ODORS AND MEMORIES. 
its |3 
<*$) 
{j 
-folio. 
THE THREE LITTLE CHAIRS. 
They sat alone by the bright wood flrc\ 
The gniy-hnlrert dame and the aged sire. 
Dreaming of days gone by; 
The tear-drops fell on each wrinkled cheek, 
They both had thoughts that they could not speak. 
And each heart uttered a sigh. 
For their sad and tearful eyes descried 
Three little chairs placed side by side, 
Aguiust the sitting-room wall; 
Old-fashioned enough us there they stood. 
Their seats of flag and their frames of wood. 
With their backs so straight and tall. 
Then the sire shook his silvery head, 
And with trembling voice lie gently said,— 
*• Mother, those empty chairs! 
They bring us such sad, sad thoughts to-night, 
We'll put them forever out of sight. 
In iho small dark room up stairs." 
But die answered, “ Father, no, not yet. 
For 1 look at them and 1 forget 
That the children were away: 
The boys come back, arid our Mart, too, 
With her apron on, of checkered blue, 
And sit hero every day. 
Johnny s>iill whittles a ship's tall masts. 
And Wu.l.IB his leaden bullets casts. 
While Mary her patch-work sews; 
At evening time three childish prayers 
Go up to Goo from those little chairs, 
So softly that no one knows. 
JOHN’S Y conics back from the billow deep. 
WILLIE wakes from his battle-field sleep. 
To say good-night to me; 
Mary’h a wife and a mother no more, 
BuL a tired child whose play-time Is O’er, 
And cotncs to rest ou my knee. 
So let them stand there, though empty now, 
And every time when alone we bow. 
At the Father's throne to pray. 
We'll ask to meet the children above, 
in our Saviour’s home of rest and love, 
Where no child gocth away.” 
THOUGHTS IN THE NIGHT. 
You awaken sometime in flic “ wee sma” 
hours of the night, not with a sudden start, 
but as if some distant voice had called you, 
as if some hand had touched you gently. 
And so you lie awake, not tossing restlessly, 
but in a quiet sort, of way,—as if Sleep and 
her fair sister, the Angel of our Dreams, had 
but withdrawn their presence for a little 
time to let you realize the deep, vast silence 
and loneliness of the night, And these two 
seem standing near you with their white 
robes and their fair, untroubled faces;— 
Bleep, who over all the world is blest and 
blessing, whose magic lingers charm the 
weariness from head and limb,—who keeps 
us ready for the duties that lie nearest us ;— 
and the Dream-Angel, weaving ever those 
wondrous visions, that bring before us some¬ 
times the long-ago days, and forms that are 
ashes and dust in distant grave-yards; some¬ 
times realizing for us our brightest hopes for 
to-morrow, or picturing again the pleasures 
of yesterday, or weaving in the shadows and 
sadness that yet may he. In the deep dark¬ 
ness of the corners of your chamber the 
shadows seem taking shape and rising up to 
speak to you,—you see the faces of fair girls 
who have Hat, here in the moonlight and 
chatted together in summer evenings agone. 
You reach out your hand to greet them,— 
and find you are only half awalto. 
You turn your face to the open window 
where the night breeze is stirring the cur¬ 
tain, and listen to its whisperings. It has 
rocked just now a bird’s nest in the tree 
outside, a cozy homo shaded Dy leaves and 
guarded by love, where the little ones wait 
all day and the parents come and go. It is 
tossing ill to you the fragrance it gathered 
in the garden below, where some of the 
blossoms arc holding high revelry; the sweet 
pea whispers down to the rose-colored phlox 
that if they should be cut to-morrow it will 
speak for a place in the same bouquet, and 
the petunias arc drinking the verbenas’ 
health in the dew. 
It has whispered at other casements—this 
same night-breeze. It has looked in where 
children slept with smiles on their lips and 
tiny hands reached out for the flowers the 
Dream- Angel was picturing to them. It 
has moaned at the barred windows of pris¬ 
ons, and brought a touch of penitence to 
almost hardened hearts. It has crept softly 
in where the dying lay, has lifted the gray 
hair from the furrowed brow with cool 
fingers, and 3tolen out to whisper to the 
homeless wanderer in the street below the 
parting words the old man is speaking to 
his children, of the blessed Just s who offers 
a home to all. It lias found closed windows 
where within were unpressed pillows, and 
so gone away to (he quiet, grave-yard to sigh 
above the lowly beds where the. sleepers’ 
rest is dreamless. And now it is passing 
from your window to whisper at some other, 
perchance, of the wakeful dreamer it found 
here. 
Vou see the stars glint through the bars 
of your blinds as they whirl on in their far¬ 
away orbits or remain forever fixed — each 
wilh its life and its laws. And an inex¬ 
pressible feeling of nothingness settles down 
into your soul; what an atom you are in 
this great universe of God, and yet to live 
ou and oh through all the ages yet to be. 
Vnd in this solemn, silent night-time you 
realize how all the things we call trifles iu 
our daily lives are educating us for that, end¬ 
less future. 
The Angel of Sleep comes softly back to 
you, and so good-niglit. Aliqua. 
->*-♦-*- 
A CURIOUS MARRIAGE. 
“ A bridegroom up the linden tree,” is 
the heading of a curious marriage story which 
really occurred a few weeks ago iu a little 
village pleasantly situated on theibanks of the 
Rhine. A certain land owner of the village 
had a daughter who was courted by a neigh¬ 
boring swain; and after the latter had got 
the promise of I lie old gentleman, his future 
father-in-law, to make over the homestead to 
himself, the marriage day was fixed. The 
day was Sunday, and the guests had assem¬ 
bled from far and wide. They had already 
begun to make the marriage, procession, when 
suddenly the bridegroom was found to have 
disappeared, and in spite of all the searching, 
in the yard, in (lie barn, stable, and in the 
neighboring bouses not the least trace of him 
could be found. The bride wept bitterly at 
her lover’s deception, and everybody heaped 
abuse upon the missing one. Finally one of 
the searchers was successful in discovering 
the bridegroom in the thickly-leafed summit 
of a large linden tree which stood at the 
back of the house. All the guests then ran 
to look at bim; some began to abuse him for 
making such a spectacle at that critical 
moment, while the parish pastor addressed 
some pretty sharp words about his conduct. 
The young man however, did not seem in¬ 
clined to come down and fulfill bis engage¬ 
ment, but began to explain, from where he 
was perched, what was the matter, lie said 
that his intended father-in-law had promised 
faithfully before the betrothal to transfer his 
land to him (the bridegroom,) but the promise 
had been staved off from (lay to day, and at 
the time of speaking it was not fulfilled, lie 
would, therefore, not enter the portal of the 
church until the old gentleman had done bis 
duty. And iu spite of all protestation by the 
guests and the old man, the village school¬ 
master had at, last to he sent for to make out 
flic contract; and only alter this was signed, 
scaled and delivered did the delinquent 
descend from tbc linden tree and take his 
sobbing bride to church. 
--- 
BEAUTY IN THE SURF. 
A seaside correspondent writes“ The 
scene upon the beach strikes me with as keen 
a sense of jolly judiciousness and happy 
ridiculousness as when 1 first behold it. What, 
awkward animals we humans are when we 
venture out of our natural element into the 
element of the fish. The change of manner 
which the loveliest, of her sex undergoes as 
slic tumbles into the surf is a study for a phil 
osopher. She has nu air of dignity in spite 
of her bifurcated garments as she walks down 
to the water’s edge; there is something Of 
genteel exclusiveness in her mien, in spite of 
her naked white feet, which mincingly go 
uncovered across Lire sands; an air of * keep 
a respectful distance, please, as I am a society 
lady,’ hangs about her, in spite of her coarse 
straw lint tied over her ears with a red rag: 
And presently she is in Lho surf; a big wave 
sends her sprawling quadrupedly ; she scram¬ 
bles to her feet half choked with the salt 
water, which has rushed into eyes, ears and 
nose; clutches frantically at anybody who 
may be within reach, and grins familiarly to 
the whole assembly.” 
-♦♦♦-- 
AN OLD MAID. 
Some one has thus written of a type of 
that class of women which seems so gener¬ 
ally pitied, and which so many unmarried 
ladies appear terribly afraid of joining: 
”1 know an old maid whom I have 
thought was sent to earth as a kind oi'apostle 
to all future old maids, to show them how 
lovely their lives may be made. She has 
reached a quiet, full life, and she seems to 
infuse a contented spirit into all her friends 
—her face is calm as a placid lake. She has 
a natural love for youth, and is a great favor¬ 
ite, of course, for children seem to know 
intuitively who is' their friend. Many a 
childish confidence has been poured out into 
her kind car, and many a poor, fainting soul 
has been refreshed and received new vigor 
from her life-infusing words. She is their 
general spiritual benefactress—she readily 
understands their wants—helps thorn with a 
look, or quiet remark. Others may lead 
more brilliant lives, but few do as much real 
good as she. A true, noble woman will not 
be soured by suffering, she will grow better 
and come from the fire like refined gold.” 
-- 
Ax old bachelor, picking Up a book, ex¬ 
claimed, upon seeing a wood-cut represent¬ 
ing a man kneeling at the feet of a woman, 
“ Before 1 would kneel to a woman, I would 
encircle my ncclc with a rope and stretch 
it.” And then turning to a young woman, 
lie inquired, “ Do you not think it would be 
the best thing 1 could do?” “ It would un¬ 
doubtedly he the best for the woman,” was 
the sarcastic reply. 
whom dluscflkm 
0 ctp ^ 
WHY! 
BY It. B. DAVENPORT. 
Why wish wo for the vanished past. 
The dreams ut years long gone ? 
Why sorrow for the thoughtless joys 
Of life’s elysian dawn •' 
The mystery of this human life 
Has not a stranger part, 
Than tilts sweet sadness over dreams 
Long vanished from the heart. 
Far back—far hack the veil of years 
Is lifted from our gn/.e ; 
We stand amid the hills of life. 
In the light of other clays. 
But dreaming there a dimness comes 
Before our tearful eyes; 
A weird strange |min steals through the heart* 
A shadow tliruugli the skies. 
Regret— regret— for something lost,— 
A something without name ; 
A subtle sense, a bloom of youth, 
Unbronght. by wealth or fume! 
Why mourn we for tho vanished past ? 
Ah ! conlds’t thou solve the spell 
That hangs o’er all this change of UEe, 
Then couldn't thou do lull well 
But years roil on, like tidal waves. 
Upon life's rugged shore. 
And still the heart dwells fondly on 
Those sweet, dim dreams of yore. 
Not sin, nor sorrow have tho power 
To hide those visions dear; 
For the old, old days are n heaven lost,- 
A heaven oneu so near! 
-- 
“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!” 
BY MRS. ir. M. LINCOLN. 
Those are Just the words. Had I looked 
through “ Webster’s Unabridged,” i couldn’t 
have found four words that expressed so en¬ 
tirely my meaning ns these. I believe the 
four words were made with direct, reference 
to the grumbling, growling mischief-makers. 
People who never mind their own busi¬ 
ness, are very much such a class of animals 
as the Hour, surly, whiffet dogs, that areal- 
ways harking, biting, nipping and nabbing 
somebody, i wonder if they would appre¬ 
ciate it lecture any more than these? I'll 
ask them a few questions, just to find out! 
Don’t you think the world and the people in 
it will live and prosper without the tre¬ 
mendous anxiety you carry on your shoul¬ 
ders of keeping an eye on everything and 
everybody in the whole neighborhood and 
world beside? Can’t Mrs. Bo and- So make 
a sweet-cake without your lying awake 
nights for fear there’s going to be a wedding 
ami you won’t be invited? Can’t Jenny or 
Julia have a new gown blit, you must im¬ 
mediately sec it, know the price, what oc¬ 
casion it’s for, or die of curiosity? Can’t 
neighbor Jones and his wife go by but, you'll 
bet they’re going to see Homebody and have 
slighted you ? Can't one build (or not build) 
a fence, or make a flower garden, or plant a 
field, or buy a farm, or undertake an enter¬ 
prise, without a snap here, a growl there, 
and a "grumble, grumble, growl” every¬ 
where ? 
Did God make you and me on purpose to 
superintend Ills Universe, and everybody’s 
affairs, and assume the control of the “ free 
will” Ho gave men? is iliis the purpose 
and plan of our existence and destiny, to for¬ 
ever tie meddling with somebody’s business? 
Do we carry the machinery that moves and 
stimulates and influences the actions of 
others? Looking at the deed, can we see 
down underneath all, and know the impulses 
that stir to action? 
It makes me indignant to think of the. 
pains some people take to gather the smallest 
item of "news.” They leave their own 
gardens to grow full of weeds, while they 
are trying to hold up, before everybody, the 
few they pull from their neighbor’s! O, how 
they toil to rob these of their reputation, 
their peace, their prosperity and pleasure. 
They do everything but mind their own 
business. They never speak of their own 
faults, or follies. No, indeed; by Die time 
the whole town is criticised and judgment 
pronounced, they’ve not a moment left to do 
more than congratulate themselves on their 
own good works! 
People who don’t mind their business 
bring more misery into families, societies 
and churches than almost everything else. 
They turn the pleasant,, peaceful stream of 
goodwill into a loathsome pool; they in¬ 
trude where none bill God 1ms a right to. 
Arc we to sit in judgment and accuse 
without it cause those as nearly right us wo 
are ? Minding our own business will lie the 
very best remedy for the itching ears that 
arc never satisfied with hearing, and the 
busy tongue (that untamable member) that 
hurries to speak such cruel words. Mind¬ 
ing our own business will turn our attention 
towards self, and we shall forget to watch 
so closely the short-coinings of others; it will 
make peaceful homes, happy neighbors and 
a sweet conscience that will make us know 
why Jesus loved the peace makers and said 
of them,—“ Blessed are the peace makers, 
■ for they shall be called the children of God.” 
Wonderful is the link between odors 
and memories. A sprig of wild mint or 
pennyroyal takes one back to early child¬ 
hood and sunny fields bordered by old oaks 
and chestnuts, and down the fox grape hol¬ 
lows, all now grown visionary in the dis¬ 
tance. A breeze across the barn hi mid¬ 
winter will set its in the summer fields amid 
the new-mown lmy, and tho songs of the 
bobolinks ami tins murmur of the woods. 
None the less am odors linked with the 
airy brood of the imagination. An orange 
bud will carry us to Sorrento — a rose to 
Persia and the paradise of the houris. Even 
the scent from a city ware-house will send 
us far out to sea, away to China and the 
wealth of Ormus of Ind. 
Any one with the least musical car knows 
how subtle and powerful is tho link between 
certain tunes or passages of music, and per¬ 
sons, places, scenes, associated with them; 
how they set its musing on the past—unlock 
the mysterious chambers of memory. 
Not less subtle and powerful arc the en- 
(luintmouts of odors. There is as much 
poetry in them as in sights and sounds. A 
lady with a sandalwood fan will diffuse 
around tho room delicate dreams of Araby 
the Blest. The rose in her hair or on her 
bosom, tho bouquet she holds in her hand, 
the faint perfume of her dress will carry 
one’s thoughts, not only to the flower gar¬ 
den and the conservatory, But to all tho 
amenities of refined female society. She will 
bring with her every wImto suggestion of 
refined culture and Christisin civilization. 
Ifow can there be wrath and harsh words 
and brutal deeds in a ronau where flowers 
arc breathing out the perfumes which seem 
so naturally absorbed by a woman that they 
may lie called feminine, adding the last, 
touch of beauty to her person by their odors 
as by their forms and colors? 
THE HIGHER LIFE. 
A few days ago, in the country, T stood 
beneath a tall cedar, a student of its nature, 
and an admirer of its glory. 1 observed that 
the lower brandies showed the only signs of 
decay, and that tl»ey seemed to be appointed 
for removal, in <*der that the sap of the 
tree might pass uninterruptedly upward to 
develop the .higher boughs, and to hold the 
top in full evergreen. The trunk of the tree 
is made tlio more grand and substantial by 
the disappearance of the lower branches, 
year by year, and the avenues to eomimmi 
cate life and beauty upward are thus the 
more direct and effectual. And so does the 
Christian grow. The habits of his child¬ 
hood, embryo notions and opinions, as he 
rises into manhood, am lost; and, like the 
cedar, as lie grows, Ins lower affections and 
attachments, love, of tine world, of fame, of 
position, one by one, die and disappear, and 
his higher nature Is all the more comedy and 
complete. Any man may thus die to sin, 
and live unto God, loose his at,taoil intents 
from the things of time and sense, and fix 
them upon those things which, are eternal 
and divine. 
--- 
FRESH HEWN CHIPS. 
Passion is a storm ; it, spares nothing. 
The burden of the brook— rest. 
What is written to order generally shows 
the order. 
Wry do wo tovo all fatliriR liiings? 
Because ft memory In Ilium Bings. 
Rogues will prosper; but it is a fungus 
growtli upon society. 
We have to be learning while we live as 
we are constantly forgetting. 
The old pair fell not alone; we are all of 
us still falling, the Eves seducing us. 
When we base life upon utility, we put it 
upon a safe basis, ami one that will bear 
happiness. 
Life appears short, yet when we trace it 
back, step by step, through all its labyrinth, 
it, is a long life sifter all. 
When the mind is inspired, beautiful 
thoughts glide into its vision, like stars into 
the field of the telescope. 
It is best to let gossip alone as It spares 
no one. To oppose it is to take up arms 
against a sea of troubles. 
Be careful how you give gifts to your 
sweetheart; the time may come when you 
will wish you had withheld them. 
We gradually forget the child in the maid, 
and the maid in the mother, and we never 
miss them; time at last loses an adult. 
We are happier when wo are happy un¬ 
expectedly,— and that is the way happiness 
comes. To seek after it is to seek after a 
phantom. 
It is well enough to favor maxims of 
honesty, and this is pretty generally done; 
hut it is much better to practice honesty 
itself—and this is not generally done—and 
the more k the wonder, as it is, as the maxim 
itself sets forth, the best policy. The truth 
is, we are in the snare of vice, and therefor© 
vve do not favor virtue, which has a cold 
and forbidding aspect to those who are in the 
glittering net of the false siren. f. g. 
abbatli Rtaking. 
ASCENSION DAY. 
Upward with Theo! 
Beyond ihc dim, thick ooistfl of earth, 
’•'hat him- einjh holy thought; 
Beyond the BOuf.-.o1 mortal birth. 
With rc.-uless iminnurs rtaught; 
Beyond tho Weary (lay* of toll, 
Whose harvest sewn* but weeds; 
Bi yond tho nights of hmirt.turmoil. 
When hope dies out In needs. 
Upward with Thee! 
Bearing but monger, llt-rlpo sheaves. 
As fruit oi all our life; 
Bearing dry and shriveled leaves. 
Unrolled by human tdrlfo; 
Beil ling " the talent,” hid by sloth, 
Wasted, dead, abused; 
Bearing " tho lamp" our hands were loth 
To trim, or light, unused. 
Vet upward still with Thee! 
Thy mighty, blessed Lovo forgives 
Tbo ill our years have wrought; 
Thy nrm uplifts each heart unit lives, 
To Thee by sorrow brought -, 
Thy mercies are Die wings that bear 
Our fainting non Is to Gun; 
Thy angels soothe all tears. uU cure. 
Prints where Thy loot ijrcc trod. 
Upward with Thee; 
Above O inllnlt.o release ! 
Thou Idd'st us share Thy rest; 
No aurUiiiioss invades that peace— 
Thyself crowns Heaven blast! 
Above—to meet each long-lost friend 
Death bore from mortal sight; 
In Thee Our spirit-lives to blend 
’Mid joy that knows no blight. 
LOVING OBEDIENCE. 
IVhat a difference between the motive 
that actuates the disciple who serves Ggd 
from love, and that, of him who serves from 
regard to duty merely, or a desire to lie saved 
from punishment The one seeking to know 
how lie cau most honor his Master;—the 
other striving to please himself, and seek¬ 
ing his own interest just ho far as his fear 
of God’s disapprobation will allow. How 
worth less t he service that has not love for 
its motive power lie who makes God’s 
requirements secondary to his love of gain, 
or case, or worldly aggrandizement, who 
seeks not first tho kingdom of God and 11 is 
righto oneness, may wear the badge of dls- 
dpieship, but will he not tremble before 
Him at ilis final appearing? 
Ab ! go to Gethsenmne, view the agony, 
the bloody sweat, follow up Calvary’s hill; 
there decide if your Master is not worthy 
your highest devotion — your best service. 
Khali we talk of sacrifice if to serve Ilim 
requires the yielding of our cherished plans, 
or think it too much to do for Him—who 
for us laid aside Ilis glory—to forego worldly 
profit rather than transgress His holy law ? 
To tho loving disciple, “ His commands are 
not grievous.” We cannot live for both 
Christ and the world,—“cannot serve God 
and mammon.” Alas! for those who are 
striving to do this, when lie shall “ lay judg¬ 
ment to tho line and righteousness to the 
plummet.” Lina Lee. 
Sherburne, N. v„ 1809. 
•- +■*■+ - 
SELAH. 
This word being left by the translators of 
the Bible precisely as they found it, very 
many readers are puzzled to know its mean¬ 
ing. The best commentators do not agree 
concerning it. According to the Biblcothcca 
Sacra the Targums and most of the Jewish 
commentators give to the word the meaning 
of “eternally forever.” Kimciii regards it 
a sign to elevate the voice. The authors of 
the Scptliagint translation regarded it as a 
musical note. Herder views it as indi¬ 
cating a change of tone. Matheson, iis a 
musical tone, equivalent to the word “ re¬ 
peat.” According to Luther, it means 
“silence.” Gesenius explains it to mean, 
“ Let the instruments play, anil the singers 
stop.” Wocher regards it as equivalent to 
“ Up, my soul !” Rummer, after examining 
all the seventy-four passages in which the 
word occurs, recognizes in every case “ an 
actual appeal to Jehovah.” They are calls 
for aid and prayers to be heard, if not in 
the imperative, as, “ Hear, Jehovah !” or, 
“ Awake, Jehovah !” yet, earnest addresses 
to God that He would remember and hear. 
-- 
THE CALM DEPTHS. 
Shallow waters are easily muddied After 
a night of storm, the waters of the Bay along 
the beach, stirred by the winds, are foul and 
black with the mire and dirt. But look be¬ 
yond, out into the deep water—how blue and 
clear it is! Tho white caps on the surface 
show Ihc violence of the wind, but tbc, water 
is too deep for the storms that sweep iis sur¬ 
face to stir up the earth at the bottom- 
go in Christian experience. A shallow 
experience is easily disturbed; the merest 
trifles becloud and darken the soul whose 
piety is superficial; while the most furious 
storm of life fails to darken or perturb the 
soul which has attained a deep experience 
of the things of God. The agitation may 
produce a sparkle on the surface, but in the 
calm depths of such a spirit reigns eternal 
tranquility, the peace of God that passeth all 
I understanding.— Spectator. 
