Thoreau says, more in sadness Ilian satire. 
They are sweet-tempered, but far less happy 
than they might be; affectionate, bill not so 
loving as the world needs; in every direc¬ 
tion these dear girls have more latent than 
conscious power, and, to rouse them to more 
abundant life, need physical, mental, moral 
work. Wilh some, “I ought" may call 
forth the responsive “ 1 willwhen it does 
not, it is a good thing for the soul to hear a 
Voice, stern but full, loving, say “ yoif must." 
Work is absolutely good for all women. 
Voluntary work is always best and highest, 
both in itself and in its results. One who 
works as “ rejoicing to run a race,’’ becomes 
courage and inspiration to many others. 
Next to Ibis is patient work, for surely a 
patient submission to God’s will may lead to 
joyous activity in doing that will. But even 
compulsory and distasteful work is better 
than idleness, as health is better than sick¬ 
ness, and life better than death, 
Shall we working women complain of our 
“misfortune" and so lose our blessing? 
Why may we not so ennoble our work, by 
making it voluntary and earnest, that wc 
can thank (ion for it? Tills may be called 
sentimentality, but it was no sentimentalist 
wlio said ; 
“ Get leave to work. 
In this worlu ’tis the best yon set at all, 
For Uoi> in cursing wives us better Kitts 
Than men in benedictions. 
******* 
Get work, wet work, 
Be sure ’tls better than what you work to get.” 
And there was One who spake as never 
man spake ; He said :—“ My Father worketh 
hitherto, and I work.” M. m. t. 
kite laughing and dancing all the time. 
And now, looking down, Bob saw the chil¬ 
dren coining out of school. 
“ Oil!—011 1 —Ob !— my gracious !” at last 
screamed Bob, and down, down, yes, right 
off the sola be tumbled. 
“ Why, Bob," exclaimed Sue, “ what is 
the matter?—lmw you did screech !’’ 
“ Ob, did I? Well, I thought—I guess I 
was dreaming; but I thought l was fastened 
to my big kite, and that it kept laughing at 
as the members of a family or school, may 
join together, each affixing his or her name 
to a common promise, just as men sign a 
petition. The pledge or promise should al¬ 
ways be dated. 
For tho benefit of any who may wish to 
sign a temperance or anti liquor pledge in 
the manner I have indicated, 1 submit two 
forms, one of them in rhyme. Be sure, 
whether you sign the one or the other, tore- 
member your act—to keep sacredly your 
promise. These are the pledges or promises: 
1. “I (or we) do hereby solemnly promise 
to abstain from the use of all intoxicating 
liquors as a beverage.” 
(Place and date.) (Name.) 
2. “The flowing bowl, 
That wrecks tho soul. 
And proves the. mind’s eclipse; 
That, ruins health, 
And scallers wealth, 
Shull never touch our Ups. 
Thn giant Alcohol, 
We’ll light until the fall.” (Nnmes.) 
In No. 2, if only one is signing, “our,” in 
the sixth line, should be changed to “my,” 
and “ we’ll," in the last, to “ I’ll.” 
Fourteen. 
BOB WINKLE'S KITE, 
Bob Winkle had been reading about the 
Chinese kites—those curious kites made to 
represent different figures; a great bird 
with its wings spread out, or a dragon with 
claws, or a girl with a bright dress. 
BT MARIE 8. LADD. 
Have you spied a bright-eyed maiden, 
Blossoms In her hand, 
And her ringlets quite o’erladen. 
Waving e'er a wand? 
If you saw her, did she tempt you 
With her winning wiles— 
You pursuing, she retreating. 
Beaming e'er her smiles l 
Hied she toward the gold of Ophir, 
Or the Ocean Isles, 
Wooing, charming and beguiling. 
Glancing e’er her smiles? 
Did she point to Fame's fair beacon. 
Torched to light the way. 
Crowned with garlands Intermingled, 
Fair, with leaves of bay ? 
I pursued her; since the morning 
She lias fled my sight. 
And the darkness closes 'round me, 
Who will stay her flight? 
I nm groping In the shadows 
On my weary way ; 
'Till I find tho sonny maiden 
It will ne’er be day. 
HELP YOUR MOTHER. 
A PROTEST. 
The throne of Prussia 1ms been occupied 
by monarchs witli Homo of whose names 
pleasant memories have been retained. One 
of these, we are told, was one day a little 
annoyed at having to ring bis bell more than 
once without any one answering it. On 
opening the door of his cabinet and entering 
the imto-clmmber lie was surprised to find 
his page last asleep in a chair. His first im¬ 
pulse was to awaken him, and had he done 
so, no doubt he would have done il rather 
roughly. On coming lip to the sleeper, how¬ 
ever, a playful thought seemed to seize his 
majesty (for kings are but men,) and he re¬ 
solved to amuse himself a little at the page’s 
expense. 
There was hanging partly out of the hoys’ 
pocket a paper, on which the king observed 
something was written. Ills curiosity was 
excited. He would gratify it. It would be 
mean for a fellow-servant to do such a thing, 
no doubt, but it was dj Here lit, with him. Did 
he not, wear a Crown? Bo he quietly leaned 
forward, and as stealthily as any London 
pick pocket, extracted the letter,and retreat¬ 
ed into the royal apartment. 
"Tiffim'ff'iiL 1 Sfo-t, he opened It; and with a 
gleam of amusement iff li l |e co m- 
mcnced reading. The letter was from ffTe" 
boy’s mother, and was as follows: 
“My dear Son: I return you muny thanks 
for tho money you saved From your salary, and 
sent to me. It has proved u very great help to 
me. God Will ecrliiinly reward you, my dear 
hoy. for It, and If you oontlmm ro serve your 
God mat your king faithfully and conscientious¬ 
ly, you will UOt fall of mh'Cckk grid prosperity in 
this world. From your loving mother, 
Mary ♦ * * ” 
By tho time the king had finished the let¬ 
ter, li is amused look had given place to an 
expression of admiration, justice, and be¬ 
nevolence, 
“ Worthy hoy,” lie exclaimed, “ and equal¬ 
ly worthy mother. The act shall be reward¬ 
ed.’’ And then, stepping sol'lly into his 
closet, lie fetched -a number of ducats (worth 
9s. Oil. each) and pul them, with the letter, 
into the hoy’s pocket. After this he rung 
the bell violently, which brought the page 
into his presence. 
“ You have been asleep, 1 suppose,” said 
the king. 
The page stammered out an excuse; and 
in doing so he put his hand into his pocket, 
and felt the money. Pale, and with his eyes 
full of tears, he looked at the king implor¬ 
ingly. 
“ What is the matter with you?” said his 
Majesty. 
“ Oh,” replied the hoy, “ somebody has 
contrived my ruin ; I know nothing of this 
money 1” 
“ ‘ What God bestows,’ ” resumed the 
king, using a German proverb, “ * he bestows 
in sleep;’ send the money to your mother, 
and give my respects to her, and tell her 
that I will take cure of both her and you.” 
It was with a light heart the page wrote 
home his next letter. Although the reader 
may have no royal master to reward his 
virtue, he may still, by being kind to his 
mother, if he have one, enjoy that which 
after all was the principal ingredient in llie 
boy’s cup of happiness, namely, the satis¬ 
faction of denying one’s self of something, 
for the sake of her, who sacrificed so much 
for us in our infancy. 
I? A. I oSTl ’ 11ST G- 
Now, thought Bob, I will make a great 
big kite, and l will paint a face on it—it 
will look so funny wriggling about up in the 
air. So Bob set to work. It took him two 
days to make the frame ; then, by pasting 
two large sheets of white paper together, lie 
got, one sheet big enough to cover it. Then 
lie set it lip carefully in the barn, and when 
the paste was dry enough, he commenced 
the face, by painting a nose, straight down 
in the middle. Next ho painted the eyes, 
with lines over them for the eye-brows—and 
just then the supper hell rang. 
Boh didn’t mean to say a word about the 
kite till it was all finished and ready to fly; 
but, somehow, he couldn’t quite help saying 
to his sisters, Sub and .Jenny, “ To-morrow 
I guess you’ll see .somethin^. But it was 
dark nmv, alter Slipper—Mu> dark to do any¬ 
thing in the barn,—so Bob threw himself 
down on the sofa. 
"What a pity,” thought Bob, “ to go to 
school to-day 1 1 will steal away into the 
barn and finish my kite.” 
Bob takes up the brush to paint. “Oh 
my! what great eyes I have made!—and 
how they keep looking right at me! Dear 
me, they almost scare me!” thought Bob. 
“ Why, what’s the matter with you old kite, 
can’t you keep still!—did I joggle you? 
Here, now, I’ll tie the string right round my 
waist, and then I guess you’ll behave. And 
now let me paint the mouth. Hey, your 
eyes! I thought you were winking nt me! 
Now for the mouth. I’ll make a straight 
mark and a straight broad line.” 
Bob drew,—but it didn’t slay straight a 
minute. It looked all of a sudden just like a 
n-IE KITE. 
me, and Hying up high in the air, and drag¬ 
ging mo up,—it seems just as though it 
really did, and not like a dream at all.” And 
Bob began looking at his mother and sisters, 
and rubbing his eyes, to make sure he was 
actually awake. 
When the next morning really came, Ihe 
kite was found standing up where Bob had 
left it, as quiet and well-behaved as proper 
kites usually are. Bob painted the mouth, 
and painted some hair, and also some red 
hi the cheeks. And now that the spring 
winds had come — which are thought by 
wise people to blow on purpose for kite (ly¬ 
ing— Sue and Jenny and all the hoys in 
the neighborhood helped Bob about sending 
Up the kite. 
It went up without carrying any boy ftp 
with It, and it went up beautifully. Half the 
people in the village watched It, and every 
one pronounced it a wonderful kite. l. s. 
SINGING IN FAMILIES, 
Children are delighted with poetry at 
early age; and what is loved in early life 
cannot be easily effaced lu later years. A 
lady informed us a lew clays since, that when 
a very little girl, she had learned hundreds 
of hymns and poetical effusions—not of 
a childish, hut. of a pure and elevated char¬ 
acter. This early discipline, she says, has 
been a safeguard to her all her life—a pres¬ 
ervation against sin and folly. 
Among the German forefathers it was a 
common practice, in professedly Christian 
families, to teach their children hymns and 
spiritual songs. The children had thus use¬ 
ful employ meat afforded them to fill up the 
time which would otherwise have been spent 
in idleness, if not in something worse. Fre¬ 
quent repetitions of them at intervals, 
prompted to efforts to connect the poetry 
with music, and this gradually led them to 
acquire a taste and cultivate a talent for sing¬ 
ing. To Lh is simple practice limy be attrib¬ 
uted, in a great degree, the finely cultivated 
musical talent of the German people. 
Singing in the family adds greatly to the 
interest of devotional exercises, especially 
among children. It, makes the family altar 
and borne circle a pleasant place. The in¬ 
fluences of vocal music of a social character 
have always been very happy indeed. Show 
us the family where good music is cultivated, 
where the parents and children are accus¬ 
tomed often to mingle their voices together 
in song, and we will show you one, in al¬ 
most every instance, where peace, harmony 
and love prevail, and where the greater vices 
have no abiding place. 
ANOTHER ALPHABET STANZA, 
In the Rural New-Yorker of April 1st, 
was a Stanza containing all the let ters of the 
alphabet, which it was thought some of us 
younger members of its family might like to 
commit to memory. I send another, about, 
Temperance, which, like its predecessor, 
aside from its containing the alphabet, will 
at least do no harm if remembered. Here 
it is: 
“ Never drink of the (lustsiting cup. 
Never wine, or liquor sup; 
il ymi expect friends to be umong, 
Then go and Join I,lie temperance throng.” 
By the way, how many of those who read 
the department of the Rural beaded “ For 
OUR MOTHER. 
Round the idea of one’s mother the mind 
of a man clings with fond affection. It. is 
the first deep thought stamped upon our in¬ 
fant hearts when yet soft and capable of re¬ 
ceiving the most profound impressions, and 
the after feelings of the world are more or 
less light in comparison. Even in our old 
age we look back to that feeling as one of 
the sweetest we have through life. Our pas¬ 
sions and our wilful ness may lead us far 
Irom the object of our filial love ; we learn 
even to pain her heart, to oppose her wishes, 
to violate her commands; we may become 
wild, headstrong and angry at her counsels 
or opposition ; but when death has stilled 
her monitory vojee, and still memory re¬ 
mains U) recapitulate her virtues and good 
deeds, affection, like a flower beaten to the 
ground by a past storm, raises up her head 
and smiles among her tears. Round that 
idea, as we have said, the mind clings with 
fond affection ; and even when the early 
period of our loss forces memory to be silent, 
fancy takes the place of remembrance and 
twines the image of our dead parent with a 
garland of graces and beauties and virtues 
which we doubt not she possessed. 
Constancy.—A young British officer in 
India, who was shockingly mutilated and 
disfigured in battle, after mature reflection 
requested a comrade to write to bis be¬ 
trothed in England, and release her from the 
bridal engagement. Her noble reply was 
worthy of a true woman Tell him if 
there is enough of bis body left to contain bis 
soul, 1 shall hold him to his engagement.” 
AN OLD CUSTOM 
In most parts of Lancashire, England, it 
is customary for the children to repeat the 
following invocation every evening before 
going to bed, after saying the Lord’s Prayer 
and the A postles’ Creed : 
Matthew, Mark, I.uko and John, 
Bless the bed that L sleep on ; 
There are four uurnerx to my bed 
And four angels overspread— 
Two at the f«et, t wo at the heud, 
If any III thins mo betide, 
Beneath your wins* my body hide. 
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John 
Bless the bed that i sleep on.—Amen, 
Happiness. —Help others, and you relieve 
yourself. Go out and drive away the cloud 
from that distressed friend’s brow, and you 
will return with a lighter heart. 
