152 
8 HUEAL 
1 
»&T ii, 
r [Written for Moore’s Kura) New-Yorker.] 
THE LAND OF CHILDHOOD. 
BT MBS. A. J BORTOV. 
I.v the night-watches, when the stars are blazing 
On the dim earth, with shadows peopled o’er, 
Mine eyes, thought-laden, mournfully arc gazing 
Bsek to a distant country—Childhood’s shore. 
NVIiat though a vista full of gloom Is sweeping 
Between that Land and this I dwell in dow, 
Whose land marks faithful memory still is keeping, 
Strewn with wrecked hope* and many a broken vow, 
There smiles a land resplendent a* tbo morning, 
With flashing streams, and bine and cloudless skies, 
Oreen fields, fair (lowers, this beauteous land adorning 
All bright as seen alone with childhood’s eyes. 
I see the aspen's silver leaflet* quiver 
In the bright sunshine—trembling, shimmering, flashing,— 
I hear tho ceaseless murmur of the river, 
And far away the cataract'a measured dashing. 
Again the breeze my hair 1* gently lifting, 
While listening, breathless, to some wild bird’s song,— 
Or it is Autumn, and, liku goms, are drifting 
The many colored leaves my path along. 
I walk the path Ihat leads along the mountain, 
Br.v stick* and leaven are crackling ueath my feet, 
And oft I’ve watched beside yon sparkling fountain 
To see the fairies start from flower-bell sweet; 
Or searched amid the rocks, ao darkly looming. 
For spring'* first violets sheltered at their base; 
And when I’d gathered them, bo fresh t and blooming, 
Dropp’d them in haste, the squirrel tleet to chase. 
Lifting itH bare arms pleadingly to Heaven, 
A* though it prayed to be laid in the dust, 
I see the lofty oak, by lightning riven— 
Ao embletn of a strong heart scathed and crushed. 
0, chido me not that, spell bound, oft I wander 
Where wo cau dwell hut once—Childhood's fair shore. 
I know* tin vaiu. ’ti.i idle thus to ponder 
Over the days that can return no more; 
But yet some jewels hnvo those day* bequeathed me, 
Wherewith to deck the present. »nd, and chill, 
And fadeless are the hue* that then enwreathed me 
In memory’s sacred casket treasured still. 
And the “ Home Spirit” ever round mo lingers, 
And ever sings a sweet and plaintive song, 
And ever points with her unmoviug fingers 
To that fair land where once I gaily roamed. 
So in the night time, dreaming, or in vision, 
While night’s lone voices still J Beem to hear, 
I’m fur away, in childhood’s laud elysian, 
it ith childhood’s voices ringing in mine ear. 
Dundee, N. Y., 18(51. 
fWritten for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WOMAN’S RIGHTS AND AUNT BETSY. 
“ Peking a communication from “0.” to AuDt 
Betsey, and feeling somewhat interested in the old 
lady,—of whom, by the way, I have some slight 
knowledge,—excuse the liberty I have taken of say¬ 
ing a few words on the subject, which shall be done 
with due deference fur Iter gray hairs. 
Our aunt, being country born and bred, has a 
heart,—a real, loving heart, that feels for others, 
woes. She is ever ready to assist the needy or 
relieve the distressed, and as she is naturally of a 
very cheerful disposition, 1 think something must 
have happened, which “riled” her mure than com¬ 
mon, when she spoke of woman’s rights. Often does 
she gather us about her, and many are the words of 
love and wisdom which fall from her lips as she 
relates her experience* in order that we may profit 
thereby. She iB called a kind, charitable person, 
and I beg you, "0.,” not to judge her by that con¬ 
versation. / cannot agree with her, for to me life 
appears like the April day, ull clouds arid sunshine, 
and that. “Woman’s Rights ” are to guard woman’s 
home from the storms that oft will cloud the domestic 
sky, and so to arrange her culinary affairs that the 
“butter and honey” of forbearance and love, in 
place of being all used at once, shall be spread so 
evenly on the bread of every day life. In such a 
home, the husband, instead of treading her “rights 
under his foot,” will feel that his right to cherish and 
protect her is the dearest one on earth. As for the 
wood and water, no true man will let his wife bring 
them while lie sits idlo, and when he asks you for the 
shirt, is it not because he knows your dislike to 
tumbled drawers: and does not his smile amply repay 
you for the trouble. Yes, indeed, and there's another 
of your rights, to win that smile, from your liege 
lord, by kindly deeds and pleasant words, and a true 
woman will value it more than all the rights of 
suffrage which can he granted her. 
I do not wish to be understood as saying that there 1 
are no abused women, for alas, there are many such; i 
but I cannot think “the best of men” will so far 1 
forget their manhood as our aunt declares,—if so, 1 
oh shades of HORACE, deliver me from such a fate, i 
Better for us, Cousin 0., to live the unloved, unlov- ( 
ing old maid's life, than the loving but unloved one ® 
of a husband's slave. Jennie. ( 
Dewittville, N. Y., 1861. 
[Written for Moore'* Rural New-Yorker.] 
SPRING. 
BT BLI.EN’ C. L. KIM BEL 
Like is in the world again! 
Winter, white and cold 
As the shrouds o'er dead hearts lain 
In a Bilentfold. 
Drops at last the scepter held 
Through such dreary dnys,— 
Straightway all the world is fill’d 
With the Spring'* sweet ways! 
Buds on barren houghs burst forth, 
Touched by Southern breeze, 
Bird* are wild with Binging mirth, 
Snow to Northward flees. 
All Life’s pulse* stronger grow 
In the freshened air. 
Bright the flowers and hopes that blow. 
Beauty’s everywhere. 
Every beat of quickened blood 
In the slnggish vein, 
Aip-ward sends the cheerful word. 
A/earf-ward, joy's refrain; 
Life, the God renewed and strong, 
Through earth's arteries moves, 
Winter, dreary, cold and long, 
Chills not Nature’s love. 
Charlotte Center, N. Y., 1861. 
- » ■ » . » _ 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
PENCLLINGS —No. II. 
Originality. —There would be more originality if 
everybody were perfectly free to follow their natural 
inclinations, and were also endowed with energy to 
carry out their designs. Btrictly speaking, all men 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
CHEAP ARTICLES. 
“IT'S a cheap silk, m’am, only two dollars a yard,—vou 
won't find another in the city to equal it; it's first in styje. 
beautiful colors, liav'nt had anything finer this season, can’t 
get a cheaper.’’ 
All very true; still, my dear madam, you don’t 
want it; consider, thirty dollars for the dress, a few 
more for the trimming and making, then you must 
have collar and undersleeves to match, your gloves 
look faded, your cloak 5 b rusty, your bonnet is 
scarcely genteel,—why not have a complete outfit 
while you are about, it? When alj this is finished, the 
appearance of your parlors scarcely corresponds with 
your own; they need refitting, a new carpet is indis¬ 
pensable, the curtains are worn and certainly no 
longer ornamental, and as they never were useful, 
must give place to better,—a what-not here, and a 
tete-a-tete in this corner, would add greatly to the 
looks of things. When all this iB done to your 
liking, it is high time to invite a party, to admire the 
rooms if for nothing more; and so it goes on until, 
when at length you look about to see how much you 
have gained, yon find your daughters vain, fashion¬ 
able young ladies, with neither sensible heads nor 
sound hearts, and yonr sons dissipated, foppish 
young men, who think It. good manners to treat their 
parents with cool impertinence. 
TRUST. 
Savior, happy would I be 
If I could but trust in Thee— 
Trust Thy wisdom mo to guide, 
Trust Thy goodness to provide, 
Trust the saving love and power, 
Trust Thee every day and hour. 
Trust Thee as the only light 
In the darkest hour of night; 
Trust in sickness, trust in health, 
Trust in poverty and wealth; 
Trust in joy and trust in grief, 
Trust Thy promise for relief; 
Trust Thy blood to cleanse my soul; 
Trust Thy grace to make me whole; 
Trust Thee living, dying too— 
Trust Thee all my journey through; 
Trust Thee till my feet shall be 
Planted on the crystal «ea. 
- -*-« ♦ ■ > - *_ 
[Written for Moore s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE LOVED AND LOST. 
“It s a cheap stand, sir, cheapest in the city, can’t find 
another like it for double the money, good situation, good 
custom, frequented by ail the fast men in town, has a good 
name, too, as things go.—better take up with the offer, sir.” 
All trne, too true; but. my dear sir, if you could 
buy that Bland for nothing it would be too dear for 
you. You have a respectable name now, don’t 
disgrace it by making drunkards, for wine does that 
as surely as rum. You are honored, nay, loved by 
your neighbors now. Who honors or loves the man 
. . . . . ; *■>'». " uu uumije vr loves me man 
would be original, at least in their mode of action, if that deals out headaches, heartaches, sin and misery 
iiDfronininlnit .1 .........._u.. . I . * J 
HOW WOMEN BECOME INSANE. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yopker.] 
AUNT BETSEY IN TROUBLE. 
“Bless the poor cretur’s heart!” said Aunt 
Betsey, taking off her spectacles and laying down the 
f last IttiRAi.. “if I’d ever thought that what I said was 
going to go right to anybody's heart so, J never would 
have said it in the world! Now, who knows, girls, 
but what she’ll feel so convicted about it that she’ll 
give the fellow she was going to have, the mitten. 
Then, if she telLs him how it was what I said that 
made her, like enough he’ll sue me for breach of 
promise. 1 never felt, so worked up in my life, for 
goodness knows I've lived to be as old as I urn without 
so much as trying to make a match or break one, ’cause 
I always thought that when folks put their own fingers 
in the fire, it don’t seem to hurt so bad ns when other 
folks do it for them.” 
“ I don’t believe sho ever read her Bible much, 
anyhow,” she continued, after taking up the paper 
again, “ or she would have known that I was talking 
a kind of parable about the precipice. As the 
minister says, I didn’t litteraUy mean that folks jump 
off a precipice when they get married, hut Jigger- 
atively they know just about as much about the land 
they’re going into, as a man would know about where 
he’d light il he jumped off a precipice with his eyes 
blinded. I don’t s’pose I ought to have told anything 
about it, for everybody finds out soon enough what 
the peculiarities are. I meant a man that she never 
had seen in his own home with his brothers and sis¬ 
ters, and she thought I meant that after she got mar¬ 
ried she ‘never would see him at homo.’ I guess my 
grammar was crooked there, and 1 don’t think 
there’ll be the least doubt about her seeing him at 
home at least three times a day, (that is, if she gets 
good victuals to eat.) Men always bring in a pall of 
water, or an armful of wood, when they feel like it, 
or when some one else hasn’t got it first. Anybody 
might reasonably calculate that they get about a 
tenth of the quantity of such articles as would be 
necessary to use in a common family.” 
“The child didn’t seem to see that I was talking 
about the first of housekeeping when 1 spoke about 
the shirts and needles. Of course, she will have ft 
place for shirts, and keep them there after she gets 
settled, and he’ll know where to look for them then, < 
but that will not prevent tilings being topsy-turvy in t 
all directions for the first day or two, as she'll find to i 
her satisfaction, if there’s but one pair of hands to i 
regulate them, and unless he is brighter than the 1 
majority of men, he’ll have precious little idea how t 
he can go to work to help about it. About the butter I 
and honey, I expect every body tries hard enough to e 
have it spread evon, hut human natnr’ is per- c 
verse and unreasonable, and full of all sorts of d 
little meddlesome spirits that keep licking it off, so c 
it’s my opinion that there’s precious few folks gets a 
along without tasting the bread pretty strong once L 
in a while. It’s the best way to swallow it down, v 
though, and now, on the whole, don’t you think, ti 
girls, and don’t you s’pose Miss ‘ 0 ' will think, if you r 
tell her so, that all them things I told you about tl 
havin’ to hear if you get married aint evils after all.” - 
“ It’s just as uatral fo< a man that, is a man, to stave 
ahead and try to do somethin’ in the world, as it is 
for him to eat; and if he was always stoppin’ to pick r< 
up chips to boil his diuitor with, there wouldu’the ti 
much dinner to boil. If she’s really soared about ii 
having to bring in her own wood though, I can tell ti 
her that men do bring in an arntful when they can b 
stop to, and sometimes, when it’s necessary, they hire ai 
somebody else to do it.” I,, 
“ I’ve done all 1 can to comfort her, anyhow,” she tt 
concluded, laying down the paper again, and looking hi 
reflectively at the (ire. “ If she’ll look at all them ei 
evils in the right way, with the sperritof submission, at 
and the eyes of love, she'll he saved from the worst si 
‘ woman’s fate’ that I know anything about,—that of pc 
thinkin' she’s abused, ’cause her husband don’t he 
always 6ce where her shoes pinch. I’d like to know nc 
who she is, anyhow. You just say somethin’about ev 
my not being worth auy property, and all I have got of 
being willed away, so if there’s any trouble ’tween ot 
her and him, she can’t think of getting any damages 
out of me. Alice, where’s tuy knitting? how T have 
been hendered to be sure! and come to think of it, I cl 
don’t believe what I said will make an atom of differ- hi 
enee. I’ll bet she’ll be married long enough 'fore at 
sites suved by my ‘admonitions,' cause letters go cc 
slow sometimes, anil I guess she was most ready.” wi 
Charlotto Center, N. Y., 1861. E. C, L. K. wi 
I remark that over three thousand cases of 
' 1 insanity have now come under my direct care and 
observation. Tn a large proportion of those cases 
, t whose history I could obtain, I have found that the 
e remote and predisposing causes of insanity could be 
plainly traced to the malign influences of childhood, 
d These influences I cannot at this time enumerate or 
( consider, hut their knowledge justifies the assertion 
U that when the duty of making home icise and happy shall 
k he /otter realized, we shall have in our land less of 
t vice and crime, and much less of insanity. The 
f neglect of physical training, and the imperfect 
r physical development which follows, consequent 
t to this neglect, are strikingly evident in many 
j of our female patients. The various causes which 
l are reported to me, as the source of disease, and 
r which are classified in the tables under the head 
of “ill health,” “intense mental and bodily effort,” 
“grief,” “domestic unhappiness,” etc., may very 
1 frequently be traced, in their primary influences, to 
the one cause of a want of physical stamina. I chn- 
! not refrain from referring here to remarks which I 
made in the twenty-fourth annual report (for 1K48.) 
I there stated that of the one hundred and eighty- 
seven female patients admitted during the past three 
years, thirty-four per cent, were the wives of farmers 
and mechanics, — quite an undue proportion of the 
comparative number of these classes in the com¬ 
munity. The consideration of the causes which led 
to this most natural result, showed that between 
nursing, the accumulation of household duties and 
drudgery, and the miserable short-sighted economy 
which often led the husband to refrain from supplying 
the necessary domestic assistance, the poor heart-broken 
and discouraged wife had lost in turn her appetite, 
her rest, and her strength, her nervous system had 
become prostrated, aud, sinking under her burdens, 
she had sought refuge in the Retreat. One of our 
worthy female patients remarked one day to a lady, 
“Only think of it! Dr. Butler is keeping me here, 
ami 1 have six children aud fourteen cows to take > 
earo of at home.” “Twenty excellent reasons for 1 
your remaining here till you are cured,” was tho * 
timely answer. They were the twenty reasons which ! 
had made her insane. < 
I venture to say that not one girl in ten, now-a- 
days, enjoys really sound, rugged health; and surely ! 
that is a very unwelcome statement about those who ' 
are expected to be helpmates to husbands and ' 
mothers of children. * * Parents and teachers 1 
both should inculcate upon children of both sexes 1 
the importance of health-bringing active exercise. 1 
Boys need but little urgency, but girls should be J 
compelled to take it. It is possible for them to be- 
come of strong, vigorous health, with excellent J 
digestion aud no nervousness. An English girl, ao- 1 
custouted to all weathers and thick shoes, considers 
a half-dozen inileB as a mere trifle of a walk, and she 1 
takes it day by day, The majority of American girls, * 
with their thin shoes, would shrink from such an at- c 
tempt, aud regard it as nearly an impossibility. The 
reason of this Is, that bodily exercise is the rule for 
the girls in England, and for ours it is the exception. ^ 
—llepurt of the Insane Asylum at Hartford. 
untrammeled by custom and surrounding eircurn- 
e stances. People grow up molded by circumstances, 
; and their course is more or less plainly marked out 
r by precept and example. It is smoother walking in 
a beaten road than across an untraeked field. TIiub 
, a great many people fail to bring out their peculiar 
. characteristics by doing us their fathers have done, 
t and acting as they are expected to act. But there are 
others whose characters stand out in bolder outline, 
—men who love their own thoughts and plans bettor 
than any which others may originate. The claims 
of custom have little control over them, and their 
feet are ever turning aside into unexpected paths. If 
C such men succeed at all, it is by following lines of 
I their own tracing; they are sure to fail if they under- 
i take to follow another's leading. The reason is plain, 
i H any one would he successful, he must have faith in 
his principles of action. An original person thinks 
hi-- own plans the best, and he cannot pursue with 
patience or confidence one marked out by another. 
There are soxno who possess enough originality to 
make them eccentric, yet are without energy to ac¬ 
complish their designs. You could teach a comet to 
follow in a planet’s orbit, as easily as you could make 
them adopt the rules of conduct prescribed by anoth¬ 
er. One writer calls genius “a strongly marked 
individuality.” This woubt be a good definition of 
originality. A person may he original without hav¬ 
ing those high capacities which we call genius, A 
man’s conduct may bear the impress of his own 
peculiar character, and yet he may not be possessed 
of any superior powers of jfli^d. He picks his way 
through life without paying any attention to tho 
guide-boards of public opinion, running athwart tho 
straight lines of propriety and precision. His inde¬ 
pendence and oddity attract attention, and if they are 
prompted by nature, not by affectation, they claim 
respect. But while a person may he eccentric with¬ 
out a high order of genius, yet, in general, a really 
original person leaves hie impress upon the world. 
He docs not allow his individual peculiarities to run 
wild, but guides them by reason. Thus he is in a 
position of advantage; he JajB his plans and carries i 
them out without stopping to inquire whether they i 
interfere with custom, or conflict with opinion. j i 
Position. — Tile value of a figure depends upon its 1 
position, or place from units. —Adam's Arithmetic. 1 
Yes, position is a great deal, and not figures alone ’ 
are affected by it. There is Mrs. John Smith, who 1 
possesses great influence and ascendancy over the t 
minds of her neighbors, yet she has neither beauty i 
nor talent,—cannot sing sweetly, nor talk interest- t 
ingly, lint she has position, 1 f by any means you can t 
get within tho region of her favor, immediately you t 
will he recognized by those whose vision was not i 
sufficiently clear to pierce through the veil of oh- t 
by the glass? You have a wife who is striving daily 
to lead you into the better way,—don’t break her 
• heart by telling her, as nothing else so surely can, 
that you will never walk there. You have children, 
— have mercy, and for their sake, save other children 
from the sight of a besotted parent. 
“ It's cheap land, sir, and good too, ’Twill be a bargain 
for the man who take* it. and in my opinion yon’re the 
one who ought to have it; it just joins your farm, and will 
make the line run out square to the east road. There is 
not a better ‘eighty acres’ in the county, and if I were 
you I'd buy it.” 
Don’t do it; you have all that you can work well 
now, aye, you could profitably put more labor on 
that than you now do. Why then should you buy? 
What will you gain? I’ll tell you. You, of course, 
with eighty extra acres need more help, but you 
never think that your wife needs the same. Bhc, 
“poor woman,” does not complain, for she knows 
that yottr expenses are far greater now than before, 
and so tries to lessen her own. The children are sent 
to school eurly because their mother cannot spare 
the time to train them as she should. They are sent 
to the teacher, and the teacher, alas! for tho scholars, 
she is one of the cheap articles, too. Time pusses on. 
Your children grow up, not strong, for they were 
overworked when their limbs were tender,—(not 
through cruelty, but, as yon thought, through neces¬ 
sity,)— not educated, for since they were old enough 
you never gave them a chance to study,—not affec¬ 
tionate, as you were too busy at work ever to think 
of loving them. What wonder is it that such chil¬ 
dren never learn to love each other? In your old 
age, when you look over those broad acres, waving 
with grain, and grass, and beautiful in the sunlight, 
may the sight bring joy to your heart, for truly they 1 
were dearly bought. St'E Carroix, 
Lima, N. Y„ 1861. i 
GUARD AGAINST VULGAR LANGUAGE, i 
r What tender memories fill the hearts of bereaved 
ones after time has taken away the first sting of grief. 
With what reverent tenderness we recal the virtues 
6 of the departed, and under this frequent and loving 
4 review of their characters our own hearts are nn- 
4 consciously purified. 
And who has not the sacred memory of some lost 
1 friend hidden away from the common view, to which 
r they turn with subdued pleasure. It may be that of 
t a loved father, who ever shared our childish joys and 
t sorrows, and whose stern integrity ha? made an in¬ 
delible impression on ottr minds. Or of a gentle 
i mother, who was ever fnll of tender care for her 
’ family, yet ever cheerful, but whose worth we never 
knew until she left us. It may be of a noble brother, 
• who died in the first flush of youth. Or, saddest of 
all, it may he the ever present grief of parents who 
mourn the loss of a promising child, the recollection 
of whose winning loveliness is ever a precious posses¬ 
sion to their mourning hearts. 
When death strikes near us, and bears away from 
our sight forever the child of some dear friend, how 
the sympathy we can but feel for the bereaved ones, 
breaks up the current of our selfish and worldly ex¬ 
istence. As we see the stricken mother going about 
her now desolate home, collecting the toys which be¬ 
longed to the dear one, and ever turning in plaintive 
sadness towards a little mound in the gravo yard, our 
hearts ache at our inability to offer consolation; but 
we can earnestly pray that the Savior's promise may 
be confirmed to her, “Blessed are they that mourn, 
for they shall be comforted.” n. c. it. 
Geneva, Wi*., 1861. 
Weak Brethren.— 1. There are some brethren so 
physically weak, that they cannot raise their hand 
as high up as their pockets, and some not quite so 
weak but that they eonld do that, who are not able to 
lift it Out again. 2. There are some brethren so 
weak from the labors of business, that they have not 
strength to walk to church on the Sabbath, and some 
not quite so weak, who can get there only once that 
day. 3. There arc some so weak after the toils of 
the day, that they are not able to walk to prayer 
meeting; and then, again, others who can get there, 
are too weak to speak or pray. i. There are 
some brethren so weak as to be unable to rise early 
enough to have family worship before business 
hours; then there are others, who do' rise early, but 
are too weak to reach down tho old family Bible. 6. 
There are some brethren so weak in talents that they 
are not able to teach a class in Sabbath School, but 
who are not quite so weak when a political meeting 
is on hand.— Anon. 
There is as much connection between the words 
and the thoughts as there is between the thoughts 
and the actions. The latter are not only the expres¬ 
sion of the former, but they have a power to react 
upon the soul, and leave the stain of their corruption 
there. A young man who allows himself to use one 
vulgar or profane word, has not only shown that 
there is a foul spot upon his mind, but by the utter¬ 
ance of that word he extend^ that spot and 
inflames it, till, by indulgence, it will pollute and 
ruin the wliolo soul. Be careful of your words as 
well as your thoughts. If you can control the tongue 
that no improper words are pronounced by it, you 
will soon be able, also, to control the mind, and save 
that from corruption. You extinguish the fire by 
• r . .nvr* VU- UVUI vuii u|ibit7U» I UII tUc HrC U V 
scurity. The advance step has brought you within smothering it, or by preventing bad thoughts burst- 
their view. ing out j n i angua g e . N ev er otter a word anywhere 
II you happen to belong to the poor unit column, which you would be ashamed to speak in the 
get yourself advanced into the tens, and if possible, presence of the most refined female, or the most 
into the “ upper tens.” 'i our unit value may be only religious man. Try this practice a little wljjfle, and 
naught, but if you understand the magic influence of you will soon have command of yourself, 
position, you will, at all hazard, attach yourself to_» - ^ , » _ 
the lofty ones above you. After your elevation, be 
careful how yon have intercourse with those units. 
Remember, at every upward step you are ten times as 
great us before, and recollect, also, that cyphers are 
just as valuable as substantial figures, if they are only 
in the right position. 
Our Circles. —.lust now I saw a hawk flying in 
long circular sweeps the sky. The bird is like me— 
Like Without and Within.— Seldom do we meet 
sensitiveness of conscience or discriminating reflec¬ 
tion as indigenous growth of a very vigorous physi¬ 
cal devclopemont. Your true, healthy boy has the 
breezy, hearty virtues of a New Fonndlftnd dog—the 
wild fullness of life of the young race colt. Senti¬ 
ment, sensibility, delicate perceptions, spiritual 
aspirations, are plants of later growth. But there are 
The Love op Beauty. —The love of beauty and 
refinement belongs to every true woman. She ought 
to desire, iu moderation, pretty dresses, and delight 
in beautiful colors and graceful fabrics; she ought to 
take a certain, not too excessive pride, in herself, and 
be solicitous to have all belonging to her well chosen 
and in good taste; to cure for the perfect ordering of 
her house, the harmony and fitness ol her furniture, 
the cleanliness of her surroundings, the good style of 
her arrangements; she ought not to like singularity, 
either of habit or appearances, or he able to stand out 
against a fashion when fashion has become custom; 
she ought to make herself conspicuous only by the 
perfection of her taste, by the grace and harmony of 
her dress, the unobtrusive good breeding of her man¬ 
ners; she ought to set the seal of a gentlewoman on 
every square inch of her life, and shed the radiance 
of her own beauty and refinement on every material 
object about her. 
like all. Every day we go through a circle of labor, —both of men and women—beings born into this 
of ambitious hopes aud fears. Often our days are world in whom from childhood the spiritual and the 
“ So like each other reflective predominate over the physical. In relation 
They cannot he remembered,” t0 otl)cr human beings, they seem to be organized 
much as birds are in relation to other animals. They 
i et they are not alike-each one bears us a little are the artists, the poets, the unconscious seers, to 
urt er onward. 1 watched the bird ’till almost out whom the purer truths of spiritual instruction are 
of sight, still it kept wheeling arwund, and all the open. Surveying man merely as an animal, these 
t.imA HflCfiintr I’lln*t uurnw Cz\ m -I* *>.UL ^„ 1 . ... _ 
Wn at a wondrous sensation it is to feel that a 
chance expression we have used, a few stray words, • 
have been stored up as precious memories. Is there 
any flattery like it? What an ecstacy to feel that we 
could impart value to the veriest commonplace, and 
without an effort, without even a will, sit enthroned 
within some other heart. 
time passing further away. So is it with mortals, 
until they reach the great circle of eternity, that they 
may never complete. m. o. 
-+ ■ » i ♦ —- 
The Death op Inpants. —Those who never lost a 
child are unable to understand how great a void one 
little one can make. There is, we think, nothing 
on earth that ean cast so long, wide and black a 
shadow, as a small coffin. It is emphatically the 
shadow of death that freezes the parent's heart. 
Small as is an infant’s tomb, it sometimes is capac¬ 
ious enough to hold all the brightest hopes and the 
dearest joys of a whole family citcle. The little 
child is often the bright focus where all the rays 
of gladness center, and from which they are reflected 
again over happy hearts; and when this central light 
is eclipsed, great darkness falls upon all. IIow many 
there must be in heaven, — gathered up from all 
climes, even from heathen shores,—who have died so 
yonng-as to retain no memory of earth, and to whom 
that world of glory seems as their native land. 
The “golden everlasting chain,” described by 
Homer as reaching from heaven to earth, and em- 
aensitively organized beings, with their feebler 
physical powers, are imperfect specimens of life. 
Looking from the spiritual side, they seem to have a 
noble strength —a divine force. The types of this 
latter class are more commonly among women than 
among men.— Mrs. Stowe. 
-+ » ♦ ■ 4- 
Avoid Deception. — Persons who practice deceit 
and artifice always deceive themselves more than 
they deceive others. They may feel great com¬ 
placency in view of the success of their doings; but 
they are in reality casting a mist before their own 
eyes. Such persons not only make a false estimate 
of their own character, but they estimate falsely the 
opinions aud conduct of others. No person is 
obliged to tell all he thinks; hut both duty aud self- 
interest forbid hint ever to make false pretences. 
The New Creation. — Every spring God works 
countless wonders. (We do not call them miracles, 
because we see them every spring,) Out of a little 
hud, hi brings a branch with leaves, and flowers, and 
fruits. Prom a tiny seed he evolves a whole plant, 
with its system of roots and branches. And more 
wonderful still, we see springing into life a new 
~-----n WM HGUUUUUJ aiUL wc JUMJ 4111* ii llt’W 
bracing the whole moral world, was no fable. That generation of insects and creeping things, and birds 
chain is love. and beasts. “ In wisdom hast thou made them all.” 
3 
, Every-D^y Religion. —There is not much solidity 
. in a religion that will not stand the test of every-day 
t experience. “ There arc a good many pious people,” 
, says Douglas Jerrold, “who are as careful of their 
s religion as of their best service of China, only using 
t it on holiday occasions, for fear it should get chipped 
. or flawed in working-day wear.” That species of 
religion may do for a show, but there’s little sub- 
stunce in it. It is not the kind to last. It is too fine 
. for use. It is too much of the gilt gingerbread sort 
for the more general service of mankind. It can do 
little good in the eyes of one who judges us not by 
the exterior, but by the interior evidence of excell¬ 
ence. Religion, to he serviceable, must not only be 
substantial, but active. It must not be drowsy. It 
must be wide awake, vigilant and Bturdy. 
Turn* Their Faces Heavenward, —Among the 
old Romans there prevailed the touching custom of 
holding the faco of every new-born infant towards 
the heavens, signifying, by thus presenting its fore¬ 
head to the stars, that it was to look above the world 
into celestial glories. It was a vague superstition, 
but Christianity dispels the fable, and gives us a clear 
realization of that pagan yearning, in the deep 
solicitude which all its disciples cherish for the 
spiritual welfare of the youug. The great design of 
the Sunday School organization is to turn the faces 
of tho little children towards heaven, and prepare 
their spirits for immortal glory.— Rev. A. S. Patton. 
No Dull Hours. —“ I never spend one dull hour,” 
said Clementine, the daughter of the celebrated 
Baron Cuvier. These words were uttered when she 
was in declining health, when it was necessary to 
leave her a great part of the time alone. What was 
the secret by which, under those depressing circum¬ 
stances, she was enabled to escape those dull hours, 
which so many of us experience? She had the 
presence of Jesus! Who can have dull hours, when 
they are blessed with the society of their best 
beloved friend? She had a habitual sense of the 
presence of Christ. 
Pray’Er is ever profitable; at night it is our cov¬ 
ering; in the morning it is our armor. Prayer 
should be the key of the day, and the lock of the 
night. He is listed in God’s service aud protection, 
who makes it his first work to be enrolled by prayer 
under the standard of the Almighty. He carries an 
assistant angel with him for his help, who begs bis 
benediction from above; and without it he is lame 
aud unarmed.— Feltham. 
— ■ ♦ ■ -m ♦—♦ 
He who rears up one child in Christian virtues, or 
recovers one fallen creature to God, builds a temple 
more precious than Solomon’s or St. Peter’s — more 
enduring than earth or sky.— Channing. 
-♦--- 
The triumphs of truth are the most glorious, 
chiefly because they are the most bloodless of all vic¬ 
tories, deriving their highest luster from the number 
of the saved, not of the slain. 
