صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني




Know. Ruskin says, An educated My home was a cot ’mid the forest trees,

man ought to know three things : First,

where he is, Where the shadows were deep and long ;

that is to say, what sort of Where the thick leaves danced to the piping is ; what kind of creatures live in it, and

a world he has got into; how large it breeze, Like a green-robed festal throng.

how; what it is made of, and what may There the dark vines clung, and the wild bird

be made of it. Secondly, where he is sung,

going, – that is to say, what chances or reAnd the flowers bloomed, meek and fair ;

ports there are of any other world beside While a clear stream fell in a rocky dell,

this; what seems to be the nature of that And, oh, I was happy there !

other world. Thirdly, what he had best do

under the circumstances, — that is to say, But I went to the world,- the siren world, - what kind of faculty he possesses; what And I left that cottage door.

are the present state and wants of manThe summer lay deep on hill and steep,

what are the readiest means in his And the bird sung there as of yore ;

power of attaining happiness and diffusing But the tender spell from my spirit fell,

it. The man who knows these things, and Like a severed jewelled chain.

who has his will so subdued, in the learning I went to the world, - the siren world ; But I gathered me only pain.

of them, that he is ready to do what he

knows he ought, is an educated man; and I had been too long in Nature's wild,

the man who knows them not is uneducatUnused to the ways of art ;

ed, though he could talk all the tongues of I came to it now as a simple child,

And it burned and seared my heart.
I found in the bowers of velvet flowers
The serpent lay coiled to sting;

A MINISTER, travelling through the West I learned to my ruth that love and truth

some years ago, asked a lady on whom he Were only a hollow thing.

called what she thought of the doctrine So I turned from the vain, false world again,

of total depravity. And to wash its stain away

“Oh,” she replied, “ I think it is a I sought the shade of the forest glade,

good doctrine, if the people would only Where my young feet used to stray.

live up to it.” I tried in the gleam of its dimpling stream

To efface my spirit's stain
And the bitter strife of the feverish life

The advertisements sent out with this That will ne'er be mine again.

number of the Repository are deserving

of your especial attention. Do not negBut it clung to me still, as the plague-spot will, lect to read them.

Even then, in that purer air ;
I went to the cot; 'twas a lonely spot,
Yet still it was fair,- how fair !

THE “Book of Prayer," by Rev. C. H. And beside the hearth, one patient smile

Leonard, should be a familiar book to Was left from the wrecks of yore; My mother was there ; 'twas her tender prayer every member of the household.

That had lured me back once more. And never again for the siren world

New subscribers will be received for Will I leave my wild-wood cot,

the Ladies' Repository, commencing with For peace is there, in that holy air,

the January number.
That the cold world knoweth not.
And so, when I die, shall my spirit fly
From the whispering wild-wood shade ;

They who think there is no vacuum in And there, oh, there,—'tis my earnest prayer, nature forget a coquette's heart and a May my last low bed be made !

beau's skull.

[blocks in formation]


conflicts on the battle-field of life. How soothEVERYBODY is beginning to talk about Thanks- ing must that reunion be to the scattered, giving ; everybody is busily engaged in pre- world-worn men and women ! how fondly paring for it, and arranging what they are looked forward to, how tearfully remembered ! to have for the grand dinner of that important

Happy the family who, on the approaching day. The turkey is fed to the stuffing point, Thanksgiving, shall see around the old table that the desirable amount of fat upon his breast all the old faces, – the father, the mother, the and walking-sticks may not be lacking for the brothers and sisters, all the children, — not one great occasion. The yellow-legged pullets, face missing, not one chair vacant! How many which are to do duty in the pie, are ungener

on that day will be thus blest? Alas! for the ously and treacherously lured to devour an thousands who will remember the son, the enormous quantity of corn and boiled potatoes, brother, or the husband sleeping on some lone that the said pastry may be luscious and golden, and trampled field, by some murmuring riverand melt in the mouth. The busy housekeeper shore, in some malarious swamp, who shall goes about from pantry to store-room and from

never wake again, though the bugle call, and store-room to cooking-stove with a magnificent the rolling drum sound the reveille never so man-of-war look — her royal studding-sails all loudly, until the last trumpet summons them set – that impresses the entire household with to life again! Alas! for the thuasnds who the importance of her office. On grand, festi- will put the untasted food from their lips on val occasions, & housekeeper is always lord- that day, as they think of their dear ones slowparamount, no one venturing to dispute her ly pining away in Southern prisons, shut out authority, or hesitate to obey her behests ; for from the sweet air and sunshine, or herded who else is to be depended upon for the splendid like dumb cattle in the pens of Anderson ville array of pies, – mince, apple, and pumpkin, – or Belle Isle ! Will the Thanksgiving festival and whatever of other intricate dishes her deft be sweet to them? Can they bow their heads and practical fingers are skilful to concoct.

in gratitude to Him who has blest us with full The house is furbished up from garret to celo basket and well-supplied store ? lar, extra touches administered in every quar

Yes, they can and will, though all they hold ter, and even the most indolent of the family dear be thus severed from them, if they remem. wake up to the importance of lending a hand ber that it is for Freedom and Humanity and and doing something for the general good.

Country they suffer or died ! Yes, they can Thanksgiving, the Thanksgiving of the old- look forward to the day, not now distant, when en time, the real old New England Thanks- this land will indeed be a land of freedom and giving, now happily, though perhaps in faded happiness, — when no man shall say, “I am colors, imported into the Empire State, here, not my own; these chains are the tokens of my as there, is still the grand gathering day of the servitude and my disgrace ; I am not my year, — the day of family reunion. Then, all own!” — and feel that their loved and lost have the children of the household, scattered though helped to work out this great blessing, and they may be to the four winds of heaven, strive, they will be comfor’ed thereby. if possible, to return to the old homestead, where their childhood's days were spent, where their parents are growing old and white-haired In the general preparations for the festivities and ready for their last resting-place, that they of the day, our soldiers have not been forgotmay once more sit down together around the ten. What magnificent preparations have been dear old family board, – that board so well and made for them, - our brave boys in the field lovingly remembered through years of absence and on the march! What generous donations, and care, sometimes of sin, of wanderings, of what inspiring toil have been called forth by


the announcement that our soldiers are all to hair of the fashionable lady should be powshare in the joys of the day, - that turkeys and dered with pure guld-dust, and the streets other poultry in vast quantities, plum-puddings swept with a half-yard train of silk at ten doland pies" that no man could number," and lars a yard! It seems fabulous, - a Munchaujellies and fruits in unlimited profusion are to sen tale, - but it is nevertheless true. When be forwarded to the armies of the North for everything should inspire a wise economy, that that day, until no soldier shall be found who homely virtue is entirely forgotten. A hunhas not partaken.

dred-dollar bonnet is thrown away in three In this State alone,—and other States have un-months, as though it were not worth a picadoubtedly been as generous, - forty thousand yune, while another, equally expensive, takes turkeys, already cooked and garnished, have its place. been sent forward, all vying with one another It seems astounding, - appalling, - because to see who sball do the most. One generous, what is to be the end? We do not know. God energetic man has alone cooked sixteen hun will bring good out of evil, no doubt; but dred of the noble fowl, others one thousand, ought we to commit evil on that account? others five hundred, others still lesser num- Many think and say that it is better to spend bers ; but all the ovens in our large cities have lavishly, thereby increasing the public revenue. been in use night and day. Single individuals It is a difficult question, perhaps, to settle ; but have given turkeys by the hundred, and pies in all ages and in all nations, economy has ever by the thousand. The stream of good things been lauded as a virtue, and luxury and waste that poured into the depot for our soldiers has have generally been barbirgers of calamity. been jull and deep and wide. Steamers of the May they not prove so now! largest size have been loaded to the brim and Nothing, it seems to us, could be more gracesent on their way, one after another, and still ful in a lady, in these times, than a little selfthe tide of gifts pours in and is speeding on its denial. Alter, turn, and freshen the dress that way to our brave boys. Not one shall be neg. is passe. Buy new frames, and make new bonlected, - not one but shall eat and be satisfied. nets of the old. The dress that has been worn

May the blessing of our heavenly Father de- one season, - why not wear it another? scend in rich showers on the givers and the re

There is a lady who holds up to us an examceivers ! May the soldier at his camp-fire, in ple which is beautiful, – one which, though we his tent, on his lonely picket-guard, on his do not follow it, we all praise and admire. She weary march, remember home and friends on has changed the fashion of her garments only that day, as we shall remember them, and be four times during the last quarter-century. happy!

Yet so charming and simple and proper do Would that our poor imprisoned heroes in they always seem, no one thinks of calling her Richmond, in Charleston, in the pens of Co- old-fashioned. We go far to visit her ; we gaze lumbus and Andersonville, could share the fes- upon her, and call her lovely. Nay, we even tivities of Thanksgiving-Day ; but for them we borrow her ornaments to wear ourselves on fear there is no such boon possible. No doubt our most festive seasons; so you see she is the rebel prisoners in our hands will taste not a Quaker, or we should not do that. She Bumething of the bounties which their captors wears dresses that can be washed, and whose and keepers enjoy; for we weither starve nor colors grow brighter for the washing ; and her freeze those whom the fortunes of war deliver jewels never need resetting. If you have not into our hands. Would to Heaven we could already called this lady to mind, you would add that our enemies were equally merciful! like to know her name, - this lady who for

twenty-five years has worn, each year, dresses WOMAN'S DRESS.

of the self-same fashion. It is NATURE. Pale We have been reading several papers on this green leaves, rainbow flowers, russet fruits subject of late, and it is surely one which should and foliage, and spotless snow, – and all made command attention of all women, in these in the same way,– with her are never out of stormy and trying days. It seems strange, fashion. Why should we not copy her, and if t strange and wicked, that, in our cities at "a thing of beauty is a joy forever," wear our

extravagance should now, more than beautiful fabrics, even if a little old-fashioned.


manner as not to arrest attention by any sin- 'For instance,' said he, addressing himself gularity. Colors, fabrics, fit, should all be to a beautiful lady present, 'I would say,harmonious.

“Miss SM, I have been engaged two So preaches the Editor's Table, and closes years in looking for a wife. I am in the receipt the subject with a pretty, witty satire written by of a clear income of two thousand dollars , “Punch,” in the days of smaller bonnets than year from my present business, which is daily the present.

on the increase. Of all the ladies of my acquaintance, I admire you the most. Indeed, to

speak plainly, I love you, and would most glad“For Ladies' Fashionable Bonnets.

ly make you my wife!' « AIR. — The Blue Bonnets are over the Border.' “ 'You flatter me by your preference,'good“ March, march, change and variety,

humoredly replied Miss 'S-, to the surprise Fashion than one month should never be older ;

of all present. March, march, hang all propriety,

Not at all ; I am entirely sincere.' All the girls' bonnets hang over the shoulder !

"! Then I refer you to my father!' Never rheumatics dread ;

«« • Bravo !' exclaimed the gentlemen. More and more bare the head ;

“«Well, I de-c-l-a-r-e!' exclaimed the laThe danger is nought but an old woman's story. dies, in one united chorus. Back with your bonnet, then,

“ The lady and gentleman were married soon Spite of satiric pen ;

after." Fight for the bonnets that hang o'er the shoul

“Wasn't that,” asks the narrator, “a modder !

est way of coming to the point, and a ladylike

method of taking a man at his word ?” “ Come to the Park, when the young bucks are Well, as Charles Lamb would say, “ It wasn't gazing!

anything else." Come where the cold winds from all quarters

The following “pome," on the same subject, blow!

is a "living, breathing” illustration of our Come from hot rooms where coal-fires are blaz- theory of the exceeding difficulty of that style ing!

of question. Come with your faces and heads in a glow ! Natives astounding,

“ I sat, one night, beside a blue-eyed girl ; Slow folks confounding!

The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother. It makes the profile come out much the bolder. A feeble flame around the lamp did curl, England shall many a day

Making faint shadows, blending in each othTalk of the stupid way

er ; Girls wore their bonnets once over the shoul. 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November ; der."

She had a shawl on, also, I remember.

“Well, I had been to see her every night A NEW WAY OF POPPING THE QUESTION.”

For thirteen days, and had a sneaking noFor a bashful man, we suppose there is no tion one thing under the sun so awkward and em- To pop the question, thinking all was right, barrassing as what, in expressive but not very And once or twice had made an awkward moelegant langunge, is called “popping the ques- tion tion," – a question that generally is popped To take her hand, and stammered, coughed, and as suddenly as corn. The following anecdote. stuttered, which is vouched for by the narrator as true, is But somehow nothing to the point had uttered. amusing and would be instructive if gentlemen ever read the ladjes' Editor's Table ; but as I thought this chance too good now to be they do not, it can, under the circumstances, only amuse.

I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her, A few nights back, a party of ladies and Drew a long breath, and then my legs I crossed, gentlemen were laughing over the supposed Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed awkwardness attending declaration of love, when a gentleman remarked that if he ever she looked as if she knew what next was comoffered himse/f, he would do it in a collected ing, and business-like manner.

And with her feet, upon the floor was drumming

lost ;

her ;

“I didn't know how to begin, or where. Do you remember Moore's charming lines on I couldn't speak; the words were always hearing The Bells of St. Petersburg,” bechoking;

ginning, I scarce could move ; I seemed tied to the chair ; “Sweet evening bells ! sweet evening bells ! I hardly breathed, — 'twas awfully provok

How many a tale your music tells ing!

Of Igre and home and that sweet time The perspiration from each pore came oozing ;

When last 1 heard your soothing chime"? My heart and brain and limbs their power seemed losing.

From beginning to end, it is a gem of unap

proachable sweetness. " At length, I saw a brindle tabby cat

And who, on listening to Schubert's deliWalk purring up, inviting me to pat her. cious music, “ The Convent Bells;" has not An idea came, electric-like, at that ;

felt the heart dying away under its solemn paMy doubts, like summer-clouds, began to thos? scatter;

The following article, inspired by the same I seized on tabby, though a scratch she gave theme, illustrates a superstition not confined to me,

Old England, where the poem was written, and And said, 'Come, puss, ask Mary if she'll have is, at the same time, beautiful as words could me!'

render it.


" 'Twas done at once; the murder now was

Ring out merrily,
· out;

Loudly, cheerily,
The thing was all explained in half a minute. Blithe old bells, from the steeple-tower !
Sbe blusbed, and turning pussy-cat about,

Hopefully, fearfully,
Said, “ Passy, tell him “yes”!' her foot was

Joyfully, tearfully,
in it!

Moveth the bride from her maiden bower.
The cat had thus saved me my category ;

Cloud there is none in the fair summer sky;
And here's the catastrophe of my story.”

Sunshine flings benison down from on high ;

Children sing loud, as the train moves along, One of the most beautiful articles which we

* Happy the bride that the sun shineth on!” have for a long time seen is the following. It embodies a whole “Body of Divinity” in its

Knell out drearily, quaint numbers, as well as much poetry.

Measured and wearily, " THE LAST VISITOR.

Sad old bells from the steeple gray!
" Who is it knocks this stormy night?

Priests chanting lowly,
Be very careful of the light !”

Solemnly, slowly,
The good man said to his wife,

Passeth the corse from the portal to-day.
And the good wife went to the door ; Drops from the leaden clouds heavily fall,
But never again in all his life

Drippingly, over the plume and the pall;
Will the good man see her more.

Murmur old folk, as the train moves along,

Happy the dead that the cloud raineth on." "For be who knocked that night was Death,

Toll at the hour of prime,
And the light went out with a little breath ;

Matin and vesper chime,
And the good man will miss his wife

Loved old bells from the steeple high !
Till he, too, goes to the door,

Rolling like holy waves,
When Death will carry him up to life,

Over the lowly graves,
To behold her face once more.”

Floating up, prayer-fraught, into the sky.

Solemn the lesson your lightest notes teach! CHURCH BELLS.

Stern is the preaching your iron tongues Nothing is more solemn and expressive than preach, the sound of bells chiming out their sweet Ringing in life from the bud to the bloom ; tones on the still, bright Sabbath-day, when all Ringing the dead to their rest in the tomb. Dature seems at rest, and a true “Sabbath stillness” reigns over city and country, over

Peal out evermore! hill and dale. No subject has, perhaps, in

Peal as you pealed of yore, spired sweeter poems, or more exquisite music. Brave old bells, on each Sabbath-day!

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
« السابقةمتابعة »