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Here, the light twinkles, the ruddy hearth glows,
" That is a fine opening," said MargaOn her head falling, o'er the green sod ! Why such wild anguish? she lives with her God! opened with more light and beauty. The
first paragraph I must hear again.' Dread was the fiat which called her away, Edwin read the passage over again, Dark is the sentence we ponder to-day, Dark is the future our dim eyes would see.
• Great men stand like solitary towers in Her future with angels ( God, is with Thee ! the city of God, and secret passages runSafe in Thy love all these grieving hearts dwell, ning deep beneath external nature, give Yet they shall utter, in sight,“ it was well!" Yes, when their pilgrimage too shall be past,
their thoughts intercourse with higher inAnd safely their dear ones shall greet them at telligences, which strengthens and consoles last !
them, and of which the laborers on the
surface do not even dream.' OUR READING CIRCLE.
“ A little too far fetched, I think for a commencement,” said Amelia, and taking the book, she continued, “I like this
passage better.—'We judge ourselves by Our reading circle had been neglected what we feel capable of doing, while others ever since April; through a long succes- judge us by what we have already done.'' sion of lovely months it had been neglected, • That is very true,” said George, and now it was well into October, when “but I like Margaret's paragraph ; it is four of its members determined they would somewhat mystical, but there is inspiranot forego its enjoyments a week longer ; tion in that thought which has lifted up and had a meeting and partook of them, my soul. And what a stroke of nature with a zest, I assure you.
is this farther along, about the September It was a sweet Saturday, and you would afternoon, and the old gray flies, that have thought June had returned, the air buzzed and bumped their heads against the was so mild and the hills were so green window panes. and fragrant. It was Saturday afternoon, " I've seen those identical flies in old and Sabbath light seemed stealing before aunt Dolly Slicer's pantry this very day, its time over all the mild majestic sky, and exclaimed Margaret, “and Master Churthere was the spirit of Sabbath worship chill looks like an. old acquaintance allifting and speaking in all the breezes. ready. But, did none of you remark this There was no parlor splendid enough to grand passage : «He lay down for a mohold them indoors on such a day, and they ment under a sycamore, and thought of tripped away to a hill-side, over-looking the Roman consul, Licinius, passing a the village; took a cushion of white clover night with eighteen of his followers in the under the shadow of an oak, and devoured hollow trunk of the great Lycian planeLongfellow's“ Kavanagh.”
tree. From the branches overhead, the "Just the book to enjoy in this place,” falling seeds were wafted away through said George Dawson opening the dainty the soft air on plumy tufts of down. The volume to read;—" it is itself a snatch of continuous murmur of leaves and of the the freshest and most fragrant nature. swift running stream seemed rather to And who will read first? I'm all out of deepen than disturb the pleasing solitude breath from my frolics along the hill, and and silence of the place; and for a mosome of you must make the beginning. ment, he imagined himself away in the
There, Milly, you read : throw down broad prairies of the west, and lying beyour mosses and checkerberries, and give neath the luxuriant trees that overhang us the first chapter.”
the banks of the Wabash and the KaskasNo, indeed,” replied Amelia May, kia. He saw the sturgeon leap from the " that belongs to the gentlemen, unless river, and flash for a moment in the sunMargaret has a mind to take it first; shine. Then a flock of wild fowl flew Edwin is not tired ; let him begin it.” across the sky'. but you know the
“ I may as well read first as last,” said rest; and what a wild cataract of music Edwin Winslow; and took the book and seems to dash, and foam, and roar in those read the first chapter.
words: Wabash' and · Kaskaskia !'"
- and you
“ The simile of the sea farther on is he paused to look at the stars— The equally fine,” said George. “Read that, beauty of the heavens made his soul overMaggie. Let out and lavish the music of flow "" and so on to the end of the your voice on the winding up of the sen- chapter. Saying this, he turned over a tence.”
leaf, and read the sixth, seventh and Margaret read: Thus he, (Mr. Chur- eighth chapters, and continued: “the chill) dallied with his thoughts, and with style is simple and delicately chaste, as all things, and wasted his strength on the soberest Greek would have written, trifles ; like the lazy sea, that plays with and, yet, wbat spirit throbs in the thoughts, the pebbles on its beach, but under the in- and what fine character painting. Father spiration of the wind might lift great Pendexter is a real being; he preaches in navies on its out-streached palms and toss our village. Alice Archer I've seenthem into the air like play things.' there is one Alice Archer in every New “ That is mighty !” exclaimed Edwin, England village.—Cecelia Vaughan I've
very musical as Margery read it.“ seen ; and Sally Manchester works at our “ But I am impatient to get on amid house, the very same great-hearted Sally." more beauties,” said George,
“ Well, really you are getting into the read now, Milly ; read three or four of pictures,
” said Edwin. ** You'd better his short chapters, and then I will read.” reserve a little praise for the conclusion.”
She read till she finished the fifth chap- “ Did none of you notice the sweet ter, and then the conversation was re- felicity of this passage,” said Margaret, sumed.
taking the book and reading : " That is quite natural about Mr. Chur- morning came, the dear, delicious, silent chill's fire-side and family,” said Amelia ; Sunday: to weary workmer, both of brain " but I don't think it quite dignified and hand, the beloved day of rest. When enough to speak of a baby in that way, the first bell rang, like a brazen mortar, and compare him with a rubber string in it seemed to bombard the village with his mouth to a street door-knocker." bursting shells of sound, that exploded
“ Bless you, Milly, where are your wits over the houses, shattering the ears of all to-day ?” exclaimed Margaret. It is a the parishioners, and shaking the conscienlive literal baby, and what better picture ces of many.' could you wish? I am sure, I admire it “ That would be poetry if it were measfor its naturalness; and it is such a rich ured,” said Amelia, " and did you notice dash of humor.”
the aliiterations, how they heighten the “ And how natural the whole family color and bring out the roundness of the group,” added Edwin.
picture ?- dear, delicious, silent Sunday,' "", We do not behold the scene at a dis- brazen,' 'bombard,' 'shells,' sound, tance," said George, “but are taken right shattering ears,' shaking consciences.' into Master Churchill's house and see them The alliterations more than make up the all, and hear them for ourselves.'
want of measure for a poem.” “I see Master Alfred now,” said Mar- “But there is a swelling conceit in that garet, “ trudging sulkily up the chamber last figure,” said Edwin. What license, stairs ' rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.' even in the laws of poetry justifies a man Ah, say what you will, Milly, those are in saying that the sound of a dear Sabbath dear, pretty children.”
bell - shattered the ears of all the parishion“I have no great fault to find,” returned ers ?! It is a pretty cherry, plump and Amelia.
fair to look at, but there is a stone in its I envy Mr. Churchill his fine books,” heart. I find no fault with his pictures of said George, “and I envy Longfellow the Alice Archer, or Cecilia or Sally; the genius that could write passages like this soul of an artist lights up their looks, and in the fifth chapter : “She turned her eyes beats in their hearts; but that conceit is dreamingly upon him. Slumber was
a ragged wart on the face of the loveliest hanging in their blue orbs, like snow in Sunday.' the heavens ready to fall. And this,'
“That is a real Sunday, though,” re
turned Amelia, "just such as God gives "Some women, after a burst of pasionate in holiest silence, and beauty, only to a tears, are soft, gentle, affectionate ; a country village. There is worship in the warm and genial air succeeds the rain. light and breath of that · dear, delicious, Others clear up cold, and are breezy, silent Sunday.”
black and dismal. Of the latter class Alice and Cecilia's friendship is fine-were Sally Manchester and Margaret ly described,” said Margaret; "and they Wilson.” were about as intimate as you and I, “Ah, you rogue, you put in my name Milly ; but, let us go on. It is my turn yourself! I don't care, so long as you to read ? yes, and this autumnal scene is put me where I
for Sally.” a fine beginning.' She read to the thir- “That village doctor I've seen a hun teenth chapter in a voice that poured deli- dred times,” interrupted George ; he is cious music from the book, and charmed our own Dr. Faddle, without his blackthe mind to silence. Like Irving's bobo- shining wig." link, Longfellow would have been over- “ That's a fact,” added Edwin, “ Dr. powered with exstacy at his own melting Faddle all over but the hair, and who melody, had he heard it set to that noble knows but that is a wig, too, like Dr Fadcreature's voice. You never heard a dle's ?—Isn't that a description though ? voice that would rise and fall; float upon vigorous, florid, encouraging, and perthe wing; pause and expatiate, roll and vaded by an indiscriminate odor of drugs. revel in more luxurious sounds.'
Loud voice, large cane, thick boots, “I like Sally Manchester more than everything about him synonymous with ever,” said Margaret, "for the spirit in noise.' which she rises and treads on that shabby “ Father Pendexter must have sat in dentist's jilt. I should have hated her person for his picture,” said Margaret. had she continued to love the popinjay.”
“In his chaise, too, with old White be“Would you, indeed ?” inquired Ed-fore it,” added Amelia." win. Then you think you would, Mar- “ And the picture is a daguereotype,
for there is old White, thrashing flies, and “ Indeed I would. •It makes me mad there is his spring-balt and all,” added to see a girl whining and sniffling herself Edwin. to death, because a changeling has desert- " And the school girl's letter, isn't that ed her. I am sure if a man engaged to natural ?” added Margaret. me, could find it in his nature to change “ Those aphorisms are quite fine,” his feelings towards me, I should thank added George, “ and some of them are him to do it before marriage, and I should already floating in the newspapers attribe glad and rejoiced to get him out of my buted to Lacon.” sight. O, I admire, I admire Sally Man- This is very true—“In character, in chester ; don't you, Milly ?”
manners, in style, in all things, the su· He ought to have married her.”
preme excellence is simplicity. · Tut! girl, what do you mean? And this ditto.-" The rays of happiThink I'd had the fool after my first ness, like those of light, are colorless when day's foolish love?”
unbroken.” The sentence would grace a “I don't know about taking up one's poem, glittering like a diamond on its affections so easily from an object loved, bosom. And here is one more gush of Margaret.
the fluent gold of genius : “ The country * The swan that swims upon the lake;
is lyria, the town dramatic. When minThe bird that sings amid the brake,
gled, they make the most perfect musical One mate and one alone will choose."
“ And that Mr. Churchill, by-the-by, "That is Byron's silly sentimentality, is quite a character in his dilatory way, not mine, Milly. Give me Sally Man- added Margaret. chester,-0, I do admire her!"
"He speaks to every one's experience,' Then George took the book and read : added Edwin. “ But let us hurry
through, or night will overtake us too ' Cecilia," interrupted George. * Alice is
Whose tum is it now to read round such a silent, spiritual, sanctified leing, again! Well, here's for a few chapters and Cecilia is so buoyant, hearty, bright more ;” and he read to chapter twenty, and happy. They are a Mary and Varand they criticised his reading. One said tha. And hear this, and tell me if it is he pronounced his vowels with too much not fine :—this, describing Cecilia in of a drawl, rolled his r’s like the cogs of a Alice's bed chamber : Unannounced she copper mill, and sounded his sts’ like entered, and walked up the narrow and double s.
imperfectly lighted stairs to Alice's bedHe confessed the fault, and turned con- room, — that little sanctuary draped in versation to the book. All admired the white — that columbarium lined with description of spring, in chapter 14; all warmth, and softness, and silence. admired Mr. Kavanagh, and the scene at was not there, but the chair by the winthe aviary in the fifteenth, and the sweet dow, the open volume of poems on the rural home of the Vaughans in the chap- table, the note to Cecilia by its side, and ter following
the ink not yet dry in the pen, were, like “What could be finer or sweeter,” the vibration of a bough, uhen the bird said Margaret, “than this passage? Dear has just left it, like the rising of the me ! how I long to live in just such a grass when the foot has just passed it.' a happy home.
That needs nothing but rhyme, to Ilear this, again. The house was make sweet poetry,” said Amelia. one of the few old houses standing in New It needs hardly that,” added MargaEngland ; a large, square, building, with ret. “It measures very well, and do you a portico in front, whose door in summer not notice how nearly it comes to a time stood open from morning until night. rhyme ? A pleasing stillness reigned about it, and “ Like the vibration of a bough soft gusts of pine-embalmed air, and dis- When a bird has just left it;
Like the rising of the grass tant cawing from the crow-haunted moun
When the foot has just pressed it.” tains, filled its airy and ample halis.'" " That reminds me somewhat of Wil
“ That is near enough,” said Amelia, son, though Wilson is a little warmer and
“ and nothing in poetry could be finer; heartier than Longfellow. That is good, but how I should have enjoyed it, with though. I smell the pine on the page, little Arthur's hand in mine, to be led by and hear the distant, mellow cawings, in his mother to the woods and sea-shore, the words - distant cawings from the and commune with the beautiful and divine crow-haunted mountains'—that sentence is
as they did !” sublime and melodious.”
“It is a fine stroke of poetry,” said "But isn't Adolphus Hawkins a char- George, "to talk of the rail-roadstringacter done to the very breath and speech?” ing the white villages like pearls upon its asked Margaret.
black thread;' and the description of sum“He would make a match for our Z.
mer following is equal to anything in Montgomery Meggs,” added Edwin, “but Thomson.” Zeb would have to pull the crinkles out of “ And I think the Rev. Mr. Kavanagh his spit curls; stop shaving his forehead ; could not have been troubled with sleepy slash off his whiskers; tear off his straps, hearers while giving such sermons and stuff out his bosom with a little more those,” interrupted Margaret. “ And cotton batting. Zeb is more of a lap-dog could any picture of the pa.toral, beam than ‘ring dove,' though; but then his love brighter with beauty than this? The for fair ladies,' and his stanzas,' 'to only danger was that he might advance too Ellen,''to Frances,' 'to Clara, and the far, and leave his congregation behind him, Lord knows who, in our • Banner of as a piping shepherd, who charmed with Beauty,' I dare say would match Haw- his own music, walks over the flowery kins' poetry, line for line.” "I have fallen in love with Alice and is lingering far behind, more intent upon
mead, not perceiving that his tardy flock
cropping the thin food around them, than
LET US NOT BE WEARY. upon listening to the celestial harmonies
BY DELL A. CAULKINS. that are gradually dying away in the Strive to be patient, though weary the way, distance.
Night, when 'tis darkest, gives promise of day; As the night was advancing they re- Though joy may long tarry, 'twill surely be
ours, sumed the reading, and finished the book
Maybap not on earth, yet in bright, upper just as the sun wheeled behind the western bowers. wonds; and going home, while one admir- If long seem the way, and weary the toil, ed the rural lunch ; another pitied poor
To doubt and despondency, faith is the foil;
When weary and saddened, 0, do not despair, Lucy; another repeated the description of Though heavy the burden, strive meekly to the snow; another laughed about Sally
bear. Manchester, saying Tennyson's Princess For God, the All-loving, the Kind and the would have given her great wages for a
Will bear up the weary, if strong in their plough-woman; and Mr. Churchill came
trust, in for a share of fun about his romance. To mansions of beauty, in lands far away, George Dawson concluded the conversa
Where shadows of night shall be lost in the
day. tion about the book, saying,
· Well, I
Whose dawn, though afar, over mountains of feel that I have added something to my
blue, treasures, life and bliss, by this reading. Shows the bright golden gates where the an
gels go through, That is a book for the fields and for the
To the temples of beauty, the home of the fireside. I shall have times and seasons blest, for its reperusal. : It is evident, however,
Where tears are no more, and the world that it did not cost the author much labor
weary rest. of thought. The thirty chapters are thirty The soul looking back o'er the way it has trol,
0, there in that land of our Father-our God, short sketches, which were probably writ- Shall see, and acknowledge that God in His ten as pleasant pastimes, at so many sit- might, tings of leisure and love. It is a fine pic
Hath made our yoke easy, our burden how
light. ture of village life in New England. In that far-away home, in our unending bliss, Living characters and scenes, no doubt, We may think with a smile, of the trials of
While we know that our God, in his fair home sat for many of its vivid delineations.
above, Churchill is well painted. Alice Archer Afflicted in mercy, in kindness and love. is an angel who will often flit on white wings through my vision. The character
KINDNESS FROM THE AGED. - Is there could not have been bettered by Shake- one being, stubborn as the rock to misforspear himself. Lucy is natural. Sally is tune, whom kindness does not affect ? It real as flesh and blood would be. Cecilia
comes with a double
grace and tenderness is a noble, joyous creature, leaping Miner- from the old; it seems in them the hoardva-like from the brain of a lofty genius, ed and long purified benevolence of years, and acting the part of woman well. Kav- as if it had survived and conquered the anagh was a saint and a genius; a preach- baseness and selfishness of the ordeal it er for poets, impassioned as David, gentle had passed ; as if the winds which bad as John; but not a preacher for the mass- broken the form, had swept in vain across es, who hunger for bread and meat of in the heart, and the frosts which had chilled struction, and not a pastor or shepherd the blood and whitened the locks has poswho would think very often to look after sessed no power over the affections. It is his flock. The style is pure and beautiful the voice of triumph of nature over art ; and full of light; yet that light is the it is the voice of the angel which is yet light of the clear, cold stars, and not the within us. Nor is this all; the tenderwarm smiling sun. Where shall we meet
age is twice blessed-blessed in its next time?'
trophies over the obduracy of encrusting
and withering years, because it is tinged If you wish to preserve your teeth, with the sanctity of the grave, and flatters always clean them thoroughly after you us with the inviolacy and immortality of have eaten your last meal at night. love.