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[Written for Moore'* Rural New-Yorker.] 
A DOZEN YEARS. 
A dozen tears he dwelt wtth'us 
Before he went away, 
And then he plumed hi* angel wings 
For realms of endless day. 
Those dozen fleeting, golden years, 
Passed like a blissful dream; 
I.i kg short, sweet years of Paradise 
To ns they'll always seem. 
A dozen years—I mind me now, 
As on my breast he lay. 
How. with a smile, he softly said, 
“ I’m twelve years old to day. 
Just twelve years old to-day, mother; 
Tis very young to die, 
But Jesus knows the best mother, 
He wants me in the sky. 
“ The trees are always green in heaven, 
The Bowt* are always fair; 
We can’t begin to think, mother, 
How sweet it is up there. 
My birthday gifts you need not buy, 
Sweat mother, now, you know, 
For mine will lie a crown and harp, 
And robes a* white as snow. 
“ Then kiss me my good-by, mother, 
’Tis but a moment more, 
For I’m sure I hear the music 
From oil that golden shore.” 
I bent, with tears, to kiss his brow; 
A holy light was there, 
And, like a halo, fell the sheen 
Upon his chestnut hair. 
Two* heavenly light, for even then 
An angel bund drew near; 
“ Good-by, sweet mother, I am gone,” 
Kell softly on mine ear. 
The angels brought a gilded bark 
With azure-silken sails, 
They floated o’er the stream of death, 
Borne on by perfumed gales. 
That shallop came from heav’n, I know, 
Heav'n’s light shone round its bow, 
And seraphs wove those silken sails, 
And carved that golden prow. 
From houv'n it came, to heav’n it went, 
1 know, but did not see, 
For Faith, in tone* of wondrous love, 
Soft whispered it to me. 
So now 1 know my boy is blest. 
An angel bright is he, 
And though I soon may go to him, 
He’ll not return to me. 
A dozen year*—they’re but a span 
Of what he has to live, 
And all that life’* a scene of joy,— 
Such joy as God can give. 
A dozen yearn! oh, must I still 
A dozen longer wait, 
Kre, at my call my angel boy 
Will ope the pearly gate? 
A dozen, yes, If 'tis His will, 
I'll wait a longer time; 
And even say, with sweet content, 
My Father’s time is mine. 
Fayetteville, N. Y., 1861. A. M. P. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
WOMAN’S DUTIES. 
My subject you may call a trite one, and such I 
fancy it will be unto the end of time, if the news¬ 
papers of our land continue, as persistently as ever, 
to herald forth the duties, obligations, ami depend¬ 
ency of woman. I must say 1 have become perfectly 
disgusted with this constant prating. One might as 
well imagine that woman was uttertiy ignorant of 
her peculiar duties and adaptations, and that the rest 
of the race, in commisseratioti thereof, had set them¬ 
selves up as her Instructors. Now, with all due 
deference to the wondrous knowledge possessed by 
the “ lords of creation,” it certainly seems to me that 
females are usually quite as intelligent as the other 
sex, and I imagine they know about as well how to 
“ act well their part in life,” 
We are told again and again, that home happiness 
depends mostly upon the wife, mother, sister, and 
daughter. Don't we know this? Don’t we know that 
after a day hits been spent in the discharge of the 
many wearisome household duties, and the husband 
and father, sons and brothers, return from their labor, 
or, as is frequently the case, from lounging in somo 
public place talking politics,—listening to or retailing 
scandle, - don’t we know that, under such circum¬ 
stances, somo tact is necessary to meet dissatisfaction 
and discord with content and pleasantness?—to have 
things so righted round, and straightened out, that 
home shall present a cheerful aspect? 
Besides this, there is a wonderful cry among some 
about the dependence of woman upon man. It sounds 
in our cars from the Atlantic to the Pacilic,—by 
priest and people. Why, they say, of course, they 
are particularly dependant upon us,—of course, the 
Dibit says so. J have known men that could quote 
only one passage of scripture correctly, and that you 
will find in Gollossians, Hie, 18v. Moreover, common 
sense teaches it. If this is common sense, I am glad 
1 never was endowed with it. 
Now, we know that we are, in some sense, depend¬ 
ant creatures,—that one person must rely, somewhat, 
upon auoUicr; but the wife is no more dependant on 
her husband, than be upon his wife. Supposing his 
earnings do provide the provisions and clothing, 
what's it all going to amount, to if his wife docs not 
know how to use these things to the best advantage? 
How is a man to gain wealth, if his wife or daughters 
spend faster than ho can earn. Many a man has ac¬ 
quired wealth who never would but for the economy 
and thrift of his industrious wife, and many are 
struggling now to provide the mere necessities of 
life, who might have been prospering, had they, in 
the management of their business, beaded the advice 
of the wife. But, dear me, no,—they are not going 
to have a woman interfering in their affliirs; and thus 
they olten come to be dependant upon the exertions 
of their “ better bait,” for the support of themselves 
and families. 
They talk to us, too, of our great influence upon 
society,—how essential it is that we should be models 
of pnrity and goodness, so that all who come within 
this magical influence shall be metamorphosed there¬ 
by. Now, how potent soever this maybe in some 
cases, when I see the sous of some of the best of 
mothers following so closely in the footsteps of 
unworthy fathers, I am convinced it is necessary 
somebody should be good besides th# mother. 
When clouds of darkness and sorrow surround the 
pathway, who endures best the blasts of adversity,_ 
iH it man? Nay. lu the severe trials of life, the 
stern man is often soonest shaken, and linds him¬ 
self dependent upon weak woman for aid and sym¬ 
pathy,—the closest observers of human nature have 
testified to the truth of this. 
Some talk much of the great necessity of women 
being Christians. Is it because the soul of man is 
_ less precious,—because he is holier by nature, or 
) because his responsibility to the Creator Is less?— 
that be considers it so much more obligatory upon 
females to yield their wills to the Savior? Such Is 
not the case. They know that the influence of the 
Gospel is to make one meek, patient, long-suffering, 
under till circumstances, ami such a spirit as this they 
like to deal with. One that will not conflict with 
their pet whims and mighty wills. In most instances, 
when you really probe to the bottom of the thing, 
you will find it is all selfishness which prompts this 
cry about the great adaptation of religion to the 
heart and life of woman. That there are noble ex¬ 
ceptions I grant, but among the musses they are few. 
You men who are so supremely particular about 
your food, your clothes, and, in fact,everything, - who 
want your wives and children always to be in apple- 
pie order, and think they can keep so, no matter what 
engaged in, how do you suppose you would manage 
to gratify your exquisite taste, without the aid of 
some one or more of those dependant beings called 
women? Don’t you believe there would be some 
muddy coffee,—some burnt cakes,— some ragged 
garments, and some tumbled linen? It really dis¬ 
tresses me to think of it. But, after all, what’a the 
use of talking or writing? To be sure it frees my 
mind a little, but that is not much consolation, when 
the conviction is constantly forcing itself upon me 
that, 
“A man convinced against bis will, 
Is of the Bame opinion still.” 
Gainesville, N. Y., 1861. Maude Eeliott. 
-« — >-♦■«•»- 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
PRETTY FACES. 
I, Foit one, don’t like pretty faces. I mean such 
as women sigh after, and men write sonnets to. I 
never saw one in my life but looked as though if you 
put your finger upon it, it would go clear through. 
I do like to see faces that glow with the light of 
intellect,—that change with every change of feeling. 
It matters not how irregular the features may be, the 
'Bind is there, and the face cannot fail to he interest¬ 
ing: but these chiselled faces, with no more expres¬ 
sion thun there is to a bowl of milk and water, I can* 
not tolerate, Talk about “auburn hair,” “eyes of i 
cerulean blue,” “rosy cheeks,” “pearly teeth,” and 1 
“ruby lips,” what do they all amount to? Jnst 1 
this, you have a silly little thing, no more calculated 1 
to get along in this cvery-day world than a white ' 
mouse. While her beauty lasts, it is well enough, hut f 
it always fades, and there is no character more ' 
despicable than a woman who has nothing but beauty ' 
to recommend her, when that beauty is gone. As 11 
for pretty met it Shades of Antiquity, how would it ' 
sound to speak of any of the great men of former c 
times as pretty. The very idea of man has some- ' 
thing manly in It: and when 1 see those creatures v 
ladies call “pretty men,” I always want to lift them 
up gently, and set them aside, lest some elfin c 
breeze waft them away. Oh! anything hut pretty '■ 
folks, according to my way of thinking. Why, I had 
rather see any one so homely as to make their faces t] 
ache, if they know something, than these silly, wishy- t< 
washy creatures, though their faces may be as deli- * 
cate as the dream of a fairy. Pretty folks are never V 
smart; but may be you like people that don’t know c< 
much. I beg leave to differ. Nina. C 1 
March, 1861. tl 
MOURNFUL VOICES. 
There are voices, mournful voices, that are speaking to me 
now; 
Years have filled a cup of sorrow, sadness sits upon my brow. 
Heath the stern and death the mighty stretches out his chill¬ 
ing wand. 
And my sister little sister, sleeps to wake in Spirit-land. 
Blue-eyed child of sunny summer, winter winds are very cold 
For the fragile, heavenly flowera, planted in this earthly mold; 
So the angels bore thee upward to the garden of onr God, 
Raising np the fallen flower when the storm had chilled the 
sod. 
j s 
Little children matf®|eatb beautiful, so sweetly still they lie: 
But oh I they- forget V waken when they once have learned to 
die! 1 
Yet I murmured o’er Iiy sister, lying peacefully and mild, 
Oh! that I could turn me back again and die. like her, a child! 
For with childhood pleading for me, sealed by death upon my 
brow, 
’Twere a blessing thus like her to be: but oh! what were it now’ 
Blessed fields where fancy wanders! often in the silent night 
Have 1 searched along your pathways for a beautiful, a bright 
Girlish form that clung to me once like a little clambering vine: 
And 1 long to sleep and wake with thee in heaven, sister mine. 
And when clouds roll up the heavens from the depths afar 
below, 
Forming palaces of splendor where the sunset lances glow, 
Or the stars shine on the battlements and crowd around the 
dome; 
And beneath, billows of moon-light surging, as if shoreward, 
come; 
Oft I think that thou art gliding, with a step I hear no more, 
By the pillars, by the arches, through the blue, star-hinged 
door. 
Stretching out a hand of welcome from the spirit-haunted 
shore. Knickcrbochr Magazine. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
BEAUTIFUL SENTENCES. 
IN LOVE WITH CALICO. 
Ah tile “last beat gift” are discussing the dress 
question in the Unit Ah, we think the remarks of one 
of the “ sterner MX,”—a young man in Oswego Co., 
who has been inspired by calico, — are worthy of 
more than a passing notice. Read them, ami ponder: 
“ Calico dresses are a grand institution. Delaines, 
silks, and even satins are good enough in their place 
— in the parlor or hand-box, and all such; hut after 
all the old ‘stand by,’the substantial, is the shilling 
calico. Care must be taken not to soil the silk, 
nothing must come in contact with the nice dress 
that will rumple and stain it; but the calico, that’s 
made for work, and, as the ‘highfalutins’say, ‘nobly 
does it fulfill its mission.’ Silk rarely finds its way 
into the realities of life; that is into the kitchen at 
home, or into the hut of the suffering abroad. 
But calico. 0! what rich meals we get by it; how 
it cheers the suffering as with its bright colors and 
cheerful presence it stands with soft hand ministering 
to our distresses. 
Calico seems to be always more willing and ready 
to give to want than silk. It is a curious fact of our 
nature, that the nicer our dress the harder our heart 
is, as if when dressed in silk we changed our natures 
and rose above base worldly things. What! our silk 
dress be seen near enough to that poor woman to 
give her assistance, or drabbling into a dirty hut? 
No, never! Calico might do it: silk, it’s just 
impossible. 
But when, in addition to all, Calico comes in, rosy 
with tin? exercise of kitchen duties which it knows 
how to do so well, and loves to do so dearly, and sits 
down at the piano or melodeon. and makes the liquid 
melody flow sweetly forth; aye. even blending its 
own sweet voice with the music of the instrument, 
then we appreciate Calico.” 
AN ELEGANT WOMAN. 
There is a person whose harmonious voice gives 
to her conversation a charm found equally in her 
manners. She knows how to speak and how to keep 
silence, how delicately to engage herself with you, 
and use only proper subjects of Conversation. Her 
words are happily chosen; her language is pure, her 
raillery caresses, and her criticism does not wound. 
Far from contradicting with the ignorant assurance ( 
of a fool, she seems to seek in your company, good 
sense or truth. She indulges in dissertation as little 
as she does in disputes: stops when she pleases. Of 
an equable temper, her air is affable and gay. Her 
politeness lias nothing forced in it, her welcome is 
never servile; she reduces respect to nothing more 
than n delicate shade; she never tires you, and leaves 
yon satisfied with her and .yourself. Attracted to her 
sphere by an inexplicable power, you find her witand 
grace impressed upon the things with which she sur¬ 
rounds herself; everything there pleases the sight, 
and while there yon seem to breathe the fresh air of 
the country. In intimacy this person seduces you by 
a tone of fresh simplicity. She is frank, without 
offending any one’s self-love. 
She accepts men as God has made them, pardoning 
their faults and ridiculous qualities; comprehending 
all ages, and vexing herself about nothing, since she 
has tact enough to foresee everything. She obliges 
rather than consoles, she is tender and gay; therefore 
you will love her irresistibly. You will take her for 
a type, and vow to worship her. 
Wic find them scattered here and there in sketches, 
f essays, scraps of poetry,—in narratives, and descrip¬ 
tive writings,—tucked in the corners of newspapers. 
. Often, in the midst of unexpected surroundings, 
they flash upon us suddenly, aud surprise with their 
beauty and fitness. People oftener give utterance to 
, gems of thought unconsciously, than when they take 
• great pains to hunt for them. An elegant style ip 
much admired, and writers on Rhetoric give many 
directions about the structure of sentences; they 
must be clear, appropriate, and harmonious. But 
can any one write beautiful sentences by the mere 
study of expression? We may borrow a thought and 
dress it in words that fail pleasantly on the ear, but 
we can never thus originate those sentences that 
arrest attention and awaken deep feeling in the soul. 
When the heart is intensely interested, the brain 
catches the lire of invention,—the sea of thought, 
ringgish in repose, moves with majesty and effect, 
when aroused by the power of emotion. 
The words of the real orator are often dull and 
common-place, until he becomes inspired with his 
theme. When bis heart is aroused, the magic in¬ 
fluence reaches every faculty of bis mind, and words 
that have a meaning fall upon the ear. Every sen¬ 
tence leads directly to the point lie wishes to reach. 
He concentrates npon it all the light at his command. 
While thus his very soul ii aroused, his words carry 
conviction with them; str.king images and beautiful 
comparisons crowd upon his imagination; and for 
the time the mind* of r, m ners arc under perfect 
control. Thought follows thought, clothed in beau¬ 
tiful and appropriate language. Men who never 
make the least effort at elegance or ornament,—who 
always aim to reach conclusions by the shortest path, 
however rugged, arc sometimes truly eloquent by the 
inspiration of circumstances. Our last Inaugural by 
“Honest Abe,” is a specimen of condensed thought, 
clothed in the plainest terms. He seems to have 
avoided expressions calculated to excite the enthu¬ 
siasm of the people. Yet how beautiful and fitting, 
both in thought and language, is his closing sentence: 
“The mystic chords of memory stretch high from 
every battle field and patriot grave, to every living 
heart and hearthstone all over this broad land,—aud 
will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again 
touched, as they surely will be, the better angels of 
our nature.” 
Sentiment and expression are aptly blended in the 
following sentence: 
“ Mourn not for the young; the ripple that dies in 
its first murmurings breaks with a song of joy,—but 
the billow, weary with long wanderings, falls heavily 
mouniug on the sea.” 
Here is a gem from a poem, “ Lizzie’s Grave:” 
“White is the world’s tempestuous sea, 
With the rough billows’ foam; 
But the first, wave that launched th.v hark, 
Was that which washed it home.” 
How many pearls of thought are scattered around 
the graves of lost friends; and how precious are 
these to those household bands where the “vacant 
chair” and the missing voice and form speak of the 
sleeping, silent one in the lonely church-yard. A 
sentiment is not fully appreciated unless it reach the 
feelings and sympathies of on r nature. The eloquent 
words of the patriot, spoken in the hour of a country's 
danger, awaken the deepest emotions in those who 
love their land the most. Requiems for the loved 
aud lost, touch the hearts of the bereaved,—hopeful, 1 
inspiring words are treasured by the young and am¬ 
bitious. To the restless wanderers on life’s troubled 1 
shore, how sweet arc words that speak of peace, of 1 
home, and heaven. It is to such that the Savior 
spoke in that beautiful invitation,—“Come unto me 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest.” m. o. i 
Butler, Wis.. 1S61. 
j and where “corner lots” are of no avail whatever, 
i Dr, perhaps, he more favorably considers it as a 
_ grand highway between nations, which brings in 
supplies aftt-r the market rates hare fallen, or failing 
to bring them in at all, rains all his dividend on the 
carefully chosen Insurance Company Stocks. 
But to the thoughtful observer, to the person who 
believes that nature was made for man, and that by 
I- it he should profit, a moment's consideration will 
readily suggest the many, aye the almost innumer¬ 
able, benefits and lessons which are to be derived 
3 from the sea. Its benefits are crowded before our 
' eyes at nearly every sea port. There we meet with 
e the productions of almost every nation of the globe, 
all sent in payment for our manufactures and other 
article* of export, and thus largely enhancing both 
;i the amount and the profit of our commerce. The 
whale fisheries, which are, in a commercial point of 
view, next in importance among its benefits, afford 
! constant employment to thousands of men, and fur¬ 
nish us with several very important articles of com¬ 
merce. The numerous other fisheries also afford an 
inexhaustible supply of food for man. 
The highest benefit, however, which accrues to us 
- from the sea, iB one which was devised by the Creator 
: alone, and compared with which all the skill and 
sagacity of men in their beneficial endeavors appear 
but trivial indeed. From the pea are generated all 
those vapors which, when re-condensed, form the 
refreshing showers, thereby reviving vegetation, 
fertilizing the earth, purifying the air, and supplying 
a most necessary element in all animal and vegetable 
life. The currents of the sea also impart a refreshing 
breeze to the tropical regions, without which animal 
life there would be almost impossible, and give a 
moderated atmosphere to the region of the temperate 
zones. 
But how great, how wonderful, and how impressive 
are the lessons which wo may learn from the sea! 
How many delightful and sublime reflections are 
awakened in a thoughtful miDd by the numerous 
phases which the sea under different circumstances 
assumes! It is natural for us, when sitting by the 
sea-side we view the clear and placid surface of the 
water as glistening with tbe sunlight it breaks into 
ripples on the beach, to ponder upon the beautiful 
concord of the Universe. Then do we remember the 
many and complex law* in accordance with which 
an almighty power produces this general harmony of 
nature, and meditate upon the great kindness of that 
Being by whom all these beautiful and suggestive 
forms are presented to us. As its vast expanse lies 
spread out before ns, terminated only by tbe horizon, 
rolling gently in its quiet grandeur, and reflecting 
every point, headland, or sail, what an emblem is it 
of the infinite, tranquil peace and love, and ever- 
watebful perception of the Omnipotent Ruler of all : 
things. : 
But suppose the scene to be changed. The sea, as i 
far as the eye can reach, appears to be one living, mov- i 
iDg mass, as it is heaved to and fro in the fury of the ' 
storm. Driven by the resistless force of the wind, 1 
wave after wave, in quick and restless succession, 
rushes on. For a moment the towering crest of each 1 
is seen as it dauntlcssly approaches, and then, break- f 
ing with deafening roar upon the rock-bound coast, I 
it scud* up countless grand and beautiful forms of a 
foam and spray. Then we unconsciously revert to i 
the supreme majesty and power of Him who “ruleth ' 
all things.” Then may we realize, in some degree, c 
the infinite wisdom of Him who, in creating a very t 
useful part of the globe, has at the same time made t 
such a suggestive symbol of His almighty power. a 
Rochester, N Y 1881. w m j. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
NEARER THEE. 
BY K. H. FORD. 
Nearer to Thee, then welcome all the storms 
That drive roe, Father to thy sheltering arms,— 
Welcome rough winds, if o'er life's tossing sea 
They waft me to a haven nearer Thee. 
Thrice welcome deepest darkness, if it blot 
All false and glaring lights forever out,— 
That, in its brightness, on mv path nmy gleam 
The world’s true light,—the Star of Bethlehem. 
Welcome the disippointments and the tears 
That have so sadly marked the flight of years; 
Yes, welcome all things, whatsoe’er they be, 
If they but hasten my approach to Thee. 
Time, oh, how vapid seem the pleasures of its flight 
Viewed in Eternity’s clear searching light; 
My life is but a moment’s space to flee 
To that unfailing refuge nearer Thee, 
Oh, that each day, in its unceasing round. 
May find me on life’s passage “ homeward bound;” 
The beacon strong and bright upon the lea, 
Guiding me safely heavenward,—nearer Thee. 
Geneva, N. Y., 1861. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
PROMISES. 
The “Eldest Child." The eldest child of a 
family holds a position, as it regards influence and 
importance, scarcely second to that of the parents 
themselves,— often called upon, in the temporary 
absence of the father and mother, to direct home 
affairs,— always looked up to as an oracle in matters 
of taste and opinion, by the junior members, who 
draw inferences and shape conclusions even without 
the help of spoken words, even from so slight tokens 
as a raised eyebrow, or shrugged shoulder, or im¬ 
patient gesture. Do elder brothers and sisters think 
enough of Ibis? In after life they may, alas! but too 
sorrowfully, wlien they find themselves repeated in 
myriad forms of thought and expression, by those 
who then hung unnoticed upon their lips. Perhaps 
this brief hint may reach an eye hitherto careless of 
these “little things,” which, like drops of water, go 
to swell such a mighty flood, “Little 11 things! We 
had almost said nothing is “little” in this world, 
least of nil, those which we short-sighted mortals 
oftenest call such. 
—««♦■-* - 
Composition Commended. —One of the best methods 
to acquire the knowledge of a subject is to attempt to 
write about it. Ideas have a sort of cohesive and 
magnetic attraction for each other, and seem to flow 
together when the pen is taken to express them. 
Many a time have we commenced to pen a sentence, 
and there came to us matter for a paragraph, and 
even for an essay. Then, again, when a person at¬ 
tempts to write, it becomes necessary to acquire ideas 
upon the subject under consideration, lie will do 
this in the most expeditions, practical manner, with¬ 
out loading the memory with those cumuli of particu¬ 
lars and demonstrations in which pedantry is so fond 
of dealing. Hence, the pen teaches better than the 
pedagogue, and the closet is vastly superior to the 
school-room in the work of developing intellect and 
cultivating the scholar.— Selected. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
THE SEA—ITS BENEFITS AND LESSONS. 
Among all the beautiful and varied shapes which 
nature assumes, there is, probably, not one whose 
benefits and lessons are so frequently overlooked as 
are those of the sea. In viewing none other of 
nature’s almost countless forms are we so prone to 
consider first, their mighty power for evil, and after¬ 
wards, as a secondary consideration, the trifling 
amount of good which may be attributed to them. 
In the choice of our reading we are in no case so 
ready to turn from a careful explanation of thoidheo- 
ries and laws of nature to an elaborate description of 
her impressive majesty, as when the sea is repre¬ 
sented in all the sullen grandeur of the rising storm, 
since, as Southey has well said, 
“ ’Tis pleasant by the cheerful hearth, to hear 
Of tempests, and the dangers of the deep. 
And pause nt times, and feel that we are safe." 
To the careless and indifferent man, who views all 
things from a commercial stand point, and who 
makes “Profit and Loss” the standard of nature’s 
utility, the sea seems but a vast and barren waste, 
where no railroad stock operations can be located, 
Parental Authority. —When the child is pre¬ 
pared to submit to authority — to acknowledge the 
superiority of its parent — to ackisowJedge his obli¬ 
gation to render obedienee to his will —the parent 
then has the vantage-ground; he can then cultivate 
the heart, the affections of that child, and everything 
he does will then be received as an act of kindness 
aud condescension; while, on tbe other hand, the 
child who has never learned to submit, takes what¬ 
ever his parents do for him as his right — his due; 
and when the parent withholds any thing from him, 
he considers it a wrong, and it is a wrong as he has 
a right to view the subject, if the parent has indulged 
it up from infancy as the rule, instead of teaching 
him to govern himself, and to yield to authority.— 
Orlando Hastings. 
Life’s Inequalities. — The inequalities of life 
are real things, — they can neither be explained 
away, nor done away, — “ you may dig them 
out, but they trill come again. ” A leveler, there¬ 
fore, has long been set down as a ridiculous and 
chimerical being, who, if he could finish liis work 
to-day, would have to begin it agaiu to-morrow. 
The things that constitute these real inequalities are 
four — strength, talent, riches, and rank. The two 
former would constitute inequalities in the rudest 
state of nature; the two latter more properly belong 
to a state of society more or less civilized and 
refined. 
g Not the promises that our friends make, and often 
U forget, or do not fulfill, but the promises which the 
a Lord lias made and given to man, in his revealed 
e, word. Promises which convey hope and consolation 
to all, in every situation of life; and which fail not, 
e for He who made them is faithful to perform all that 
,! he has said he would. We have the assurance that 
c the Lord is not slack concerning his promises, but 
s ready to confer all the blessings which they are 
s designed to give to mankind. 
e When we recall their number and greatness, ad- 
e dressed as they are to all classes among men, con- 
!, veying peace and happiness to every one, without 
1 distinction; we can but raise eur hearts in gratitude 
e to our Creator for making such great and glorious 
i promises to a lost and sin-loving race. Let ns recall 
f a few of tbe many lie has made. To the Christian 
t be has said, “ He that overcometh shall inherit all 
i things, and I will be hiB God, and he shall be my 
i son.” Every person who has sought the divine favor 
and has, with all his mind and strength, desired to 
p have his sins washed away by the atoning blood of 
t Christ, has the promise of being a son of the most 
• High. We have every encouragement to struggle 
against the great adversary of all good, knowing we 
shall be amply blest in this life, anil reap a glorious 
reward in that day when the Lord shall permit us to 
realize fully, in the “celestial city,” that we arc a son 
of God, an heir to an inheritance incorruptible, unde¬ 
filed, and that fadeth not away. 
If we are sometimes unfaithful to our Father in 
Heaven, the kind admonition and promise, “ Be thou 
faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of 
life,” comes to us with irresiatable force, and we 
arouse to adorn the profession we have made by giv¬ 
ing heed to all the requirements of the gospel. 
What if trials and temptations do come, are we to be 
overcome by the enemy? No. We are to be faithful 
to Him who has always been so to us, by fleeing from 
the Tery appearance »f evil, then we bo 
able to appreciate the counsels of the great “I Am.” 
And when we approach the dark and deep River of 
Death, although we may shrink at the thought of 
passing over its turbid waters alone, without the aid 
of friends, yet we confide in the Savior, for he 
appears and says, “ Fear not, for / am witli thee.” 
“ I am the resurrection and the life.” And we feel 
assured that beyond the grave we are to live again 
and enjoy the society of the redeemed forever, in 
ascribing praise to Him who sitteth upon the throne. 
Who then would not trust in the Lord for strength 
and guidance to overcome all sin, and be made a 
partaker of his salvation? 
Those who arc without hope in these sacred prom¬ 
ises are invited to come and partake of the water of 
life freely, and have their hearts fitted to receive the 
engrafted word which will enable them to realize 
faith in the pledges which Jesus has made. Kind 
reader, the most precious promises have been made 
to you for all, without distinction ol' character, are 
invited to come to Christ, with the assurance that 
“ Ye shall find rest to your souls.” And who does 
not need rest? Who does not long to be happy here, 
and feel conscious that there is a rest for the faithful? 
Trust in the arm of JkhOvau then, and the promises 
which He has made will be fulfilled in giving you a 
crown of eternal life, and a seat with the angel choir, 
to sing the song of redeeming love forever. 
Chili Centre, N. Y., 1861. J. I,. K. 
“TO WHOM MUCH IS GTVEN.” 
I have seen Laura Bridgman, whom God sent into 
this world without sight, hearing, or tile power of 
speech. She could see nothing, hear nothing, ask 
nothing. To her, the very thunder has ever been 
silence, and the sun blackness. Tbe tips of her 
fingers and the palms of her hands have been her 
eyes and tongue. Yet that poor sickly girl knows 
much of the earth, and language, and numbers; of 
human relationships and passions; of what is, has 
been, shall be, should be; of sin, and death, and hell; 
of God, and Christ* and heaven. And all this has 
gone through the poor child’s slender fingers, darkly 
feeling the llugers of another; and thus she tells her 
hopes, and fears, and sorrows. And if she, groping 
so blindly for the Savior, finds Him and rests her 
weak hands on His lowly head — that blessed head 
which bows lowly enough even for this—0, how will 
she rise up in judgment and condemn with utter 
overwhelming, you, 0, sinners! upon whose soul 
every sense is pouriug the knowledge of God, while 
your eyes read his holy Word, and your ears hear, a 
thousand times over, these tidingB of great joy —even 
the glorious Gospel of the blessed God! — Dr. Huge. 
Faith. — The soldiers that, like Cromwell’s, march 
with Bibles in their boots, load the cannon by the 
grace of God, and fire it with a psalm, cannot easily 
be beaten. Give ub plenty of the substance of things 
hoped for, aud an evidence of tilings not seen. Let 
one feel that he stands on truth, that the laws of the 
universe and tbe attributes of the Almighty are 
pledged to his support, and yon might as well try to 
chase a rock as him. Faith justified Abel and trans¬ 
lated Enoch; floated the ark and founded the church; 
crossed the Red Sea, and shook down the walls of ( 
/ 
Jericho. In all ages it has out of weakness become 
strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the t 
armies of the aliens, and led out willing martyrs for <j 
the mountains or the flames. 
Love is our best gift to our fellow beings, and that 
which makes any gift valuable in the sight of heaven. 
