favor, through crime, and was succeeded' by 
Gkobgf. Vii.liers. The Duke of Bucking- 
ham, lor so Villiers afterwards became, ac¬ 
quired ascendancy, not by the exercise of great 
talents, or good principles, but by means of fine 
clothes, Parisian manners, smooth face, and a 
pleasant and artful address. England never wit¬ 
nessed in one person so great an admirture of 
finery, sycopbauey and effeminacy. He took the 
lead of fashion iu dress; he lived amid boundless 
luxury and extravagance, and in insolence to 
sovereign and subject, has a counterpart only in 
Jeffries. Like a spoiled child, he was never 
satisfied with the great rewards and honors 
| showered upon him. This was not 60 much 
the result of ambition as of indulgence, which 
had ruined his appreciation; and yet his am¬ 
bition was of snob gigantic proportions that 
he even dared to approach the Queen of France 
with proposals for marriage. Knowing no law 
himself, he trampled upon the constitution, 
and ground down the people with taxes, to 
fill the exchquer, emptied by bis extravagance. 
Fond of power, he sought to advance the 
r oyal prerogative, and thereby weaned the af¬ 
fections of the jieople from the sovereign. He 
was, in a great measure, the active cause of 
all the evils of his times. There was nothing 
he did not dare to attempt, no eminance to 
which he did not aspire. He too, fell, after 
having enjoyed a measure of power which no 
Englishman hut Wolset had ever before 
wielded. 
Thus we see, that often the favorites of kings 
are men devoid of principle, ambitious and 
ignorant; and yet acquiring an influence at 
the same time detrimental to sovereign and 
subject. 
In some future essay we will show how this 
state of things has changed. 
FEMININE TOPICS 
Here is a legal derision that must be startling 
to ladies “A Massachusetts judge has derided 
that a husband may open his wife’s letters, on 
the ground so often and so tersely stated by Mr. 
Theopbilus Parsons, of Cambridge, that ‘the 
husband and the wife are one, and the husband 
is that one t’ ” 
The spring fashion for the “ Love of a Bon¬ 
net,” is described In New York reports as being 
“ a dainty little fraction placed on the top of the 
head, and barely affording the requisite facilities 
for sustaining even the moiety of falling lace 
and clustering decorations which so delicate an 
atom requires.” 
Ouh readers will remember that of late the 
French ladies have adopted a custom of dyeing 
their lap dogs to match their favorite dresses. 
The following is supposed to be the remonstrauce 
of one of the canine wretchesr—“0 mistresses, 
dye not our hair, your own though dyeing too, 
tie up our tails with ribbons rare, but paint them 
not sky blue! ’Tis sad to hang a pea-greeu I 
head, a rose-lmcd tail to sway, we feel ’twere 
better to be dead, than dyeing every day.” 
A recent fancy of Parisian existence is said 
to be the universal cultivation of violets. An 
exchange says—“ The sale of these sweet flow¬ 
ers. is prodigious. They arc raised on t he heights 
of Romalnville in immense fields, and from early 
morning until night thousands of women and 
children are seen exploring the spacious woods 
that lie around the city in 6carch of them. It is 
estimated that §10,000 worth are daily purchased 
in Paris.” 
Among late novelties in the matter of dressing 
the hair, we hear of the following:—“ The hair¬ 
dressers of Paris have got up a fashion for the 
coiffure whi h is abominably disfiguring. The 
hair is brought forward and puffed over the fore¬ 
head like •» helmet, and underneath are short, 
frizzy curl -. In front the lady iooks like a quad¬ 
roon girl with a wig too small; and the back ol 
the neck .» shown, with all its short hair, and 
deformi 1, generally. There never was such a 
frightful thing invented.” 
The London Athenaeum calls attention to the 
almost universal fact, that women novelists have 
not the slightest idea how to draw the character 
of a good and noble man. It is seldom that a 
hero is found iu a lady’s novel with whom any’ 
respectable gentleman would like to be seen 
walking arm-in-arm. Ladies’ heroc-s may he 
ranged in two principal divisions—gloomy mes- 
merizers, who compel pretty women to marry 
them by the power of the eye, and irreclaimable 
6camps, with whom all the fair sex fall in love 
from their own delightful instinct. 
We do not believe there is any truth in the 
following assertion with reference to the largo 
feet of Pennsylvania girls. The Boston Shoe 
and Leather Reporter is responsible for it The : 
Reporter says:— 11 A correspondent, who has re¬ 
cently been making a tour through Pennsyl- : 
vania, says iris * attention was called by dealers i 
in eastern-made work to the desirableness of ] 
more variety in the width of shoes; that in ] 
country’ districts the girls, even in families who i 
can well afford to buy shoes, frequently go bare- i 
footed iu the summer season, and their feet be- s 
come quite large,’ ” e 
We seldom hear of a rarer union of the useful 1 
and beautiful in one person, than is contained 1 
in the following account of the accomplishments 
of a Western belle. The Daily Life says:— * 
“There is a young lady on Rock Prairie, seven- * 
teen yearn of age, who has driven her father’s 1 
reaping team through 6even or eight seasons, 11 
and who frequently takes a load of grain fifteen * 
miles to market aud sells it. She plays the 
piano, sings divinely, dances like a fairy, cau do 1 
the honors of the drawing room with graceful * 
dignity, can make a loaf of bread or play 1 
‘Bridget’ in her mamma’s kitchen with equal f 
readiness.” 1! 
n 
Mendelssohn, the composer, once made an in- c 
formal visit upon Victoria, in 1842. Upon being 6 
6hown into her study by Prince Albert “ they ^ 
found her surrounded by papers and just term- a 
inatlug her morning’s work. The Queen reeciv- ^ 
ing him most graciously, apologized to the S( 
composer for the untidiness of her room, begin- 
ning herself to put It in order, and laughingly 
accepting his assistance. After some agreeable a: 
conversation, Mendelssohn sat down to the piano ^ 
and played -whatever the Queen asked him. ], 
When at length he arose, Price Albert asked the 
Queen to sing, and gracefully choosing one of t( 
Mendelssohn’s own compositions, she complied 
with the request. Mendelssohn of course ap- 
plaudcd, but the Queen laughingly told him that ^ 
she bad been too frightened to sing well. ‘ Ask a 
Lablache’ (Lablaehe was her singing-master) 
added the Queen, 1 he will tell you that I can 
slug better than I have done to-day.’ ” 
Tms rage for striking effects in color, has n< 
taken a new direction, as will be 6ecn by the fol- fa 
lowing:—“The ruling mania among ladies in H 
Paris is now lor golden hair. But it turns out ol 
to be no Imperial novelty after all. The Vene- w 
tian women, so says Vecoellio, were accustomed J> 
to anoint their hair aud then sit upon the house- ai 
roof, allowing the rays of the blazing sun to vi 
stream down upon their heads in the hope of C. 
catching that golden tint so loved by artists and w 
immortalized by Titian, Paul Veronese, and Bon- Ip 
ifazlo. But tastes vary. The Greeks, if we are at 
to believe Anacreon, preferred purple hair— m 
probably a shade of very dark brown, approach- W 
ing black. Purple hair may be produced by a to 
bad style of dyeing. Some old young folks are fei 
sometimes seen thus phenominally adorned, but .Jj 
the purple light of love they then present is by by 
no means, like the bloom of young desire. So Fi 
very great is the popularity of the natural golden ex 
hair now, in the French capital, that it sells or an 
?25 per ounce—the price, too, continually ris- at 
ing as the supply becomes scarcer.” 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
A REQUIEM, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
STABAT MATER. 
[W» have an impression that we have published 
this beautiful poem before. It appears now by re¬ 
quest.— Eds.] 
Winsome baby Bunn! 
Brighter than the stars that rise 
In the dusky evening skies. 
Browner than the robins wing, 
Clearer than a woodland spring, 
Are the eyes of baby Bunn ! 
Smile, mother, smile! 
Thinking softly all the while 
Of a tender, blissful day, 
When the dark eyeB. so like these 
Of the cherub on your knees, 
Stole your girlish heart away. 
Oh the eyes of baby Bunn 1 
Rarest mischief will they do 
When once old enough to steal 
What their father stole from you! 
Smile, mother, smile t 
Winsome baby Bunn! 
Milk-white lilies half unrolled, 
Set in calyces of gold. 
Cannot match his forehead fair, 
With its rings of yellow hair! 
Scarlet berry cleft in twain 
By a wedge of pearly grain, 
Is the mouth of baby Bunn, 
Winsome baby Bunn! 
Weep, mother, weep! 
For the little one asleep 
With his head against your breast. 
Never in the coining years, 
Though he seek for ic with tears, 
Will he fiud so sweet a rest. 
Oh the brow of baby Bunn! 
Oh the scarlet mouth of Bunn! 
One must wear its crown of thorns; 
Drink its cup of gall must one, 
Though the trembling lips shall shrink, 
White with anguish as they drink, 
And the temple sweat with pain 
Drops of blood like parple rain. 
Weep, mother, weep 1 
Winsome little baby Bunn! 
Not the sea-shell’s palest tinge, 
Not the daisy's rose-white fringe, 
Not the softest, faintest glow 
O the sunset on the snow, 
Is more beautiful and sweet 
Than the wee pink hands and feet 
©f little baby Bonn. 
Winsome baby Bunn! 
Pray, mother, pray I 
Feet like these may lose the way, 
Wandering blindly from the light. 
Pray, and sometimes will yonr prayers 
Be to him like golden stairs 
Built through darkness inte light. 
Ob the dimpled feet of Bunn 1 
In their silken stockings dressed 1 
Oh the dainty hands of Bunn, 
Hid like rose-leaves in your breast ? 
These will grasp at Jewels rare. 
But to find t hem empty air; 
Those shall falter many a day, 
Bruised and bleeding by the way, 
Ere they reach the land of rest. 
Pray, mother, prat | 
BT JANE E. HIGBY. 
“ Death hath sent His angel." 
Wave on, thon weeping flag, so sadly wave! 
’Twere fitting thee to mourn, when sleep the brave, 
Dow changed, since last thy glowing colors told 
So proudly of the long sought prize we hold 
For aye to-day. 
Alas 1 the drapery of grief is thine; 
’Twere mockery thy stars, undimmed, to shine 
As yesterday. 
Gone 1 No; it cannot be 1 We know they said 
That he, our nation’s chief, beloved, was dead; 
But ah 1 the mighty of these storied years 
To bathe with hitter, nnavailing tears,— 
And that so soon f 
How mixed the passions in Colombia’s breast! 
She laughs and weeps and prays, in strange nnrest- 
Btit marches on. 
Yes; dead! a noble leader of this glorious age; 
Surpassed by none ou History’s wide page. 
The master epirit of an hour of need, 
The risen Saviour, for our cause to bleed 
By traitor’s hand. 
Behold with solemn awe.—the deed is done,— 
And perished thus, the second Waehinoton 
Of this fair land. 
The chain is loosed that held In fettered doom 
Our Engle bold, the bird of tireless plume; 
While blood of martyre heralds to the earth 
The dawning day of Freedom's second birth,— 
America. 
Ye sable eons of bondage, now lament 
The Moses of your race, in mercy sent— 
God's chosen way. 
Oh 1 foul assassin I wear thy guilty stain 1 
Thy brow is branded with the mark of Cain ! 
And deeper on thy soul the curse shall grow, 
As men and nations learn in time to know 
His victory, 
Whose greatness stooped but to aspire 
To bear a well earned name, the Sire 
Of Liberty. 
Sweet be bis rest, beside the fallen braves,— 
That band of Heroes in their consecrated graves! 
Nor call his record brief, whose toil hath wrought 
What these for all humanity have bought,— 
A heritage 
That treasured well, shall be to us a shrine 
Whose altar fires resplendently shall shine 
Through every age. 
Piflard, N. Y.. April, 1865. 
Jews were wrought to cruel madness, 
Christians fled in fear aud sadness ; 
Mary stood the CroBs beside. 
At its foot her feet she planted, 
By the dreadful scene undaunted, 
Till the gentle sufferer died. 
Poets oft have snng her story; 
Painters decked her brow with glory; 
Priests her name havo deified; 
But no worship, song or glory, 
Touches like that smiple story— 
“Mary stood the cross beside.” 
And, when nnder fierce oppression, 
Goodness suffers like transgression, 
Christ again is crucified. 
But if love be there true-hearted, 
By no grief or terror parted, 
Mary stands the cross beside. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
RELIGIOUS TOLERATION. 
EVILS OF GOSSIP 
morning mist that turned to a day’s long tears, 
only because of this; a father and a son 
were foot to foot with the fiery breath of anger 
that would never cool again between them, only 
because of this; a husband and bis young wife, 
each straining at the bated leash which in the 
beginning had been the golden bondage of a 
God-blessed love, sat mournfully by the side of 
the grave where all their love and all their joy 
lay buried, also only because of this. I have 
seen faith transformed to a mean doubt, hope 
give place to grim despair, and charily take ou 
itself the features of black malevolence, all be¬ 
cause of the spell words of scandal and the magic 
mutteriugs of gossip. Great crimes work great 
wrongs, and the deeper tragedies of human life 
spring from its larger possessions; but woful 
and most melancholy are the uncatalogued trage¬ 
dies that issue from gossip and detraction; most 
mournful the shipwreck often made of noble 
natures aud lovely lives by the bitter winds and 
dead salt waters of slander. So easy to say, yet 
so bard to disprove—throwing on the innocent 
all the burden and the strain of demonstrating 
tlieit* innocence, and punishing them us guilty, 
if unable to pluck out the stings they never see 
aud to silence words they never hear—gossip 
and slander are the deadliest and the crudest 
weapons man has forged for his brother’s hurt. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
WHAT MAKES A ROYAL FAVORITE 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MOTHERLESS. 
If I could write but one more sentence in my 
life, it would be this :—Be charitable toward moth¬ 
erless children, I write this from the sad and 
bitter experience of a motherless girlhood; and 
although the grass has greened for many Aprils 
above Her resting place, my heart still calls for 
her, and scarce an hour passes but I fed my 
need ot her; and In the absence that gives no 
clasp of hand, no smile of lip, or eye, or answer¬ 
ing voice, I would that entreaty might be writ¬ 
ten upon the hearts of all. Especially would I 
have it written upon the hearts (iflarge enough) 
of men and women who seem to delight in ex¬ 
posing and exaggerating the faults of those 
bereft of friends; faults which, in their own 
children would be carefully, lovingly hidden, and 
concealed from the prying gaze of the world. 
Faults are. always bad enough. It is hut hu¬ 
man to err. Error and wrong-doing hurt the 
unfortunate enough, without a score of heart¬ 
less tongues to blazon forth the deed or word, 
which in the breath of gossip, assumes huge, 
distorted dimensions, weighty enough to crush 
down a sensitive soul into the gulf of reckless¬ 
ness or despair. 
Make room for motherless children in your 
own hearts ! Deal as gently with their faults as 
with your own. Applaud their virtues. And 
by all that is brave or sweet upon earth or Eacred 
in heaven, scorn to put your foot upon the 
motherless, or catch up the breath of infamy or 
slander against the defenceless 
THE OLD FLAG OF FORT SUMTER, 
A loyal lady writing to a citizen of Brattle- 
boro from a town in New York, relates the fol¬ 
lowing respecting the old flag so lately reinstat¬ 
ed ou Fort Sumter:—“ Do you not wish to see 
that old flag raised over Sumter next week * 
Perhaps you may not know that Miss-(for 
her father) has been the custodian of that iden¬ 
tical flag for a long time. Last autumn she re¬ 
turned it to General Anderson, and in removing 
it from the rough box in which it was placed 
after the surrender, to a flue oaken case she had 
prepared for it, it was found that although rent 
and 6hot away in several places, not a single star 
was displaced or injured. Was not that poetic 
and prophetic?” 
WHY CHRIST LEFT NO IMAGE 
Four men who loved Christ with a love stron¬ 
ger than death, wrote his life, but left no bint of 
his height, complexion, features, or any poiut 
that could help the mind to a personal Image. 
Others wrote long epistles of which he was] the 
Alpha and Omega; but his form was as much 
kept secret as the body of Moses, bidden by the 
Almighty in an undiscovered grave. The Chris¬ 
tian tombs and relics of the first centuries show 
no attempt to make an image of Christ. Too 
deep a sense of the divine rested upon the early 
church to permit any attempt to paint the human 
as it appeared in him. 
CHANCE CHIPS 
Wickedness, with beauty, is the devil’s hook 
baited. 
Wealth is not apt to be modest; the face on 
a guinea never blushes. 
A continued smile on men's faces, but not on 
maiden’s, is often the title vignette of falsehood. 
A mosquito is a customer who tries to get 
I inside the bar and “ take a nip” without paying 
for it. 
Don’t be too severe on yourself and your own 
feelings; keep on, don’t faint, be energetic to 
the last. 
When a fish is wounded, other fishes fall upon 
aud devour him. There’s some human nature 
in fishes. 
As Bellona is the goddess of war, the best 
diet to make men light is probably Belloua- 
sausages. 
A man with a curved spine should be a shep¬ 
herd. He would be saved the expanse of buy¬ 
ing a crook. 
The moon seems pure and bright, but, like 
many mortal beings, she casts a long shadow 
up toward heaven. 
I have a pocketful of yellow mint drops, said 
A. Yes, replied B, but you owe them all—yoaf 
mint drops are due drops. 
The mind is like the body in its habits — ex¬ 
ercise can strengthen, as neglect and indolence 
cau weaken it—they are both improved by dis¬ 
cipline, both ruined by neglect. 
! It srhows a 
spirit Of cowardice, of unspeakable meanness so 
to do — I write this, not because 1 remember 
with bitterness my own early troubles —for the 
discipline of my youth has, at last, given me 
strength to sustain my own triuls, but for the 
6ake of orphans who, but yesterday, perhaps, 
looked for the last time upon the dead face of 
mother —the childs best earthly friend. 
Mi nt wood. 
Hilldale Farm, near Lndlowville, N. Y., 1865. 
God in Nature.— Ask the world, the beauty 
of the heaven, the brilliancy and ordering of 
the 6tars, the moon, the solace of the night; ask 
the earth fruitful iu herbs and trees, full of ani¬ 
mals, adorned with men; ask the sea, with how 
great and what kind of fishes filled ; ask the air 
stocked with what multitudes of birds; ask all 
things, and see If they do not, as It were by a 
language of their own, make answer to thee, 
God made us. — Augustine. 
At a recent matinee at the New York Academy 
of Music, two richly dressed ladies quarreled 
about a seat and indulged in a fierce scrimmage, 
in which one of the termagant® had her skirt 
wholly torn off. A gentleman therein interposed 
and stopped the disgraceful exhibition by placing 
one of the women in bis own seat. Hundreds of 
“ ladies ” carry luncheons to these matinees, and 
eat them openly. 
A Cheerful Religion.— It is painfully pitiful 
—that sombre aspect, the whining voice, which 
some, even among good people, assume as soon 
as religion is int roduced. They apeak the names 
of Jesus like that of one dead, llo lives! He 
lives in light! Aud lie would have us rejoice iu 
that light. 
God keeps him who takes what care he cau of 
hiinselt. 
If we expect charity from the world, we must 
be charitable ourselves. 
First Love.—“ Nevertheless, I have some¬ 
what against thee, because thou hast left thy first 
love.” 
We talk of the rewards of approving con¬ 
science, but it seems a little hard to devote one’s 
life to labors of love, and receive no more pal¬ 
pable compensation. He who has a name, never 
so humble, if it be the garner of affection, may 
defy the changes and chances of the outer world.— 
Alice Careg. 
