Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
JENNIE. 
BY M A. DAVTS*. 
Sweet Jennie di nr, 1 know tI k cold dark '-rave 
Hits shelter’d tliee, now cafe beyond the ntorrn; 
We loved thee, yet no art nor love cotihl nave — 
For icy hand of death had jrra^pt thy form. 
And hurling through thy frame hir poison'd dart. 
Left .Jennie pale and lifeless at the tornb; 
Thy form is mirror'd iu our exiled heart, 
As spring that Opes the htids in leafy bloom. 
No more thine infant prattle wo shall hear; 
The toys otir little darling loved so well 
Are all we now cau treasure of our dear, 
Wlille memory binds thee to Its honey'd Cell. 
Al&B 1 too fraill-nn angel being, hero, 
flath need of firmer fabric than thlno own, 
To wage the conflict marshal'd in our sphere. 
And stem the fiercely swelling tide alone. 
While in tho silent city Of the dead, 
Thou shalt slumber on in thy narrow nook. 
May summer breezes fan thy f peaceful head, 
1 lkc dewy breath of morn beside tho brook 
That wanders on in ripples to the sea; 
And floating down among the golden hours 
Of life, we'll cherish these we’ve past with thee, 
As rarest gems that twine with fading flow’rs. 
Branchport, N. Y., March, lbfiO. 
--- 
Written lor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE VOICE OF SPRING. 
“I come, I come!—ye have railed me long, 
1 comeoh?r the mountain with light and song.’’ 
[Hermans. 
Yes, Spring is here! A few more weeks and 
the flowers, “ Nature's Jewels ” will gladden our 
eyes with their bounty and refresh our senses 
with their fragrance. Each season I await their 
coming with impatience. I love them with an 
idolatrous sort of love that I cannot define. I 
love all Nature’s works, but when 1 gaze upon 
her tall mountains, deop rivers, and majestic 
forests, a feeling of mvi: steals over me and I can 
only look and adore silently, unable to find words 
to express the deep feelings that st ir my Inmost 
soul, hut when I turn my eyes to the (lowers, 1 
can find words to express my admiration for 
them, and instead of awe, my feelings are those 
of tenderness—something as 1 feel when looking 
upon little children. And I love them not alone 
lor the beauty they possess, but they are linked 
to my heart by many dear associations. 
There are many of the old fashioned flowers that 
I first remember seeing in my mother’s fiowc.v 
garden, when but a “ woe bairn” I walked by her 
side as she visited each favorite and gathered and 
arranged them in choice bouquets. How wonder¬ 
ful to me seemed their beauty. Years passed, 
and each succeeding one did I stand by that mild 
mother’s side many an hour in the gloaming 
and watched her tend her favorites. And now 
that she has passed beyond the vale, I love still 
more fur favorite flowers, now many pleasant, 
as well as mournful associations, does the sight 
of thorn call forth. As I gaze in Memory’s glass 
a picture of by-gone days come up before me, 
and my eyes fill, although the scene is a pleasant 
one. The father in front of a bright wood fire 
is reading a story in “The New York Mirror” 
to a group of happy children ; the mother sits 
near, knitting stockings for the little feet, and 
at her side stands the cradle that served for us 
ail, and in it now sleeps the pride and pet of the 
household, w hose each lisping word was in itself 
a pearl. At. our right, near tho w indow, is a 
stand of house-plants, splendid geraniums that 
filled the room with their fragrance, and rose¬ 
bushes whose load of buds and blossoms show 
the tender care of w atchful hands. 
Thus flowers are interwoven in nil the pleas¬ 
ant scenes that memory calls up of my child¬ 
hood’s days. 8o may I not love them and long 
for their coming? 
“They apeak of hope to the fainting heart, 
With a voice of promise they come and part; 
They sleep in dust, through the wintry hours, 
They break forth in glory — bring flowers, bright 
flowers.” 
Western New York. lbtHi, o. 5t. n. 
THE PROFESSION OF WOMEN. 
Harper’s Magazine has a paper on the 
profession of women, which is said to be house¬ 
keeping, and which it is declared is thoroughly 
dishonored. Wo qnote the proofs of this 
statement; 
The delicate constitution and falling health of 
young girls, the sickness and suffering of moth¬ 
ers and housekeepers, the miserable quality of 
domestic services, the stinted wages of seam¬ 
stresses, the despair of thousands who vainly I 
strive lor an honest living, the aw ful increase of 
those who live by vice, are more and more 
pressed on the public attention. 
What is tho cause of. all this? The chief 
cause is, that woman is not trained for her 
profession, while that profession is socially 
disgraced. 
Women are not trained to be housekeepers, 
nor to be wives, nor to be mothers, nor to be 
nurses of young children, nor to he nurses of 
the sick, nor to he seamstresses, nor to be 
domestics. 
And yet what trade or profession of men 
involves more diliieult and complicated duties 
than that of a housekeeper. 
When parents are poor the daughters are 
forced into considerable practical traiuing for 
future duties, though many a mother toils to 
the loss of heulth that her daughters may have 
all their time for study and school. 
Iu the more wealthy classes, the young girl is 
subjected to a constant stimulous of the brain, 
involving certain debility of nerves and muscles. 
While woman’s proper business is thus dis¬ 
graced and avoided, all the excitements of 
praise, honor, competition and emolument, are 
' given to book learning and accomplishments, 
i The little girl who used to be rewarded at 
I school for sewing neatly, and praised when she 
[ had made a whole shirt for her father, now is 
; rewarded and praised only for geography, gram- 
1 mar and arithmetic. The youug woman in the 
next higher school goes on to geometry, algebra 
and Latin, and winds up if able to afford it with 
French music and drawing. Twenty other 
branches are udde l to these, not one of them 
including any practical training for any one of 
woman’s distinctive duties. 
The result is, that in the wealthy classes a 
woman no more thinks of earning her living in 
her true and proper profession, than her broth¬ 
ers do of securing theirs by burglary and piracy. 
This feeling in the more wealthy classes 
descends to those Icbs favored by fortune. 
WOMAN’S BEAUTY. 
“ I was glad to have it iu my power to do any¬ 
thing my husband wanted me to do,” was the 
beautiful reply of a wife, long married, of wealth 
and position, when I asked her why, by over¬ 
taxing herself, she had induced great bodily suf¬ 
fering. 
A man wos terribly injured; a muslin bandage 
was essential to his safety; it was not at hand, 
and there was no time to run for it. A young 
woman present disappeared, and returned the 
next instant with the requsite article, taken 
from her under garment, and the poor man’s 
life was saved. 
“ My dear wile, I am hopelessly bankrupt,” 
said a merchant,, when lie entered his fine man¬ 
sion, at the close of a day, all fruitless in his 
endeavor to save himself when men were crash¬ 
ing around him in every direction. “Tell me 
the particulars, dearest,” said his wife calmly. 
On hearing them and his wants to save himself, 
“ Is that all ?” and absenting herself a moment, 
she returned with a book, from between the 
leaves of which she took bank note after bank 
note, pntil enough was counted to lull} meet ail 
her husband’s requirements. “ This,” she said, 
in reply to his mingled look of admiration und 
astonishment, "is what 1 have saved for such a 
possible day as this, from your princely allow¬ 
ance for dressing myself since wc were mar¬ 
ried.” 
If every mother made it her ambition to 
mould her daughter’s heart in forms Like those, 
who shall deny that many a suicide would be 
prevented — that, many a noble-hearted man 
would be saved from a life of abandonment or 
a drunkard's dreadful death, and many families 
prevented being thrown upon society in desti¬ 
tution aud helplessness, to furnish inmates for 
the Jail, the poor-house, the asylum and the 
hospital ? 
- - -a -- 
ECONOMY 18 WEALTH. 
There Is nothing which goes so far toward 
placing yonng people beyond the reach of pov¬ 
erty, as proper economy in the management of | 
household affairs. It matters not whether a 
man furnishes little or much In his family, if 
there is a continued leakage in his parlor; it 
runB away, he knows not how, and that demon 
Waste cries “More!” like the horse-leech's 
daughter, till he that provided has no more 
to give. 
It should be the husband's duty to bring into 
the house ; and it is the duty of the wife to sec 
that none goes wrongfully out of it. A man 
gets a wife to look after his affairs, and to assist 
him in his Journey through life; to educate and 
prepare their children for a proper station in 
life, aud not to dissipate his property. The 
husband’s interest should bo the wife’s care, and 
her greatest ambition to carry her no further 
than ids welfare, or happiness, together with 
that of her children. Tills should be her sole 
aim, and the theatre of her exploits in the 
bosom of her family, where she may do as much 
toward making a fortune as he can in tho count¬ 
ing room or the work-shop. It is uot the 
money earned that makes the man wealthy, it is 
what he saves from his earnings. Self-gratifica¬ 
tion iu dress, or indulgence in appetite, or get¬ 
ting handsomer furniture, or entertaining more 
company than his purse can well allow, are 
equally pernicious. 
- 4 • ♦--- 
Marrying for Snow.—To the question often 
asked of young men as to why they do not 
marry, we sometimes hear the reply, “I am not 
able to support a wife.” Iu one case in throe, 
perhaps, this may be so; but, as a general thlug, 
the true reply would ho, “ I am not able to sup¬ 
port the style In which I think my wife ought to 
live.” In this again wc see a false view of mar¬ 
riage—a looking to an appearance in the world, 
Instead of a union with a loving woman for her 
own sake. There are very few men of Industri¬ 
ous habits, who cannot maintain a wife, if they 
are willing to live economically, und without 
reference to the opinion of the world. Tho 
great evil is, they are not content to begin life 
humbly, to retire together into an obscure posi¬ 
tion, and together work their way in the world— 
he by industry in bis calling, and she by dis 
pensing with prudence the money that lie earns. 
But they must stand out and attract the atten¬ 
tion of others by flue houses and tine clothes. 
Lunact And Marriage.— Even the lunatic 
asylums have their romances. Some years ago 
jthere was in the Colney Hatch, England, a 
young man and a young woman who made each 
other’s acquaintance at one of the monthly balls 
given for the amusement of the inmates. Mad 
though they were, they carried on an innocent 
courtship, and, despite the vigilance of the 
officials, managed a written correspondence. 
Both recovered, and after their discharge, hav¬ 
ing renewed their courtship, married happily. 
So far a? is known at the asylum, neither lias 
had a relapse of insanity. 
uric* Itecel! 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
YESTEREEN. 
nmCBIBED TO DOCTOR E-. 
TIT J. M. 
Glimi-ses ol the goodly Future, 
Foretastes of the rare To Be, 
Through the chinks of others’ fortunes, 
Sometimes are vouchsafed to me. 
Yestereen, I drauk from silver, 
Polished and inlaid with gold; 
Had the thing been mine, I reckon, 
'Twonld for dinner have been sold. 
Yestereen, I saw a picture; 
Zephyr light; an urebln fair; 
’Mong the golden light, and shadow, 
Hwang he, in the purple air. 
Yestereen, 1 saw another, 
Of a matron now I know ; 
Gorgeous as a courtly beauty, 
Seemed she, of the years ago. 
Yestereen, 1 saw two cupids 
Struggling for a marble heart; 
Artist wrought, the sweet Ideal 
Spoke the poet's counterpart. 
VI. 
Say I, with the tranquil Persian, 
“All that’s rich and rare to eee, 
Are but hoarded by their owners 
Now and then to shew' to me.” 
Le Roy, N. Y. 
_■ ■ ■ — 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HANDWRITING ON THE WALLS. 
TiiEUK is an Old story, told in an old-fashioned 
w ay, in an antiquated hook — a book which it is 
uot tho style to bo familiar with uow-a-d&ys,— 
a story of burning characters traced by a hand 
of lire on the walls of a Babylonish banqueting 
hall. “ There is nothing new under thoaun,” la 
a saying of the preacher, to which wc are com¬ 
pelled to give our assent. Strive for novelty, 
newness, and originality as wc may, in ail these 
efforts, when the lapse of years has allowed their 
record to he fairly written webhali find only his¬ 
tory repeating itself. Thus now, uot in flaming, 
firey letters, whose import is hidden from awc- 
struck thousands, hut in signs which may be 
read of all, tiny baby lingers, kiud and tireless 
parental hands,—hands imbued with girlish deli¬ 
cacy, mischief and grace,—hands strong with 
manhoods eagerness to do and dare, are dally in¬ 
scribing on every homestead wall a record by 
which eyes sharp with curiosity, love, or hatred 
shall weigh and try character, mind aud lieu it. 
Is this ail a fancy, an imagination, a mere whim? 
Nay, verily. If in these observing and trying 
days there can be found a man who detests crim¬ 
inals by the quirl of their p’s and q’s, a “ worthy 
preceptor” who rejects all young lady applicants 
for a situation appearing before, him with wrink¬ 
led kids and soiled bouuct-strings, acnsltive 
musicians who with listening earn Interpret the 
hidden meaning of footfalls on the floor, artists 
who deem eyes the t mly “windows of the soul 
J say w here one of each of these observing class¬ 
es cau be found, yon will find seven who inter¬ 
pret handwriting on their neighbor’s walls. 
And lest you should deem rne rash I will fur¬ 
nish proot thereof It Isa bright and pleasant 
summer morning. Good Mrs. Smith, having 
done up the work in good season, thinks she 
will run over to Mrs. Brown’s, next door, to 
take home that cream n’tartar. Seated soon in 
her neighbor’s cool and shady sitting-room, with 
wearied Mrs. B. for a patient listener, she re¬ 
lates neighborhood gOBsip aud scandal for an 
hour or so. We will presume that Mrs. Smith, 
like moBt American women, is gifted with eyes, 
as well as ears and a tongue. This being the 
case it would be. only natural that in one hour’s 
time she should translate the walla of that de¬ 
voted room into pretty Intelligible Englisln And 
it is even so, if wc are to judge by the following 
specimen with which she refreshes Mrs. Jones, 
(her sister-in-law,) the next day : 
“I would’nt have you speak of it to any one 
now, least of all as coming from we, but that 
Mrs. Brown is a terrible sloven. Why, yesterday 
wheu 1 was in there I counted no less than three 
cobwebs in her sitting-room, and the looking 
glass was so dusty that I declare I didn’t know 
myself in it, 1 do believe she lets the children 
oat between meals, or run rouud with bread aud 
butter in their hands or something, for I saw 
ever so many greasy finger marks iu the corner 
by the sofa. Yes, they must have pretty much 
their own way. There’s them flowers and things 
of Maria's now; J would’nt have them tilling 
up rny windows ut thin time of year. What a 
fuBB she docs make over them pictures of hors, 
too; there aiut nothing bright nor pretty about 
’em as I see, but she thinks they are something 
wonderful.” 
It is Mrs. Smith who reads us this plain, hon¬ 
est, uncultured out spokeu Mrs. Smith, w ho in 
miud as in body seldom passes beyond the limits 
of her own county or town. Others there are, 
who, entering at that \ery door whence she iu 
self-conscious superiority departed, might read 
ub a far different riddle. The parish minister 
rests bli eye with far greater satisfaction on 
Maria Brown’s copy of “St. Cecilia," or the 
“Madonna” in crayons, than on the ponds, 
popples and shepherdesses of Mrs. Smith’s best 
room. His wife too, though, woman like, she 
cannot ignore the cobwebs, may perhaps see in 
the firm yot graceful strokes of an unpretending 
pencil drawing, the assert ion oi n power which, 
when it shall have attained through years to 
greater symmetry and strength, shall banish from 
the sitting-room both the cobwebs and the gray¬ 
ish, whitish delineations of defunct Uncle Johns 
and Aunt Janes, about whose bideousness they 
cling. There are books on the w ails, too. Not 
“ Ladies' Wreaths,” “Garlands,” and most of all 
“Magazines." Here are classic writers— Homer, 
Virgil, ,Ciokro, Euripides and Plato— his¬ 
torians, essayists, poets and novelists in great 
numbers. Yet wc sec in neither of the parents 
evidences of great intellectuality. They have 
sharpness, shrewdness, honesty and perhaps by 
these have gained wealth ; but their culture has 
been ^/-culture, nothing more. From this 
spring then, streams must have flowed which 
have risen higher than their fountains. We arc 
not surprised to hear that one son is a lawyer 
here, auother a minister there, and so on through 
the family record. 
The Browns maybe the exception, thcSMrTHS 
the rule,—bnt 1 will tell you how to change the 
order. Be careful. You may be only a humble 
laborer, yet your dwelling may bo made more 
attractive by paying some attention to the fit¬ 
ness aud suitableness of things. Don’t make 
your walls hideous with lifelike pictures of prize¬ 
fighters, and with disgusting caricatures. If 
you do uot regret it now, you may when your 
little curly-head’s chief ambitiou becomes to 
“ look like the man in the picture.” Farmers, 
w ho “ take tho papers,” and know everything 
therein contained, pray allow your wives, if not 
yourselves a crumb of knowledge outside of these, 
in the shape of a new book now and then. And 
all, who would advance, who would free them¬ 
selves from the wearisome limits conventionally 
assigned them, who would stand the real equals 
of the great and good, to these I would say, be 
patient, be watchful. By your fruits ye are 
known. Slowly then and surely trace upon your 
walls words for which your children shall rise 
up and call you blessed. c. M. J. 
-- 
For Mooro’s Uural New-Yorker. 
THE INITIAL MONTH OF SPRING. 
March, the Initiatory month or harbinger of 
Spring has arrived, und despite its rough ways 
and dearth of fruits and flowers the mouth is a 
season of cxhilcrated sensation. Wo can hear 
the winds in tho old familiar places whistling, 
and roaring, and laughing, and in fact, making 
all sorts of noises,—now and then tho twitter of 
the blue-bird, and sweeter notes of robin red¬ 
breast, como to us floating upon the air, break¬ 
ing ont into a chorus of such glee and melody, 
admonishing us of tho approach of Spring, and 
to almost make us feci in our hearts that flowery 
May (not sly and deceitful March,) is putting on 
her beautiful garb of veriegatnd flowery hues. 
Alios Cary says that “ the cattle low to one an¬ 
other across the hills, seeming to Inquire what 
news of beech-buds aud sprouting grasses; and 
the colts caper up and down the hollows, crack¬ 
ing the thin Ice on their last night's tracks, and 
iu very wantouness biting the budding bark from 
whatever shrubs they meet. Rustic girls, in 
eunbouuets big enongh to Intercept the heats of 
midsummer, begin to gad along the meadows. 
School-boys have bung up their skates, aud 
rolled high their pantaloons, preparatory to that 
jubilee of country youth — the wading season. 
Tho blood tingles lively along their veins, and 
their sympathy with thawing nature developes 
Itsclfin i thousand curious autics. 
The farmers arc as busy as they can be—the 
old fences are striped with new rails, und the ax 
rings where tho trees, that were, plngled and 
doomed during the leisure of winter, arc being 
felled. Tho cows are taking home their calves, 
licked up sleek and smart as possible, and tho 
ewe leads her young to the sunniest places — the 
rabbit comes out of his burrow and races along 
the hills with the wlud; and the squirrel has 
gone to house-cleaning, and showers out his nut¬ 
shells with a profusion that speaks well for his 
providence. The rooster ruffles his ncck-feuth- 
ers more proudly, and crows with a clearer 
throat than a month ago. Patches of warmer 
suushiuc here and theru give token that the 
May-apple and the mushroom will before long 
put up their green and fuwn-colored parasols 
thus Indicating to us poor mortals that another 
Spring, with ail its joys and its sorrows, has 
arrived. Sknex. 
Beautiful Sentiments. — The beautiful ex¬ 
tract below is from the pen of Hon. George S. 
Hilliard; 
“I confess that increasing years bring with 
them un increasing respect for men who do not 
succeed iu life, as those words are commonly 
used. Heaven is said to be a place for those 
who have not succeeded on earth ; and it is sure 
that celestial grace does not thrive and bloom iu 
the hot. blaze of worldly prosperity. Ill success 
sometime* arises from a superabundance of qual¬ 
ities iu themselves good—from conscience too 
sensitive, a taste too fastidious, a self-forgetful¬ 
ness too romantic, and modesty too retiring. I 
will not go so fur as to say, with a living poet, 
that ‘the world knows nothing of Its men,’ but 
there are forms of greatness, or at least excel¬ 
lence, which ‘ die and make no sign; 7 there are 
martyrs that miss the palm bnt not the stake; 
heroes without the laurel, and conquerors with¬ 
out the triumph.” 
, . - i - 
The Worth os' Time. —To show us the worth 
of time, God, most liVural of all other things, is 
exceedingly frugal iu the dispensing of that; lor 
he never gives us two moments together, nor 
grauts us a second till he lias withdrawn the 
first, still keeping the third iu his own hands, so 
that wc arc in a perfect uncertainty whether we 
shall have it or not. The true manner of pre¬ 
paring for the last moment is, to spend all the 
others well, and ever to expect that. We dote 
upon tills world as if it wore never to have un 
end, and we neglect the next, as if it were never 
to have a beginning. 
He that keeps his temper is better than he 
that cau keep u carriage. 
usings, 
From Whittier's “ Snow-Bound." 
RELIGIOUS FAITH. & 
- y 
What matter how the night behaved ? o 
What matter how the north wind raved ? 
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's rnddy glow. 
0 Time and Change 1—with hair as gray 
As was my eirc's that winter day, 
How strange it seems, with so much gone 
Of life and love, to still live on I 
Ah, brother! only I and thou 
Are left to all that circle now,— 
The dear home faces whereupon 
That fitful firelight paled and shone. 
Henceforward, listen as we will, 
The voices of that hearth are still; 
Look where we may, the wide earth o’er. 
Those lighted fact* smile no more, 
Wc tread the path? their feet have worn, 
We sit beneath their orchard-trees, 
We hear, like them, the hum of bees 
And rustle of the bladed corn; 
We turn the pages that they read, 
Their written words wo linger o'er, 
But tn the sun they cast no shade, 
No voice's heard, no sign is made, 
No step is on the conscious floor! 
Yet. Love will dream, and Faith will trust, 
(Since He who knows our need is Just,) 
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees! 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away. 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play! 
Who bath not learned, in hours of faith 
The truth to flesh and eense unknown, 
That life is ever lord of Death, 
And Love can never lose its own 1 
. ... -- 
Written for Moore’s Rurid New-Yorker. 
BEAUTIES AND GRANDEUR OF EARTH. 
Earth is indeed beautiful! As with a garment 
it is arrayed with the perfect beauty of the 
beauty-admiring God. It is a bright illustration 
of the wonderful imagination and love of the 
beautiful of tho Almighty Miud. As wc view its 
glories, how our hearts soar upward to its ador¬ 
able Creator! Its peaceful valleys, clothed in 
the verdure of Spring or the gold of Autumn, 
and its outspreading landscapes, variegated with 
hill and dale aad plain — lovely meadows and 
groves of evergreen—and glistening with gush* 
ing fountains and meandering brooks, with 
placid lakes aud mighty rivers that move on iu 
silent grandeur. O how beautiful they are! 
It* sublime old forests, where reign the lordly 
Oak and tho towering, majestic Fine in impos¬ 
ing solemnity; whore the drooping Willow 
mourns in silence — broken only by the sweet 
warble of the birds and the guntie mnrmurings 
of the brook, whose carpetings arc of the rich, 
mossy velvet, ornamented with elegant wild 
flowers of varied hues,—whose fragrance ascends 
like sweet incense around their lords. What in¬ 
expressible pleasure the soul drinks iu here! 
Who does not love to roam amid these solitudes, 
and to he alone with Nature, aud listen to her 
teachings? 
How our hearts are overwhelmed with awe, 
as we stand before its lofty and rugged moun¬ 
tains, with their out-jutting crags and frowning 
precipices,—or beneath one of Its awful cata¬ 
racts, where the plunging torrents shout forth 
tho Almighty’s pralso eternally; or,beside the 
grand old Ocean, in whose ever-heaving bosom, 
alas, many u weary voyager sleeps and rest for¬ 
evermore! Iu slorms and wild hurricanes—its 
dread thunderiugs and its lightnings — how 
grand they are! 1 love thorn, for through them 
w e sec the terror of (lie Almighty. 
The rainbow, that beautiful arehjithnt spans 
the world; aud the golden elouds of sunset. 
Ah! these are bright visions of Heaven, seen for 
a little, time, then vanishing away. What splen¬ 
dor in the sun ! In the morning he bursts forth 
with all his glorious beams npon thc^reposing 
world, and arouses us from our slumbers ;—he 
never fails to ret urn and gladden the Earth w ith 
his smile. He pervades all Nature with his 
golden light, magnifying her beauties, and when 
the day is spout, dewy evening draws her curtain 
o’er the earth and pins it with a star, and earth 
retires to rest; theu the stars peep forth, and 
the grand blue dome above us is snangled'with 
myriads of glistening diadems. These are the 
never-fading beueou lights to the deep world of 
worlds beyond. Then the moon glides forth in 
her oft-travded pathway, casting her silvery 
rays all over the earth, lending delightful en¬ 
chantment to the scenes below. 
What beauty meets our gaze, whichever way 
we turn. From the tiniest blade of grass that 
sprouteth from the ground, to the mighty globe 
itself on which we tread,— all is arrayed with 
beauty. Beautiful and fragrant flowers spring 
up on every side along our pathway, aud the gay 
birds with their exquisite voices greet us on 
every hand. It i* worth living for just to behold 
these glories. O, Mother Earth! thou art yet 
in thy youth and beauty, and thou wilt so remain 
long centuries after tho hand that guides this 
pen is mouldering in thy bosom, whence it 
came! Frank. 
----- 
Sometimes I compare the troubles we have to 
undergo iu the course of a year to a great bundle 
of fagots, far too large for us to lift. But God 
does not require us to carry the whole at once, 
lie mercifully unties the bundle, and gives us 
first one stick, which we are able to carry to-day, 
aud then another, which we arc able to carry to 
morrow, and so on. This we might easily man¬ 
age if we would only take the burden appointed 
for ns each day; but wc choose to increase our ft 
t rouble by carrying yesterday’s stick over again A 
! to-day, aud adding to morrow’s burden to our £ 
load before we are required to bear it. r 
-- . 1 
Whatsoever thou resolvcst to do, do it 
quickly. Defer not till the evening what should 
be the work of the morning. P 
- \V. 
