A WOMAN’S TRIBUTE TO A POET. 
In 1864, on the TOt'n birthday of Ws. C. Brtast, a 
choice company of friends met at his home, each 
bringing some tribute of poem or song, or fit present 
for the occasion. A number of conlrlbutionB came 
from those tumble to be present, and a pleasant vol¬ 
ume rvas made up of these ottering# of friendship, of 
which but a small edition was printed rather for pri¬ 
vate than for public circulation. A bind Wend grants 
the privilege of selecting therefrom this beautiful 
poem, than which no purer gem can be found In that 
cabinet of Jewels. It Is by Mrs. Mart H. C. Boots. 
from Wisconsin years ago, but whose last years on 
earth were spent with a noble German woman, her 
firm friend. In Switzerland. 
The Edelweiss is a rare flower heid it well-nigh 
sacred regard by the Swiss. 
TO WILLIAM C. BUT ANT, 
With a blossom of the Edelweiss, from the Swiss 
Alps, 11,000 feet above the sea: 
Not from the cnllnred gardens, 
And not from the daisied sod 
Do I bring my little offering, 
But down from the bills of Goo. 
Down from the ehrystaJ mountains 
Where never a flower was sown, 
Save the flowers that God hath planted, 
In sirht of the Great White Throne. 
From over the nests of the eagles, 
And under the Angel’s feet, 
Where the opal airs of summer, 
And the winds of winter meet, 
A flower I bring, an offering 
From the snow hill's spotless crest, 
And leave sweet songs, and silver crowns, 
And earth-songs to the- rest. 
The Alpine hunters tell u; 
That when a Poet dies 
God meets him at the Golden Gate, 
Crowned with the Edelweiss. 
But only those who worshipped Him 
In singing Nature's praise. 
And walked beside Him on the hills, 
And through life's lonely ways. 
Oh! King of Nature’s songsters! 
And thus I bring to thee 
This blossom from the Alpine hills. 
The glorious, and the free. 
That, when the Angels bid thee pause, 
Where oft thy soul hath trod; 
To crown thee on the mountain tops 
Upon thy way to God— 
Thou then may’st recognize the Gower 
As one, while yet below, 
And walking in the earthly ways, 
Thou first hadst learned to know. 
Thus, from no cultured garden 
And not from the daisied sod, 
Do I bring my little offering, 
But down from the hills of God. 
November Cth, 1864. 
EHYMES — TEN OHIO GIRLS. 
A letter came to the Rural editorial sanctum 
a few days since, from an Ohio post-office, writ¬ 
ten in a delicate ladies’ hand, on the nicest paper, 
and in most bewitching style, asking the publi¬ 
cation of a poem enclosed therewith. 
The lair writer asked in behall of “ ten young 
ladies—all friends of the Rural.” What music 
of pleasant voices, what ripple of laughter, what 
flashes and glances of soulful eyes—blue, hazel, 
and black —what consciousness of the joyful 
presence of gladsome maidenhood came up in 
our thoughts! 
Dear girls, we are youug in spirit yet, thank 
Heaven ! even if older in years than your sweet 
selves. How could such request be refused? 
How resist a ten-girl povxr ? The rhyme, by a 
young man, was smooth, and in easy and fit 
language. Its purport was, that on the banks 
ot some beautiful river, with the usual allow¬ 
ance of moonlight, Ac., he was accepted by a 
lovely girl; they parted, with plighted vows, 
and a year after came a letter saying she had 
met another whom she really loved, that she 
truly thought she loved him, but her heart told 
her she did not, and asking a release;—from all 
which he rounds out ids last verse by declaring 
he shall never again put faith in woman! 
Well, he wont die. He’ll live and learn,—and 
get married too, we guess. The young woman 
who, without fickleness, but simply true to her 
own heart, finds that what in girlhood she 
thought was love, pales before a deeper feeling, 
and says so fraukly to her friend, ns In this case, 
saves both a life of pitiful suffering. H not 
heartless such word will be painful to say, but 
how weak to leave it unsaid. He ought to have 
more faith in woman, not less. 
But the letter is lost—of course the rhymes arc 
gone—and their author will be glad of it in due* 
time. Perhaps they would not have beeu pub¬ 
lished, for we must look broadly at the needs of 
our great public, and the quality of what we 
give them;—Its thought and benefit, as well as 
its easy words. Even this group of girls are 
few beside the thousands of their sisters, from 
Maine to California, whose growth to a true 
womanhood we would fain help. Here’s the 
waste-basket, full of articles, good, bad and in¬ 
different, for which we have no room. With a 
world of patient care we seek to give the best, 
impartially, and our ample pages run over con¬ 
stantly. 
But come all around us, girls, and hear a word 
from our venerable chair. We see you stand¬ 
ing, all-expectant, with arms twined around 
each other, and raven curls and sunny ringlets 
mingling, as you leau your heads, each toward 
her dearest friend, in that winsome way girls 
have. It’s all well and natural to think and 
of marrying. Earnestly we hope you may all 
have true and noble husbands, and so live as to 
hold fast the love you have'won. But it is not 
well to make this the one great matter of Fife, 
from the day you enter your teens. That dims 
, the beauty and freshness of your soals, and put 3 
afiectation and restraint in the place of that 
natural case and frankness that should exist in 
your social intercourse with young meu. 
Seek first to he something and do something. 
Let your education be complete and varied. 
You can get it in school, and you can drill 
yourselves to reading and study at home. Many 
a boy has been a ripe scholar from bis study in 
bis chamber or work-room. Why not girls as 
well ? Never fail of your part in the home-work, 
that perhaps weigha on the failing strength of 
your good mothers more than you think. Rich 
or poor, know all about house-work, and be 
proud and happy in it, as youug men (of any 
sente) are In theirs. If there be any useful oc¬ 
cupation by which you can be self-supporting, 
enter it, for more or less time. It will be a 
good lesson; will give strength, and command 
the respect of the best people. The field of oc¬ 
cupations which woman can fitly fill is growing 
broader, which is well. 
If you have special wish and taste for Art, 
Literature, or some fit profession, and circum¬ 
stances allow, put soul and strength into it, for 
good brave work, such as will win success. 
Thus the grace aud glory of true womanhood 
will grow all the richer. 
If marriage comes, some manly husband will 
reverence you all the more; aud whatever life 
may have in store for you, the rich resources of 
your own natures, called into action by your 
devoted and resolute efforts, will be equal to 
your work, and be a means of enjoyment there¬ 
in, winniDg the reverent and cordial affection of 
many loving friends. 
Good bye, dear giris; we must turu to our 
work. Remember the old 'adage, “ The gods 
help those who help themselves.” 
WHIPPING CHILDREN. 
The great mass of parents have yet to learn 
that their displeasure with a child is no reason 
and no.excuse for beating it. Nor does the sim¬ 
ple fact that it has done wrong give tbetn war¬ 
rant to subject it to physical torture. Here, for 
instance, is a child of from five to ten years, who, 
In the hope thereby of attaining enjoyment or 
escaping punishment, has told a lie. Can you 
rationally expect it to love and speak the truth 
because you have mauled it ? Is it not far more 
likely to hate and loathe you ? That child will 
be a good deal more apt henceforth to tell one 
lie to hide another than to abhor and shun lying 
altogether. 
*' But may not a parent justifiably use force 
1 to restrain a child from evil-doing ? 
Certainly. If the child insists oil throwing 
the hammer at the looking-glass, or doing any 
wanton, malicious mischief, the requisite force 
may he employed to constrain it into better be¬ 
havior. But to restrain from evil-doing is one 
thing; to inflict pain because evil has been done, 
is quite another. Many a child ha* been hard¬ 
ened into inveterate depravity by chastisements 
Inflicted under the mistaken notion that its evil 
propensities might thus be subdued and eradi¬ 
cated. 
We beg parents prone to beating children to 
recall the experiences of their own childhood, 
and consider what were the effects of any and 
every penal infliction endured. We doubt that 
so many as one in ten can fairly say that all the 
parental beating did as much moral good as 
harm. 
We are not pleading for indulgence. Every 
child should be taught to know the right and 
do it. What wc urge is, that the rod, the whip, 
the cudgel, are Implements of parental discipline 
which have, on the whole, done far more evil 
tbau good—that more children have been con¬ 
firmed and strengthened in wroDg doing than 
rescued therefrom by the infliction of physical 
pain. How many have been bludgeoned into 
idiocy or permanent mental infirmity by mis¬ 
judging fathers, can never be known till the sea 
shall give up her dead. There are abundant 
means whereby a parent may evince his dis¬ 
pleasure, or his sorrow in view of the faults of 
his child, without mauling it. Withdraw or 
withhold indulgences which you would gladly 
have accorded, had not your past confidence 
been abused—let your child realize that your 
love for it constrains you, most reluctantly, to 
render it less happy because of its transgres¬ 
sions—but keep the lash for unreasoning brutes, 
and beware of employing it to defend and dis¬ 
figure the image of God. 
HIGHER GRADE OF SOCIAL RECREATIONS. 
The New York Evening Gazette/says “in 
many families, this season, dancing has been 
discarded. In its place more elegant and intel¬ 
lectual diversions have beeu given, and with 
* great success. Fine readings aud recitations, 
euding in some cases with delicious suppers, 
the whole entertainment being over by mid¬ 
night, have been the novelty. Such entertain¬ 
ments threaten to leave dancing a little in the 
background for a season or two.” 
They are cheering proofs, too, of a growth 
toward a higher social life,—a truer culture, in 
which there shall be no asceticism, but the rec¬ 
reations shall call into play mental and spiritual 
qualities now too much neglected. 
The fact that costly silver presents to brides 
are giving way to presents of engravings and 
paintings, points in the same direction. 
Wife Whipping in England.— The London 
Spectator says that of all the offenses, the one 
which in England is most difficult to check is 
that of torturing wives. “ What with the re¬ 
luctance of wives to Imprison their bread-win¬ 
ners, the brutality of the population, the blunt¬ 
ed feeling of magistrates brought Into hourly 
contact with ruffianism, and the existence of a 
secret belief that wives must be kept iu Order 
: somehow, it is safer to beat a wife nearly to 
! death than to steal a hare.” 
®Bnict 'G-lisrcIIanti. 
SOMEBODY’S DARLING. 
The following Poem, by Miss Marie Lacoste, is 
from a collection of Southern poetry lately published: 
•• Into a ward of the whitewashed walls, 
Whore the dead and the dying lay— 
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls— 
Somebody's darling was borne one day. 
Somebody’s drilling! So young and so brave. 
Wearing still on his pale, sweet face, 
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, 
The lingering light of his boyhood’s grace. 
“ Matted ami damp are the curls of gold 
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; 
Pale are the lips of delicate mould— 
Somebody’s darling is dying now. 
Back from the beautiful, blue-veined face 
Brush every wandering silken thread; 
Cross his hands as a sign of grace— 
Somebody's darling is still and dead. 
“Kiss him once for Somebody's sake, 
Murmur a prayer soft and low, 
One bright curl from the cluster take— 
They were somebody's pride you know. 
Somebody's hand hath rested there: 
Was It a mother’s, soft and white? 
And have the lips of a sister fair 
Been baptized tn thoss wares of light? 
** God knows best. He was somebody’s love; 
Somebody's heart enshrined him there; 
Somebody wafted his name above, 
Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. 
Somebody wept when he marched away. 
Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; 
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay; 
Somebody clung to his parting hand. 
“ Somebody’s watching and waiting fof him, 
Yearning to hold him again to her heart: 
There he lies—with the blue eye* dim, 
And smiling, childlike Ups apart. 
Tenderly bury the fair young dead, 
Pausing to drop on lti« grave a tear; 
Carve on the wooden slab at its head— 
'Somebody - /! darling list buried kere!' ” 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LOOK ‘WITHOUT, 
BT H. BENNINQ. 
The home of Mrs. Archer was in one of 
those New England villages upon which the sun 
rose in almost unclouded splendor on the last 
day of 1865. From Mrs. A,, a happy loving wife 
and mother, that beautiful day received warm 
greeting, and 3ySbe thought of the year dying, 
her quick mind'turned bat the leaves written 
over with no riSi/uy pleasant words that would 
soon be sealed away forever. Aud thinking 
thus, she determined that the only day of the 
year still left should be given to serious reflec¬ 
tion, and looking into the motives and springs 
of her religious life, she would seek whether or 
not it was Lr, / things fit and becoming, aud 
wherein it lacked. 
With this resolve she rose at once to perform 
her usual duties and gain the time she longed 
for. But the tasks of a busy housewife^ are 
never completed, and when Willie’s “g*od 
morning, mamma,” sounded through a hoarse 
throat, and baby was cross aud fretful, the moth¬ 
er’s heart asserted itself, and she could give them 
no less, bat even more than usual care. 
She could uot go to church, but perhaps, bye- 
atid-bye, the little ones would give her quiet. 
Not so; Willie clamored for the big book with 
Moses aud Samuel iu it, and baby opened her 
great eyes aud pointed her tiny finger at those 
scenes so dear to the hearts of children in all ages. 
When Mr. A. came from church he told of a sad 
accident that had laid Bennie B-, the errand 
boy, upon a bed of suffering, aud possible death, 
and again the kind heart spoke, and wrapping 
up a few dainty bits, and taking a book, Mrs. A. 
made her way to the miserable home of suffering 
Bennie. She moistened his lips with lemonade, 
spoke kind words of hope, and left him at lost, 
with the book in his hand, and a blessing from 
lip and eye that sho might not soon forget. On 
her way home she called for a few minutes at the 
house of a poor bllud woman, and read a favor¬ 
ite chapter and sung a hymn. 
The short winter’s day was fading when she 
passed her own threshold, and the little ones 
needed mamma. Aud so it came to pass, that 
the day whose closing had fulfilled the morning’s 
promise, was over, and Mrs. A. was too weary 
in body and mind for connected thought. 
As she laid her tired head upon the pillow, her 
heart grew sal la view of the day she had prom¬ 
ised to her own soul given only to the earthly 
life, yet even as she slept one of the ministering 
angels brought to her a message of peace and 
the words were, “Inasmuch as ye have done ft 
unto one of the least of these, ye have done it 
unto me.” 
The voice of the Divine Master says not alone, 
“Seek within,” but “Look at the fields ready 
lor harvest." Do His work and He will take care 
of the motive. 
AMERICAN BOYS. 
Probablt in every age since the time of poor 
Adam and Eve’s trouble with their willful son, 
the world has been supposed to be near its end 
on account of the naughtiness of boys. We 
confess that, for ouselves, in moments of wrath 
at the impish perversity, or sorrow at the preco¬ 
cious wickedness oi noted specimens of Ameri¬ 
can boyhood, we have sometimes been templed 
to that supposition, and oertainly we could not 
much wonder if Young America famished more 
food for the prophet’s avenging bears tkau 
Young Israel supplied. Yei the world has con¬ 
tinued to be so, and generation after generation 
has risen from petticoats to jackets and trousers, 
and from jacket® and trousers to coats and panta¬ 
loons, without any utter extinction of masculine 
succession. That succession will prpbably be 
kept up in this hemisphere, and here, as of old, 
the folly of youth will, in due time, be subdued i 
by the wisdom of age. 
Our daughters are constitutionally more 
marked by sensibility, and our sons are more 
marked by willfulness. The consequence is that 
we are more anxious whut will happen to our 
daughters, and what will happen from our sons 
—the daughter's sensitiveness exposing her to 
receive harm, and the sou’s willfulness expos¬ 
ing him to do harm. We arc. not wise to quar¬ 
rel with Nature, and we must expect that boys 
will be more noisy and mischievous than girls ; 
nay, we may count it a good sign of a lad’s force 
of character if there is a good Ehare-of aggres¬ 
sive, fun-loving pluck in his composition. Well 
managed, his animal spirits will give him all the 
more manly loyalty, and when true to the right 
cause, he will be all the more true; because so 
much living sap has gone up into the fruit of his 
obedience. 
Yet what is more sad than force of will per¬ 
verted to base uses, and the strength of man¬ 
hood Bunk into the service of base lusts or 
fiendish passions ? What is more sad than the 
sight presented every day in our streets—the 
scores of precocious manikins, with the worst 
vices of men written over features almost infan¬ 
tile in their mould—boys who are hardly old 
enough to be beyond their mother’s watch, now- 
swaggering with alt the airs of experienced 
bloods, aud polluting the air of God’s heaven 
with the vocabulary of hell ? . Where such mon¬ 
strous excesses are not found, how frequent is the 
utter repudiation of the proper re verence of age 
and authority! How many a stripling among 
us seems to think It the very first proof of mau- 
ly spirit to break the Divine law which gives 
the home its blessedness aud the State its secu¬ 
rity, and to be proud to show that he is above all 
such obsolete notions as giving honor to father 
or mother .—Samuel Osgood. 
MISTAKEN DUTY. 
Many a uoble and useful life is actually wrecked 
for the sake of some, self-created or, at best, 
strongly exaggerated duty, into which circum¬ 
stances had drifted the individual, and for which 
all other duties (including the one, not to man 
but to God, to preserve for His utmost service 
the mind and body Which He bestowed) are 
completely neglected. A mother will sacrifice 
all her children, aud herself, upon whom her 
whole, family depends, to save eome one child 
who happens to have more influence over her 
than the rest; a sister will strip herself of every 
penny, and perhaps come to subsist upon char¬ 
ity in her old age, to supply the wanton extrav¬ 
agance of some scapegrace brother, for whom a 
workhouse crust oi his own earning would be a 
salutary lesson; or — though of this evil let us 
speak with tenderness, for it verges on the 
noblest good—a daughter will waste her health, 
her strength, all the lawful enjoyments of her 
youth, perhaps even sacrifice woman's holiest 
right, love and marriage — for the sake of some 
exacting parent or parents, who consider that 
the mere fact ol' having given life constitutes the 
claim to absorb into themselves everything that 
makes life pleasant or desirable. These are hard 
words, but they are true words; aud though it 
may be a touching and beautiful sight to see one 
human life devoted—nay, even sacrificed—to an¬ 
other, woe be to that other—aye, even if it were 
a parent—who compels the sacrifice! —Author of 
“ John Halifax.'" 
Common Tools Noble.—How we prize the 
relics of exceptional men, — an inkstand of 
Btron, a pen of Scott, the sword of Cromwell. 
But the tools which a man works with have a 
certain sanctity and nobleness; the hoe or hod 
of-the laborer, the smith’s hammer, partake of 
these. A wheelwright's sou in England became 
Archbishop of Canterbury; aud in his library 
he kept a wagon wheel, liU own hand had made 
in his youth—counted it as an honorable escutch¬ 
eon. He never did a wiser or better thing. The 
civilized world, with its palaces, libraries, acad¬ 
emies of science, and galleries of art, rests on 
the solid shoulders of farmers and mechanics.— 
Parker. '_ __ 
WIT AND WISDOM, 
Beautt lives with order. 
A fool’s weight is a simple-ton. 
Sparrowgbass says that he prefers a quiet 
Hamlet to a uoisy Othello. 
Wht dost wonder that Zion yields thee no re¬ 
freshing, when thy cistern is bottomless, and the 
pitcher ot thy faith is much cracked, if not 
broken in bits? 
An Irish gentleman thus accounts for the fact 
of his countrymen making so many bulls: — “I 
cannot tell if it is not the effect of the climate. 
I fancy, if an Englishman was bom in Ireland, 
he would make just as many.” 
An ingenious Parisian has invented a window 
that will shut by means of a lump of sugar 
whenever it rains. The rain melts the sugar, 
which holds a spring while it is hard. It is of 
no use when there are children in the family. 
Dr. Johnson was one day dining at the house 
of an English lady, when she asked him if he did 
not think her pudding very good. “Yes,” 
growled the moralist, “it is good enough for 
hogs.” “Shall I help you to another plateful ? ” 
was her instant reply. 
An Irishman, meeting another just landed 
fxom an emigrant ship, shook hands with him, 
and then, looking him in the face for a moment, 
exclaimed, “ Faith, an’ I thought it was you, an’ 
you thought it was me; but, be jabbers, it’s 
naither of ui! ” 
CovENTsr Patmore gives the following ad¬ 
vice : . , 
So lot no man, m desperate mood, 
Wed a young girl because she’s good. 
To which one might add: 
SaBBaflj sRca&tntp 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
CHEER UP SAD HEART. 
BT B. RAYMOND. 
God sends, alike, both sun and rain. 
To beautify the earth; 
Shall rays of joy and shades of pain, 
Leave in oar hearts but dearth ? 
He leads the way, though dark and dim, 
He minds us ail the day: 
And if we folly trust in Him. 
We can not lose that way. 
Cheer up sad heart, and count it gain, 
That many sorrows come. 
In patience bear the ceaseless pain 
That drawB us nearer home. 
A brighter day awaits above, 
Our night of sorrow here; 
Then let us trust a Father’s love, 
'Till morning shall appear. 
May 7th, 1867. 
DEATH AUD SLEEP. 
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
With the intimacy of brothers, walked 
through the earth the angel of sleep and the 
angel »f death. Evening drew near; they laid 
down upon a hill not far from the dwellings of 
men. A melancholy stillness reigned around; 
even the vesper-bell sounded not in the distant 
village. Still and silent as was their manner, 
both these beneficent spirits were locked in cor¬ 
dial embrace, aud now it was night. Then arose 
the angel of sleep from his mossy couch, aud 
scattered, with his left hand, the invisible seeds 
ol' slumber. The eveuing wind bore them to 
the quiet dwelling of the weary peasant. Now, 
sweet sleep encircled the inhabitants of the 
rural cottages, from the old man who walks with 
a staff, to the infant In the cradle. The sick 
forgot his pain, the mourner his sorrow, the 
poor .their care. All eyes were closed. Now, 
after finishing his business, the beneficent angel 
of sleep laid dowu again with hi- more serious 
brother. 
When the morning light appeared, he cried 
out with joyous innocence, “ Then will men 
commend me as their friend and benefactor. O, 
what joy to do good unseen and privately! ’ 
How happpy are we, the invisible messengers of 
the good Spirit! How beautiful our silent vo¬ 
cation ! ” Thus spake the joyous angel of sleep. 
Upon him the angel of death looked with silent 
sadness, and a tear, such as the immortal weep, 
entered his large, dark eye. “Alas!” said he, 
“ that I cannot, like you, rejoice with joyful 
thanks, The earth calls me her enemy, and the 
destroyer of her joy.” “ 0, my brother,” re¬ 
plied the angel of sleep, “ will not the good, 
upon awakening, recognize in tbee.a friend ai d 
benefactor, aud gratefully bless thee ? Are we 
uot brothers and messengers of one father?” 
This he spake, when the eye of the death-angel 
glistened, aud the fraternal spirits tenderly em¬ 
braced each other. 
COMMUNION WITH CHRIST. 
The apostle Paul, who probably never saw 
Jesus except iu the scene of his conversion, 
who declares that he did not know Him accord¬ 
ing to the flesh, is, among all the New Testament 
writers, the one who stands in most constant 
Intimate comuiuuion with his Master. How he 
exhausts language to express the entire union of 
his sou! with that of his Saviour! “Iam cruci¬ 
fied with Christ; nevertheless, I live; yet not I, 
but Christ Uretk within me; and the life which 
[ now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the 
Son of God.” “Of Him are ye iu Christ Jesus, 
who of God is made uuto wisdom, aud right¬ 
eousness, and sanctification, and redemption.” 
“God hath shined iu oar hearts, to give the 
Light of the knowledge ot the glory of God in 
the face of Jesus Christ.” “ Who shall separate 
us from the love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, 
or distress, or peril, or nakedness, or sword?” 
“I am persuaded that neither life, nor death, 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
things present, nor thing® to come, nor height, 
nor depth, nor any creature, shall be able to sep¬ 
arate u= from the love of God which is in CbrUt 
Jesus our Lord.” The apostle Paul, outwardly 
was separated from Christ just as we are, by the 
whole interval between time and eternity. Yet 
the most intimate friendships of earth pale be¬ 
fore the glowing ardor of his love to his Master. 
Need there be anything essentially different 
between our relation to Christ and his ? — •/. -?• 
Clarke. 
Jot of Faithfulness. — “You know how 
preachers often speak of the joys of this life. 
I think they are apt to undervalue them. They 
make light of success, of riches, of comfort, ot 
the joys of a happy home. I love these joys, 
and daily would thauk God, by a constant 
cheerfulness, for what of them I have received 
or won. And yet they may be estimated too 
high. Bat the joys of goodness, of charity, of 
love to man and love to God, that faith which 
never wavers*—no man ever exaggerated these, 
or can; as no painter can ever portray the spar¬ 
kle of a star, or paint the varied beauty of a 
rose, or the sweet fragrance in a lily’s cup; for 
man’s imagination cannot come up to the fact, 
and his speech delays behind- All this joy comes 
to men and women from personal faithfulness to 
God’ 8 higher law. —Selected. 
As a man binds a tender sapling to a stake, 
that the wind may not wrench it, or throws out 
an anchor into the boiling sea, that the ship 
may be held by it, so must we bind our waver¬ 
ing hearts to the support of the Word of God, 
and stay the storm-tossed ship of our souls with 
the anchor of hope, that they may not sink. 
