• A 
v 
408 
MOOKE’S WEW-YO&KEK. 
CHILDREN. 
BT JOHN ABKUM. 
The little children were in mercy sent: 
The winning beauty of their happy smiles 
Ib Sorrow's antidote; their artless wiles 
Lnre gladness for the wrinkled brow of Care; 
The ills of life were more than we could bear, 
Had not kind Heaven the little children lent, 
Fair as the angels, and os Innocent; 
They are a fount of love that faileth never— 
Oil on the waters of Life's discontent— 
Links in Love’s chain that bind fond hearts forever— 
The blessed crown of holy wedlock’s joys— 
An unpolluted spring that never cloys. 
Happy that hearth and home kind Fortune bleeseB 
With the rich treasure of their sweet caresses. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WOMEN’S EIGHTS. 
Much has been said and written upon the 
subject of “ Woman's Rights,” “ Female Suf¬ 
frage,” and other subjects pertaining to the en¬ 
largement of tlie “female sphere of action;” 
but it is not yet exhausted. Like other topics 
of the day, it is stiil being agitated, and will 
continue to be until some decisive act shall set¬ 
tle the question. 
Now, while all the female world is crying 
aloud for their place at the ballot-box,— while 
ministers, doctors, lawyers, and statesmen are 
crying “no! no!”— I would loudly respond, 
yes! yes! Let them votehy all means, if they 
will. Let them, if they insist upon it, show 
themselves equal to the “ lords of creation." Let 
them, if they are so eager and able , rise from out 
the trodden pathway, in which the “ martyred” 
thousands have fallen, and take an equal station 
with man. Equal?— nye, equal; and in using 
this word in this connection I would not have a 
narrow and constrained signification applied to 
it, but it must be used in Its most extensive 
sense. I would not have it merely comprehend 
the road to the ballot-box. I would have St go 
farther than that. Do you not see that the 
question would not thus be decided? Do you 
not know that such a slight privilege would not 
make you equal to “ mighty man ? ” More, in¬ 
finitely more, lieth back of that advance, in 
order to place yon upon a common lead with 
man. Then is a great change of occupation, for 
you to encounter. Throw off the graceful, 
flowing robes that now hang about you, don the 
trousers and boots , grasp tire ox, shovel or hoe, 
and 6ally forth. Yours is, indeed, a noble and 
worthy cause! Put your slender white fingers, 
which have performed no heavier labor than to 
glide over the polished keys of the piano, to 
the plow, and see if it does not add new luster 
to your eyes, bring fresh roses to your cheeks, 
(or remove those already there,) and, in short, 
make you seem altogether like a "free, woman.” 
Go from the drawing-room into the mine, a 
hundred feet “below the day," and give your 
opinion of Brussels carpets, damask curtains 
and rose-scented atmosphere. Take your place 
upon the clumsy schooner, encounter the 
6tormy, thrilling blasts of our autumnal show¬ 
ers, and then write ns an article on the “ com¬ 
forts of the parlor." 
It is very well to stand upon the rostrum to 
meet the crowd there attracted by the novelty 
of the scene and the hcauty of the actress, but 
when you come down to the stern realities of 
every-day life, there you find such pleasures as 
the novelist tells not of. What if you cannot 
take the place of a Grace Greenwood or even < 
that of a Gail Hamilton? What it you have 1 
not the genius of a Laura Keene or a Kate 1 
JoSEi’HiNE Bateman? Perhaps you might * 
possibly go forth on your midnight missions to ' 
the sick for a short time, but such a task would 
soon lose all its poetical phrases. Then 6wing ' 
the mall and ax of the farmer, or the hammer 1 
and sledge of the blacksmith; grasp the rudder i 
or reef t he sails of the laboring ship, or control c 
the screaming engine, and then listen for the cry J 
of “ equality of the sexes” When "equal rights ” 
with “equality <f labor” becomes the question 
to be decided, I fear that many who are now 
crying “ Female Suffrage” would rather say, 
"Let our husbands, brothers and fathers represent T 
ns.” Rather than give up the drawing-room r 
and parlor for the ware-room and ofliee, I ap¬ 
prehend that you would consent to a little n 
longer be deprived of that “ inalienable right.” f 
In forty-nine instances out of fifty children e 
wdll vote as do their lathers, and wives as do their s 
husbands, thereby making twice the labor at the f 
“polls,” by allowing females to vote; but if t 
you persist in it, I say, change your apparel; t 
give guar husband an equal chance with you in the fi 
house, take your share of out-door labor , and we 
WILL NOT COMPLAIN. C. T. LEONARD. a 
Williamsfleld, Ohio, 1866. v. 
those articles of clothing which prevent the i 
admission of these two great vital agents are | 
entirely unfit for use. 
As a free circulation of the blood to all parts | 
of the human body is requisite to the enjoyment 
of perfect health, so do part of the body should 
be dressed in pucb a manner as in the least to 
obstruct or retard its flow. Tight boots, shoes 
or glove* are therefore detrimental. Cold ex¬ 
tremities, painful humors, swellings and calosi- 
ties are generally the results of such ligatures. 
Insufficient clothing is much worse than too 
much. The effect of exposure to cold is the im¬ 
mediate conduction of the skin, which suspends 
the operation of the secretory and excretory or¬ 
gans, and the matter which should be discharged 
from the system is thrown hack into the throat, 
lungs or bowels, occasioning those forms of dis¬ 
ease which are commonly called “cold,” “head¬ 
ache,” “catarrh," “diarrhea,” etc. 
A change of dress from thick to thin is not 
beneficial unless accompanied by a correspond¬ 
ing change in cli mate or temperatu re. A fashion¬ 
able lady after wearing a thick, hi.h-neeked dress 
all day, will sometimes array herself in some 
light., low-necked attire for an evening party. 
Such an imprudent change has frequently been 
followed by a 6udden death. Head-coverings at 
the present day are evidently worn by ladies for 
display, and not for comfort; and we are not 
surprised when we bear this or that one com¬ 
plain of “such distress in the head" or “neu¬ 
ralgia.” A hat, to afford real protection to the 
head, should be large enough to cover the greater 
part of it, ami at the same time be comfortably 
warm, but not so heavy us to fatigue the wearer 
after half an hour’s use. 
But the most serious feature in the dress of 
American ladies is tight lacing, a practice most, 
unnatural, and therefore most dangerous to 
health. Does any one doubt the prevalence of 
this custom, let him consult the fashion plates 
in any popular ladies’ magazine. How many 
women, servilely obedient to the suggestions of 
their dressmaker, or else grossly ignorant of the 
first, principles of health, have squeezed them- , 
selves to death, the great day of account only 
will disclose! The record must be appalling, 1 
and yet the suicidal work goe& on. The com¬ 
pression of the waist, hinders, if it does not 
altogether suspend, the act ion of the diaphragm, ^ 
and weakens the muscles of the respiration and 
the power of digestion. The heart, liver, lungs, 1 
spleen and stomach being forced iuto a space j 
much too small for the proper performance of 
their respective functions, are weakened, and if 
the compression is continued,become diseased; 
consumption ensues, and the mistaken devotee } 
of a barbarous fashion 6inks swiftly iuto an j 
early grave. 
Oh, ye who sigh for the deformity of a wasp¬ 
ish shape, consider the faultless contour of that ^ 
chef d'o-uvre of sculpture, the Venus de Medi- 
cls, and strive to develop your attenuated bodies 
into the beautiful proportions of the well-grown . 
MEMORY.- 
BRIEF ODE. 
Editor Rnttxi.:—In reading the beautiful poem on 
11 Memory,’’ sent- you hy Mrs. Witukron, (see Rubai, 
of Dec. 8.) the following verse, or rather ode. was 
brought to mind. It is, in my judgment, the sweet¬ 
est verse extant, upon the same subject. During the 
year 1&68, being in Craven Co., N. C., while passing 
a deserted plantation, situated in the deep, dark pine 
forest, I found in mami6cript this verse: 
Holt as a ray of sunlight stealing, 
O’er the dying day; 
Sweet as the chimes or low bells pealing, 
When the evening lades away: 
Sad a* winds at night that moan. 
Through the trees of the forest lone. 
Come the thought of days now gone. 
On manhood's memory. 
Washington, D. C., Dec. 1866. Geo. Lewis. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE METEORS. 
BY E. 8. WELD. 
Of course the entire dress should be adapted 
to the climate and season of the year. In cli¬ 
mates like that of New York city, where there 
are sometimes sudden transitions from heat to 
cold, and from wet, to dry, it is hardly safe to 
dress in a slight manner, except It be in mid¬ 
summer, when atmospheric changes are least 
frequent. The most prevailing complaint among 
people of all classes is rheumatism, a disorder 
which in every instance is the consequence of 
exposure to a sudden chill. No clothing of any 
kind 6houid be wore in a moist state, especially 
while the person is inactive; and care should be 
taken that the feet are properly shod, not with 
“snugly-fitting” boots or shoes of a kid-glove 
consistency, hut enveloped with those that are 
thick-soled, substantial, and amply large, so 
that the blood can circulate to the very toe tips, 
and a comfortably thick stocking can be worn 
without any sensation of constraint., * * * 
In the matter of dress, more attention should 
be given to comfort than to style, and it will be 
usually found that, they who dress neatly, and 
in conformity with nature’s laws are the best 
dressed, and certainly the most sensibly.— Amur. 
Phrenological Journal. 
AN ANCIENT RIDDLE. 
DRESS AS A CAUSE OF DISEASE. 
The Boston Transcript got up the following 
riddle, and among a number of answers the cor¬ 
rect one is annexed: 
There is a certain natural production that i6 
neither animal, vegetable or mineral; it exists 
from two to six feet from the surface of the 
earth; it has neither length, breadth, nor sub¬ 
stance; is neither male nor female, but is often 
found between both; is often mentioned in the 
Old Testament, and strongly recommended in 
the New, and answers equally the purposes of 
fidelity and treachery. 
A majority of the writers give “Love” as the 
answer. The following is the best reply that 
has come to hand. The lady writer has given 
the true solution: 
If I am not much mistaken this “ natural pro- 
- auction” is a “kiss.” Although it cannot be 
In this age, when dress occupies so much of measured, I beg leave to differ from the writer 
the attention of society, the influence of cos¬ 
tume on the bodily condition becomes an im¬ 
portant matter of inquiry. 
Improper modes of dress, whether excessive 
or inadequate, are fertile sources of disease, and 
that it has no length. The readers of the Bible 
cannot doubt its being mentioned in the Old 
Testament, nor that it was recommended in the 
New, iu the sentence “Greet ye one another 
with a holy kiss.” That it is a pledge of fidelity 
also aggravate an abnormal state of the system we would not deny; and we have only to refer 
by whatever cause produced. If in our desire to the betrayal of Christ by Judas to learn that 
to keep the body warm we overload it with it has answered the purpose of treachery. 
layers of thick, closely-woven fabric, and thus __- 
promote an undue heat at the surface, the effect The Motive. —An old fellow of the ultra-in¬ 
is to suppress the action of the excretory glands quisitive order asked a little girl on hoard a 
and prevent a free perspiration. The vitiated train, who was sitting hy her mother, as to her 
matter which is thus retained is re-absorbed by name, destination, etc. After learning that she 
the skin and carried back into the system, ren- was goiug to Philadelphia, he asked, “What 
dering the blood impure and deranging the motive is taking you thither, my dear?” “I 
delica.c mechanism of the glandular structure, believe they call it a locomotive, sir,” was the 
Air and light are absolutely necessary for the innocent reply. The “ intrusive stranger ” was 
healthy activity of the vesicles of the skin, and extinguished. 
During the passing year the newspapers 
^ teemed with speculation relative to a predicted 
“ Meteoric 8bowir,” advertised to come off on 
the 18th and 14th of November, and urged all to 
be on the qui vice for the flashing visitants. The 
c days and nights referred to came and went, yot 
little is read of the grand display of “shootiDg 
^ stars.” Whether the exhibition was a pent-up 
concern, or whether the meteors “ failed to con- 
j. nect,” or whether astronomers and star-gazers 
j were all asleep, is not the ohject of this article 
to discuss; but rather to relate my experience 
on one of the nights in question. 
On the night of the 12tb and ISth I 6lcpt 
soundly until 12 o’clock —knowing that mete- 
ors, like railroad trains, never get ahead of time. 
But as soon as the old clock declared the incom- 
a 
ing of the new day, there was a stir beneath the 
bed clothes, and my course was prompt ly toward 
f the outer world; and with one of Nature <Sc Co.’s 
’ best stereoscopes I swept the heavens. The 
' overspreading arch was clear — all spaDgled 
over with a host of shining lights. It seemed 
[ that my little neighborhood was especially 
crowned for the occasion ; for on all sides this 
1 blue vault shut down upon the surrounding 
' hills. I enjoyed it hugely, and waited as we 
, sometimes wait at theatres, longing for the 
rising curtain. 
In the meantime I reviewed some of the astral 
lessons of my boyhood days. There was Ursa 
Major, with a shaggier mane than ever, sweep¬ 
ing the regions ol the pole with his tail, as if he 
would brush the North Star out of existence. 
There was Taurus, with horns longer and 
stronger, with head and shoulders so 6et as to 
defy the threateuings around him. His bellow¬ 
ing and heavy tread seemed, for & moment, to 
cheek the advance of Orion, hut the old giant of 
the sky renewed bis courage, drew forth his 
falchion bright, brandished his heavy war-club 
with violence, and strode on. The lesser stars 
danced in happy merriment, and hied to each 
other’s places in the wildest glee. The whole 
starry host reeled and swayed like drunken 
men. Verily I thought the gods had imbibed 
too freely, and feared the consequences upon 
the impending exhibition. 
My foreshadowed disappointment was only 
momentary. Iu the southern 6ky, at an angle of 
60 degrees with the horizon, there appeared a 
bright spot about the size of a broad-brimmed 
hat. At first it had a nebulous appearance, but 
changed soon and looked like a window of fire. 
At once there was profound quiet among the 
stare. A rumbling jar, soon gro wing into severe 
thunders, told me the performance had com¬ 
menced. I brought my “ stereoscope ” to bear 
directly upon the fiery window. Presently there 
came a deafening crash, and out shota “meteor,” 
which at once assumed the form of a golden ar¬ 
row, and, with head downward, dropped upon 
the earth. Close upon its track came another 
thunder-trumpet, and another burnished arrow. 
And so numerous were they that dozens ap¬ 
peared on the shining pathway at ouce. One 
seemed to vary in its course and appeared to be 
dropping near me. I ran to secure the brilliant 
trophy, but, like tho rainbow, it was still be¬ 
yond. Suddenly the window closed, as the 
curtain drops in the mid6t of the play. Star 
nodded to star, and there was winking and 
blinking in marked approval. “Part 1st" was 
grand, and all were impatient for the second. 
Presently there opened, not one, but a thou¬ 
sand windows, followed by, not one, but a thou¬ 
sand thunder-toned trumpets, and the meteoric 
arrows shot athwart tho heavens iu all direc¬ 
tions. Very bood, thousands were descending, 
and I expected to see my little hill-top changed 
to an Indian’s quiver, and myself impaled on a 
shining point. Such was the intoxication of the 
scene that I felt anxious thus to suffer and pass 
away. I soon discovered, however, that they 
were harmless. I ran hither and yon to catch 
but a glimpse of a defunct “meteor;” and, 
finally, my desire was gratified. An arrow 
dropped at my very feet! I seized it, regard- ( 
less of consequences! Its brilliancy died out, 
and I held in my hand a really straDge specimen 
of wood from some iar-off planet! I would ( 
have examined it more, but it passed to noth¬ 
ingness. Earth’s surroundings were not con¬ 
genial to its existence. It was the only chance 
I had to touch and feel this rocket-framework. 1 
Could I have discovered the way hoys make 1 
rockets in the Moon, my fortune had been ' 
made by the next 4th of July. 
For once, the scene was changed. A strange 1 
“ meteor ” was coursing the heavens. Itwhirled 1 
horizontally and vertically and took every course, e 
and finally plunged to earth about twenty feet 
from my standpoint! I hastened to the spot 
and found a huge pair of black shears— nearly five 
feet long! They must have been direct from a 
world that produced monstrous tailors. I fast- 
I ened firmly upon this meteoric trophy, and 
should have presented it cither to some Pro¬ 
fessor or some clothing cstablfihment, had not 
my wife, inconsiderate as 6he was, Jostled me 
in the side with her elbow, saying, “Come, 
come! wake up! It’s daylight, and we haven’t 
seen the meteors !’’ It was all a dream. 
Marathon, N. Y. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOBBIES. 
Various are the hobbies which poor humanity 
rides in consequence of imperfect development. 
Some people have a certain class of faculties 
more active than another, aDd the natural 
effect is that their ideas, words and acts all 
take the direction which they indicate. For 
instance, some people with literary tastes be¬ 
come so enamored with the advantages of edu¬ 
cation, that their whole conversation is on that 
or kindred subjects. They make of themselves 
a kind of intellectual aristocrats and look down 
with contempt on the merely practical class who 
succeed in life hy a certain force of character 
rather than by any mental process. The com¬ 
pany of such individuals is often tiresome be¬ 
cause intelligence is their hobby, and all hobbies 
become wearisome in time. The practical man 
too often sets himself up on his executive tal¬ 
ents, and despises mere education if he succeeds 
in life without it. He says of bis learned friend, 
“ Whftt do his books amount to ? Put him on a 
farm and he would starve to death.” So each is 
apt to pride himself on ki6 own set of ideas and 
to despise every other way but his own. 
Then there is the housekeeping hobby, pat¬ 
ronized by editors and strong-minded women. 
J do not mean literary women, hut those strong, 
loud-voiced women whom the world calls 
thorough housekeepers, nothing else, who con 
aider the chief duty of a woman to be standing 
guard over her husband's boots with a broom 
and dust pan, and who’ judge the moral charac¬ 
ter of their friends by the number of times a 
year they go through the ceremony of cleaning 
house. Everything in their houses goes by 
clock-work; they have their meals planned a 
month ahead, and homo comfort and the real 
enjoyment of life is not to be thought of if it 
interferes with their pet ways. Not but that 
housekeeping is a very desirable virtue, in con¬ 
nection with other good qualities. 
Another sort of hobby might be called the 
submissive one. Its patrons arc notstrong, but 
weak-minded women. Having no ideas of their 
own, they think it is not feminine for any other 
woman to have clear convictions on any subject. 
These reading women they despise. “ Woman’s 
lot is hard, but they are contented." “No 
woman can read enough to keep up with the 
times and do justice to her family, they know.” 
These same fault finders could not form an in¬ 
telligent opinion on any subject if they tried, 
and would not care to read if half their time was 
unoccupied; therefore their hobby is to bring 
the rest of the world to their own level. 
Hobbies are the result of unequally de¬ 
veloped minds, and their tendency is to make 
those who follow them bigoted in their own 
opinion and uncharitable in judging those who 
differ from them. Besides, anything good in 
itself becomes an evil when dwelt upon too 
much. • b, c. d. 
Kikhorn, Wis., 1866. 
WIT AND WISDOM, 
afekiit llasings. 
CREED. 
BY ALICE CABY. 
Take your wife’s first advice, not her second. 
A woman’s heart is a hive of sweets and stings. 
A regular diet cures more people than physic. 
The bouI goes highest when the body kneels 
lowest. 
He that sells and lies, shall find the lie left in 
his puree. 
When are gloves unsalable? W r hen they 
are kept on hand. 
When is a woman like a watch ? When she 
is capped and jeweled. 
It is sound policy to suffer all extremities, 
rather than do a bad action. 
Tea-kettles are decidedly Yankee in their 
melody— they sing through their noses. 
When you fall out of a Carriage, what are you 
most likely to fall against ? Against your will. 
Men are said to admire that which they look 
up to, aud to love that which they look down 
upon. 
If mothers, as is claimed, mould the human 
mind, how is it that woman has never had her 
“rights?” 
It has sometimes been 6aid, and never but by 
an Irishman, that Ireland is a beautiful country 
to live out of! 
Why are railroad companies like laundresses? 
Because they have ironed the whole country, and 
sometimes do a little mangling. 
A Xian advertised for “ competent persons to 
undertake the sale of a new medicine,” and adds 
that it wiB be profitable lor the undertaker. 
It is singular that the more you damp the ar¬ 
dor of a troublesome talker by throwing cold 
water on Lis effasions, the sooner he dries up. 
A little girl in school, being asked what a 
cataract or waterfall was, replied that it was hair 
flowing over something, she didn’t know what, 
“Tom, tell me the biggest lie you ever told, 
and I’ll give you a glass of beer.” “A liel I 
never told a lie in my life.” “Draw the beer, 
boy.” 
Liberty will not descend to a people; a peo¬ 
ple must raise themselves to liberty; it is a 
blessing that must be earned before it can be 
enjoyed. 
Boyle’s epitaph has lately been copied by a 
tourist, and runs thus:— 
“He was the father of chemistry, 
And brother to the Earl of Cork.” 
I hold that Christian grace abounds 
Where charity is seen; that when 
We climb to Heaven, ’tis on the rounds 
Of love to men. 
I hold all else, named piety, 
A selfish scheme, a vain pretense; 
y Where center is not—can there be 
“• Circumference? 
is 
. This 1 moreover hold, and dare 
Affirm where’er my rhyme may go. 
Whatever things be sweet or fair, 
r Love makee them so. 
Whether it be the luilabicB 
That charm to rest the nnrsling bird, 
lt Or that sweet confidence of sighs 
6 And blushes, made without a word, 
n 
Q Whether the dazzling and the flush 
Of softly snroptuou* garden bowers, 
r Or by some cabin door, or bush 
l " Of ragged flowers. 
’Tis not the wide phylactery, 
Nor stubborn fast, nor stated prayers, 
That make us saints; we j udge the tree 
By what it bears, 
s 
And when a man can live apart 
From works, on theolegic trust, 
I know the Wood about his heart 
Is dry as dust. 
d ____ 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HELEN MORSE.— A SKETCH. 
j BY HOWE BENN1NG. 
B - 
I would like to tell you of Helen Morse, 
r but first of her home. A tiny log cabin, shel- 
l tered in a western forest, where all summer 
- long the fragrant breath of the pines stole in at 
i the cver-open door and small casements, and 
; which in winter seemed almost like one of its 
7 own lowlier children. To this tiny home Jacob 
i Mor 9B had brought his bride many years be- 
1 fore, and though its log3 had taken a deeper 
t tint from the weather, and one or two lean-tos 
t had been added, it w r as still their home. Beside 
• Helen there were Mary and Fred, .Julia, 
Lewis and Kitty, to make music and mischief 
i in the house aud friends of the wood-sprites, 
t But Helen was unlike all the others. A child of 
• the most vivid I magi Ration and daring deeds, 
• impulsive and willful, loving and ambitious, 
she was one of those strange contradictions that 
> the fates oceasionaBy give to puzzle us—one 
i that makee our hearts ache, we cannot tell why, 
) and that wc love for the tame reason. Her 
great brown eyes found the loneliest dells iu the 
• forest and peopled them with children of her 
, brain, aud to them only she committed the 
i charge of her most secret thoughts—of her 
; dreams for the life in the great world that seemed 
such a bright vision. 
This was Helen as she met her young com- 
1 panions in the dearly loved school room, or 
stood at the western window of her home at 
1 twilight, pencil iu hand. The healthy breezes 
of her evergreen home gave a rich color to her 
cheeks and a buoyant strength to her frame, and 
so through the Bhoals and quicksands that beset 
every young girl Helen grew iuto a noble, true¬ 
hearted woman. Not in a day. Many was the 
stern contest and many the failure before the 
consciousness that she possessed herself was 
hers. You have seen a boat 6hoot the rapids per¬ 
haps, turning, trembling, but riding in the quiet 
haven at last,— and many know what this expe¬ 
rience is to the soul, before in the still waters 
the voice of the Divine Master ha6 quelled, we 
cast anchor and learn “ to be satisfied.” In this 
rest Helen rejoiced, and though her work was 
bounded by narrow walls, yet she brought to it 
all the earnest impulses of her childhood’s days 
matured into life-purposes. And when she had 
planted many a precious memory iu the hearts 
of her school children, she turned her face from 
them aud joined that noble band of women 
who, for love or duty, have sought in the sunny 
South and its dark-browed children to fulfill the 
last command of their Master. Two years of 
such life as fitted her to bear the name of a val¬ 
iant soldier, and the armor was lain by and she 
passed within the veil. Southern seas sound as 
grand an anthem as ever the pine forest, and 
Helen sleeps well. 
Do you ask, “Why so common a story?” 
To you it may he, but to that young soul stand¬ 
ing to-day on the threshold of the yet untried 
life, there will speak a voice of what graud pos¬ 
sibilities may yet be its own, and save it from 
that saddest of all dooms, “ a wasted life.” And 
to that soul we say, would you win the crown 
of perfect womanhood, you must work for it 
through the years that lie between, though your 
way lies at the foot of the cross and you grow 
weary iu the race;—work for it until the throbs 
of your earnest life wake many other souls 
from fatal sleep, and fit them for His jewels. 
Then, and not till then, comes your perfect rest. 
A Year’s Trouble.— Sometimes I compare 
the troubles we have to undergo in the course of 
a year to a great bundle of faggots far too large 
for us to lift. But God does not require us to 
carry the whole at once. He mercifully unties 
the bundles, and give6 us first One stick, which 
are able to carry to-morrow, and so on. 
This we might easily manage, if we only take 
the burden appointed for us each day; but we 
choose to increase our troubles by carrying yes¬ 
terday’s trouble over again to-day, and adding 
to-morrow’s burden to our load before we are 
required to bear it. 
Truth always fits. It is always congruous 
and agrees with itself. Every truth in the uni¬ 
verse also agrees with all others. 
