ANNIVERSARIES AND MONOGRAMS, 
In the “Military History of Gen. Grant,” just | 
published from the pen of Gen. Badeau, we find the 
following concerning the ante-war days of the fore¬ 
most man of the times: 
“When the civil war broke out, Grant was a 
private citizen, earning his bread in an insignificant 
inland town. He was of simple habits and tastes, with¬ 
out influence, and unambitious. Having never been 
brought in contact with men of emineuce, he had no 
personal knowledge of great affairs. He had never 
commanded more than a company of soldiers, and 
although he had served under both Scott and Taylor, 
it was as a subaltern, and without any opportunity 
of intercourse with those commanders. He had 
never voted for a President but once; he knew no 
politicians, for his acquaintance was limited to array 
officers and western traders; even in the town where 
he lived, he bad not met the member of Congress 
who represented the district for nine successive 
years, and who afterward became one of his most 
intimate personal friends. Of his four childreu, the 
eldest was eleven years old. He lived in a little 
house at the top of one of the picturesque hills on 
which Galena is built, and went daily to the ware¬ 
house of his father and brother, where leather was 
sold by the wholesale and retail. He was thirty-nine 
years of age before his counuymen became acquainted 
with his name.” 
Those great artiste, Ole Bull, Camille Urso, and 
Miss Topp, were together at a party the other even¬ 
ing. “Yon play beautifully, my child,” said the 
Norwegian to Miss Topp; “but yon can’t do the 
greatest music. No woman can; it takes the biceps 
of a man.” “ My arm is stroug enough,” answered 
the brilliant young pianist, laughing; “I break my 
plauos as wi'll as a mau could, and Steinway has to 
send me a new one every week." “You see,” re¬ 
sponded Bull, turning to Madame Urso, “you see 
liow these people treat their pianos. They bang 
them, they beat them, they kick them, they smash 
them to pieces: but pur fiddles! how we love them ?” 
Elliott, the painter, and Palmer, the sculptor, 
reside in Albany, and are great cronies. Both have 
advanced the prices of their works. Elliott de¬ 
clines to furnish a good article of portrait for 
less than §500 (bust simply, i §1.000 for bust and 
hands, and §5,000 for the total, Palmer has marked 
up his prices to §1,500 and $2,000 for busts. He 
uses about one hundred and fifty tools, made by 
himself—his own inventive powers being remarka- 
able. Both artists are fine talkers.— Bvff. Com. 
Tfie celebration of wooden, tin, crystal, silver, 
goid and diamond weddiug anniversaries has become 
the fashion within the last few years. The custom 
is a very pretty one, aud iu its “gold” and “silver” 
form was originally borrowed from the Germans, but 
Americans have added other ceremonies, to he ob¬ 
served at the expiration of the respective cycles of 
live, ten, fifteen, and twenty-live yeare. Few per¬ 
sons live to enjoy their diamond weddiug anniver¬ 
sary; but ten or twelve “ golden weddings 11 occur 
annually. 
The cards of invitation for these celebrations cor¬ 
respond both in material and general appearaucc as 
nearly as possible to the special ceremony intended. 
Thus, in the “diamond wedding” invitation, a sil¬ 
vered card is appropriately frosted in a pattern of 
diamonds, aud bears the maideu aud married names 
of the bride. The cards issued for the golden and 
silver weddings are respectively lettered in gold and 
silver, while for the crystal wedding a crystalized 
card is used. One of oxydized silver, approaching 
as nearly as possible iu appearance to a square of tin, 
duly dated and labeled, aunounees the fact of the 
tenth wedding anui versary; and one of wood so thin 
and delicate as to be readily mistaken for a bit of 
pasteboard, winds up the catalogue. 
The “rage” for monograms still continues. The 
fashion in scarlet, however, has died out, and mauve, 
apple-green aud corn-color take its place. Nor is an 
interpreter generally needed now, cither for domes¬ 
tic stationery or liveries. The form of envelopes 
most in vogue is square. Single letters are but sel¬ 
dom used; but “ the wearing of the green,” al¬ 
though so unpopular in England, is becoming daily 
more the fashion among Americans. Crests, in sin¬ 
gle aud parti-color-, still decorate papetrie, and are 
properly still considered stylish by those privileged 
to wear them. Coats-of-arms are very little used in 
stationery. The monograms on harness are smaller, 
and entirely of gold-color; in fact, in most cases, 
gold plated. Green, as In stationery, is the favorite 
color, both for single letters and for letters enclosed 
in a gold circle. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
FOUND AND LOST. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yort ..;- 
CHRISTINE, 
BY B. MC GIBBON 
Paraphrase of Psalms 25. 
He is onr Shepherd.- we. his sheep. 
Will follow to rejoice; 
And though the path be dark and steep, 
W e'll hasten foT his voice. 
In pastures green he'll make ns lie, 
And want we shall not know; 
Still waters he will lead us by, 
While in his paths we go. 
He is onr Shepherd -. we his sheep, 
And though dark shadows fall, 
No evil still can o’er us creep,— 
He hears our earnest call; 
Then closer to his side we’ll cling, 
And journey with him near. 
Until his rod and staff shall bring 
Us where there is no fear. 
He is our Shepherd r we his sheep 
That round bis table come: 
There all his promises he’ll keep, 
In that onr royal home. 
For us the tables laden o’er, 
Onr foes shall trembling see, 
But they shall never dwell before 
The golden-fruited tree, 
He is our shepherd: we the sheep 
Of his, the hcaveny fold; 
And he who did o’er Judah weep, 
Will fill our cups of gold. 
The oil of gladness he will pour, 
In mercy full and free; 
And in his house forevermore, 
Weil dwell, and blessed be. 
Jeddo, N. Y., 186S. 
On, the blue, blue eyes of the fair C pristine, 
And the braided locks with their _ olden sheen, 
The fairest of all the fair, I ween! 
Oh, the red, red mouth wit!. Its glancing smile, 
And the dimples that conn aud go the while, 
And the beautiful face, t hat hearts beguile! 
Ah, sweetest Christine ! it is hardly fair 
To capture hearts in such luring snare, 
And bind them fast with your goklen hair! 
Tho 1 your eve- are bright as the sun's warm beams. 
And your face as fair as a poet's dreams. 
Your heart like the ice of winter seems. 
There's one that has turned from your tempting art, 
Nor cared of your glances to win a part, 
But sought the love of a truer heart. 
Ah, fairest Christine t would yon like to tell 
That you'd captured him with your witching spell ? 
You would\f you could, I know full well. 
Ella D. 
'Twas on one bright September day.— 
The rocks were wet with ocean spray; 
The breakers scarce had left the shore 
Their foaming lines had deluged o'er, 
Ere I was down the slippery steep. 
In search of treasures from the deep: 
Some pearl, perchance, of radiance bright, 
That ne'er had sparkled in the light; 
Some colored stone or sounding shell, 
From where the ocean Peris dwell. 
Amid the silent coral caves, 
Far down beneath the surging waves, 
I searched with care that rocky beach, 
Each nook aud crevice iu my reach. 
That I might find the glittering prize, 
On which I longed to rest my eyes. 
’Till quite discouraged, tired aud worn 
I sat me down as one forlorn. 
And watched the gulls and petrel play 
Upon the waters of the bay. 
I mused upon the mystery 
That hung around that mighty sea,— 
The lives and hopes that perished there— 
The drowning shrieks, the blank despair, 
And darkness like an ebon pall 
That settled down and shrouded all: 
And then the wreck, like specter grim, 
Seen at the dawn or gloaming dim; 
And monstrous forms that sought their prey 
Where never shone the light of day: 
The sobbing of the sullen waves, 
As o’er unnumbered, unknown graves, 
They rolled in dark procession on. 
Toward their destined goal, unknown. 
How long I ear in reverie, 
My thoughts thus buried in the sea, 
I could not tell were I to try, 
So softly sped the moments by. 
But this 1 know, a Hash of light 
Just thou broke on my raptured eight— 
A pure reflection of the sun 
From some bright gem or crystal stone. 
I scarcely could believe my eyes. 
That I beheld the long-sought prize, 
For which I'd given so much to gain— 
For which I'd searched so long in vain; 
But there it shone upon the beach, 
Just at my hand, within my reach. 
“ ’Tie mine! 'tie mine"—with joy I cried, 
“ That pure rich offering of the tide,— 
No other hand hut mine is near; 
No other claimant can be here; 
I need not hurry to possess, 
But feast upon its loveliness." 
My eyes were ravished with the sight,— 
So pure, so beautiful, so bright. 
Splash—splash—splash over rock and stone, 
The heedless tide came rushing on. 
And quick as I could gain my feet. 
I backward had ro make retreat; 
But ah! my pearl:—twas gone—and where ? 
Old Neptune had it in his care. 
He had but taken back his own. 
But my bright dream was dash'd and gone. 
The loss, perhaps, was small, in truth, 
But there’s a lesson taught, forsooth, 
That every gill of usefulness 
The tide of time may bring to us. 
And every opportunity 
For good, that we may chance to see, 
Unless it be improved to-day. 
The tide that brought may take away. 
Cannonsville, N. Y.. LSftS. 
THE BLOOM OF BEAUTY 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
Robert Collyer says:—“Out of your life there 
flows, every day, some spiritual influence as true in 
its nature and degree as any ever known. You may 
never write a book, or even a letter; but then, no 
more did Jesus Christ. No mistake can be greater, 
than to suppose that I have done my duty by my 
home, in tilling it with plenty, or my children, in 
seeui'iug them the best teachers; or that I have 
been true to my marriage vows, because I have kept 
myself pure, and never stinted my wife in her ex¬ 
penses; or to Church aud State, because I have 
voted right on election days, aud been in my time a 
deacon. Oh! friend, I tell you unspeakably more is 
that mysterious aud most holy influence of a sound, 
elastic, cheerful human soul, in a body to match, I 
see once in a while a home, in which I am just as 
sure that it is impossible fur the children to go radi¬ 
cally wrong, as it is for the planet to turn the other 
way upon her axis. The whole law of their life, of 
their spiritual gravitation, is fixed by the strong, 
sweet father and mother, resolute, above all, to pre¬ 
serve this right attraction, though there may be less 
at last in counted dollars.” 
still he presses on, until, r'-’ching the mountain top 
he pauses, bewildered and amazed, to find that the 
sky stretches away into iniiuite space, and that the 
stans are not playthings, but worlds further away 
than thought can reach. So it > with everything 
throughout our life, there is always something be¬ 
yond us which we are striving vainly to reach. 
“ We pant, we strain like birds against thrir wires, 
Arc- sick to reach the vast aud the beyond r 
And what avails, if still to our desires 
Those far-off gulfs respond ? 
" Contentment comes not. therefore: still there lies 
An outer distance whc-n the first b hailed 
And still forever yawns before our eyes 
An Utmost — that is veiled.'' 
Must it be ever thus ? In all the wide Universe is 
there nothing to satisfy our hearts ? Or is there 
something that we fail to find, or finding, that we 
refuse to accept, aud so turn away to try again to 
satisfy ourselves with husks'? Ah! that is the 
secret. Foolish creatures that we are.— to offer 
“ stones ” for “ bread ” and “ serpents ” for “fishes;” 
foolish to think that a soul created in the image of 
an Infinite Being can be satisfied to choke and stifle 
all the longings of an immortal nature and only 
gratify the senses, 
Listen to the voices of your own soul. Do you 
not know that the clamoring for honor and fame can 
only be satisfied by the “ King of kings ? ” Do you 
not know that vour desire for wealth will never be 
satisfied until you have gained those riches that are 
“ incorruptible, tiodefiled, and that fade not away ? ” 
Do you not feel that the love for pleasure cannot be 
fully gratified with anything less than those pleasures 
which endure forevermore V And do you not know, 
still further, that the love which your heart of hearts 
craves, can only be found and satisfied in Him whose 
name is Love V 
Listen to tlie questionings of your heart aud an¬ 
swer ; and may you answer as did one of old, a king, 
who, possessing all honor, and fame and wealth, and 
having tested the power of every earthly thing to 
meet the wants of the soul, and proving them all 
unsatisfactory, said at last— 11 1 shall be satisfied when 
I awake in His likeness.” Lettice Vayne. 
Arcadia, N, Y., 
Parental affection is beautifully illustrated iu 
the above engraving. The helpless little blrdling, 
tenderly supported by the parent birds, is being 
borne by them from the basket where some kind 
baud placed it, back to the nest from which it had 
fallen. A true incident is pictured. It occurred 
last summer, iu Paterson, New Jersey, the birds 
which thus evinced such a depth of love, coupled 
with ingenious care, being the sweet-voiced robins. 
With one wing of each wrapped around the little 
charge they used those at liberty to mount upward. 
Written ior Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
DISTINCTION. 
It is the oft-repeated boast of our Republic that 
the avenues to renown are open to all classes, irre¬ 
spective of birth. This is as it should be, and in 
admirable keeping with the “ eternal fitness of 
thiugs,” Who would not rather possess fame ac¬ 
quired by acknowledged intellectual worth than be 
bora a king ? Blit however impartial opportunities 
may adjust themselves, there must ever remain ob¬ 
vious distinctions. Nature seems to have loved 
variety. She Iras diversified the earth with hill and 
dale, mountain and valley, rivulet and river. This 
was indeed necessary: uot every stream could con¬ 
sistently he an Amazon, nor every elevation a Mont 
Biauc, aud the- beauty and harmonious workings of 
the whole be secured. 
In nothing has Nature so displayed her love of 
variety as in the various endowments of mind. 
Being no respecter of persons, she has showered 
her greatest gifts alike upon the most humble and 
exalted. A Lord Byron has lured the world to ad¬ 
miration by immortal song; but a plain, simple 
Robert Burns has left inscribed a record of geuius 
as imperishable as the passions he portrayed. Great 
minds, like diamonds and things most precious, flash 
upon the world at only rare intervals. In the em¬ 
pire of poetry, which always claims peculiar atten¬ 
tion, the ancients had Homer and Virgil. 
In the creation, two such rivers as the Amazon 
and Father of Waters were deemed sufficient, One 
Niagara is enough for an entire globe; one Shak- 
speare is sufficient for a decade of centuries. All 
both animate aud inanimate, 
The Chicago Evening Post not many weeks 
since claimed for some young people of “ leadiug 
Chicago families ” the credit of having invented a 
novel and pleasant evening entertainment. The 
ordinary programme is as follows :—“ Instrumental 
music; reading of selections ; ten-minute lecture, 
and general conversation thereon; reading of orig¬ 
inal contributions; vocal music, refreshments and 
conversation; instrumental music. The young peo¬ 
ple present are regarded not as members of a ‘ .Soci¬ 
ety.' but as the guests of the lady at whose house 
they meet —there being no formal terms of member¬ 
ship, aud the invitations being at her pleasure. The 
guests appear in plain dress. Neither church, lines 
nor neighborhood boundaries are considered; the¬ 
ological and political controversies arc eschewed; 
subjects of literature, art, music aud recreation, 
upon which all agree, are brought to the fireside; 
the controlling spirit is that of culture, of friend¬ 
ship aud charity.” 
WORK AND HEALTH. 
Tiee truth is, many of our ailments, and those of a 
most fatal form, are taken in the house, and uot out 
of doors; taken by removing parts of clothing too 
soon after coming into the house, or lying down on 
a bed or sofa when in a tired or an exhausted condi¬ 
tion, from having engaged too vigorously in domes¬ 
tic employment. Many a pie has cost an industrious 
man a hundred dollars. A human life has many a 
time paid for an apple dumpling. When our wives 
get to work they become so interested in it they find 
themselves in an utterly exhausted condition: their 
ambition to complete a thing, to do some work well, 
sustains them till it is completed. The mental and 
physical condition is one of exhaustion, when a 
breath of air will give a cold, to settle in the joints 
to wake up next day with inflammatory rheumatism, 
or with a feeling of etillhess or soreness, as if they 
had been pounded in a bag: or a sore throat to worry 
and trouble them for months, or lung fever to put 
them in the grave in less than a week. 
Our wives should work by the day, if they must 
work at all, and uot by the job ; it is more economi¬ 
cal in the end to see how little work they can do in 
an hour, instead of how much. It is slow, steady, 
continuous labor which brings health and strength, 
aud a good digestion. Fitful labor is ruinous to 
all.— Mall. 
A bad sign—to sign another man’s name to a note. 
A feline relative—a catskin. 
A question of time—asking another’s age. 
A drop too much—the hangman’s. 
Weapons of the world—the axes of the earth. 
Behind time—the back of a clock. 
A great aid to the temperance cause—lemonade. 
Sentimental, explosion—bursting into tears. 
The “ yard arm”—Thirty-six inches. 
TnE commonest social vice—Advice. 
A Schism to be approved of—A witticism. 
The first ’bus in America—Columbus. 
Tne most popular look-out—The look out of the 
eyes. f 
Counsel for a hill-poster and a cross child—Stick 
to it. 
Laziness travels so slow that poverty soon over¬ 
takes it. 
Three things to think about —life, death and 
eteruitj-. 
Anger adds to rebuke neither grace nor force, but 
love does both. 
Every man magnifies injuries he has received and 
lessens those he has inflicted. 
What are the features of a cannon? Cannon’s 
mouth, cannon-ize, cannon-eers. 
The repentance that is delayed until old age is but 
too often a regret for the inability to commit more 
sin. 
Silence is the safest response for all the contra¬ 
diction that arises from impertinence, vulgarity, or 
envy. 
Goethe called architecture frozen music. If it 
were not, how could architecture have so many 
friezes and eoru-iees? 
The singing of a kettle in one respect resembles 
the siugiug of a stage siuger. An attempt to over¬ 
do will be followed by a hiss. 
Final success, the joy of life's harvest, is the goal 
of our human hopes. No wise or thoughtful mau 
will live merely for to-day. The pilgrim who seeks 
a home is uot content to linger and loiter for the 
mere flowers beside the way. The sower looks 
onward to fields white aud ready for the sickle. 
Wisdom has regard for the grand issue. The tri¬ 
umph or the pleasure of to-day is transitory. We 
want a hope that does not sink with the setting sun. 
The true success in life is that which does not fail 
in the evening of onr days, or leave them to barren¬ 
ness. We want that shout of “ harvest home ” that 
will uot die into silence with the failing breath, but 
make the passage of the grave a whispering gallery, 
where heaven and earth talk together. We want 
something that will reach beyond time, beyond the 
thiugs of the present, something that will take hold 
on eternity.— bland. 
things. 
appear to 
be proportionately rare as the importance attached 
to them is great or small, until the mind is finally 
lost in the one Great Author Himself. 
Local distinctions are often based upon erroneous 
ideas. Evidently modern conceptions of respecta¬ 
bility did uot emanate from the pure and primitive 
customs of our first parents,—for at the outset they 
honored Agriculture. Under free institutions, how¬ 
ever, labor is enjoying, with still more abundant 
prospects for the future, a deserving retrieve from 
unmerited degradation. Never was muscular disci¬ 
pline more honorable or inviting than at the present 
time. What historian would now dare to preface a 
work with such depreciating terms in reference to 
the reeoguized foundation of all industry, as Livy 
made use of in his history of the Roman Empire ? 
The different pursuits of life are in good part but 
the different means of obtaluing that very common 
essential denominated “bread-and-butter.” It is 
exceedingly unfortunate for the mutual welfare of a 
people, that the act of measuring molasses or calico 
should he thought to contain more essence of glory 
than the realizing sense of a well-filled purse, result¬ 
ing from the many sources of farm production. The 
amount of culture necessary for, or attendant upon, 
a calling, is apt to be associated with the popularly 
reeeived opinion of the same. Therefore any instru¬ 
mentality which tends to reform and advance the 
interests of ye Agkicol.e (and here we cannot re¬ 
frain from mentioning the Rural,) should receive 
our heartiest commendation. J. h. 
Concord, O.. I86S. 
One of the World’s Wrecks.—A Paris corres¬ 
pondent writes: —“I have myself seen a poor old 
woman, long crazed, feeble in body, going about 
tiie streets with a guitar which had lost all its 
strings but one, and singing in a horribly cracked 
voice snatches of the old songs of forty years ago. 
She was once, they tell me, a renowned singer in 
Paris, aud sung more than once before old King- 
Charles X in the Tuiieri.es; had led a dissipated 
and reckless life ; had lost her high place in her 
profession, aud with it her reason; and now imag- 
agined herself still the favorite of the multitude, 
aud the songs she sings the delight of all who hear 
them. People give her a sou here and there, and 
pass pitying on; and the moving wreck still fails 
to warn the other thoughtless ones from the rock 
on which it shattered.” 
Misery and Mercy.— It was old Izaak Wulton who 
said, “ Every misery that 1 miss is a new mercy,” a 
saying worthy of the profoundest philosopher. It is 
only too true that misfortunes come to us on wings, 
but retire with a limping pace; and yet one-half the 
world are ready to meet calamities halfway, and iu- 
directly to welcome them. There is scarcely an evil 
in life that we cannot double by pondering upon it: 
a scratch wUl thus become a serious wound, aud a 
slight illness even be made to end iu death, by the 
brooding apprehension of the sick; while, qu the 
other hand, a mind accustomed to look on the bright 
side of all things will repel the mildew aud damp¬ 
ness of care by its geuial suu&hiuc, A cheerful heart 
paints the world as it sees it, like a sunny landscape; 
the morbid mind depicts it like a sterile wilderness. 
Our Changes,—W e are more instable in our lik¬ 
ings aud dislikiugs than in our opinions, not because 
wisdom is less permanent than love, but because all 
actual progress is rather an intellectual achievement 
than a moral one. 
Almost every young lady is public spirited enough 
to have her father’s house Used as a court-house. 
