in defence that he only wanted to be original by 
dealing to some extent in facts. 
Edmund had drawn tlienameof Susan Brown, 
whom he bad never before beard of. He read: 
Of all the girls within this town. 
The sweetest is Miss Susan Brown, 
Of twenty suitor* In a row. 
llyself would be the boldest, oh! 
It's I that loves Mias Susan Brown ! 
For her I would my life lay down! 
It’s I will write a valentine 
And ask her if she will be mine! 
I saw a lady at a fair, 
The noblest of the ladles there. 
The showmen all their ware* threw down, 
• And madly followed Susan Brown. 
If* I that loves Miss Susan Brown ! 
For her 1 would my life lay down 1 
It's I will write a valentine 
To ask her if she will he mine 1 
I saw a lady at a show. 
She had a deuced handsome beau, 
Who got all smiles and ne’er a frown 
From the sweet face of Susan Brown. 
If 8 ! w ill go myself to drown. 
All on account of Susan Brown. 
And I will burn this valentine; 
For she can nevermore he mine. 
Roland produced what, ho called 
Linos to tine who Don’t Deserve them. 
There is an air of virgin white, 
Of Icy chastencs9' pure control. 
In stainless beauty, like, the light 
That plays on fields around the pole,— 
There is a glacier touch round all 
Her lovely form and beauteous face, 
And from her iceberg shape so tall 
A chillness robs the half its grace. 
A clear, unspotted page is she, 
A cold, ethereal Arctic Zone— 
A sight that one could wish to see 
But that Us genial warmth Is gone. 
And vet, alas 1 in spite of chill 
And freezing welcome deadly pale, 
That, waits on bim who, lured to ill, 
Attempts in that dread cllmc to sail,— 
In spito of all, as many be 
Who strive to reach the icy pole. 
So lovers seek the open sea 
They fondly deem lies round her soul. 
Sidney’s was a longer and rather more elabo¬ 
rate cfl'usion than the others; and he had tcrached 
it up while they w'erc being read. It was addressed 
To Lacy. 
Fair Lucy, in Italia’s clime 
They urher in the fasting time, 
The sail and somber days of Lent, 
With feasting and with merriment. 
Then high and low, commingled, meet 
In gay disguise* on the street; 
Then flowers, light, gaudy missiles fly 
At every masker passing by. 
Imagine, in such time and place, 
A sdon of the Teuton race, 
Disgniseiess, standing mid the rout 
Armed wltb Air queen of tlowcrs, the kraut. 
A lady delicate and. gay 
Come* brightly smiling up the way. 
He aims and hurls bis huge bouquet! 
Need 1 sing how the missile sped 
And “took* 1 the fair one on the head 
And keeled her over almost dead f 
Or how the culprit, sans disguise, 
Contest to everybody's eyes, 
Is soon o’ortaken as he flies ? 
Or need a single line be Bpent, 
Detailing his just punishment? 
Of course there needn’t, not one; for all 
The story's good Tor is the moral. 
Applied it read*:—I’d like to join 
This mask of good St. Valentine; 
And you’re the girl I’d like to smite 
With flowers of fancy guy and bright. 
But if perchance my awkward throws 
* Should hit you wi th a “ giant rose 1” 
(That choicest flower my garden grows) 
Who threw it ? never need be asked; 
I’d Htaud convicted and nnmasked. 
And so for greeting ’ti» more wise 
To let this little tale suffice. 
THE BEST INVESTMENT 
THE FLIET EEFORMED. 
Ben Adam had a golden coin one day, 
Which he put out at interest with a Jew; 
Year after year awaiting him it lay. 
Until the doubled coin two pieces grew, 
And these two, four—so on, till people said, 
“ How rich Ben Adam is 1” and bowed the servile head. 
Ben Selim had a golden coin that day. 
Which to a stranger asking alms he gave, 
Who went rejoicing on his unknown way— 
Ben Selim diod, too poor to own a grave; 
But when his sonl reached neaven, angels with pride 
Showed him the wealth to which his coin had mul¬ 
tiplied. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHY STAND IDLE? 
The command to labor in the vineyard of the 
Lord is binding on all, high and low. Though 
much has been done to elevate the minds of 
men, yet much, very much, remains to be done. 
All over the land, men, women and children arc 
in the daily and hourly practice of sin, who need 
better influences thrown as a web around about 
them, to keep them from being drawn into the 
templet's snare. The field is large; and the 
laborers are unable to meet the demands which 
are coming from all parts of it. Dear reader, 
are yon engaged in the great work? If not, 
why not?—for, in the language of the Saviour, 
“ why stand ye hero idle ?” Why not enlist in 
this great and heavenly work immediately ? 
Your reward is certain; for He who bids you 
labor has promised to give you what is right, 
to reward you according to your work. Enlist, 
then, in this glorious enterprise; cooperate with 
those already in the work, and let your influence 
for good reach far and wide. Reader, do not 
say you have no influence on those with whom 
you associate; for you do have an influence 
either for good or for evil. 
There are different kinds of labor to be en¬ 
gaged in by different individuals; yet all aim at 
the one great object, the elevation of our fallen 
race. Like an army, wc may not all bo officers 
or leaders In this w r ork ; yet as privates wc may 
render valiant service in the cause of our Master. 
While you may be a teacher or pupil in the Sab¬ 
bath-school, 1 may be more intimately connected 
with the cause of temperance or other reforma¬ 
tion ; yet we arc each sowing the good seed 
which will In the end yield a golden harvest. 
Oh, do wc realize the many temptations that 
are continually looming up to beguile us—the 
many devices which the evil one presents, to 
allure our minds and cause our feet to tread 
“ bye and slippery paths I" As laborers in this 
good work, do we feel Mint the seeds of dissipa¬ 
tion and vice of every name are daily sown 
broadcast by the enemy V But shall we be dis¬ 
couraged or dismayed by this array of ngencieB 
wbieb are being continually brought against 
us? Never 1 Our great leader, the Lord of 
hosts, has promised us victory over all that 
may come against us. And although dark 
clouds may at times gather and threaten to 
wash away the seed which has been sown, yet 
our Heavenly Father will protect the right and 
overthrow the wrong. Your great leader in 
this work has promised you, if you are “faith¬ 
ful unto death,” a “crown of life;”, and this 
crown is promised to all who enlist, and who 
labor faithfully in this glorious struggle to over¬ 
throw Satan and his followers. 
Christian soldier, gird on thine armor then, 
enter the conflict with zeal; and in the end you 
have the assurance that you will march trium¬ 
phant over the dark river inri* the “ better 
land,” with “palms of victory” in your hand. 
Oh how joyful to realize that wc, after life’s con¬ 
flicts are over, arc to aid the angel choir in. 
chanting praises to that Being who sits on the 
“great white throne.” J. L. Kennkll. 
Chili Center, N. Y. 
RISTORI 
Written for Moore’s Iiural New-Yorker. 
MYSELF AND I. 
It was with a weary band that I turned the 
key in the lock of the school-room door, and a 
very weary heart I carried with me that, night 
a night never to he forgotten. Dull, heavy 
clouds hung low in the December sky, and the 
wind sobbed and sighed through the pines with 
a restless tone that suited my own mood. Out 
before stretched ft long, straight road, heavy and 
dark with mud, with patches of dirty enow that 
the wind had blown so closely together as to 
defy even the driving winter’s rain. Here and 
there a low house stood out, black und weather¬ 
beaten, and a lofty pine, shriveled by the light¬ 
ning, tossed its bare arms towards the sky In 
helpless beseeching. Not a feature of dullness, 
not one of tire impotent cries of Nature, that I 
did not 6ee and hear. To my eye, no light shone 
beyond the darkness; for iny soul, no sun had 
“with healing in hi* wings.” 
A CHAPTEE OH VALENTINES, 
According to some authorities St. Valentine 
was a bishop, according to others ft presbyter, 
who was beheaded at, Rome in the Third Century 
and was early canonized, Wheatley tells us 
that he was “a man of most admirable parts, 
and so famous for his love and charity that the 
custom of choosing valentines upon his festival 
took its rise from thence.” By other writers the 
origin of the institution of valentines has been 
referred to the supposed fact of bird* selecting 
their mates on that day; *till others derive it 
from the practice, during the Roman festival of 
the Lupcrealia, in the mouth of February, of 
putting the names of young women into a box, 
whence they were drawn out at random by the 
young men. 
Whatever may have, been the origin of the cus¬ 
tom, it is certainly in theory a very pretty bit of 
nonsense, and one that the soberest might relish 
once a year; it offers an opportunity for the 
exercise of wit that, without it would never come 
into play, and brightens up pictures which the 
cobweb? of t he counting house have obscured or 
the smoke of the workshop tarnished; the gray- 
haired accountant turns to the old lodger of love, 
where his first venture* are recorded, and runs 
over again accounts long since balanced and 
closed; and the young blacksmith grasps the 
smallest hut. most powerful of implements to 
strike off the rhymes that arc glowing in the 
forge of his fancy. In truth, however, the cus¬ 
tom of sending anonymous missives on the 14th 
of February has of late years been sadly abused, 
and consequently has fallen into disrepute. No 
language can be too severe to condemn the vul¬ 
garity and cowardliness of taking advantage of 
the freedom of this occasion to *end to any per¬ 
son that which is vile in itself or which in its 
particular application is calculated to give pain 
to the receiver. Still, there is no reason why 
the pleasantry Of the anniversary should be 
dropped; and indeed it is every year a source of 
yet arisen 
Defiant and restless, I picked my way a* best 1 
could along the soft, grassy path. It was not I 
often even now that I was so very hitter, but the 
day’s duties had pressed heavily, and mind and 
body alike shared in the consequences. So in¬ 
tent was I that the steady splash of a horse in 
the water and loud, eager voice* were close upon 
me before 1 noted them. Then 1 turned. I saw 
only Auntie Dill, as I had heard her called, 
riding home from mill with her bag before her, 
and near her, stepping In and out to avoid the 
deeper water and keep pace with the horse, Old 
Mother French, a coarse, strong woman. It 
was Auntie Dill speaking. 
“ But, neighbor, they do say she knows as well 
as any one that she is a’most gone, and that she 
does not take on a bit.” 
“ Yes, so 1 hear, poor thing! What will be¬ 
come of ’em all ? Jim is’nt just the. one I should 
want to leave my children with. They’ll have 
to come up without any of his help. I pity 
’em all.” 
They were up with me now, and the dull 
clouds awoke and scut down their messengers in 
a sharp, quick shower. Together we hurried 
through the bars and up a short lane to the door 
of one of those low, brown houses—to me, 
though I knew it not, the door of a brighter 
life. It was “Jim’s” home, and on the low set¬ 
tle lay the dying wife and mother, “resting,” 
she said, “for she had been very busy,” and her 
eye turning with alia mother’s love upon the lit¬ 
tle ones about, her, told us why so busy. “Get¬ 
ting ready to leave them,” she added to us; “ 1 
cannot look far out into their lives; but what I 
cannot see I trust, and I know it is not in vain.” 
The two women were dump and afraid of the 
“ rheumatia’; ” so, while they talked in tones 
low for them by the tire, I drew near to the 
humble mothor and learned how one may 
“suffer and he strong,” and that even above 
the graves in our hearts the fairest flowers of 
1 life’s adorning may spring. 
The half hour shower passed on, and I bade 
\ my life-teacher “good bye." Before the next 
* day dawn she passed “within the veil,” but I 
i that night closed over in my soul a new grave, 
/ whose tablet was inscribed “ Myself,” and deter- 
a mined that henceforth the “I,” strong to live 
J and do for others, should be my only name, 
k Lapeer, Mich., Jan., 1867. Howe Bennino. 
WIT AND WISDOM. 
Rememueu the Drunkard. —Cannot minis¬ 
ters of Christ agree to preach more frequently 
and more earnestly against drunkenness and the 
dangers of the cup? From many pulpits this 
whole subject is practically excluded. The 
drunkard is rarely prayed for; the young not 
warned against this ensnaring device of the devil; 
the law ol God against drunkenness is substan¬ 
tially ignored! And yet it is undeniable that 
the buttle is sending more souls to perdition 
than all the infidel tongues uud jjeus in the land. 
We utter no railing against our brethren who 
ignore this stupendous moral evil; but wc 
would uot choose to have a son of ours trained 
up under such a ministry.— Rev. T. L. Cuylcr. 
Which Way do You Lean? — “If the tree 
fall toward the south, or toward the uorth, in 
the place where the tree fulleth, there it shall 
he.” Eecl. xi, 3. There is a solemn meaning 
couched under this metaphor. The tree will 
not only lie as it lolls, it will also fall as it leans. 
And the great question which every one ought 
to bring home to his own bosom, without a mo¬ 
ment's delay, is this:—What is the inclination 
of my soul ? Does it, with all its affections, lean 
toward toward God, or from him ?— J. J. Gurney. 
innocent amusement in several little circles that 
Wo have a vivid recollection of 
we know of. 
one Valentine eve when six young gentlemen—a 
miniature literary club—sat around a table, drew 
at random the names of their own or each other’s 
young lady acquaintances from a box, and were 
allowed twenty minutes to rhyme off valentines 
to them, which were duly engrossed and mailed. 
A suitable penalty was proscribed fur failure. 
Time was called, and Arthur’s valentine was 
demauded. Either Arthur was not horn a poet 
or the name he had drawn was not sufficiently 
inspiring. In truth, he had not the facility in 
rhyming which the others possessed,—a lack, by 
the way, which was more than compensated for 
by his fluency and wonderful versatility in con¬ 
versation. * This fact suggested the obvious 
remark that the best valentine he could send 
was bis face. Of epurse his poem was not 
finished; but we insisted on hearing what he 
had, and he began: 
Conflict of Faith. —If Satan and I ever did 
strive for any word of God in all my life, it wa¬ 
fer this good word Of Christ—“ Him that com- 
eth unto me will I in no wise east out;” he at 
one end and I at the other. O what work we 
made. It was lor this that we did so tug and t 
strive; he quilled and pulled; bnt, God bo [ 
praised, 1 overcame him, and got sweetness i 
from it.— Runyan. L 
Prayer. — Prayer that has no laith in it is like 
a human body -without a soul in it — it is dead. 
Sin and punishment, like the shadow and the 
body are never apart. 
V-v; 
