THE ETHEREAL SEA. 
TO KEY. T. N. B., BY GEOKOE WILLOUGHBY. 
1 have heard Hweet whispers at beauty, 
Of freedom from sorrow and care. 
Where Joy sprlngeth out from all duty, 
And never a weary one there,— 
Where the choicest of flowers are spreading 
Their beauty and fragrance Tor thee, 
And the holiest feet ever treading 
Just o’er the Ethereal Sea! 
I have heard of a mantlon of splendor: 
They say ’tl» must filled with a throng, 
That to Him who hath saved them, they render 
Eternally praises and song: 
Oil they *ay Its portals are open 
Forever for you and for me, 
That sweet words of welcome are spoken 
As we pass the Ethereal Sea. 
I huve heard of a clear crystal fountain, 
Whose tide is the ebbing of Truth. 
And whose flood, from the base of Faith's mountain, 
Flows out through the vulley of Youth. 
And they say there are bird* sweetly singing 
Their carol and trill, oh so free !— 
That the songs of the blest are heard ringing 
Just o’er the Ethereal Sea. 
1 have hoard of a bonutiful river 
With waters like crystal, so pure. 
And sin nos so near to the Giver 
That from storm* they are ever secure. 
They spunk of its banks nearly hidden 
Isy the branches of Wisdom’s great tree, 
Wlioio fruit we may cut unforbidden 
When over the Ethereal 8ea. 
We have seen the beauteous shining 
Of the sun—the glorious day ! 
Why they say this is only the lining!— 
That, only a little away 
There’s a radiance nothing can sever. 
Where no night and no darkness can be,— 
That the noon-day of love sliineth ever 
Just over the Ethereal Sea. 
Just o’er the Ethereal Ocean! 
O would wo might voyage away 
Ou wings of the lightning's swift motion. 
And anchor secure in the bay! 
When there, we would Join In the glory, 
Anil laugh at the ages to fleet 
And ne’er i.lro of the Ilcav’nly story. 
When o'er the Ethereal Seal 
Scotch Itidgo, O., Nov., 1870. 
i - ■ 
Startis for Kuralists. 
THE THE EE THANKSGIVINGS. 
BY ETHEL GRAIIAME. 
“ Is there any end to the folly of this 
world!” exclaimed Mrs. Templeton, in a 
despairing voice, which said, more emphati¬ 
cally than the question, that for one, she had 
long ago ceased to expect better things or 
wiser. 
“ Better ask if there’s any end to the folly 
of i he people in it,” retorted her aunt, Mrs. 
Lovell. “ I’m t ired of bearin' every miser- 
aide Id under made by this thick-headed, par- 
varse generation laid to the whole airth. 
(loo saw it, and pronounced it very good, 
once; and it’s likely lie hasn’t changed His 
mind yet, though he must sec plainer ’n uny 
of us what a precious set of blunder heads 
huve taken possession of the face of it. It’s 
about the darkest o’ the dispensations o’ 
Providence that lie don’t give people a litt le 
more common sense. 1 expect, though, it’s 
litie idl His other gifts, comes in grains, ami 
wants cultivation ; and it’s plain enough it 
don’t get it, in most cases. 1 wish to patience 
some of them glib-tongued speakin’ and 
writin’ people would touch ou that pint— 
that is, if they’ve anything to say that’ll help 
matters any.” 
“ Yon can’t teach that sort of people any¬ 
thing who need it most,” replied Mrs. Tem¬ 
pleton, rising to walk the room, in her 
vexation and annoyance; “they know more 
than a whole generation of their ancestors. 
'They’ll t ake things just as they look to them, 
through some bewitching glass or other, and 
call that life and truth. It’s no use, Aunt 
Debby, it’s no use! I don’t think either of 
them have got three grains of practical sense 
to cultivate, and what they have lias lain 
dormant so long, it will never come up.” 
“ What’s gone wrong in the kingdom of 
Moral Horticulture now, mother’?” inquired 
the cheery voice of Mrs. Templeton’s eldest 
son, Fred, making his own announcement 
in a ringing footfall on lliestairs, of which 
two steps at a time had made short work. 
A picture, and a pleasant one, lie made, 
framed in the doorway of Ids mother’s room, 
and the lines of perplexity and vexation 
gave way for a moment as she looked at 
him, this pride of her heart and life, but the 
very presence inspiring this pleasure and 
pride only renewed them in deeper furrows, 
if possible, than before. 
“ Mrs. Niles has been here this morning,” 
answered his mother, pausing in her excited 
walk before him, “ and on her way called on 
Mrs. Bancroft, whom she reports as almost 
broken-hearted over Julia’S approaching 
marriage with you, as well she may be, with 
the small chance which young men, without 
capital, even the best of them, have to sup¬ 
port an establishment in these expensive 
limes. I suppose it looks to her as it does to 
me, like blind, reckless folly to insist upon a 
consummation of the engagement for years 
to come; and with her pride and ambition 
for an eligible connection for her only 
daughter, and a fine establishment, this af¬ 
fair is heart-crushing to her,” 
The brow of the young man clouded deep¬ 
ly for a moment, and he seemed about to re¬ 
tort angrily, hut better thoughts evidently 
prevailed before he trusted himself to speak, 
for his tones were gentle, though firm as the 
unyielding rock. 
“Mother, you have trusted my judgment 
almost from boyhood; can you not do so in 
this case? I have not entered into this en¬ 
gagement hastily. For mouths I have count¬ 
ed the cost. 1 know it might seem more 
prudent for me to deny myself the longing 
for a home nud life companionship; and if I 
had never met Julia Bancroft, I might 
have succeeded; but 1 do not believe, be¬ 
cause we shall be restricted in our expendi¬ 
ture, that we need bid good-by to happiness 
and all the sunshine of life." 
“Now, Fred Templeton, I used to think 
you had rather more’n your share of good, 
square common sense,” said his aunt; “but 
this news I’ve heard since I came to town, 
makes me think the crop’s dyin’ out, or else 
it’s come up dreadful sparse this season. 
Now I’m used to livin’ in the country, and 
savin’ and twistin’ and turnin’; an’, us I said 
before, I’m used to it; but T know if I’d been 
brought up to planner playin’, and crimpin’ 
an’ dressin’ for the best part of my duys, I 
shouldn’t know which end o’ economizin’ 
come first, and as to bringin’ the two ends 
together, and mailin’ ’em meet, well now, 
though I don’t own to not bein’ as smart as 
other folks, I couldn’t do it; an’I do sup¬ 
pose I’d near about kill myself tryin’; least¬ 
wise, unless my spunk give clean out before¬ 
hand. I’ve seen it tried over ’n over; and it 
don’t work once in a thousand times. If 
you want a wife, an’ I don’t say nothin’ agin’ 
that, you might do worse; there’s plenty o’ 
young men spend more money for foolish¬ 
ness than would keep one; but, Fred, my 
boy, get one brought up to work and wait 
on herself—able to make her own finery, if 
she must have it, and 1 suppose women must 
now-a-days. I expect I do look a little queer 
among the flounces and trimmings; I can’t 
say I’d like your wife to wear her tilings 
quite so ancient; better that, though, than 
too far the other way.” 
“You think women are like pendulums, 
do you, Aunt Debby. bound to swing off to 
extremes; but I didn’t expect a lecture from 
you on my folly, as my mother calls it. I 
expected Mrs. Gwundy would hold up her 
hands in horror and anathematize Jolia and 
myself the customary nine days; but 1 was 
sure of you and your hearty sympathy. 
Why, I’ve hud that in all my boyish esca¬ 
pades ; you cannot mean to desert me now, 
Aunt Debby.” 
“No I wou’t, Fred, even if you fly right 
in tire face of Providence; but I don’t be¬ 
lieve you will when you come to think it all 
over. I expect you’ve been hasty setlin’ 
matters, and if Julia and you wait awhile 
and think it over, and watch oilier people’s 
doin’s, you’ll see it as other folks do. Now 
how much did you clar last year over’n 
above all expenses, to begin with? Let’s 
look at the bread an’ butter side of the ques¬ 
tion. If there ain’t enough o’ that to make 
the wheels move easy, there’s apt to be con¬ 
siderable wear an’ tear at the axle. Just 
how much can you he sure of to keep house? 
For I take it you want a home, and that means 
housekeepin’, and not wearin’ out soul and 
body kcepin’ up hotels and board in houses.” 
“ Housekeeping, of course,” said Fred, 
whose face had been a study during his 
aunt’s harangue. To have his old-fashioned 
Aunt Lovell, noted far and near for her 
shrewdness and economy, take sides against 
his i>lans was more than he had counted up¬ 
on. His mother’s opposition he expected to 
encounter, for it upset her long-cherished 
hope of seeing him the sharer of Miss Annie 
Houston’s fortune, as well its the fortunate 
possessor of her hand and heart. The Ban¬ 
crofts, it was well known, lived fully up to 
their income; and a family of younger 
brothers to educate would absorb all availa¬ 
ble means in that quarter. The settled look 
of disappointment and vexation in her coun¬ 
tenance told of no mitigating circumstances 
present in her mind to reconcile her to the 
reality. Fred had not lost his aunt’s words, 
nor had his deeply settled intent barred Ills 
judgment from giving them due weight. 
Had he been too hasty in his conclusions 
that a quiet home, with the goddess Econo¬ 
my to preside over it for years to come, in 
her strictest rule, would win her sister, Con¬ 
tent, to dwell on the brow of its fair young 
mistress? For himself he could answer: a 
home with Julia, filled with the lightof her 
daily presence and love, would answer every 
yearning of his heart. But the change for 
her from luxury and ease would he great; 
there was no denying that,” 
“How much, Fred?” persisted Mrs. 
Lovell. “What does your ledger say?” 
arousing him from his reverie of a possible 
cottage, with a certain subtle presence per¬ 
vading every nook and corner, writing 
Home on every sunbeam finding entrance 
there, of whatsoever sort. Yes, these ac¬ 
tualities were dry food and irksome in com¬ 
parison, but they must be met with practical 
Aunt Debby at the helm. 
“Twelve hundred dollars, net gain," was 
the reluctant reply, as his mind came back 
to the balance sheet and its footing up. His 
business was new, and his capital, small as 
it was, was mostly borrowed, and the inter¬ 
est must be regularly met. His widowed 
mother’s income sufficed only for the family 
needs, and imperiling the principal in the 
uncertainties of business had never entered 
his upright nature. He would stand of him¬ 
self and alone, or not at all. The last two 
years bad witnessed a steady increase and 
slow but sure gains, promising the reward 
of success in the future to a course of strictly 
honorable dealing. 
“Can you expect, with any certainty, 
a much greater balance in the cornin’ year ?" 
“ Not very much ?” reluctantly admitted 
Fred. 
“ Mr. Bancroft will probably furnish a 
collage for Julia. Can he do more’n that?” 
"Decidedly not,” answered Fred; “his 
load is all he can carry.” 
“ Now what does your cousin Phillip 
Acton pay for that bird’s nest o’ his in 
Brooklyn V” 
“ Six hundred a year, I believe,” replied 
Fred, 44 and cheap at that, he says. It 
would suit us to a charm; and Phil told 
me this morning that the mate to it would 
he completed next month, and his errand 
over was to induce me to lease it.” 
“ Well, there goes just half your income, 
Fred; now, where’s the rest to come from, 
servant’s wages and waste, the butcher’s 
baker’s ami candlestick maker’s bills? Le¬ 
gion’s their name, you’ll find; you won’t 
want to have another family in with you, 
but Unit’s what it’ll come to, or boarders.” 
“ Neither, while this right hand retains its 
cunning and strength. I’ll compass the 
means somehow, Aunt Debby. In the city, 
where there’s a will there’s a way. If I 
wait a few years, as mother urges, I shall 
fall into expensive habits. Necessarily, I 
must take Julia to the opera and into gay 
society—habits not easily broken ; and there 
will be a daily unsatisfied longing in our 
hearts, a hunger that none of these pleasures 
will appease. We are both young, and our 
chances for happiness arc greater now, be¬ 
fore I grow into gruff old bachelors’ ways, 
and can’t bend without breaking.” 
“ And before Julia growsfinto old maid- 
ish ones,” added Aunt Debby, laughing. 
“ Be careful; you know I once belonged to 
the sisterhood myself. But you are right 
there; I’ll give in so much. People do grow 
set in their ways, livin’ alone somehow, 
and it’s amazin’ hard to give up, for a while; 
an’ some folks never do come into the yoke 
so as to pull even. If I only could see the 
way clear for you, I wouldn’t say a word. 
Now there’s Anne Griswold. Slic’d take 
that other six hundred and make it cover 
the wants somehow, like I’ve seen ’em beat 
out gold leaf, Mil it kivered an amazin’ gap; 
but she’s been trained to it, and there’s the 
difference. But maybe Julia will learn 
a tier she’s run you pretty deep in debt. 1 
don’t know. People don’t always turn out 
as you’d expect. There’s our parson’s wife, 
brought up to the best of everything, and 
now, with three little children, doin’ her 
own work, an* always bright an’ smilin’, an’ 
the house as tidy as a picter; no great hand 
to clean an’ fuss, hut somehow, her things 
don’t get out of place; she don’t go round 
ondoin’, like some folks. I shan’t advise 
you, Fred, no more; but it looks like a big 
leap in the dark, it does, my boy.” 
After the foregoing conversation, Fred 
Templeton saw the future more as it really 
appeared to a disinterested observer. Hither¬ 
to, a spice of obstinacy in his character had 
prevented his giving heed to his mother’s 
anxieties; and her open opposition to his 
plans had aroused in him only a stronger 
determination to consummate the engage¬ 
ment as soon as Julia could make her prep¬ 
arations. Now lie felt that possibly he hail 
been in the wrong, and spent some hours the 
next day in going over his business accounts. 
Purposely he had abstained from any men¬ 
tion of the subject to Julia in his call the 
evening before, until he could satisfy himself 
on the point of his business prospects. Now 
he would shut his ears to the music of her 
"voice and look at the hard reality. To hush 
that music, he had no mind, nor to bring the 
furrows of care prematurely to that fair 
young brow, grown so precious to him. No, 
If it looked so hopeless as his practical aunt 
Debby said, he had uo right to urge it. A 
careful examination of the three months ac¬ 
count of the current year, deducting neces¬ 
sary business expenses, and interest on his 
borrowed capital, together with the instal¬ 
ment due on the principal, according to his 
arrangement with the Savings Bank, his 
creditor, would leave him only the propor¬ 
tion he had given Mrs. Lovell. He left his 
store an hour earlier than usual to command 
time to think uninterruptedly, before the 
evening should bring him into the presence 
of her whom his inmost being demanded for 
his own, and now. The cool sunset breeze 
lifted the heavy curls from his heated brow, 
and gave him courage to face the difficulties 
of his position. He felt sure of success in 
the future; in the end he saw a competence 
at least, in the business lie had eboseu, and 
there was comparatively little risk in it; if 
he made any change it might not he for the 
better. A larger income he might secure on 
salary, but there was no permanent gain 
there, no secure position. No, he must go on 
where lie was, and wait patiently for better 
days. He would lay the matter before Julia, 
even to a schedule of his business results. 
She was as dear headed as himself, that he 
knew ; and, though with little practical ex¬ 
perience, would see the best course for them 
to pursue, and more clearly than himself; of 
that he fell assured. 
Half-past seven found him awaiting her in 
the stately parlor of the Bancroft mansion, 
where every belonging suggested a refined 
taste and liberal expenditure, even more than 
Mr. Bancroft was supposed to he able to 
afford If Julia had inherited her mother’s 
tastes, Fred would have decided this mat¬ 
ter at once; hut he thought she did not; 
more of her father’s practical sense prevailed 
in her, he was sure; and his revery over llie 
problem was so deep that Julia’s quiet foot¬ 
falls, for once, were unheard. 
“ Why Fred, are you deciding the affairs 
of the Nation ? Are you helping General 
Grant in reconstruction, or urging the Ala¬ 
bama Claims at the Court of St. James?” 
“Something as important as either, my 
darling, though nothing that could excuse 
me from hearing you enter the room, 4 though 
never so softly.’ Sit down here and help me 
cut the Gordian knot; or rather, help me 
out of a labyrinth into which my good aunt 
Lovell has thrown me.” 
“ I thought she was your best friend, Fred, 
outside of your own home. What can she 
have done to you? You have told me so 
much of her indulgence to you as ahoy, that 
1 am quite in love with her. Did she put me 
info the same labyrinth ? or is she afraid of 
me, and sent you there to he out of harm’s 
way ? ” . 
“ You can decide for yourself,dear Julia; 
I’ll tell you all about it. 1 have told you 
how old-fashioned and practical she is, and 
1 relied on her to convince mother that you 
and I might he safely trusted to set up a pri¬ 
vate. establishment on a Lilliputian scale; 
but she coolly took the other side, and in¬ 
sists that our available means will not suffice 
to avert the attention of the traditional wolf 
from that modest door. So I have been 
thinking we would turn practical lovers for 
once, If I can keep myself up to that mark 
for one evening, and look into the dismal 
prophesy a little. I must trust your judg¬ 
ment as to the possibilities of a very limited 
income, and have been looking carefully into 
day-book and ledger, to-day, with these re¬ 
sults,” said Fred, drawing his statement 
from his pocket. 
“ Mis. Grundy would be horrified at set¬ 
ting up an establishment on such a basis,” 
said Julia, smilingly, after a careful study of 
the accounts before them ; “ and perhaps she 
may be justified, in a measure; but I know 
a bright little hearthstone which has held its 
brightness, undimmed, for three years, on 
just that income. Mrs. Grundy never crosses 
that threshold, so she knows nothing of it.” 
“ Should you be content to live outside of 
her precincts, and bid defiance to her dic¬ 
tates, seriously, my love ? There lies all my 
hesitation, lest I may have urged an earlier 
date for our marriage than our prospects 
warrant. I could not hear to see your 
sweet face grow pale and careworn." 
“ I haven’t the least intention of person¬ 
ating a Nlobe, Fred; neither do 1 wish to 
act rashly; but to me our pathway seems 
very plain, though I know we must content 
ourselves with a very simple style of life, in¬ 
deed. But my happiness, dear Fred, is no 
affair of lace curtains and damask lambre¬ 
quin’s; neither of bronze statuary and rare 
ornaments. If that is your fear, I counted 
the cost before I gave in to your pleadings 
for an early union ; you will be a better man 
and I a belter woman ten years hence, if we 
face our difficulties at once and adjust our¬ 
selves to them. I can count on iny fingers, 
though, all the friends who will find our wee 
cottage of those who are at home on moth¬ 
er’s tapestry; but we can spare them. Of 
course it will not all be pleasant at first to 
be dropped so unceremoniously; but we 
shall find true friends who will not take an 
inventory of our adorning* every time they 
enter our home. And I shall be too busy to 
miss them, for I am going to be a veritable 
help-meet, Fred. I mean to satisfy even 
your Aunt Debby as a housekeeper." 
“God bless you, my darling; you have 
scattered my fears to the winds, and a score 
of Aunt Debbys shall not make me ques¬ 
tion the wisdom of our course again. We 
will live a rational life, even if it does ostra¬ 
cise us somewhat. Asyou say, there are peo¬ 
ple worth the knowing beyond the pale of 
Mrs. Grundy’s sphere; and if not, thou 
1 we two and we two,’ as the old ballad has 
it, are enough for ourselves. One happy 
home there will be, if it’s only a well-to-do 
bird’s nest. By the way, Cousin Phil wants 
us as companion pieces for his Lares and 
Penates. The new cottage adjoining is 
nearly complete, and will be fully so by that 
precious 10th of June, which creeps along so 
deliberately." 
“ You know you’re to be practical for the 
entire evening, Mr. Fred; not an approach 
to sentiment is to he tolerated. Phil and 
Clara are the model couple I referred to 
just now. I could not have known, certain¬ 
ly, what could be done if I had not seen 
their bright example. Clara has the ad¬ 
vantage over me in a thoroughly practical 
training; bill I shall study ami watch her 
and try experiments until I succeed. There 
is a young girl in the Mission Sabbath 
School where I have a class, an orphan 
about twelve years of age, who needs a 
home, and I thought if you had no objection 
we might try her; it may be better for me 
than to attempt doing without service en¬ 
tirely.” 
“ Did you think it would come to that, 
poor child?” said Fred, tenderly, with a 
suspicious moisture in his eyes. 
“ Why not?” she said, pointing to that 
inexorable footing up on the paper before 
them; “that little balance would melt like 
an icicle before an August sun, under the 
administration of a professional cook, or a 
servant of the period. Candace, who reigns 
supreme in the apartments below uh, would 
turn up her nose at our humble menage , the 
most merciless Mrs. Grundy of them all. 
No, we must train little Agnes into our 
ways; that’s our only chance—for the pres¬ 
ent at least.” 
“ Where did you get all your good sense, 
little one? It’s fortunate you are develop¬ 
ing so large a share, for Aunt Lovell says 
that the crop grows sparse with me. She 
thinks the vein has been lost in my nature.” 
" We shall bring her to faith in us yet,” 
said Julia, laughing merrily; 14 only I stipu¬ 
late for time to make all my blunders, until 
the dispensation of heavy bread and tough 
beef steaks shall be past. Agnes and 1 are 
tyros, for I cannot persuade Candace to give 
me a course of lessons, though I watch her 
by stealth, and so gain some surreptitious 
k now!edge occasionally.” 
“ Clara will be a dernier resort in every 
emergency, if you will have no experienced 
servant. Now we will forget ranges and 
economical expedients for this last hull'hour, 
my darling.” 
“No, indeed,” retorted Julia, archly; 
44 1 shall entertain you, if there's no further 
business before the house, with some good 
practical music—a song like this, for in¬ 
stance,”—as she seated herself at the piano. 
“ ‘ Stitch, stitch* stitch, seam and irusset and 
band.' 
“ Or, if you prefer a peep at another 
phase of our possible futurity: 
44 The day Is cold and dark aud dreary, 
11 rain*, and the wind Is never weary ; 
The vine siill t-liu#* to the mnldcrinjj wall, 
Into each life some nun must full," 
Fred protested that'it would take a half 
hour’s unmitigated sunshioe to atone for 
those dolorous strains, otherwise tiiey would 
haunt him for a week, especially with Aunt 
Derby’s mournful prophecy of “ a leap in 
the dark" constantly before him. 
“ I dare say, mamma would be charmed 
if 1 should substitute: 
“I’m ower young to marry yet,” 
So I think I am between Scylla and 
Chary bd is.” 
The tenth of June did finally arrive, al¬ 
though Fred declared that the Zodiacal 
sign for the preceding month must have 
been tl>e Crab, so hopelessly dilatory was 
its progress. The disappointed mothers 
wisely concluded to make the best of the 
inevitable event to be accomplished on that 
day. Mrs. Bancroft determined that the 
sacrifice, if it must he, should be signalized 
by a fete worthy of her acknowledged taste 
in such affairs, though every preparation 
reminded her of the beautiful adorning* of 
the novitiate for her final farewell to the 
world, in assuming her vows as a cloistered 
nun. Quite as readily tvould she have con¬ 
sented to one step as the other, for this beau¬ 
tiful and accomplished daughter, whom she 
had so proudly expected to seu presiding 
over a stately mansion, with a retinue of 
servants at her command. On one point 
Julia stipulated for her own preference, 
and that was her wardrobe; and through 
the father’s influence she was permitted lo 
indulge it, save only the bridal dress. The 
daughter preferred, as some preparation for 
the simplicity of her coming life, to have 
the ceremony performed quietly at home, 
requiring only a traveling costume, but gave 
in to her mother’s determination for a stylish 
affair—the marriage in church and a dejeu¬ 
ner at home. Mr. Bancroft seconded his 
wife in this, and so it ended in a fashionable 
throng gathered to com men ton the unlieard- 
of sacrifice of the lair bride; and not one 
in ten of them all l ead rightly that smile ol 
full content which met each and all of her 
congratulations; To most it was a recog¬ 
nized farewell. Out of the world—their 
world—she was going as effectually BB if her 
trunk 0 were marked 44 New Zealand, in¬ 
stead of “Oxford street, Brooklyn.”—[To 
be continued. 
