feeling which we have all experienced during the 
last hour. But all cannot feel thus. “El- 
bridge,” said Etta, “let us be thankful for the 
capacity for enjoyment which the Creator has 
given us, although we know that just in propor¬ 
tion as we are capable of enjoyment so are we 
Of suffering.” 
“ Yes,” said gentle Lena, “ and the very suf¬ 
fering of a sensitive nature doubles its every 
joy.” Then again the doctor thanked God in 
his heart for his Leva ; she was a precious gift. 
Mate’s head was bowed low upon her broth¬ 
er’s shoulder, and she was sobbing wildly. No 
one spoke to her; we all understood her; we 
knew that she was not the cold, haughty being 
some thought her. That night her soul re¬ 
ceived an impression which will never be effaced. 
“ Sculptors of life arc we, as we stand, 
With our souls uncovered before us," 
quoted Will. We each understood; again we 
were silent. 
“Acknowledge Him in all thy ways, and He 
will direct thy paths,” said Elbridgb, solemnly, 
as we parted for the night. And did not we all 
receive an onward impulse from that visit to the 
Pine Forest at midnight? m. l. s. 
Waupaca, Wisconsin, 1866. 
home, there, for the present, let her abide, un¬ 
less some special call of duty beckons her away; 
and act on the great world beyond through the 
husband, brother and son, B - 
Horseheads, N, Y., 1866. 
MINISTERING ANGELS 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
MOONBEAMS. 
Written for Moore’B Rural New-Yorker 
VAIN LONGING. 
“ Brother,” the angels say, 
“ Peace to thy heart; 
We, too, O brother. 
Have been as thou art; 
Hope lifted, doubt depressed, 
Seeing in part— 
Tried, troubled, tempted, sustained, 
E'en as thou art.” 
“ Brother,” they softly say, 
“ Be our thoughts one; 
Bend thou with ns and pray, 
Thy will be done 1 
Day flleth, night eometh, 
Death draweth nigh; 
Soon shall thine eye see the 
Day-spring on high.” 
“ Ye, too,” they gently say, 
“ Shall angels be; 
Ye, too, 0 brothers, 
From earth shall be free ; > 
Yet in earth’s loved ones 
Ye still shall have part, 
Bearing God’s strength and love 
To the tom heart.” 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SUGGESTIONS OF A YARD-STICK 
BT HOMO 
Briohtexc-o the heavens with silvery light, 
Shedding soft radiance mid the gtoom of night, 
Glancing from steeples, 
Dancing on ripples,— 
Beautiful moonbeams thou makc3t all bright. 
Casting a halo’round the place of the dead, 
Dispelling the darkness, when the sunlight hath fled, 
Filtering thro' tree tops, 
Flashing from dew-drops— 
I thank thee, dear moonbeams, that thou wast here 
The mercantile anecdote in Mart’s “Talk to 
Girls” in a late Rural, suggests some incidents 
that have fallen under my own observation. 
The habit of bantering, so very common at the 
present time, and so exceedingly foolish, arises, 
to a great extent, from the same lack of confi¬ 
dence in one’s judgement of the value of goods 
that led the man to pay fourteen dollars for the 
broadcloth rather than buy the same for seven. 
I have seen a man Inquire the price of an article 
and refuse to take it, and, the same day, enter 
the same store and purchase for alarger sum the 
same artile from auother clerk, and go away sat¬ 
isfied—simply because clerk number two asked 
a much larger price and fell a little. This is not 
nn uncommon case; I have known many such, 
even among men and women considering them¬ 
selves shrewd, and standing high In community. 
Do you think to beat men In their own busi¬ 
ness when they have all the advantage ? Do you 
not know that the merchant keeps a graduated 
scale In his mind, and that it is a part of his 
business to take the dimensions of his customers 
and give them their true position on the temfer- 
it^scalu, which tells at once how much he must 
make calculations to throw off from the asking' 
price? 
Again, merchants have the name of deceiving 
and lying, and I confess the charges are too often 
true,—but do you not indirectly and uninten¬ 
tionally help to make them liars ? Don’t you 
actually pay a premium for lying? Honesty is 
surely the right policy, bat we are all of us am¬ 
bitious to succeed in our undertakings, and we 
arc* sometimes loth to take the rewards of a clear 
conscience alone for our portion. When Merri- 
macks are worth twenty-two cents by the case, 
and I tell you so, and my neighbor, a smooth¬ 
tongued man, retails you an inferior article as 
Merrimacks for twenty, by how much you pat¬ 
ronize him by so much have you not encouraged 
me to deceive you next time ? You give me the 
name of trying to deceive you and to extort 
money from you, and I am left with my clear 
conscience and empty cash drawer and your in¬ 
fluence turned against me,—while my neighbor, 
the villain who deceived you, grows rich with 
your patronage. If we yield to temptation are 
you guiltless? Ignorance will not shield you. 
Cultivate your judgment as to quality; study 
your newspapers and they will teach you the 
market value of goods, and, perhaps, from your 
shoulders will be removed the responsibility of 
tempting some young counter-jumper to tell his 
first lie. a. n- 
Chenango Co., N. Y. 
Frail shadow of a face beloved, 
So like to one I may not Bee, 
To one my heart hath clasped so close 
That even thou so dear ehould'at be; 
Thou wakest memories of a past, 
Too rich In blessedness to last. 
And yet thou art a mockery 
HLs dear eyes ever sought my own, 
But thine are turned away from me, 
And mute thy lips as sculptured stone; 
Thou art not glad when I am glad. 
Nor in my sadness art thou sad- 
Would thou could’st tell me if my name 
Live® on his lips,— if ha his eyes. 
Blue ae the summer heavens, there he 
Assurance or the love I prize; 
The heart’s unuttered tenderness. 
The love that hath no power to bless. 
Would thou could'st tell me ifin dreams 
I seem to come to him again, 
And with love’s gentle ministries, 
I soothe bis weary, aching brain, 
Yet, while his hand doth clasp my own 
He wakes,— and waking, is alone. 
Would thou conld’st tell him that my heart 
Throb* with one ceaseless thought of him, 
And through the weary, dreary, days, 
No power my trusting faith can dim; 
Would thou could'st speed o’er land and sea, 
And whisper this sweet truth for me. 
But thou can’st not,—more pitying 
The wind, that kissed my check jnst now, 
Perchanco, may tremble on his lip, 
Or lingering cool his fevered brow. 
The while It whispers sweet, and low, 
“ She love« you better than you know ’ 
Riverside, June, 1366. 
Filling our hearts with poetry and love, 
Teaching our thoughts to be lifted above, 
Flooding with beauty, 
Pointing to duty— 
Beauteous moonbeams thou hast ever our love, 
Written for Moore’3 Raral New-Yorker. 
MIDNIGHT IN THE PINE FOEEST 
Tea. time—snowy table-linen—warm biscuits 
— maple sirup, the first of the season—fragrant 
tea, and a group of happy faces; eager, joyous 
voices, discussing future possibilities and prob¬ 
abilities. 
“ We have promise of a beautiful night,” said 
Mate, hastily rising and placing a plate and cup, 
for a new comer, one who, by right, belonged 
to onr enchanted number. 
“Yes, and who will venture into Benton’s 
Pines with me at midnight—who ? It will be 
the last sleigh ride of the season; the snow is 
going fast.” 
That was venturesome Etta who spoke; she 
who loved boat rides by moonlight, on fathom¬ 
less lakes, horseback rides into unexplored 
regions, and who could fire a gun without faint¬ 
ing. I, and I, and I, Mate, Sarah, and El- 
bridge. 
“ Can’t you go, Doctor? i think I shall leave 
my books to a little rest and quietude to-night; 
I long to hear the mysterious whisperings of the 
piues.” 
“Oh!” 6ighed saucy Etta. The young law¬ 
yer’s dark eyes turned on her half reproachfully, 
half amused; as his gaze rested there, however, 
all the vexation passed away. “ You are a good 
girl, after all Etta,” he said. 
“ Yes, Elbridge, consider the source, always, 
and you will pass through the world happy.” 
The Doctor laid aside his professional look, 
and declared himself ready to go. Will made 
known his intention, by saying:—“At 9 o’clock 
be ready. I will be at the door with horses and 
sleigh;” and we all drew back from the table 
full of eager anticipation. 
Were there ever seven happier, more care-free 
young people thau were ^tucked Into the sleigh 
on that night? Bound by the sacred ties of re¬ 
lationship, each one’s success and happiness was 
dear to the others as his own. Were we not 
striving to help each other up life’s rugged 
steep? And we were happy and blessed, as are 
all who live not entirely to themselves. Three 
hours for a ride of fifteen miles. 
“ Lena, darling, wlrat sweet fancies are you 
cherishing?—you have not spoken 6ince we 
started. I believe, Miss Etta, you have monop¬ 
olized the conversation since that period,” ob¬ 
served quiet Will. 
The doctor’s wife, our darling Lena, made no 
reply; the young doctor looked down upon her, 
nestled by his side, and wondered if there ever 
was a fairer face, or ever any other violet eyes 
with so much of heaven in them; and thus we 
rode ou, each occupied as his fancy pleased him 
best. 
“The Pines!—The Pines!” shouted 'Will, 
rousing the whole party; and surely there was 
the dark pine forest looming up before us. A 
feeling of awe begau to creep over the little 
party; lower, and lower grew our voices as we 
entered those silent shades. Outside the moon 
was shining brightly; a road had been cut 
through the forest, but over our heads the dark 
pine branches interlocked, talking mysteriously 
together, in low wailing tones, while on the left, 
and right, the vision was lost, like the w«ird 
moonlight, in the dense shades. Not a breeze 
was stirring. Will stopped the horses; we 
hushed our breathing; each forgot the presence 
of the others, and was alone with Nature, and 
with Nature's God. Ever and anon the low 
sobbing, above, around us, would rise until it 
sounded like the coming of a storm from afar. 
We looked up involuntarily, but the dark, heavy- 
branches were still; ’twas no mighty wind com- 
iug upon us. 
“ Just twelve," said Elbridge, consulting hi3 
watch by the light of a match; “shall we 
drive on?” 
“ Yes, ye 3 ,” whispered Etta; she dreaded to 
break the spell. 
Slowly, almost reverently, our horses walked 
on; we could not have hurried them through 
those “dim, mysterious aisles;” the feeling of 
awe vv’as too great; a mik farther we drove in 
perfect silence. 
At last, with a long, hetvy sigh, Etta said :— 
“Let us turn; I am satisfied ; I cannot bear this 
solitude at this hour any longer.” Years were 
Will turned the horses, and 
PRIM CHILDREN 
Written tor Moore’a Raral New-Yorker, 
HONESTY. 
The infantry drill, in some households we 
wot of, is subversive of all the most engaging 
qualities of childhood. Look, for example, at 
Mrs. Martinet’s family. Everything like im¬ 
pulse has been drilled out of them. Mrs. M. is 
so intensely methodical that one might almost 
fancy the interior filled with clock-work Instead 
of the usual viscera. She herself is said to have 
been very strictly brought up on the automatic 
principle, and the straight-jacket system of edu¬ 
cation, which made her the statuesque creature 
she is, she faithfully repeats upon her children. 
People say they are remarkably well behaved. 
They never romp or laugh, or do anything ob- 
steterous. When spoken to, they respond in 
set phrase, as if talking out. of a book. If, in 
their babyhood, they exhibited any germs of a 
rolicklng disposition, the said germs were care¬ 
fully pruned away. 
No 6igns of them, at present, exist; and, 
looking into their dull, untwiukling eyes, one 
can hardly fancy that even in their long clothes 
they ever ventured ou a chuckle or a crow. And 
yet, as we have hinted, the little Martinets are 
considered model children. Bo, in fact, they 
are, in one sense; for they are about as unim- 
pressible as if they bad been moulded out of 
wax, or east in Plaster-of-Paris. Their mother, 
who, in her cold way, is somewhat proud of the 
little precisions, iu making honorable mention 
of their negative virtues, assures her acquaint¬ 
ances—she is too much of a machine to have 
friends — that they never make any noise. The 
idea of noiseless boys aud girls! She may call 
them children; we call them ghosts. What do 
children come Into the world for, but to make 
a noise; to whoop, whistle, sing, dauce, run, 
jump, yell, roll in the dirt, and spoil their 
clothes? Pooh! pooh! Mrs. Martinet, your 
repressive system is all wrong. The enthusiasm 
of childhood should be gently and wisely guided 
and directed; not choked down. The boy is 
father to the man; and if the boy Is systemati¬ 
cally snubbed into silence, be assured the man 
will “ never make a noise in the world.” 
BY MBS. MART WILLIAMS. 
Honestt is Truth. Its confines <are not lim¬ 
ited to the right exchange <sf dollars and cents 
— not bounded by mere individual justice in 
merchandise. It Is all this, we grant,—but more, 
much more. It is the proof text of the Holy 
Bible. In It Is summed up all the other virtues, 
even the chiefest— Love ,—for honesty is but 
love in all its forms. To be strictly honest is 
all that God requires of man, and he has so ar¬ 
ranged its beauties aud benefits that it Is really 
much easier to be honest than otherwise. We 
know that ia the hearts of fallen man avarice, 
lust and selfishness have secured a place. The 
fountain of generous sympathy is sometimes 
dried up. The gaze is *o perverted that we see 
not the cord which binds us all in a common 
brotherhood. But our faith in human nature 
is too strong to admit of total depravity. Since 
Christ ha* raised us up we are not totally de¬ 
praved. The place which siu has in our hearts 
Is not a throw:, and we may level it. There is 
a vein of honest troth lying as secure as deep in 
the nature of man. Thanks be to GOD who 
planted it. in our mortality it comes bubbling 
up to meet the wants of man. There is not a 
soul so calloused, but knows that sin and death 
Is our common heritage. This knowledge 
should permeate our lives with so perfect a gen¬ 
erosity as that wc would “love our neighbor as 
ourselves." 
Were this principle but enforced as the great, 
active, living element of onr individual charac¬ 
ter, how beautiful would this life be. Our eyes, 
filled with true, deep, felt frankness, would be 
but indices of hearts planning for the whole 
world —uot one. Only a coward has a coward’s 
eye. The true man, brave to do right, looks 
straight and unflinchingly into your question¬ 
ing gaze. You see his soul , not a mere mortal 
On the contrary, as a god-given proof 
Written for Moore's Raral New-Yorker 
A TALK AEOUT WOMEN. 
In a recent number of the Rural, in an able ar¬ 
ticle written by a woman, I noticed this remark: 
“ Anna Dickinson insists that girls are trained 
for just one thing—to get married.” Now we 
know of no position a girl can ever hope to oc¬ 
cupy where she needs so much and such careful 
training as that of wife and mother—the mother 
of the future generation of those that are to 
come after us, and take our places when we 
have finished our work and gone to our re¬ 
ward. All who have read the life of the 
great Napoleon will remember his reply 
to his favorite minister, when asked by 
him what France most needed. His re¬ 
ply was “good mothers.” Might we not also 
say of our own country, what America most 
needs Is good mothers ? And If that is the po¬ 
sition which nine-tenths of our girls are eventu¬ 
ally to occupy, why not train them for it ? 
But we are far from being one of those who be¬ 
lieve that women of the present day are fitted to 
occupy no other position. We have made some 
rapid strides in civilization in the last hundred 
years, and in nothing is this more apparent than 
in the high position woman has taken. It would 
be to us worse than useless to attempt to dis¬ 
cuss the abstract question of woman's equality 
with man. We would as soon attempt to prove 
that the eye is equal to the ear, or the hand to 
the foot. Both are perfect in their way, but im¬ 
perfect without the other. Se we hold that man 
is superior to the woman, and woman is supe¬ 
rior to the man; yet what would oue be 
without the other? We believe, too, that 
woman ought to have the privilege of doing 
whatever by nature or education she Is best fit 
ted to do. That her mission, like that of man’s, 
ought to embrace God’s lower universe. For 
wherever there Is a gift there is a prophecy 
pointing to its use, and a silent command of God 
to use it. I need not go back to the records of 
history to show what woman is capable of doing. 
We know what she has done and what she is 
still doing. But ever 6ince the world began, 
woman’s particular mission has been to refine 
and elevate society. She has carried refinement 
into the household, the church, the social circle 
—into literature and the arts. 
Indeed, wherever woman moves her refining 
influence is felt. What a change there was in 
literature when woman began to write. And 
men of the present day write not alone for men 
to read. They know that their severest critics 
are among the fairer sex. H. W. Beecher says 
it is the pen that is the tongue of the world, and 
a woman’s pen is becoming more influential 
than the orator’s mouth. Shaksi-eare, had he 
written in our day, would not have dared to 
have written as he did. The immortal bard 
wrote years before woman’s influence had been 
l'elt In the literary world. And still there are 
women who are clamoring for their right,—who 
insist that they have not all the rights a Benefi¬ 
cent Creator intended they should have. I know 
not how it may be in the future — I only know 
that the world is moving. No doubt in the fu¬ 
ture woman's sphere of usefulness will be much 
enlarged, aud she will have greater responsibili¬ 
ties to bear. The time may come—some think 
it not far dUtaut — when women will have the 
RUSKIN TO THE WOMEN 
Mr. Ruskin in a recent lecture to the women 
of England says:—“And lastly. You women 
of England are all now shrieking with one voice 
—you and your clergymen together—because 
you hear of your Bibles being attacked. If you 
choose to obey your Bibles you will never care 
who attacks them. It is just because you never 
fnittll a single downright precept of the book 
that you are bo careful for its credit; and just 
because you don’t care to obey its whole words 
that you are so particular about the letters of 
them. The Bible tells you to dress plainly, aud 
you are mad for finery; the Bible tells you to 
have pity on the poor, aud you crush them un¬ 
der your carriage wheels; the Bible tells you to 
do Judgment and justice, and you do not know, 
nor care to know, so much as what the Bible 
word “justice ” means, Do but learn so much 
of God's truth as that comes to; know what He 
means when He tells you to be just and teach 
your sons that their bravery is but a fool’s boast, 
and their deeds but a firebrand’s tossing, unless 
they are Indeed just men, and perfect in the fear 
of God— and you will soon have no more war, 
unless it be indeed willed by Him, of whom, 
through the Prince ol’ Peace, it ia also written, 
“In righteousness be doth judge and make war.” 
organ 
of guilt, the rogue haa but half an eye. It 
flinches, deviates, changes, and, os when stilled 
by death, it bears upon its. half-raised retina 
the stamp of its last sin-object. O, why, when 
we all need It so much, can we not all be honest ? 
It is said that there Is no Joy so complete to 
the true donor as to give to the needy. Surely 
the Joy must be as much more intense as it is 
more extensive, to supply honestly and unsel¬ 
fishly all the true wants of man. Weneed sym¬ 
pathy as well as justice —expressed encourage¬ 
ment as well ae proffered aid — friendly thought 
as well as friendly deed-jwajrtr as well as given 
advantage. And it is In our will to give it as 
well as in our hands. Rather than impede indi¬ 
vidual prosperity it will quicken aud enlarge it, 
even as the prospered whole is but comprised of 
like parts. Aud there ia no quicker as well as 
6urer way for the suppression of evil than to 
counteract it with good. Wrong will grow 
until supplanted by right, and the true confi¬ 
dence of the wrong-doer, as well individually as 
nationally, will be Inspired only by true hones¬ 
ty. Would that this earnest thought expressed, 
might inspire Us readers to that truer life where, 
following Christ’s perfect example, they might 
bless the world in every form dictated by true 
honesty. Then would injustice wring no tears 
or complaints and the thistleless vine would 
grow in every heart arbor. 
New Haven, Conn., 1SG6. 
Oriental Courtesy.— The Shah of Persia, 
who had been traveling on the shores of the 
Caspian, with a suite of 3,000 persons, graciously 
bestowed a visit upon the Admiral of the Rus¬ 
sian fleet anchored in that harbor. Among the 
amusements afforded the illustrious guest, was a 
trip on the sea in a splendid steamer. The Shah 
soon found himself experiencing the ordinary 
sensations of humanity in visiting Father Nep¬ 
tune for the first time. The Russian Admiral 
stood agast, fearing the auger of the untraveled 
despot. “ I am afraid your Majesty is unwell,” 
he at length observed apologetically. “ Not in 
the least,” immediately retorted the polite Mos¬ 
lem; “I am now a guest in the house of my 
brother the Czar. How—how—how—can I feel 
otherwise than happy and delighted under his 
roof.” - "_ 
The Miser.— A miser, to make sure of his 
property, sold all that he had, aud converted it 
into a great lump Of gold, which he hid in a hole 
in the ground, and went continually to visit and 
inspect it. This roused the curiosity of one of 
his workmen, who, suspecting that there was a 
treasure, when his master’s back was turned, 
went to the spot, and stole it away. When the 
miser returned and found the place empty, he 
wept aud tore his hair. But a neighbor who 
pappened to see him in this extravagant grief, 
and learned the cause of it, said, “ Fret thyself 
no longer, but take this stone aud put it In the 
some place, and think it is your lump of gold; 
THE LATEST FRENCH BONNET 
A Boston gentleman now in Paris, 6ays the 
Transcript, gives the following amusing descrip¬ 
tion of the style of head-dress now worn by 
the women of the French capital; 
“The shape of the bonnets now in vogue in 
Paris is diamond form, about three inches square, 
from two corners of which hang ribbons of an 
enormous width (about six to eight, I judge.) 
The addition of a hen or a canvas-back duck, 
perched ou the diamond, gives a very recherche 
appearance. But if the bonnets lack size, the 
waterfalls restore the equilibrium. These are 
made of three French rolls covered with horse 
hair, and tied on the back of the head; the center 
loaf of bread should be of larger size than the up¬ 
per and lower. Altogether, they would appear 
ridiculous on any one but a French woman.” 
Evil Speaking.— That you may not speak ill 
of any one, do not delight to hear ill of them. 
Give no couutenance to busy-bodies, who are 
running from house to house and love to talk of 
other men’s faults. Those who delight to hear 
ill of others, will soon fall into the habit of speak¬ 
ing ill of them. When busy-bodies run out of 
matter of fact, they will soon resort to conjec¬ 
ture and idle stories to please those who like 
to hear others spoken against. Such characters 
are common nuisances, often destroy good neigh¬ 
borhoods and the fellowship of old friends. If 
we endeavor in good earnest to mind ourselves, 
we shall find work enough, and but little time 
to talk to others. 
SUMMER AND AUTUMN. 
The hot mid-summer, the bright mid-summer 
Reigns In its glory now ! 
The earth Is scorched with a golden fire, 
There are berries, dead-ripe, ou every brier, 
And fruits on every bough. 
But the autumn days, so sober and calm, 
Steeped In a dreamy haze; 
When the uplands all with harvest shine, 
And we drink the wind like a fine cool wine— 
Ah » those are the best of days! 
[JJ. H. Stoddard. 
AN EXAMPLE TO MOTHERS 
in her voice. 
slowly, as we had drove ia, we traced our way 
back again. As we emurged into the clear 
moonlight each gave an esclainjation of relief; 
it seemed as if years had been merged in that 
brief time. 
Some may tread the hails orplcasore, and fiud 
enjoyment in the excitement of the dance, the 
billiard table, or the thousand and oue existing 
fashionable amusements; but give me Nature in i own boots, carry his own wood, hoe his own 
its various forms. What could have produced j garden, pay his own debts, and live withou 
a greater strain upon the nervous system— 1 wind.and tobacco, need ask no favor of him w 0 
healthful, too, I deem it — than this intensity of rides iu a coach and four. 
Christ is never more wounded in the house 
of his friends than when they murmur; nothing 
seemed so much to overoome his forbearance 
with the Israelites .—Lady Powerecourt. 
Thehe is no sin we can be tempted to com¬ 
mit, but we shall find a greater satisfaction in 
resisting than in committing.— Mason. 
I never knew how it was, but I always seem¬ 
ed to have the most come in when I gave the 
most away.— Baxter. 
