to the distant islands of the sea? Who 
were the men on this hemisphere that 
first stood forth as the almoners of human 
freedom and equal rights, boldly declaring, 
with their lives in their hands, like Paul on 
Mars Hill, that “ Goo made of one blood 
all the nations of the earth?” By whose 
bold adventure, untiring energy and won¬ 
derful dispatch was our Western continent 
spanned by the iron tracks of the Pacific 
road ? And who is he that has been so 
lately honored with princely burial at West¬ 
minster Abbey among sovereigns and illus¬ 
trious men, and whose remains, by order of 
her Majesty the Queeu of Great Britain, are 
now under royal convoy to his native land, 
in testimonial of his noble benefactions to 
mankind? Were not these .New England 
men? Were not these—all these beneficent 
acts and achievements—the result, of New 
England mind, New England culture, New 
England genius ? 
imagine. Seventy-five years hence our maps 
of to-day may seem as meager and poor as 
the one before us now; but does this seem 
possible ? 
from corruption. You extinguish the fire by 
smothering it, or by preventing bad thoughts 
from bursting into language. Never utter a 
word anywhere which you would be asham¬ 
ed to speak in the presence of the most re¬ 
fined female, or the most religious man. Try 
this practice a little while, and you will soon 
have command of yourself. 
hoirr Misrtllani) 
hack twain UarllnR? O, clay of dnliRht,! 
How l hit vo longed for you morning and night. 
Watched for you, pined for you, all the day through, 
Craving no boon and no blessing hut you ; 
I’rayed for you, plead for you, sought you In vain, 
Striving forever to Unci yon again; 
Counting all anguish as naught if I might 
Clasp you again iui I clasp you to-night! 
oh ( I have sorrowed and suffered so much I 
Since I last answered yonr lip’s loving touch ; 
Through the night watches. In daylight's broad 
beams, 
Anguished by visions and tortured by dreams, 
Dreams so replete with bewildering pain- ■ 
Still it Is throbbing in huart and In bralu ; 
Oh ! for I dreamed keep me close to your side, 
Hurling; oh! darling—I dreamed you had died ! 
Dreamed that I stood by your pillow and beard 
from your pale lips lore's sweOt. half-uttered word ! 
And by tho light of the May morning skies 
Watched your face whiten and saw your dear eyes 
Oaring far Into the Wonderful band— 
Felt your fond lingers grow e.uld Iti my hand; 
" Darling,” you whispered ; “ My darling! ” you said, 
Faintly, so faintly, and tlieu you wore dead ! 
Oh ! the dark hours when I knelt by your grave, 
Calling upon you to love and to save; 
Pleading In vain for a sign or a word, 
Only to tell me you listened and head; 
Only to say you remembered and knew 
How nil my soul was in anguish for you ; 
Bitter, despairing, the tears that I shed. 
Darling, oh! darling, because you wero dead ! 
Oh ! the black days of your absence, my own ! 
Oh ! to bo loft in the wide world ulono ! 
Long, with our little one clasped to my breast, 
Wandered t, seeking for refuge and rest; 
Vet all the world was so careless and cold. 
Vainly I sought, for a sheltering fold ; 
There was no roof and no home for my head, 
Darling, oil! darling, because you woro dead I 
Yet In the midst of the darkness and pain, 
Darling, I knew I should find you again ! 
Knew as the roses knew under the snow, 
llow tho next summer would set. them aglow! 
So l did always the dreary days ttirough, 
Keep my heart single and sacred to yon, 
A* on the beautiful day wo were wed, 
Darling, oh ! darling, although you had fled. 
Oh ! tho great Joy of awakening to know 
1 did but dream all that torturing woo! 
Oh! the delight that my searching can trace 
Nothing of coldness or change in your face 1 
Still Is your forehead unfurrowed and fair, 
None pf the light Is lost, out of your hair; 
None of the light from your dear eyes Is tied,— 
Darling, oh ! how could 1 dream you were dead? 
Now yon are here, you will always remain, 
Never, oh I never to leave me again! 
Now has it vanished, the anguish of years I 
Vanished nay, these are not sorrowful tears; 
Happiness only iny cheek has I in pearled, 
Thera Is no grieving for mo In the world ; 
Dark clouds may threaten, hut 1 have no fear, 
Darling, oh! darling, because you urn here! 
[JPTomiec Percy. 
DEPARTED DAYS, 
LIFE'S FRUITS 
Ox swift wing down across the skies 
An Angel gnthered up the hours. 
And folded them to his white breast, 
Like faded wreat hs of summer flowers. 
A gnarled tree may bear good fruit. 
Old Proverb. 
No human being is without defects and 
virtues of some kind; and we often see the 
same person possessed of very glaring faults 
and rare virtues at the same time, either 
because ext,ranes meet, or because one 
very good trait only makes an equally bad 
one more glaring by contrast. We often 
see a notorious busy-body and mischief- 
maker transformed in time of need into a 
faithful and efficient nurse and kind sympa¬ 
thizer in grief. Sometimes a rough, pas¬ 
sionate man will he seen melted at the sight 
of suffering, outdoing in charity a far more 
evenly-developed character. 
Sometimes we may see a faithful wife 
cling to a vicious or criminal husband 
through evil report and never forsake him, 
however the world may frown, or whatever 
disgrace or punishment they may have 
meted out to him; and may it not be owing 
to tlie fact that such gnarled specimens of 
human nature often bear the good fruit of 
tender affection, and tho wife’s devotion is 
only the natural return for that to which no 
true woman is insensible,—strong personal 
attachment. ? 
A man guilty of crimes and misdemeanors 
will often keep a woman’s affection when an 
upright one, possessed of sterling virtues, 
will alienate them by harshness or indif¬ 
ference. Bitter words often prove severer 
tests of love than misfortune or disgrace. 
Strictly speaking, arc we not all gnarled 
specimens of human nature—enough so that 
we ought to speak charitably of those whom 
we. think more.misshapen than ourselves? 
Elkhorn, Wla„ 1870. B. C. D. 
HOW SOON FORGOTTEN. 
Anil hour ho gat horoil unto hour. 
Till all my life was garnered there. 
With every tear, mid smile, and song. 
And every idle word and pruyer. 
With streaming eyes I reached my hands, 
And cried, '* O giro them back to me ! 
And I will givo you fairer ones, 
To blossom In Eternity.” 
So lately died; so soon forgotten. ’Tis 
the way of the world. Men take us by the 
hand, and are anxious about the health of 
our bodies, and laugh at our jokes, and we 
think like the fly on the wheel, they have 
something to do with the turning of tho 
earth. Some clay wo die and arc buried. 
The aun does not stop for our funeral; every¬ 
thing goes as usual; we are not missed on 
the street; one or two hearts feel the wound 
of affliction; one or two members still hold 
our names ami forms; but the crowd moves 
in the daily circle, and in three days the 
great wave, of time sweeps over our steps and 
washes out the last vestige of our lives. 
The Angel looked with pitying eyes 
Upon t he drooping flowers he bore: 
God holds forever all thy Past, 
And days and years come back no more. 
WHAT NEW ENGLAND HAS DONE 
Amid the grand developments of the West, 
during these later years, New England's 
proud reputation lias in a measure been lost 
sight of. Small in area, not over fertile, 
those early settled States comprised in that 
rather indefinite title have necessarily yield¬ 
ed the palm to younger and more stalwart 
commonwealths, broad in their acres, lavish 
in their contributions to the public needs. 
New England can never again be what 
she lias been, relatively, yet. her history re¬ 
mains. In bis inaugural address before the 
New England Historic Genealogical Society, 
on being again elected to the Presidency 
thereof at the recent annual meeting, lion. 
Marshall P. Wilder spoke eloquently on 
that history, and continued as follows in re¬ 
lation to what New England has done: 
But whatever rank may be assigned by 
Providence to New England in the future, 
in the calendar of States, her name will for¬ 
ever be cherished by grateful millions for 
the good she has already done. The luster 
of her renown can never be tarnished. The 
light of her example can never be darkened. 
In the language of her great expounder, 
“The past is at least secure.” Whenever 1 
reflect on what New England has done for the 
world, what she has done for the cause of 
education, religion, civil polity, and for the 
amelioration of the ills that, flesh is heir to, 
the blood courses more freely in my veins, 
and my heart rises in gratitude to the Giver 
of all good, tiiat he permitted me here to bo 
born—here to live. Here let me die. 
Trace for a moment some of the incidents 
of her history. Look at New England, pre¬ 
senting examples of genius, enterprise and 
benevolence unsurpassed in the annals of 
the world. Who was it that drew the light¬ 
ning from the fiery cloud and held it in his 
hand ? W ho was it that laid the mystic 
"'ire, dry shod, from continent to continent, 
in the almost fath¬ 
omless abyss of the 
mighty deep ? Who 
was it that taught 
the electric spark, 
with tongue of fire 
and quick as though t, 
to 6peak all the lan¬ 
guages of the globe? 
Who was it that 
brought the heaven- 
born messenger, Lc- 
tbean-slcep, to suage 
all human suffering, 
and to blot from the i 
memory t he cruel op¬ 
erations of the sur¬ 
geon’s knife? Who 
planted the first free 
school on this conti¬ 
nent, if not the first 
in tiie world — the 
free school, that tree 
of knowledge whose 
fruits are freedom of 
thought, freedom of 
speech, freedom of 
worship — that tree 
whose leaves are, 
literally, for the heal¬ 
ing of the nations ? 
Whose sign-manu¬ 
al appears at the 
head of the signers 
of that immortal De¬ 
claration of Ameri¬ 
can Independence— 
who were they that 
fell where yonder 
column rises — and 
who were the volun¬ 
teers that rushed first 
to the defense of the 
Capitol in the late 
fearful crisis ? Who 
were the men that 
conceived the idea 
and laid the plan for 
the greatest mission¬ 
ary enterprise on our 
Western shores, go¬ 
ing forth with the 
ensign of the cross 
in one hand and 
the flag of our na¬ 
tion in the other, 
GEOGRAPHICAL PROGRESS 
That “Progress and Improvement” which 
has developed our wide reaches of rich coun¬ 
try, and peopled them with teeming millions, 
is not more strikingly illustrated than In a 
comparison of early with late topographical 
representations. What a large section of 
territory was, or was supposed to he, only 
seventy-five years ago, is shown in the ac¬ 
companying map, which we advise Rural 
readers to study side by side with the latest 
and most correct delineation of the same re¬ 
gion which they can obtain. 
Wc re-proilucc this map from “Morse’s 
Universal Geography,” a large two-volume 
work published in 171)0, and the Host, of its 
kind then given to the public. It. is an exact 
fee simile of one page thereof, and the others 
can be judged very correctly by it. What 
will the dwellers in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, 
Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa ami other States 
say to see that in a period comparatively re¬ 
cent those States were literally nowhere, hut 
lay in embryo amid Western wilds, not even 
existing in the geographer’s imagination? 
Of progress in the art of map making our 
engraving is also strikingly suggestive. 
Nothing better than a vague defining of 
general boundaries was attempted in the 
early history of our land,—partly because 
adequate surveys for anything much more 
specific were not, made; chiefly, we appre¬ 
hend, because topographical delineation was 
not then equal to anything more. Now the 
whole country has been traversed in the in¬ 
terests of geographical knowledge, and t he 
best triumphs of the engraver’s art are seen 
in those beautiful atlases which puzzle and 
profit our children at school. To what further 
successes, in this particular, “ Progress and 
Improvement, ” may lead, we cannot even 
SANDWICHES, 
Steady on his pegs—a shoemaker. 
Ocular punishment—Eye-lashes. 
Reynard's declaration—1 love ewe. 
“ If you beat me, I’ll callout the soldiers,” 
is what the drum said. 
When must Time hang up his scythe?— 
When lie shall he no mower. 
Jacob is said to have been the inventor of 
the practice of watering stock. 
Why arc jokes like nuts? Because the 
dryer they are t he better they crack. 
What is better than presence of mind in 
a railway accident? Absence of body. 
When may a man he said to breakfast be¬ 
fore he gets up ? When he takes a roll in 
bed, 
Why is a man who never lays a wager 
quite as had as one who docs? Because he’s 
no better. 
Those who have suffered much are like 
those who know many languages: they 
have learned to understand and he under¬ 
stood by all. 
“ Mother, I’m afraid a fever would go 
hard with me.” “Why, my son?” “Be¬ 
cause., you know, mother, I’m so small there 
wouldn’t ho room for it to turn.” 
Hate no one who knows how to love, and 
who does love, even shouldst thou not lie 
lieloved by him; his love will not escape 
thee if thou art worthy of it. 
“People,” says a modern philosopher, 
“go according to their brains; if these lie 
in their head they study ; if in their stomach 
they eat; if in their heels they dance.” 
GUARD AGAINST VULGAR LAN¬ 
GUAGE. 
There is as much connection between 
the words and the thoughts as there is be¬ 
tween tho thoughts and the actions. 
The latter is not only the expression of 
the former, hut they have a power to re-act 
upon the soul, and leave the stain of corrup¬ 
tion there. A young man who allows him¬ 
self to use one vulgar or profane word has 
not only shown that there is a foul spot on 
his mind, but hy the utterance of that word 
he extends that spot, and inflames it, till, by 
indulgence, it will poU^to and ruin the .void. 
Be careftil of your, words and of your 
thoughts. 
If you can control the tongue that no im¬ 
proper words are pronounced by it, you will 
soon be able to control the mind and save it 
twits for 
THE DEACON'S BACK LOG- 
BY MRS. M. L. BAYNE. 
CHAPTER I. 
G o i a ir in II n s t o. 
said Deacon Maybrook, as he 
raked the hot embers 
forward into a glow- 
- T - ing heap one cool 
September night — 
50 the deacon loved ear¬ 
ly fires—“goout and 
fetch me a maple 
back log.” 
“ Be spry,” said his 
mother, who always 
echoed tho deacon. 
Now Daniel did 
not, feel much like be¬ 
ing spry, having just 
been whipped within 
an inch of his life be¬ 
cause he had diso¬ 
beyed Ills father and 
gone to a circus and 
then refused to say 
he was sorry for it. 
He took his hat 
down sulkily, and 
put it on, tied the long 
ends of his comforter 
round ami round his 
neck, and stubbed 
disagreeably across 
the floor to the great 
detriment of his hoot 
toes. 
“ Dan’l,” said his 
father, angrily, “your 
Uncle Joshua” — 
hut the door slam¬ 
med and Daniel 
was gone, muttering 
crossly “ Who cares 
for Uncle Josh?” 
Tho deacon's face 
assumed a vivid red 
from the heap of 
coals over which he 
was stooping. 
“I do think,” he 
said sternly, “ that 
boy is bent on de¬ 
struction; to think, 
Deborah, that lie 
should have gone to 
the circus! Our boy! 
What would his 
Uncle Joshua have 
said ?” 
“ Reuben,” asked 
Pontcfurtrain. 
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