PROVIDENCE 
py ALPHONSO A. HOPKINS. 
Within each little incident 
That causes grief or pleasure, 
Tlie hidden with the seen is blent 
In fullest measure; 
And underneath the snrfiiee lies 
A deeper, broader meaning. 
Which well repays the soul that tries 
Its careful trlbiUiiUg. 
tty unseen eords n hand rlivlno 
Always our lite is lending! 
Intluunees tinfell incline 
Each day’s proeecdlng. 
Men little heed, and seldom think, 
llow closely these tire lurking, 
How In the chain of life cieh link 
Is Con’s own working! 
The mystic power that dmpe* events 
Is silent in their moulding, 
Hut thro’ all plans and accidents 
It, is unfolding. 
THE GYPSEY MOTHER, 
From camp and tribe she sits apart. 
Beside the dusty way. 
Her babe demanding of her heart 
The tribute she must pay ; 
For life if it would never die. 
Itself must freely give. 
That, in a coming by •and-by. 
In others it may live. 
The blood within her quiek’ning veins 
Was wanned in old Castile, 
Long years ngonn, but yet remains 
A warmth none Others feel, 
It stirs her life with passion’s glow, 
And feeds the lire that gleams 
Her darkly fringed ej elide below. 
Reflecting vanished dreams. 
No place of long abode site knows, 
No cherished tier, of home; 
From summer's sun to winter's snows 
Her wandering footsteps roam. 
A priestess Of all hidden things, 
A restless spirit slut, 
Of days gone by that ever sings. 
Or days that, are to bo 
The fevered souls that restless go, 
Alway, from sun to sun. 
No sweet content can ever know. 
No gladness just begun. 
Their ever longing, wistful gaze 
Looks, back ward, or before,— 
To dim and distant yesterdays. 
Or morrow? yet in store. 
The GyfvCT mother typifies 
More than a race or clan: 
Her spirit finds, ’ncath many skies, 
Its counterpart in man. 
There arc who by the wayside wait. 
In every land and clime. 
Sonsy tender kindliness of fate. 
Some sweet reward of time; 
Who nurse some hopes to linger still 
Whoa they are sunk to rest, 
Borne Inward with a giadtl'nliig thrill 
Upon '10010 throbbing breast; 
Wiio hold, as their “ede heritage, 
The dreams of those who sleep; 
Whose fancies run through every age. 
To glean where others reap. 
No Hfo Its years lias ever told. 
Its meed of labor yielded. 
But by this mystic power controlled, 
Silently wielded. 
The years go on ; we work, and wait 
To reap the good supernal, 
While something mightier than fate, 
A Strength etcynal,— 
Outreaehes over all our deeds, 
And guides our being’s courses 
As coward thro' the years it loads. 
By hidden forces. 
The year? ga on ; we with tholr tide 
Are to the Future drifting ; 
And patiently we must abide 
The curtain’s lifting. 
Beyond the veil that limits sense, 
Far o’er the hills elysiau, 
The hidden things of Providence 
Await, our vision. 
All good and ill wo there shall see 
Aright, In tliolr unfolding; 
Their mysteries unveiled shall be 
To our beholding! 
WHEN HAPPINESS COMES, 
STARTING- IN LIFE; 
EXPERIENCES IN THE WEST 
It is a fact, that happiness which docs not 
seem such at the t ime, however wo may re¬ 
gard it afterward, is not happiness at all. 
Let us concede, then, that the pleasant 
memories of childhood ■ -die joys now clearly 
seen, but of which we were then all un¬ 
conscious,—were really no more enjoyable 
than the vexations and crosses of these 
maturer years. Conceding this, we very 
naturally inquire, when are the happiest 
days of life? 
Thus questioning, wc may remember the 
story of a youthful prince in the far East, 
who on the death of his royal father 
succeeded to Ids kingdom. The young 
king had always been surrounded by friends, 
and be imagined that the prosperous state of 
his beautiful country, and his admiring 
retainers, would insure to him a life of hap¬ 
piness, and make his reign a never-ending 
gala-day. Hitherto he had been occupied 
with his instructors, but now, he proposed 
to devote his time to the affairs of state, and 
his own pleasure. TTo was anxious, also, 
that his subjects should participate in his 
enjoyment, and in order that they might 
rejoice with him, he caused a bell to lie hung 
m the topmost tower of ids palace, which he 
resolved to ring every tiny that lie passed in 
happiness. 
At last the bell was fixed in its place, and 
the young king was about to proclaim his 
satisfaction, through its brazen throat, when 
a courier came, spurring his jaded horse to 
the very door of the palace, to tell the king 
of an invading enemy which was devasta¬ 
ting the borders of the land and making its 
way towards the capital, llis hand fell 
nerveless from the bell-rope; then invoking 
the spirit of his warlike ancestry, and sum- 
trivial things will return, sometimes, even in 
the shadowy presence of the angel of death. 
Causing the rope to be placed in Ids bands, 
ho made a last effort to ring; and the glad 
notes of the bell and his happy spirit went 
up together to the golden-gated city, “where 
the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
weary are at rest.” 
The story of this Eastern ruler is the story of 
all our lives. Like him, we dream in youth 
of life-long happiness, and our dreams, liko 
liis, break away like morning mists before 
the steady sunlight of reality. Sometimes, 
for a moment, when our undertakings are 
crowned with success, we may wish for 
nothing further, but only for a moment arc 
wc allowed so much of happiness; and often, 
before we can admit that we are happy, the 
clouds which had parted to let in the smile 
of Heaven shut it agaiu from our eye 3 . En¬ 
joyments may be ours; wo may pass our 
days in a round of pleasurable excitement, 
or, like the monarch in the story, find con¬ 
tentment in the performance of life’s duties, 
but neither pleasure nor content merits 
tjiename of happiness. This wc shall only 
find when, like the king, we stand in the 
gateway of the great hereafter, trusting that 
a merciful Father will lead us safely though 
the dim valley to the everlasting hills beyond. 
Katherine. 
the mother and sister to weep over, anti his 
bright young life fades out in darkness. 
A sad picture this, of course. But it is 
only a sad picture of even sadder realities, 
There arc hundreds of young men in every 
great city, in the very lowest, depths of 
degradation, whom the home influence, cure- 
fully and prayerfully extended through ten¬ 
th)’, affectionate, womanly letters, might have 
saved. There are hundreds of others, just 
taking lluiir first lessons in vice, who may 
he brought hack to purity by loving words 
from mothers, sisters or sweethearts, t * util 
a man becomes thoroughly vicious, the 
thought of a pure woman’s love will do 
much to restrain him from iniquity. If that 
love grow careless of him, lie grows care¬ 
less of himself. Think of this, you who 
have sons, brothers, or lovers away among 
strangers. Remember that you owe them 
a sacred duty; and give them frequent mis¬ 
sives from home, freighted with love and 
accompanied by earnest prayer. 
HEW PUBLICATIONS 
fJeo. I'. It o tv til *’ <W« Jtintriton JYtlvt- 
jKtptr ftirectori/t (New York; Get*, 1*. Howell 
iSi Co.) —The amount of mutter non taint’d in this 
handsome octavo ot three hundred and llfty- 
eJsrht pases, is i|tilto surprising. So much intel¬ 
ligence ns is hero given, touching newspapers 
jn America, could only ho gathered at a grout, 
outlay of limn and trouble, and will bn fully 
appreciated by all, especially by newspaper men 
themselves. Containing accurate lists of all 
the newspaper? and periodicals published lit the 
United f’tales and Territorie s he Dominion of 
Canada and the British Colonies of North Amer¬ 
ica, giving tho circulation of each, so far as cun 
be obtained, toget her with a description of the 
towns and cities iu which they are published, 
rho volume is one long needed by advertisers. 
It is compiled with great, care, and while some 
errors and omissions may bo found, It is by far 
the most complete thing of the kind ever pro¬ 
duced, and Isa fine testimonial to the enterprise 
Of tho publishers. 
Thr .Imrricim Year-Hook. (Hartford: O. 
T). Cure &Co.)— 1 n Llii-s National Register for 18110 
a vast amount of really valuable information is 
Collected. Tho eight hundred and twenty-four 
octavo pages arc closely filled with fuels and sta- 
lIslics, astronomical, historical, political, tluan- 
olal, commercial, agricultural, educational and 
religious; a general view of the United States, 
Including every department of iho National and 
State Governments; together with a short ac¬ 
count of Foreign States, miscellaneous essays, 
a summary of Important events, and obituaries 
of notable Individuals, all of which arc arranged 
In six parts, convenient for reference. The (all- 
tor, Mr. David N.Camp, seems to have labored 
conscientiously, ft la proposed to continue iho 
work from year to year hereafter, the present 
issue being Volume l„ and, if it. Is properly 
done, a long felt want, will be met. 
old homestead; but at the age of twelve 
years little Katie bad died, leaving Nki.v.if. 
only daughter and youngest child, and, ns a 
natural consequence, idolized bot h by parents 
and brothers. When Lisle Norm an asked 
for her hand in marriage, the parents could 
not well refuse, knowing him to be good and 
noble,- -a fit companion even for their pure- 
hoarted Nellie— so they gave their con¬ 
sent, and blessed the betrothal, trying all the 
time to forget, the pain and desolation in t heir 
own hearts, in thinking of the happiness of 
their child. 
John Norman, the father of Lisle, had 
given him a tract of wild land away in the 
“ far west,” and thither he bad gone imme¬ 
diately after his engagement, to prepare a 
home for himself and the gentle girl who 
was to become his wife on ids return, Lie 
spent nearly a year clearing land, and erect¬ 
ing a suitable dwelling; and when all was 
completed, lie closed the little cabin door, 
one bright, clear morning, and started east¬ 
ward, thinking of tho pretty housewife lie 
should bring back, whose busy, skillful fingers 
would find much to do to make their little 
home cozy and comfortable. 
Sabbath morning, tlmir wedding day, 
dawned clear and bright, and the village bell 
rang sweetly out on the still morning air; 
and ere long the little church was crowded 
with people, eager and anxious, as they ever 
arc on such an occasion, As the bridal 
party came up the aisle, tlie venerable pastor 
stepped forth to meet them, and a few 
moments completed the ceremony that, made 
Lisle Norman and NelltoBhent husband 
and wife. Then the people thronged around, 
eager to bless and congratulate them, old 
aunt Polly Green expressing her opinion 
that they were the “ likd.ie.it lookin' couple 
she’d seen in rnuny a day.” 
WOMANLY AND WOMANISH 
In a recent speech, Mr. Gladstone draws a 
distinction between womanly and womanish. 
Tlie former is really a reverential epithet, im¬ 
plying goodness, tenderness, fidelity. When 
applied to a man, it conveys an impression of 
goodness of heart; of a nature um potted by 
tlie world, and trustworthiness unsullied and 
complete. “Womanish is the reverse of all 
this. It. conveys the Oriental or brute notion 
of women; puppets, coy, frightened, useless, 
and without soul or brain—creatures to bo 
used as playthings by the superior animal 
and to be thrown aside — beings whoso 
humanity is devoid of all that makes human¬ 
ity holy. Such are the womanish women of 
the sensualists of the East; such is the con¬ 
temptuous meaning the adjective bears here. 
To speak of an English man as womanish, is 
to hold him up to tlie bitterest contempt.” 
LETTERS FROM HOME 
TriE secret longing of nearly nil who are j 
wanderers, or whose abiding place is tem¬ 
porarily among strangers, is expressed in the 
words of that sweet song—“ Write me a 
letter from home. 1 ’ The one tiling that the 
heart, needs is a word from those around (he 
old hearthstone. Especially is this so in tlie 
case of young men. No boy goes out from 
die home-circle without, a sense of loss. For 
a time, at lea-l, the motherly presence is sadly 
missed, the sisterly affection warmly cherish¬ 
ed. Then if the mother’s letters reach him 
often, filled with all that a mother most 
eloquently expresses,—love, hopefulness, and 
prayer,— he i3 still surrounded by a holy 
influence. If die sister -writes frequently, 
manifesting her pure affection in such ways 
as her heart naturally prompts, he can hardly 
run into sin. 
And if home epistles conic seldom, what 
then ? Tlie loss in die young man’s life 
must be made up. He finds his leisure 
hours dull, and they must he enlivened. 
There is no call for long, heart-full letters 
in return for similar ones. The evenings he 
might give to penning those, he spends in 
amusements of doubtful character. Wanting 
the tenderness of woman’s love, it is not 
strange, it' ho fall a victim to wicked wiles. 
So lie forsakes his better self, and takes to 
liis bosom pleasures that sting him to die 
death. And ere long he becomes a thing for 
Needle Safe. — The other day, says an 
exchange, a young lady called at the house 
of a friend, and seeing a couple of not large 
sized pin cushions lying upon the table, 
which, upon inquiry, she found had been in 
nse for five yearn, suggested to the lady of 
the house that, it would be a good idea to rip 
them open and get the needles. At tins tlie 
lady laughed, and replied that she thought 
it would hardly pay; but upon the other in¬ 
sisting that, she would find as many as three 
hundred, tlie experiment, was finally tried, 
when, to the astonishment of all, 1,500 
needles were counted out. 
