m 
THE LOVE KNOT. 
Tying her bonnet under the chin, 
She tied the raven ringlets in; 
But not alone in the silken suaro 
Did she catch her lovely floating hair, 
For tying her bonnet under her chin, 
She tied a young man * heart withiu. 
They were strolling together up the bill, 
Where the wind comes blowing merry and chill; 
And it blew the curia a frolicsome race, 
All over the happy peach-colored face, 
Till scolding and laughing she tied them in, 
Under her beautiful dimpled chin. 
And it hlew a color bright as the hloom 
Of the plnklcst fmchla's tossing plume, 
All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl 
That ever imprisoned a roaming curl, 
Or, in tying her bonnet under her cbln, 
Tied a young man'* heart within. 
Steeper and steeper grew the bill— 
Madder, merrier, cheerier still 
The western wind blew down and played 
The wildest tricks with the little maid; 
As, tying her bonnet under her chin, 
She tied a young man’s heart within. 
Oh, western wind, do you think it was fair 
To play auch tricks with hor tlostiug hair ? 
To gladfully, gleefully do your best 
To blow her against the young man’s breast, 
Where be baa gladly folded her It), 
And kissed her mouth and dimpled chin ? 
Oh, Ellery Vane, you little thought, 
An hour ago, when you besought 
This country lass to walk with you, 
After the sun had dried the dew, 
What perilous danger you’d be in, 
As she tied her bonnet under her chin. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
LETTER FROM THE ALLEGANIES. 
April, 1863. — Again, my beautiful-souled 
Jennie, my spirit reaches out to yours—even as 
the tendril reaches out for support. You are so 
brave and strong, and your bravery causes me 
to feel my weakness. 
I left Ifilldalo a month ago. There is but one 
of our band left there now. Father is in Europe. 
He left America for the sunnier shores of France 
soon after our Helen assumed immortality. 
HiB eyes grew unnaturally bright, and through 
the white temples the blue veins gleamed pain¬ 
fully. Together we stood by the graves of our 
dead ones, lying so silently under the pure dra- 
“ Heroic males the country hears, 
But daughters give up more than sons." 
I believe this, Jennie. 'Tis un easy thing, 
sometimes, to “ flash out your sluls with your 
guns, and take your Heaven at once,” but ’tis a 
bard task to wait and watch for the feet that will 
never come—to push back the dark locks, and 
find the brow marble. Well, darling, this is my 
lot. May it. never be yours. The shadows are 
deep’niug, and I must write to you only when 
the sun shines. Minnie Mintwood. 
Alfred University, Alleg. Co., N. Y., 1863. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
FOOTSTEPS. 
Sitting in my little parlor in the falling twi¬ 
light, I listen half unconsciously for footsteps 
which I daily listen for and not in vain. I am 
thinking of the time that I first found myself 
listening for those loot-falls, four years since, in a 
city on the other side of the continent. Alone in 
the twilight parlor, as now, I leaned my head 
upon the arm of the sofa, and hearkened with 
my heart for each approaching tread, suspending 
its beatings a moment until the gate was passed 
and I know it was no visitor fur me. Waiting 
long and almost despairing, 1 roused myself to 
ask why I listened with such a doubting, hoping 
heart for the coming of one concerning whom a 
few months before I had never heard—one whose 
few visits T could not say had any reference to 
me,—I who had passed the dew of youth, out¬ 
lived romantic girlhood without knowing any 
thing of “ the old. old story,” save what I heard 
from others, and had settled in my mind that 1 
was one of the exceptional cases who should 
never knew the thralldom of love ,—1 listened for 
the approach of an almost stranger like a senti¬ 
mental girl awaiting her lover. Angry with 
myself and ashamed, T rose from my listening 
attitude, and pacing quickly across the room 
tried to resolve that whoever came and went my 
heart should remain as it ever had, unbound by 
stronger ties than those of relationship and 
friendship. Just then it leaped rejoicingly, for 
the gate latch clicked, the door bell rang, and a 1 
moment after I was endeavoring to receive with ' 
cool formality the one whose coming J hud await- ( 
od as 1 never before waited for mortal man. 
But “old maid” that 1 was, love had found me 
out, nor me alone. The secret of another heart 
was unconsciously betrayed that night—a secret f 
worth more than untold gold to me. I called it «' 
friendship, but my heart opened beneath its in- < 
fluence as no other friendship had opened it. J 9 
lived in an enchanted atmosphere, listening often « 
THE LAST CHARGE AT GETTYSBURG. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
THE ZEPHYR SPIRIT. 
nv h. o. tmu.KV. 
Fax away In sunset glowing, 
Reigns the Zephyr Spirit fair; 
Where the crystal rays are flowing 
Through the quiet evening air. 
Thence she comes to fan the reaper, 
As he gathers up the grain; 
And to woo the we try sleeper, 
From his labors, r are and pain. 
And at eve, how sweet her coming, 
As she softly steals along, 
When the bee has ceased itB humming, 
And the merry bird it* song; 
When we hear her gently breathing, 
As she murmur* through the trees, 
In her quiet frolic, wreathing 
Chaplets lor her sister, Breeze. 
Once this spirit loved to linger 
’Mid our banner’s waves of gold, 
And to traee, with loving finger, 
Ripples on each shining fold. 
Now her brother, 8torm. is raising 
High in air that banner bright, 
And we see it proudly blazing, 
As he boars it through the fight. 
But we hope the gentle spirit 
Will once more return to reign, 
When the Storm King shall not rear it 
O'er the gory battle plain, 
When its crimson shall be shining 
In the blue of peaceful skies, 
And the spirit aoft reclining 
’Mid its splendors as they rise. 
Royal ton, N. Y., 1863. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LABOR. 
pery of snow. Ah! my Jennie, that there are lor tlie footsteps which seldom disappointed me. 
none there to plant flowers where they rest. Since then long weeks and months of absence 
Well, mayhap an angel will woo the violet and have been for me, when I waited and welcomed 
dandelion to blossom above them. the white winged message of affection instead of 
The physicians said father was failing—that echoing footsteps; but these waiting days have 
change of climate and scenery was his only hope P***«d and every night-fall brings a welcome 
for recovery. So he bade us good-bye. and in a tnmd and a welcome face, with its smile of love 
few weeks wrote us that France was very glo- and words of greeting, which, please Gun, shall 
rious, very gay, and, ho thought, very heartless. <l “ily fall upon ray ear until Life's evening and 
He also wrote of tin compa/jnon du voyage, in Death's night, time shall close up this day of life; 
whom he is very much interested. lie 'is an atld > f our feet may walk side by side in that, 
English nobleman, traveling in the same dlrec- la,ul where there is no night, in the presence ol 
tion. and I think ho must be strangely liko Lord the blessed God who so tenderly cares for the 
Nei.vil, the lover of Cokinnk. They will visit needs arul wants of his creatures, my daily pray 
Italy, and then the Hoty Land. How my bouI or will be answered. Helen. 
flutters when I think Of thOSO lands! Italy. Santa Barbara, Cal., 1863. 
whose very air is redolent with poetry, and those-*- 
great, deep-hearted Italians, with the first bursts THE POLISH LADIES. 
of Freedom gushing up through their souls. - 
And then the Holy Land! how my heart has A long stay in Poland has a most depressing 
THE POLISH LADIES, 
A long stay in Poland has a most depressing 
"To work or not to work, that’s the question. ”— Mcxl/m 
Parody. 
The great mass of mankind, if called npon 
to decide between Labor and Indolence, would 
unhesitatingly choose the latter, yet after some 
experience they might rue their wretched choice 
and again wish to return to the busy walks of 
life. 
Labor is an institution of God, and of the 
greatest, antiquity. Even when man was first 
created—innocent and happy, surrounded by all 
that was lovely and beautiful in that “ historic 
garden,”—to him was given the task of keeping 
and dressing it. In doing this we are led to be¬ 
lieve be was perfectly happy, otherwise his 
master would not have given him the work to 
perform. After man's first disobedience a curse 
was pronounced upon the groi/nd, and labor be¬ 
came the common lot. of all. Horn this time for¬ 
ward we find all men engaged in some employ¬ 
ment either mentally or bodll,', No.ur was a 
“preacher of righteousness.” I)avid kept his 
father's sheep, and Moses led his chosen race 
through all the perils of the wilderness. 
Labor still continues to be a curse to those 
who, discontented and complaining, march on¬ 
ward in the dull caravan of toil; but to those 
who think not of “joints forever on the rack,” 
but rather of the horrors which must accompany 
a dull routine of idleness, it is not. such — never 
can be. What man in this world can content 
himselfin idleness? He has been created with 
hands and arms, mind and will; and to attempt 
to remain in idleness when so constituted is im¬ 
possible. He must be employed- Tills is a fixed 
and universal law. He trill think — be trill act. 
beat from a child to tread that land rendered ede ct on the spirits. The universal mourning possible. He must be employed. This is a fixed 
sacred by the footsteps of our Savior,— to gaze worn by the women haunts you even In your and universal law. He trill think — be trill act. 
upon Calvary, to bathe my brow in Siloam,— sleep, and you feel that “black" Is, after all, the If not engaged in something ennobling and ro- 
atid, above all,. I knnik, to hold tip 7iiy hands for true ghost color. Wherever you go, you find the formatory, be will take part in (hat which is 
mother to clasp. I'or it seems as though Heaven earne poor helpless creatures herding together in degenerating and degrading. He is an “ actor ” 
shadowed very low over Palestine, and that 'tis th ® churches; and even there not always free in the “ drama of life,” and to him Is given the 
but a stop from Calvary into Paradise, from fhe brutality of the Russian soldiery, rare privilege of choosing what “character” he 
Well, fwas so desolate at nilldale, and the old * nder the pretence of searching for arms, the shall represent Oh, how careful then, should 
hunger lor books manifested itself so keenly, sanctity of the house of God has repeatedly been we all be in choosing thal “character,” so we 
that I came back to these classic grounds, trust- violated, and sentries stationed at the door not may be a benefit to ourselves — an honor to our 
ing that the mountain air might dispel the gloom, ^infrequently subject ladies to annoyance, if not race. 
Hilldale, 1 fear, will never assume the gladness insult, in going in and out. It is the attitude of All do not and should not take delight in the 
oi other years. As 1 touched the piano keys, a the women which annoys the Russians still more same kind of labor. For the intellectual a wide 
sad, mournful wail seemed to come forth for the than that of the men. There is no sacrifice to aud Open fie'.d is presented everywhere. The 
return of the white fingers that went away to which Ihey will not readily submit, and their work of reform must be commenced and carried 
press harp strings in the Better Land. spirit is indomitable. From the Princess Sapicha on by them. Errors which have long prevailed 
1 wandered in the woods to-day, darling, to petty tradesman's wife, they devote them- to the detriment of us all, must be eradicated, 
gather mosses, where, nearly a year ago, we selves heart and soul to the cause, slaving night Sophistries must be unravelled and the great 
courted the muses, and astonished “forest kings” ftnd dt, 7 at making clothes, conveying arms and arcana of nature penetrated and explained. To 
with female eloquence. How deeply the year ammunition to the insurgent camp, remaining all others whoso inclinations lead them out into the 
has been shadowed! You thought to buffet the night under prison walls, for the chanoo of rescu- “free sunlight of God,” an ample field is pre- 
ugouy. but. how near it brought to Heaven. I ing captives, and performing other heroic acts, sen ted in the various avocatious of the country, 
thought it might draw you to me, bui “The Combined with the power of self-sacrifice. Pr>ii H h The land must lie cultivated. The nxMona mmi 
In writing of the la3t day's battle, I was so 
cramped, both in shape and time, as to be com¬ 
pelled to hurry over most important matters 
with scarcely a word. 1 had particularly desired 
to describe, somewhat at length, the last despe¬ 
rate charge at four o’clock in the afternoon, in 
which the rebels seemed to have gathered up all 
the strength and desperation for one fierce, con¬ 
clusive effort, that should sweep over and wash 
out our obstinate resistance; but there was left 
me scarcely a single paragraph in which to do it, 
and it was now too late. Less than justice, 
however, was done to the splendid fighting of 
the Second Corps. It was there thal the flower 
of the rebel army was concentrated, there that 
the heaviest shock beat out upon and shook, and 
even lifted up and pushed back our line. 
I We had made some shallow rifle pits, with bar¬ 
ricades of rails from the fences. The rebel line, 
stretched away miles to the left, in magnificent 
array, but strongest here. Pickett’s splendid 
division of Longstreet's corps in front, came 
steadily, and, as St seemed, reelstlessly sweeping 
up. Our skirmishers retired slowly from the 
I Emmetteburg road, holding their ground tena- I 
cion sly to the last- They reserved Lheir fire till 
they reached this same Emmetts burg road, then 
opened with a terrific crash. From a hundred 
iron throats, meantime, their artillery had been 
I thundering on our barricades. 
Hancock was wounded, Gibbon succeeded to 
the command—approved soldier, and ready for 
I the crisis. As the tempest of fire approached its I 
I height, he walked along the line and renewed big 
j orders to the men to reserve their fire. The 
I rebels, three lines deep, came steadily up. They I 
were in point blank range. 
At last the order came. From thrice six thou¬ 
sand guns there came a sheet of smoky flame, a 
crash, a rush of leaden death. The line literally 
melted away; but there came the second, resist- 
* less still. It had been our supreme effort—on 
the instant we were not equal to another. Up to 
’ I the rifle pitp, across them, over the barricades_ 
I the momentum of their charge, the mere machine 
’ strength of their combined action swept them 
‘ on. Our thin line could fight, but it could not 
oppose weight to momentum. It was pushed 
behind the guns. Right on came the rebels. 
They were upon the guns, were bayoneting the ; 
I gunners, were waving their flags above our , 
I pieces. But they had penetrated to the fatal j 
point A storm of grape and canister tore its ; 
way from man to man, and marked Its track with ( 
corpses straight down their line! They had ex¬ 
posed themselves to the enfilading fire of the j 
guns on the western slope of Cemetery Hill; that ^ 
exposure sealed their fate. 
The line reeled back—disjointed already — in ri 
I an instant in fragments. Our men were just bo- j, 
I hind the guns. They leaped forward npon the r 
disordered mass; but there was little need for f [ 
I fighting now. A regiment threw down its arms, ,] 
I and, with colors at its bead, rushed over and sur- c 
j rendered. All along the field smaller detach- v 
I merits did the same. Webb's brigade brought in I y 
I eight hundred, taken in as little time as it re- j, 
quires to write the simple sentence that tells it. i, 
Gibbon's old division took fifteen stands of tt 
colors. r( 
Over the fields the escaped fragments of the gl 
charging line fell back—the battle there was 
over. A single brigade, Howard’s, (of which the j 0 
Seventh Miehigau is part) came out with fifty- u , 
four less Officers, and 793 less men than it took f u 
in! So the whole corps fought — so they fought ’ n 
further down the line. w 
Yet, we were very near defeated. Our ammu- gv 
nition grew scant; the reserve ammunition train j„ 
was brought up and drained; but for that we e3 
should have been left to cold steel. gu 
Brigade after brigade had been thrown forward f r; 
to strengthen the line; as the rebel attack drifted TJ 
back over the fields, there stood in the rear just Tt 
one single brigade that constituted the entire 
reserve of the Army of the Potomac. Forty w 
thousand fresh troops to have hurled forward At 
upon the retreating mass would have ended the 
campaign with the battle; but for forty thousand 
wo had that one wasted brigade. The rebels 
were soon formed again and ready lor defense— 
the opportunity was lost.—Cor. Cincinnati Ga¬ 
zette. m< 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
TRUST IN GOD, 
What were there in this changing world 
To cling to, were the hope denied, 
The glorious promise to us given, 
That for onr sakes the Savior died 
What object had the care-born soul, 
To struggle on thro’ life alone. 
If, in its darkest hour, the eye 
Of faith could fail to view Thy throne. 
What were this life, a fading scene 
With more of grief and woe than joy. 
And death were but a constant pang, 
Our hours of comfort to destroy. 
What were it all If Thou, our God, 
Were notour solace and our stay, 
Giving Thy grace to guide and bless 
Our souls, in sorrow’s darkening day. 
Our God, our Fathxk, blessed name, 
We love thy praises e’er to speak, 
In Thee we trust, O, give to us 
The Christian’s spirit, pure and meek. 
Elkhorn, Wis., 1863. B , 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
SILENT INFLUENCE. 
Do we not too often forget that there is per- 
* meating our being a deep and solemn nature,- 
r deep in its effects, and solemn in ila silence ? In 
4 iho great sea of human enjoyments do we not 
i sometimes forget the destiny of Ihe little currents 
‘ constantly diverging from our life-boats ? Like 
’ the silent workings of some chemical process in 
the deep laboratories of nature that is coining 
• some metal, we may not constantly detect the 
1 powerful force of the influence we are exerting. 
Hut when the metal is once coined and held forth 
to the eye of Inspection, then shall we realize 
how great has been Its author. We may not, 
even in this life, see the end of human influence. 
Immortal, it never dies. But when souls without 
number, staudiug before the scrutiny of God in 
that great day, shall make mention of our names, 
we shall know how deathless are the impressions 
we make on all surrounding destinies. Shall 
voices that we have molded report against us ? 
Shall we furnish eternity with discordant harp- 
strings V Oh, Rural readers, do we sufficiently 
realize that in this world, where character is in 
its formative state, it is a fearful thing to speak, 
to look, to think f 
“ A kiud word is of more value than gold and 
precious stones.” Like the gladdening sun and 
gentle dew, its charity descends with a like 
blessing upon the lowliest vale and the loftiest 
mountain top. A Fingle word spoken in kindly 
love will often turn the balance upon the side of 
right, and reflect eternal credit upon its author. 
But it is In the tearful, speaking eye, in the ten¬ 
der, magic touch, that we realize a power not 
contained in volumes of kjnd words. In their 
very silence is life, tenderness and passion. 
When the breath of trouble sweeps across our 
heart-strings, nature softly folds us in her em¬ 
brace and teaches us her works, until, through 
the unconsciously opened windows of our sor¬ 
rowful souls, there comes such a halo of glad 
sunshine that all envy and ill-will disappear. 
Who shall say that angels, robed In earthly 
forms, do not traverse our earth, imparting love 
and goodness, as does the gentle flower its per¬ 
fume ? We have sometimes thought we traced 
’neath the fold of mortality the flutter of seraphic 
wings, while concealed beneath them lay a 
sweet-toned lyre and a golden crown. In their 
hands we perceived a ladder of flowers gently 
extended to us, and we blessed God that under 
such guidance wo were permitted to mount its 
fragrant steps. 
The dew drop gently falls on waiting flowers, 
The rainbow smiling speaks tlirough clouds and 
showers: 
■While ntigc! lyres their deep-toned chords expand, 
And Shout in joy, such is thy power, O man ! 
Adrian, Mich., 1863. Mollie Price. 
PRAYER. 
agouy, but how near it brought to Heaven. I 
thought it might draw you to me, but - The 
Father” willed otherwise. 
The white mantle that has draped our Northland 
homes for so long, and which has not received 
the blood-stain, has quite disappeared from these 
Allegany bills. I cannot wonder at the wildness, 
freeness and exuberance of mountaineers. The 
very surroundings beget expanse and freedom 
How gloriously the sum gilded the trees and 
hill-tops this morning! To-day I looked upon 
the white face of one who has been one of earth’s 
greatest sufferers. Twenty-two years of severe 
pain had silvered the hair, aud over the face was 
spread a look of such perfect rest, that none 
could doubt but that she, who had borne so much 
cheerfully , bad at last found perfect peace. 
power of self-sacrifice, Polish The land must be cultivated. The nations must 
ladies possess a most lively wit, which is often 
more than a match for their enemies. 
--- » » +- 
Lasting Si-ell of Love-Tokens.— I wonder 
how often the executors of old collego fellows, 
or of hard-faced bankers and bureaucrats, have 
been aggravated liy finding in thal most secret 
drawer, which ought to have a codicil, or a 
jewel a tress, a glove, a flower? The searcher 
looks af the object for a moment, and then throws 
it into a rubbish-basket,—with a laugh, if lie is 
good-natured, with a curse, if he is vicious or 
disappointed. Let it lie there, though the dead 
miser valued it above all his bank stock, and 
kissed it oftener than he did his living and law- 
\\ hen 1 am buried let it be in the morning, so ful wife and children —what is it worth now 1 ' 
the son may shine on my grave all day. It Say, as the grim dean of St. Patrick wrote on 
seems so terrible to lay away a soul's casket in his lore-token, “only a woman’s hair .’’—Shirley 
the shadows of gathering twilighte-jurf as though Brookes. * 
the soul went out in utter darkness. --- 
Nearly a year, J hxnie, since the boys enlisted. Influence or Love-Tokens -There i« after “ “ were auve ' u 18 a8 eaBy 10 worh 
Another of that band came home a few days all, something in those trifles which friends hZ wbere everything moves along lively. I believe 
ago, with the brown hair clustering round the stow upon eadt otherIn fnfStin "indt halfth * * ,b « ^ C ^ sfro “ lazi ' 
broad brow, grown very add. Another victim cation of the place the giver bold* in the affec D0&e- ? ot JUt , that P eo P le are «ck-but it is so 
to Slavery and Treachery! Away here in our tions. I would believe that one who preserved DatUral , to * ia^and people give up to it, and 
Northland homes we know but little of the hor- a lock of hair , a simple flower or am, trifle of l°° n get 80 tbey think tbey are not able to move ' 
rors of war. But when our brothers come back my bestowing, loved me" though no show was mope “ ob ° dy ! if you have f uch a dis P osi - 
to us with sealed lips and throbless hearts, the made of it; while all the protestations in the. ? d ° ™ * °* lt “ 80 movement to be lazy. 
th ?. BtTetches 0Ur *** world would not win my confidence in one who ’ -i_..._ 30 
At whatT^crifiS^ou^countr ^ 1oa 8ach Trifles they may Frowns and SMiLES.-Where one thousand 
deemed! y being re- be, but it is by such that character and disposi- are destroyed by the world’s frowns, ten thou- 
tion are oftenest revealed.— Washington Irving, sand are destroyed by its smiles. 
have their bread. The waste and barren parts 
of earth must be improved and ornamented by 
the band of Art. The utmost good feeling 
should exist between the workers in every de¬ 
partment of life. Honest toil, of whatever kind, 
should receive a hearty welcome, and all should 
willingly acknowledge that labor is a blessing, 
and tends to the prevention of crime—the well¬ 
being of the race. Arno. 
Hopeaale, Ohio, 1863. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
DON'T MOPE. 
Anything but a slow, moping person, be they 
masculine, feminine, or neuter, 1 don't care 
which. It tries my patience clear out to see 
anybody drag themselves around as if they had 
just been drawn through a knot-hole and every 
bit of life squeezed out. I like to see folks move 
as if they were alive. It is as easy again to work 
where everything moves along lively. I believe 
half the sickness in the world comes from lazi¬ 
ness-nut but that people are sick—but it is so 
"RALLY ROUND THE FLAG, BOYS.” 
A correspondent of the Cincinnati Gazette, 
in narrating the surrender of Vicksburg, relates 
the following pleasing incident: 
“Lieutenant Colonel Wm. E. Strong, assisted 
by Sergeant B. F. Dugan, fourth company Ohio 
Independent Cavalry, and followed by a numer¬ 
ous throng of officers, soldiers and civilians, 
ascended to the cupola of the Court House, and 
at half-past 11 o’clock on the 4th of July, 18C3, 
flung out. our banner of beauty and glory to the 
breeze. 
*• As the first breath of wind came floating up 
from the Mississippi, and caressingly spread oui 
its silken folds, some one commenced singing, 
• Rally round the flag, boys.’ The example was 
contagious; a moment more and the entire crowd 
had joined in the soDg with thrillingeffect The 
words are familiar to all, and under many cir¬ 
cumstances might be considered unmeaning; 
but. sung exultingly on the 4th of July, over this 
Rebel fastness, the words 
‘ Down with the traitor anil up with the stars 1 
floated out over the conquered city ladened with 
a meaning they never had before. The soDg 
ended ; the glorious words and once famil- 
natural to be lazy, and people give up to it, and ^ ar miIS * c caine down from the cupola, starting, 
.' 1 c 1 ___i__n i_. ii 
soon get so they think they are not able to move. 
Don’t mope nobody; if you have such a disposi¬ 
tion do run it off. it is so inconvenient to be lazy. 
June, 1863. X. 
--- - 
Frowns and Smiles. —Where one thousand I 
as from a dream, the straggling Rebels scattered 
through the adjacent streets.” 
Love and Devotion.— Love and devotion 
are supposed to be nearly allied. Boccacio fell 
in love at Naples in the church of St Lorenzo 
as Petrarch had done at Avignon in the church 
of St. Clair. 
Fill up the void spaces of your time with 
meditation and prayer. 
They are the safest who are most in their closets 
—who pray, not to be seen of men but to be heard 
of God. 
It is a comfort to Christians apart to think 
their prayers meet before a throne of grace, and 
their persons shall meet before a throne of glory. 
There wants nothing but a believing prayer to 
turn a promise into a performance. 
God is a great God, and therefore he will be 
sought; he is a good God, aud therefore he will 
be found. 
The breath of prayer comes from the life of 
faith. 
Whatever you want, go to God by faith and 
prayer, in the name of Christ, and never think 
his delays are denials. 
They who spend their days in faith and prayer 
shall end their days in peace and comfort.— J. 
Mason. 
" - -4 — -- - - 
“My Burden is Light.” —A wise man sought 
to explain to his little child the nature of a cross. 
He took two slips of wood, a long aud a short 
one. “Sec my child,” he said, “the long piece 
is the will of God, the short piece is your will; 
lay your will in a line with the will of God, and 
you have no cross; lay it athwart, and you make 
a cross directly.” 
The child of God, by his unbelief and unsub¬ 
missive spirit, too often raises and rivets his own 
cross, to the pain and torture of which the un¬ 
questioning heart is altogether a stranger. 
Life is one; therefore it is well that childhood 
and youth should be happy; every life should 
begin in Eden; Bbould have its blest traditions to 
return to, its holy places on -which an eternal con¬ 
secration rests.— Two Friends. 
