TOY 27. 
_ • * i 
ijprtmoit. 
* [Written for Moorc‘a Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE SONG OF THE SEWING MACHINE. 
BT GKORGB W. a UNO AT. 
The pale sewing girl sighed in her lonely room, 
Where her cheeks of rose lost their radiant bloom; 
The shadow that danced on the desolate wall 
Seemed the shadow of death unfolding her pall; 
And the round tears rolled 
Down her face, like rain, 
And the thread unspooled 
From a heart of pain. 
When I, like a queen, raised my scepter to reign. 
I snatched from her thin hands the needle and thread, 
And with fingers of steel I sewed in her stead; 
My bones nerer ache, and my eyes never dim, 
1 work to the music of woman’s soft hymn. 
The sewing girl now 
SiDgs morning and night, 
And the roses glow, 
And the eyes are bright 
On the face that was sad In the sickly light. 
• Now the lily white hand of the lady fair 
Can sew without miring white thread with her hair, 
Or stitching her life in the ominous seams, 
Or toiling in garrets, where ghosts haunt her dreams. 
Oh, stitching for bread, 
With the wolf at the door, 
When the "eyelid* are red,” 
Is the lot of the poor. 
My mission shall be to scare wolves from the door. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
RULING. 
In the discussion between “A. R.” and “ E. C. W.,” 
the latter has, we believe, the important advantage 
of being correct. "B. C. W.” says, however, 
“I would not give a penny for a man who is not 
‘ruler’ of his home." Though right in saying as 
much as that, n few words should bo added to give 
the subject its proper qualificatlottfl. The word 
“ruler" has connected with it the idea of absolute 
authority exercised by a monarch, that makes it 
repugnant to persons of proper feelings and judg¬ 
ment, when applied without limitations to a husband. 
Children should, of course, bo taught obedience, and 
the husband should manage his affairs in his own 
way. Borne women are not satisfied unless every¬ 
thing is managed according to their judgment. 
Their husbands will receive the pity of tome, but 
will fail of securing from any the respect which true 
men receive. 
On the other band, some men are very orthodox 
on this question of ruling, and fail to discover any¬ 
thing in the Bible, that applies to this subject, but 
the passage, “Wives, obey your husbands." But the 
Bame Word that says, “ Wives, obey your husbands,’’ 
says also, among other things, " Husbands, love your 
wiveB.” IT the husband regards bis wife as “ a help 
meet for him,” he will respect her views and feelings; 
but where there is a difference between them, the 
opinions of the husband should, of right, prevail. 
The nature of the relaiion between the husband 
and wife has a beautiful illustration in the Inspired 
Word, when therein compared to the relation exist¬ 
ing between Christ and His Church. The language 
of Christ, in speaking of His Church, is, “ As the 
lily among thorns, so is my love among the daugh¬ 
ters.” How matchless was that love, which led Him 
even to death! If a husband feels in any degree 
toward bis wife as Christ docs toward His Church, 
it will be far from unpleasant to submit to all the 
authority that will bo exercised by him in ruling. 
The language of the Church, in speaking of Christ, 
is, “ My Beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphlre 
in the vineyards of Kn-gcdi.” if the heart, of the 
wife is right toward her husband, she will not be 
jealous of him with regard to ruling; and if each 
of them have proper respect and affection for the 
other, the question of authority will hardly secure a 
thought. In this view of the matter, we see that to 
those persons who are contemplating the commission 
of matrimony, the question of ruling is of but small 
consequence, while the question of affection is of 
paramount importance. A. T. E. Clarke. 
Wadham'g Mills, N. Y., 1861. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
MATRIMONY. 
As the Rural is a medium for free interchange of 
thought, I would like to respond to the views of “ X " 
upon matrimony. Did Con set up a “ lottery ” office 
and then bid Adam try his luck in drawing a prize? 
Or did He deem marriage a “Jmmbng" when lie 
provided a wife, for him? Did He furnish Evk with 
“borrowed sweetness” when He presented her to 
her future husband? Did He teach Auam how to 
deceive and make him averse to companiouship, and 
then yoke them up? No. This perverting matri¬ 
monial sacredness is man's doings. God has im¬ 
planted iu every cue’s heart a yearning fora home 
which can be identified as ours, and you may as well 
disbelieve your own existence as to deny this asser¬ 
tion. He never made man to live a hermit’s life, else 
1 do not read my Bible aright. Can “X ” instil his 
ideas into my mind and cause we to think “marriage 
is a humbug ” when our Creator says it is not good 
for man to live alone, and when Jesus sanctioned 1 
the wedding ceremony by His presence? Never. If 
“X” w’ould look over the garden of his heart, 1 
think he would find there a living plant termed love 
for the opposite sox. It may be a few buds are 1 
broken off, (and who can wonder,) or, worse still, 
perhaps it lies dormant, (then I pity his mother,) but ' 
yet it is there, and only needs the “ right one ” as a 1 
cultivator to call out its latent vitality. 1 
Many things I know are detrimental to happiness 1 
in the marriage relation, and the one paramount to 1 
all others is uniting the bands when the heart Is - 
wanting. A couple thus wedded do not possess a ‘ 
sufficient unity of spirit and a oneness of purpose ' 
requisite for enjoyment, hence what an amount of S 
needless jarring between them. Why, it is like a ‘ 
pair of yoked cattle trying to move in opposite ' 
directions. They can’t do it. One nutst give up—if 1 
peaceably, well —if not, they’ll fight till one con- ! 
quers, then woe betide the vanquished. (I guess < 
“X" has always seen the must principle in full 
force.) 0! this "he not unequally yoked together’’ * 
means something beside “Church ” membership. It 1 
does not mean marry the hands minus the affections. 1 
To the violation of this is traceable very much of the 1 
misery of married life. J 
Shall we condemn the whole picture of “married ’ 
bliss” because its beauty is marred by this one dark ' 
spot? No. There is an abundance of brightness £ 
and beauty on the canvass to counterbalance this 
defect. £. a w . 
Genoa, N. Y., 1861. r 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HOW “WE WRONG OUR DAUGHTERS.” 
True, “We wrong them in that we compel them 
to marry.” We must revolutionize the cause in 
order to improve the effect. But as it is a labor of 
leviathan magnitude to suppress the sophistry that 
the world has for ages endeavored to enthrone as 
public opinion, can we not some way take a shorter 
voyage to a better result? With our daughters, as 
with the whole world, marriage jb a “ foregone con¬ 
clusion .” Society first sets the seal of opprobrium 
upon the byinenial delinquent, and invariably stig¬ 
matizes them as '‘nobody but an old maid.” Social 
forms also prescribe “thus far sbalt thou go and no 
further” in the choice of occupation and mainten¬ 
ance of a woman, and so very limited is the prescrip¬ 
tion that many are fain to accept the “broken stick.” 
“Compel them to marry,”—and who do we com¬ 
pel them to choose? It is here that the field is broad 
for improvement. We send them to school, and edu¬ 
cate them well,—perhaps brilliantly. We are sat¬ 
isfied—and expect them to marry. Wo accredit to 
them too good sense to elect a companion unworthy, 
or unequal in social position or intelligence. And 
what if she fails to discover that equal—that counter¬ 
part of the soul in her circle of friends? Will 
some fairy Knight hasten to her rescue before the 
brief “one, two, three,” of girlhood expires? No. 
Let those who have thns far watched over her, leave 
her not now at the trial period of her existence. 
Teach your girls that it is only the refined, the edu¬ 
cated, the pure or heart, that can make their life 
happy, and their home the paradise of affection. 
Assist them to enter such society. Very much could 
the misery of this world be prevented, would fathers 
give more attention to providing their daughters 
with suitable companionship. How often have I 
listened to that mournful wall from those ill-starred 
marriages, of which we can all recall some instance. 
“ Oh, if I had had an opportunity to know more of 
the world, this never would have happened.” 
Ogden, Monroe Co., N. A'. 
C. E. B. 
EARLY DECAY OP AMERICAN WOMEN. 
Mrs. H. B. Stowe, in her book of travels in 
Europe, makes the following sensible remarks about 
the comparative beauty of tbe women of England 
and America: 
A lady asked me, tbe other evening, what I thought 
of the beauty of the ladies of tbe English aristoc¬ 
racy; she was a Scotch lady, by the by, so that the 
question was certainly a fair one. T replied that 
certainly report had not exaggerated their charms. 
Then came a home question—how the Indies of Eng¬ 
land compared with those of America? “Now for 
it, patriotism,” said 1 to myself, and invoking to my 
aid certain fair saints of my own country, whose 
faces I distinctly remembered. 1 assured her that 1 
had never seen more beautiful women than I had in 
America. Grieved was I to add, “but your ladies 
keep their beauty much longer.” This fact stares 
one in the face of every company; one meets ladies 
past fifty, glowing, rudiaDt, and blooming, with a 
freshness of complexion and fulness of outline 
refreshing to contemplate. What can be the reason? 
Tell us, Muses and Graces, what can it be? Ts it the 
conservative power of sea-fog and coal smoke, the 
same which keep the turf green, ami makes the ivy 
and holly flourish? How comes it that our married 
ladies dwindle, fade, and grow thin, that their noses 
incline to sharpness, and their elbows to angularity, 
just at the time of life when their island sisters round 
out into a comfortable and becoming amplitude and 
fulness? If it is the coal and sea-fog, why then I am 
afraid we shall never come up with them. 
But perhaps there may be other causes why a 
country which starts some of the most beautiful girls 
in the world, produces so few beautiful women. Have 
not our close stove-heated rooms something to do 
with it? Above all, has not. our climate, with its 
alternate extremes of beat, and cold, a tendency to 
induce habits of indolence? Climate, certainly, has 
a great deal to do with it; ours is evidently more 
trying and more exhausting, and because it is so, we 
should not. pile upon its back errors of dress and 
diet which are avoided by onr neighbors. They 
keep their beauty because they keep their health. It 
has been as remarkable to me as anything, since I 
have been here, that I do not constantly, as at home, 
hear one and another spoken of as in miserable 
health, very delieate, Am. Health seems to be the 
rale, and not tbe exception. For my part, I must 
say the most favorable omen I know of for female 
beauty in America, is the multiplication of water 
cure establishments, whero our ladies, if they get 
nothing else, do gain some ideas as to the necessity 
of fresh air, regular exercise, simple diet, and the 
laws of hygiene in general. 
A WOMAN OP GOOD TASTE. 
The handsomest compliment you can pay to 
woman of sense, is to address her as such. 
Tiik following very happy and equally true sketch 
is from the London Quarterly Review: 
“You see this lady turning a cold eye to the assur¬ 
ances of shopmen and the recommendation of milli¬ 
ners. She cares not how original a pattern may be, 
if it be ugly, or bow recent a shape, if it be awk¬ 
ward. Whatever laws fashion dictates, she follows 
a law of her own, and is never behind it. She wears 
very beautiful things which people generally suppose 
to he fetched from Paris, or, at least, made by a 
French milliner, but which as often are bought at 
the nearest town and made up by her own maid. 
Not that her costume is either rich or new; on the 
contrary, she wears many a cheap dress, but it is 
always pretty, and many an old one, bat it is always 
good, She deals in no gaudy confusion of colors, 
nor does she affect a studied sobriety; but she either 
refreshes you with a spirited contrast, or composes 
you with a judicious liarmeuy. Not a scrap of tinsel 
or trumpery appears upon her. She puts no faith 
in velvet bands, or gilt buttons, or twisted cording. 
She is quite aware, however, that the garnish is as 
important as the dress; all her inner borders and 
headings are delicate and fresh; and should anything 
peep ont which is not intended to he seen, it is quite 
as much 60 as that which is. After all, there is no 
great art either in her fashions or her materials. 
The secret simply consists in her knowing the three 
grand unities of dress—her own station, her own 
age, and her own points. And no woman can dress 
well who does not. After this we need not say that 
whoever is attracted by the costume will not be dis¬ 
appointed in the wearer. She may not be handsome 
nor accomplished, but we will answer for her being 
even tempered, well informed, thoroughly sensible, 
and a complete lady.” 
---» » ♦ > »- 
Let jealousy once find a lodgment in the mind, 
and, like the sea polypus, it extends its thousand 
feelers on every side for anything they can lay hold 
of^and tbe smallest particle afloat in the ocean of 
conjecture cannot escape from their grasp. 
THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 
r 
At the fort of the hill, near the old red mill, 
In a quiet, ebady spot, 
l Just peeprng through, half hid from view, 
• Stands*little moss-grown cot; 
l And stray'op through at the open door, 
The Runtxams p’ay on the sanded floor. 
The easy sbair, all patched with care, 
Is placid by the old hearth etone; 
With wishing grace, in the old fire place, 
The evtrgreens are strewn. 
And pictures hang on the whitened wall 
And tbe >1<1 clock ticks in tbe cottage hall, 
i More lovely still, on the window sill, 
The dew-eyed flowers rest, 
While Tnld«t the leaves, on the moss-grown eaves, 
The martin builds her nest. 
And all d$y long the summer breeze 
Is whlspef og love to the bending trees. 
Over the (oor, all covered o’er 
With a luck of dark green baize, 
LayB a rou-ket old, whose worth is told 
In the eteDte of other days; 
And the ptwder tlssk, and the hunter’s horn, 
Have hunf beside it for many a morn. 
For years ,.ave fled, with a noiseless tread, 
Like fair- 1 dreams away, 
And left in their flight, all shorn of his might, 
A father-old aud gray; 
And the so't wind plays with his snow-white hair, 
As the old nan sleeps in his easy chair. 
In at the di or, on the sanded floor, 
Light, fairy footsteps glide, 
And a maidsti fair, with flaxen hair, 
Kneels h the old man’s side— 
An old oak wrecked by the angry storm, 
While the by clings to its trembling form. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
SILENCE va. UPROAR. 
In this age tf excitement and sensation, many 
persons there an who seem to think that nothing of 
importance can te done, unless noise and confusion 
attends the performance of it. An orator, to suit 
them, mnst be a regular Boanerger, with a stento¬ 
rian voice, and lungs like a pair of bellows. He 
must wax red ii the face, and get hoarse in the 
throat, before hi has finished a dozen periods,— be 
mnst contort bis body and throw out bis arms,— pull 
at his locks until every several hair stands erect and 
singly, and conende his harangue with bringing his 
fist down like a sledgo - hammer upon the desk 
before him. 
The favorite ftusician of these noise-loving indi¬ 
viduals is he who pitches his voice as high among 
the octaves as pcssible, shrieks like a drowning man 
at every note, an! pounds the piano till yon feel as if 
all the artillery if a campaign had been discharged 
in your ears. F ad they been present on the creation 
day when the world was ushered into existence, the 
simple and sulilime mandate, “Let there be light,” 
would have seemed to them quite inadequate for the 
occasion, and they would doubtless have denounced 
the whole arrangement because it was done so quietly. 
To suit them, there should have been a mustering of 
all the angel oattalions, blasts from innumerable 
turmpets, chariot* of fire, and a general commin¬ 
gling of all the uproar and confusion that ever had 
been or ever should be. 
For these excitable people to remain quietly at 
home during the whole of a rainy day, is quite impos¬ 
sible; and to listen, every Sunday morning, to a 
preacher who has an even-toned voice, aud does not 
affect the madman, is absolutely beyond their endur¬ 
ance. 
Their taste would he to have the Fourth of July, 
fire-crackers and all, come every fortnight, and elec¬ 
tion day, or something similar, the rest of the time. 
The mystery of mysteries, however, is to know in 
what way these noise-loving people contrive to get 
through the six or eight hours of sleep which human 
nature is supposed to require. It is probable they 
content themselves with dreams of thunder storms, 
with firing canaon in imagination, and having bliss¬ 
ful visions of three or four Niagaras, all dashing aud 
roaring in unison. They forget what a lesson Nature 
teaches them of tbe beauty, and majesty, and power 
of silence; how the seasons come and go, with their 
snow-flakes, their blossoms and their fruits,—how the 
sun rises and sets,—how the planets circle in their 
orbits, and all, without a sound. Quietly fall the 
summer showers, but what a beautiful growth of 
bloom and verdure springs up in their footsteps. 
Quietly tbe rod lightning flashes along the sky, but 
what a power it lias to Munch the cheek and chill the 
blood with terror. Thoughts mighty and profound, 
whose influences reach down into ages yet to come— 
to generations yet unborn—who ever heard of such 
thoughts being lorn in anything like uproar and con¬ 
fusion? We do rejoice that everything in creation 
was not dumb; but we rejoice, also that those who 
possess the gifts of noise, confusion, and hubbub, 
will use them as not abusing them, and at least con¬ 
fine them to Isdependence and other celebration 
days, when noisy people are at liberty to make all the 
noise they choose, and all liberty-loving people are 
for once willing to help it on. a. m. p. 
Fayetteville, N. Y., 1861. 
-) ■ » ■ 4 - 
"Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE STUDY" OF NATURE. 
Nature has many pleasant and profitable lessons 
for him who will listen to ber instructions; and he is 
but half trained who never has been taught hy her. 
When pressed down with care, go forth and hold 
communion with God’s works. Listen to the music 
of the feathered songsters, as they carol their morn¬ 
ing or evening song, in the recesses of some old 
forest; or the melody of some stream flowing over its 
pebbly bed. Let the breezes fan your brow, as they 
pass you redolent with the odors that they have 
gathered from a hundred flowery fields. Stand upon 
the brow of some hill and gaze upon the “King of 
Day,” as he lingers at the portals of the west, aud 
casts a parting look on mountain and valley, and 
then sinks to rest. And has night no charms for the 
contemplative mind, as she walks oyer earth, clad in 
all her starry splendor? Who has not, as he stood 
beneath the canopy of heaven on some calm evening, 
realized the impressiveness of the poet’s description? 
“ Night, sable goddess! from hereon throne, 
In ray leas majesty now stretches forth 
Her leaden scepter o'er a slumbering world. 
Silence, how dead! and darkneBs, how profound! 
Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds; 
Creation sleeps. Tig as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause— 
An awful pause! prophetic of her end.” 
Nature is the fountain from which poets have 
drank in much of their inspiration. U w r as among 
the hills of old Scotia, that the muse paid her first 
visit to Hogg; and it was while he tended his flocks 
that he sung the first notes of those songs that have 
_ made his name immortal. Most printed books were 
sealed to him, but Nature threw open her volume, 
and bid him “wed to immortal verse” the truths 
fonnd written there. It was amid scenes of this 
character, that Scott’s poetical powers awoke into 
activity. It was while roving through the High¬ 
lands, that he gained the ability to write the “Lady 
of the Lake,” and “Marmion.” No acquaintance 
with books could have fitted Bloomfield for writing 
“The Farmer Boy." It was on a farm, amidst the 
scenes that he describes, that he gathered the mate¬ 
rials for his poem. A greater poet than any of these 
was most emphatically tanght by Natore. The Ayr¬ 
shire Plowman owed hut little to books, but gathered 
his power to charm the world from the study of the 
human heart, and by gazing upon the beauty and 
grandeur of Nature. To him she wore a charm 
that was never apprehended by any one bat the poet, 
and spoke with a harmony unknown to common ears. 
Nature was Sharrfeare’s great teacher. Johnson 
tells ua that "he knew little Latin and less Greek.” 
But he had the heavens and the earth before him, and 
these he read more attentively than anything else 
except the human heart. Thns, he nursed his pow¬ 
ers of song. It will admit of doubt, whether a great 
poein was ever written by one who was not fond of 
musing along the banks of streams or wandering in 
the midst of forests. 
Bnt here may the humble Christian find food for 
bis mind. Although Nature alone cannot even teach 
the existence of God, yet when looked upon by the 
light that Revelation easts upon her, she may lift our 
thoughts to the contemplation of the character of onr 
Heavenly Father. “ Tbe heavens,” Bays tbe Psalmist, 
“ declare the glory of God; and the firmament shew* 
eth his handiwork. Day unto day nttereth speech, 
and night unto night sheweth knowledge." The 
contemplation of the heavens gt pjght led a poet to 
exclaim, 
“ An undevout astronomer is mad.” 
All nature shows the power of God. It thunders 
in the cataract, whispers in the zephyr, blooms in tbe 
, flower, and sparkles in the star. Go and stand among 
His mighty works, and as you look upon them, cry 
ont with filial affection, “My Father made aud 
upholds them all. It is His band that holds in their 
places tiie worlds that roll over my head, and keep in 
existence the smallest atom that floats in the breeze. 
Can aught harm me, while I have such a protector?" 
And does not Con’s goodness shine out in Nature 
when studied from the stand-point of the Cross? It is 
true, earth has her desert, as well as her fertile plains 
and flowery valleys. But still she opens to man 
many sources of pleasure. The sun sheds his light 
upon him during the day, and the moon and stars 
look down upon him by night. For him earth 
clothes herself in her green garb, and Bummer and 
Autumn cast her treasures at his feet. 
Reader, the volume of Nature lies open before you. 
Read its pages. Some who profess to interpret her 
teachings, may misinterpret her; but when allowed 
to speak for herself she inculcates no other doctrines 
but those that tend to promote virtue and happiness. 
Can you afford to lose the pleasure and profit that 
she offers to those that listen to her? 
" 0, how canst thou renounce the boundless store 
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields? 
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 
The pomp of groves and garniture of fields; 
All that the genial ray of morning gilds, 
And all that echoes to the song of even, 
All that the mountain’s sheltering bosom shields, 
And ail the dread magnificence of Heaven. 
Rochester, Win., 1861. Bkta. 
TAKE CARE OF LITTLE THINGS. 
The following extract contains the substance of 
mauy sermons on the importance of little things. 
Mr. Irving, in his “Life of Washington,” says that 
great and good man was careful of small things, 
bestowing attention on the minutest affairs of his 
household as closely as upon the moat important 
concerns of the Republic. The editor of the Mer¬ 
chants’ Magazine, in speaking of the fact, says:—“No 
man ever made a fortune, or rose to greatness in any 
department, without being careful of small tbing6. 
As the beach is composed of grains of sand, as the 
ocean is made of drops of water, so the millionaire's 
fortune is the aggregation of the profits of single 
adventurers, often inconsiderable in amount. Every 
eminent merchant, from Girard and Astor down, has 
been noted for his attention to details. Few distin¬ 
guished lawyers have ever practiced in the courts 
who were uot remarkable for a similar characteristic. 
It was one of the peculiarities of the first Napoleon’s 
mind. The most petty details of his household ex¬ 
penses, the most trivial facts relative to bis troops, 
were, in his opinion, as worthy of his attention as 
the tactics of a battle, the revising of a code. De¬ 
mosthenes, the world’s unrivalled orator, was as 
anxious about bis gestures or intonations as about 
the texture of his argument or the grandeur of his 
words. Before such great examples, and in the very 
highest walks of intellect, how contemptible the 
conduct of the small minds who can despise small 
things.” 
Order. —Never leave things lying about—a shawl 
here, a pair of slippers there, and a bonnet some¬ 
where else — trusting to a servant to set things to 
rights. No matter how many servants you have, it 
is a miserable habit, and if its source is not in the 
intellectual and moral character, it will inevitably 
terminate there. If you have used the dipper, towel, 
tumbler, etc,, put them back in their places, and you 
will know where to find them when yon want them 
again. Or, if you set an example of carelessness, do 
not blame your servants for following it. Children 
should be taught to put things back in their places 
as soon as they are old enough to nse them. If each 
member of the family were to observe this simple 
rule, the house would never get much out of order, 
and a large amount of vexation aud useless labor 
would be avoided. 
-» i » ■ »- 
The End of Literary Discipline. —To attain a 
power of exact expression is the one end of true 
literary discipline. To put his whole thought and 
express his actual emotion in his words, not to inter¬ 
polate clever embellishments, is the object even 
of the earefni writer, when he takes pains to 
revise what he has written. It is true that men 
write foebly who write as they speak. Spoken 
language has eyes, hands, every movement of the 
face, every gesture of the body, every tone of the 
speaker's voice, to illustrate it as it flows. To writ¬ 
ten language all these aids are wanting, and the want 
of all must be supplied hy care for the right use of 
words.— London Quarterly Review . 
Your character cannot be essentially injured ex¬ 
cept by your own acts. If any one speaks evil of 
you, let your life be so that none will believe him. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
IN HEAVEN THERE’S REST. 
Ix Heaven there’s rest. That thought hath a power 
To scatter the shades of life’s dreariest hour, 
Like a sunbeam vt dawns on the storm-ridden sky, 
l Like the first glimpse of home to a traveler’s eye; 
r ’Tis the balm of the heart, of sorrow the core, 
, The hope that deceives not, the promise that's sure. 
How sweet to the weary. In Heaven there’s rest. 
1 The tears are all dried from the eyes of the blest, 
And the smiles that succeed are so dazzling and bright 
| That none but a spirit could dwell in the sight. 
, 0, not like the smiles that here glow on the cheek, 
But to hide the deep anguish no language can speak. 
I In Heaven there’s rest—earth’s happiest hours 
Pass swiftly away like the dew on the flowers, 
There fadeless the bowers, nnclouded the skies, 
There joy bath no end, and time never flies, 
There nature Is freed from its earliest stains, 
> 
There love bath no sorrows and life hath no pains. 
I 
In Heaven there’s rest. 0, how deep that repose 
Life’s bitterness passed with its follies and woes, 
Lie passions all hushed, like the wares of the deep, 
• When the tempest is still and the winds are asleep, 
And only soft airs and sweet odors arise, 
i Like evening incense that soars to the skies. 
Though here we are weary, in Heaven there’s rest,— 
I long to escape to that land of the blest, 
Inspired by the prospect through life’s buiy day 
To act and to Roller, t<i watch and to pray, 
. Then gladly exchange, when the summons is given, 
, The tumult* of earth for the calmness of Heaven. 
Canandaigua, N. Y., 1861. M. J. A. 
- ■ -*-—-—— 
THE LIFE OF CHRISTIANITY. 
With what a mysterious yet invincible power does 
the green blade force its way through the heavy clods 
Which cover it, and hide it from view! So frail is it 
that the slightest bruise threatens to bent it to the 
earth, while yet so omnipotent is it that itwill spring 
forth to the light, however great the weight which 
may be cast upon it—and how strikingly this energy 
of vegetable life illustrates that life which is divine. 
The plants of righteousness, thongh they rosy be 
heavily weighed hy a body of sin and death—by 
manifold sorrows, temptations, and tears—will nev¬ 
ertheless grow upward toward the great Source of 
eternal day. Satan may place the heavy foot of per¬ 
secution upon the growing kingdom of Christ, but he 
cannot press out its life, for its roots are divine; he 
may endeavor to put his finger for the rising sap in 
the true vine, that so the branches may not appear, 
but he cannot; he may cut them off, but they will 
bud forth again. The life which Christ imparts to 
the soul will rise and rise until, overflowing the 
bounds of sinful fear and tbe conventionalisms of the 
world, it bursts into life, bearing down all opposi¬ 
tion, and compelling even the ungodly to admit that 
Christ has gained another friend. Reader, dost thou 
entertain tbe hope that thou hast received life from 
Christ. Take heed, examine; life will manifest itself. 
Would’st thou prevent this, and listening to thy 
own timid heart and the suggestion of Ratan, hast 
thou sought to hide tbe expressions of his beneath 
the cold, damp soil of worldly policy? 0, foolish 
sexton! thus to bury thy hope. What evidence bast 
tbon that thou hast life at all? Hast thou net read 
that there is first the blade? It must come forth; it 
will declare itself. Art thou not afraid? Hast thou 
pondered the words of Christ? “Whosoever, there¬ 
fore, shall be ashamed of Me and My words, in this 
adnlterous and sinful generation, of Him also shall 
the Soil of Man be ashamed, when lie cometh in the 
glory of His Father with the holy angels?” Awake, 
arouse thyself, and let thy love display itself in keep¬ 
ing the commandments of Christ.— Lessons front 
Jesus. 
- » . ♦ . 4- 
The Indian Summer of the Soul. — In the life of 
the good man there is au Indian summer more beau¬ 
tiful than that of the season; richer, sunnier, aud 
more sublime than the most glorious Indian summer 
which the world knew — it is the Indian summer of 
the soul. When the glow of youth has departed, 
when the warmth of middle age is gone and the buds 
and blossoms of spriug are changing to the sere and 
yellow leaf, then the mind of the good man, still ripe 
and vigorous, relaxes its labors, and the memories of 
a well spent life gush forth from their secret foun¬ 
tains, eurichiug, rejoicing, aud fertilizing; then the 
trustful resignation of tbe Christian sheds around a 
sweet aud holy warmth, and tbe soul assuming a 
heavenly lustre is no longer restricted to the narrow 
confines of business, but soars far beyond the winter 
of hoary age, and dwells peacefully and happily upon 
that bright spring aud summer which await him 
within the gates of paradise, evermore. 
- 4 4 ♦ . 4 - 
Christian Influence. — In the life of a Christian 
lies the secret of all true Christian influence. It is 
the easiest thing in the world to talk about religion. 
Bnt mere talk about religion is tbe poorest thing in 
the world. Every true Christian will, indeed, talk 
about the Savior. Oat of the abundance of the 
heart the month speaketh. And if the voice doth 
not speak of Christ, you may see the soul is not filled 
with Christ. Nevertheless, here, as elsewhere, the 
utterance ol‘ the lips is as nothing to the influence of 
the life. In the divine economy, all grand forces are 
comparatively gentle and silent. The shallow rill 
that is dry on the mountain side half of the year, 
brawls more noisily at times than yon mighty liver. 
The boy’s sparkling rocket makes a louder demon¬ 
stration iu the night air than all God's Btarry constel¬ 
lations. And yet, iu the silence of their Bublime 
manifestations, how eloquently do these great forces 
of the nniverse bear witness for God! 
-■ 4 -- 
Familiarity With Wrong. —Rev. Dr. Wayland 
says:—“ Familiarity with wrong diminishes our ab¬ 
horrence of it. The contemplation of it in others 
fosters a spirit of envy and uncharitableness, and 
leads us, iu the end, to exult in, rather than sorrow 
over, the faults of others. Every time we indulge a 
harsh, censorious temper, some gentle affection, 
some loving thought, we might have had instead, 
died out within ns, and for every evil impulse we act 
out, we loose a good one;” thus the btart is left 
destitute of every good aud noble feeling which en¬ 
riches our own souls or blesses another. 
Christ’s Yoke. —“My yoke is easy,” said the 
Savior. Easy when grace makes it so; alight burden 
indeed, which carries him who bears it. “Ihace 
looked through all nature,” says old Bernard, “ for 
a resemblance of this, and I seem to find it in the 
wings of the bird, which are indeed borne by tbe 
creature, yet support her flight towards heaven. 
-» ■ ♦ --— 
pI., v ii c if oil vfmr trust, were in Providence, hut 
