sometimes “dosed” out of season. There is 
hardly a question relative to our comfort and 
well-being, that is not treated under moral and 
religious prescriptions. Of course, such con¬ 
siderations in life are of the highest importance, 
but when indiscriminately applied to everything, 
they sometimes lose their force. If you should 
tell your frieud that it^was his moral and relig¬ 
ious'duty to black his boots, that aspect of the 
question would only disgust, not convince him; 
but insinuate that he would appear better, and 
he acts upon your suggestion at once. It seems 
to be the general opinion that almost all the 
causes affecting the spirits in the nature of the 
“ blues,” arises from trivial aud almost insig¬ 
nificant circumstances; and the question wheth¬ 
er one shall yield to the influence or manfully 
resist it, is in most cases one only of expediency, 
but nevertheless of the highest expediency. 
You often meet men on the street who go along 
with their eyes bent upon the ground, their 
faces hidden beneath their hats, their hands and 
arms thrust, into their pockets up to the elbows, 
with an air as if they were crushing uuder their 
feet the last hopes of humanity—and, withal, as 
if they rather enjoyed it! At such tiu»e6 these 
men really believe that they are the most mis¬ 
erable persons alive, and yet they would be at a 
loss to tell why. In a short time the fit will 
disappear as mysteriously as it came, and they 
will be as happy as ever. If you were to treat 
such a case you would not assail the person on 
moral or religions grounds, you would recom- 
a little lively recrea- 
“ I THOUGHT IT WAS MY MOTHER’S VOICE 
A friend told me, not long ago, a beautiful 
story about kind words. A good lady, liviug in 
one of our large cities, was passing a drinking 
saloon just as the keeper was thrusting a young 
man out iuto the street. He was very young 
aud very pale, but bis haggard face aud wild eyes 
told that he was very far gone in the road to 
ruin, as with an oath he brandished bis clenched 
fists, threatening to be revenged upon the man 
who ill-used him. This poor young man was so 
excited and blinded with passion that he did not 
see the lady, who stood very near to him, until 
she laid her hand upon his arm, and spoke in her 
gentle, loving voice,.asking him what was the 
matter. 
At the first kind word the young man started 
as if a heavy blow had struck him, and turned 
quickly round, paler than before, and trembling 
from bead to foot. He surveyed the lady for a 
moment, and then with a sigh of relief, he said: 
“I thought it was my mother’s voice, it 
sounded so strangely like it! But her voice 
has been hushed in death for many years.” 
“You had a mother, then,” said the lady, 
“and she loved yon.” 
With that sudden revulsion of feeling which 
often comes to people of flue, nervous tempera¬ 
ments, the young man burst into tears, sobbing 
out, “0 yes, I had an angel mother, and she 
loved her hoy! But since she died all the 
and I am lost! — 
THERE ARE NO DEAD 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GENIUS. 
BY SIB E. B. LTTTON, 
There iB no death! The stars go down 
To rise upon some fairer shore; 
And bright in Heaven’s jeweled crown 
They shino forever more. 
There is no death! An angel form 
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread 
He bears onr best loved things away, 
And then we call them “ dead.” 
Born into that undying life. 
They leave ub but to come again; 
With joy we welcome them—the same, 
Except in sin and pain. 
And ever near ns, though unseen, 
The dear immortal spirits tread, 
For all the boundless Universe 
Is life—there are no dead. 
Alone, alone, 
With fearful moan, 
A climbing Stssiphtts, I roll 
The aspirations of my soul 
To cloudless heights above. 
Iu agonies of pulsing leve 
My panting spirit grasps, 
And wildly strains. 
With fainting gasps, 
And never ending pains; 
But still, beneath, ’mid straggling gloom 
I see the starry prizes loom 
Beyond the awfnl skies. 
Why not, poor fool, accept, thy doom, 
And seek no more to rise ? 
Why not ? Because within me burns 
The hope, that, deathless, ever spurns 
To fold her baffled wings; 
The hope that still toward the sun 
Its morning flight with light begnn 
With upward daring springe; 
The hope that still through reetlese hours 
Slept only to refresh its powers 
Again to strive and soar; 
The hope that sees the prize through time 
In lengthening glories trail sublime 
Through space forever more. 
Wyoming, N. Y. 
Little baby just beginning 
Life's old problem sad aud sweet, 
You don’t know the heart’s you’re winning 
With your tiny hands and feet. 
With your little mouth aud chin, 
And yonr dainty rose-leaf skin; 
With yonr wondrous violet eyes 
When their dreamy lids uprise, 
All your tender helplessness 
Waking love's most sweet excess. 
Happy little one! to be 
Nestled close to hearts that love you; 
And I wonder if yon see 
Yonr young mother's eyes above yon I 
While each day new life i6 bringing, 
Do yon hear her sweet voice singing i 
Do yon know her hand’s fond touch i 
Oh, bo fond, she loves so ranch! 
Do you look her in her face, 
And instinctive feel its grace ? 
Almost four weeks old, they say— 
Ah dear baby! Life is long; 
You’ll not know for many a day. 
How hearts sadden growing strong; 
Baby’s feet are soft and white, 
An d they need not travel yet: 
Baby’s eyes are blue and bright, 
Seeing nothing to regret. 
As the flowers get sun and dew, 
So your life shall come to you, 
Trust on, sleep on, without fear, 
Angels guard you, baby dear 1 
THE BIBLE 
In every generation, and wherever the light 
of Revelation has shone, men of all ranks, con¬ 
ditions, and states of mind, have found in this 
volume a correspondent for every movement 
toward the Better felt in their own hearts. The 
needy soul has found supply, the feeble a help, 
the sorrowful a comfort; yea, be the recipiency 
the least that can consist with moral life, there 
is an answering grace ready to enter. The Bible 
has been found a spiritual world—spiritual, and 
yet at the same time outward aud common to 
all. You in one place, I in another—all men 
somewhere, or at sometime, meet with an assu¬ 
rance that the hopes and fears, the thoughts and 
yearnings, that proceed from, or tend to, a right 
spirit in us, arc not dreams or fleeting singulari¬ 
ties, no voices heard in sleep, or specters which 
the eye suffers, but not perceives. As if on 
some dark night a pilgrim, suddenly beholding 
a bright star moving before him, should stop in 
fear and perplexity. But lo 1 traveler after 
traveler passes by him, and each, being ques¬ 
tioned whither he is going, makes answer, “I 
am following your guiding star!” The pilgrim 
quickens his own steps, and passes onward in 
confidence. More confident still will he be if 
by the wayside he should find, here and there, 
ancient monuments, each with its rotive lamp, 
and on each side the name of some former 
pilgrim, and a record that then ho had first seen 
or begun to follow the benignant Star! 
No otherwise is It with the varied contents of 
the sacred volume. The hungry have found 
food, the thirsty a living spring, the feeble a 
staff, and the victorious wayfarer songs of wel¬ 
come and strains of music; and as long as each 
man asks on account of his wants, and asks 
what he wants, no man will discover ought 
amiss or deficient In the vast and many-chambered 
storehourse. 
For more than a thousand years the Bible, 
collectively taken, has gone hand in hand with 
civilisation, science and law—in short, with the 
moral and intellectual cultivation of the species 
—always supporting, and often leading the way. 
Its very presence, as a believed Book, has ren¬ 
dered the nations emphatically a chosen race, 
and this, too, in exact proportion as it is more 
or less generally known and studied. Of those 
nations which in the highest degree enjoy its 
influences, It is not too much to affirm that the 
differences, public and private, physical, moral 
and intellectual, are only less than what might 
he expected from a diversity of species. Good 
and holy men, and the best aud wisest of man¬ 
kind, the kingly spirits of history enthroned in 
the hearts of mighty nations, have become wit¬ 
nesses to its influences, have declared it to be 
beyond compare the most perfect instrument, the 
only adequate organ of Humanity.— Coleridge. 
world has been against me, 
lost to good society, lost to decency, and 
lost forever!” 
“ No, not lost forever; for God is merciful, 
and his pitying love can reach the chief of sin¬ 
ners,” said the lady, in her low, sweet voice; 
and the timely words swept the hidden chords 
of feeling which had been long untouched in 
the young man’s heart, thrilling it with magic 
power, and wakening a host of tender emo¬ 
tions, which had been buried very deep beneath 
the rubbis ! of sin and crime. 
More ge ntle words the lady spoke, and when 
she passed on her way the young man followed 
her. He marked the house where she entered, 
and wrote the name which was on the silver 
door-plate in his little memorandum book. 
Then he walked slowly away, with a deep, 
earnest look on his white face, and deeper, 
more earnest feelings in his aching heart. 
Years glided by, and the gentle lady had 
quite forgotten the incident we have related, 
when one day a 6tranger sent up his card, and 
desired to speak with her. 
Wondering much who it could be, she went 
down to the parlor, where she found a noble¬ 
looking, well-dressed man, who rose deferen¬ 
tially to meet her. Holding out his hand, 
he said: 
“ Pardon me, madam, for this intrusion; hut 
I have come many miles to thank you for the 
great service you rendered me a few years ago,” 
said he, in a trembling voice. 
The lady was puzzled, and asked for an expla¬ 
nation, as eke did not remember ever having 
seen the gentleman before. 
“I have changed so much,” said the man, 
“ that you have quite forgotten me; but though 
I only saw your face once, I am sure I should 
And your voice, 
mend a change of seenei 
tion ; and you would kindly intimate that such 
a state of the feelings was unbecoming, and that 
if fostered, would eventually lead to serious 
results. 
Burton humored this feeling, 
nurtured it. He sings: 
“ When I He waking all alone, 
Recounting what I have ill-done, 
My thoughts on me then tyrannize, 
Fear and sorrow me surprise, 
Whether I tarry still or go, 
Methinks the time moves very slow. 
All my griefs to this are jolly, 
. Nanght so mad as melancholly.” 
But a good and wise man will not do so. We 
know a person so subject to this disorder that 
to avoid Inducing it, he takes a very circuituous 
route from his dwelling to his place of business 
—the cultivated beauty of the longer path, the 
trees and flowers which line the way, more than 
atoning for the loss of time. By little artifices like 
these, for the mind has to be humored as well as 
the body, we may ayoid frequent attacks of this 
terrible foe to happiness. 
There was once a time when it was thought 
becoming to wear a countenance severe and sad. 
It is said the. Puritan fathers recommended such 
an aspect for a Sunday decoration; and young 
readers of Btrox are affected, for a very differ¬ 
ent reason, by a malady of similar manifestations. 
But healthier sentiments are abroad In the world. 
A man is no longer a fool if be “laugh and grow 
fat.” Religion has begun to identify itself with 
onr common, every-day interests, and the last 
fatal blow to mawkish sentimentality has been 
struck by the stern experiences of onr war for 
the Union. Wc hope and believe that the next 
foreigner that visits our land, will not find our 
young men, as described by a recent German 
traveler, a body of “intensely thoughtful and 
melancholy-looking youth,” but an active, vig¬ 
orous, and above all, a jolly race. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
HYPOCHONDRIA. 
dandled and 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
UNFORTUNATE. 
This term is often applied to individuals who, 
having entered into speculations have had For¬ 
tune’s scales turn against them; to those who 
have failed in business, whose vessels the winds 
have wrecked and waves eDgulfed; to those 
whose houses have been burned, whose crops 
destroyed, whose cattle and horses died; and to 
those whose pigs ana chickens have had scurvy 
and gapes. Some are called unfortunate be¬ 
cause they are always cutting their feet and 
fingers, being run away with by spirited horses, 
thrown from wagons and getting their legs and 
necks broken. Others are unfortunate in marry¬ 
ing tyrants for husbands, termagants for wives, 
or not getting either. Others still, are unfortu¬ 
nate in having ungrateful children, or getting in 
debt to merciless creditors. 
But all these will in some way, from somebody, 
have a little help or sympathy. But for me 
thGre is neither; and of all the creatures on the 
face ot the earth, I, Roxet Rosaltbie Rile, am 
the moEt unfortunate. I am neither cross-eyed, 
lame, deaf, rheumatic, tongue-tied, or all-tongue; 
but, what is far worse than all, have the unhappy 
faculty of expressing myself in such a manner as 
to have my opinions, belief or sentiments en¬ 
tirely misunderstood and perverted. 
Now, some people will say just what they 
please, in just the way they please, and are called 
witty, sarcastic, humorous, independent, and its 
“ all right; ” but let me, Roxey Rosalthle, say 
the same thing, and I’m a mark at once. If I 
differ from the generally expressed opinion, I’m 
“ on the off side; " if independent, “ contrary.” 
or “ mean.” Would I pull a corner of Charity's 
mantle over somebody’s failings!' I’m “coun¬ 
tenancing 6in.” Would 1 deal plainly ? I’m 
“ finding fault.” I cant uphold the Right, but 
somehow, in clothing my thoughts in words, I 
manage to make people think I’m wrong. If I 
bring proof to my aid, I get it bungled up in 
such a way as to have the credit of being a 
“fool,” or what’s the same thing, they “ wonder 
any one can think 60 who’s naturally so smart.” 
Why, as sure as you are Mayor, Mr. Moore, 
I’ve been called a “ 
have recognized it anywhere, 
too, it is so like my motkor’6! ” 
Those last words made the lady remember the 
poor young man she had kindly spoken to in 
front of the drinking saloon so long before, and 
she mingled her tears with those which were 
falling slowly over the man’s cheeks. 
After the first gush of emotion had subsided, 
the gentleman sat down and told the lady how 
those few gentle words had been instru¬ 
mental in saving him, and making him what 
he then was. 
“ The earnest expression of ‘No, not lost for¬ 
ever,’ followed me wherever I went,” said he, 
“and it always seemed that it was the voice of 
my mother speaking to me from the tomb. I 
repented of my many transgressions, aud re¬ 
solved to live as J esus and my mother would be 
pleased to have me; and by the mercy and 
grace of God t have been enabled to reBist 
temptation and keep my good resolution.” 
“ I never dreamed there was &uch power in a 
few kind words before,” exclaimed the lady, 
“and surely ever after this I shall take more 
pains to speak them to all the sad and suffering 
ones I meet in the walks of life .—Sunny Faces. 
described its symptoms, from a slight depres¬ 
sion of epirite, to lunacy and madness. But it 
i§ m possible not to feel that Burton is hardly 
in earnest. Yet if he were not, his own life, 
diversified with alternate fits of joy and the deep¬ 
est mental gloom, would give the lie to his 
levity. The fact is, tha: a large portion of the 
life of every man is darkened and made unsatis¬ 
factory by certain unhappy humors, which steal 
upon him unawares, and the causes of which 
too often entirely baffle solution. Thus it is 
that, in a certain sens-e, we all “carry weight in 
life;” and thus it is that in purely mental pro¬ 
ductions, even in those esteemed tbe most light¬ 
hearted, wc often find traces of morbidness for 
which we can assign no adequate cause. 
Let us suppose that you rise some bright 
morning to your task, cheerful and buoyant. 
You apply yourself to your duties with more 
than ordinary gusto. All at ouce you are con¬ 
scious of a growing change of feeling, a depres¬ 
sion of spirits comes over yon; your sky is over¬ 
cast and Hope Is shut out from the horizon. 
Such shadows darken almost every page of 
literature of a certain class. It is probably a 
question which the genial Charles Dickens 
cannot decide, before he takes up his pen, 
whether he shall create a Fagan or a Micawber. 
Many a passage In Dickens suggests that it was 
written under a depression of spirits. Not all 
his writings are as lively and cordial as the 
“Cricket on the Hearth.” If he was not exempt 
from this harrowing mental malady, who can 
be! Surely not Bulwbr, who very lamely 
exenses putting to deuth all the amiable charac¬ 
ters of one of his novels on the ground that such 
accidents sometimes Happen in lift. Not SwrPT, 
who expresses his feare of “ dying like a poisoned 
rat in a hole.” Not Byron, the demoniac 
gleams of whose insane exultations, In his later 
writings, mingled with maudlin execrations 
against everything good and fair, only reveal the 
profonnde&t depths of this mental disorder. 
But it is with its effects upon common men, 
general, that Hypochondria pre¬ 
THE OLD HOMESTEADS, 
President of the Union. Near by is the home 
of his sou. Near by, that of his grandson ; and 
not far off that of our present Minister to the 
Court of 8t. James. Near by, that of the late 
J. Q. Adams. 
Nor is the old home unprofitable. The skilled 
tenant makes the soil productive to himself and 
owners. But there is a greater profit. There 
is a retreat from the storms of life. It is safe. 
It is inspiring—rest. 
Said the preserver of an old home in Bristol 
county, “It does me good to go and review old 
memories.” Is ho the only one who has been 
benefited ? Have the homes of the elder Adams 
aud his descendants no power to revive mem¬ 
ories ? to turnish incentives to great and noble 
actions ? 
Keep the homestead. Beautify it. Let the 
paint be l'resb, the halls and rooms attractive, 
the old libraries cared for, trees flourishing, the 
walnut, butternut and apple. Every time pos¬ 
terity looks at it, they will think oi bygone vir¬ 
tues to be reproduced in children’s children, and 
then produce them. Trees may die. Not family 
virtues. 
THE CHURCH OE CHRIST 
rebel sympathizer,” because 
I said I thought we had laws sufficient to sup¬ 
port the honor and dignity of our nation, and to 
deal with disloyalists and traitors, without any¬ 
body who chose killing them in the street, or 
throwing them overboard. Now, what ought I 
to eay ? That I wish everybody, individually, 
would take it upon him to put every other body 
out of the way who breathed one word of dis¬ 
loyalty, instead of letting tbe righteous laws of 
the Government of which we are so justly proud 
deal with them? This might suit a few, but 
not me. 
Now, I can put. up with being called names, 
but of all mean things, “secessionist” and 
“traitor” are the meanest; and I wont pat up 
with such epithets peaceably. When would-be- 
tyrants in petticoats, or pantaloons, talk of 
putting me where I’d stay, if they had the 
power,—and that without reason,—it rouses 
&U the old Rile blood of past generations. Iv'e 
resolved that if there are such non-comprehm- 
sionists about, that so long as I live in this great 
and glorious land of freedom, thrice bought 
with the blood of our brave countrymen, I’ll 
speak “common sense” and the truth inde¬ 
pendently; and if anybody is so wilfully igno¬ 
rant or contrary as not to understand, why they 
may flare up and pounce upon me, but I’ll free 
my mind, or my name is not Roxey Rosalthie 
Rile! Bell Clinton. 
Chenango Co., N. Y., 1865. 
The church of Christ was designed to repre¬ 
sent him on earth, and to minister t® all the 
moral needs of the human race. Her work, 
then, is not done when she sends out preachers; 
when she exhibits sacraments and liturgies; 
when she 6ots up churches at home and mission 
stations abroad. She must grope her way into 
the alleys and courts uml purlieus of the city, 
and up the broken stair case and into the bare 
room, and beside tbe loathsome sufferer. She 
must go down into the pit with the miner, iuto 
the forecastle with the sailor, Into the tent 
with the soldier, into the shop with the mechan¬ 
ic, Into the factory with the operative, Into the 
field with the farmer, iuto the counting room 
with the merchant. Like the air, the church 
FEMININE TOPICS 
Eccentricity of dress or manner will double 
attention ; the mistake of vain women is to be¬ 
lieve that it doubles attraction. 
Dr. Johnson said of a widower wbo was about 
to maiTy, that it was a remarkable case of tbe 
triumph of hope over experience. 
The new fashions have been seen in Hyde 
Park. Long skirts, drugging the dust, with lit¬ 
tle or no crinoline, in the style of a hundred 
years ago, have really appeared at last, after all 
the talk there has been about them. 
It is a curious fact that in sacred history the 
age, death and burial of only one woman—Sarah, 
the wife of Abraham —is distinctly noted. A 
woman's age, ever since, appears not to have 
been a subject for history or discussion. 
California belles and dames have been among 
tbe most brilliant stars of attraction at the series 
of bails and soirees which have enlivened the 
society of Washington during the past season ? 
Coming direct from the birthplace of gold and 
silver, they attract no little attention—and envy. 
Amongst her most favorite treasures and re¬ 
miniscences of the past (says the Court Journal,) 
Queen Victoria keeps the brooch which once be¬ 
longed to Robert Bruce, of Scotland. This 
relic, a memento of her ancestor’s chocquered 
career, was presented to her Majesty during her 
visit to the late Marquis of Breadalbane, at Tay- 
I mouth Castle, in 1842. 
CHANCE CHIPS, 
The usual custom in Paris is to receive one 
day in the week all one’s acquaintances, and to 
reserve the remaining days for one’s very inti¬ 
mate friends, wbo take their chance of finding 
one at home. Princess Mathilde reverses this 
custom, as she receives every evening whomso¬ 
ever may have been presented to her, and reserves 
Sunday evenings for her privileged friends. 
A young lady, being told that her lover was 
suddenly killed, exclaimed“Oh, that splendid 
gold watch of his t Give it to me that I may re¬ 
member him and cherish his dear memory.” 
upon men in 
sents to us its most interesting phases. The 
general prevalency of the complaint will be ad¬ 
mitted by all—let us see how it ought to be 
treated. 
A certain medical gentleman, belonging to the 
recognized faculty, published a book a few years 
ago, In which be proved that mankind were 
dosed too much, that they swallowed too many 
pUls, too much ipecac, dee. Now it Has always 
seemed to us that iu highly civilized communi¬ 
ties man’s moral and religious faculties were 
Time has made our life too long 
but too brief for our deeds. 
I 
