THE AUTUMN OF THE HEART. 
The com bows Its bead to the sickle, 
The nightingale's murmur is hushed, 
Rain tears from the arbutus trickle, 
Beech fruits In the forest lie crushed. 
We have fought, but the battle Is ending; 
We are wounded and sick from the fight; 
Blue shadows around us descending 
Breathe kieses of night. 
We have Journeyed, not heeding our danger, 
Cried in wild supplication above; 
We have loved till our eyes lost their anger, 
And be&rte become sleepy with love. 
Red roses arc dying which wreathed us— 
We are stamped with the iron that sears; 
Dead love in compassion bequeathed us 
Its relic of tears. 
Ah, me ! but the summer was pleasant ! 
Shall we die and lie dreaming again t 
Would we yield the dull days of the present 
For an hour of the past and its pain f 
Do we hunger for kisses that stung us f 
Or long for the lips that have lied? 
Must they stoop for the gauntlet they’ve flung us ? 
Weep ? Creep to their side f 
We cringe to these sowers of sorrow; 
We cry for a blighted carees; 
We dream for a night; on the morrow 
We gather the tears of distress. 
We bow to our grief and privation; 
We pay for the pleasures that cloy; 
Our work is to build the foundation 
They love to destroy. 
Oh, women with hearts brimming over 
W'ith passions we never can feel, 
The world is too weak to discover 
The mystical love you conceal. 
Our sorrow, not ours the reproving; 
Tour triumph, and ours the defeat; 
Our lives are made bitter from loving. 
Why, you are so sweet! 
[St. James Magazine. 
-- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MR. ATRO’S FAMILY. 
BY MRS. H. M. LINCOLN. 
Mr. Atro left the house immediately after break- hi 
fast, and a few moments later his wife saw him drive ot 
from the yard very vapidly. She proceeded to the ct 
front window to get one more glimpse of his erect b< 
form, and looking aftei him exclaimed—“I wonder 
where Mr. Atho has gone!" The walls didn’t ana- in 
swer,—no more would Mr. Atro had he heard the h< 
question, Mrs. A had the day before her in which re 
to work and think. This was nothing new, surely; dt 
but had her husband told her he was going to see cl 
some line graperies, and asked for her company, it hi 
would have been wonderful indeed. hi 
Mrs. Atro was a systematic housekeeper. She sc 
was fond of reading, too; but in all the years of her e< 
married life she could recall only now and then a °’ 
day which brought leisure for much reading. Her 01 
family numbered five. Formerly it had consisted ai 
of seven or eight,—two hired men aud through the ® 
summer season a servant girl. Mow Mr. Atro had al 
a tenant, who boarded his help; and his wife had E 
hoped for more leisure. 6 * 
But Mrs. Atro was listless to-day. Her thoughts el 
wer’n’tat home as she skimmed milk, washed dishes, 
made beds, swopt chambers, sitting-room, dining¬ 
room, and kitchen, cleaned lamps, dusted ami 
wiped the specks from the windows, baked two 
fresh pies aud a p oa [ of cake, cleaned her floor and S 
oil clothe, pyt" t , are d dinner for five, washed dishes 1 
again, cter^ed, worked the butter, &c. Three a 
o’clock 'f oni3 d her neatly dressed and her hair ar- 
rang;^th care , sitting down to do her mending. a 
work dropped occasionally from her hands, and a 
’ier eyes wandered beyond tbe roses and geraniums ‘ 
in the window beside her, to the h»zy hiil-topa. 
tinted with a million touches of grace and beauty, - 
and a look of intense longing sprang Into them as - 
she turned again towards her mending. A book lay 
on the table near her, which she took up three or ^ 
four times and glanced over marked passages. 
As she finished her mending and began to get tea 
one thought from the “Talmud,” (among the 
marked passages of the “ Altantic,”) was uot for 
gotten. “ Little or much, if only your heart is fixed 
on heaven.” I think Mrs. Atro was learning more 
than many of her fair sister’s who thoroughly scorn 
the idea of work, and would not so degrade them¬ 
selves as to wash dishes or churn, for the world. 
Two weekly papers constituted the most part of 
Mrs. A.’s reading, for in the twelve years she had 
been a wife Mr. Atro had bought but three or four 
new books. Her mental outreach was circumscribed 
not because she chose it; but because her huoband 
willed it. He, like hundreds of husbands, thought 
his wife’s business entirely at home, aud that while 
there, her work should entertain her. To take two 
papers was a credit to hint; to have taken four. 
I with his wealth, would have been greater. But Mr. 
Atro didn’t feel the need of reading half as much as 
his wife. He was abroad a large part of the time. 
He traveled considerably, aud observation made him 
well informed, while his wife, whom he seldom 
thought of having go with him, was only acquainted 
with tbe outer world by reading. 
About seven o’clock Mr, atro returned. Ilis 
wife had his tea ready, which he enjoyed in silence 
except to reply in monosyllables to some question.^ 
O, now Mrs. Atro yearned to know something of 
the life beyond, which engaged so much of her hus¬ 
band’s attention. Not of its toil, or care, or per¬ 
plexity — these she shared too largely at home; but 
the air, the sunshine, the scenery, the change, the 
rest she might find beyond the monotonous pre¬ 
cincts of home. Who can t«11 what one day’s free¬ 
dom would have done for this tired mother 5 1 Would 
she not have been more companionable, more social 
this, had been patient and forbearing, her heart 
must surely have been “fixed on heaven.” But 
she persevered, grasping every thing within her 
reach, struggling towards the light, dim though it : 
was, else she might have grown almost insensible 
to improvement 
Tne first years of Mr Atro’s married life had been 
full of anxiety to secure a competence. When this 
was gained, he lost none of his selfish abandonment 
to business, or his seclusive enjoyment of ease. 
Selfish it was, because hie own pleasure was con¬ 
sulted, his own taste gratified, without once inqui¬ 
ring what his wife and children needed. Did he 
fancy a pleasure trip would do him good he left the 
care to his wife and started at once. Mrs. Atro 
believed God made the mind to be taken care of, as 
well as the body, and had her husband intimated to 
her a desire for her company on some of his frequent 
excursions, most thankfully would she have put 
aside every hindrance and with the same old free¬ 
dom of girlhood, enjoyed recreation. Her longing 
eyes often watched him out of sight, while a yearn¬ 
ing, hungry look was reflected where only happy 
images should have dwelt. 
But better days were dawning. Mr. Atro took 
the Rural. A friend urged him to subscribe for it 
last April, and now every week it gladdened his 
home. He read the article entitled —“ Mental Out¬ 
reach of Woman.” It set Mr. A. to thinking and 
wondering if really toe was growing away from his 
wife, mentally. He remembered the hopes and am¬ 
bitions of early manhood, and the promise made 
then to the fair bride who was to share life’6 toils 
with him. Had he not said that if prospered he 
would have a good library, first of all, beside the 
pleasure and profit an occasional journey afforded ? 
He looked about for the library and found some half- 
dozen books, not one of which were especially pur¬ 
chased for his wife. He was delighted to remember 
his weekly papers —surely he had not deprived his 
family of these. As for traveling, he had been East 
and West, North and South, and felt that each tour 
had added beyond computation to his mental out¬ 
reach. 
But his wife—whatof her ? His reflections wer’n’t 
pleasant. They convinced him of many errors, 
many thoughtless delinquencies on his part which 
he felt could never be made up. Was she then so 
far below him in mental advancement ? He knew 
that as far as observation went this was true, and 
the blame rested wholly with him. When his wife 
had sought to make herself acquainted with the 
outer world, he had thought her meddlesome and 
curious, and had grown at last harsh and over¬ 
bearing. 
Mrs. Atro was suddenly surprised to see a change 
in her husband, and more than this, when he told 
her he had rented his farm and wished her to get 
ready for a journey. There were tears in her won¬ 
dering eyes,—glad tears that found their way over 
cheeks unused to such. She did not angrily tell 
him 6he’d stay at home because he’d never invited 
her before, and make a dozen apologies before con¬ 
senting to go. No, indeed! She thankfully accept¬ 
ed this rare chance, knowing that her mental 
outreach had long enough been limited for the want 
of freedom and change. And even now Mr. Atro 
and his wife are journeying through the Southern 
States,—that vast field for observation,—while both 
are thoroughly enjoying the tour together. To 
know how fast Mrs. Atro is learning, aud how highly 
6be values this chance for mental outreach, one 
should read her letters. 
(fhoicc MisteUani]. 
INDIAN SUMMER. 
_ 
UT W. H. C. n09MER. 
To-day a wandering breeze 
Over empurpled seas 
Comes from the spicy Islands of the Blest; 
Strange golden radiance falls 
On moss-robed forest halls 
In gorgeous robing of the rainbow drest. 
The wizard. Autumn, waves 
A wand that openeth graves, 
Aud Summer, with her rosy nymphs, once more 
Looks on the wide domain 
That owned her queenly reign 
When earth the livery of Elysium wore. 
Through soft transparent haze 
Gleam tenderest solar rays 
Like orbs of beauty through a bridal veil; 
Majestic woods breathe balm, 
And boly is the caim 
That settles on the hillside and the dale. 
Red window of the Dawn! 
Coarse Is the fairest lawn 
Contrasted with thy gauzy curtain folds! 
The son, in his decline. 
More deeply stained than wine, 
A ruby glow gives to the woods and wolds. 
“Field of the Cloth of Gold!” 
Of which high bards have told, 
When royalty beaight met kings and queens, 
Could less of splendor boast 
Than our Hesperian coast 
In the flashed pomp of its autumnal scenes. 
While birds delay their flight 
Look on the landscape bright, 
An d bites inhale from Heaven’s delicious air; 
The fairy land of dreams 
Where, veined with amber streams, 
Fields blush with bloom undying, are less fair. 
Beneath the kindly sky 
To breathe, what luxury, 
Tho’ flowers are gone and garnered golden sheaves! 
Ripe chestnuts, glossy brown, 
Come softly pattering down 
Where the south wind is waltzing with the leaves. 
Rich recompense for pain, 
Labor of hand and brain, 
Worn out in weary strife with want and woe, 
Enchanted shores would be, 
When crossed Time’s stormy sea, 
Where Indian Summer should no ending know. 
[Home Journal. 
--#-►»♦ « «»- 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AUTUMN LEAVES. 
BY LYDIA JJLLSON CRANDELL. 
I sat with my head bowed, and a few summer 
beams, flung from the hand of the dying day, fell 
upon and arouud it, like a visible benediction. AL 
day long the slow hours had kept pace to the music 
of sad thoughts- Busy though my hands had been. 
summer embowered the earth, whether dancing in 
the sunlight or easting its tiny shadow to shield the 
head of a fainting traveler, has fulfilled its mission. 
And what of tLis life of mine,—this drop in the 
great ocean of existence,—this unit among the 
ewaiming myriads unto each of whom has been 
entrusted a mission more grand than that of sun, 
or stars or universe ? 
But beyond these eold days, past all these storms 
and tempests, another spring is waiting with hands 
filled with buds and blossoms. She will breathe 
upon these dead leaves, hut there will be no magic 
in her breath to bid them live and bloom again; 
they are dead beyond hope of resurrection. But 
other leaves will people the same branches, and do 
their work just as well. 8o of these hopes of mine. 
They will never lay aside their shrouds, and become 
part of my life again; but I trust their places will 
6ome day be filled with brighter hopes and more 
perfect loves, which the breath of God shall kindle 
in my soul. 
-- 
SLURS ON WOMAN. 
At a recent meeting in this city, at which no 
ladies were present, a man, in responding to the 
toast on “ Woman,” dwelt almost solely on the 
frality of the sex, claiming that the best among 
them were little better thau the worst, the chief 
difference being in the surroundings. At the con¬ 
clusion of the speech a gentleman present rose to 
his feet and said; 
“ I trust the gentleman, in the application of his 
remarks, refers to his own mother and sisters, and 
not to ours.” 
The effect of this most just and timely rebuke 
was overwhelming — the maligner of woman was 
covered with confusion and shame. 
This incident serves an excellent purpose in pre¬ 
facing a few words which we have for a long time 
had it in our mind to say. Of all the evils prevail¬ 
ing amontr young men we know of none more 
blighting in its moral effects than tbe tendency to 
6peak slightingly of the virtue of women. Nor is 
there anything in which young men are so thor¬ 
oughly mistaken as the low estimate they form of 
the integrity of women—not of their own mothers 
and sisters, thank God, but of others, who, they 
forget, are somebody else’s mothers and sisters. 
As a rule, no person who surrenders to this de¬ 
basing habit is safe to be trusted with any enter¬ 
prise requiring integrity of character. Plain words 
f abbiitlt 
IN THY GOOD TIME. 
In thy good time, dear Lord, in thy good time, 
I shall find rest, 
Far from the strife aud tumult of the world, 
In regions blest. 
After the heat and turmoil of the day. 
The quiet night,' 
With fragrant breeze; while silver stars look down 
With softened light. 
After the heat and burden of life’s day, 
The quiet grave; 
Rest for the wearied frame end aching head, 
Where sweet flowers wave. 
After the storm upon the billowy deep, 
The gentle calm— 
Fierce winds are hushed, and soothing gales steal down 
Like healing balm. 
After the storms upon life’s billows deep 
I shall find peace— 
That blessed peace, in realms of holy joy, 
Where sorrows cease. 
In patience, Lord, I wait, for thy good time, 
When thou wilt come 
To take me to thy everlasting rest, 
My heavenly home. *■ 
[American Messenger. 
-- - 
TRUE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
Did a holy life consist of one or two noble deeds 
—some signal specimens of doing, or enduring, or 
suffering — wc might account for the failure, or 
reckon it small dishonor to turn back in such a con¬ 
flict. But a holy life is made up of small things. 
It is the little things of the hour, and not the great 
things of the age, that fill up a life like that of Paul 
or John, like that of Rutherford, or Brainerd, or 
Martyn. Little words, not eloquent speeches nor 
sermons; little deeds, not miracles, nor battles, nor 
one great heroic act or mighty martyrdom, make up 
the true Christian life. The little constant sun¬ 
beam, not the lightning; the waters of Siloab, 
“ that go 60 ftly” in their meek mission of refresh¬ 
ment, not the waters of torrent, noise and force, are 
the true symbols of a boly life. 
The avoidance of little evils, little sins, little in- 
AUTUMN LEAVES have to estimate the character .of honest and re¬ 
spectable citizens by the developments of crime in 
BY LYDIA JJLLSON CRANDELL. OUr police COUTtS. 
- Let young men remember that their chief happi- 
I sat with my head bowed, aud a few summer ne6S depends upon their utter faith in wo- 
beams, flung from the hand of the dying day, fell meQ . jjo worldly wisdom, no misanthropic philos- 
upon and arouud it, like a visible benediction. All phy, a o generalization, can cover or weaken this 
day long the slow hours had kept pace to the music fundamental truth. It stands like the record of 
of sad thoughts- Busy though my hands had been, Q 0 d himself — for it is nothing less than this — and 
in fashioning the fabric before me into shape and should put a seal upon lips that are wont to speak i 
FASHION ITEMS. 
Ladies who revel in 6howy textures and bright, ,j 
gorgeous colors, will find themselves well suited t 
this season in the beauty and gayety of the new fall , 
aud winter fabrics. v 
Bonnets being so small, high, striking colors are .. 
admissible, and many are made of the brightest j. 
scarlet, marigold or crimson velvet, subdued with ^ 
black trimmings, lace, jet aud feathers. g 
The trimmings now constitute the most import 
ant, and often the most expensive part of the dress; 
but there is, certainly, less need of them upon the 
thick aud serviceable winter materials than upon 1 
tne light textures or flimsy silks, which borrow all ’ 
their beauty from the contrast of color and taste 
displayed in their decoration. 
Knotted silk fringe has taken the place of lace, to 1 
a great exteut, in the trimming of rich silk, satin 
and poplin dresses, and is very effective though less 
rich, and not so permanently valuable. It is princi¬ 
pally used upon the waist aud sleeves, the train and 
sash giving sufficient style to the skirt, especially if 
the material be costly. 
Double dresses or “Pompadours” are very much 
worn, bunched up at the sides so as to produce a 
pankr, and these are always trimmed with fringe to 
match the waist, and with straps which divide the 
fullness; and four longitudinal puffs. Pompadours 
are worn over long and short dresses, and are made 
very useful in black silk, for wear in the street, or 
with trained skirts of different colors. 
There is quite a change in the fashion of furs. 
Tnc old round broad collar has disappeared and 
narrow collars with long tips, approximating to 
the old boas, arc taking their place. The furs in 
requisition are sable, mink, squirrel and einune. 
The latter is very popular for evening toilet and 
for children’s sets. Sable and mink are the most 
in demand where style is considered. The astrakan 
j is very much worn for capes and cloaks, and answers 
> for both cloak and furs. It comes in black and gray. 
--»■!♦»»♦-- 
f GOSSIPY PARAGRAPHS. 
If hearts are ever broken, the pieces are generally 
t worth mending, and the cement of second love often 
e makes the whole as strong as ever, 
i- To do the thing properly in New York at a wed- 
:- ding, the bride must have eight bridesmaids, and a 
i hundred dollar poodle besides the one she marries. 
^ a merchant’s advice for selecting a wife is “ to 
and entertaining for an ocasioual peep into the busy bold of a piece of calico that will wash.” And, 
world ’? The monotony of housework is often more he 6hould have added, one who can iron — so as to 
fatiguing than anything else, and a short ride in the get alon g c m0 othly, yon know. 
open air changes entirely the aspect of care. I have 
heard husbands say,—“Why, if yon want fresh air 
and sunshine, go out and take a walk." How exhil 
arating that would be after standing on one’s feet 
two-thirds of the day, we can easily imagine. We 
might just as aptly tell the farmer who has plowed 
all day to go out and walk for exercise, when he 
complains of weariness, as ha to tell his wife thus. 
Mrs. Atro had decided more than once to keep 
entirely quiet aud never ask so much as one ques¬ 
tion again. To-night, however, as formerly, her 
curiosity (generally so called by the gentlemen,) led 
her into the common error. I think if her husband 
had pleasantly answered her questions, the bitter¬ 
ness would have gone out of her heart. As it was, 
' bis short and unsatisfactory replies irritated her. 
roved, he pleaded fatigue. “Was he not tired 
, enough without answering a hundred questions ? If 
^ gbc had been riding all day she might feel the need 
L of rest.” If Mrs. Atro, after repeated repulses like 
Jules Janin says that Mile. Castri or Mile. Nijl- 
son are either of them far superior, both as singers 
and actresses, to Adelina Patti, and that they will 
both be in high favor when Patti is forgotten. 
The Russian Princess, who is to be made Queen of 
Bavaria next year, is a beautiful, slender young girl, 
with sweet and regular face, long, dark brown ring- 
comeliness, my mind had been more nimble than -jj 
they, in weaving the shadows and sunbeams into the 
texture of its life. I had impaled many a bitter 
fancy on my needle’s point, and stitched it in and 
out with my thread, so that if the burning thoughts 
had seared a* they fell, the beauty of my garment a , 
would have Lwsi quite destroyed. AL along the fefc 
seams 1 had lammed in thoughts of life, aud of the 
weary miletlrtf g sand which stretdh be- 
tween the o J is where we may rest and drink; of ~ n 
Trusts, torn rudely down from the heights to which ^ 
they had clambered, and left where the bleeding bl 
tendrils could reach no other support; of Love, ti 
which is so proue to stumble in tbe way, and sooner w 
or later to fall prostrate under the harden of our r( 
hopes; and of Death, the answer to all riddles, ei 
whose coming makes these earthly trusts and hopes iz 
so small a matter to us after all. 
And now the night was here, and my thoughts 
hugged tne shadow still. The scene beyond the t ( 
pane -was in perfect unison with my mood. Nature 6 ' 
was robed in mourning livery for her dead pets, and o 
the fast falling shadows had transformed every tree v 
and shrub into a gloomy specter There were athuu- f, 
sand voices abroad, all babbling the discovered secret l 
of the wily w inter,—some in loud notes of warning, a 
of his stealthy creeping under hedges and over t 
meadows and garden beds; and others, full of pity, g 
for the fate of the beautiful things which would 
perish in his track. When the harsher voices were for j 
a moment lulled, 1 could hear the rustle of the autumn j 
leaves, as they huddied together in a little sheltered j 
nook under the window, to escape the rude hand- l 
ling of the wind. They whispered of the dead j 
flowers, tne truant birds, of the cruel frosts and the < 
chilly rains. Dreams of summer were they, fading ; 
before the w inter's breath,—children of the zephyrs 
' aE d the sunbeams, left to perish amid snows and 
tempests. 
I thought of their birth under blue skies nursed 
L by the fostering sunlight, dancing in the arms of the 
, mother boughi aud rocked in the cradle of the south 
i win d; how the cooling rain drops had pattered upon 
them,— a welcome bath after tbe dust aud heat of 
[ the long summer’s day; how mauy of them had 
t hung like a verdant thatch over the homes of the 
birds, concealing them from covetous eyes and dar¬ 
ing fingers; how they had all flocked to tbe autumn 
, ball, in gorgeous jackets of crimson and yellow, to 
bid adieu to the birds and flowers; and how, when 
black clouds aud keen airs heralded the corning of 
the storm king, they had, one by one, fluttered from 
the arms of the protecting bough, and left it lonely 
y and defenceless to the spiteful peltings of hail and 
n rain. Not the only summer friends, moralized my 
heart, which a rude blast of fortune has sent flutter- 
ing out of encircling arms. 
And now, brown and withered, they scud in fright¬ 
ened crowds before the blast, or, cowering in delis 
10 and hollows, await their wintry burial. They are 
l^ing on graves to-night, which were not heaped 
i0 when the spring flowers bloomed. Many dear eyes 
watched their unfolding, wnieh to-night gaze up u 
11- the fadeless leaves of the tree of life. They rustle 
rs aroun( i Romes where happiness, long past its bud- 
111 ding, has come like them to its autumn days. Many 
an ear listens to their mournful voices, which amid 
of the snows of yearn, hearkens in vain for the hushed 
rl, voices of the spring-time. 
g- I have had many hopes, whose buds burst in 
should be spoken on this point, for the evil is a con6iBtejlde6 Uttle weaknesses, little follies, little 
general one and deep rooted. If young men are . ndiscretion6 and im p m Jencies, little foibles, little 
sometimes thrown into tbe society of the thought- indulgent . iea 0 f Bd f aiK } of the flesh, little acts of 
less, they have no more right to measure other indolenceor indecision, or sloven iiness or cowardice, 
women by what they see of these than they would ^ equivocations or aberrations from high iuteg- 
have to estimate the character of honest and re- ^ touches of shabbinees and mcanuess, lit- 
spectable citizens by the developments of crime in ^ Qf cove tousues6 and penuriousness, little 
our police courts. .... - exhibitions of worldliness and gayety, little indiffer- 
Let young men remember that their chief happi- eQceg t0 tbe f ed i D g S or wishes of others, outbreaks 
ness in life depends upon their utter faith in wo* tpm 6r? or cr086 pess, or selfishness, or vanity; 
men. No worldly wisdom, no misanthropic philos- av0 jd auc e of such little things as these goes far 
phy, no generalization, can cover or weaken this ^ flt leafit the neg£ , t ive beauty of holy life, 
fundamental truth. It stands like the record Oi ^ attention to the little duties of tbe day 
God himself— for it is nothing less than this — an' ^ R 0ur - m public transactions, or private deal- 
should put a seal upon lips that are wont uo speak Qr famUy arraLgenieilti . to little works, and 
slightingly of women ,—PackatWs Monthly. looks, and tones; little benevolences, or forbear- 
-ances, or tendernesses; little self-denials, and self-re- 
THE SEXES AND AMUSEMENTS, straints, and self-forgetfulness; little plans of kind- 
- ness and thoughtful consideration for others; to 
An eminent divine says;—It may be laid down as punctuality, and method, and true aim, in the or- 
a general rule that amusements which separate the derin g of tae d day,—these are the active develop- 
sexes are flaugerous. I would not press the truth meQfcs e f R 0 iy life, the rich and divine mosaics of 
too narrowly aud literally; but undoubtedly it is a jt is composed. 
general truth that where women seek their amuse- 7 /^ makes yon green hill so beautiful ? Not 
meats in one way by themselves, and the men seek ^ outstanding peak or stately elm, but the bright 
theirs in another way by themselves, there is in 6ward w r-, c r c iothee its slopes, composed of innu- 
both ways a tendency to degeneration and tempta- me y a ble blades 0 siender grass. It is of small 
tiou. God meant that men and women should live, tbm)? _ a g iett t lift. j 6 made up; and he who will 
work, and in all the functions of life—civil, social, j^Raowledge no life as great, but that which is built 
religious, artistic and intellectual—co-operate with ^ of great things will find little in the Bible char- 
each other; aud their mutual relations are harmon- ftC ^ erg ac imire or copy.— Dr. Bonar. 
THE SEXES AND AMUSEMENTS. 
An eminent divine says:—It may be laid down as 
a general rule that amusements which separate the 
sexes are daugerons. I would not press the truth 
too narrowly aud literally; but undoubtedly it is a 
general truth that where wonieu seek their amuse¬ 
ments in one way by themselves, and the men seek 
theirs in another way by themselves, there is in 
both ways a tendency to degeneration and tempta¬ 
tion. God meant that men and women should live, 
work, and in all the functions of life—civil, social, 
religious, artistic aud intellectual—co-operale with 
each other; aud their mutual relations are harmon¬ 
izing and balancing, and nowhere else more than In 
the seeking and prosecution of amusements 
I believe that boys and girls should go to school 
together. As they sit together in the household, 
60 I think they should sit together in our temples 
of learning. Colleges should not be for all men or 
women, but the same building and the same pro¬ 
fessors should be provided for both in common. 
And as it is in everything else, so it should be in 
amusements. There is much greater liability to 
temptation and immorality where amusement i& 
sought in the isolation or separation of sexes. 
Therefore all exhibitions of pictures, statues, ail 
provisions for public recreations, all institutions for 
public amusements, should be 6ueh as to enable the 
people to go in groups aud families. I do not think 
amusements can be good generally, in a community 
in which a man is ashamed to take his whole family 
to them. If there is anything you would not like 
your wife and children to participate in with you, 
the presumption is that it is wrong, and if there is 
anything you would like them to participate in with 
you, the presumption is that it is right. And this 
might be made a rule of judgment far more widely 
thau it is now. 
--- 
SANDWICHES. 
lets, and she and her husband will be the handsomest 1)r0 mise, to bloom, I believed, in the fall glory of 
royal couple on the continent. 
One of the Spanish Infantas is married to a youDg 
poet of very indifferent ability, and said to be the 
son of a peddler in Havana. She made the acquaint¬ 
ance of the young man through one of her maids, 
fell in love with him, and ran away with him. There 
was no help for it, and the Queen, though very 
much incensed at the two young lovers, consented 
to their union. They are said to live very happily 
fruition; to-night they are worthless and dead as 
any of these leaves. I have pressed them between 
the pages of the book of Memory, remembering 
them with fondness even now, for it is something to 
have loved and trusted, in this world of shadows and 
illusions. . 
I cannot forget that every leaf which rustles in the 
night wind, has lived just the life for which the 
Creative hand fashioned it, and not one hut dropped 
It is much better to sing airs than to borrow them. 
A spinner’s motto—“ Life is reel." 
A popular work of art—Drawing one’s pay. 
Would you be strong, conquer yourself. 
The opposite of the seeds of disconteut—Caraway 
seed. 
What nation produces most marriages ? Fas¬ 
cination. 
It is only for innocence that solitude can hai c 
charms. 
Innocence and mysteriousne&s never dwell 
together. 
Counter revolution—A strike among the diy 
goods clerks. 
Don’t take care— leave it. It is always cumber¬ 
some luggage. 
He that pelts every barking dog must pick up a 
great many stones. 
° The ebbing tide of dissipation generally leaves a 
man high and dry. 
A fit place for persons who insist upon encores at 
the opera—Sing Sing. 
Much of most men’e fame is undesirable, being 
founded on their unhappiness. 
An old Arabian proverb &ays:—“It is the second 
blow which begins the quarrel.” 
Why do so many people in China travel on foot t 
Because there is only one Cochin China. 
What is that which lives in the winter, dies in the 
summer, and grows with its roots upwards.' Au 
icicle. 
“ I feel it my duty to dilate,” said a tedious 
Better die late than never!” shouted a 
CLEAVING TO CHRIST. 
i have seen a heavy piece of iron hanging on 
another—not welded, not linked, not glued to the 
spot, aud yet it cleaved with such tenacity as to 
bear uot only its own weight, but mine too, 
if I chose to seize it and hang upon it. A wire 
charged with au electric current is in contact with 
the mass, aud hence its adhesion. Cut that wire 
through, or remove it by a hair’s breadth, and the 
piece of iron drops dead to the ground, like any 
other unsupported weight. 
A stream of life from the Lord, brought into con¬ 
tact with a human spirit, keeps the spirit cleaviug 
to the Lord so firmly that no power on earth or hell 
can wrench the two asunder. From Christ the 
mysterious life-stream flows, through the being of a 
disciple it spreads, and to the Lord it returns again. 
In that circle the feeblest Cnristiau is held safely, 
but if the circle be broken tue dependent spirit in¬ 
stantly drops off. Aruot. 
Spasmodic Fiety,— A quaint writer compares a 
certain class of professors Of religion to 11 sheet-iron 
stoves heated by shavings.” When there is a little 
reviving in the church, they all at once flame up and 
become exceedingly warm and zealou6. They are 
ready to chide the pastor and ciders for their cold¬ 
ness and want of activity. But alas! the shavings 
are soon burned out, and thca the heat goes down 
as it went up. Taey are never seen in the prayer 
room, or more spiritual meetings of the church 
again, until there is another excitement. If such 
people had uot souls of their own to be saved, they 
would not be worth taking into the Church. They 
encumber it, though they may themselves receive 
benefit from a connection with it. 
- m •» » ■ ■ ^-- 
It is pleasant to Bay to all the brotherhood and 
sisterhood of ugliness and lameness, that there is 
every reason to believe there is no such thing in 
Heaven as a oue legged or club-footed soul no 
6uch thing as an ugly or misshapen 60 ul — uo such 
thing as a blind or deaf soul no such thing as a 
soul with tainted blood in its veins; aud that out 
of these imperfect bodies will spriug spirits of con¬ 
summate perfection and angelic beauty — a beauty 
chastened and enriched by the humiliations that 
w'ere visited upon their earthly habitations. 
_ —■»♦«<*»■ - 
First Step is Prayer.— He that makes but one 
step up a 6tair, though he Is not much nearer to 
the top or the house, yet has st-pped from the 
ground, and is delivered from the foulness and 
dampness of that. So in the first step of prayer: 
“ God be merciful to me a sinner.” Though a man 
be not established in heaven, yet he has stepped 
; f r om the world and the miserable comforts thereof. 
—Dr. Donne. 
with one 
another, and the Infanta, for a wonder, is from the bough with its whole duty done, and well 
nf roniueral fidelity. done. Every unit in the mass of shade with which 
a pattern of conjugal fidelity. 
orator. “Better ai 
voice in the crowd. 
Make no more vain resolutions, but proceed at 
once to duty. Know your weakness, trust and pray. 
God will help you through, and give you patience. 
