tables’ j.lort-tolio. 
CHORUS TO ARTEMIS. 
O that 1 now, l too wero 
Tty deep hills and water-flood?, 
Streams of undent hills, and where 
All the wan green places hear 
Blossoms oleavinR to the sod. 
Fruit less fruit and grasses l'uir. 
Or such darkest Ivy-buds 
As divide thy yellow hnlr 
Bacchus, and their leaves that nod 
Round thy fawn akin, brush the bar© 
Snow-soft shoulders of a god; 
There the year S* sweet, uud there 
Earth is full o£ secret springs, 
And the fervent rose-cheeked hours. 
Those tlmt marry dawn and noon. 
There are sunless, there look pale 
in dim leaves and hidden air,— 
Vale ns grass or latter flowers, 
Or the wild vine’s wan wet rings 
Full of dew beneath the moon. 
And all day the nightingale 
Sleeps, and all night sings; 
There in cold remote recesses 
That nor alien eyes assail. 
Feet, nor Imminence nt wings. 
Nor a wind nor any nine, 
Thou. O queen and holiest, 
Flower the whitest of all things. 
With reluctant lengthening tresses 
And with sudden splendid lireast 
Save of maiden? unbeholden. 
There are wont to enter; there 
TUy divine swift limbs, and golden 
Maiden-growth of unbound hair, 
RatbeU In waters white. 
Shine, and many n maid by dice 
In moist woodland, or the hilly 
Flowerless broken, where wells abound 
Out of all men’s sight; 
Or In lower pools that 9ec 
All their marges clothed around 
With the innumerable lily. 
Whence the gulden-girdled bee 
Flits through tiowen. p rush, to fret 
White or duskier violet. 
******** 
Yet with reverent lips, am’, fear 
Turn we toward thee, turu and praise. 
For this lightning of rleur weather, 
And prosperities begun. 
For not seldom when all air 
Ah bright water without breath 
iMiines. and when men fear not, fata 
Without thunder unaware 
Breaks, and brings down death. 
From Atalanta in Cnlydon. 
CONCERNING GOSSIP. 
lived; scenes of the Old World’s history you 
have visited; painting, music ; the wide and 
comprehensive thing we call nature — “ sub¬ 
jects,” as my father used to say ; anything 
bu t people. We tread so heedlessly when we 
come to the latter, unless, indeed, to those 
we love. Ah, here is the secret of gossip. 
We do not. love the most of men, —are 
rather indifferent hut to “our” few. Wc 
cannot say anything unkind about those we 
love very much; but again and again oui 
“ calling acquaintances ’ come under the 
lash in a way we would hide from them. 
Very much do we all need that “ charity ” 
which shall keep ns from judging any in this 
imperfect, twisted life; for only the here¬ 
after can make us know one another fully. 
Leslie S. 
/-\ 
jlobfs aub dft a niters. 
FASHION CHIT-CHAT. 
BY MINNIE MIXTWOOD. 
Tite high carnival of the holidays has 
passed away, hut we find in its train a wealth 
of gorgeous lutes that suggests an upsetting 
of a heaven full of rainbows. The ruga for 
intense colors was never at a greater height. 
Red and blue and yellow, with their combi¬ 
nations, seem to be appreciated only in the 
superlative sense. Bright colors suggest 
warmth; and in this keen wintry weather 
anything suggestive of comfort is appreciable. 
Notwithstanding the almost infinite num¬ 
ber of at tractive shops, the palatial structure 
with blue trimmings, golden brown with 
green or garnet, or particolored fabrics made 
without trimmings, are pretty. Merino, 
flannel, cashmei'C and Irish poplin are the 
materials most, in use. The “jackets'* as 
well as dressing gowns nre wadded through¬ 
out. The gowns cost ten dollars more than 
the jackets. Of course one can make them 
at much less cost, and of whatever material 
she chooses. 
A new collar for gentlemen is round corn¬ 
ered, turned down, and called the “ Dickens.” 
The “Yacht Necktie" is made of plaklod or 
brocade silk. A narrowband encircles the 
neck, meeting in front with a fiat knot, from 
which falls long, diamond pointed ends. 
The “ Lord Stanley ” is made of brocade silk, 
folded so as to cover the bosom and dis¬ 
pense with a nock tie. A rubber loop un 
demeath fastens to the collar button. This 
Habbatl) limbing. 
INTO THY HANDS MY GOD. 
bt jm.rA n. cadv. 
Into thy hands, niy GOD, 1 pludly fall. 
Resigning there my life, ray will, ray all; 
Do us thou wilt. O Lord, for I am thine; 
Whatever thy blest will Is also mine. 
Into thy hands, my Gou; for there, at length. 
Through my poor weakness shall I find my strength; 
Thy grace, shall triumph over all ray sin, 
Aiul Christ s dear blood shall make me pure within. 
Into thy hnnilH, my God— those hands of love, 
Which sweetly reached and drew mo from above— 
Those hands which countless dally mercies give— 
Those hands by which 1 every moment live. 
Into thy hands, my God— my Father’* hands: 
Near them a Mvltig Saviour pleading stand* 
Oh, love! lie pleads for me how cun I fear 
THE JUDGMENTS OF WOMEN. wc call “Stewart’s ” is tbe“ head canter.” If la particularly patronized by gentlemen who With such u bather, nuoh % saviour, near? 
An eminent minister of the church, once 
made this flue observation; “ We will say 
nothing of the way in which that sex usually 
conduct arguments; but the intuitive judg¬ 
ments of women arc often more to he relied 
upon than conclusions which we reach by 
an elaborate process of reasoning. No 
man that has an intelligent wife, or is accus¬ 
tomed to the society of educated women, 
will dispute this. Times without numbei 
it occupied an entire block it would realize 
externally one’s dream of architectural com¬ 
pleteness. But K noedleu’s— formerly Got; 
til’s- Fine Art. Gallery niches out the 
corner of Ninth street and Broadway. It is 
the one piece of ground that the merchant 
prince has not succeeded in possessing. Of 
course, there are very many who “are so 
glad of it,” and cannot he blamed for tight 
ing against monopoly. But as it now stands 
it is tin 1 largest and finest shop in the world; 
do not desire, or cannot atlord, the luxury ot 
a fine, white linen front. 
Sleeve buttons are of stone, circular or 
longitudinal in shape. A set of Agate may 
be had for fifteen dollars; Sardonyx, eighteen 
dollars, Moss agates are In demand. One 
New York house sent ail agent to Utah who 
collected two-and-a-half bushels in six weeks. 
Shirt bosoms are much elaborated. The 
central plait is usually quite plain, hut on 
either side one meets with tucks, rutiles, 
puffs and fields of embroidery. It furnishes 
you must have known them to decide ques- aft Americans, we are proud of it. puffs and fields of embroidery. It furnishes 
tions on the instant, and with unerring nccti- by the balcony ot the amphitheater employment for wives and daughters wlio 
racy, which you had been poring over for Qn tllt , H0Cori ,| floor, and looking beneath, have the leisure and disposition to stitch evl- 
hours, perhaps with no other result than to Qnft (i;m scarce j y believe her eyes. Every- deuces of their love and skill into what men 
find yourself getting deeper and deeper into j n q ie q nt , 0 f q r y goods is to bo seen, hold so near and dear, 
the taugled maze of difficulties. It. were nm |*y one any dissatisfaction iq the Color also finds its way into hosiery, 
hardly generous to allege that they achieved W0( j eJi displayed on the lay figures, she has Socks and stockings are in plain scarlet, 
these feats less by reasoning t han a sort ot OJ) jy t() stare at q,,. droves of women, and striped or cheeked. Socks in white, have the 
. sagacity that approximates to the sure in- sat j rt ,y ber C y ef5 . Everybody from abroad, bottom and toe in color. This is appreciated 
stiucts of the animal races; and yet there j, K -iuding Parisians, unite in saying that on at, the wash tub. 
seems to he some ground for the remark of uo stm , t q ie W orld is displayed such Wrist muffs are another item of comfort, 
a witty French writer, that when a man has ^, ogl |y un q 6 p| c . u dld attire, and with smelt They are formed of bands three inches wide 
toiled, step by step up a flight of stairs, he abgohlte> -wanton disregard of money, as on and from six to ten inches long. An elastic 
will be sure to find a woman at the top; but Broadway. But when one fttlly appreciates or wire runs the length of it. and closes 
the taugled maze of difficulties. It were 
hardly generous to allege that they achieved 
these feats less by reasoning than a sort of 
and if one feels any dissatisfaction iq the 
vioikx displayed on the lay figures, she has 
only to stare at the droves of women, and 
sagacity that approximates to the sure m- bcr e y es . Everybody from abroad, 
stiucts of the animal races; and yet there deluding Parisians, unite in saying that on 
seems to be some ground for the remark of uo stnH>t ; u q ie world is displayed such 
a witty French writer, thatwhen a man has mostly and splendid attire, and with such 
Ai.t. know the old worn-out saying about < 
Sewing Societies. As 1 was returning from ■ 
one, a short time ago, an “ opposition ” party 1 
repeated it to me. “ You hear more gossip < 
at Sewing Societies than anywhere else you 1 
go.” Ah, much-abused Society! why don’t 
you vindicate yourself in the eyes of the 
world?—write an article to be published in 
all the loading journals, containing a calm, 
dispassionate summary of your sayings and 
doings, so that your adversaries may be 
silent forevermore ? Put down the general 
heads of your conversation; the needs of 
the sick people lbr whom you try to get 
help ; the several missions to which you pro¬ 
pose to send your money; the calls of that 
distant field ; tin* work in your own church, 
and many other fruitful subjects to occupy 
the afternoon with. Do this and make your 
slanderers steal away with a humiliating 
sense of defeat. 
Why don’t you do it ? Because it is better 
never to reply to such things ? because you 
can stand forth in the conscious might of 
truth,needing not to refute the accusation? 
No,indeed, not this; hut because you cannol 
answer it. I, a bumble member, just fresh 
from the last, meeting, must confess that, in 
the main, what is said against us is too true. 
It is mortifying to tell, but our neighbors are 
sometimes criticised with a most unsparing 
tongue. For it is a-sad truth, and an old 
one, that the sex who are supposed to illus¬ 
trate love in the world are often most un¬ 
loving in their words. Not designedly, I 
almost know, only thoughtlessly we speak; 
because something wc have heard comes into 
our minds at an opportune moment, and we 
think it is just us well to repeat it, and so the 
little hall of petty slander is set in motion. 
You are horrified, my sister—you would 
not for the world slander any one. Y'ou feel 
kindly towards all. And neither do you 
love gossip for its own sake. You were in¬ 
sensibly drawn into relating some small news 
that may be you wore sorry for afterwards. 
You felt a little pride in being aide to impart 
so much information, and in having it be¬ 
lieved that Mrs. B. told you so herself. 
There was a little relish in repeating Mr. 
B.’s expressions, with your dash of sarcasm 
to show how infinitely superior you are to 
hint. Then, when you went on to tell that 
pretty Mrs. S. was going to be married again; 
that her husband had been dead only a few 
months, and that she had not. lived very 
happily with him, so people said, — and, “ so 
people said ” she was “ very hard to get along 
with,”—didn’t you take up a reproach against 
your neighbor? 
Our interests should be broad and sympa¬ 
thetic, so that our thoughts may not travel 
round and round in one little circle all the 
time. Gossip is not a necessity of our exist¬ 
ence. It is safer by far not to talk about 
people. We are very careless; what we hear 
we tell over again, not always just as we 
heard it; and from mouth to mouth it goes, 
till our hearts would sicken if we knew the 
amount of evil we had done. 
toiled, step by step up a Might ol stairs, lie 
will he sure to find a woman at the top; hut 
she will not tie able to tell liow she got 
there. How she got then’, however, is of 
little moment. If the conclusions a woman 
has reached are sound, that is all that con¬ 
cerns ns. And that they are very apt to be 
sound on the practical matters ot domestic 
and secular life, nothing but prejudice and 
self-conceit can prevent ns from acknowl¬ 
edging. The inference, therefore, is una¬ 
voidable, that the man who thinks it beneath 
his dignity to take counsel with an intelli¬ 
gent wife, stands in his own light, and be¬ 
trays that lack of judgment Which he tacitly 
attributes to her.” 
They are formed of bands three inches wide 
and from six to ten inches long. An elastic 
or wire runs the length of it and closes 
the discomforts attendant upon the ceaseless snugly about the wrist. The band is covered 
strain to be “in the height of the fashion,” with velvet, lined with some soft material 
THE OLD-FASHIONED MOTHER. | 
I 
That old-fashioned mother!—one in all ( 
the world, the law of whose life was love; , 
one who was the divinity of our infancy, and j 
the sacred presence in the shrine of our first | 
earthly idolatry; one whose heart is far lie- 
low the frosts that gather so thickly on her 
brow; one to whom we never grow old, but, 
in the plumed troop, or the grave council, ( 
are children still; one who welcomed us , 
coming, blest us going, and never forgets ns 
—never. And when, in some closet, some 
drawer, some corner, she finds a garment or < 
a toy that once was ours, how does she weep, - 
as she thinks wo may tie suffering or sad. * , 
* * Does the battle of life drive the wan¬ 
derer to the old homestead at last? Her band 
is upon his shoulder; her dim and fading 
eyes are kindled with something of “ the light 
of other days,” as she gazes upon his brow. 
“ Be of stout heart, my son! No harm can 
reach you here.” But sometimes that, arm¬ 
chair is set back against the wall, the corner 
is vacant, or another’s, and they seek the 
dear old occupant in the grave-yard. God 
grant you never have ! Pray God, I never 
may!—“ January and June." 
-- 
A BEAUTIFUL INCIDENT. 
A gentleman relates that many years ago 
he was on a visit to the Isle ol' Man, and, 
during his walks, he strolled into the quiet 
churchyard, where repose the bodies of many 
a faithful and humble Christian. Near a 
grave in a comer ol the churchyard he 
noticed a lady with a little girl (the latter 
about twelve years of age,) to whom she 
was relating the story of the Dairyman’s 
Daughter, whose remains lay beneath their 
feet. As the lady proceeded with the narra¬ 
tive, he observed the little girl lift up her eyes 
filled with tears, and heard her say that she 
would try and he as good as the Dairvrrem’s 
Daughter had been. After planting a. beau¬ 
tiful lily on the grave, they walked slowly 
away. The gentleman, upon making in¬ 
quiry, found that the lady was the Duchess 
of Kent, and the little girl her daughter. 
The latter is now Queen of England. , 
-—--- 
Nothing on earth can smile but hufiian 
beings. Geras may flash reflected light, but 
what is a diamond-flash compared with an 
eye-flash and mirth-flash ? A face that can¬ 
not smile is like a bud that cannol blossom, 
anil dries up on the stalk. Laughter is day 
and sobriety is night, and a smile is the twi- 
mul the utter folly of it all, she may lean 
hack in her cosy rocker and lie thankful she 
is only comfortably fashionable, and has no 
more bother than to decide about a new 
wrapper or morning gown. 
Helene has a new one of scarlet flannel, 
fitted only about, the shoulders and hanging 
uueonfmed to the floor. It la cut double 
breasted, with black velvet collar turning 
back, and a broad velvet hand at thu end of 
the sleeve, which is just large enough to slip 
I lie hand through. The black velvet buttons 
are an inch in urn meter. The pockets, ap¬ 
plied to the outside, are headed with an inch 
hand of velvet. It is lined with a cheaper 
quality of red and white flannel. The 
wearer lias black luiir and coif* a bit of scar¬ 
let velvet, or ribbon amid her tresses. She 
buttons her gown all the way up in front. 
Kate's mother soul her a wrapper from 
Dresden for Christmas. The material is 
Marie Louise blue merino, and cut a loose 
Gahriella. It has a strait, turn-over collar of 
the same, and the side that buttons over in 
front is cut into two inch scollops and 
hound with blue silk of the same shade. 
There is a large blue button for every scollop. 
The pockets are put in the side seams, and 
are defined by lappets two inches wide, with 
the mp edge scolloped and finished like the 
front. The sleeves are small, with strait 
reversible cuffs to match the collar. A round 
elbow cape is worn with it, to keep the 
shoulders warm, and dispenses with a break¬ 
fast sliawl It is lined with blue silk and 
the edge finished like the front of the dress. 
Dressing gowns for gentlemen have a rival 
in what are called “ smoking jackets.” It is 
not for a moment to be supposed that every 
man who wears one of these pretty, comfort¬ 
able things must smoke. Those we describe 
are for the young fellows who do not smoke. 
Now, remember! For color, scarlet, has 
preference. They are cut about the length 
of a last year’s business coat with broad, 
rounded, turnover collar; pockets on each 
side, eight, or ten inches from the bottom; 
ample sleeves, straight under the arm, with 
only one scam and that at the curveiFoutlinc 
of the outside, They are lined with flannel, 
wool delairff, merino, or silk. The trim¬ 
mings are contrasting—black silk^facings, 
on the collar and down the front and at the 
end of sleeves. The silk is quilted (stitched) 
and edged with lbr or Astrakhan. A pair m 
velvet with otter border costs three dollars. 
They can he made of worsted and are very 
comfortable for men or women who are 
much.out of doors in cold weather, as they 
protect the rift between the glove and arm 
clothing. 
Overcoats for little hoys are mostly in light 
colored cloths with dark or contrasting 
trimmings, Black velvet, or velveteen, and 
Astrakhan is much used. Broad and narrow 
braid is stitched on in a variety of forms for 
ornamentation. Circular capes with bright 
lining give a little fellow a didingae appear¬ 
ance, hut are not so warm as the coat, and, 
moreover, do not admit of those fascinating 
essentials, pockets on the aides. 
Hoods are made with ft close titling crown 
and deep cape, the shape of a fur collar, 
being a substitute l’or the latter. Dainty 
nothings for evening are in white, mostly, 
and of fane lion or three cornered shapes, 
with foamy like borders and overshot with 
tiny white crystals. 
The men, manly fellows, have taken to 
wearing corsets. They are no longer able 
to preserve a fine shape otherwise. In Paris 
the practice has long been in vogue. There, 
the men drink so much wine, and gel so 
corporeally enlarged, that, their bodies must 
he confined; and the Emperor, who basso 
long been ailing, has only laced himself 
nearly to death. We do not appreciate a 
j man in Europe, in corsets; but when we 
meet one in our very midst, it grows serious. 
One young fellow lias confessed in print, that 
lu* has worn one ever since the late war, and 
being slender in stature, prefers wearing a 
lady's costume to the “ cramped, unsuitable 
dress of the other sex.” One cannot help 
wondering if lie did nt take to it about the 
time of the draft. Somebody writing in the 
Cincinnati Times says that “corsets, if not 
too tightly laced, are a useful and becoming 
tiling for ladies, especially fat ones; but they 
are the one tiling of all others which destroys 
grace, ease and beauty, in the male form, 
and no artist or person with a grain of sense 
would fail of tearing hi3 hair at the proba¬ 
bility of our American gentlemen adopting 
them.” 
Yes, sir 1 We would like to get our lingers 
in your hair long enough to tell you that you 
In thy tlenr hands, my Gun, there lot me rest; 
Send pain or sickness it thou seest best; 
l)r>no thou wilt thy love 1 cannot doubt. 
For perfect, love cunts four and sadness out. 
Safe In thy bunds, my God, h little child, 
I look to thee, through JEHPfl, reconciled; 
1 dare, for in* dear sake, to null thou mine; 
For I Ills sweet bliss I would all else resign. 
Into thy hands, my God, i east my will; 
Bid every murmuring, restless thought he still; 
My only wish, while on the narrow road, 
Tranquil to lie in thy dour bunds, my Goo. 
Snbhatl i at Home. 
IS THERE A SAFER TRUST? 
Now that skepticism, in so many varied 
forms, is assailing our Christian religion, it 
is eminently proper for all mankind to in¬ 
quire,—is there anything more certain and 
sure in which to trust ? The wish to trust 
something or softie power outside of and 
apart from itself, is Inherent in the human 
heart. To throw aside all trust into blot 
out any hope in the future, and limit exist¬ 
ence to more mortality. Few will tie satis¬ 
fied by so doing. Almost every individual’s 
future, self-sketched, Inis In it something be¬ 
yond mortality’s houndary, and is contingent 
upon some kind of religious belief. That 
belief which promises most certain fulfill¬ 
ment is the one most earnestly desired. 
And while the enemies of Grausr seek to 
do ttwny withNill faith in Him as the per¬ 
sonal Saviour of humanity, and sneer at that 
grand plan of salvat ion which lias the Cruci¬ 
fied bon of God as its central figure, do they 
offer any faith bettor and more, desirable, 
any scheme which shall hold a surer jjuar- 
antec of redemption? Claiming Jehus the 
Nazarene to have been but the carpenter's 
son, only human, though a man ot exceed¬ 
ing cleverness, do they present for our con¬ 
sideration any mediator between the All- 
Father and ourselves more divine than He? 
Is there, in the whole range of skeptical 
philosophy, any theory, promise or hope to 
which, turning away from God and the Re¬ 
deemer we believe lie sent, into the world, 
the soul can cling with more of satisfaction 
and peace ? 
These questions cannot he easily answered 
iu the affirmative. Skepticism, trying to 
tear down the truest and most vital part of 
Christian faith, has never offered to build 
up a truer and worthier one,- lias never de¬ 
veloped any rock upon which mankind may 
rest with the assurance that it will prove 
more solid and enduring. Skepticism, athe¬ 
ism, deism, pantheism, infhlelisni, and all 
other ittrriR preaching aught beside Christ 
and Him crucified, have as yet failed to do 
what the simple Christian faith has done,— 
hold oui a hope of eternal life and sustain 
the believer through manifold afflictions 
until the hope lose itself in fruition. The 
Tom Paines, professing to consider God a 
myth, and the future life a delusion, have 
approached the grave in most abject, fear, 
saying of death—“ It is all a leap in the dark.” 
To all mankind, then, the fact that no 
safer trust is offered especially commends 
itself. To weak and doubling believers it 
should be a source of peculiar comfort. 
Doublings will come at times ; the faith will 
grow faint ; the enemy will come in like a 
flood; and for a little while unbelief will 
obtain the mastery. Yet not for long, if 
only we remember that unbelief yields no 
more cheering harvest,— that when we give 
Up our hopes in JESUS Cm riot we gain noth¬ 
ing more steadfast and abiding,- that outside 
of His blood and righteousness we find no 
■ ciirnv nrDttliftf'V of ovorliistimi joy. There is 
Talk about books you have read; authors light that hovers gently between both and 
you have loved and with whom you have is more bewitching than either. 
end of sleeves. The Silk is quilted (stitched) don’t know what you are writing about when of His blood uml righteousness we unci no 
in small squares or diamonds. The fronts you recommend corsets as being good for surer prophecy of everlasting joy. 1 here is 
are held together by means of buttons and women. They squeeze more women into no clearer light for our feet on earth than 
ornamentaLloops. heaven, or out of it, every’ year than any- that which His gospel sheds; no brighter 
■ Another effective trimming for scarlet may thing else. They make a woman’s waist ray of promise illumines the tomb than that 
foe made by cutting small leaf shapes from coffin shaped, and put her iu one prematurely. His presence therein lent to it; ano nowhere 
vthite flannel, and applying them in a wreath They destroy all the natural curves and out- can wc receive a sweeter assurance ol final 
design, the edge to be finished with narrow, lines of her waist, and substitute straight, resurrection than in ILs victory over death 
fiat, black and white braid, which also sirn- confined and painfully artificial ones. They and tlie grave, and His ascension to the 
ulamb the vine and tendrils. The braid aggravate every ailment woman-flesh is heir Father’s presence. 
should also he applied to the pocket, a la to, and are an invention of total depravity. -♦-*-*■--— 
miliimre. But. it. is sweet to know that women are A pRpTTY m g ENSn?LE Prayer.-A 
A -very handsome smoking .picket ready not the only fools in tins respect. To the m . irim . r embarking on an ocean 
made &gts twenty dollars. The regular man who first “ confessed," we render . , lhu3 . 
dressing gown is cut and trimmed in quite thanks. The two sexes are certainly coming - ^ m Gf)(1 , _ my boa t is so small, 
the same manner, only it. is of increased nearer an equality. It must be specially '. 1 ’ \ ., ,>> 
length. At the waist it is confirm'd by a rope, consoling to the reformers to have this pro- ,in< nn< on an is. o 
which is held in place by means of small photic evidence that we shall all dress alike +* + 
perpendicular loops placed at the back and in the future, have our hair parted in the A soul without prayer is like a solitary 
sides. The rope and tassels should be of the middle, wear corsets, paint our faces, study I sheep without a shepherd. The tempter sees 
[ same color as the trimmings. Stone color law and go to Congress together. 
A -very handsome smoking jacket ready 
made costs twenty dollars. The regular 
dressing gown is cut and trimmed In quite 
the same manner, only it. is of increased 
length. At the waist it is confined by a rope, 
which is held in place by means of small 
perpendicular loops placed at the back and 
sides. The rope and tassels should be of the 
same color as the trimmings, 
resurrection than in His victory over death 
and the grave, and His ascension to the 
Father’s presence. 
- ♦-*-*■ - — 
A Phf.tty and Sensible Prayer. — A 
Breton mariner embarking on an ocean 
voyage prayed thus: 
“ Keep me, my God!—my boat is so small, 
and thine ocean is so wide !” 
--- 4 -*-*-- 
A soul without prayer is like a solitary 
sheep without a shepherd. The tempter sees 
it and lures it away into his snare. 
