iiVim ||0rt-Jf0U0. 
THE SILVER WEDDING. 
Dm you think I could forget. It, 
Five and twenty yearsa-gone? 
On a beautiful May morning, 
Flowers were blooming on the lawn; 
My heart wus tilled with gladness, 
And my cheeks wore flushed with pride 
While I waited for your coming— 
I was soon to be a bride. 
Five and twenty years, my darling. 
Since that morn have passed away 
Let ns count them, looking backward, 
Till we reach our wedding day. 
Do you see the sun above us. 
And the blue and doodles* sky. 
And remember bow that morning. 
We were happy, you und 1 ? 
Do you see the low-roofed dwelling, 
With Its white and shinmgfloor. 
And the hewed logs matched so nicely, 
And the rose-tree by the door? 
A nd the wedding guests. 1 see them 
Through the five and twenty years. 
Sitting quietly around us. 
Smiling fondly through their tears. 
They were only those who loved us, 
As we stood there, you and 1, 
Looking forward to the future, 
Through a clear and cloudless sky. 
Ah. to-day In looking backward, 
J can see you hi an dim.' there. 
In your pride of youthful manhood, 
With your brnw unmarked by care. 
And I stood that day beside you, 
In my robe of simple white, 
Without gems or costly Jewels, 
Flashing In the morning light. 
Just a loving heart 1 gave you, 
As our hands were clasped that day, 
With no cloud upon our future- 
only sunshine in our way. 
Five and twenty years, my darling. 
Through the sunshine and the shade. 
We have walked beside each other, 
In the path our love has made. 
But the clouds have gathered o’er us. 
Drifting down the stream of life. 
And our hearts have throbbed with sorrow, 
Since you claimed me ns u wife. 
But to-night, in looking backward. 
Looking backward all the way. 
Through the clouds, the storuiB and sunshine, 
That have gathered since that day, 
There Is more of good than evil, 
Though our feet have tired grown 
Five and twenty yoars, my darling. 
Since our wedding day has Mown. 
[Mrs. C. if. Stowe. 
-- 
THE WANDERING STREAMLET. 
BY .MOLLY. 
A little limpid stream had wandered 
away, lured by the flowing knolls, and dark, 
rich foliage of fern and swamp grass grow¬ 
ing on fine side of the narrow valley through 
which ils waters had slowly glided. It crept 
noiselessly along, until at length its further 
progress was suddenly stayed by a barricade 
of earth and tangled weeds stretching along 
line directly across its course. And the little 
rivulet, once so bright and happy, began to 
show signs of despondency. It glided dose 
up to the hank, and, with a great soli tried 
to force a passage tor ils impeded waters. 
Hut its route was so divided by clumps of 
grass and mounds of earth, and ils force 
thereby so much diminished, that all efforts 
to escape proved futile. 
Again and again did it try to force the 
harrier, lint without success. And with a 
a low, sad wail it murmured, “ O, why did I 
so foolishly leave the pleasant valley where 
the Line eyes of the violet gazed lovingly in¬ 
to my liquid depths—where the birds whose 
carols were not more joyous nor free than 
my light warhlings, paused in their flight to 
touch me with their soft pinions—and where 
the knowledge of this rank, noisome fen, 
into which I strayed had never come to 
me?" And more pitiful grew the sobbing 
of the wayward but nmv penitent rivulet, 
till it became almost AEoIian in its plaintive 
melody. 
God heard the .sigh, felt the sob, and 
knew the fear of the little wayward wan¬ 
derer; and calling the great storm king 
from his covert, bade him marshal all his 
best forces and do battle with the elements 
of earth. The day became as night I Low, 
deep mutterings shook the earth ; the artil¬ 
lery of the great storm king made vivid the 
heavens. The poor little brooklet quivered 
with fear, and creeping close to the banks of 
flay felt the floods descend to the very 
foundations of its troubled waters, and 
mingling with its own liquid elements, bore 
the little stream higher and higher above 
the dark weeds. And yet the storm raged 
°“ ! Then the great barricade that hail re¬ 
sisted the rivulet's strongest efforts, swept 
like x straw before the tide, and the happy, 
heed brooklet glided swiftly along through 
tillaged fluids, near cottage homes, where 
lights gleamed cheerily from vine-wreathed 
windows (for the blackness of the tempest 
compelled the cottagers to light their lamps) 
oil, until in the distance the murmuring of 
a river was sweetly home upon the evening 
mr—now rising, now swelling like a mother's 
hHlaliy, hiring the tired child from the day's 
activities to soft, sweet slumber. 
Ami then the clouds changed from murky 
fi.ooiii t0 crimson and gold, as the day-god 
(‘stppeared beneath the horizon — and 
ocadi Luna’s clear, pure, tender eyes the 
e u eary rivulet emptied its now sparkling 
a . ei8 1,110 ,I|C placid river’s ample bosom, 
U was caj rrled sweetly, joyously along to 
j the ocean; and there, amid cool grottoes and 
coral caves, it may perhaps even now be 
chanting its glad song of deliverance from 
the terrible fate of becoming a filthy, stag¬ 
nant pooi—avoided by pilgrim and people us 
a nuisance and an evil. 
- 
LIVE RIGHT. 
“To be insensible to evil that, is spoken of 
you, you must be likewise so to the good."— Old 
Maxim. 
A very great deal is said and written, ex¬ 
horting men and women to be independent 
of public opinion ; but it issoagainat human 
nature lo lie so that few acquire the gift, un¬ 
less Nature has first implanted it in their 
minds. None lint. Hie most combative or 
reckless are really indifferent to either the 
good or evil that is 9 pokcn of them. The 
mistake that many make is the being so sen¬ 
sitive of what is thought and said of them 
that they stoop lo unworthy acts to avoid 
t he censure and win the praise of men. 
We ought always to have moral courage 
enough to live up to our ide «9 of right, no 
matter what is said of us. The desire to be 
well thought of and well spoken of is one of 
the incentives to virtue, and is not to he con¬ 
demned so long as we only use worthy and 
suitable means to gain approbation ; and do 
not let the fear of reproach keep us from do¬ 
ing our duty. B. c. D. 
Elkborn, Wis., 1871. 
-- 
THE ETHICS OF DRESS. 
Very sensible are these remarks from the 
Chicago Magazine; 
Imprimis .—The first instinct about a new 
fashion is the true one. Don’t wait till your 
eye lias Inst its accuracy and your judgment 
its edge. Subject the thing at once to the 
general rule, and how to the decision. 
Second .—Wlml suits one person does not 
suit another. Know thyself. 
Third. — Dress should supplement good 
points and correct had ones. Thick and 
thin, long and short are not all to be subject¬ 
ed to one Procrustean style. 
Fourth- — Colors should ho harmonious, 
should lie 'mussed —should he becoming. Id 
est, many little points or blotches of color 
sprinkled over a costume produce adisagrec- 
ahly pied and speckled effect, as of a mon¬ 
strous robin’s egg or a plum pudding. One 
tint should prevail, relieved by a contrasting 
lint. No amount of fashionable jrrcstu/c can 
make an unbecoming color becoming. Nile 
Cw C~\ 
Dotmg j-lcoplf. 
“LOOK IN THE GLASS.” 
BY E. F. M. 
A MOTHER tried tn vain, 
Her little son to train 
From linger to refrain,— 
Yea, tried ami tried again. 
Slio know not what to do ; 
That, angry face to view 
Win too rnueh for her-true— 
Punish she must, she knew. 
A le/iffi might him alright, 
But would not euro his spite— 
At least, she thought not quite, 
For that she tried one night. 
What, then, would do, alas! 
His fault she might, not pass— 
Wlf brings success at last, 
" Look, Henry, in the glass.” 
So quick the child obeyed. 
That there lie saw portrayed 
His face try anger made 
So dark, he was afraid. 
He did not know before 
What linger held in store 
To cloud Ills face alt o’er— 
Stick face ho wished no more. 
Wisconsin. Aug., 1871. 
—-♦♦♦- 
THE TWO GOOD ERLENDS. 
BY LATTRA SOUTHGATE. 
All the hoys and girls who read the 
Rural New-Yorker have heard, I am sure, 
of the Tower of London, that grim, old 
prison which was built hundreds of years 
ago, and where so many horrible things have 
been done—so many people shut up, and 
tortured and killed. There it was that 
Ltulv Jane Grey was beheaded, and Anne 
Bolf.yn and hundreds of others. These 
dreadful things happened a long time ago, 
and now strangers go there to see the place, 
because people we read about in history 
have been imprisoned and have suffered 
there. Also they like to go to sec the 
Queen’s crown aud other jewels which are 
kept there. 
Now, in one part of this old Tower, thirty 
or forty years ago, they used to keep wild 
animals in cages—a kind of menagerie. 
The price or admission was sixpence; but 
sometimes, when people hadn’t sixpence to 
pay, they brought a dog or a cat for the 
lion’s dinner. 
Well, one day a man brought a litlle black 
spaniel, which the keeper took and threw in 
the rage for the lion to eat. Hut the poor 
green will turn some people into oranges, little dog!—how dreadfully frightened he 
though twenty empresses ordain ils adoption. 
ntth .—Lines should he continuous, grace¬ 
ful and feminine. It. is better to look like a' 
woman (if you happen to he one) Ilian like 
anything else—even a fashion plate! 
Sixth ,—Ornament must lie subordinate. 
Nature, with all her profusion, never forgets 
this fundamental law. 
Seventh .—-Above all things, he neat,. Dain¬ 
ty precision and freshness is as essential to a 
woman as a dower. 
-S Hghth ,—Individuality is the rarest and the 
cheapest thing in the world. 
Ninth .—And lastly, “stylish" is, of all the 
words in the English language, the most 
deadly, It has slain its thousands. 
-- 
A BEAUTIFUL CUSTOM. 
In the mountains of the Tyrol it is the 
custom of the women and children to come 
out. when it is bedtime to sing their national 
songs until they hear their husbands, fath¬ 
ers and brothers answer them from the hills 
on their return home. On the shores of 
the Adriatic such a custom prevails. There 
the wives of the fishermen comedown about 
sunset and sing a melody. After singing 
the first stanza they listen awhile for the 
answering strain from off the water, and 
continue to sing and listen till the well 
known voices come borne over the tide, tell 
ing that the loved ones are almost home. 
How sweet to the weary fishermen, as the 
was! He trembled all over, and crouched 
in one coiner; thentortni'd on his hack and 
put. up his paws as though lie was begging 
for pity. 
The lion went up to him and turned him 
with his great paw, first on one side then on 
the other, and then he put his nose close 
down to him. Every one was surprised, for 
the lion generally lore little dogs to pieces 
in an instanl. Hut when the keeper saw 
this singular behavior, he went to his own 
room and brought some dinner, which he 
put in the cage. And then directly the lion 
seemed to be coaxing Ibc little dog to eat 
some of it. 
The poor fellow was too much frightened 
to move, but the lion continued, In his dumb 
way, to coax him, and pretty soon the dog 
went, timidly and ate ; then the lion went up 
gently and ate some too. After this the little 
dog became less frightened; and quite a 
sight it was to see what friends the two 
soon became. They would play together all 
day, and then they would lie down and go 
to sleep, the dog right under the lion’s jaws. 
A great many people came to see the 
strange sight of these singular friends. Hut 
in about a year the little dog was taken sick, 
ami after a few days he died. The lion at 
first acted as if he could not believe but the 
dog was asleep. He would tap him with his 
paw, and give him a litlle shake, trying to 
wake him up. But, when, after a longtime, 
lie could not bring him to, his grief seemed 
to be very great. He would look sadly down 
shadows gather round them, must he the to be very great. He would look sadly down 
songs of the loved ones at home, who sing al him lor a long time; then suddenly he 
to cheer them; and how they strengthen and Wo «W give a terrible roar. Then he would 
to cheer them; and how they strengthen and 
tighten the bonds that bind together these 
bumble dwellers by the seal Truly, it is 
among the lowly in this world that we find 
some of the most beautiful customs. 
-- 
EMPLOYMENT OF GIRLS. 
A writer in one of our exchanges says: 
When girls are taught at their mother’s 
knee, at the home fireside, in school, and in 
society, that it is as disgraceful for them to 
press the poor dead dog to his bosom, cry¬ 
ing piteously. He would not eat, though 
the keeper gave him the food he liked best, 
hut not a morsel would he touch. 
They thought if they could remove the 
body of the dog the lion would forget him 
after a while, hut the lion watched continu¬ 
ally and would not let them touch it. For 
five days this lasted, and then, one morning, 
when the keeper came in he found the lion 
lying dead by the side of the friend lie loved 
so much. They were not separated, hut 
he loafers as it is for their brothers, we sliall so much. They were not separated, I 
have gii Is demanding and getting that tlior- were buried, both together, in one grave, 
oughness of mental and technical training _ +++ _ 
which is needed in the legitimate and suc¬ 
cessful pursuit, of any employment, and not 
before. We shall have a standard then for 
scholarship, and women will look upon 
education as something better than .mental 
ruffles and furbelows, or as a mere means of 
enabling them to support themselves in gen- 
ENJOYMENT OF LIFE. 
Youno people who fancy that riches and 
leisure are necessary to secure happiness 
are requested to read and remember the 
following: 
Two wealthy gentlemen were lately con- 
Soon after I was twenty-one I worked for 
Mr.-, laying stone wall at twenty cents 
per day." 
“ Well," replied (ho other," (hat does not 
differ much from my experience.—When I 
was twenty I hired myself out at seven 
dollars per mouth. I never enjoyed myself 
better since." 
The experience of these two individuals 
teaeheSjJlral, that one’s happiness does not 
depend on the amount of his gains or the 
station he occupies; second, that very small 
beginnings, with industry and prudence, 
may secure wealth. 
-- 
TRANSPARENCIES AND ROSES. 
Jennie, in Iho Rural New-Yorker, says 
she would like the pattern of the cross trans¬ 
parency, and I send it with this. It is first 
to he drawn on Bristol board, six inches by 
eight; then the dotted linos ami marked 
edges of the leaves, and the dots cutout with 
a sharp peu-knife, and the points bent out., 
and a narrow ribbon pasted around the edge. 
The cross among the leaves forms an agree¬ 
able variety lo (lie grotesque figures of the 
curtain, shadowed by the moonlight on the 
wall. 
teel independence until they can marry, and versing in regard to the period when they 
wo shall hear no more of lack of employ- had best enjoyed themselves. “I will teil 
luent for women. you,” says one, “ when I most enjoyed life. 
I always have good success in keeping the 
color of roses by pressing them first in 
soft, newspapers, changing every few days 
till they are thoroughly dry, then keeping 
ihem in staffer papers. Wili not, some of the 
girls give a pretty, new way, of making a 
card basket or rack ?— Florence 8 ., Mu she- 
yon, Mich, 
■ - 4 *»-»- 
GAME OF BACHELOR’S KITCHEN, 
Tins game was probably instituted by a 
person who understood fully just what, kind 
of people bachelors are—and of how much 
they stand in need of just this kind of help . 1 
The idea of a bachelor furnishing bis kitch¬ 
en himself! Oh, lie couldn’t do it, and n 
good many times if lie could he wouldn’t; 
so kind people who understand the appre¬ 
ciative hearts of bachelors must do this for 
him, and the best way of doing it is illus¬ 
trated iu the following little game—which 
we describe to you as we saw it played a 
short time ago: 
The company all stood in a circle, and 
one was chosen to put questions, lie went 
round und asked every one what gift he or 
she would contribute to furnish a bachelor’s 
kitchen. One said a box, another a chair, 
another a stove, another a tea kettle, and so 
on. lie then went round again and asked 
several questions. Each one was to answer 
every question by repeating the first word 
named, and do so without laughing. If any 
one laughed he was counted out of the ring. 
One grave young man who had named a 
tea kettle as his gift, it, was thought, would 
maintain his gravity, The following was 
ilie result:—“ What did you say you would 
give the bachelor ?” “ A tea kettle." “ What 
do you boil your potatoes in?" " A tea 
kettle.’’ “ Wlmt do you feed your pigs in ?" 
“ A tea kettle." “ What do you eat out of?" 
“ A tea kettle.” “ What do you catch fish 
in ?’’ “ A te* kettle." “ What do you ride 
to town on ?’’ “ a tea kettle." Of course a 
general roar of laughter followed here, in 
which the questioned party joined and was 
counted out. 
-- —■*■*■■* -- 
THE RAINBOW. 
A little after a thunder storm a beauti¬ 
ful rainbow bridged a portion of the sky. A 
litlle boy, called Henry, saw it from the 
window, and cried out nil I of joy, “Such 
wonderful and lovely colors I never saw be¬ 
fore. Yonder, by the old willow on the 
stream, they reached from the clouds to the 
earth. Surely the leaves are trickling down 
with the beautiful Colors, I will run aud fill 
all my color shells in my paint box with 
them,” 
He ran as fast as lie could to the willow 
tree; hut, to his annoyance, the poor boy 
found biutself standing there iu the rain, anil 
could no longer perceive a single color. Wet. 
through and out of heart, he turned back 
and complained of his disappointment to bis 
father. His father smiled and said, “ These 
colors cannot he caught in any shell ( 
they are only the rain drops, which seem 
so brightly painted for a little while in 
the rays of the .sun. But so it is, my dear 
boy, with all the splendors of the world, 
though they may seem to he very beautiful, 
they are only an empty show.’’ 
If outward show thy foolish heart deceive, 
Instead of Joy, it will be thine to grieve. 
[ From the German. 
Sabbat!) i’cabitig. 
LIGHT AND SHADE. 
by MARIE a. LADD. 
i Hooch cold without the bleak wind blows, 
And desolation wastes the field— 
a lit* glowing hearth like summer throws 
Around the heart a shield. 
And yet, the frosted window pane. 
The snowy path out from the door. 
Recall from memory’* gloomy train 
The child of winters gone before. 
On friends of whom wo were bereft. 
Wo think with pain these trying hours ; 
The snow now lies where they were left 
Amid the summer llowers. 
And much that pave the heart repose 
Is frozen like a winter breath, 
And stllfonod with the chilly snows. 
Or with the touch of death. 
Vet near tint fireside’s t rusty plow 
Wo sit ana sing our homely lays: 
Without gleams white the cheerless snow— 
Within shines clear the friendly ulnzo. 
Hut as wo wend our checkered way. 
’Mid summer’s bloom mid winter’s chill. 
May wo, though shadows shroud the day. 
Await in trust ills will. 
TESTING DANGER. 
It is better, after all, to be a coward in 
some things. 
And why ? 
Because to be brave in tin? face of certain 
dangers—dangers of certain kinds—is to run 
foolish risks uncalled for, and from the verv 
nature of tilings bound to result in some de¬ 
gree of evil. 
There are young men in the gutters to day 
who were first brave, as all young men are, 
and then weak, as so many young men arc 
sure to he. Tlmir bravery worked their ruin. 
They insisted on proving dangers Unit they 
might have lot alone in all honor—that they 
might even have fled from without disgrace. 
So there are professed Christians to day in 
the Slough of Despond because they foolish¬ 
ly dared to brave dangers to their faith which 
they might readily enough have shunned. 
They could dally with vague speculations, 
they thought, without any harm, and so 
dallying they passed under the cloud. 
Society, on all sides, is full of temptations 
that invite daring. They beckon every man 
and woman of us onward ; and*(lie mistaken 
notion that it is bravo to test them impels 
thousands to destruction. A man may walk 
a rope over the very brink of Niagara, and 
come off safely, but he is infinitely safer if 
he makes no such attempt. He only who 
keeps away from danger knows wlmt per¬ 
fect security is. 
if we hold life to be of no worth, and the 
future ns not to be regarded, why then let 
us test every danger that may perchance 
wreck us. But whoso thinks? Talk light¬ 
ly as we may of what living amounts to, it 
does amount to so much for each and every 
one ot us that we would not will higly give 
it up. flow shall wo best keep it? By 
clinging to Iho safe side. If any life is worth 
aught, the best life is worth the most, and 
l he best life is the safe life. There is no truer 
logic, in the face of it, then, can we go on 
testing dangers that bring no good in the 
proving? 
- 4 - 4 - 4 .-- 
TWO MASTERS. 
You cannot serve two masters. You must 
serve one or the other. If your work is first 
with you and your fee second, work is your 
master, and the Lord of work, who is God, 
Hut it your fee is first with you and your 
work second, fee is your master, and the lord 
of fee, who is the devil, and not only the 
devil, lint the lowest of devils, “ the least 
erected fiend that fell." So there you have 
it iu brief terms, work first you are God’s 
servants, fee first you are the fiend’s. And 
if makes a difference, now and ever, believe 
me, whether you serve him who lias on his 
vesture and thigh written “ King of kings,” 
and whose service is perfect freedom, or him 
on whose vesture and thigh the name is 
written “ Slave of slaves,” and whose service 
is perfect slavery.— John Ruskin. 
- +■++ - 
The study of the magnet is one of unfail¬ 
ing interest to grown people as well as to 
children, und it is a matter of surprise that 
so little attention is given to so profitable a 
subject. We can find nothing that tenches 
so forcibly of Christ and his influence upon 
the soul—nothing that could more thorough¬ 
ly convince a skeptic of his own ignorance 
and folly. 
-4-*-*- 
When we see men who are old and in¬ 
firm, we sometimes say, “ They look like 
disbranched trees;” but if God were to 
touch our eyes, and reveal to us the compa¬ 
nies of angels that surround such venerable, 
waiting saints, we should never think that 
they were solitary, or impoverished, or to be 
pitied.— Beecher. 
-- 
Tin*: JOYFUL REUNION. 
O sir.KNT land, to which wi* move, 
Enoifgli if Un-re alone be love ; 
And mortal m*<*d can ne’er outgrow 
What ItIn waiting to bestow ! 
O white soul! from that far-off shore 
Float hour* *woot song the waters o'er, 
Our faith confirm, our fears dispel. 
With the old voice we loved so well! 
