LADY FAIR. fc 
Underneath the beach tree sitting, 111 
With that evorlusting knitting, ai 
And the soft sun-shadows flitting c] 
Through your wavy hair ; 
All my thoughts and plans confusing, ei 
All my resolution loosing, ^ 
Say, what matter’s in your musing, 
Lady fair? 11 
\\ 
Oh, the charm that In your face is ! 
All the loves nnd all the graces ! 
To be clasped in your embraces a: 
Monarch's guerdon were; jj 
Not a man, I ween, who sees you, 
But would give his lire to please you, y 
Yet you say—that lovers tease you! y 
Lady fair! -j 
One by one, to their undoing, h 
Fools In plenty come a-woofng. 
Baffled still, but still pursuing, 
Tangled in the snare; V 
In yonr ever-changing smile hid, 
Or beneath your sleepy eyelid, .. 
Many a heart It hath beguiled, “ 
Lady fair, 
0 
While the summer breezes fan her 
Gently with their leafy banner, 11 
Venus’ form and Dlan's manner, VI 
Doth my goddess wear; 
Lives the man who can discover 
Any secret spell to move her t 
To the wish of mortal lover, j - 
Cold as fair? 
But to see those dark eyes brighten, J 
Arid for me with kindness lighten. 
While the check's rich colors highten, 3 
What would 1 not dare? 
To inform their scornful splendor r 
With the lovu-flght Soft and tender. 
Bow the. proud heart to surrender, I 
Lady fair! s 
By the dvos that thou hast broken, 
By the words that I have spoken, t 
By tho passion they betoken, , 
I have loved, I swear, 1 
Only thee since l have seen thee; { 
And, if woman’s heart be In thee, , 
I will die, but I will win thee, 
Lady fair I < 
[Blackwood's Magazine. j 
WHAT RURAL WOMEN WRITE. 
Whitt About the HleaNiuga f 
Mbs. Annie Eckerson asks:—“ Dear Mr. ' 
Editor, are there any more troubled Maii- 1 
tha’s? I sincerely hope not. And now, ' 
Rubai, sisters, don’t you think it would be 
better for us to tell more about our privi¬ 
leges and blessings, aud not think so much 
of our cares?” 
Troubled Marthas! Bless us, Mrs. Eck¬ 
erson, If you could see the pile of manu¬ 
script before us from “ Troubled Marthas,” 
you would wonder if there are any Mary's 
left in the world. We have printed such 
letters as we have from the Marthas of the 
country because we believed it would do 
good to the mental complainings of the 
women of thousands of American house¬ 
holds. We believed it might help some 
men and hoys, husbands, sons and brothers 
to see themselves as others sec them; and 
we knew if they once got such a view there 
would be an immediate attempt to improve 
the portrait. 
Lessons the Troubled Marthas Teach. 
Dear Rural Gibus : —The letters from 
“ Troubled Marthas” in the Rural New- 
Yorker, bring many a great throb of sym¬ 
pathy to “ Rural” hearts. Those letters are 
very suggestive. Here sire two cases of 
farmers' girls who have attempted to teach, 
and because their health gave way, were 
obliged to abandon it. Yet they go into the 
laborious life at home! How can they, i 
ask, with such slender health? 
A school superintendent, who has long 
dealt with teachers, says: — “A faithful 
teacher seldom lasts more than live years.” 
Men teachers seem to last. What, are the 
girls to do? If teaching is so confining and 
wearing, so are clerkships, so is bookkeep¬ 
ing, so are professions. 
Say what we will, the fact is. women are 
differently built from men, and more slen¬ 
derly. They, therefore, should not work 
the number of hours a day, nor assume as 
heavy work as do men. 
But girls are ambitious, and some are very 
proud; others are independent. They make 
great effort—and so they should, for effort 
brings strength. But they should also real¬ 
ize their limited physical powers, and begin 
sensibly, so as not, by overtaxing, bring on 
life-long inefficiency and its regrets. 
I have known girls (usually poor ones, 
who appreciated the advantage,) the last 
term of school to work night and day ; and 
when checked by anxious friends, they re¬ 
ply, “I will rest afterward; now my aim is 
to graduate.” Afterward they do rest in a 
way, with a fever, or consumption, or weak¬ 
ness of some kind, and so graduate out of 
life, or, worse, lead a cripled life. 
These are the material to make “ troubled 
Mabthas.” I know it from hard experience. 
Robust people (though possessing the faith 
and love of a Mary) do not often look so 
longingly away to the rest prepared for 
those who love Him. They know they have 
a place in this life to fill well before the rest 
k comes ; and that place is where over-ruling 
’• Providence puts them. They take a healtk- 
. ful satisfaction in the work they perforin— 
even ungenial work. 
LIFE WITHOUT AN ATMOSPHERE. 
How wearily the grind of toil goes on 
Whore love is wanting ; how UiO eyo and ear 
And heart, are starved amidst the plenttude 
Of nature, and how hard and colorless 
is life without an atmosphere. I look 
Across the lapse of half a century, 
Andcall to mind old homesteads, where no flower 
Told that the spring Had come, but evil weeds, 
Nightsliado and rough-leaved burdock in the place 
Of the sweet doorway greeting of the rose 
To those who have any sense of responsi- & ' I ^ 
bility, life is a struggle, and with strength to £$>0Clill Uj.’00]X.5« 
meet it, a pleasurable one; without strength, Sjp 
a miserable struggle; for the sense of re- —. - r 
sponsibility still remains, while the vital LIFE WITHOUT AN ATMOSPHERE, 
force is gone. To such, mole hills seem 
mountains. A cross word seems a blow. ^^^,-“185?-- 
and indifference ami thoughtlessness seem And heart are starved uniKtet the pienttude 
cruel tv ; and these things are frequent Of nature, and how hard und colorless 
1 • v vr Lnt ihnen * 8 life without an atmosphere. I look 
enough in ordinary life. None but those Actos* the lapae of half h centurjv 
who have experienced it call understand the Andean to mind old homesteads, where no flower 
mental suffering consequent on physical 
weakness. Of Miosweec doorway greeting of the rose 
Therefore dear girls, take the advice of And the honeysuckle ; Whero the bousewalls seemed 
an old lady, and for the pi emotion ot haj pi- T() Q|lxt tlll! trt , um ] 0U8 shadows of its leaves 
m*ss all around, keep youv health. Do it, if Across the curtain less windows from whoso panes 
you never graduate, if you never teach, it SSSESL.. 
you never have a profession, 1! you arc two Kioom-cietm, i think they ouii it; the heat room 
davs doin* r vour washing. Not that l would Stilling with cellar-damp, "hut from the air 
, ' 3 riii n„i,r in hot mid-summer, bookless, pictureless, 
have you unaspiring and indolent. Only ^ v<) thB , n-vlub , 0 sampler hung 
estimate your physical capital, and use it over the flre-piace, of a mourning piece, 
0 u *i,„ r.pr.iinmv linftsihle • for VOU A green-inured woman, peony-cheeked, beneath 
with all the economy possime, im, jou In ;; iog8lbUl W | llow ». lhe w , ^.throated hearth 
know, “ a living dog IS better man a uoatl u r i sl i| llK with faded pine boughs halt concealing 
i: on >» The. piled-up rubbish at tho chimney’s back; 
rr . i,_ „ »f ,1 ninrlir-inn nt And, in sad keeping with all things about them, 
If we take a vial of powcifill medicine f . g|ii"\|| 1 qui>rull,uu women, sour and sullen men, 
one draught, it kills us; if we take it now untidy, loveless, old bofure their time, 
and then at. will, it has no effect ; but if we With scarce a human Interest save their own 
Him uicu, it • ’ . Monotonous rmind of small economies, 
use it regularly for days, weeks, montus, it 0r pour ac . lIuli ,| „f t i„, neighborhood; 
creates an entire change in our physical Blind to the iretmty everywhere revealed, 
being. Souse strength regularly and care- J—^ 
fully, and it will at length revolutionize the yun(f not, nor winds in,Rlu music in the leaves; 
life. Thus grow itttO Complete WOmailhOQd. tfbr thorn in vain October's holocaust 
1 , . . Burned, gold and crimsoned, over all lhe hills; 
Be symmetrical m character, whatever else T n a sliarftniw ,i H i mystery of the woods. 
you miss! Church-goers, fearful of the unseen powers, 
“Oh” von flriv “how can I °TOW svm- But grumbling over pulpit lax umi pew-rent, 
Uli, you say, now can i grow syui Suvill({i tt8 ; ,nrowd economists, their souls 
metrically, when I am placed close on the An u winter pork with the least possible outlay 
north side of a great stone wall, where the of salt and sanctity; in dally life 
° Showing as little actual comprehension 
sun never penetrates r cHrijstiuu charity, and love and duty. 
Are you? How t wish some one would As If tho Sunuon on the Mount hail been 
tear away that wall, or transplant you. Per- Xif-tuied fleids, 
haps they never will; so, 1 beg ot you, And yet so pinched, and bare, aud comfortless 
grow, aroio, GROW! The lower branches Tho veriest straggler limping on his rounds, 
will be neither lovely nor fruitful; but some ljaU)fhe( , llt a fl0V(!rt7 that paid its taxes, 
day VOU will tower above that, wall into the And hugged his rags in soli’-eomplacency 
is .,1 11 ... .rpi.ftoA from Whittier's "Among the HiUs.’’ 
ness all around, keep your health. Do it, it 
you never graduate, if you never teach, it 
you never have a profession, if you arc two 
days doing your washing. Not that I would 
have you unaspiring and Indolent. Only 
estimate your physical capital, and use it 
with all the economy possible; for, you 
know, “ a living dog is belter than a dead 
lion.” 
If we take a vial of powerful medicine at 
one draught, it kills us; if we take it now 
and then, at will, it has no effect; but if we 
use it regularly for days, weeks, months, it 
creates an entire change in our physical 
being. So use strength regularly and care¬ 
fully, and it will at. length revolutionize the 
life. Thus grow into complete womanhood. 
Be symmetrical hi character, whatever else 
you miss! 
“ Oh,” you say, “ how can I grow sym¬ 
metrically, when I am placed close on the 
north side of a great stone wall, where the 
sun never penetrates?” 
Are you ? How I wish some one would 
tear away that wall, or transplant you. Per¬ 
haps they never will; so, 1 beg of you, 
grow, grow , grow! The lower branches 
will be neither lovely nor fruitful; but some 
day you will tower above that wall into the 
full sunlight and the perfect fruitage. Those 
who grow always do. 
Fine metaphors do not help hard-worked 
farmer women 1 Indeed they do not 1 The 
case is bad; but what 1 would impress is 
not to give up and retrograde because cir¬ 
cumstances are adverse. I am sure better 
times arc coming to the women of the 
Rural world. Let them sympathize and 
work to that end. 
Did you ever think how much selfishness 
there Is in thoughtlessness? It is this which 
leaves the hat and boots scattered about, the 
floor; which throws wide open the best 
rooms, and puts them in disorder • which 
leaves no wood for the ironing and cooking 
of the day; which allows the cistern pump 
to remain out of repair; which never ob¬ 
serves that the mice have nibbled the bags 
until they are wauted to go to mill; which 
forgets that women are not india rubber, aud 
that from twelve to eighteen hours of con¬ 
tinual labor has not always a salutary effect. 
Aim for all the modern conveniences, that 
the work may be so lightened that if, per¬ 
chance, a piano or melodeon makes its way 
into the house, you can use it. Then pray 
for the remission of thoughtlessness. After 
which we may hope for the emancipation of 
the “ Troubled Marthas."—e. 
Old Maids. 
Fanny Fern writes about the old maid of 
the period. It is all a mistake in the date, 
Fanny. There are no old maids in the year 
of our Lord eighteen hundred and seveuiy. 
According to the recent census no married 
women were found over twenty-six; none 
single over twenty. The years have drifted 
gloriously up the river of time, and we have 
found where our foremothers overlooked it, 
the fountain of perpetual youth, the elixir of 
life. There are no old women any more. 
There used to be a silver-haired grandmother 
silting on the cosy side of the hearthstone 
with a smile on her face like a ray of glory 
slanting out from the beautiful land. We 
can almost hear the click of her knitting 
needles now as we think of the days of our 
childhood; but the good old grandmother 
has gone. In her place is a young woman, 
whose sunken cheeks have been renewed 
with the wonderful touches of art, the color 
of her face is as fresh as a maiden, the placid 
brow is covered with youthful frizzes, the 
silvery locks that call for our reverence are 
concealed by luxuriant tresses of tow, such us 
the old fashioned grandmother used to spin 
and weave. Old maids, maiden aunts be¬ 
longing to the neighborhood to be generally 
useful, are extinct. In their stead are viva¬ 
cious, sprightly, piquant girls, whose cosmo¬ 
politan ease of manner in any and every cir¬ 
cumstance would cause the old maid of the 
ancient time to look askance at them and 
gather up her unruffled robes in fear. The 
wheels of the chariot of time are blocked, 
and perpetual youth sits beside the old 
scythe bearer. No more old maids. The 
girls be blessed forever 1— Uino. 
Where She Slept. 
John Smith fell in love with a maid, 
Each night 'neatU tile Window he stood, 
And there, with his sof* serenade, 
Ho awakened the whole neighborhood. 
But vainly he tried to arouse 
Her from sleep with his strains so bewitching, 
WbUti ho played in front ot tbo house, 
She slept in the little back kitchen. 
EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
BY LEAD PENCIL, ESQ. 
A woman once wrote me:—“ I wish you 
could send nie a Christain Faith so stead¬ 
fast that I might never be cast down, but 
ever 4 hope all things, endure all things,’ 
trust through all things, 4 possess my soul in 
patience,' and quietly work." 
Could I send such a package to her? No! 
But it set me thinking. And I told her that 
the essence of faith, of hope, of endurance, 
of trust, of patience, is that broad, compre¬ 
hensive catholic Love which sacrifices self, 
casts self out and works unselfishly for oth¬ 
ers. Some may say that such love is the 
this errand? You say you have been “ well 
brought up.” T doubt it. If you had been 
you would not have given the lie to your own 
assertion so speedily. If you had you would 
have been proud enough of your reputation 
for honesty to have made your words good 
no matter at what cost to your feelings. If 
you had you would sooner go into the street 
here as a street cleaner and scavenger than 
eat the bread of Idleness. You ought to re¬ 
member that he that humbieth himself shall 
be exalted. 1 have never known a man 
capable of rising who did not. rise provided 
he laid lhe foundation well. And a sure 
foundation often involves much digging in 
the dirt, water ami quicksands of life. And 
even if the quicksands cave in about you, 
a curb must be made and sunk until you get 
below them on lo solid rock. 
My young friend may think ot what I 
said to him and it may profit him. But lie 
did not heed the lesson then that I designed 
to give ; and while he did not lose a friend 
he lost, for the time being, the help 1 might 
have given him. For the young man who 
is not willing to adapt, aud capable ot adapt¬ 
ing, himself to all the circumstances aud vi¬ 
cissitudes of life, and to climb out of deep, 
damp places where there cun be no easy, car¬ 
peted stairways by which to ascend, by dirty 
ladders, or even hand-over-hand by a slip¬ 
pery rope, is not much of a man nor likely 
to be. To get through this world requires 
good, strong, mental muscle, and a moral 
fiber which is stronger than any false pride 
that can bo created; and I pity the young I 
man or woman who is so educated as to be¬ 
lieve that any honest labor is too “ menial” 
for them. 
Indeed, I have no faith whatever in such 
people! 
- «♦♦♦» - 
SOME PIECES OF POVERTY. 
[In reply to an article in a Into number of tho 
Rubal NKW-YORKKit, beaded “ The Peace of Pov¬ 
erty."] 
Because, forsooth, the children of poverty 
are subjected to none of the evils resulting 
from a life of luxury, can any one assert 
that an opposite state is one of peace ? Far 
be it from mo to detract from the value of 
that “ peace that passeth understanding;" 
GO 
abbatl) Braking. 
A PETITION. 
BY A. ZALIA. 
Lkt me cliiiK to Thy bund, dear Father; 
Lot me cling to Thy powerful baud! 
If l once let It go, 
1 ahull yield to the foe; 
If I hold It fast, I ahull stand I 
Let me cling to Thy powerful hand. 
Let me sit at Thy feet, dear Saviour; 
Let me tauiubly sit at Thy feet! 
1 have nothing to fear, 
If Thy presence iis near! 
Thy presence to nie so sweet! 
Let mo humbly sit at Thy feet. 
Let me learn of Thee, Holy Spirit; 
Lot me constantly learn of Thee ! 
If l only believe, 
t shall surely receive 
The comfort Thou bringest to me; 
Let me constantly learn of Thee. 
Let me cliric to Thy hand, dear Father'. 
Oh, Christ, let roe sit at Thy feet! 
Holy Spirit, Impart 
Thy grace to my heart! 
Then my life shall be calm und sweet, 
Then for Heaven my soul shall be meet. 
-+*-♦- 
THOUGHTS BY THINKERS. 
We glean tho following paragraphs from Rob¬ 
ertson’s Sermons—a volume heretofore noticed 
In our columns. 
IniiuHiiiitiou nnd lliu Heart. 
Imagination is distinct from the mere 
dry faculty of reasoning. Imagination is 
creative—it is an immediate intuition, not a 
logical analysis. We call it popularly a 
kind of inspiration. Now imagination is a 
power of the heart. Great thoughts origi¬ 
nate from a large heart; a man must have a 
heart or he never could create. It. is a grand 
thing, when in tho stillness of tho soul, 
thought bursts into flame and the intuitive 
vision comes like an inspiration; when 
breathing thoughts clothe themselves in 
burning words, winged, as it were, with 
lightning; or when a great law of the uni¬ 
verse reveals itself lo the mind of genius, 
and when all was darkness, his single word 
bids light to be, and all is order where chaos 
and contusion were before. Or when the 
truths of human nature shape themselves 
that spirit which spoke through Um lips of forth in the creative fancies of one like the 
the apostle, in the words, “ I have learned in myriad-minded poet, and you recognize the 
whatsoever state lam therewith to be con- rare power of heart, which sympathizes with 
earth man stands with the boundless heaven 
patience,’ and quietly work.” tent.” 1 know of a t ruth God gives this for a iul can reproduce all that is found in man. 
Could I send such a package to her? No! the asking; and I know, too, ot the strug- Tho Rmiution of Hie Spirit. 
But it set me thinking. And I told her that gles of human nature in contending with “ The Spirit searches all things, yea, the 
the essence of faith, of hope, of endurance, adverse circumstances. Of the latter I would deep things of God.” Now the Spirit of God 
of trust, of patience, is that broad, compre- speak here. lies touching, as it were, the soul of man— 
hoiiaive catholic Love which sacrifices self, There are, I admit, those who verify the ever around aud near. On the outside ol 
casts self out aud works unselfishly for oth- truth, of the assertion, “ Where ignorance is earth man stands with the boundless heaven 
ers. Some may say that such love is the bliss, ’tis folly to be wise;” but I speak ot nbove him—nothing between him and space 
fruit of faith. But. I think faith is born of those to whom .the yoke of poverty is gall- —space around liim and above him, thecou- 
il, is begotten by it, is inseparable from it. big, because they are gifted with natures p U es 0 f the sky touching him. Ho is the 
The other day a man said:—“I walk up capable of high attainments, minds that, spirit of man to the Spirit of the Ever Near, 
and down Broadway and meet the throng yearn for culture. They are like caged They mingle. In every man this is true, 
and look In the faces with their unconscious birds I have seen, ever raising their wings, as The spiritual in him, by which he might be- 
exprossions of joy, sorrow, peace, pain, pur- if for flight, with a restless, flitting motion, come a recipient of God, may be dulled, 
pose, aimlessness, hope, despair, and ask us if they knew that tho air, the sky, the deadened by a life of House, but in this world 
myself why there is not more happiness in sunlight, were their birthright. How such never lost. All men are not spiritual men, 
this life—why this constant wrangle, worry as these chafe under the necessity of feast.- but all have spiritual sensibilities which 
and fret? I cannot answer; can you?" ing the eyes only upon the bindings of books, might awake. All Unit, is wanted is to be- 
in most cases it is the result of a constant as temptingly arrayed for sale, when the con- come conscious ot the nearness ol God. 
sacrifice of time, life and effort to false no- tents would be devoured with an avidity God has placed men here to feel after Him, 
but all have spiritual sensibilities which 
might awake. All that is wanted is to be¬ 
come conscious of the nearness of God. 
God has placed men here to feel after Him, 
lions of what constitutes happiness. It is equal to that of a man hungering tor bodily if haply they may And Him, albeit lie be not 
the desire to possess and not the effort to 
give which wears such deep grooves in 
men’s faces and lives. Reverse the effort. 
Let the nervous, excitable, acquisitive, grasp¬ 
ing man become the almoner of blessings. 
Let him open the door of his heart, the 
strings of his purse, the reservoirs of his cx- with the odor of a favorite dish. 1 waited 
perience and give, and how soon the lines of as patiently as I could until the dinner hour, 
care and desire will soften, the ache of envy and entering the dining-room, took my place 
will cease and the heart, receive and reflect at the table, saw what, l expected to sec, but 
sunshine like the surface of smooth water. O, the quantity ! 1 knew at once some one 
_ must lack, and it proved to be myself Think 
sustenance. far from any one of them. Our souls float 
It brings to mind an experience of a day, j n the immeasurable ocean of Spirit. God 
when, after taking a long walk and return- q es around us ; at any moment we might be 
ing with an appetite sharpened by the win- conscious of the contact, 
ter air and exercise, I entered the home of The Religion of Happim-M*. 
an acquaintance, to find tho air redolent The religion which is only sunned 
with the odor of a favorite dish. T waited j u to being by happiness is a suspicious 
thing. Having been warmed by joy, it will 
become cold when joy is over; and then 
when these blessings are removed we count 
ourselves hardly treated, as if we had been 
defrauded of a right; rebellious, bard feel- 
“ Writing runs in the family, and it seems of it!—obliged to dine on the smell of a good j n g R t0 , nc . then it is you see people become 
to me I ought to succeed,” said a sweet-faced 
blonde tho other day. Alasl That is a 
doubtful heritage—one it will not do to de¬ 
pend upon. One might as well hope that 
because one’s father was never drowned at 
sea, the whole family will be saved, no mat¬ 
ter what the storm and peril. Water cannot 
be poured from an empty bucket, nor beef 
dinner, with the appetite of a gormand. bitter, spiteful, discontented. At every step 
Then, too, is it a very strange thing for }n lIie S o| c;mn path of life something must 
one possessed of refined tastes to think a Ue mourned that will come back no more; 
home where the foot falls noiselessly upon tll( , temper that, was so smooth becomes 
tapestried floors, the light enters sottly iUU i uneven; the benevolence that 
.. all, ™ in.0 « 
ly placed, where music, ami flowers ami love dwindling selfishness. We are alone; and 
seem linked as by magic; preferable to then that death-like loneliness deepens as 
coarse rag carpet, seamed walls, so that one g 0es on . The course of man is down- 
may sip his cup ot tea and see the seams war( j am j he moves with slow and even 
r f^y fearof ^ *•«« «® «- ** 
gather; clothes remodeled until like the —tho silence ol the grave. 1 his is the death 
Irishman’s forty yards of broadcloth—there 0 f heart; the sorrow of the world has 
isn’t enough left to cover u button, and, more wor k e cl death. 
than all this, clothes bundl^ together and atul cmisiiau Liberty. 
Duty i. uol Christian liberty, but it is the 
to find oneself suddenly confronting a famil- first step toward liberty. We are tree only 
iar article of clothing when walking the w hen we love what we are to do and those 
streets with a friend aud passing one ot lo w ^ om wo { j 0 Tot. a man begin in 
these Jewish museums, obliged to draw ... „ T n r u,» am i i, e will end 
one’s friend’s attention to some object of in- earnest with, 1 ougin, anu m win no, 
terest in an opposite direction or sink under by God’s grace, it he persevere with 1 
a mortifying disclosure. will.” Let him force himself to abound in 
Peace does all fills bring? It brings war all small offices of kindliness, attention, af- 
roasted without fire. This every-day life of coarse rag carpet, seamed walls, so that one 
the test of public requirement, we must be 
sure that the amalgam we give it contains 
more gold than dross. 
“ I am willing to do anything to get an 
honest living,’’ said a young man, with wa¬ 
tery eyes, who came into my office, asking 
for work ? 
Are you? All right! Take this box to 
-Broadway; take it on your shoulder, 
and I’ll give you a quarter of a dollar for it, 
and another job on your return with the re¬ 
ceipt therefor. 
The young man looked astounded! give something to drop a tear over it some 
“What! make an errand boy of me, sir? who have struggled with us have fallen by 
,.,.. ..,i ™»i. the way. with whom we hoped to sing the 
I’ve been well brought up, and am not wil¬ 
ling to do anything menial.” 
But you said you were willing to do any¬ 
thing to get an honest living, did not you? 
Is there any dishonesty involved in doing 
these Jewish museums, oongcu io uruw . ... „ T n r u,» am i j ie will end 
one’s friend’s attention to some object of in- earnest with, 1 ougin, aim no win no, 
terest in an opposite direction or sink under by God’s grace, it he persevere with I 
a mortifying disclosure. will.” Let him force himself to abound in 
Peace, does all Hiis bring? It brings war all small offices of kindliness, attention, af- 
first.. It gives one something to laugh over f ec tionateness, and all those for God’s sake, 
when by persevering effort and God's good- ^v-and-bv be will feel them become the 
ness Diosperity blesses us. Perchance it. J * . 
give something to drop a tear over it some habit of his soul.- 
who have struggled with us have fallen by counsel and Comfort, 
the way, with whom we hoped to sing the t j, e f urn acc of affliction made the first 
song ot triumph. believers need exhortation to patience, how 
But God has given more beautiful homes „ hould the church now need it 
and gladder songs to them, and until we muunui^immu.^ 
. join them be it ours to make earth as much when she is thrown into the furnace ol pios- 
1 of Heaven as in us lies. Dover. perity. 
