hospital SKETCHES.-NO. II. 
Mils’ fifprtmmt 
Written for Moore’s Rnral New-Yorker. 
HOME ON FURLOUGH. 
BY KATE WOODLAND. 
Lighter and quicker the young wife walks; 
More and more constant the little one talks; 
Firelight 8nd lamplight their ruddiest glow, 
Over the walls of the home-room throw- 
All that will please him is doing and done; 
To night the husband and father will come, 
Home on furlough. 
The lovelight beams from the mother’s eye, 
As the wocks, and days, and hours go by; 
And she thinks of her dtirling coming to rest 
His weary bead on his molher’B breast. 
The time seems brief since he nestled there, 
Yet now lie is coining, with manhood’s care, > 
Home on furlough. 
Sisters their soldier brother greet, 
Friends and neighbors with pleasure meet, 
And the maiden breathes in her lover's ear, 
The few sweet words that he loves to hear; 
Thinking meanwhile of the days to come, 
When he, whom she loves, will again come home, 
Without furlough. 
Alas, oh alas I for the loved and dear, 
Of those who sleep on n Southern bier' 
In vain for them are the lamps lit. bright, 
And the slippers and chair by the fire at night. 
In vain do their stricken spirits mourn, 
For the brave and gallant who nc-cr return, 
Even oh furlough. 
Father of Nations! Oil hasten, we pray, 
The rosy dawn of (bat glorious day 
When our beautiful country, united, shall stand 
The pride and delight of each nation and land; 
When strife between brothers forever phall cease, 
And the soldier return to his fireside in peace, 
Without furlough. 
And yet, wo are all upon .furlough here; 
And the Captain above, as the time draws near 
And our furloughs expire, will summon ns all 
To His grand review at the trumpet’s call: 
Ah ! sad will it be for all who must say, 
“I have Idly and wickedly wasted away 
My lift'furlough.” 
Van Bnreu Co., Mich., 1801 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE HOOP SKIRT. 
Fashion kills more women than toil and sorrow. 
f&calpel. 
Tt is a wonder that men and women endowed 
with the noble faculty of reason, have so little 
gratitude for the good gift, that they can carry it 
a willing sacrifice to their worse than heathen 
goddess. Better might they hide it in the 
ground, than give it to support the wanton de¬ 
stroyer of their race. 
I feel “moved ” to speak a contradictory opin¬ 
ion to that- of the editor of the Hcalpel, expressed 
in an article recently published in the Rural, 
on the benign blessings of the modern hooped 
skirt. Hut I do not intend to apply to him all 1 
have written above, in retaliation for saying 
“.No sensible person can fail to appreciate its 
benefit to the young gild or woman." 
If I am entitled to the doubtful compliment, 
I will bear the honor meekly, but it shall not 
restrain me from confessing that 1 do fail to sec 
what he has so happily discovered. Perhaps it 
is all in consequence of not seeing the matter in 
& “professionallight; hut mine is the “ light 
of experience.” which is quite sufficient to ena¬ 
ble me to judge of Its health-giving properties 
to my own satisfaction. Of its artistic ones, it 
is hard telling who is able to judge. The word 
artistic applied to woman’s dress, lias such an 
India-rubber signification, that it may be one 
thing, or its opposite, according as it is looked 
upon by persons who consider the consistency 
of adaptation to natural requirements, or by those 
who merely take a fancy to the article, or the 
lady who wears it. Fashion so changes our 
aesthetic taste into prejudicial notions, that it is 
nearly Impossible for us to toll whether we judge 
from the true or an artificial standard. Howev¬ 
er it may be with myself, evidently it is not 
fashion that has formed my notions in regard to 
the hoop skirt, one of which is, that (ion de¬ 
signed for woman a “skeleton,'’ and I cannot 
rid myself of the idea that Ho must have con¬ 
sidered it quite sufficient for her needs; and we 
might reasonably expect it to be au “admirably 
artistic and health-giving device,” but Fashion 
and her devotees have denied it the former 
property, and after sacrificing the latter through 
persevering ages, to make some appearance of 
its possession, till, discouraged of ever arriving 
at any permanently satisfactory result., they 
have at last compromised the difficulty with the 
Divine Artist, by doing the best they can with 
shaping a portion of His production so as not to 
shock too severely the refined sensibilities of hu¬ 
manity, and have disguised the remainder of it 
by hiding it within a now device, modeled after 
the most artistic designs of a Cooper's shop. 
After such a nice adjustment of things, gentle¬ 
men win) are intensely susceptible to the Influ¬ 
ences of the beautiful in nature and art, may 
well be distressed at any indications of the 
abandonment of their perfected ideal, which is 
doubtless appreciated not only because It embod¬ 
ies the most, symmetrical proportions in its pas¬ 
sive state, but is capable of changing iuto ever- 
varying artistic'figures: such as those assumed 
in ascending high places and descending to lower 
ones, in entering carriages, sitting down in arm 
chairs, and especially in arising therefrom, in 
walking In the dew, dust, mud, rain and snow- 
in short, iu being conformable to the demands of 
any emergency. 
Woman, without her second skeleton, has no 
more dignity than a wilted cabbage leaf. It 
gives her an air of majestic stillness, so fascina¬ 
ting in a moving object; enabling her to rival 
the gracefulness of the mud-turtle; besides, it. 
increases her capacity to carry fantastic adorn¬ 
ments, which is such a commendable way of 
disposing of wealth in a country over-burdened 
with prosperity and comfort. 
In regard to health, the editor merits the 
thanks of woman for his candid and instructive 
reasoning, but he makes compromises with her 
folfies and weaknesses, instead of advising her 
to forsake them altogether, that she may secure 
the fullest measure of the blessings of health. 
He first inscribes himself within a circle whose 
circumference he dare not, or will not. over-step, 
and then does the best, lie can within his limits. 
If he had taken for his theorem, The hoop skirt 
is injurious, and ought to be abandoned, he 
would have had some excellent arguments for a 
demonstration. 
I was not aware that "its end is to insure the 
unrestricted use of the limbs in walking” (why 
not add in skating also.) If it has such preten¬ 
sions it is a decided humbug, for everybody has 
learned that that liberty is not attainable while 
there is one with insight; and most especially is 
it true of the person whose every step is meas¬ 
ured by a boundary which suggests, “ thus far 
shalt thou go and no further.’’ If it is meant to 
insure the use of them to itself, it is a very per¬ 
tinent remark, and includes both hands, of 
course. Its “benefit to the young girl” in 
climbing trees and fences, and doing all other 
necessary romping, has. probably, some signifi¬ 
cation not at first apparent. 
It is thought to be more healthful than the old 
style of wearing heavy skirts, but I have heard 
eminent physicians pronounce it even more in¬ 
jurious; confining a body of cold air about the 
lower portions of t he body, causing unequal cir¬ 
culation, and consequent congestions of the or¬ 
gans in the upper portion. Hut it is not so very 
light a load for a delicate woman to carry thirty 
metal hoops, and as many yards of doth, for a 
genteel covering, which must be so long as not 
to expose the feet, or it is offensive to good taste, 
suggesting a lack in the accomplishment of an 
intended deception. It is more pleasing to fash¬ 
ionable taste to drag it a few inches or more. 
Really. I don’t see how a physician, or any 
other ‘ sensible person,” can fail to see that, 
crinoline, with its train of evils, is injurious to 
health, to temper, to the free development of 
mind as well as body, and a monstrous distortion 
of the beauty of the human form. 
There is a demand for earnest discussion in 
regard to the momentous question, wherewithal 
shall we be clothed? and we arc always obliged 
to gentlemen for taking an interest in our wel¬ 
fare; but It will be better, if they will please 
remember in their advice, that what would be 
poison to them is not likely to be healthful food 
for us; and they need not fear t o speak contrary 
to t he mandates of Fashion, for potent as she 
is with our vain sex, their admiration is ten 
times more so. Faith Wayne. 
Barre, Orleans Co., N. Y., 1884. 
GOSSIPPY PARAGRAPHS. 
— It is said the beautiful Marquise Pori a, a 
lady equally well known in Italy and France, 
has just died at the age of twenty, from a dis¬ 
ease brought on by constantly having flowers in 
her rooms. We should like to know if doctors 
can agree on this subject? It is annually assert¬ 
ed that plants and flowers in a room are no inju¬ 
ry to the health of persons occupying them; 
and as often and as positively asserted that they 
are. 
— Some writer furnishes the following impor¬ 
tant information:—“So long as woman inspires 
love, she is not old. Hut, what is it to be old? 
It does not depend on the fact that we have ex¬ 
isted during a certain mysterious number of 
years which have been allotted to each of us. 
To be old, Is to have no longer a beauty of 
charm. If a woman preserves the attractions 
of youth until she reaches the age of one hun¬ 
dred. she will be younger than the woman of 
twenty who has lost them.” 
— The great families of Russia have conceived 
rather a pretty idea, which has become the 
Muscovite mode, and might lie, perhaps, import¬ 
ed with advantages—this is to present to the vis¬ 
itors to their country residences a souvenir of 
the sojourn, an allium which contains a photo¬ 
graphic illustration of the happy days they spent 
photographs of the personages who formed 
the society, of the mansion, the sights and 
scenes, the stables, the horses, the principal ep¬ 
isodes and events during the aristocratic villegi- 
atura. Of course this would necessitate the 
constant attendance of a photographist, and that 
every event Of the stay should be arranged with 
a view' to photographing. In the middle of 
diunci, just as the glass is raised, and the fork 
carrying the morsel to the mouth, the host would 
exclaim, “Attention! A s you are for an Instant! 
Photographer, make ready .'—present! photo¬ 
graph.” 
— Somebody believes in hazel-eyed women, 
and asserts that “'a hazel eye inspires at first a 
Platonic sentiment, which gradually but surely 
expands into love as securely founded as the 
Rock of Gibraltar. A woman with a hazel eye 
never slopes from her husband, never chats 
scandal, never sacrifices her husband’s comfort 
to her own, never finds fault, never talks too 
much or too little, always is an entertaining, in¬ 
tellectual, agreeable, and lovely creature.” “We 
never knew,” says a brother editor, “but one 
uninteresting, unauiiable woman with a hazel 
eye, and she bad a nose which looked, as the 
Yankee says, ‘like the little end of nothing 
w hittled down to a point.’ ” The gray is a sign 
of shrewdness and talent; great thinkers and 
captains have it. In woman it indicates a better 
head than heart. The dark hazel is noble in its 
significance, as well us in its beauty. The eye 
is amiable, and may bo feeble; the black—take 
care! 
Truth.— Colton says the greatest friend of 
’Truth is Time; her greatest enemy is prejudice; 
and her constant companion is humility. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
FIRELIGHT FANCIES. 
BY CI.IO STANLEY. 
Sweet, sweet firelight fancies! 
When the bright, flame dances merrily to and fro! 
And within the shadow of the crimson clow, 
Watch wc for the olden faces of the Long Ago! 
Rare, sweet firelight fancies! 
When the golden lenends of the youthful heart 
Into real meaning and fruition start, 
Seeming ever after of onr altered life a part. 
Sweet, swent firelight, fancies! 
When familiar voices breathe our names again, 
And wc listen with a gladness that is almost pain; 
Oil! the strange, sad difference between the now and 
then! 
Rare, sweet, firelight fancies! 
How wc walch the blaze until it dies away, 
And the darkness gathers to entomb the day, 
While we sit within the glimmer of the last, faint ray. 
Sweet, sweet firelight fancies! 
The book of memory seems to open in the dark, 
Lighted by the flushes of that latest spark, 
And on Us leaves, the talc of other days and years I 
mark. 
Rare, stveet firelight fauciea! 
Leave your mystic shadows on my brain to-night, 
Weave amid the darkness your spells of holy light. 
Oh! woo me back those early days when life was calm 
and bright! 
Philadelphia, Pa., 1804. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MUSICAL PERFORMERS. 
DY JULIE SAVAGE. 
Music embodies, not ideas, but feelings. It 
awakens, not distinct conceptions, but indefinite, 
shapeless impressions. One strain carries us 
backward through the haze of indistinct memo¬ 
ries, and awakens those dim feelings that 
M -resemble sorrow only 
As the mist resembles rain.” 
Another bears us upward on a surging sea of 
sound into those cloudy regions where glory 
dwells and shines, 
“Beyond the mighty moons that wane 
Upon the verge of Nature’s nttnost sphere, 
Till I he world's shadowy walls arc past aud disappear. ” 
As the springs of these feelings are deeper 
and their action more subtle than are the 
sources and working of ideas, then to create and 
combine those harmonies which lift us out of 
time aud teach us to tread the shadowy paths of 
infinity, must require a great artist 
To express tender, mournful or sacred senti¬ 
ments in pleasing aud harmonious strains which 
touch the heart or exhilarate the feelings, though 
requiring no genius, requires some talent, and 
he who successfully does this wc may consider 
a clever man. The man who skillfully'renders 
these melodies for us. who translates them from 
written characters into sound, is a good me¬ 
chanic. 
Let us not confound the artisan with the 
artist. He is not the genius who brings us great 
thoughts from an unknown tongue, and clothes 
them in the familiar garb of our own language; 
neither is he the sculptor who chisels in marble 
a copy of the clay which lias grown to shape in 
the hands of the master. Precisely similar is 
the office of the mere musical performer; it 
requires skill, like any kind of handiwork 
merely mechanical, a skill to attain which de¬ 
mands patience, perseverance, perhaps, but not 
talent. 
We often, and generally, have a dim idea that 
musical skill indicates a kind of talent in its 
possessor, and, on account of this notion, jve 
often yield our musical taste to him. If a cabi¬ 
net maker should offer us a chair which was 
vainly endeavoring to support its center of 
gravity on three legs, we would not accept it 
because he understands the business better than 
we and is a better judge of furniture. Neither 
should we surrender our sense of harmony, 
much less our ideas of what is fitting in devo¬ 
tional melody, to our artisans. 
That musical taste and musical skill are by no 
means always found in union is proved by the 
want of taste and adaptation so frequently 
shown by musical circles in selections for per¬ 
formances. Complexity is used where sim¬ 
plicity is needed, and onr devotions are startled 
with the most fantastic, combinations of sound, 
seemingly arranged more l'or the purpose of dis¬ 
playing the various powers of the performers 
than with any idea of making the sound of the 
music correspond to the sense of the words. 
tt may be said that a cultivated musical taste 
is necessary to the appreciation of the more 
intricate melodies. This is, doubtless, true. 
But since the effect of music must be instant¬ 
aneous, since the mass of bearers are, and must 
necessarily be, without this super-cultivation, 
and since it it is the very nature of the art to 
appeal, not to reason, but. to blind feelings, wc 
may demand that our musical purveyors shall 
reserve these grotesquerks for the private use of 
the cultivated, and give us what suits our sense 
of fitness, harmony and beauty. 
-♦! * 
NOW AND THEN. 
We had but a humble home, 
With few and simple joys, 
Bat. my father’s aiep was proud mid firm, 
And my brothers were laughing boys. 
We have mueh that we longed for then, 
Our hearth Is brood and bright; 
But my brothers now are saddened men, 
And my father’s air is while. 
[PhoOe Cary. 
—-■ 
Love is an alliance of Friendship and Lust; 
if the former predominate, it is a passion exalt- 
ed and refined, but if the latter, gross and sensual. 
— Colton, 
ADMITTANCE OF PATIENTS. 
As the most of our patients come from Nash¬ 
ville, at present, they do not arrive until late 
in the evening, say from six to nine o’clock. 
They are brought from the depot in umbulances, 
holding ten men each. On their arrival they 
are assigned to the different wards by loads. 
Here tbey are assigned beds by the nurses, and 
their names. Company, Regiment and Host 
office address, taken for record in the hospital 
books. Then all who are able to walk are taken 
to the bath house, and thoroughly washed and 
provided with clean under-clothes. If any are 
not able to go to the bath house they are washed 
in the wards. By this time we have their 
supper on tho table, and they march in order to 
the dining ball, and partake of a good warm 
supper. It is then taps, or after, and all have 
to retire and keep still. “Taps,” or lights out, 
are at half-past weight in winter, and nine o’clock 
in summer. 
At the head of each bed is a tin case, and 
when a patient enters, a card Is slipped in it, on 
which is written his name. Company, Regiment, 
disease, date of admittance, and on leaving, the 
date of death or of discharge. On the back of 
this card is also written the different articles of 
clothing in his possession, and the Post Office 
address of his friends at home. All the extra 
clothing is then put in his knapsack, marked, 
and put in the baggage-room, which is kept 
carefully locked. In these vooms there are 
separate boxes for each bed, so t hat it is almost 
impossible for anything to get mixed or lost. 
If a patient has to keep his bed all the time all 
his clothing is taken away. Every patient that 
is able, is required to keep his own bud in order, 
and clean bis own spittoon. The healthiest 
ones are also required to help clean up (police) 
outside of tho wards. 
At six, A. M., aud eight, P. M., roll-call is 
held iu :dl of the wards, and all absentees noted. 
If a man is gone three days ho is marked us a 
deserter . Surgeons, each of whom have one 
hundred men, make their visits to the wards at 
nine, A. 31., and three, I*. 31. At the morning 
call every patient ha? to be at his bed. Each 
bed is numbered and the number of the bed is 
put on tho prescription, so that every man is 
sure to got. his own medicine. A surgeon is to 
be on hand in five minutes notice if he is needed. 
As you see, so far as medical eare is concerned, 
it is better here than at home. 
The most we need is the home influence, and 
the pleasant smiles of a mother, wife, sister or 
lover. I. P. Bates. 
Brown U. S. Hospital, Louisville, Ky. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
READING FOR “OUR SOLDIER BOYS.” 
1 have just received a letter from one of our 
soldier boys, and will extract the following:— 
“Judge of my surprise and pleasure, dear sis¬ 
ter. upon receiving a package from you, aud 
finding inclosed a Rural. And don’t, fail to 
send them whenever It Is convenient for you, 
for it is as * balm to a wounded heart.’ We get 
no news here in ‘Old Kent tick’ except the Cin¬ 
cinnati 'rimes; but we all prefer the Rural, it 
seems more like receiving a lettpr from home.” 
Now, l hope there is not one among the 
Rural readers that will fail to send those 
“ absent, but never forgotten, soldier boys,” if 
not the Rural, some other good old family 
paper that will remind (hem of “Home, sweet 
Home.” Something that will serve to while 
away tho dull, inactive hours of camp life, and 
still keep fresh in their minds the friends they 
have left behind, and the many good instruc¬ 
tions they have received from those home 
friends — something they will protit by and 
remember in the future as one step toward 
heaven. “ What has been done can bo done 
again." And many a poor soldier lad who has 
been pining away with home sickness, has sud¬ 
denly been entered upon the convalescent list, 
with no other restorative than “ something good 
to read from home.” This invaluable medicine 
is usually unfailing in the euro of that disease, 
and will sometimes effect a cure when all other 
means have failed. And it is within the reach 
of all. So do not let us permit a single week to 
pass without sending them something to read.' 
Brady, Mich. 31ns. M. F. Hootsel. 
LEISURE. 
Leisure is never so- enjoyable as when it 
Contes unexpectedly, like the visit of a long 
absent friend. And to be s\\ eel it must, be short. 
Too much of it palls upon the appetite. Luxu¬ 
rious as a warm bath, it is also as enervating. 
He who finds himself suddenly possessed of 
leisure in great plenty, will do well to dispose of 
the bulk of it as soon ns possible by setting him¬ 
self seriously to do. Systematized activity is 
one of the best preservatives against “dull care.” 
Leisure is but a sauce of life, which helps to 
make work more palatable anil digestible—the 
one apart from the others soon becomes disgus¬ 
ting. Men of leisure, as they arc called, arc 
most commonly restless, fidgety and unhappy 
men—the kindest thing which can be done to 
them is to deprive them, if possible, by book or 
crook, of the greater part of their leisure. At 
first sight, it does not seem so, but a very short 
experience will prove that it is so. Much leis¬ 
ure infers the absence of a purpose—and life 
without a purpose is a perpetual burden. 
Let all men know this, and keep it in mind 
always, that a single, narrowest, simplest duty 
steadily practiced day after day, does more to 
support, and may do more to enlighten the soul 
of the doer, than a course Of moral philosophy 
taught by a tongue, with a soul compounded of 
Bacon, Shakspeare, Homer, Demosthenes and 
Burke, to say nothing of Socrates and Plato and 
Aristotle, could inspire. —John Wilson. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
AFTER SUNSET. 
Down the high steep of heaven’s bright arch 
* The sttn has just descended, 
And laid him in the sepulchre 
That never shall 1>o rended. 
Above, his rest a pall is spread, 
And where bis banners rallied, 
His vuoant throne is shrouded o'er 
With dreary clouds and pallid 
My ann of life has snuk iu death, 
And curtains gray and ashen 
Shut round the vacant throne where flamed 
The Bun-bright clouds of passion. 
But as his last faint footsteps fade, 
And heaven’s arch grows dimmer, 
I know that through that darkening pall 
Tho light of stars shall glimmer. 
I know that though that gorgeous sun 
Has set. in night forever, 
A starlight, still and calm and strong 
Shall guide my late endeavor 
And so T wait—and through the dusk 
My tired eyas upraising, 
Watch till the first faint point of light 
Shall greet their patient gazing. 
Rochester, 3Iarch, IS64. Vashti. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PARENTS TO THEIR SON. 
The following was written on the fly leaf of 
a pocket Bible, and presented by a father to his 
sou, a lad of IT. who had enlisted in Reynolds’ 
Battery, and was about leaving home to join the 
army: 
3Iy son. hear the instruction of thy father, 
(Prov. 1;8.) 3ty son, if sinners entice thee, con¬ 
sent thou not, (Prov. 1:10.) If they say come 
witli us, (Prov. 1:11,) my son, walk not thou 
in the way with them, refrain thy foot from 
their path, (Prov. 1:15,) for their feet run to 
evil, (Prov. 1 :lfi.) The Lord is far from the 
wicked, but He heareth the prayer of the right¬ 
eous, (Prov. 15:29.) Let not thine heart euvy 
sinners; but be thou iu the fear of the Lord 
all the day long, (Prov. 28:17.) 31y son, fear 
thou the Lord, (Pro y. 24:21.) Though a sin¬ 
ner do evil a hundred times, and his days be 
prolonged, yet surely I know that It shall be 
well with them that fear God, which fear be¬ 
fore Him, (Ece. 8:12.) Like as a father pitieth 
his children, so the Lord pitieth them that 
fear Him, Ps. 10.1:13.) The Lord is nigh unto all 
them that, call upon Ilim, to all that call upon 
Him in truth, (Ps. 145:18.) Draw nigh to God 
and no will draw nigh to you, (Isa. 4:8») 3iy 
son, be wise, and make my heart glad, (Prov. 
27:11.) 
The following inscription was written by his 
mother at the same time, following the above 
on the blank leaves of his pocket Bible, which 
he took with hi nit 
My son, keep thy father’s commandment, and 
forsake not the law of thy mother. Bind them 
continually upon thine heart, and tie them about 
thy neck. When thou gocst it shall lead thee; 
when thou (deepest it shall keep thee; and when 
thou awakest it shall talk with thee, (Prov. G: 
20, 21, 22. Seek yo the Lord while He maybe 
found, call ye upon Him while Ho is near. Let 
the wicked forsake his way, and the unright¬ 
eous man his thoughts, and let him return unto 
the Lord, and lie will have mercy upon him, 
and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon, 
(Isa. 55:0, 7.) 
Ynrick, Seneca Co., N. Y., Feb. 186-1. 
Conscience.— Henry Ward Beecher says:— 
“ We say it in a whisper, not to be overheard 
by the stern faculty of which we speak, Con¬ 
science is not select nor wise in choosing its com¬ 
pany! The world would die without it. If 
Conscience would only fail in love with Benev¬ 
olence, and go always in its company. But it 
walks out with Willfulness, with Combative¬ 
ness, with Self-Conceit, so often, that all their 
faults uro apt to be charged to its account, and 
with some reason. And so it cornea to pass that, 
in assemblies of men Conscience is apt to produce 
turmoil, and obstinacy, and contention, for it 
lends itself to bad advisor*, and uses its authority 
to put into law the dispositions ol pride and 
conceit. 
Like’s Phases.—A Christian’s life is laid in 
the loom of time to a pattern which he does not 
see, but God does; and his heart is a shuttle. 
On one side of tho loom is sorrow, and on the 
other side is joy: and the shuttle, struck alter¬ 
nately by each, (lies back and forth, carrying the 
thread, which is white or black, as the pattern 
needs; and in the end, when God shall lilt up 
the finished garment, and all its changing lutes 
shall glance out, It will then appear that the 
deep and dark colors were as needful to beauty 
as the bright and high colors. 
The Outer Tkm elk. We don’t wonder that 
men enter venerable churches with awe; that 
the altar checks their levity; that the solemn pic¬ 
tures and mute symbols give sacred instruction 
to sensitive natures. But we do wonder that 
the great Outer Temple, and Us altars, and sen¬ 
tences, and symbols, and carvings, and paintings, 
untouched by human fingers, aud close linked 
in association with the hand and mind of God, 
should draw so little attention and win so little 
feeling.— 11. W. Beecher. 
■■ — - 
Religion, Wadsworth has told us the law of 
his own mind, the fulfillment of which has en¬ 
abled him to reveal a new world ol poetry:— 
“Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop 
than when we soar.” That it is so, likewise, in 
religion, wc are assured by those most comfort¬ 
able words, “Except ye become as little chil¬ 
dren, ye shall not enter into tho kingdom of 
heaven.”— Hare. 
