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CHRISTMAS.
• I.
From palace to the peasant hut,
From mountain to the sea,
When heirs of Kings are born, resounds
The Nation’s jubilee!
From Ind. to isles of Arctic seas,
The gladsome tidings ring,
And all the lands, with hymn and harp,
Proclaim the infant King I
n.
Purple banners flaunt in air,
Cannons boom, and trumpets blare ;
In the steeples, far and near,
Bravely' loud, or softly clear,
Merry bells on living wing
Seem to flutter, soar and sing!
The roar and shouts
Os revel-making cities cleave the clouds ;
The twilight haze
Glows with the flick’ring bonfire's lurid blaze;
And. on the stellar deeps of ambient air,
Their crests of rainbow light the rockets rear.
in.
But when, from Eden-howers descending,
The glory of the Godhead came,
And all the harps of Heaven were blending
Hosannas to Jehovah’s name ;
When, iwixt the sky and earth, the gleaming
Os seraph pinions lit the night,
And Bethle’ms’ star, sublimely beaming,
Declare 1 the Lord to prophet’s sight,
No herald trumpet’s loud fanfaring,
No thunder peal of festal gun,
No kingly banner’s golden flaring,
No martial plume, no rack of drum,
No chime of bells, no incense cloud ward roll’d,
The solemn birthday of the Saviour told !
IV.
They found him, in his manger-cradle sleeping,
The holy Son of Gotl —in mortal guise;
A child of earth, foredoom’d to woe and weeping,
And yet a King—the Piincc of earth and skies:
No silken robe, no jewell’d cestus ’twined him,
No lulling strains of music charm’d his ear,
.Yet all the glory of the world enshrined him !
And all the singing hosts of Heaven were near !
V.
They heard it not, the angel anthem:
“ Glory to God ! good will to man 1”
That through the spirit-realms of ether
In bursts of tremulous lapture ran
They saw it not, the awful splendor
Through Zion’s golden streets that pour’d,
When erst the herald trumps of Heaven
Proclaimed the coming of the Lord !
VI.
Unheeded were the voices
Os prophets, and of se.:rs,
Who read the wond’rous omens
Os the unfolding years,
And, with celestial visions raptur’d, strove
To teach the purpose of Almighty Love.
For earth was dark, and blindness
Had sealed the souls of men ;
The night of baleful ages
Begirt, and burden’d them ;
No starry ray' serene the darkness broke,
To light the heart with Heaven’s immortal hope.
VII.
Hallelujah to God ! for the tilings that came
When Seraphs descended on Bethlehem’s plain,
And low, in a manger, the Holy One lay :
“ Who taketh the sins of the world away” !
vm.
To the Lord of Sabaoth ! the Heavenly King !
Let the sw et harp of Zion eternally ring!
The Light of the world that came down from the skies,
Dispelling the gloom of our mortal eyes.
IX.
The erucifie I Jesus! for sinners slain ;
The Godhead, whose glory the heavens proclaim !
The Friend of the lowly ! the Guide of the lost,
The Father I the Son! and the Holy Ghost!
Then let the voice of nations
In choral hymns aspire !
Wake in His Holy temples
The Spirit’s sacred fire!
In homage of the dawning
of earth's divinest day.
When in the stall at Bethlehem
The infant Jesus lay!
Charles W. Hvbner.
CliriMtniaM in Spain.
BY JOHN HAY.
There is no civilized country in which chil
dren are not made happy by the promise of
the coming Christmas. Rut in every country
the festival is called by a different name, and
its presiding genius is painted with a different
costume and manner. You know all about
our jolly Dutch Santa Claus, with his shrewd,
twinkling eyes, his frosty head, his ruddy face
and the bag of treasures with which he comes
tumbling down the chimney, while his team of
reindeer snort and stamp on the icy roof. The
English Christmas is equally well known, and
the wonders of the German miracle-tree —the
first sight of which no child ever forgets.
But you are, perhaps, not so familiar with the
spirit of the blessed season of advent in South
ern Europe, and so I will tell you some of the
pleasuresand fancies of the Spanish Christmas.
The good cheer which it brings everywhere,
is especially evident in Spain. They are a
frugal people; and many a good Spanish fam
ily is supported by less than the waste of an
American household. But there is no sparing
at Christmas. This is a season as fatal to tur
keys, as thanksgiving in New England. The
Castilian farmers drive them into Madrid in
great droves, which they conduct from door to
door, making the dim old streets gay with
their scarlet wattles, and noisy with obstrepei
ous gabbling. But the headquarters of the
marketing, during those days, are in tin Plaza
Mayor, where every variety of fruit and pro
vision is sold. I'lare is nothing more striking
than those vast heaps of fresh golden oranges
plucked the day before in the groves of Anda
lusia; nuts from Granada, and dates from
Africa; every flavor and color of tropical
fruitage; and in the stalls beneath the gloomy
arches, the butchers drive their flourishing
trade. All is gay and joyous—chattering and
jesting, greeting of friends and filling of bas
kets. The sky is wintry, but the ground is
ruddy and rich with the fruits of summer.
At night, the whole city turns out into the
streets. The youths and maidens of the poorer
classes go Hooping through the town with
tambot ilk's, caslanets and guitars, singing and
dancing. Every one has a different song, to
suit his own state of mind. The women sing
of love and religion,and many of the men can
sing of nothing better than polities. But the
pail which the children take in the festival,
bears a curious resemblance to those time-hon
ored ceremonies we all remember. The ass«>-
eiation- of Christmas in Spain, are all of the
u sj’el. There i> no Northern St. Nick there
to dull' the >U*ekings of th.e/ood children with
• rewards of merit. Why, tl.en, on Christmas
eve. d > von see the little >h< < s < xpesed by the
window-ami doors ' 11.e \\ »>e Kings of the
E.i't are supposed to be journeying, by night, to
Bethlehem, healing gifts and In .age to the
Ileavuily Child, and out tin ir abundance,
when tiny pass by the Lvusvs where the u d
’ ehiidrii -deep, tiny will dt\ p into their cs
THE GEORGIA GRANGE.
some of the treasures they are bearing to the
Baby Prince of Judea.
This thought is never absent from the rejoic
ings of Christmast-tide in Spain. Every hour
of the time is sacred to Him who came to
bring peace and good will to the world.
The favorite toy of the season is called
“ The Nativity.” It is sometimes very elabor
ate and costly, representing a landscape under
a starry night; the shepherds watching their
flocks; the Magi coming in with wonder and
awe, aud the Child in the stable, shedding upon
the darkness that living light which was to
overspread the world.
Before the holidays are ended, the three
kings make their appearance again. On the
eve of the Epiphany, the porters and water
carriers of Madrid, whenever they can find
one young and simple enough to believe it,
tell him that those royal and sacred personages
are coming to the city that night, and that they
must go to the gates to receive them. They
make the poor fellow carry a long ladder,
which, on arriving at each gate, is mounted by
one of the party, who announces that the vis
itors are yet in sight. The ladder is then
| put again upon the shoulders of the victim.
I and the sorry joke is repeated as long as he
I can endure it.
I The editor of Hearth and Home says: “We
; asked a lady of our acquantance one day,
whether she had ever known another lady, also
■of our acquaintance. She hesitated, reflected,
and finally thought not. As we happened to
be aware that both ladies had been born and
brought up in a little rural village in houses
: within a stone’s throw of each other,we persist
j ed in bringing up reminiscences of the forgot -
* ten one. Finally our friend said with an in-
I describable air of scorn, “Ah ! you mean—”l
suppose. Os course I remember her, but she
i is not in society.”
What is society ? Webster defines it as “a
number of persons associated for any tempora-
■ry or permanent object; an association for mu
tual profit, pleasure or usefulness, as the persons
collectively considered who Jive in any region
; or at any period ; any community of individ
uals who are united together by any common
j bond of nearness or intercourse, those who rec
ognize each other as associates, friends, ors ac
quaintances ; specifically the more cultivated
portion of any community in its social relations
and influences, etc.
Now, taking this definition as a measurably
correct one of the floating, changing, and most
intangible thing that we mean when we talk
about “society,” these ladies were both in it.
They had fished in the brook together with a
stick and a crooked pin, they had played
school together and taken imaginary teas with
acorn cups and saucers and oak-leaf plates on
the flat rock behind the district school, and they
had splendid times over mud pies in the
democratic days of childhood. Then one had
gone away to an expensive young ladies’
school, and returning had presently floated to
the altar, all tulle and orange blossoms, mak
ing what “society” calls a brilliant marriage.
The other had learned all she could in the lit
tle red school-house, had staid at home darning
the stockings and helping on baking-days; and
when her young brother wanted to go to college
had become saleswoman in a store in the near
est town that she might assist in paying his
bills. She was not in society in the sense
in which society is looked upon as a mere state
of paying and receiving visits, but because of
her, of her quiet doing of duty and unconscious
self-respect, society was enriched though it may
not have known it.
There is far too much of this pitiful caste
spirit among women. Certain kinds of work
they regard as honorable, and certain kinds of
workers they deem worthy of respect, but the
fact of laboring for pay, in many cases, they
regard as a fact to be apologized for. The bet
ter and braver among women should give a
loftier tone to society's opinions on this sub
ject.” - - -
Legend* of the Rot>e«.
In heathen days, the rose was considered a
mystic flower and under the especial protection
of elves who were ruled, as the Heldeubueb says,
fly their mighty King Laurin, the Lord of the
Rose Garden :
Fotu portals to the p.nleu lead, aud when the gates
are closed,
No living wight dare ioiich a rose, ’gainst his stri t
command opposed ;
Who’er would break the golden gates, o: cut the silken
thread,
Or who would dare to crush the tl iwers down beneath
his tread,
Sven tor l.is pride would leave to pledge a foot and
hand;
Tin s Isiurin, King vs Elves, rule- within his laud."
We have all read of this Rose Garden, in Beauty
and the Beast, where King Lamin is represented
by the enchanted prince.
In early Christian times, roses were regarded
as sacred flowers. The apse of the ancient cath
edra] of Hildesheim is nearly covered by a wild
rose which, according to tradition, is over a thou
sand years old. It was. says the legend, grow
ing on the spot before the foundations of the
church were laid by Chailemange, and must have
marked Hildesheim as a sacred site.
There is a rose story about a Swiss girl. who.
i wandering one summer’s day with her flock of
' goats, strayed farther into the woods than usual.
' and. night setting in dark and stormy, she be-
I came bewildered and lost her way.
Her heart sank with terror, for she remember
, ed as the rain and wind roared around her. that
I she had forgotten to say her prayers that day,
and site knelt to do so. Before the storm, she
• had woven, playfully, a garland of roses and
■ placed it on her head, and as she prayed the
ro.-es shone out radiantly, and lighted up ail the
[ woodlands round with their crimson brightness.
Aided 1 y these wondrous lamps, the maiden joy
: fully discovered the path which led to her home.
S;r John Mandeville relates a touching legend
i he heard at Palestine about the < rigla of roses.
A beautiful aud innocent maidm. who had been
■ blamed with wrong and slandered, was doomed to
' death by fire. A- the red flames sprang up
an und her "she made her prayers to our Lord,
.ha: be would help her. as she was m t guilty."
As she prayed, the :.re wa< suddenly quenched,
and the flaming I raids became " red rose res,
and the brands that were not kindled, white
resert? full of rests. And these wore the first
rosea, both red and white, that ever any man
saw."
THE BROKEN HYACINTH.
A Christmas Eve Incident of the Streets
of New York.
The night had set in clear and inild, and all
the leading arteries of the great city were teem
ing with life, and ablaze with light. The lamp
posts had fallen into luminous line, and the
multitudinous bazaars, drinking-saloons, shops,
hotels, restaurants, and various other places of
amusement and resort, shone forth in all the
brilliancy of countless burners, and curious
tinted devices.
The entrances to the different theatres were
also aglow; and the numerous cathedrals,
churches, and chapels were flashing and scin
tillating —some preparing for midnight ser
vices ; others, for the coming morrow. The
air was filled with the cry of fruit venders,
crowded hackmen and newsboys; while the
sense of hearing was, from time to time, com
pletely paralyzed through the rumbling and
rattling of omnibuses, street cars, carts and car
riages, as well as the clangor of bells, the howl
ing of hand-organs, and the thrumming of
harps and other musical instruments, all of
which seemed permeated with that deep, myste
rious hum, inseparable from the tread of vast
moving multitudes. From end to end, Broad
way and the other mighty thoroughfares pre
sented kaleidoscopic views the most gorgeous
and bewildering. Here, some jeweler seemed
slowly consuming in the midst of his own
ardent splendor; and there, the lofty plate
glass front of a wealthy silk or dry-goods
house appeared to be flushed with sunset clouds
in blinding warp and woof. The ferry-boats
that plied on both rivers were crowded densely ;
and the street cars, with their eyes of colored
flame, ran such rapid counter-currents through
their appointed routes, as to make the various
crossings they passed inconvenient and danger
ous to the unnumbered throngs that were hur
rying to and fro.
In some of the lowest by-streets only were
the unmistakable traces of misery and dark
ness to be found, and, out of these, occasion
ally stole a spectre that was far from harmoni
zing with the festive brightness of the scene. My
wife and I—who, although in the “sear and
yellow leaf,” had been out among the busy
throng—were speculating on this circumstance,
and wondering as to the fate of our own poor
girl who, twelve years previously, had been
lured from her home by a villain, when our
attention was attracted by some favorite flow
ers in the window of a florist, a few of which
we instantly concluded to purchase.
There were not many persons in the estab
lishment; but among those present, we noticed
simultaneously a sweet-faced, though poorly
clad, child of about ten years of age, standing
at the counter, and wistfully eyeing a very
beautiful but broken-stemmed hyacinth that
lay before her. She had evidently failed in an
endeavor to drive some hard bargain with the
shop-man, for she now took up the bruised but
fragrant flower, and, while the tears suffused
her large, blue, pensive eyes, meekly whispered,
“ Can I have this for the five cents?”
We were struck with something familiar, as
it were, in her countenance, as well as with the
pleading earnestness of her interrogatory.
Both touched us deeply; and we, therefore,
managed to make her acquaintance in a very
few moments, through some trifling additions
to the wounded hyacinth, which had already
become hers. She told us that her name was
Rosa L , that she was the only child of a
widow who lived in a neighboring street —that
her mother, who had once gained a scant live
lihood as a teacher of music, had been ailing
for some short time, and was now constrained
to keep her bed—that the latter had always
been passionately fond of flowers, and that, as
she was now unable to purchase even the most
unpretending bouquet, the hyacinth was bought
without her knowledge, as a sort of little holi
day present for her.
This was, in subitance, the story elicited from
the poor orphan, as we accompanied her on
her way home. We had determined to learn
all about her if possible; and thus it was that
we now stood before her miserable dwelling,
and after a moment’s hesitation, entered it at
her request.
“God help the occupants of such a habita
tion as this” we exclaimed,as we followed our
gentle guide up three flights of as narrow and
rickety old stairs as ever disgraced even the
most grasping landlord of a New York tene
ment; “and, surely,” we continued, “the
wealth and religious sentiment of this city are
highly honored in such episodes to their libe
rality as are written in human kennels of this
character.” Being strangers in the great me
tropolis, we had not yet seen much in this
connection, and were, consequently, greatly
shocked at the darkness and sullen misery that
seemed to swallow up the whole building.
As we groped our way upward, we were able
to discover that the gloomy structure was
crowded to suffocation, but were, ;.t the same
time, oppressed with the idea that, on a night
usually so joyous, not a single mirthful voice
reverberated throughout any portion of it.
When we reached the dizzy landing, smeared
with a dull, smoky light, that oozed through
the door of the apartment of the sick stranger,
we consequently began to feel some alarm at
our thoughtless temerity in entering a house
which might be neither more nor less than
some noted d n of infamy and crime.
On crossing the threshold of the crauqteel
and cheerless room, however, we became reas
sured at cnee on this head ; for, no! withstand- :
ing its lamentable' j verty, there was that air
of sanctified cleanliness and t rier about it, 1
that r.ever pervades the aim, sphere of the lost
or degraded. Although old and >ha’Ty to in- ■
tensity, the few articles of furniture it coni., j? d (
were scrupulously clean, and c..re!'ui.y ar
ranged ; and the bed upon which the j r
: . 11_ ml ■• ’ -
neat and -o c >nsiderat ’y ad/js’.vd. that o:.e
might believe -ome g,•’>< outside hard h;; i
but just tuckexi in its pi :u. white c verier, and i
smoothed its snowy pillow
The sufferer, to whom a few words from Rosa
introduced us warmly, was a woman of about
thirty, and possessed of features so strikingly
handsome, although wasted with sickness, that
a murmur of admiration escaped our lips as
we approached her lowly couch. In her coun
tenance, also, we thought we could trace the
outlines of something familiar; but, then, the
subtle disease, which often coils itself up in
the_life-blood, so alters, at times, the expression
of the face, as to make friends appear as
strangers, and strangers like friends. By her
side, on a low, round table, stood a feeble,
murky lamp, and a small empty vase. From
this latter she had evidently taken a few with
ered flowers that were clasped in her thin,
white hand —but, oh ! so hopelessly dead were
they, find so painfully suggestive, that we
found it difficult to repress the tears that began
to choke us inwardly. She received us almost
tenderly; and, while Rosa replenished the
vase, thanked us with her large, lustrous eyes,
for our visit and our fragrant little gift, which
was made up mainly of the flowers dear to our
own lost one; but, when she perceived me
draw a bottle of wine from my great coat
pocket, which I had purchased after having
left the florist’s, with a view of slipping it into
the hand of Rosa when we should part in the
street, a tear trembled on the long, purple
lashes that quivered on her cheek, and she
became, as it were, totally overpowered.
At this point, and while I seated myself by
Rosa, who was endeavoring to inspire with
new life some embers that were smoldering in
a mite of a stove, my wife, unfolding her own
bouquet, from the tissue-paper that concealed
it, with a view to placing it in the vase, handed
the one with the broken hyacinth to the fair
invalid. For a moment, she regarded the
flower with fixed attention, and, perceiving
that the vase was now filled with nothing but
hyacinths, she became greatly agitated, and be
gan murmuring, in a low, sweet, tremulous
voice, some disjointed sentences, that seemed to
suddenly attract the attention of my wife, who
now leaned over her in the hope of catching
more distinctly the meaning of her incoherent
uttterances. I bad just begun a conversation
with Rosa, in the hope of finding some little
pretext that might enable me, without hurting
the delicacy of her mother, to be a trifle more
generous than I already had been, when, to
my utmost consternation, 1 was startled by a
low, smothered cry from the bed 1 Instantly
springing to my feet, I made a step forward;
when, half paralyzed, I discovered my wife
and the sick woman locked in each other’s
arms! It was our long-lost daughter !
For ths Gesrgia Grange.]
FABLE IN RHY.HE.
The Lark and Iler Young Ones.—LEscrp.
CHARLES W. HUBNER.
A lark her unfledged young had hid
Within a field of ripening wheat;
But fearing that, when she was gone,
The owner of the field would come
To reap, and garner in the grain,
And thus her progeny be slain,
hlba told her brood to list with care
To every word that they might hear
The master of the grain-field say,
Whenever she might be away.
One day the farmer, near the nest,
Said to his son: “I think ’tis best
To reap the grain ; —we’ll call our neighbors
To-morrow, to assist our labors.”
The young ones, on the lark's return,
Told her what they had heard that morn,
And beg’d her somewhere else to go ;
“No need of haste,” she said, “I know
If he depends on other's aid
The harvest will not soon be made.”
Next day the farmer came again,
But neither friend nor neighbor came
To help him reap the ripen’d grain ;
The sun grew hot, but nought was done,
Then said the farmer to his son :
"We can’t depend on friends or neigh bora
To help us iu our harvest labors,
Go, ask assistance of our kin ;
To-morrow morning we’ll begin.”
In great alarm the frightened birds*
Told the old lark the farmer’s words ;
"If that be all,” the mother said,
"We run no risk of danger yet;
For ail his relatives, ’tis known,
Have harvest labor of their own ;
But when the men again appear
Mark well, and tell me all you hear.”
Ths lark once more had gone abroad,
When next his field the farmer sought.
The o'er-ripe wheat-heads, golden crown’d,
Their treasure scatter’d on the ground.
And finding still no labor done,
The farmer said unto his son :
"Tliis thing I can no more endure,
Nor wait for help ; —go, and procure
Tliis very evening sickles twain.
To-morrow, toe w.ll reap the grain.'"
When this the old lark heard, she said :
"All. now 'tis time to move, indeed ;
For when a man counts not on friends.
But to Ins work himself attends,
Be sure he promptly pushes through
Whate’er his hands have found to do."
A'daida, Ga.
Language of Animals.
Certainly all animals have a mode of ex
pressing their feelings to others of the same
species. Wolves arrange attacks, hunting to
gether in packs. They are all animated by the
same thought, and therefore travel with ener
gy for hours to accomplish a design of which
each member of the enterprise has a rational
understanding. Deer and buff do act in con
cert in regard to seeking food or water. Per- j
haps the government of wild horses, through i
signs which any horse in a group of hundreds, |
instantly recognizes as an imperative command j
of one individual, who prances up and and !
down the line like one in authority, is about as
pertect and as mysterious as anything in na-|
tural history. Birds and d gs are exceedingly I
sociable, eni-ying the society of their kith and
kin as much as country cousins when thev visit
city relatives. Rats and mice, too, arid even I
insects are -upp-sed to have the faculty of|
communicating their wi>he- .-.nd opinions to j
each ether.
The B . ■’< - .J ■ Las this advice fur
girls. "Never marry a man whose manner, or
■? Or j hints at the idea that he is
t I ’■’: -- ■ : f his wife. A “master” who
s emj yer, i in pit n lue nti ,md
try another—but quiting a Lu-Land, even for
reasons that i will justify, is
seri is tr s! sir ». Mai ry i hus-
band—not a master.
THE HIDDEN RILL.
(J'Vam the Spanish.)
BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT.
Across a pleasant field, a rill unseen
Steals from a fountain, nor does aught betray
Its presence, save a tint of livelier green
Aud flowers that scent the air along its way.
Thus secretly should charity attend
Those who in want’s dim chambers pine and grieve;
And nought should e’er reveal the aid wc lend,
Save Hie glad looks our kindly visits leave.
Destruction of Works of Art in Jeru
salem.
During the recent disgraceful squabble and
riot of the monks around Jerusalem there was
one incident that should especially pain all
lovers of art. This was the destruction of the
two pictures by Murillo in the Bethlehem
church that fell a victim to ecclesiastical fury.
They were true Murillos, and masterpieces;
and, what is worse, having been dispatched to
the church immediately on their execution,
and there retained, it is believed that they have
never been engraved. They were unusually
well preserved, too, for, on being placed in the
oratory of La Creche, both canvases had been
covered with glass to protect them from candle
smoke. One of the subjects was the Nativity,
the other the Adoration of the Magi. In read
ing with involuntary indignation of this bar
barous instance of iconoclasm, we are reminded
of what Thackeray wrote on the same scene and
topic nearly thirty years ago. In his journey
from Cornhill to Cairo, speaking of the 1 ad
ing Christian sects in and around Jerusalem,
he says : “These three main sects hate each
other; their quarrels are interminable; each
bribes and intrigues with the heathen lords of
the soil to the prejudice of his neighbor. Now
it is the Latins who interfere, and allow the
common church to go to ruin, because the
Greeks purpose to roof it; now the Greeks de
molish a monastery on Mount Olivet, and leave
the ground to the Turks, rather than to allow
the Armenians to possess it. On another occa
sion, the Greeks having mended the Armenian
steps which lead to the (so-called) Cave of the
Navitity at Bethlehem, the latter asked for per
mission to destroy the work of the Greeks, and
And so round this sacred spot, the cen
tre of Christendom, the representatives of the
three great sects worship under one roof, and
hate each other I” The church of La Creche
is, as its name implies, the church of “The
Manger” (i.c., the reputed place of the nativity
of Christ ;) and to this spot, and the furious
wrangles of which it has been the scene, we
may therefore apply the exclamation which
Thackeray makes regarding the tomb of Christ:
“What a place to choose for imposture, good
God ! to sully with brutal struggles for self
aggrandizement or shameful schemes of gain !”
The Germans had the grace to try to spare with
their bombs the spire of Strasbnrg Cathedral.
Religious fanaticism in the Middle Ages direct
ed itself to the destruction of “pagan” art, no
matter how beautiful ; but in these enlightened
days for ecclesiastical fury to take up the bar
barous role of destruction, which even savage
war discards, is pitiable indeed.
Os all the snares that beset young girls,
none are more dangerous than the love of
dress. Mothers should be on the alert to guard
their daughters against it. Elder sisters should
not forget that young eyes are looking at them
as examples, and are much more impressed by
the living models before them than by any
amount of “good advice.” Nothing is of
greater importance than the companionship
permitted to young girls. Not only do over
dressed companions induce the wish in them
selves to overdress, but if the gratification is
denied, “ covetousness, envy, hatred and all
uncharitableness,” areveiy likely to find birth
in hearts that might be otherwise full of better
feelings. An undue love of overdress has
been only too frequently the cause of ruin of
both body and soul.
Even in young children the passion for
overdressing is seen. Little girls, with the
exception that their dresses are shorter, are
now clothed in all the expensive elaborations
that distinguish the attire of grown women.
Their skirts are covered with quantities of
ornaments, trimmings, frills and double skirts.
Their feet are encased in the most costly boots,
and their ankles dislocated with high heels.
The hats they wear are in accordance with the
rest of their toilette, and even padding and
hair dye are not unfrequently used, and de
ception, cunning, fraud, inculcated along with
vanity and reck less expenditure. Or.ewouldex
pect to find neat, plain dress in Sunday schools,
if anywhere. Yet we are often pained to see
children who come for free instruction, decora
ted with feathers, gilt ornaments, quantities of
ribbons, silk mantles and double skirts. Thus
arrayed, it is not wonderful that a general
spirit of rivalry is engendered, scholar vieing
with scholar, not in the acquirement of learn
ing and piety, but envying one another’s finery,
or puffed up with vanity at the possession ol
some special gew-gaw, and sneering at their
less overdressed companions. We have heard
mothers, with tears in their eyes, complain that
they could no longer send their children to be
instructed on Sundays, because they were una
ble to buy new or finer clothing, and the chil
dren were persecuted on account of their shab
biness —nay, even ridiculed for appearing
constantly in the same bonnet —neat, but not
fashionable. What do the mothers of these
children contemplate for them? How much
better to attire them in simple neatness, to in
culcate attention to instruction, to discipline
their characters to moral strength, and teach
them to lay the surplus, now wasted, fur some
better purpose—to aid their start in life or to
help father and mother on a rainy day. “But
they must do as others do, or they will be de
spised," is the foolish and often fatal argument.
The example and persuasion and firm jx rse
verance of one good mother, would be sure to
induce many who knew her —some, perhaps,
wLu ridicule loudest —to follow her example.
Place a young girl under the care of a
kind-hearted, graceful woman, and -he, uncon
sciously to herself, grows into a graceful lady.
Place a boy in the establishment of a thorough
going, straightforward business man, and the
boy becomes a self-reliant, practical business
man. Children are susceptible creatures, and
circumstances and scenes and actions always
impress. As you influence them, not by arbi
trary rules, nor by stern example alone, but in
a thousand other ways that speak through
beautiful forms, pretty pictures, etc., so they
will grow. Teach your children, then, to love
the beautiful. If you are able, give them a
corner in the garden for flowers; allow them
to have their favorite trees; teach them to
wander in the prettiest woodlets; show them
where they can best view the sunset; rouse
them in the morning, not with the stern,
“Time to work!” but with the enthusiastic,
“See the beautiful sunrise!” Buy for them
pretty pictures, and encourage them to decorate
their room in his or her childish way. Give
them an inch and they will go a mile. Allow
them the privilege, and they will make your
home pleasant and beautiful.
Revisiting the Earth.
To revisit this earth, some ages after their
departure from it, is a common wish among
men. We frequently hear men say that they
would give so many months or years of their
lives in exchange for a less number on the
globe one or two or three centuries from now.
Merely to see the world from some remote
sphere, like the distant spectator of a play
which passes in dumb show, would not suffice.
They would like to be of the world again, and
enter into its feelings, passions, hopes; to feel
the sweep of its current, and so to comprehend
what it has become.
I suppose that we all, who are thoroughly
interested in this world, have this desire. There
are some select souls, who sit apart in calm en
durance,waiting to be translated out of a world
they are almost tired of patronizing, to whom
the whole thing seems doubtless like a cheap
performance. They sit on the fence of criti
cism, and cannot for the life of them see what
he vulgar crowd makes such a toil and sweat
about. The prizes are the same, dreary, old
fading bay-wreaths. As for the soldiers march
ing past, their uniforms are torn, their hats are
shocking, their shoes are dusty, they do not ap
pear (to a man sitting on the fence) to march
with any kind of spirit, their flags are old and
tattered, the drums they beat are barbarous;
and, besides, it is not probable that they are
going anywhere—they will merely come round
again, the same people, like the marching
chorus in the “Beggar’s Opera.” Such critite,
of course, would not care to see the vulgar show
over again ; it is enough for them to put on re
cord their protest against it in the weekly
Judgment Days, which they edit, and, by-and
by, withdraw out of their private boxes, with
pity for a world in the creation of which they
were not consulted.
The desire to revisit this earth is, I think,
based upon a belief, well nigh universal, that
the world is to make some progress, and that it
will be more interesting in the future than it is
now. I believe that the human mind, when
ever it is developed enough to comprehend its
own action, rests, and has always rested, in this
expectation. I do not know any period of
time in which the civilized mind has not had
expectation of something better for the race in
the future. This expectation is sometimes
stronger than it is at others; and, again, there
are always those who say that the golden age
is behind them. It is alway behind or before
us; the poor present alone has no friends; the
present, in the minds of many, is only the car
that is carrying us away from an age of virtue
and of happiness ; or that is, perhaps, bearing
us on to a time of ease and comfort and securi
ty. — Charles Dudley Warner, in Scribner’s for
January.
A Foreign Prince’s Hunting Exctfrsion.
Duke Ernest, of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who is
about to visit this country, was an intimate
friend of Frederick Gerstaccker, the traveler
and novelist, who lived for many years in the
United States, and who urged Duke Ernest to
come to the New World and gratify there his
passion for adventure and hunting, which is
his ruling characteristic. The Duke, who will
leave Bremen for New York on the 22d of
January, will be accompained by his aid de
camp, Captain Von Rochow, and by four ser
vants, one of whom, Michael Deher, is famous
as a hunter of wild boars in Thuringia. The
Duke will remain only a short time in New
York, and then proceed to Washington, where
he will pay his respects to the President of the
United States. From Washington the Duke
will at once proceed to Nebraska and hunt buf
faloes for a month or six weeks. He will then
go to Texas and Mexico, where he will remain
three months. Returning to the United States
in May, he will visit the Northwestern States,
and then go to California. From California
he will go to the Sandwich Islands, and Aus
tralia, and return byway of Java, Sumatra
and Egypt to Europe. It is estimated at Gotha
that this voyage will cost the Ducal exchequer
about SIOO,OOO.
Let the winds and waves of adversity blow
and dash around you, if they will; but keep on
the path of rectitude, and you be as firm as a
rock. Plant yoursell upon principle, and bid
defiance to misfortune. If gossip, with her
poisoned tongue, meddles with your good name,
heed her not. Carry yourself erect; let your
course be straightforward, and, by the serenity
of your countenance and the purity of your
life, give the lie to all who would underrate and
belittle you.
Those who are incapable of shining but by
dress would do well to consider that the con
trast between them and their clothes turns out
much to their disadvantage. It is on this ac
count I have sometimes observed with pleasure
some noblemen, of immense fortune, to drew
e x cee d i ngly plain. — Shm/to ne.
Avoid singularity. There may often l>e less
vanity in following the new modes than in ad
hering to the old ones.
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