KVF&AL MW’ 
epittetit 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SIGHINGS. 
BY AKNIB M. BEACH 
O, WINDS of night, around my door, 
Ye waft rae back from Memory's shore 
Breath of dear days that now are o’er 
Forever. 
To-night I strive in vain to hear 
The hope-birds singing, sweet and clear, 
Above the leaden clouds of fear, 
That gather. 
The cold, damp mildew of distrust 
Casts o’er my soul its cankering rust 
And my heart-idols turn to dust 
And ashes 
Without I hear the icy rain 
Clashing against the window pane. 
Will there the sunshine e'er again 
Come straying T 
When will this wild heart-throbbing cease, 
And the calm, angel voice of peace 
Speak to my soul of happiness. 
To-morrow? 
Stand bravely up before the blast, 
O, Soul, and thou will learn at last 
Of strength unknown to moments past 
In sunshine. 
Cambria, March, ISM. 
■ » — - 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE AMIABLE WOMAN PHOTOGRAPHED. 
Mrs. Bland is an exceedingly popular per¬ 
sonage, indeed, esteemed quite a model by her¬ 
self: and also by that class of highly respectable 
and incomparable individuals who congratulate 
themselves upon hating the ability to please 
the whole world in consequence of possessing 
that wonderfully desirable trait of character— 
amiability. 
We do not mean amiability as defined by 
Webster, but as understood by the class re¬ 
ferred to; who should certainly he appreciated 
in “ these degenerate days,” they arc- so excess¬ 
ively punctilious. And how entertaining and 
instructive! In their society one fears no 
wounds from keen, sparkling repartee,—from 
scorching, dazzling wit, of meteor-like bril¬ 
liancy. Nor is there danger of experiencing 
that uncomfortable feeling—envy. Nor do their 
genius, talents, individuality, cir intellectual at¬ 
tainments, tempt to a violation of the seven¬ 
teenth commandment; neither are they so de¬ 
plorably ignorant as to call things by their 
proper names, unpleasant morals being un¬ 
known in their vocabulary; nor do they adhere 
to an opinion longer than is perfectly conve¬ 
nient. Neither have they the had taste to 
insist upon the possession of their own souls! 
(granting they have any, which some unchari¬ 
table people doubt.) but seem quite ready to 
humbly beg pardon for committing the impro¬ 
priety of entering the world at all. 
True, they eaunot understand lofty principle, 
nobility of soul, immutability of opinion, speak¬ 
ing for the oppressed, and, if need be, battling 
for the right. But do they not veer round to 
all points of the compass to please ? With con¬ 
sciences Judia-rubber-like, avowing loyal senti¬ 
ments to the loyal union man loving his coun¬ 
try next to God. and the next moment agree¬ 
ing with a vile, slimy, creeping copperhead, a 
rank secessionist, hissing forth treason and 
venom. 
T/iey' motto is,—be always popular; for if a 
man, there is the hope of office; if a woman, 
the prospect of matrimony. For do not many 
of the generous, liberal-minded, and discerning 
“Lords of Creation,” prefer a gentle, plastic 
creature, an artificial nonentity, to a noble, 
whole-souled, high-minded woman, lest the con¬ 
trast between them lie too suggestive? One 
with intellect of lilliputiun order, seldom fan¬ 
cies having a wife's colossal. 
So anxious mamas desire their daughters to 
copy Mrs, Bland, who never offends Mrs. 
Grundy, and is too amiable to possess strong 
feelings, but whose limited stock is invariably 
called into exercise if a woman ventures to 
have an opinion, or, far worse, has the audacity 
to express one at variance with old. pro-con¬ 
ceived notions. And if so “ unwomanly ” as to 
differ from a “ gentleman,” she witlieringly ex¬ 
claims, “ r had before supposed Miss Lawton 
was an amiable young lady!” 
And did not this pattern for imitation,—this 
woman, par example, when her parents wished, 
break the engagement existing between herself 
and a poor young man. though with all her 
capacity loving him, when a merchant (who 
had failed, and was therefore rich) solicited her 
hand, and she married him, while attached to 
the other. For, as she remarked, “there is 
nothing like having all one's friends satisfied.” 
True, the poor young man soon after attained 
high eminence, and, iu a pecuniary point of 
view, (as well as every other,) was a mom de¬ 
sirable match than Mr. Bi.and: but that could 
not be foreseen, and Mrs. Bland is far too 
amiable, if she feels any regrets at the irrevoca¬ 
ble step, to express them. Lancilotte. 
Soul hold, Suffolk Co., N. Y., 1804. 
HUMILITY Of LOVE. 
We only prize those hearts that do not prize 
Themselves I Love, by its nature, shrinks 
From any thought of groveling merchandize, 
And like a humming-bird, a-wing, tt drinks 
From llower-llke souls the honeydevr that lies 
Wide open to the air, and never thinks 
Of Us own worth, or theirs, or aught beside, 
But joy, and sunlight, and life’s morning tide. 
Noisy People.—I t is with narrow-souled 
people as with narrow-necked bottles; the le.-s 
they have in them, the more noise they make 
in pouring it out.—Pope. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WORKING DRESSES. 
It is not my province to dictate any particular 
form of dress; but when, as is often the case, I 
see wives and daughters doing their necessary 
housework with crinoline and long skirts, or in 
other words, in full dress, 1 aiu led to inquire 
why will they not use their good judgment in 
this as in other particulars, and accommodate 
their dress to their duties. 
Now. just take some of those long dresses 
that have become laded at the bottom and in 
front, take out the front breadths, leaving about 
five, tear oil' the bottom, leaving the skirt l<*ng 
enough to come half way from the knees to aukle 
joints, use the parts taken out for pants,prepare 
skirts to suit the length of the dress, running 
“ shurs” in one for three or four hoops from some 
discarded skeleton, and with good thick-soled 
shoes or bootees you are well, becomingly 
dressed for any and all kinds of work that may 
fall to your lot. And, if called to help fill the 
place of a father, husband, brother or son, who 
has nobly gone to the defence of his country, 
you have nothing to hinder you in this arduous 
yet noble extra toil. Such toil and such dresses 
show our hearts true to the iutcrests of our 
country; and though the future looks dark, 
there is no way to make it light but to throw off 
the shackles false pride and false delicacy have 
trammeled us with, prepare our hearts for 
every trial by entire consecration to, and trust 
or faith in. God, our bodies with proper dress 
and care; and lay hold on every duly presented 
to us with an energy and courage that knows no 
defeat, and will not listen to the doubts of the 
croakiug. 
Sisters, let me entreat you, do your duty faith¬ 
fully, and when those dear ones return, you will 
not only meet a reward in their kind welcome 
and approving smiles, but will learn that useful 
exercise and refreshing breezes, with now and 
then a day in the hot sun, have brought light to 
your eyes, roses to your cheeks and a thrill of 
life to \ ur veins that were never yours before. 
True, you have giyc-u (or allowed to go) to the 
rescue f your country your support and hope; 
hut don’t wait for these to return and find you 
in sorrow, listlessly waiting for them, or some 
movement of Providence to bring light out of 
darkness, or hope out of despair; but arise, don 
the costume at once graceful, becoming and 
useful, and help to work out. the salvation of 
our country, ever praying to, and trusting in, 
Gon, who is the author of our faith. 
This is no fancy advice; ’tis wrought out by 
experience of near two years, and my health is 
better. I cau endure far more fatigue, and en joy 
life far better, for I have the consciousness of 
knowing that I have toiled aud sacrificed for 
the good of my country; and when my husband 
returns our joy will he mutual, that we have 
together helped her rid of her enemy, slavery. 
May this be our privilege. Go thou and do 
likewise. Mrs. C. H. 
GOSSIPPY PARAGRAPHS. 
— The young ladies of Pe Witt, Iowa, seem 
to have minds of their own. It is said they 
have resolved “ that we will not countenance 
nor keep company with any young man that 
drinks beer or ale, or any intoxicating drink, as 
a beverage.” 
— A Paris correspondent says there is in that 
city at this time a very lovely, very charming 
young lady, who is destined by an extraordina¬ 
ry fate to go through the world without being 
married. She is a dark beauty, with magnificent 
eyes, a glowing check, a lively expression, a 
graceful figure — in fact, altogether endowed 
with every attraction, even to that of having in 
her own right $500,000, and being an only 
daughter, with the prospect of inheriting mil¬ 
lions. This fair lady is now about twenty-six 
years old, and has been engaged to be married 
twelve times. Each lime the fortunate lover 
has died within a few weeks of the time appoint¬ 
ed for the nuptial ceremony. Yet no suspicion 
of dagger or howl cau be cast upon the fair one; 
a dark, mysterious fatality has taken them away. 
Several died of typhoid fever; one was killed In 
a duel; one was thrown from a horse; t wo were 
drowned; t wo were killed by railroad accidents, 
and one—hung himself. The lady has survived 
all these shocks. Thirteen may he for her the 
fortunate, and not the fatal one. 
— A Rochester woman, with a name sug¬ 
gestive of “many cares,” has written what 
Aktkmas Ward would call a “sarkastick” 
article for the New York Observer, from which 
we clip the following: 
“I agree with Madame Demurest that every 
women intends sooner or later to marry, or, as 
1 l>ame Durden ' so pleasantly observes, ‘to have 
a home of her own,’ wherein to exercise all 
womanly graces and to give full scope to the af- 
fectlonal nature. Aud this is as it should be; 
woman ought to look forward to the possession 
of a husband and a home. If a modicum of the 
t ime and ability spent In theorizing about women 
were devoted to the consideration of the ‘ adapt¬ 
ed ness’ of men to social improvement, and to 
the brushing up of their ideas on the subject of 
their domestic duties and responsibilities, I be¬ 
lieve it would materially assist in determining 
the position which God anti Nature have assign¬ 
ed to that mysterious creation, called ‘ woman,’ 
and would facilitate the attainment of that great 
desideratum of every t rue woman's life—a home 
of her own, with such a husband as can in some 
soil realize her ideal, and to do his part toward 
the creating of that earthly paradise, a happy 
and well-ordered home. 
“Nobody seems to think of giving good counsel 
to men and broaching new theories, with intent 
to fathom their capabilities. Women, on thccon- 
trary, are presumed to possess inexhaustible 
capacities for assimilating advice. They are 
satiated with it, full to repletion, while men are 
in a state of insensible starvation—literally fam¬ 
ishing for want of wholesome moral aliment. 
CUbria 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WALK BOLDLY FORTH. 
by mats: rby. 
Walk boldly forth, with giant will, 
And grapple with the wrong; 
Let moral strength o'er every ill, 
Inspire and make yon strong. 
Rise high above. Oppression's heel, 
Wherever he t-ay tread; 
Stand Arm for Tiu th, in woe or weal, 
Nor be by bigots led. 
Step bravely forth, the gauntlet rnn, 
To resurrect the right, 
That it may shine like tropic sun, 
On earth's tong, dismal night. 
What though dark cowards ’long your path, 
Their darts atid missiles Iting,— 
God’s love is shield 'gainst all their wrath, 
And proof to every sting. 
Its armor no vile wretch can pierce 
With ball nor whetted blndo; 
And Dcnth. himself, however fierce, 
Is harmless in his raid. 
Then be not blind nor led astray 
When vice looks fair and strong; 
But stand erect and light your way 
For right against the wrong. 
Though Manhood's cross weigh down like lead, 
Aud blond stain every sod. 
Remember bow our fathers bled. 
And strike for Truth and God. 
Bristol, 1S64. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
JOURNALIZING. 
By all means, keep a journal. Whatever 
your employment, make it a rule to write at 
least a few lines every Jay. If you have a 
fancy for it, keep a record of the weather, of 
family and neighborhood events, and, espe¬ 
cially, of business transactions. One cau hardly 
realize, without actual experience of its benefits, 
bow useful a daily statement of bis affairs might 
he: its value is bat imperfectly known to those 
who have only felt the inconvenience Of being 
without it. 
The farmer's account with his laborers, the 
merchant’s or mechanic’s with his patrons, the 
doctor’s with his patients, the common-school 
teacher's list of the attendance of his pupils,— 
each is a sort of diary or journal, but how poor 
and unprofitable in comparison with what it 
might and ought to be. It of course answers 
the purpose for which it is iutended, that of 
enabling one to make a correct settlement ol‘his 
dealings with others. But it is as a means of 
progress and improvement in his business that 
we recommend every one to adopt the practice 
of keeping a journal. A history of the means 
employed and the processes pursued to bring 
about results., a statement of the successes and 
failures arrived at, with the causes that probn- 
blv produced l A ni, would form a record of 
experience useful to the writer at least, aud 
quite certain to contain some itemB of general 
value. 
For instance, how much curious and interest¬ 
ing experience a well-kept physician’s or teach¬ 
er's diary would afford! And how much val¬ 
uable instruction and suggestion might be gath¬ 
ered from a record of operations on a well-man¬ 
aged farm! No one is so humble but, by careful 
Observation, he may hit upon something worthy 
to be preserved for his own benefit, and com¬ 
municated to others. 
But let your journal be something more than 
a record of storm and sunshine, of sickness and 
health, of v/slts made and received, of local 
events and of business affairs. Let the best 
thought or thoughts of the day, close the entry 
in your journal. And if you have no fancy for 
keeping a regular diary, let it he altogether a 
thought journal. To the mind not wholly frivo¬ 
lous and unreflecting, no day passes without 
some idea, sentiment or fancy presenting itself 
worth noting down. Coming unexpectedly, 
they are apt to depart as suddenly; and, when 
once gone, it may he impossible to recall them. 
But, if thoughts do not come of themselves, 
send the mind out in search of them. So long 
as you arc endeavoring to think better than 
ordinary thoughts, you are living above your 
ordinary life. 
Again, for purposes of literary improvement, 
the practice of writing something every day 
cannot lie too highly commended. Brief, regu¬ 
lar daily exercise benefits more than occasional, 
extended effort. Indeed, the host preparation 
for an elaborate attempt at composition, is the 
constant habit, or gathering up iu a hook, kept 
for the purpose, the ideas, opinions, fancies, See., 
that occupy the writer’s attention. After a 
time, looking over bis scraps of thought with a 
view to finding materials for a paper on some 
subject that his mind has dwelt on considerably 
during the progress of his thought-diary, he 
will ho surprised to sec how much lic.p he has 
laid up for himself. A. 
South Livonia, N. Y , 1864 
Remarks.— An experience of a good many 
years enables us to indorse what our corre¬ 
spondent has said above of the profit and pleas¬ 
ure derived from journalizing. We commend it 
especially to the young. By it you may take a 
stop upward daily. 
FROM THE FRENCH. 
Bto black eyes I care not for. 
They say, proudly, “ I make war;” 
Eyes 1 like are soft and blue, 
They say, sweetly, ‘‘I love you ” 
No man ever offended his own conscience, 
but, first or last, it was revenged upon him for 
it.— South. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
HOSPITAL SKETCHES.-NO. III. 
DEATHS AND FVNEBALS. 
On the death of a patient, his effects are 
brought from the Ward-room, the body dressed 
in the best clot lies in his possession, and then 
taken to the dead-house, with a label bearing 
his name, company and regiment pinned on his 
breast. An inventory is taken of everything 
remaining, and sent to the General Ward Mas¬ 
ter, and his things securely packed and put in a 
room for that purpose, subject to the order of 
his nearest relative. A notice of his death is 
then handed to the Steward, and also to the 
Chaplain. The Steward sends a notice to the 
Medical Director: he again sends to the Quar¬ 
ter-Master, who gives an order on the Under¬ 
taker for a coffin. A corpse has to lie in the 
dead-house twenty-four hours in warm weather, 
forty-eight in cold. 
The time for funerals is 2 P. M. The baud 
goes to the gate, and there the escort joins them, 
and all march with guns at “shoulder arms” to 
the Chaplain’s rooms. An escort for a private 
is eight men; for a non-commissioned officer 
ten. At bis rooms the Chaplain heads the pro¬ 
cession, and all march to the dead-house. The 
hearse has already left the coffin, and the nurses 
have placed the body in it. It is then placed on 
the bier, and covered with the Start and Stripes. 
The baud and escort then form two lines, facing 
inward, far enough apart for passage between 
them. The Chaplain, with head uncovered, 
followed by the bearers with their hats lying 
on the coffin, march through those lines. On 
the approach of the bier, the escort “ present 
ann*." and the hand give three beats, (similar 
to firing three volleys at the grave.) After 
passing through these lines, they all halt, and 
the band and escort take their places in front of 
the bier, and with “arms reversed,” aud play¬ 
ing the “ Dead March,” march to the ward in 
which the death occurred. 
In passing in and out of the ward, the same 
order is observed as in coming out of the dead- 
house. In the ward, the Chaplain stands at the 
head of the coffin, and the Ward Master aud 
chief nurses at the foot as mourners, and if 
friends arc present they occupy the same posi¬ 
tion. The services are the solemn and impress¬ 
ive services of the Episcopal Church. Also, in 
the ward, the bearers stand on the left hand 
and the escort on the right. During prayer all 
kneel, except the escort, who “rest on arms.” 
(Put the muzzle of the gun on left foot, and rest 
the forehead on the but.) 
Tu marching to the gate from the ward, the 
form is the same as to it. During the time a 
funeral train is passing all work and play ceases, 
and all who are able, form a line along tbe 
walk, with heads uncovered. At the gate the 
coffin is delivered to the hearse, with the cere¬ 
monies before mentioned. During all this time 
the flag at headquarters is flying at half-mast. 
A plainly written label is placed on the left 
breast of each coffin, aud record made both at 
the Steward’s and Chaplain's. A copy of those 
records are kept at the Medical Director’s and 
at the rooms of the Sanitary Commission, so it 
is quite easy to obtain any information that is 
needed. The coffins furnished are quite good. 
I think the Government allow eight dollars 
apiece for them. If a friend is here and wished 
to get a better one, this amount, is allowed him. 
Although we see so much of suffering and 
death that it does not make the impression on 
us that it once did, there is always something 
solemn and impressive about a military funeral 
which nothing else possesses. 
The cemetery is situated some four miles from 
here, aud all soldiers who have died in and 
around Louisville arc huriod there. 
I. P. Bates. 
Brown U. S. Hospital, Louisville, Ky. 
PERSONAL GOSSIP. 
—It is reported that the title of Tennyson’s 
new poem will be Boadicea. 
—It is said that Lamartine, the French 
author, who is a widower, is about to marry a 
Parisian princess. 
—It is asserted that General Scott has nearly 
completed liis autobiography; aud it is predicted 
that this hook will create a sensation when pub¬ 
lished. Wherefore? 
— John G. Whittier, in a recent letter, 
asserts that Wm. Lloyd Garrison was the 
first New England editor to nominate HENRY 
Clay for the Presidency. 
Mr. 8aY-SAY"-(!AH-COM-K-GI8 H-KINK and 
several of his companions, with equally cheerful 
names, all belonging to the Chippewa tribe of 
Indians, passed through Chicago recently, bound 
to Washington. 
—Prince Napoleon having lately made an 
indiscreet speech at Paris, the Emperor sent for 
him and remonstrated. “ But does not your 
majesty think exactly as I do about Poland, 
Italy and xhe Pope?” asked the Prince. “ Per¬ 
haps so; hut at any rate I hold my tongue!” 
— Tm: death of John C. Rives, of Wash¬ 
ington, D. C., is announced. He was sixty-one 
years of age. Associated with Francis 1*. 
Blair, he started the Congressional Globe, the 
latter acting as editor and Mr. Rives as finan¬ 
cial manager. Ho was a loyal aud pure man a 
strict churchman. 
This London Herald notices that the lor- 
oign press persist in calling the ini ant son ol the 
Prince of Wales the Duke of Cornwall. It 
says tills is an utter mistake- His royal high¬ 
ness' father, the Prince, sits in the Ilouso of 
Lords as Duke of Cornwall—the Princedom of 
Wales being in no shape a parliamentary title. 
The Infant Prince, after his christening, will be 
called by ids Christian name, with the prefix of 
prince, until it may please the Crown to confer 
n niu-rutrc. unon him. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SPRING SNOW-STORM. 
BY CELIA L. G. MARKHAM. 
I have long been watching for the return of 
Spring with all the impatience of an invalid 
confined to the monotony of in-door life through 
the long dreary Winter. Eagerly have I gath¬ 
ered up and cherished every omen of the ap¬ 
proach of “the time of singing birds,” and 
blossoming of (lowers. The lengthening days— 
the melting snows—the deepening blue of the 
sky— the occasional hours of golden sunshine — 
even the heavy rains were all rejoiced over and 
treasured up ns confirmation strong; and as I 
daily watched the lessening of the dingy snow¬ 
banks by the fence-side, 1 said, “Surely, Spring 
will soon be here, when I may drink in health 
and strength with its life-giving breath.” Great, 
then, was my disappointment yesterday, when 
the snow began to full, and tho air was filled, 
and the earth whitened with the feathery flakes. 
Hour after hour 1 watched it descend, just as I 
had done many times during the winter, until 
every thing was covered with its pure, soft 
mantle. But the white earth, the gray sky, and 
the snow-veil spread in the air, made tip a very 
cheerless and monotonous landscape, so I tlio’t, 
as night set in, with the snow still falling, fall¬ 
ing everywhere. And the tears brimmed up in 
my eyes as I watched the day flicker out, and 
thought of the weary, dreary to-morrow, almost 
forgetting “ God is good.” So prone are we to 
tinge the future with the color of the present. 
Are we happy? To-morrow will be us to-day, 
and much more abundant. Are wo sad? Then 
looking through tear-blind eyes, wo sec nothing 
but clouds and storms in to-morrow’s sky. And 
I went to sleep thinking no spring—no sunshine 
— no lords — no flowers — nothing but snow. 
And when T rolled up my window curtains 
this morning I said again, almost murmuring, 
“ Nothing but snow!” Ml night the snow mir¬ 
acle had been wrought, and everything—fences, 
trees, housetops, were heaped up with the clamp, 
clinging snow. It was no longer falling, but the 
same gray sky and white earth stretched away 
as far as eye eoukl see. Tho paths were un¬ 
broken by a footstep, and save the heavy clus¬ 
ters of snowy fruitage, dropping with a dull 
sound from the bending trees into tho soft 
plush beneath; there was no life or motion in 
the landscape. Truly, thought I, earth is beau¬ 
tiful; but it is the cold, lifeless beauty of death. 
Just then, through the still air, the clear, 
musical notes of a robin came to my ear. I 
started. It was as if a voice had called to me 
out of this scene of desolation, saying “God is 
faithful; why dost thou murmur, O unbelieving 
heartF’ The bird kept on with his morning 
song. I looked for him. I could not scohirn; 
but 1 thought I had never heard such beautiful 
music before. And I said to myself, “Sweet 
harbinger of spring, I bless thee for thy Voice of 
promise. Though no other sign is visible, thy 
prophecy is sure—nature’s resurrection is at 
hand.” And listening to the robin i put my 
hands to my eyes,— and the green earth stretch¬ 
ed away in beauty before me. I wandered in 
grassy fields and through leafy woods. I heard 
the music of brooks and the singing of birds. 
My eyes and ears were filled with all sweet 
sights and sounds. The breeze, fragrant with 
the perfume of young grass and bursting buds, 
fanned my cheek; and I drank in health and 
happiness with every breath. 1 opened my 
eyes,—the earth was still covered with snow, 
hut the vision stayed by me, and my heart kept 
singing to itself, a low song of joy and thankful¬ 
ness all day long. 
And I thought, wc may learn a lesson for iife 
from this. When the winter of the soul comes 
upon us. and lingers long and heavy about us,— 
when the dark clouds of adversity have dark¬ 
ened the sky, and hid the sunlight from us,— 
■when the snows of sorrow have whitened the 
hills of life, and the fierce winds of despair wail 
around us,—when the joys which we have 
pressed to our hearts have faded and died, and 
we have buried them with many tears in the 
grave of the past,—when the world looks all 
cheerless and desolate around us. and the things 
of earth seem of little worth,—when tempted 
and sorrowing we carry life's burden with a 
heavy heart, and our faith grows weak, and we 
question God’s goodness;—then, when all other 
prophecies of future good fail: if wo will hut list¬ 
en, we may hear the bird of hope, singing among 
the naked branches, and cheerless snows of our 
desolate life, oi the glad spring time, when new 
joys shall blossom above the graves of the dead, 
as bright and fair as those which have perished. 
Ob. then never let us turn a deaf ear to the 
hope-bird which sings in our hearts,- 'tis God’s 
messenger of love. This is his song, “ Though 
weeping may endure for a night, joy cometh in 
the morning.” Let our stricken hearts listen 
and bo comforted, (ton calls us by trials and 
suffering to put our trust in Him. He does not 
afflict, willingly, and the sooner we let affliction 
do its work, the sooner will it he ended. Let 
us then, iu the dark hours of temptation and 
trial, watch and pray in faith, inspired by the 
sweet singer to earnest effort and patient wait¬ 
ing. Ami when our toils and vigils are crowned 
by the realization of our hopes, wc shall be re¬ 
warded by finding those heavenly joys which 
bloom luxuriantly only in that soil which lias 
been watered by the tears of penitence, and en¬ 
riched by the prayers of faith. 
Webster, N. Y., March, 1864. 
-♦ »4 - - 
Petrarch says five great enemies to peace 
inhabit with us, viz.: Avarice, ambition, envy, 
anger and pride; and that if those enemies were 
to ho banished, we should infallibly enjoy per¬ 
petual peace. 
