Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AN GEL • DARLINGS. 
BY A. A. HOPKINS. 
We’ve a little one up yonder 
Somewhere 'mid the stars. 
Though we may not see her clearly 
Through our brings bare; 
When the evening dropped Us curlain 
Round about the day. 
Silently she wandered from us 
Where I he glory lay! 
Sometimes still we hear the patter 
Of her little feet; 
Sometime* still we hear her prattling- 
Never half so sweet; 
But ’tin when the earth is distant, 
And the stare are near, 
And we hear the angel-harpers 
Playing sweet and clear I 
Oftentimes we can but wonder 
If our darling knows 
How across the shadowy distance 
Still onr loving flows; 
Can but vaguely ask the question 
“Does she love tin yet? 
Or do little one* translated 
All of earth forget?” 
Then a spirit seem* to answer— 
“When the baby creeps 
From the hearthstone up to Heaven 
Not an angel weeps, 
But the rather each and every 
Angel does beguile 
Winsome little prattling darlings 
Skyward all the while I 
“ And the sweetest music floatiug 
O’er the valley? fair, 
Is the prattle of the darlings 
Thai have wandered there; 
And the cherubs, ne'er forgetting 
Those who lonely stay, 
Call to them across the distance, 
Fondly, day by day !” 
Blessed little angel-prattier. 
May we ever hear 
Your 60 ft baby-accents calling 
To us sweet and clear! 
May the vision e’er be with us, 
Blessing evermore, 
Of oar angel-darling playing 
On the golden floor! 
ANECDOTES OP VICTORIA. 
Grace Greenwood contributes to tlic first 
number of the Weekly Advance the following, 
among other anecdotes of Victoria: 
Another little anecdote which shows her sim¬ 
plicity of character and shrewdness of percep¬ 
tion, was told me by a gentleman who once 
enjoyed the pleasure of a very informal inter¬ 
view with her, under rather peculiar circum¬ 
stances. My friend, Mr, W -, is a person of 
very artistic tastes—a passionate picture lover. 
He had seen all the great paintings in the public 
galleries of London, and had a strong desire to 
see those of Buckingham Palace, which, that 
not. being a “ show bouse,” were inaccessible to 
an ordinary oonnoiseur. Fortune favored him at 
last. He was the brother of a London carpet 
merchant, who had an order to put down new 
carpets in the state apartments of the palace— 
and so it chanced that the temptation came to 
my friend to put on a workman’s blouse, and 
thus enter the royal precincts, while the flag in¬ 
dicating the presence of the august family 
floated defiantly over the roof. So he effected 
an entrance, and when onee within the royal 
halls, dropped his assumed character, and de¬ 
voted himself to the pictures. It happened that 
he remained in one of the apartments after the 
workmen had left, and while quite alone the 
Queen came tripping in, wearing a plain, white 
morning dress, and followed by two or three of 
her younger children, dressed with like simplic¬ 
ity. She approached the supposed workman, 
and said: 
“ Pray can you tell me when the new carpet 
will be put down in the Privy Council Cham¬ 
ber ¥”—and he, thinking he had no right to ap¬ 
pear to recognize the Queen under the circum¬ 
stances, replied, “ Really, madam, I cannot tell, 
hut I will inquire.” “ Stay,” she said, abruptly, 
but not unkindly, “who are you? I perceive 
that you are not one of the workmen,” 
Mr. TV-blushed and stammered somewhat, 
yet made a clean breast of it, and told the simple 
truth. The Queen seemed much amused with 
his ruse, and for the sake of his love for art, 
forgave it, then added, smiling, “I knew lor all 
your dress that you were a gentleman, because 
you did not ‘yonr Majesty’ me. Pray look at 
the pictures as long as you will. Good morn¬ 
ing. Come chicks, we must go.” 
Another anecdote, illustrating Victoria's ad¬ 
mirable good sense and strict domestic disci¬ 
pline, came to me directly from oue who wit¬ 
nessed the occurrence. One day, when the 
Queen was present in her carriage at a military 
review, the Princess Royal, then rather a willful 
girl of about thirteen, sitting on the front seat, 
seemed disposed to be rather familiar and co¬ 
quettish with some young officers of the escort. 
Her Majesty gave several reproving looks with¬ 
out avail—“winked at her, but she wouldn’t 
stay winked.” At length, in flirting her hand¬ 
kerchief over the side of the carriage, she 
dropped it—too evidently uot accidentally. In¬ 
stantly two or three young heroes sprang from 
their saddles to return it to her fair hand, but 
the awful voice of royalty stayed them. “ Stop, 
gentleman!" exclaimed the Queen, “leave it 
just whst'C it lies. N ow, my daughter, get down 
from the carriage and pick up your handkerchief. ’ ’ 
There was no help for it. The royal footman 
let down the steps for the little royal lady, who 
proceeded to lift from the dust the pretty piece 
of cambric and lace. She blushed a good deal, 
though she tossed her head saucily, and she 
was doubtless angry enough, but the mortify- 
iag lesson may have nipped in the bnd her first 
impulse towards coquetry. It was bard, but It 
was wholesome. How many American mothers 
would be equal to such a piece of Spartan dLs- , 
cipline? _ _ _ 
rT~F \ T) DRESSE3 OF AFRICAN NATIVES. 
On my arrival at Igoumbie I had noticed how 
curious the head-dresses of the women were, be¬ 
ing so unlike the fashions, I had seen among any 
of the tribes I bad visited. Although these 
modes arc sometimes very grotesque, they are 
not devoid of what English ladles, with their 
present fashions, might consider good taste; in 
short, they cultivate a remarkable sort of chig¬ 
nons. I have remarked three different ways of 
hair-dressing as most prevalent among the Isho- 
go belles. The first is to train the hair into a 
tower-shaped mass, elevated from eight to ten 
inches from the crown of the head; the hair 
from the forehead to the base of the tower, and 
also that of the back part np to the ears, being 
closely shaved ofl. In order to give shape to the 
tower, they make a frame-work, generally out of 
old pieces of grass-cloth, and fix the hair around 
it All the chignons are worked upon a frame. 
Another mode te to wear the tower, with two 
round balls of hair, one on each side, above the 
ear. A third fashion is similar to the first, but 
the tower instead of being perpendicular to the 
crown, iB inclined obliquely from the back of the 
bead, and the front of the head is clean shaven 
almost to the middle. The neck is also shorn 
closely op to the cans. The hair on these towers 
has a parting in the. middle and on the sides, 
which Is very neatly done. The whole structure 
must require years of careful training before it 
reaches the perfection attained by the lcudere of 
Isbogo fashions. A really good chignon is not 
attained until the owner Is about twenty or 
twenty-five years of age. 
It is the chief object of ambition with the 
young Ishogo women to possess a good, well- 
trained and well-greased cover of hair of the 
kind that I describe. Once fixed, these chig¬ 
nons remain for a couple of months without re¬ 
quiring to be rearranged, and the mass ot insect 
life that accumulates in them during that period 
is truly astonishing .—Du Chailev. 
A WORD TO MOTHERS. 
Each mother is a historian. She writes not 
the history of empires or of nations on paper, 
but sbe writes her own history on the imperish¬ 
able mind of her child. That tablet and that 
history will remain indelible when time shall 
be ao more. That history each mother 6hall 
meet again, and read with eternal joy or unut¬ 
terable grief in the coming ages o! eternity. 
This thought should weigh on the mind of every 
mother, and render her deeply circumspect, and 
prayerful ana laithful iu her solemn work of 
training up her children for heaven and im¬ 
mortality.’ 
The minds of children arc very susceptible and 
easily impressed. A word, a look, a frown may 
engrave an impression on the mind of a child 
which no lapse of time can efface or wash out. 
You walk aloDg the sea shore when the tide is 
out, and you form characters, or write words 
or names in the smooth white sand which is 
spread out so clear and beautiful at your feet, 
according as your fancy may dictate; but the 
returning tide shall in a few hours wash out and 
efface all that you have written. Not so the 
lines and characters of truth or error which your 
conduct imprints on the rnlnd of your child. 
There you write impressions for the everlasting 
good or ill of your child, which neither the floods 
nor the storms of earth can wash out, nor 
Death's eold fingers erase, nor the slow-moving 
agC6 of eternity obliterate. How careful, then, 
should each mother be iu her treatment of her 
child! How prayerful, and how serious, and 
how earnest to write the eternal truths of God 
on his mind—those truths which 6hall be his 
guide and teacher when her voice shall be silent 
in death.— Phrenological Journal. 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
Pouts are better in water than on pretty girls' 
lips. 
Love in a woman’s life is a history; in a man’s 
an episode. 
At what season did Eve eat the apple ? Early 
> in “ the fall.” 
i What are the best kind of agricultural fairs ? 
, Fanners’ daughters. 
1 Wn v do ladies like to visit the sea coast'? Be¬ 
cause it relates to marry time. 
Wnr is a lancinating woman like a successful 
gambler ? Because she has such winning ways. 
A YOUNG lady at Long Branch is reported as 
“ clothed in laughing eyes and a bewitching 
smile. ” 
Ladies who give away their hearts should not 
be censured for being heartless. They can’t be 
1 anything else- very well. 
- If a woman wants to keep her husband at 
' home let her send him to the top of the house, 
• and take away the ladder. 
What letter of the alphabet does pretty Mary 
1 Lee most admire. The letter r, of course be¬ 
cause it makes Mary marry. 
A writer declares that, under the present 
system of education, “ daughters are becoming 
t elegant cyphers.” A figure of speech. 
, The best cure for the heart-ache is to take 
t another suffering with precisely the same eom- 
l plaint. Two positives make a negative. 
Young Ladt—“G oing to make a flowerbed 
1 ho#, S mi there ? Why, it’ll quite spoil onr cro- 
3 quetground!” 
e Gardener—“ Well, that’s your pa’s orders, 
> Miss. He'll hev it laid out for ’orticultur, not 
e for ’usbandry.” 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
A MEMORY. 
BY RCFCS W. SMITH. 
The brown leaves flatter in little flocks, 
Like frightened birds, from under the trees, 
And rustling adown the forest aisles, 
Play hide-and-seek in the autumn breeze. 
Under the evening’s purple and gold, 
I walk alone by the silent stream— 
Through dim old paths by the river’s rim,— 
And live glad summers in one sweet dream' 
The wind has murmurous voices now, 
Soft as the sounds of the far ofl' sea; 
And in the lulls of its timeless tunes, 
I dream that a sweet voice calls to me. 
world’s salvation? Does lie suppose that the 
whole of the divine economy ia laid open to his 
inspection? Why not accept thankfully that 
knowledge necessary to lead to eternal life, and 
leave the rest to be unfolded by the Divine 
Teacher in celestial Bible-classes ? 
8o, then, with all his boasted powers, his giant 
intellect, his mighty achievements, man is but a 
Lillputian, tugging away ell his lifetime under a 
burden of chaff, stumbling over straws, fighting 
with the shadows and semblances of things that 
are, vainly seeking the light, not knowing that 
himself is blind. How glorious will the awak¬ 
ening be, when the scales shall have fallen from 
our eyes, when these earth-bonds shall have been 
sundered, when this mortal shall have put on 
immortality, and onr unfettered spirits shall 
soar forever in the pure sunlight of God’ strath! 
Sept. 10,1867. L. R- Meu.is. 
A BACXWOODS EXQUISITE. 
I wait, and listen with folded hands— 
I hear no voice that is meant for me,— 
I wait, and listen with patient hope— 
And yet I know that it may not be! 
v. 
For where two shadowy hemlocks stand, 
Aud the woodland path grows vague and dim, 
The dry leaves flutter in little flocks 
Around a grave by the river’s rim. 
Cleveland, O., RcpL 27,1867. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
STEAWS. 
“ Straws show which way the wind blows.” 
Whether some other material would not answer 
the same purpose, and by what process of rea¬ 
soning or labor of investigation, and by whom 
so Important a truth was arrived at, it is not 
worth while to inquire—the fact is undisputed. 
The structure of the proposition would indicate 
that it is the result of observations made with 
reference to the material world. Some mechan¬ 
ical genius, doubtless, knowing that all motion 
is the result of force applied, and observing, as 
he chanced to be in a thoughtful mood, that a 
number of straws took the same common direc¬ 
tion in space, proceeded to trace the effect to the 
cause, and by a very easy aud natural transition 
decided that the moving force must act in the 
same direction—hence onr text- But this histo¬ 
ry of its origin is merely conjectural, and has 
nothing whatever to do with the subject. 
The benefits derived in the material universe 
from the knowledge of this law and its practical 
applications to the arts and sciences, are doubt¬ 
less very great, but it is in the political world 
that the value of straws is never underrated. 
There tb<» flight i* 1 ’ every individual specimen is 
carefully noted, Its bearings taken, a record 
made and sent to the jtress. Nothing can be 
more reliable. Indeed, one would think that 
the npw-a-day editors fancied themselves Hebrew 
bondsmen under Egyptian task-masters, and 
their newspapers nothing less than bricks. A 
vote is taken in some ladies' seminary, or an em¬ 
igrant car, and the result is called a straw, and 
shows conclusively the inclination of the popu¬ 
lar mind, virtually decides the contest and ren¬ 
ders a formal election wholly superfluous. For¬ 
tunate is it that straws are uot ballots. 
Morally, intellectually, straws assume a differ¬ 
ent character. Here the object of our investiga¬ 
tions is not matter, not mind, bnt tbe manffsta¬ 
tions of mind and matter. We handle not realities, 
but appearances. We arouse all our powers, we 
put forth our mightiest energies, construct 
formidable batteries, arm ourselves with our 
strongest weapons, aud proudly make our at¬ 
tack. We think wc arc storming the citadel of 
Truth—we suppose we arc scaling her walls—we 
imagine her entire domains are open before us— 
we already triumph in victory—and lo! we grap¬ 
ple with straws. Wc find them scattered here 
and there, we eagerly seize them, study their 
texture, examine their composition, note their 
length and direction, and forthwith pronounce 
upon the size, form and quality of the grain. 
But while we may thus approximate to the truth, 
we never arrive It tangibilities. The ocean of 
luscious grain which lies just over the bounda¬ 
ries of mortal visbD, is not to be harvested by 
the puny sickle oi human reason. Not a single 
kernel of the previous truth can be grasped by 
man’s tiny comjgehension, Truth, in its es¬ 
sence, is inapproachable as the eternal throne of 
God. Onr weak rision is dazzled by the reflect¬ 
ed rays from lief veiled effulgence; our finite 
minds cannot co;e with things actual; our fee¬ 
ble understanding staggers with the weight of a 
straw. 
The theologian tlasps reverently his Bible and 
says, “Here hare 1 revealed to me the whole 
truth of God. ierein is contained His holy 
will, hereby has lie made known His purposes, 
herewith shall ijbecome wise in all heavenly 
wisdom.” But hbw is it that he is presently en¬ 
gulfed in disputations with his brother divines 
concerning doctrines, creeds, forms and ceremo¬ 
nies? Why contends he so earnestly that one 
passage be explained in this manner, that an- 
otherbeintcrpretfdthus, and a third thus ? Why 
does he insist solstrenuously npon certain ren¬ 
derings for certain words ? Why does he estab¬ 
lish so carefully ltd guard so jealously his own 
belief, lest it be (overturned? Has our Father 
spoken to us, like the Delphic oracle, in ambig¬ 
uous language? 'Are His holy words suceptible 
of a double meaning? What then? Is the 
divine revelation a defective one? Is it a fail¬ 
ure? Rather, "fliy will vain, boastful man 
think to bring down within the range of his 
narrow comprehension the vast designs of the 
Almighty one, to make the thoughts of Omnis¬ 
cience his own? Why foolishly imagine him¬ 
self able to compress within the compass of his 
puny understanding the stupendous plan of a 
Once as I was traveling by elcigb in a com- • no * by bread alone! The truth flies s 
paratively settled part of the country, a young 1:1 voices of the birds; 
man who was driving rapidly in the opposite di- And ^ th0Mand f d hills ia rln ^ 
rection pulled np to greet my companion with not by bread alone r 
whom he wa3 acquainted. He was coming to 
the town, from his residence in the heart of the OI not by bread alone! for life and being 
woods, thirty or fortv miles from where we met ^ fme! - v com P lex all > 
him, and certainly I 'was astoniahed-being then And eleme “* - 
newly arrived m the country-at the extreme Ay. not by bread alone! 
slenderness of the outfit of oue who was bound 
to do the « man about town " for a few days, 0! not by love alone, though strongest, pur 
and that in mid-winter, too. He was iu his That evcr 8wa ? C(1 the heart ; 
.... , . . ... .. For strongest passion evermore the surest 
shirt-sleeves, having no coat with him what- " , . , . 
i Defrauds each manly part. 
ever. His black-velvet waistcoat, now foxy and Ay nol b , ove al0Qe , 
threadbare with much use, might once have 
been a chef dTmivre from the hand of some Ot not by lore alone is power engendered, 
London tailor whose gosBip was of Guardsmen Until within the sonl 
, . „„„_, „ . , - .. The zift of every motive has been rendered, 
and their measurement. The rest of his cos- - . , . . . , 
. , . . , It is not strong and whole, 
tame consisted of a pair ol buckskin breeches nQt by ° ye aJonc , 
fastened at,xhe knee with pearl buttons, heavy 
woolen stockings and pegged boots, the latter O I not by love alone is manhood nourished 
rr_ - --- a — a _ . 
SaBtiaflj leaking. 
A REFLECTION. 
BT DB. J. O. EGIAAND, W “KATHEtSA.” 
OI not by bread alone is manhood nourished 
To its supreme estate! 
By every word of God have lived and flourished 
The good men and the great. 
Ay. not. by bread alone! 
* O: not by bread alone t” the sweet rose, breathing 
Ia throbs of perfume, speaks; 
“ Bat myriad hands, in earth and air, are wreathing 
Tbe blushes for my cheeks. 
Ay. not by bread alone 1” 
•• 0 : not by bread alone P* proclaims in thunder 
The old oak from his crest; 
‘•But sans and storms upon me, and deep under 
The rocks in which I rest. 
Ay, not by bread alone 1” 
“ O t not by bread alone!” The truth flies singing 
In voices of the birds; 
And from a thousand pastured hills is ringing 
The answer of the herds; 
“ Ay, not by bread alone!” 
O! not by bread alone! for life and being 
Are finely complex all. 
And increment, with element agreeing, 
* Mast feed them, or they fall. 
Ay, not by bread alone! 
0 ! not by love alone, though strongest, purest, 
That ever swayed the heart; 
For strongest passion evermore the surest 
Defrauds each manly part. 
Ay, not by love alone 1 
O’, not by lore alone is power engendered, 
Until within the sonl 
The gift of every motive has been rendered, 
It is not strong and whole. 
Ay, not by love alone! 
indebted for their luster more t.o the rind of 
pork than to the blacking brush. 
Singularly incongruous with this get-up was 
the kid-gloved hand with which be removed the 
black pipe from his mouth; nor was his straw 
hat exactly the sort of head-dress that one 
might have expected to meet with during a 
Canadian sleigh-ride. But it was only when 
he rose to his feet on the little rongh sleigh, 
three feet by two, on which he had been sitting, 
that the full splendor of his wardrobe became 
revealed to us ; for then he threw' aronnd bis 
shoulders a magnificent cloak, made, I think, 
of some kind of Siberian fur, and which, folded 
up, had served him for a cushion on his jour¬ 
ney. I frequently afterward met this exquisite 
of the backwoods, wrapped in that showy man* 
tie, walking in the streets of the little wooden 
towu, where his appearance, so strange to me, 
did not seem to excite any particular comment. 
In those parts men would often come Into the 
towns, in winter, dressed in blanket coats, with 
the rather inappropriate accompaniment of white 
duck trousers and straw hats. Residents did not 
appear to see anything eccentric ia this; but in 
the mind of a stranger a sense of the ludicrous 
was naturally excited by it .—Atlantic Monthly. 
EPIGRAMS. 
The Boston Post gives publicity to the follow¬ 
ing dialogue about tbe vexed question of tbe 
weather: 
“ I think,” said Isabel, “ the tearful sky 
Is weeping 6aaly—only hear it sigh 
“ Do not,” said Qullp, “ commiserate Us woes 
It does not. weep—it only blows—it snows.” 
It were not difficult nor altogether unpleasant 
to solve such chess problems as this. (Two 
pieces on the board; John to move, and mate in 
two moves:) 
“ John moves his arm round Julia's neck; 
She moves one square and whispers—'CheckI’ 
He, nothing daunted, moves right straight 
His lips to hers, aud calls out, ‘ Mate!’ ” 
The Post thus embodies Bonner aud his newly 
purchased horse Dexter; 
“Fifty thousand for Dexter!" a cavalier cries, 
“ Excuse me—let people believe it who can 1” 
“’Tia nothing surprising," a crony replies, 
“For Bonner was always a Dexter-ous raau!” 
A soldier in the hospital, who had his leg 
amputated, addressing the detached part, thus 
turns the calamity to his advantage: 
“ Strange paradox ! that in the fight 
Where 1 of thee was thus bereft, 
I lost my left leg for ’ the right," 
And yet the right is the one that’s left!” 
This points oat a musical error on the part of 
the performer: 
“ All out of tune Hal sung the song, 
Then played the Ante—till, heaven knows! 
Methought ’twas very, very wrong 
For Hal to * go from words to blows!' ” 
This gives the exact difference between two 
popular watering places: 
“ Saratoga and Newport—you’ve seen ’em," 
Said Charley, one morning, to Joe; 
“ Pray tell me the difference between ’em, 
For, bother my wig, if I know!’’ 
Qoth Joe, “ ’Tia the easiest matter 
At once to distinguish the two— 
At the one you go into the water. 
At the other it goes into you!’’ 
Coleridge, in one of the most beautiful of 
similes, illustrates tbe pregnant truth—that the 
more we know, the greater our thirst, for knowl¬ 
edge, and the more we love, the more instinctive 
our sympathy : “ Tbe water lily, in the midst of 
waters, opens its leaves and expands its petals, 
at the first pattering of the shower; and rejoices 
in the rain drops with a quicker sympathy than 
the parched 6hrnb in the sandy desert. ” 
Such is the blessing of a benevolent heart that, 
let the world frown as it will, it cannot possibly 
bereave it of aff happiness, aince it can rejoice in 
the prosperity of others. 
To its supreme estate; 
By every word of God have lived and flourished 
The good men and the great. 
Ay, not by love alone! 
GOD’S GREETING. 
God greets many a oue who never observes, 
and many more who never thank him for it. 
When, for instance, His 6ua wakes thee early to 
the enjoyment of another day of life and health, 
and when, at eventide, thine eyes close in peace¬ 
ful slambc-r, it is because GOD has bid thee 
“ Good-night;” and when thon sittest down to 
a wcR-sproad table, with a good appetite, it is 
God’s gift for thy good. When again thou art 
cuabled to discover, timely, some threatened 
danger, what is it but God saying to thee, “Take 
heed, my child, and turn back before It is too 
late?" When, on some early summer morning, 
thou walkest ubont amid tbe blossoming of 
flowers and the singing of birds, and thy heart 
feels light and joyful, is not Goo saying to thee, 
“ Welcome, heartily welcome to tby palace gar¬ 
den!” And when, all of a sudden, perhaps, 
without tby knowing how or why the heart Is 
moved to good thoughts, and thou beginnest to 
feel sorrow for having done wrong, and a desire 
to do better, is not thy Heavenly Father saying 
to thee, “ O, grieve not my Holy Spirit which 
now -tire within thee?’ 
Or, when thou passcst bj a new-made grave, 
and a sudden shudder of anxious forebodings 
runs cold through thy frame, is not God greet¬ 
ing thee with the fatherly admonition, “ Re¬ 
member now thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth, while the evil days come not, nor the 
years draw nigh in which thou shalt say, ‘ I have 
no pleasure in them,’for there is neither wisdom 
nor device in the grave, whither thou art fast 
hastening?” 0, yes, these are God’s greetings, 
“ whether we will hear or whether we will for¬ 
bear.” But if we bail them uot with pleasure 
iu time, we shall remember them with vain regret 
in eternity.— Fiv.n the German. 
POWER OF GOD’S PRESENCE. 
Consider what God is in his mature love, 
possessed of joy, crowned with peace perpetual. 
Transfer all this into a human 60 ul, into yonr 
soul; let them abide amoDg the sensitive recep- 
thities of your better nature, every faculty 
lovingly open to his influence, and it shaU be a 
living epistle. No wonder if you be changed 
into bis likeness, nay, bis very image, and the 
blessed attributes of God become the blessing 
attribute of man. Stocks cannot bind these 
feelings theu; they fly abroad in song. Dun¬ 
geons cannot darken them; they make that 
dungeon flame with light. Their genial warmth 
dwarfs tbe fierce furnace heat to pleasant cool¬ 
ness. They join in. angel company when lions 
stand around. They are never more exultant 
and triumphant than when man's Ja-t enemy 
cowers to see the indwelling presence and power 
of Him who alone has conquered death. 
WHAT 13 THE HAPPIEST SEASON! 
At a festal party of old and young, the ques¬ 
tion was asked, which season of life was the 
most happy? After being freely discussed by 
the guests, it was referred for answer to the host, 
upon whom was the burden of four score years. 
He asked if they had noticed a grove of trees 
before his dwelling, and said: — “ When thc- 
spring comes, and in the soft air the buds are 
breaking on the trees and they are covered with 
blossoms, I think how beautiful is spring! And 
when the Bummer cornea and covers the trees 
with its heavy foliage, and singing birds are 
among the branches, I think houo beautiful is 
summer 1 When autumn loads them with golden 
fruit, and their leaves bear their gorgeous tints, 
I think how beautiful is autumn ! And when it is 
sere to winter, and there is neither foliage nor 
fruit, then I look up, and through the leafless 
branches, as I never could until now, I see the 
stars shine.”— Evenin'] of Life. 
