m 
laftits’ 
-^fetter. 
WAITING AT THE GATE. 
BY GEOIiGE WII.EOCGIIBY. 
The moment* are so very fleet. 
When waiting at the sate. 
It takes so long for lipe to meet, 
When waiting at the gate. 
The moon and stars, with Jealous eyes, 
3eeu) then to watch and wait, 
To catch the little sweets wo say 
When waiting at the gate. 
How oft that vine has sheltered me, 
While waiting at the gate, 
From curious eyes that should not see, 
When waiting at the gate 1 
And I have heard the kind mamma, 
In tones that quite berate, 
** Wonder If those people yet 
Are waiting at the gate." 
That soft, small hand, dear one, of thine. 
While waiting at the gate, 
That often hid Itself in rnlnc- 
Wblle waiting at the gate— 
O reach It here by spirit flight 1 
For Its niyslio touch I wait - 
The touch that stli'8 the old, old thrill 
W hen waiting at the gate! 
The lips that spoke their sympathy. 
While waiting at the gate. 
And brought tiie words so near to me 
When Waiting at the gate ! 
The graoeful form, and sweetest face. 
And every freak and trait: 
O como, I love ye as of old, 
When waiting at the gate! 
Come hiiok again, yc gladsome days 
Of walttug at the gate, 
A.nd elusp me in your golden maze 
Of watting ut the gate! 
Since youth ray heart has yearned for them. 
And still 1 yearn and wait; 
Shall they ne'er return, those lialcyou days, 
Of waiting at. the gate ? 
Oh! there's a bower, wliero we may stand, 
And, waiting at His gate. 
Find eucli warm heart and each true hand 
There, waiting ut fits Gate— 
A gate that loved ones never leave; 
It never growoth late ! 
Am endless, liuuudless, pnngless eve 
Of waiting at the gate. 
Scotch XUdge, O., September, 1S70. 
A TRUE WOMAN. 
“ Luke,” and her voice was so sweet and 
clear that he did not hear the sob that sent 
it forth, “I have hoard aomethiug to-day 
that, as a friend, I ought to have learned 
from your lips. Is it true that Mrs. Ash¬ 
ley’s niece is your promised wife V” 
“She was; she has been, and I loved her 
until—nay, hear me, Miss Conway ; Grace, 
do not despise me.” 
“ I do not despise you, Luke ; I never 
could. L shall he your friend always, and I 
hope the friend of your wife. No Luke,”— 
at his passionate gesture—“for those elements 
that have taught me respect for you.” 
“I will not, but Gkace, she is such a child; 
only seventeen, and I had thought, dared to 
hope even, that she would change.” 
“ A woman’s heart does not lightly change, 
Luke ; and I could never call you friend, it 
I felt that you had wantonly wounded one. 
Now tell me what is she like?” 
“A simple child, whose very simplicity 
first won me, but now—” 
“Time will remedy that, Luke, The 
world gives its wisdom fast enough. I only 
hope she will lot me be her friend for your 
sake.” 
“ Try it; teach her to be like yourself, and 
I will bless you always, for, Grace, let me 
spoak once; you will always be more than 
friend to me, and had it not been for your 
noble strength to-night, I should have spoken 
words that would have been cause of regret 
to three hearts, for I know Fannie loves me. 
If all women were like you, there would be 
fewer wrecked lives. God bless you!” 
In lier own room, Grace Conway fought 
the battle between truth and right, so old, so 
hard, and came off conqueror. If there was 
henceforth a chamber closed and sealed, that 
is only the old story. 
At the Flower Festival the next day Lui <k 
Manning came to her. “ I have a friend 
here, Miss Conway, I wish to present to 
you.” She took his arm and moved through 
the crowd. One word of apology, one di¬ 
stant of hesitation, and she would have des- 
octal (topics. 
THE NEGLECTED MIND. 
BY CHARLOTTE CORONER. 
'Tis a Held where care has tangled Ua vinca 
Round tho sods, which have grown quite gray; 
And the old worn path, to tho pond which winds, 
Has boon closed up this many a day ; 
The walls arc stone, with an old ruffled akin 
Ot lichen, on which the past, years 
Have written a tale where Neglect was the sin. 
Which shall yet, add a sequel named " Tears.” 
Some berries grow there, of a dark colored race, 
Whoso arm* conceal many a thorn, 
Who wander, quite savagely, over the place, 
Looking ragged, half-starved and forlorn. 
Near tho pond, like a spirit who mourns at its fate, 
A largo willow stands woeping alone; 
And round the rough bars of tho long closed up gate 
The ivy with rankness has grown. 
The locusts’ shrill song fills the air through tho day, 
And the crickets sing vespers at eve; 
And through the long roods the wind* in their play 
Weird inusie, at, night-fall, oft breathe. 
One rock, tissued deep, where a small cedar sighs 
To tin? mouse* which slipper its foot, 
Reclines o'er the wall by a barberry bush’s side, 
Near some clovers, rod-hooded and sweet. 
Hall' burled in ferns, on a mound like a heart, 
A sweet briar stands covered with flowers— 
As If still In his memories one spot lay apart 
Where Love, with her magical powers, 
Might enter the tleld, transforming its state 
To a garden redundant with bloom - 
Whore Wisdom might walk through the wldo open 
gate. 
And revel 'mid flowers and perfume. 
TO BE PITIED. 
I happened, lately, to be iu the room 
with a semi-invalid, when a hautllul ol 
choice flowers, the gift of a thoughtful neigh¬ 
bor, was brought in by her niece. 
“ See, aunt,” said the young girl, “ what a 
lovely bouquet Mrs. M-sent you.” 
“Do you call that a bouquet? To my 
notion it is about big enough for a nosegay,” 
was the querulous reply. 
“ oil yes, a nosegay; that is a better name, 
the whispered conversation was resumed 
with a mutual confession. In plain words 
both acknowledged resemblance to Job’s 
turkey — neither had a cent. They would 
commence their married life very much as 
they begun tho world—with nothing. The 
mutual confession was evidently a damper 
on their enthusiasm. They were silent. The 
lady cast furtive glances at the swain, and 
at last murmured audibly: 
“ I am too youug to marry.” 
The tone was disappointed. It had an 
hesitation accent about it that meant more 
than the language. But the answer came 
heartily—bluff, and to the point. 
“ So am l." 
“ We’ve both been mistaken.” 
« Yes.” 
And so they had. They left the car 
quietly. The question of marriage AVas 
thoroughly understood. There was to be 
no wedding. 
-- 
A LIBRARY IN ONE VOLUME. 
A relative of mine, who prides himself 
upon his fine collection ot books, drove up 
to my door the other day. I asked him to 
step into the “ library.” His eyes opened a 
little, I fancied, with an amused look, ns if 
he wondered whether I, with my meager 
salary, was goiug to set up a rivalry with him. 
He entered the room, looked around with 
some apparent surprise, and said, “ Library? 
“ Certainly,” said I. “ Where are the books ?” 
“ Here,” said I, pointing to “ Webster,” which 
stood proudly on a shell, alone, for the rea¬ 
son that I had nothing to place beside it. 
“ Many volumes in one.” “ What have you 
on botany ?” said he. “ Webster,” I replied, 
“with illustrations of all the various plants.” 
■ “What have you on mechanics ?" “Web¬ 
ster,” said I, and I turned to the engraving 
’ of the turbine wheel, and of various other 
machines. “ Well,” said he, “ you have, to 
be sure, in Webster, a smattering ot ulmost 
' everything, hut I have you now. Let’s see 
Sabbath flcabhig. 
SOONER OR LATER. 
Sooner or later tho storms shall beat 
Over my slumbers from heart to feet; 
Sooner or later the winds shall rave 
In the long grass above my grave. 
1 shall not hood them where I lie, 
Nothing their sound shall signify; 
Nothing the headstone's fret of rain; 
Nothing to me the dark day’s pain. 
Sooner or Inter the sun shall shine 
With tender warmth on that mound of mlno; 
Sooner or later In so miner air, 
Clover and violet blossom there. 
I shall not feel In that, deep-laid rest 
The sheeting light full over my breuat. 
Nor oven note In those hidden hours 
The wind-blown breath of the tossing flowers. 
Sooner car later tho stainless snows 
Shall add their hush to my mute repose; 
Sooner or later shall slant and shift 
And heap my bed with their dazzling drift. 
CUt11 though that frozen pall shall seem, 
Its touch no colder can make the dream 
That wrecks not the sweet and sacred dread, 
Shrouding the city of the dead. 
Sooner or Inter the bee shall come 
And till tho noon with Its golden hum; 
Sooner or Inter on half poised wing 
The bluebird's warble about me ring. 
Ring and chirrup and whistle with gleq, 
Nothing Ills music means to me ; 
None or these beautiful things shall know 
How suuudly their lover sleeps below. 
Sooner or Inter tar Out in the night. 
The stars shall over me wing their flight; 
Sooner or later my darkling dews 
Catch the white sparks iu their silent ooze. 
Never a ray shall part the gloom 
That wraps me round In the kindly tomb; 
Peace shall be perfect for Up aud brow— 
Sooner or later—oh, why not now? 
[Harriet- Prescott Spofford. 
-■*-*■«-- 
THOUGHTS BY THINKERS. 
HiHe tHlo of ‘‘wortl^y it tolly deserves it, for it is as fragrant. ^authorities on mythology.” I turned 
friend” when he courteously presented his il!i il “ bcaulltuL Smc11 that hehoUop *’ th* P a K es of Webster and showed him the 
BY HOWE BENNINGS. 
“ Here I am, Grace, and all the treasures 
of mother Howard and uncle Phil, at our 
disposal. Look at these tuberoses, will you, 
just swelling into beauty. Do yon know, 
darling, they always make me think of you? 
I call them my spikes of gold thoughts, they 
give their fragrance so unconsciously, and 
these purple hearted pansies give one a sol¬ 
emn feeling like cathedral chimes, aud this 
feathery candy tuft is like the ‘ foam of the 
billow.’ ” 
“ Really, Nix, you are poetical this morn¬ 
ing. It is said the arrows of the blind god 
are potent in awaking the muse, and I sup¬ 
pose it is to him in I lie person of Harry 
Leith that. I must attribute this out-gush, to 
say nothing of the blushes!” 
“ I am happy, Grace, I do not deny it; 
but l can be prosv enough, you will find, to 
work with deft fingers. What shall it be, 
wreath or festoon first?” 
“ Wreath, I think.” 
One hour later the “deft fingers” had 
friend” when he courteously presented his 
future bride. 
“ Childish, but with great capacity, or I 
am mistaken,” was Grace’s mental com¬ 
ment—a verdict that she did not change 
during the interview. As she saw tho large 
eyes follow every movement of Luke Man¬ 
ning, and heard the quick lips so ready to 
speak his praise, she knew that, a true heart 
would yet, mature the character into a fit 
“ resting place” for his earnest spirit, 
Grace became her friend aud unconscious 
teacher; and when months after people 
commented on Luke Manning and his 
beautiful bride, and she saw the fond pride 
and love of the husband, she thanked God 
that no moment of weakness iu her had 
darkened another’s life. 
-- 
FEMININE FEUILLETON. 
Portrait of a ProtemoreHN of Greek. 
At the recent Philological Convention at 
Rochester was a delegate whom a corres¬ 
pondent of the Cincinnati Gazette tints de¬ 
scribes:— “Speaking of a woman, reminds 
of the turbine wheel, aud ot various omoi wiiut Front i» Knowledge v 
machines. “ Well,” said he, “you have, to p u Guthrie says “ A man may know 
be sure, in Webster, a smattering of ulmost a q about the rocks, and his heart remain as 
everything, but I have you now. Let’s see har d ^ RTan jte or adamant; be may know 
your authorities on mythology.” 1 turned tt n about the winds, their courses and their 
the pages of Webster and showed him the currcn tB, and be tho sport of passions as 
.. pictures of the noted characters of mytholo- turbulent and fierce as they; he may know 
(Snuffing,) “I don’t think there is anything g . y> an d sketches of their lives. “ 1 believe, all about the stars, ami his fate he the me- 
particularly beautiful in a heliotrope; I call aft er all,” said he, laughing, “ that you have teor > 8( that blazes for a little while, and is 
it a very plain flower, and then it wilts very a library.” then lost, quenched in eternal night; he 
quickly iu water.” Whenever, now, 1 see a friend out shop- may know all about the sea, and be a 
“ Well, there’s a Lady Washington that j asb him what he wants. If it is a stranger to the peace of God ; his soul may 
will grow and blossom m water for days.” pictl j rt5 book f or Edward, 1 direct hisatten- resemble its troubled waters, which, lushed 
“ Ves; but that ain't fragrant. I dont t j on to Webster. If it is an encyclopedia by storms and ruffled by every breath of 
care much for flowers without fiugiancc. j- {)r jjncle James, I point him to Webster, wind, cannot rest, but throws up mire and 
“ You love the rose, then, the queen ot the ^ ^ goflJe [ b j n g please an invalid, 1 re- dirt; lie may know how to rule the spirit of 
flowers,” pursued the niece, who seemed de- (;ommeml Webster. If it is a Christmas pres- the elements, and not know how to rule his 
tennined to make her aunt say something ^ p ft( . ifl a -wife, I urge him to get Webster— own; he may know howto turn aside the 
pleasant. “ That has beauty and fragrance, Webster unabridged and illustrated. It is a deadly thunderbolt, but not the wrath of 
too.” never-failing delight to every one. — Cor. an angry God; you may know all, in short, 
“ A very original remark, my dear 1 was Q hr ^ an> Enii that man > 8 genius has discovered or his skill 
the severe reply. “For my part, I got, -■»+■» —- invented, but if you do not know Jesus 
tired of hearing the rose called the ' Queen of MATRIMONIAL VICTIMS. Christ, it your eyes have never been opened to 
tho Flowers’ when I was a little girl,—just - a saving knowledge of the truth, wliaf will 
as if queens have any more beauty or fra* There are all sorts of weddings and mar- tbftt ava ji you when they are fixed in their 
gronce than other people. I have never riagea; it would take many pages to register aoc i cebJ) glazed by the hand of death? 
seen a rose since, but what I have thought of them, from the marriage ot true minds to Equally by the death-bed of the greatest 
the invidious comparison. And there’s tho thnt of a couple of money-bags. Sometimes philosopher, as of the hardest miser that 
Carnation 1 Such a name!” the bride and bridegroom are two masked evor gr0linc j the faces of the poor, there is 
Just here l stammered out some apology, figures, tricked up and disguised, so that it room ant \ reason for the solemn question,: 
and made my escape. I wanted to keep would be hard to say which is the most de- ^Vhat shall it profit a man if he shall guin 
some of my darlings unsullied. It does seem, ceived in the other. Sometimes it is a liv- the whole world—all its learning, its wealth, 
when you are in company with some people, ing creature united to a shadow. its pleasures and honors — and lose his own 
Christian Eva. 
MATRIMONIAL VICTIMS. 
that man’s genius lias discovered or liis skill 
invented, but if you do not know Jesus 
Christ, it your eyes have never been opened to 
a saving knowledge of the truth, what will 
that avail you when they are fixed in their 
me that there was one lit lie treasure of a girl somo of my darlings unsullied. It does seem, ceived in the other. Sometimes it is a liv- 
tas iioiiei. ,i maiv e jcuu >, am. poising i on a t the Convention. Permit me to introduce when you are in company with some people, ing creature united to a shadow. its plei 
the head of her friend, Nix stepped back to MiiW Doise of Chicago, asmall woman, and a us though they would not leave you one nave you ever known a man married to souly » 
note the effect. 
“ Well, Grace, if you were to wear that 
wreath 1 should he enchanted with my own 
handiwork; but surely no other face can 
lend lo it a beauty so wondrous.” 
“You are a sad flatterer, Nix. Take 
your bauble, I do not care for crowns.” 
“ Nor need them either,” interrupted Nix. 
“Incorrigible!” laughed Grace. 
But Grace Conway was beautiful, not 
merely in face and form, but in the earnest, 
upright soul, that looked out through the 
clear eyes and curved the firm lips, And 
so thought Luke Manning; and he passed 
down the walk and lifted his hat gallantly to 
the flower maidens. 
“ Grace,” said chatty Nix, “ do you 
know after all Luke Manning’s conquests 
in this sage town his heart is still behind 
him, or was, until yesterday, when Mrs. 
Asiiley received a country nymph, wlm at 
ouce proclaims lierself Luke Manning's 
betrothed, Henry told me last night, aud 
I told him it was a shame. Where would 
you put that heliotrope, Grace? It don’t 
suit there. Why, how cold your hand is 
this warm morning! What a blessing for 
kid gloves 1” 
“Are you sure this is true, Nixie?” 
young and a wise one. She has pretty blown beautiful thing to enjoy! And yet how a doll? He chose her out and paid for her. 
hair, of-which she builds an orthodox chlg- much more are they to be pitied, for they do What a sweet face it is! What high-bred 
non; she has large, gray eyes, as clear mul literally destroy all their own beautiful calm.I And then, again come the happy 
dimple. Her nose is straight, and she don’t 
wear spectacles. But she does wear a pretty 
gown, and condescends to ribbons. She’s 
an affectionate little soul, albell she believes 
in woman suffrage, and is that fearful thing, 
a Greek professor ess. That, little figure has 
stood undauntedly upon the platform, and 
MOTIVE AND UNDERSTANDING. 
The New Orleans Picayune tells the fol¬ 
lowing story; 
A few nights since the passengers in a 
crowded street car were startled by the 
zealously lectured young men much older soft cooiugs of a couple in one corner. A 
than herself upon Greek accents and Latin blue veil hid the lady’s face, and the gentle- 
blooming young girl comes up, bringing a 
crutch and a liruuchial wheeze; and it now 
and then happens that a youth appears, 
leading a wig ot false plaits, a set ot aitifi- 
cial teeth, and half a century of hones to the 
altar. The disparity is not so great as you 
might imagine. There may lift a heart beat¬ 
ing still beneath all these adjustments, while 
the bridegroom, for all liis youth and good 
looks, has not ‘one single drop of warm 
blood in his body. So, bad, good and indit* 
, , , . „„„ hand In hand. What does it matter up neaven-waru, ny wen-aquuiwm p*'”i““- 
“ You love me, then, they heard him say. M G ood- will’s beard Is grizzled, and Peace tious of reading, business, meditation, and 
conjugations. And they liked it—oh, of niau’s hands was playing nervously with its ferent, they pass their way 
course they liked it—and the small creature folds. Sometimes it is Peace and Good-will Who 
has made a wonder and perfect success of “ You love me, then,” they heard him say. go by hand in hand. What does it. matter 
herself. There’s the bravery ami energy of * 0 . a one f oss loU(1 but Us if Good-will’s beard la gr. 
Western girla-bless ’em 1 To be sure, the 1 he wa f m a . Mm ® lcs *has crow’s-feet round at.or 
small professor has a contempt for poetry, accent was tender as heart could wish. Bom times it is Pride aud A 
which is a bad thing; and she turns up her “I have loved you so long,” the swam sweeping past down the lo 
nose at marriage, which is another bad thing continued, “ and I have almost been afraid the church-yard beyond . 
—but then she is rather young to decide per- , in( i u i KC y, e 8WC ct hopes that are now re- looking couple as they sail 
manenl ly and absolutely upon either ol these , . m^nvsplveH into certainty” ,f >ok lo Hee ll o' r refl . (3Ctu,n 
two points.” solving themselves into certainty. bystanders. Somctiroes- 
’ I _ it otVuir! nfnn V" f - - 1.... U tc 
How to Build ii Character. 
Clark, in bis Workday Christianity, says: 
“ A man, building character, must break 
bond, as a bricklayer. His thoughts, pur¬ 
poses, and actions, must, interlap and Inter¬ 
lock, cross over each other, and be sealed by 
brotherly love. He must build in much lor 
strength, and little for show. Comparatively 
few bricks go into the street-side wall of a 
house, The materials that compose the 
rear walls, gables, and cross partitions must 
he as firmly burnt and carefully laid in as 
the stencilled rows that face the thorough¬ 
fares. So a man must make himself strong, 
not merely in a single trait or truth, but 
build bis character through and through by 
plumb and level. He must square himself 
up heaven-ward, by well-adjusted propor- 
The reply was in a tone less loud, but its round abSut her Wing eyes ? 
accent was tender as heart could wish. Somtimea It is Pride aud Vainglory Unit go 
“I have loved you 60 long,” the swain sweeping past down the long aisle, out Into 
continued “and I have almost been afraid the church-yard beyond. They are a fine 
to indulge the eweel Hopes that are now re- 
A Hoovior Girl mul a Uiuhwayman. 
The following story is told in the Indiana 
papers : —" Indianapolis is infested with 
There was just enough constraint in the highway robbers, but a brave girl there re- 
... .... ..... xrw w. 1 , centlv outwitted one ol them, bhe was re- should love 
“ Was you afraid of pa ?” 
“ No, but of you.” 
“ Why should you be afraid of me ?’ 
“ Because it seemed so impossible that you 
bystanders 
i no very 
religion, liis works must measure up even 
against bis words, lie must provide win¬ 
dows of illumination and doors for his guests. 
Borne men arc built like jails. They are 
blind walls and gloom all the way up ; 
their eyes are cross-barred with forbidden 
strange phenomcne.ii—it is only the past ot froWn8 jf there are emotions within, they 
r«£ naswsz TUy a » ** • ■« ««*» 
out too late.— IIouw Journal. the sentinels. 
voice to cause Nix to look up; but her 
companion's face was hid by sweet clover 
sprays, and Nix answered— 
“ Ob, yes; Harry is Mrs. Ashley’s 
cousin, you know. What shall I do with 
this cal la, Grace?” 
Aud Grace answered, and talked all the 
morning, but she did not speak of Luke 
Manning again. 
That evening they were all at the church, 
decorating it for the morrow’s festival, aud 
as Luke Manning and Grace Conway 
walked home in the summer moonlight, 
Grace had never looked so beautiful nor so 
earnest and strong. 
cently outwitted one of them, bhe wua re¬ 
turning home about dusk, alone in a buggy. 
Blie drove along leisurely, her horse dropping 
his head iu a contented way. All at once a 
man jumped out from acorn field nearby, 
and took her horse by the head. She looked 
“Why?” 
“ I’m homely; my face is not handsome; 
named Men. 
There is an expression in the face of I 
a good married man who has a good 
1 have nothing that attracts the love of wi f ( , tba t a bachelor’s cannot have. It 
women.” is indescribable. He Is a little nearer the 
are prisoners. Not a solitary tear can escape 
the sentinels.” 
Comfort and Counsel. 
Those who would go to heaven when 
they die must begin their heaven while 
they live. 
This world cannot explain its own diffi¬ 
culties without the assistance of another.— 
consent, he dropped the bridle rein and took 111C conversation ny — — fc— “ 
a step toward the carriage. That instant absorbingly interesting, and every eai was 
tbe brave girl touched her horse with the listening In the crowded car. 
whip, giving the man a sharp cut across the u Would you marry me if I was poor? ” 
face, and, before he could recover himself, lie u Iiow can you a8 j t _ a m I mercenary ?” 
was thrown down by „ae wheels of the J „ 
buggy, which, with his intended victim, soon No—but so many are. 
disappeared.” There was a momentary silence, and tnen 
“ Passingly so; but not very. fingers pul) his whiskers. No one ever mis- TlI[i company in which you will improve 
The conversation had by this time grown takes the good married maiu It is only the ... lj(j ^ j eaat expensive to you.— 
abRorbiugly hMta|.and overy oar was 4 *«***»• 
listening In the crowU«d car. males, and make himself generally agree- “ \Vu at maketh tale bearers so many and 
“ Would you marry me if I was poor*. a|j]e lo tUe fadies, and yet never leave a thoir tales so long, but that such persons are 
“ How can you ask—am 1 mercenary ?” doubt on any mind that there is a precious , , , otll ers are pleasingly affeoted 
No-but so many are.” little woman at home worth all the world to P ° * 
Thf*rp wan a momentarv silence, and then him. Forney s Press. 
