jxbm §oxt~$olio. 
OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND. 
That out of sight Is out of mind, 
Is trua of most w» leave behind j 
It is not, sure, nor can be true. 
My own and only love, of you. 
They were my friends, ’twas sad to part! 
Almost a tear began to start; 
But yet, as things run on, they find 
That out of sight U out of mind. 
For men that will not Idlers be. 
Must lend their hearts to tilings they see; 
And friends who leave them far behind. 
When out of sight are out of mind. 
I blame It not; I think that when 
The cold and silent meet again. 
Kind hearts will yet as erst be kind : 
'Twas “ out of sight,” was “ out of mind.” 
I knew it when we parted, well 
I know it: but wa9 loath to tell; 
I felt before, what now I find, 
That " out of sight ” is ** out of mind.” 
That friends, however friends they wore, 
Still deal with things as things ocour. 
And that, excepting for the blind. 
What’s out of sight Is out of mind. 
But love, the poets say, is blind; 
So out of sight and out of mind 
Need not, nor will, 1 think, be true. 
My own and only love, of you. 
(.Arthur Hugh Clough. 
TEACHING- CHILDREN OBEDIENCE. 
BT M. C. BARTLETT. 
Obviously, if the “Mothers’ Column” is 
to become a power in the Rural, its space 
must not be tilled with mere lamentations 
over the “Wrongs of the Innocents,” and 
the “ Inefficiency of Mothers.” Its contri¬ 
butions should not deal ill vague generali¬ 
ties, but contain direct and practical sugges¬ 
tions upon special subjects. The subject 
upon which I wish to say a few words to 
mothers, is Obedience. Of the paramount 
importance of training children in this, their 
chief duty, there can be no doubt. But tliut 
all parents do not seem equally to appreciate 
this importance is evident; for there are 
many, to-day, grieving and puzzling over the 
failure of their efforts “ to mane good chil¬ 
dren,” who might find a solution of the 
problem in the fact that their children have 
never been taught obedience. 
Instruct your children, mothers, that dis¬ 
obedience is a sin —as direct a violation of 
God’s command as theft, or lying, or any 
other sin. If you punish your child for 
breaking the Parian vase you forbade him 
to touch, let him understand, distinctly, that 
it is for the act of disobedience you punish 
him, and seek to awaken sorrow for his sin 
—not for its accidental consequence. Insist 
upon unhesitatng obedience. If you issue a 
command, do not allow your attention to be 
turned to anything else, but see that all 
playthings are dropped, and the child starts 
atones. If lie find you in the habit of re¬ 
peating the order at intervals, he will not 
pretend to obey until the third or fourth bid¬ 
ding, and perhaps not until, seeing you thor¬ 
oughly aroused, he is led to apprehend some¬ 
thing more forcible than words 1 
Exact, also, unquestioning obedience. 
Some parents maintain that children should 
always have a reason given them for every¬ 
thing. But such will often find their com¬ 
mands disregarded if the juveniles do not 
feel wholly satisfied as to their reasonable¬ 
ness. It ig far better, if the little one says, 
‘‘I want to so much, why can’t I?” to 
answer, lovingly, “ Because mother says no, 
dear, and mother knows best.” When the 
CARE LESS W ORDS. 
Many careless words are spoken with no 
thought that they will outlive the passing 
moment. They fall from somebody’s lips, 
like the Autumn leaf which the wind catches 
and whirls hither and thither, and which 
settles down in some corner where we think 
it is hidden, to rest, there only till another 
breeze briugs it back to annoy us again. 
The words we speak go from us with an in¬ 
finite, an endless power for good or ill. 
A mother once said to the little girl sitting 
by her si do, “ I am afraid I shall never love 
my little girl, she is so homely.” 
They were thoughtless words, uttered to a 
mere child, six years old, but they sank deep 
in the child's heart and rankled there, like a 
barbed arrow, ever afterward. When chided 
for anything by her mother she would say to 
herself, “ It. is because I am so homely. My 
mother dislikes me. She treats me well, just 
because she does not like to be unkind. If 
I do the very best tliat I can she will never 
love me. I’m sure if I could be pretty I 
would. I don’t want to be homely. 1 don’t 
want to be hated, but I can’t, help it. It 
doesn’t matter what I do or how I do, now ; 
but I wish Mamma had never said it, for 
then I might think she loved me a little and 
try to be a good girl.” 
Though her mother never treated her 
harshly this “ was the most unkindest cut of 
all.” She never forgot the words. There 
grew into her face and manners a sad mel¬ 
ancholy. There -was no sweet, loving con¬ 
fidence in her inother. She distrusted and 
kept aloof from her, locking up her girlish 
trials and pprrp.ws In the recesses of her own 
heart. Years afterward she said to me, 
“I thin It 1 should have been a happier 
woman, possessed of a more cheerful dis¬ 
position, if my mother had never spoken 
those et u^l, Wfoi cis to me.” 
Sylvia Brown. 
Luwvdriije, Kansas, 1871. 
UFT+--■» »♦ 
BRIDAL TOILETS IN OLDEN TIMES. 
BfrttJtcy and bridegrooms of 1871 may be 
amused by a description of the toilette of a 
couple on their wedding day one hundred 
years ago. To begin with the lady. Her 
locks were strained upward over an im¬ 
mense cushion, that sat like an incubus on 
or doling JJtopic. 
ALICE CARY TO THE LITTLE FOLKS. 
f'THU Bright Side” thus close* a notice of Alice 
Gary's deathDear Ai.U'K Cahy, we will always 
love and ruvore your memory: May the hoys und 
girls whom you have done so much to pU-a.ia and In¬ 
struct. never torget the beautiful lesson of your life, 
nor the luippy, clnirluitile spirit whteli they will find 
In ill you have written for them. Uere In purl of the 
tlitroductlou to one of the last books she wrote, 
* Snow-Berrlos,’ Would you think Its author could 
be just on the edee of tlfty years of age, at the time 
of writing?”] 
Mr little men und women 
Who sit with your ayes downcast, 
Turning the leaves of 9now-Borrles 
Over and over so fust, 
I know us I hear them flutter 
Like the leaves on si summer bough, 
You nro l.joklug out for a story about 
The Fairies,—aren't you, now ? 
And so It Is wise to tell you 
That you needn't turn so fust. 
For there Isn’t u single fairy-tale 
In tile book from tlrsl to last. 
My muse la plain und homespun,— 
Quite given to work-day ways. 
And She never spoilt an hour 111 the tent 
Of a fairy in ull her days. 
She Is strongest on her native soil; 
And you will sue she sings 
Little In praise of elfs and fays. 
And less of queens and kings. 
The finest ladies, so she says, 
And the gentlemen most grand 
Are made by Nature, gentlefolk, 
And are royal at Urst hand. 
She says of the women who sow and spin. 
And keep the house with cure, 
That they ure the queens and princesses 
Whose trains wo ought to bear. 
And says of the men who hammer and forge, 
And clear und plow the land, 
That they ure the worthy gentlemen 
Who make our country grand. 
A ribbon, she says, In the button hole 
May go for what it goes, 
But ho Is the greatest man who is great 
Without such tinsel shows. 
Our omintry's Hag cun never drag, 
She says, nor its stars go down: 
For how should It fall when onouml all 
Are rightful heirs to the crown! 
ROBBIE HUNTING FOR HENS’ NESTS. 
BY AUNT PIIEBE. 
After tea, Rili.au went with the chil¬ 
dren in the barn-yard, where Jojinnie way 
helping to milk the sober old cows. Rob¬ 
bie was delighted with everything, and ran 
about, causing quite a stampede among the 
her head, and plastered over with pomatum, staid inhabitants of the barn-yard. 
and then sprinkled with a shower of white 
powder. The height of this tower was 
somewhat over a foot. One single white 
rosebud lay on its top, like an eagle on a 
haystack. Over her neck and bosom was 
folded a lace handkerchief, fastened in front 
with a bosom-pin rather larger than a cop¬ 
per cent, containing her grand father’s min¬ 
iature set in virgin gold, Her airy form was 
braced up in a satin dress, the sleeves as tight 
as the natural skin on the arm, with a waist 
formed by a bodice, worn outside, whence 
the skirt flowed off, and was distended at 
the top by an ample hoop. Shoes of white 
kid, with peaked toes, and heels of two or 
three inches elevation, inclosed her feet, and 
glittered with spangles as her little pedal 
members peeped curiously out. Now for the 
Josie was quite afraid, and could not be per¬ 
suaded to approach them, “ Oh, oh !” she 
would cry, if a cow but turned to look at 
her. Then up would come Robbie, and 
“ shoo " the old cow av. 
They looked at the calves, and even Josie 
was persuaded into stroking their sides. 
Then the sheep were visited. There was 
the “horned patriarch,” (you will know him 
ifyou will read Whittier's “ Snow Bound,”) 
who shook bis head and stamped bis foot at 
Cony, Johnnie’s dog. And there was Ru,- 
LAII’8 pet Sheep, and “ Beauty” and “ Snow- 
flake,” and old “ Mary Ann,” and “ Black 
Diamond,” the proverbiul black sheep. They 
munched their cuds so daintily, and glanced 
at the children with such bright, intelligent 
looks, and spoke out so comically in their 
swain. His hair was sleeked back and \ falsetto voices, — with an occasional and 
plentifully befloured, while his queue pro¬ 
jected like a handle to a skillet. His coat 
was sky-blue silk lined with yellow, his long 
vest of satin embroidered with gold lace, his 
breeches of the same material, and tied at 
lbe knees with pink ribbons. White silk 
rather startling “ Baa-a” from a gruff-voiced 
ovine, —Unit Robbie and Josie were quite 
delighted, and the sheep remained their fa¬ 
vorites throughout their visit. Another 
time, perhaps, 1 will Udl you of Robbie’s 
neglected opportunity to make friends with 
stockings and pumps, with laces and ties of uld “ Frisky,” the “ horned patriarch.” 
1!( ,. ,. . , .... 1 * 1C Sll|,ie line, completed the habiliments of 
I tle disappomtment is quite lurgolteu, you his nether limb8> LftCe rufflea cUlstered 
■ ••111 litr it. 1.1. t ■ m i <1..-. ..'i i i . » ii 
can, by pointing out the evils that would 
have resulted had bis wishes been gratified, 
show the wisdom of all “ mother's com¬ 
mands,” and thus inspire future confidence. 
By this course you will be disciplining your 
child for the time when he must bow sub¬ 
missively, and unquestioningly, to a Higher 
Will than yours. 
If you would always insure obedience, 
issue no more commands and prohibitions 
than are absolutely necessary. To burden 
an obedient, conscientious child with over 
many, is positively cruel. In unimportant 
matters leave the children freedom of choice. 
t - --- -- * wvvwuuw * UJ OCU 
teaches themiindependence; and if they girls look well, as well as live to some pur- 
maoj mistakes, “Mother ’ can always profit [lose, I would urge upon them such a course 
J me opportunity to give a little whole- of reading and study as will confer such 
some advice. charms ns no modiste can supply. N. P. 
urn y, it you would be successful, begin Willis wrote once a very pretty paragraph 
h- n • <,Ut laun01 ’ ever y "'ish till your on the power of education to beautify. That 
i, , 1 * . H Pace years old and then, thinking it absolutely chiseled the features; tliat he 
e o d enough to be made to mind,” en- had seen many a clumsy nose and thick pair 
wif^ n 'i a luiIl< '-to*hand fight with him. He of lips so modified by thought awakened and 
fnc ti 1 *~" nu ® »<> wonder—and, although active sentiment as to be unrecognizable. 
j. ltJ J1 ” e y° u may come off victorious, by And he put it on that ground that we so 
nrohiihltr rim' SUperior stlen S tl b ,1C Will often see people, homely and unattractive in 
resist evt S r ,e Unf- miquered and ready to youth, bloom in middle life into a softened 
if im 11 11 m ‘‘attemptnit subjection. —.i. Indian summer of good looks and mellow 
11 , 0.1 tkecontraiyjSolfrwiU besv' ...^ as soon tones. 
as it exhibits itself, a- .no little one made-»♦» —- - 
around the wrist, and a portentous frill 
worked in correspondence, and bearing the 
miniature of his beloved, finished his truly 
genteel appearance. 
-♦♦♦ 
A WORD TO GIRLS. 
The woman who is indifferent to her looks 
is no true woman. God meant woman to be 
attractive, to look well, to please, and it is 
one of her duties to carry out this intention 
of her Maker. But that dress is to do it all, 
and to suffice, is more than 1 can he brought 
to believe. Just because I do love to see 
girls look well, as well as live to some pur¬ 
pose, I would urge upon them such a course 
of reading and study as will confer such 
charms ns no modiste can supply. N. P. 
Willis wrote once a very pretty paragraph 
on the power of education to beautify. That 
it absolutely chiseled the features; tliat he 
had seen many a clumsy nose and thick pair 
of lips so modified by thought awakened and 
active sentiment as to be unrecognizable. 
And lie put it on that ground that we so 
The poultry yard was visited.; geese, tur- ty ?” Do you fret when it rains, because 
keys, liens and chickens exumiued anil com- you can’t go out? and do you fret when it’s 
mented on, the eggs gathered up, and then a fine sunshiny day, because of the heat? 
the children returned to the house. Fretting because nobody comes to see you, 
Next morning, Robbie, who was decided- and fretting because you don’t want any- 
ly a wide-awake boy, was up as soon as body to come? Afrettygirl is a tiresome, 
anyone, and out to the barn with Jounnie. troublesome creature. Perhaps you say, 
Rillah was just setting the table, when “ But I have so many trials to bear, so many 
with a great “ rattle ty-bang,” and one or hard lessons to learn, or too much work to 
two whoops, Robbie came in at the kitchen d 0 .” Well, suppose you have, docs fretting 
door, bare-headed, and bis hat carried care- help you any ? The longer you sit fretting, 
fully in his hands. the larger will your troubles appear. Do 
“Oh, Rillah!” he shouted, “just guess y 0 ur duty, and bear patiently the troubles 
what I’ve found ! A whole nestfull of which may beset you. Be satisfied with 
and leaves and things, and got the juice out.” 
This was said very soberly, but Rillah 
laughed, while Robbie, much discomfited, 
listened to her description of sugar making. 
“ Any way, 1 don’t believe you know 
what a tunnel is,” said Robbie, desirous of 
knowing more than Rillah did about 
something. 
“ Yea, we’ve got two.” 
It was Robbie who laughed now. 
“ 1 menu the tunnels we have in Chicago. 
There’s one out into the lake where we get 
our water to drink. Then you can cross the 
river by going through a tunnel. You will 
see them when you come down to visit us. 
And then they were called to breakfast. 
Marquette, Wis. Aunt Phebe. 
-♦■»♦ 
GOLDEN WORDS FOR THE YOUNG. 
It is safer for me to abstain than to drink. 
If I should indulge in drink, I am afraid I 
should not stop at the line which many call 
temperance, but should become a slave to the 
habit, and with others of stronger nerve and 
firmer purposes go down to a drunkard’s 
grave. If 1 indulge, l am not. safe. If I 
abstain, my child will not be cursed with a 
drunken father. We talk of the dignity of 
human uaturc, and of relying upon our self- 
respect for security, but there is no degrada 
tion so low that a man will not. sink into, 
and no crime so Hellish that lie will not. com¬ 
mit when lie is drunk. There is nothing so 
base, so impure, so mean, so dishonest, so 
corrupt that a man will not do when under 
the law of sin—of appetite. Safety is to be 
found in not yielding ourselves to that law. 
Bill, if it could be proved conclusively to 
my own mind tliat, 1 could drink and never 
be injured, yet with ray views on the subject 
it would be my duly to abstain. I could not 
be certain but others, seeing tne drink, might 
be influenced to drink also ; and being unable 
to stop, pass on in the path of the drunkard. 
My example would, in that case, be evil; but 
I ask, am I my brother’s keeper ? Yes, I am 
responsible for my influence, urn! lest it shall 
be evil, l am under a high moral and relig¬ 
ious obligation to deny myself that which 
may not injure me, but will injure him. If 
1 neither taste nor touch, nor handle, nor 
countenance, then my example will not lead 
others to become drunkards.— Gov. Buck¬ 
ingham. 
-- 
WONDERS OF SMALL LIFE. 
Lewenboeck tells us of an insect seen 
with the microscope, of which twenty-seven 
millions would only equal a mite. Insects of 
various kinds may be seen in the cavities of 
a grain of sand. Mold is a forest of beauti¬ 
ful trees, with the branches, leaves, flowers 
and fruits. Butterflies are fully feathered. 
Hairs are hollow tubes. Tlie surface of our 
bodies is covered with scales like fish ; a 
single grain of sand would cover one hun¬ 
dred and fitly of these scales, and yet a sin¬ 
gle scale covers five hundred pores. Through 
these narrow openings the sweat forces its 
way out like water through a sieve. The 
mites make five hundred steps a second. 
Each drop of stagnant water contains a 
world of animated beings, swimming with 
as much liberty as whales in the sea. Each 
leaf has a colony of insects grazing on it, 
like oxen in a meadow. 
- 
DON’T FRET. 
Some young folks are always fretting. 
Are you a member of the “ Fretting Socie¬ 
ty?” Do you fret when it rains, because 
you can’t go out? and do you fret when it’s 
a fine sunshiny day, because of the heat ? 
Fretting because nobody comes to see you, 
and fretting because you don’t want any¬ 
body to come? A fretty girl is a tiresome, 
troublesome creature. Perhaps you say, 
“ But I have so many trials to bear, so many 
hurd lessons to learn, or too much work to 
do.” Well, suppose you have, does fretting 
help you any ? The longer you sit fretting, 
the larger will your troubles appear. Do 
your duty, and bear patiently the troubles 
ablmtl) Jltabing. 
LEAD ME HIGHER. 
T , ,ue,r * a ' little one made 
to understand that “Mother’s will” is su¬ 
perior to its Own, there will rarely, if ever, 
fie any manifestations of rebellion as the 
cfnld grows older. 
Ladies’ conventional clubs are becoming 
popular in the Western States. b 
We nan never be too oarefnl 
What the seed our hands shall sow; 
Love from love is sure to ripen. 
Hate from hate is sure to arow; 
Seeds of good nr ill vra scatter 
Heedlessly along our way; 
But a glad or grievous fruitage 
Waits us at the harvest day. 
Whatsoe’er our sowing be, 
Reaping, we its fruits must see. 
eggs. Such big ones 1 The old hen was 
awful ugly — scratched and bit, and lit,” 
(Robbie, didn’t study grammar.) “ But I 
wasn’t a bit afraid of her. I got a long stick 
and I just punched her. She flew off, pretty 
mad, I guess.” 
“ Oh, Robbie, you naughty, naughty boy 
Those are old Speck’s eggs—my hen’s. She’s 
been setting on them two weeks.” 
“What does she do that for?” asked 
ROBBrE. 
“ To make chickens, of course, ” re¬ 
turned Rillah, rather crossly; and, taking 
the eggs, she started for the barn, Robbie 
following. 
“ I say, Rillah, I wouldn’t have touched 
them, if I’d known that,” said Robbie. 
“ Well, I ’spose you ain’t to blame, as 
long as you didn’t know any better,” returned 
RiLLAn, feeling still rather cross. 
“I ain’t quite as green as Will Jones 
was,” said Robbie, as he watched Rii.lah 
put the eggs carefully back. “ He thought 
maple sugar grew on the trees. But I just 
told him that they boiled up the bark 
what God gives you; look to him for help, 
and stop this disagreeable whimpering and 
fretting about trifles.— Youth's Cabinet. 
-♦♦♦- 
DR FRA NKLIN’ S TOAST. 
Dr. Franklin once dined with the Eng¬ 
lish and French ambassadors, when the fol¬ 
lowing toasts were drunk: 
The British ambassador said:—“ England 
—the sun whose bright beams entlighten 
and fertilize the remotest corners of the 
earth.” 
The French ambassador, glowing with 
national pride, but too polite to dispute the 
previous toast, drank“ France—the moon 
whose mild, steady and cheering rays are 
the delight of all nations, consoling them in 
darkness, and making their dreariness beau¬ 
tiful.” 
Dr. Franklin then arose, and, with his 
usual dignified simplicity, said :—“ George 
Washington,—the Joshua who commanded 
the sun and moon to stand still, and they 
obeyed him.” 
by grace guknn. 
Lbau mo, oh my Heavenly Father I 
Lead me evermore, I pray,— 
Lead me gently, lead me flrrnly, 
Lead me higher day by day. 
Close above mo .Htorm-cloudu gather. 
Fraught with thunders deep and long; 
All tho way is dark and stormy,— 
1 am weak, but Thou art strong. 
From tho dawning of tho morning 
To the mists of evening gruy, 
Subtle tempters close besot me— 
Load me, lost I go astray. 
Earth hath sins, und Joys, and sorrows. 
Crowding oft ’twixt Th«o und thine; 
I would still through all Its portions 
Feel Thy hand close clasping mine. 
Load mo. oh my Heavenly Father I 
Loud mo ovormorn, I pray,— 
Load me gently, loud mo flrmly. 
One stop higher ovory day. 
Saginaw City, Mloh., April, 1871. 
THE LORD’S PRAYER 
I used to think the Lord’s Prayer was a 
short prayer; but as I live long and see 
more ot lile, I begin to believe there is no 
such thing as getting through it. If a man 
in praying tliat prayer were to be stopped in 
every sentence until lie thoroughly prayed 
it, it would take him a lifetime. “ Our fath¬ 
er”—there would be a wall a hundred feet 
high in just these two words to some men. 
If be might say “ our tyrant,” or our mon¬ 
arch,” or even “our Creator,” he could get 
along with it, but “our Father,”—why, the 
mail is almost a saint who can pray that. 
You read, “ Thy will be done,” and you 
say to yourself, “ O, I can pray that,” but 
God says, “ How is it about your temper and 
your pride? How is it about your business 
and your daily life?” This is a revolution¬ 
ary petition. It would make any man’s shop 
or store tumble to the ground to utter it. 
Who can stand at the end of the avenue 
along which all his pleasant thoughts and 
wishes ure blossoming like flowers, and send 
these terrible words, “Thy will be done,” 
crushing through it? I think it the most 
searching prayer to pray in the world. 
- - 
THE WORLD’S WORK. 
Our external lives are not made up of 
great occasions, and our greatness is not in 
superhuman and exhaustive effort, but in 
gradual growth, and this is nourished by 
little daily acts and sacrifices and efforts 
which call into exercise every faculty of soul 
and sense; and the lives which most deserve 
to be called sublime are those of which the 
world anrl hi story and poetry lake Utile ac¬ 
count. The lives of men and women around 
us are, for the most part, commonplace, and 
we could not afford to have iL otherwise. If 
all of them were reaching alter occasions of 
rendering themselves sublime, how would 
the world’s work be done? The world’s 
work is tiresome, perplexing, uncongenial, 
and sometimes, and for some people, of no 
cessity, it is very disagreeable and mculul 
service, yet in the spirit in which this work 
may be conceived and carried forward to 
the end, there is a sublime purpose and con¬ 
secration, bo the end never so humble, 
--- 
CLEANLINESS NEXT TO GODLINESS. 
Wesley was the only revival preacher 
we ever heard of that had the moral cour¬ 
age to tell his hearers, “ Cleanse your per¬ 
sons and dwellings, else I shall never believe 
that you have cleansed your souls 1” Wes¬ 
ley’s directions to his preachers on this mat¬ 
ter are models of plain speaking. So often 
did be repeat his favorite saying, and to such 
good purpose, that among his people clean¬ 
liness became not only a household word 
tmt a household virtue; and to this day 
many Wesleyans regard the words that head 
our article as a saying of holy writ.— Family 
Treasury. 
-- ■ 
Union of Churches and Races.—A 
Sunday school that is “ Union” through and 
through was established during the past sea¬ 
son by a missionary in Sibley County, Min¬ 
nesota. It began with seven teachers and 
forty-five scholars. The teachers are Bap¬ 
tist, Congregational, and Methodist, 'flic 
settlement Is a mixture of Americans, Irish, 
Germans, and Norwegians. There is unusu¬ 
al harmony In regard to the Sunday school, 
and the interest increases. They look upon 
it as the institution of the settlement. 
--— 
Seven years of silent inquiry are needful 
for a man to learn the truth, but fourteen in 
order to learn how to make it known to his 
fellow men.— Plato. 
Life is too much for most. So much of 
age, so little of youth; living for the most 
part in the moment., and dating existence by 
the memory of its burdens.— Alcott. 
Religion, if it be true, is central truth, 
and all knowledge which is not gathered 
round it, and quickened and illuminated by 
it, is hardly worthy the name. — Channing. 
