[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
ROSE —UNDER THE SNOW. 
ET .TANK JONES. 
Mt "’oo white Rose, tnj fair-haired child, 
Leaving her play at its wildest height. 
Came with an earnest air to me, 
Asking for what the snow might be? 
Then I told my little (juestioner 
How all the lilies and the violets blue, 
The moss flowers, and the roses, too, 
"Were tired of blooming, and upon the hill 
And in the vale, lay cold and still; 
So God had sent His angels o'er their earthly bed, 
A counterpane of pure white snow to spread. 
Then welled the love light in her soft blue eye. 
As, kissing me, she made this sweet reply: 
How kind of Gold Hear mamma, when your little Rose is 
dead, 
Will angels spread a covering above her tiny bed? 
*Twas half a do/.en years ago these blessed words she spake. 
The other night she fell asleep. I knew she might not wake, 
So yester evening, when the light grew crimson in the west, 
We laid our darting in her grave Unbroken be her rest! 
'Twa» hard to bury tny white Rose beneath the church yard 
mold. 
To turn away and leave her there, so lonely and so cold 
But, lo, tlds morning when I Wok' 1 all pure, and white, and 
fair. 
The snow lav drifted on the ground and tluttered in the air, 
Then from the past there floated up these blessed words again, 
These (detsud words, all sanctified-a healing for my pain. 
“ How kind of God! Hear mamma, when your little Rose i* 
dead, 
Will the angels spread a covering above her tiny bed?” 
“ Ihnu land of Gold'' all, then, my heart, go be thou reconciled, 
That He has taken to Himself my Rose, my Cndeftled. 
“ He docth all things well,”—llis will is bind. 1 know; 
Content 1*11 leave my child alone beneath the drifting snow. 
Hillsdale, Mich., 1862. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
CHIEDREN. 
The very mention of these Household Treasures 
imparts new charms to every lover of innocence 
and true simplicity. What though their tiny foot¬ 
prints bear the marks of helplessness, uud, per¬ 
chance. engender cares sometimes grievous? These 
very same dependences are many times the only 
requisites to rouse the soul for her high and holy 
mission of labor and of love. 
Mankind universally yearns for something upon 
which to bestow their affections, and they will claim 
it, too, however strange the choice. Different as 
may be the selections ot each, but few remain who 
do not sooner or later in life delight in the compan¬ 
ionship of children. Calloused, indeed, must be the 
heart that can never, amid all its penetrations, 
search the depths of one young spirit and there 
receive profit and entertainment. 
Children have oft brought out, as they alone can 
do, the gems from sordid souls. The mightiest in 
sin have each a vein of worth sometimes reserved 
for none but childhood’s magic dart to penetrate. 
Yes, Magic lends Iter wand to hind 
Childhood’S powers to the .strong 
In years, in stature, will and mind ; 
To reach, and renovate the wrong. 
The man of penury and grief has plead in vain 
for aid and sympathy, while many a child with 
frank and winning utterance has reached the miser’s 
soul, and with it even his purse, and borne away a 
blessing. 
Arc you a mother and do you falter with your 
load of care just when adversity darkens life’s sweet 
sunshine? Press on, and gather the sunbeams scat¬ 
tered by your darlings through the storm, and time 
shall lengthen your reward. 
Their eve is open to every tear, 
Their ear to every sigh ; 
Then why will you create a fear, 
Yea, mothers, trll me why ? 
They blunt the edge of sorrow in their free 
mockery of Nature’s music, and bid us join the 
chorus. As teachers of many an art, who can ques¬ 
tion their skill? Natural and free as air itself, 
they teach the best, most beautiful lessons. Their 
exercise of laith and confidence is but another 
feature ot their school of nature. 
As all things here must pass away, they too must 
die. Who has not lost a young, fair sister, brother, 
or child, and felt the utter desolation? Just when 
the buds of infancy well nigh developed were 
unfolding, an angel snatched the brightest as a 
jewel for his crown, and we were left to cherish 
their memories,— how many a passing hour do they 
beguile. 
We have been young, have had our names upon 
the list of children, and have treasured many mem¬ 
ories of those sunny, winsome days, with here and 
there a thorn to mar their beauty. And why the 
briers in childhood’s path? Misunderstanding was 
the plant that bore and nourished them. 
Where is the sprightly, sensitive child that has not 
wished to break the boundary of years from its 
protectors, and at times approach them as though 
they. too. wore children again? If such have been 
our longings, and youthful days have given place to 
years that find us parents, let us profit by OUl - child¬ 
hood’s wishes, in the training of our little ones, that 
they may never sigh for the sympathy and confi¬ 
dence their young hearts claim. And we may ever 
labor with the assurance to cheer us, that children 
will never forget the hearts that love them. 
Mas. Myra. Chelburne. 
Austinburg, Ash. Co., Ohio, 1S62. 
--«- 
A Hint to Young Ladies. — Loveliness! It is 
not your costly dress, ladies, your expensive shawl, 
or gold-laden fingers. Men of good sense look far 
beyond these. It is your character they study — 
your deportment. If you are trifling and loose 
in your conversation, no matter if you are as 
beautiful as an angel, you have no at tractions for 
them. It it is the loveliness of nature that attracts 
the first at tention, it is the mental and moral excel¬ 
lence and cultivation that wins and continues to re¬ 
tain the affeetioh of the heart, Young ladies sadly 
miss it who labor to improve their outward looks, 
while they bestow little or noUiought on their minds 
and hearts. Fools may be won by gewgaws and 
fashionable and showy dresses; but the wise, the 
prudent and substantial are never caught by such 
traps. Let modesty and virtue be your dress. Use 
pleasant and truthful language, study to do good, 
and though you may not be courted by the fop, the 
truly great will love to linger in your steps. 
u Take away the dross from the silver, and there 
shall come forth a vessel for the refiner.”— Prov. 
xxv. 4. 
- » • ■»-• ->- 
If a women is truly beautiful, let not.her beauty 
be made dim by the flash of diamonds. 
EUEJlL 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
BLUE WOOLEN STOCKING- YARN. 
’ Bj.i’E woolen stocking yarn and a pair of white, 
delicate girl hands became mutually acquainted tor 
the first time last October. Never before had so 
homespun a reality been given so cordial a recep¬ 
tion, or so hearty a grasp. 
Fine white Berlin ami Shetland wool — how often 
and often bad those fairy fingers toyed with their 
downy strands, and woven intricate mysterious 
shapes out of their frail threads ! Warm, brilliant 
hued zephyrs, soft tinted zephyrs, smooth snowy 
“cross cotton” and shining linen, had all been 
known and greeted kindly, aye, gladly. But blue 
woolen stocking yarn bad been passed disdainfully 
by to fall into more suitable bauds, such as some 
strong-fingered farmer matron, or Patrick’s wife 
Bridget,— fair misses pretty fingers never thought 
of grasping that. But they did, and of their own 
free accord, too,—strange, was'nl it? 
Who was it left his father's counting room, and 
stopped the counting of round, shining “yellow 
boys.” and white, pearly silver ones, to court less 
shining but sounder Minnie balls? Who was it that 
was dressed juAt like Tom O’Flaiiauty’b son Jamie, 
and marching beside him went away so proudly 
one hazy summer morning mid the shouts of a 
grateful people?—justly proud and grateful for the 
brave noble spirits that bore those marching heroes 
on to save their country's honor. All social grades 
were dissolved, all different ranks broken and 
merged into one rank, one grade—that of true 
hearted soldiers, — the only advantage of social 
elevation to ho a higher moral influence over 
their less fortunate brethren. “Who was that?'* 
“ Will’’— no matter Will who? You would know 
little better if I told, perhaps. That lair brown-eyed 
miss, with the delicate lingers, would have no need 
of asking “Will who?" How busy she knits 
round and round; she has learned to hold the strong 
coarse yarn very firmly, and to knit quite rapidly, 
considering she is such a novice. 
Round and round, one sock is almost done. “If 
he could only get my pair of socks and knew I knit 
them,” She did not say it,—the very utterance of 
the words would have made her cheeks burn. But 
very many times it did glide so noiselessly into her 
thinking. A pair Of Berlin wool sleeves lie in her 
drawer unfinished, meanwhile the socks grow fast. 
One year ago she would have laughed at such 
employment,— now, how earnestly it is pursued, 
and how much more ol a woman she has grown. 
Hqr great brown eyes seem deeper, and ber voice 
has grown more gentle, even to the little tattered 
beggar girl on tbe threshold of their back door as 
she gives her a few stray pence that she never 
would have troubled herself to find one year ago. 
And par! it not all this result has been derived from 
the influence of that new acquaintance. She has 
learned to do what is of some real benefit, and to 
consider something more than her own gratification. 
Nor is she the first, the last, the only one who has 
learned a wholesome lesson from Blue Woolen 
Stocking Yarn. Erie. 
Home, February, 1862. 
—-4— • ♦ • -4 - ■ ■ 
OUR DAUGHTERS. 
The greatest danger to our daughters in the pres¬ 
ent time is the neglect of domestic education. Not 
only to themselves, but to husbands, families, and 
the community at large, does the evil extend. By 
far the greatest amount of happiness in civilized file 
is found in the domestic relations, and most, of those 
depend on the domestic culture and habits of the 
wife and mother. Let our daughters be intellec¬ 
tually educated as highly as possible; let their moral 
and social nature receive the highest graces of vigor 
and refinement; but along with these, let the domes¬ 
tic virtues find a prominent place. 
We cannot say much about our daughters being 
hereafter wives and mothers, but we ought, to think 
much of it. and give the thought prominence for 
their education. Good wives they cannot be, at 
least for men of intelligence, without mental cul¬ 
ture; good mothers they certainly cannot be without 
it; and more than this, they cannot bo such wives ns 
men need, unless they are good housekeepers, with¬ 
out a thorough and practical training to that end. 
Our daughters should be practically taught to bake, 
wash, sweep, cook, set table, and do everything 
appertaining to the order, neatness, economy and 
happiness <>( the household. All this they can learu 
as well as not, and better than not. It need not 
interfere in the least with their intellectual educa¬ 
tion. nor with the highest degree of refinement. On 
the contrary, it would greatly contribute thereto. 
Only let that time which is worse than wasted in 
idleness, sauntering and gossip, frivolous reading, 
and various modern female dissipations which kill 
time and health, be devoted to domestic duties and 
education, and our daughters would soon be all that 
the highest interests of society demand, A benign, 
elevating influence would go,forth through all the 
families of the land. Health and happiness would 
now sparkle in many a lustreless eye, the bloom 
would return to beautify many a faded cheek, and 
doctor’s bills would give way to bills of wholesome 
fare. —Arthurs Magazine. 
The Affections the Food op Life.— The af¬ 
fections are the true food of life. They underlie all 
conduct. From them conduct departs, and to them 
it returns. To many, life is absolute famine without 
love, and a perpetual feast with it. There be some 
who, if they are not loved, and they have no liberty 
of loving, though you place them never so high, 
though you surround them with every element 
touching their vanity, walk sepulchral. No mat¬ 
ter what they have, they are not fed unless they' are 
fed inwardly. They were made to feed at the heart, 
and not through any other part ot them. And 
there are many that are full, and strong, and happy 
when feeding upon love, who, when that is taken 
away, are utterly broken dowu and good for 
nothing; are like one that is starving to death. 
With such persons, while the heart is filled, the 
house is like a palace upon which the sun-light 
rests by day and whose glancing windows make 
artificial day at night.— Beecher. 
-»-♦ ♦ •- 
English Girls. —The English girl spends more 
than one-half of her waking hours in physical 
amusements, which tend to develop and invigorate 
and ripen the bodily powers. She rides, walks, 
drives, rows upon the water, runs, dances, plays, 
sings, jumps the rope, throws the ball, hurls the 
quoit, draws the bow, keeps up the shuttle-cock — 
and all this without having it pressed forever upon 
her mind that she is thereby wasting her time. She 
does this every day until it becomes a habit which 
she will follow up through life. Her frame, as a 
natural consequence, is large, her muscular system 
in better subordination, her streugth more enduring 
and the whole tone of her mind healthier. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
A DAY-DREAM. 
BY JENNY A. STONE. 
Sad and lonely I’ve been sitting 
All this dreary autumn day, 
Listening to the clock's, dull ticking 
While ray heart is far away, 
Where the bright Potomac's waters 
Glide between the emerald shores, 
And the sun its mellow radiance 
On an armed legion pours. 
When I close my eves and listen, 
1 can hear the bugle’s call. 
And the tramp of thousands inarching, 
While the stars float over all. 
I can hear the battle s thunder 
Rising to the vaulted heaven. 
And l think how souls arc parting 
Unanointcd, unforgiven. 
Then the music changes, changes 
To the solemn dirge of death, 
For the bmvo who fought for freedom 
Nolily to their latest breath. 
And J know, though war's rod lightnings 
Still around him flash and leap, 
He I love is laid to slumber, 
O, how dreamless and how deep. 
Can 1 bless the bitter conflict 
That has snatched my hope away? 
Y’et, oh, mighty God of battles, 
Be my txiurdri/'ti hope and stay. 
Let me live to see ber banner 
Free from every stain unrolled, 
Witli the herbage of Freedom 
Sheltered ’ncutli its starry folds. 
Hadley, Mich., 1862. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.^ 
LABOR A BLESSING. 
Was labor divinely imposed on man as a curse? 
That it was has been extensively believed. But 
where is the authority or evidence for such a belief? 
The third chapter of Genesis records that Gun said 
to Adam: “In the sweat of thy lace shalt thou eat 
bread, till thou return into the ground.” Was this 
information, given to Adam of the manner in which 
lie should gain subsistence after leaving tbe garden 
of Eden, a curse? Lotus examine. Before Adam 
and Eve sinned, Adam was put in an extensive 
garden, “planted eastward in Eden,” which con¬ 
tained “every tree that is pleasant to the sight and 
good for food,”—fruit and ornamental trees—“to 
dross it and to keep it,” Afterwards Eve was given 
him for an help-meet* Now as there was no sewing 
required in their housekeeping, and no account 
given us of any culinary vegetables, and conse¬ 
quently no cooking, 1 infer that the help needed 
by Adam was lor the purpose ot dressing and keep¬ 
ing the garden. To dress and keep such a garden, 
all will concede required labor; and, unless an angel 
Came occasionally to assist them, 1 can hardly see 
how two persons could accomplish so much. Labor 
undoubtedly was required of them before they sin¬ 
ned, and if in the climate of Eden, which, nhdoubt, 
was favorable to horticulture, and therefore warm, 
their faces did not sweat* that must have been a 
peculiarity of their constitutions, changed when 
they were exiled from the garden. If, therefore, 
there is any curse in tin' passage quoted, it resides 
in the sweat, and not in the labor. We know, how¬ 
ever. that those who sweat in warm weather, enjoy 
labor better than those who do not. 1 conclude, 
therefore, that neither in the labor, nor in the sweat, 
is any curse lo be found, Solomon thought as I 
do, vide many passages in Proverbs: “Go to the 
ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise: 
which, having no guide, overseer or ruler,provideth 
her meat in the summer, and gathoreth her food in 
the harvest."—<i: S. “ The soul of the diligent shall 
be made fat."—13:4. “Sees! thou a man diligent in 
his business? he shall stand before kings; he shall 
not stand before mean men.—22:213. And in Eccle¬ 
siastes: “The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, 
whether he eat little or much; but the abundance of 
the rich will not sutler him to sleep.’’—5:12, Does a 
curse reside in that which produces sweet sleep? If 
labor is a curse, like does not beget like, for it is 
fruitful in blessings; and labor may be itself, if pro¬ 
perly associated, a well spring of enjoyment Great 
mischief, and many curses, have arisen in thisworld 
from separating its inhabitants into two classes, one 
of which shall labor in order that the other class 
may partake of the fruits of that labor, not enjoy 
them, for the fruits of labor can only be enjoyed by 
those who first labor to obtain them. The feudal 
system is one instance in illustration, the negro 
slavery of our own country another. Yet grinding 
and damaging as thpy both were, and arc, who 
does not know that many a peasant, and many a 
slave, has been happier than his master,—that one 
had sweet sleep and the other not. 
Mental labor, and muscular labor, when properly 
associated, make the best men and women, whether 
we have an eye to health, wealth, wisdom, or virtue. 
So true is this that when parents, under this healthy 
association, acquire wealth, and their offspring make 
the vain attempt to enjoy it in idleness, the result is 
disease and decay. Too many of our boarding 
school farmers’ daughters have not strength to turn 
a cheese, or lilt a large pan of milk, or churn a bowl 
full of butter—have one shoulder higher than the 
other, curved spines and blanched cheeks. Boys 
do not so readily become victims, because the habits 
of society give to them more exercise in the open 
air, and naturally they are more rugged in constitu¬ 
tion. 
Labor a curse! Oh, then, where may we look for 
a blessing? Peter Hathaway'. 
Milan, Erie Co., Ohio, 1862. 
How Health Brightens Things.— God has so 
knit the mind and body together, that, they act and 
re-act upon each other. AVho has not felt that the 
state ol' health gives a coloring to everything that 
happens to him ? One man, whose health is depres¬ 
sed, sees his own fireside, that used to buru so 
cheerily, only covered with gloom and sadness. 
Another, ol' a bright and joyous mind, in the full 
vigor of health, will go forth, and the very desert to 
that man’s eyes will rejoice, and the very wilder¬ 
ness to his view will blossom as the rose, and the 
saddest strains in nature will sound to him the most 
joyous and brilliant'. A sufferer goes out and looks 
on nature, and its roses are all become thorns, its 
myrtles all look like briars, aud Eden itself seems 
like a desert, and tbe sweetest minstrelsy of the 
grove and the forest sounds to him like a wild and 
wailing minor running through all the sounds of 
nature. 
Men should be like wine —they should grow 
better as they grow older. 
THE FLAG WE LOVE. 
Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, is his speech on the 
occasion of presenting a banner to the regiment of 
Senator Wilson, paid the following beautiful tribute 
to our National flag: 
Sir, I must detain you no longer. 1 have said 
enough, and more than enough to manifest the spirit 
in which this flag is now committed to your charge. 
It is tbe National ensign, pure and simple: dearer 
to all our hearts at this moment, as we lift it to the 
gale, aud see no other sign of hope upon the storm 
cloud, which rolls and rattles above it, save that 
which is reflected from its own radiant hues; dearer, 
a thousand fold dearer to us all. than ever it was be¬ 
fore, while gilded by the sunshine of prosperity, and 
playing with the zephyrs of peace. It will speak 
for itself, far more eloquently than I can speak for it. 
Behold it! Listen to it! Every star has a tongue, 
every stripe is nrlioulate. There is no language or 
speech where their voices are not hoard. There's I 
magic in the web of it. It has an answer for every i 
question of duty. It has a solution for every doubt ^ 
and every perplexity. It has a word of good cheer 
for every hour of gloom or of despondency. 
Behold il! Listen to it! it speaks of earlier and 
of later struggles. It speaks of victories, and some¬ 
times of reverses, on the sea and on the land. It 
speaks of patriots and heroes among the living and 
among the dead; and of him. the first and greatest 
of them all, around whose consecrated ashes this 
unnatural and abhorrent strife has so long been 
raging—“the abomination of desolation standing 
where it ought not.” But before all, and above all 
other associations and memories—whether of glori¬ 
ous men, or glorious deeds, or glorious places—its 
voice is ever of Union aud liberty, of the Constitu¬ 
tion and the laws. 
Behold it! Listen to it! Let it tell the story of 
its birth to these gallant volunteers, as they march 
beneath its folds by day, or repose beneath its sen¬ 
tinel stars by night Let it recall to them the 
strange, eventful history of its rise and progress; let 
it rehearse to them the wondrous tale, of its trials 
and triumphs, in peace as well as in war; and, what¬ 
ever else may happen to it or to them, it will never 
be surrendered to rebels, never bo ignominiuusly 
struck to treason, nor ever be prostituted to any un¬ 
worthy and unchristian purpose of revenge, depre¬ 
dation or rapine. 
And may a merciful God cover the head of each 
one of its brave defenders in the hour of battle! 
BOOKS FOR YOUTH AND AGE. 
If one were to arrange the library of a man who 
had always been a reader, according to bis growth 
in years, how very few books would be shifted from 
the child's shelves to the boy's, and thence to the 
man's; so rarely do our book companions grow 
u]> with us, so commonly do we outgrow them, 
and use them only as mementos of former days. 
01 the books which remain with us through 
more than one stage of life, there are very few 
which we enjoy in each of tbe stages. Books of 
adventure, for instance, keep their charm through 
childhood and early youth ; but when our t uwn 
period of adventure arrives, we find it so much 
more intense than our boyish dreams, that Robinson 
Crusoe and his fellows lose their charms; when we 
pass this stago and reach that of steady, quiet life, 
and especially when we enter that period where we 
sil under our own vine and fig-tree, these books 
regain their old charms, because they reflect former 
experience, and help us to live over our more 
impulsive years. So, too, fairy tales arc inseparable 
from childhood, but in youth action finds its poetry 
in romance, and it is in th* years of riper manhood 
that these tales recover their enchantment, because 
it Is then that the spirit of childhood within us 
begins to re-assert itself Childhood has no fore¬ 
knowledge of the struggle of youth and the reflec¬ 
tion of manhood; yet it accompanies each state, and 
finally regains its ascendency: not now, however, to 
be symbolized by the*innocence of infancy, but by 
the white-robed figures with palms in their hands.— 
National Quarterly Review. 
FORWARD, NOT BACKWARD. 
It is not strange that men recoil from a plunge 
into the world's cold waters, and long to creep back 
into the bath from which Ihey have suddenly risen. 
But that man or woman, having fully passed into 
the estate of man and woman, should desire to be¬ 
come children again, is impossible. It is only the 
half-developed, the badly-developed, the imperfectly 
nurtured, the mean-spirited, and the demoralized, 
who look back to the innocence, the helplessness, 
and the simple animal joy and content of childhood 
with genuine regret for their loss. I want no better 
evidence that a person’s life is regarded by himself 
asafailure, than that furnished bybishonest willing¬ 
ness to be restored to his childhood. When a man is 
ready to relinquish the power of his mature reason, 
his strength and skill for self-support, the independ¬ 
ence of his will and lile, his bosom companion and 
children, Ids interest in the stirring affairs of his 
time, his part in deciding the great questions which 
agitate his age and nation, lus intelligent apprehen¬ 
sion of the relations which exist between himself 
and his Maker, and his rational hope of immortality. 
11 he have one —for the negative animal content 
and frivolous enjoyments of a child, he does not de¬ 
serve the name of a man; he is a weak, unhealthy, 
broken-down creature, or a base poltroon.— I)r. 
Holland. _ _ 
“The Measure of the Strength” of a thiug 
is the measure of the strength of the weakest part. 
To put it in simple phrase, the strength of your 
table is the strength of the weak leg. not that of the 
sound ones. Apply this rule to character, and at 
once many things are explained. We have all been 
perplexed at the numerous brilliant failures we 
have observed—men with talents wo fine and 
promise so great accomplishing little or nothing in 
the life-battle: and we are puzzled daily at the 
learned, able men, whose judgments are all awry, 
and who founder in great seas of light. They are 
victims to this severe law of mental mechanics, 
which renders their strength of character only up 
to the level of their weaknesses — fatal “rills with¬ 
in the lute” too often making “ the music mute.”— 
Exchange\ _ _ 
How sweet are the affections of kindness, liow 
balmy the influence of that regard which dwells 
around our fireside. Distrust and doubt darken uot 
the luster of its purity; (bo cravings of interest and 
jealousy mar not ibe harmony of that scene. 
Parental kindness and filial affection blossom there 
in all the freshness of eternal spring. It matters 
not if the world is cold, if we can but turn to our 
own dear circle, and receive all that our heart claims. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
“IT IS BEAUTIFUL.” 
Last wards of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
• It is beautiful." Tlie words were murmured with her latest, 
faintest breath, 
For the life of that poet woman was yielding up to Death;. 
Ami the golden gates were opening unto her spirit’s gaze, 
And she saw the white robed seraphs and heard the song of 
praise. 
Unseen Angels downward came and took her soul away; 
Of that noble, gifted woman, there was left to us—the clay; 
And the very cloud = seemed weeping for that desolated hearth; 
But the selling sun shone brightly as we gave her back to 
earth. 
‘ It is beautiful ” to live, os she lived, to bless mankind, 
Scattering gems of holy thought from her treasure-laden mind, 
Giving kindly words and actions the weary ones to cheer; 
To many o’er the wide earth her name will e'er he dear. 
“ It is beautiful ” to die as she died with Angels near, 
And glimpses bright of Heaven dawning on her vision clear; 
Leaving earllily home with assurance of a better home on 
high, 
With the knowledge of a well-spent life, “it is beautiful” to 
die. 
Rome, N. Y., 1862. E. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. ] 
EARTHLY PLEASURES. 
We have read of Cain, how long he walked 
nightly on the heights lhat commanded a view of 
Eden, gazing on (hose fragrant, celestial bowers in 
which no human form might repose—flowers whose 
aroma might gladden no human soul, “wasting 
their sweetness on the air around them,”—delicious, 
golden fruits that human lips might never taste, 
dropping, ungathered, on the ground. How the 
desire burned in liis soul to enter and possess what 
ho called his inheritance, regardless that it was for¬ 
ever forfeited, and that he was unworthy to set his 
foot on the holy ground. How he pressed nearer, 
night after night, ever wounding himself more 
deeply on the flaming sword of the Cherubim, till 
the bitterness of his pain made him go raging all 
the day. 
Ho have - 1 ever found it when looking for earthly 
happiness. It is as fair to look upon as the deserted 
garden. If we permit ourselves to gaze, it awakens 
in our soul just such a burning desire, and uncon¬ 
sciously pressing nearer and nearer to grasp the 
golden fruit, we find ourselves pierced through and 
through with the flaming sword. 
Yet Goto is good. We are fallen, and Eden is 
forever lost; but he has sent his Son to redeem us. 
Jews has come to raise us up, and make us meet 
once more to be called the sons of Gun. lie has 
gone to pre]iare for us an inheritance, the beauty and 
glory Of which far exceed that of the Eden lost* 
By faith we can look across the river and see this 
inheritance, and the desire that it awakens in us is 
holy and pleasing in the sight of God. No Cherub 
holds a flaming sword to pierce ns as we press 
toward il, but. the Spirit and the bride say, come; 
and whosoever will may eat of the fruit and drink 
of the water of life freely. 
And this world belongs to our God. He has 
promised that all things shall work together for 
good to them that love Him, and it is our privilege 
to enjoy all the good ihings of this world, using 
them in such a way that they will help us on to 
Gun. Whatever earthly good thing we behold, we 
may say it belongs to our Father, and lie will give 
us so much of it as will be for our good, for no good 
thing will He withhold, lie spared not Ills Son, 
but delivered Him up for 11 s, and we may trust Him 
with safety and thankfulness for all that we need by 
the way. J. A. McMaster. 
Murray, N. Y., 1862. 
ACQUIRED BEAUTY BEST. 
Beauty is an excellent gift of God; nor has the 
pen of the Holy Spirit forgotten to speak its praise; 
but it is virtuous and godly beauty alone which 
Scripture honors, expressly declaring on tbe other 
hand that “ A fair woman, without discretion, is as 
a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout. ’ (Prov, xi., 22.) 
Many a pretty girl is like the flower called the impe¬ 
rial crown, which is admired, no doubt, for its showy 
appearance, but despised lor its unpleasant odor. 
Were her mind as live from pride, selfishness, 
luxury, and levity, as her countenance from spots 
or wrinkles, and could she govern her inward incli¬ 
nations as she does her external carriage, she would 
have none to match her. But who loves the cater¬ 
pillar and such insects, however showy their appear¬ 
ance, and bright and variegated the colors that 
adorn them, seeing they injure and defile the trees 
and plants on which they settle? What the better 
is an apple for its rosy skin, if the maggots have 
penetrated anil devoured its heart? What care I 
for the beautiful brown of the nut, if it lie worm- 
eaten, and till the mouth with corruption? Even so, 
external beauty of person deserves no praise, unless 
matched with the inward beauty of virtue and holi¬ 
ness. It is, therefore, far better to acquire beauty 
than to be born with it The best kind is that which 
does not wither at the touch of fever, like a flower, 
but lasts and endures on a bed of sickness, in old 
age, and even at death.— Gotihald. 
As it is tbe sun that ripens, as it is the sun that 
gives color and flavor, as it is the sun that is required 
to do all things in the life of a plant, so, in the life 
of every man the power of God on the soul is 
indispensable to the development ol the higher 
faculties, and their development in the highest 
forms. 
- »•♦ «-* - 
Labor is of noble birth; but prayer is the daughter 
of Heaven. Labor has a place near the throne, but 
prayer touches the golden sceptre. Labor, Martha 
like, is busy with much serving, but prayer sits 
with Mary at the feet of Jesus! 
John Howard, the philanthropist, is said never 
to have neglected family prayer, even though there 
was but one, and that one his domestic, to join in it; 
always declaring that where he had a tent, God 
should have an altar. 
A good man. when dying, once said, “Formerly 
death appeared to mo like a river, but now it has 
dwindled to a little rill; uud my comforts, which 
were as a rill, have become as the broad aud deep 
river.” 
- -~4—« • 4-- 
Though we die, our prayers do not die with us 
—they outlive us; and those we leave behind us 
in the world may reap the benefit of them when 
we are turned to dust. 
