And while time shall with us linger, 
May we lore the Just and Right- 
Seeing Freedom’s guiding finger 
Pointing to eternal light! 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
BABY NELL, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New Torker. 
THE CYNIC. 
allowed to. Could the Becret history of that 
man bo known, I donbt not it would be found 
that some broken faith—a little thing in the eyes 
of others—turned his life aside from the noble 
course it should have followed. It may be the 
good angel recorded many things done by him 
to reliere the otherwise complete barrenness of 
the life he seemed to live. 
No man who lives wholly within himself, lives 
a complete life. If he borrows nothing from 
the wealth of other lives. If their sunlight reflects 
no warmth into his own, but the door of his 
heart remains closed and he bids no one enter; 
then is there a desolation in the inner-chamber, 
“ the holy of holies,” which makes his life mis¬ 
erably poor and one-sided. 
Set. over against the real life of every person, 
is the life he knows he ought to live, the life he 
broods over and longs for,—that higher life 
which ho is only too apt to excuse himself for 
not living. Though he lives It not, still it sheds 
a beauty upon his actual life, it imparts purposes 
HEALTHFULNESS OF WOMAN’S DRESS, 
Man's dress is allowed to fit his body, but 
woman’s body is compelled to lit her dress. 
His chest and waist need no compressing—they 
were created perfect; and so are allowed to de- 
velope natnrally, as God designed them; but 
she—her Maker’s “last, best gilt to man”—in 
fashion’s eye a sad mistake was made in her 
creation 
nr CLIO STANLEY. 
FROM T1IE GERMAN. 
BY JOHN MC INTOSH. 
What has made this sad earth brighter 
With new loveliness f 
Made it full of gladness, where 
There seemed but emptiness ? 
Is it that the blue grows bluer 
In the far-off Skies, 
Or do I now behold its beauty 
In ray baby’s eyes ? 
What has added sweet intenseness 
To the scent of flowers, 
That they bless with new delight 
The quiet summer hours ? 
What has made the bird's song sweeter? 
Do they all rejoice ? 
Or hear I their melodiousness 
In baby Nelly's voice? 
What has given these purple twilights 
Such a calm delight ? 
Given such a rare enchantment 
To the lonely night? 
True it ia the stars shine brighter 
Than they shone before, 
Shine with full and radiant glory 
Bat there’s something more— 
Something more than breath of flowers 
From the south wind caught ;— 
Making lire seem truer living, 
Full or earnest thought; 
Something making each day’s duties 
Real and divine,— 
And I think it ia the coming 
Of this babe of mine. 
Her wee fingers twine the garlands 
That I wear to-night, 
Her sweet breath is the pure incense 
Making home more bright: 
Baby Nelly t baby Nellt ! 
Nestle doser still, 
’Till I feel your childlike spirit 
In my woman’s will; 
Press your dainty forehead closer 
To this loviDg heart, 
Teach me ail the pure impulses 
That hold thee apart 
Prom the busy world of sorrow, 
Prom Us grief and care,— 
Till from your full cup of gladness 
I shall drink a share. 
December, 18G5. 
Leave God to order all thy ways, 
And hopo in Him whate’er betide; 
Thon’lt find Him In the evil days 
An all-snfllcicnt Strength and Guide. 
Who trusts iu God’s unchanging love, 
Builds on the rock that naught can move. 
What can these anxious cares avail. 
These never ceasing moans and sighs? 
What can it help ua to bewail 
Each painful moment ns it flies ? 
Otir cross and trials do but press 
The heavier for our bitterness. 
Only yonr restless heart keep still, 
And wait in cheerful hope, content 
To take whate’er His gracious will, 
HU all-discerning love has sent; 
Nor donbt our inmost wants are kncyyn 
To Him who chose us for his own. 
ne knows when Joyful hours are best, 
He sends them as Ho boob tt meet; 
When thou hast borne its fiery test, 
And now art freed from all deceit, 
Ho comes to thee all unaware, 
And makes thee own llis loving care. 
Nor in the heat or pain and strife, 
Think God hath east thee off unheard; 
Nor that tho man whoso prosperous life 
Thou envieet, is of him preferred ; 
Timo passes, and much change doth bring, 
And sets a bound to every thing. 
All are alike be r orc His face; 
’Tis easy foonr God Most nigh 
To make the rich man poor and base— 
To give the poor man wealth and joy. 
True wonders still of nim are wrought, 
Who setteth up and brings to naught. 
Sing, pray, and swerve not from Uls ways, 
But do thine own part faithfully; 
Trust His rich promises of grace, 
So shall It bo fulfilled in thee; 
God never yet forsook at need 
The soul that trusted Him Indeed. 
Doomed to a course I curse and hate, 
The football of the mocker, Fate, 
Ah! me, the penury of life! 
Its canting, Bhu filing, friendless strife. 
What matters that the world be young, 
Or fair, or mlddlo-aged, or old ?— 
What prophet said, or bard has sang, 
To him who feels “Poor ToM’sa-cold ?” 
I make a mate of listless woe; 
I spnrn tho civic pales of stale; 
I dig my lair amidst, the snow: 
I kiss the icy hand of Hatk. 
My years arc freckled by the moth 
And mildew font or sodd’ning time: 
The lack of vlrtuo, or of crime; 
The bitterness, and hate of sloth. 
Through idle years I beat the air, 
A$ swings upon the ruined mill 
The wheel, when vagrant breezes fill 
The 6hreda of canvass rotting there. 
Ail purposeless as water rolls, 
Directed by it* devious banks, 
I saunter to the Land of Souls, 
To swell it* ever swelling ranks. 
• I scorn the crowded, jangling mart; 
The babble of the common theme; 
The lie of being what you seem; 
The greedy eye, the chary heart. 
Men’s souls arc closed against themselves; 
Man bars the world before his eyes; 
For light amid the gloom he delves, 
And screens with phantom shades the skies, 
Come, cense, 0 Firth, thy aimless race!— 
Thou thing of wayward hopes and fears I 
Thou changling In the realms or space 1 
Thou idiot planet of the spheres 1 
Wyoming, N. Y. 
The beautiful rounded waist, so-full, 
so perfect, with room within for all the vital 
organs lo play their part, in the great drama of 
physical life, is so “very ungenteel, so vulgar! ” 
And so the little girl, whose form up to the age 
of thirteen or fourteen years has been left to 
grow a6 free and as untrammeled as her broth¬ 
er’s, must now begin to pay attention to her 
figure. The short dress is lengthened down to 
sweep the floor; the childish waist, so comfort¬ 
ably loose, is laid aside forever; and encased in 
whalebones, if not in corsets, with a dress so 
tight that an attempt to take a free breath would 
endanger every hook and eye upon it, but w hich 
fashion says fits so neatly, the process of im¬ 
proving God’s- handiwork begins. The muscles 
of the chest, denied development, become en¬ 
feebled by disuse, and gradually shrink away, 
causing the waist lo diminish in size; the heart la¬ 
bors ineffectually to properly circulate the blood 
through the arteries, capillaries, and veins; the 
ribs, forced downward and inward, press upon 
the vital organs, often crowding the abdominal 
viscera out of position; while the poor lungs, 
called by some our “ inner life,” and by others, 
our “soul-lir*.” 
It would seem, then, that we have a trinity of 
lives, two lived — the visible aud unseen — and 
that not lived. But this i9 true only in part, for 
the life not lived blends always In a great degree 
with the hidden. The visible, also, takes form 
sometimes, and earnestness ever, from the 
unseen, the soul-life. The rcjkl life a person 
lives is measured always by his or her breadth 
of soul, and the greater the Inner, the greater 
and nobler the outer existence. The circum¬ 
stances without may curb and cramp what is 
scribe and limit the outer. To make, then, our 
outward lives what they may and shonid be, we 
should look well to the life within. If it be pure 
and right, rest assured outward action will be 
alike pure and right. 
Bat I did not intend touching upon this point 
when I commenced writing. I only designed 
considering Avhat might have been In contrast 
with w'bat is. And this I hoped to do in no 
complaining way, as if what is, is ever worse 
than what might have been. People arc quite 
too apt to consider that snch is the case. On 
the contrary, if we can look over the years spent 
and point to one place where it might have been 
better for us, for every such an one we can 
readily point to twenty or a hundred where it 
might have been worse. If, by some means. 
80BEE SABBATH THOUGHTS 
liver and shattered lange. And yet, with effects anaui S ®ome time since tho query, What might 
following as surely in the wake of their causes as ° L1TBR Twist’s life have been had he not met 
the sunshine follows the shade, she cannot see that u Artful Dodger”? and the desire was 
her dress has any thing to do with her sickness. ex P rttsc d that Dickens should re-write the 
Not one woman In a thousand will acknowledge 6t0r E> commencing at the point where the first 
that her dress is tight. “ See how loose It is! ” me etlng occurred. Before reading this, I had 
she tellB you, as, holding her breath and taking oftcn thought how the most trivial things, ap- 
up a fold in front, she deems you have convinc- P are Dtly, entirely change the current of men’s 
ing proof; when if her dress were but nnfaat- lires - 1 have very often wondered what some 
ened, and she were to breathe naturally, it would ^ ve5 would have been, had certain little circum- 
barely reach together within three inches. 6taMCee » unimportant in themselves, been left 
From the crown of her head to the sole of her ont > and ,lftve abused myself by tracing out 
foot there is hardly one article of woman’s dress ^ose lives that might have been through an im-' 
that Is really what It should be.— .Vis. M. Jona. a 2 inRr T sequence of :< >db ions quite probable, 
The creatures of God’s hand declare bis good¬ 
ness; all their enjoyments speak his praise. 
He clotheth them with beauty, he supporteth 
them with food, he preservoth them with pleas¬ 
ure from generation to generation. 
When we have done wrong and want to con¬ 
ceal the fault, the very way we take to hide it 
often leads to detection. 
Written lor Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
WORDS FROM HOME-No. I. 
We must go where 
God is not, if we would be safe from detection; 
but since God is in every place we may bo sure 
our sin, however secret it may be, will find us out. 
How reluctant ure we to let our disordered 
nature feel the severity of that discipline which 
Infinite Love has chosen for n* t 
From time immemorial, we have been re¬ 
minded by the Governors of onr good Common¬ 
wealths of the approach of Thanksgiving. The 
call for turkeys, chickens, and other dclectables 
on 6uch occasions, proves that we are a grateful 
people, and cherish a patriotic reverence lor 
this institution of our land. 
Never before has a year brought such bles¬ 
sings to claim our gratitude. We no longer 
gather in the old home thinking of loved cues 
far off among Southern hills, or down beside 
the Golf, in army blue. The work of Union 
bayonets is well done. No stars are misslDg i 
from the flag that now floats over Sumter, We 
have welcomed home the brave men who, with 
God’s blessing, have “given our flag its right.” 
They walk with ua again In tho old paths of 
business; some with empty sleeves that tell 
their own story; others with shattered limbs; 
a few unharmed save by the dreadful memories 
of Libby and Audersonvffle; but all worthy of 
reverence who have suffered In the cause for 
which they fought. To some of us who waited 
at home, these roughened heroes are dearer 
than life, aud fervently do we thank the Father, 
who guarded them in all their perils, for their 
safe return. 
We remembered on our Thanksgiving day the 
graves that marked the progress of onr victori¬ 
ous armies southward. Onr dead lie along the 
streams, and beside the prisons-pens, from the 
Atlantic to the prairie borders. Their memory 
is a strong tower of defence to our land. The 
light of many lives went, out when they fell, but 
the sacrifice was not made in vain. 
With sorely chastened hearts, and higher ! 
aims, we must summon our energies to work 
out the grand problems of the Nineteenth cen- £ 
tury. If we have gained anything of strength 1 
us! The very oflllc- 
I tion at which we murmur, the heart-searching 
i of God’s Spirit and Word which so sorely tries 
, "a. the very duty of which we perform the 
; half, would have proved the choicest blessings 
if wo had eheerfullj taken them at His gracious 
hands. 
Get into the sun, that is, Christ. Under the 
beams of this blessed San of righteousness, there 
are warmth and comfort. Walk to the fire, 
that is, to the Work of God. “Is not my word 
like tire ?” How many warming and comforting 
passages ore there! Keep iu motion and action, 
stirring up ourselves and the gift of God that is 
in us by Christian converse aud communion. 
Hpw can one be warm atone?-— Philip Henry. 
Jesus hath many lovers of his heavenly king¬ 
dom, but few bearers of his cross. He Hath 
many desirous of his’consolation, but few of his 
tribulation. He flndeth many companions o 
his table, but few of bis abstinence. All desire 
to rejoice with him or for him. Many follow 
Jesus into the breaking ot bread, but few to the 
drinking of the cup of his passion. Many rev- 
creuco his miracles; few follow the ignominy 
of his cross. 
Some good people are inclined to contempla¬ 
tion when the call is urgent for stirring activity. 
Such persons might well bo reminded of what a 
zealous layman from the West once said to an 
old church in the East:—“You sit here and 
‘ sing yourself away to everlasting bliss;’ but I 
tell yon, you are wanted a great deal more out 
in Illinois than you arc in heaven.” Aud are 
not many of our Christian friend®, who love to 
read and think about “ the glory to be revealed,” 
and who sometimes are longing for the rest 
above, wauted a great deal more in the Sabbath 
school than they are in heaven ? 
Naimhanna, a black prince, from the neigh¬ 
borhood of Sierra Leone, arrived in England 
in 171H. The gentleman to whose care ho was 
intrusted took great paiue to convince him that 
the Bible is the Word of God, and he received it 
as such, with great reverence and simplicity. 
Do we ask what it was that satisfied him on tho 
subject? Let us listeu lo his artless words. 
II When I found,” said he, “ all good men miud- 
A Mother’s Influence 
•How touching is 
this tribute of Hon. T. II. Benton to his mother’s 
influence: 
“ My mother asked me never to use tobacco. 
I have never touched it from that time to the 
present day; she asked me not to game, and I 
' have never gambled, and I cannot tell who is 
losing in games that are being played. She 
admonished me, too, against hard drinking: and 
whatever capacity for endurance I have at pres¬ 
ent, and whatever usefulness I may have at 
tained in life, I have attributed to having com¬ 
plied with • her pious and correct wishes 
When I was seven yeur6 of age she asked me 
not to drink, and then I made a resolution of 
total abstinence, and that I have adhered to it 
through all time, I owe to my mother. 
there is a sentimental poem, the burden of 
which is—“ It might have been.” To drop sen¬ 
timent and come down to plain matter-of-fact, 
Timothy 
in a humorous sketch, once told his 
let ns inquire what might have been ? “ 
Titcomu,” 
readers what might aud doubtless would have 
been, in his case, had he quietly settled down in 
the town of his birth, instead of seeking a differ¬ 
ent field of action. Whatever might have been, 
It is safe to say that “ Gold Foil,” and “ Letters 
to the Young” would not. ’Ve do not need to 
look among that class whose names are “ house¬ 
hold words," to find those who are ilhisb-Af 
There is nothing sheds so fine a light upon 
the human mind as candor. It was called white¬ 
ness by the ancients to denote its purity; and it 
hBs always won tho esteem duo to the most ad¬ 
mirable of virtues, 
Tho man whoso opiniots 
rnaku the deepest impression upon his fellow 
man, whose influence is moat lasting and effi¬ 
cient, whose friendship Is iustinctively sought 
where all others have proved faithless, Is not the 
man ol brilliant parts, or flattering tongue, or 
splendid genius, but he whose lucid candor, and 
ingenuous truth transmit the heart’s real feelings 
pure and without refrection. There are other 
qualities which are more Bhowy, and other traits 
that have a higher place in tho world’s code of 
honor, but none wear better or gather less tar¬ 
nish by use, or claim deeper homage in that 
silent reverence which mind pays to virtue. 
FEMININE TOPICS 
A horrible bachelor wants to know if ladies wifi, n w •, T T w womeo > 
to corset* mean staid women. f b " 1 f ° m > rk brilU "“ »«•. 
are nevertheless living lives widely separated 
The Queen of the Sandwich Islands has helped from those they might have lived, from those 
to consecrate a church in England. they were and are capable of living ; and solely 
If a lady’s hair costs one dollar a curl, what is to some In itself unimportant circumstance is 
the income of a flourishiag lock factory ? this difference chargeable. 
Modesty to the female character is like salt- Every third man whom you meet in the street, 
petre to beef, imparting a blush while it preserves be 110 Prosperous or the reverse, became what he 
its parity. Is by some trifle that he very likely belittles by 
A bachelor having advertised for a wile to tllC tenn accidcnt » imlc = 8 he be wise enough to 
share his lot, an “ Anxious Inquirer” solicited in- , cff0ct bftck to its P r °pcr cause. The poor 
formation as tp the 6ize of said lot. inebriate, whoso line ot life is reduced to a zig- 
Ir women knew their real power, and wished Bom one place ol debauchery to 
r. *.*■* .* i* ...u _ . , another was offered the opportunity to tread 
CHANCE CHIPS, 
Here is the pithiest sermon ever preached: 
“Our ingress In life is naked and bare , our pro¬ 
gress in life is trouble and care r our egress out 
of It we know not where; but doing well here, 
we shall do well there; I could not tell more by 
preaching a year.” 
One pound of gold may bo drawn into a wire 
that would extend round the globe. 
by the discipline of war, It is that we may better 
endure the labors of peace, and build a noble 
monument for our lives, in good works. The 
Master has called us to the field oflife to gather 
rich gleanings for the harvest of the angels. 
"With loving hearts and unwavering faith, let us 
“ Labor for the better time, 
With all our might of press and pen. 
Remembering ’lisa truth sublime, 
God's world is worthy better men.” 
ery timely is the following National Thanks¬ 
giving Hymn, just written by Edward P. 
So one 
good deed may be felt through all time, aud cast 
its influence into eternity. Though done in 
the first flush of youth it may gild the last 
hours of a long life, and form the brightest spot 
lu it. 
A gentleman who had the curiosity to rpend 
n dime in answering an advertisement which 
promised valuable advice for that amount, re¬ 
ceived by mail the following answer:—“ Friend, 
for your ten cents postage, please find enclosed 
advice which may be of great value to you. A* 
months 
the broken faith of some heart that he once 
loved and trusted. Alongside of this man’s life, 
place a life of faith in good intentions and noble 
purposes, of broad and generous principles; a 
life not welling up In bitterness, but rather over¬ 
flowing with the milk of human kind ness, and 
I ma d<- blessed by good accomplished through 
love. Such a life was before him once. Ha 
might have lived It, but for a trifle. 
I know ot one man, who was blessed with a 
large circle of family friends, and a competencey; 
who was every way fitted to make life a blessing 
to himself and others; aud yet who lived a life of 
cold loneliness for years, and grew old in wand¬ 
ering about among strangers, rather than warm¬ 
ing his heart amid the atmosphere of affection. 
Among the greul brotherhood of mankind, but 
not of it; giving little or no sympathy, and 
asking none; he literally sealed up all the better 
and holier springs of life, and let his soul forever 
go athirst. Hedled, at last, as he had lived- 
many persons are injured for weeli 
and years by the eurcicES use of a kDife, there, 
fore, my advice is, when you use a knife, always 
whittle from you.” 
Lotus Blanc relates, in one of his contribu¬ 
tions to a Paris magizlue, La Petite Revue, h : s 
experience during the time he was connected 
with the press. He states that his handwriting 
is perfectly clear, bat that of his collaborator 
illegible. Yet the latter’s contributions were 
always printed correctly, and his full of blunders. 
On remonstrating at the printing office, the 
reply was that careful attention is bestowed 
upon hieroglyphic manuscript, which is never 
giveu to a good specimen of punmsuship. Louis 
Blanc adds that from that time he endeavored to 
write as Illegible as possible. 
