even to try to be patient and cliecrful if you can¬ 
not wholly succeed. Anger makes you wretch¬ 
ed and your children also. Impatient, angry 
tones never did the heart good but plenty of evil. 
Read what Solomon says of them, and remem¬ 
ber he wrote with an inspired pen. You cannot 
haTe the excuse for them that they lighten your 
burdens any— they only make them ten times 
heavier. For yoitr own us well as your children’s 
sake, learn to speak low. They will remember 
that tone when your bead is under the willows. 
So too, would they remember a harsh and angry 
voice. ‘Which legacy will you leave to your 
children?— JV. T. Chronicle. 
purity and uniformity—the pre-requisites of a 
perfect language,— is. a good reflector of the cus¬ 
toms, the ordinary channels of thought, and the 
progress of national culture, —denoting its rela¬ 
tive position in the moral scale, as well as 
marking the developments of‘Science, and the 
triumphs of Art; all the distinctive charac¬ 
teristics of a nation. So powerful is the influence 
exerted by this high prerogative of intellect. 
Writtan for Moore’s Rural New-Yorkc: 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yoker. 
THREE YEARS. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE MORAL LAWS OF MAN. 
When crocus buds began to show 
Their smiling faces in the snow, 
She came, three happy years ago— 
Dear little Grace I 
The months flew by, a merry hand, 
Each bringing in its loving hand 
Some wond'rous gift from Fairy Land 
For baby Grate. 
So when the crocus raised its stalk 
Again, ihe little one could walk. 
And prattled in sweet baby-talk; 
Beautiful Grace 1 
Still gifts more rich and rare than gold 
Came pouring in from fairy wold 
To crown the child, till two years old 
Was baby Grace. 
Once more the months went circling by; 
Again the crocus opo’d its eye ; 
She langhc-d, that summer time was nigh, 
Bright little Grace. 
Then thro’ the long bright summer hours 
She sang among the birds and flowers; 
But when they faded from the bowers 
Went, little Grace. 
The crocuses, that dark and cold 
Lie sleeping in the frozen mold. 
Shall soon tiieir slender leaves unfold; 
Bnt baby Grace ? 
E’en now the darling's loving eyes 
Are opened wide in Paradise; 
O, may we meet her in the skies, 
Sweet angel Grace ! 
Rochester, N. Y. Netti: 
\irtue, integrity anti love, are commended to 
us by all the great lessons of inspiration. God 
1ms everywhere taught us that whosoever violates 
these exalted moral principles, inflicts upon bim- 
selt increasing discontentment, and incurs the 
displeasure of heaven. He removes from hia af¬ 
fections every element of human happiness. 
And just so far as he violates and tramples on 
these Divine Precepts, in a corresponding degree 
he is lost to the various sources of human felicity. 
The light of heaven is shut out ofhis soul; the 
teachings of the Great Spirit arc rejected; and 
moral darkness, deep and terrible, rests upon his 
spiritual nntnre. 
Open, slightly, a vein in your arm, and the 
geudy flowing blood will soon admonish you 
that faintuess and weakness have crept over 
3 ’our system. Death itself will soon confront 
you. Disease may attack your physical body 
and, for long dreary years, you may be a suffer¬ 
ing invalid. The opening of the vein is a 
violation of the laws relating to your material 
organization. You have interfered with the fun¬ 
damental principles upon whieh human life 
depend. The disease which has fastened its re¬ 
lentless grasp upon you resulted in the violation 
of the same inexorable laws. 
God has created laws for the government of 
the soul. These are moral laws; they demand 
implicit obedience. They can never bo violated 
with impunity. Disobedience always brings a 
terrible penalty, Adam, in his folly, ignored 
them and moral darkness and misery was the 
Urox a mountain, vast and lofty, 
Whose mantle, tatter'd, old. 
The giant’s rugged, brawny muscle 
Of roe It, could scarce enfold, 
I stood, and watched a fountain, ice-bonud, 
Ont from its fetters leap; 
And traced it, by its sword-like flashes, 
Adovn the rocky steep. 
I could have sealed that little fountain 
With my out-spread hands; 
Yet swollen to a rushing river, 
It rolls through distAnt lands; 
And cradles fleets upon its bosom, 
Or whelms them 'ncath the tide; 
And plrrces, with its rapid current, 
The storm vex’d ocean's side. 
I did not seal, but I divided, 
With but a little stone, 
And sent one-half the trembling waters 
Wandering off alone; 
And vet, not long alone they wander’d, 
Nor wasted by the way; 
But swell’d, and roll'd, and sank to silence, 
Where sinks the god or day. 
Water d vided from one fountain. 
Once cleft, forever rolls 
Opposite ways: this is the symbol 
Of the onward sweep of souls. 
Death plants the stone that cleaves the waters, 
Each leap their chosen way; 
Gain death, and breadth, and force of current, 
Wandering either way. 
One tuns to good, one turns to evil, 
Each gather as they go; 
And gat tiering, onward sweep, forever 
Diverging in their flow. 
Reared around one common hearth-stone, 
And a? one mother's knee: 
One rushes toward the stormy ocean, 
One toward the peaceful sea. 
Westfield, N. Y. 
BENEFICENCE AND SYMPATHY, 
Benbeioenoe in itself is God-like; but benefl- 
eenee alone is but a God-like statue—an effigy 
embodying a divine idea, but an effigy in marble. 
Add to beneliconcc sympathy, and the statue 
takes bloom and life, Nor in beneficence alone 
has sympathy its heavenly charm. In the equal 
commerce of life the benefactor is needed sel¬ 
dom, the sympathizer is longed for always. Be 
our joy but a momentary sunbeam, lie our sad¬ 
ness hut the gloom of a passing cloud, how that 
sunbeam lights up the landscape when reflected 
in the sympathizer’s smile, and how the cloud, 
when its shadow falls on the sympathizer’s brow, 
“turns forth its silver lining on the night!” 
Happy, thrice happy he who has secured to his 
life one who feels as if living in it 1 And perhaps 
this i3 not an uncommon lot, except to uncom¬ 
mon natures. Did Shakespeare and Milton 
HOW TO PREVENT A DIVORCE, 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SOCIAL SKETCHES-No. 1. 
MISS GABBE. 
Adam trampled on tho laws of his moral being. 
Behold the penalty! Ilis pure heavenly nature 
is lost; his faith in God is departed, and himself 
and companion are doomed to bitter exile, far 
away from the blessed paradise they loved so 
well. Eden’s gentle bowers knew them no more; 
its balmy shades no longer hovered o’er their 
heads; its lovely trees and murmuring waters no 
more delighted their sorrowful hearts; no more 
did God come, in the evening twilight, and hold 
communion with their souls. Driven, forced, 
expelled from Eden, their example has ever 
stood as an imperishable monument of the retri¬ 
bution of God tor disobedience to the moral laws 
of man. 
The moral laws arc susceptible of uufoldment 
in the soul until they become its ruling power. 
In the absence of such development man is es¬ 
sentially out of the sphere assigned him by his 
Maker. His life is unreal, artificial. Nothing is 
natural except, what is in harmony with the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
THE POWER OF LANGUAGE. 
WORTH, THE WOMAN’S TAILOR AT PARIS, 
STRENGTH OUT OF WEAKNESS, 
Tee Paris correspondent of the Boston Gazette, 
says“ Worth, the woman’s tailor, has returned 
to town, and commenced liis season. Is it his 
fault that his rates of charging are so high? 
Make the days 4S hours long and relieve him of 
the vulgar wants of sleeping and eating and he 
Seduce hia 
A person’s weakness sometimes becomes to 
him a source of strength and Influence, by means 
ol the sympathy and kindly regard of others 
whieh it secures for him. A trembling eon 
seiousness of weakness will disarm hostility, 
and gather around one from gentle natures, a 
warmth and fullness of sympathy which no 
good qualities in the possessor could have gained 
for him. If one overlooks his strength In an un¬ 
affected sensitiveness to his defects, men will 
try t.o make it up to him by overlooking bis 
defects in a considerate dwelling upon his 
strength. It, is a beautiful trait in our common 
humanity. Men do take the part of the weak, 
and make haste to lavish their sympathy upon 
those who seem to need it. We see this in little 
matters. I know not why all nations have sin¬ 
gled out, for the emblem of innocence and love¬ 
liness, the Innocent lamb—since jt is no more 
innocent and lovely than the young of all other 
domestic animals—unless it he that the litnor- 
ousness ol' the tremulous little being disposes 
them to say of it the best thing they can. 
will abate -50 per cent, of his prices, 
customers iuto paying cash, and he will make a 
further reduction. The Empress has owed him 
$40,000. The Princess Clothilde, $10,000. The 
Princess de Metternieh, $20,000. A debt of 
$1,000 makes no more figure on his books than 
the one year’s subscription of a delinquent patron 
to your paper does in the Gazette office. Ishould 
not like to say what rent he pays—you would be 
sure to make an ironical gesture not very com¬ 
plimentary to my regard for truth. The state 
saloons of the Tuillcries are not more splendid. 
Gilding is lavished on them, the door curtains 
are Beauvais tapestry, the window curtains aud 
furniture are of the finest Lyons brocade, and the 
furniture is Boule, each console between the win¬ 
dows being worth $(500. He has In one of his 
many rooms a bullet constantly spread, where 
the best sandwiches, the choicest sherry and Ma- 
deria, aud the most delicate cakes are served in 
profusion to his customers. He is constantly 
surrounded by twelve beautiful young ladies, se¬ 
lected for the perfection of their shape as well as 
face. They are attired in the height of the mode 
in silk dresses, which cost four dollars a yard, 
costly Etruscan ear-rings, bracelets and rings. 
They are part of the furniture of the place; they 
are here wliai osier mannikins are in inferior 
shops; the dresses are hung on them that 
Worth’s patrons may see the effect produced. 
No dress ever quits his establishment priced less 
than $300—in gold mind ye ! Whenever a ball is 
given at the Tuill cries, or at any of the embassies, 
you may count two hundred carriages at his door 
from as early as six o’clock in the evening. Each 
lady receives a number aud is called In turn. 
They come with their hair dressed, their petti¬ 
coats and corsets on, wrapped in a second-rate 
dress, until lie is ready to receive them. You 
may wonder that ladies should consent to expose 
their persons to the fingers aud eyes of a man. 
He is not a man in their eyes—he is nothing but 
a tailor—a tradesman—and what high-born per¬ 
son ever Etooped to inquire to what sex such a 
plebiau belonged ? Worth, a few years since, 
character, ifl-haps, hut it is a truthful exponent, 
of feeling :fPjndtilated as it may bo on a widely 
varied scale-from the sweet pathos of tender¬ 
ness, permeated by loving sympathy, to the 
irritated inflections of excitability and passion, 
and all the variations of feeling, “ The tongue,” 
says the inspired Word, “ is an unruly member, 
whieh no nun can tame” — an assertion which 
has become a verified fact in Hie history of every 
community, however small. Unfeeling and un¬ 
merited criticism, false scandal, cruel taunts, 
and unjust recrimination, continue to harass the 
daily peace, destroy the happiness, and sully the 
fair fame ol their unhappy victims. Even a 
thoughtless word may be like a touch on a fes¬ 
tering wound, and a lightly spoken jest a 
poisoned dan on its winged mission of evil. 
What then can compass the evils that systematic 
and malignant gossipping must inflict on hu¬ 
manity? Fond hopes, once near fruition, are 
oft entombed in the heart’s lonely sepulchre, — 
consigned to an early grave by the baneful in¬ 
fluence of idle words. Friendship’s tics are 
sundered by the same active little agent who 
contributed so largely in welding the golden 
links. 
It is gone-ally conceded that inventing and 
retailing musty gossip are tho beset ting sins of 
the gentler sex, but stern facts arc far from 
relieving the other sex from the same vile impu¬ 
tation. And no one seems to be so blessed as to 
HINT TO MOTHERS-SPEAK LOW. 
CHANCE CHIPS, 
inspired with the highest human power of 
religious development. Progression is the over¬ 
ruling law of its nature. It is irresistibly im¬ 
pelled, on, ever onward, by tho moral forces of 
the world ; breaking the fetters of death, it ad¬ 
vances on In the unfoldtncnt of its exalted prin¬ 
ciples In a higher and holier plane of Intelligent 
existence- The laws of man’s moral nature arc 
Immutable. Elko to the laws governing the ma¬ 
terial organization, they are stern aud inexorable. 
If it be true that pain, suffering aud death follow 
the violation of physical laws, so too, moral 
death is the consequence of disobedience to the 
principles of our higher nature. The whole 
inoral machinery of man Is subject to laws which 
are inexorable. Tho affections, in harmony with 
tho designs of God, may blossom and develop, 
or, disobedient to their sphere, they may loose 
their heavenly charms. Purity of conscience 
may he lost; the whole mental faculties may bid 
defiance to tho Divinity that rules them, and 
6lnk to" irretrievable ruiu. Man must be in har¬ 
mony with every law of his being, and move 
steadily on to the glorious consummation of 
eternity, Chab. Griswold. 
Joueavillu, Mich., Jan. 16,1865. 
perienee. He has now a beautiful country seat 
which cost him $80,000, and on whieh he hue 
6pent $00,000. He keeps a carriage and pair 
equal to anything in the imperial stables. He 
has a first rate cook, has a cellar which is daily 
improving, and is making money as fast as 
