the very angels might have turned from the 
glories of heaven to hehold the glories of earth. 
Trees in winter are thought by most people 
unsightly objects, only esteemed because of the 
cooling shade expected of them; but even the 
bare, brown boughs are beautiful to those whose 
eyes and ecuses are educated to perceive the 
beauty of form. Look at any tree undeformed 
by the art or abuse of man or ravages of animals, 
note the symmetrical arrangement of the limbs 
arising from the main 6tem and the regularity, 
without stiffness, of the balancing branches, view 
a fine oak or maple as the boughs stand out 
against the blue of the sky; and if you see no 
beauty there, and receive no pleasure from the 
contemplation, be sure your eye is not educated 
thoroughly to appreciate Nature. 
It is true, winter is the foil to bring out in 
deeper relief the beauty of summer and autumn ; 
yet, though the glorious radiance of the gem be 
wanting, the esqnisite workmanship of the set¬ 
ting should win admiration. I believe there is 
no beauty of Nature so constantly ignored and 
so slightly appreciated as the sky — though it 
combines the dome-form (a favorite in Nature as 
in the spreading tree and shrub or invested in 
lily-bells and various (lowers,) with a soft but 
gorgeous color, lighted up by the peerless bril¬ 
liancy of the sun, and the milder rays of moon 
and stars, varied continually by cloud-forms, 
which the most exuberant earthly Imagination 
could not contrive. Yet how few are they who 
delight and rejoice in the splendor of the “Up¬ 
per Deep.” The world is full of beauty, but our 
eyes arc scaled; if we would but turn from the 
“dim natbs of life” to Nature and “consider 
“ You misunderstand me, [lady,” he said, 
quickly rising from his seat and leaning against 
the window ; “I’m Becking nothing for myself, 
but everything for France.” 
“ It is lor France, Napoleon,” she said, draw¬ 
ing close to his side and taking his hand in hers, 
“that you would put away from you, not only a 
true wife but a true friend! Think not that I 
have been blind, Si re, to this. My alarmed heart 
has told me all, and believe me that I am offer¬ 
ing no protest to your will, but oh, Sire! examine 
well your heart before you act.’ 
He stood silent while she was speaking, and 
theu, with face turned full upon the streaming 
moonlight, lie. drew away his hands. She went on: 
“And, oh, Sire ! believe me, that though 1 am 
to leave your throne and your side, I shall never 
cease to* love you too deeply for my peace. 
Therefore it is that I plead that you w ill look well 
into your heart before you yield your future to 
bad counsels.” 
He drew quickly from the window and walked 
forward to the center of the room. 
“You cannot sympathize with me Madame, I 
act only with reason. The good of the individual 
must yield to the good of France. Farewell! ” 
“Stop!” said she, and Josephine stepped 
quickly across the room and caught his arm, 
drawing him as she did so again to the window. 
“ Do you see that star ? ” and she pointed at 
one that shone with marked brightness. “ That 
is my destiny. By it you have risen. To it was 
promised a throne. Through me you have ac¬ 
complished it; part from me aud you fall. Yes, 
fall to die in sorrow, neglect and exile! lie- 
member this, Napoleon, and remember these 
words when it is too late to recall the act that 
no words of mine can prevent.” 
Nopolcon gazed almost in terror at her who 
stood like a prophetess gazing out with eyes of 
fire upon the heavens, and then with a heart 
clouded almost to sickness, ho turned away and 
left the room without a word. 
Ten days passed before he had nerve to strike 
the blow that broke the golden chain that bound 
them, and from that moment, as he afterward 
confessed at St. Helena, the fall of Napoleon be¬ 
gan, till he died a broken-hearted exile upon an 
island in mid-ocean. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yoker, 
INVOCATION. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
SLIDING DOWN HILL. 
NEARER TO LIFE’S WINTER, 
Nearer to life's winter, wife, 
We are drawing nearer— 
Memories of the blessed spring 
Growing dearer, dearer. 
Through the summer heats we've toiled, 
Through the autumn weather 
We have also passed, sweet wife. 
Hand in hand together. 
Time was hearts were, well as feet, 
Lighter, I remember; 
April’s locks of gold are turned 
To silver this November. 
Flowers are fewer than at first, 
And the way grows drearer; 
For unto life's winter, wife, 
We are drawing nearer. 
Nearer to life's end, sweet wife, 
We are drawing uearer; 
The last milestone on the way 
To our sight grows clearer. 
Some whose hands we held quite faint 
And laid down to slumber; 
Looking backward, we to-day 
All their graves may number. 
Heights we've sought we failed to climb, 
Fruits we’ve failed to gather; 
But what matter since we’ve still 
Jesus and each other. 
BY GENE PRATT. 
Spirit of Purity, 
Oli, tarry thou with me 
And mould each act, each word and tho’t Inspire; 
Consnme with flaming breath, 
Where’er it liugcrcth, 
What is not thine, and dwell in each desire. 
And tarry them with me, 
Oh, Chris! iau Charity, 
That judgeth not but thinkest always cl 
Art kind; dost suffer long 
noping what someth. wrong 
May yet be rightforever In me dwel.. 
And thou, Humility 1 
Oh, tarry too with me, 
Make thine abode forever in my breast, 
Fling to the wind each thought 
That comes not, as it ought. 
From thee alone :—so shall this life be blest. 
Oh, Spirit all Divine! 
Wilt thou be al so mine 
And fill my being with thy holy light? 
Give me that panoply 
Which couqnerH victory, 
And plume my spirit for its upward flight. 
EarnosLof Heavenly Rest: 
Oh! tarry in my breast, 
While round my bark the billows break and foam 
Till, in the dawning light 
Faith shall bo lost in sight. 
And hope be realized in yon bright home. 
Spirits on whom I call 1 
Then will I claim ye all. 
Not then, as now, will claim yon for my guests, 
But when from prison freed, 
Yc shall ho mine indeed, 
And naught shall lure or drive yon from my breast. 
Stephen’s Mills, Steuben Co., N. Y. 
As I sit looking out of ray window to-day, 
At the boys on the bill-side so busy at play, 
And hear their wild laugh, and the whistle and song, 
Mingled ever with shouts as each sled glides along, 
The phantom of care leaves my spirit awhile, 
And 1 feel my mouth-comers relax for a smile. 
There's the spirit or life, action, energy, joy, 
Carried down on each sled in the shape of a hoy; 
Aud it quicken* my pulses, as downward they glide 
’Mid clamor and tussle to get the best. ride. 
With sudden leap backward, fond inem’ry stands still, 
When I am a child again, riding down hill. 
“ Hurrah! for the fellow that gets down hill first,— 
Clear the track there, yonng Slow-poke, your snail- 
trap I’ll hurst. 
Get on here who wants lo; come Billy or Ed, 
We’ll go the cigars on my bully old sled!” 
“You will eh? Look here hoys,” says wide-awake 
Jim, 
41 I’ll pass him so quck it will make Ida head swim.” 
And on with a banter, a shout, and a bound, 
The sleds, side by side, whizzing over the ground, 
Come bump on a fence-rail, laid square on the track, 
By sly little 44 Slow-poke..” just on hia way back. 
“Look out there young man, or we’ll tan your shoe- 
leather," 
And over they tangle like fish-worms together 
Forgetting the banter they had with each other, 
So eagerly chasiiAup hill for another. 
And so they seenMilllng lo spend the whole day, 
With zeal uuabatM and spirits as gay. 
Only one or two »id ores, coming to grief. 
Go home with Uic®>o-ta>o of ready relief— 
THE DESTINY OF JOSEPHINE 
Josephine interests everybody, and we gladly 
give our readers the following from a corres¬ 
pondent of the Knickerbocker Magazine: 
The history of Napolc-on is yet to be written, 
and by an American. The world has been 
amused with fablea'of this man of destiny; which 
have been transmitted as heir-looms until they 
have reached him who now sits upon the throne 
of France, and is pleased with the title, “the 
man of destiny.” 
This though a favorite idea with every class of 
Frenchmen, undoubtedly arose from the story of 
Josephine, and through her attachment of Na¬ 
poleon. Though her simple story is smothered 
in the more brilliant one of her husbaud, yet it 
was well known that long before Napoleon’s ad¬ 
mirers claimed for him the great destiny he 
finally accomplished, it was a common story in 
Paris which wc are about to tell. 
It was while almost a child that Josephine, in 
some of her wanderings with her school-fellows, 
came across a vagrant gypsey or fortune teller. 
The woman, attracted in some way towards the 
beautiful child, insisted upon telling her fortune, 
even against her will and without reward. She 
told her that she would very soon be a wife, a 
widow, and afterwards Queen of France. The 
prediction in itself was common enough, but as 
simple as it was, it had its effect upon Josephine, 
who immediately omhrMoU »t «. iaci, ana 
could for a long time think of nothing else. 
When the fulfillment came to the first part of 
the prediction, it of course strengthened her in 
the belief of the rest; and even when in prison 
under sentence of death, and her bed was taken 
from lier at night because she was to die in the 
morning, she bade her friends have courage, that 
It would not be so, aud that she would sit upon 
that throne theu in ruins beneath the bloody 
feet of Robespierre; arid when the jailors, in de¬ 
rision, called upon her to name her maids of 
honor, that they might be ready when she was 
queen, she did so, and her nomination was finally 
fulfilled to a letter. 
On that very uiglit Robespierre fell. Had his 
downfall occurred one week earlier, Josephine’s 
husband would not have been one of his victims; 
had he lived one day longer she would have been 
another of them. 
There was but little lapse of time between her 
liberation from prison and her marriage to Na¬ 
poleon, and it was by the influence that she 
•exerted that lie was appointed to the command 
of the army of Italy, after which t he pal h that led 
them upward was clear and open, until the des¬ 
tiny she insisted upon was accomplished aud the 
crown of France was placed upon her head. 
But there was one thing more that Josephine 
had foretold for herself which was the utter loss 
of power and rank to which she had been so won¬ 
derfully elevated, and still while she brooded 
over this, Napoleon, who was her lord, gather¬ 
ing new power and yielding to new ambitions, 
she tried to crash it, and to point out what 
should be his true aims; but he was an Emperor, 
and desired to be the founder of a new empire. 
How well her instinets told her that the time 
was rapidly approaching when that ambition 
would make him put her away! Then came the 
close of the campaign of 1809, and she saw that 
the hour was approaching still nearer that was 
to seal both their fates. There was no longer 
the confidence of the past between them; no 
longer the seeking of sympathy and advice. 
It was On the 20th of November, 1809, and the 
court was especially gay in honor of the visit, of 
the King of Saxony. Josephine sat at the win¬ 
dow of her boudoir, looking out upon the river, 
when she heard a step at the door, and rose to 
receive Napoleon who caught her in his arms, 
with more of the olden time embrace than she 
had known for months. She led him to the sofa 
on which she had been (fitting, and seated her- 
selfby his side. For a few moments there was 
silence, and he spoke. 
“Josephine, you have been weeping. Are 
you unhappy ? ” 
“No, Sire! not with you,” 
“ Nonsense! Josephine, who do you call Sire ? 
Of late you are. making these forms overshadow 
all our happiness.” 
“ Then, why should they not be forgotten by 
both ? Yon have now reached that point of am¬ 
bition that should content you. Will you turn 
the unquiet, god from your bosom and own our 
own happiness?” 
MEN FOR THE AGE 
Person a n purity, inner cleanness and sanc¬ 
tity of life are matters not to be dispensed 
with in a reformer. The eye with the beam is 
not of sufficient clearness to detect the mote. 
Tho lip of the impure is too feeble to be effect¬ 
ive in the cause of virtue. The mote and of¬ 
fensive hand will be claimed by those who have 
larger blemishes, as evils of no consequence. 
Although there may be something in the adage, 
“Set a thief to catch a thief," the thief would 
be but. a sorry teacher of the man after he was 
caught. He would bo too likely to recognize 
Him as a persecuted brother of bis own order. 
With such aid alone one might pray for the un¬ 
limited reign of goodness in the subjection of 
evil forever, aud ha no nearer to the answer of 
the desires of the righteous. Wc want whole- 
souled men to help ns—those who have wills to 
work, and bunds swift to relieve the wants of 
the poor aud needy—men with minds to devise 
and strength to do. None of your dead lions. 
Wc have hud enough of them in those literary, 
religious noasters who nave been strong and 
scholarlike in language, but very feeble in what 
is far better, a whole heart for the true and tho 
right. Those who have made fewer professions, 
aud lived uprightly, have done infinitely more 
for us. Indeed, our lion labor has been inva¬ 
riably against ns, for, notwithstanding some have 
been convinced by it of the unsoundness of an 
ism , more Lave been frozen up in its want of the 
life and love of the good and holy. The con¬ 
fession of error is but the beginning of repent¬ 
ance. It is not only our duty to conviuce of 
wrong, (in doing this the work is only half done) 
we want to initiate the convinced into the right. 
A smart rnan in argument can do the first, 
but it takes a good man to do the last.— lies. T. J. 
lenney. 
“YE ARE MY WITNESSES, 
ness, and faithfulness of God. We are to wit¬ 
ness to the world by our spirit, testimony and 
conduct. We are to witness to poor, doubting, 
fearful souls. Our witness should be borne 
with courage, constancy, and love. Our testi¬ 
mony should be from experience. Do we know 
the Lord ? Do wc daily experience the power of 
Does it free us from slavish 
Written tor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SOCIAL SKETCHES-No. 2. 
MISS GARDE, 
There’s the race started fair—and the rail in the way ; 
Then the tumble together of friend, foe, and brother, 
The long pull up hill in fond hopes of— another. 
There's the timid and veak, early weary of strife, 
Turning tearful away ftom “ first lessons ” of life. 
There's the same reekhis zeal till tho day is full past; 
And foolish reluctance lo leave it al last. 
O! children of men, wl y not pause in our play, 
Ere the enn has gone down on our life's winter day; 
Ere the vigor and prido of onr spirit is wasted, 
In striving for that which brings fever when tasted? 
For Earth's fairest bopcjdlsappear when we clasp— 
*.»». _,.,f - u«tn m inc grasp. 
“ Quaker City,” Ind. 
Miss Gadde is cousin-german to Miss Gabbe. 
What is wanted in Miss Gabbe is found in Miss 
Gaddb. Miss Gadde has a “world of relations.” 
She can trace her ancestral thread where only 
she can see it, and prove, to a mathematical 
certainty, that she is nearly connected with all 
the “ first folks ” in the village. Miss Gadde is 
never at home. If you wish to see her, go any¬ 
where else than there-, to find her. Should you 
chance to meet lier in the street, she rushes up 
to you, all out of breath, and, after a pump- 
V.«T.S1„ —-"B- nrtru-iUWVv HUH 
“she had just been to see Cousin Smith’s folks, 
— hadn’t seen them for an age,—shameful neg¬ 
lect, but ber relations were so exacting.” Miss 
Gadde is a lady of limited means, in fact she 
has no visible, means ol support. Examine her 
wardrobe, and you wifi find a motley array of 
articles, to which every relative ana friend lias 
paid a forced contribution. Hide your new 
things when you hear her coming, or her first 
remark will be, —“I thought you had worn 
that unbecoming garment about long enough. 
By the way, I want just such an old thing to 
throw on of a morning when it rains, and as 
you don’t value it, I’ll takeit out of your sight." 
Off is Miss Gadde, in the twinkling of an eye, 
with the coveted article, to tell some neighbor 
Low generous you are, and to hint that some¬ 
thing of hers was required, to complete the suit 
Miss Gadde is not suffered to be wholly use¬ 
less. The village people make a sort of social 
telegraph of her, hence a better “posted up” 
town than ours it would be difficult to find. 
But Miss Gadde is a bore. I’m sorry to confess 
it, yet I’m constrained to add that if a female 
missionary to the Fegcc Islands were called for, 
our village would east a unanimous vote for 
Miss Gadde to go. Poor Miss Gadde ! 
Aunt Katuraii. 
truth in our hearts? 
fear, the love of the world, and the dominion of 
sin ? Can we Bay, We have knowm and believed 
the love which God hath to us—God is love? 
Are we saying to those around tis, “ O, taste and 
see that the Lord is good; there Is no want to 
them that fear him?” Suppose wo should be 
called to bear witness before judges or kings, 
io iiiii ,iilocm ut nl ihc. ntiiUo, Uow would St be 
with us then? Could we witness that God is 
good and gracious; that ho is enongh to make 
us happy if he were to stripe us as he did Job, or 
try us as he did Paul? He says, “Ye are my 
witnesses.” Isaiah xliii. 12. 
Give me to bear Thy easy yoke, 
And every moment watch and pray ; 
And still to things eternal look. 
And hasten to Thy glorious day 1 
I would Thy daily witness be, 
And prove that I »m one with Thee. 
— Smith's Daily Remembrancer. 
THE CHDRCH OF CHRIST 
The Church of Christ was designed to repre¬ 
sent him on earth, and to miuister to all the 
moral needs of the human race. Her work, then, 
is not done when she sends out preachers and 
teachers; when she exhibits sacraments and 
liturgies; when she sets up churches at home 
aud mission stations abroad. She must grope 
her way into the alleys and courts and purlieus 
of the city, and up the broken stair-case, and 
iuto the bare room, and beside the loathsome 
sufferer. She must go down into the pit with 
the miner, Into the forecastle with the sailor, 
into the tent with the soldier, into the shop 
with the mechanic, in the factory with the op¬ 
erative, Into the field with the farmer, into the 
counting-room with the merchant. Like the air, 
the Church must press equally on all the sur¬ 
faces of society; like tho sea, flow into every 
nook of the shore line of humanity; and like 
the sun, shiue on things fonl and low as well 
as fair and high, for she was organized, commis¬ 
sioned, and equipped for the moral renovation 
of the world .—Bishop Simpson. 
CHANCE CHIPS 
At a young ladies’ seminary a few days since, 
during an examination in history, one of the 
mo6t promising pupils was interrogated:— 
“ Mary, did Martin Luther die a natural death?” 
“No,” was the prompt reply; “ he was excom¬ 
municated by a bull.” 
Charles Lamb, sitting next a chattering 
womau at dinner, observing he didn't attend to 
her, “ You don’t seem,” said the lady, “ to be 
at all the better for what I am saying to you !” 
“No, ma’am,” he answered, “but this gentle¬ 
man on the other side of me must, for it all came 
in at one ear and went out at the other!” 
“On, kiss me and go,” said the maid of my heart, 
And proffered her tips as my pay to depart; 
“ The mom Is approaching, iny mother will know, 
My kindest and dearest, oh, kiss me aud go 1” 
She gave me the blessing in such a sweet way, 
That the thrill of its pleasure enticed me to stay; 
So we kissed till Ihu morning came in with its glow, 
For she said every moment, 44 Oh, kiss me and go 1” 
In order to be happy, one must bo on good 
terms with his pillow, for the nightly reproaches 
it can make must bo heard; yet it is never so 
delicious, so tranquil, as after a day on which 
one has performed some good act, or where one 
is conscious of having spent it in some useful or 
substantial employment. 
Diogenes, being asked which beast’s bite was 
the most dangerous, replied: — “If you mean 
wild beasts, ’tis tho slanderer’s; if tame ones, 
the llatterer’s.” 
On a pretty girl’s saying to Leigh Hunt, “I’m 
very sad , you see," he replied, “ Oli, no, you be¬ 
long to the other Jewish sect—you are very 
fair, I see." 
Let ns love little children; they arc the deli¬ 
cate Uower-gods of a soon fading Eden. 
“ Lord Bthon, in reference to a lady he tho’t 
ill of, writes:—“Lady —has been dangerously 
ill; but it may console you to learn that she is 
dangerously well again.” 
A good way to “ kill time,”—sleigh it. Yes, 
sleigh without distinction of age or sex. 
Indemnity for the past— pay up. Security 
I for the future— pay down. 
summer, and unless thel find it growing trouble¬ 
some to their husbandry, never examine its 
structure, or even know its name; thousands of 
farmers’ wives and daughters, who have spent 
their lives surrounded ifr forests, scarcely know 
tho common trees and v4ldshrubs, and arc quite 
as ignorant of the minks of the wild flowers; 
liave 4 never noticed tho)peculiar growth of the 
ferns, or the beauty of fosses and lichens. 
It is a prevalent op nion that winter is an 
altogether unlovely sen ion, only endurable be¬ 
cause of the amuwuici Is aud holidays which 
accompany it; yet, sonic of the moat, beautiful 
sights that Nature adorns are presented by tlie 
aid ol' snow and ice. A year this past winter 1 
saw in the Empire State wo landscapes, or more 
properly snowscapos, iliiit surpassed all summer 
eights. One wok causedjby the first, snow, which 
fell while yet the gorgeWbued leaves of early 
autumn decked the boughs. Aj.addin’s won¬ 
drous lump could not live conjured np a scene 
to vie in magnificence with that which met the 
eye when the sun ehoncj down upon the night’s 
work. The branches of the trees were bent in 
the most graceful curves by the weight of the 
pure whiteness, here and there gleamed out sin¬ 
gle leaves or bimdl bcufehs of mingled red and 
yellow, protruding hlwes of grass and fallen 
leaves broke up the uniformity of the white 
upon the ground, and the rays of the 6un, and 
the almost cloudless due of tho sky, bending 
domelike over all, flnhhed the mate hi ess picture. 
Another charming scene was made by the 
sudden congelation of tailing rain upon every 
object it had touched, .every twig to the most 
minute, the weeds and brambles of the fields, 
stray stalks of Indian dim, long bending blades 
ol wild grass, were glisocuing with radiance sur¬ 
passing the diamond*. From every fence and 
house-cornice depended long, gleaming spears 
of crystal, and ns the glorious sunlight here and 
there gleamed them into rubies aud amethyst, 
OCCUPATION FOR CHILDREN. 
The active habits of children prove that 
occupation is a necessity with most of them. 
They love to be busy, even about nothing, still 
more to usefully employed. With some 
children it is a strongly developed necessity, aud 
if not turned to good account, will be product¬ 
ive of positive evil, thus verifying the old 
adage, that 44 Idleness, is the mother of mis¬ 
chief.” Children should be encouraged, or if 
indolently disinclined to it, should be disci¬ 
plined into performing for themselves every 
little office relative to the toilet which they are 
capable of performing. They should keep their 
own clothes and other possessions in neat order, 
and fetch for themselves whatever they want; 
in short, they should learn to he as independent 
of others as possible, fitting them alike to make 
a good use of prosperity, and to meet with for¬ 
titude any reverse of the fortune that may 
befall them. 1 know of no rank, however ex¬ 
alted, in which such a system would not prove 
beneficial.— Selected. 
BUSINESS MEANS OF GRACE 
Instead of business becoming a feeder to 
covetousness, under the promptings of nature, 
it must become a stimulus to benevolence, under 
tho promptings of grace. Dr. Hawes, In his 
biography of Norrnand Smith, a merchant in his 
congregation, Buys he never grew in grace more 
rapidly, or shone brlgher as a Christian, than 
during tho last Bix or seven years of IiIb life, 
when he had the greatest amount of business on 
ins hands. From the time when he devoted all 
to God, and resolved to pursue bis business as a 
part of his religion, he found uo tendency in his 
worldly engagements to chill his piety or en¬ 
chain his affections to earth. His businoas be¬ 
came to him a means of grace, and helped him 
forward in the diviuo life, just as truly as read¬ 
ing the Scriptures and prayer. He was a shin¬ 
ing example of one who is “ diligent in business, 
fervent iu spirit serving the Lord.” 
Austrian Vengeance. —A Vienna journal re¬ 
lates a droll story. A young man who was pay¬ 
ing assiduous court to the wife of a dyer, had the 
misfortune to be caught by the enraged husband, 
who called his workmen about him, and without 
any ceremony, the gallant was plunged Into a 
cauldron prepared for imparting a true blue color 
to various fabrics. In a second the. unfortunate 
youth had acquired such a tint lie dared not ap¬ 
pear in public. 11 is friends implored the dyer to 
restore the poor fellow to bis natural hue; but 
the pitiless answer was, “ It is impossible. He 
is a beautiful color, undull l can do for him is to 
change him to a green or violet ? ” 
The fireside Is a school of importance; it is 
important because it is universal, and because 
the education It bestows, being woven in the 
woof of childhood, gives form aud color to the 
whole texture of life. 
