MAGGIE BARLING. 
BY MKKTELE CONO. 
There is storm in the cloud, MAaam darling, 
That threatens the heaven o'erhead, 
And the sunlight has gone, JVU«niK darling, 
The beautiful pleasures have fled; 
But we’ve stood by each other in sorrow, 
And we've stood by each other in joy,— 
The storm may break o’er us to-morrow, 
It cannot our spirits annoy. 
11 . 
We have loved in the past, Maooie darling, 
But my love was stronger than thine; 
I would not reproach, Maooie darling,— 
The old oak loves more than the vine, 
And the heart that has pillowed in trouble 
And laughed with thee gaily in gloe, 
Will stand by thee still, lest a double, 
A deep weight come, darling, to thee. 
nr. 
Do we not know that love, Maooie darling, 
That caBteth out freely all fear ? 
Then hold to my baud, Maooie darling, 
Until the durk heavens are clear; 
There are traces of storms that are vanished. 
And graves of dear hopes that are dead, 
An d memories not to he banished 
Till memory’s self, love, has fled. 
IT. 
Then trust to me still, Mauche darling; 
The oak will still shelter the vine; 
If lightning destroy, MAoors darling, 
I’d rather ’twere my head than thine. 
We’ll cling to each other, nor sever. 
Till over Death’s limitless sea, 
To love in the boundless Forever, 
Death’s angel shall bear you and me. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
INDIAN SUMMER. 
Among the Spirits of the Seasons, I always see 
a fifth. Unnoticed, save by a few, silently she 
follows in the train of the four, until her brief 
reign succeeds. Then her dusky form flits over 
the meadows and through the woods, sometimes 
fading slowly away in the blue Imze, and again 
standing on the hills outlined against the sky, 
with a deep light in her dar|t eye. Her skin is 
of the tender, brown hue of the earth, and her 
lithe form is wrapped in the soft scarlet and 
gold of the leaves. Her moccasins are woven of 
the yellow grass-blades; her wampnm is of pur¬ 
ple grapes and blood red berries of the forest, 
and her flowing hair is crowned with the plu¬ 
mage of the wild-bird. Longingly she lingers 
around the still, deep pools, as the falling acorns 
dimplej their surface and are buried below. The 
trees whisper at her touch, and drop their treas¬ 
ures at. her feet, while she crowns them with 
sweet, sad glory. Then, ere the glory has van¬ 
ished, she flits slowly away, and when the blasts 
sweep over the northern hills, she Is gone. 
To-day, with something of her half-sad, half- 
savage spirit, 1 sprang through the dismantled 
garden and pushed through the half-open gate 
into the meadow. The soft yellow carpet was 
clastic under my feet, and the little brook silent¬ 
ly led one away to where the misty grass quiv¬ 
ered along ite hanks, and the water tinkled over 
the stones—on farther, where the spring bub¬ 
bled softly up, and spread itself smoothly out, to 
mirror the one spot of hlne sky. The larches 
shook their yellow needles down, and the mint, 
sent up its odor, strong, concentrated, as though 
all the fragrance of the last leaves and flowers 
was gathered there—spirit awaiting the resur¬ 
rection of the body. 
Then, in my vagabond mood, 1 followed the 
squirrel with the polished, striped acorn in his 
mouth—sinking in the soft green moss on the 
sunny knolls, and almost bmied under the 
leaves in the hollows, till, lo! 1 stood in a tem¬ 
ple. Under my feet., mosaics; all around me, 
columns; up above, arches and color,—nothing 
else; a soft, tenderpalpitatingcolor, havingform 
it is true, but no substance; while a golden light, 
separate from all, shone through all and bathed me 
where I stood. I saw and was thrilled through and 
through With a deep longing for something he 
yond. I was in the temple, but, not. in the Holy 
of Holies. I seemed stayed Just on the thresh- 
hold of infinite beauty, but there was a veil be¬ 
tween. How I longed lor purer eyes to look 
within ! How fallen I saw myself! how blinded 
my eyes and hardened my heart! Can I not 
penetrate earthly beauty, and will 1 ever be per¬ 
mitted to behold Heavenly glories ? Would not 
an angel perceive, understand, and enjoy Infin¬ 
itely more of Nature than we,- and do not poor 
mortals “dwell in the heaven of the gods with¬ 
out knowing it?” 
Sick with questioning, I turned away and went 
out under the bending sky. The little cottage 
was before me, with its thin wreath of smoke, 
it.B sheltering trees, hills sloping beside it. and 
masses of foliage beyond; and 1 thought, of one 
lying there, suffering yet trustful. Then the 
words passed through my mind, “If any man 
will doiliB will he shall know of the doctrine.” 
If we do His will more perfectly, shall we not 
more perfectly perceive natural as well us spirit¬ 
ual truths ?—shall not Our eyes ho opened to 
greater glories hftre a& well as hereafter ? Could 
we not then look below the surface and perceive 
bidden meanings, more blessed tilings than we 
have ever yet dreamed of? I)o not these mean¬ 
ings, in some inspired moment, glance before us 
like white winged doves through the sunlight, 
while wo look after them longingly and try to 
beckon them back ? But they are gone—let us 
trust, not forever. Enola. 
Religion comes from women more than from 
men —from mothers most ol all, who carry the 
key of our souls in their bosoms. 
A PLEA FOR THE MARTHAS. 
There are two classes of good women, the 
Marthas and Marys. The former represent the 
active, and tho latter the passive voice of the 
feminine conjugation. Without, by any means 
controverting the Scriptural idea, wo borrow 
tho names there used to illustrate facts in mod¬ 
ern social life. Both Marthas and Marys arc 
affectionate, but the love of Mary is a sentimen¬ 
tal dream, and evaporates in verbal homage and 
empty caresses. Mary will tie a bouquet for you, 
or possibly knit a purse, if she has abundant 
leisure. 8he will Join you iu a quiet, Btroll, 
especially when the calls of duty arc urgent in 
the house, but even then she prefers a drive. 
She absorbs attentions without rendering many; 
she makes a luxury of friendship, and either 
wears it like a Jewel, or drinks it like a julep. 
She sweetly assures you that “you are worth 
so much to her; ” meantime, except that she 
charms your fancy, she is worth very little 
to you. 
With Marthfr it is otherwise. Her love is 
untiring and practical. 8he gives where Mary 
receives. She prepares the entertainment which 
Mary only enjoys. She smooths yonr pillow 
while Mary is kissing you good night, and 
repairs your wardrobe In an ante-room while 
yon are lost in slumber; meanwhile breathing 
a prayer for your welfare, of which you do not. 
dream. She takes charge of the children while 
you go with Mary to the excursion ; she packs 
the refreshments for the picnic, while Mary 
helps you to arrange the flowers. She takes 
cheerfully the roughest duties because her dreRs 
is generally of firm material, that will never 
tear nor soil; while Mary requires your aid to 
enable her to protect from injury her gossamer 
barege. 
If there is an unpleasant or repulsive task, 
that must be done in solitude, that admits no 
assistance and elicits no praise, give yourself 
not a moment’s uneasiness; Martha will attend 
to it.. She has a positive genius for that kind of 
thing. Indeed, Martha is a very convenient 
person to have in the Loose. It is pleasant to 
think that she will do whatever Bbe can for you, 
and that she does it. because she loves you. 
You sometimes drop her a kind word when you 
think of it, just to see how she lights np in con¬ 
sequence. At such times she is almost pretty; 
you regret that she looks, ordinarily, so thin 
and anxious. Yon hear her cough of a morn¬ 
ing, and excuses an occasional neglect of some 
of your stated comtorts. Yon are surprised 
and shocked when she dies, 60 me; yon blend 
your tears with Mary’s, (Mary is hiautiful in 
tears,) and you feel that sympathy is 6wect. Ydu 
plaut a rose, not a thornless one, above Mar¬ 
tha’s grave, and after a proper interval of sor¬ 
row — marry Mary.— Springfield Republican, 
FEMININE TOPICS. 
A very excellent lady was desired by another 
to teach her what secrets she had to preserve 
her huBband’s favor. “ It is,” replied Bhc, “ by- 
doing all that pleam Km, and enduring patiently 
all that dtepteam me.” 
The young men of Mobile are a ente set. One 
ot their city papers says they find out how a 
young lady 6tands in solid charms by asking her, 
“ has your father been pardoned ?” finding out, of 
course, whether or not he comes under the 
$20,000 clause. 
A Nashua girl, making a pair of soldier’s 
drawers, tacked in a note expressing her devo¬ 
tion to the Union, It turns out that the Union 
she is now most devoted to, is composed of her¬ 
self and the soldier who got the drawers. How 
delightfully romantic! 
Stays were quite unknown in Russia until 
Peter the Great danced with some Hanoverian 
ladies on his journey to Pomerania. Quite as¬ 
tonished the monarch replied to his suite after 
the hall. “ What confounded hard bones these 
German women have.” 
Harriet M aktineau is in her sixty-fourth year. 
She was deaf from childhood, and now is almost 
blind, yet retains her mental powers, writes able 
editorials for the London Daily News, contrib¬ 
utes to various periodicals, and has just 
sent to press two volumes of elaborate history. 
General Hooker’s uew wife is very pretty as 
well as rich. Some years ago she visited Europe 
aud was in London awhile. Of the impression 
she left there, one little incident tells the tale. 
An admirer of the Duke of Wellington sent him 
some cases of Longwortb’s Sparkling Catawba. 
He wished to know where so delicious a wine 
was made. “ Cincinnati, my lord duke,” was 
the reply. “ Cincinnati I” rejoined the hero of 
Waterloo, “Ah! that is the jilacc Miss Groes- 
beck came from!” 
A Mohel Wife Is, all iu all, gentle as a ring¬ 
dove, yet high-soaring as a falcon; humble be 
low her deserving, yet deserving beyond the es¬ 
timate of panegyric; an exact economist in all 
superfluity, yet. a most bountiful dispenser in all 
liberality; the chief regulator of her household, 
the fairest pillar of her hall, and the sweetest 
flower of her bower—having in all opposite pro- 
posingB sense to understand, jadgmeut to wait, 
discretion to choose, firmness to undertake, dili 
gence to conduct, perseverance to accomplish, 
and resolution to maintain. 
A young but prudent mother, on the occasion 
of making her little boy his first pair of colored 
Dowsers, conceived the idea that it would be 
more economical to make them of the same 
dimensions behind as before, bo that they might 
be changed about and wear evenly—and so she 
fashioned them. Their effect when donned by 
the little victim was ludicrous in tho extreme. 
Papa, lit. first sight of the baggy garment, “ so 
fearfully and wonderfully made,” burst into a 
roar of laughter, and exclaimed, “Oh, my dear, 
how could you have the heart to do it ? Why, 
the poor little fellow won’t know whether lie’s 
going to school or coming homo i ” 
Written for Moore's Rural New Yorker. 
TO MY FRIENDS. 
BY MIKA. 
Across my life’s unclouded noon, 
There swept a foul destroying breath; 
’Twns like the wild and fierce Simoon, 
Whose withering touch Is blight and death. 
From ( ones, for which I sadly yearn, 
I turn aside as If in shame; 
And rriend and foo alike I spurn, 
Lest 1 should bear that dreaded name. 
But One who sees my heart alway, 
Aud knows alone it* eeaseles pain, 
He hoars me, when I mutely pray 
That n>e may never meet again. 
And thus I know, that, o'er my life, 
Peace, like a dove, will yet descend; 
When past will bo this weary strife, 
This bitter sorrow have an end. 
And so my friends, I pray you, keep 
For me affection warm and true, 
’Till through these water* rough and deep, 
My loving heart returns to you. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AMERICAN COMIC JOURNALS. 
BY OLOFFE VON KORTLANHT. 
Doubtless wc all often indulge in very audible 
smiles over the extravagances of comicality, 
whether in the newspaper, on the stage, in the 
drawing-room, or between book-lids. When the 
cares oflahor, cither with the hands or brain, have 
ceased for one little while, at least, then we can 
smooth out tho brow of wrinklcB, twitch the set 
mouth, limber the stiffened joints,—in fact be¬ 
come, in a measure, physically regenerate by a 
well-regulated dose of fun. And I have imagin¬ 
ed that a few thoughts respecting the comic 
element iu our Periodical Literature, presenting 
the subject in a cmvcreational sort of way, 
might perhaps not fail of being, to ft certain 
extent, interesting. 
Tbe attributes of comicality—wit, humor, bur¬ 
lesque,—arc of course distinctive. The burlesque 
is always ludicrous, tending to excite our mirth 
by images utterly in contrast with their orig¬ 
inals. Wit., from Its primary significance of in¬ 
tellect, hence sharpness, has come to signify the 
joining together of expressions by distant and 
fanciful relations, surprising because unexpect¬ 
ed. It is often sarcastic when directed against 
folly, and hence offensive; while humor, less 
poignant and brilliant, makes a man ashamed of 
his follies without exciting his resentment. 
We all can appreciate tho broadness of burlesque, 
but the sallies of wit and humorare often under¬ 
valued from a weakness of appreciation. 
Our count ry can Jjnast of any number of comic 
papers, called by ulJftfrts of names, and devoted 
to the moq cvtravYjM^t tlbistratlons and stories. 
And the question laterally arises, what arc 
the elements constituting success in American 
comic journalism. Any one who thinks much 
on the subject, will naturally come to the con¬ 
clusion that the American intellect, quick, ener¬ 
getic, as it generally is in its working, fails to 
estimate anything of this kind where the comic 
element Is not at once apparent, and the greater 
the burlesque the more highly it is appreciated. 
In this It Is unlike the more sluggish English 
mind, which waits to grasp an idea in its detail 
before passing judgment upon it.. What, makes 
“ Punch” so popular in England is its being a 
representative, in that, respect, of the brain of 
the people—not extravagant, often as serious as 
it is comic. 
“ Punch”—inaugurated so long ago, with the 
loading men of brain and pencil constantly gath¬ 
ered at Its contribution-table, has grown to be a 
part, of British literature, incorporating as it 
does the gayest, and the gravest pictures of his¬ 
tory for a quarter of a century. It has had many 
a wicked fling at us during the past five years, 
yet who could read its magnificent lines on the 
death of the President, and not almost forget 
that, it, had never delighted to do him honor. 
But weuli know what “ Punch” is, with thchump- 
baoked charivari and his dog who squint at us so 
wickedly from the cover. 
I think that the Ronnd Table is hardly cor¬ 
rect in saying that an American journal can 
never succeed while it takes for a model the 
English “Punch,” because we are too purely 
American to stand any such copying; but I think 
rather that the reason stated above would tend, 
In a great, measure, to prevent it from being an 
established fact. 
Seventeen or eighteen years ago, “Yankee 
Doodle”—formed after the style of “Punch,” 
started upon its career. With such men in its 
literary circle as Hoffman used to lead, tho 
talent and genius employed on it. were at once 
of the first rank. Hoffman’s poein of “Mon¬ 
terey,” first published In that paper, in 1848, 
commencing 
“ Wo were not many,—we who stood 
Beside the dead who fell that day," 
many of us have doubtless seen. Yet tho “Doo¬ 
dle” was hut meogorly supported, and ended its 
existence within a few monthB. 
“ Vanity Fair,” tho next attempt of the 
kind, was ushered into the world in Jauuary, 
1800, stortiug under the guidance of Charles G. 
Lelani). Each number gave evidence that the 
best ability was employed both lo the subject- 
matter aud illustrations; and the. many Bbarp 
flings on all sides, which never descended to 
the least thing coarse,—while very often it con¬ 
tained gems of the purest water, made it con¬ 
sidered by its admirers as an established fact. 
One can look over its pictured history, and 
easily recall, ono by one, what suggested this 
euricature, what called forth that bit ing sarcasm, 
what was tbe occasion of some splendid poem. 
Even amid the terrible earnestness of war, there 
was a fertile field for humor and satire. And bo 
“ V. F.” lived and flourished a little more than 
three years, ami then the uncertainty of every¬ 
thing finally led to its discontinuance. Had af¬ 
fairs been more settled, no doubt in time it 
would have obtained as firm a foothold as could 
have been desired. As it was, ami strange as it 
may seem to those who used to delight in its 
weekly appearance, it never paid ft pro 111 from 
the first number, aud twenty-five thousand dol¬ 
lars were sunk in ItB publication. One of theae 
days, lot us hope for its advent again into a 
world which is not always cold or hard. 
In J uly of this year, another attempt was made 
atan American “ Punch,” called “ Mrs. Grundy,” 
which was very inferior lo cither of the two 
above mentioned, and the price was exborbitant 
for a concern of itB poor nature. Bo tho old 
lady soon made an untimely withdrawal from 
the course of weekly lectures she inaugurated 
with such apparent eclat. Her managers an¬ 
nounced at the fall of t he curtain, that the full 
houses which were pictured each week as greet¬ 
ing her, were only legal fictions, although wo iu 
the side boxes could see but the imaged reflec¬ 
tion of the sea of faces ou the background of 
the stage. 
Tt would seem from these repeated failures 
that a first class humorous and satirical paper of 
tho kind in question does not meet with deserved 
appreciation. Yet " Pnnch” has considerable 
of a circulation on this side of the water,—which 
by no means diminished among those who really 
like such literature, when gold was 285, and the 
subscription price in New York fourteen dollars 
a year. 
When the land is older, and its intellect more 
highly cultivated, perhaps it may better appre¬ 
ciate literary “ Puuch”-e8. Meanwhile Budgets 
of Fun, and Comic Monthlies, and papers of 
that class, seem to flourish like mushrooms. 
» >-4 -— 
STORY READING. 
At a certain age, children of both sexes de¬ 
light in stories. It is as natural ns it is for them 
to skip, run and jump, instead of walking at the 
staid pace of gram!parents. Now some parents 
think they do a very wise thing when they deny 
this mostlnnoceut craving and legitimate outlet. 
They wish to cultivate, they say, “a taste for 
solid reading.” They might, as well begin to 
feed a new born babe on meat, lest nursing 
should vitiate its desire for it. Tho taste for 
meat will come when tho child has teeth to 
chew it; so will tbe taste for solid reading, as 
the mind matures—i. e., if it is not made to hate 
it by having it forced violently upon its atten¬ 
tion during the story-loving period. That there 
is a “time for all things” Is truer of nothing 
more than tills. Better far that parents should 
admit it, and wisely indulge it, than by a too 
severe repression, give occasion for stealthy 
reading. 
NATIONAL PECULIARITIES. 
HniNTiTcn IIkinb, the German wit and poet, 
gave the following account of the different man¬ 
ner in which Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Ger¬ 
mans regard liberty: 
"The Englishman loves liberty like his law¬ 
ful wife, the Frenchman loves her like his mis¬ 
tress, the German loves her like Ills old grand¬ 
mother. Aud yet after all, no one can ever tell 
how things may turn out. Theguinpy English¬ 
man, in an ill temper with his wife, is capable of 
some day putting a rope round her neck, and 
Liking her to lie sold at Smlthtlelil. The incon¬ 
stant, Frenchman may become unfaithful to his 
adored mistress, and be seen fluttering; about the 
Palais Royal after another. Rut the German will 
never quite abandon hie old grandmother : ho will 
always keep for her a nook by the chimney-cor¬ 
ner, where she can tell her fairy-stories to the 
listening children. 
CHANCE CHIPS. 
Praising people is like the great opiate — 
laudanum. 
All right government of children begins in 
self-government. 
The noblest question in tho world 1b, What 
good can I do in it ? 
The man who docs most has the least time to 
talk about what he does. 
Haitinehs can he made quite as well of cheap 
materials as of dear ones. 
To teach early is to engrave on marble; to 
teach late is to write on sand. 
Human existence hinges upon trifles. What 
would beauty be without soap ? 
The men who jump at conclusions seldom 
reach any that are worth having. These must 
be got by climbing. 
Writers often multiply words iu the vain 
attempt to make clear to others what is not 
clear to themselves. 
Invincible fidelity, good humor, and compla¬ 
cency of temper, outlive all the charms of a 
flue face, and make the decay of it invisible. 
A rich man is provident of his gold, “but a 
beggar is prodigal ol his coppers. A wise man Is 
provident of his thoughts, but a fool 1 b prodigal 
of his words. 
If you wish success in life, make perseverance 
your bosom friend, experience your wise coun¬ 
sellor, caution your elder brother, and hope your 
guardian genius. 
Nothing was so much’dreaded in our school¬ 
boy days as to be punished by sitting ^between 
two girls. Ah, the force of education ! In after 
years we learn to submit to such things without 
shedding a tear. 
There are too many who reverse both tho 
principle and the practice of the Apostles*; they 
become all things to nil men, not to servo oth¬ 
ers but themselves, and they try all things only 
to hold fast that which is bud.— Colbm. 
THE ANSWER. 
“Allah, Allah t” cried the sick man, racked with 
pain the lone night through ; 
Till with prayer his heart grew tender, till his lips 
like honey grew. 
Bat at. morning came the Tempter; said, “ Call load¬ 
er, child of Fain! 
See if Allah ever hears or answers, 4 Hero am I,’ 
again." 
Like a stab, the cruel cavil through hts brain and 
pulses wont; 
To hts heart an Icy coldness, to his brain a darkness 
sent. 
Then before him stands Elias; says, “My child why 
thug dismayed ? 
Dost repent thy former fervor ? Is thy soul of prayer 
afraid I” 
“Ah!" he crlod, “I’ve called so often; never hoard 
the 4 Here am I 
And I thought, God will not pity; will not turn on 
me his eye." 
Then the grave Elias answered:—“God said, ‘Rise, 
Elias; go 
Speak to him, the sorely tempted: lift him from his 
gulf of woe. 
Tell him that his very longing is Itself an answering 
cry; 
That his prayer, ‘ Come, gracious Allah!’ Is my ans¬ 
wer, ‘Here am I.’ ” 
Every Inmost aspiration is Gou’s angel undeflled; 
And in every “ O my father I” slumbers deep a “ Here 
my child.” [Hymns of the Ages. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Y'orker. 
“THE SAME WORDS.” 
It is a comforting reflection for the afflicted 
disciple, that Christ iu His agony In the garden 
went repeatedly to the Throne of Q-ace with 
His burden. With no now plea to urge no un¬ 
used petition to offer, lie poured out His lOul to 
HiB Father “the third time, saying the Bame 
words.” 
What encouragement is hero to tho human suf¬ 
ferer, who can think of no language in which to 
clothe his petition, nis Heavenly Father will 
not turn away His ear, though he come often 
with the same sorrow, and tell it iu the same 
words. Though a story of distress may awaken 
the sympathy of an earthly friend, upon its first 
recital, its repetition soon wearies, and ceases 
to create emotion. However heavily a burden 
may oppress us, if long continued we have 
little to hope from human sympathy. But He 
who went again and again to His Father, Haying 
the same words, will not refuse to listen when 
we come to Him with our trials, because we 
have told them many times before. If tho cross 
be heavy and the way bo loug, Ho will uot be 
weary, or refuse to pity aud help us; for Ho is 
the whjiv yesterday, to-day and forever. 
Sherburne. N. Y.. 1805. Lima L«». 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
I AM ALPHA AND OMEGA." 
These words of the Saviour, with their 
definition - “ tho beginning and the ending ” — 
are full of rich meaning. In creation, Christ 
was the beginning; for “all things were made 
by Him, and without Him was not, anything 
made that was made." And at the end, “He 
shall Judge the world in righteousness.” In the 
beginning of redemption, Jesus was the prom¬ 
ised “ seed of the woman ’’ which was to “ bruise 
the serpent’s head;" and He again was the sub- 
stauce to which all tho types aud shadows of the 
liiw pointed. And everlasting thanks be His, 
that He said upon the cross, “It is finished! ” 
To every trembling sinner, lie is tho “ Author 
of saving faith, and “ He is the Finisher of 
Faith.” To a saint In temptation, He Is the 
beginning of hope, aud the end of expectation. 
Each day we should begin with supplication, 
aud end with thanksgiving to nim. 
Before engaging in uu undertaking, we should 
inquire 44 will It please Him; ” and, at the com¬ 
pletion of it, give Him all the glory. Thus will 
Christ be to us “ all in all.” J - c - 
Thnraten, N. Y., 18(15. 
SOBER SABBATH THOUGHTS. 
Youth, beauty, or wit may recommend you 
to men; but faith in Jesus can iutroduce you to 
God. 
Humility is the nurse of unices, preserver of 
our mercies, and the great fountain of holy 
duties. 
We should not forget that life is a flower, 
which is no soouer fully blown than it begins 
to wither. 
Prayer is an errand to God; it must be rev¬ 
erent, earnest, aud definite. When you do 
errands of this kindjl'or other people, forget 
yourself. 
A RKLiaious life begins aud grows just like any 
other, life into ft fuller aud more perfect state. 
We get our life from God. We must take care 
that it grows. 
“Don’t write there,” said ono to a lad who 
was writing with a diamond pin on a pane ot 
glass in tlm window of a hotel. “Why P’^said 
ho. “ Because you can’t rub it out.” There are 
ier things which men should not do, because 
y cannot rub them out. A heart is aching 
sympathy, and ft cold, perhaps, a heartless 
rd is spoken. The impression may be more 
•able than that of the diamond upon the glaas. 
a inscription on the glass may be destroyed 
the fracture of the glass, but the) Impression 
the heart may lust forever. On many a mind 
[ many a heart, sad Inscriptions are deeply 
■raved, which no effort can erase. We 
old be careful what we write on the minds of 
