THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT 
“ It’s rather chilly to-night,” I said, cordially, on 
going into tbe kitchen. 
‘•Yes, ma’am, quite so,” and here a short, dry 
cough set in. I had put the tea-kettle on and the 
short-cake in tbe oven, and the peddler still had 
coughing-spells with short intervals between. 
“Here's a syrup that'll soothe your lungs,” taking 
to him a bottle of cordial that Aunt Susan had pre¬ 
pared lor CiTAtu.tE early in the spring when he was 
getting up from the whooping-cough; "and sit here 
in this rocking-chair; you'll feel better in a little 
while; I hope;— tha* cough must he very tiring.” 
“ It won’t tire me hut a little longer. 1 expected 
to go before the leaves came out; perhaps I shall 
stay till they fall, now.” 
“ Do you go to that better country where pain 
and sickness never enter?” 
“ God has promised me that I shall,” and tbe light 
of holy pleasure that flushed his features, was like 
that which crowns the brows of martyrs, saints and 
angels. 
I envied more than pitied him. The cordial was 
quieting to his cough. I had just spread the table 
for tea, when he asked, 
“ Do you remember Arthur CorEi.AND, once a 
student in R- V 
“ Most assuredly I do; did you ever know him?” 
“ Quite intimately,” and a faint smile played over 
his features;—‘‘you may be surprised, hut 1 am he.” 
And I was surprised, and so was Harry, to know 
that tbe pale consumptive was once the promising 
lad of whom he hud heard me often speak — whose 
skill in mathematics wa« equal to any puzzle or any 
task — whose voice in declamalions could sway and 
thrill with almost electric power. And withal, lie 
was so musical, kind-hearted and generous — the 
favorite of his class and teachers. Poor boy! Six 
ypars had shorn from life all earthly hopes, pros¬ 
pects and realizations, and cups for which his soul 
thirsted had been dashed from his lips. But Tar 
better, he was drinking from the fountain which 
only can satiate thirst, from the cup which Christ 
gave, the woman at the well of Samaria, Partly 
from pecuniary need, and partly because be felt bet 
ter in the open air, he had for some months been 
selling small books relative to the war. 
The erk t was lighter aud the tea more fragrant 
than usual, aud the invalid partook heartily as he 
had eaten no dinner. He staid with us four days 
and then went home to his parents. The summer 
months, filled up with, care and labor—with tidings 
of victory and defeat, ot success, or suffering, or dis¬ 
grace—hurried by. Autumn came with silent tread, 
tinging the forests witti crimson, and there was a 
savor of death in all the air. Oue day we received 
a letter from Mrs. COpkland, Arthur’s mother. 
He staid till the leaves began to fall. h Let me go, 
for the day brcaktth," were his dying words. 
As the occupation and pleasures of childhood 
produce a powerful impression on the memory, it is 
probable almost, every reader who has passed his 
infantile days in nn English nursery, recollects the 
delight wit h which he repeated that puerile jingling 
legend, “The bouse that Jack built” Very few, 
however, are at all aware of the original form of its 
composition, or the particular subject it was de¬ 
signed to illustrate. And fewer still would suspect 
that it is only an accommodated and altered trans¬ 
lation of an ancient parabolical hymn sung by the 
Jews at the Feast of the Passover, and commemora¬ 
tive of the principal events in the history of that 
people. Yet such is actually the fact. The original 
in the Chaldee language, is now lying before me. 
and as it may not he uninteresting to the readers n 
the Congregational Magazine, I will here furnish 
them with a literal translation of it, and then add 
the interpretation, as given by P. N. Lebereciit. 
Leipzic, 1731 The hymn itself is found in Sepher 
Haggadab, vol. 23: 
1. A kid, a kid, my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
2. Then came the cat, and ate the kid, 
That my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
3. Then came the dog, and bit the cat, 
That ate the kid, 
That my faiher bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
4. Then came the staff and beat the dog, 
That hit the cat, , 
That ate the kid, , 
That my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
5. Then came the fire, and burned the staff, 
That heat the dog, 
Tiial bit the eat, 
Toot ate the kid, 
Tha: my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
6. Then came the water, and quenched the fire, 
That burned the staff, 
That beat the dog, 
That bit tha cat, 
That ate the kid, 
That my f -thcr bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
7. Then came the ox. and drank the water, 
That quenched the fire, 
That bum- •! tite staff, 
Tint ben the dog, 
That hit the cat, 
That ate the kid, 
That my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
8. Then came the butcher, and slew the ox, 
That drank the water, 
That quenched the fire, 
That burned the staff, 
That beat the dog, 
That bit the cat, 
That ate the kid, 
Tliat my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
0. Then came the angel of death, and killed 
the butcher, 
That 9lew the ox, 
That drank the water, 
That quenched the fire, 
That burned tho staff, 
That heat the dog. 
That bit the eat, 
That ate the liid, 
That my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
10. Then came the Holy One, blessed be He, 
Aud lulled the angel of death, 
That killed the butcher, 
That slew the ox, 
That drank the water, 
That quenched rhe fire, 
That burned tho staff, 
Tliat heat the dog. 
That bit the cat, 
Tliat atu the kid, 
That my father bought, 
For two pieces of money: 
A kid, a kid. 
The following is the interpretation: 
1. The kid, which is one of the pure animals, de¬ 
notes the Hebrews. The father by whom it was 
purchased is Jehovah, who represents himself us 
sustaining this relation to the Hebrew nation.— 
The pieces of money signify Moses and Aaron, 
through whose mediation the Hebrews were brought 
out of Egypt. 
2. The cat denotes the Assyrians, by whom the 
Ten Tribes were carried into captivity. 
3. Tho dog is symbolical ol ihe Babylonians. 
4. The staff si guides the Persians. 
5. The fire indicates the Grecian empire under 
Alexander the Great. 
G The water betokens the Romans, or the fourth 
of the great monarchies to whom the Jews were 
subjected. 
7. Tbe ox is a symbol of the Saracens, who sub¬ 
dued Palestine, and brought it under tho Caliphate. 
8. The butcher that killed the ox denotes the 
Crusaders, by whom the Holy Laud was wrested 
out. of the hands of the Saracens. 
!) The angel of death signifies the Turkish power, 
by which the land ol Palestine was taken from the 
Franks. 
10. The commencement of the tenth stanza is de¬ 
signed to show that Gou will take signal vengeance 
on the Turks, immediately after whose overthrow 
the Jews are to be restored to their own land, and 
live under the government of their long-expected 
Messiah.— London Congregational Magazine. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE CHRISTIAN WARFARE 
A KINGDOM BY THE FIRESIDE 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker ] 
A loyal and wealthy Maryland farmer named Link, resid¬ 
ing near the Aniietam, hud a daughter born on the day of the 
great battle In memory of tbe event, and ax a mark of respect 
for our distinguished Commander, Gen. McClellan, she was 
named 
“CLELLIE LINE.” 
I am a king in my own domain, 
And my little wife is queen: 
And jointly over our realms we reign — 
A royal couple I ween. 
Beauty and grnee are the robes that flow 
From her lily shoulders down: 
Tho gems of truth on her bosom glow, 
Ami love is her golden crown. 
But her dainty hands are brown with toil, 
Her cheeks with tile breezes' kiss; 
And slm works for a tiller of the soil, 
As if woik for him was bliss. 
“There is no discharge in the Christian warfare;” 
after commencing, it is ceaseless till life ends. But 
if there- is no discharge, neither is there any draft¬ 
ing. Each one is a voluntary soldier, but he must 
be stout-hearted and brave to endure all tho con¬ 
flicts; for the march is a very loDg and toilsome one; 
every step of the way must be contended with the 
••enemy of all righteousness,” and be ia a wily foe; 
he knows all the weak and unguarded points of our 
nature, and before we are hardly aware of it he hag 
attacked 'heat aud we have surrendered. And then 
the terrible struggle to regain lost ground ia not 
known to mortals, but. God maiks every battle 
fought in this spiritual warfare, and each victory 
gains for our promised crowns a glittering geui, and 
we shall know by the sparkling crowns who has 
fought hardest, for “an abundant entrance” into the 
better land. Though all we can do is duly, and af¬ 
ter all the inheritancH is the free gift of Gon; yet 
only to the willing and obedient is it given to eat of 
the fruit, ot the Tree of Life, 
If we put on the whole armor, and keep “watoh- 
fulness and prayer” doing picket duty to wain of 
the advance of the enemy—fighting valiantly when 
we do encounter him—we shall come off victorious 
in the name of our great Commander; and we know 
ibat when we have dropped anchor on this side the 
river, and Ihe dark voyage is ended, we shall land 
in that beautiful country 
“ Where nn blinding beams of noontide, on the vision flash 
and glow; 
Shrouded mi Inight never comcth with her foot fills hushed 
anti slow; 
But undnrkeuing brilliance floateth on the waves of holy air, 
Kindled by the smile eternal which our Father deigns to wear. 
“ There the verdure fadeth never, and the odors never die, 
There beneath unwilling blossoms, piercing thorns may never 
Little Clkllik Line, 
On whose natal hour 
War did fiercely lower. 
Battle raging dire and cannon thundering strong— 
Was thy little life, 
Peaceful mill the strife, 
Love’s caresses soothing with melodious song, 
Clkllik Line ? 
Little Clellie Link, 
Tn thy humble cot, 
Fortune favored spot, 
Sweet thy slumbers innocent may ever be: 
Din of clashing arms, 
Battle's dread alarms. 
Charging hosts and groans of dying reach not thee, 
Clkllik Line. 
Little Clkllik Line, 
As thy worthy name 
Clouds of adverse fame 
Shadow darkly now, as on our suffering land— 
So tnay come to thee, 
On life's troubled sea, 
Storms to dash thy fragile hark upon the strand, 
Clkllik Line. 
Little Clellie Line, 
Trusting in the Right, 
Now we bravely fight, 
Praying God to save us from rebellious throng; 
That, through future days, 
We may ever raise 
To our united land the patriot's proud song, 
Clkllik Line. 
Little Clellie Lixk, 
May thy tender years, 
Bom mid gloomy fears, 
Still like flowers of richest fragrance heavenward grow 
Living long to see 
Peace and liberty, 
Proudly bear tbe name that honor doth bestow, 
Clkllik Line. w. w. k. 
I am the king and the tiller, too— 
My farm is my proud domaiti ; 
And the will to dare and the strength to do, 
Are the sceptres of my reign. 
At my touch the teeming earth yields up 
Her health for my feast aud store; 
The nectar of wealth brims high my cup, 
My measure of bliss runs o'er. 
Oh I ne'er was a happier realm I ween, 
Thun ours, ’neath the arohitig sky: 
And never a happier king and queen 
Than my little wife and I. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker] 
LICHENS-A SIMILE. 
The Book of Nature is full of most beautiful 
lessons, and if we only look carefully, we can at any 
time find them. Every pace has something of good 
to tell us. There is not a tree, or flower, or tiny 
pebble, but has some story of Gun’s great mercy 
and love, written all over it. Sometimes i >, is rather 
difficult, to see cleatly how this is so, but I believe 
we always find it true at last. 
The other day, while passing along the highway, 
T saw many beautiful illustrations of care and kind¬ 
ness from tbe Father's hand; but coming suddenly 
to au old decaying building. I thought surely there 
is nothing here to remind one of God’s love. The 
walls were all crumbling and falling; the doors 
through which, ia tbe long ago, had passed the 
bridal band arid the funeral train were hanging 
loosely upon broken binges, creaking dismally in 
their utter desolation. Flven the windows were 
completely demolished by some rude boys who 
thought it. rare sport to throw stones at them. In¬ 
deed, tho whole house looked bleak and forsaken. 
But on coming nearer. I wns sweetly surprised to 
find those very walls, so damp and dismal—so seem¬ 
ingly forgotten by all who bad ever known life and 
love within their shelter—all covered over with 
beautiful green tnoFses and grey lichens. Lovingly 
had they crept over the desolate ruins, and Destled 
closely in every crevice and corner. They kept off 
the hot rays of the summer sun, Rnd clung the closer 
when winter threw hie cold white mantle over them, 
and when rough winds shrieked around them,' shak¬ 
ing the old walls with strong hand, these tiny 
mosses knit still more tightly together and rendered 
lovely the forsaken ruius. 
So the old house had some friends—some little 
ones to cling around it—even these lowly lichens, 
which neither wind, nor storm, nor burning heat, 
nor winter’s cold, could drive away. I took the 
lesson home; and my full heart thanked God for 
the sweet instruction. 
Our Father's love is like the lichens. When we 
strong men and women grow weak and weary; 
when our pride and ambition leave us in ruins; 
when friends and dear ones grow cold and forsake 
us. God’s holy, loving Son still lingers near us; 
still proffers us love, and peace, and joy, and 
holds out bis arms toward us. clinging closely to 
our poor, discouraged, lonely souls. And in the 
darkest hours, in the most trying scenes, lie mani¬ 
fests Himself the most gloriously. He will never 
forsake us in sorrow or death, but when the world 
stands afar oil’, He will druw the nearer. 
Christian, take courage! God has not forgotten 
thee. He will never leave thee nor forsake. 
Wilson, N. Y., 1862. Alice Brown Nioboi.s. 
Music suffer, anil diviner, than from earthly lyres has rolled, 
Through angelic utterance breaketb aud from quivering 
chords ot' gold. 
“ Tears that trembled on the lashes in affliction's keenest 
hours, 
Were as dews of summer evenings, on the thirsty lips of 
flowers; 
Gleaming crowns adorn each forehead by the thorns of sor¬ 
row torn; 
And they wear the whitest raiment who the heaviest cross 
have borne.” 
“ Springside,” N. Y., 1862. L. k. ». 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
A DAY IN JUNE. 
BY MARY J CROSMAN, 
It was five o’clock in tbe afternoon, and raining 
briskly: I sat by the window ill tbe back-parlor, 
holding vigils, as well ns my needle and thread, 
over a half-worn coat. Where to put the stitch in 
time that should save nine, was as uncertain a 
query as ever vexed St. Leuer while solving the 
Enigma of Life. — because of the “general flavor 
of mild decay ” that pervaded the garment, ac¬ 
companied by the usual symptoms of a systematic 
giving out. Nevertheless it had been hung on the 
chair 1 »ack for me “to fix.” All the afternoon 
memory had been treading up and down paths ol 
the past—tarrying at graves, looking upon faces 
long since dust, weeping by the bedside of death, 
where pallid lips moved faintly and whispered, 
“the loved on earth are loved in Heaven;” taking 
by the hand triendss of long ago, still grappling 
with contending forces on the hill-tops of success 
or in valleys of failure; or, better than either, on 
that middle ground where from human life and 
human love, domestic happiness flows out pure, 
virtuous and complete. 
My stitches had been as few as the labors of the 
Lotus eaters, bound 1o enchanted is'ands by pathetic 
music or plaintive song: so I shook off the past, 
grew happy iu the present, and was just finishing 
the coat, and thinking whether I’d best make a straw¬ 
berry short-cake from ihe fruit I gathered before the 
shower, or serve it with sugar and cream, when 
Harry came in. 
“ You've got company,” was his salulalion. “ A 
poor, pale-faced peddler wanted to stay all night, 
and I had'nt the heart to send him on.” 
This was a wet blanket to my enjoyment, for I 
never hud grace of disposition enough to entertain 
peddlers. 
“Where are you going to have him sleep?” 1 
asked, without, rai-ing my eyes; and I thought of 
my two clean beds, one of ducks' feathers and the 
other a mattress, home-made, for we are humble 
folks. 
“ Might ‘colonize him out,’ as they did us at Sara¬ 
toga,” and he looked over toward our tenant-house. 
“ I don't think Pat's wife would fancy a traveling 
poor-house; she's as neat a housekeeper as any¬ 
body.” 
“ Then that plan is incom-paf-ible.” 
I affected not to notice his pun, and by way of 
reply said:—“1 should think it was queer, you’re 
taking him in, when there’s a tavern within a mile.” 
“Well, you see, 1 wanted to practice that precept 
you was talking about yesterday before I forgot it— 
‘ Be not forgetful of strangers, for some have enter¬ 
tained angels unawares.’ ” 
The lines of my face suddenly lost their tension. 
“ Look out there, you're jnil-fering,” said Harry 
to the baby, as she had toddled up to the window- 
seat and with one chubby hand was balancing her¬ 
self and with tbe other reaching out after a box of 
“ Vegetable Pills,” warranted to cure anything from 
chilblains to consumption, I took this opport unity 
to look up and smile, and resolved to be as gracious 
as possible both to Harry and his visitor. 
The former had gone out to get the turkeys under 
shelter; the latter sat by the kitchen fire — his head 
rested on his band, and his eyes were closed as if in 
thought or at rest. 1 caught a glimpse of his (ace 
through the hall-open door —bis sad. solemn, up¬ 
raised face, looking, but for the sorrowful lile that 
trembled upon his thin features, like the chiseled 
statue of despair. My heart uprose in sympathy 
and benevolence; conscience upbraided me lor 
grudging the comforts of my home to a poor unfor¬ 
tunate, somebody’s child and somebody’s brother, 
bound for the same goal, that by one or another 
path, all ot us reach, sooner or later — tbe grave. 
Christ’s life, the pattern tor his followers, came up 
before me —a beautiful, heart-touching plea. He 
sought out the poor and needy, proclaimed that, his 
mission-work directed him first to the lost, bestowed 
upon them life and health, and that greater gift 
which lie must die to obtain. “Inasmuch as ye did 
it to one of the least of these, my brethren, ye did it 
unto me.” And we, who sit at sacraments, who 
bend the knee iu prayer, whose names are on church 
books and whose hopes enter even into the country 
of perfect love, sometimes (ah! too often,) forget 
these, who were the burden of His discourses — 
these, who were and are still the objects of His love 
— these, “my brethren.” 
Goon Deeds.— Good deeds are very fruitful; for 
out of one good action of ours God produces a thou¬ 
sand. the harvest whereof is perpptual. Even the 
faitblul actions of the old patriarch 8 , the constant 
suffering of ancient martyrs, live still, and do good 
to all succession of ages by their example. For 
public action of virtue, beside that 1 hey are pres¬ 
ently comfortable to the doer, are also examplary to 
others; and as they are more beneficial toothers are 
more crowned in us. If good deeds were utterly 
barren and incommodious, I would seek after them 
or the consciousness of their own goodness; bow 
much more shall 1 now be encouraged to perform 
them for that they are so profitable to myself and 
others, and to myself.in others.— Hall. 
A BABY FOUND ON THE BATTLE-FIELD, 
The following is an extract of a private letter 
from a soldier of tbe 14th Illinois. It is dated Bol¬ 
ivar, Nov. 10 : 
“ Let me relate to you a touching little incident, 
that will doubtless strike you as a little strange. 
At the battle of Hatchie, when the conflict was 
raging fiercest, upon advancing, midway between 
the contending forces, we found a sweet little blue- 
eyed baby little thing, as 1 saw it there, bugging 
ihe cold earth, its only bed—the little tear on its 
cheek, 
“ Tliat nature bade it wepp, turned 
An ice-drop sparkling in the morning beam ”— 
unalarmed, ’mid the awful confusion of that fear¬ 
ful battle, with the missiles of death lying thick 
about it and crowding close upon its young exist¬ 
ence, yet unhurl, it seemed, as it lay in its miracu¬ 
lous safety, to say to me, ‘ My helplessness and 
innocence appealed to God, and he preserved me 
in the midst of this reeking carnage. If you will 
make your plaint to Heaven, God will preserve 
your poor bleeding country.’ 
Who would suppose that in tbe wild, fierce battle 
of the Hatchie, where the field was strewn with the 
dead, and the shrieks of the wounded rent the air 
with agony, a great army would pause in the thick¬ 
est of the conflict to save a harmless, a helpless 
child ? Yet the brave 14th, that never yet has 
quailed in battle, did pause, and an officer of the 
regiment ordered ‘our little baby’ to be carried to 
headquarters and tenderly cared for. 
The next day after tbe battle ‘our baby ’ was 
brought before the 14th, and unanimously adopted 
< child of tha regiment-’ Three or four days later, 
strange as it may seem, a poor, heart-stricken, pov¬ 
erty-pinched mother came searching the battle field 
in quest of her child. Imagine if you can the wild 
exclamations of thanksgiving that, burst from that 
poor woman's heart, when informed that her child 
had been rescued, and with a mother’s tenderness 
cared for. I saw the mother receive her child, 
heard her brief prayer for the soldiers who saved it. 
and with the blessings of a thousand men following 
her, she took away 
Our little baby— 
Little blue-ejo'il, laughing baby.” 
Believe and Love. —Believe and you shall love. 
Believe much and you shall love much. Labor for 
strong and deep persuasion of the glorious things 
which are spoken of Christ, and ibis will command 
love. Certainly, did men indeed believe His worth 
they would accordingly lovt? Him; tor the reason He 
cannot but love that which be firmly believes to be 
worthiest of affection. Oh! this mischievous unbe¬ 
lief is that which makes Ihe hpart cold and dead 
toward God. Seek, then, lo believe Christ’s excel¬ 
lency in Himself, and nis love to us, and onr interest 
in Him, and this will kindle such a fire iu the heart 
as will make it ascend in a sacrifice of love to Him. 
—Jeremy Toylor. 
TnE Christian's Trust. —If you have been looking 
at, work, duties and qualification, instead of looking 
to Christ, it will cost thee dear. No wonder you go 
complaining. Graces are no more than evidences; 
the merits of Christ alone, without thy graces, must 
be the foundation for thy hope to bottom on. Christ 
only is the hope of glory. He that builds upon 
duties, graces, etc., knows the merits of Christ. This 
makes believing so hard, and so far above nature. 
If thou believest, thou may every day renounce 
(from being any part of tby dependence) thy obedi¬ 
ence, thy baptism, thy sanctification, thy duties, thy 
graces, thy tears, thy meltings, thy humhlings; and 
nothing but Christ must be held up.— Wilcox. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. J 
THE FIRST SNOW-STORM. 
Who cannot recall, at the approach of winter, the 
delightful sensation they experienced in childhood 
at the coming of the first snow-storm of the season ? 
Standing by the window, lost in the grave reverie 
which a child often experiences, with what enjoy¬ 
ment we watched the great feathery flakes begin to 
fall, slowly at first, dropping here and there on the 
damp earth, but gradually coming thicker and 
thicker until the air is filled with the frozen dowu, 
and the earth whitens fast at its touch. Gazing with 
wondering eyes, the whole scene seemed like a fairy 
land. 
We do not. realize bow much we have changed 
until we witness the same event again, ihe power ot 
association calls up the feelings with which we 
viewed the scene so long ago, and we seem to stand 
(ace to face with the childhood loug since passed 
away. So insensibly has care alter care accumula¬ 
ted, that we do not realize how great a burden we 
bear. 
Few of us, however, would go back to those days 
and begin to walk life's path anew, if we could. 
Although wo may look back on the past with linger¬ 
ing regret, yet we love tbe trials we have endured 
too well to wish we had never known them, for we 
know that, only trout such experiences can come 
anything like self-reliance and self-knowledge. Wo 
cannot judge ourselves in youth, for we have never 
been tried. But ever through life the remembrance 
of our childish appreciation of nature in all her 
manifestations comes back to us, and our hearts in¬ 
sensibly grow fresher aud wanner at the recollec¬ 
tion. 1J - <J. D. 
Geneva, Wis., 1862. 
Controversy. — Wise and good men will avoid 
controversy aud disputation, as far as they can; yet 
they must not determine against them, or condemn 
them indiscriminately; tor when false teachers come 
in unawares to subvert mens’souls; when the fund¬ 
amental truths of tbe Gospel are opposed or pervert¬ 
ed, and the principles of men are poisoned by 
pernicious tenets; we ought to “contend earnestly/* 
(though in meekness,) “ for the faith once delivered 
to the saints;” and to decline controversy in such 
circumstances argues lukewarmness and cowardice, 
rather than meekness and wisdom.— Lr. T. Scott. 
Little Cakes.— As regard the “career of small 
anxieties,” one great art of managing with them is 
to cease thinking about them just at that point 
where thought becomes morbid. It, will not do to 
say that such anxieties may not demand some 
thought, and, occasionally, much thought But 
there comes a time when thought is waited upon 
these anxieties; when you, iu your thoughts, going 
over the same ground again and again lo no pur¬ 
pose, are deepening annoyances, instea l of eula'-g- 
ing in sight and providing remedy. Then the thing 
would be to be able to speak to these fretting liole 
cares, l’lce Lord Butleigh to his gown of state when 
he took it off’ for the night, “ Lie there Lord Treas¬ 
urer.” 
Human Toil.— The sentence of toil and the pro¬ 
mise of glory have issued from the same throne. 
Even our troubles here may make tbe material of 
enjoyments above tho circumscription of the earth. 
AIL are agents in the restorative mercy of the great 
Disposer; all turn into discipline. The obstacles to 
knowledge, the struggle of the heart, the thousand 
roughnesses of the common path of man, are con¬ 
verted iuto the muscular force of the mind. We are 
but sowing in the winter of our nature the seed 
which shall flourish in immortality.—Hr. Croly. 
The Blues.— Cheerfulness and occupation are 
closely allied. Idle men are rarely happy, now 
should they be ? The brain and muscles were made 
for action, and neither can be healthy without vig¬ 
orous exercise. Into the lazy brain crawl spider¬ 
like fancies, filling it with cobwebs that shut out the 
light and make it a fit abode for “ 1 bathed melan¬ 
choly.” Invite the stout handmaiden, brisk and 
busy thought, into the intellectual chambers, aud 
she will soon brush away such unwholesome tene¬ 
ments. Blessed be work, whether it be of Ihe head, 
or the hand, or both. 11 demolishes Chimera as ef¬ 
fectually as Bellerophon. backed by the goddess of 
Wi'dom, disposed of the original monster of that 
name. 
--• -4V • + -— 
Fanny Fern says, to her eye no statue that the 
rich man places ostenta'iously in his window, is to 
be compared to the little expectant face pressed 
against the window pane, watching for its father, 
when his day's labor is done. 
Interpreting Events.— God makes visible to 
men his will in events, an obscure text written iu a 
mysterious language. Men make their translations 
ol it forthwith; hasty translations, incorrect, lull ot 
faults, omissions and misreadings. Very few minds 
comprehend tuedivine tougue. Tbe most sagacious, 
the most calm, the most profound, decipher slowly, 
and when they arrive with their text, the need has 
long gone by; there are already twenty translations 
in the public square. From each translation a party 
Is born, and from each misreading a faction; and 
each party believes that it has the only true text, 
and each faction believes that it possesses the light. 
Literature for all Uses.— Literature has fur¬ 
nished an acceptable instrument for every struggle 
of the age. Iu her golden book every one has 
registered his vote. She is a shield to righteous¬ 
ness and virtue, a temple to wisdom, a paradise to 
iunocency, a cup of delight to love, a Jacob's lad¬ 
der to ihe poet, but also a fierce weapon to party 
spirit, a plaything for trifling, a stimulant to wanton¬ 
ness, au easy-chair to laziness, a spring-wheel to 
gossip, a fashion to vanity, a merchandize to the 
spirit of gain, and has served like a handmaid, all 
tbe great and little, pernicious and useful, noble 
and mean interests of the time.— Menzel. 
■When the celebrated Haydn was asked how all 
his sacred music was so cheerlul, the great composer 
replied:—“ I cannot make it otherwise. I write ac¬ 
cording to the thoughts I feel; when I think upon 
God, my heart is so full of joy that the notes dai ce 
and leap as it were from my pen; and since God has 
given me a cheerful heart, it will be pardoned in me 
that 1 servo him with a cheerful spirit,” 
Faith and Works.—I t is an unhappy division 
that has been made between faith and works. 
Though in my intellect I may divide them, just as in 
the candle I know there is both light and heat, yet 
put out the candle, and they are both gone —one 
remains not without the other; so it is with faith 
and works.— Selderu 
He who keeps himself always in the medium will 
be thought by most to be in some extreme; just as 
they who are iu the center of a circle appear directly 
opposed to those who view them front any part of 
the circumference. 
Authors do not always shine in conversation; al¬ 
though they possess its gold they frequently have 
not its small change. 
