ia&f’ §z\mxtmmt. 
THE BRAVE AT HOME. 
The maid who binds her warrior's sash 
With smile that well her pain dissembles, 
The while beneath her drooping lash 
One starry tear drop hangs and trembles. 
Though Heaven alone records the tear, 
And fame shall never know her story, 
Her heart shall shed a drop as dear 
As ever dewed the field of glory. 
The wife who girds her husband's sword, 
’Mid little ones who vreep or wonder, 
And gravely Fpeaks the cheering word, 
What though her heart be rent asunder— 
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 
The bolts of war around him rattle, 
Hath shed as 9acred blood as e'er 
Was poured upon a field of battle, 
The mother who conceals her grief, 
. Wheu to her breast her son she presses, 
Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, 
With no one but her secret God 
T o know the pain that weighs upon her, 
Sheds holy blood as o'er ibe sod 
Received on Freedom’s field of honor. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
IDEAL WOMEN. 
In all ages. Poets have given us portraitures of 
noble women, each one his own ideal. They 
have gathered up all that is worthy from the old- 
time legends, and woven them into songs that 
will not die. Whatever is good aud true: what¬ 
ever is worthy of honor, has been consecrated 
by the pen of Genius. Sometimes these ideals 
of the poets are far too bright—too perfect for 
realities; yet if iu contemplating them we are 
led one step nearer true womanhood, the poet de¬ 
serves our deepest gratitude. We are sure no 
woman of refinement can read these portrait¬ 
ures of her sex, without striving to be worthy 
of the consecration the poets have given her. 
Among modern writers, Tennyson, the 
“Poet Laureate” of England, deserves our first 
notice. 3Iany of his fair women are drawn 
from real life: from the “cottage homes’’ of 
England, as well as from her stately palaces. 
That they are good and true, argues well for his 
qualities of mind and heart. 
As an instance of passionate devotion we have 
Enone. Her cry — 
“ 0 mother Ida., many fountained Ida, 
Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. 
* * * * * * 
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, 
My heart is breaking aud my eyes are dim, 
And I am all aweary of my life,” 
is the wail of a broken heart, and speaks of 
fixed despair after Paris’ perfidy. 
An exquisite little poem is his “Sleeping 
Beauty.” It is the “old, old story” of man’s 
protection and woman's trust, and its melody 
haunts one like a dream. After the spell is 
broken that has held the lady locked in sleep 
for a century, she goes forth with her deliverer. 
“ And on her lover’s arm sho leant, 
And round her waist she felt it fold, 
And far across the hills they went, 
In that new world, which ia the old. 
Across the hills and far away 
Beyond their utmost purple rim, 
And deep into her dying day, 
The happy princess followed him ” 
The story of Maud, of “ the singular beauty 
of 31 aud, is doubtless familiar to my readers. 
In her we have a character whose sweetness 1 
haunts us. Perhaps it is because a sense of the 
completeness of her character grows upon us '• 
gradually; for the first impression received from ' 
her “passionless, pale, cold face” is not a favor- 1 
able one. Her lover describes it as “ faultily 1 
faultless, icily regular, splendidly null.” But 
be finds that beneath that cahn exterior, her ' 
heart is keenly alive to all that is noble and 1 
good. He hears her “ singing of Heath, and of 1 
Honor that can not die,” and his own pulses are l 
quickened by her chivalrous battle song. We ' 
can not but admire the womanly tenderness 
with which she seeks to conceal even from her- j 
self, her brother’s faults, excusing him as being i 
“rough, but kind.” She forgets his tyranny l 
and petty meanness, and only remembers when * 
she lay ,, 
“ Sick once, with a fear of worse, I 
How he left his horses, and wine aud play, 1 
Sat with her, read to her, night and day, j 
And tended her like a nurse ” 
c 
The garden song is a gem. In no other poem „ 
in the language are flowers personified with d 
such grace. Maud’s brother gives a “grand j 
political dinner, ” to which her lover is not ., 
the indignity of a blow. A duel is the conse¬ 
quence. and her brother falls, mortally wounded. 
_ “ Then glided mil of t he joyous wood, 
— The ghastly Wraith of one that I know; 
And there rang mi a sndden a passionate cry, 
A cry for a brother’s blood: 
It will ring in my heart and mv ears till I die, till 
I die.” 
The “Miller’s Daughter” is a representation 
of home love that a life-time can not change. Its 
very simplicity charms us, and we seem to 
know “Sweet Alice,” and to sympathize with 
her when she goes half loving, half doubting, to 
meet her mother that is to be. 
I think no modern writer has given us fairer, 
sweeter portraits of Ideal women thau Tenny¬ 
son’s Enid aud Ehinc. The effect of both 
poems is heightened by the accessories of tilts 
and tournaments and all the paraphernalia of 
ancient chivalry. They were both pure—both 
gentle and good. Elaine’s journey down to 
Camelot after her death, and her burial by 
Arthur’s Knights, is touchingly beautiful. 
They buried her, 
“Not meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies 
And mass, and rolling music like a Queen.” 
We love to linger over Tennyson’s portraits 
of fair women.— he has given them so much 
spiritual loveliness ami purity? and we think 
but few can look upon these fair creations with¬ 
out aspirations toward the beautiful aud true— 
without being elevated in heart and soul by 
contemplating his Ideal Women. 
S. Amelia Gibbs. 
---- 
MOTHER. 
When she changed worlds, and before the 
Lime, what was she toothers? A small, old, 
delicate woman. What teas she to us? A radi¬ 
ant, smiling angel, upon whose brow the sun- 1 
shine of the eternal world had fallen. We 1 
looked into her large, tender eyes, and saw not 1 
as other* did, that her mortal garment had 
waxed \-ld and feeble; or if we saw this, it was 1 
uo symbol of decay, for, beyond and within, we ' 
recognised her in all her beauty. Old! how 1 
heavy .md bitter would have been her long and 1 
slow decline, if we had seen her grow old Instead ( 
ofvoung. The days that hastened to give her birth 1 
into eternity, grew brighter and brighter, until 
when memory wandered back, it had no ex- ' 
periences so sweet as those through which she ' 
was passing. The long life, with its youthful f 
romance, its prosaic cares, its quiet sunshine, 1 
and deep tragedies, was culminating to its earth- a 
ly close; aud like some blessed story that appeals ' 
to the heart in its great pathos, the end was J 
drawing near, all clouds were rolling away, a 
and she was stepping forth into the brilliancy T 
of prosperity. Selfishuess ceased to weep 1 
under the light of her cheerful glance, and u 
grew to be congratulation. Beside her couch 11 
wo sat and traced with loving fancy the new a 
life soon to open before her; with tears and - 
smiles we traced it. Doubts never mingled, for l 1 
from earliest childhood we had no memories ot a 
her inconsistent with the expectations of a Chris- 1 
tian. Deep in our souls there lay gratitude 11 
that her morning drew near; beautiful and amaz- 
ing it seemed that she would never more bow to 
the stroke of the chastener; fresh courage do- ri 
scolded from on high, as we realized that there ^ 
was an end to suffering; it was dillicult to credit 
that her discipline was nearly over; how brief 
lightning 
beheld immense legions of 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LAEOR AND WAIT. 
BT CLIO STANLEY. 
God’s seed will come to harvest 
When the summer-time is past, 
When the leaves of Memory, faded, 
Go drifting down the past; 
Wheu Autumn wind? are blowing 
Across the field and tnoor, 
And solemn shadows gather 
About our lowly door. 
The good seed may lie buried 
In an unkindly soil. 
Desolate, blind, and helpless, 
We may in sorrow toil; 
But unseen dews are falling 
Upon the stubborn rock. 
The barren place no longer 
Our eager souls shall mock. 
For with the dawn of morning, 
Beneath a golden son, 
Desire shall reach fmition, 
God's harvest be begun: 
The perfect fruit be gathered, 
The garnered sheaves be bound, 
For while nurfaith has faltered, 
God has enriched tile ground. 
Philadelphia, Pa., IStVt. 
THE VISION OF WASHINGTON. 
Tiie following description is related by As- 
aimed multitudes, marching and sailing towards 
America, which soon were enveloped in the 
black clouds. Aud now I beheld how these im¬ 
mense armies wasted and burned ottr towns and 
cities. And now I heard the thunder of cannon, 
the furious clash of the swords, and the war 
shouts of millions encountered in deadly strife. 
“I again heard the mysterious sound, ‘Son of 
the Republic, look and learn.” After this the 
dark angel gave another loud, long and fearful 
blast. Now suddenly broke forth and dispersed 
the black clouds from over the American coun¬ 
try. After this I saw the angel with the glori¬ 
ous crown inscribed. ‘Uniou,’ descending from 
heaven Accompanied by legions of glorified 
spirits, having in one hand a sword and in the 
other the Star-Spangled Banner. 
“ Now again, amid the din of battle, I heard 
the voice. ‘Son of the Republic, look up and 
learn.’ After the report of his voice, the dark 
angel for the lust time, dipped water and sprink¬ 
led it on the American Continent, when the 
dark clouds with their armies rolled back 
instantly, leaving the glorious victory to the 
Americans, Then l saw villages, towns and 
cities and improvements arise like magic, while 
the angel of light planted the Star-Spangled 
Banner amid the vast multitudes of people and 
cried, ‘As long as the stars of heaven endure 
and the dew falls upon the earth, so long shall 
this Republic endure.' And while he took and 
set it upon the Star-Spangled Banner, the vast 
multitudes bending under it, unitedly cried out, 
‘ Ameu.’ 
“Now by degrees the vision vanished, leaving 
thony Sherman, a gentleman of ninety years nothing hut the mysterious find very beautiful 
of age, who had it from the General himself. 
The darkest period of the American Revolution 
was in the year 1777, when 'Washington, after 
dreadful reverses, retired to Valley Forge, to 
encamp during the winter. Often did I see the 
tears of distress course down the cheeks of the 
loved commander, when he reflected on the suf¬ 
ferings of his brave soldiers, Washington 
had the habit of praying to God for help and 
prosperity. A certain day Washington spent 
by himself alone in his chamber, and when he 
came out he looked unusually pallid. Then he 
related as follows: 
“As I sat ibis afternoon writing and my mind 
was deeply weighed down with trouble, I dis¬ 
covered opposite me a most beautiful female 
form. I was much surprised, for I had given 
most peremptory orders not to be disturbed by 
any one. I could not, on the moment, find 
ike some blessed story that appeals W01 ‘^ s to inquire of this unlocked for visitor, trates the noisome dungeon, and visits 
in its great pathos, the end was Three or four times I inquired without receiving est, darkest caves of the earth. No ps 
drawing near, all clouds were rolling away, an answcr * She only elevated her eyes a little, 
and she was stepping forth into the brilliancy T now fclt !l ruoi ’ t extraordinary sensation 
of prosperity. Selfishuess ceased to weep throughout my whole body. 1 would have risen 
under the light of her cheerful glance, and u Pi hut the staring of my mysterious visitor 
grew to be congratulation. Beside her couch ma< - ie me displeased with her. 1 attempted 
we sat and traced with loving fancy the new 3 S a ''ito address her but my tongue was tied, 
life soon to open before her; with tears and A Certain unknown, mysterious, Irresistible 
smiles we traced it. Doubts never mingled, for P° wer overpowered me. 1 was unable to do 
front earliest childhood we had no memories ot anything more than to stare at the apparation, 
her inconsistent with the expectations of a Chris- By degrees the rolm became filled with a re¬ 
turn. Deep in our souls there lay gratitude markable light: the image herself became sttd- 
that her morning drew near; beautiful and amaz- ^ en *-" luminous and bright. 1 now had the feel¬ 
ing it seemed that she would never more bow to mgs ol a dying persou. I could not think, 
the stroke of the chastener; fresh courage do- Deflect, or move. 1 am only coticious of this 
scended from on high, as we realized that there ^ct, ^at I looked sternly on the vision, 
was an end to suffering; it was dillicult to credit “Here 1 heard the voice saying-, ‘Sou of the 
that her discipline was nearly over; how brief ^public, look and learn,’ at the same time 
it had been, compared with the glorious exist- t ^ lc figure stretched out her arm and pointed 
female figure, who once more said, 4 Son of the 
Republic, what thou hast seen is thus to he ex¬ 
pounded:—Three great and dangerous calami¬ 
ties will come over this Republic; the second is 
the greatest. When this event shall come, then 
the whole world cannot conquer it. Now let 
every citizen of this Republic learn to serve 
God, his fatherland and the blessed Union.’ 
With these words the image disappeared. 1 arose 
from my chair witli the full conviction that this 
was a revelation to me of the birth of this Re¬ 
public, its progress and its varied destinies.” 
All this history, says Mr. Sherman, I myself 
heard from the mouth of Geu. Washington. 
-*-♦-*- 
How the Eye is Preserved.— There is 
dust on sea and land—on the valley and on the 
mountain-top—tliero is dust always aud every¬ 
where. The atmosphere is full of it. It pene¬ 
trates the noisome dungeon, and visits the deep¬ 
est, darkest caves of the earth. No palace door 
can shut it out; no drawer is so secret as to 
escape its presence. Every breath of wind 
dashes it upon the open eye, which jet is not 
blinded, because there is a fountain of the 
blandest fluid iu nature Incessantly emptying 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GOD IS LOVE. 
Nature, in all her lair creation?, doth 
Thia precious truth declare; the Scriptures too 
Unto the weary spirit whisper it, 
And hid us to take courage when the world 
With all its cares and sorrow? weigh? ns down, 
For in yon upper world there dwells the God 
O f never failing love. 
He loves us still, 
Though every earthly friend shonld fail ns in 
Our hour of sorest need. For God so loved 
The world that unto us he sent Ills Son, 
Not to condemn, hut that we might thro’ Ilim 
Be led hack to the ways of truth, and saved 
From blighting sin, and from the fear of Death, 
And reconciled to God. 
O may this thought 
Within onr hearts a living faith, inspire 
In ns returning love, and lend onr souls 
From worldly paths to seek that, higher life 
Which loads to blest communion with our God, 
To noble works on earth, and the pure joys 
Of the celestial world, when life is o'er. 
Elkhorn, Wis., 1864. b. o. d. 
1 ♦ ■-*- 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GOD’S LOVE. 
Long years since, in the fair eastern land 
where Ikkeal’s children dwelt, there came a 
night when to the virgin blest of God, the 
Saviour, Jesus Christ, was horn. The shep¬ 
herd's knelt to worship him, and the stars of 
heaven told to wise men that the world’s redetnp- 
tion was at hand. Years went by, aud the child, 
from reasoning in the temple, came up through 
Jordan’s waters to teach the wandering Jews 
of the new faith that Tie, by His own blood, 
should buy for the erring world. From the 
mount, to the listening thousands gathered 
from far Jerusalem, and the regions lying nearer, 
to hear the story of God’s love, He gave them 
precious truths, that were as jewels ami gold to 
their law-trammeled hearts. He taught them 
who the blessed were, and where their treasure 
would not rust; taught them of the straight and 
narrow way, and of the bouse builded upon a 
rock. To the waiting people He told of Gon 
who careth for even the sparrow’s fall, and 
freely giveth to all that ask: giving to those, the 
poor in heart, the golden rule, “ Whatsoever ye 
would that men should do unto you, do ye even 
so unto them.” 
Since that hour, when on the hills of distant 
Galilee, Christ taught the multitude, the world 
has older grown; and Jesus’ spoken word is 
now our written law. Still we bow to Him in 
reverential love, and still His promises are 
blessed. “ Do unto others as ye would that 
ilscll under the eyelid, which spreads itself they should do to you,” is still our rule of daily 
over the surface of the eyeball, at every wink¬ 
ing, and washes every atom of dust away. This 
liquid, so well adapted to the eye, itself has 
sumo acridity, which, under certain circum¬ 
stances, becomes so decided as to be scalding to 
the skin, and would vot away the eyelids, were 
it not that along the edges of them there are 
little oil manufactories, which spread over their 
surface a coating us impervious to the liquids 
necessary for keeping the eyeballs washed clean, 
as the best varnish is Impervious to water. 
ence it had won her. IIow passing sweet were 
her assurances that she should leave us awhile 
longer on earth with childlike trust, knowing 
that our own souls needed to stay, and that the 
destiny of others needed it. But the future 
seemed very near to hor.aml she saw uegathered 
around her in her everlasting borne. She grew 
weaker, and said her last wordsto its. Through¬ 
out the last day she said but little, hut often her 
tender eyes were riveted upon us; they said, 
“Farewell! farewell!” In the hush of the 
chamber, tt faint. :eolian-like strain came from 
her dying lips: it sounded as if it came from afar; 
then the ungcls were taking her to their compan¬ 
ionship. She softly fell asleep, resigning her 
worn out body to us, and she entered heaven. 
A.h! do we apprehend what a glorious event 
it is for the “pure in heart” to die? We took 
upon the bride’s beauty, and see in the vista 
before her anguish and tears, and but transient 
sunshine. The beauty fades, the splendor of life 
declines to the worldly eye? that gaze uponher. 
Deaf and blind are such gazers, for the bride 
may daily be winning imperishable beauty, yet 
it is not for this world. A most sad and melan¬ 
choly thing it seems wheu children of a larger 
growth judge their parents by their frail and 
decaying bodies, rather than by their spirits. 
And move deeply sad still is it, when the 
aged learn through the young to feel that the 
• j i . i ....... —O-- *- -.. HI tuut UR' 
invited; but he waits all night in her garden of freshness of existence has gone by with them. 
TViClPk _ nrL M i irr-^v _» * , . ° « 
roses —where 31a ud has promised to meet 
Mm — that he may 
—“ fender 
All homage to his own darling 
Queen, Maud, in all her splendor.” 
At last she comes—but we cannot refrain from 
quoting the closing stanzas: 
“ There lias fallen a splendid tear 
From the passion flower at the gate. 
She is coming, my dove, my (j ear - 
She is coming, my life, m y f a t e ’ ; 
The red rose cries, “ She is near *hp is non? •» 
The white rose weeps “ She 1^7, ’ 
The larkspur listens, “ I hear, I hear 
And the lily whispers “I wait.” 
“ She is coming, my own, my sweet; 
Were it ever so airy a tread, 
My heart would hear her and beat. 
Were it earth, in an earthy bed; 
My dust would hear her and beat, 
Had I lain for a century dead; 
Would si art and tremble under her feel. 
And hlossoni in pin pie and red.” 
3IAUD has hardly reached the gate when her 
Gone by? wheu they are waiting to he born 
into a new and vast existence that shall roll on 
in increasing majesty, and never reach an end! 
Gone by? when they have just entered life, as it 
were*. The glory ami sweetness of living is 
going bp only with those who are turning away 
their faces from the Prince of Peace. Sweet 
mother! She is breathing vernal airs now, and 
with every breath a spring-like life and joy are 
wafted through Iter being. 3Iother! beautiful 
and beloved! some sweet, embryo joy fills the 
chambers of my heart as I contemplate the 
scenes with which she is becoming familiar. 
Dead and dreary Winter robes the earth, and 
autumn leaves lie under the snow like past hopes; 
butwhatof them? I see only the smile of God’s 
sunshine. I see in the advancing future, love 
and peace—only infinite peace!—N. A. Wentz. 
-- 
The Louisville Journal, commenting ou 
the fact that a number of Cincinnati young 
ladies have been married aud carried away to 
brother discovers her, and, in his rage, heaps other places, says no city has a better claim to 
on her terms of disgrace, and oilers to her lover supply spare ribs for the immense West. 
, with her finger eastward. Transparent clouds 
, arose iu the distance; and these lifting them¬ 
selves, there was formed a most astonishing 
figure. Before me there spread all the coun- 
, tries of Europe, Asia, Africa and America. 
Before Europe and America I saw tremend¬ 
ous waves brandishing ; tuid also between 
America and Asia. Again the voice repeated, 
‘ Sou ol the Republic, look and learn.’ Instantly 
I beheld a darksome image, as of an angel, pois¬ 
ing between Europe and America. He dipped 
water with both hands, and with his right hand 
he poured it on America, and with his left hand 
he poured .it on Europe. Iu a moment black 
clouds arose from both countries, which mot 
half wuy upon the Atlantic. Here they tarried 
awhile, aud then moved westward, and then 
covered the terra iirma of America, Livid 
lightnings flashed through the dark clouds. 1 
heard the deep groanings of the American people. 
“Again the angel dipped and sprinkled water 
as before, then the dark clouds receded and sank 
into the ocean. Now for the third time 1 heard 
the voice, ‘ Son of the Republic, look aud learn.’ 
I looked up and saw in America populous towns 
and cities, and improvements spreading from the 
borders of the Atlantic to the coast of the 
Pacific. Upon this the dark angel turned toward 
the South: and I saw a horrid grizzly spectre 
approaching from Africa to our town and lauds! 
The population now part one against the other. 
As I contemplated this scene, T discovered an 
angel of light, and on his head lie had a glorious 
crown with the word * Union’ inscribed. In his 
hand he bore the American banner aud cried 
out, ‘Remember you are brethren.’ Immedi¬ 
ately the armed hosts threw down their weap¬ 
ons, became friends, and marshaled under the 
Star-Spangled Banner. 
“Again I heard the mysterious sound, ‘Son 
of the Republic, look and learn.’ The second 
danger has passed over. And now I saw cities 
and towns and fields increasing in numbers till 
the whole laud was thickly covered, from the 
Atlantic to the Pari lie; and the people were as 
the stars ol the firmament and the sands of the 
sea—innumerable. 
“ Again I heard 'Son of the Republic, the end 
of one century is approaching, look up and 
learn.’ Upon this the dark ungel set a trumpet 
to his mouth and blasted thrice, and dipped wa¬ 
ter with liie hands and poured it on Asia, Eu¬ 
rope and Africa. Now my eyes beheld a most 
terrible scene. From each of these countries 
arose black and heavy clouds which united in 
one great mass; through these spread lurid 
Dickens and Thackeray.— Charles Dick¬ 
ens sat in his chambers in London in the full 
flush of the fame of his “Pickwick Papers.” 
He was preparing another story to be published 
as all his great works were, iu numbers, with 
illustrations. One day a mau came in and said, 
"I come, sir, to ask you to look at some sketches; 
I want to be the artist of your new book.” The 
young author glanced over them, and then said, 
kindly, we are sure, "I think you will not do.” 
The matt went away; worked faithfully along, 
both with pencil ami pen; wrote little papers 
for public journals—whatever came iu Ids way. 
Years passed—he was still known only to those 
that are familur with the second-rate, names in 
the London literary circles. One day he carried 
a great bundle of manuscript, to a publisher, 
with a proposal to print it. It was refused. 
Finally another ventured on it, and the world 
was suddenly full of wonder over the story of 
“Vanity Fair.” The most popular author in 
Britain had from that day a divided kingdom. 
--» » ■» -- - 
Benefits of Abuse. — A great man is 
always willing to be little. Whilst he sits on 
the cushion of advantages, he goes to sleep. 
When he is pushed, tormented, deteated. he has a 
ehanee to learn something; he has been put on his 
wits, on his manhood; he has gained facts, learns 
his ignorance: is cured of the insanity of conceit; 
lias got moderation and real skill. A wise man 
always throws himself on the side of his assail¬ 
ants. It is more to his interest than it is theirs 
to iind ids weak point. The wound eieutrizes 
and falls off from him like a dead skin, and 
when they would triumph, lo, lie has passed on 
invulnerable. As long as all that is said is 
against me, I feel a certain assurance of success. 
But as soon as honeyed words of praise are spo¬ 
ken for me, I feel as one that lies unprotected 
before his enemies.— Emerson. 
Life’s Good Morning.- -The following lines 
were written by Mrs. Barbauld, in Iter old age. 
It is, to us, one of the most beautiful stanzas in 
the English language. The poet, Rogers, it is 
said, was very fond of repeating it to his friends 
during his latter years, and did It with much 
feeling and line effect: 
" Life! we've, been long together, 
Through pleasant ami through eioud.v weather! 
’Tin hard lo pint when friends are dear - 
Perhaps ’twill cost a silent tear, 
Then steal away, give little warning. 
Choose tldne own time; 
Say not good night; but in sonic hiicpierclinic 
Bid me good morning!” 
k- action; still we profess to live thereby. But ate 
ils our hearts so pure, aud is it thus our lives are 
as spent? Do we follow in the steps of holy ones 
n- who sleep in Con, or are we wayward children, 
to heeding not the master's voice? 
re “Blessed are they that mourn.” Through 
re suffering, if by no other path, we rise from the 
ir groveling depths of selfish love; by the yearn- 
.1? ing of the soul after its transplanted idols, and 
u, by the intuition felt in the subdued heart, of the 
strength of GOD’S right arm, we learn to stand 
oji higher ground, to yield our earth-love for the 
k- heavenly joy, to accept the present as but tran- 
11 sient, ant! the future as eternal. It is no joy to 
live for self alone; it is not best to concentrate 
•d our strength to smooth the path our feet alone 
,h may tread. 
j, The spring down in the glen is from a hidden 
-; fountain fed; you may dip the water up but the 
te little pool is never dry: so when you turn thither 
I, to slake your thirst there Is no dearth of pearly 
” drops; the quench less stream is ever flowing, 
j, So are the fountains of GOD’S love, ever fresh 
rs and ever full. We have but to ask, and from 
lavish hand the shower of blessings fall: and 
o yet, God's children, subsisting on Ills riches, 
n we close our hands when the needy cry to us for 
d help, and pass the sick and suffering coldly by. 
•, No grout sacrifice may be demanded; perhaps 
I. the world has been chary of her gifts to us, yet, 
j poor we are not, if we can but give to those 
if wearier than ourselves, a cheering word, or 
a kindly smile. 
. To the neglected child who lias never seen the 
beauty of the woods, the wild flower placed iu 
, her hand by some more favored one, will speak 
, of ilim whose infinite skill transformed into so 
, delicate a mould, the black earth of the swamp, 
x and the rank growth of the fern. There is 
H work enough for all; among the humble and the 
s lowly there is need of patient charity; among 
; the erring and the worldly, there D room to 
j scatter precious seed that shall bear fruit eveu 
- iu unfruitful ground. There are none so low we 
s eau not help them, none so degraded that we 
, may not raise them from their depths of sin ami 
I wretchedness. 
i The crawling worm that we hold as the low- 
; est of GOd’s creatures, after months of rest in 
the silence of the dark cocoon; in the fair dawn 
, of a summer day, may emerge from thence a 
1 brilliant butterfly— type of beauty— emblem of 
immortality. So man, degraded by sin more than 
all other of God’s created beings, may sleep in 
the silent grave, and from the chrysalis of the 
tomb, go forth into the clear light, beaming from 
the Eternal’s throne, wearer of spotless, blood- 
washed robes, aud possessor of immortal life. 
Treading our way through the checkered j 
world, doing the little good we can, striving to 
follow in our suffering Saviour’s steps. and to ( 
be t! in part His heavy cross, thou g h life may /J 1 
1 ve to us a battle-field, yet may we keep our [ 
owt hearts holy land; where the birds of peace V 
| shall sing, and the flowers of faith shall bloom: > 
| win e though the dews of sorrow may fall the t l 
j sunlight of God’s love will clear the sky again, ,: 
and vliere at last upon our ravished sight shall j: 
| bur-; the light of an eternal day. 
Anna Parker. a 
