MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 
BY JAMES G. CLARKE. 
Sweet molher, thp birds frotn our bowers have fled, 
The reaper has gathered his sheaves, 
The glorious Summer lies silent and dead, 
And the land, like a pale mounter, grieves: 
But the garden of tu cutty is blooming to-d3j 
With flowers and leaves ever new, 
And the birds and the fountains around it that play 
Arc singing, dear mother, of you, 
Like green shores receding beyond the blue seas 
Seem the years by your tenderness West, 
And youth's merry music grows faint on the breeze 
That is wuttktg me on to life's Vest: 
Yet beautiful seems the mild glance of your eye, 
And the blessing your fond spirit gave, 
As the mists of .he valley hang bright in the sky, 
Though the mountains are lost in the wave. 
1 wonder, sometimes, if the souls that have flown 
Return to the mourners again, 
And l ask for a sign from the trackless unknown, 
Where millions have questioned in vain. 
I see not your meek loving face thro 1 the strife 
Which would blind me with doubting and fear, 
But a voice murmurs “ peace ” to the tempest of life, 
And I know that my mother is near. 
The cold world may cover my pathway with frowns, 
And mingle with bitter each joy; 
It may load me with crosses and rob tne of crowns, 
X have treasures if cannot destroy; 
There's a green, sunny isle in the depths of my soul 
Whose roses the winds never strew. 
And the billows and breezes around it tiiat roll 
Bring tidings of Heaven and you. 
—Broome Republican. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
REPLY TO “AN OPINION.” 
Friend X:— I have “come,” not to “eat you up,” 
but to give you a sort of sensible “talking to.” I 
have been thinking your case over, and have come 
to the conclusion that you must he in a very forlorn 
condition, to call so piteously for deliverance from 
a poor, defenceless old maid. Now, candidly, do 
you not feel slightly conscience-smitten lor making 
the assertion that “you care not for the romance 
that may be attached to her former history of ‘hope 
deferred till the heart was sick,'—of a ‘youthful 
lover lying far beneath the sod,'—of' ‘parents refus¬ 
ing consent to her marriage in her youth?’ ” 
Only think of it! Would you leave her (the 
old maid) since her “disappointment,” throw aside 
all self-respect and true womanly feeling, and 
marry a man she does no! love—simply to gratify 
your sensible (?) caprice, and relievo your pious 
horror of maidenhood advanced? Then “there are 
such cases, you expect, as old maids becoming such 
frotn principle?” Well, have they not, a perfect 
right to do so? Did not Pirn “the aged” live a 
life of single-blessedness? And who shall give us 
a better example? 
“You would like to know, in all reason, what 
need there is of a woman acting so much like a sim¬ 
pleton, because she chances to bo without a hus¬ 
band?” For the same reason, I presume, that some 
women “act like simpletons” because they happen 
innocent little subterfuges, and knows to a dead cer¬ 
tainty your past history, present circumstances, aDd 
future prospects. 
Well, what harm if she does? None in particular. 
It is only being stretched on the rack a little while. 
You have no reason to be ashamed, and you are not 
ashamed. Your boots are beginning to be shabby, 
and we all know the transitory nature of galloon. 
Your fringe is too dark, but you ransacked the city 
and did your best,—“ angels could do no more.” 
You trimmed your bonnet yourself aud saved tsvo 
dollars, which was just what you intended to do. 
“ The meaus were worthy, and the end was won.” 
Your lace is not real, according to the cant of the 
shopkeepers; but it is real—real cotton, real linen, 
real silk, or whatever the material may be, and you 
never pretended it was Honiton or point; and if 
lace is soft and white and fine, ami sets off the 
throat and wrists prettily, I don’t see why it may 
not just as well be made in America for two cents a 
yard, as in Paris for two dollars, or two hundred. 
In fact, this whole matter of lace is something 
entirely beyond my comprehension. Why, I have 
seen women who, in the ordinary affairs of life, 
were neat to a fault, just now foil down and wor¬ 
ship a bit of dingy, old yellow lace, that looked fit 
for nothing but the wash-tub; and when remon¬ 
strated with, excuse themselves by saying, “Why, 
it is fifty or five hundred years old;” which may be 
a very lucid explanation, hut I cannot say I fully 
understand and appreciate it —Country Thinking. 
Wife Ufl 
to have husbands, 
‘storm” and scold most 
furiously; or, that some old bachelors of forty act 
as if they had suddenly been attacked by beart-dis- 
ease if they “chance” to see a pretty Miss of fifteen— 
simply because they know no better. The world is 
made up of variety, and, if it were not manifest in 
the group of old maids, ’twould he a strange phe¬ 
nomenon, and they would cease to be a terrestrial 
tribe. Put 1 argue that the picture you have drawn 
for our edification is “the exception, not the rule.” 
In my experience with old maids, (and I claim to 
have had considerable,) I will guarantee that not 
one in ten have been of the “ simpering, t wisting, 
ready-for-matrimony” sort of maidens you speak of 
In my humble opinion, a genuine old maid is 
really one of the “salt of the earth”-one who, in 
adversity as in prosperity, is ever ready, with a 
smile upon her dear placid countenance and a 
blessing on her lips, to administer consolation to 
every sorrowing heart; who goes on her “errands 
of mercy,” hoping for nothing, asking no remunera¬ 
tion save the heartfelt “ God bless you ” from those 
she has blessed, and the happy consciousness of 
having done her duty. .She looks upon herself in 
her loneliness—just as she is—a necessity in the 
world, and very sensibly sets herself “about doing 
some good”—just as she should, and just as it was 
“originally designed.” So, friend X, even though 
you do occasionally meet with the old maid who is 
“possessed ” with a “mischievous, prying disposi¬ 
tion,” please remember that “Providence wisely 
has mingled the cup,” and that such as these are 
“necessary evils," sent among us to enable us the 
better to appreciate the good. But if you will not be 
convinced of the superior qualities of old maids as 
a “ rule,” 1 hope in compassion for “ the race” that 
you will manage to dispose of yourself ’ere the war 
closes, for should our lovers, who are upon the bat¬ 
tle-field, be sacrificed upon their country’s altar, we 
are, every soul of us, going io be old maids'J Aud 
what a glorious band there will be to comfort the 
widows and latherless, whose, protectors, like ours, 
will have fallen in battle to secure to us the rights 
we shall have gained. Laura Lee. 
Monroe County, N. Y.. 1S82. 
-* — »-*» » » - 
FEMALE CRITICISM, 
Men are so “easy to get along with.” They are 
good-natured and conveniently blind and benevo¬ 
lent. Women criticise you, not unjustly, perhaps, 
but relentlessly. They judge you iu detail, men 
only in the whole. If your dress is neat, well-fit¬ 
ting, and well-toned, men will not notice it, except 
a few man-milliners, and a few others who ought to 
be, and to whose opinion we pay no regard. If you 
will only sit still, hold up your head, and speak 
CHILDREN’S TOYS. 
I often wonder if the children of the present day 
are any ‘app.erfor the variety and artistic perfec¬ 
tion of the toys now invented for their use. Those 
life-like babies, that “really” cry when they are 
judiciously pinched: and “really” open and shut 
their eyes ; these dolls, with all their fine changes 
of raiment and beautiful ringlets, and real little 
houses to live in, with kitchen, chamber and parlor, 
furnished to completeness. In the olden time, im¬ 
agination being lively, quite an interesting doll- 
familv was improvised out of a crooked-necked 
squash, with round cucumbers of different sizes for 
children, any deficiency being supplied hyoid rags, 
for the manufacture of softer babies. As to houses, 
hii old box gaily papered inside, with cast-off spools 
tor tables and chairs, were found admirably suited 
to childish tastes. The mcn-dolls of that day were 
the puzzle. The coats sometimes didn’t look right, 
and the hats aud vests had to be regarded with a 
lively faith. 
Grandpapas and uncles with plethoric purses 
were not so plenty then as now. A quarter on the 
Fourth of July, was a munificent donation, and 
liberty to spend it with all haste, and no questions 
asked, like a passport to fairy-land. Diamonds did 
not glitter then on the birth-day fingers of school 
girls, and their brothers did not expect the “gover¬ 
nor” to bring them a live pony every time he came 
home. “Gymnastics” were performed then without 
a tutor, on the nearest fence, or gate-post, or tree, 
and barrels and stones were lilted without aid from 
l)r. Wind-hip. As for parlor skates, ray young lady 
was set to sweeping and dusting, or ruhbiug in the 
last polishing touches to a well-waxed table. 
The young people then were not critical about 
their presents; t he donor's claim in juvenile eyes to 
generosity or stinginess was not thought of or dis¬ 
cussed. Children then managed to be very well 
contented with whatever simple toys were given, 
and thought it good luck at that Still—success to 
the toy-makers of this day, say we. as to all other 
honest trades. Their ingenuity in working up the 
prominent idea of the day is worthy of admiration. 
What perfect little tey-ieuts we have seen, and camp 
equipages. What pompoiis 1 tallies have we seen the 
juveniles fight, suggested by the account of the last 
reporter, as rehearsed at the “family board,” where 
nobody supposed that “tittle hubby” was listening. 
Iu half an hour after “ Bull Run” was in full blast 
in the back yard, with every enlisting hoy in the 
neighborhood, the victors strutting about as grandly 
as their betters, till mamma's cruel edict, “to come 
right home immediately, and have his dirty face 
washed,” took the big valor out of Johnny in a 
SONG OF THE RIVER. 
Clear and eool, clear and cool. 
By laughing shadow anil dreaming pool; 
Cool and clear, cool aud clear, 
By shining shingle and foaming wier, 
Under the crag where the ouzel sings, 
And the ivied wall where the church bell rings; 
Undefiled for t.he undefiled, 
PJay Py me, bathe in me, mother and child! 
Dank and foul, dank and foul, 
By the smoke-grimed town in its murky cowl; 
Foul and datik, foul and dank, 
By wharf and sewer atid slimy bank, 
Darker nun darker, the further I go. 
Baser and hnser. the richer I grow; 
Who date sport with the sin tmdefiled 7 
Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child. 
Strong and free, strong and free, 
The flood gates are open away to the sea; 
Free and strong, free and strong, 
Cleansing my stream as I burry along 
To the golden sands and the lenping bar. 
And the taintless tide, that wait me afar. 
As I lose myself in the infinite main. 
As a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again, 
Undefiled, for the undefiled, 
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child 1 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
UPRIGHTNESS. 
Among the various classes which form society 
will be found characters in striking contrast, each 
and all bearing some defects, yet these defective 
qualities in the character of any certain individual 
may be just counterbalanced by corresponding wor¬ 
thy traits. In viewing the life and actions of men, 
and contemplating the influence they have exerted 
upon society, it matters not whether they were men 
known far and wide, or spent their lives in the 
retirement of home, if uprightness was their leading 
characteristic, the future will be blessed and bene¬ 
fited for their having lived. It is integrity and 
honesty that constitute an upright life, and are the 
most ennobling traits of man’s character, as these 
not only elevate their possessor in the estimation of 
the good, but also gains for him the respect and con¬ 
fidence of all. It is the preservative of the character 
unsullied by any of the vices which so beset the 
pathway of life. It is in the pleasure days of youth 
that we should most cautiously guard against tempt¬ 
ations, and the young that are most easily led astray 
from the path of duty and of right. For bow often 
will one false step in early manhood cast a shade 
upon the whole subsequent life? A good name is 
above all desired; but few there are who consider 
its real importance. The man of business or the 
man of leisure, who, liy honest means, has acquired 
a name, marked by all that is noble and generous, 
will have secured that which will aid him through 
life, and be as a staff upon which he may lean in his 
last days, and review with pleasure and satisfaction 
his former years. Uprightness of character is the 
stamp of true greatness. We need no better axarn- 
ples than the illustrious names which our own 
country affords. Our Washington, whose name is 
1 inked with every page of his country’s early history, 
was from his very infancy the admiration of all who 
loved truth and those other traits of character which 
make an upright man. 
Example has a deep aud lasting influence upon 
the lives ot all, and a name uprightly sustained is 
no slight legacy to leave to posterity; for it is the 
strongest appeal to virtue, and the severest, reproof 
of vice. The character of man is formed from child¬ 
hood. Youth is that period in which the foundation 
is laid, upon which after years will build the struc¬ 
ture; but in moral as in material architecture, noth¬ 
ing permanent or lasting can be raised upon a 
foundation weakened by the follies of earlier years. 
The many advantages which arise from just and 
honest actions, are everywhere apparent. It mat¬ 
ters not in what department of life man may enter, 
it will be bis aid in every trouble, and insure him 
success through every trial; hut its effects upon the 
tom of the right bronchus. The day after, Mr. Bru¬ 
nei placed himself in a prone position on his face, 
upon some chairs, and bending his neck and head 
and neck downwards, he distinctly felt the coin drop 
towards the glottis. A violent cough ensued, and 
On resuming the erect posture, he felt as if the 
object again moved downward into the chest. Here 
was an engineering difficulty, the like of which Mr. 
Brunei had never before encountered. The mis¬ 
chief was purely mechanical; a foreign body had 
gone into his breathing apparatus, and must be 
removed, if at all, by some mechanical expedient 
Mr. Brunei was, however, equal to the occasion. 
He had an apparatus constructed, consisting of a 
platform which moved upon a hinge in the center. 
Upon this he bad himself strapped, and his body 
was then inverted in order that the coin might drop 
downwards by its town weight, aud so be expelled. 
At the first experiment the coin again slipped to¬ 
wards the glottis, but it caused such an alarming fit 
of convulsive coughing and appearance of choking 
that danger was apprehended, and the experiment 
was discontinued. Two days after, on the 25th. the 
operation of tracheotomy was performed by Sir 
Benjamiu Brodie. assisted by Mr. Key. with the 
intention of extracting the coin by the forceps, if 
possible. Two attempts to do so were made with¬ 
out success. The introduction of the forceps info 
the windpipe on the second occasion, was attended 
with so excessive a degree of irritation, that it was 
felt the experiment could not be continued without 
imminent danger to life. The incision in the wind¬ 
pipe was, however, kept open, by means of a quill 
or tube, until May 13th, by which time Mr. Brunei's 
strength had sufficiently recovered lo enable the 
original experiment to be repeated. He was again 
strapped to his apparatus; bis back.was struck gent¬ 
ly; and he distinctly felt the coin quit its place on 
the right Fide of his chest. Theopeningin his wind¬ 
pipe allowed him fo breathe while the throat was 
stopped by the coin, and it thus had the effect of 
preventing the spasmodic action of the glottis. 
After a few coughs, the coin dropped into his mouth. 
Mr. Brunei used afterwards to say, that the moment 
When he beard the gold piece strike against his 
upper front teeth, was, perhaps, the most exquisite 
in his whole life. The half-sovereign had been in 
bis windpipe for not less than six weeks!— London 
Quarterly Review. 
usings. 
BEECHEI? 
ON FAST HORSES. 
twinkling. Little sisters, too, had hospitals of declining years should he the strongest incentive to 
wounded dolls; anu scraped lint, aud bathed brows, 
and sang them to sleep, with edifying gravity. 
Again, we say, success to these ingenious toy ma¬ 
kers. To the millions who have read Diokens’ 
beautiful creation of the toy-maker aud his blind 
daughter, this subject will always be invested with 
romantic interest.—Fanny Fern. 
HINTS ABOUT CHILDREN. 
Tiie moral teachings should commence with the 
earliest infancy—the physical as soon as there is 
bodily locomotion; the mental, meaning thereby the 
literary, not earlier than the completion of the sixth 
year —not even to the extent of learning the alpha¬ 
bet or repeating by “rote;” mere mechanical me¬ 
morizing. This brain education is especially advised 
in reference only to children whose situation in life 
allows them to study until they are twenty-one. 
The children of the poor — those who must go to 
work and earn something—can with safety begin at 
the age of three or four years, for three reasons,— 
they are out in the open air nearly all the time dur¬ 
ing daylight—their food is plain and not over abun¬ 
dant—the early necessity that they should do some 
thing for a living does not allow time for special 
brain disturbance; and any slight tendencies in that 
direction would be counteracted and repaired by the 
constant muscular aetivilies necessary to their con¬ 
dition. But those children who will have nothing 
to do but “get their education” up to the day of 
entering their 21st year, ought to do nothing for the 
first (bird of that period but to eat and sleep, and 
play out of doors trom morning until night, all the 
year round, except when rain, sleet, or snow are 
falling. 
It is the exercise daily, “ regardless of weather,” 
which works so many almost miracles in the renova¬ 
tion of human health. The vanity ot parents is led 
induce all to follow its precepts; tor when age, with 
all its infirmities shall have come, what would so 
cheer and enliven the latter day as the recollection 
of an upright life. 
■ - - - ♦ ♦ -♦ 
BRUNEL’S MISHAPS. 
Although Brunei died at the comparatively 
early age of fifty-three, it is even matter of surprise 
that he lived so long. He had more perilous 
escapes trom violent death than fall to the lot of 
most men. At the outset of his career, when acting 
as assistant-engineer to bis father iu the Thames 
Tunnel, he had two narrow escapes from drowning 
by the river suddenly bursting iu upon the works. 
Some time after, when inspecting the shafts of the 
railway tunnel under Box Hill, he was one day 
riding a shaggy pony at a rapid pace down the hill, 
when the animal stumbled and fell, pitching the 
engineer upon his bead with great violence; he was 
taken up for dead, but eventually recovered. 
When the Great Western line was finished and at 
work, he used frequently to ride upon the engine 
with the driver, and occasionally he drove it him¬ 
self. One day, when passing through the Box Tun¬ 
ned upon the engine at considerable speed, Brunei 
thought he discerned between him and the light 
some object standing ou the same line of road along 
which his engine was traveling. He instantly 
turned on the full steam and dashed at the object, 
which was driven into a thousand pieces. It after¬ 
wards turned out to be a contractor’s truck, which 
had broken loose from a ballast train on its way 
through the tunnel. Another narrow escape which 
he had was on hoard the Great Western steamship, 
where he fell down a hatchway into the hold, and 
was nearly killed. 
But the most extraordinary accident which befel 
Henry Ward Beecher had a ride lately after 
fast horses, and thus marks time on the subject:—If 
a horse has had swiftness put into him, it is fair to 
give him a chance to develop his gifts. Of course, 
there is a hound. Reason in all things. Even in 
trotting, it is easier and pleasanter for some horses 
to go twelve miles an hour than for others to go 
three. They were made so. Does it hurt a swallow 
to go swifter than an ox? Why not? Because ho 
was made so. It Is easy to do the thing we were 
made to do easily. And a good horse was made ou 
purpose lo g Ofast. ne does it, when wild, of his 
own accord. He does not lose the relish of speed 
I even when domesticated. Take a fine fed horse, 
who. in harness, looks as if he were a pattern of 
moderation, a very deacon of sobriety, and turn 
him loose in pasture. Whew, what a change! lie 
takes one or two steps slowly, just to be sure that 
you have let go of him, and then with a squeal he 
lets fly his heels high in the air. till the sun flashes 
from bis polished shoes, and then olf be goes faster 
and fiercer, clear across the lot, until the fence 
brings him up. And then, his eye flashing, his 
mane lifted and swelling, his tail up like a king’s 
sceptre, he snorts a defiauce to you from afar; and, 
with a series of rearing, running sideways, pawing 
and plnngings, friskings and whirls, he starts again, 
with immense enjoyment, into another round of 
running. Do you not see that it is more than fun? 
It is ecstacy. It is horse-rapture! I never saw 
such a spectacle that I am not painfully impressed 
with the inhumanity of not letting horses run. 
Fastness is a virtue. Our mistaken moderation is 
depriving him of it. I drive fast on principle. 1 
do it for the sake of being at one with nature. To 
drive slow, only and always, is to treat a horse as if 
he were an ox. You may be slow, if you flunk 
proper. But your horse should be kept up to 
nature. He would have but two legs, if it was 
meant that he should go only at a “go-to-meeting ” 
pace, He has four legs. Of course he ought to do 
a great deal with them. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HYMN. 
j 
BY A. T. K. CLARKE. 
“NAOMI." 
Gon, flowers and stars,—each star and flower, 
My throbbing heart, and all, 
• Proclaim Thy love, Thy care, and power; 
. On Thee, ou Thee, I coll. ■« 
My faintest sigh can reach thy skies, 
' And bring the grace I seek; 
Dear Lord, behold ray tears and sighs— 
i Thou knowest I am weak. 
I little know, but Thou art wise, 
To draw thine own above; 
’Mid pain no more earth's passions rise— 
E'en sorrows prove Thy love. 
May light, and faith, and grace, he given, 
And all l need to me; 
That I may live alone for Heaven— 
Alive, to naught but Thee. 
Then I shall trust Thee to the end, 
Whatever changes come; 
Still knowing Thou, the Loving Friend, 
Wilt bring me to Thy home. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
DEAD! 
Dead !—and the little feet that danced so merrily, 
in the glad sunshine, and hands that plucked the 
first violets that, grew by the way-side hedge, are 
stilled forever. Just as nature put on her “robe of 
living green,” and decked her bosom with buds and 
tiny blossoms, the death angel imprinted his cold 
kiss on the brow of the child, and its spirit went up 
to Him, who saith “Suffer little children to come 
unto me.” 
Dead! dead! and the fair-haired maiden, full of 
hope, lile, and strength, the orange-wreath yet fresh 
upon her brow, paus.es, for the angel hath sain unto 
her, “come up hither.” Gather for her the richest 
flowers of summer, for she hath passed away iu the 
height of her loveliness. 
Hush! there is a strain of music, among the dull 
October leaves, which seems strangely in unison 
with the bereaved hearts within; for there rests the 
stiffened form of a loved mother. Little ones in 
vain lisp the name, uo answering smile is given 
hack to the loving kiss bestowed on the marble 
brow. 
Hark! how the hoarse winds howl! The earth is 
wrapped in a white garment, like the winding-sheet 
of the dead. Stir the coals, and make the room 
warm, for the cold death-damps are gathering on the 
brow of an aged one. Four-score years hath she 
counted, aud the Father hath said unto her, “Well 
done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the 
joy of thy Lord.” 
Thus the great Reaper puts forth his hand and 
gathers in his harvests. Nina. 
Hillsdale, Mich., 1S6'2. 
-<»♦■»«- 
THE TASK COMPLETED. 
ADVERSITY. 
Thou art a harsii instructor—yet by thee 
We learn important lessons—thou dost teach 
How frail aud fleeting earthly hopes may he, 
How oft the goal recedes we strive to reach; 
Thine iB a form of darkness, and we turn, 
Heart sick and weary, from the sad embrace; 
■Would fly thy dreaded presence ever stern, 
And trembling hide us from tliy frowning face. 
But through the world's dim pathway thy cold hand 
Is leading to a home of joy aud peace, 
Aud on tiie borders of that better land 
Will thy sharp ministry forever cease, 
And we shall ever bless thee, safely landed there, 
And know iu heaven how good thy hitter teachings were. 
when you are spoken to, you can be very comforta- by the “smartness of their children;” but, early him was that which occurred while one day playing 
■L.1 _ f .1 __i __ av. - j ........... . . . • . . - . .: ’ . . _ . . . _. _ . * 1 . 
ble. I do not mean that men cannot and do not 
appreciate female brilliancy; but if you are a good 
listener, and in the right receptive mood, you can 
.spend an hour very pleasantly without it. But a 
woman finds out in the first three minutes that the 
fringe on your dress is not a match. In four, she 
has discovered that the silk of your sleeves is 
frayed at the edge. In five, that the binding of the 
ripe, early ruined, may be said of all precocities. 
11 not actually ruined, there is almost in all cases a 
sudden “ giving out” of the mental powers, and the 
prodigy of yesterday is the mediocre of to-day, and 
the non compos mentis of to-morrow.—Hall’s Jour¬ 
nal of Health. 
Women as Judges of Character.—I t is more 
with his children. Like his fat her, Sir Marc, he was 
fond of astonishing them with sleight-of-baud tricks, 
in which he displayed considerable dexterity; and 
the feat which he proposed to them on this occasion 
was the passing of a half-sovereign through his 
month out of his ear. Unfortunately he swallowed 
the coin, which dropped into his windpipe. The 
accident occurred ou the 3d of April, 1843, and it 
heel ot your boot has worn out. By the sixth, she honorable to have the regard of a. few noble women, was followed by frequent tits ot coughing, and occa- 
has satisfactorily ascertained, what she suspected than to be popular among a much greater number sional uneasiness in the right side of the chest; hut W ord is never lost' but advice, counter to example, -- 
the first moment she “set her eyes ou you,' that you of men. Having i a themselves the qualities that so slight was the disturbance of breathing that it is always suspected. Both cannot he true - one is Repentance. — False repentance has grief of 
trimmed your bonnet yourself. The seventh assures command our love., they are, for that reason, the was for some time doubted whether the coin had j a lse. * mind and humiliation only for great and glaring 
her that your collar is only “imitation; 1 and when better able to appreciate the traits that deserve to really fallen into the windpipe. After the lapse of -* * ♦ ’ + offences, until it supposes pardon for these obtained. 
you part, at the end of ten minutes, she has ealeu- inspire. The heart must be judged by the heart, fifteen days, Sir B. Brodie met Mr. Key in consulta- The greatest and most brilliant of human con- True repentance is a continued war against sin, a 
lated, with tolerable accuracy, the cost of your and men are too intellectual in the processes by tion, and they concurred in the opinion that most ceptions have been the births of a genial moment, permanent inward shame for its defilements, till 
dress, has levelled her mental eye-glass at all your which they form their regards, probably the hall-sovereign was lodged at the bot- and not the wooden carving of logical toil. Death sounds a retreat.— Venn. 
than to be popular among a much greater number 
of men. Having in themselves the qualities that 
command our love, they are, for that reason, the 
better able to appreciate the traits that deserve to 
inspire. The heart must be judged by the heart, 
Burns. — A contemporary of Burns, recently de¬ 
ceased, has left behind him this verbal photograph 
of the favorite poet, in good braid Scots: “In a 
licht blue coat o' his mitber’s making and dyeing, 
aye, and o’ his raither’s sewing iu thae days; and 
his bonny black hair hinging doon, and curling o’er 
the neck o't; a buik in his ban'—aye a bulk in his 
han', and whiles bis bonnet aucath his titber ockster, 
and didn-a ken that ho was bareheaded—gaun about 
the dykesides and hedges; an idler just, that did 
little but read; and even on the hairst rig it was 
soup and soup, and (he buik—soup and soup, and 
then the buik! He wasna to ca’ a verry bonny man; 
dark and strong; but uncommon iuvitin in his speech, 
uncommon. Ye coukl na ha’e cracked wi’ him for 
ae minute, but ye wad ha’e stoodin’ four or five! ” 
-- 
Example is a living lesson. The life speaks. 
Every action has a tongue. Words are but articu¬ 
late breath. Deeds are the foe similes of the soul; 
they proclaim what is within. The child notices the 
life. It should be in harmony with goodness. Keen 
is the vision of youth; every mark is transparent. 
If a word is thrown into one balance, a deed is 
thrown into the other. Nothing is more important 
than that parents should be consistent. A sincere 
word is never lost; but advice, counter to example, 
is always suspected. Both canuot be true; one is 
talse. 
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 stago of mature lile. From the 
birth of her oldest to the maturity of the youngest 
she must work, work, work, watch, watch, watch, 
by day and by night, week in aud week out, for 
months and years, following each other in long suc¬ 
cession. We speak not of maternal work; of the 
labor of the hands to supply the wants of the pbys- 
. ical nature; the answering of, “ What shall we eat, 
and what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we 
be clothed?” Money can accomplish all this, if we 
have it, and if not, we will not sigh, nor fret, nor 
covet; for the heart-work, the solicitude of a good 
mother for a virtuous and honorable character in 
her children, walks forth with a bolder, steadier 
step by the side of frugality and daily labor, than it 
is apt to do if separated from them. 
It is a well known lact that almost all the true 
greatness, ihe noble virtues, the heroism which the 
world has seen, have arisen from the lap of obscu¬ 
rity, poverty, and toil. But the work to which we 
now refer is that which every mother, whether rich 
or poor, whatever the advantages or disadvantages 
of her circumstances may be, is required by the 
most sacred and rigid obligations to achieve—the 
assiduous cultivation of the inner nature, of that 
which makes the true man or woman, that which 
shall live for ever and ever. For this she must be 
always at her post, with never so much as a recess 
from her maternal care and solicitude, toiling on, 
breaking up the ground, sowing tho seed, training 
the tender plant, enriching the soil, watering, nour¬ 
ishing, stimulating every good and pleasant growth, 
until the flowers begin to bloom, and the fruit to 
ripen. Then comes a heyday ot enjoyment, of rest 
and comfort to the mother, in the golden autumn of 
her life, when, surrounded by a group of affection¬ 
ate, dutiful, virtuous, and noble sons and daughters; 
she sits among them in beautiful repose, her face 
radiant in the glow of her own heart’s ever-burning 
love, and the smile of heaven as a halo of light 
about her head—a spectacle to be admired and on- 
vied of all. But this season of comfort, this “ Indi¬ 
an summer ” of maternal life, never, never comes to 
those who evade their responsibilities, forsake their 
trust, and leave their work for others to do, for the 
sake of personal ease, sensuous indulgence, or sel¬ 
fish gratification. The very thiug they seek, they 
lose by a lamentable and hopeless mistake, verify¬ 
ing the words of our Lord, “Whosoever will save 
his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his 
life for my sake, the same shall save it.” 
-♦ ■ ♦ • ♦ - 
Tue Thankful Heart.— If one should give me 
a dish of sand and tell me there were particles of 
iron in it, I might look for them with my eyes, and 
search for them with my clumsy fingers, and be 
unable to detect them; but letme take a magnet and 
sweep through it, and how would it draw to itself 
the most invisible particles by the mere power of 
attraction! The unthanktul heart, like my finger 
in the sand, discovers no mercies; but let the 
thankful heart sweep through the day, and as the 
magnet finds the iron, so it will find in every hour 
some heavenly blessings; only the iron in God’s 
sand is gold.— 0. W. Holmes. 
The greatest and most brilliant of human con- 
Repentance. — False repentance has grief of 
mind and humiliation only tor great and glaring 
offences, until it supposes pardon for these obtained. 
True repentance is a continued war against sin, a 
