NIGHT IN THE FAR NORTH 
the seamstress at her sewing, the clerk be¬ 
hind the counter, the teacher in her school¬ 
room, the artist at her painting or sculpture; 
to every one in every occupation in which 
women engage. There is not so much ob¬ 
jection to woman’s working as to the manner 
in which her -work is too often performed. 
She works in too listless and mechanical a 
way, not reproducing her own nobler 
thoughts and character in her works. En¬ 
ergy and skill always leave their mark of 
recognition. One careless workwoman in¬ 
jures the reputation of her sex as workers, 
and docs wrong to many. Often she shows 
a lack of system; again it is a lack of faith¬ 
ful application. lit either case her work is 
illy done and its results unsatisfactory, its 
influence against her very bad indeed. 
ubbafli ileal)tug 
The following passage of graphic beauty 
is from the description of a scene witnessed 
by a Mr. Campbell and bis party in the 
north of Norway, from a cliff 1,000 feet 
above the sea; 
The oceau stretched away in silent vast¬ 
ness at our feet; the sound of its waves 
scarcely reached our airy look-out; away in 
the. north the huge old sun swung low along 
the horizon like the alow beat of the pendulum 
in the tall clock of our grandfather’s parlor 
corner. We. all stood silent, looking at our 
watches. When both hands come together 
at twelve, midnight, the full round orb hung 
triumphantly above the wave—a bridge of 
gold running due north spanned the water 
between us and him. There ho shone in 
silent majesty which knew no setting. We 
involuntarily took off our hats; no word 
was said. Combine, if you can, the most 
brilliant sunset and sunrise you ever saw r , 
and its beauties will pale before the gorgeous 
coloring winch now lit up ocean, heaven 
and mountain. In half au hour the sun had 
swung up perceptibly on bis beat, the colors 
changed to those of morning, a fresh breeze 
rippled over the llood, one songster after 
another piped up in the grove behind us— 
we had slid into another day. 
PENITENCE 
A PSALM OF THE RAIN 
SWEET SEVENTEEN 
DY MARIK S. I.ADD, 
BY MRS. SARAH D. HOBART. 
Whex the hay was mown. Maggie, 
In the years long ago. 
And while the western sky was rich 
With sunset’s rosy glow. 
Then hand in hand close-linked we passed 
The dewy ricks between. 
And 1 was one-and-twenty,Mag, 
And you were seventeen. 
Your voice was low and sweet, Maggie; 
Your wavy hair was brown; 
Your choek was like the wild red rose 
That showered its petals down; 
Your eyes were like the blue speedwell, 
With dowy moisture sheen. 
When I was one-and-twenty Mar, 
And you wore seventeen. 
The spring was in our hearts, Maggie, 
And all Its hopes were ours; 
Ami wo were children In the flelds, 
Among the opening flowers. 
Ay ! Life was like a summer duy 
Amid the woodlands green, 
For l was ono-and -twenty, Mag, 
And yoo were seventeen. 
The years huve come and goue. Maggie, 
With sunshine and with shade, 
And silvered is the silken hair 
That o'er ymir shoulders strayed 
In many a soft and wayward tress— 
The fairest ever seen— 
When 1 was one-und-twenty, Mag, 
And you were seventeen. 
Though gently changing Time. Maggie, 
Hus touched you in his flight; 
Your voice has Btlll the old sweet tone, 
Y i ir eye the old love-light: 
Ai i -f'.-irs cun never, never change 
The heart you gave. I ween, 
When I was one-and-tweniy, Mag, 
And you were seventeen. 
Oyer the mountain wails the rain, 
Moans the min, weeps the rain; 
Psalm of anguish and prayer of pain 
Sighs the sorrowful rain. 
Yet far below the valleys are bright, 
And rippling rivulets rush to the sea, 
The sweet birds sing In the silver light, 
And lilies bloom on the laughing lea. 
Over my life sweeps the sorrowful rain. 
Solemn rain, sighing rain : 
Prayer of anguish and plea of pain 
Moan with the moaning rain. 
Yet still I know lleaven's plains are fair, 
And tile soft light fall on the sea of gold, 
And white wings wave in the amber air, 
And the Father smiles as He smiled of old, 
How long, O LORI), how long! 
The way l trod ore dawn 
Is damp with deathly dew ; 
The morning breaks with gloom, 
And in my shadowy room 
No sunlight erocpo.th through. 
Like one who begged for alms 
Of tho world's closed, hardened palms 
That dealt a deathly blow, 
Bowed low, 1 come to Thee, 
On meekly bended knee, 
No other help 1 know. 
Hear Loud, oh ! pity me, 
Though so unworthily 
I bow at Thy dear feet I 
And wash my guilt away, 
Which all the weary day 
Consumes with fevered heat. 
THE ARABS AND WOMEN. 
HALF-HOUR FANCIES, 
Thedore Tilton of the Independent has 
long enjoyed a reputation as a profound ad¬ 
mirer of the ladies. He more than made 
this position good at the annual dinner of 
the Mercantile Library of New York, when, 
being called upon to respond to the toast 
“ The Ladies,” he immortalized himself thus: 
“ When the Arabs sit at a feast, they are 
waited on by women, and there is an Arabic 
proverb, ‘He that is intoxicated with the 
cup may recover bis senses in the morning; 
but be that is intoxicated with the cup¬ 
bearer shall not recover them till the day of 
judgment.’ Perhaps some ot you in empty¬ 
ing your flowing bowls at this toast mav 
hope to recover your senses in the morning; 
blit as for me, 1 sweetly banish mine till the 
day of judgment.” 
JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER, 
BV A. DRIFT. 
Going out to do battle against the Am¬ 
monites, JnrirniAii, the newly elected Cap¬ 
tain of Israel, made a vow. It, was his am¬ 
bition to conquer a peace and reign long 
over the Israelites. Moreover, he hoped to 
leave his family in direct succession to the 
rulcrahip. To gratify his ambitious desires, 
he was ready to make any sacrifice. So he 
“ vowed a vow unto the Lord, and said, 
If thou sbalt without fail, deliver the chil¬ 
dren of Ammon into my hands, then it shall 
be that whatsoever comctli forth of tho 
doors of my house to meet me, when 1 re¬ 
turn in peace from t,hu children of Ammon, 
shall surely be the Lord’s, and I will offer 
it up for a burnt-offering.” 
It. was a rash vow, and a thoughtless one. 
The Lord gave him victory, and returning 
to Mizpeh in triumph the first, person to 
greet him was his only daughter—bis only 
child. Here was a shock, indeed ! To what 
a strait bad his unwise vowing brought him ? 
In obedience to the vow made to attain the 
object of his ambition, that must be done 
which would utterly crush his fondest hopes. 
AVc may not say of a certainty in what pre¬ 
cise manner Jkith uah's vow was fulfilled. 
His daughter was allowed to go awny for 
two months among the mountains, and be¬ 
wail her virginity; and from this we gather 
that, instead of being literally offered up as 
a burnt-offering, she was merely doomed to 
a life of celibacy. But even Ibis was con¬ 
sidered a sad fate indeed among IsraelitiSli 
women, for they all held to the hope of 
being, by motherhood, placed in the line 
of the Messiah which was to come. And 
it was especially sad for .Tkimituau, as it 
would give the rulersliip into other lineage 
upon his death, which occurred six years 
thereafter. 
The lesson of this Old Testament narra¬ 
tive is a vital one to-day. We see Jeph- 
thaub everywhere about, us, sacrificing all 
that which is dearest and best for ambition’s 
sake. To accomplish one fond desire they 
make vows as foolish and reckless as was 
jEiMiTitAii’s vow of old, and that bring as 
sad and fearful results in the eud. The 
very law of human life at present seems in 
a lamentable sense the law of sacrifice. It 
is Hie giving up of the sweetest and tender- 
est affections for something which proliteth 
not at all. It, is the ignoring of those most 
purifying influences and aspirations, for the 
unsatisfying peace of an outward success. 
Over all merely worldly victories some shad¬ 
ow of Jeihitiiah’s vow and sacrifice should 
rest., to teach what such victories, gotten at 
such a coat, really mean. They are the bit- 
ECCENTRICITY OF GENIUS 
There is scarcely a case on record where 
there existed a greater antagonism between 
an author and his pen than in the cause of Sir 
William Hamilton. In reading his pure and 
limpid language, it is hard to realize that he 
was not a ready writer. But while he. occu¬ 
pied the chair of logic and metaphysics in 
the University of Edinburg, and every day 
delivering from it those lectures on meta¬ 
physical science which have made him fa¬ 
mous throughout the world, lie could never 
take his pen at any time and write a certain 
required amount. Indeed, he always took 
up his pen with extreme reluctance. Owing 
to tliis aversion to composition, he was often 
compelled to sit up all night in order to pre¬ 
pare the lecture which was the wonder and 
admiration of every person who heard it the 
next day. This lecture lie wrote roughly 
and rapidly, and it was copied and corrected 
by his wife in the next room. Sometimes it 
was not finished till nine o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing, and tho weary wife had fallen asleep, 
only to he wakeful and ready, however, when 
he appeared with fresh copy. 
WOMAN'S WORK 
BY JARVIS WILTON. 
ONE EXAMPLE FOLLOWED 
If we resolve the “Woman Question” 
into its elementary part3 we shall find these 
to vary. But, one of its greatest considera¬ 
tions is, “ What is to be done with the work¬ 
ing woman ?” There is a class of her own 
sex who will not have her rise to their own 
social elevation, though in native worth she 
may be greatly their superior. They refuse 
to recognize in a self-dependent woman the 
same nobility and greatness of mind that 
prompts a young man to zealous persever¬ 
ance until he stands in the first, rank of his 
profession and is respected and honored in 
the best society us a sell-made man. 
She has to work against, a strong compe¬ 
tition, for there are multitudes in the field 
before her, and sometimes she is driven from 
one situation to another, from one employ¬ 
ment to another, by those who for the basest 
purposes would drive her from an honorable 
life. She who works must work well. She 
cannot sit idly dreaming ot the time when, 
perchance, her prince will come, the doors 
of glory he opened, and 3he shall ride tri¬ 
umphantly into her kingdom. The whole 
course of Her education, of mental and moral 
training, should be toward some tangible 
purpose. 
I do not mean that in the woman’s educa¬ 
tion there should he the attempt to shut out 
-all thoughts or possibilities of marriage. A 
life of active, systematic habits, and talents 
developed to their full power and capability, 
will not render her less fit for the duties and 
joys of wifehood or motherhood. It might 
not, he well or right to thrust from her mind 
all sweet hopes of the natural place a woman 
should occupy in her own home, if, indeed, 
it were possible to do so. There is some- 
Avhere in every woman’s heart a sacred pic¬ 
ture of the future, as it could possibly be,— 
as she would have her life painted were she 
the creating artist,—a picture of a pleasant 
home where she reigns queen, of the noble 
prince whose coming she waits; whose life 
is broader and stronger than her own may 
be; who bears the fierce battlings for her 
sake; who comes home to her daily with 
tender greetings, bringing gladness to her 
life; and then, beyond, in the same picture, 
is herself grown more gentle, more worthy, 
her. life richer, her character more perfect 
and purified, her sympathies more exalted 
and comprehensive, reaching on the one 
hand to every lowly, suffering creatine on 
the earth, and on the other side upward, 
clasping the hands of angels as she sings low 
and sweet lullabies to the babe that nestles 
upon her breast. 
I would not forbid her these woman 
visions, nor shut out from her life the hope 
of sometime realizing them. If she were to 
grow up from girlhood feeling that she had 
no business with such thoughts,—that love 
was uot to be a glory to her,— that nobody 
would ever care for her as the sweetest and 
best of all women,—that no loving children 
would ever come to her for sympathy and 
caressing,—why, then the girl’s life would be 
darkened into melancholy, she would be¬ 
come morbid and cynical, and labor would 
bring no cheerfulness to brighten her ex¬ 
istence. 
But whatever may he woman’s work, it 
should be done well. I wish that truth 
could be rung in the ears of every woman 
in the land,—of the cook at the gridiron, the 
maid washing dishes, the chambermaid at 
her dusting, the laundress at her wash-tub, 
A little girl, not six years of age, 
screamed out to her little brother, who was 
playing in the mud:—“ Boh, you good-for- 
nothing ruscal, come into the house this 
minute, or I’ll beat you till your skin comes 
off” “ Why, Angelina, dear, wlml. do you 
mean?” exclaimed the mortified mother, 
who stood talking with a friend. Angelina’s 
childish reply was a good commentary upon 
this manner of speaking to children; “Why, 
mother, you see we were playing, and he’s 
my little boy, and I’m scolding him just as 
you did me this morning.” 
CURRENT GOSSIP 
An unmarried woman at Virden, Ill., 
owns seven hundred acres of excellent land 
which she paid for by teaching school. 
A bride in Cheatham county, Term., ar¬ 
rayed for the altar, concluded to marry an 
old lover who cam- hurriedly to see the cere¬ 
mony, anu she actually did it. 
A Spaniar in the first pages of his Eng¬ 
lish grammar, desiring one evening at table 
to be helped to some boiled tongue, said: 
“ I will thank you, miss, to pass me the 
language." 
A maiden lady, alluding to her youthful 
accomplishments, said that at six months of 
age she went alone, A malicious individual 
present remarked: “ Yes, and you have been 
going alone ever since.” Too had, we say. 
A Scotch lady, ninety-six years of age, 
who fell down siairs, on being told by her 
medical attendant, that her arm was only 
bruised,not broken, said, “ Oh, I am so glad 
of that, for what a terrible thing it would 
have been for me to have broken my arm 
and become a cripple for life." 
The lady lawyer of Chicago, Mrs. Myra. 
Bradwell, hibernates up several flights of 
stairs, in the cosiest nest imaginable—a 
pretty, bright room, papered with vines and 
roses, a Brussels carpet on the floor, a rose¬ 
wood desk of dainty dimensions, a tete-a-tete 
sofa, an easy chair, a bird in its cage, and all 
the attributes of true womanhood about, her. 
She is bright and pretty and piquant; kisses 
you affectionately if you are a woman—and 
does not talk strong-minded a bit. “ I need 
not he a ghoul if 1 am for woman’s rights,” 
she says pleasantly. She is of medium size, 
with huge dark curls, hazel eyes, mobile 
mouth, and an arch look that is very win¬ 
ing, and is probably twenty-eight years old. 
SANDWICHES. 
Sheet Music—Snoring. 
Paper Cuffs—Newspaper attacks. 
TnE child of the sea—The harbor-buoy. 
You cannot preserve happy domestic pairs 
in family jars. 
Tiie more checks a spendthrift receives, 
the faster he goes. 
A good trait about criminals—Their con- 
notions are generally good. 
“ A reckless mind—a seared conscience 
—a hardened heart; one step more, and—a 
lost soul.” 
What is the difference between a watch¬ 
maker and a jailor? The one sells watches, 
and the other watches cells. 
If you and your sweetheart vote upon the 
marriage question, you for it, and she against 
it, don’t flatter yourself as to its being a tie. 
"Air, Jemmy,” said a sympathizing friend 
to a man who was just too late for the train, 
“ you did not run fast enough.” “ Yes, I 
did,” replied Jemmy; “ but 1 didn’t start 
soon enough." 
“ Though it may not be in your power," 
said Marcus Aurelius, “ to be a naturalist, a 
poet, an orator, or a mathematician, it is in 
your power to be a virtuous man, which is 
the best of all.” 
A French writer has said that to dream 
gloriously, you must act gloriously when 
awake; and to bring angels down to hold 
converse with you in your sleep, you must 
labor iu the cause of virtue during th$ day. 
OUR LIFE-HISTORY 
The history of a man’s own life, is, to 
himself, the most interesting iu the world, 
next to that of the Scriptures. Every man 
is an original and solitary character. None 
Can either understand or feel the hook of his 
own life like himself. The lives of other 
men are to him dry and vapid, when set be¬ 
side his own. He enters very little into the 
spirit of the Old Testament, who does not 
sec God calling on lihn to turn over the 
pages of this history, when he says to the 
Jew, Thm shall remember all the way which 
the Lord thy Owl led I hen these forty years. 
He sees God teaching the Jew to look at 
the records of Ills deliverance from (lie Red 
Sea, of the manna showered down on him 
from heaven, and of the Aiualekitcs put to 
flight before him. There are such grand 
events in the life and experience of every 
Christian. It may he well for him to review 
them often. I have, in some cases, vowed 
before God to appropriate yearly remem¬ 
brances of some of the signal turns of my 
life. Having made the vow, I hold it. as 
obligatory; hut I would advise others to 
greater circumspection, as they may bring a 
galling yoke on themselves, which God de¬ 
signed not to put on them.— Cecil. 
Poetry. — Alphonse Lamartine said : — 
“Poetry is the morning dream of great 
minds, foreshadowing the future realities of 
life ; it evokes the phantasms of all things be¬ 
fore tho things themselves appear; it is the 
prelude to thought and tlie precursor of action 
Overflowing intellects, like Ceesar, Cicero, 
Brutus, Solon, and Plato, begin by imagina¬ 
tion and poetry—the exuberance of mental 
vigor in heroes, statesmen, philosophers and 
orators. Sad is his lot who, once at least in 
his life, has not been a poet." 
How Woman is Considered. —“A woman 
is in some sort divine,” said the ancient Ger¬ 
man. “ Woman,” says the follower of Mo¬ 
hammed, " is an amiable creature, who only 
needs a cage.” “ Woman,” says the Euro¬ 
pean, “ is a being nearly our equal in intelli¬ 
gence, and perhaps our superior in fidelity.” 
Everywhere something detracted from our 
dignity I It is very like the history of the 
dog!—a god in one country; muzzled or im¬ 
prisoned in many others; and sometimes 
“ the best friend of his master." 
Knowing Our Weaknesses. —There is 
nothing that helps a man in his conduct 
through life more than a knowledge of his 
own characteristic weaknesses, which guard¬ 
ed against, become his strength, as there is 
nothing that tends more to the success of a 
man’s talents than his knowing the limits of 
his faculties, which are thus concentrated on 
some practical object. One man can do but 
one thing well. Universal pretensions end 
in nothing. 
“ She died,” said Polly, “ and was never 
seen again, for she was buried in the ground 
where the trees grow." “The cold ground ?” 
Baid the child, shuddering again. “ No, the 
warm,ground,”returned Polly, "wherethe 
ugly little seeds are turned into beautiful 
flowers, and where good people turn into 
angels and fly away to heaven.— Dickens. 
We may judge of men by their conversa¬ 
tion toward God, but never by God’s dispen¬ 
sation toward them.— Palmer. 
There is a certain glory iu the meanest 
life, could wc but see it. 
EM 
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