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been made ; and which, when made, being immoral | Not by deeds that win the world's applauses ; in its nature, is not binding, and cannot be, and must Not by works that give thee world-renown; ever be « more honored in the breach than the ob- Nor by martyrdom, or vaunted crosses, servance;" but that we are resolved to get all we Can'st thou win and wear the immortal crown. can to help us, and to make the whole policy of the Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, North, so far as we can mould it, a barrier against the re-enslavement of the self-emancipated bondman, Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only,
Every day a rich reward will give ; who seeks a shelter within our borders.
And truly loving, thou can'st truly live. But I will trespass on your time and patience no longer. I could not feel willing to let your gather- Dost thou revel in the rosy morning, ing pass away without a greeting from your absent
When all nature hails the lord of light, brother, and his fervently uttered God-speed to your
And his smile, the mountain-tops adorning, exertions; and, having begun to talk, I have been Robes yon fragrant fields in radiance bright? borne along beyond my original purpose, till now, if | Other hands may grasp the field and forest, I close not speedily, there will be no room in the
Proud proprietors in pomp may shine ; sheet for signature or superscription. Blame me not, But with fervent love, if thou adorest, beloved friends and fellow-laborers, that I seem thus Thou art wealthier-all the world is thine ! reluctant to part with you. The memory of our toils and trials together, the thought of all that we have Yet, if through earth's wide domains thon rovest, enjoyed in common, the remembrance of the abun
Sighing that they are not thine alone, dant kindness and generous hospitality I have so often Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest, received at your hands, while laboring with you in
And their beauty, and thy wealth are gone. this good work, and of the warm personal friendship, Nature wears the color of the spirit; the confidence and brotherly affection with which you Sweetly to her worshipper she sings; have honored and cheered me,-these come throng. All the glow, the grace she doth inherit, ing upon me, as I turn to take my leave, and swell Round her trusting child, she fondly flings. my bosom with emotions, which you may conceive but I cannot utter. Farewell, brethren and sisters. May He whose wisdom is profitable to direct, and whose arm is strong to defend and mighty to save,
THE HAPPY LIFE. be with you in all your deliberations; give prudence to your counsels, vigor to your measures, success to your enterprise. May he guide you in life and sus. How happy is he born or taught, tain you in death, and reward you at last with the That serveth not another's will; welcome invitation, Well done, good and faithful Whose armour is his honest thought, servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord.”
And simple truth his highest skill :
Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death;
of princes' ear or vulgar breath: Why this longing, why for ever sighing
Who hath his life from rumors freed; For the far-off, unattained and dim;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat : While the beautiful, all around thee lying,
Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Offers up its low perpetual hymn ?
Nor ruin make oppressors great : Would'st thou listen to its gentle teaching,
Who envies none whom chance doth raise, All thy restless yearning it would still ;
Or vice: who never understood Leaf and fower, and laden bee are preaching,
How deepest wounds are given with praise; Thine own sphere, though humble, first to fill.
Nor rules of state, but rules of good : Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee
Who God doth late and early pray Thou no ray of light and joy can'st throw,
More of his grace than gifts to lend ; If no silken cord of love hath bound thee
And entertains the harmless day To some little world, through weal and wo;
With a well chosen book or fr end. If no dear eye thy fond love can brighten
This man is freed from servile hands No fond voices answer to thine own;
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; If no brother's sorrow thou can'st lighten,
Lord of himself, though not of lands ; By daily sympathy and gentle tone.
And having nothing, yet hath all.
BY SIR HENRY WOTTON.
BY HARRIET WINSLOW.
BY ROBERT NICOLL.
'Tis o'er !-thou art a man !The struggle and the tempest both begin
Where he who faints must fall--he fight who can,
A victory to win!
Go, cleanse thy heart, and fill
Thy soul with love and goodness : let it be
Like yonder lake, so holy, calm, and still;
So full of purity!
This is thy task on earth-
This is thy eager manhood's proudest goal ;
To cast all meanness and world-worship forth; Bright are the opening flowers,
And thus exalt the soul! ly, bright as thou, sweet babe, and innocent. They bud and bloom ; and straight their infant hours,
'Tis manhood makes the man Like thine, are done and spent !
A high-souled freeman or a fettered slave,
The mind a temple fit for God to span,
Or a dark dungeon grave!
THE HAPPY HOME.
I love the hearth where evening brings
Her loved ones from their daily tasks, Go listen to the thousand tuneful throats
Where virtue spreads her spotless wings, That 'mong the branches sing !
And vice, foul serpent, never basks ;
Where sweetly rings upon the ear
The blooming daughter's gentle song,
Like heavenly music whisper'd near, Go while thine eyes are bright-unbend thy knees;
While thrilling hearts the notes prolong
For there the father sits in joy,
And there the cheerful mother smiles,
And there the laughter-loving boy,
With sportive tricks the eye beguiles ;
And love, beyond what worldlings know,
Like sunlight on the purest foam, Of love ungruding—faith without reserve
Descends, and with its cheering glow
Lights up the Christian's happy home.
Contentment spreads her holy calm
Around her resting place so bright,
And gloomy sorrow finds a balm,
In gazing at so fair a sight;
The world's cold selfishness departs,
And discord rears its front no more,
There pity's pearly tear drop starts,
And charity attends the door.
No biting scandal, fresh from hell,
Grates on the ear, or scalds the tongue; Enjoy thy happy dream,
There kind remembrance loves to dwell, For life hath not another such to give;
And virtue's meed is sweetly sung :
And human nature soars on high,
Where heavenly spirits love to roam,
And vice, as stalks it rudely by,
Admires the Christian's happy home.
Oft have I join'd the lovely ones,
Around the bright and cheerful hearth,
With father, mother, daughters, sons,
has half a dozen squalling children to torment and The brightest jewels of the earth;
impoverish him. And while the world grew dark around,
The unfortunate neighbour, however, returns the And fashion called her senseless throng, compliment with interest, sighs over the loneliness I've fancied it was holy ground,
of the wealthy bachelor, and can never see, without And that fair girl's a seraph's song.
feelings of regret, rooms where no stray plaything
tells of the occasional presence of a child. gardens And swift as circles fade away
where no tiny foot-mark reminds him of his treaUpon the bosom of the deep,
sures at home. He has listened to his heart, and When pebbles toss'd by boys at play
learned from it a precious secret; he knows how to Disturb its still and glassy sleep;
convert noise into harmony, expense into self-grati. The hours have sped in pure delight,
fication, and trouble into amusement; and he reaps And wand'ring feer forgot to roam,
in one day's intercouse with his family, a harvest of While waved the banners of the night
love and enjoyment rich enough to repay years of Above the Christian's happy home.
toil and care. He listens eagerly on his threshold
for the boisterous greeting he is sure to receive, feels The rose that blooms in Sharon's vale, refreshed by the mere pattering sound of the dar
And scents the purple morning's breath, lings' feet, as they hurry to receive his kiss, and May in the shades of evening fail,
cures, by a noisy game at romps, the weariness and And bend its crimson head in death;
head-ache which he gained in his intercourse with And earth's bright ones amid the tomb May, like the blushing rosé, decay ;
But it is not only to their parents and near conBut still the mind, the mind shall bloom, nexions, that children are interesting and delightful ; When time and nature fade away.
they are general favourites, and their caresses are
slighted by none but the strange, the affected, or the And there amid a holier sphere,
morose. I have, indeed, heard a fine lady declare Where the arch-angel bows in awe,
that she preferred a puppy or a kitten to a child; and Where sits the King of Glory near,
I wondered she had not sense enough to conceal her To execute his perfect law,
want of womanly feeling; and I know another fair The ransom'd of the earth, with joy,
simpleton, who considers it beneath her to notice those Shall in their robes of beauty come,
from whom no intellectual improvement can be deAnd find a rest without alloy,
rived, forgetting that we have hearts to cultivate as Amid the Christian's happy home!
well as heads. But these are extraordinary exceptions to general rules, as uncommon and disgusting as a beard on a lady's chin, or a pipe in her mouth.
Even men may condescend to sport with children CHILDHOOD.
without fear of contempt; and for those who like He must be incorrigibly unaniable. who is not a to shelter themselves under authority, and cannot little improved by becoming a father. Some there venture to be wise and happy their own way, we are, however, who know not how to appreciate the have plenty of splendid examples, ancient and modblessings with which Providence has filled their ern, living and dead, to adduce, which may sanction quiver; who receive with coldness a son’s greeting a love of these pigmy playthings. Statesmen have or a daughter's kiss; who have principle enough romped with them, orators told them stories, conproperly to feed and clothe, and educate their chil. querors submitted to their blows, judges, divines dren, to labor for their support and provision, but and philosophers listended to their prattle, and joinpossess not the affection which turns duty into de- ed in their sports. light; who are surrounded with blossoms, but know Spoiled children are, however, excepted from this not the art of extracting their exquisite sweets.- partiality; every one joins in visiting the faults of How different is the effect of true parental love, others upon their heads, and hating these unfortunate where nature, duty, habit and feeling combine to victims of their parents' folly. They must be bribconstitute an affection the purest, the deepest and ed to good behaviour, like many of their elders; they the strongest, the most enduring, the least exacting insist upon fingering your watch, and spoiling what of any of which the human heart is capable ! they do not understand, like numbers of the patrons
The selfish bachelor may shudder, when he thinks of literature and the arts; they will sometimes cry of the consequences of a family; he may picture to for the moon, as absurdly as Alexander for more himself littered rooms, and injured furniture, ima- worlds; and when they are angry, they have no gine the noise and confusion, the expense and the mercy for cups and saucers. They are as unreasonacares, from which he is luckily free ; hug himnelf in ble, impatient, selfish, exacting and whimsical, as his solitude, and pity his unfortunate neighbour, who I grown-up men and women, and only want the var
nish of politeness and mask of hypocrisy to complete from a Trajan, an Abel from a Cain? But it is not the likeness.
in this spirit that it is either wise or happy to conAnother description of children, deservedly un- template any thing. Better is it--when we behold popular, is the over-educated and super-excellent. the energy and animation of young children, their who despise dolls and, drums, and, ready only for in- warm affections, their ready, unsuspicious confistruction, have no wish for a holiday, no fancy for a dence, their wild, unwearied glee, their mirth so eafairy tale. They appear to have a natural taste for sily excited, their love so easily won—to enjoy, unpedantry and precision; their wisdom never indul. restrained, the pleasantness of life's morning; that ges in a nap, at least before company ; they have morning so bright and joyous, which seems to « jus. learned the Pestalozzi system and weary you with tify the ways of God to men,” and to teach us that questions; they require you to prove every thing Nature intended us to be happy, and usually gains you assert, and are always on the watch to detect you her end till we are old enough to discover how we in a verbal inaccuracy, or a slight mistake in a date. may defeat it.
But, notwithstanding the infinite pains taken to Little girls are my favonrites. Boys, though suffispoil nature's lovely works, there is a principle of reciently interesting and amusing are apt to be in. sistance, which allows of only partial success; and fected, as soon as they assume the manly garb, with numbers of sweet children exist, to delight, and a little of that masculine violence and obstinacy, soothe, and divert us, when we are wearied or fret. which, when they grow up, they will call spirit and ted by grown-up people, and to justify all that has firmness; and they lose, earlier in life, that docility, been said or written of the charms of childhood. tenderness and ignorance of evil, which are their Perhaps only women, their natural nurses and faith. sisters' peculiar charms. In all the range of visible ful protectresses, can thoroughly appreciate the at. creation, there is no object to me so attractive and tractions of the first few months of human existence. delightful, as a lovely, intelligent, gentle little The recumbent position, the fragile limbs, the leth girl of eight or nine years old. This is the point argic tastes, and ungrateful indifference to notice, of at which may be witnessed the greatest improvement a very young infant, render it uninteresting to most of intellect compatible with that lily-like purity of gentlemen, except its father; and he is generally mind, to which taint is incomprehensible, danger unafraid to touch it, for fear of breaking its neck. But suspected, and which wants not only the vocabulareven in this state, mothers, grandmothers, aunts and lary, but the very idea of sin. nurses assure you, that strong indications of sense Even the best and purest of women would shrink and genius may be discerned in the little animal ; from displaying her heart to our gaze, while lovely and I have known a clatter of surprise and joy ex- childhood allows us to read its very thought and fancited through a whole family, and matter affordedcy. Its sincerity, indeed, is occasionally very in. for twenty long letters and innumerable animated convenient; and let that person be quite sure that conversations, by some marvellous demonstration he has nothing remarkably odd, ugly or disagreeable of intellect in a creature in long clothes, who could about his appearance, who ventures to ask a child not hold its head straight.
what it thinks of him. Amidst the frowns and But as soon as the baby has acqnired firmness and blushes of the family, amidst a thousand efforts to liveliness; as soon as it smiles at a familiar face, prevent or to drown the answer, truth, in all the and stares at a strange one; as soon as it employs horrors of nakedness, will generally appear in the its hands and eyes in constant expeditions of discov- surprised assembly; and he who has hitherto thought, ery, and crows and leaps, from the excess of animal in spite of his mirror, that his eyes had merely a contentment,-it becomes an object of indefinable slight and not unpleasing cast, will now learn for the and powerful interest, to which all the sympathies first time, « that every body says he has a terrible of our nature attach usman object at once of curiosi- squint.” ty and tenderness, interesting as it is in its helpless I cannot approve of the modern practice of dressness and innocence, doubly interesting from its pros- ing little girls in exact accordance with the prevailpects and destiny'; interesting to a philosopher, ing fashion, with scrupulous imitation of their eldoubly interesting to a Christian.
ders. When I look at a child, I do not wish to feel Who has not occasionally, when fondling an in- doubtful whether it is not an unfortunate dwarf, fant, felt oppressed by the weight of mystery which who is standing before me, attired in a costume suithangs over its fate? Perhaps we hold in our armsed to its age. Extreme simplicity of attire, and a an angel, kept but for a few months from the heaven dress sacred to themselves only, are most fitted to in which it is to spend the rest of an immortal exist these « fresh female buds;" and it vexes me to see ence ; perhaps we see the germ of all that is hide them disguised in the fashions of the day, or prace ous and hateful in our nature. Thus looked and tising the graces and courtesies of maturer life. Will thus sported, thus calmly slumbered and sweetly there not be years enough, from thirteen to seventy, smiled the monsters of our race in their days of in- for ornamenting or disfiguring the person at the fiat fancy. Where are the marks to distinguish a Nero of French milliners; for checking laughter and forc
BY MARY HOWITT.
Come ye into the summer woods,
There entereth no annoy; All greenly wave the chesnut leaves,
And the earth is full of joy.
I cannot tell you half the sights
Of beauty you may see, The bursts of golden -sunshine,
And many a shady tree.
There, lightly swung, in bowery glades,
The honey-suckles twine;
And the dark blue columbine.
ing smiles; for reducing all varieties of intellect, all gradations of feeling, to one uniform tint? Is there not already a sufficient sameness in the aspect and tone of polished life ? Oh, leave children as they are, to relieve, by their so wild freshness," our elegant insipidity; leave their hair loosely flowing, robes as free,” to refresh the eye that loves simplicity; and leave their eagerness, their warmth, their unreflecting sincerity, their unschooled expressions of joy or regret, to amuse and delight us, when we are a little tired by the politeness, the caution, the wisdom and the coldness of the grown-up world.
Children may teach us one blessed, one enviable art,—the art of being easily happy. Kind nature has given to them that useful power of accommodation to circumstances, which compensates for so many external disadvantages; and it is only by inju. dicious management that it is lost. Give him but a moderate portion of food and kindness, and the peasant's child is happier than the duke's; free from artificial wants, unsated by indulgence, all nature ministers to his pleasures; he can carve out felicity from a bit of hazel twig, or fish for it successfully in a puddle.
He must have been singularly unfortunate in child. hood, or singularly the reverse in after-life, who does not look back upon its scenes, its sports and pleasures, with fond regret. The wisest and happiest of us, may occasionally detect this feeling in our bosoms. There is something unreasonably dear to the man in the recollection of the follies. the whims, the petty cares and exaggerated delights of his childhood. Perhaps he is engaged in schemes of soaring ambition ; but he fancies, sometimes, that there was once a greater charm in flying a kite.-Perhaps, after many a hard lesson, he has acquired a power of discernment and spirit of caution, which defies deception; but he now and then wishes for the boyish confidence, which venerated every old beg. gar, and wept at every tale of wo. -N. M. Mag.
There grows the four-leaved plant “ true-love,"
In some dusk woodland spot :
And the wood forget-me-lot.
And many a merry bird is there,
Unscared by lawless men: The blue-winged jay, the wood-pecker,
And the golden-crested wren.
The timid and the bold;
It is not to be told.
And far within that summer-wood,
Among the leaves so green, There flows a little gurgling brook,
The brightest e'er was seen.
There come the little gentle birds,
Without a fear of ill; Down to the murmuring water's edge,
And freely drink their fill!
THE DEAD CHILD.
BY WILLIAM H. BURLEJGH.
One tiny hand amid his curls is lying
Over the blue veined temple--and his face,
Pale as the water-lily, shows no trace of passion or of tears. The pang of dying
Left not its record on the beautiful clay,
And--but the flush of life were stolen awayWell might we deem he slept. His ruby lip,
Weareth its freshness yet-and see! a smile
Lingers around his mouth, as all the while
How like a guardian angel doth he come
To bear the sinless spirit to his homeThe sheltering bosom of the CRUCIFIED !
And dash about and splash about,
The merry littie things; And look askance with bright black eyes,
And flirt their dripping wings. I've seen the freakish squirrels drop
Down from their leafy tree,
Great joy it was to me!
I've seen them nimbly go;
A welcome kind and low.
'The nodding plants they bow their heads,
As if, in heartsome cheer,
-. 'Tis merry living here !"