HUBJlL hew- 
XiX 
iCje a 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
IN MEMORIAM. 
Written on the Eleventh Anniversary of my Mother's Death, 
Avgust 10, 1862. 
BY MINN IK 111 NT WOOD. 
Motitkb, O, Mother! beyond the tide, 
Over the river «o deep and wide, 
With j earning* niy heart has called for you 
As I've watched all day in the ether blue 
The fairy forms of a lleeey cloud, 
Looking so much like a spirit-shroud, 
Till, floating down through the boundless sea, 
I thought that you were coming to me. 
Mother, O, Mother I could it not be 
You came to me through the boundless sea ? 
For I heard light- footsteps upon the stair, 
And, softly lingers played with my hair. 
I heard a lullaby sweet and low, 
Calming my heart as in years ago, 
Making my spirit so glad and free, 
While your loving arms encircled me. 
Mother. O, Mother! beyond the tide. 
Over the river so deep and wide. 
In the weary years that since have rolled, 
Cov’ring my heart with a death-damp mold, 
Once and ugain have they passed to thee, 
Till but three are left on earth to me — 
Three, wearing crowns in the “ Land of Light,” 
Three, groping still in earth's Starless night. 
Mother, O, Mother! but three friends here! 
God cannot blame the uprising tear I 
Tears must moisten the dry heart strings, 
Else they break that, hind the spirit wings ; 
But, I'm so glad, Mother, glad for this. 
That you sometimes come and make earth bliss ; 
Although It now holds hut three for me, 
I upward look, for Heaven has three ! 
Hilldale Farm, ffump. Co., N. Y-, 1862. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
REPLY TO MINNIE MINT WOOD. 
Two things yon would like to know! — only two! 
Verily, you must be a happy mortal, if your need of 
knowledge can be satisfied by two things. “ One is. 
why will a man get drunk?” Don't faint, now, sim¬ 
ply because you encourage us in it. Who is it, at 
every parly or social gathering, with sparkling eye 
and rosy lip, bewilderment in every feature, grace¬ 
fully touches glasses and irresistibly smiles. “Your 
health, sir!” Who, when the ball-room grows healed 
and the dancers lew, calls so often for “another glass 
of wine, if you please,” 
An incident occurred last New Year's Day. which, 
though rather old, will serve my purpose. Myself, 
in company with other gentlemen friends, wore 
calling on those who kept “open house.” Passing 
up the marble steps, our summons was answered by 
a pompous darkey, who showed us into the parlor, 
where sat father and mother ready to receive ns; 
but the object of our visit was not present. We 
inquired for her, and learned to our sorrow that she 
was indisposed. Presently the little font-year old, 
Benny, anxious to do his part toward entertaining 
us, and to communicate the most imporlant news, 
came running up with this precious hit of informa¬ 
tion “ Pasaid we shouldn't have wine, and Carrie 
says if we can’t have wine she wont keep open doors. 
Site's up stairs; her door is shut Light it is.” 
General laws have not changed since the world 
began. Eve gave the apple to Adam, and lie ate it 
Please draw- your own inference. If we drink wilh 
you when you make it acceptable, you can’t blame 
those who try to make it acceptable to themselves 
alone. 
The other is, “ Why will a man chew tobacco?” 
As I am a Yankee, I must prove myself a worthy 
descendant of noble sires, and perpetuate their time- 
honored customs by answering your question with 
another. Why will ladies chew yum? Of all things 
horrible on the earth, in the air, or under the sea, a 
icoman with a quid in her mouth is most so! 
Now, it’s a favorite saying of my mother’s, that oue 
good turn deserves anoiher, and there are several 
things that I’d like to know. W}iy will a woman, 
having a respectable form, ruin it, with her health, 
for the sake of making herself look like an hour¬ 
glass? J never imagined angels to have such forms. 
As for Plutonic Dixie, I'm not acquainted in those 
realms. 1 confess that to be entirely out of my 
present latitude. 
Another. Why will you persist in spoiling your 
ptetty faces with lily white and -vermilion? Is that 
womanly? I'm sure its neither manly, nor beastly. 
Why will ladies marry those who chew and drink? 
(please, bear in mind that 1 am addicted to neither 
of the vices,) and why will they sue for breach of , 
promise? Why does every lady who affects litera- | 
ture alliterate so shockingly? Instead of flooding | 
the newspaper world with Minnie Myrtles, , 
Lillie Leas, &c., why can’t we have some sensible ( 
Betsey Smiths or Patty Blynns? Shades of < 
our ancestors, bow we degenerate! Questions mill- i 
tiply, but 1 will ask no more at present, and try and ( 
content myself with a truthtul answer of these. If [ 
Mr. Moore, with his usual kindness, allows us a ^ 
corner of bis sheet, I hone, in a short time, to be “ a f 
wiser and a better man.” g 
In answering your questions, do not infer that I ; 
aspire to a situation in Barm m’h Museum. As I am ( 
somewhat retiring, such publicity would not be at, ( 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
ABOUT CRINOLINE. 
- About the “gracefulness of those expanded 
skirts which sweep the ground, ” gathering all 
the tilth and blocking up the way. so gentlemen 
have “nowbere” to walk, I confess 1 can't see it I 
think, gentlemen, you will have to call a meeting, 
and consult the expediency of constructing an upper 
tier of sidewalks, just above the others, so as to have 
a chance In ihe world with we “expanded” and 
expensive feminines, 
I am an unfashionable woman myself, as every¬ 
body about me knows; and I think it's a shame for 
women to abuse themselves, and others, as they do 
in various ways, by wearing such skirts. They do 
violence to their own sense of neatness, abuse their 
husbands’ pockets, and the wash-women. Yon 
women, who are about your house, superintending 
and doing a part of your work, with your plain 
calico dresses and white skirts trailing along, how 
you do drag out your own existence, and punish 
yourself and others. Wherein is your glory or 
reward? Your dress is not fit for a house costume, 
and certainly unbecoming in the street; so where 
can be found an appropriate sphere for it? I think 
it will do for us to wait till we get to be real angels, 
to wear the flowing robes when we shall have the 
wings to enable us to keep them out of the dust 
and dirt 
Nor would I be on extremes. A dress can lie of a 
reasonable latitude. If is presumable; that we have 
feet and ankles; and if a neat shoe and hose were 
accidental ly discerni ble, would gentlemen beshoclced? 
Come, gentlemen, please speak again. Nothing but 
your candid opinion will ever settle the matter. Do, 
or do you not, admire women as street scavengers? 
If we can only get at the bottom of your hearts—you 
who dare to speak. Brooms, sometimes, do other 
things than sweeping, I have heard. You have to 
Tolerate our whims, whether you admire or not, but 
f, for one, would like to know your sincere views 
on this subject. Queecht. 
GYMNASTIC COSTUMES FOR LADIES. 
Dr. Lewis, in his new work, “The Gymnastic,” 
gives the following hints as to the proper costumes 
for ladies to wear in performing gymnastic exer- 
FATHER IS COMING. ' 
The clock is on the stroke of six. 
The father's work is done ; 
Sweep up the hearth and mend the fire, 
And put the kettle on. 
The wild night-wind is blowing cold. 
’Tis dreary crossing o’er the wold. 
He is coming o’er the wold apace, 
He is stronger than the storm ; 
He does not fee] the Cold, not he, 
His heart it. is so warm. 
For father's heart is stout and true 
As ever tinman bosom knew. 
He makes all toil, all hardship, light— 
■Would all men were the same— 
So ready to be pleased, so kind, 
So very slow to blame! 
Folks need not he unkind, austere, 
For love hath readier will than fear. 
Nay, do not close ttie shutters, child, 
For far along the lane 
The little window looks, and he 
Can see it shining plain. 
I’ve heard him 6ay he loves to mark 
The cheerful firelight through the dark. 
And well do all that father likes, 
His wishes are 60 few ; 
Would they were more—that every hour 
Some wish of his I knew! 
I’m sure it makes a happy day 
When I can please him any way. 
I know he's coming by this sign— 
The baby's almost wild ; 
See how he laughs, and crows, and stares— 
Heaven bless the merry chUd! 
He's father’s self in face and limb, 
And father's heart is strong in him. 
Hark! hark! 1 hear hi* footsteps now ; 
He’s through the garden gate ; 
Run, little Bess, and ope the door, 
And do not let him wait. 
Shout! baby, shout! and clap thy hands, 
For father on the threshold stands, 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE STUDY OF NATURE. 
every shilling? Can’t you trust her? Why can’t 
yon have the soul and generosity in you to pla< e 
, the interest of a certain sum, according to your 
means, at her disposal, and try whether she will 
abuse your kindness, or love you any the less, or 
your borne will be any the less pleasant. Just 
please to try it. 
It would be very hard if the case were reversed, 
and you had to go to her lor every penny, and 
watch her good-natured moods, too. to avoid a harsh 
reproof or unjust censure. Plenty of men there are 
who are worLh their thousands and tens of thou¬ 
sands, who never dreamed it possible to stretch 
their liberality so far as to give their wives the 
independence and pleasure of a small anmiity for 
personal expenses. It she is a good wife and true 
woman, she does not want money to lavish on jew¬ 
elry and laces, She wants to be considered com¬ 
petent to use a little money advantageously and as 
she pleases. And you would not be the loser if you 
allowed her weekly sums for family and household 
expenses. You compel her to go to a store and 
trade and trust, thus paying the highest prices, and 
never knowing just how much Bbe is spending, and 
by and by, when the bills are due—no matter if 
they are far within your income, and not at all 
extravagant—you give her a regular lecture and 
warning. Many women, who had a few hundred 
dollars in their own right when you married, have 
been persuaded to place it, with yours, in some 
investment, and either lost it or lost the control of 
it and the use of if. And now, they cringe and 
crawl to you, afraid to ask for a few dollars! Is 
that fair, gentlemen? 
Please consider these things, and if you never 
have been just before, begin now, and see how 
much it is in your power to increase your own 
happiness by enhancing the love and respect of the 
one you call wife. Make her feel that you consider 
her your equal, and to have rights, and tastes as 
correct as your own. Am I not right, dear Col. 
Moore? I believe you think so, whether you ap¬ 
prove or not And now, good-by till next time. 
Westfield, N. Y. August, 1862. L —y P— d. 
“WHEN THE TIDE GOES OUT” 
Through the weary day on his couch he lay, 
With the life-tide ebbing slow away, 
And the dew on his cold brow gathering fast 
As the pendulum numbered moments passed. 
And t heard a sad voice, whispering, say, 
“ When the tide goes out. he will pass away; 
Pray for a soul’s serene release, 
That the weary spirit may rest in peace 
When the tide goes out.” 
When the tide goes out from the sea-girt lands 
It bears strange freight from the gleaming sands. 
The white winged ships that silent wait 
Fur the foaming wave, or a wind that's late ; 
The treasures cast on a rocky shore 
From the stranded ship that shall sail no more; 
And herpes that follow the shining seas— 
Oh ! the ocean svide shall win all these 
When the tide goes out 
But. from ail that drift from the shore to the sea, 
Is the human aunt to Eternity ; 
Floating away from a silent shore, 
Like a fated ship to return no more. 
Saddest, most solotnn of alt, a soul 
Pausing where unknown waters roll. 
Wtiere sliaU the surging current tend, 
Slowly dividing friend from friend, 
When the tide goes out? 
For our parting spirit, pray, oh I pray I 
While the tide of life is ebbing away, 
That the soul may pass o'er sunnier seas 
Than clasped of old the Hesperides. 
A hark whose sails by angel hands 
Shnll he furled on a sitund of golden sands ; 
And the friends that stand on a silent shore. 
Knowing that we shall return no more, 
Shull wish us jov of a voyage fair, 
With calm sweet sloes, and favoring air, 
When the tide goes out. 
->■ •» . < - 
LOST CHILDREN. 
The most essential feature of the dress is perfect 
liberty about the waist and shoulders. The female 
cosfnme may be never so short, if the waist or 
shoulders be trammelled, the exertions will serve 
no good purpose. If the arms can be thrust per¬ 
pendicularly upward without drawing a quarter of 
an ounce on the dress, the most vital point has been 
secured. It is made very loose about the head and 
shoulders, worn without hoops, but with a thin 
skirt as near the color of the dress as possible, and 
only stiff enough to keep the outside skirt from hang¬ 
ing closely to the legs. This skirt, should he fast¬ 
ened to the belt of the dress so that it will not hang 
below the dress when the arms are raised. 
The present style of Garibaldi waist is very beau¬ 
tiful It is particularly appropriate for gymnastics; 
as it allows the freest, action of the arms and 
shoulders. But to permit this waist to fall over the 
belt, which is its peculiar feature, the belt is usually 
made tight enough to keep it in position. This is 
wrong, Buttons should be placed on the inside of 
the belt, the same as on gentlemen's pants for 
suspenders, and the same kind of suspenders should 
be worn. In this way the belt may be very loose, 
and yet, being supported over the shoulders, it will 
remain in its proper position. 
- 
Things worth Forgetting.— It is almost fright¬ 
ful, and altogether humiliating, to think how much 
there is in the common on-going of domestic and 
social life, which deserves nothing but to be in¬ 
stantly and forever forgotten. Yet it is equally 
atnaxing bow large a class seem to have no other busi¬ 
ness but to repeat and perpetuate these very things. 
That is the vocation of gossips,—an order of society 
that perpetuates mure mischief than all the com¬ 
bined plagues of Egypt together. You may have 
noticed bow many speeches there are which become 
mischievous only by being heard a second time; 
and what an army ol both sexes are sworn to see to 
it, that the fatal repetition shall be had. Blessed is 
that man or woman that can let drop all the burrs 
uud thistles, instead of picking them up. and fast¬ 
ening them on to Ihe next passenger! Would we 
only let the vexing and malicious saying die, how 
fast the lacerated and scandal ridden world would 
gei healed and tranquilized.— Dr. Huntington. 
(please Dear in mind tliat_ t am addicted to neither The World ok Flowers.-IC it were for me to 
ot the vices.) and why will they sue for breach ol direct how little girls and boys should he led to 
promise? Why does every lady who affects litera- think of the w is.dom aud g00 dness and power of 
tme alliterate so shockingly? Instead o! flooding God, I think I should say, make them acquainted 
the newspaper world with Minnie Myrtles, witU the wor] j of flowers . Let them be taU ght, 
Li i.t.ti. Leas, &c., why can t we have some sensible even while little children, to tell the common names 
Betsey Smiths or 1 atty Blynns? Shades of of flowers. Let them have little spots of ground or 
our ancestors, bow we degenerate! Questions mill- boxes of dirt in which to plant flowers, and take 
tipty, but 1 will ask no more at present, and try and care 0 f them. Let them gather wild flowers on the 
content mysoll with a truthtul answer of these. If hills, in the valleys, over the meadows, in the 
Mr. Moore, with his usual kindness,_ allows us a WO cds, an d along‘the brook. When old enough, 
corner of his sheet, I hone, in a short lime, to be “a give them a cheap magnifying glass, and let them 
wiser and a better man, see the exquisite delicacy of form and structure and 
In answering your questions, do not infer that I tints, and the dependence of each part upon the 
aspire to a situation in BaRnim s Museum. As I am other, and all upon the soil and the shower and 
somewhat retiring, such publicity would not be at (he sun, and so trace the whole to the wisdom and 
all pleasant. So I will cheerfully resign in favor of benevolence of Him who formed and produces 
the one who answers my questions; or if you prefer them all. 
There is no study that awakes such high and 
holy thoughts as that of Nature. Often while wan¬ 
dering in some beautiful grove, far away from the 
din and (urmoil of busy life, we have felt raised 
above the scenes of earth, and it seemed as though 
we were communing with beings of another sphere. 
At such times we often long for the spirit to be set 
free from this earthly house of clay. But do we 
fully appreciate these beautiesof the natural scenery 
which are so lavishly bestowed upon us? In look¬ 
ing upon a rare painting, or listening to the song¬ 
stress as she warbles forth her notes of melody, we 
are entranced; but we can gaze unmoved upon tbe 
scenes which inspired the sonl of the painter as he 
bent over bis easel, or that called forth those melo¬ 
dious strains of music from the songstress. 
God has endowed us with a mind so organized 
that we can appreciate the beauties which are ever 
spread before us; but we have become so accus¬ 
tomed to those scenes that many of us look with 
indifference upon them. , 
We would not. condemn the admiration which 
we possess, in a greater or less degree, for the pro¬ 
ductions of man; for he must Tie inspired from 
Nature to produce great works. Wert? our com- 
munings more with the God of Nature, we would 
arrive at a higher standard of excellence than we 
have yet attained, and we would see more purity 
aud originality of thought in every class of society. 
All possess this love for the beautiful, but in some 
hearts it has been uearly obliterated by the vanities 
of earth. With too many, this beautiful world is but 
a dreary waste, wherein to languish out a misera¬ 
ble existence; but if, in all our acts, we strive to 
accomplish some good, aud to do that which will 
conduce to the benefit of those around us, we shall 
feel elevated, and shall know that with us life has 
not been a failure. 
There is sunshine for all, if we do not go through 
the world with our eyes shut; or rather, if we do not 
close our hearts to the beautiful truths in life. If 
we but learn to look upon the bright side of the pic¬ 
ture, we will see many things in a different light 
than we do when we try to reason ourselves into the 
belief that life for us has no sunshine, but that every¬ 
thing is shrouded in gloom. Let us attend well to our 
thoughts, that they are right; for those impressions 
which are now being made upon our minds can 
never be effaced. They are as enduring as time 
itself. Nellie. 
SL Charles, Kane Co., III., 1862. 
the one who answers my questions; or if you prefer 
it, you shall be styled the eighth wonder of the 
world—or, more preferable still, (not to say more 
wonderful.) a sensible woman. Harry Brown. 
Bachelor's Retreat, Sunnysidc. Mich., 1862. 
American Babies. — I must protest that Ameri¬ 
can babies are an unhappy race. They eat and 
drink just as they please; they are never punished; 
they arc never banished, snubbed and kept in the 
background, as children are kept with us; and yet 
they are wretched and uncomfortable. My heart 
The Doll’s Mission. —The doll is one of the 
most imperious necessities, and at the same time 
oue of the most charming Instincts of female child¬ 
hood. To care for, to clothe, to adorn, to dress, to 
undress, to dress over again, to teach, to scold a lit¬ 
tle, to rock, to cuddle, to put to sleep, to imagine 
that something is somebody— all the future of wo¬ 
man is there. Even when musing and prattling, 
while making little wardrobes and little baby 
clothes, while sewing little dresses, little boddlces, 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
PLAIN TALK TO THE MEN. 
Dear “Col.”:—I f we women are to be allowed 
lree speech in these Rurals, I would like very 
much to have my say about, a few things, and 1 will 
be just as brief as possible, and elucidate tuy sub¬ 
ject; but I don’t like to feel nervous about space, 
and that I must put it all in a very few words, or 
be set aside. 1 wish to speak of and to the men, 
and just as kindly as I can, with the truth on my 
side. I think they are very good, some of them— 
very gentlemanly, intelligent, &c., and mean that 
we shall have enough to eat, and a good home—in 
short, they intend to be called good, and liberal 
providers; and they are, comparatively speaking. 
But they have all of their business so arranged 
that all of the resources of their farms, or trades, or 
merchandize flow into their own pockets, and are 
wholly under their control, and every time wife 
wants a sixpence for private use, she must go to 
you, O lord and master of terrestrial things! You 
pull out a little change. “ How much do you want, 
wife?” As though a few shillings would supply all 
MOVING. 
People who Jive in cities and move regularly 
every year from one good, furnished, right-side-up 
house to another, will think I give a very small 
reason for a vary broad fact; but they do not know 
what they are talking about. They have fallen into 
a way of looking upon a house as a sort of exagger¬ 
ated trunk, into which they pack themselves annual¬ 
ly with as much nonchnlance as if it were only their 
preparation for a summer trip to the sea-shore. 
They don’t strike root anywhere. They don’t have 
to tear up anything. A man comes with a cart and 
horses. There is a stir in the one house — they are 
gone; there is a stir in the other—they are settled; 
and everything is wound up and set going for anoth¬ 
er year. We do these things differently in the coun¬ 
try. We don't build a bouse by way of experiment 
and live in it a few years, then tear it down and 
build another. We live in a house till it cracks, and 
then plaster it over; then it totters, and we prop it 
up; then it rocks, and we rope it down; then it 
sprawls, and we clatnp it; then it Crumbles, and we 
have a new underpinning, hut keep living in it all 
the time. To know what moving really means, you 
must move from just such a rickety-rackety old 
farm house, where you have clung and grown like a 
fungus ever since there was anything to grow— 
where your life and luggage have crept into all the 
crevices uud corners, and every wall is festooned 
with associations thicker than cobwebs that are 
pretty thick — where the furniture and the pictures 
and the kniekknacks are so become a part and par¬ 
cel of tbe house, so grown with it and into it, that 
you do not know they are chiefly rubbish till you 
begin to move them and they fall to pieces, and 
don’t know it then, but persist in packing them up 
and carrying them away for the sake of auld lang 
syne, till, set up again in your new abode, you sud¬ 
denly find that their sacrednegs is gone, their dig¬ 
nity has degraded into dinginess, and the faded, 
patched, chintz sofa, that was not only comfortable, 
but respectable, in the old wainscotted sitting-room, 
has suddenly turned into “an object,” when lang 
synes go by the board, and the heir-loom is inconti¬ 
nently set adrift. Undertake to move from this 
tumble-down old bouse, strewn ibick with the debris 
of many generations, into a tumble-up, peaky, pei ky, 
plastery, shingly, stary new one, that is not hall 
finished, and never will be, and good enough for it, 
and you will perhaps comprehend how it is that I 
find a great crack in my life. On the further side 
are prosperity, science, literature, philosophy, reli- . 
gion, society, and all the refinements, and amenities, 
and benevolences, aud purities of life, — in short, 
all the arts of peace and civilization, and Chris¬ 
tianity,— and on this side — moving. — Atlantic 
Monthly. 
they are wretched and uncomfortable. My heart clothes, while sewing little dresses, little boddlces, sublunary wants. “ I want several dollars, for—.” 
has bled for them as I have heard them squalling by and little jackets, the child becomes a little girl, the “Several dollars! Why, what have you done with 
the hour together in agonies of discontent and dys- little girl becomes a great girl, the great girl be- that money I gave you awhile ago?”—ten, or fifteen, 
pepsia. Can it be, 1 wonder, that children are hap- comes a woman. The first baby takes the place of or twenty dollars, perhaps several weeks or months 
pier when they are made to obey orders and are sent the last doll.— Victor Hugo. ago; and she has bad bet* groceries to buy, supplies 
to bed at six o'clock, than when allowed to regulate 
their own conduct; that bread aud milk is more fa¬ 
vorable to laughter and soft childish ways than 
beef-steak and pickles three times a day; that an 
occasional whipping, even, will conduce to rosy 
cheeks? It is an idea which I should never dare to 
broach to an American mother; but I must confess 
that after my travels on the western continent my 
opinions have a tendency in that direction. Beef¬ 
steaks and pickles certainly produce smart little 
men and women. Let that be taken for granted 
But rosy laughter and winning childish ways are, I 
fancy, the produce of bread and milk. — Anthony 
Trollope. 
M hat is a Datu.ing?— It is the dear, little, bearn- 
iug girl who meets one on tbe doorstep; who flings 
her fair arms around one’s neck, and kisses one 
with her whole soul of love; who seizes one’s hat, 
who relieves one of one’s coat, and hands the tea 
and toast so prettily; who places her elfish form at 
the piano, and warbles forth, unsolicited, such 
delicious songs; who casts herself at one's footstool, 
aud clasps one’s hand, and asks eager, unheard-of 
questions, with such bright eyes and flushing face; 
and on whose light, flossy curls one places one’s 
hand and breathes “ God bless her,” as the fairy 
form departs. 
for the house and children, and so many ways and 
means for it to go, that, though she economized 
closely, and denied herself the smallest luxury, yet 
it 'would disappear, and there were several little 
articles she really needed. But you think she is 
heedless and extravagant —ask her if she thinks 
money grows on bushes, aud tell her she’ll have to 
earn it herself by and by, and then she’ll know 
where it comes from. 
Now, sir, if she is a woman of fine feelings, and 
possessed of common sense, why do you speak to 
your wife in that way? And if you are a man of 
property, why do you place her in the position that 
she must beg of and give an account to you for 
American Hopefulness. —One of the American 
characteristics which most surprised the goodnalured 
Mr. Trollope in his recent journey through this 
country,is the imperturbable good humor and hope¬ 
fulness of the people. He meets frequently people 
who are mined by the calamities of tbe war. They 
never weep, or wring their hands, or tear their 
hair. One man, from whom the secessionists of 
Missouri had taken cattle aud cropB, and all the 
fruit ot the labor of years, merely remarked in a 
quiet way, while he picked his teeth with a bowie 
knife, “Yes, they have been kinder rough with 
me!” That was all; be had nothing else to say. 
Mr. Trollope thinks a genuine American never 
complains and never despairs. Whatever happens 
in the external world, says Mr. T., “the man is 
always there.” 
True Culture.— Alas! how many examples are 
now present to memory of young men the most 
anxiously and expensively be-scbool-mastered, be- 
fcutored, bo-lectured, anything but educated; who 
have received arms and ammunition, instead of 
skill, strength, and courage; varnished, rather than 
polished: perilously over-civilized, and most pitia¬ 
bly uncultivated! and all from inattention to the 
method dictated by Nature herself—to the simple 
truth that as the forms in all organized existence, so 
must all true and living knowledge proceed from 
within; that it may be trained, supported, fed, excited, 
but can never be infused or impressed.— Coleridge. 
- »«♦■■»- 
“When a man takes more pleasure in earning 
money than in spending it,” says a popular writer 
on economy, “ he has taken the first step towards 
wealth.” This is good in its place, but it may be 
well to be reminded, that when a man takes more 
pleasure in hoarding money than in doing good 
with it, he has taken a long step towards perdition. 
Njsyer speak evil of any one, on any pretense 
whatever. 
The following beautiful sentiment, in regard to 
the future condition of children, is from the pen of 
Henry Ward Beecher: 
“When God gives me a babe, I say, ‘I thank 
^ God for this lamp lit in my family.’ And when, 
alter it has been a light in my household for two 
or three years, it pleases God to take it away, I 
can take the cup, bitter or sweet; I can say, ‘My 
light has gone out; my heart is sacked; my hopes 
are desolated; my child is lost—my child is lost!’ 
Or, I can say in the spirit of Job, ‘ The Lord gave, 
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the 
j name of the Lord.’ It has pleased God to take five 
j children from me, but, I never lost one and never 
shall. When I have a child Christ, covets, with a 
divine coveting, and he says to me, in words of 
’ tenderness, ‘ Will you not give me the child, and 
let. me take care of it. instead of yourself?' my 
( flesh may remonstrate, hut my heart says, ‘Lord, 
I take it and adopt it.' I have lived long enough 
since the taking away of my children, to find that 
it is better as it is, than that they should have re- 
mained with me. I have seen a great many cares 
and troubles for a person of my years, but I bear 
witness that God has put no trial upon me which 
has not been good for me to endure. 
As believers in Christianity, which reveals God 
as our Father, and heaven as our eternal home, it 
is our privilege to feel that, when our children are 
taken from us, they are not lost, to ns, but only pass 
on before us to the spirit world, to become angelic 
beings around the burning throne of God and the 
Lamb. Jesus declared that of such is the kingdom 
of heaven. They have gone from us, to live with 
the crowned immortals, to be watched for and 
cared for by tbe angels of light,; and we doubt not 
that they will he among the first to welcome us to 
the shining courts on high.” 
A Salutary Thought. —When I was a young 
man, there lived in our neighborhood a farmer who 
was usually reported <o be a very liberal man. and 
uncommonly upright in his dealings. When he 
had any of tbe produce of his farm to dispose of, he 
made it an invariable rule to give good measure 
— rather more than could be required of him. One 
of his friends, observing him frequently doing so, 
questioned ns lo why lie did it—told him he gave 
too much, and said it would not be to his advan¬ 
tage. Now mark the answer of this excellent man. 
“ God Almighty has permitted me but one journey 
through the world, and when I am gone I cannot 
return to rectify mistakes.” Think of this. But one 
journey through the world! 
Power of Religion.— See, then, how powerful 
religion is; it commands the heart; it commands the 
vitals. Morality, that cornea with a pruning knife, 
cuts off all 8proutings, all wild luxuriances; but 
religion lays the axe at the root of the tree. Mor¬ 
ality looks that the skin of the apple be fair; but 
religion searcheth to the very core. Morality 
chides outward exorbitances, hut religion checks 
secret inclinations. .Religion requires the very 
flower and vigor of the spirit, the strength and 
sinews of the soul, the prime and top ot tlie affec¬ 
tions. It is no empty wish, nor languishing en¬ 
deavor, no Biill-born prayer, nor abortive resolution 
will serve the turn .—Nathaniel CulverweU. 
Human Toil. —The sentence of toil and the prom¬ 
ise ot glory have issued from the same throne. 
Even our troubles bere may make tbe material of 
enjoyments above the circumscription of the earth. 
All are agents in the restorative mercy of the great 
Disposer; all turn into discipline. The obstacles to 
knowledge, the struggles of the heart, the thousand 
roughnesses of the common path of man, are con¬ 
verted into the muscular force of the mind. We 
are but sowing in the winter of our nature tbe seed 
which shall flourish in immortality.—Dr. Croly. 
-» « ♦ ■ »- 
The Like within— Our earthly lives may waste 
and wear like the dropping sand; but the inner 
life can never waste nor wear. Time writes no 
wrinkles upon its brow. It is no fleeting shadow, 
no wasting dream. It must remain unimpaired till 
it reaches that beautiful land where angels dwell, 
and rejoices forever in the presence of God. 
A Beautiful Fancy.— In the “Legend of the 
Tree of Life,” published in New York, in 1775, 
occurs the following: “ Trees aud woods have twice 
saved the world—first by the ark, then by the cross; 
making full amends for the evil fruit of the tree of 
Paradise, by that which was borne on the tree in 
Golgotha. 
Sincere desire after God, and actual communion 
with Him, constitutes the real life of religion.— 
Chapin. 
