intelligence and energy, are also noted as being in 
the art of dress far behind others, who are in every 
other respect inferior to them. We are too much 
governed by fashion. What is becoming to one, it 
seems to be taken fur granted, is to all. So, with no 
regard for anything except fashion, we appear in 
costumes which may have been really pretty for 
those we copied, but which for ourselves are out¬ 
landish. 
When dress comes to be considered as much an 
accomplishment as music or dancing, it will no 
longer be said that Americans do not excel in the 
art Alice A. Stoddard. 
Litchfield. Julv, 1802. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker ] 
OUR HOMES IN' AUTUMN. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WHITE BOSE8. 
[Writtei for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
DOWN BY POTOMAC’S SIDE. 
: M rr> the fast falling shadows, 
Weary, and worn, and late, 
A timid, doubting pilgrim, 
I reached the wicket-gate. 
Where crowds have stood before me, 
I stand alore to-night, 
And, in the deepening darkness, 
Pray for one gleam of light. 
From the foul sloughs and marshes 
IVe gathered many a stain ; 
I’ve heard old voices calling 
From far across the plain. 
Now, in my wretched weakness. 
Fearful and sad 1 wait ; 
And every refuge fails me 
Here at the wicket-gate. 
And will the portals open 
To me who roamed so long, 
Filthy, and vile, and burdened 
With thus great weight of wrong ? 
Hark! a glad voice of welcome 
Bids my wild fears abate ; 
Look! for a hand of mercy 
Opens wide the. wicket-gate. 
On to the palace Beautiful, 
And the bright room called Peace, 
Dowti to tlie silver river. 
Where thou slialt find release ; 
Up to the radiant city 
Where shining ones await; 
On, for the way of glory 
Lies through the wicket-gate. 
BT AN.Vf RLVIRA HUBBARD. 
Oh, stilt, as the kiss of Charity 
The moonlight touches the purity 
Of roses clustering near ; 
Sweet is the fall of the silvery dew— 
It stealetb the holy silence through 
Softly as Pity's tear. 
Y’e wruld deem that an angel’s brooding wing 
A shadow down on my heart could fling 
As soon as summer's snow. 
Hjw dark the shade that the moon-lit drift 
Throws down in the weary eyes I lift. 
Only my God can know. 
Thou’rt meelconed, proud heart; since yester mom 
Thine altar burned with unhallowed scorn 
For lips that whispered *’ come!” 
Mart is dying alone, I ween ; 
How can I pass thcgulf between 
The pure and/aLlcD one ? 
Cool, and still, on my throbbing brow 
The hand of rtie night is resting now. 
Anear to her mother heart 
I sweetly jest, till ray aching one 
Is pulsing in holy unison— 
All thoughts of pride depart. 
Thh evening fi r burns warm and bright, 
And o'er firth's quiet breast 
To burning bh vv and wearied sight 
Sweet tw®jht bringeth rest; 
But, heedless ir the shade or light, 
Or hush of eventide, 
My heart is fat .way to-night 
By blue ft otnac's side. 
My heart is by i’otomac’s side 
And by a e ueb of pain, 
From which opr household joy and pride 
May neveq onoe again— 
May never kiwi is mother's brow, 
Or clasp hit sister’s hand, 
Or give the gret mg warm and true 
To ail the fi-eside band ; 
For many a tael", we know as strong 
To join the freeman's strife, 
And quick to rl> l>t our country’s wrong, 
Has coined t»throbbing life ; 
Still do we pray though eyes grow dim, 
For AzRAKi shandto stay. 
As if the power'll’ love for him 
Could chart that seal away! 
God help us! fc we would be brave, 
And trustindy look up, 
Even though tin shadow of the grave 
Comes o'er ts uud our hope. 
Teach Tbou out hearts to say “ Tis well!” 
If, as the da s shall glide, 
A nameless solder's death they tell 
Down hy Poomac’s side 
God help us all 1 for those there are 
In other hot es than onrs, 
Who wait for tid'igs from afar 
Through all he fateful hours 
God help the lietrts whose throbs are one 
With battle'i quivering tide, 
And those that sail in prayer watch on 
Down by Poomac's side. 
THE MISSION OF WOMAN 
It is a striking fact, that both the visions of 
angels, both the first annunciations of the resurrec¬ 
tion, and both the first appearances of Christ, were 
made to women. Why was this? Why not to 
Peter, John, Joseph, Nicodemus, or some other of 
the eleven? It cannot be that six facts so import¬ 
ant should have happened without design and 
meaning. Why was it thus ordered? Probably for 
the same reason that placed three women to one 
man at the cross, and now places three women to 
one man at the communion table. The female 
heart has a quicker sympathy and a stronger draw¬ 
ing to religion than the male, and hence is found 
more generally in a state of greater preparedness 
for it. It is more confiding and pure than the male, 
and hence receives the glad tidings with more rea¬ 
diness. The hearts of men come so early and so 
much in contact with a sinful world, that they 
become more seared and hardened than those of 
women, and therefore less disposed to believe and 
obey the Savior. It was so with the male and 
female disciples of Jesus. When the men forsook 
him and fled, and gave up all hope and refused to 
believe the first announcement of the resurrection, 
the women clung to him, even to the end, were last 
at the cross, last at the sepulchre, earliest to return, 
and easiest to believe that Christ bad risen indeed. 
It was doubtless in view of this fact, the greater 
preparedness of heart possessed by the women, 
that those six distinctions were granted to them, 
and that only their eyes were allowed to see the 
angels. 
But as we look a little closer at this fact, we find 
that it was not. so exceptional a fact as it appeared 
at first sight. It soemB strange that the first tidings 
of the resurrection from human lips should have , 
been, not from the lips of apostles, who were to be , 
the authorized heralds of this fact, butfrom the women , 
who were to be forbidden to speak in the church. , 
It seems, at first sight-, a singular exception to the f 
divinely ordained plan for preaching the glad tidings j 
Yet a little reflection will i 
Now I'm the pleader, thou wilt not fling 
My hand aside as a guilty thing ; 
Tis wet with tears I shed. 
Thou wilt not think of my woman’s pride 
If I dare to speak of the Crucified— 
I’ll speak with bowed head! 
Are gathered roses too white and pure ? 
They will not shrink from her touch, I’m sure. 
Didst see how the little child 
At the Tose-bud’s touch in her heart, awoke ? 
Aye, crowned again with the flowers of hope * 
Thank God, she purely smiled. 
A beautiful seal on the brow of clay, 
A gleam flashed out from the gates of day, 
The sleeper wore at mom ; 
Anear to the gates of love IVe trod, 
And over them, traced by the hand of God, 
Read Love’s better than Scorn! 
Black Rock, N, T., 1S02. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
“OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN.” 
The words “Our Father who art in Heaven” 
are, perhaps, the most sacred of any in all the lan¬ 
guages of earth. Falling first from the Savior's 
lips on the ears of the listening disciples, they have 
descended to us through the lapse of centuries, asso¬ 
ciated with some of earth’s holiest scenes. Many 
times have they arisen on the wilderness air, when 
the worshipers had nowhere else to pray; and often 
were the last words breathed by the Ohristain mar¬ 
tyrs of old. No doubt it was one of the first prayers 
that ascended from the Pilgrims’ gladdened hearts, 
when they reached New England's “ rock-bound 
shore.” 
Thousands of times has the prayer gone up from 
grief-laden spirits, and immediately has the blessing 
regret the decline of summer's reign. Then, on each 
briglit-biied leaf, so permeated and bronzed with 
golden sunshine, which we carefully gathered in 
our woodland rambles, were pencilled in dainty 
veinings, pleasing thought-responses to our erratic 
imagination. 
But we’re out in the sunshine; let’s sip the. health- 
giving nectar, while, we award ourselves the benefit 
of the flood of music that is floating up from the 
“sunny side” of the stately wood close by. Just 
note the harmony with which they (the musicians) 
conduct their jubilant choruses. That is our black¬ 
bird minstrelsy in conference, prior to their de¬ 
parture in the direction of the camp grounds of our 
valient volunteers, evidently to inspire them with 
“ Good News from Home." May they greet them 
kindly, hut without salutes from the rifles. 
Monroe Co., N. Y., 1862. L, Bowkit. 
[Written for Mop-e's Rural New-Yorker.] 
ELLATHIA, 
L HEALTH. HAIPINESS, USEFULNESS. 
TnERR is the most iilimate connection between 
the three. Happiness cepends chiefly upon health; 
and without a high ard calm happiness, no man 
can fail to be destitute of an earnest spirit and 
ardent energy, that insure usefulness in meeting the 
active responsibilities o’ a true life. On high con- 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
DRESS A FINE ART. 
A love of the beautiful is implanted in every 
heart However dim this passion may become,— 
however dulled by contact with the ungainly,— 
still it remains, needing only a careful hand to brush 
away the dust, when it will assert its presence, and 
maintain its power. 
As social beings, we are bound by moral laws to 
contribute to the happiness of others, not only in 
the more important affairs of life, but in the slight¬ 
est particular. Every sense which is not perverted 
should be gratified. Love of dress, which, mis¬ 
guided, amounts to vanity, is originally an aesthetic 
It is not a selfish desire to excel others 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE COMING OF THE MA TT, . 
The coming of the mail is an event of much 
interest in the bouse of Unde Ezekiel Johnson. 
He always sets the printer’s bill among his list ol 
the necessaries of life. All his children are pro¬ 
vided with reading that suits their taste and age. 
He doeB not judge their mental appetites by his 
own. For himself he selects a political paper, and 
cits down to enjoy and ponder over its pages. He 
is one who feels a deep interest in the conduct of 
public affairs, and he possesses in a considerable 
do s roo that aumio quality wfiich men call “influ¬ 
ence,” which makes even the member from his dis¬ 
trict glad to grasp his rough hand on election day. 
Elmer, his oldeBt son, a quiet student, takes his 
philosophical journal, and slowly cuts open and 
turns the leaves, seeming to enjoy even the sight of 
its fresh pages. Mary, the eldest daughter, takes 
her Ladies' Magazine, and turns to the new patterns 
tor dresses and embroidery before she settles down 
to the reading matter; while Robert, a youth of 
sixteen, seizes an astonishing literary paper, and 
turns to the moBt tragical story, and reads it eagerly 
for the pleasure of feeling his hair rise on his head. 
He has got too sound a head not to outgrow, in good 
time, his present taste for high-flown nonsense; and 
the probabilities are that he will make a sound, 
practical farmer yet, especially as he is not only 
trusty, but interested in his department of “the 
chores,” while showing a decided talent tor mathe¬ 
matics. Good Aunt Rachel having finished her 
household labors, snatches up the agricultural 
paper and turns to the column of recipes, which she 
scans with the eye of a vigilant judge, while J ohnny 
and Kate good naturedly enjoy together the pic¬ 
tures and stories in their child’s paper. Thus passes 
the busy and happy evening. 
None but those who live as orderly and industri¬ 
ous lives as such families, can really appreciate the 
amount of enjoyment which the coming of the mail 
brings to the dwellers in the country. 
Geneva, Wis., 1862. B . c , D- 
of finished redemption, 
show that it is not exceptional, but the very order 
of arrangement that is repeated in every generation 
of the world. The tact is the same that exists in 
the case of a vast majority of Christians ever since. 
We first hear the story of the cross, the sepulchre 
and the throne, not from the lips of a man who 
stands as an ambassador for Christ, but from the 
lips of a woman,—a pious mother, sister or tmrse,— 
who pours into our infantile hearts this wonderful 
tale of love and mercy. Some, it is true, are left to 
an early orphanage, and some in n gml lt.ee nareni- 
age; but even of these the general fact is true that 
the first knowledge of Jesus is learned, not from the 
lips of men, but from the lips of women.— Dr. 
Moore. 
n. WOHKSD TOO HABD. 
How often this is sail of men occupying widely 
different positions. There are limitations to human 
ability of acting; and if t mau, acting from any in¬ 
centive, attempts too mich, he becomes a Bulferer. 
The limitations make narrow indeed the spheres of 
human activity. 
There is a vast difference in men, and they work 
from motives as greatly differing as their charac¬ 
ters. Some work From necessity,- some, tor the 
purpose of accumulating wealth; some, to do good; 
principle, 
in dress, but is equally manliest when the object is 
one’s self or another. To one in whom this quality 
is well developed, H is as unpleasant to see a child 
iu the street distasteful!v >1 i-abcu»L « \otu. ..I 
nature to have the trees clothed in blue, rather than 
green leaves. 
The art of dressing well does not consist in style, 
quality, taste or judgment, but in all combined. 
The age, occupation and circumstances of the 
wearer should have much to do with the clothes 
he wears. It is out of taste for an artiste, 
whether she be teacher, seamstress or trades¬ 
woman, to dress, even though she can command 
the means, like the daughter of a millionaire. 
The article should be suited to the style of the 
wearer. This is one reason why the French dress 
better than American ladies, with little more 
than half the expense. When plaids are worn 
there, every one, thick and thin, short and tall, 
young and old, does not go into plaids promiscu¬ 
ously, as they are apt to here, Aud so with stripes; 
they have no walking liberty poles dressed in 
stripes. When green is the prevailing color, all, 
light and dark, do not wear it. Their brunettes 
never wear blue, nor their blondes crimson. 
The inspection of a French lady’s wardrobe will 
give you a correct idea of the lady. You can judge 
THE TASK COMPLETED. 
The mother’s work is never done, unless God 
takes it from her by a special providence, until her 
children are old enough to stand and to act for 
themselves on the stage of mature life. From the 
birth of her oldesi. to the maturity of the youngest, 
she must work, work, work, watch, watch, watch, by 
day aud by night, week in and week out, for mouths 
and years, following each other in long succession. 
WITNESSES TO THE SAVIOR. 
The Heavens gave witness. A new star passed 
through the sky at His incarnation; and at His cru¬ 
cifixion. for three hours the sun was darkened. 
The winds and seas gave witness, when at His 
word the tempest was hushed and rough billows 
smoothed into a calm. At the same word the inhab¬ 
itants of the waters crowded around the ship, and 
filled the net of the astonished and worshiping 
disciples. 
The earth gave witness. At His death and at His 
resurrection it trembled to its center. 
Disease gave witness. Fevers were rebuked; the 
blind saw their deliverer; the dumb published His 
glory; the sick of the. palsy were made whole; and 
the lepers were cleansed at Hi 3 biddiag. 
The grave gave witness,when Lazarus came forth, 
and many bodies of the saints which slept arose. 
The invisible world gavo witness. Devils ac¬ 
knowledged His Divinity, and fled from His pres¬ 
ence. Angels ministered to Him in the desert, the 
garden, and the tomb. A multitude sang an anthem 
in the air, in the hearing of the shepherds; and as 
our risen Lord ascended up to glory, they accom¬ 
panied Him .—Herald of the Truth. 
ness than sound courage. It is not sound courage, 
but rather foolish rashness, to throw one’s self 
against difficulties which may be insurmountable. 
Bnt sound courage weighs dispassionately the cir¬ 
cumstances, and does not imagine that really great 
difficulties are insurmountable ones. Sound cour¬ 
age will meet calmly the greatest pains, or the most 
serious complication of adverse or opposing circum¬ 
stances, if there be but a reasonable prospect of 
ultimate success. 
rv. change. 
Laws which are immutable save by the fiat of 
Jehovah are continually and actively in force, 
making mutable everything connected with earthly 
affairs. Not a few changes are wrought by men; 
exhibiting themselves as free and intelligent actors. 
Changes are as various aa the experiences of men; 
being both pleasurable and painful. Changes are 
not, generally, pleasant; they are not, often, even 
when for the better. To illustrate:—We remove 
from a home which has become dear to us, to a new 
home which is better and more attractive in every 
particular; yet, lor a time, our hearts turn with 
ardent desire from the new home to the old. We 
learn to rest with a peculiar content upon things as 
they are, even upon that which is defective about 
us, and upon faults within ourselves, aud dislike 
thoughts of change. But we may most firmly be¬ 
lieve that changes, in the world are in ourselves, 
both the pleasurable and the painful, and in perfect 
accord with the infinite laws of progress, moving 
all things forward and upward toward ultimate 
maturity. 
V. MINE. 
A consciousness of ownership brings pleasure of 
different degrees—from satisfaction, simply, to posi¬ 
tive delight—according to the nature and worth of 
that which is possessed. It is pleasant to look forth 
from home upon broad and fertile acres when one 
can say, “ This is mine.” There is pleasure in the 
possession of the common treasures of earth, until 
they are heaped up to such a degree that all beside 
is hid from the owner’s vision, and Mammon says to 
the soul, “ Soul, my claims upon your attention are 
of chief importance;” and to the soul’s happiness, 
“ Stand thou there, at a distance.” But no earthly 
happiness can compare with that which one experi¬ 
ences when having a sweet assurance of possessing 
and enjoyment; A less number are judges of paint¬ 
ing, and the number who can enjoy fine statuary 
is still smaller; but a well-dressed individual is 
pleasing to the sight of all. This art, unlike the 
others, is not reserved for special occasions, but is 
in constant requisition, for those who understand It 
may be aspleasing in calico as others are in silks 
and velvets. The art does not consist in being 
well dressed half the time, and the other half en¬ 
tirely unpresentable, but in presenting a pleasing 
appearance at all times, not, it may be, gaudily, or 
richly, but well dressed. 
It is positively unkind for an individual to do 
violence to the feelings of others hy all manner of 
'outre clothing and uncouth apparel. It has been 
recommended to those who are subject to that terri¬ 
ble malady, the Hues, immediately upon feeling 
an approaching attack, to dress themselves in their 
best clothes, and sit in the sunshine until the attack 
has passed over. This is a very sensible remedy, 
as it always puts a person in a more comfortable 
state of mind to be well dressed than otherwise. It 
has a lasting influence upon the character. 
As the natural scenery with which one has always 
been associated affects the character, so does the 
dress in which one has been clothed from childhood, 
For instance, the mountains of Switzerland make 
their people a beauty-loving, fearless, independent 
race. So a well-dressed child, if he does not grow 
into an orderly, upright individual, is much more 
likely to do so than another. The impress of onr 
early associations never leaves our minds; and 
whether they are correct or otherwise, our after-life 
will tell. 
IV hen dress is studied as a fine art, acquired and 
practiced, then, our minds becoming more convers¬ 
ant with the beautiful, we shall be mentally im¬ 
proved. It requires as much skill to dress taste- 
SELF-CONTROL, 
It seems to me that all times are alike adapted for 
happiness, and if we grow old, as one should grow 
old, the last days of life must be the happiest of all. 
Every stage of life is but the preparation for the 
next one. It is the treasure-house in which are 
collected all the pleasures that are to make the 
future time happy. The child has indeed but few 
troubles, but they are to him as larger ones prove to 
Iris parents. I asked a friend once, speaking of the 
happy, cloudless days of his childhood, if he would 
like to be always a child? He stopped for a moment, 
and then said “ No.” I think he was right There 
is progress in everything —in our means of happi¬ 
ness, and in our capacity for enjoyment. Then let 
us look back upon the time-wrinkled face of the 
past only with feelings of regret Give me the 
present, glowing and full of life, and the future, 
glorious with its bright visions. I would rather look 
forward than look back; rather spend the golden 
hours in working out present happiness, than in 
vain regrets for the past It is but the helm with 
which to steer her onward course. It is the steep 
and rugged mountain up which lies our way. It is 
not genius nor fortune that paves the way to emi¬ 
nence, but earnestness, self-control, wisdom. These 
are in our hands; let us use them, and when at the 
sunset of life we turn to look back on our path, and 
see it stretching far down before us peacefully, hap¬ 
pily, we may lay ourselves down to rest. 
There are no weary heads or weary hearts on 
the other side of Jordan. The rest of heaven will 
bo the sweeter for the toils of earth. The value of 
eternal rest will be enhanced by the troubles of 
time. Jesus now allows us to rest on His bosom. 
He will soon bring us to rest in His Fathers house. 
His rest will be glorious. A rest from sin; a rest 
from suffering; a rest from conflict; a rest from toil; 
a rest from sorrow. The very rest that Jesus en¬ 
joys Himself. We shall not only rest with Him, 
we shall rest like Him. IIow many of the earth’s 
weary ones are resting in His glorious presence 
now? It will be undisturbed rest. Here the rest 
of the body is disturbed bydaeams, and sometimes by 
alarms; but there are no troublesome dreams or 
alarming occurrences there. Thanks be unto God 
for the rest we now enjoy! Ten thousand thanks 
to God for the rest we shall enjoy with Christ! 
Wearied one, look away from the cause of tby 
present suffering, and remember there is a rest 
remaining for thee. A little while, and thou shalt 
enter into rest. 
Heart-Words. — An old writer has truthfully 
remarked, that we may say what we please, if we 
speak through tears. Tender tones prevent severe 
truths from offending. Hence, when we are most 
tender at heart, our words are most powerful. 
Hence one great reason why our words have so 
much more power during a revival than at other 
times. Our hearts are more tender then than they 
usually are — we feel more, and it is easy lor the 
impenitent to see and feel that our hearts are inter¬ 
ested in their behalf. They feel that our words are 
not mere lip-words, but heart-words. 
Friendship. —It is material, in the preservation 
of friendship, that openness of manners and temper 
on both hands be cultivated. Nothing more cer¬ 
tainly dissolves friendship than the jealousy which 
arises from darkness or concealment. If your situ¬ 
ation obliges you to take a different side from your 
friend, do it openly. Avow your conduct and your 
motives. This is the only way to retain the esteem 
of your acquaintances. 
Old Age.— A healthy old man, who is not a fool, 
is the happiest creature living. It is at that time of 
life only that he enjoys his faculties with satisfac¬ 
tion. It is then he has nothing to manage, as the 
phrase is; he speaks the downright truth; and 
whether the rest of the world will give him the 
privilege or not, he has so little to ask of them, that 
he can take it. 
There are great men enough to incite us to aim 
at true greatness, but not enough to make us fancy 
that God could not execute his purposes without 
them. 
The greatest and most brilliant of human con¬ 
ceptions have been the births of a genial moment, 
and not the wooden carving of logical toil. 
Those that have the excellent faculty of using all 
they know, can never know too much. 
