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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. 3