dibits’ jlort-ifcrlto. 
THE HOUSEKEEPER’S LULLABY. 
Sleep, my own darling; 
Byn, Vmby, byo; 
Motliei 1 i» with lliee, 
Byes baby, bye. 
There, baby. (Oh, how the wild winds wail!) 
Hush, baby. (Turning to sleet and hail; 
Ah, how the pine tree moans and mutters 1— 
I wonder If Ellen will think or the shutters.) 
Sleep, my own darling, 
Bye. baby, bye: 
Mother is with thee, 
Bye, baby, bve. 
Rest thee. (She couldn't have left on the blower 
Down in the parlor? There's so much to show her 1) 
Bye-bye, ray sweetest. iNow tlie rain's pouring ! 
Is it wind or the dining-room tire that is roaring?) 
Sleep, my own darling, 
Bye, baby, bye: 
Mother is with thee. 
Bye. baby. bye. 
How lovely his forehead !-my own blessed pet!— 
He's, nearly asleep. (Now l musn't forget 
That pork in the brine, and the stair-rods to-morrow,) 
God shield him forever from trouble and sorrow! 
Sleep, my own dui-ling. 
Bye, baby, bye; 
Mother is with thee, 
Bye, baby, bye. 
Those dear little ringlet.', so silky and bright 1 
(1 uu hope the muffins will rise nice and light,) 
How lovely lie is! (Yes. she said she could fry,) 
Oh, wiiat wouid I do if my baoy should die? 
Sleep, my own darling. 
Bye, baby, bye; 
Mother is witli thee. 
Bye, baby, bye- 
Dear Father in Heaven 1 on, spare him, I pray— 
My own precious baby! (.It's clearing away; 
Tlie moon’s coming out; and there’s no wind at all. 
We may have good drying, for once, after all.) 
Sleep, my own darling, 
Bye, baby, bye: 
Mother Is with tlieo, 
Bye, baby, bye. 
That sweet little hand, and the soft, dimpled cheek! 
Sleep, darling. (I'll have his clothes shortened this 
week. 
, How tightly he’s holding my dress! I’m afraid 
He’ll wake when I move. There! his bed isn’t made.) 
Sleep ray own darling, 
Bye, baby, bye: 
Mother is with thee, 
Byo, baby. bye. 
(No matter; tlie sofa will do fora minute; 
The arm-chair'll be belter, if puss wasn't in it. 
He's off now—tho hle»»n«l! How funny it seems 
That an innocent baby should scowl in its dreams !) 
Sleep, my own darling. 
There, baby, there; 
Mother will lay thee 
Snug in the Chair. 
(He’s settlod at last. But. I can’t leave him so. 
Though I ought to be going this instant, I know. 
There's everything standing and waiting down stairs; 
Ah, me, but a mother Is cumbered with cares!) 
[Bazar. 
--- 
WOMEN AS POSTS. 
The woman nature is full of poetic feel¬ 
ing. In so fur as sentiment is poetry, every 
woman is a poet. For every woman has 
sentiment,—not sickly sentimentalism, but a 
pure, elevating sentiment; something that is 
not in the highest sense poetic, but that is 
poetic, notwithstanding, and that, tricked 
out with a taking garb of rhythm, passes 
often for the truest poetry. Yet every 
woman has not poetic genius. Indeed, 
while mere poetic feeling is almost universal 
with womankind, real poetic genius is singu¬ 
larly rare. Genius of this order seems to 
make its home almost exclusively in the 
male nature. 
Will our fair friends object to this state¬ 
ment? Will they think we are making an in¬ 
vidious comparison between the sexes ? Pos¬ 
sibly. Such, however, is far from our inten¬ 
tion. We are simply declaring a curious fact. 
Studying classic and current literature, this 
fact has been borne in upon us, and we speak 
of it as noteworthy. Great poetic genius 
lias developed itself but rarely among female 
writers. While we have had scores of poet¬ 
esses,—many of whom have made honorable 
names in the world of letters,—and while to¬ 
day the number of rhythmic writers among 
women is far greater than the number found 
among men, there have been few with any 
genuine claim to genius. 
Miss Mitkohd showed some gleams of 
poetic lire, yet the generality of her verse 
was quite commonplace. If she had genius, 
it was of a most erratic and uncertain kind. 
Mrs. Humans had the poetic feeling in a 
greater degree than usual, together with 
unusual freedom of poetic expression, hut 
that she had genius who will claim? She 
wrote readily; fancy and Imagination helped 
her much ; but beyond all this there is not 
a great deal to say. Mrs. Sigourney had 
the same happy gift of rhythmic expression, 
with less of the deeper poetic feeling. Her 
poetry was of a similar order, but did not 
rank quite so high in absolute merit. 
Mrs. Brining had positive genius. It 
hid itself, often, behind cloudy phraseologies, 
and was not as manifest, always, as existent; 
but it shone out frequently with a wonder¬ 
ful lmninousness, and will live undimmed 
through coming generations. Feeling is 
evanescent, but genius is immortal. Be¬ 
cause such is the fact, Mrs. Browning will 
be read when Mrs. Sigourney will he al¬ 
most entirely forgotten. Not hing equal to 
. “ Aurora Leigh” has emanated from a wo¬ 
man’s pen, since the delicate-faced woman 
whom all Florence loved put her best life 
into it; nothing so deep, so broad, so gener¬ 
ous in its richness. And through many 
of Mrs, Browning’s lesser poems there 
glows that fervor and fire which we look 
for too often in vain elsewhere. 
Of the writers of to-day, feeling is the 
chief characteristic. Poetic sentiment has 
given birth to some of the most beautiful 
poems fn the language. Mrs. Akers’ “ Hock 
me to sleep, Mother,” is overflowing with 
the tenderest feeling, and it touches the heart 
very nearly indeed. But there is not a 
touch of genius in it. Hundreds of felicitous 
little gems abound, in which the woman's 
feeling is largely represented, yet that, are 
without any breathings of that diviner some¬ 
thing hard to describe but easy t.o recognize 
when found. 
But shall we say that woman is less de¬ 
serving as poet than man ?—that she, lack¬ 
ing genius, should never plume her wings in 
song? Most assuredly not. 
It is not to her discredit that she i9 without 
genius. Her warmth of poetic feeling more 
than compensates. Better the sweetness and 
tenderness of a song from the heart, than the 
cold glitter of an epic, grand and thrilling, 
speaking only from the intellect. We have 
many and many a mother * bird of song, 
whose melodies trill forth with a touching 
influence, and in the hearing of which men 
grow worthier mid better. Let the sweetest 
songsters sing on, then, though their songs 
be not the grandest, and all good and true 
will echo their melodies. 
-*.*♦- 
TWO BRAVE WOMEN. 
From the far East and the far West of our 
country come accounts of two dauntless 
women, which are worth recording. The 
first tells of Mrs. Nathaniel Moody of Au¬ 
burn, Maine. That lady started from Lewis¬ 
ton on the 15th of March, in a blinding 
snow-storm. Her conveyance was a pung— 
a sort of sleigh, drawn by one horse, — and 
she held her two-year-old baby in her arms. 
Crossing Taylor Pond in the dark, she 
found she had lost her way, and had been 
for more than an hour driving in a circle. 
She met the emergency with a hold and skill¬ 
ful maneuver. She unharnessed the horse, 
and turned him loose, tipped up the pung so 
that it sheltered her from the wind, and, 
wrapping herself and child in the sleigh- 
robes, laid down in the snow. The drift 
against the pung rather improved its pro¬ 
tecting powers. The horse found his way 
home by morning, and suggested the story 
of the night. Prompt aid thus summoned 
rescued tho mother and child, who had suf¬ 
fered no serious harm. The worst night, of 
the winter failed to chill the heart of one of 
those bravo New England matrons whose 
sons grow up as erect and hardy as their 
own pine trees amid their Northern snows. 
The second account is of a Swedish woman 
who has pre-empted a homestead and built 
a house in the wilderness of Minnesota, two 
hundred miles above St. Paul, ,\ few weeks 
ago she came down with an ox team after 
her mother, whom she found sick. After 
waiting some clays for her mother’s recovery, 
it became necessary to return to look after 
her household. So she started hack with 
her goods in her sled and a cow tied along¬ 
side, apparently unappalled by the tedious 
winter journey of two hundred miles. 
-- 
WHAT EQUIVALENT? 
A Boston paper tells an anecdote with a 
moral:—“ A young lady friend of ours met, 
in company a young gentleman who evi¬ 
dently had an excellent opinion of himself. 
During conversation he introduced the sub¬ 
ject of matrimony, and expatiated at length 
upon the kind of wife he expected to marry ; 
that is, ifever he should take the decisive step. 
Tho honored lady must be wealthy, beautiful, 
accomplished, &c. His listener quietly 
waited until he ended, and then completely 
confounded him by asking, in the coolest 
possible manner, 1 And pray, sir, what have 
you to offer in return for all this?’ The 
young man stammered, reddened a little, and 
walked away.” 
-- 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
Court-ship lias two mates and no captain. 
A questioning ghost—'The shade of a 
doubt. 
Why is wit, like a Chinese lady’s foot? 
Because brevity is the sole of it. 
The grave is the true purifier, and in the 
charity of the living takes away the blots 
and stains from the dead. 
It is estimated that over a hundred young 
ladies are at present studying law in this 
country. Probably they will all become 
mothers-in-law one of these days. 
One of the gentle sex says that the para¬ 
dise of a strong-minded woman is “ Where 
buttons grow in their proper places, where 
men cease from bothering, and needles are 
at rest.” 
A good old Quaker lady, after listening 
t.o the extravagant yarn of a shopkeeper us 
long as her patience would allow, said to 
him: “Friend, what a pity it is a sin to lie; 
it seems so necessary to thy happiness.” 
tograplpcal. 
GEORGE H. THOMAS. 
Ouh country has lost nuothcr of its noblest 
men. Major-General George H. Thomas, 
commanding the Department, of the Pacific, 
died in San Francisco, on t he 29th ult., of 
apoplexy. lie was born in Southampton 
county, Vn., July 81,1816. Receiving a fair 
education in his boyhood, ho afterward be¬ 
gan the- study of law, performing the duties 
of Deputy County Clerk, meanwhile, under 
his uncle, James Rochelle. A happy cir¬ 
cumstance securing his appointment to a 
cadetship at West Point, he gave up the law, 
and entered upon his military course. In 
1840 he graduated, twelfth in rank in a cluss 
of forty-two, ami was assigned to a Second 
Lieutenant,ey in the Third Artillery, sta¬ 
tioned ill Florida. After a year’s service he 
was breveted First Lieutenant, and received 
the full rank t hree years later. 
In 1845 tho Mexican War was impending, 
and Lieutenant Thomas was ordered to 
Corpus Christi. Thenceforward, until the 
war closed, he saw active and honorable 
service at various points in Mexico, and 
bore a conspicuous part in several battles, 
At Monterey and Buena Vista especially, he 
was distinguished for gallantry, and this 
found recognition in the brevet rank of 
Major. When the war ended, lie took 
charge of a Commissary depot at Brazos 
Santiago; then was granted ft six months’ 
furlough; and in 1849 proceeded again to 
Florida, where lie remained till 1851, when 
he was assigned to West, Point as instructor 
of artillery and cavalry. 
Three years wore spent by him in quiet 
life at our National Military Academy, 
whence lie was transferred to Lower Cali¬ 
fornia. From that lime until 1800 lie served 
on the Southern Border, ranking as full 
Major from 1855, and having frequent skir¬ 
mishes with the ludians. In the fall of 
1800 lie received leave of absence, and re¬ 
turned to duty just as the storm of civil war 
was about, bursting upon the land. Though 
a Southerner, he chose to stand by the flag 
he had so long fought under, and so parted 
company with a large number of Compan¬ 
ions-in-arms who east their fortunes with the 
South. Ills regiment having been dismounted 
and sent out of Texas by Twiggs, he was at 
once ordered to Carlisle Barracks, in Penn¬ 
sylvania, for the purpose of re-organizing it, 
and was commissioned Liqua nant-Colonel, 
Promotion to the Colonelcy^? tlic Second 
Cavalry speedily followed, and' since then his 
career has been brilliant hi the extreme. 
Appointed t.o command of a brigade In 
August, 1861, General Thomas’ first active 
service in the great struggle which ensued 
was in the Army of Northern Virginia, un¬ 
der Gen. Patterson. Soon after, he or¬ 
ganized the first division of the Army of the 
Cumberland, and in January, 1802, won his 
first victory at Mill Spring, for which lie 
was made a Major-General, and assigned to 
tho command of the right wing of t he Army 
of the Tennessee. Upon the re-organization 
of the army, he was transferred to the De¬ 
partment of the Cumberland, under Major- 
General Buell, and was appointed comman¬ 
der in the field of three entire corps. lie 
fought at Pittsburg Landing, Perryville, and 
through all the operations In Tennessee and 
Kentucky. When Butoll fell into disfavor 
at 'Washington, General Thomas was named 
to supersede him, but remonstrated, and that 
officer was continued in command. 
At the battle of Cbickamauga, September 
20, 1868, General Thomas saved General 
ItosECKANH from hopeless defeat, and the 
Army of the Cumberland from destruction. 
When the left wing of the Union Army was 
sent scattered and flying, and Roseckanb 
gave up the day as lost, Thomas on the 
right stood stout ly on the sides of the moun¬ 
tain gap and repulsed with great slaughter 
the repeated attacks made upon him by 
Bragg’s forces. In the month following he 
succeeded Rosecrans, and with his forces 
held the defenses of Chattanooga, crowning 
his brilliant performances by leading three 
of his divisions in the famous assault on 
Mission Ilidge. 
General Thomas took a prominent partin 
Sherman's March to the Sea, and at Frank¬ 
lin he fought Hood, killing several of his 
generals, and stopping his advance on Nash¬ 
ville. Another battle with Hood transpired 
eight miles from Nashville, in which Gen. 
Thomas' victory was complete, and saved 
the capital of Tennessee. In January, I860, 
lie received the rank of Major-General in the 
Regular Army, and in the reduction and re¬ 
organization of the army, by order of June 
27, 1805, he was appointed Commander of 
the Military Division of the Tennessee, in 
which capacity he exhibited remarkable 
executive and administrative ability. 
The lamented General was beloved by 
ail who knew him, and was the idol of his 
soldiers, who familiarly spoke of him as 
“ Old Pap Thomas." Upright, brave, faith¬ 
ful ever, lie was the very beau ideal of a sol¬ 
dier, and well deserved the fame he bore so 
modestly. Ilis devotion to duty was as rare 
as it was beautiful. General Sherman, in 
his official announcement to the army of 
ids subordinate’s death, gracefully recog- - 
nized this fact in these words : “ The General 
has known Gen. Thomas intimately since 
they sat as hoys on the same bench, and the 
quality in him, which he holds up for the 
admiration an example of the young, is his 
complete and entire devotion to duty. 
Though sent to Florida, to Mexico, to Texas 
and Arizona, when duty t here, was absolute 
banishment, he went cheerfully, and never 
asked a personal favor, exemption or leave 
of absence.” Such tribute is only just re¬ 
ward for such faithfulness. We have lost 
many great men within the last year, but he 
whom last we are called to mourn was, in 
the essentials of true greatness, the peer of 
them all. 
-- 
RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
BY ELLEN ORCHIS. 
The first twenty years of Sheridan's life 
were idly spent. In his childhood, he was 
pronounced by parents and tutor “a most 
impenetrable dunce.” The teachers, in 
whose care he was afterwards placed, dis¬ 
covered his talent hut failed to rouse his 
ambition. It was impossible to make him 
study more than was necessary to save him 
from disgrace, nis early manhood was as 
unpromising as his boyhood. lie would 
have lived and died an unknown man had 
not poverty forced him to conquer his in¬ 
dolence. 
While very young lie eloped with Miss 
Linley, a beautiful girl, over whose sweet 
voice and winning ways, the musical public 
was going wild. Both families were tlis 
pleased, not so much with the marriage as 
with the secrecy, and he soon found himself 
dependent on his own exertions. Mrs. 
Sheridan could easily have supported them 
by returning to her profession, hut he would 
not, for a moment, listen to the proposition, 
even refusing to allow her to fulfill an 
engagement which had been formed before 
her marriage. lie liad once or twice ap¬ 
peared before the public as a writer, and now 
lie devoted himself to the composition of 
“The Rivals.” It was Ills first great success. 
When he was twenty-six, he had written 
“ The Duenna,” and “Tho School for Scan¬ 
dal.” 
With the latter his literary work substan¬ 
tially ended. What few pieces he afterwards 
wrote were not to be compared with these. 
Ilis interest in the Drury Lane Theatre made 
him independent. He turned from literature 
to politics, and in 1780, took his scat in Par¬ 
liament. He had produced the best opera 
and the best comedy in the English language. 
Ho became one of the foremost orators, in 
even that age of eloquence. Ilis speech up¬ 
on the Begums hold entranced, for four days 
a crowd that filled Westminister Abbey. 
Tills was the summit of Ids fame. He long 
held the position lie had won, but never rose 
higher. A Whig, devotedly attached to the 
Prince of Wales, his fortunes fluctuated with 
those of his party. 
On the death of Pitt, in 1800, ho became 
Treasurer of the Navy. But the Tory party 
soon regained the majority, and he again 
belonged to the opposition. From this time 
his influence lessened, for he was mentally 
and physically (ailing. It would have been 
difficult to imagine anything more hopeless 
than tho condition of the Drury Lane 
Theatre, until one day when Sheridan was 
seated, as usual, in the House of Commons, 
word was brought that it was burning. A. 
motion was made to adjourn. Tie rose and 
saying that “ whatever might be the extent 
of the private calamity iie hoped it would 
not interfere with the public business of the 
country,” left the building. Tho Theatre, in 
which most of his property was invested, 
was entirely distroyed. 
Every effort was made to repair the loss, 
but in vain. Henceforth Sheridan's path 
was downward. The wine-cup had always 
held for him a charm. It hastened his ruin. 
Nobles and princes who had leaned on him 
in his strength, deserted him. Few of the 
numerous train who had courted him in 
wealth and prosperity, clung to him in 
poverty and suffering. During his long ill¬ 
ness insults were heaped upon him, that 
were hard for his proud spirit to hear. He 
was arrested on his death-bed, and would 
have been taken to the debtor’s prison, hut 
for his physician, who threatened the officers 
with the consequences should ho expire on 
the road. 
He died on Sunday, July 7th, 1816, in his 
sixty-fifth year. The next Saturday he was 
carried to his grave in the only vacant spot 
in the Poet’s Corner of the old Abbey. The 
pall was borne by lords and earls. Follow¬ 
ing the Coffin as mourners, walked the 
princes of the royal family, and the highest 
nobles of the realm. Lord Holland and 
Dr. Bain were the only ones in all that 
gorgeous company, who had been faithful to 
him in life. The Frenchman spoke truly 
when lie said’ 1 France is the place for a man 
of letters to live in, England for him to 
! die in.” 
GO 
abbittb 11 calling. 
A RAINY SABBATH. 
BY flora. 
Saviour, wo aro kept to-day 
From worship in Thy holy place; 
Rut help us, J uses, now wo pray. 
Even at home to seek Thy face ! 
We thunk Thee Cor the loving care 
That has preserved u:« all our way; 
We usk 'l'heu In Thine arms to bear 
Us safoly through this rainy day. 
We know that wo ean pray find Bing, 
Ami think and read Thy Holy Word : 
But keep Our thoughts from wondering 
From Thee, our SAVIOUR and our LOUD. 
For we would over think of Time, 
Of all Thy grievous pain and loss; 
And how Thou earnest from Heaven dovrn 
And died l’or ua upon tho Cross. 
To-day wo ask that ns tho ruin 
Falls gently from the skies above. 
So may Thy Holy Spirit come, 
And till our hearts with joy and love. 
And as tho flowers and the leaves 
Look upward to receive tho rain; 
So may our souls be turned to Thee, 
And thus a Sabbath calm obtain. 
FULLNESS OF SOUL. 
There arc such things ns little souls; wc 
see many painful illustrations of this fact. 
Then there are such things as lean, souls. 
The little ones are dwarfed from tho begin¬ 
ning, and that they will ever grow liberal in 
dimensions is not to be expected. The lean 
ones were created of goodly size; they arc of 
generous breadth, even, yet; hut they have 
been starved and repressed. They have no 
fullness. They gladden no one with the 
plenitude of their riches. Poor and un¬ 
thrifty, they give no mellowness to being, no 
free amplitude to the inner life. 
Fullness of soul is a natural outgrowth of 
true Christian experience. All lean souls 
lack some essential, vitalizing, quickening 
influence. They are defrauded, somehow, 
of what is justly theirs, A lean-smiled man 
is not a tUlt-sonled Christian, lie goes an 
hungered, yet refusing food. The cravings 
of his boiler nature he denies. Jlis greatest 
want goes unsatisfied; and he reaches out 
continually with a sense of desire. Why, 
then, does he not grow full-souled and 
hearty? Chiefly because ho will not. He 
wants, but mistakenly supposes lie cannot 
afford to gratify lliat want. A false notion 
of economy keeps him perpetually poor. 
We may not clearly explain upon what 
full souls feed. It is varied food : the same 
kind would not satisfy each. It is generous 
food: husks contain no nutriment. All 
kindly impulses, cherished and expanded, 
contribute to soul - fullness. All sweet 
charities, lovingly administered, have in 
them the elements of growth. All pure 
gratifications, properly enjoyed, deepen and 
enrich the life within. An easy social habit 
broadens and makes better. Asceticism is 
the mother of lean souls. Reserve, coldness 
and. distrust of one’s kind, keeps such souls 
lean forever. Doubt and complaining will 
make empty the fullest garner. 
No soul fattens wholly from within. Medi¬ 
tation is a help to soul-fullness; but you can¬ 
not. grow rich on meditation alone. The 
poorest souls that ever returned to their 
Creator, went up from hermit cells. Call 
•you that life wealthy which narrows in upon 
itself through all its time? Full souls ex¬ 
pand to the touching of other souls, and 
grow as by accretion. Sweet sympathies, 
running from each to each, lmvc tender sus¬ 
tenance. The loves and the hopes and the 
longings which are yielded to worthily, over¬ 
flow and render fertile and beautiful every 
part of being. 
-♦-*-*- 
IMMORTALITY. 
Turn whithersoever we will, we find the 
belief in immortality. In every nation ever 
known, in every race that has ever lived, in 
every age of this changing world, we find it. 
Every language known to man ns now or 
heretofore spoken among the babblers of 
this earth, is constructed in accordance with 
it. In all ages men in dying have looked on 
death as simply the soul’s putting off it’s 
tabernacle. There are exceptions, but they 
are so few that, they hardly attract our at¬ 
tention, anti do not destroy the practical ac¬ 
curacy of our statement. The belief in im¬ 
mortality is one of the universal convictions 
of the race. 
— - ♦♦♦ - 
Religious Conversation. — Don’t at¬ 
tempt to preach—only talk—and you will 
find religious conversation a much easier 
and more successful matter than most folks 
make it. Why shouldn’t you speak just, us 
simply and naturally to your friend about 
his relations to the Great All-Father and the 
Loving Saviour, as about the weather and 
the crops? What is the use of employing 
such looks, tones, idioms in religious con¬ 
versation, that it is a positive relief to you 
when the disagreeable task is done, and you 
can be yourself once more ? 
.d 
