trust in Gon, through iaith and prayer, 
lle'U moor thy bark upon the other shore. 
Edward, youngest brother, sparkling with witand mirth, 
Light-hearted, joyous, gay, nnd free, 
The sunbeam round tbe family hearth, 
What tribute will 1 bring to thee? 
A heart's deep love, undying, firm, and true, 
A love '/Vote will not change; 
Should shame its blight thy path bestrew, 
Thy nister still. I’ll be the (tamo. 
So, from out the garden of my soul, 
The flowers of constancy I’ll twine, 
And on the tablet of my heart thy name enroll 
To last for aye—my brother mine. 
Evans, N. Y., I860. 
["Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker ] 
“OVER TO GRANDPA’S." 
Over to Grandpa’s!—the words recall bright 
visions of a walk through dim forests green and 
shadowy, and most musical with the light touches 
of the fragrant breeze on leaf and Btem,— over 
wide meadows flushed with midsummer verdure 
and hedged about with the emerald line of droop¬ 
ing osiers,—by an any bill-aides plumed with stead- 
Most of our life has been spout amid the quiet 
scenes of the country, where human hearts seem 
made for human purposes, where sorrow meets a 
comforting word, and misfortune calls forth from 
fountians of love, in simple natural hearts, the 
tear of human pity. But the new, strange scenes 
of the city now greet our view. The great, throb¬ 
bing, animate, busy city,—wheie life, from the 
pauper to the millionaire, seems one long, earnest 
struggle for gold,—paltry, yet all powerful gold 
To-day, winds carelessly along the street, a 
dray-cart, drawn by a lazy pack-horse. A boy 
sits in front on one corner of the box, whistling 
a boy’s tune, which is a few notes here and there 
at random. But the baggage. It is a coffin. Aye 
a coffin, a rough pine box, painted black,—wide 
at the head, narrow at the foot, and five or six 
feet long. There it goes, over the hill, up the 
street to tho Cemetery. No human being follows 
it to the tomb. The sexton shovels the sod over 
it, and there, in the Potters Field, is another 
nameless grave. 
What a gloom gathers around our heart. We* 
have seen the dead carried cautiously and ten¬ 
derly to its last couch in tho earth, followed by a 
long train of neighbors and friends, whose sad 
faces told how truly each felt the loss of a human 
brother. And we have seen the tear of sympathy 
shed even upon the bier of a Htranger. But this 
one did not die in the country,—did uot take his 
farewell of earth amid the soft whispers of Nature’s 
kindly voices, and in the presence of friend*, 
though strangers. Nay, ho died in the city, 
where gold buys sympathy, buys affection, buys 
friends, buys a respectable burial. He was poor, 
“Rattle his hones over the stones, 
He’s only a pauper whom nobody owns.’’ 
What a history of human suffering, crime, or woe, 
went sealed in that rude coflin to oblivion. How 
sad that selfishness and greed for gold should eat 
out the holiest fceliugs of the human heart. 
Rest thee in thy nameless bed, weary, uoknown 
pilgrim. Thy journey to the banks of the cold 
river is finished. Thou hast passed from Bight - 
with the grim ferryman, and the vail bideth. 
Mayhap God will know thee when thou comest to J 
Heaven - Mrs. 8. F. Haddock. F 
Jackson, Mich., 1860. \i 
SOLICITUDE FOR CHILDREN. 
Dr. Stork, in his “ Home Scenes, or Christ in £ 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 
BY OaBI, DISCO, 
Far to the west by the setting run, 
J tint os tbe day had its journey ran, 
Twilight wo* spreading ir« curtain round, 
Hiding the wrecks of a battle ground. 
Stretched Dear a stream, in bis gory bed, 
Wounded and pale lay a chieftain dead. 
Chilled in hi* veia* was the daoclog tide; 
Sadly had fallen that warrior’s pride. 
Still bad the bloom of his youth, till now, 
Dwelt on his cheek and his noble brow; 
Age had yet left not a Mingle trace 
Larking in lines on bin beaming face. 
Loving and loved was this warrior chief— 
Cherished by one whose impassioned grief 
Stirred in her soul when she saw him lie 
Blooding and faint, and about to die. 
Clasping his neck in her tawny arms, 
Bravely she stood amid dread alarms, 
Soothing the pains of his anxious breast, 
Telling of joys in the warrior’s rest. 
“Go to tliy fathers, thou honored of earth! 
Dwell with the brave ones who saug at thy birth. 
Truly they spake of tbe praise thou wouldst win, 
Striving «ith lues in the batlle’a wild din. 
“Glory shaltcrown tbee, ar,d love shalt entwine, 
Faultier* and todeless a* e’er has been thine; 
Yootb shall adoro thee and age hold thee dear; 
Maidens caress thee and mothers revere. 
“ Go to thy fathers; for earth should not hold, 
Trammelled in fetterR, a spirit so bold; 
Flee to tbe isles of the far distant West, 
Enter the gates of the Kingdom of Heat. 
“ Only recall, in that world of thy bliss, 
Her who hath loved thee so dearly in this— 
Only remember tbe hour* we have passed 
Basking in pleasure too thrilling to lost. 
“ Go to tby fathers; hot think of tbe vow 
Long ago made me when health on tby brow 
Flushed in it* crimson, and light to thine eye 
Sparkled like dewdiops in rays of tbe sky. 
“ Then shall 1 know when I visit thy grave. 
O'er which tbe cypress its branches shall wave, 
Love, still iofl uning tills bosom of thluc, 
Burns yet as brightly as when it wag mine.” 
Lulled by the sound of her gentle breath, 
Calmly he waited the voice of Death, 
Then, as did Love o’er him vigil keep, 
Sank to the rest of his dreamless sleep. 
Harvard University, I860. 
-<-ML 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] ! * 0 
TWILIGHT MUSIHGS. A 
’Tig Evening. The Time-waves of another day 1111 -gf"gfp 
have rolled past, and now mingle with others, long L" SVyal vy^. Oyrs 
since gone into oblivion. Aye, but vhnt have -f* 'M 1 ' 
they hortip. “onward" upon their bosoms, as 
freightage, from the shores of Human Life and 
Thought Land. — _ 
Oue Star, the Poets “Lone Star of Even,”— [Written for Moore’a Rural New-Yorker.] 
Btands sentinel at the gates of Earth, which open THE WAY, THE LIFE. 
upon the way leading toward the other world, that - 
great unknown world. Here, perohance, the re- BT J Ay * 8 - 
cording Angels stay in their ascent, to take a last, Yba, I know what life is made of, 
mgering look npon earth, before entering the Sunny smilpa, then gloom appears; 
portals of Heaven with the history of man’s daily Dark, black clouds, we'er half afraid of, 
life work. Cheering thought! If there be but And life’s sunshine’s drowned in tears. 
one human soul yet unrepented of an impure ’Mid bright flowers entranced I wander 
thought, word, or deed, and the record stand While o’er earth Spring’* verdure fai; 
dark against the page, over which man does not °’ er tbeir graves, how sadly ponder, 
weep, let us hope, when we ace the angel tearB When appear their frosty palls, 
glisten in the brightness of that Star, that there I have seen, in youth's bright morning, 
is yet room for repentanoe, yet time to forsake Joyous hearts with pleasure beat, 
the evil, and learn the True, the Beautiful, and the Then death—a noiemn warning— 
Good. They lay lifeless at my feet 
Calm Eventide! Lovely hours! when quiet- Hence, I learn to value lightly 
ness seems to float gently over Nature,—when the Joy* tbat quickly pass away— 
broad bosom of earth heaves but slowly to the Hence, I learn to clasp more tightly 
ceaseless throb of active Life, coursing through Hopes that never can decay, 
her every vein. While our friends are ronnd us falling— 
Sweet hours! how like a healing halm ye come Yielding ’neath the embattled strife_ 
to the toiling and care-worm spirits of men. Hark! a voice is to ns calling, 
With whut a Holy Joy the heart feels and re- Lo! I am the Way, the Life, 
sponds to this season of rest. How gently the Strive, life’s pilgrim, strive to enter 
change comeB over the souk On tbe joys prepared for thee— 
All of Earth seems as if the breath of Time Let thy hopes but on Him center, 
waa for the hour suspended, that, living, thinking, Who ’ a raD80m ’ tii * <1 r,,r «>••• 
reasoning mortals, might have a little Bpace for On, then, on, the right poixalog, 
reflection, might have an hour for redeeming Until, freed from doubt and eara, 
retrospection. The crilug here finds opportunity tl3e bome Eaith nowuviewing, 
to repent of bis enure,— the angry one, to grow Thou a Crown of Life *h*Ii wear, 
calm, loving, and forgiving,— here the despond- PIainTiUe > Ono “. Co., n. Y.,i*ea. 
ing ones gather hope and courage for the future, --—-- 
the toil-worn get a foretaste of an endless rest, [Written for Moore’s Rare] f i.w-Yorker.] 
awaiting them in the end of time. Pure love and TRUST IN GOD FOR FUTU> 3 BLESSINGS 
wisdom hath thus kindly provided a season of ■ 
rest and lorgetfulness, for the toiling, struggling Probably nothing can be more pieaaing in the 
millions of earth. sight of God, than the spirit of trust in Him which 
Blessed hours! Would there was naught on is exercised by the faithful heart. One of the 
earth to mar the scene, as the Angel of Steep un- P riuci P al causes of a barren religions experience 
folds his wiDgs, and so sweetly, gently, lets fall the is the failure on tbe part of Christians to trust all 
curtains of night. H. Patrick, M, D. their interests to God, and to cast all their cares 
New Albany, Ind , 1860. upon Him who careth for them. The aoirif 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE WAY, THE LIFE. 
BY JAWS 8. M’CRKA. 
Yba, I know what life is made of, 
Sunny raailPA, then glo&m appears; 
Park, black cloud*, we’er half afraid of, 
And life’s sunshine’s drowned in tears. 
'Mid bright flowers entranced I wander, 
While o’er earth Spring’* Yerdnre falls; 
O’er their graves, how sadly ponder, 
When appear their frosty palls, 
I have eeen. in youth's bright morning, 
Joyous bearte with pleasure beat, 
Then came death—a solemn warning— 
They lay lifeless at my feet. 
Hence, I learn to value lightly 
Joys that quickly pans away— 
Hence, I learn to clasp more tightly 
Hopes that never Can decay. 
While oar friends are round us falling— 
Yielding ’neath the embattled strife— 
Hark! a voice is to ns culling, 
Lo! I am the Way, tho Lire. 
Strive, life’s pilgrim, strive to enter 
On tbe joys prepared for thee— 
Let thy hopes but on Him center, 
Who, a ransom, died for thee. 
Od, then, on, the right p amain g, 
Until, freed from doubt and cars, 
In the home Faith nowl»vi«wing, 
Thou a Crown of Life shalt -wear. 
Plainville, Onon, Co., N. Y,,l*eO. 
[Written for Moore’a Ratal t w-Yorker.] 
TRUST IN GOD FOR FUTU> 3 BLESSINGS. 
Probably nothing can he more pieaaing in the 
sight of God, than the spirit ot trust in Him which 
is exercised by the faithful heart. One of the 
principal causes of a barren religions experience 
irtsins of night. H. Patrick, M. D. their interests to God, und to cast all their cares 
New Albany, Ind , 1860. upon Him who careth for them. The spirit of 
-***-•-distrust is one of the principal things with which 
WHERE SHALL WE SLEEP 7 the y o,1 »g Christian has to battle. It cannot be 
..... otherwise than that the young Christian will be 
KbKL the daisies growing over me,” said the weak-the law of progression is the law of tbe 
40 miDgie tnus wllb -Nature in her sweetest conrajjid by the severity of the discipline to 
~ foriBB 01 h [ e » is aot to die; it i„ as the passing which God finds it needful to subject bfm in order 
-- of aoul tbrou 8 h “ vestibule of June’s own to dissipate from his mind eaily errors; and not 
[ Written for Moore’e Rural New-Yorker.] building, on to the inner gates of Paradise. having yet learned the lesson of trust in Christ 
NIAGARA IN THE SUMMER, . ( .° ^ * a,ted tbe air on the crimson wings he looks forth to coming ti re, and asks himself! 
- oi lire; to leave a little dust for token, in the hot- "Shall I be able to persevere?" Yes, young 
In tbe year 1840, for tbe first time T beheld the tom ul a ? urD ’ ,a aot ft W0aI 7 child at rest, Christian, if you trust in Christ with an uuwa > - 
great Fulls of Niagara. It waa in June, when C ' 0Be MJed ln the bosom of the Earth. To lie wavering faith, and remember that you cannot 
Nature wus clad in all her Rlory. Blossoma, flow- l>cu ‘ ”th a billowy maple on a hillside, green, and sustain yourself for a moment, you will be able to 
ers, and singing birds made the world upfiear like 6l 'P’J 3g t0 Hie sun, with birds singing in the persevere, and advance from strength to strength 
1 hmik'hK finri thr.iahnM fl.-w.rn.a • al . ...t.;i.. --. „4L _ .... * ' 
dying poet, and solemn yet beautiful was the true Christian experience. The young disciple 
tb £ Ught : . 4V _ „ . soon begins to feel his weakness, and is often dis- 
lu mingle thus with Nature in her sweetest conra^ by the severity of the di*Hhiir,« 
fast pines, and along the velvety margin of many the Family," has some beautiful thoughts on a 
a frisky burn, gleaming, picture-liko, among the dut y of the Church, which cannot b- too fre- 
sumraerlilieB. Very precious is the remembrance ‘Ineritly or too impressively inculcated. We quote 
of the welcome which I was wont to receive, as ont ’- aa Allows: 
with eager steps I hurried over the ancient Even in what arc called the dark ages, the time 
threshold and 6tood in the cheerful kitchen,- it °* monkish austerity and priestly sway, we see 
wurnis my heart even now. Aunt. Abby’s mourn glimpses of tender solicitude for childhood. In 
ful blue eyes lightened up like a lake at sunset, as tl,e Cathedral, that embodiment of the 
she greeted me with a foud word and a silent middle ages, the Holy Mother nnd her divine 
caress; and grandpa’s Bmile, as he lifted me to his child bc ‘ am u P on the worshiper from illuminated 
knee and stroked tho locks so like his Lucy’s ere missals and painted windows. There by the 
the silver of age had displaced their golden cm- altar the baptismal font; and tho child of 
brownment, wus very beautiful to me. the poorest peasant is recognized as a Is mb of 
[Written for Moore’e Rural New-Yorker.] 
NIAGARA IN THE SUMMER. 
ers, and singing birds made the world appear like p U1 ° Ban ’ ,vitl3 blr(ld 8 >ngtng in the persevere, and advance from strength to strength 
oue vast, panorama,—a lairy world, where rested L,HU ° hls acd thre8h o!d flowers soft tolling in the while your path will be "brighter and brighter 
the smile of heaven. Jt whs more pleasiug to me a "’ ’ S D ° uu i ,1<;UHant thought The fever of the unto the perfect day " 
then, for 1 had just emerged from tbe dense for- WOrld > B u11 P aat , its strifes all drifted over, even aa The blessed Savior lived his earthly life that our 
ests north of Toronto, where snow was still the c,0Dd lhwt ebeda a 8’adow on the spangled feet might be guided in the way of peace, and He 
heap, und pusses on forever. will never forsake those who put their trust in Him. 
. -v.^Mvwj ” “Viv DUU Vf 0.0 Dili 11 , , 
the poorest peasant is recognized as a Ismb of lingering amid those deep haunts of Nature's ,1Dd forever. 
Oh, the loved of “long ago!"—they may be re- 1,10 Gdod Sbe P ,, * rd . an(i received itiio IJia fold, solitude. 
. . * * Ytr Uni ....... 1 .9 ..Lit ] ■ . . 
placed by the friends of to day, but their fond ' Vllat would childhood have been in the dark 
tenderness has a swdt charm and a living glory | wHhcmt the church? What other power m i!,t Trese” high irTfiMCYdouds 111 ''Iwi dlsJn^ ha J e ^ tear that parting wrings from tremlE nUi, m of which should induce thee toTtrust 
about it which we vainly seek for now f ibe ,-arir I C0ll,d have st0 “ d between innocence and its __.... * ....... . Img Nature, lie like an imperishable jewel on the Christ? Hus he not. when thou host i.i_ 
To turn immoital with the Arctic touob, and Are there not some things iu thine own experi 
wear the senseless robe of winter for a shroud; e nce, even though it be a short one, the confide- 
to hilVP OlA t.t'Hf that rva.it -r.. . Ptiti/tn rwf -b.,..t J • j 
about it which we vainly 80 t*k for now; the early ( cou ^ ^ ave 8t ood between innocence and it a 
spring flower is over cherished more tenderly ^'mpter and destroyer? Who would have with- cheek of death, has little charm. To be let gently favor, bestowed richer blessings upon Vbee than 
than all the georceotiidv love) v blossoms that f„i. «°od Herod, if the mother heart of Chi-istianit.v ~e n. .. .. ... . . down,some pleasant summer’s niuht, into tho cleft thou hast dared to ask? Has h* u 
an imperishable jewel on the Christ? Has he not, when thou Last sought, bia 
than all the georgeomdy lovely blossoms that fol¬ 
low It. I Always regarded my grandfather’s 
dwelling with a deep respect, not unmingled with 
a slight tiugc of awe. Jt was of ancient date, 
and had stood in its lofty position on the eastern 
hili-tops, long years ere the thunders of the Revo¬ 
lution shook our beloved land. I dearly loved to 
stood Herod, if the mother heart of Christianity of (> 00 
I had withheld its gunrdiaBshlp? beneath 
Christianity is still the guardian of childhood, wa tei-s. 
for Herod still lives. His spirit, is still the spirit .. Th „ 
of the world—of the world's passion and its mnrP 
ot (ions power,—my sensibilities felt the earth 
beneath me vibrate under the tread of falling 
waters. 
" There is the Falls!'" said my guide, who was 
more anxious about tbe linings of my pockets 
than anyihing rise I might, possess. Sure enough, 
there it was! Gon’s thunder,—His eloquence, 
night, into tho cleft J 
dared to ask? Has he ever failed to 
hili-tops long years ere the thunders of the Revo- -nl.llbrm are al, around, to enough 
lut.on shook <mr beloved land. I dearly loved to 4 th e innocence and purity or the young! tbere it Wiw! Go|) , g thunder,-His eloquence 
hear the long and graphic stories which my a r H What serpents Hia majesty and powerI-Nature’s home of sub 
grandmother was wont to relate of this gloomy fttU0Dg tb ° fiower8of tbeirspring! of grandeur, of beauty. There the waten 
period, - of the eventful battle wherein two of J h ^ Chlld e ^ r nu0df ; ^-Hectton; Herod ever in frora the VJ8l llpper loJ - eR Jj do<vn in uia id , ntd 
my great nudes “bravely fought and nobly died,” foin Mg08 ’ Christianity, like a maternal fury-down on their way to the St. Lawrence-aud 
willingly laying down their lives for their conn- heart ' nccds ever to kee P the waves hurrying to the edge, lea,, away iu air 
try, though they bad traveled the great life--—- a^d arise in clouds like a gauze over tbe sublime 
journey but a little while, and their feet were not THE BRIGHT SIDE face of Nature. The snowy foam lay frora shore 
weary nor their eyes dim. How my cheek paled to shore like drifted snow, and at‘times rolled 
and my lip quivered, as she told, with a voice _. Look the bright side. It is the right side, into columns whirled nn aim,, o.* 
sweet os a falling fountain, of the time of doubt The times ma y b8 hard, but it will make them no 
and terror in the later war, when the crowded easier by wearfog a gloomy and sad countenance, 
barges of the hostile frigate “Tenedos" appeared II ia tlie aanshine and not the cloud that makes 
in the peaceful harbor of Fair Haven, and many tb e flower. There is al waysthat before or around 
of the frightened inhabitants took refuge in tbe 118 wb ich should cheer and till the heart with 
boundless forests skirting the hills, and one good wa rmth. The sky is blue ten times where it is 
lady went to so far as to build her a tent of black once. You have troubles, it may be. So 
boughs in a sequestered spot, intending to make have others. None are free from them. Perhaps 
her abode there until the removal of the foe! is 113 well that none should be. They give sinew 
iuuifc.v, in granuetir, oi oeauiy. mere the waters 
from the vast tipper lakes roll down in ma-.idened 
fury—down on tbeir way to the St. Lawrence—and 
the waves hurrying to the edge, leap away iu air, 
and arise in clouds like a gauze over the sublime 
face of Nature. The snowy foam lay from shore 
to shore like drifted snow, and at times rolled 
into columns whirled np along the ragged edges 
of the rocks over-hanging both sides of the river. 
The 6hore8 are wet, the trees are wet, the ground 
is damp, the cedar and hemlock wave their 
branches in the cool air. 
For ages these waters have worn the trembling 
rocks away, the “Table Rock," and the large 
masses of stony matter which lie on each side, 
once were a part of the hard strata which still 
crystal of a Ink., to one’s lust sleep, would not be *««tain thee in the path of life for a single day? 
to bid the light “ good by." For there, aa in tb 3 Remember, a thousand years are but as a day in 
lower fpheri- of the. finished heatm, the form should R' 8 si gbt, and giving or withholding can neither 
lie, among the doubles of the store, and the shim- impoverish nor enrich Him whose good pleasure 
mering ot the moon. The dawn should redden to give thee the kingdom. Courage, Chi-is- 
there, and the great sun move quenchless through tbu *' Though thy path may be a rough one, and 
the waters; it would not be beyond the flight of tb y tender feet may often he wounded by the 
day, that burial place, and yet below the storm cruel thorn, rejoice in the assurance that God 
that wrecks both sea and sky. will give thee strength to overcome everv obsta- 
that wrecks both sea and sky. will give thee strength to overcome every obsta- 
And yet there is a quiet charm in that close c i® in thy way, and through the lights and 
fellowship with Nature on the shore, as so simply shadows of earth will 1«. d thee to Himself. 
told by Landor, a long time ago: 
“ The place where soon I think to lie, 
In its old creviced nook hard by, THE EMPTY CUP 
Rears many a weed: 
If parties bring you there, will you T _ 
Drop slyly in a gram or two . you were , to see a man endeavoring all hia 
Of wall-flower &eed?” satisfy bia thirst by holding an empty cup 
u I shall not see it, aiid, too sure, I to his mouth, you would certainly despise his ig- 
1 shall not even hear that your norance; but if you should see others of finer nn- 
Light step was there. derstandings, ridiculing the dull satisfaction of 
Bat the rich odor, some fine day, one cup, and thinking to satisfy their thirst bv a 
" w !" ie " “ f 2 “ 4 «•“« -r*. -u,d 
y° u thlDfe tha t these were even the wiser, or 
tt r ^ **"* happier, or better employed; ban the obfect nf 
Homk Life- Even as the sunbeam is composed their contempt? Now thU s ell the diflerence 
millions of TDinnfP Mto »Kn Knmn Ufa V.„ ^ UlUCiCUCc 
Wadham B ’ Mills, N. Y., 1860. 
Ellath. 
In the Library at Mount Prospect were many an <* tone to life—fortitude and courage to man. ° vt ” hiing3 bll °w tbe trees. The falling waters Home Life.— Even as the sunbeam is composed their contempt? Now this a m * Ct ° f 
tall mahogany bookcases, filled with latin classics, That wonld be a dull sea, and the sailor would ash aw<i > n ® w as Jbey did a thousand years-ago, of millions of minute rays, the home life must be that you can see in the varirr-fr,™ n 
Vitgil'a a„d Horaca-a,— and I toow ao. «„a, *««*.« .UII, there „ M LZT S ZZ » f ““>• tehhereeseee, ,„„ ks . Mng J“ 
beside. They had been the property of one of my turb the snrlaoe of the ocean. It is the duty of ' ® A *1 S ll ding in the car of sublimity sweet laughter, gentle words, loving counsels; it Let the wit the great scholar th* 
Uncles who rlieil VOllTlir. hnf. not nmil nrAr, UVerV nriA to ovtrftof nil eV.A. u y 0 nnto destruction. must not he like the torch-blaze of nainmi __ .... 1 ° great 80 °* ar > tb e fine genius. 
uncles who died young, but not until he had won ever y one to extract all the happiness and enjoy 
the reputation of being a “book-learned man.” >oent he can without and within him, and above 
There were also many other works, magazines, a11 be should look on the bright side of things 
e to extract all the happiness and enjoy- mus ; ^ tbe torch-blaze of natural excite- the great statesman, the pol^ geoUeman 8 
can without and within him, and above There la a httle boy ’ abont five years old > draw * ment ’ whlch 18 ea91,y fl uen °bed, but like the se- all their schemes and they can onlvT- 
ould look on the bright side of thinea. 1Dg an °y 8ter she!1 Wllb a and its burden reae, chastened light which burns as safely in the more and varinna ' __ ® 
poems and histories, that occupied me when my What though things do look a little dark? The °^ Bl0Ue8 ’ rawing it along the edge of a foaming dry east wind as in the stillest atmosphere. Let ness. Give them 
visit chanced to be in the winter, but in summer Iana will turn, and the night will end iu broad carreD '’ tw0 6t<, P 9 from tbe precipice and death— each bear the other’s burden the while—let each let them cut and 
the great aitractiou was tbe garden. Ttiis little day. In the long run the great balance rights a11 ahsorbed in hisimaginaiy caravan—his horses cultivate the mutual confidence, which is a gift only make a gre 
spotof ground,—Aunt Abey’s care and pride,—lay itself. What is ill becomes well; what is wrong, “bis children—hia goods. How like some peo- capable of increase and improvement —and soon search as deep°an 
beneath the parlor windows and in the time of right. Men are not made to hang down either P le> 80 ful1 materialism. Nothing that is grand it will be found that kindliness will spring up on nothing here to b 
blossoms was very beautiful,—a mass of delicate heads or lips; and those who do, only show that and ^nothing tDat is beautiful and sublime ever y si dc. displacing constitutional unsuitabili- than hieh eatinc 
more and various empty appearances of happi¬ 
ness. Give them all the world into their hands, 
rieiy oi empty cups; for 
s far as you will, there is 
that is nobler or greater 
blossoms was very beautiful,—a mass of delicate beads or lips; and those who do. only show that a “ d luft y- DOtb >ug tDat is beautiful and sublime every side, displacing constitutional unsuitabili- than high eatiD" and drinkinc er or gr ® ater 
colors. Dahlias, clothed in queenly magnifi- they are departing from the paths of true common- ia NatQre or can ever excite them. “Eyes ty, want of mutual knowledge, even as we have and human applause unless vou’lonW 
cence; Sweet-Peas, glowingin etherialloveliness; sense and right There is more virtue in one sun- have they ’ but see flot ’ atld ear3 ’ but bear not ” 8een 8weet viole,s and P ,imro ses dispelling the wisdom and laws of’religion 1Q ^ 
the, delicate deep tinted vases of the Climbing beam than a whole hemisphere of cloud and Ttiey gn ’ pe ia darknesa you, while you feed gloom of the gray sea-rocks. Reader, reflect upon the vanitv of all wh u 
Convolvulus; gleam-like Nasturtions, and Pinks gloom. Therefore, we repeat look on the bright y ® Ur 80ul ,D the light of Goi,!8 beaut ^ and « lor y- -^- without godliness, that you may be earnest at A 
of many colors, all mingled lovingly together, side of things. Cultivate whatis warm and genial Tbf -y 8t »™ ia the midst of pleoly,—they never Eloijubncb.—T he highest platform of eloquence throne of grace, to be turned from the n at f the 
and filled the summer with fragrance. Ah, me! —not the cold and repulsive, the dark and morose 8tmJe - fur R’ 8 sin with them. Give me the man is the moral sentiment. It is what is called affir and seek for happiness in the Creator Th 
those were happy days, so calm and bright, and The Iron Duke was right. Don’t neglect your whose heart is like a roae * bud . w hich, when the mative truth, and has the property of iovigorat- est Christian who lives noon Oh™t La P00r ' 
property ot iovigorat- est Christian who lives upon Christ, and walks in 
the fair New England sky that beut above my na- duty; lookto the bright side; live down prejudice. morning 800 ariae8 in hia majesty and glory, ing the hearer; and it conveys a bint of our daily fellowship with God U haonier th» the 
tive hills wa3 placid as the Atlantic waters in their ----- opens itself to drink immortality as the dew of eternity, when he feels himself addressed on richest worldling. Indeed,’anch onl h v 
deepest calm. The skies liuve clouded since, and Man may err, and be forgiven; but poor woman beaveu ' T c - grounds that will remain when everything else is —Bogatzky. ° ‘yare appj. 
stormv winds have dashed the waters, and manv wiih »n r... t.o ’ Geneva, N. Y., i860, taken, and which have no trap* nf time *.»■ ‘ _ 
Man may err, and be forgiven; but poor woman, 
stormy winds have dashed the waters, and many with all his temptation and but half his strength’ 
an island of hope and beauty, larger and fairer is placed beyond the hope of earthly salvation, if 
than Atlantis of old, has been submerged beneath she but once be tempted into crime, 
the waves of time and sorrow. Grandpa sleeps_____ 
in the quiet church-yard with the sirength and The greatest gluttons are those who feed npon 
loveliness of many generations; and many of his slander. I 
- Bogatzky . 
Geneva, n.y.,18 0 o. taken, and which have no trace of time, or place, -—. _ 
n 7 .* * V T or party. Everthying hostile is stricken down in That flower which follows ann dn+L 
Fictions are revelations not of truth, for they the presence of the sentiments; their majesty is even in cloudy days- when it lnth lt t 
z t ■ b “‘ ° f ,i “ i hich ,he mui ’" n8s fe “ “»* 3 5 fonb. i.,« f „iL,s 
to be true; they are mirrors not of actual human ---^__ of it So , hp snnl t . " ,aaeacon T s - and motion 
experience, but of human dreams and aspirations Yon may depend upon it that he is a good man that course when he hide^^e ^contenUn 
of the eternal desires of the heart whose intimate friends »re «n «n .. .... . b f ee ~ w content 111 
whose intimate friends are all good. 
all conditions and events. 
