more valuable to us than the mines of Peru. 
Everything we have valued in our journey 
through life, all our happy days and hours, our 
struggles and triumphs, our joys and friendships, 
are stored away in thos'e ample rooms. All the 
beautiful scenes we have ever beheld adorn the 
walls. There, too, are the absehtand the dead, 
whose footsteps echo softly along the passages, 
and whose voices make music through the halls. 
No wonder that we sometimes withdraw from 
this narrow, tempestuous gulf which we oall 
the present, with its unrest and care, its tur¬ 
moil and strife, and turn from the mocking 
future, now glittering with brilliant illusions, 
and now foreboding anguish and gloom, yet all 
untried and unknown —to breathe the faint 
odors that perfume the evergreen shore, while 
the murmur of the rippling waters fulls upon 
our wearied spirits soothingly as the mother’s 
lullaby upon the tired infant. No wonder that 
we turn away with feelings like those with 
which the sea-worn mariner turns from the 
restlessness ami perils or the deep to the com¬ 
fort and security of his home. 
Sun Prairie, Wis., 1SC5-J. Rachkt. Roberts. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
OUTSIDE THE FOLD. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOSPITAL SCENES.* 
matte YOUR HOME BEAUTIFUL. 
BY BKBTIK. 
BY BLIJ5A COOK 
BY MARGARET ELLIOTT. 
Halting, just, before the gateway, 
Through whose molten hare of light 
Streams the glory, rich and radiant, 
From tbc throne so purely white. 
Listening to the distant echoes, 
Rolling from the harps of gold, 
Waiting for thy bidding, Muster, 
Take me, Loud, w ithin tby fold. 
Standing where the sands, so golden, 
Glimmer on the shores of Time, 
While before me lies the pathway 
Which my wearied feet must climb. 
Looking hack wh^rogleam the waters, 
Dark and sullen, gre.v and cold, 
Looking on, wlmra rest, awaits me, 
Take me, LORD, within the fold. 
Through the gateway, still the glory 
Floods Urn way with amber light, 
And within, the throne eternal 
Greets my longing, longing sight. 
There the sen of glass is gleaming; 
Every ripple flecked with gold; 
Jesus, come, ’lia dark and dreary, 
Take me, T<ortu, within the fold. 
Mnst I linger longer. Master? 
Hasten, for the tide comes in, 
Shall it bear tne on its bosom 
Back unto the realms of sin? 
Dark the sky and steep the pathway, 
And the night wind's breath is cold, 
Waiting,' stand I, wailing for thee, 
Take me. Lord, within the fold. 
Rochester, N. Y., 1864. 
Make your home beautiful—bring to it flowers; 
Plant them around you to bud and to bloom; 
Let them give life to your loneliest hours; 
Let them bring light to enliven your gloom; 
Make your own world—one that nover has sorrowed,— 
Of music, and sunshine, and gold summer air; 
A home-world whose forehead care never has furrowed. 
And whose Cheek of bright beauty shall ever bo fair. 
Make your home beautiful-weave round its portals 
Wreaths of the jessamine, and delicate sprays 
Of red-fruited woodbine, with joyrol immortals, 
That blesses and brightens wherever it strays: 
Gather the blossoms, too—one little flower,— 
Varied verbenas, or sweet mignonette, 
Still may bring bloom to your desolate bower, 
Still may be something to love and to pet 
Make your home beautiful —gather the roses 
That hoard up the sunshiue noth exquisite art; 
Perchance they may pour, as your dread darkness closes, 
That soft summer sunshine down iuto your heart! 
If you can do so, O l make it an Eden 
Of beauty and gladness—remember T tls wise; 
’Twill teacli you to long for that home you are needing, 
That, heaven of beauty beyond the blue skies. 
Make your home beautiful—sure 'tis a duty 
Call up your little ones; teach them to walk 
Hand-and-hand with the wandering angel of beauty; 
Encourage their spirits with nature to talk. 
Gather Ihem round you, and lot them be learning 
Lessons that drop from the delicate wings 
Of the bird and the butterfly—over returning 
To Him who has made all these beautiful things. 
Make home a hive; where all bcatifhl feelings 
Cluster like bees, and their honey-dew bring: 
Make it a temple of holy revealings, 
And love its bright angel with “ shadowy wing.” 
Then shall it be, when arar on life’s billow, 
Wherever your tempest-tost children are flung, 
They will long for the shades of the home weeping 
willow, 
An d sing the Bweet song which their mother had sung. 
As I wandered back ahd forward 'mong our brave onos 
tom and rent. 
Speaking words of hope and comfort, as one whom the 
Loud had sent 
To His martyrs strong and faithful, saw I one, with 
look intent, 
List'ning to each word I nttered; as I turned lie grasped 
my baud. 
“Chaplain,'’ said he, smiling brightly, “I belong to 
Christ's command, 
And I’m marching slowly onward to that far-off, better 
land. 
“And, before T went to battle, knelt I calmly on the 
sod, 
And gave np both soul and body to the guardianship of 
God. 
Now my soul doth rest, securely, on the promise of 
His word. 
“But my mother’s coming to me! How I long for her 
dear face! 
Ah the hours will pass but slowly till I rest in her em¬ 
brace, 
’Till her loving care enlightens, glorifies this weary 
place.” 
And when I hear some sturdy farmer refuse 
to assist in preparing even a small plat of ground 
in which to sow a few seeds, saying that “it can 
be made better use of than to sow it to posy 
seeds,” I think ono might with just as much 
propriety refuse to cook his diuner, as lie could 
not possibly miss the meal any more than many 
women do miss the sight of a pretty flower bed, 
which they may he led to covet, by seeing one 
which a neighbor may have. One docs not feel 
very well rewarded when they meet with so 
little encouragement from their friends. 1 hough 
these arc hut trifling things to he thought of, 
they illustrate the spirit that too generally pre¬ 
vails ill regard to the cultivation of flowers. 
But it is worth while to cultivate them, were 
no one but. our Individual selves benefited there¬ 
by; for there are hut few women who would 
not he vastly benefited, both in miiul and body, 
were they to occupy an hour or two each day, 
during the summer season, working in the gar¬ 
den. It takes one’s thoughts from grosser cares 
and perplexities; for there is something so ex¬ 
hilarating to the mind, in watching the growth 
and development of flowers; and there is scarce¬ 
ly any one whose eye is not attracted by gay 
colors. Then, why not learn to observe and ad¬ 
mire them, in the varied hues of the lovely 
gems with which an All-wise Being has adorned 
the earth? Why is it not commendable to do 
more than is generally done towards increasing 
a taste for flowers? Why may not communities 
learn to consider a fine flower garden as a valu¬ 
able attachment to their homes? 
I agree with Mrs. A. M. M., of Eagle Harbor, 
in thinking that little girls and hoys should he 
taught to loro and cultivate flowers; and I wish 
something might he done to induce young ladies 
to be more in favor of cultivating them, them¬ 
selves, and of .devoting more of their leisure 
hours to this accomplishment. I think wlien 
such a variety of seeds can be obtained of Mr. 
Vick, and so much information about how to 
manage annuals, and oilier plant*, can he found 
in the RURAL, that none need he destitute of 
flowers with which to make hoqnets for their 
tables, for their friends, or for a display at the 
Fairs, which almost every one attends. I am 
anxiously awaiting for Mrs. A. M. M.’s next 
article about flowers, as I hope to learn some¬ 
thing therefrom. 
With many good wishes to all who intend to 
enter the “ Spring Campaign,” I will close. 
TRUE NOBLENESS. 
Ali. science and all art of life may be divided 
into that which is subservient to life, and that 
which is tho object of iU As subservient to 
life, or practical, their results aro, in the com¬ 
mon sense of the word, useful. As the object 
of life, or theoretic, (bey are, in the common 
sense, useless; and yet tho step between practi¬ 
cal and theoretic science is tho step between the 
miner and the geologist, the apothecary and the 
chemist; and the step between practical and 
theoretic art is that between the bricklayer and 
the architect, between the plumber and llie 
artist; and this is a step allowed on all hands to 
he from less to greater; so that the so-called 
useless part of each profession docs, by the 
authoritative and right instinct of mankind, 
assume the superior and more noble place. 
Whatever part of any pursuit ministers to the 
bodily comforts, and admits of material uses, is 
ignoble, and whatsoever part is addressed to the 
mind osly, is noble. Geology does better in re- 
clotliiug dry bones and revealing lost creations 
than in tracing veins of lead and beds of iron; 
astronomy better in opening to us the houses of 
heaven than in teaching navigation; surgery 
better in Investigating organization tbau in set¬ 
ting limbs; only it is ordained that, for our en¬ 
couragement, every step we make in science 
adds something to its practical applicabilities; 
and that all the great phenomena of nature, the 
knowledge of which is desired by the angels 
only, by us partly, as it reveals to further vision 
the Being and the glory of Him in whom they 
rejoice and we live, dispenses such kind influ¬ 
ences and so much of material blessing as to be 
joyfully felt by all inferior creatures, and to be 
desired by them with such single desire as the 
imperfection of their nature may admit.— Bus¬ 
kin. 
As the hour* went on to midnight, quietly the soldier 
slept; 
While around his weary pillow anxious hearts their 
vigils kept, 
But between them, gliding softly to tils bedside, Az 
raeb crept. 
And again T stood beside him, and with solemn voice, 
and low, 
Told him how I had been praying for a soul about, 
to go. 
“Oh, poor fellow!” said he faintly, “is it any onel 
know?” 
“ Yes,” I said, my tears overflowing, “ you have known 
him long and well!” 
And my silence, and my sorrow, told him more than 
words could tell— 
All at once the truth flashed o’er him, breaking Hope’s 
delusive, spell. 
“Am I dying? Oh, my mother! Not to see her face 
again!” 
From the eyes of stalwart soldiers, tears fell like the 
ant.mnn rain, 
As tho strong soul shook and trembled in its agony of 
pain- 
“ Christ is better than a mother.” Scarcely was that 
dear name heard, 
WheD the strengthened soul, victorious, pressed a 
strong and hopeful word 
From the lips that paled and stiffened at the coming 
of the Lord. 
And the struggle straightway ended—and his face, se¬ 
renely bright, 
And clear eyes in whose ctflm radiance shone a more 
than earthly light, 
Showed that, in his soul, God’s glory had eclipsed 
death’s gathering night. 
“ Tell my mother that I’ve waited for her coming, long¬ 
ing sore;— 
That, though I've always loved her, now I love her ten¬ 
fold more. 
All the dear ones, my heart's treasures, dearer seem 
than e’er before. 
“Tell my father that this glory should ontbalance all 
regret— 
They who died to win our freedom, in their country's 
heart live yet. 
He who dies to hold their free gift, in the same high 
place is set. 
“ Tell my comrades not to falter, but, with God’s grace 
to press on, 
And to show to all the nations the undoing of this 
wrong; 
And to lift np His free people, held in bondagasore 
and long.” 
Smiling still, he sank in slumber, and from slumber 
into life, 
Life that knows no bitter ending—knows no weariness 
or strife, 
Life eternal, Life celestial, Life with Him “ in whom is 
Lire.” 
• These lines were suggested liy nn incident putdlshed 
in the N. Y. Obfcrvcr the tlrst wlnPr of the war. It 
was one of the saddest, most touching events of this 
GROWTH OF THE MORAL SENSE OF LIFE* 
We are prone to imagine that our Temptar 
tious aro peculiar; that other hearts are free 
from secret burdens that oppress our energies 
and cast a cloud upon our joy; that Life bus for 
others a freer movement, and a less embarrassed 
way. But in no one lias God made the human 
heart to carol its thoughtless song of joy; and 
the shadow of our moral being rests darkly ou 
us all. We can not take the world as it comes* 
enjoying wbat it offers, and passing by its suffer¬ 
ings and its burdens with our lightest touch; we 
get involved in the deep questions of Con¬ 
science and Duty, and the sense of Responsi¬ 
bility stills the carol of the spirit, and suffers no 
man to repose without trouble on the bosom of 
Life. 
Infinite aro tho ways in which the devices and 
aims of the Moral Nature break the instinctive 
happiness that lives for the day, and forgets the 
morrow: but effectually this awakening or 
deeper and sadder life takes place in all; and 
struggle, fear, disappointment, the partial feel¬ 
ing of an unfilled Destiny, the restless wavings 
of uncertain Hopes, are in the heart of every 
man who has risen but a step above the animal 
life. The more wc know of what passes in the 
minds of others, the more our friends disclose to 
us their secret consciousness, the more do we 
learn that no man is peculiar in his moral expe- 
r i ence _that beneath the smoothest surface of 
outward life lie deep cares of the heart—and 
that, if we fall under our burdens, we fall be¬ 
neath the temptations that are common to man, 
the existence of which others as little suspect 
in us as we do in them. We have hut the trials 
that are incident to humanity; there is nothing 
peculiar In our case—and wo must take up our 
burdens in faith of heart that, if we are earnest 
and trifle not with temptation, God will support 
us, as, in the past fidelity of His providence, He 
has supported others as heavily laden as our¬ 
selves.—>/. II. Thorn. 
Written for Moore’s Rural Nevr-Yorker. 
SOMETHING ABOUT FLOWERS. 
While looking out to-day upon the cold, gray 
sky, and falling snow-flakes, and contrasting this 
with the mild spring days which we had last 
week, I am reminded of the resolve which I 
made then, while anticipating the approach of 
the season for gardening, which was that I 
would write something for the Rural concern¬ 
ing my experience in flower gardening, although 
it has been quite limited. But I will venture to 
add my “mite” since you have given the lady 
readers this privilege, and I take so much inter¬ 
est in flowers, that I can not resist the oppor¬ 
tunity. I have been very much interested in 
what has been published in the Rural for u few 
years past about gardening, and am willing to 
do whatever I can to inspire others to become 
familiar with what, to me, is the most healthful, 
pleasing, and soul-elevating recreation that a 
woman can engage in out of doors. Not but 
there is real labor in it, yet it is so pleasing and 
agreeable a task to me, that I shall never deprive 
myself of the pleasures that I obtain by engag¬ 
ing in it, 
I have been a lover of flowers from childhood, 
and have spent hours in searching for the sweet 
tiny blossoms that deck the woods and hill-sides, 
and have many times mourned over the faded 
leaves and withered buds of some plant which 1 
had removed from its. native wood soil to the 
uncongenial earth in my garden beds. And, in 
later years, I have experienced equal disappoint¬ 
ment, when, after giving some favorite plant all 
the care and attention which my limited expe¬ 
rience could command, it must wither and die, 
and all for the want of a little practical know¬ 
ledge of flower gardening. It is discouraging to 
receive no better reward for our labor, but 
experience is a good teacher, and if all who 
once commence to cultivate flowers will have 
patience,end work diligently, they will be amply 
rewarded in various ways. One may meet with 
many discouragements at first, such as being 
reminded by one’s friends that “it is a waste of 
time,” and that one’s mind can he bettor em¬ 
ployed and their strength devoted to a better 
purpose. Undoubtedly, many women who are 
otherwise considered persons of good taste, will 
even ridicule tbc idea of one’s being so persever¬ 
ing and enthusiastic as to do more towards ornu- 
meuting their yards than to plant a hunch of 
Peonies, a Lilac bash or two, a Cinnamon Rose 
bush here, and a Damask Rose there, varied by a 
hunch of “Corn Lilies” in this corner of the 
fence, and a Snowdrop bush in the other. One 
may perhaps venture to plant a patch of Pinks in 
addition, and sow a few Bachelor Buttons, or set 
some Morning Glories to climbing a string, so as 
to reach the tops of the kitchen windows with¬ 
out being thought very wasteful of time. And 
all these time-honored flowers which we have 
seen flourishing in our grandmother’s gardens 
are much to be esteemed. 
But the idea of going here and there to buy, 
exchange, or receive as a gift, a few of the many 
choice varieties of shrubs, seeds and plants with 
which the floral kingdom abounds, is, in the esti¬ 
mation of many people, “positively foolish;” 
and is looked upon, by not a few with genuiuo 
contempt. And then some person of an envious 
disposition, who has not the time to spend that 
others have, may watch your gardening opera¬ 
tions with an evil eye —secretly rejoicing, 
should some innocent cow be tempted to make 
her way into your nice green gra«s plat, and in 
so doing break down a choice shrub or tree, or, 
perchance, walk unceremoniously over a fine 
tulip bed. 
And, again,-some dainty, delicate bit of a wo¬ 
man may surprise one, some fine morning, when 
one is working diligently to get the Aster plants 
and Ten-week Stocks transplanted while it is 
cloudy, and the ground moist; and, when she 
PERSONAL GOSSIP. 
v- The Coburg Gazette, an official journal, 
states that Queen VICTORIA is engaged at this 
moment in writing her own memoirs, and that 
this accounts for her withdrawal from Court 
receptions, &c. 
— George Augustus Sala speaks of Miss 
Anna DICKINSON as “ the pretty girl in a red 
Garibaldi jacket, and her hair cut close, whom I 
saw at breakfast doing considerable execution 
with tho buckwheat cakes and molasses.” 
— Gkn. Burnside has recently paid a visit 
to Chicago, and received a public reception from 
the Board of Trade and his old friends there. 
He is now engaged in raising a force which is to 
be sent on some service not made public. 
— Dr. Bellows, pastor of All Saint’s 
Church, New York, has received leave of ab- 
from the trustees of that church, for six 
GOSSIPPY PARAGRAPHS. 
ash in gton, stud*—** I tun not ftccustomcu to 
the use of language of eulogy; I have never 
studied the art of paying compliments to wo¬ 
men, but I must say that if all that lias been 
said by orators and poets since the creation of 
the world in praise of woman, were applied to the 
women of A meric a, it would not do them justice 
for their conduct during this war. I will close 
by saying God bless the women of America.” 
— Here is what Prentice says of women 
and their heroes. A woman whom he calls 
“our charming little rebel correspondent’' 
writes him:—“I wonder why you do not ad¬ 
mire. our glorious General Morgan. * * 1 
thought you had more spirit than not to admire 
such a dashing hero." Alas! It has alwaj s been 
the case that the loveliest and gentlest of women 
are ever prone to admire and idolize a “dashing 
hero,” especially if he has a strong spice of sin 
and the devil in him. A bold robber chief eap- 
tivates their romantic fancies sooner than a good 
and quiet Christian citizen; and a desperate and 
gloomy pirate, like Byron’s Conrad, takes a fur 
deeper hold upon their hearts and imaginations 
lluin any honest commander of a steam frigate 
or ship-of-the-liae. 
— Of the spring fashions in Washington a 
correspondent of the Springfield Hr publican, 
writes:—“ Crinoline is growing small and beau¬ 
tifully less. Mrs. President Lincoln receives in 
the mat inees sometimes without it. 11 in strange 
lmw quickly the eye educates itself to like What¬ 
ever is in mode. * Will you have your hair 
dressed in the latest style?’ asked a barber of a 
‘How is that?’ ‘O, a la tmlra- 
HOPING FOR A HOPE. 
A man dying from thirst stands before a 
fountain. 
“ Have you drank? ” 
“No; but ‘I hope’ I shall.” 
“ Do you wish to drink ? ” 
< No; but ‘ I hope I shall ’ wish to drink.” 
“ Do you see that you are just ready to die for 
wautof water?” 
“No; but ‘ i hope I shall’ see it.” 
Why does lie not drink? 
Because lie has no desire to. 
“Why, then, does ho stand there? 
Because lie hopes he shall have such a desire. 
But if the promptings of a dying agony, and 
the sweet, gushing streams before him, leave 
him without that desire, wliat. docs his lifo 
amount to? 
So stand we poor sinners uy tho fountain of 
the water of life. Wo look at the waters, and 
look at those that are drinking, and look at the 
invitation- “ whosoever will;” and then stand 
there still and “hope” that wo shall drink. 
What, is such a hope good for? Why not “ tako 
the water of life freely?” This hoping for a 
scnce, 
months, and goes to California to supply the 
pulpit occupied by the late TnoMAS Starr 
King. 
— Gkn. Grant, now Lieut--General, like a 
sensible man that he is, did not relish the lion¬ 
izing which fawning followers of a hero, who¬ 
ever he may be, sought to thrust upon him in 
Washington, and told a friend that he had “got 
tired of tho show business.” 
_ A WASHINGTON correspondent writes that 
passing through the Treasury Department, re¬ 
cently, he saw Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, 
who is filling the duties of a twelve hundred 
dollar clerkship. It has been denied that Mrs. 
Douglas is thus employed. 
— Louis Napoleon has appointed aeommis- 
sion to visit Mexico for scientific purposes, and 
with an eye to cutting the American Isthmus 
by an inter-oceanic canal. The commission 
comprises Marshal Valliant, Baron Guos, 
Michael Chevalier, Vice-Admiral Jurien 
DR la Gravikkk, Milne Edwards, Baron 
i.ahrky. Viollict lk Due, and others. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE PAST. 
hope is often the devil’s opiate for a partially 
awakened sinner. God’s direction is, “Lay 
aw.. 
hold upon the hope set before you, 
Like’8 Phases.— “ A Christian’s life is laid 
ill the loom of time to a pattern which he does 
not sec, hut God does; and his heart is a shuttle. 
On one side of the loom is sorrow, and on the 
other ride Joy; and the shuttle, struck alter¬ 
nately by each, flics 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 it-s changing hues 
shall glance out, it will then appear that the 
dean and dark colors were as needful to beauty- 
lady friend 
band, madam; very neglige, very neglige, I’ll 
assure you.’ I should judge so from the frizzled 
specimens I have seen. Skirts no longer trail in 
the duet, but aro looped up in a becoming, sen¬ 
sible way. But, despite sundry tokens of better 
times, the mUlenium of healthy, suitable costume 
is yet far distant. What ailetli the waists of 
Washington belles, so slight, so mis-shapen? I 
saw one of these iocomoling hour-glasses, com- 
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4 
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