you wili either have to break yourself of them 
some day, or carry them to your home. And 
I can assure you no nice young muu would select 
such a girl for a permanent house-keeper. 
Port Huron, Mich, 180S. B’amnt Fro yd 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SOWING AND REAPING. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
REMEMBER ME. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
at dusk. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LET US BEAUTIFY OUR HOMES 
BY MARIA M. JONES 
On 1 tell me if—when 1 am pillowed la Death, 
When his pale seal l« set on my brow— 
When lost is iny feverish, flickering breath, 
Yon will think of mo ldrdly as uow ? 
I ask thee not often to mention my name, 
Not often to think of my bier; 
But when I'm remembered.—oh, bear me the sume 
Foud affection you've given me here’ 
When the heart beat of hope in its ctv<k,i is dead, 
And the life, leaping pulse is at rest 
The silver cbOttl loosed, and my languishing head 
Dropping low on the pale monarch’s breast 
When l quietly sleep 'ueiii.i the turf’s tel Vot green. 
From the world’s witehing haunts far away— 
Oh! sometimes recall what we are, and have been, 
And love me as well as today 
I ask for no fonder affection to breathe 
Its tribute with sympathy's tear, 
No blossoms of beauty my pillow lo wreathe 
Tlwn the ones you have culled for me here 
And when, in the future, a hallowed spell 
From the past o'er thy spirit shall come, 
Will memory whisper yon love me as well 
As when I was w ith you at home’ 
Bethany, N Y-,' 1868 Molli k 
Lo! morning's ushering stars arise, 
In orient fair clouds serene, 
And darkness shunned from oil' the skies, 
Leaves victor day's bright silv’ry beam 1 
And whore the moon looked coldly down, 
Who vigils through the darkness kept, 
Now morning tinges with a crown 
Which rivals hues where twilight slept 
The bird, the first to stiv the beam, 
With joyous notes sprung from her nest; 
The flowers, wakened from night's dream, 
Now rock their crowns on th’ Zephyr's breast! 
So Nature quickly springs to life. 
Athwart the dullness of the night— 
Back from her ealni Into her strife, 
From light to darkness, then to light! 
Ye who are on the road to fame. 
Oh! heed thl - lesson and the song, 
"Tis not a breath—No I not a name, 
For which you toll so slow and long! 
The darkness of the night is deep, 
Tlie daylight’s beaming long and slow, 
Yet still, your watchful vigils keep, 
Watch still wM faith for morning’s glow 
Place firm one hand In God’s on high, 
And sow the Utile seed with care, 
There ever lives a watchful eye— 
A love that still will watch it there, 
Oh’ weep not at life’s cheerless lot, 
Nor murmur that thy path is straight, 
Thine is reward which all have not, 
The end is Heaven’s golden gate 1 
Webster, Michigan, 1S6-1 
Ti mu for the bright bine eyes to close 
And the fringed lids to fall, 
For the evening breeze, with rustling sound, 
Creeps through the grasses tall; 
Time for the rosy lips to breathe 
The tender, sweet good night, 
So happy Sleep 
My baby keep. 
Till sunny morning light 
Time for the little feet to pause 
In their tread, eo fairy light. 
Time for the little hands to fold 
O’er the robe, so dainty white; 
Time for our little ope to rust 
In quiet, peaceful Bleep; 
Good angels, care 
For baby fair, 
Your trust securely keep 
Philadelphia, Pa., 180.'! 
Bk.vutiky your home. Plant trees, plant 
vines,- plant flowers. Though it is but a little 
brown bouse, il‘ there are trees grouped about 
it, vines creeping up its rough sides, flowers 
growing plentifully around, it is a place ol 
beau tv.' Don't think money or time wasted 
that is spent in beautifying your home. Here 
are gathered together your heart treasures. 
Here you come for rest when weary. Hero you 
retire when jostled too rudely l»y this rough 
world,—w hen sickened with its selfishness and 
deceit.—for hero are love, anti truth, and sympa¬ 
thy. Can too much pains be taken to beautify’ a 
spot to you so dear—so entirely your own. 
Judging by the majority of country places, I 
will imagine wliat your home is now. A thrifty- 
looking place,—a white, clean looking house,—a 
back-ground of outbuildings, a little square yard 
in front, a bunch of pansies, a pair of lilac 
bushes, an old maple somewhere in some comer, 
—that is all. As good as'your neighbors, you 
wili say. and you are satisfied. Now I wish 
c,.w'.-.n 1.1 in ftwav with this as-gOt.xl-a.T- 
and remark among themselves that ‘Mho Squire i 
makes a thunderin’ better committee-man than 
he docs farmer." And w hen they read of him 
in their agricultural journal—if they lake one—, 
as a progressive, and successful agriculturist, they 
laugh a little in their sleeves in a quiet way. and 
conceive, T am afraid, the same unfortunate 
distrust of the farm journal, which we all enter¬ 
tain— of the political ones. Yet the Squire is 
as innocent of all deception, and of all ill-intent 
in the matter, as he is of thrift in Ids farming. 
Whoever brings to so practical a business the 
ambition to astonish by the enormity ot his 
crops, at whatever cost, is unwittingly doing 
discredit to those laws of economy, which alone 
justify and commend the craft to the thoroughly 
earnest worker. 
THEN AND NOW—NASAL AND BROGUE. 
I think it Is well to remember the good old 
times—find contrast them with the present, that 
perchance we may not arrogate to ourselves too 
great a degree of progress; or that we may then 
better appreciate w hat we now possess or enjoy. 
To this end I copy Mitchell's felicitous por¬ 
traits of Nasal and llrogue: 
‘•There lived some twenty or thirty years ago, 
in New England, a race of men, American boro, 
aud who, having gone through a two winters’ 
course of district school ciphering and reading, 
with cropped tow heads, became the most inde¬ 
fatigable and ingenious of farm workers. Then 
hoeing was a sleight of hand; they r could make 
an ox yoke.’ or an ax helve, on rainey days; 
by adroit manipulation they could relieve a 
choking cow, or as deftly hive a swarm of 
been. Thoir furrows, indeed, were not of 
the straighte-st, but their control of a long 
Written for tlie Rural New-Yorker. 
hints to school girls 
penuriops-iooking, square uvm 
Lh “just like all the neighbors." Inclose In your 
yard all the ground you can conveniently spare, 
then fill it with shrubbery, lilacs, syringa. 
snowballs,—such as can be had almost any w here 
for the asking. Get some vine, and train it over 
the portico. Let vines creep and cling around 
every door, and tie them up till they “ look in at 
the highest, window.” Plant roses by the win¬ 
dows, by the. doors. Buy three or four of the 
beautiful climbing roses, and train them over 
rude arches,—set in here and there among the 
slirubb ry bunches of peonies, lilies, etc.,—hardy 
flower that thrive without much care,— then, 
in some choice spot, make two at least, large 
flower beds—border them round with pinks, or 
polyanthus, or dwarf lilies, and till them with 
annuals and choice plants. Around the back¬ 
door sat maples and willows,—at the side of the 
house, evergreens, balsams or cedars. Make a 
rougli frame over the well, and set a grape-vine 
to run ov er it. Along the roadside, too, plant 
settle upon the white carpet so daintily thrown 
over the faded earth, as if to hide it from our 
Yiew until it can appear in a more beautiful 
garb. While sitting here so coziiy all alone, 
looking dreamily out of the window, my mind 
wanders back to the winters that are past, 
when I bore the sweet name of student, and par¬ 
ticipated in all the pleasures, anxieties and dis¬ 
appointments accompanying this period of our 
lives. Remembering the many trials and temp¬ 
tations to which young girls are subjected on 
leaving home, and the influence ol' a kind and 
loving mother, to go forth among strangers, I 
thought it would not be amiss to drop a few 
words of friendly advice to such as have already 
commenced their course. 
The first and most important consideration, 
after being thrown into a promiscuous crowd 
of schoolmates, is to select those whom you 
wish for your associates. In doing this, remem¬ 
ber that a good and beautiful heart is often hid 
beneath a homely exterior. We arc all too 
liable to judge by the dress. Many a poor stu¬ 
dent has been slighted merely because dressed 
in.plaiu, simple, or, perhaps, odd garments; or 
thc.y may not have bud tlie benefit, of the most 
genteel society , and appear awkward. If these 
are their only faultfe, if they are induktrio^, at¬ 
tentive, and always come to the cIass witUigood 
lessons, they are just the ones whom you must 
select among vour friends, and endeavor to en¬ 
courage and assist. ' 
If you are oid enough to go to school—of course 
you ought to know what you go for. Far too 
many arc unmindful of the value of their time, 
and throw it. away upon the many amusements 
brought forth by the idle heads that care noth¬ 
ing for education, and attend school only because 
it is fasliionable. Beware of all such waste of 
time. Take care of the minutes and the days 
will take care of themselves, and you, too, for you 
will get through with perfect lessons and a cheer¬ 
ful heart. 
Another important but very much neglected 
matter, is 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
I AM GOING HOME, 
A fkw more weeks, a few more weary days 
and restless nights, a few more sun-risings and 
settings, then the last lesson will be learned aud 
recited, the last counsel given, the last good-bye 
received, aud J shall go home. Home, to a 
father’s approving smile and a mother’s clasping 
arms; home to mingle in the society of manly 
brothers and gentle, confiding sisters: home to 
all the happiness anil eudcarments of the fireside 
circle. And w hat matter though that home be 
a homely one. though tte walls be unadorned 
with magnificent paintings and heavy tapestry. 
Wliat though Die floor be uncarpetod, though no 
costly viands grace our table and far-brought 
luxuries tempt our appetites ? It matters not so 
long as there arc sunny smiles, kindly words and 
loving tones—so long as there be warm hearts, 
and ready hands, and willing feet — so long as 
those I love are gathered there. 
I am going home. I know that at the thought 
the bloom deepens on my cheek, that my din; 
eyes grow brighter, my step uiyie mastic* iyo.1 
tin; Mood hound* more joyously through my 
veins. 
Is it always thus? We are all teachers and 
scholars in the school of life, but soon the last task 
will be completed, our life-book closed, and the 
Great Teacher will summon us home. Home to 
the “many mansions" in our “Father’s house” 
—home to walk in the company of the “just 
made perfect’’—to see our Savior as he is. and 
bathe forever “ in tiie light of his countenance.” 
And does the knowledge of this fact fill us with 
the same joy and happiness as would a visit to 
I our earthly home? Does it strengthen us anew. 
The farm-hunter, after deciding the place | 
“ inadmissible, upon the whole, as a desirable 
place on which to test the economies of a quiet 
farm-life,” uttere the following paragraph of 
good sense: « 
“ I can conceive of nothing so shocking to a ! 
hearty lover of the Country as to live in the 
glare of another man’s architectural taste. In | 
the city or the town. < here -uv conventional laws 1 
of building, estabUslI'xl l.y ouWom and by limi¬ 
tations of space, to f h ie^. abi must in a huge 
measure conform; llit with tac width ot broad 
acres around one, I should chafe as much at 
living in the pretentious house of another man’s j 
ordering and building, as 1 should chafe at. living 
in another man’s coat. Country architecture 
wljpse simplicity or rudeness is so far subordi¬ 
nated to the main features of the landscape as not j 
to provoke special mention, may be any man s 
building; but wherever the house becomes the 
salient feature of the place, and challenge criti¬ 
cism by an engrossing importance as compared 
with its usual surroundings, then it must be in 
agreement with the task 1 - and character of its 
occupant, or it is a pretentious falsehood.” 
MIL TAI.LWKKD. 
And here is a portrait which will be recog¬ 
nized. lie Marvel says,—"There are not a 
few entertaining people of the citiesyvho imagine 
that a farm of one or two hundred acres hw a 
way of managing itself; and that it works out 
crops and cuttle from time to time very much as 
small beer works into a foamy ripeness, by a law 
of its own necessity.” 
Tk Marvel wishes with all his heart it were 
true, but assorts that it is not. And he illus¬ 
trates how stumbling blocks are thrown in the 
way of agricultural progress, by the introduc¬ 
tion of his friend Mr. T.u.lwked, who. after 
accumulating a fortune in the city, is disposed 
to put on the dignity of country pursuits and 
advance the interests of agriculture. 
He purchases a valuable place, builds his villa, 
plants, refits, exhausts architectural resources in 
Ills outbuildings, all under the advice of a shrewd 
Scotchman recommended by Tiiorblrn. and 
can presently make >uob a show ot dainty cattle 
and of mammoth vegetables as excites the stare 
of the neighborhood and leads to his enrollment 
among the dignitaries of the County Society. 
But the neighbors who stare have their oeea- 
it.li the canny Scot, from whom they 
of dewy herdn^nv*!** made 4 old-country-men 
stare. BJr a kind of intuition, they knew the 
locality of every tree and of every medicinal herb 
that grow In the woods. Rarest of all which 
they |losseased. was an acuteness of understand¬ 
ing which enabled them to comprehend an 
order before it was half uttered, and to meet oc¬ 
casional and unforeseen difficulties with a steady 
assurance, as if t hey had been an accepted part 
of the problem. It was possible to send such a 
man into a wood with his team, to select a stick 
of timber of chestnut or oak that should measure 
a given amount; lie could be trusted to find such 
—to cut it*, to score it, to load it;\if the gearing 
broke he could be trusted to mend it; if the tree 
lodged, he could be trusted to devise some arti¬ 
fice for bringing it down; and finally,—for its 
sure and prompt delivery at the. point indicated. 
regularity of habits. “A tune for 
every thing, and every thing in its time,” is of 
no less consequence in keeping order, than “a 
place for every thing and every thing in its 
place.” As soon as you know what recitations 
you are to have, appoint a certain time for the 
study of each lesson. Thus you will al ways be 
in readiness when the recitation hour arrives. 
On returning from school, it will take but very 
little longer to carefully place your books upon 
the shelf or table, than to throw them down, 
promiscuously to be piled up at some other period. 
By doing in-this way. and managing every thing 
else accordingly, you will be surprised to see 
what au easy task it is to keep your room Lu 
order. 
Regularity of diet is very important to those 
who wish to keep a healthy stomach and clear 
brain. To sit with a book in one hand- and a 
piece of pie. cake or apple in the other, is very 
poor food for the brain when you want to study. 
Your hours for eating should be so arranged as 
to allow at least one hour’s recreation,- more is 
better,—before ;igaio calling the blood to the 
brain, as Is required in study. 
Of equal importance with diet is ventilation. 
These cold nights, it does seem rather hard that 
we ear.' not shut up uli the doors and windows, 
and make our room air-tight to keep out the cold; 
but pure air'was made to breathe, and while 
there Is such an abundance of it out-of-doors, it 
seems absurd to bolt It all out, aud breathe what 
has become poisoned by having been used once. 
Then, don’t be afraid of the cold. You need 
not open your window and allow the cold blast 
to blow direct upon you; this would be injuri¬ 
ous, but it etui be lowered a lew inches from the 
top, letting in pure air and permitting the escape 
of the impure. 
Last, hut not least, keep your rooms neat. 
Remember you are uow laying the foundation 
of your future lives. A good Habit Is more 
easily formed than a bau one broken, and if you 
get into careless habits, such as leaving a pile of 
dishes unwashed, a bed unmade, the floor un- 
swepl, ft comb full of hair lying on the stand, 
your dress hanging on one chair, your apron on 
another, your shoes and stockings in the middle 
of the floor, and varioua other disorderly trickb, 
DEVOTION TO CHRIS’ 
Nothing great or valuable is accomplished in 
this world, save under the influence or a master 
purpose or passion. The master passion of the 
true Christian is devotion to Christ. He need 
not wonder at his cold, comfortles-, inefficient 
slate while his bosom is unvisited with a thrill 
of this devotion. He need not inquire about 
creeds, church-organizations, benevolent socie¬ 
ties as means of good; or suggest, improvements 
in their machinery, while selfishness • .ill largely 
reigns in his heart. Tt will be in vain. A 
divided heart accomplishes nothing by a show 
of affection. YVe must give up our idolatry. 
We must be prepared for a true self-surrender. 
Having, for the most part, passed the earlier, 
indistinct, and somewhat deceiving raptures of 
the young Christian’s self-surrender, let us 
calmly, sacramentally, consciously, give our¬ 
selves to Christ. Let us make no reservations. 
Let it* fall at llis cross, glad to be there ou any 
terms. Let us at least prayerfully, humbly, 
endeavor to make the great offering, and advance 
U step nearer to the stature of perfect, men in 
Christ Jesus. The improved tone of piety will 
he evinced in the greater measure of success 
vouchsafed to the Gospel.—Am. rrvstbyUv'Uin. 
What makes those men who associate habitu¬ 
ally with women superior to others? What 
makes the woman who la accustomed and at ease 
in the society of men superior to her sex In 
general ? Solely because they are in the habit of 
free, graceful, continued conversation with the 
Other sex. Women In this way lose their 
frivolity, their faculties awaken, their delicacies 
and peculiarities unfold all their beauty and 
captivation in the spirit of intellectual rivalry. 
And the men loose their pedantic, rude manner, 
declamatory c-r sullen manner. The coin of the 
understanding and the heart, is changed contin¬ 
ually. Their asperities arc rubbed off, their 
better materials polished and brightened, and 
their richness, like fine gold, is wrought into 
new, finer workmanship by the fingers of women 
than it ever could ho by those of men. The iron 
and stool of their character are hidden, like the 
harness and armor of a giant, in studs and knots 
of gold and precious stones, when they are not 
wanted in actual warfare,— Joseph V. Nieal 
WHAT WE MAY DO 
sional cliatw 
learn Hint the expenses or the business arc “gay No 1 
large;” they pa.- a side wink from one to the tained 
other as they look at the Vaulted cellars aud the hopefi 
cumbersome machinery; they remark quietly knowl 
that, the multitude of improvements does not J soul-yi 
forbid the employment of a multitude of farm j Forth 
“hands:” they shake their heads ominously at j lie sin 
the extraordinary purchases of grain; they sembb 
observe that the pot calves are n„ually indulged t-huiex 
with a wet nurse, in the sliape of some raw- i kindly 
honed native row, bought specially to add to the j to see 
resources of the fine-blooded dam; and with j posses 
these tilings on their minds they reflect. If j if safe 
the results are largo, it. seems to them that the may h 
means are still more extraordinary; il they labor 
wonder at the size of the crops, they ponder j care v 
still more at the liberality of the expenditure; it j A kin 
seems to them, after llill comparison of notes w ith I unoxy 
the “brow” rioot, that even their own dinted i often 
crops would show a better balance sheet for the laokin 
farm. It appears to them that if premium crops Those 
and straight-backed animals can only be had by less C 
such prodigious appliances of men and money, waith 
that fine farming is not a profession to grow rich b\m. 
AfimotioNB serve to quicken our pace in the 
way to our rest. ’Twore well if more love would 
prevail with us, and that we were rathov drawn 
to heaven than driven. But seeing our hearts 
are so bail, that mercy pill not do it, it is better 
to be put on with the sharpest scourge, than 
loiter, like the foolish virgins, till the door u 
shut.— iknkr. 
To store our me monos with a sense of injuries, 
Ls to fill that chest with rusty iron which was 
made for refined gold. 
f v is the most momentous question a woman is 
ever called on to decide, whether the faults of the 
man she loves will drag her down, or whether 
she Ls competent to be his earthly redeemer 
