Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
"MY MOTHER." 
Tbm last words that fell from the lips of my dying soldier- 
ofN V « v‘ P v B '^ CK “’ " r Uie Thirt D*ec°nd Regiment 
of N. \ - 8 V., who died Oct. 22nd, of typhoid fever, at Alex- 
dria, aged 26 years and 8 months. 
nr xuitu mint-wood. 
Tim fever was burning 1 b the veins 
Of a youth in a far oft land, 
And the heated brow fell the cooling touch 
Come from none hut a stranger's hands. 
Must be who had love, and home, ami friends,— 
Must he (Jin away f rom ^em a ||? 
Would no loved hand smooth the death-damped brow 
When he heard the pale angel’s call? 
fie had yielded all for bis country’s weal, 
And the foemane’ steel he had dared — 
For Right he bad wielded aloft his sword, 
For his hand hU heart he had hared; 
And now, when his rich, young life ebbed out, 
Were there none from his Northland homo 
To go down with him to the River’s brink, 
To the River so dark and lone? 
There was one who in years agone laid down 
All the dross of Life’s dregged alloy. 
She came with a noiseless step and kissed 
The pale brow of her dying boy. 
She hovered ’round his couch and he felt 
Her soft hands smooth his damp hair, 
And he knew, by the glorious halo of light, 
Thai hit angel mother was there. 
But those who had watched his eyes grow dim 
Hid not know a loved one had come, 
To go with the hoy to the River’s brink — 
Aye ! over the Jtiver so lone ! 
She whispered his name,-then beckoned away,- 
ivith a smile, "my mother!" be cried, 
And over the River the mother went 
With the brave young nero that died I 
Hitldale Farm, Tomp. Co., N. Y., 1861. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 
[}r! lH w tjQne "' aS * adada * not only for 
’ , n /. bat for nl) tbe great "republic of let- 
r lr'T 7 H ' lm!re Cn( ‘ m aud ^severance 
| nn ' a “ d loft J K en ‘U8 combined with all that is 
ove y and of good report in woman. T„ tl ear ly 
n! m0r ' ,,Dg th ° frecd of EuzAHKm 
f ! ‘ Rl, °: h ' IN,i win ^ d it« way from the banks 
brill: r° V We ,JUmbb ’ h0I,c aud boUeve. a 
brighter, purer clime than that of the -sunny Italy” 
8 o loved so well; while in the afternoon of the same 
melancholy day the last sad rites of humanity were 
paid to England’s Scotch Lord Chancellor, Lord 
Cami'bk'.l., the learned author of the lives of his 
offic t’ witb,a the venerable walls of 
JedbuigU Abbey; and to the distinguished and much 
respected Chief of the London Fire Brigade It is 
net, however, of these last named worthies, but of 
he gi ted poetess who - sung the song of Italy, ” aud 
BuUrtM, :r a -w essay to Vk 
But all that we aim at is to give a brief and hasty 
glance a the chief points in her bright literajw 
caieer, which may at once serve to gratify our own 
feelings of]loving respect, and servo as a memorial 
of her to the numerous readers of the Bubal. 
Elizabbth Barrett was born in London, in 1809, 
and, as is abundantly evident from her works, was 
modeH ; V,t " r re> ^ “ fter n masculine 
model than was usual in England at that time. The 
world, as well as herself, has reaped the benefit-of the 
thorougl, intellectual discipline and furnishing sup- 
hlL irt ' studies of her early youth. Her 
I ihlic literary career commenced in 182C, when she 
z T, "• r rih “ r •»«« v .Cwt 
tmn of her " Essay on Mind, and other Poems.” 
il s volume has been pronounced by competent 
uit.cs a most extraordinary production for so young 
a wnter, displaying a compass and depth of thought 
tar beyond her years. The brilliant expectations 
which it excited were fully sustained by the appear- 
ance, in 1*.U, of " Prometheus Bound,” which was 
In the interval the gifted writer drank deeply not 
only of the fountains of Grecian poetry, but of the 
cup of human suffering, both mental ami physical; 
for in the year 1837 she broke a blood vessel on the 
lungs, which for many years refused to heal. During 
her resilience at Torquay, (a fashionable watering 
place beautifully situated at the eastern extremity of 
the magnificent expanse of Torbay,) whither she was 
ordered for her health, her enfeebled physical system 
and warm affectionate spirit received a shock from 
which it took years to recover. On a line summer’s 
day her brother was drowned within sight of the house 
she occupied, the boat in which he was, going down 
while crossing the bar, without any apparent cause. 
I his mysterious and tragical event nearly killed Miss 
Barrbtt, who assured her friend, Miss Mitfokd, 
taut during the whole of the succeeding winter " the 
Bound of the waves rang in her ears like the moan of 
the dying." For may years afterwards she lived in a 
darkened room, seeing no one but the members of 
her own family, and her most Intimate friends. 
During this period she read voraciously, not only of 
modern literature, but the poetry and philosophy of 
the ancient Greeks, in which she took especial 
delight. Hbe also wrote "Geraldine’s Courtship” 
and a number of papers in the Athenmum. 
Her aquaintance with Mr. Korkrt Browning, the 
poet, which commenced about this time, appears to 
have exercised a most salutary influence upon her 
sensitive nature. "Love the 
j-dMt, xne gieat magician,” 
brought restorative influences before unknown, and 
in 1846 tbe8e well-mated souls were united in mar¬ 
riage, and took up their residence in Italy, first at 
I isa, afterwards at Florence, where they continued 
to reside until Mrs. Browning’s death. The influ 
ence of this new and tender relationship has been 
happily delineated by an appreciative writer, as fol¬ 
lows:-" The growth and progress of this new feeling 
(conjugal love) and its effects upon her heart and 
mind are described with rare grace of expression as 
well as exquisite depth and tenderness of feeling in 
that remarkable series of poems called " Sonnets 
from the Portuguese," which appeared for the first 
tune in the second edition of her collected poems in 
1850.” , 
In 1S49, the birth of a son crowned Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing’s sum of earthly happiness and completed the 
circle of life’s relationships. But even this last ten¬ 
der and beloved claim upon her time and attention 
could not abate her literary zeal and industry, l n 
1851 appeared the striking poem—“ Casa Guidi Win¬ 
dows, ” so full of noble sympathy with the cause of 
the oppressed Italians, ana in 1850, the greatest of 
her works—“Aurora Leigh,” which, in spite of much 
that is wild, improbable, and far-fetched, and some¬ 
thing of questionable propriety, will ever he consid¬ 
ered the best, the most mature of her works, the one 
in which her rich creative genius is most apparent, 
and her Promethean imagination has the fullest, play,’ 
warming with her own vivid, earnest feelings the 
peculiar productions of her masculine intellect, and 
justifying the terse and comprehensive criticism, 
"She thinks all like a man, and feels like a woman.” 
We now arrive at the last sad scene in that "Casa 
Guidi,” which her pen has made classic and which 
has since become doubly dear to her friends and ad 
mirers. A severe cold was the harbinger of the angel 
of death, and for the first half of the week that her 
brief illness lasted, no danger was apprehended. So 
little Indeed did Mrs. Bhownixo herself realize her 
critical condition, that not until the last day did she 
consider herself sufficiently unwell to remain in bed. 
In the evening she conversed cheerfully with an inti¬ 
mate lady friend, and when she repeated the opinion 
she had heard expressed by a friend of Ricusih, that 
h.s policy aud that of Connt Cavouk were identical 
" smiled like Haly,” and replied, " I am glad of it, I 
thought ho.” And her "own bright hoy,” on bid¬ 
ding his dear mother "good night,” was cheered 
by the assurance, "I am better, dear, much better.” 
But, alas! the hope which illuminated hig pillow 
was a deceptive one, for before he awoke again his 
mother had passed away from earth, having breathed 
b “ aat f l,alf paRt four iu the morning of that sad 
2.'tk of June, which we have mentioned as a dark 
ay for England, The loving woman-poet died so 
caim yan d peaceably in the arms of her poet-husband 
that till the loved form grew chill, he knew not that 
his dearest earthly treasure had gone from him. Her 
last words were, "It is beautiful!” Who can say 
that they were occasioned by the first faint, dim per¬ 
ception of the glories of that bright, sinless region 
where dwells “the king in His beauty,” which were 
so soon to ho completely unvailed to her disembodied 
spirit? 
On the evening of the 1st of July, while the last 
bright rays of the setting sun were gilding the scene 
and preaching eloquently the doctrine of the resur¬ 
rection, the mortal remains of Euzaheth Barrett 
Browning were convoyed to their last resting place 
in the beautiful English cemetery outside the walls of 
!• lorcnce, a band of true mourners the represen¬ 
tatives of three nations,-England, the United States 
and Italy,—who loved and reverenced her, stood 
around her grave, and their tears would not, could 
not be restrained, notwithstanding the sweet echo 
from the tomb, of her own well remembered words, 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
DREAMING. 
It ia very pleaeant dreaming. 
By the fireside’* quiet gleaming, 
When the evening shadow* fall; 
Jast to let one's fancies fly 
To the golden years that lie 
In the future of us all. 
For who knoweth aught of sorrow 
In the coming of the morrow? 
Though to-day be dark and drear, 
Through the shadows we can see 
Glimpses of the far to be, 
Bathed in sunshine, soft and clear. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
TRUE PATRIOTISM. 
So to-night I sit here dreaming, 
While the embers’ pleasant gleaming 
Lights the pictures on the wall. 
Visions of a glorious name, 
Of the poet’s deathless fame, 
Softly o’er my spirit fall. 
Now my brow is crowned with bays, 
And I hear deni words of praise 
From the lips of those I love. 
Ah ! those words are worth far more 
Than the richest golden store,— 
Words of praise from those we love l 
And I win a golden treasure, 
It would yield to me no pleasure, 
Could I share it with n 0 friend; 
So my darling ones it blesses, 
Aod I, sharing their caresses, 
lee] a joy that ne'er was penned. 
Oh I that this were not all dreaming,. 
That the future, brightly beaming, 
Could be half so fuli of bliss ! 
But I patiently will wait, 
Knowing, if Got ijdeaAe, my state 
Shall he otherwise than this. 
Cambria, N. Y., 1861. 
M. 
“ frien, Ji' ! dear friends, when it shall be 
That this low breath Is gone from me, 
And round my bier ye come to weep, 
Let one most loving of you all 
Say, 1 Not a tear must o’er her fall- 
lie giveth Ilia beloved sleep.’ ” 
Cobourg, C. W., 1661. Gervas Holmes 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker ] 
WOMAN’S PERPLEXITIES. 
Some woman will he cross, or fretful, let them be 
placed in whatsoever position —very kind-hearted 
women, in the main, too. They will storm around in 
a vexed, angry, "get out of my way » air; fly into 
explosions at the least hindrance or deb,v to their 
plans, as though the welfare of the whole Govern¬ 
ment of the United States depended on their having 
a certain piece of house-work done at, a time speci¬ 
fied by themselves in their programme for the day’s 
business. Such women never aak, or care, whether 
any other one’s calculations are to be upsetto gratify 
them they must have their will and way, if it we re 
to put an end to the world. Where such a woman 
lives there must always he sacrifices, hitter feelings 
recriminations, etc. h ' 
No man ever was happy with a willful, hcad-strong 
woman, and vice versa. A man, or woman, who can 
tiotjxiveup their own will, never ought to sustain 
the relation of husband, wife, or parent. 
And some women do have such severe trials and 
crosses, aud vexations, it really seems they cannot 
always keep their temper, and J do think, men gone- 
irtlly are disposed to underrate women’s exertions 
and labors. The real wear and tear of the thousand- 
and-ono petty annoyances of housekeeping are 
neither known nor believed. But a woman who is 
raising a family, and at the same time superintend¬ 
ing her housework, is subject to the most severe toil 
and discipline. To keep a family clothed properly 
for the various seasons, food properly cooked and 
ready in season, with all the nameless etcetera of 
housekeeping gear kept in successful revolution 
taxes every nerve and power of thought. And then’ 
to accomplish all this with a little child following,’ 
clinging to one’s skirts, crying for care. O man, lit- 
t e you know how it wears and tries one to work 
thus! 1 ou work hard at some stated, steady emnlov- 
ment, hut how it frets you if, having some job in the 
house, the little one gets in your way, or meddles 
with your tools. You “can't, and you wont stand it!” 
Mother, did you ever take a piece of sewing and baby 
did not pull at it, or lay down scissors, or spool or 
wax, and some sweet, dear, mischievous pet did’not 
run oil with them and forget where they were put? 
Little, nimble feet, and scarcely lisping tongues, too 
tiny and too innocent to punish-yet, what plagues, 
aud how they do try you! 
Patience, patience and charity! O, these, friends 
we must have for each other! We must "render 
honor unto whom honor ia due, and unto Cjisar the 
things that are CLksar’s.” Quekcuy. 
[Written for Moores Rural New-Yorker.] 
WINTER BIRDS. 
Treatment oe Infants— Best is the infant’s nat¬ 
ural requirement until it begins to creep. As for 
periodical exercise by riding it about cramped up 
m a little wagon, it is absurd. If the child’s brain 
were not jarred and its circulation hindered by the 
unnatural motion, till it is compelled into a sort of 
stupor, which is taken for sleep, it would evince its 
dissatisfaction by its cries. The crystal is only 
formed according to its natural law, when the water 
in which the salt is dissolved fs in a state of quiet- 
and the seed requires warmth and quiet before its 
rootlet strikes into the ground, and its leaves open to 
the light of day. We would caution every young 
mother against preternatural excitement of the ner¬ 
vous system of her infant by too early exorcise and 
too much notice of any kind, either by the voice or 
by teasing or handling. A natural diet, and a year’s 
rest in a good, well ventilated chamber, is calculated 
to insure a healthful acquirement of its teeth, and the 
use of its limbs, at the proper and appointed time. 
One of the prettiest objects a winter landscape 
affords is seen in the birds that, singly or in flocks 
flit about our houses, fields, orchards and gardens’ 
sometimes lighting on trees or hushes near the door 
sometimes even fluttering against the windows, hr if 
envious to witness the ways of human domestic life 
within T n H, i ring the Wanr,th aud comfort 
" *° ° tbc ' rtban a Bmnan cry for shelter and 
I rotection touches the benevolent, sympathetic heart 
with a more piteous, appealing sound, than to hear 
one of thc’-e "wee, helpless things” come heating 
against the window-pane, to which the cheerful light 
within has attracted it, and from which any move¬ 
ment of welcome will send it frightened away. 
Winter birds excite our interest and curiosity in 
many respects. First, their extreme hardiness, so 
superior to that of other birds that, they find Hummer 
in our season of frost and snow, is sufficient to call 
forth our wonder and admiration. To what their 
great power of resisting cold is due^by what means 
tlicy are enabled to live in. a temperature that would 
P”ov« fatal to tenderer birds whether on the ap¬ 
proach ol Spring they seek a more Northern lati¬ 
tude—what. they find to eat when the ground is frozen 
and perhaps covered deep with snow -where they 
fold their wings at the coming of the bleak, wintry 
night, when the leafless trees can afford no sheilcr- 
the popular superstition that the appearance of flocks 
ol snow-birds, so-called, indicate a speedy fall of 
snow, while brown birds are held to he sure precur¬ 
sors of raiu-thesc and other considerations tend to 
invest them with a peculiar aud romantic interest 
We are accustomed to think and spualuif Winter 
as a season made desolate by the absence of bright 
flowers, green leaves, singing birds and babbling 
brooks; and to perhaps most of us the coming and 
going of the robin, the h'ue-bird, the oriole, the 
bobolink, and other summer birds, seem alone worthy 
of attention, the habits and movements of the winter 
king, the chiok-a-dec, and the whole class of hardy 
feathered songsters, passing nearly or quite unno- 
iced. Indeed, we easily and naturally associate 
birds with Bummer; birds and Winter are scarcely 
thought of together. ^ 
The difference between Summer and Winter birds 
with respect to their gentleness and familiarity with 
man, almost warrants us in distinguishing the former 
as tamo or domestic, the latter as wild birds. Those 
hover about our dwellings, seem to invite our 
acquaintance and sing for our satisfaction. They 
pick and eat our berries, help ,. 8 destroy noxious 
insects, build their nests hardly outside our houses 
almost taking materials out of our hands to put into 
them, and in various ways signify their desire for 
human companionship. These, on the contrary 
though they not altogether shun the abodes of men’ 
manliest the most provoking shyness in all their 
movements. They pay us onlyvisits. ajld any 
attempt at coaxing frightens them into instant depar¬ 
ture Their singing seems not intended for our ears 
i nlike the full gushing melody of Hummer birds, 
but commands attention by its heartiness and con- 
tinuance, theirs is scarcely more than a single note 
uttered in a hurried way, almost escaping observa¬ 
tion, hut, when heard, conveying to the ear a simple 
exquisite wildness of tone, in keeping with the free,’ 
rude, untamed nature of the singer. A 
South Livonia, N. Y„ 1S0I. 
A noble quality is patriotism; of all honors which 
can be conferred, that of being called a patriot seems 
mo. worthy of being sought after. Noble, because 
amidst the selfishness of all human actions this seems 
least selfisn. 
Little sympathy can an individual expect so lone 
a* he labors only for self, or perhaps the indirect 
advancement of his own interest. But when a person 
devotes a life to the interest of his country, or goes 
forth risking that life in its defense, bow different. 
A Lyons fell, and at his fail the heart of a great 
nation bowed itself in sorrow; ho was a sacrifice 
upon the altar of his country; and if no marble col¬ 
umn marks his resting place, no studied phrase his 
epitaph a more enduring monument, a juster epi- 
tapb shall exist in the hearts of his countrymen-he 
was a patriot. 
But shall it be only upon the statesman or warrior 
iat we confer this magic name? May not some 
silent worker in the study room, debarred of the 
stimulus of the senate hall or the battle field, some 
teacher of morals or science, earnestly striving to 
the name? ftf teD ^ fd,0W bein ^ *!«>% deserve 
the name and honors of the patriot? Without virtue, 
nhghtenment, and liberty, no government is worth 
its cost; and shall not those by whom these signal 
virtues can alone he brought out and perfected, at 
least he granted this name? 
Nauoi.kon has been called a patriot. France dur¬ 
ing Jus reign extended her boundaries, increased her 
commerce and her wealth. But was ii patriotTsm in 
its tn/e sense? What pen shall he ableL record the 
tales of desolated homes, of widowed wives and 
orphan cbiidrcn; of pillaged towns and burning 
so I 6 II A ,3<>ar b ° t,ght VictoHcs Produced. Hjg 
so-called patriotism rarely extended beyond his own 
interest, never beyond his own land. Can we truly 
say the world i, better for his having lived in it? If 
not, does he deserve the title? 
Washington was a true patriot The interest of 
his whoie country was ever I,is first object, hut never 
at the expense of the rights of another. But not less 
in private than m public life was this virtue shown, 
is Rterhng integrity, his law-abiding life, his char- 
Wle? KH e<jnal1ydeserve ™”ic. as his most 
lauded public acts; and long after party triumphs or 
shllUh” 10 ? ° r G0, ’' |Ues,s bave t” oblivion, 
-»«<■ 
Springfield, WIs., 1861 . ’ ‘ M,Tn ’ 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker ] 
REST, SPIRIT, REST. 
BT LACRA SI. CLARKE. 
Rkst Spirit, in the midnight hour. 
When nature learns the Booth ing power 
Of quiet sleep: 
Best, from the weary toil of day, 
When slumber sweet asserts her sway, 
In silence deep. 
Best, Spirit, rrom a u worldly care, 
And gently breathe to Heaven a prayer, 
For rest and peace: 
Rest, tbon, when hope itself hae fled. 
And cherished dream* have from thee sped; 
Cease, murmuring*, cease. 
Ob, reBt when freed from earth’s dull cares, 
It« pains and Sorrows, sighs and tears, 
Rest, Spirit, rest; 
Best thou, when all aroimd thee weep. 
And thou dost Bleep that dreamleg* sleep 
In silence blest 
Rochester, N. Y., 1861. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New- Yorker ] 
PRAY WITHOUT CEASING. 
VITAL FORCES OF THE AGE. 
COURAGE AND BRAVERY. 
. The Good Wife. — She commundetk her husband 
in any equal matter, by constant obeying him. She 
never crosseth her husband in the spring-tide of his 
anger, hut stays till it be ebbing water. Her clothes 
are rather comely than costly, and she makes plain 
cloth to he velvet by her handsome wearing it — 
Fuller . 
Women never truly command till they have given 
their promise to obey. 
Bravery is more hasty, impetuous and transient- 
courage, more calm, enduring, and principled. Brav’ 
ery is an impulse, or a mere outward habit; courage is 
a life, prevading the nature. Bravery takes advantage 
from plumes and gay equipage. It rises with rapidity 
and splendor of movement. It anils to its aid the stim¬ 
ulations of music, or the higher stimulations of pop¬ 
ular applause; and it looks for reputation as its 
trophy and reward. Courage is deeper, more mag¬ 
nanimous, and self reliant. It holds its own reward 
within it, and is natively superior to any accident of 
incitement. It is ready to bear, as well as to perform- 
“ w £rcat iu the foreat ^ it is in the field; as great’ 
when announcing a new and strange truth, or resist¬ 
ing the backward rush of a nation, as when treating 
♦JahXII tb ei al haVe "’ atcbtt ' ords acd champions, and 
that kindle the minds or millions with their contact. 
*mgs and is cheerful amid obscure sufferings; and 
is serenely fixed and unconquerable when contem- 
plating obloquy R nd popular reprobation, as when 
welcomed with applause and anticipating victory. 
omuge is silent till the crisis arrives. Bravery is 
demonstrative, and lies in utterance. The one bides 
it* time, secure of itself. The other craves constant 
exhibition and action. Courage u an essential spirit 
of character, winch imbues action as the fragrant and 
suhtjc fumes of the alchemists worn designed to 
imbue the cimeter of Damascus. Bravery is a special 
and occasional style of feeling, which would etch 
upon that action its splendid devices. 
BATTTA5 fields are the rallying points, not only of 
armies but of principles as well; they are the joint- 
ings of history; nay more, they are the anvils on 
the riatl0M8 and H hapes them to 
the end of his designs. By these rough smiting* he 
quickens the blood, and wakens the energies of men; 
breaks up the disintegrating processes of mere self- 
seeking; lays hare principles which get covered up 
„” d ,'"T" , r "” h #>•■»; »»<! .0 cb*r. 
the ),fe of nations, breaks the seals of prophecy, and 
opens new eras to tho race. 
Oar nation has passed one such epoch; the moral 
forces that moved the world made our Devolution a 
necessity. We aro now in the midst of a second—the 
more desperate and more decisive of the two The 
pressure of these vital forces has brought ns'to it; 
the logic of events has made it inevitable; it could 
not he avoided without moral retrogression. Wo 
pmtbl. al.o, .,„d rrom . ,omo«hu rcokln, 
md ro Ilctlng boyhood, enter upon » riper and nobler 
as well as a more sober national manhood. 
Nations old and effete perish in such convulsions; 
but young, vigorous, self-reliant peoples like our 
own, who rise to meet the emergency with such also- 
nty and loyalty as we have shown, not only survive, 
bat gain wisdom and strength from the rough expe¬ 
rience, * 
“ Thrice iH he armed who hath his quarrel just,’’ 
both because he fights with better heart and became 
all the elements in the moral world fight for him and 
against his foes. “They fought from Heaven,” as 
Deborah sang, “the stars fought in their courses 
against blsera.” With such allies,-and who can 
doubt that we have them in this struggle,—can the 
issue he doubtful? Will He who sifted Europe for 
seed, and brought it hither in the Mayflower, and 
cast out the heathen and prepared room for it, and 
has covered a thousand leaping hills and rejoicing 
valleys with the verdure of His sowings-wili Hi” 
while hardly the first fruits of autumn have been 
gathered leave the harvest to waste and destruction? 
nr° a 1J °i, y e faith ° f tb0 by the prayers 
of a godly ancestry: by the deliverances through our 
early struggles; by the hopes of the oppressed of all 
nations; by the smiles of a benignant Providence; by 
the justness ot our cause (not the righteousness of 
ourselves): by all that is vital in truth and holy in 
religion, and triumphant in right, wc cannot doubt 
the issue of this struggle, or question the aid of His 
hand who has led us so far. The past is prophetic of 
the future. As when in the dead colors on the can¬ 
vas there are seen the clearly traced outlines we 
judge it to he the purpose of the artist to put in the 
1511 !‘ i3 ° WD ideal tra ««figorea the can- 
vus into a thing of beauty and of life, £0 our national 
h story anticipates our hopes; it does more, it ram¬ 
i' meuts tbeU1 ' The Principles of D120, and of 1770 
have reached hut half their development; they will 
L e a r; e of an refit0, 't d by thiS BtrUg£le ’ aild Dberty, 
healed of her wounds, her virtue no longer tainted 
fiorher beauty marred, shall stand in the temple of 
reedom, and feed the fires which are at once the 
flame of patriotism and a load-star to the nations. 
n/tk ,' 8 116 S0U ’ S worshi P’ and the expressioi 
of the soul s desires. It is a Christian duty of th. 
first importance; hut even the best Christian does no 
always feel this. There are times in his experienc. 
when he is almost ready to exclaim, “God sees m< 
through and through,-I am at an infinite distance 
from Him in holiness and wisdom,—He understands 
niy wants infinitely better than I do myself, and ie 
desirous of giving me the blessing that I really need- 
should a finite being like myself supplicate for a par- 
ticular blessing from Infinite Wisdom and Benevo¬ 
lence?” 
But the relation of the Christian to God is, in an 
important aense, like the relation of a tender father 
to a beloved son, upon whom he had power to bestow 
any blessing, but should say, “The greater the 
endowment which I bestow upon my son, the greater 
wil he my own praise; and 1 desire to give to him 
without limitation save by his capacity to use and 
enjoy; hut I shall only bless him in answer to his 
asking, and the magnitude of my blessings will be 
determined by the extent of his desires. He may 
ask for that which it is not best lor biro to have; but 
when he expresses desire, he shall receive that which 
■ k “° W U \ 8 . best for ,lira t0 receive.'’ How precious 
is the privilege of prayer I Every true Christian can 
recall cheering memories of precious hours which 
nave been his from communing with Heaven. There 
can be no Christian life without faithfulness in this 
nty; for it is only in answer to prayer that divine 
blessings of a spirital kind are received. As soon as 
prayer is neglected, or heartless, or suspended, doubts 
take the place of faith, the light of the soul fades 
waj, the shadows deepen, the graces languish, and 
the heaven-hfe of the soul is greatly dwarfed or 
entirely extinguished. 
But iu order to a correct apprehension of the 
meaning of the text,.“ Pray without ceasing,” it is 
necessary to understand the nature of prayer We 
certainly are not to be at all times giving vocal utter¬ 
ance to prayer to Goo, nor even to he engaged in 
I cn I’raycr. i At l, when delivering hi* impassioned 
and matchless discourse to the Athenians from Mars- 
*i , , WH9 as roal| y in Die path of duty as when lie 
T e ! dy ;;-’ !Cl “ lmed ’ “ Lo,in ’ wbftt wl !t thou have me to 
do ? 1 here is great depth of meaning in the reply of 
the Savior to the woman of Samaria, “God is a 
-pirit; and those that worship Him must worship 
Him in spirit and in truth.” Our spirits must wor¬ 
ship the Infinite Hpirit, or our prayers will be hut 
mockery, and will prove as fruitlessof good as though 
offered to the trees or stones. In this view, we can „t 
least begin to understand the idea of the continuitv 
of prayer embodied in the words, "l’rav without 
ceasing.” True prayer is independent of'time and 
place. The vocal utterance and the private closet are 
only accommodations to our present state. The poet 
had the true and comprehensive view of prayer when 
lie sang, 
“ Brnyer is the burden of a gigfi, 
The falling of a tear, 
The upward glanciDg of an eve, 
AYhen none but God is Dear ’’ 
Prayer is the soul'g sincere desire, 
Unuttered or expressed 
and there is a sense in which all men pray. The 
countless idols of the heathen world are ibe soul-cries 
of benighted millions who are blindly feeling after 
the Eternal. Every profane man prays, — woe, if his 
prayers are answered! l’rayer is even independent 
ot all utterance; for God truly hears onlv what the 
sou) expresses. The Christian pray, mo.'e than he 
thinks. The one who feels his weakness, and trusts 
a one in Christ, is not only in the spirit of prayer at 
“ times - But bis very life is a continued prayer to 
god. He really “prays without ceasing.” How blest 
is the state of such a one! Growing up into Christ! 
His death is hut a glad and welcome transition from 
pain and shadows to bliss and glory. a. t. e. c. 
Academy, New Haven, Vt, 1861. 
an 1 la ^ 8 ®° NS — 0ue of the greatest difficulties 
m!l h Tu anSmg fr ° m tbe su flfl°n accumulation of 
t 1th is felt m the ignorance it occasions as to how 
* S i J bt ‘ ma,,aged ' The Bearings of this 
upon the health are the first and most obvious. There 
is many a gentleman who commenced life as a lad 
on a farm running where he pleased, in wet or shine, 
barefooted and bareheaded, lie never took cold, had 
a hue disposition, a clear head and a manly heart 
was always hungry at meal times, and always tired at 
ned time and always happy while awake. But his 
industry has brought wealth, and he lives in a city 
and in style, and his sons always are catching colds 
and their food disagrees with them, they are pale and 
sickly, and there seems to he no way for them to take 
exercise without spoiling their fine clothes, and noth¬ 
ing for them to do hut what occasions mischief in 
his sumptuous dwelling. 
Christian Love,— Jesus sums up all the command 
ments in the one little word, love- supreme love to 
God, and love to our neighbor as to ourselves. AVere 
I is blessed law thus obeyed, what a happy world this 
would he! Of the early Christians it was often said, 
- ce how these men love one another.” They 
obeyed and followed their Lord in this, and we are 
equally bound to do so. AVe are taught to count all 
men as our neighbors, and as such to love and seek 
their good, but especially to love as brethren the 
believing people of Christ, if we are true Christians. 
\\ e are children of the same family, travelers on the 
same journey, laborers in the same vineyard, soldiers 
in the same army. We hope to dwell forever in the 
sume blessed home. During our short race and pil¬ 
grimage, let us seek to walk together in love. 
True Prayers.— A living faith in moral and reli¬ 
gious truth expands the mind, quickens the intellect 
to grasp all truth that comes within its reach; excites 
the imagination to admire the beautiful; and finds 
delight in tracing out the works of God, with all 
their benevolent arrangements, through which we 
are led to love and adore our common heavenly 
1 ather. This is true human progress. 
He who is open, without levity; generous, without 
waste; secret, without craft; humble, without mean¬ 
ness; hold, without insolence; cautious, without 
anxiety; regular, yet not formal; mild, yet not timid; 
firm, yet not tyrannicalis made to pass the ordeal 
ot honor, friendship, virtue. 
As it is the sun that ripens, as it is the sun that 
gives color and flavor, as it is the suu that is required 
to do all things in the life of a plant; so, in the life 
of every man the power of God on the soul is indis- 
pensable to the development of the higher faculties 
ana their development in the highest forms. 
The wise man justly regards goodness as some¬ 
thing to be attained. 
