Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A FRAGMENT. 
Ill nr JANK JOWK8. 
Two little children 
Lie very still; 
Mourn not their si urn her, 
It bodetb no ill: 
Two fragile forms 
I have rocked on niv breast, 
Lulled by tlie angels 
Sweetly to rest. 
Four little bands 
Folded to rest, 
God took our darlings, 
God knew ’twas best. 
Dear little hands, 
Weary of play, 
Folded together, 
Idle to day 
Four little feet, 
Ne’er went astray, 
Tiring so early, 
Resting to day 
( Dear little feet 1 
There are four tiny shoos 
Useless at borne, 
For no children to use. 
Two little birdlings 
Flown from tlreir nest; 
Two little children— 
Gnu knew ’twas best: 
Two little forms lie 
Under tire sod; 
Two happy spirits 
Reigning with God. 
Hillsdale, Mich., 1883, 
-- 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
JOHNNY’S BOOTS. 
I was tired of staying in-doors, so 1 threw aside 
my work, called old Rover, who lay on the 
verandah lazily snapping at the Hies, and ran, 
child-like, out of the house. 
How delightful it was! The sun smiled gra¬ 
ciously upon ns, the broozn bore on its airy wings 
fresh odors from the hearts of honeyed flowers, 
and the birds dropped snatches of wild melody 
as they llew over our heads. Rover, too. was 
wide awake, so we chased about the yard among 
green trees and bright blossoms, away through 
the orchard, down the lane, and out at bust upon 
a narrow foot-path which hid directly to the vil¬ 
lage. This was a favorite walk of mine. On one 
side. separating it from the dusty highway, a row 
of thrifty maples stretched theirarins heavenward, 
casting down from f hence showers of shade and 
coolness in the long summer afternoon. On the 
other hand were to lx; seen given, grassy fields 
and fields of golden grain, orchards laden with 
wealth, and patches of wood-land, goodly farm¬ 
houses with they attendant out-buildings, and 
low-roofed cottages surrounded by roses and 
clinging vines. 
Feeling somewhat sobered after my frolic, I 
walked on slowly and steadily, and old Rovkk 
walked as slowly and steadily by my side, over 
and anon looking up into my face as if to impure 
whither we were going, and for what purpose. 
“Come, sir,” said I, as a little brown house ap¬ 
peared to view, “let us stop awhile at the ‘Stone 
Cottage,’ and then we'll go home.” Grandfather 
Ckky, as he was universally called by the villa¬ 
gers, his youngest sister, and Martha, who acted 
in the capacity of housekeeper, and his grandson 
Jon nnv, were the sclc occupants of the little cot¬ 
tage. I liked them dearly, and often called, on 
my way to and from the village. No aristocratic 
pride, no cold formality, no heartless deception, 
ever met me there,* but pleasant faces, kindly * 
words of welcome, and honest hearts, always. 
H did mh> good to step aside from (ho noise, and 
glitter, and show, and sit down in that old-fash- ' 
ionod parlor with those good old-fashioned people, 
to talk with them; to listen to their words of ! 
wisdom or oft-repeated stories; to Sec Johnny’s 
bright curls bob in and out. here, there and every¬ 
where, like golden-winged butterflies; to note the 
tasteful arrangement, of flowers in the yard, and 
the neat and thrifty appearance of the well-kept h 
garden. v 
As we approached, we heard loud tones of b 
anger or impatience. What could it mean? J R 
looked toward the house. Grandfather sat in a 
his accustomed seat with a book open before ai 
him, but he was not reading; he had laid his « 
spectacles aside, and was gazing earnestly at hi 
Johnny, who stood before him with raised r< 
arm and contracted brow, angry and excited. w 
“Johnny wants a pair of boots, ho does,” ox- s< 
claimed he, and down camo the little foot with pi 
emphatic energy. ‘‘Caki.u: Green has got a lo 
pair, and some, trowsers, too, and he isn’t half as :iI 
big as f. 1 say Johnny wants a pair of boots.” 
My eyes instantly sought out the feet in such if, 
desperate need of boots: but in the clean slock- - 
ings and neatly-fitting shoes, failed to discover ar 
the dire necessity. 
J woman. Well, this morning 1 found her “all 
out of sorts;” her face was clouded, she was cross 
to the baby, and even repellent, in her manner 
toward me. What was the matter? “ Nothing.” 
Was she sick? “ No.” 1 was not going to be 
frightened so easily. I took oil" my hat, played 
with Lkllie, and finally rocked him to sleep, 
meanwhile telling his mama all the news I could 
possibly think of. By-and-by she, too, became 
communicative, and so the secret of her trouble 
came out She had sot her heart on having their 
snug parlor refurnished in a more fashionable 
style, and Harry had that morning bluntly told 
her he couldn’t afford it. She was disappointed, 
vexed and miserably unhappy. 
How unreasonable in Luka, I said, when later 
in the day 1 sat down in my little rockiug-ebair 
at borne. Were 1 in her place, I would not thus 
barter my own and my husband’s happiness for 
such a trifle. Then 1 heard a voice sad, but 
sweet, which said, “Who art thou, thatjndgest 
(by neighbor;” and again, “Cast out first the 
beam in thine own eye, and then shall, thou see 
clearly lo pull out the mote that is in thy broth¬ 
er's eye.” I could ray nothing in vindication, 
but acknowledged to my own “shame and con¬ 
fusion” the justness of the rebuke. 
IIow slowly we learn life’s lessons. The book 
is open before US, and day by day we turn its 
pages, but often time's grow neither wiser nor 
tetter, until the stern teacher, Disappointment 
or Adversity, comes and reproves us for our inat¬ 
tention. O happy, thrice happy, arc they who, 
without the aid ot these teachers, have learned, 
“in whatever state" they are. “therewith to be 
content" Omega. 
Jaiuwtowi), N. Y., 1863. 
THE HOME-MOTHER. 
THE BEAUTIFUL RIVER. 
Mr, i , .. . , . lias m> eoiiir on its ripple, do r.tar on t* breast— 
We must draw a hue, aye, a broad line be- ™ , 
• in,t ^ ,A ' Oil! that river is nothing like this ! 
\W ( H ki am 1 i<: Invoicing butterfly of fashion, For it glides on in shadow, beyond the world’s west 
... I. /. f .... 1.. II i . . > _ 
DT I 1 KKJ F. TAYLOR. 
Likk a Foundling in slumber, the summer-day lay 
On the crimsoning th cestoid of Even, 
And I thought that the glow through ” the azure-arched ” 
way, 
Was h glimpse of the coming of Heaven. 
There together wc sat by the beautiful stream: 
We bad nothing to do bu! to love and to dream, 
In the days that have gpnc on before. 
These are not the same diva, though they bear the same 
name, 
Witli the ones I shall welcome no more. 
Uutlt may be, the angels are rolling them o’er, 
For a Sabbath and Summer for ever, 
When the yews Nludl forgi t the Decembers they wore, 
And the shroud shall be woven, no, never! 
In n twilight like that. Jiexr .Him: for a bride, 
Oh 1 what mere of the world could one wish for beside, 
As we gazed on the River unroll’d, 
Till we heard, or we fancied, its musical tide, 
When it flowed through the Onto-way of gold ’ 
Junky Juki:, then I said, let us linger no more, 
On the banks of the Beautiful River- 
Let the boat be unmoored, end be muffled the oar, 
And we’ll steal into Heaven together. 
If the Angel on duty our coming destines, 
You have nothing to do hut throw off the disguise 
That you wore while you wandered with me, 
And the sentry shall say. “ Welcome back to the skies; 
We have long been a waiting for thee.” 
Oh ! how sweetly she spoke, ere she uttered a word, 
With that blush, partly her*, partly Even’s, 
And that tone, Like the dream of a song we once heard, 
As she whispered, "Thai way is not Heaven’s; 
For the River that runs by the realm of the Blest 
Has no tong on its ripple, no star on its breast— 
Oh ! that river is nothing like this I 
pine for the day of coining brightness and tran¬ 
quillity; and as the still current of hidden life 
coursing through the long dearth of dreary cold, 
is a sure promise of glad awakening, so the 
clinging hope that buoys up sinking souls ’mid 
the oblivion of darkness and desolation, points 
to new radiance that is shining from beyond. 
Horae, 1503. Erie. 
Written for Moore’s Rural Nevr- Yorker. 
HOW TO END THE WAR. 
Friend Moore; —The impression is gaining 
ground in my mind that tho war cannot be 
speedily decided entirely in a military way. It 
is characteristic of the Yankees to do everything 
by contract Let old Auk then fix the time and 
terms, and give the job of subduing the rebels to 
the best business man in the country, and place 
all the resources of the Union, financial and mili¬ 
tary, at his command. I nominate for this post 
George Law, of New York. He was raised 
in this A alley, and is a thorough-bred business 
man. His powers of calculation, combination 
and execution are wonderfbl, his remarkable 
enterprise and success attest, Take him from his 
business as the Romans did Cincinnati's, and 
pit him against Jeff. Davis, and he will crush 
the rebellion in a year. When Sumter fell many 
thought the Union lost. Sumter fell, it is true, , 
and great was the fall of it; hut it was.built on , 
MORN IS NIGH. 
Tons thy face unto the wall, 
• The weary day i* done ; 
Be thy doings great or small. 
Night drawetli darkly on ; 
Thou no more host part in all 
The. work beneath the.sun ; 
Turn thy face unto the wall, 
For day is done ! 
Fold thy hands to peaceful re.st,' 
And happy dreams of home ; 
Lay them crosswise on thy breast— 
No more thy feet shall roam. 
The shadows deepen in the west, 
A nd night is come t 
Weep uot, thou with sorrow bowed. 
Low in the dust to lie ; 
The win for aye behind the cloud 
With gladness fills the sky ; 
K'en now he lifts his banner proud, 
For raonj is nigh ! 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
“ELLATH IS GONE." 
- Ellath is gone. They may not say, even in 
the presence of Death, “Ellatb is dead;' for in 
TMW WIG mu UI II, UUl ib ttrtH.Dliill Oil c \ • , - T ™ 
the Carolina sands. Forts Warren and Lafayette ““ * P JTr tnU ® pb lk ' ath ma ? 
_. s* .. . . become a vanouished foe. Tim rL.iiL 
who flits from ball to opera and party, decked in 
, rich robes, and followed by a train as hollow and 
, heartie s us herself—she who, forgetful of the 
holy task assigned tier, neglects those who have 
born given in her charge, and leaves them to the 
care of hirelings, while she pursues her giddy 
round of amusements. 
Not so our Home-Mother! blessings on her 
head ! The heart warms to see her in her daily 
routine oi pleasant duties. How patiently she 
sits, day alter day. shaping and sowing some 
article for use and adornment tor her little flock! 
And how proud and pleased is each little recipi¬ 
ent of her kindness ! How the little face dimples 
with pleasure, and tliii bright eyes grow still 
brighter as mama decks them with her own hands 
in the new dress she has made! Iiow much 
wanner and more comfortable they find, if mama 
wraps them up before they go to school! No 
one but her can warm the mils and overshoes, 
and tie the comforters around (heir necks! 
There is a peculiar chann about all she does- 
fiiu precious mother! They could not sleep- 
nay, for that matter, she could not, if she failed 
to visit their chamber, and with her soft hands 
arrange them comfortably before she slept. 1 ler 
heart thrills with gratitude to her Creator, as she 
looks on those blooming face:-:—and when their 
prayere are done, she prints a good-night hiss on 
each rosy little mouth, it maybe, too. a tear 
will start for one little nestling, laid in its chill, 
narrow bed, for whom her maternal care is no 
longer needed, It sleeps, though the sleet and 
the snow descend, and the wild winter winds 
bowl around its head. It needs no longer her 
tender care. A mightier arm enfolds it. Jt is at 
rest. She feels and knows that it is right,—tends 
meekly to the hand that sped Die shaft, and turns 
with a warmer love, if it bo possible, lo those 
little ones who are left her lo love. Iiow ten¬ 
derly she guards them from every danger, and 
will) strong, untiring love, she watches by their 
bedside when they are ill! Blessings be on the 
j Till it breaks into beauty and bliss.’’ 
1 am lingering yet, but I linger atone, 
On the bank* of the Beautiful Hirer. 
’Tis the l.uhn of that day, but the wave where it shone, 
Bears the willow Dee's shadow for ever . 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LAMPLIGHT SKETCHES. 
The winds of the Autumn strewed the leaves 
flushed with hectic glory through our forests, and 
the frosty breath of the early winter chilled the 
brightness from the surrounding hillsides. 
Again the earth resumes the barren raiment pre¬ 
scribed by the frigid monarch, yet underneath all 
this apparent desolation and decay, there vibrates 
a pulse of life that shall again beat strong in the 
appointed ’season, making manifest unto our 
senses the living, breathing beauty of a resur¬ 
rected summer. 
The loaded wain .;nt creakingly furrowed 
deep ruts from the cornfield to the great barn, 
stands empty in the adjoining shed; on the 
brown hills nothing is noticeable, unless it. be the 
low scattered wliite busies the wind whirls cra¬ 
zily in ib wild gusts, looking curiously like white 
birds fluttering in (lie distance. The crops of the 
season at last are secured, very late, to be sure, 
but note they are all safe in store from ’(he w in¬ 
ter tempest’s wasting. And the farmer draws 
up his chair to the evening fireside with a feel¬ 
ing of relief and security. Another seed-time 
and another harvest are over; propitious was the 
seedtime, bountiful was the harvest 0, ye 
abundantly repaid sowers and reapers! ponder 
in your hearts the blessings of your possession, 
and raise your voices in thankfulness, and not in 
repining! Undisturbed by the tumult, of march¬ 
ing armies, ye plowed and sowed aud reaped; 
the quiet of the genial summer was unbroken as 
of yore, and now only for the absence of the 
brave boys by the hearthstone, little difference 
were there—little visible difference,—but under- 
arc standing yet; so are the Green M min tains 
and the Catskills, notwithstanding the storms and 
the floods. 
“The war costs a great deal of money.” 
True, sirs; but as long as it is paid out to our 
own people and does not aid the rebels, it is all 
right. “Our Government will be deeply in 
debt.” Yes. but nations, like individuals, go 
steadier when they carry weight. A man with a 
mortgage on his farm has a main spring of action 
that sets everything in motion. “ It, costs'the 
blood of many bravo men.” So did the war of 
the Revolution, and do wo not turn to this ora as 
one of peculiar grandeur and glory? Is not this 
the old fight between freedom and despotism? 
“Butwe have been repulsed.” True; hut how 
are our soldiers to get experience, skill and 
power unless they meet foomen worthy of their 
steel. The more furious and protracted the con¬ 
test, the more completely and certainly victori¬ 
ous will be the Union armies in the final struggle. 
become a vanquished foe. The death of the 
Christian is only going from the dim lower life to 
the never-dim and eternal. The soul of Stephen 
was baptized with the radiance of Heaven, and 
with the faith of an angel he looked up in tri¬ 
umph, and his tragic death was but a falling 
asleep. “ Gone,”—there may be a charm even 
in that word for the heart. When the weariness 
of earth overmasters the silver chord* which 
hinds to the present life, there is a falling asleep 
and agoing to rest. Godliness has a vital power 
in the world which the ages cannot touch. Time 
clothes with a mystical, romantic light all events 
ot the past ; for, as the years recode from them, 
liiey live still more and more emphatically only 
in the spiritual conceptions of fancy. But all 
events grow dim and dimmer except those con¬ 
nected with the bringing in of the era of redemp¬ 
tion to mankind. Actual observation is not 
necessary in order to a faith in those events that 
shall make death simply agoing to sleep to awake 
The victory is only put off that we may gain tho 8 i' 7 ’ * Uth Jf Wf ? V tbe There 
skill and power to kill the rebellion so eternally may , ** Cv0 ” “ 1pgher faUh !,UU1 teuld possibly 
dead that it will be forever placed bevond all rosult ,rom ^holding the prints of the nails and 
hope of resurrection. Upon our success rest all ! " 1 ,rust ol ,il0 B P ear> And as the years 
hopes of the toiling millions in the Old and New ongthcn ,nl ° ugos ty'ufc ! ’ oum '" Die believing 
World. We can succeed. We must succeed . and Calva ^ increasingly vivid and elc- 
Tbe rights of man and the future prosperity of , oiust bo tho impulses of the Spirit which 
the world demand it. The Union will be recon- Tbe of Gop are 
structed on the basis of “No secession. No ex- 1 R V 01 bul l ‘ 1,1 tbo ,!ear,a of the weak 
tension of Slavery. Gradual Emancipation and 
Universal Freedom.” Then, indeed, w ill Amer¬ 
ica arise to glory. Then will she shine as a s!;ft- 
of the firet. magnitude in the world’s political 
horizon: the wreaths which encircle her brow 
will be woven by angels, and she will sparkle 
the brightest gem in the coronet of nations. 
Cambridge Valley, N. Y., Jan., 1863. H. K. F. 
gentle, loving, home-mother! Angels must look nere-muc vusipie oinerence-intt under- 
witb love upon her acts. Her children shall rise m ’ . 110 ,p ! u1 nio,lolou . Y oI accustomed daily 
up and call her blessed, and tho mew,,,- „r iw., routm( *> a,,d bu ^ rvciim ? toll ‘ bow Morent the 
up and call her blessed, and the memory of her 
kindness shall enfold hor as a garment. 
THE BELOVED WIFE. 
Only let. a woman be sure Hi at. she is precious to 
her husband—not useful, not valuable, not con¬ 
venient, simply, but lovely and beloved; lei her 
be the recipient of his polite and hearty attentions; 
let her feel that her love and calc are noticed 
appreciated, and returned; let her opinion be 
asked, her approval sought, and her judgment 
current of meditation from the old time! The 
changeful duties of life absorb but the surface 
thoughts, and away on tin- wings of imagination 
our minds speed, not to the thrilling scenes past, 
and painted by history's finger, but to the real, 
the present—tbe existing camp-lire-aud battle¬ 
field. 
A Victory! instantly the faces brighten, the 
HOME TYRANTS. 
In our society there is no law to control the 
king of the fireside, lie is master of property, 
happiness, life almost. He is free to punish, to 
make happy or unhappy, to ruin or to torture. 
He may kill a wile gradually, and be no more 
questioned than ttie Gland Seignior who drowns 
a slave at. midnight. lie may make slaves and 
hypocrites of his children,or friends and freemen; 
or drive them into revolt and enmity against the 
natural law of love, I have heard politicians 
and coffee-house wiseacres talking over the 
newspapers, and railing at the tyranny of the 
Emperor, and wondered how these, who are 
uionarcbs too in their way, govern their own 
dominions at home, where each man rules abso¬ 
lute. When the annals of each little reign are 
shown the Supreme Master under whom we hold 
sovereignty, histories will be laid bare of house¬ 
hold tyrants cruel as Amurath, savage as Nero, 
and reckless and dissolute as Charles.— Thack¬ 
eray. 
let hor l'eel that her love and cale are noticed' unshrouding curtain of uncertainty seems to part, Importance OF Family Courtesy—F amily 
appreciated, and returned; let her opinion lie and to eye arises the old glorious intimacy should never make brothers and sisters 
asked, her approval sought, and her judgment I- nion, purged of its sectional antagonism, re-in- -forget to bo polite and sympathizing to each 
respected in matters of which abe is cognizant; in ^ited brighter and more permanent than before; “tiier. Those who contract thoughtless and rude 
short, let her only be loved, honored, and cherish- the j arrIn 5 Hiring of discord broken and swept habits toward the members of their own family, 
ed in fulfillment of tho marriage vow. and she away by the fierce blast of the tornado, the shat- will be rude and thoughtless to all the world, 
will be to her husband, and her children and bued limp yet remaining to bo tuned by the Cut let Ihe family intercourse be true, tender, 
society, a well-spring of pleasure. Shewill buar gentler touch of peace into harmonious melody. and affectionate, and the manners of all uni¬ 
pain, and toil, aud anxiety ; for hor husband’s They see the mounds that border the Potomac, formly gentle and considerate, and the members 
love is to her a tower and a fortress, .Shielded tbe Tennessee, and the Missouri, aud their vision °* the kindly thus trained w ill carry into the 
and sheltered therein, adversity will have lust its grows misty; but beyond comes the sound of world and society the habits of their childhood, 
filing. 8ho may suffer, but sympathy may dull reluming footsteps —their brave boys are thing They will require .in their associates similar 
Die edge of her sorrow. A house with love in it hei>0<: ‘ s ’ and their eyes renew their gladness, qualities; they will not be satisfied without 
pain, and toil, aud anxiety; for hor husband’s 
love is to her u tower and a fortress. Shielded 
and sheltered therein, adversity will have lost its 
sling. She may suffer, but sympathy may dull 
Die edge of her sorrow. A house with love in it 
will be rude and thoughtless to all the world. 
But let the family intercourse he true, tender, 
and affectionate, and the manners of all uni¬ 
formly gentle and considerate, aud the members 
of the family thus trained will carry into the 
world and society the habits of their childhood. 
They will require jn their associates similar 
qualities; they will not be satisfied without 
1 ‘ ‘ u ■ Dlu in 11,0 citen slock- —and by love, 1 mean love expressed in words born frora the thoughts inspired by the voice ol 
lhrdhv nwe'rii* fitt,nK faiIed * discov<!r an<1 took*, and deeds, for 1 have not one spark of victory. 
R . it ,t, << '. Sl j r ’ * , _ Ddtll iu the love that never crops out—is to a A Defoatl and a low wail parts fair lips, and 
/ ohxny s words rang in house without love as a person to a machine; the heads are bowed in deep anguish. A neighbor’s 
my are and many times since have they been one life, the other mechanism. son hath fallen. There are sable wdeds and aching 
iv nil °, ni,m T f t ' 0U !? 11 ‘ugmcidenU What The unlovely woman may have bread just as hearts so nwr them; aud scattered wide through- 
, s ' . '°' V ’ . a \ f 1 )Uug i , make such a light, a house just as tidy as the other, but the lat- out tho land, how many thou>and feliow-suffer- 
4 ' p,Ur °.. >0 ° u '' 1 bud them, ter has aspring of beauty about her, a joyousness, ers! Mists of doubt veil the future. Can it be. 
, ; ;' WM T 1 * U ' T, J* lk ‘ nu > 1,1 hifi comtorl or an aggressive, and penetrating, and pervading that wrong will prevail? and that right must be 
• IP ex>. . n< ve how many children there brightness, to which th« f'<> rmm* iu a KtuGruMte dulv^rvifinf. tih il.u rlfisnnflr* will k> A h<ner ?»» m 
born from the thoughts inspired by the voice of mutual esteem, and the cultivation of the beet 
victory. affections, and their own character will bo sus- 
A Defoatl and a low wail parts fair lips, and tai 'T fl by lluU tait}l . iu goodness which belongs to 
heads are bowed in deep anguish. A neighbor’s a mmd exercised in pure aud high thoughts.— 
son hath fallen. There are sable weeds ami ndiimr Silvio J elico s Duties of Alen. 
are of larger growth, who fret themselves about 
things equally unimportant, who live in per¬ 
petual disquiet, rendering themselves and all 
about them unhappy because they do not possess 
some fancied good, because they cannot have 
A . . i L* il. . % 
an aggressive, and penetrating, and pervading 
brightness, to which the former is a stranger. 
1 he happiness in her heart shines out in her face 
She is a ray of sunlight in the house. She gleams 
all over it it is airy, and gay, and graceful, and 
warm, and welcoming with her presence, Sbo is 
1 idl uidevices, and plots, andsweotsurpriseslbrher 
husbandaudfomi!;. 
‘ : 89 y »"*• H ” d ™®»> ««l pootrj of Wo. m is hpraoif a l, T ic 
w .... . . . . poem, setting herself to all pure and gracious 
taste in the^hole P 1 ^®^ 08 * 1 bouse, to my melodies. Humble household ways and duties 
J , Wh f e Everything inside have for her a golden significance. The prize 
She ZnZ a > J? ; an ft Ca " makc il ' tbe calling higher, and the end dignifies 
She oiton tells me she has the best husband, and the means. Her home is a paradise*, not shdess. 
tlTnfVi 1 ^ ^ ^ »ot painless, but still a paradise; for “love is 
mg she ou 0 ht certainly to be the happiest heaven, and heaven is love.” 
ers! Mists of doubt veil the future. Can it be 
that wrong will prevail? aud that right must lx* 
subservient to its despotic will? A trust in the 
overruling Hand that sways the destinies of 
Nations, so unseen in Us n otions, yot powerfully 
producing revelations at which we tremble; a 
hope founded on the subtle instinct enshrined in 
the hearts of all our people, the embodiment of 
which leaped out in the motive spirit that 
raised up a million followers of the banner of 
poem, setting herself to all pure and gracious liberty, forbids its confirmation, 
melodies. Humble household ways and duties Thus, through days, and weeks, aud months, 
have for her a golden significance. The prize the pulses in every household vibrate to the 
makes tho calling higher, and the end dignifies movement of onr armies, to the unfolding pages 
(he means. Her home is a paradise, not sinless, of our country’s destiny. As through the deso 
not painless, but still a paradise; for “love is late winter we thirst for returning spring, so in 
heaven, and heaven ia love.” this season of opr grief aud sore anxiety, we 
The end of work is to enjoy leisure, but to 
enjoy leisure you must have gone through work. 
Play-time must come after school-time, otherwise 
it loses its savor, l’lay, after all, is a relative 
thing; it is not a thing which has an absolute 
existence. There is no such thing as play, ex¬ 
cept to the worker. Put white upon white, and 
you can hardly see it; put white upon black, and 
how bright it is! Light your lamp in the sun¬ 
shine, and it is nothing; you must have darkness 
around you to make its presence felt. To enjoy 
leisure, you must know something of the effects 
of toil. 
We have politics and trade; and the daily dust 
oi' life rises with the morning mist aud settles 
with the dew; but over all things serene, and si¬ 
lent, and starry, rises the heaven of a nation’s soul 
—its literature. 
‘j aluI ignorant, according to human methods of 
speaking, may often he found 4 diild-liko ami 
^ * i,n ple yet wonderful faith, to put to shame tho 
I spiritual attainments of the mighty, Back to the 
f w o»dreus One who “ wept over paths along,” and 
to the mysterious displays of Cavalry, must we 
go for an explanation of it all. But oftener tho 
Christian's thoughts flow to a glorified Christ 
rejoicing in the two-fold relation which lie sus¬ 
tains to those w ho love Him below,—IBs relation 
to them at tho same limeon earth and in Heaven. 
Christ is Christ, since Con is God. On earth, 
a Comforter and Guider; in Heaven, an Advo¬ 
cate pleading before the Father, to bring his 
chosen to Himself. 
“ Ellath is gone." There are those who have 
,, D'lt the crushing weight of grief for one heart 
which Those words hold. There may be a faith 
which shall beat the soul to Gor>, but it cannot 
save from grief. Tears below, but joy above. 
There are also those who can tell how, in the 
presence of death, one may be strengthened io 
bear it. 
“Ellath is gone," they may ouly say, aud not 
“Ellath is dead:' In his story may be seen how 
death can be met. Surely he might mourn, if 
any should, at the coming of death. Just enter¬ 
ing upon the activities of life, with many friends, 
loving and being loved devotedly, and with the 
brightest of possible prospects before him in 
this life, when death began to steal in upon his 
dreams, and by Lis sure and steady approaches 
give positive forebodings of his approaching vic¬ 
tory and a lliture life. Yot he was calm with 
regard to himself, and his soul was most stirred 
when he thought of the loving. But life sub¬ 
missively trusted all to God. To_the one who 
loved him most be wrote “ I do not fear death. 
It will come only at God’s bidding, and as His 
messenger. The time of death’s coining will be 
God’s best time. Life will te life to the last 
with all the joys earth has. The past will redu-’ 
plicate itself in tlie future, until suddenly there 
shall come a transition to the realities which in¬ 
spire the dreams of our souls 1 i would have 
my name associated only with the beautiful and 
the tree, and when 1 am gone l would not be 
forgotten, but have my memory elevating—at¬ 
tracting to Heaven. Perhaps those who love on 
earth may be, in Heaven the Guardian Angels 
of the loved and loving, who await tho call to 
the blest * meeting place’ above, 
‘ WhiTS the faded flowers shall freshen— 
Freshen never more to fade ; 
Where the shaded rky shuil brighten— 
Brighten never more to -hade.’ 
Time is really passing swiftly away, yet it often 
seems too slow for unholy impatience. Some¬ 
times it seemB to me even now that I am hardly 
of earth. God’s purposes concerning me are 
more glorious than wereour fond hopes. Stronger 
and stronger every day in a holy faith. Earth 
is receding, and Heaven drawing near. In a 
day or two, as the saints reckon time, 1 shall be 
with the Angels !” , 
Peace to the loving! Ellath with the angels! 
Moriah, N. Y,, 1862. A. T, K. C. v 
The funerals which a man Bhould take most J 
pleasure in attending are those of his own vices 1 
and evil passions. J 
