scured by clouds, the rainbow pales, and our 
loved ones.—ah 1 we cannot keep them with us 
always. Yet there is hope. Life and immortal¬ 
ity have been brought to light; we may grasp 
them, aud rest assured that in the land whither 
we are tending, all things beautiful are blooming 
never to fade, and there we may clasp our loved 
ones, with no sad fear to shadow our happiness. 
Fredonia, N. Y., 1863. Emile March 
AF UPRIGHT MAN OF BUSINESS. 
A sacred regard to the principles of justice 
forms the basis of every transaction and ragulates 
the conduct of the upright man of business. He 
is strict in keeping his engagements; does noth¬ 
ing carelessly or in a hurry: employs nobody to 
do what he can easily do himself; keeps every 
thing in its proper place; leaves nothing undone 
which otight to be done, aud which circumstan¬ 
ces permit Mm to do; keeps his designs aud busi¬ 
ness from the view of others; is prompt and de¬ 
cisive with customers, and does not overtrade for 
his capital: prefers short credits to long ones, 
and cash to credit at all times, either in buying 
or selling, and small profits in credit cases, with I 
little risk, to the chance of better gains with more 
hazard. He is clear and explicit in all his bar¬ 
gains: leaves nothing of consequence to memory 
which he can and ought to commit to writing ; 
keeps copies of all his important, letters which he 
sends away, and has every letter, invoice, &c., 
belonging to his business, titled, classed, and put 
Housings 
Written for Moore'a Rural New-Yorker. 
REVERIES. 
[Said a dying child, from a Ragged School, “Fetch 
them in 1 O, be sure aud fetch them in, and tell them of 
Jesus] 
the poor, the wretched, sin stained 
BY St. SI'.V. SPENCER. 
Beneath a moonlit sky of June, 
Its arch besprent with starry gleams, 
I shut myself out from the world, 
And while an hour in idle dreams. 
The dear, dead Past comes O'er again— 
Sweet tones long silent greet my ears— 
My heart throbs half in Joy, half pain, 
And smiles are struggling with my tears 
I overlook the toilsome Now, 
I shake it* dust from off my feet, 
And seeking the “divine To Be,” 
I walk through valley* cool and sweet. 
I build fair cloudl&ud homos afar, 
With stately hall aBd sculptured dome, 
And mazy depths of sun and shade— 
And in and out, at will, I roam. 
Gainesville, N. Y., 1863 
New England, I remember well 
Thy Sabbath times of long ago; 
O what a blessed silence fell 
With restful peace on all below 
'Twas God's own day ; our youthful feet 
Upon no errands vain might go; 
Our lips no light discourse repeat, 
Our ear do song hut Zion's know. 
The cattle rested too; not then 
Were foaming steeds for pastime driven, 
Urged to their speed by wicked men, 
While pavement stones cried out to heaven 
Our minister;—O never more, 
May mortal man inspire such awe 
‘‘Call them in,” 
wanderers from the fold; 
Peace and pardon freely offer can you weigh their worth 
with gold ? 
Call them in, the weak, the weary, laden with the 
doom of sin, * 
Bid them come and rest with Jesus; he is waitinv. “ Call 
them in.” 
“Call them in,’ the Jew, the GentUe, bid the stranger to 
the feast; 
Call them in, the rich, the noble, from the greatest to 
the least. 
Forth the Father rnns to meet them, He hath all their 
sorrows seen; 
Robe and ring and royal sandals wait the lost ones; “Call 
them in.” 
“Call them in,’’ the broken-hearted, cowering ’neath the 
brand of Shame; 
Speak love's message low and tender, “ ’Twas for sinners 
Jesus came.” 
See! the shadows lengthen round us, soon the shadows 
will begin: 
Can you leave them lost and lonely ? Christ is coming! 
“pall them in.” 
“Call them in,” the little children, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
A REVERIE, 
Away, far away, over mountain and plain, my 
thoughts are straying to-night, to a lovely home, 
simple and unpretending in appearance, but 
dear, very dear to me, as I look back over the 
years that separate mo 
from by-gone days, aDd 
J recall the peace and quiet which, like a halo, 
ever rested around it. Again, I seem to stand 
within the home circle, audmethinks I still hear 
the lowed voices conversing in gentie accents, aa 
of yore. How dear is each one to me: but 
mother, my mother, thou art, of all, the dearest 
Thy daughter has not entirely forgotten thy gen¬ 
tle counsel, thy loving guidance. The world has 
not yet stifled every:kiud!y impulse, or broken 
the chord that bound so strongly to the dear old 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
IMMORTALITY. 
Amidst all the changes of life, a sweet picture 
often comes up before me, robed in the brilliant 
colors of the day when I saw it first. It is a pic¬ 
ture of myself, a mere child, leaving home. I am 
seated with my friends—we are just turning 
from the house into the lane, shaded with blos¬ 
soming apple-trees. Behind is our little white 
cottage with the hop-vine swinging over the roof, 
and then at the window, as 1 turn one more 
glance, is my mother with the baby in her arms, 
and a tear In her eye. But a thought of comfort 
comes. I shall come home soon, and we shall be 
so happy together. Another glauce swiftly on¬ 
ward, and 1 know that I must go from home 
again, the others will go away—we must part 
again. Then we shall come back, but, sad 
thought, we cannot always stay at home, we must 
go away for a long time, perhaps. Thus it will 
be. meeting and parting, meeting and parting, all 
through tile. 0, how sad 1 Shall we never all 
meet and be at rest? Never, on earth, never. 
There is no hope here, aud I look beyond to the 
life to come. In heaven, we may all meet and 
be at home, and none need go weeping away. 
Sweet peace fills my heart at the thought. I 
smile to myself, and turn with a smiling good¬ 
bye to my mother, while she is yet standing bv 
the window, and 
home. 
And etill, mother, I am changed. I have suf¬ 
fered in this worldly conflict—suffered such pangs, 
as would have wrung thy loving heart to know. 
I have learned that the golden glitter of wealth, 
the laurel wreath of fame, cannot purchase bap- 
pinuess; aud bitter, indeed, has been the lesson. 
But, oh. mother, most bitter of all was It to be¬ 
lieve in what, seemed the most tender kindness, 
the fondest love, and then to find it all a mock¬ 
ery. a hollow, worthless thing. Such lessons 
have hardened the nature once so soft and pliant, 
until now, you would scarce recognize your 
i, tarrying far away, 
away, 
I Wait, oh, wait not for to-morrow: Christ would have them 
come to-day. 
Follow oa! the Lamb is leading I He has conquered, we 
shall win; 
Bring the halt aud blind to Jesus; He will heal them- 
“Call them in.” 
“Call them in," and swell the chorus of the angels’ soDg 
above; 
Hark I they sing a Savior’s glory and a Father s changeless 
love, 
O'er salvation's sealed ones watching, though a veil doth 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SILENT CITY. 
Profound stillness reigns here; nought breaks 
the quiet of the twilight hour save the joyous 
chirping of Nature's songster's, whose little 
throats seem filled with sweetness, as they linger 
and flit over this sadly sweet spot. In the dis¬ 
tance the busy hum of village life is heard : but 
here all is calm. 
Tis well thus to draw away from the noisy, 
jostling world, and in silent communion with our 
own hearts drink deep from the great lesson this 
silent picture teaches. Here rest the ashes of 
many buried hopes;—here 'neath this green car- 
KILLING TIGERS 
An ingenious method of destroying tigers is 
used in Persia and Hindostan. This device con¬ 
sist* of a large hemispherical cage, made of 
strong bamboos, or other efficient materials, wo¬ 
ven together, but leaving intervals throughout of 
three or four inches broad. Under this cover, 
which is fastened to the ground by means of 
pickets, in some place where tigers abound, a 
man, provided with two or three short, strong 
spears, takes post at night. Being accompanied I 
by a dog. which gives the alarm, or by a goat, 
which by its agitation 
““““ U P°“ we wowued inghway, and amid the city’s 
din, 
Sound’s a child’s voice, sweet and solemn, “Oh be sure 
and coil them in !” 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
UNIVERSAL UNREST. 
It is not in me 
tented anywhere, 
written, u 
answers the same 
-purpose, 
the adventurer wraps himself up in his quilt, aud 
very composedly goes to sleep, in full confidence 
of his safety. When a tiger comes, and perhaps, 
alter smelling all rouud, begins to rear against 
the cage, anxious for a closer acquaintance with 
the man or the goat, the man then stabs him 
with one of the spears, through the interstices of 
the wicker-work, and, without injury to himself 
or Ms fellow-prisoner in the cage, the'man rarelv 
fails of destroying the tiger, which is ordinarily 
found dead in the morning, from the wounds of 
ihe8pear inflicted upon the most unprotected part 
of the animal's body. Thus the tiger's strength. 
we are yet passing under the 
apple blossoms. 
I was happy then, and could have endured the 
idea of a long separation, because I felt that at 
the last, we should all be happy together forever. 
Often, since then, amidst changes of greater mo¬ 
ment, that jileasant old picture rises freshly be¬ 
fore me, bringing all the sweet thoughts that 
came to comfort and bless me, as I turned to go I 
from home years ago. 
When last the fields and woods were robed in 
their darkest green, and the robins were picking 
the deep crimson cherries from the full bough. 
I stood on the dewy lawn before our home, and 
m utched, with a heart too iull for tears, my two 
brothers depart Step by step. I saw them go 
from me down the shaded avenue, handsome, 
stalwart, young men, in the prime of early man¬ 
hood. it almost seemed that my great love 
must make them falter and turn to stay yet a 
little longer in the peaceful home of childhood. 
But, no. On they went, strong and firm, should- 
ei to shoulder, no footfall lingered, no yearning 
look Was turned backward. Our country had 
called, and they were going ; and so I knew they • 
would keep going, if duty bade, though death j 
were in their path. How could I look on them so 
steadily ? How could they go with such a cheer¬ 
ful light on their laces, when they knew the 
chances were that a few short weeks might cut 
them from every earthly hope; their loves, their v 
heart the same pure freshness of the years agone. 
My eyes are filled with tears as I look out up* 
the night. Yes, I, the cold, haughty woman of 
the world, the envied, the courted, 
lor the girlhood days, and the girlhood s home, 
so far away. Well do 1 remember, as I stood 
beneath the locusts, and looked my last upon 
that home, how my heart bounded with joyful 
a continual feast,” 
am weeping | ^ lu ^ Perfectly safe to presume that the 
writer never enjoyed such a continual feast a 
week at a time in Ms life. Contentment is a 
myth of which we often read, and wMch we 
ve ‘7 seldom realize; but unrest is universal— 
anticipation of the future; how eager was I to un!ver sal oot only as regards all men's lives, but 
enter that strife, of which 1 am now so weary. also as regards all periods of the same. The 
And I will leave it I J will return to the home child is always looking forward to the lime when, 
of my childhood! But I wander! I remember ns lie ^Presses it- he shall -be a man;” and at 
notthat the loved circle is broken—that lather fame time that his hands are building eob- 
nnd mother are lying calmly beneath the turf, houses his imagination is busily engaged in 
the scene. How impressively sad, how thrjlling- 
ly beautilul the lesson we glean from this silent, 
spirit communion ! Soon, very soon, will those 
now in the beauty of youth, in the strength aud 
pride of health, join the silent members congre¬ 
gated here. And it is well! Our physical man 
starts and shudders at the thought; but one 
spiritual nature catches a glimpse of that 
spirit-life beyond the portals of the silent city, 
where life, pure, joyous and free shall be ours. 
Ah ! silent city of the dead, 
We walk with still aud quiet tread 
Your silent streets among; 
We drop a tear of inward grief— 
It gives the spirit sweet relief 
With sadness wrung. 
A lesson sad, but fraught with good— 
A tearful oue hut strengthening food 
Thou givest to me; 
Wo learu that “dust returnst to dust,” 
Anew iu God we put our trust, 
And bow the knee. 
Columbus, Pa , 1363. Cornelia M. Earle. 
Thus the tiger's strength, 
swiftness and ferocity are outmatched by the in¬ 
genuity of man. 
AN EDITOR’S TRIALS 
A NEW METHOD OF DIVORCE 
HUMAN ASPIRATIONS. 
to remain for six weeks, except it should be set 
in motion at the urgent and united request of the 
wedded pair. There were in the room one stool, 
one plate, one spoon, a unity of all the requisites, 
and the solitary bed was of such dimensions that, 
if they choose to use it together, they must needs 
lie very close. Of one thing, and one only, there 
was a duplicate; and that was a little treatise on 
the duties of husbands and wives towards each 
other. No visitor was permitted to go near 
them: and they had only a glimpse at intervals 
of the grim face of the janitor as he pushed their 
food through a hole iu the dour. The bishop 
states thatihe test was attended with the most 
wholesome results. In most cases the parties 
were most excellent friends in a few days; and 
very few could stand out more than a fortnight. 
Another very gratifying circumstance was, that 
they had scarcely on record a case in which a 
second application was made by persons who 
had already gone through the ordeal —frishon 
Burnet. 
HARMONY IN AGE. 
All men whose cultivation keeps pace with 
their years, grow “ better looking ” as they glow 
older. They need not regret the roses of Spring, 
for they are exchanged for the richer fruits of 
I Autumn, which represents all the worthy labor 
that has been expended in the years of manhood 
while they grew aud ripened. As a man lives on, 
all parts harmonize more perfectly to produce 
unity and wholeness. Not a gray hair can be 
missed without disturbing the concord, not a 
wriukle obliterated without destroying some part 
of the beauty of age. I have seen some old peo¬ 
ple “gotup" in a manner to make them look 
actually frightful, wMle, I doubt not, they suppose 
themselves in a condition io challenge admira¬ 
tion. It is quite amusing to see old fellows of 
tilty or thereabouts, rejuvenated, 
NOTHING BUT LOVE. 
Christ will not take sermons, prayers, fastings 
—no, nor the giving our goods, nor the burning 
our bodies—instead of love; and do we love Him 
and yet care not how long we are from Him ? 
Was.it such ajoy to Jacob to see the face of Jos¬ 
eph in Egypt’’ And shall we be contented without 
the sight of Christ in 
realize it 1 To live forever! We apeak the 
words often, we hear them often, but it is only, 
perhaps, when we seem to stand alone; and of 
all in this world there is nothing to rely upon, 
that the full meaning comes to our hearts. How 
much there is on earth that is grand, and beauti¬ 
ful, and.good, and how we lore it all. But there 
is no abiding. This thought may come to all. in 
a thoughtful mood, and it takes away the sense J 
of rest and security which is necessarv to full 
Woman’s Proper Study.—W ithout doubt the 
proper study of womankind is woman. Her at¬ 
tributes, her governing motives, and the whole 
internal enginery of her being can surely be 
bener understood, and more thoroughly sifted, 
by those who, added to the same instinctive bias 
_ _ --. __ 
. . .as they believe, 
with wigs on their heads and hair-dye on their 
whiskers, and playing the agreeable at halls and 
parties, and in the horse-cars, to girls whose 
mothers kad resisted the charms of their youth. 
They think it is all right, but the girls laugh at 
them and call them old fools. 
glory, and yet say we love 
Him? I dare not conclude that we hare no love 
at all when wo are so loath to die; but I dare 
say, were our love more we should die more wil¬ 
lingly; by our unwillingness to die, it appears 
we are little weary of sin. Did we take sin for 
tfte greatest evil, we should not be willing to 
have its company so long.— Baxter. 
little obstructions, the universal unrest, tl 
makes life musical and worth the living. 
Penlield, N. Y., 1803. Gplielmdx 
Home.— It was the boast of Lucullus that he 
changed his climate with the birds of passage. 
How often must he have felt the truth here incul¬ 
cated. that the master of many houses has no 
home.' 
God most times takes off the eapthly garments 
of old people slbwly. in order, no doubt, not to 
frighten them. 
jf Genius. —The great and decisive test 
- is, that it calls forth power in the souls 
- It not merely gives knowledge but it 
energy. 
It is the ordinary way of the world to keep 
folly at the helm and wit under the hatches. 
