s 
pMieis’ JjteprttiMtt 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
EALPH RIVERS’ QUESTION. 
BY BOSK SIAYFELD. 
Will you be a veteran’s bride, 
Vina Vinton, loved so long .• 
Will you wait, the meanwhile praying, 
While I step to war's death-song? 
Your strong love will cheer and guide me, 
Vina Vinton, in the strife: 
I can never swerve from duty. 
With such an angel for my wife, 
• 
When the bands discourse sweet music, 
Vina Vinton, will you pray 
That your veteran, scarred though noble, 
May be cheered on his lone way ? 
O’er the soldier's camp at night-fall, 
Vina Vinton, stare will shine, 
As upon that glorious evening. 
When 1 asked you to be mine. 
When fierce and londly boom the cannon, 
Vina Vinton, I'll be there, 
• Unflinching in the thickest battle— 
For victory's palm I'll do and dare. 
And if I fall all faint and wounded, 
Vina Vinton, on the plain, 
Oh 1 come with yonr soft gentle presence, 
To cheer my heart and soothe the pain! 
Come, with low and gentle whispers, 
Vina Vinton, talk to me 
About that glorious star-gemmed banner, 
That wares o'er angels ’cross the sea. 
Oh, tell me of proud victories won, 
Vina Vinton, by that hoEt, 
Who, fighting for their Captain’s flag, 
Have ne’er one gallant victory lost. 
The God of Battles will be near me 
Vina Vinton, in that day. 
Yet I'll sadly miss my angel, 
In the Northland, far away: 
Yet one day beyond the river, 
Vina Vinton, we shall stand, 
In our Father’s own fair Eden, 
Children in His chosen band. 
AJmena, Mich. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WOMAN AS A SPECULATOE. 
BT ONE OF THE CRAFT. 
Some one lias said “ ’tis better to be born 
lucky than rich,” and so when one is bom 
neither one nor the other, he is to be considered 
doubly unfortunate. I am <?ne of this class, and 
my misfortune has been magnified by unsuccess¬ 
ful speculations. My bread and butter always 
fell butter 6ide down. But I was to talk of spec¬ 
ulation. Woman, her character, her disposition 
and capabilities, have been the theme of writers 
from the earliest age, BHt in all her marvelous 
endowments, I do not remember to have read 
anything illustrative of her peculiar aptitude or 
competency for speculation. I propose giving 
my own experience—not that I deem it properly 
a representative of feminine success—but with 
the hope that it may provoke something more 
creditable as regards woman’s ability for specu¬ 
lation. 
When I was a very little girl, my father gave 
me a silver dollar to invest as I pleased. “ The 
boys’ - al60 received the same amount, and we, 
each of us, invested in sheep. Those were the 
days when a fine, vigorous lamb could be pur¬ 
chased for one dollar. The boys’ investment 
proved successful, and eventually developed 
into horses and oxen. 
My sheep didn’t do well. Growing impatient 
in my haste to become “rich,” I bartered my 
sheep for a turkey and nest of eggs. But unfor¬ 
tunately for me, and disastrously for my young 
turkltoigs, they peeped into this world daring a 
rainy time, and notwithstanding my assiduity in 
feeding and attempts to cure the gapes, but two 
lived to see the leaves fall. Christinas and New 
Fears saw these undressed, beheaded, befooled 
and devoured. Of course, I protested against 
this, but was overruled on the premises that. I 
would undoubtedly eat np my share. But now 
and then I did not refrain from mentioning my 
lost poultry with unaffected sadness. 
Perhaps a sense of injustice dawned at length 
upon my father’s mind, for the next spring he 
purchased for me a pair of “ Museovie ” ducks. 
I do not remember how many ducklings delighted 
my vision that early summer time, or how many 
air-castles T built of duck money in prosjjtcla. 
But Indistinctly remember that one died, and 
that a hoggish old hog ate ur all the others but 
ome. But one left to fix my hopes upon ! This 
I watched with all tenderness, and it bade fair to 
assnnxc the graceful proportions of its waddling 
ancestors. But “I neverlovedatreeorflower,” 
&c. And one day, when the workmen were 
drawing hay into the barn, a wheel of the wagon 
ran over one of the legs of my duck, mangling 
and crushing it in a most shocking manner. I 
nursed and tended it with the greatest tender¬ 
ness, binding np its limb with the finest linen 1 
and softest cotton, pouring on liniment, and l 
lajing it upon a soft couch for repose. But the 1 
fates were against me—my duck died, and next 1 
day was buried. I was grave digger, coffin and 1 
shroud maker, minister and mourner. It was < 
hard to be reconciled; and for several successive < 
days my duck was diewtarred nndor the childish ' 
impression that perbvps it had returned to life. 
But time gradually healed this grief, and I 
turnet} to the parent ducks for consolation. At 
the expiration of two years, I had in principal t 
and interest hut one of the old ducks left !-aud s 
that was disposed of to pay expense of keeping, v 
My last scheme had Jailed, and ended In bank- c 
ruptcy. I abandoned speculating in live stock, 1 
thenceforward, belioviug that I had been acting a 
out of my “sphere” and had only received my 
just desert. 
Last spring, as my father was leaving for a e 
trip to the Falls, he commissioned me to sell his I 
wool crop, if opportunity offered. He had but s 
scarcely boarded the steamer, when a man ap¬ 
peared with — 
“Any wool to sell?” 
“ Yes, sir, a fine lot; what are you payiug ? ” 
I felt of great importance just then, and replied 
with assurance. 
He looked at me, and seeing I was only a 
girl, concluded I didn’t know much, and replied 
“seventy cents.” 
1 looked at him and concluded he didn’t know 
much if he thought I was so green as to accept 
that offer, informing him I had noue to sell at 
that price. 
“ Well, how much do you ask ? ” he at length 
ventured. 
“ Eighty cents, sir!" was given with great 
impressiveness. 
“Eighty cents! why girl, you're pretty high, 
aint you?” 
“Well, yes, rather higher than the average 
of women 1 ” 
He seemed coming to common sense, and sig¬ 
nified a desire to look at the wool. He did so, 
and alter twirling his riding whip awhile, said— 
“I'll tell you, girl, what I’ll do—give seventy- 
eight and haul it. ” 
“No, sir.' you’ll not haul it for less than 
eighty cents! ’’ 
Mi ntwood was terribly positive, and resolved 
to maintain her position, sale or no sale. The 
buyer went away. Toward night he returned, 
saying he had concluded to give me my price, 
seeing I was so prompt, and did business so much 
like a man t (Wonder if that is the standard of 
righteousness ?) So he paid me a pile of green¬ 
backs to “ bind the bargain,” while I sat down 
and penned a note to my father, informing him 
of the “ splendid 6ale of wool! — highest sale in 
the town! — brilliant affair, Ac., Ac.” I bad 
scarcely more than posted it, before there came 
a buyer payiug eighty-five cents, and eventually 
one dollar This dampened the starch in my 
spirit severely. It was as limp as feathers out in 
a raiu eto~m. It was evident I had again been 
“ out of tiiy sphere! ” 
This t-i ring my father has set me up in busi¬ 
ness aga i, on a somewhat larger scale I desire 
the bem .it of other’s experience—I have a colt 
nearly three years old, and a full grown Blieep— 
the pick ewe in my father’s flock. I feel that if 
I fail wav, it will put a final quietus upon my 
career — as a speculator. 
P. S.—Since writing the above, I have been 
attempting to “break" my colt, I rode a little 
distance, met a wagon load of straw—colt be¬ 
came frightened — wheeled — started on a full 
jnmp. I lost my balance—and soou found my¬ 
self upon the other side of the colt embracing 
terra-flrma. I wiggled my head the first thing, 
to see if my neck was broken. Found it was all 
right. Got up, and found I could walk, and so 
marched away after my dear beast, which was 
far in the advance. Mounted again anti dis¬ 
mounted. Does anybody waut to buy ? — I am 
inclined to think horse flesh will be the ruina¬ 
tion of me, and that, I had better ec-U End invest 
my money in Government Notes. What is your 
opinion, Mr. Editor? And my sheep —had I 
not better sell that too, before it — dies /—for of 
course it iciil. I think I would prove an excel¬ 
lent partner for 6ome speculator who has never , 
felt the pangs of bankruptcy. Mintwood. ( 
Hilldale Farm, near Ludlowville, N. Y., 1865. , 
fMci fffisdliitog. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ANOTHEE NAME. 
BY A. T. AULIS. 
OnI seekers after happiness t 
Would ye inquire where can be fonnd 
The thing ye covet ? Is the spot 
Wliereon it dwells enchanted ground, 
That, while the eager multitude 
All seek for it as priceless gain, 
Pursuing till their life’s last day, 
Few find 1 the many seek in vain ? 
Has partial heaven so ordained, 
That few alone, of all our race, 
Are ever privileged to find 
Or know its secret dwelling-place ? 
Is it a secret ? Has no voice 
Revealed to human ears where lay 
The real of life’s golden dream ? 
No finger pointed out the way ? 
Experience has proven well 
And often, that it. dwelleth not 
In out ward tilings, and has on earth 
No sly retreat—no favored spot. 
The few who find, seek not for it 
With hut this single, selfish aim, 
And others who would also find 
Must seek It by another name. 
That name is Duty. Where it calls, 
No human footsteps ever trod 
With hconst heart, bur sweetly felt 
Them nearing happiness and God. 
Who seek it hut where duty leads. 
Are chasing phantoms—false lights given 
To lure the sons ol’ earth away 
From peace, and happiness, and Heaven. 
Stephen's Mills, Steuben Co., N. Y. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHY GOOD MEN ARE NOT ALWAYS 
ESTEEMED. 
BT 3. C. S. 
A venerable friend of mine very much start¬ 
led me the other day by the remark that man¬ 
kind paid little regard to the virtue of those 
whom they chose to honor, but on the contrary 
seemed prone to advauee in all things those who 
are lax in their morality. Aud he added that 
the female portion of humanity were especially 
given to bestowing their smiles and company 
upon the wild and dissipated, rather than upon 
the thoughtful and decorous. 
Wheu subsequently I was alone, I began with 
great concern to consider this matter; and I 
think that I have d -covered not only the causes 
of the 6trange fact, but also that these causes 
are not such as can in any way discourage those 
who would be virtuous, aud yet respected. The 
most obvious r.ttson, I imagine, that would 
cause meu to d'slike virtue and compromise 
with vice, is foi* in the depravity of their owr. 
hearts, which them prefer to keep i 
countenance tin • who will\ not in word or er 
FEMALE WRITERS IN PARIS. 
As a general thing, literature receives a great¬ 
er appreciation upon the Continent than in the 
New World. This is especially the case with 
regard to women, who, in many instances, arc 
preferred for certain branches of journalism, to 
men, and receive for their services a much high¬ 
er compensation. Correspondence seems to be 
their particular forte. In a late letter of the 
Paris correspondence of the London Star, we 
find the following interesting information“I 
am acquainted with no less than five ladles 
who represent in Paris the New York press, 
and two the Manchester and Rouen press. Their 
editors prefer them to gentlemen. I believe 
they do so because they find, like Madame de 
Maintenon, that if a clever woman does make 
a mistake in spelling, she is sure to write some¬ 
thing entertaining, whereas a clever man who 
would not commit any such fault would not be 
countenance til.« who wiU\ not in word or er 
ample rebuke tlifn, rather than give too much 
importance to that t .iaraeter whose purity would 
be a reproach upon their own conduct. Yet it 
seems that many in every community really re¬ 
spect the good man, and when he docs not inter¬ 
fere with them, are not averse to giving him a 
proper consideration. Another class are willing 
to honor a man’s virtue, even though they them¬ 
selves are corrupt; for they find this a ready 
means of maintaining a fair reputation, for which 
many are more anxious than for real uprightness. 
To such an extent is this the ease, that men 
choose to be guilty of the most enormous secret 
sins, iu preference to being accused In public of 
a single misdemeanor. All this solicitude to 
appear upright, exhibits mankind straggling 
unsuccessfully against their evil propensities. 
But this aversion to according a just praise to 
virtue, is neither the most weighty nor the most 
easily removed of the reasons why virtuous men 
are not always esteemed. The reason on which 
I would desire to lay the most stress — because 
It is the most easily removed—is found, I think, 
in the fact that too many good men fancy that 
their virtue is sufficient of itself to make them 
respectable, forgetting that mere innocency Is of 
negative value to society, and that although it 
may keep the individual out of jail, it will fall to 
gain,”—could make for himself friends, what 
should we expect from the man ’• bo unites to 
chastity, refinement and purity, vigilance, perse- 
- verance and zeal in every good work! 
My friend Johnson is upright, talented, learn¬ 
ed aud thoughtful. He is skilled in nil the knowl¬ 
edge of schools, itnd well acquainted with history 
and science. Yet is Johnson a very cipher in 
the world, for lie has neither industry nor cour¬ 
age to meet opposition, nnd Indeed, 6eems to 
think that, nothing more is required of him than 
to refrain from evil. He often pleases his friends, 
when animated by some unusual occurence, by 
the sense and eloquence of his conversat ion, but 
oftener shames them in public, by the awkard- 
ness of bis manners and the embarrassed stupid¬ 
ity of his remarks. When he leaves his home and 
miugles in society, his perplexity makes what¬ 
ever good thing he says seem ridiculous, if in¬ 
deed he finds composure enough to speak at all; 
and though he has a most profound respect for 
modest females, yet his confusion in their-'pres- 
ence makes him so indifferent a companion, 
that an empty-brained and assuming cox-eomb 
will engage their attention before him. 
Thus, Johnson, who is a moralist aud a 
Christian, has by allowing some bad qualities to 
remain with him, and failing to exert Ids good 
ones, Is nothing less than a shame and reproach 
to the cause of virtue, instead of being an ally 
and champion of truth. 
Quite a different individual is my friend Frank. 
His abilities arc ordinary, and his learning not 
extensive, but be joins to a spotless character, 
and an earnest Christianity, so much activity 
nnd industry, that he is worth to community 
many such as Johnson. You never see him 
idle. If his mind is released from one burden 
it immediately loads itself with another. He is 
always agitating some uoble scheme. To-day 
he is in the Senate, striving in the cause of free¬ 
dom,— to-morrow in the abode of poverty, af¬ 
fording relief to the needy. Now he wins over 
the legislator to the cause of morality and re¬ 
ligion. Now he instructs the child in meekness 
aud humility. He upbraids the swearer, makes 
eupidity and dishonesty ashamed of themselves; 
and while many are offended at the plainness of 
his lnugungc, more are charmed by tha beauty 
of bis example. When he mingles iu society, 
though his conversation is always solid and man¬ 
ly, yet he has so set off the purity of his mind 
with the graces of politeness, and carries in those 
very graces such au air of innocence, that he 
captivates alike the young aud the old of both 
sexes. Yot Frank's innocence is not such as 
comes from ignorance. He has seen tnueli of 
the world, but contact with mankind Las served 
to sharpen his wits, without, depraving his mind. 
In consideration of this ability to struggle with 
opposition, he is as much respected by his ene¬ 
mies as be is valued by his friends. I was much 
pleased wheu visiting at his house, some days 
since, to note with what care he trained his chil¬ 
dren. In the intervals of conversation, he might 
be heard admonishing the younger ones against, 
anger, selfishness and rudeness; and rewarded 
a kind action or an instance of self-denial with 
an approval which a cunning speech could not 
obtain. To one, who seemed more than the 
others given to petulaney and passion, he gave 
peculiar applause, whenever he showed a gentle 
spirit. 
I wish that this view of Frank’s character and 
life, might induce every man of morality, and 
especially every Christian, to following example, 
aud to commence immediately to arm himself 
with experience, activity, politeness, grace and ' 
docility as weapons with which successfully to 
assail the wrong and defend the right; in other 
words, to fulfill the command of Christ when 
he said to his disciples, “ Be ye as wise as ser- | 
peuts but as harmless as doves.” 
[««n 1 
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ITRffl 
a 
7. J TV J 
THY WORK. 
BY T. WIELD. 
Christian, up, for life is flitting! 
Waiting is but murdering time, 
Think no labor unbefitting— 
If a duty ’tis sublime I 
Though a world of sinners dying 
Be appealing In thy view, 
Stand not idle, longing, sighing 
Some stupendous work to do. 
Grains of labor done arc greater 
Than a monutain of desire, 
Spark-like deeds of kindness better 
Than a world of hearts on fire! 
View thy work, then, calmly view it— 
Just the work thy hands can do, 
Daily, hourly, nobly do it, 
Then no more from thee is due. 
Patience I Thong the harvest whiten, 
Years are swift, the lab’rers few, 
Work and pray with all thy might, then 
Leave with God the rest to do. 
Work as though the world's condition 
Could be much improved by thee, 
Pray as though on each petition 
Hung creation's destiny. 
So thy prayers and actions blending, 
Prayers of faith aud deeds of love 
Shall, like Incense-clouds ascending, 
Blees below aud please above. 
EDUCATION OF THE SOUL. 
Controversy. —This very good reason for 
avoidiug controversy is taken from Dr. Holmes’ 
“Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” “ Ifu fel¬ 
low attacked my opinions in print, would I 
reply ? Not I. Do you tbink that 1 don’t under¬ 
stand what my friend, the Professor, long ago 
culled the hydrostatic paradox of controversy ? 
Don’t know what that means? Well, I’ll tell 
you. You know if you bad a bent tube, one 
arm of which was the 6izc of a pipe stem, and 
tbe other big enough to hold the ocean, water 
sure to succeed in amusing. Paris is the para- give substantial aid to tbe general progress of WuU ^ stand in the same height, in one aa the duy, and year after year. 
The education of the soul is to be carried on 
a great deal in conformity to the same laws by 
which we carry on the education of the mind— 
that is, by degrees—by continued advancing 
steps—one round ot the ladder, then another, 
till the top is gained. There is no such thing 
as a spiritual genius unsupported by labor, no 
more than there is any true mental genius un¬ 
supported by daily study. The great desire to 
be a giant iu intellect may come tustantly, with 
terrific force. This is, without doubt, a prelim¬ 
inary step to finished, scholarship; but great de¬ 
sires, mighty detenniuations, adamant resolu¬ 
tions, do not make celebrated scholars, till they 
are applied, and consecrated, and developed, and 
worked out. Just so with your spiritual life. 
The first step must, of course, be the thorough 
possession of your miud and soul by a breeze 
from heaven. But you are not to stay in this 
Mount of Transfiguration. It is not good for 
you to be simply and only here, and to build 
your tabernacles out of ecstacies and emotions. 
You must descend the hill, and mingle with the 
people, and combat temptation, aud briDg to 
practical use your high purposes and desires. 
We all want an assurance that repentance shall 
be followed by forgiveness; that our sine can be 
washed away; that it we enter upon a better 
aud holler life, the past shall not rise up to ob¬ 
struct our growth, and to plunge us Into despair. 
And nowhere but iu the Christian religion do we 
get this hope and this assurance. Nowhere but 
there can the burthen of our guilt be lifted up 
aud lifted off; nowhere but there is the recon¬ 
ciled Father of Heaven revealed; and God 
be thanked Hu is there revealed, in all the 
plenitude of His mercies, and in all the wealth 
of His goodness. But now, I suppose, the great 
Question is, How shall we get into this new life? 
What shall give ns the desire to have any better 
set of principles than wc now possess 1 How 
shall we besiege Heaven, and make it gracious, 
so that our eyes can see, and our ears hear the 
truth ? 
No one is changed from a siiiWr to a saint 
suddenly. Impressions may be immediate; ideas 
may come like lightning ;* resolutions may be 
instantaneous; but character is a growth, and 
a discipline, and a struggle, aud a work. The 
grace of God may come to you in an unexpected 
moment; but, in fact, it has been with you all 
the time, and your blindness alone shut out the 
sight and the acknowledgment of it. But this 
grace of God will bo worth but little to a man, 
unless it bo greeted by a new set of principles, 
inaugurated resolutely by the recipient of the new 
light, and carried out into practice, day after 
disc of female correspondents. They are so 
well used that the fairness of their competing 
with gentlemen may be questioned. If they 
have good manners, good introductions, and 
are not likely to compromise their friends, they 
are sure to hear news where gentlemen would 
not get hold of any. 
THE LAUGH OF WOMEN. 
A woman has nanatural gift more bewitching 
than asweet laugh. It is like the 6ound of flutes 
upon the water. It leads from her in a clear spark¬ 
ling rill; and the heart that hears it feels as if 
bathed In the cool, exhilarating spring. Have 
you ever pursued an unseen figure through the 
trees, led on by a fairy laugh, now here, now 
there, now lost, now found? We have. And 
wc arc pursuing that wandering voice to this 
day. Sometimes it comes to us in the midst of 
care and sorrow, or irksome business, and tbeu 
wu turn uway and listen, and hear it ringing 
throughout the room like a silver bell, with 
power to scare away tbe evil spirits of the mind. 
How much wc owe to that sweet laugh! It 
turns prose to poetry: it flings showers of sun¬ 
shine over the darkness of the wood in which 
wc are traveling; it touches with delight even 
ottr sleep which is no more the image of death, 
but. is consumed with dreams that are the shad¬ 
ows of immortality. 
In Ceylon the marriage ceremony is perform¬ 
ed by tying the couple together by the thumbs. 
In this country they are more frequently put to¬ 
gether by tbe ears. 
virtue. I know very many persons who seem to 
think that because they are neither drunkards, 
swindlers, nor libertines, therefore they ought 
to be received into the confidence of the purely 
upright and well-doing, regardless of the fact 
that the profession of a principle implies the 
advocacy of it, and that he is a veiy worthless 
soldier who wears the uniform, but skulks when 
any fighting is to be done. Even the wicked are 
careful to impose such obligations and cement 
such friendships among themselves as shall be 
a relianec to them in time of need, and it Is 
scarcely to be expected that society would de¬ 
sire the alliance of those whose good principle 
fetters their activity lu one direction, and con¬ 
firms their inefficiency in auotlier. It seems to 
me unaccountable that uny one should imagine 
that he Is entitled to any regard simply because 
he Is harmless. Can any one fail to percuive that 
no good quality is of value without being ac- 
compained by such activity as shall make it avail¬ 
able? Of what account is that phllnntbropby 
that Is not united to earnest, eflort ? To what 
purpose is a mau upright at all, who is too indo¬ 
lent to be otherwise ? I fear there are many who 
are never convicted of wrong, because they 
never do anything unless they are compelled to, 
and never engage in dissipation aud riot because 
it would iuvolve too great an exertion. A great 
historiau speaking of Edward Seymour, said 
“ that he was so useful uu ally, and so mischiev¬ 
ous an enemy, that he was frequently courted 
even by those who most detested hlrn. ” H then a 
mau like Seymour, who was “ licentious, profane 
aud corrupt,—to proud to behave with common 
politeness, yet not too proud to pocket illicit 
other? Controversy equalizes fools aud wise 
meu, in the same way, and the fools know it.’ 
- 1 ■ - » 4 ^ - 
Who are the Happy.— Lord Byron said “the 
mechanics and working men who can maintain 
their families are, in my opinion, the happiest 
body of meu. Poverty is wretchedness, but 
even poverty is preferable to the heartless, un¬ 
meaning dissipation of the higher orders.” 
Another author says:—“I have no propensity 
to envy any one, least of all tbe rich and great; 
but if 1 were disposed to this weakness, t he sub¬ 
ject of my envy would be a healthy young mau, 
in full possession of his strength and faculties, 
going forth iu the morning to work for hi* wife 
and children, or bringing home his wages at 
night.” _ _ 
Find their Level.— We need notfear the un- 
dcrplaced mau—he will find his level. It is for 
the overplaced that we should have misgivings. 
In the caucus, men ask, Is he a Republican, or 
is he a Democrat? then, Has he talents and abil¬ 
ity? and then, Is he honest aud to b* trusted? 
These, affirmatively answered, they make him 
their candidate, cover him with honor and suc¬ 
cess, and go home and tell their wives what a good 
thing they have done, forget ting to ask the fourth 
aud chief question, Has he the will, the personal 
force, aud the power to assert and maintain bis 
position ?— Emerson. 
Truth is sometimes exposed by the very ef¬ 
forts and artifices designed to conceal it; like 
clocks which poiut the time right, but strike 
the hour wrong. 
CIVIL WORTH OF THE SABBATH. 
1. Toil needs it—to wipe oil' the grime and 
sweat of labor; to refresh by change of apparel; 
to restore and invigorate the body, exhausted by 
labor; to enliven the mind by change of the cur¬ 
rent of thought—aud by all this to fit laboring 
men for the rewarded toil of the week. 
ii. Capital needs the Sabbath to alleviate, by 
Intermission, the care of accumulation ; to case 
the unbending of the strained aud exhausted 
mind; to give a sense of the value of nobler 
objects than silver and gold; to keep men’s 
humanity and consciousness alive; to shield cap¬ 
ital from harm, by securing the triumph of law 
and order in society. 
3. The State needs the Sabbath—to illumine the 
public conscience, that guardian of public 
safety; to cause men so to recognise tbe Eternal 
Lawgiver, as to honor the earthly “powers that 
be ; ” to secure the moral atuioaphcre'iu a com- 
mimity, wbi*h is the ouly sure support of the 
law. 
4. The Republic needs the Sabbath, because in a 
Republic more depends than iu any other form 
of government, upon the intelligence and virtue 
of the people for its support. The grand super¬ 
structure of human rights needs just such a 
foundation as the Sabbath furnishes by its moral 
and religous Influences over meu. Human free¬ 
dom has no lrieud more powerful than the Sab¬ 
bath. < _ 
Vain-glory is a flower which never comes 
to fruit. 
