BE A WOMAN. 
Oft I’ve heard a gentle mother, 
As the twilight hours began, 
Pleading with a son on duty. 
Urging him to be a man. 
But auto her blae-eyed daughter. 
Though with love'* words quite as ready, 
Points she out the other duty— 
" Strive, my dear, to he a lady.” 
What's a lady? Is it something 
Made of hoops, and silks, and airs; 
Used t-i decorate the parlor, 
Like the fancy rugs and chairs? 
Is It one that wastes on novels 
Every reeling that is human ? 
If ’Us this to be a lady, 
’Tts not this to be a woman. 
Mother, then, unto your daughter 
Speak of something higher far, 
Than to be mere fashion’s lady 
Woman is the brightest star. 
If ye. In your strong affection, 
Urge your son to boa true man. 
Urge your daughter no less strongly 
To arise and be ft woman. 
Yes, ft woman ! brightest model 
Of that high and perfect beauty, 
Where the mind, and soul, and body, 
Blend to work out life’s great duty 
Be a woman, naught is higher 
On the glided list of fame; 
On the catalogue of virtue 
There's no brighter, holler name. 
Be ii woman ! on to duty ■ 
IlUtse the world from all Unit’s low, 
Place high in the social heaven 
Virtue’s fuirund radiant brow. 
Lend thy Influence to each effort 
That shall raise our nature human , 
Be not lashlou's gilded lady— 
Be a brave, whole-souled, true woman. 
(Selected. 
WHAT RURAL WOMEN WRITE. 
An Unspoiled Child nud Ilia Mother. I 
Going from New York to K-, u few i 
days since, a poor deformed lad, with a con¬ 
certina and a triangle, the latter of which lie i 
played with his foot, was making some 
pretty fair music, which several persons 
seemed to be enjoying. Rut the most ab¬ 
sorbed listener, apparently, was a pretty, 
bright - looking child of some live or six 
years, who, with his eyes intently fixed on 
the hoy, was keeping time to the music with 
many graceful motions. As the strains 
grew livelier, these took a more decided 
form, and he began, ns it seemed involun¬ 
tarily, to dance with a simple, untaught grace 
that was perfectly charming. 
Many laid down their newspapers, or 
ceased talking to watch him with loving 
eyes; but quite unconscious of the notice he 
attracted, and ns though it were the most 
natural thing in the world for him to do, he 
danced away in his pretty fashion, his whole 
face aglow with pleasure, till the lad stopped 
playing and moved to another part, of the 
boat. 
I was much interested in what certainly 
was to me an Unusual occurrence, and im¬ 
mediately began drawing comparisons be¬ 
tween this sweet child of nature and the 
“children of the period.” His simple cos¬ 
tume, — a striped cambric frock made high 
in the neck and buttoning round the wrists; 
a morocco belt, and a little white straw bat 
round which a blue ribbon was tied, to¬ 
gether with his bright, happy face, and 
modest, unconscious manner, made him a 
striking contrast to the overdressed, discon¬ 
tented, pert, self-conscious 'children around. 
It was evident he was not one of those un¬ 
fortunates who are constantly being “shown 
utf ” by foolish parents till they have lost all 
modesty ; and, on the other band, I felt cer¬ 
tain lie had never been ridiculed, as some 
cbidreu I know are ridiculed by their 
thoughtless elders, till they fear to give way 
to one natural impulse, lest some one should 
“ make fun ” of them. 
I soon decided that that child had a wise 
and good mother; one who had not trusted 
her little one to the tender mercies of ser¬ 
vants. Hoping to see something that might 
confirm me in my opinion, I watched him 
as, having looked wistfully a moment after 
the boy, he turned and ran to a lady who 
was seated at a little distance, with her face 
turned from me. Another moment, and he 
was in her lap, one arm round her neck, and 
the curly brown head from which the little 
straw hat had been taken, resting on her 
shoulder. I was pleased to see the pretty 
traveling dress was not thought too fine to 
pillow the weary little head; and that the 
six-year-old boy was not turned off as “too 
big to sit in mother’s lap.” The sight 
touched a tender chord, and l remembered 
how I had sat in “ mo"' ’ „;p, tin such a 
tall g’v my icet bad nearly touched the 
floor. 
Somewhat later a change of seat brought 
me a little nearer the scene 1 /hich so inter¬ 
ested me. A gentleman now sat talking 
with the lady, and gazing with a paternal 
fondness beautiful to see, upon the child, 
the child’s short curls, and smoothed out the 
folds of the little striped frock, and loosened 
the leather belt; and as I saw her touch her 
lips to the broad, white brow, and heard the 
gentle voice in which she awakened him as 
the boat landed, telling him of the pleasant 
ride they were to have with “papa,' I felt 
certain 1 had not been mistaken in calling 
her “ a wise and good mother.” Then my 
thoughts went off to another devoted wo¬ 
man I called “ mother,” and I longed for the 
pen of Louisa Alcott wherewith to write 
a book, entitled “ Old Fashioned Mothers.” 
—Johnnie. 
About Woman's Ambitions. 
I AM not like II. M., (see Rural July 30,) 
who does not seem to like the idea that there 
should lie a duty devolving upon wives. I 
always supposed there existed a duty for all, 
and right involves the fulfilling ot duty. \cs, 
this one is her husband, for whom she has 
borne children, she. says; and 1 think it her 
duty to teach them to ever remain single, and 
not, as she lias done, lose their flesh, youth¬ 
ful bloom. One would suppose she would 
have let that bloom fade out into the wrinkles 
of an old maid, instead of the way she says 
she has lost it. Then that terrible boundary 
line, which is home, she cannot bear. 1 
should like to know where, in her opinion, 
that line should be extended to? I think 
that, home should be its farthest extent, for 
where, if not .it home, is a person's world? 
or where cun it be? True, some debauched 
characters extend the line the wide world 
over, and all society is admitted. I should 
prefer u husband’s door yard to this kind of 
world. 
She also must have some odd notions of 
ambition. Must one break the commands of 
God that the bight of ambition may be 
reached? Is not, the very bight of ambition 
reached by obeying those commands? And 
it is commanded that all matrimonial duties 
THE FUTURE LIFE. 
How shall I know thee In Hie sphere which keeps 
The disembodied spirits of the dead, 
When all of thee that time could wither sleeps 
And perishes among the dust we iroad? 
For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain, 
If there I meet thy gentle spirit not; 
Nor hoar the voice l love, nor read again 
In thy serene.'t eyes and tender thought. 
Will not thine own meek heart demand me there— 
That heart whose fondest, throb to me was given? 
My name un earth was ever In thy prayer, 
And wilt thou never utter It In heaven? 
In meadows fanned by heaven’s life-breathing wind. 
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 
Ami larger movements of ihe unfettered mind, 
Wilt thou forget the love that Joined us here ? 
The love that lived through all the stormy past, 
And meekly with my harsher nature bore, 
And deeper grew, the tenderer to the last— 
Shull it expire with life and be no more ? 
A happier lot than mine, and larger light, 
Await time there, for thou hast bowed thy will 
In cheerful homage to the rule of right, 
And lovest all and renderest good for ill. 
For me the sordid cares In which 1 dwell 
Shrink nod consume my heart as heat a scroll, 
And wrath Has left its scar—that tire of hell 
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 
Vet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky. 
Wilt thou not keep the sumo beloved name, 
The same fair, thoughtful brow and gentle eye, 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same? 
Shull thou not tcucli me, In that calmer home, 
The wisdom that I lcuriied-Ro ill in this— 
The wisdom which Is love—till I become 
Thy tit companion In that land of bliss? . 
[Bryant. \ 
- ’*“*"*’ --- 
SYMMETRY OF CHARACTER. 
BY SYLVIA BROWN. 
The life which recognizes no purpose, 
which 1ms no definite realization of its grand 
possibilities, is like a plant devoid of bios 
lie performed and held sacred. To aspire to soms, of fragrance, of fruitfulness, of the 
sital literary accomplishments; and we 
should say to any young lady who sought 
to justify her own eccentricities by the ex¬ 
ample of this popular heroine, before you 
imitate her manners, lie sure that you pos¬ 
sess her brains; but in the second place,and 
what is more important, we must consider 
the extreme youth of this girl when she is 
introduced to U9 as the Queen of that Sylvan 
Court, in whose rough pastimes she mingles 
with the grace of a Dryad. She was but 
eighteen years of age; but a short time back 
she was a child, and to many girls of four¬ 
teen or fifteen field sports, if offered to their 
choice, come just as naturally as to hoys. 
She was but just emerging from this period 
of life when Osbaltlistoue met her; when 
out-of-door file and violent exercise is en¬ 
joyed with all the freshness and simplicity 
of a nature yet innocent of passion, and 
scarcely conscious of the difference of sex. 
* * * In summimv mi the elianix-ler of 
wc arc more easily influenced to a noble 
action by kindness, encouragement., sym¬ 
pathy or an appeal to our better nature, which 
litis us up from degradation rather than 
consigns us to It, and causes us to compre¬ 
hend somewhat, the infinite possibilities of 
moral greatness and beauty which we pos¬ 
sess in an unexpanded state. Our own hearts 
teach us, if we study them as wo ought, that 
our human nature differs from that, of the 
lower creatures by partaking of an element 
of the divine nature, which, if cherished, as¬ 
similates us to God and makes a part, of the 
great unity which shall finally attain to the 
perfections of a blessed immortality. 
---— 
SOCIAL GLEANINGS. 
Beeoher’ft Bringing Up. 
We find the following credited to Beech¬ 
er:—“I thank God for two things,—yes, for 
a thousand; but for two amoug many ; first, 
that, 1 was horu and bred in the country, of 
parents that gave me a sound constitution 
and a noble example. I. never can pay back 
what I got, from my parents. If I were to 
raise a monument of gold higher than heaven, 
it would be no expression of the debt of 
gratitude which l owe to them, for that 
which they unceasingly gave, by the herit¬ 
age of their body and the heritage of their 
souls, to me, And next to that, l am thank¬ 
ful that 1 was brought, up in circumstances 
where l never became acquainted with wick¬ 
edness. I know a great deal about it; for ii’ 
1 hear a man say A, 1 know the whole al¬ 
phabet of that man’s life, by which I can iin- 
. ttgine all the rest. If I see a single limb, 1 
have the physiologist’s talent, by which 1 
know the whole structure. I never became 
acquainted with wickedness when I was 
young, by coming in contact with it. I 
never was sullied in act, nor in thought, nor 
in fooling, when 1 was young. I grew up as 
pure as a woman. And I cannot express to 
God the thanks which I owe to my mother, 
and to my father, and to the great household 
of sisters aud brothers among whom 1 lived.” 
ItriiHii. of Laughter. 
Probably there is not the remotest cor¬ 
ner or little inlet of the minute blood ves¬ 
sels (life vessels) of the body that docs not 
feel some wavelet from that, great convul¬ 
sion (hearty laughter) shaking the central 
man. The blood moves more lively—prob¬ 
ably its chemical, electric, or vital condi¬ 
tion is distinctly modified—it conveys a dif¬ 
ferent Impression to all the organs ot the 
body as it visits them on that particular 
we doubt not, a good laugh may lengthen a 
man’s life, conveying a distinct stimulus to 
the vital forces. And tlm time may come 
when physicians, attending more closely 
than at present they are apt to do, to the 
innumerable subtle influences which the 
soul exerts upon its tenement of clay, shall 
prescribe to a torpid patient “so many peals 
of laughter, to be undergone at, such and 
such a time,” just as they now do that far 
more objectionable prescription, a pill, or an 
electric or galvanic shock; and shall study 
the best and most, effective method of pro¬ 
ducing the required effect in each patient. 
OoneurulnK Secrecy. 
All secrecy is injurious in its nature. We 
do not mean to aver that men and women 
can live without those episodes in their af¬ 
fairs which require privacy. Where is the 
man that can boast, that be is altogether free 
from the presence of a skeleton in his cup¬ 
board ? But. the fewer that wc have of these 
grinning inmates the better will it be for 
^ourselves and all those who are concerned 
with us. A secret, if we think of it, has ever 
some quality of I he skeleton. It. is to us a 
CHASTENED. 
BY MARIK S. LADD. 
Thk griefs that visit me 
Are blessings yet to be. 
O Lord, prepare my heart 
Thv chastening rml to meet, 
While, lowly at Thy foot,, 
To me Thy grace impart. 
And when Thy hand distills 
O’er me these seeming Ills, 
O, fill my sonl with prayer. 
That Thou hast power to heal 
O, give me faith to feel 
And help my heart to bear. 
THOUGHTS BY THINKERS. 
Tlie Advantage of Living High. 
Heniiy Ward Beecher in one of bis ser¬ 
mons says :—“ ills very easy to shoot arrows 
down ; and they accelerate in speed at every 
single foot, because to the strength of the 
bow is added the attraction of gravitation. 
And upon the heads of those who live low, 
the bolts, tlm arrows of temptation which 
the devil throws down, fall with double force. 
But the men who live high have this advan¬ 
tage, that when the devil shoots up at them, 
against the force of the bow, which drives the 
missile upward, is the power of the big globe, 
which claims tribute of everything that flics 
in the all’, and pulls it back again And so, 
every foot the arrows go up, they go slower 
and slower. And if stronger bows are 
brought into requsition, and the arrows are 
thiown a little thriller and a little further, 
you must go higher and higher, until with 
the best bows they cannot reach you. One 
reason why some men are tempted more 
than others, is that the. altitude at which they 
live is not so high.” 
Ilow to Huilil n. Lite. 
Ruskin, in one of his Oxford lectures, says: 
“ I pray you with all earnestness to prove, and 
know within your hearts, that all things 
lovely and righteous are possible for those 
who believe in their possibility, and who de¬ 
termine that, for their part, they will make 
every day’s work contribute to them. Let 
every dawn of morning be to you as the be¬ 
ginning of life, and every setting sun be to 
you as its close ; then let every one of these 
short lives leave its sure record of some kind¬ 
ly thing done ibr others- some goodly 
strength or knowledge gained for yourselves; 
so, from day to day, and strength to strength, 
you shall build up indeed, by art, by 1 bought, 
and by just will, an eccleaia of England, of 
which it shall not be said, “ See what man¬ 
ner of stones are here,” but “See what man¬ 
ner of men.” 
more, is violating the commands ot God.— glory of its existence. Such a hie may be .' ' . b „ orsamon gwhom l lived.” “I pray you with all earnestness to j 
Eugenia, Conway, Mich. to some extent human, but lacks in tin* more . _. ’ _ ^ ' know within yonr hearts, that i 
-- divine characteristics ol our humanity. Benefit of Laughter. lovely and righteous arc possible 
DIANA VERNON. You have seen a tree growing up against p UO bably there is not the remotest cor- who believe in tlmir possibility, an 
- a wall or other object which prevents the n(J1 . G| . litlle in j et 0 f the minute blood ves- termine that, for their part, they i 
The name of Diana Vernon lias now be- sunlight, air and the genial, developing in- ^ V( . ks( . ]h) of Uie l)()( i y Umt ( iocs not every day’s work contribute to II 
come the synonym forever of a beautiful fluences of nature from reaching It on one feel H()|U() wavelel from that great convtd- every dawn of morning b© to you 
and masculine-tempered girl, who loves field side. No branches grow from that side, no gioft (hmrly laU g hter y shaking the central ginning of life, and every setting 
sports, sets etiquette at defiance, and consults beautiful blossoms or foliage, while the other man Th(l blood , novn3 m0ro ' lively—prob- you as its close; then let every on 
only her own inclinations. Now there is stretches out. its long arms unduly, vainly try- ftb] ‘ ( ., u . ini(ml) electric, or vital condi- short lives leave its sure record of t 
one remark which it is necessary to make iug to grasp enough of life to compensate for t ; ou j3 distinctly modified—it conveys a dif- ly thing done ibr others - son 
upon the threshold, even taking this lowest the dwarfed Imgirfaitiwm of the other part. toent impression to all the organs ol the strength or knowledge gained for y 
estimate of Die Vernon’s character, we must So om* natures, if not nourished and developed b( . ^ fr visits them on that particular so, from day to day, and strength t< 
remember with what other qualities Sir Wal- Into every nqfelc possibility ot expansion, ni y S tj c journey, wlien the man is laughing, you shall build up indeed, by art, b 
ter Scott 1 bought proper to ballast it. She will be unsymmetric. from what it does at other times. And so, and by just will, an eccleaia of E 
was a girl of very powerful mind and unit- If the result of our living is not to give d()ubt noti a g()od |. LUg |, may lengthen a which it shall not be said, “ See * 
anal literary accomplishments; and we pleasure or good m some way to others, it umn > 3 ijf ( . conveying a distinct stimulus to ner of stones are here," but “ 8ee 
should say to any young lady who sought there seems to us nothing worthy of our lbe yUal f orce8 A nd the time may come ner of men.” 
to justify her own eccentricities by the ex- effort, nothing worth doing or enioymg, p|, ya ieiami, attending more closely -. U1 Mltv of DvIllir 
ample of this popular heroine, before you nothing to sacrifice by our own denial or Uum * u u }ire apk u , do, to the 4 y ".V 
imitate her manners, be sure that you pos- suffering Ibr the greater good or happiness iniulinerftblB influences which the As a . l!Uu: >> s . ira PV> thl9 19 n 
sess her brains; 1ml, In the second place,and of others, we may be sure that we have , exerts upon Us tenement of clay, shall 11 There ia a dignity about that, g 
what is more important, we must consider grown by a wall that lias shut out the glory HC1 . ibe (0 a b)I pid patient “ so many peals a,om: wc cal1 , that, ventu 
the extreme youth of this girl when she is of God from our souls in some way. of laughter, to be undergone at, such and ,l ’ oin 1,ome <or llie 111 st " 
introduced to us as the Queen of that Sylvan Human nature is grand in infinite capa- gucb a timy » j U8k ttB tb0y u ow do that far For we are not dead; there is not 
Court, in whose rough pastimes she mingles bilities. The ontreaching wants of our be- , nore objectionable prescription, a pill, or an t0 8 P‘ mk of ’ aml °, nl f s ° 
with the grace of a Dryad. 81 m was but iug, like the many delicate tendrils of a vine, electric or g a i va nlc shock; and shall study forei £ n co,mtne9 no J l,,ul (lown ° 
eighteen years of age; but a sUorttiitoeback are ever thrusting out their twining fingers, tUe be9t aiul moat effective method of pro- we know !l,Kml ' m ‘ re ,11U9t 
she was a child, and to many girls of four- grasping and clinging toward whatever can ducing the required effect in each patient. lamls 9 ° ,nevv ' ujrt : 9ta *' vvni1 ’ 01 n0 
teen or fifteen field sports, if offered to their a Ul our growth and higher development. ‘ -- turn that go thithei. 
choice, come just as naturally as to hoys. Our physical nature lias its wants, on which Concerning Secrecy. r , 
«. .. . „ , . „ , , . ... . tit The Influence of Muulc In V 
81m was but just emerging from this period depend the health of our complex being, All secrecy is injurious m its nature. We . 
of life when Osbaldistoue met her; when body and soul. Our hearts hunger for the do not mean to aver that men aud women 1 renasus, in New fork >*< 
oUI,-of-door life and violent exercise is en- sympathy and natural affection of those who can flvo without those episodes in their af- “ We lose much when we loreg< 
joyed with all the freshness and simplicity are linked to us by ties of blood. Our fairs which require privacy. Where is the value the influence of good 
of a nature yet innocent of passion, and minds seek for knowledge, and find health- man that, can boast that be is altogether free ought to be the most, de ig it u i 
scarcely conscious of the difference of sex. fid exercise and growth in the thought it fl-om the presence of ft skeleton in his cup- ship, as it is in all chine us v 
* * * In summing up the character of stimulates, and the intellect is nourished by board? But the fewer that we have of these excellence has not destioyei t 
Die Vernon as the pretty huntress, wc must, the social intercourse for which we are grinning inmates the better will it be for praise, or rudeness utterly ueg ec 
remember, thirdly, that with all her stable formed. Our hearts crave the tender®! love ^ourselves and all those who are concerned vme direction to sing with 
accomplishments, she is always a perfect which shall comfort and nourish their growth w ith us. A secret. If we think ofit, lias ever standing. _ 
lady. Indeed, her sporting exploits, as far into the more perfect likeness to God. 8o some quality of the skeleton. It is to us a Comfort ami Conwuei 
as they were not the mere exuberance of heart, body, and intellect must each have its accret, because the divulging of it would be \y r;) Sfty3 Spurgeon, who lia 
Childish high spirits, were merely part of food, and each also, by a law of our being, injurious to us. Lt is kept hallowed, not he- hearts made to laugh by God's w 
The Diftiilty of Dying. 
As a fancy, simply, this is not bad :— 
“ There is a dignity about that going away 
alone wc call dying—that, venturing away 
from home for the first time in our lives. 
For we are not dead; there is nothing dead 
to speak of, aud we only go off seeking- 
foreign countries not laid down on any map 
we know about. There must be lovely 
lands somewhere slanvard, for none ever re¬ 
turn that go thither.” 
The Influence of Muwlc In Worship, 
Iren/KUb, in New York Observer, says: 
" We lose much when we forego or under¬ 
value the influence of good music, it 
ought to be the most delightful part of wor¬ 
ship, as it Is in all churches where artistic 
excellence has not destroyed the soul of 
praise, or rudeness utterly neglected the di¬ 
vine direction to sing with the under¬ 
standing.” _ 
t om lol l anil Counsel. 
We, says Spurgeon, who have had our 
hearts made to laugh by God’s word, cannot 
that education which circumstances seemed must have use to strengthen and complete cause it Is a joy, but because it might, become be laughed out of our faith. We have lived 
to have made appropriate to her, and to 
which Greek and Latin, science and history, 
were the natural correlatives. Thus it is 
that in none of her sayings and doings does 
She ever remind one of the sporting “ girl of 
the period.” There is nothing about her 
Corresponding to the modern idea of" fast¬ 
ness nor would there have been had she 
lived at the present time, or lived in great 
cities. In what we call “ fast” young ladies, 
there is always an element of unreality. 
They arc* fast, less because they like it them¬ 
selves than because they think other people 
do. Now, Diana Vernon was essentially a 
genuine girl. Fast or slow, original or con¬ 
ventional, virtuous or vicious, she would al¬ 
ways have been her own self, aud would 
never have jeopardized her self-respect for 
the sake of being called “jolly.”— Macmil¬ 
lan's Magazine. 
the symmetry of this wondrous humanity. 
A unity of character distinguishes the 
most exalted manhood or womanhood. Our 
lives, in their daily experiences, must be 
formed alter a true, symmetric ideal, free 
from foibles and inconsistencies. There 
should be a simplicity of purpose that shall 
characterize us as honest in motive, trust¬ 
worthy and sincere, while the different acts 
of our lives should be consistent with each 
other, as parts of one beautiful whole. To 
preserve this unity, we must thrust from us 
the vanity and selfishness which so fatally 
poison our growth, and live for some noble 
aim, even in the minute details of our every¬ 
day affairs, showing love in our hearts for 
the Great Ideal, ami love for all the creatures 
who share existence with us,—love for the 
good wherever we find it. 
It is better to remember often that there 
is something divine in nature which may fit 
us for the companionship of God and angels, 
with the lady, and gazing with a paternal A Speculative Youuk Lady. us for the companionship of God and angels, 
fondness beautiful to see, upon the child, It is said that a speculative young lady of aud so to keep the white robes of our souls 
who, quite worn out, had fallen asleep. Indiana has already accumulated a stock of from trailing in the dust and mire ot sin, 
Though still unable to see her face, I could two hundred correspondents, and has the than to discourage a heavenly ambition and 
hear the lady’s pleasant, courteous tones, so pleasing alternative of living on her princl- our spiritual dignity and sell respect by con- 
unlike the indifferent, or captious ones so pal, so to speak, by marrying them seriatim , tinually saying to our souls that wc are “ ot 
many wives feel privileged to use toward with two hundred divorces, or deriving an the earth, earthly ” and by uatuie tola! y 
their husbands. And I noticed the loving annual income from an equal number of depraved." 
way in which she ran her fingers through breaches of promise. We are, after ail, very like children in that 
a pain. No doubt there is an excitement 0 n the word and proved its truthfulness by 
about a secret—ft secret so called—which experience, and are, therefore, invulnerable 
may to some extent be pleasurable. The to all attacks, whilst strangers to such expe- 
knowledge of that which is unknown to rieneu are staggered. 
others has an allurement. But such pleasure q’HicitE is One whose eve sees deeper than 
is a poor trifle, and stands quite apart from aad whose judgments are infallible 
the general good or evil of secrecy in the )U)(1 eternttb if Q, K \ hold us in honor, we 
affairs of life._ can dispense with the good opinion of men, 
Farewell. or even hear their reproach and opposition. 
why usk how came it so ? The same KusKJN says :—“ An immense quantity of 
Happens to others every day: J , 
By chance or rate the meeting cunae: modem confession Ol sill, even when honest, 
Which who shall say ? is merely sickly egotism, which will rather 
it was not much that either mud, gloat over its own evil than lose the ccntral- 
But each felt richer for that night ; j/.atiou of itS interest 111 itself.” 
You turned, ft* I drew ncur. So red; 
When I went, white. At night, when weary of the crowding cares 
Which, through the day, oppress me with their 
We pressed fond hands, for nothing smiled; l ()a( j i 
For nothing foolish tears let fall. jj ow i ont?8 my soul to lift Itself in prayer, 
Wo quarreled, and were reconciled, Above its toils, to he alone with God. 
And meant it all. 
Bishop Wilson says: —“There are a 
And 1 toother lands must go; t i, rm God 
"Farewell!” you said, so courteously; thousand tilings W ^ * ’ 
Courteously I kissed your hand, and so — without being sensible of it. He whom WO 
So let it he! love is lie whom wc are most concerned to 
*** please, and we arc most afraid to offend. Let 
Dr. Wise says.—“Activity is the condi- | J g our , ove by this ruc¬ 
tion of healthy life. Idleness is death. This! 
is as true of the spiritual life as it is of the Christ asks nothing good from you; he 
physical and intellectual. It cannot grow, *>uly asks the empty room m which he may 
nay It cannot long exist without appropriate l spread the good things whicn he will bring 
action.” ' wilh him8elfl 
