Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE OLD YEAR, 
BY KATK CAMKBON. 
How quickly they have vanished, the beauty and the 
bloom! 
The Year will soon be shrouded, and laid within its 
tomb. 
The golden hues of Snnset, and Autumn’s crimson 
dyes, 
Were emblems, in their fleetness, of things that most 
we prise. 
Of loved ones whom we cherish, some walk with ns 
no more; 
Their foot piint-s all are leading toward the silent 
shore. 
Wo miss them from our circle, but it were cruel, vain, 
To call them from their glory, back to this world of 
pain. 
And Oh! the loved and absent that still on earth may 
roam, 
How do we yearn to greet them within the walls of 
home! 
For their sake we grow weary of the slow dragging 
chain— 
The weeks, and months, and years, perchance, ere we 
meet again. 
Ah! Lire hath many lessons which we must leamin 
tears, 
And wc should heed the teachings of the swift gliding 
years- 
Our frail barques — whither float they? o’er waters 
calm and deep, 
Or where the rocks and quick-sands beneath the 
breakers sleep? 
IS Faith onr guiding beacon? or are wc drifting far 
Beneath the cloudy heavens, without one leading star? 
Gon help us—and God save us—and bring us to that 
shore, 
Where beauty shall be fadeless, and friends shall part 
no more! 
Rochester, N. Y., 1804. 
MEN WHO WALK AND WHO DO NOT. 
In order for a man to be a great walker, it is 
necessary, 1 sometimes imagine, that be hbould 
be rather homely. Indeed I know that the 
great workers are a little uncomely: nature sac¬ 
rifices some of her best lines that she may put 
a little more work into man; she gives him a long 
wrist, a great hand, and a large foot. The peo¬ 
ple who tell mo of the feats which they have 
preformed on foot are not generally handsome 
men; they are of the same sort, as the hard 
workers. In my walks I see a great many fine- 
looking men, who are either riding or driving, 
or In one way and another keeping company 
with horses. These men have small bands 
and feet; nature consulted with beauty when 
she fashioned these cavaliers. I sometimes stop 
to observe one of these elegant figures, as he 
stands holding the reins of his horse; I notice 
how his arm tapers down to a plump, strong 
wrist and small hand, and I wonder how it Is 
that tiicsc easy moving men will always ride; 
they could add so much luster to a foot-path. 
But, then, I suppose they are too handsome to 
go afoot. Once in a while I see a genuine 
horseman on foot; lie generally appears a little 
out of place, and looks a-. if he were in search of 
a horse to make up for some conscious deficiency 
in himself. 1 have observed the centaurs some¬ 
what, and 1 have found that their hair is not 
always the finest, and that their flesh is not the 
most ethereal. Iu fact, I don’t think the finest 
grained men are much given to horse fellowship. 
Still, these showy men, whose hearts go out in 
a perfect gush towards their horses do much to 
enliven the roads, and I like to see them driving 
their proud animals in the dusty highways, 
while I tramp along the by-paths to avoid the 
smell of harness leather and to keep out of 
the dust. 
--- 
BASHFULNESS IN YOUTH. 
Young people, on their first admission to 
this outer world are especially aillicted by false 
shame; so that it may be regarded as one of the 
moral diseases of the mind’s infancy. It is at 
the bottom of a great deal of their shyness. 
They cannot feel at ease because they mistrust 
somethlug about themselves or their belongings, 
and have that feeling of barrenness and exposure 
iu the presence of unfamiliar eyes which at¬ 
taches to sensitiveness under untried oircurndan¬ 
ces. Everything then assumes a magnified, ex¬ 
aggerated character, the place they occupy on 
the one hand, and the importance of the occa¬ 
sion on the other. The present company is the 
world, the universe, a convention of men and 
gods, all forming a deliberate and irreversible 
judgment upon them, and deciding to their dis¬ 
advantage on account of some oddness, or awk¬ 
wardness, or passing slip In themselves, or in 
accessories about them. But, in most persons, 
time and experience bring so much humility as 
teaches them their insignificance. It is not, wo 
soon learn, very likely that at any given time 
a mixed assemblage is thinking very much 
about us; and then the horror of a conspicuous 
position loses its main sting. This on the one 
hand; on the other, we are not as dependent 
on the award of society as we wore. Even a 
roomful comprises, to our enlarged imagination, 
by no means the whole creation. There is 
something worth caring for outside those walls. 
And also we have come to form a sort of esti¬ 
mate of ourselves. There is now a third party 
in question, in the shape of self-respect. We 
realize that we are to ourselves of immeasura¬ 
bly more consequence than any one else can be 
to us. Thus, either by reason or by the natural 
hardening and strengthening process of the outer 
air, most people overcome any conspicuous dis¬ 
play of the weakness. By the time youth Is 
over, they have either accepted their position or 
set about in a business like way to mend it,— 
Knsay’s on Social Subjects. 
GERMAN ECONOMY, 
A late tourist iu Germany describes the 
economy practised by the peasants as follows: 
“Each German has his house, his orchard, 
his road-side trees so laden with fruit that did 
he not carefully prop them up, tie them to¬ 
gether, and In many places hold the boughs 
together by wooden clamps, they would be torn 
asunder by their own weight. He has his own 
corn plot, his plot for mangel wunsol or bay, for 
potatoes, for hemp, Ac. He is his own master, 
and, therefore, he and his family have the 
strongest motives for exertion. In Germany 
nothing is lost. The produce of the trees and 
the cows is carried to market. Much fruit is 
dried for winter use. You see wooden trays of 
plums, cherries and sliced apples lying in the 
sun to dry. You see strings of them hanging 
from the windows in the sun. The cows arc 
kept up the greater part of the year, and every 
green thing is collected for them. Every little 
nook where grass grows, by the roadside river 
and brook, Is carefully cut by the sickle, and 
carried home on the heads of the women and 
children, in baskets or tied in large cloths. 
Nothing of the kind is lost that can possibly be 
made of any use. Weeds, nettles, nay, the very 
goose grass which covers the waste places, arc 
cut up and taken for the cows. You see the 
little children standing in the streets of the vil¬ 
lages, andin the streams which usually run 
down them, busy washing these weeds before 
they are given to the cattle. They carefully 
collect the leaves of the marsh grass, carefully 
cut their potato tops for them, and even, if 
other things fail, gather green leaves from the 
woodlands. 
-■—- 
CLOUDS OF SONG BIRDS. 
Onk of the unaccountable phenomena of 
1864, says a San Francisco paper, has been the 
immense multitude of song birds which have 
been driven upon the cultivated lands of Cali¬ 
fornia during the month or May. In the south¬ 
ern counties thousands upon thousands of robins, 
linnets, thrushes, canaries, orioles, humming 
birds, finches, black birds, magpies, sparrows, 
&c., have swarmed round houses and gardens, 
destroying the fruit and vegetables, and then 
dropping down dead near wells and pooh of 
water. The mortality among them had been 
most extraordinary, and is supposed to have 
been caused by their being driven from the 
mountains by the April storms of cold, when, 
not finding food in the valley and lowlands, they 
are killed by the hot wind, hunger and the 
drouth. When picked up, sometimes ten and 
twenty in a lump, they are completely starved 
and lleshless, being often chased down by boys 
and cats, and expiring in weak twitile s, mourn ful 
to the sympathies of the little people who lay 
them in their graves. 
;#dku’ 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CAN I T •? 
BY CLIO STANLKY. 
Alas, alas! at yester mom 
My heart was hounding too! 
Bat now I feel 'tis gone from me,— 
Can it have come to yoa? 
A sweet thought ripened 1 b nty heart, 
Sweeter than morning dew; 
It somehow stole from out my lips,— 
Can it have come to you ? 
A warm desire possessed my sonl— 
And in your eyes of blue 
I looked, bat never meant to tell, 
Can it be known to yon? 
Tell me, my darling, JaBt the way 
Your tender heart to w oo, 
And trust me you shall ne’er regret 
That it was known to yon. 
Philadelphia, Pa, 1804. 
TRUE AND FALSE LOVE. 
In a struggle between two women, the one in 
love, the other merely feigning to be bo, it must 
be remarked that, the chances neither are, nor 
ever can be, equal. The coquette, who seeks to 
please, and whose heart is free, calculates, ar¬ 
ranges all her mano uvres—as a skillful general 
upon the eve of a battle lays down the plan of 
attack and weighs the means of defense. She 
has foreseen everything; at all times vigilant— 
constantly under arms —unassailable alike to 
impulse and surprise, she turns to account the 
most trifling occurrcucps to assure herself of 
victory. Nay, more, she has that perfect self- 
possession which indifference produces — in 
itself so resistless a weaj>on. This advantage, 
the results of which are beyond calculation, 
enables her to display the brilliance of bur wit, 
the charm of her conversation, the evenness of 
her temper. She knows how to excite alternate 
hope and fear, she makes use of every weak¬ 
ness, of every passion, in the man she desires to 
beguile and captivate; remaining herself the 
whole time invulnerable, protected by the 
mailed armor of frigid coquetry. 
The poor woman, on the contrary, whoso 
whole life Is devoted to a single thought, is 
uneasy, jealous, agitated; a word, a look, inukcs 
her tremble, and she beholds herself eternally 
disarmed by a victor, too often relentless. Fas¬ 
hion is hnpetuouH and unreflecting; every obsta¬ 
cle irritates and alarms it; men desire difficul¬ 
ties, that they may surmount them; the coquette, 
better taught, knows how to create them—she 
allows herself occasionally to appear entrapped 
but surrenders never. The woman who loves, 
fears she cannot give enough anticipates sac¬ 
rifices—never reasons with herself—spares noth¬ 
ing, but with a lavish hand squanders her 
advantages, and loses them; her mind always 
straining toward a single aim, is deprived of its 
elasticity: her thoughts revolve around one 
eternal circle; her beauty (her last stronghold) 
languishes at last in vigils aud weeping,— for to 
love Is to weep.— Tenby. 
MAID AND WIFE. 
Marriage is to a woman at once the happiest 
and saddest event of her life; it is the promise 
of future bliss raised on the death of present, 
enjoyment. She quits her homo, her parents, 
her companions, her amusements — everything 
on which she has hitherto depended for com¬ 
fort, for affection, for kindness, and for pleasure. 
The parents by whose advice she has been 
guided the sister to whom she has dared to 
impart the very embryo thought and feeling— 
the brother who has played with her, by turns 
the counselor and the counseled, aud the youn¬ 
ger children to whom she has hitherto been the 
mother and playmate -all are to be forsaken at 
one fell stroke—every former tie is loosened 
the spring of every action is changed, aud she flics 
with joy in the untrodden paths before her; 
buoyed up by the confidence of requited love, 
she bids a fond and grateful adieu to the life 
that is past, and turns with excited hopes and 
joyous anticipations to the happiness that iB to 
come. 
Then woe to the mau who can blight such 
fair hopes—who can treacherously lure such a 
heart from Its peaceful enjoyments and watchful 
protection of home—who can, coward-like, 
break the illusions which have won her, and 
destroy the confidence which love had inspired. 
Woe to him who has too early withdrawn the 
tender plant from the props and stays of moral 
discipline in which she has been nurtured, and 
yet makes no effort to supply their places, for 
on him is the responsibility of her errors-on 
him who first taught her, by his example, to 
grow careless of her duty, and then expose her, 
with a weakened spirit and unsatisfied heart, 
to the wild storms and the wily temptations of 
a sinful world. 
TAKE YOUR WIFE WITH YOU. 
What a blessing is labor, whether of the 
hand or of the brain! How it sharpens the ap¬ 
petite for sport! With what an epicurean zest 
one enjoys a holiday in the country after three 
or four weeks of hard work! Shaking the dn-t 
of care from the feet of the soul, one passes at 
once from purgatory into paradise—and but for 
the previous purgatory, the paradise would 
have few charms. What do rural people know 
of rural felicity ? Nothing. Their accustomed 
senses take little note of the meadows flushed 
with clover, or of the deep, low anthem of the 
honey-gathering bees. In them familiarity 
with Nature has bred indifference to her attrac¬ 
tions; but the city man, uncaged for a day or 
two, sees with other eyes, hears with other cars, 
than theirs. Yet he cannot thoroughly enjoy 
his country holiday alone. Adam, fresh from 
the dust, no doubt thought Eden a very pretty 
place; but he soon got tired of wandering about 
the garden by himself, and went to sleep. It 
was not until Eve joined him that ho became 
thoroughly alive to the loveliness of the scene. 
“The world was sod, the garden was a wild, 
And man, thehermet, sighed til! woman smiled.” 
Therefore, don’t forget to take your wife, if 
you have one, with you, when you go a-pleasur- 
ing in the green and flowery world beyond the 
bricks. If a bachelor, persuade a friend or two 
to accompany you on your trip; and, if blessed 
with a sister, invite her to make one of the party. 
BEANS ON CONE FRAMES. 
I NOTICED in Rural of May 2ftth an inquiry, 
by Fkancelia Forester, how to use beans 
on cone-frames. I will tell her how I use them 
on boxes, baskets and vases, with snail-shells, 
(I have never made any cone frames.) Take 
the long white beans and soak them in warm 
water until the skin will peel off easy; then 
split them. Put some cudbear in a tin basin 
with salt water. Boil it until the strength is 
extracted, let it cool until blood-warm, put the 
beans into it, set it on the stove-hearth and 
keep it warm, but not hot; if hot, it will cook 
them. In a little while they will be a beautiful 
bright red, and can bo varnished as well as the 
shells. They arc really beautiful, mixed with 
other things. 
I use also the cap of the ripe head or seed- 
buds of the Carnatiou Poppy. They are nice 
to fill up the spaces between the shells. The 
seed-buds of Pine are nice, also. I color snail- 
shells u beautiful black with extract of logwood 
and copperas. They can also be colored a red¬ 
dish color with cudbear. (Cudbear needs noth¬ 
ing to set the color.) They can be made blue 
by using the patent box blueing such as we use 
to blue Clothes with. It does not dye them; it 
is only a deposit on the outside of the shell, but 
If carefully varnished will remain a good color. 
To save varnish, I always use a very thin solu¬ 
tion of glue first—just enough glue in the water 
to make it look a little milky. If prepared 
right, it will be equal to one coat of varnish. 
Try it and see.— Eli/. a C. 1\, Harry County , 
Midi., 18(54. 
Liquid Blueing.— One oz. powdered Prus¬ 
sian blue; ,t oz. oxalic acid; put into one quart 
of soft water and bottle it. A teaspoonful or so 
of this liquid is sufficient for a large washing.— 
A Wisconsin Lady. 
PROVERBS AND PHILOSOPHY. 
Tire lopped tree in time may grow again 
Most nuked plants renew both frail aim flower; 
The sorriest wight may find release from palp : 
The driest soil sacks In some moistening shower: 
Time goes by turns; and chances change by course, 
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse 
The sen or Fortune doth not ever flow; 
She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; 
Her tides have equal times to come and go; 
Her loom doth weave the flue and coarsest web: 
No joy so great but runneth to an end, 
No hap so hard but may in time amend. 
Not always full of leaf, nor ever spring; 
Not endless night, nor yet eternal day: 
The saddest birds a season And to sing; 
The roughest storm a calm may soon alloy. 
Thus, with succeeding terms, God tcmporetii all, 
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to Tall. 
A chance may win what by mischance was lost; 
That net that holds no great takes little fish; 
lu some things all. In all things none are crossed; 
Few things all need, and none have all they wish. 
Unmingled joys here to no man befall ; 
Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
REST. 
Best, that blessed word; wbat a world of 
meaning is in this little word. How it thrills 
the bouI. The lioart of the weary laborer 
throbs to receive it. The poor washerwoman 
sighs for it as the shades of evening draw 
night’s curtain down and pins it with a star. 
The student looks forward to it down into the 
short hours of night when the oil grows low in 
the lamp. The merchant looks toward it as 
customers leave one by one for their homes. 
Rest!—how enchanting the sound as it falls upon 
the senses like the evening dews ; gently, 
silently instilling into man now resolutions, new 
life. It is a cordial for the heart which heals 
every wound like magic., and sends a healthful 
glow through all the avenues of the soul. Rest! 
not a dead, dreamless rest; not as the tree rests 
after the fitful blast has laid it low; not as the 
body rests beneath the seal; but a living and 
perfect rest. Rest from all their labors, and 
their works do follow them. Rost carries with 
it a two-fold sense. Earthly! —from bodily 
labors, from toil and pain. Heavenly!—from 
sin ftud sorrow. O, that blessed rest where we 
“ rest not day and night singing Holy, Holy, 
Lord Goi> Almighty, thou King of Kings 
and Lord of Lords. Rest from sickness and 
pain; from disease and death.' O, that blessed 
reality when we shall pass over Jordan and 
walk in light besido pure rivers of water whore 
the glory of the Lord is over all. Rest from 
the sin and besetments of this vain world, when 
Go d wil l call lii s own un to himself and they 
shall walk with spirits in robes of whited What 
a blessed day when we shall rest in knowing, 
loving, rejoicing and praising. There is rest for 
the weary, rest in heaven upon the bosom of 
Jesus. Earthly rest gives new life, new vigor 
to this mortal body that shall soon moulder in 
the grave. Heavenly rest will banish all sin, 
sorrow and temptation, the morning will dawn 
radiant with hope and full of promise, and we 
shall bo lifted up and seated at the right hand of 
God forevermore. H. A. Whittemork. 
Fluvanna, N. Y., 18(54. 
-- 
GOD’S HEROES. 
Here are “God’s Heroes” of the sick 
chamber, and the vigil by the candle-side; heroes 
of poverty and heroes of the work-shop; of 
silent, patient endurance, — having learm d 
through much tribulation that waiting and suf¬ 
fering arc their destined work; the heroes of 
long-suffering, forbearance and charity, or of 
victory over pain; of the ostentatious self-deni¬ 
als of the household; the lowly and toiling 
women, climbing mounts of sacrifice under 
heavy crosses, without a human hand hold out 
in sympathy; the noblest army of martyrs who 
have found and followed tho Master’s footprints 
iu the dally rounds of humble duties, transfigur¬ 
ing that despised, circumscribed, care-encum¬ 
bered life of theirs into a living testimony to 
the truth of Christ’s evangel; the lonely suf¬ 
ferers, priests by a heavenly consecration, offer¬ 
ing the sacrifices of praise iu garret and cellar, 
men and women far from stimulating delights 
of successful activities, co-workers with ('i i rist, 
sowing in hopo the seed whose Increase they 
shall never reap; “the sacramental host of 
God’s elect,” ever ascending with songs most 
jubilant from the faithful performance of earth’s 
lower minisiers to the upper sactuary, with Its 
poreunlal and unhindered praise. They are 
passing up through the gates of morning into 
tho city without a temple, and It Is for other 
fingers than ours to wave the amaranth around 
their lowly brow.— Hortli British Jieview. 
»■ * - 
Anything which an honost man can do is of 
course not to be considered as a merit, but simply 
as a duty. 
The man who lives in vain lives worse than 
in vain. He who lives to no purpose lives to a 
bad purpose. 
Ik some of our very conservative men had 
been present at the creatiou, they would have 
said, “ Good God! what is to become of chaos?” 
Sleet soothes and arrests the fever-pulse of 
tho soul, and its grains are the quinine for the 
cold fit of hate, as well as for tho hot fever of 
love. 
Acorns for Coffee. —In some parts of the Eat, digest; read, remember; earn, save, love, 
“ Bay State” acorns arc usod as a substitute for and be loved. I f these four rules be strictly fol- 
coffee. They are shelled, then burnt and lowed, health, wealth, intelligence and true 
ground, and are said to be very palatable. happiness will bo the result. 
Honor the Brave.—Woman’s Devotion. 
A correspondent of tho Utica Herald 
makes tho following pleasant record. Courage 
aud devotion to the cause of our bleeding 
country is not confined solely to our brave boys 
“in the field.” Now and then during .this 
bloody struggle the heart of woman has shone 
forth in patriotic luster, claiming tbo warmest 
thanlu of the community and presenting an ex¬ 
ample at. onco Inspiring to those who stand in 
the front of battle and worthy ol' tho highest 
praise. Such a course on the part of a true 
and loyal woman was followed by a recent mar¬ 
riage, which took place in the village of Mo¬ 
hawk on the 30th ult,., between James B. Eustis, 
of Onondaga, N. Y., and Mis3 Mary H Patrick, 
of Mohawk. Mr. Eustis was a member of the 
147th N. Y r . Y. lie entered it at its organiza¬ 
tion, and with it passed through the bloody bat¬ 
tles of Antictam and Gettysburg, and was in 
the West u nder Shenn au. At. the storming of 
Lookout Mountain he fell wounded througli the 
thigh, and afterwards, while lying on the field, 
was shot by a rebel through the arm. His log 
was amputated, and he carried to the ho-pital 
in a critical condition. Thus_dLsflgured, lie 
wrote to Miss Mary Patrick, to whom he was 
engaged, stating liis great loss, and releasing 
hor from the engagement. But like a true 
woman, she refused the offer, plodging a now 
bond of affection for bis courage and bravery, 
offering her hand still In marriage when he should 
be able to return. 
Through the blessing of Providenco and the 
kind care of a mother, who visited and remained 
with him iu the hospital, be has recovered his 
strength sufficient to return and claim the prof¬ 
fered hand of his loyal bride. Having fonght 
for tho Union, we doubt not but that his faith 
iu it will be greatly stengthened for years to 
come, with such a woman by his side. The 
sentiment of the community could not be bet¬ 
ter expressed than in two mottoes attached to 
beautiful boquets presented to the bride and 
bridegroom—“ in honor of a brave soldier,” 
and “ In honor of a true woman.” Let our la¬ 
dies remember the oxamplo and our “boys” 
will fight with a braver heart. 
Why the Valley was Cleaned out. 
Those who take exception to the severe mil¬ 
itary measures adopted in the Shenandoah Val 
ley, will find occasion to reconsider their opin¬ 
ions, if they reason like the old campaigner with 
Sheridan, who, according to a war correspond¬ 
ent, thus stated the case: 
“ 1 asked them about Sheridan's order to clear 
the Valley. ‘Well/ said one, • I tell you, ’tis 
pretty hard. Wo get orders to clcau out a sec¬ 
tion. The Captain, ho picks his men/ (here 
they all grinned;) ’he knows pretty well who to 
take, and then we get orders to burn every barn, 
every stack of grain, everything except the 
house?, and then we start the people. We go 
out in squails oi ten or a dozen, and the way we 
ride Is a caution. You see the most of ’em’s 
secesh families; the women are Union—to a 
man,’ winked he, ‘and their husbands and 
brothers are in with therebs; but for all that 
it’s hard when the women comes out on their 
knees, crying and praying, and their children 
clinging to ’em.’ 
“ ‘ But/ said he, ‘ it’s a good deal harder to go 
along tho road, aud right along by the side of 
the woods, to find your own brother hanging to 
a tree, with his ears, his nose, his lips cut off, 
as 1 did mine last week! ‘These devils,’said 
he, ‘ if they’d only come out in clear day, and 
fight us as wo do them, and not murder us, 
they never would have had their country 
cleaned out as we have been forced to do.’ ” 
An Extraordinary Case, 
A SOLDIER in Sherman's army, w ith thront 
cut from car to ear, was thought to be mortally 
wounded by a council of surgeons, but the one 
under whoso immediate care he was, thought 
lu* was justified in making an experiment for 
tho good of others, at tho same time having 
great hopes of saving the man. He first com¬ 
menced his task by cutting through where the 
two upper ribs mot the sternum, and through 
this orifice for forty days ho has been led five 
gallons of milk per week and sometimes his 
appetite required five per day. He is fat and 
hearty, and the surgeon thinks in two weeks 
he will have him able, and the inside of his 
throat so nearly healed, as to allow him to swal¬ 
low by tbo natural passage. Ho at first intro¬ 
duced a stomach pump, and thus fed his patient, 
and after a few hours would clear his stomach 
in tho same manner, thus producing artificial 
digestion, till it was no longer necessary. A 
silver tube is now used to feed him. 
Putting a Hole Through It 
One night Gen. — was oulon the line and ob¬ 
served a light on the mountain opposite. Think¬ 
ing it was a signal light of the enemy, he re¬ 
marked to his artillery officer that a hole could 
easily beputthrough it. Whereupon the officer, 
turning to the corporal In charge of the gun, 
said; 
“ Corporal, do you see that light?” 
“ Yes, sir.” 
“ put a hole through it.” ordered tho captain. 
The corporal sighted tho gun, and when all was 
ready he looked up aud said: 
“ Captain, that's tho moon.” 
“Don’t care for that,” was the captain’s 
ready response, “ put a hole through it anyhow. 
- - »«4 — - 
Tii ere is no doubt that of all the States, the 
one iu which tho most earnest heart-prayers are 
offered up for the Union is the State of Single 
Blessedness. 
