41 ,
44;1' ,1 11 . 1 il , l l .
, •,y ,
OLARIBEL'S PRAYERS
ALI LINDE PALIHM:
The dsywith cold, gray fe'. clung shivering
to , t,bo
W 1111.: o'er the valley still night's rain
fringed curtains fell;
Bet waking, Blue Eyes smiled. "Tis Aver as
God wills;
icnownth best, and be i - ., rain or Aim., 'tis
Praise God cried always little Claritel
Then sank she on her knee:, with eager, lifted
hands
Her rosy lips made haste some dear request
to
tell— -
" Oh. Father! smile, and save this fairest of
all lands,
And make her free, whatever hearts rebel.
Amen! Praise God I" cried little Claribel.
And, Father," still arose another pleading
prayer,.
-(nt save my brother, in the rain of shot
and shell,
11., , A rut the death-bolt, with its horrid, stream
ing hair,
Lush light from those sweet eyes I love so
well.
Amen ± Praise God I" wept little Olaribel.
" But, Father, grant that when the glorious
light is done,
And up the crimson sky the shouts of free
men swell,
Grout that there be no nobler victor 'neath the
sun
Than be whoso golden hair I love so well.
, Amen C Praise God 1" cried little Claribel.
When gray and dreary day shook hands with
grayer night,
The heavy air was thrilled with clangor of a
bell.
" Oh, shout!" the herald cried, his worn eyes
brimmed with light;
" 'Cis victory I Oh, what glor
tell !"
" Praise God ! He heard my prayer," cried
Olaribel.
I.Vtt pray you soldier, was my brother in the
fight,
And in the fiery rain? Oh ! fought he brave
and well'?"
"Dcar child," the herald cried, " there was
ao.hraver sight
Than ,his young form, so grand 'mid shot
and shell."
" Praise God !" eried tremblir o , little Clari-.
he].
" A itti rides ho now with victor's plumes of
red,
While:trumpets' golden throats his coming
steps foretell'?"
The herald dropped a tear. " Dear child,"
he Softly, said,
Tby 'brother ever more with conquerors
shall dwell."
" Praise lirOd lie heard my prayer," cried
Olaribol.
" With victors wearing crowns, and Waring
palms," be said.
A show of sudden fear upon the rose lips
fell.
"Oh t sweetest herald, say my brother lives,"
she plead.
" Dear child, ho walks with angels, who
strength excel,
Praise God, who gave this glory, Claribel."
The cold, gray day died sobbing on the weary
• hills, •
While bitter mourning on the night wind
rose and fell.
Oh, child," tho herald wept,
dear Lord wills:
He knoweth :best, and, be it life or death,
'tis
" Amen ! Praise God 1" sobbed little Olari
bel.
THE OIiA.STENING ROD
Thy way is in the see, and Thy path in the greet,
wateri, and Thy foositeps ere not, known."—Ps.lxxvii.
19.
I asked for grace to lift me high
Lbove. the world's depressing. cares ;
God sent me sorrows ; with a sigh
I said, Ile has not heard my prayers
I ask'd for llght, that, I might'see
My path along life's thorny road :
But clouds and darkness shadow'd me,
When I oxpeeted light from God.
asted for•peacd, that T might rest,
To think my sacred duties o'er ;
When lo! such horrors my breast
As Z had never felt before.
And oh, 2 cried, can this be prayer,
Whose plaints the steadfast mountains move;
Can this be heaven's prevailing care,— •
And, 0 my God, is this thy love?
But soon I found that sorrow, worn
As Duty's garment, strength supplies ;
And out of darkness, meekly borne,
Unto the righteous light doth rise.
And EMI I found that fears, which stirred
My startled soul God's will to do,
On 1113 more real peaoo confered
Than in life's calm I. ev , r knew.
Then, Lord, in Tby mysterious ways,
Lead my dependent spirit on ;
And whonsoe'er it kneels and prays,
Let, it but say,—" Thy will be done."
Let its one thought, one hope, one prayer,
Thine image seek—Thy glory see;
Lot every other g:rief and care,
Ile left confidingly to Thee
J. S. B. MONSELL
THE DUTY THAT LIES NEAREST.
Alice Sprague sat in the shadow of
the crimson curtains, that swept from
ceiling to floor in her, father's library.,
The light was gradually fading, and she
had left her seat by the table to gather
herself up into the great bay window,
so that she might not relinquish her
book until it • was. absolutely impossible
to see. Her face was flushed with its
eager interest, her lips were slightly
parted, and her bosom heaved with
emotion, for she was reading of the
Covenanters of Scotland, of their strug
gles and sufferings, and the martyr
page had awakened the enthusiastic girl
to a life-like realization of the old heroic
days: Straining her eyes over the page,
she did, not hear a light foot on the
carpet, and was not even roused when
a sweet voice called her. name.
"Alice ! Alice !" At last the new
comer came gently up and drtw the
book away from the reader's reluctant
hands. •
cq;olt ! Miss Agnes, please don't;
please let me keep it. It isn't dark yet
deariViiss A . •110S. don't take it away ;
light the gas, — pled
Miss Agnes smiled, but nevertheless
drew the book quite away and laid it
on the table Then seating herself by
Alice, she tenderly put her arm around
her waist and drew her head down so
that it rested on her shoulder. What
have you been reading about, darling ?"
" Oh, about Margaret Wilson, the
fair young girl who was tied to a stake
on the sands, in a place where the sea
came in, and left - there for the waves to
creep slowly up, with their cruel, cold
fingers, to kill her by degree., and,
Miss Agnes, she could have had her life
if she would have denied her religion,
but she was faithful unto death.' Miss
Agnes, it was worth while to be a
Christian in those days—the days, of
the brave old martyrs. What
.hum
drum times these are !"
" You forget, dear, how many brave,
heroic souls have fled on the battle-field
within the last few days," said Miss
Agnes. •
" Oh, I don't mean that—l know
these are grand days for men, but what
can a little school-girl do ? I can't
even make a sacrifice, fOr I have no
friends, that is, no very near relatives
in the army. No, I must be content
to plod on, in the same old way, to the
very end of the chapter." ,
"My dear," said Miss Agnes, " yOu
remember the day that we went to look
for those flowers in the Red Woods.
We hunted far and near for ane variety,
tired ourselves with ranging over the
hills and climbing the steep mountain
sides, and little Linda lost her shoes in
the marsh, and when we came back,
worn out with our efforts, we found a
cluster of the very flowers, -fair and
White and .fragrant, nestling under a
broad leaf, in the very spot we started
from. So it is with you. Alice, lam
afraid that in the effort after something
great and glorious to do or achieve, you
often forget the good and sweet duties
that are lying dose at your feet."
"Miss Agnes," called Stella from the
hall, " here's a poor little girl wants to
sec you !" As Miss Agnes left the
room, Alice remained. a little while in
the same position, thinking of what her
friend had said, but the result of her
thoughts was not very satisfactory.
They resolved thenaselveS into some
thing like this:
"It's all very well for Miss Agnes
Cameron to talk, and very easy for her
to do good and to -be good. But it's
very different with Alice Sprague.
do as the
Heigho ! I'd like to be a heroine."
Alice, Stella and Linda Sprague were
almost constantly under the care of
Miss Cameron, their governess. Their
mother was a confirmed invalid, and
spent her days in alternating from her,
sofa to her easy chair, and from thence
to bed. She was seldom able to leave
her chamber, and could not devote to
her little girls that maternal care and
culture that they needed. Mr. Sprague
was a merchant in large and prosperous
business; he went early to his counting,
room, and came from thence with 4
preoccupied face and a mind full of dare.,
So that his children were neatly dressed
and lady-like in their manners, and did
not worry him with too much noise, he
took but little notice of them.
" Alice," said little Linda, when tea
was over, "I wish .yOu'd help me learn
my hymn.. It's so hard, and my Sab.:
bath school teacher don't like -me to
miss it."
" Oh, run away, Linda ; I'm busy.
Miss Agues is with Stella, teaching her
her's, and you go to her."
- "But, Alice," pleaded Linda, "I'd
rather have you."
"I tell you I'm engaged just now,
Don't tease.me, Linda."
A bell rang from up stairs, and pre
sently a servant came in, saying :
" Miss Alice, your mamma wants
you. !"
Rather slowly Alice put down her
work, and rose to leave the parlor. As
she passed Miss Agnes, a slip of paper
was put into her hand. On it she read
these words, pencilled there in haste by
her teacher :
"'The duty that lies nearest.' Alice,
did you not forget it just now ?"
She knew what Miss Agnes meant,
and blushed as she thought that her
teacher had seen her impatient conduct
towards Linda. With a quieter step
than usual, she entered her mother's
Mrs. Sprague was lying on the sofa
looking over some old letters. Her
pale face was almost as white as the.
snowy pillow it pressed, and her thin
hands showed the wandering blue veins
very plainly. Alice felt a sadness at
PHILADELPHIA., THURSDAY, JUNE 23,. 1864.
he“rt a,s she thought of the many hours
her poor mother spent there in that one
room, and of how little she did to lighten
them. Bye and bye perhaps she would
have no mother. It flashed on her as
she came in that her mother was paler
and thinner and weaker lately than she
used to be.
Mother," she said, "Kate said you
wanted me."
" Yes, daughter, I was looking over
these letters, and I want to give some
of them in your change, and some of
them I wish you to burn. This package
is for you to read bye and bye. They
are journals of a happy girlhood, but,
Alice, I don't wan't you to imitate all
my youthful life, for often I was a
dreamer, not a doer. My child, I want
you to learn to do whatever your hand
finds to do, with your might.
- Life is real—life is earnest.,
And the grave is not its goal,
Dust thou art, .to dust returnest,
Was not. spoken of the soul."
" Mother,. has Miss Agnes been talk
ing to you about me ?" said Alice. :
" No, my love. Why ?"
" Because she .says that dreaufing is
my besetting sin, and was talking to me
of that very thing."
Here is a ring, Alice, made of my
sister's hair ; put it on your finger, dear.
You were named for her, Alice Fanning.
It is a record to me of my own early
waywardness, for, my darling, while I
was looking for some far away great
deed to do, poor Alice was slowly dying
beside me, and I never 'kilo* it, till,
when too late, wakened to find that I
had:no sister."
Alice put the ring of golden hair on
her finger. A big tear fell on it, a
pledge that she would strive to be more
thoughtful hereafter; When her mo
ther had finished and Rat ba ,. hway, sue
went, down again to the library, and
though the tempting book was full in
view she passed it by saying :
" Come, Linda, I'll help you with
your hymn now." M. E. M.
Mom a Emig visiting Thdladelphia;- du
ring the Winter of 1863, to her young
friend in, the Cou4try.
DEAR EDITH :—My sincere thanks for
that timely letter. I feel that my let
ters are appreciated, whek I receive two
or three in exchange for one. - I received
an invitation -to a wedding, a day or two,
before I sent my last letter, and do not
know that I mentioned it. Very soon
after Uncle James came to this city to
reside, Mrs. D— called on Aunt Helen,
and by her kind attention made. Aunt
feel almost at -home in a strange city.
Our invitation was to the wedding of her
eldest daughter. I felt some interest in
the fact as it was my first invitation to
a weddingiu this city.
You will not expect details regarding
the supper, wines, &c. ; let me include all
by saying that ample -means and good
taste did all that could be done to make
the event one to be remembered. In
passing down from - the ladies' rooms, 'I
observed two large rooms that were
thrown open for gentlemen, judging
from the hats and coats that partly filled
one. The other room was brilliantly
lighted, and -well furnished with arm
chairs, just the place to have a pleasant
chat with a friend. Some one closed the
door just as I was taking a survey ;--but
but
not before I had noticed a variety -of
drinking glasses arranged on the tables.
The wedding party was a large one and
Uncle James introduced one or two gen
tlemen to me, whom he knew well. Mrs.
D— also breught one up and presenteil
him as if he was really valuable. I re-,
.gret to say. that I could not respond to
the. imperial style in which he addressed
your friend. I tried after a while to
rouse him by a touch of sarcasm, but the
arrows fell harmlessly--; self conceit ren
dered him 'invulnerable. 'Finally, I re
sorted to stratagem to free myselffrom
40.01.„ tiresome company. Seeing Aunt
Relen at the other end of the room, I
asked Mr. T— to cross the room with
me, and on my way contrived to lose him
fora minute, when, much to my relief
he met with a young lady who seemed
pleased,to see him. In a few minutes
he came to excuse himself, when -I was
pir.zled how to use words that would not
betray my gratitude for the burden my
successor had assumed. Eat I was
gratified to meet a - gentleman of a differ
ent class with whom I was much pleased.
Mr. conversed well, and, we -had
a literary talk that I really enjoyed.
I found that Mr. K— knew Mr.
well, and by one or two judicious queries.
I elicited information that confirmed me
in my high estimation of Mr. B—'s
character.
I will mention a fact here that sur
prised me, and proves that -I am not
perfectly conversant in the customs of
large cities. During the evening some
of the gentlemen disappeared for a short
time. Ido not know that I should have
noticed their absence,_ if my suspicions
had not been aroused. Most of them
were personally strangers to me, and it
was only by observing them in conver
sation with young ladies whom I knew
that I remembe'red them. It was late
when these young gentlemen returned
LETTERS.
NO. VIII
to the company with flushed faces and
their breath giving sad evidence against
them. Certainly they did not leave the
home to procure strong drink, and then
returr, to the company of ladies. When
I receive an explanation of their con
duct you shall hear it.
We have had some damp and, rainy
days lately, which fact accounts for my
unusual mode of spending time, namely,
reading; that is, unusual since I came to
this city.' Aunt Helen and I were in
the library during one of these evenings,
both occupied with an interesting book,
when, to my surprise, the waiter ushered
in Mr. B—. Perhaps my countenance
said more than I intended, as. Mr. B—,
after greeting us, excused himself for
thwarting my plans in suck an uncere
monious manner. But I was satisfied
with the change, as, since I was at Miss
ll—'s wedding, annoying questions have
been recurring, thereby disturbing my
thoughts. Mr. B— regretted that he
had not been able to attend, having had
a previous engagement, and then made
some. inquiries as to the number of
persons and the opinions I formed of
weddings in Philadelphia. I made all
the favorable comments that I could,
and then mentioned that one fact threw
a shadow around that occasion for me.
I had observed more than once while
attending parties in this city, a marked
change in the deportment of some of
the young gentlemen as the evening
advanced, and had been surprised at the
fact„ • But now the mystery was in a
measure solved, as there were some of
the gentlemen at the wedding party of
which we were speaking Whose flushed
faces and excited manner gave sad evi
dence against them. And in my judg
ment they were unfitted for the society
of ladies. Could it be that these young
men left the .house to obtain stimulants ?
Mr., B— replied promptly: `.` Miss
Evans, you have touched upon a pain
ful subject; one that is tacitly avoided
by most persons, yet one that
. must be
brought into the light and frooly spoken
of, if we would counteract its evil
regulEs. The young men; to whom you
refer did not leave the house to obtain
the liquors they preferred ; they merely
went to the room set - apart for this pur
pose. A custom that has been some
time in maturing, has snow reached a
point - that demands prompt action. The
whole system of our large social gather
ings is wrong, unmistakably so. This
one is, the most repulsive, and yet is.
one of the established usages of , the
present day. When I say this, Miss
Evans, I do not mean that such, a resort
is always found in the arrangements for
a large party, as there arc a few whose
strict principles on the subject of tem
perance would not permit such an abuse
Of . hospitality. And these families are
consequently
,stiginatized as mean and.
narrow in their views, by the young
men who, with the previous knowledge
of the fact, accept. their invitations."
But I have written a long letter, and
must. close with my thanks for your last
journal of home incidents.
Truly yours,- 'HELEN'.
A NOBLE BUSINESS MAN.
A friend relates for the boys and girls
of the American Agrieulturie, the fol
lowing incident of a gentleman well known
in the *United States, for his useful tal
ents and his large business operations,
_hut whose name we arc not permitted to
give. During the present war he made
a contract with a mechanic to supply him'
with a large 'quantity of tin cans. 'Not'
long after this tin rose so much that the.
contractor must lose money by comple-,
ting the work at the price agreed upon.
However, he said nothing, but Went on
delivering the cans. *When the first bill
for, part of the cans was received, the
employer - called upon him, and said, "I
understand you are losing money on,
thisjob." " Yes," replied the contractor,;
"but I can stand it ; a contract is'a con-.
tract you know." " How much will you:
lose asked the gentleman. " Oh, no
Matter," 'Was the reply, "I don't coin
plain, and you ought not to." "But I
insist upon knowing." Well, since you
desire it, I shall lose so much per hula
dred," naming the amount. "Well, sir,"
said the noble-hearted man, "you must
not lose this, it would not be right, Ishall
add the amount to your bill, and as the
Klee of material may stilt rise,lwill ad
vance you the money for the whole of
the contract, which no doubt you can
now use to advantage." The difference
thus paid, to which the contractor
. laid
no claim, amounted to five hundred
dollars. That was something more than
business' honesty, it was Christian prin
ciple carried out in business. Theworld
needs just such *examples to convince it .
of the truth of religion.
THE ADVANTAGES OF EIOI I ITRES.
Airoom with pictures, and a room
without pictures, differ about as much
as a room with windows and a room
without windows. Nothing is more
melancholy, particularly to a person
who has to pass much time in his room,
than bleak walls and nothing on them,
forr - pictutes are loop-holes of escape for
the soul, leading to other scenes and
spheres. It is such an inexpressible re
lief to a person engaged in writing or
even,reading, on looking up, not to have
his line of vision cut off by an odious
white wall, but to find his soul escaping,
as it were, through the frame of an ex
quisite picture, to other beautiful, and
perhaps heavenly scenes, where fancy
for a moment may revel, refreshed and
delighted.
EXTRAVAGANOE.OF 01711 PEOPLE.
The following is from an able exhibi
tion of the effect of the war upon the
course of business. and the scale of
living, especially, in New York city, in
the July number of liqrper's Monthly :
The old proverb,says " That which
comes easy goes easy." The suddenly
enriched -contractors, speculators and
stockjobbers illustrate its truth. They
are spending money with a profusion
never before witnessed in our country,.
at no time remarkable for its frugality.
. Our great houses are not big enough for
them; they pull them down and }mild
greater. They, like the proud aced
wanton Caligula, construct stables. of
marble at a bulous cost, in which their
horses are- stabled (some, doubtless, to
be fed on gilded oats), with a luxury
never hitherto indulged in by the• most.
opulent of our fell Ow-citizens. Even
the - manure neaps lie upon more re
splendeat floors than are swept. by the
ailkeu trains of oar proudest, flames.
So magnificent are these structares that
their proprietors have not hesitated to
assemble within them " the best society"
they could command of fine:gentlemen
and finer ladies, to hold a carnival ofl
pleasure. The playing of Comedies, it
is said, was a part of the programme,.as
if the presence of the beau. monde, seek- 1
ing pleasure in a stable, was not in itseli
a sufficiently sorry farce. What was
acted we know not; lit we can testify
that " High Life Below Stairs" was the
chief performanoe. The very horses
must have neighed in applause of the
appropriateness of . the piece, and life
like action of the players. A horse
laugh was surely the well-merited re
ward.
These Sybarites of" shoddy" buy finer
furniture than was ever bought before,
and dress -in costlier clothe and silks
than have been hitherto imported. No
foreign luxury, even 'at the present
enormous prices, is too dear for their
exorbitant desires and swollen pockets.
The importatieus bt the country have
arisen to the large amount of thirty
mill;e'ens of dollars a month, chiefly to
Satisfy the increased appetite for luxu
rious expense.
The ordinary sources of expenditure
seem to have been exhausted, and these
ingenious prodie b als have invented new
ones. The men button their waistcoats
with diationds of the first water, and
the women powder their hair with gold
and silver dust.*
As excess, overflowing the natural
channels of enjoyment; is always sure
~to take an irregular and perverted•
course, for the indulgence of its uncheck
ed vagaries, it is not, anrprising to find
the boundless extravagance of the times .
assuming forms at variance with pro
priety and taste:- Paris,-provoked to
excessive folly and wild. extravagance
uy
ce"ii io enefi7ai
411 z
the people by debauchery that they may
become too languid for resistance to
tyranny, has, among other forms of dis
.sipation, invented a grotesque kind of)
fancy ball. In this the guests represent
things instead of persons. For example,
one presents herself as a kitchen, with
her person hung all over with pots and
kettles, wearing a saucepan for a hel
met, like Sancho Panza, brandishing a
shovel and tongs, and playing the part
of a kitchen wench with probably a dish
clout hanging' , to her tail. Another of a
more sentimental turn is a flower gar
den, festooned with roses-and bearing a
spade and rake. A third is a pack of
playing-cards, bedizened. all over with
clubs, diamonds, and hearts and so on
with every possible transformation of
the human spirituarbeing (supposed to'
be rational) into the Senleless; material
thine?
This absurdity has been imported by'
our wealthy New Yorkers, together
with other Parisian extravagances. Last
winter, during which high carnival was
held by oar nouveaux riches, a dame whoi
has traveled, and bad the honor of faint
ing in the arms, it is:said, of Imperial :
Majesty, in the course of' which embrace
she probably imbibed-her high apprecia
tion of imperial folly,. got up one of
those grotesque fancy balls. She her-,
self,a,ppeared on the occasion as music,
and bore upon her head. an illuminated
lyre supplied with genuine gas, from a:.
reservoir and fixtures concealed,some- •
where -under her clothes. "We don't
feel this war,". they say. We believe
them. „Nothing, we fear, while they are
stupefying themselves in this whirl of
absurd folly would bring them to their
senses short of a shower of Greek fire.
If this extravagance and wantonness
were confined to the fools of fortune we
might leave them to the exhaustion that
must come from this waste of means and
perversion of the faculties; of mind and
body. Their . ruin would be hardly felt
or regretted. But, unfortunately, our
people are so imitative that when one
simpleton, provided he be rich, leads
the way, all follow. - Every man and
woman thinks he must do as his wealthy
neighbor does. The consequence is
already shown in the general prevalence
of extravagance and dissipation. The
shops of the dry.goods man, the jeweler,
the dealer in carpets - and cabinet-ware,
and the gilded establishments of the
restaurateur were Dever so crowded.
The tradesman hardly shows any but
- his most, expensive wares, which his
greedy customer snatches up without
solicitation. Thus camel's-hair shawls,
at fifteen hundred dollars or more, go
off briskly at that prim; rivers of dia-,
mends (riviere de diamants) flow uncheck
ed by any regard for cost. Aubusson
and tapestry carpets of fabulous - expense
are bought unhesitatingly and reckless.
ly trod upon, and dinners are oaten and
wine drunk at Delmonico's and the
Maison Doree at a price per bead, in a
single sitting, which would support a
soldier and his family for a good portion
of the year. Who knows but that our
wives and daughters may all take to
powdering their hair with gold and ail-
*There are three, kinds of resplendent powder need
by our fashionable women! the gold and silver. wh oh
coat fifteen dollars a head, as I the di moonl, which at
present is only of glass, and costa much Ws.
ver dust at fifteen dollars per head / or
transforming themselves into gas fix
tures ? What is to hinder our young
dandies of the counting-house and shop
—for haven't they an old fool of the
Stock Exchange to show them the• ex
aznple—from buttoning their waistcoats
with diamonds?
ADVICE TG HOUSEKEEPEIM
If you are subject to uninvited,compa
ny, and your means do not allow you-to
set before your guests as good:a table . as
they keep at home, do not distress your
self or them:with apologies. If they are
real friends, they will cheerfully sit down
with you to-such a table as:is- appropri
ate to your circumstances„ and would be
uncomfortable by an effort; n your part
to provide a better one than :you can
afford. if your resourcesare ample, live
in such. a way th. 9 t an unexpected visitor
shall eaeasion no - difference. The less
alteraWm made in family arrangements
on account of visitors, the happier for
them. as well as you.. -
Never treat the subject of having com
pany as if it were a. great affair. Your
doing this will excite your domestics,.
and lead them to imagine the additionto
their usual works much greater th'au it
is; your own cares, too, will he greatly
magnified. A calui and quiet way of
meeting all sorts of domestic vicissitudes,
and of doing the work of each day, belt
more or loss, equalizes the pressure of
care and prevents it, becoming oppressive.
Be composed when accidents happen
to your furniture. The most careful
hand is sometimes unsteady. Angry
words will not mend broken glass, or
china, but they will teach your domestics
to conceal such occurrences from you, and
the only explanation given you will be
that they came apart. Encourage every
one whom you employ to come_ immedi
ately and tell you, when they have been
so unfortunate as to break
,or injure
anything 'belonging to you. The cases
are very rare; in which it is best to de
duct the value from their wages.'
In the best regulated families there
will be some laborious,- perplexing days.
Adverse and inconvenient circumstances
will cluster together. At those times
guard against two things—discourage
ment and irritability. If others look on
the dark side, find something cheering
to say ; if they fret, sympathize in their
share of the trial, while ydu set them
the example of bearing your part in it
well.
IDLE GIRLS,
The number of idle, useless girls in all
of our large cities seems to be steaiily in
! creasing. They lounge or sleep through
morniugs, parade the streets during
f the afternoons, and assexuble in frivolous
companies of their own and the other sex
to pass away their evenings. What a
store of unhappiness for themselves and
others are they laying up for the coming
time, when real duties and high respon
sibilities shall be thoughtlessly assumed !
They are skilled in no domestic duty—
nay, they despise them ; have no habits
of industry, nor taste .for the useful.
What will they be as wives and mothers ?
Alas, fof the husbands and children, and
alas for themselves ! Who can wonder if
domestic unhappiness or domestic ruin
follow ?
It is one of the world's oldest maxims,
that idleness is the nursing mother of
all evil and wretchedness. How sadly
strange is it that so many parents—
mothers especially—forget 'this, and
bring up their children in dainty idleness.
They are but sowing the wind to reap
the whirlwind.
ELEVATION or THE WORKING CLASSES
" I have no sympathy whatever with
those who would grudge our workmen
and.'our common people, the very highest
acquisition which their taste, or their
time, or their inclinations, would lead
them to realize ; for, next to the salva
tion of their souls' ' I certainly say that
the object of my fondest aspirations is
the moral and intellectual, and, as a sure
consequence of this the economical, ad
vancement of the working classes—the
one object which, of others in the wide
range of political speculation, is the one
which should. be the dearest to the heart
of every philanthropist and. every true
patriot.''— Chalmers.
COAL ! COAL !
If you want the best Lehigh Coal in the market, want
it clean and pure, and want all you buy, send your
orders to
CASSEL.I3ERRY & DAVIS,
Franklin Coal Yard, No. 1429 AMERICAN street, near
the North Pennsylvania Passenger Depot,
For they are determined to satisfy, if possible, all who
patronize them, and do obligate themselves to pity to
the Christian Commission 15 cents per ton for every
ton of coal they sell for family use, until the war climes.
We refer all to Geo. H. Stuart, C. C. C. 942-946
itA CADWINS w
No. 736 Market Street, S. E. corner of Eighth,
PHILADELPHIA,
Manufacturers and Dealers in
BOOTS., SHOES, TRUNKS, CARPET BAGS AND
VALISES 02 every variety and style. lelny
LW. P. CLARK,
1626 Market Street, Phila,delphis
B OOTS AND SHOES OF MY . OWN MANUFACTURI
Ladies', Misses', Ciiildren's, Men's and Boys' Boots an
Shoes of every variety, at moderate pricea
1626 MARKET STREET
11017,SEKEEPERS,
AND THOSE COMMENCING Ho usEKEEPINCh
Cl may find a full assortment of all useful articles for
Housekeepers' use, at the House Furnishing Store,
Islo-220 and 222 DOOR street.
The latest and best styles of Catlery,Plated Ware,
Japanned Ware, Block Tin and Britannia Ware Hollow
Ware, etc. Also, Settees, Ironing Tables, Kitchen.
Tables, Meat Safes, Refrigerators and Wooden Ware
generally, with all the new inventions for housekeepers'
use. Moderate prices, and all goods warranted.
E.S. FARSON & CO.,
Nos. 220 and i2s Dock Areal.
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