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EDITOR'S CHAIR.

Woman's Influence.

The influence of woman, although often extolled, and sometimes wrongly estimated, has probably never been over estimated. Her position as wife, mother, sister, and friend, and her quick discernment and strong sympathies give her ready access to the springs of character and the sources of feeling, and enable her to awaken in others the emotions and sentiments with which she herself is actuated, and give her an influence as potent as it is gentle. By her exquisite taste and delicate tact, and by the unconscious influence of her character, she controls public sentiment, raises or lowers the morals or the piety of a community by the standard she accepts or condemns; and, indirectly, through those who are nearest to her, if not directly, she helps to control the action, and to shape the destiny of nations.

A true woman, although perhaps not aware of the extent of her influence, is nevertheless conscious of filling a responsible position, and earnestly desires to know her duty in that position, and to faithfully perform it. Willing not only to do the offices of kindness, and to exercise the household cares which commonly fall to her lot, she desires to do higher service in the use of the moral powers with which she is endowed, quickening and moulding with Christian truth and love, the minds and characters of those whom Providence has placed within her

reach.

This can be done, and is done to a large extent, by the silent and unconscious influence of a mind that is itself endowed with the virtues, and imbued with the spirit of religion. From the presence of a good woman, in the family or in larger circles, there goes out virtue as from the hem of the Savior's garment, which is felt and regarded, even if not acknowledged. Such a mind silently kindles its own light in other minds, and in a manner so quiet as scarcely to attract observation, yet with wonderful effect, dissipates the darkness of error and wrong.

first, to be without effect, but they live and burn in the hearts where they are lodged, and in time their effect becomes visible. The stubborn boy may be too proud to seem to heed his mother's counsel, but it is not lost; he cannot forget her kind words any more than he can forget the love she bears him; and years after he has listened to them, they guide him in the path of virtue, and though it may be too late to thank her for them, he will go to her restingplace and bathe it with his grateful tears.

No woman should distrust the moral power which God has given her. No one should see her husband, brother, son or friend in error and evil, without attempting to reclaim him. She can but fail at the worst; and her efforts may be successful, often will be.

A few years ago, a young English author, who has since risen to great distinction, became deeply interested in an accomplished and very worthy young woman, who belonged to the circle of his acquaintance, and sought her hand in marriage. His suit was rejected on the ground of his intemperance. Not discouraged, he renewed his proposal and strongly urged his claims, but he could receive no encouragement except upon the condition that he would reform. Stung with a sense of injury, and too proud to comply with her demands, which he declared to be unreasonable, he turned from her and plunged still deeper into dissipation. One day, some months afterward, passing along the street, she saw him lying in a stupor of beastly intoxication, with the hot, mid-day sun pouring down into his unsheltered face. Disgusted, yet touched with compassion, she approached him, and spread her pocket-handkerchief, upon which her name was written in full, over his face to shield it from the burning rays, and passed on. Some hours afterward, coming to himself, he noticed the handkerchief and discovered the name upon it, and then understood what she had done. He was so much ashamed of himself, and so deeply moved by her kindness, that he resolved from that hour he would drink no more, and keeping this resolution, after a propre time he renewed his attentions to her again with better success, and she became not only his devoted and honored wife, but the star of

But woman can exert her influence with still greater effect, by direct appeals to those whom she would elevate and improve. Few women are aware of the amount of good they can do his literary fortunes. in this way. It is hard for any but the most depraved to resist the direct appeals of a true woman, whose motives they know can only be to do them good. Their words may seem

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The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Locked up in woman's love. I scent the air Of blessings when I come but near the house. doth love send forth!

"There is Hope for the Child." A few years ago, a family was desolated by the loss of the father and husband. At nearly the same time, a child of the family was taken ill and died. The head of the household had been a man rich in social and domestic virtues, kind, loving, generous; full of kindness to friends, to the poor and bereaved; and reverent in his ideas of God. His last words were of hope and joy-of forgiveness of injury, of blessings and love. In his whole life, he had, never been known to treat any one unkindly, or to use an irreverent expression.

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take Heaven by storm, instead of "groping on the altar stairs," reaching up their hands to be Such persons do not follow helped onward. the example of Him "who spake as never man spake." The sermon on the Mount, the prayers which Jesus uttered while on earth, must seem time and cold to these "fiery sons of wrath." His mild and gentle teachings bear no relation to their stormy words. But we forbear. There are those who know that it is better to tread, although at a humble distance, in the footsteps of the Redeemer; to try to copy His teachings, although, necessarily, far behind. May their number be multiplied upon the earth is, or should be, the wish of every true soul.

WE make bold to utter a gentle protest against the ultra-sensationists, who would fain have us believe that the world is growing worse and worse every day. True, we have been startled by the disclosure of hideous crimes; but, in what state of the world, and in what period have they failed to trouble the public mind. We think it is a libel upon the institutions of the present time, the multitudes of good and respectable people who live virtuous

and innocent lives, and the various and vast means continually used to keep vice in check, to affirm that we are growing worse all the time.

Looking away to far-off periods of time, we find the same passions raging, the same enormities committed as now. Had there been newspapers in the days of old, what strong sensational articles would have been written! Yet the sacred writers contented themselves with a simple recital of facts, where modern editors would have exhausted language in portraying

them. We must protest against the useless exaggeration that prevails, when these evils are committed. It does no good, we think. A simple condemnation of wicked deeds would, in our opinion, be quite as effective; and the

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Keep Your Boys at Home in the Evening. My friend, do you know where your boy found his amusement last night, when you allowed him to go out for an hour, and he transcended the time? No, you do not know; but somebody knows that he was in a place that would make you and his mother shudder to see him, and with companions by whom you would feel disgraced, had they entered your doors. Believe it or not, you are to blame for this. Had you kindly and pleasantly engaged his attention; had you provided him with some agreeable recreation at home, accompanied him to some interesting lecture or concert, or taken him to make a pleasant call on a friend's family, he would have escaped the contagion with which he came in contact last evening.

teaching him only evil. Do not fear that your boy will be a milk-sop if you restrain him from these things. Teach him yourself to be manly and noble; to hate low and vicious ways, and to shun the people who practice them. Teach im that it is disgraceful to be with companions whom he would not introduce to his mother and sisters. In short, make him happy at home. Teach him to respect himself— and he will then be loth to exchange your pleasant, cheerful and refined home-comforts for the low haunts of vice that would lure him to ruin.

"What can I do?" you ask.

Provide amusement at home. If you have a piano, let the children dance. It will do them good, physically and mentally. Do not be afraid of dancing because your strict neighbor, next door, condemns it. His boy was at the same place, last evening with your son learning to smoke, to drink even-(did you notice how anxious he was that you should not come near enough to take his breath?) Learning to speak vulgar and profane words, to make low jests, and to copy the slang of the company he keeps. Would dancing have hurt him like that? If there are not enough in your own family to dance, call in the neighbors and their children. It will brighten them up after the fatigue of school and study hours. Occasionaly take out the checker and back-gammon board, and invite him to a trial of skill with yourself. Even noiser games may sometimes be played not rudely nor roughly, but in a way that will satisfy his exuberant spirits. Boys are like soda bottles they must be allowed to effervesce somewhat, or they will burst their bounds. Don't leave them to flatten down into insipidity, but just turn the sparkling fluid into the right direction.

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Mother! you tremble, when you take your little boys to the cars, and warn them, over and over again, of the danger of carelessness in

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Gail Hamilton's Books.

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Who does not relish the writings of Gail Hamilton? She is, to be sure, no smooth, sentimental writer, who invites you by gracefully turned periods and soft, mellifluous language. She knows what she wants to say, and she says it- sometimes a thought too dictatorially, but in the main, with a vigor, depth of meaning, and honesty of purpose that ought to delight, and does really delight, most readers. Her weapons are turned right and left, making stern warfare upon matters that do not come up to her standard of truth and right. Even into the depths of the very creed which, we are told, she professes, she goes, boldly, and without the fear of man before her eyes, and battles there most bravely; sometimes with a weapon that only hacks and hews, yet does most essential service in the cause of truth; and, still oftener, with the keen, brightly-polished Damascus blade, that cuts more deeply into falsehood, bigotry and self-righteousness. Every thing true and beautiful. commends itself to her; but she opens, and sifts, and lays bare with a merciless hand, assisted by a searching eye, to find out if, after all, it is not a sham. You cannot cheat her, woman though she be, with makebelieves in religion, in politics, in domestic and. we doubt not, in political economy. She knows the ring of the pure coin, and will not be satisfied with Brummagen. She can detect a falsity underlying a smooth and polished exterior, as easily as she could the brightest and newest of Attleboro' jewelry; and, vou may be

EDITOR'S TABLE.

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Letter from Thomas Starr King. We do not fear to be considered as resuming worn-out theme, when we introduce into our pages one of the sweet, familiar letters of STARR KING. So long as worth and goodness are appreciated on the earth, so long will that rare spirit hold its fragrance in our memories. Even though we cease to mourn for him, there are times when the hearts that loved and honored him will send out a cry, like that which arose from the followers of the noble Scot O Douglas, Douglas! tender and true! tender and true!"

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The following was addressed to his beloved friend, Dr. Ballou. It is characteristic of the writer, and imbued with that wonderful love of Nature and her works, that so often called from his lips and pen the finest and most graphic descriptions - the sweetest of word-painting.

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Yo-Semite Falls and Notch, July 17, 1860. MY DEAR DOCTOR,— This is Tuesday evening; and I am writing to you by camp-fire light in the great Yo-Semite Notch, where the grandeur of the Sierras seems to concentrate and knot itself, as it were. We arrived here on Sunday afternoon; and ever since I have been "on the go' among the marvels and splendors of the wondrous pass. And all the time I have been thinking of you,- of how greatly you would enjoy the scenery, and of the immensely greater pleasure it would give me to travel with you on foot and by horse. Perhaps, however, if you were here we should bet; and then, as you are so much more accomplished in faro and thimble-rigging and cribbage, and such clerical graces, no doubt another little paper would have to be printed, very costly to me, running, “Dic, quo pignore certes?" or something like that.

Ah, doctor! what is there not to see in this valley, in the line of majestic rock and cataract wildness? I have seen the genius loci today, sitting on an obelisk of granite (springing clean a thousand feet above the snow-line, so smooth that snow could not cling to his ashycolored poll), and, with his finger on his nose, looking this query at me: 66 Ah, my slim chap! so you've thought the White Mountains were some, have you? Where's your Notch now? Can you call to mind those warts on Coos County, Jefferson, and Adams, that you have written so much nonsense about? Don't you

wish you could make a bonfire of those some-typed books, in which you have c grown?" How cute and funny he lo up baby-mountains as though they ar and how cheap I felt! But, then, ther room in Coos County for the Sierras; an White Mountains are as big a dose of subi of this answer till the spirit had melted off" as the district can stand. Alas! I didn't his seat on the south dome of the valley

I forget: it was on the obelisk, fifteen hun a rock 4,967 feet sheer over the plain. leered at New Hampshire and its mount feet higher than this, that he so impude annalist.

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and majesty of the rock-walls, cones, turr You can have no conception of the var and domes of this valley. I supposed that tesqueness would be the prominent characte tic of the cliffs and pillars. But the forms very noble. Grotesqueness, or mere Egypti mass and heaviness, is the exception, not t scoured Switzerland, and travelled extensiverule. We have persons in our party who ha among the Peruvian Andes: and they say th no such rock-scenery is offered by Alps or Co dilleras.

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And the waterfalls! with the beauty and wildness of them. It ha - I have been surfeite been an unusually wet spring, and the falls are all in full health and glee. While I write by this camp-fire, the roar is filling my ears of the Yo-Semite Fall, a mile distant, lovely as the comet of 1858, which it resembles in shape, that leaps 1,497 feet in one pitch, and then of 518. They are all visible in one view; and instantly takes another of 462, and then a third conceive. This is the fall, I believe, that a more entrancing picture it is impossible to called a tape-line, when he saw it last September. I am sorry that he could not have seen it as I have enjoyed it the last two days.

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dal-veil Falls, which leap 809 feet without a Last evening, before sunset, I visited the bribreak, over a perpendicular granite wall. You twenty feet from the cliff; and the rainbows at see the curve aloft, as the tide pours off, at least the bottom would set up all France in ribbons the next year.

ravines of the valley, and have climbed above To-day I have explored one of the upper the Vernal Fall, where the Merced River, as large as the Androscoggin at Berlin, pours from a perpendicular granite rampart

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back of this, half a mile distant, just under an obelisk 2,000 feet sheer, the river plunges 900 feet, which is called the Nevada Fall. And the walls that enclose this water-magnificence are more grand than the White-mountain Notch.

Above the Nevada Fall I climbed 1,500 feet again, to see the snow-streaked turrets of the great Sierras. Two of the peaks visible there, and quite near, are 13,600 feet. On that path, Alpheus Bull, who is with me, killed a rattlesnake; and on that path, when we saw the gray old monarchs holding up the frost wherever it could loosen, I thought of my visit to Mount Hayes.

But the camp-fire burns low. Don't read this scrawl for any definite information, but only as a confession of friendship, and of sorrow, that, even among such material grandeurs, I am so far from one I respect and love so deeply. Give cordial regards to all your family. Add an especially warm greeting to Mr. Tweed. We are to start in the morning for San Francisco, where I have had great and undeserved success. Yet my heart is in New England. Do write again to your constant friend, T. S. KING.

P. S. We have left the Yo-Semite; and after two days' ride on horseback, are at Coulterville, where I am to mail the letter. I forgot to say that I visited the mammoth trees of Mariposas the day before we reached Yo-Semite, and enjoyed a glorious afternoon-hour with the stately old conservatives. I measured one that was ninety feet in girth at the ground, and saw more than two hundred that ranged from forty to seventy-five feet in circumference. They have a tawny bark, entirely different in color from any other trees of the California forests, and look leoline in hue as well as mass. Yet how our senses fool us! I was immensely disappointed in the first view of the ninety-feet Methuselah in the Mariposas Grove, seen among such a crowd of majestic forest-senators. But yesterday I saw one standing alone in a grove near Crane's Flat; and I said, "Here is a chap that comes up to the mark." How imposing in bulk and height he was, with his branches upstretched like a harp! I was truly overawed. Out came the tape-line. Surely he is over ninety feet! I put it around him. The fatal string showed only fifty-six. At home, among you big fellows, I wasn't much; here, they seem to think I am somebody. Nothing like the right setting! Again yours, T. S. K.

RHYMES TO "MONTH" AND "ORANGE” An elaborate discussion has for sometime been going on in the columns of the London Atheneum relating to the difficulty of finding rhymes to "month" and "orange.,' After many attempts no one is as yet perfectly successful. We subjoin two of the latest.

One correspondent—a young lady, perhaps― suggests:

"The man mutht be a thilly dunth,
Who cannot find a rhyme to month;

And any baby at hith porringe Could either thuck or rhyme to orange." "Porringe," she says, "is the proper form of porridge, and the root from which porringer, still in use for porridge-pot, is derived."

A more practised hand, that of Mr. Oxenford, gets through the difficulty thus :—

"Let mem'ry through the chronicles of war range,
Ascending Time's great stream, that swiftly run'th;
Let us recall how William, Prince of Orange,
Resisted Louis many a weary month.

JOHN OXENFORD."

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The young lady and the practised writer equally overcome the difficulty by evasion. lisp is illegitimate, and "porringe" is not in Mr. Pope, the elder, would have described "war range as very bad rhyme to orange.

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"Run'th" is inadmissible.

Rhymes to "month” and “ orange are still

to seek.

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"The Duke of York a daughter had, He gave the Prince of Orange her, And I have come to claim the prize

For making rhyme to porringer."

EVER since the world of periodical literature began, editors have been croaking over the sorrows of confinement to the sphere of their labors during the sultry months. "Oh, for a breath of the sea!" "What would we give for the luxury of mountain air which our friends are enjoying!" Dear reader, our TABLE should not groan over your journeyings from home. If we cannot share them, we will hope to greet you with the fruit of our toil, when you return, travel-stained and foot-weary, from your wanderings; rejoicing, if one word dropped from has commended itself to your hearts.

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