QUEENS. 
The world hath queens; some decked In gems. 
Whose fair brows, crowned with diadems, 
Rise over empire with a sway 
Like Luna’s mild and gentle ray. t 
The halls of fashion and of mirth 
Hava queens of wealth, and queens of birth; 
The salons where the cultured sit 
Have queens or Intellect and wit. 
And many a high or lowly place 
Boasts queens of beauty and of grace. 
All those my homage passeth by, 
Lightly, though oft admiringly; 
And hurries on with eager feet, 
To bow It, at a shrine more meet; 
It passeth graces, beauties, wits. 
To where the meek home mother site, 
And offers, as the growth of years. 
The flower of luvo bodowed with tears I 
Her head is crowned with many a care, 
That turns to gray her shining hair: 
Her hands know well what, labor is; 
Versed In all gentle ministries. 
Good works have hung their jewels there. 
Such as the holy angels woar. 
Her heart hath known both joy and grief. 
Sunshine and shadow, pain, relief; 
And ever at its innor gate 
Two angel wardens smile and wait: 
Sweet Love and nojek-eyed Patience ftye 
Tiic gentle mother's heart obey! 
O. mother, hastening from our sight 
To the more kindred world of llghtl 
Thino oyes grown dim, O, mother, sweet. 
In patient watch of wayward feet, 
Thy hands grown weak with laboring long, 
While love than death grows still more strong. 
At. thought of thee, what tears arise 
To manhood's and to woman’s eyes! 
Thy children'a hearts shall own thy sway, 
Unto their life’s remotest day. 
Sweet counselor by many a hearth, 
O, mother, queen of all the earth! 
[Elirn M. Sterling, in Ladies' Repository. 
- 44 -*- 
KEY N0TE8-MAJ0R AND MINOR. 
BY GRACE GLENN. 
No. II. — Development, 
Wrc never know wlmt wo may be until wc 
have been. The General may know the 
number of Uis men upon the field, and the 
quantity of war munitions under their con¬ 
trol, hut lie never knows the quality of the 
combination as a whole, or in any of its 
parts, until he sees it tested in action. So 
with our principles: wc do not know them 
until they are tried. They may he pure 
enough, and enough of them, hut yet lack 
that solidity and resistance that will stand 
the shock of opposing conflict, and some 
time when we have boasted wilhin ourselves 
of their worth and stability, they may yield 
and leave its nn inglorious defeat, with a- 
field of carnage and ruin to lie like a pall 
upon all our after lives. “ Let. him that 
thluketh lie staudeth take heed lest he fall.” 
A young man said to a lady acquaintance, 
speaking of another young woman, “Just 
right for her; she needn’t have done it! 
Why, Miss Lizzie, do yo suppose you would 
marry any man without knowing him more 
tlmu two weeks?” 
She answered :—“ I don’t know what I 
would do. I never did and never was 
tempted to do that, but some people have 
more influence over me than others, and 
some are more easily influenced, perhaps, 
than I,—hut I do not know what some cir¬ 
cumstances and some people might lead me 
to do, or how much she was tried and 
tempted before she yielded. Let us not 
judge her.” 
And she was right. None of us know 
what we should do under any train of cir¬ 
cumstances and arguments different from the 
ones where we have been placed. 
We know nothing except by actual demon¬ 
stration, and even then hut in part, through 
our imperfect and distorted visions ; and the 
motive underlying our actions, on the im¬ 
pulse of a moment,—may prove very differ¬ 
ent when weighed in the balance of sober 
after-thought, from what we had first given 
ourselves credit for,—or, if once we have 
been really victors, our very success may, 
through pur self-conceit, make us the weaker 
and less guarded for another struggle, so that 
iu the second we may meet defeat unless we 
accept the victory in humility, not as won 
by oursel ves, but for us by Him who guides 
and guards, and “ Who alone ia able to keep 
us from falling.” 
Saginaw City, Mich, 1871. 
--- 
TRUE LOVE AND LOVE OF LOVE. 
Many women suppose that they love, 
when, unfortunately, they have not the be¬ 
ginning of an idea what love is. Let me 
explain it to you, my dear lady. Loving to 
be admired by a man, loving to be petted by 
him, and loving to he caressed by him, lov- 
iug to he praised by him, ia not loving a 
man. All these may he when a woman has 
no power of loving at all — they may all he 
simply because she loves herself, and loves 
to he flattered, praised, caressed, coaxed, as 
a cat likes to be coaxed and stroked, and fed 
with cream, and have a warm corner. 
But all this is not love. It may exist, to be 
suie, where there is love; it generally does. 
But it may also exist where there is no love. 
Love, my dear ladies, is self-sacrifice j it is a 
life out of self and in another. Its very 
essence is the preferring of the comfort, the 
ease, the wishes of another to one's own ,for 
the love we bear them. Love is giving, and 
not receiving. Love is not a sheet, of blot¬ 
ting paper or a sponge, sucking in every¬ 
thing to itself; it is an outspringing foun¬ 
tain, giving from itself. Love’s motto has 
been dropped in this world as a chance gem 
of great price by the loveliest., the fairest, 
the purest, the strongest of lovers that ever 
trod this mortal earth, of whom it is re¬ 
corded that He said, “ It is more blessed to 
give than to receive.” Now, in love there 
are ten receivers to ono giver. There are 
ten persons in this world who like to be 
loved and love love, where there is one who 
knows Juno to love. That, oh my dear ladies, 
is a nobler attainment than all your French, 
and music, and dancing. You may lose the 
very power of it by smothering it under a 
load of early self-indulgence. By living 
just as you are all wanting to live—living to 
be petted, to be flattered, to he admired, to 
be praised, to have your own way, and to do 
only that which is easy and agreeable—you 
may lose the power of self-denial and self- 
sacrifice; you may lose the power of loving 
ing nobly and worthily, and become a mere 
sheet of blotting paper all your liic .—Pink 
a?id White Tyranny. 
TRUTHFULNESS AT HOME. 
Op all happy households, that is the hap¬ 
piest where falsehood is never thought of. 
All peace is broken up when once it appears 
there is a liar in the house. All comfort has 
gone when suspicion 1ms once entered— 
when there must be reserve iu talk and res¬ 
ervation In belief Anxious parents, who 
are aware of the pains of suspicion, will 
place general confidence in their children, 
and receive what they say freely, unless 
there is strong reason to distrust the truth 
of any one. If such an occasion should 
unhappily arise, they must keep the suspi¬ 
cion from spreading as long as possible, and 
avoid disgracing their poor child while 
there is n chance of its cure by their confi¬ 
dential assistance. He should have their 
pity and assiduous help, as if he were suf¬ 
fering under some bodily disorder. If he 
can he cured he will become duly grateful 
for the treatment. If the endeavor fails, 
means must of course be taken to prevent 
his example from doing harm; and then, as 
I said, the family peace is broken up, be¬ 
cause the family confidence is gone. 1 fear 
that, from some cause or another, there arc 
hut few large families where every member 
is altogether truthful. But where all are so 
organized and so trained as to be wholly 
reliable in act and word, they are a light to 
all eyes and a joy to all hearts. They are 
public benefits, for they are a point of gene¬ 
ral reliance; and they are privately blessed 
within and without. Without, their life is 
made easy by universal trust; and within 
their home and their hearts they have tjie 
security of rectitude and the gladness of 
innocence .—Harriet Martine.au. 
-- 
An Aimmlng Incident. 
The Rev. Dr. Prime, who has recently 
returned from his foreign tour, furnishes this 
amusing incident of the trip:—They have 
strange chambermaids at Shepherd’s Hotel 
in Cairo. The one who waited in our room, 
and attended to all the various duties of the 
calling, even to making of beds, was a 
French gentleman, dressed as if for a dinner 
party, (white vest and dress coat,,) and hav¬ 
ing the air of a refined and educated gentle¬ 
man. It was really embarrassing to accept 
his services in such a capacity. One of the 
ladies, on arriving at the hotel, rang for the 
chambermaid. This gentleman presented 
himself. Supposing him to he the proprie¬ 
tor or his chief clerk, she again expressed 
her wish to have him call the chambermaid. 
He very politely replied, in the best English 
lie could command, “ Madame, I am she.” 
Wliai’s the Use? 
What’s the use of minding what “ they 
say ?” What’s the use lying awake of nights 
with the unkind remark of some false friend 
running through your brain like forked light¬ 
ning ? What’s the use of getting into a worry 
and fret over gossip that has been set afloat 
to your disadvantage by some meddlesome 
busybody who has more time than charac¬ 
ter ? These things can’t possibly injure you, 
unless, indeed, you take notice of them, and 
in combating them give them character and 
standing. If wliat is said About you is true, 
set yourself right at once; if it is false, let it 
go for what it will fetch, until it dies of in¬ 
herent weakness. 
A Good JJ iiiiuliter. 
There are other ministers of love more 
conspicuous than she, but none in which a 
gentler, lovelier spirit dwells, and none to 
which the heart’s warm requitals more joy¬ 
fully respond. She is the steady light of her 
father’s house. Her ideal is indissolubly 
connected with that of liis fireside. She is 
his morning sunlight and evening star. The 
grace, vivacity, and tenderness of her sex 
have their place in the mighty sway which 
she holds over his spirit. She is the pride 
and ornament of his hospitality, and the gen¬ 
tle nurse in his sickness. 
t a ■<> 
or Dcutiig jJroplc. 
JOHNNY’S TREE. 
A NICE ltttlo boy was JOHNNY, 
A bravo little boy was he— 
And he planted one day a speck o t seed, 
And it crew to an apple tree. 
And then In the spring came a bird— 
There eume one, two, Hnd three: 
And each built himself a little wee nest, 
And sang CUlck-a-dee, Chlck-a-dee. I>. 8. 
-♦♦♦- 
MOTHER’S BIRTH-DAY. 
BY AUNT PHOEBE. 
Mamma had not been well for a week, and, 
although a great deal better, still kept in the 
sitting room, while I reigned supreme in the 
kitchen. So, early one Saturday morning, 
Rillaii put on a large apron, and, rolling 
up our sleeves, we prepared to do the 
baking. 
It was her mother’s birth-day, so Rillah 
insisted on making the cake—for she and 
JonNNrE had been preparing a little pleas¬ 
ant surprise for this day. Nothing very ex¬ 
tensive, to be sure, for Rillaii was but ton 
ami Joiinnie not quite twelve—hut for the 
past two weeks he had spent a great deal of 
the time in his room, while Rili.ah had 
been mysteriously busy with bright hits of 
cloth. 
“ Joiinnie has gone up to the ten-acres 
for blackberries, Aunt Piioebe. He thought 
thero’d be enough ripe for tea. Now, what 
kind of a cake shall I make? I suppose it 
ought to lie a fruit cake, hut I’m afraid I 
can’t make a good one.” 
“ No, l think not. Seems to me a delicate 
cake, 1 white as white, and feathery light,’ 
would be nicer.” 
“Then I’ll make one like that I took to 
the pic nic,” running f«r the recipe book— 
her own it was, and made by herself. 
I was just mixing my raised biscuits, 
when some one knocked at the side door. 
Answering the knock, as quickly as possi¬ 
ble, I found Lemuel Green, with a letter 
in his hand. 
“ This here’s for you, Phoebe,” said he*; 
“ I’ve jest been to town, and so hurried 
along, thinking you’d he anxious to hear 
from 'him 1 ; hope he's well;”—and with a 
grin and a nod, Lemuel disappeared. 
Now, I’m a maid, but not an old maid, 
and I can’t understand why everybody 
should seem to think it perfectly right to 
tease me about him. Can you ? But they 
do. I read the lette r and g arried it to Mary, 
(that’s Rillah’s inotTif^ 1 ) and then returned 
to my biscuits. 
“ Why, Jessie Baker, what are you— 
what, are you doing?” I heard RiLLAn ex¬ 
claim, before I reached the door. And 
when I had opened-it I felt like echoing her 
words. Little three-year-old Jessie sat on 
the table, with a roll of my dough in her 
hands, the flour scattered over her apron, 
and Rillah, busy with her cake, had just 
seen her. 
“I’m making a wimage," patting the 
dough in her fat hands. 
“ Making what ?” 
“ A wimage, like me an’ Joey Brooks 
made las' winter. That was a snow wira¬ 
nge, an’ this is a dough wimage," with a 
soft laugh. 
“Jessie mustn’t make images with the 
dough, nor touch it. Now, Rillah, wash 
her, and then you must see to the parlor a 
little, for Aunt Hattie is coming this after¬ 
noon, with Josie and Robbie. I will take 
your cake for you.” 
“ I wish some one would give me a new 
pincushion,” said Rillah’s mother, that 
afternoon—“ for a birthday present,” she 
added, witli a laugh. 
Rillah laughed too, and blushed ; then 
ran up stairs, with Johnnie following. 
“ Here it is, mamma," she cried, coming 
back. 
“And mine too,” said Johnnie. And 
Rillah laid a pincushion, and Johnnie a 
roll of paper upon the table, near where 
their mother sat sewing. 
The pincushion was made of diamonds, 
cut out of green ami of red merino, and of 
black alpaca. The lower right hand side of 
a green diamond was sewed to the lower 
left hand side of a black one, the red one 
fitting into upper sides, and this pattern was 
continued throughout. Both sides were 
alike. Around the edge was a red cord, 
with round balls of red, green and black at 
the corners. 
“ Nothing very fancy,” as Rillah had 
said, hut it was pretty and useful, and needed. 
Johnnie’s present was a basket of fruit 
which he had drawn and painted. He had 
quite a talent in that direction—and this was 
done unusually well. “ I shall have it fram¬ 
ed,” said his mother, “ and it shall hang just 
over the table.” 
She thanked the children very lovingly for 
their kind remembrance of her, and all of 
them felt very happy. Parents, as well as 
children, should learn a lesson in giving 
pleasure to others. 
I Aunt Hattie, Josie and Robbie came, as 
they had written, and what a time the chil¬ 
dren had! 
Robbie was a black-eyed, wide-awake city 
boy, who had seldom been in the country. 
Josie was “ chubby ami plump ”—a tender¬ 
hearted little girl, who tried to be careful, 
hut kept little Jessie in a state of perpetual 
fear lest dolly should he broken or kilty 
hurt. 
The blackberries were flue, and RiLLAn’s 
cake excellent. Here is the recipe:—Whites 
of five eggs, one and a half teacups of sugar, 
one-half cup of butter, one-half cup sweet 
milk, one teaspoonful of cream of tartar, one 
half of soda, one-half of lemon essence, ono 
cup of com starch, and a little flour. Bent 
the eggs on a plate with a fo-k until wry 
light. 
-- 
POLITENESS IN CHILDREN. 
Little Alfred’s mother had taken pains 
to instruct her baby-boy in some of the simple 
forms of politeness and hospitality, and 
though uot three years old, he used to put his 
lesson in practice. 
One day a dear friend of his mother’s called, 
and he ran at once to bring a chair for her, 
inviting her to ait. by the tire. Then lie 
brought a footstool for her feet, and asked her 
to let him take her bonuet. 
“ I wish you would slay to dinner,” he 
lisped, “and stay all day, and stay forever.” 
Though it may not be necessary to express 
yourself quite as strongly as dear little Allio 
did, yet such a cordial hospitality is always 
pleasaut to the receiver, when it is felt to bo 
sincere. Children cannot learn too early to 
welcome the chance guest and do what they 
can for his comfort, even at the cost of self- 
denial. 
I know little girls that can wait on visit¬ 
or in their mother’s absence, with as much 
propriety as young ladies; can answer ques¬ 
tions put to them, clearly and directly, and 
always politely; and it, is a pleasure to be a 
guest where children thus behave. 
If you are not trained as you should he iu 
these matters at home, iL is a great pity; hut 
still you may learn much from well-behaved 
children of your acquaintance. Every lovely, 
kindly grace is worth cultivating, and will 
add much to your happiness and usefulness 
when you are older. A rude, ill-man tiered 
person is shunned and disliked in every cir¬ 
cle, and unless the opposite habits are formed 
in early life, they are seldom formed at all.— 
Presbyterian. 
- -44-4--— 
Parrot iu the Eire. 
An account of the fire in New York by 
Which five hundred singing birds were de¬ 
stroyed, says:—The parrot, true to his ani¬ 
mal tenacity of life, painfully reminded liis 
owner that he was in danger. First he 
screamed and fluttered, and imitated a man 
spitting when the smoke began to assail his 
breathing apparatus. Then, as the heat in¬ 
creased, lie ejaculated, in his harshest tones, 
“Polly want a cracker!” “Polly want a 
drink!” When the wires got too hot and 
scorched his feet, he attempted to seek relief 
by cliuging with his hill to the roof. But 
this too, was untenable and burned his 
tongue, bo lie let go and dropped to the bot¬ 
tom of his cage, hoarsely uttering, “ You 
know how it is yourself!” In a few mo¬ 
ments the volume of smoke thickened and 
suffocated all the other already stupefied lit¬ 
tle birds. 
+ ♦ »- 
Hold on to your tongue when you are 
ready to swear, lie or speak harshly. 
Hold on to your hand when you are about 
to strike or steal. 
Hold on to your temper when you are 
angry, excited or imposed upon. 
Hold on to your heart when evil associates 
seek your company. 
Hold ou to your good name, for it is more 
precious than gold. 
Hold on to the truth, for it will serve you 
well. 
- - 
RURAL FOUR-YEAR-OLDS. 
Mothers ol Smart Children are Invited to contri¬ 
bute to this Department.] 
The West Condemned by a X’hree-year-old.— 
Gen. G., when walking about, town, nearly al¬ 
ways has his little boy by the hand. Oue day, 
calling at a butcher’s shop, he usked for poultry 
and received a uegutlve auswer. Ou koIdk out, 
his little boy said:—“Pa, I don’t believe this 
tVeat Is much ; Just think of a butcher not hav¬ 
ing chickens; ami then the medicine Is all bit¬ 
ter, and the sorghum molasses is all sour. I 
don't believe this West is much, no how.”— j. j. 
The Cot that Oiled Her Hoir.— The motherless 
one in our family-little Auwtn, twenty-one 
months old—noticed our eat, ns she washed her 
face and made her toilet. Art win looked on lor 
a time, then said“ Monte, old cut oil her hair;” 
and as she still smoothed her fur, she said, “ old 
cat oil her hair much /"—Tint Aunt. 
A Fatal RoKlilt Feared. -The other day, little 
four-year-old Frankie was amusing herself by 
watching her little cousin Lorkn at piny witli a 
sling, try 1 tiff to see how hij{h in the atr lie could 
throw pebbles, All nr once little Frankie be¬ 
came very serious, looked anxious and alarmed, 
and exclaimed, “Wuy he will kill the Lord.— 
M. l. n. 
IVot a Meteorologist,— CHARLEY, a little col¬ 
ored led. ei^ht y W irs old, made our inornlnff 
flri-e. One morning In winter he came in with 
his kindling wood, and 1 asked him if it had 
snow&l that nljfht. He said, “ it didn’t snow out 
in the hack yard; I haven’t been in the front 
, yard yet.”— u. t. h. 
Sntbbatl) fUabing. 
RESURGAM, 
Gethsemane In moonlight stood arrayed, 
When, ’nuath the groves of olive and of palm. 
The holy Htllel and young Sufi strayed, 
And In hushed tune, alternate, spoke u psalm. 
Behold.” said Sail, “ yonder where the rays 
Fall In the open door, thero fcneeloth one,” 
And Hlllrd answered, "Zadnc’tlM, who prays 
And weeps hoslde the bed of his dead son." 
“ Men call him wise and Just," young Sail cried; 
" Wherefore not moderate the bitter rain 
Of his sad tears?" Anil Uillel calm replied, 
" Worthless tho wisdom that ran feel no pain.” 
To him tho youth— “O, master, toll mo then, 
Wherefore the use of wisdom, when the sago 
Weepa like the foolish ono? if sons of men 
Advantage naught by wisdom nor by age?” 
And Htllel answered, “ Safi, see tho tear 
Falls from his eye beneath the chastening rod, 
Near by the body of his offspring dear; 
But, mark you, that his face Is raised to God I” 
[After the German of Krummachsr. 
- 4 » » — 
BELIEVE IN GOD, 
“ The fool hath said in liis heart there is 
no God," and it would seem an evidence of 
idiocy or insanity for any man or woman to 
have a mind so darkened by sin or unbelief 
as to hold to such an opinion. As well 
might wc doubt the existence of the sun at 
noonday, as deny the being of a God of in¬ 
finite wisdom and goodness, when the evi¬ 
dences lay so thick all about us. Should 
doubts arise in regard to the truth of “Ilia 
Word,” (which hears unmistakable evidences 
of the Divine impress,) we have only to turn 
to the Book of Nature and compare ils read¬ 
ing to that of Revelation to be convinced 
that both arc from the same Divine author. 
Science also comes promptly to our aid 
and throws a new luster upon the sacred 
page by discovering to us the beginning and 
partial consummation of a glorious plan in 
the work of creation which harmonizes so 
completely with that revealed in man’s re¬ 
demption, and final exaltation, through the 
blood am', righteousness of Jesus, iliuL tho 
two can be no longer justly separated. 
Lord, we bless thy name for these revela¬ 
tions, which, united, throw such a flood of 
light upon our lives, and reveal the great 
and glorious purposes of the Divine Creator 
—proving to us that they are all mercy and 
grace, and have for their object the highest 
good of our race. Fellow traveler to tho 
Judgment, have faith in God! Trust in the 
merits of His Son, and thus co-operate with 
him in the great work of human redemp¬ 
tion, and Heaven will be your final reward. 
VIGILANCE. 
What renders vigilance so necessary to 
Christian piety is, that all tho passions which 
oppose themselves in us to the law of God 
only die, as I may say, with us. We un¬ 
doubtedly are able to weaken them, by llio 
assistance of grace and a fervent ami lively 
faith; but the roots always continue in tho 
heart—we always carry within us the prin¬ 
ciples of the same errors. Guilt may lie ex¬ 
tinguished in our hearts; but sin, ns tho 
apostle says—that is to say, the corrupt in¬ 
clinations which have formed our guilt.—in¬ 
habits and lives‘there still; and that, fund of 
corruption which removes us so far from 
God, is still left us in our penitence, to serve 
as a continual exercise to virtue; to limnble 
our pride; to keep us in remembrance that 
the duration of our present, life is a time of 
war and danger; and. by a destiny inevitable 
to our nature, that there is only one step be¬ 
tween relaxation and guilt.— Massillon. 
-- 
Who Blesaos You ? 
The soul-power is manhood. He who 
blesses you in body or in estate, is not to bo 
considered less than a benefactor; but ho 
wlio blesses your mauliood is your best friend. 
He who has a heart of affection towards you, 
so that it cultivates affection iu you ; lie who 
knows how to instruct you so that you are- 
stimulated to instruct yourself; be who con¬ 
veys to you outward blessings, such as wealth 
or position in life, iu such u way that you 
are obliged to stamp your thought on them, 
and in order to that to be developed and 
educated—he is the great benefactor. 
“Shull wc Prujr lor You?” 
asked a Bister of Charity of Gen. Reinuihl. 
“ No 1” he answered vigorously, “ pray for 
Franco.” This is the best there is in the 
highest form of religion—unselfishness. The 
philanthropist who was “toobusy for others 
to think of his own soul” could not liavo 
met much resistance at Bt. Peter’s gate. 
Busy to save others!—tins has no dogma in 
it, but it saved the souls of Marcus Aurelius, 
John Howard, and many others. 
--- 4-*-4 -- 
If we have remission of sins, it is through 
tho blood of Christ; if we have a title to an 
immortal inheritance, it is through His life; 
if we rejoice in hope of everlasting glory, it 
is because He has entered that glory for us. 
The presence, the favor of Christ constitute 
the daylight of the Christian, in which he 
walks and in which he talks.— B. Hall. 
