? 216 
MOORE’S RURAL 1IEW-YORRER. 
LY 4. 
>w #. 
m ' 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
‘'CONTENTMENT IS HAPPINESS.” 
How prone are we to discontent, 
To others' bliss aspire; 
Dissatisfied with what is sent, 
We seek for something higher. 
We wealth or fame, 
Or honor claim, 
Or else a name 
Desire. 
If sweet retirement is our lot, 
We value not its bliss; 
If humble is our little cot, 
Consider not its peace; 
lint upward soar, 
In search of more, 
And what.deplore 
Hut this. 
We seek for Honor’s glittering hue, 
We seek for earthly guin; 
With these we pleasures have in view, 
But do we thus obtain ? 
No—if secured, 
Not long endured 
Before assured 
They’re vain. 
Can then no happiness be found, 
While dwelling here below f 
Yes, let yonrtcanfsyour wishes bound, 
And you ure happy so. 
No wants invent, 
B tit be content 
With what is sent 
To you. B. F. K. 
Bainbridge, N. Y-, 1803. 
Written for .Moore’s Rural New r -Yorker. 
WHISPERINGS OF THE WIND. 
Yesterday from the Southland came the 
wailing, sobbing winds, and to-day from the 
broad fields of the West it rushes past, shrieking 
and groaning out its restless fury. Yesterday it 
brought to me the sighs of suffering that it had 
borne from the low cots of the hospitals, from 
the lonely death-beds of those who, for their 
Country's sake had dared to do and die. And I 
saw the rows of white beds, and the thin forms 
stretched thereon. Strong men, whose strength 
should come no more; fair boys, whose life hence¬ 
forth should be a crippled boon: bearded faces 
white with the agony of death, and grave eyes 
dark with the mystery of Acheron. There is no 
gentle one to watch beside the bed, and wipe the 
spray of death's wave from the pallid brow; 
there is no loving voice to tell the beauties of the 
“ fairer city,” in the crimson sunlight lying on tho 
river’s farther shore. 
Silently in darkness lonely, 
Do their souls put forth alone, 
While the wings of angels only, 
Waft them to the great unknown. 
And from the West to-day comes oil the boom 
of cannon — the shriek of crashing shells — 
and the ring of Hashing sabres. I see the 
bloody field, with the battle smoke low above 
it; and sharper flash the lurid lights—and 
louder rolls the dim — but above all are the cries 
and groans of dying men; and I know that to- 
night there will the dead uuburied lie. and the 
wounded writhe in agony. 
And yet we sit at ease to-day and call our 
Saxon slaves to heed our slightest wish, while 
the dying moan for drops of cooling water that 
there are none to bring. Women, in your North¬ 
ern homes, how can you live so selfishly? You 
sit in gilded rooms and dream the hours away, 
while thousands die, whose flowing blood even 
such as you might, staunch. 
The cares of home and helpless little ones hold 
many back with thralling grasp, but there are 
trite and noble women who sit to-day in their 
hearth’s bright glow, and chafe in golden chains, 
whose hearts are aching at the thought of pangs 
they do not still. Oh! sisters, in this bloody 
country—sisters of these martyred ones—if you 
feel that with no fainting heart yon can look 
upon the scenes of death, if you can go to the 
poorest and the lowest of the suffering ones with 
gentle words and thoughtful care—can you not 
with as strong a hand put down your fear of a 
sneering world, and rise clear from the fetters 
that bind your souls with such a weight of accu¬ 
sation? Can you not go into our hospitals, 
where they pine for woman's care, and pay the 
debt of Charity you owe to the dear Lord whom 
you say yon serve, and the debt of Love due the 
Land for which your fathers' died, and for which 
your brothers bleed? 
LktOh Hunt writes with poet-pen, that unto 
him who loved his fellow r -nmn, the angel showed 
the book of gold: and lo! Bex Adtikm's name 
stood Grst in all the lists of those whom love of 
Gor> had blessed. And in the hereafter to which 
we are hastening, to those who in the love of a 
pure heart for suffering humanity lay down the 
luxuries of their lives, will there not be given a 
starry crown withheld from such as sit unmind¬ 
ful of the lesson taught by the Savior’s life of 
suffering and of shame? Anna Parker. 
May, 1SG3. 
« ♦ —■ - - 
Maxims for Husbands. —Resolve in the 
morning to be patient and cheerful during the ’ 
day. Laugh heartily on finding all the buttons i 
off your shirt—as usual. Say, merrily, “Boys 1 
will be boys,” when you discover that the ehil- ‘ 
dren have emptied the contents of the water-jug 
into your boots. On gashing your chin with a 
razor, remember that beauty is but skin deep: 
and, in order to divert your thoughts from the 1 
pain, recite a speech from Hamlet. or indulge in 
one of the harmonies of your native land. If 
breakfast is not ready for you, chuckle and grin 
pleasantly at the menials: remembering that a 
merry heart is a continual feast, and depart to 
your daily business, imagining yourself a suf¬ 
ferer from indigestion. ! 
A WHISPER TO DAUGHTERS. 
Girls, before you decide to accept a man as 
your companion for life, look well to his resent¬ 
ments. See if he hates anybody soundly. If so, 
you run a great risk in marrying him. A man 
who can hate well, has not the qualities to make 
a good friend. A truly noble soul will never 
hate bitterly, even though deeply injured. He 
stands on too high ground. He may be deeply 
hurt and much displeased; he may avoid one he 
knows to be an enemy, but he does not harbor 
hatred in his soul. 
A noble mind is not always on the lookout for 
little offences, but takes good-humoredly slight 
annoyances that are plenty enough in every 
one's pathway. Do not countenance a person 
who thinks to add to his importance by blustering 
at hotel servants, railroad employes, or when¬ 
ever he feels safe to do it. Instead of proving 
him a cosmopolitan as he vainly thinks, his 
barking and snarling only show his affinity to 
the puppy. Do not many a rowdy if be is ever 
so rich, hoping your influence will reform him. 
See to it that he is well reformed before you take 
a step from which you eau never recede while 
life lasts. 
It is an excellent sign for a young mau if he 
is kind and attentive to his mother and sisters. 
Such a one will be quite sure to make a kind 
husband. There Is something kind and genial 
and worth loving in a young fellow that all the 
^ children run to, if they wish to ask a favor,—one 
the little girls are not afraid to ask to carry them 
across the street,—one the boys looks to naturally 
to help them out of trouble with “that plaguy 
kite,”—one who has a few moments to spare 
from his work to put up a swing that shall 
furnish weeks of enjoyment to the little folks. 
PRACTICE KINDNESS WHEN YOU CAN. 
Pr.ACTiCK kindness when yon can, 
Ant the part of noble man; 
Tender thoughts and loving ways 
Help to cheer our gloomy days. 
Where there’s kindness there is joy, 
Love dwells here without alloy; 
Then cheer the drooping heart of man, 
And practice kindness when you can. 
Practice kindness when you can, 
It. Jm only fora span; 
Smiles beguile the human race 
Into thoughts of love and peace. 
And O, when the heart is sad, 
Kindness ever makes us glad; 
Then glory in this noble plan. 
And practice kindness when you can. 
Practice ltiudness when you can, 
Strive to be a belter roan; 
Words of sympathy impart 
Hope* to cheer the weary heart; 
Neither beauty, wealth untold, 
Jewels rare, nor precious gold, 
Can cheer alone the soul of man; 
So practice kindness when you can. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE DOCTOR IN CAMP.—No. III. 
our pork and “hard tack,” and renew the dis¬ 
cussion when our pipes are lit, unless you prefer 
to hear the manly strains of my Dutch choir, of 
which more anon. Then, rolling ourselves in 
our blankets, with our feet to the fire, we are 
soon off for the land of dreams, where soldiers 
and sailors are privileged to fold in a brief em¬ 
brace the forms of their loved ones, each includ¬ 
ing “the gal he left behind him.” Good night! 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A PLEA FOR OUR VOLUNTEERS. 
Heaven’s choicest blessings rest upon our 
gallant, noble-bearted volunteers — a grateful 
nation’s spontaneous applause and reverence 
attend their footsteps, and succeed every noble 
achievement: It is meet that we, who still re¬ 
tain the pleasures of our cheerful, comfortable 
firesides, basking jn our accustomed pleasures 
and luxuries, should permit our hearts to go out 
after them in innumerable blessings, and uncon¬ 
strained. heartfelt sympathy. For are we not 
equally interested in the issue of this distressing 
contest, whether foul Treason and Rebellion 
shall desecrate our once-glorious land with their 
unholy, polluted footsteps, or exalted, star- 
crowned Liberty resume her lawful, indisputa¬ 
ble sway? It is meet that we who remain at 
home should in some degree share in the priva- 
A LITTLE WHILE. 
A little while to walk this weary road; 
H little way to bear this heavy load; 
Then all our earthly pilgrimage shall cease, 
And we shall wenr the crown in perfect peace. 
A little while to love with earthly love, 
And then we share the “ fullness” from above; 
A tittle time Of darkness and of doubt, 
Theu the bright home whose light shall ne’er go out. 
A little toil and sadness here below; 
A little time to watch, and plant, and sow; 
Then Jesus calls his laborers away 
Where everlasting joy and gladness stay. 
A little while of storm, and wind, and rain, 
And then the s h i ni ng haven we shall gain; 
A little time to toss on life's rough sea, 
Theu iti that peaceful home our rest shall be. 
A little while I Oh, Savior, make us strong 
To bear that little, though it oft seem long: 
Guide thou our way with thine own loving hand, 
Till we shall enter in the Promised Land 1 
■ ■■ ♦ » ♦-- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOME. 
Home !—most sacred spot on earth! There is 
Oh Ito »» ebarp obaervore of b,,™,, -.tar,, abi-artl, 
am depend upon ,t, . young w M all <M , for J0ur c „ m| J v of a ni bt 
children like, b« something about butt worth ^ >ir d 800tb , m , * 
liking, whether he wear home-spun or broad- , , ,. , , 
1 pure regard to your own comfort and pleasure: 
' „ , ... . for while you might indeed emoy a march with 
Above all, remember that tho “Christian is J : , , . ,, 
. . . . ’ | e ... „ troops, and be pleased and amused at what would 
the highest stylo ol man. The religion of [ T „ , . , ‘ 
...... J ... ,, . , b ,, meet your eye, 1 could not think you would 
Christ alone can make the proud heart bumbe— J .. 
..... . .... , much prefer a thin turf to a hair mattrass o: 
the violent, augry nature, mild and gentle—and p eat jj el . bed 
perfect in ibe highest degree all the virtues and J ' 
graces which make the person an agreeable com- So mnch has been said and sung about t 
pauion and a useful man in the sphere God has c ^ arm8 ot a night passed under “the bl 
placed him .—The Mother's Journal. canopy of Heaven’ that many people (w 
A i * i v It , it i i *t .* < . 
SOJOURNER TRUTH ON WOMAN’S RIGHTS. 
The remarkable colored woman described by 
Mrs. Stowe, in a late number of the Atlantic 
Monthly, who, though wholly without learning, 
had many shrewd thoughts and keen perceptions, 
spoke thus at a recent philanthropic convention 
in Ohio: 
“Well, chillen, whar dar’s so much racket dar 
must be som'ting out o’ kilter. I link dat 'twixt 
de niggers ol de South and de women atdeNorf, 
all a-talkin’ bout rights, de white men will be in 
a fix pretty soon. But what's all dis here talkin’ 
’bout? Dat man ober dar say dat woman needs 
to be helped into carriages, and lifted overditches, 
and to bab the lies! place eberywhere. Nobody 
eber helps me into carriages, or ober mud-pudles, 
or gives me any best place;” and, raising herself 
to her lull height, and her voice to a pitch like 
rolling thunder, she asked. “ And ar'n’t I a w o¬ 
man? Look at me, look at my arm.” and she 
bared her right arm to the shoulder, showing its 
tremendous muscular power. ”1 have plowed 
and planted and gathered into barns, and no 
man could head me —and arVt I a woman ? I 
could work as much and eat as much as a man. 
(when I could get it,) and bear de lash as well— 
and ar’n't I a woman? I have borne thirteen 
chillen. and seen ’em mos’ all sold off into slave¬ 
ry. and when I cried out with a mother's grief, 
none but Jesus heard—and arVt 1 a woman? 
Den dey talks ’bout dis ting in de head. What 
disdey call it?” “Intellect.” whispered some 
one near. “Dat’s it, honey. What's dat got to 
, tenow mat au me - tatives on the battle-field? 
o ask a tavor,—one the bivouac. We talk of “ bard times,” when our wardrobes 
• as o carry them I left you, my gentle readers, at the close of manifest not the least retrenchment, and our 
i looks to naturaUy ( bo day - H mar rh, which wo made in company, boards are groaning beneath the burden of their 
ait i 1 t int p aguy w jtb the promise that 1 would on another occasion wonted delicacies, well-nigh forgetting, in our 
rnomcn s o spate discourse somewhat concerning Bivouacs. But utter selfishness, the far-off' camp-field, where 
^rVtllV r i'k before I proceed to redeem my promise it is per- our valorous brothers lie down at Bight-fall, with 
10 . 1 Ue ° lk8, haps ray duty to venture some explanation for their wearied, destitute bodies wrapped in their 
ol human nature, having so summarily dismissed you, without ask- coarse, hall-worn blankets, dreaming, doubtless, 
’ ™ an j 1 . a ' U ’jj ing for your company in the romance of a night of “ Home, sweet home,”—or sit down to their 
a i _ ou , W0! ] h in the open air. In good sooth I did so out of a uninviting repast, often composed of “musty 
n -spun or road- p Ure regard to your own comfort and pleasure: beans ami crawling bucon.” thinking of mother's 
, . . for while you might indeed enjoy a march with s ofU while loaves, and sister's fiaky crust and 
!! B r ! ian 18 troops, and be pleased and amused at what would spongy cake. We talk of unbounded patriotism, 
' ° meet your eye, I could not think you would so and undying love for our glorious country, ex¬ 
it cni um e ~ much prefer a thin tiuf to a hair mattrass or a hibitod. perhaps, in our liberal bounties and 
i and gentle—and feather bed> ample donations to different hospitals—in our 
an aciveable com So much has been said and sung about the deeds of charity, and tender sympathies with the 
re sphere God has charms of a ni * ht «fl» blue ^ef-stncken w.dows, and weeping, 
sphere God has canQpy of Heaven „ that many people (who fatherless children All these munificent acts 
_ never tried it,) really talk about it as though the 1 lnt L f‘ ( 1 the highest regard and corn- 
unfortunate portion of our population who are m ^ n(Ja t 1 on, and will doubtless be recorded con- 
N RIGHTS, not in the army, are really to be pitied for having spicuonely m the annals of future history. But, 
, to sleep in bods. Aiul truly this bed al fresco can< hdJ}. do they not appear, in our own estima- 
man described by chamR fo the novice atod Cv( , n aiW)aehes tion, somewhat meager and less deserving when 
‘r ot tho Atlantic , h( t dignity 0 f a luxury when the night is calm brought in disparaging comparison with the 
without learning, and neither too hol nor too coto,-when the turf in0I '° bl '? ian *t Praiseworthy offerings of our 
keen perceptions, tWck and olastic> and when tbe frame is tired. Dobl * soldlt ‘ r6 and tbeir ,lesolate 
uopn. con\enion there is no enjoyment which may not pall A enent God bless them comes well ing up 
, ... upon the senses, and one can become satiated n ,JUI ieart . H ' aln ‘ady overflowing with esteem 
. much racket dar wjth keeping out-of-doors. When all the water ffd admiration, when we think of tho inestima- 
inv a avIX gods have conspired to give our worthy mother J L offering they have laid on our country's 
Aomen atdeNorf, earUl her f ,u 0 f water for drinking orfor washing; B ? cred alta, - an Oblation doubly dear and pre- 
1 to JI 10 . n w11 when the tnrf is thin, and tbe stones sharp; in “ 0UE because two-fold:-Fgr is it not a greatand 
i. 1 )'ir t.i n short, when the aforesaid mother earth, instead 10,101 a J l ' sacubc< ' on *he part ol deariy-eber- 
lut woman needs of . w0oiflg ug w her bosom . turns to w tbe cold *bed ones at home to resign tbeir proud, heroic 
i te< oh i ^ it' es, g bo „| der> w ith lv touch of a sharp elbow.—then f ons and brothers to the fierce conflict?—whose 
pwhere. Nobody raay we be pemltted to prefer the handiwork of long absence, attended with numerous inevitable 
ernui<-pu es, 1)ian< to the scanty provisions of nature. It has c ‘ x P°f ure? - costs so many emotions of bitter 
id, raising herself been 8aid lhal ..hunger is the best sauce.” for it angU ! sh and keen BU8 P 6n * e ’ ,ilf “ ‘hey a ™ *n- 
to a pfleh like makeB any FO rt of food to relish: so I say, that dered f hundred-fold more bedoved and indiV 
nd arn t I a wo- go but R(Jt Ured 0Q0Ilgh y0tt m sl pensable to our happiness, now that the tender 
uy arm, and she BWeeU anywhere, as a friend of mine once slept ? u , m ' hal rireted ,heru 10 home is disconnected, 
rider, showing its ^ Mj ht in a car loaded with ammimilio ;, Only for a season we trusted and encouraged 
'I have plowed though onG would g enera , Iy prefer a bed no! depondtog hearts during that painful sepa- 
to bains, mid no Uable t0 be blown up by a stray ppark fr0m lhe but alas, to how many hearts and homes 
t I a woman ? I locomot j ve> has it been severed forever. 
i much as a man, But . f will take tbe bitter with the sweet, ,? at heaven-born boon do we value moro 
de lash as well- ^ ap to . ni ht omipes fai L will ive ’ highly than Ufe-sweet life! What would W e 
e borne thirteen )ace , Q our bivouaCi ' not relinquish to insure, to rescue our life when 
old off into slave- endangered? And yet these courageous, gener- 
a mother's grief, Staff officers have been sent aliead some hours ous .he a rted volunteers have taken this priceless 
r’n't I a woman? ago, who have selected houses for the headquar- gift in their handp , wiui , if llt J (0 
i dehead. What of tho several Generals, and convenient ppm their life’s blood in the sacred cause of 
whispered some belli- for the accommodation of us, who belong Union and Liberty 
iVhat’s dat got to jo the different regiments-the great care being „ 0ur bosom, we’ll bam to the glorious strife 
Sgere’ rights'. If to get enough ui both wood and neater. On And our oath is recorded on high, 
md yourns holds reaching the al luted place tbe. arms are stacked, To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, 
lot to let me have Rud ranks broken, and then ensues one of the Or crushed in its ruins to die.” 
d she pointed her most surprising and wonderful scenes ever im- May the “ God of battles ” shield them well 
een glance at the ; ^ !ru ‘ cl: for 110 s00ner are tbo excused from and buckle on their amor of defence In the 
argument. The the ranks than the nearest rail fence seems to rise na me of God may they set up their glorious 
“Den dat little up, en 7nnsse t and walk off. The greater part oi stars and stripes, rembering that 
an can't have as tho feuCf,s iu Virginia are built of rails, and as „ The race is not _ to be t 
twa’n'tawoman. everybody knows that a dry rail burns much Bjhim that swiften runs • 
from y* Rolling b « Ul ; r a ‘an a stick of_ green wood, I hope no one Nor is the battle-to the’peopie 
that erod’d as did ^ imagine that it is within the limits of mill- That’s got the longest guns.” 
j she stood there buy human nature to use the latter when the Townsendville, Seneca Co., N. Y., 1863. olive. 
tions and endure the hardships of our represen- the nursery of piety, of virtue, of true manhood, 
tatives on the battle-field? How memory loves to linger round that hallowed 
M e talk of “ bard times,” when our wardrobes spot! The remembrance of days spent there, of 
much prefer a thin tiuf to a hair mattrass or a 
feather bed. 
So much has been said and sung about the 
charms of a night passed under “the blue 
canopy of Heaven” that many people (who 
never tried it,) really talk about it as though the 
unfortunate portion of our population who are 
not in tbe army, are really to be pitied for having 
to sleep in bods. And truly this bed alfresco 
has its charms to the novice, and even approaches 
the dignity of a luxury when the night is calm 
and neither too hot nor too cold,—when the turf 
is thick and elastic, and when the frame is tired. 
But there is no enjoyment which may not pall 
upon tbe senses, and one can become satiated 
with sleeping out-of-doors. When all the water 
gods have conspired to give our worthy mother 
earth her fill of water tor drinkingorforw’ashing; 
when thetuif is thin, and tho stones sharp: in 
short, when the aforesaid mother earth, instead 
of wooing us to her bosom, turns to us tbe cold 
shoulder, with a touch of a sharp elbow,—then 
may we be permitted to prefer the handiwork of 
man, to tbe scanty provisions of nature. It has 
been said lhal "hunger is the best sauce.” for it 
makes any sort of food to relish: so 1 say, that 
so you hut get tired enough you may sleep 
sweetly anywhere, as a friend of mine once slept 
all night in a car loaded with ammunition, 
though one would generally prefer a bed not 
liable to be blown up by a stray spark from the 
locomotive. 
But if you will take the bitter with the sweet, 
and as to-night promises fair, 1 will give you a 
place in our bivouac. 
Staff officers have been sent ahead some hours 
ago. who have selected houses for the headquar¬ 
ters of the several Generals, and convenient 
fields for tho accommodation of us. who belong 
to tho different regiments — the great care being 
do with woman's rights or niggers’ rights*. If bi got enough ol both wood and w r ater. On 
my cup won't hold but a pint and yourns bolds reaching the alloted place tbe arms are stacked, 
a quart, wouldn't ye be mean not to let me have atu ^ ran * ta broken, and then ensues one of the 
my little half-measure full?” and she pointed her m °°t surprising and wonderful scenes everim- 
signilieant linger and sent a keen glance at the u "* m, ct: lor no sooner are the men excused from 
minister who hud made the argument. The the ranks than the nearest rail fence seems to rise 
cheering was long and loud. “Den dat little U P> en nutsse t and walk off. The greater part of 
man in black dar. he say w T oman can’t have as leuees iu "Virginia are built of rails, and as 
much right as man ’cause Christ wa’n't a woman, everybody knows that a dry rail burns much 
T17iGr did your Christ came from . v ” Rolling better than a stick ol green wood, I hope no one 
thunder couid not have stilled that crowd as did imagine that it is w ithin the limits of mili- 
those deep, wonderful tones, as she stood there buy human nature to use the latter when the 
with outstretched arms and eye of fire. Raising former i s ft t hand, lienee it happens that when 
her voice still louder, she repeated:—“VYhar did tbe time comes to make coffee each individual 
your Christ come from? From God and a wo- ra il of a lence seems to take unto itself legs and 
man. Man had nothing to do with him.” walk to the fire. Not that our soldier is a thief— 
not at all. He is simply a practical philosopher, 
and has at least the merit of strict impartiality: 
for. since it would involve /i long time, and au 
extended discussion, to determine the question 
of any man’s loyalty, he cuts the Gordian knot 
by taking the rails alike of the just and unjust, 
resembling the blessings of Providence in so far 
at least. Between himself and the farmer he re¬ 
cognizes but one tie, expressed, in a very short 
formula, “I want—you have.” Nor is it neces¬ 
sary you should believe that this shocking laxity 
of principle in regard to meuum and teuton is 
CHEER. 
Ski k to be patient in distress, 
The weariest night at last must close; 
Tears are akin to happiness, 
The thorn is neighbored by the rose. 
The love that keeps the buried flower 
Safe from the winter's .stormy breath, 
Can guard us through each evil hour, 
-And lead us safe to life, through death. 
[Alice Carey. 
Olivk. 
UNPUNCTUAL PEOPLE. 
Wqat bores they are: what havoc they make 
with the precious moments of orderly, systematic 
men of business. A person w ho is faithless to 
his appointments may not intend to swindle 
people, but he does. To those who know how 
to turn time to advantage, every hour has an 
appreciable pecuniary value; minutes, even, are 
worth so much apiece. He who robs you of 
them, might just as well take so much money 
irom your purse. The act is petty larceny or 
grand larceny, according to the amount of time 
lie compels you to waste, and the value of it, at a 
fair appraisal, to yourself or your family. The 
the earnest prayers of a gentle mother that her 
guileless children might not go astray—a father’s 
kind advice—a sister's boundless love and quiet 
influence — a brother’s guardian care — all, ail 
combine to render home most dear to the heart 
of tbe absent one; a spot, the sanctity of which 
the world may not invade, to which he may turn 
and be refreshed. 
Since thy voyage on the ocean of life began, 
the sea may have been calm and tbe winds pro¬ 
pitious— the sunshine of prosperity may have 
lighted thy pathway at every step, and flatterers 
may have thronged around thee; but does not 
thy heart, at times, turn from them all. as from 
an empty show, to the place where confidence is 
perfect and the light of home—so full of love- 
sheds round thee an influence more potent for 
good than all the alluring pleasures of the out¬ 
side world? Hast thou walked with kind friends 
’neath the sunny skies of prosperity ? They may 
be only friends of a summer's day. But in thy 
home are those who will uot forsake thee when 
the winter storms of adversity shall lower. Hast 
thou erred, und doest society close her door and 
spurn thee from the very threshold? In thy 
home a mother’s tears will fall, a father's praters 
ascend for thee, a sister’s love will cling pven 
more closely about the erring one; and then, if 
anywhere, will tho mantle of charity be thrown 
over thy sin. There may’st thou go and screen 
thyself from the sneers and taunts of the world, 
and there, by love and kindness, may’st thou be 
reclaimed. 
When one has been absent from home for a long 
time and proposes to return, what thoughts of 
home and loved ones there, fill the mind with 
pleasurable emotions, and visions of a happy 
re-union are his brightest ditiams. Many 
changes may be there, yet it is home—a pleas¬ 
ant, well-remembered spot. Each favorite haunt 
is sought with eager interest, each former friend, 
whom time has spared, is met with cordial 
greetings. 
A lovely, happy place is home. Yet there is 
a happier, an eternal home, where nothing may 
occur to mar the felicity of that blessed family. 
Happy, thrice happy shall he be who, when his 
tale of life is told, shall find a home iu Heaven 
with his Father— G on; his companions—the sons 
and daughters of the Lord Almighty. 
Kemlaia, N. Y., 1S83. Dklicut. 
*■ 4 i » -— 
A Grave without a Monument.— The sea 
is the largest of cemeteries, and all its slumber- 
ers sleep without a monument. All other grave¬ 
yards, in all lands, show some symbols of distinc¬ 
tion between the great and the small, lhe rich 
and the poor; but in that ocean cemetery, the 
king and the clown, the prince and the peasant 
are alike undistinguished. The same wave rolls 
over all, the requiem, by the minstrelsy of the 
ocean, is sutig to their honor. Over their re¬ 
mains the same storms boat, and the same sun 
shines; and there, unmarked, the weak and the 
powerful, the plumed and the unhonored will 
sleep on until, awakened by the trump, the sea 
will give up its dead. 
No marble rises to point out where their ashes 
are gathered. Yet the cemetery hath ornaments 
of which no other can boast. On no other are 
the heavenly orbs reflected in such splendor. 
Over no other is heard such noble melody — 
Jlenry Giles. 
Unruried Dead People.— There are many 
dead people in the world who are not yet buried. 
There are thousands who have been dead many 
years, and do not know it. When a man’s heart 
is cold and indifferent about religion; when his 
hands are never employed in doing God’s work; 
m p T\ 11 * 1 1 * - - . ,* V... a a V* J ovu A It i J J « A UU A U -- 
j. each i ROPERI.Y.— DO all in your power to peculiar to a civil war; it is simply ” military only capital of a large portion of the communily vvbea bis heart is never familiur with his ways: 
ac your children, self-government. It a child necessity ” in one of its humbler phases. The is time. Tbeir compensation is measured by the when hia tongue is seldom used in prayer and 
passionate, teach him by example, and use General “confiscates” the corn, hay. or oats, clock. The moments of which promise-breakers praise: when his ears are deaf to the voice of 
teach your children self-government. If a child 
is passionate, teach him by example, and use 
gentle and patient means to curb his temper. If 
he is greedy, cultivate liberality iu him. If he is 
sulky, charm him out of it by encouraging frank 
good-humor. If he is indolent, accustom him to 
exertion. If pride makes his obedience reluc¬ 
tant, subdue him by council or discipline. In 
short, give your children the habit of overcoming 
their besetting sin. 
Yoi no children often do wrong merely from 
the immaturity of their reason, or from a mista¬ 
ken principle: audwhen this is the case, they 
should be tenderly reproved, and patiently 
shown their error. 
necessity ’ in one of Us humbler phases. The 
General “confiscates” the corn, hay. or oats, 
needed for his command, the private gets 
material for his supper and a rail to boil the pot 
withal by the same summary process. And be¬ 
fore you condemn the act, put yourself in his 
place—tired, footsore, and hungry—and feel 
that, ir you are on the Harm of a disloyal man. 
his treason and that of his friends forced you to 
be a soldier: or if on the land of loval citizen, 
you are fighting his {battles, and either way his 
rails will be very apt to cook your food and warm 
your toes. 
But my moralizing Is cut short by the an¬ 
nouncement, “ Der coffee ist ready,” of our Dutch 
factotum. So we sip the grateful beverage, eat 
cheat them, may represent in fact the necessaries 
of life, and the loss of an hour may involve the 
privation of a loaf, or a joint, or some other 
article urgently needed at home. Nobody 
places any confidence in persons who are habit¬ 
ually behind lime. They scarcely succeed in 
any enterprise. Therefore, for your ov>n sake, 
as well as for the sake of others—be punctual. 
Nature keeps writing her books in every one’s 
heart—new editions of the same old poem read 
with new delight; her gem-books are bound iu 
the hearts of women: these are her gift-books, and 
each happy man claims the copyright. 
Christ in the Gospel; when his eyes are blind to 
the beauty of heaven; when his mind is fad of 
the world, and has no room or time for spiritual 
things—then a man is dead. 
- - ♦ »-»-- 
The True Life. — To imitate the highest 
examples, to do good in ways not usual to our 
rank of life, to make great exertions and sacri¬ 
fices in the cause of religion and villi a view to 
eternal happiness, to determine, w ithout delay, 
to reduce to practice whatever we applaud in 
theory, are modes of conduct which the world 
will generally condemn as romantic, but which 
are founded on the highest reason.— J. Foster. 
» 
