§quu'inmit. 
my dream. 
A slender form, a girfish face, 
Blue eyes and golden hair: 
Sweet lips. dear lips! and sunny smiles, 
A vision angel ftiir! 
Oh, gentle eyes 1 oh, cruel eyes! 
Why will you haunt me so, 
Filled with the old sweet tenderness, 
The love of long ago ? 
A merry laugh. a pleasant voice, 
Sweet chimes, like silver hells; 
Sweet music, unforgotten still, 
Around me sings and swells. 
Oh, wooing voice.' oh, cruel voice! 
Why will you haunt me so? 
Speaking the old sweet tenderness, 
The love of long ago. 
An angel form, a blessed face, 
A picture fading never. 
The anguish of a vanished hope, 
That clings to me forever. 
Oh, blessed dream 1 oh, cruel dream ? 
Why will you haunt me so? 
Sad with the old sweet tenderness. 
The love of long ago. 
-^ - 
A PLEA FOB THE BOYS AND GIRLS. 
BY L. E. L., 
AUTHORESS OP “ THE PHILOSOPHY OP HOUSEKEEPING.” 
In a recent number of the Rubai, I read with 
interest an article on “Murdering the lufants,” 
which was replete with sound sense and the most 
important considerations for mothers. Now, Mr. 
Editor, I believe in children. When the “sweet 
Psalmist of Israel” said, “Happy is the man that 
hath his quiver full of them,” there is no doubt in 
xny mind that lie meant just what he said. And if 
any one thinks the contrary, let him or her faith¬ 
fully and lovingly perform all the officer of father¬ 
hood or motherhood to the offspring God has given 
them, and see if they do not find in so doing the 
most genuine and intense happiness. 
I never pick up a New York paper and read the. ad¬ 
vertisements for boarders “ without incumbrances,” 
but I feel a flush of Indignation. There’s room for 
everything else in the great metropolis, for all sorts 
of useless people, but none for children, They can 
keep dogs by the ten thousand, and parrots and 
monkeys, but the moment a landlord or a boarding¬ 
house. keeper is made acquainted with the damaging 
circumstance that a married pair are blessed with 
children, his houses are all leased, her apartments 
are all full. I think the Social Science Convention 
ought to take action on tills subject and prevent, if 
possible, this most pernicious error from spreading 
any further. Ret it rather be taught and believed 
that children are a blessing, a boon and a crown, 
fountains of hope, sources of joy and delight, ear¬ 
nestly to be desired and gratefully received. 
But what shall we do with them from the time 
they pass infancy until tho brain becomes somewhat 
mature so that they begin to be useful V Grant that 
the plea for infants lias been regarded, and they have 
bad fresh air in abundance, and have reached the 
age of four or five years in perfect health, Then 
every liber clamors for activity, the little feet never 
wear vail the day long with running, the little Ungers 
ransack every nook and corner in pursut of mischief, 
the little brain prompts all sorts of questions, sim¬ 
ple and profound. The nimble little animal is on 
the qni rive for every sort of activity—physical, 
intellectual, moral. 
But Johnnie’s mamma is busy, and Jottnntk must 
be put out of the way somewhere, where he wont 
do so much mischief, make so much noise and take 
so much of mamma’s time. She is very busy braid¬ 
ing a frock for the baby or embroidering a little 
shirt for .Toijnn ik, and can’t be so much interrupted; 
so the little sprightly, bright-eyed fellow is sent to 
school to learn his a, b, c’s. We have an admirable 
public school and school building in our village, and 
there arc a great many just such admirable schools 
all over the country. The rooms arc large and com¬ 
modious, amply furnished, comfortably warmed and 
well ventilated. The scholars are graded witii punc¬ 
tilious nicety, and every progressive step up the 
rugged hill of learning is made witii the utmost 
system and regularity. This is certainly the best 
place in the world for a little boy or girl; and 
thither, with ids hah- neatly brushed, his dress tidy 
and a new primer, Johnnie goes, and Ids name is 
entered on the school register. His education begins. 
Sixty little boys and girls of just Ids age and literary 
attainment are seated on very easy benches in the 
same, room, with a teacher and assistant, perhaps, to 
take charge of them. “ Order is heaven’s first law,” 
and order is the first law of that school-room ; no 
whispering, no moving about, no noise can he per¬ 
mitted, Five mortal hours with slight intervals, 
must the helpless victims sit while the young idea 
is learning how to shoot. 
Mr Editor, whut. have our little boys and girls 
done that they must be so punished V that all the 
natural activity of their natures should be so cheeked 
—their insatiate cariosity stupefied and deadened by 
mere mechanical study, and they converted Into 
automatic children, governed by the iron tongue of 
Rome hell, or the nod of some excellent teacher, 
teaching according to rule? As they grow older 
and go up a grade or two, instead of learning the 
habits of birds or squirrels, of spiders, ants and 
bees, the names of trees, and taking in Mother Na- 
boirc ns the infant takes its mother’s milk, they are 
loading their memories with such rubbish as this; 
** Etymology teaches the derivation of words and 
their true signification.” 
“Orthography teaches the nature and power of 
letters, and the just method of spelling words.” 
“ A has five sounds as Lu mate, ask, ball, hat, 
what.” 
*‘I has three sounds as in pine, pit, fatigue.” 
More than one-half of the time passed in school 
by children under ten years old is spent in pure idle¬ 
ness and enforced quiet. The greater part of what 
they leant is tedious and hateful, and the things 
they wisli to know are kept far from them. 
** But.,” some earnest-minded mother arks, “ what 
shall 1 do with my boys and girls if I don’t scud 
them to school?” 
My dear madam, allow me to suggest. In the 
rooming when you are washing dishes, or ironing, 
ot rolling out pie-crust, let your child stand beside 
you with his primer open and take from you a read- 
rag lesson fifteen or twenty minutes in length. Later 
in the day let him draw upou a slate the letters he 
learned in the morning. Meantime whenever he 
asks a rational question, answer it, and encourage 
him to more. See that from the cradle the Eng¬ 
lish he speak* Is pure and the Grammar correct. As 
he grows older, buy a small globe uucl give him the 
rudiments of Geography by oral instruction. Ask 
him such questions as this:—“Lf there are eleven 
eggs in a nest and five are addled, how many good 
ones remain ?” 
In methods simple and natural, like this, every 
intelligent mother can conduct the education of her 
children at home till they arc nine or ten years of 
age. In this way the life of boyhood and girlhood 
is simple, normal and wholesome. The young mind 
is kept, where God intends it should be, in contact 
with a mature mind, and that mind more intensely 
interested than any other in the universe can be in 
the highest interests, both physical and mental, of 
that child. 
-^ .»-» < *♦- 
THE MANAGING WOMAN. 
To lie a good house-keeper is one of the most 
essential and useful accomplishments, and the man 
who secures for his wife one whose education in 
tliiB respect has not been neglected, combined with 
a mild, confiding and loving disposition, lias a most 
valuable treasure; and if his home is not agreeable 
and pleasant, he may be assured that the fault is 
with himself, and that he does not, possess the 
manly and gentlemanly attributes necessary for such 
a partner for life. We commend the following just 
and truthful remarks to the attention of our readers: 
“The managing woman is a pearl among women. 
She is one of the prizes In the great lottery of 
life, and the man who draws her may rejoice for the 
rest of his days. Better than riches, she is a fortune 
within herself —a gold mine never failing in its 
yield—a spring Of pleasant waters, whose banks are 
fringed with moss and flowers, when all around is 
bleached white witii sterile sand. The managing 
woman can do anything; and she does everything 
well. Perceptive and executive, of quick Highland 
steady hand, she always knows exactly what is 
wanting, and snpplie- the deficiency with a tact and 
cleverness peculiar to herself. She knows the capa¬ 
bilities of person - as well as things, for she lias an 
intuitive knowledge of character. The managing 
woman, if not always patient, is always energetic, 
and can never be disappointed into inaction. Though 
she has to teach the same tiling over and over 
again, though she finds heads as dense as boxwood, 
and IuiiiiIh as inefficient as fishes’ fins, still she is 
never weary of her vocation of arranging and order¬ 
ing and never less than hopeful of a favorite result.” 
COLOR IN DRESS. 
A good natural figure, ami taste in the shape of 
dress, may be wholly spoiled by inappropriate or 
ill-harmonized colors. Remember that white in¬ 
creases tho apparent size of the wearer, while black 
diminishes it; remember also that stripes add t.o 
height, while cross-bars lesson it. Large cheeks are 
invariably in bad taste, unless a person’s figure is so 
bud that it is sought to lie concealed. Never wear 
a dress of many colons; and when you have more 
than one, see. that they are what Is called comple¬ 
mentary. Thus green and rod are complementary. 
They harmonize well; so do yellow and purple, 
orange and blue. 
Blue and green are utterly inadmissible together. 
Thus, too, these strong colors ought to be chosen 
with respect to tin- color of the complexion. Green 
give* a rosincss to the face of the. wearer, while red 
tones down the redness of the skin. Blue assists 
the beauty of a blonde, yellow that of a brunette. 
White vivifies a bright complexion, black subdues 
it. Thus a negress can wear a colored dress which 
would be intolerable on a white; and an Indian 
nurse or ayah, however old, is becomingly clothed 
in muslin, which is unsuitable to any but a youthful 
European. 
--♦-»» » > ■»■- 
BEECHER ON KISSING. 
The following scene is from “Norwood”:—“It 
was evening twilight. They sat alone in the porch. 
A few late blossoms of the Chinese honeysuckle 
shed down a trace of perfume through the air. 
There were no locusts singing, no katydids, nor 
gurgling cricket., and yet some soft sounds I cer¬ 
tainly heard. Not birds, surely! I think it must 
have been the plash of one honeysuckle blown 
against another. Yet there is no wind to move 
them. I hear it again. Listen ! It is like the fall¬ 
ing of a drop of dew into the silver lake from some 
birchen leaf! No, that is rude. It is as if two 
dreams, floating in the night, had clashed; or like 
the joining of two prayers of love on their way up¬ 
ward; or—nay, it was a kiss!—pure, sacred, holy! 
It is the soul’s symbol, when words fail it. It is the 
heart’s sigh, or interjection, when it has a feeling for 
which there is no experience ! ” 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
Female gymnastics —jumping at an offer. 
The best day to wed — Wed nesday, of course. 
Stuffing improves the fair as well as the fowl. 
Many talk like philosophers and live like fools. 
Girls who knead , are. the ones who are needed. 
Troubles are like babies — they grow bigger by 
nursing. 
A dangerous character — a man who “takes 
life” cheerfully. 
What roof covers the most noisy tenant? The 
roof of the mouth. 
The real champions of the ring—mothers with 
daughters to marry. 
A ha INI day is “damp,” but the refusal of a 
young lady is a “damper,” 
When were the first sweetmeats made? When 
Noah preserved pairs in the ark. 
Why is a smile invariably behind the time? Be¬ 
cause it is a little laughter (little after.) 
Women plow the fields of Austria with cows. 
Who talks about the weaker vessel ? 
No matter what part other persons may play, a 
grocer is very sure to play the counterpart. 
A YOUNO man who is desperately in love, says that 
lie has been electrified with a^af-vanic battery. 
“Do you like codfish balls, Mr. Wigging?” Mr. 
Wigging (hesitatingly! — ‘‘I really don’t know, 
Miss; 1 don’t recollect attending one.” 
“ I hope this hand is not counterfeit,” said a lover 
as he was toying with his sweetheart's fingers. “The 
best way to find it out is to rbuj it,” was the reply. 
An old bachelor remarks that, though the Scrip 
ture says “the glory of a woman is in her hair,” it 
nowhere says that the glory of any woman is in any 
other woman’s hair. 
A preacher, in a funeral sermon on a lady, after 
summing up her good qualities, added “that she 
always reached her husband his hat, when he called 
for it, without muttering,” 
Young ladies who are accustomed to read thenews 
papere are always observed to possess winning ways, 
most amiable dispositions, invariably make good 
wives, and always select good husbands. 
Lady Margaret Herbert asked somebody for a 
pretty pattern for a uight-cap. “Well,” said the 
person, “ what signifies the pattern of a night-cap? ” 
“ O! child,” said she, “ you kuow in case of fire!” \ 
Choiw piiSfJcUatffi. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE DEPARTED. 
BY A. A. HOI-KINS. 
Another June, with balmy breath and sweet 
With Summer thoughts in store, 
Has gone to lay its garlands at the feet 
Of Summers gone before. 
There must be somewhere lu the shadow-land 
To which the years have flown, 
Among the rosos-crowiied,- a lovely hand 
01‘ Summers we have known. 
And with them dwell the half forgotten dreams 
That were too sweet to last, 
Thai fling their sweetness and their mellowed gleams 
Across the misty past; 
And buds of hope that once had promised fair— 
Not ours in blossoming— 
Are blooming somewhere in the wooing air 
Of a perennial Spring! 
'Tis Summer always ill our dreams, I ween, 
No Winter’s frost they know,— 
The Junes glide ever on, nor intervene 
The chill December's snow. 
But In the toil of life, Decembers chill 
The years’ ripe blood congeal, 
As through the vale, and o'er the wooded hill 
The froetH of Winter steal. 
And we have seen another year enshroud 
Itself in mantle white. 
And float away, as floats a Summer cloud 
Thro’ apace, beyond our sight. 
Within the cycle Just completed, sleep 
Unnumbered hopes and fears, 
And countless groves, o’er which sad hearts will weep 
Forever bitter tears. 
And lips of beauty, matohlestf In their bloom, 
That, ours have often prest, 
Have hided with the year, and in the tomb 
Arc silently ut. rest. 
And voices sweet, that rarest music made, 
Are calling to us yet,— 
But only echo from the twilight shade 
In which the past is set I 
--«»-■»♦- 4 - -- 
RAVELINGS — NEW SERIES. 
BY T. KAVELEIL 
NO. I.-INQUISITORS. 
There arc some persons, I do verily believe, who 
must have been born with an interrogation point in 
each eye, and another on the end of the tongue. 
Their talent at asking questions is simply wonder¬ 
ful. And they don’t bury it in the ground, or hide 
it away in a napkin. They give it full opportunity 
for development. They add to it upou every pos¬ 
sible occasion. 
It is surprising how many of these persons I meet 
in my journeyings. I have a holy horror of one of 
them, whether male or female. If masculine, he 
will he curious as a woman; if feminine, she will be 
more curious than the commonalty of her sex. 
Honestly, I confess to a positive four of the genu* 
Inquisitor. When I meet one I expect to surrender 
pretty much all the personal knowledge 1 may pos¬ 
sess to him or tier. Particularly to her. For to be 
put through the- inquisitorial suction pump, with a 
woman to work the basilic, is to come out very 
thoroughly squeezed. 
But begging her pardon, I will speak only of him. 
I expect lie will And out how 1 am, who 1 am, what 
I am, why I am it, where I am going, how long I 
have been going, When 1 think T will get, there, that 
1 am a bachelor, why 1 am a bachelor, bow I like it, 
how much 1 am worth, how 1 made it, if 1 speculate, 
if I invest in stocks, what stocks, what my political 
and religious faith is, why it isn’t something else, if 
I have traveled much, why, if travel agrees with me, 
how I like it, if I enjoy good health, where i was 
born, if I have a home, where my home is, what the 
climate is, how i like it, If I couldn't find a bolter 
location, who manages my household affaire, why I 
keep up my establishment, if 1 don’t find traveling 
dreadfully expensive, if— 
But deliver me ! The mere enumeration of these 
things puts me entirely out of breath. How do you 
suppose I survive, then, while the pumping process 
is goiug on ? 
lour genuine inquisitor cannot be put down, lie 
is in his element, and no hint less broad than a fair 
and square refusal on your part to utter even a 
monosyllable will lie dcigti to take. Now I can’t bear 
to be actually uncivil. I positively envy some men 
who have such a stolid habit of silence as will not be 
broken only at their pleasure. This is why I enter¬ 
tain so much fear of the bquisitor. If a uiati enters 
a car I am in, and takes i scat next me, I anxiously 
scan his features, to sed if he be of the genus of 
which J am treating. JffilCh study has made me 
tolerably expert, ami 1 do not often fail of judging 
aright, If I mentally pronounce him one of the 
dreaded, then I feign sloip, or become absorbed in 
my paper, The best way is to give him no oppor¬ 
tunity to address dio. JJul if 1 do, inadvertently, 
and bis remark ends wita a rising inflection, I am 
seized with a sudden trellor. "Where will lie stop? 
One of the most persijtcnt of his eluss disposed 
himself ut my side the other morning. I. was start¬ 
ing upon an all-day’s ride, and had hoped 1 might 
enjoy it in peace. But tic tram was crowded, and 
every seat must be filled. At a glance I saw that my 
neighbor was talented infclic use of the rising inflec¬ 
tion. All the little artilces to which I resorted to 
keep free of las attention- failed. I went to sleep, 
but forgot myself, ami owned my eyes just in time 
to meet his cool gaze. Lc asked if I was going far, 
and I responded ullirmafcvL-ly. Then 1 fell to peru 
sing the morning paper Whereat he asked what, 
was the news. I couldi’t aay—was about to see. 
lie didn’t think the. papers now-u-days had much 
news iu them. Did 1? There was considerable in 
mine. All the while I w-f busily reading, and never 
once looked up. But L hung on. From general 
assertions and interrogate lee be glided Into those of 
a personal nature. 1 grot nervous. I hitched about 
in my scat most uneasily;and fairly turned my back 
upon him. It was of nouse. He would subside a 
moment; then I would lave some hope. Directly 
he would resume tin attack, aud I would grow 
dolorous again. 
An hour went by. He became communicative, 
and interspersed his questionings with interesting 
bits of information ab<ut himself. Say what 1 might; 
he would bring the •onversation, or the one-sided 
talk, back to its porsual tone. He was a bachelor, 
he said, and he infered I was. I admire truth. I 
flutter myself I am as ruthful os the average of man¬ 
kind. But I instinctvely felt, from his semi-coufi- 
dential air, that lie ias going to favor mo with a 
recital of some lovc-iru tale, and after giving me 
his reasons for bachor life, would ask my own hi 
return. So,—may tli antrel that appeared to An- 
nanias and SAPruntAforgive me!—I replied to his 
inference by assertingthat I was a married man, and ' 
had four little heirs and cares at home ! Telling so 
big a fib didn’t help me much. He made all manner 
of inquiries about my family,—was my wife’s health 
good, of what age were the children, were they girls 
or boys, etcetera, etcetera, &c, I bad to tell a 
score of fibs to cover that one, Do not thiuk 1 will 
ever resort to that subterfuge again. lie pumped 
me thoroughly, and beside, made me act in the ca¬ 
pacity of a receiver. I was duly posted concerning 
all his affairs, the main events of lire life, and his 
ambitions, A good half day he plied me. Being 
civilly disposed, I merely re-plied, and us senten- 
tiously as any descendant of “ Lo, the poor Indian,” 
could have done. When he left he kindly hoped he 
might meet me again. If he ever docs, I shall tell 
him its a case of mistaken identity,—that I never 
saw him before in my life ! 
1 have learned wisdom. I feign deafness now as a 
guard against the whole race of inquisitors. This 
last experience gave me the Hint. If 1 see the rising 
inflection pictured forth on any countenance with 
which I come in contact, I am immediately as deaf 
as a post, I find this absolutely effectual. One or 
two questions, and the questioner is done. 
Asking questions isn’t to be decried entirely. I 
am by no means making a tirade against everybody 
who indulges in it. If not carried to excess, it is 
commendable. I have a faint suspicion that if some¬ 
bodies had not done a little in the questioning line, 
all of ue legitimate members of the human family 
would not have had an existence. Looked at in this 
light, interrogatories assume a more respectable 
guise. Some questions are necessary. A moderate 
desire for information is a good thing, 
— Well-a-day ! What if I hud acted the part of a 
mild inquisitor, years ago, and asked a question— 
the question—of a certain blaek-cyed girl who wore 
curls? Perhaps she would have responded pleas¬ 
antly,— who knows?—and then there might have 
been a pretty home-picture, with the black eyes and 
curls always set charmingly in the foreground—such 
a picture, and such a setting, as would have con¬ 
tented me ever, without all this rambling about 
after new scenes. m 
The question is a momentous thing. There arc a 
hundred others that are knotty, and puzzling,—but 
I fancy it lias the most wrapped up iu the answer. 
I have been wondering who asked the first ques¬ 
tion.— Adam or Eve? A curious, and no doubt a 
profitless, speculation. But really, I should like to 
know, and further, what the question was. 1 am 
anxious to learn whether my inquisitorial friends 
got their propensities on the paternal or the mater¬ 
nal side. Here, then, is a question for the savans. 
Let them search the Adamite record. I’ve turned 
inquisitor, and 1 want an intelligible reply. 
— Thus ranch I wrote, and then I read that which 
was written lo my Aunt Jekubiia. She was in one 
of her more tender moods, and her comment, though 
brief, was not quite like herself blic had sut, as in a 
dream, her head leaning upon her hand, while 1 was 
writing. When l had read it, she said, absently— 
“ Our very living is only questioning.” 
Her remark has turned the current of my thought. 
It is suggestive Living, only qvesttormg. Vague, 
blind questioning—a groping after something hid¬ 
den. To-day asks to-morrow what it will bring, and 
queries if what yesterday brought was the best, and 
most to be desired. Youth is questioning manhood; 
manhood vainly queries of itself and of the Future; 
aud age questions, clilld-like again, if the dead roses 
will bloom once more when the Summer comes. 
And when life is ended, and the questioning all is 
over, what will be the reply? 
-^ » « »«. »- 
GENIUS AND POVERTY. 
It is one of the mysteries of our life that genius, 
that noblest gift of God to man, is nourished by 
poverty. Its greatest works have been achieved by 
the sorrowing ones of the world m tears and despair. 
Not in the brilliant saloon, furnished with every 
comfort ami elegance; not in the library well fitted, 
softly carpeted, and looking out upon a smooth, 
green lawn, or abroad expanse of scenery; not in 
ease and competence—is genius bum and nurtured: 
more frequently in adversity, and destitution, amidst 
the harrassing cares of a straitened household, in 
bare and fireless garrets, with the noise of squalid 
children, in the midst of the turbulence of domestic 
contentions, and in the deep gloom of uncheered 
despair, is genius born and reared. This is its birth¬ 
place, and in scenes like these, unpropitious, repul¬ 
sive, wretched, have men labored, studied and 
trained themselves, until they have at last emanated 
out of the gloom of Hint obscurity the shining lights 
of their times; become the companions of kings, the 
guides and teachers of their kind, aud exercise an 
influence upon the thought of the world amounting 
to a species of intellectual legislation. 
-- 
QUAKERS AT HOME. 
The Friends present a model of interior home-life. 
They cultivate the amenities, the consideration, the 
cheer and the abundance which make a home happy. 
They speak to one another with surprising gentle¬ 
ness; they 6inile u)ion one another with a sweet 
benignity; they welcome the visitor to an astound¬ 
ing hospitality. Their religion consists in creating 
happiness in the household. They are gentle, loving 
and attentive to the children. They seek to promote 
like docility and cheerfulness among the “rising 
generation.” They arc equally attentive to old age, 
with a chastened respectfulness of manner, which 
exalts the self respect of declining years. Whatever 
can be done to make a home comfortable aud cheery, 
is firet to be done. Other Christians deny to them¬ 
selves home comforts for the sake of preaching the 
Gospel to the heathen ; but the Society of Friends 
believe that charity begins at home. Their Gospel 
is one of home and peace. Their heaven on earth is 
to win some foretaste of the “rest that remalneth 
for the people of God.” They exemplify what the 
Christian fireside ought to bo—warm without heat, 
cheerful without excitement, bright wittiont dazzle. 
Long live the Quaker homes !— N. Y. Commercial. 
---- 
KEEP THE BIRTHDAYS. 
Keep the birthdays religiously. They belong ex¬ 
clusively to, and arc treasured among, the sweetest 
memories of home. Do not let anything prevent 
some token, be it ever so light, to show that it is 
remembered. Birthdays are great events to chil¬ 
dren. For one day they feel that they are heroes, 
The special pudding is made expressly for them ; a 
new jacket, or trowscre with pockets, or the first 
pair of boots, arc donned; and big brothers aud 
sisters sink into insignificance beside little Charlie, 
who is "six to-day,” and is Boon “going to be a 1 
man.” Fathers who have half a dozen little ones 1 
to cure for arc apt to neglect birthdays, they come 1 
too often — sometimes when they arc busy, and ' 
sometimes when they aro “nervous;” but if they < 
only knew how much such souvenirs aro cherished 
by the children years after, they would never permit 
any cause to step between them and a parent’s i 
privilege. t 
■Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ALONE. 
Oh mourning heart, why dost thou cry 
With such a hitler moan 
For comfort, when no comfort’s nigh, 
And thou art all alone ? 
Alone with bitter memories 
Of fallen hopes and broken tics. 
No more thou’lt hear the voices sweet 
Tn happy childish mirth, 
No more the patter of the feet 
Around the fireside hearth; 
Nor morn nor eventide shall hear 
i The soft tones whisp’ring “ Mother dear.” 
None call thee by that dear name now— 
No little finger? press 
The wrinkles from I by aching brow, 
And with their sweet caress 
So softly charm away tho pain. 
And bring thee joy and peace again. 
Alone, alone, with bleeding heart, 
And crushing, mad'riing pain, 
i And woe, whoso burning, flery dart 
Rend flesh and soul in twain; 
With none to hear thy anguished moan, 
r Thy bitter wail —“ alone I alone 1” 
> Alone! Ah no, T see a Form 
> Bowed down with many a grief, 
, That, through tho bitter blast and storm 
Hastens to thy relief; 
lie comfort brings, and joy, and peace, 
He bids thy pangs and pain to cease. 
Oh Christ 1 Thou mak'si the heavy cross 
A burden light to bear. 
And Thou dost from our bitterest loss 
Make something sweet appear. 
Oh heart., thou art not all alone, 
With whom our dear Lord makes His home. 
Rochester, Dec. 17,1807. Ella D. 
—--- 
FOUR IMPOSSIBLE THINGS. 
First, to escape trouble by running away from 
duty. Jonah once made the experiment, but he 
soon found himself where all ins imitators will, in 
the. end, find themselves. Therefore, manfully meet 
and overcome the difficulties and trials to which the 
post assigned you by God’s providence exposes you. 
Second, to become a Christian of strength and 
maturity without undergoing severe trials. What 
lire is to gold, that is affliction to the believer. 
It burns up the dross and makes the gold shine forth 
witii unalloyed luster. 
Third, to form an independent character, except 
when thrown on their own resources. The oak iu 
the middle of the forest, if surrounded on every 
Bide by trees that shelter and shade It, runs up tall 
and sickly; but nwny from its protectors, and the 
first blast will overturn it. But the same tree, 
growing in the open field, where it is continually 
beat upon by the tempest, becomes its own protec¬ 
tor, So the man who is compelled to rely upon his 
own rcsonro.es forms an independence of character 
to which he could not otherwise have attained. 
Fourth, to be a growing man when you look to 
your post for influence instead of bringing influence 
to your post. Therefore, prefer rather to climb up 
the hill with difficulty than to roll down with inglo¬ 
rious ease. 
--*-« - »-♦■ - >•»- 
WE FADE AS A LEAP. 
As the trials of life thicken, and the dreams of 
other days fade, one by one, in the deep vista of 
disappointed hope, the heart grows weary of the 
struggle, and wc begin to realize onr insignificance. 
Those who have climbed to the pinnacle of fame, or 
revel in luxury and wealth, go to the grave at last 
with the poor mendicant who begs pennies by the 
wayside, and like him are soon forgotten. Genera¬ 
tion after generation, says an eloquent modern 
writer, have felt os we feel, and their fellows were 
as active hi life as ours are now, They passed away 
as a vapor, while nature wore the same aspect of 
beauty as when her Creator commanded her to be. 
And bo, likewise, shall it be when we are gone. 
The heavens will be as bright over onr graves as 
they are now around our path ; the world will have 
the same attraction for offspring yet unborn that 
she hud once for ourselves, and that she 1ms now 
for our children. Yet a little while and nil this will 
have happened! Days will continue to move on, 
and laughter and song will be heard in the very 
chamber in which we died; and the eye that 
mourned for us will be. dry and will glisten with 
joy; and even our children will cease to thiuk of 
us, and will not remember to lisp onr name. 
-«*- »♦». »- 
EVIL AND WANT. 
The connection between the kingdom of God aud 
our daily bread is closer than is generally believed. 
I am far from asserting that a truly good man may 
not sometimes get into great troubles without any 
fault, of his own, for God often puts his people into 
the crucible, that like gold they may come out of it 
all the purer. But this I make bold to say, that 
where a man lias come so low os to have nothing to 
eat or drink, as a rule there is something wrong in 
him. He is either a lazy man, or a drunkard, or dis¬ 
honest, or unmanageable, or something else of that 
sort. There must be some hidden evil within him 
which causes him to succumb under the evil of the 
day. Our Lord is not sueli a shepherd as sends the 
sheep that follow Him into a barren wilderness 
where there is uo food. It is a trifle to Him to open 
ITis hand ami to liberally feed men and beasts. How 
much more will Ue till with food and joy the mouth 
and the heart of those whom He knows as His ser¬ 
vants, and friends, and brethren, who labor not as 
inou-pleusers, but to please Him, their all iu all! 
-■» « <- »♦ ♦ » - 
Forever wtTn the Loud,—A wful as the consid¬ 
eration of eternity is, it is a source or great consola¬ 
tion''to the righteous. A voluble minister, after 
having been silent in company a considerable time, 
and being asked the reason, said that the powers 
of his mind had been solemnly absorbed with the 
thought of everlasting happiness. “ O my friends, 
said he, with an enery that surprised all present, 
“ consider what it is to be forever with the Lord — 
forever, forever, forever!” 
—-- 
Uses of Temptation.—W hen a founder has east 
bis bell, he does not presently fix it in the steeple, 
but tries it with bis hammer, and beats it on every 
side, to sec if there be any flaw in it. Christ does 
not, presently after lie has converted a man, convey 
him to heaven; but suffers him to be beaten by 
many temptations, aud then exalts him to his 
cro wn. —A rrowmnith. 
--♦- » -» o » . - I 
Until you view sin as yonr determined enemy, 
you never will successfully strive against it: not 
this or that sin, but sin itself iu the general. 
