A SUMMER PICTURE 
tion, living beyond three score and ten, gave 
it as the result, of Ids observation that “ In¬ 
tellectual pursuits tend to prolong life; ” and 
President Humphrey of Amherst College, 
said, at the age of eighty-two, “ [ have yet 
to see the man who died from the effects of 
hard study.” Newton, the greatest thinker 
of his lime, lived to the age of seventy- 
three ; and Ilersclicl, the greatest astrono¬ 
mer of his age, lived beyond ninety, and so 
did Iluinholdt, the immortal author of “ Cos¬ 
mos.” If ever a hard student dies young, 
it is because he has not lived rightly.— Dr. 
W. IP. Hall. 
From saffron to purplu, from purple to gray. 
Slow fades on llie mountain the beautiful day , 
1 alt where the rosea are heavy wit h bloom, 
And wait for the moonlight, to whiten the gloom 
BY IIANK READ 
I’m coming hack to the old house, Seth, and we’ll begin again, 
But I can’t forget the last few months with all their toil and pain— 
Though I’m very willing, same ns you, to forgive the words that pass’d 
Between us, for I know ’twns wrong, and they shall be the last. 
SEPTEMBER MUBIN GS. 
Far down the green valley I seo through the night, 
The lamps nf the village shine steady and bright; 
Hut on my swoot sllcuco tllero creeps not :t tono 
Of labor or sorrow, of pleading or mourn 
Low slugs tho glad river along It* dark way. 
An echo by night of its chiming by day, 
And tremulous braachos lean down to the tido 
To dimple tho waters that under thorn glide. 
The night,-moths are tutting about in I he gloom. 
Their wings from the blossoms shako dainty perfume; 
I know where the cups of the lilies are rule 
By tho breath of their sweetness that flouts on the air. 
A DEFINITION OF LOVE. 
1 sit In the shadow, Initio In the West. 
The mountain* In garments of glory are (Irest! 
And slowly the sheen of their brightness drops down 
To rest on the hills iu a luminous crown, 
Tho dow glitters clear where the meadows aro green, 
In ranks of white splendor tho lilies are seen, 
And the roses above mo sway lightly to greet 
Their shadowy sisters, afloat, at my feet. 
Low sings the glad river, its waters u-iight, 
A pathway of stiver, lead on through thn night ; 
Anil lair as the glorified Isles of the blest 
Lies all tho sweet valley, the valley of rest. 
[Art Review. 
Many women suppose that they love their 
husbands, when, unfortunately, they have 
not the beginning of an idea what love is. 
Let me explain it to you, my dear lady. 
Loving to he admired hv a man, loving to 
he petted by him, loving to ho caressed by 
him, and loving to be praised by him, is not 
loving a man. All these may he when a 
woman has no power of loving at nil—they 
may all he simply because she loves herself, 
and loves to he flattered, praised, caressed, 
coaxed; as a cat likes to he coaxed, and 
Stroked, and fed with cream, and have a 
warm corner. 
But all this i * not love. It may exist, to be 
sure, where there, is love , it generally does. 
But it may also exist whore there is no love. 
Love, my dear ladies, is self-sacrifice ; it is a 
life out of self and in another. Its very es¬ 
sence 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 iu every¬ 
thing to itself; it is au out-springing foun¬ 
tain, giving from itself. Love’s motto has 
been dropped iu this w arid 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 record¬ 
ed that He said:—“It is more blessed to 
give llimi to receive.” Now, in love, there 
are left receivers t.> one giver. There are 
ten persons in this world who like to he 
loved, and love love, where there is one who 
knows how to love. — Selected. 
LIFE AND LOVE 
IN THE “LAND OF FLOWERS 
OR, GERMAN EMIGRANTS IN AMERICA. 
BY ADOI.PUE RISEN BACH, M, D 
I’m sorry now for what 1 said; l know ’twns cruel, too, 
But L loved you still so well that I’ve suffered more than you; 
I didn’t dare to be the first to ask forgiveness, though 
I couldn’t live much longer with this trouble ’twixt us so. 
I couldn’t pass another year like the one I’ve lived apart 
From you, Seth, for the punishment Inis well nigh broke my heart, 
And added many a day and year to the face you’ve often said 
Was pretty, hut you’ll find me changed, in that, I’m much afraid. 
I’ve been to the old house, loo, Seth, so many, many hours, 
And often through the garden, but I’d no heart to touch the flowers; 
And many, many limes I’ve knelt in the shadow of the tree 
■Where our darling little Willie sleeps, and pray’d for you and me. 
And many an hour I’ve sat and cried beside that little mound, 
When the sunshine through the maples lay trembling on the ground; 
And I knew that day I’ve pray’d for would just as surely come, 
When we should he together there, hack in our dear old home. 
And as it is you’ll have to come and bring me bask to home, 
For I’ve been so sick and feeble, Setii; and I wouldn’t care to come 
Alone. You’ve not forgot the day we first went thro’ that door; 
You kissed me at the threshold, and we promised evermore 
To live true to each other, sharing each other’s joy and pain; 
But, oh! we didn’t keep it, Setii! and now we’ll start again, 
Aud we’ll keep it truly this time, God helping its to live 
True to Him, aud to ourselves, and willing to forgive. 
So I want you, Seth, to come for me, and promise as before, 
There in the same dear spot, beneath the vine before the door,— 
And we’ll commence anew to live, in patience and in love, 
Until we leave the old house for the better home above. 
[Continued from poijo 102 , last number.J 
A wise man will never rust out. As long 
as he can move or breathe lie will he doing 
for himself, for his neighbor, or for posterity. 
Almost to the last hour of his life, Washing¬ 
ton was at work. So were Franklin and 
Young and Howard and Newton. The 
vigor of their lives never decayed. No rust 
marred their spirits. It is a foolish idea to 
suppose that we must lie down aud die be¬ 
cause we are old. Who is old? Not the 
uiau of energy, not the day laborer in sci¬ 
ence, art or benevolence ; hut ho only who 
suffers his energies to waste away and the 
springs of life to become motionless; on 
whose hands the hours drag heavily, and to 
whom all things wear the garb of gloom. 
Is he old? should not he put; hut is he ac¬ 
tive?—can lie breathe freely and move with 
agility? There are scores of gray-headed 
men we should prefer, in any important en¬ 
terprise, to those young men who fear and 
tremble at approaching shadows, and turn 
pale at a lion iu their path, at a harsh word 
or a frown. 
THE FIRST NEWSPAPER. 
An ingenious physician of Paris—Remm- 
dot by name—rather more than two hundred 
years ago hit upon a good idea for “cutting 
out” his more learned brethren, which he 
was not long in putting into execution, to 
liia own no small advantage, and the great 
chagrin of his brother professionals. His 
plan was an extremely simple one, for he 
obtained his popularity by the very innocent 
expedient of collecting information, and then 
circulating news sheets among his patients, 
for their especial delectation anti amuse¬ 
ment. But inasmuch as the seasons were 
not always sickly, and he found lie had plenty 
of time on his hands, he was encouraged by 
his success to devote bis attention more ex¬ 
clusively to the business of journalism, by 
providing the public at large with news; 
Mid accordingly, in 1631. lie succeeded in 
obtaining for himself and family solely the 
privilege of publishing a newspaper Called 
the Gazette of France. Such, at least, is the 
account of the origin of newspapers given 
by Do Saint Foix. 
THE LAST CIGAR, 
DRAWBACKS ON CIVILIZATION, 
put them down because they are women 
and strive to win success by honestly earning 
it. They must write what people will read 
and in such a way that the reading will be 
a pleasure instead of a tax. They must. get. 
something valuable to say which no others 
have said; and they must train themselves 
to say it in a more attractive, forcible and 
convincing way than others have ever sai I 
it. Success is hedged about with a thicket 
of conditions, and whoever does not work a 
way Hi rough them by honest and persever¬ 
ing effort must be content to fail. 
Prince Bismarck is the hero of the fol¬ 
lowing anecdote:—“The value of a good 
cigar,” said Bismarck, “ is best understood 
when it is the last you possess, and there is 
no chance of getting another. At Konig- 
gmtz i bad only one cigar left in my pocket, 
which I carefully guarded during the whole 
battle as a miser does his treasure. I did 
not feel justified in using it. 1 painted in 
glowing colors in my mind the happy hour 
when I should enjoy the victory. But I 
had miscalculated the chances.” 
“Ami wlml was the cause of your mis¬ 
calculation?” 
“ A poor dragoon. Tie lay helpless, with 
both arms crushed, murmuring for some¬ 
thing to refresh him. I felt in my pockets 
and found I had only gold, and that would 
be of no use to him. But slay—1 had still 
my treasured cigar! 1 lighted this for him, 
and placed it between his teeth. You should 
have seen the poor fellow’s grateful smile. I 
never enjoyed a cigar so much as that one I 
did not smoke.” 
Nowadays a man is tied down to one 
item in a complicated process. If I could 
summon the people who have a hand in 
making the pen which now scratches over 
this paper, they would probably till the 
room. Thu restriction to one part of a pro¬ 
cess not only narrows Hie man’s mind, but 
sometimes whets the desire for a change 
into fierceness. Nature avenges herself 
when she lias been lied up too tight. Hu¬ 
man nature cannot hear such protracted 
attention to one monotonous act us t lie pres¬ 
ent minute subdivision of labor demands; 
and hence a man denied healthy change of 
work is sometimes hurried into the violent 
stimulating contrasts of debauchery. 
TIMID FEOFLE. 
It is the habit of some people to laugh at 
the terror which is experienced by others at 
the heavy thumler-crash, or the flashing 
lightning. This is both cruel and wicked, 
since the victim is no more to blame for it 
than for the color of his eyes and Indr—in 
fact, like them, it is often hereditary. Such 
persons should he pitied and soothed; and 
allowed during these periods to he always 
near some one whom they love and confide 
In. More especially is ibis true of children, 
some of whom suffer more than words can 
tell from this, as well as from other causes 
of fear. Deal gentle with such ; it is t lie only 
way to eradicate their fears ; ridicule and 
harshness will only confirm them. The 
child “afraid of the dark," should never be 
enforced to encounter it. unattended and un¬ 
watched. Idiocy has often been the sad result 
of contrary treatment. Let both parents 
and teachers, then, be thoughtful in these 
regards. 
STUDY AND LONGEVITY. 
CALUMNIES NOT TO BE HEEDED 
Because brain work promotes tho con¬ 
sumption of nutrition quite as much as bod¬ 
ily labor, a hard student will get ravenously 
hungry. The thing which keeps a man in 
health is the constant renewal of the parti¬ 
cles of his body; labor uses up the new par¬ 
ticles of nutriment, and works off the old 
ones; eating supplies new ones in their 
stead, and in this way the body is always 
ki-pt new and young and vigorous and thrifty. 
If a man does not work at all, sits still for a 
great part of his time, the old, worn out par¬ 
ticles of the system remain in it and clog it 
up. and before longthebody becomes torpid, 
and the mind dull, in time approaching to 
idiocy. The brain, like the body, appropri¬ 
ates the nutriment of food to its uses, and 
works off the old, effete matter. Kant, one 
°I l he most profound thinkers of his genera- 
We are generally losers in the end, if we 
stop to relate all tho backbitings and gns- 
sipping we may hear by the way. They are 
annoying, it is true, hut not dangerous, so 
long as we do not stop to expostulate and 
scold. Our diameters are formed and sus¬ 
tained by ourselves, by our own actions and 
purposes, and not by others. Always hear 
this in mind, that “ calumniators may usually 
be trusted to time and the slow, but steady, 
justice of public opinion.” 
FEMALE LITERARY ASPIRANTS. 
Some one (we don’t know, or we would 
tell) truthfully says:—As a rule, publishers 
are too glad to get good articles, stories and 
poems of a popular character to care whether 
they are written by man or woman: and often 
the fact that they are written by woman 
makes publishers more willing to read con- 
tribulions with a prepossessed and favoring 
mind. Women who aspire to literature as 
a profession should disabuse their minds of 
the notion that there is any conspiracy to 
The fact that the word worth, when ap¬ 
plied to character, means moral worth, shows 
that, though men may he dazzled by intel¬ 
lectual brilliancy, their real aspect cannot he 
won without virtue. There is no patriotism 
equal to that of a spotless life. 
