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Winter is Here.
Di D. C. GoLEswoitTur.
Winter is here cold and drcar,—
. See the poot : *routid
Qa Wien the _G rat ul onns career,
"Aro e d e ground,
Willi - on no ake them by the hand,
Ortb the hovel go,
And i 'mund the dying embers stand;
AndAsipe the tears that flow !
}}'u t ter is here—hear ye not
The mother's earnest cry
For ) lark and dreary is her lot—
No real friend is nigh,
F or wood and, bread she itsketb now,
Oh shall-she ask in vain I
: ,, ce : farrow stamped upon her brow;
And mark the orphan train.
tinter is here—every drawer
Should be unlocked to day ;
Whom do you ' keep that clothing for?
Why not give it away I
Cortte, pall it out,-a cloak—a vest—
:- tyhurver \you cidgive,
Wr4ped sndgly round the orphan's breast,
'Will make the dying live.
aset. search—a pair .of shims
Ralf worn—and here's a rip,
Which you perhaps may never use—
; A hat with scarce a nap—
A pair of pants—a rusty coat—
i) give them to the poor!
Il:hat is worth to you a groat,
. health and warmth secure
What's in ypur garret ? Hare the moths
For months been busy there ?
ly they have quite destroyed the cloth)
} - cu saved with, with prudent care.
Come, ptiihem out; perhaps we may
hit(' something that will make
A poor man rich, iftiven
And bless the hearts that ache.
Winter is here; give, oh give
Whatever ye can spare;
A;mite will make the wretched live,
;And smooth the. brow of care,
1% hen plenty smiles around your door,
And comfort sruiles within,
Ifiyou forget the worthy poor,
, be a grerious sin.
[From the Opal, for 1895.]
To Children. -
!.1 beet things! blest things ! to 'look on your
;Eyes that are in their wane
Grow bright—and hearts at ebb of ago.
Fill with life's tides'again.
And.you not age, nor death should touch,
If human love might save;
gut stronger is the love which blights
Andzathers to the grave.
We know that you the angels love—
(They love all gentle Alings) •
And ioften o v er you fondly :Stoop
And spread their viewless wings.
And tenderly their starry eyes
Watch you by nig!it and day,
And sweetly as thiy smile 'on you,
So you, on-us, alway-
And oh ! should ho who smiles on all,
And loves both young and old—
Should the dear shepherd take hie lambs;
And bear them to fold.
Should he these buds of love—
Who gii , es—and maketh torn—
leaves us like withered stems till eFe,,
.krid take them in the morn,
W e still, oh ! God, would trust his love
Who once, in form like them,
Slept on Ivo:omen's yearning breast,
A babe in Bethlehem.
Who writes, in flowers, upon the eartk i -
And stars, in Heaven above,
And smiles and tear in human souls,
Blest characters of love..
Who Hope bath given to Death—as dawn
The thickest dark he gave;
And caused that still the new year's Bowers
Grp* on the old year's grave.
Who joy can bring fromgrief,sts calm
Succeeds the winds fierce wars r
As winter's tears bring summer leaves,
And nigbrthe joy of stars!
Who from thesechildren's steps, the thorns
Qf grief, and doubt, and care,
Can kindly take—or for their peace •
As kindly plant them there.
?re' regions sad with weeping storms,
:Dark wood, and frowning bill,
Or valley bright as angel dreams,
Can guide them at his will.
And lead them ori in peace, with AY
Awl singing on their way ;
at the last, their shining path
Is lost in perfect day. ,
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Bessie's New Bonnet,
A CAPITAL STORY.
➢r mass, ar. A. 11'DOIGALD.
The stage-coach, which three times
a week traversed the roads between,
New- York and the village of 8., stood
at the hotel door in one of the great
thoroughfares of our city, about to start
for its usual journeying. The neigh
boring clocks were striking seven, and
as the last note rang over the busy
streets the coachman appeared beside
his vehicle. He drew forth with an
air of some importance his silver time
piece, put it to Ills ear for a moment,
deliberately reset it, compared it with
the gold repe ter of an old gentleman
at hand, and called aloud as he looked
into the' Horsei, boys,
horses ! time the Blue-Bird was off."
This summons was immediately re
sponded to; the ostlers led out and ar
ranged the harness of four grays, who
were, to travel the first stage of twelve
miles ; passengers came out from the
breakfast-room of the hotel and gave
directions about the stowing of their
luggage, while the coachman smoothed
his new beaver, and drawing on, his
gloves—for our Jehu of the ,Blue-Bird
was a• gentleman of ton among his
brethren—stepped forward to announce
that all was ready. The male passen
gers were already on the door-steps,
impatient to-te off, and, after a few mo
metit's delay, came forth the females.
First, an elderly Quakeress, in her
neat unsoiled attire, then a youne mo
ther with her infant in her arms, who,
being disturbed in its morning slumbers,
gave strong indications of being rather
a noisy traveller, and then followed a
modest-loOking country girl, attended
by a spruce city `youngster. She car
ried in her own hand a light wicker
basket, of no very large dimensions,
while her companion bore to the - edge
of the side-walk that horror of all travel
ers, a bandbox.
4. Pass that ere box up this way,
young man," said the coachman, who
lrad mounted to his seat and was ar
ranging a variety of parcels on the top,
there's no room for sich baggage in
" Will it go safely'there, sir ?" asked
the young girl, looking up anxiously
as the box was lifted with a swing and
thrown down in the place prepared for
it, " I'm very particular about it."
" Couldn't ride safer no where, ma'-
am," replied the coachman; " just
slips in betwixt the old gentleman's va
lise and this 'ere carpet bag, as slick as
The girl gazed a moment wistfully
at her box, and then turned to take leave
of her comnanion.
i' Good-bye, Cousin Robert."
.. Good-bye, Bessie, hope you'll
have a pleasant ride, love to all the
I am much 'obliged to you for car
tying my box, and I hope you'll come
to 8., thiti summer."
" Thank you—should like it—can't
tell—think of going to the springs or
Niagara. Now let me help you in,"
and in a few minutes' every body was
seated, and Bessie, ensconcing her trim
little person in the smallest possible
corner, nodded once more to - Cousin
Robert, and they drove off.
It was a lovely morning in the elrly
part of June, the sun shone brightly, on
every object, the streets were thronged
With people. and to the quiet folks in
the stage coach, who were most of them
returning to'the stillness of a country
life, it seemed a scene of bewilderment.
Every one was hastening a4ing, as if
every thing depended upon the speed
of his o'wn movements ; carts, omnibus
es and carriages passed in constant and
rapid succession ; 'Sweeps were giving
out their melodious notes, and radish
girls and match-boys awakening the
ethos withtheir shrill and discordant
As they rattled over the stones, the
din of , revolving - wheels precluded the
possibility of anything like conversa
tion, and each one made his own com
ments-on the scenes around them, but
as they advanced into the country, leav
ing the busy town behind them. the
females began to use their tongues a
little, and the men became talkative in
due proportion. The mother of the
baby. having lulled its wailing, enter
tained the Quakeress with a long• ac
count of measles, whooppingeough,
etc., particularly.dwelling on the baby's
last sickness, and describing minutely
the delicate operation of lancing its
gums. Two old gentlemen on the
front seat discussed meanwhile the re
lative merits of favorite candidates for
office ; a_tall man, with an extremely
Regardless of Denunciation from any Quarter.—Gov. PORTEII.
E 4 O.4L,SEM& 9 031&MIIFOLIZ eizagrusr 9 Ipzio 9 ariusz.4l,3a 50,9 tatt4
long nose and brown wig, talked of the
races with a fat fellow opposite him ;
two little boys, returning to school after
a fortnight's vacation, were staring out
at the window and munching biscuits
and gingerbread ; while our friend
Bessie, quite alone, for no one address
ed hei, sat musing on a variety of plea
Bessie was a farmer's daughter, and
her face was her fortune," or very
nearly , so, and a pretty face it was, for.
blue eyes, white teeth, and rosy cheeks,
with a gentle, good r -humored expres
sion diffused over them, are always
pretty, and even Cousin Robert, with
alt his high notions of beauty and fash
ion, coultl not but admire - his simple
country relative, and thought there was
many a showy Broadway belle who
would give much for such a cheek of
nature's pure carnation," or an eye
so deeply, darkly, beautifully blue." .
Bessie's wants, fortunately for her
self, were few, but among them had
been that of a new bonnet. She had
worn her old one three summers, it had
become ifar too small for her; and was
moreover so faded that all her ingenui
ty in turning and twisting—and Bessie,
in common with most of her sex, pos
sessed no little knack at such work—
availed not to hide the blemishes.—
Time had touched the poor hat with
his destroying finger, and, after much
consultation, Mrs. Bond had decided
that 4' Bessie must go to town and buy
a' new one." An extra number of eggs
were accordingly sent to market, and
Bessie made up her butter in the pret
iiest forms, to ensure a rapid sale, so
that by the time she was ready to set
out, the money had•been collected, and
put carefully by in a silken purse, very
rarely in use, to purchase the wished
for bonnet. What a long list of corn
missions, too, there was to beexecuted ;
what pairs of gloves, and papers of pins,
and tapes and buttons to be bought,
how many ear-rings and breast-pins to
be mended, and how many said, Bes
sie Bond is" going to town, you had
better send by her for what you want,
it's'such a good chance." Then there
were grandmother's spectacles, they
must by no means be forgotten, for she
wanted them mended sadly, and mo
ther's shawl to be taken to the dyer's,
and the oceans of love to carry to every
member of Cousin Bartlett's family,
where Bessie was to stay, so that the
poor girl seemed in danger of forget
ting even the main object of her jour
ney, in the multiplicity of affairs she
was called on to attend to by her neigh
The day at last came round that bore
the timid country girl to the home of
her !City relations, where she was most
kindly welcomed. Cousin Bartlett,
who was an experif need hand in shop
ping, immediately,pffered to chaperone
her, and she knew all the cheapest
stores, and where the greatest bargains
were to be made, so that at the end of
a week, by dint of great perseverance
and untiring industry; every thing she
had to buy was bought, and every
trust fulfilled, and the new bonnet pur
chased, one of the prettiest straw cot
tages that ever shaded a blooming cheek,
trimmed with a pure white ribbon,
which every body said was becoming,
and Bessie's looking-glass said so too,
and she was now returning home again,
quite happy that all was over, for Bes
sie loved the country, not merely be
cause it was her home, but for the love
of nature and of nature's works. There
glowed in her pure and gentle heart a
a love for all created things, and the
, brightest plumed bird or the meanest
crawling worm called forth alike her
kindly feelings. She saw and appre
ciated the charms of natural scenery
and gazed with delight upon the rising
or the setting sun, and although she
might have expressed her admiration
in homely phrase, she felt with the
'most refined lover of Nature,
" The charm of hill and vale and babbling brook,
The golden. sunshine, and the pleasant breeze
Swaying the tree•tops."
But Bessie's heart was not with Na
ture now, she leaned back in the coach,
and her eye caught the familiar Objects
as they seemed io ily past, but she
heeded them not, she was recalling one
of the incidents of her visit.;-- , 4 It will
please grandmother to hear of this,"
and 44 Father will be glad to know that,"
and ‘, I must not forget Cousin Bart
lett's message about the cape." Then
.thoughts of Lome—who would
be the first to meet her—if . they would
not all be glad to see her again—if they
would 'adaiire,her new bonnet, and if
Harrii Davis would not think she lOok
ed well in it, t .and with the name of
Harry Davis came up a score of plea's
ant reaollections that held her a milling
captive—what he had said when they
last met, and how he happened to be at
his own gate just atthe very minute the
stage passed the morning she came
away, and half unconsciously the little
maiden's heart whispered, that if Her
ry Davis should ask her to be his wife,
perhaps; if father and mother did not
object, she might say " yes."
The stopping of the coach to take up
a passenger from a farm house broke
in upon these reflections. The new
comer was a fanciful looking lady, with
an infinite quantity of luggage, and as
the coachman threw parcel after parcel
to the roof of the coach Bessie trembled
for her new bonnet.
" I hope my box is quite safe, sir ?"
she said, as the man fastened the door,
and adjusted the curtains.
All in prime order, ma ' am," was
the reply, and again they rattled on.
At the first w a tering-place the gentle
men left their seats, and the ladies
brushed the dust off their dresses, and
called for several glasses of water, and
a plate of crackers. The Baby opened
its eyes and sat erect, astonished at the
strange place in which it had awaken
ed, while Bessie put her bead out of
the window, and looking up espied the
edge of her new bandbox in its calico
cover, and felt quite comfortable to
know that it was so far free from harm.
During the next stage, the fanciful lady
became extremely talkative, and she
and Bessie being seated vis a iris, she
addressed most of her conversation io
our little friend, so that time flew by
unheeded. and the lady expressed great
regret that they must part so soon,
when, at the entrance of a green lane,
the horses drew up, and two stout lads
came out to welcome.their sister, who
joyfully prepared to alight.
You must be right careful of this,
young mister," said the coachman,, as
he handed the important box to the
foremost of the boys, for I guess it
holds something wonderous fine, the
young lady seemed so scared about it."
‘. Rather think it does," replied Tom,
laughing, and slin g ing it on his arm,
while as brother ta king the basket from
his sister's hand, the trio paid their
rustic adieus to those they were leaving ;
and as the horses dashed onward were
lost in the windings of the lane.
,‘ All well at home, Tom ?" was Bes
ste's first question.
"Just as you left us," was Tom's
.‘ How is that dandy chap, Bob Bart
lett ?" inquired Sam, from the other
" Did you get all those things on
your list, Bess ?" asked Tom, " and is
this your new hat ?"
" Yes, that is my new hat, and I
hope you will all like it; Cousin Bart
lett said she had n't seen such a beauty
" Which, you or the hat ?"
" 0 the hat, to be sure," said his
sister half blushing.
"'fliers can't be many furbelows
about it," said Tom, raising it a little
as he spoke, " for it's as light as a fea
6 , O it is a straw one, yoU know ;
mother thought it would be prettiest ;
fastened it carefully in the box, to keep
it from shaking about, and this morning
Cousin Bartlett tied it in that nice co
ver, and I'm as glad as can be that I've
got it safely home at last."
Look, there is mothei and grand
mother, and, Annie on the porch," said
Sam, as a turn in the lane brought them
in view of a neat substantial, low-built
farm-house, and Bessie, quickening her
pace, crossed with light foot the shin
ing brook, bounded .through the white
gate, and in a moment Was. exchanging
warm greetings with all.
Of course every one asked fifty ques
tions at 'once, and grandmother was
impatient for her spectacles, which
she said she had missed all the week,
though the good old soul had not been
able to use them for a month before ;
and father said if she had happened to
bring a newspaper he should be glad
to see it, and that was at the very bot-,
tom of the - basket, as those things are
sure to be which are first wanted, and!
as one article after another was takeni
out, that the paper might be - forthcom-i
.ing, they were seized on by ready
hands, and the prices asked, and the ,
quality examined, and little Annie was
trying oh a pair of new green gloves,
before her sister had been at home half
"So l you got your new bonnet, I
see," said, the old lady, peering through
her recol)ered glasses at the box whic h
Tom had placed upon the table.
" Yes, I brought it quite - Safelyi,.
though it came upon-the • top - of the
coach," said Bessie smiling. i• and it is
all trimmed ready to . wear at church oy
Sunday. I suppose .you all want toy
see it, so if you, will ple;se take it out,
I can' put up these, thing again."
Mrs. Bond eagerly accepted the office
of exhibitor, and while! grandmother,
Annie and the boys gathered round her,
proceeded to, take off and fold up the
covering, observing th 4 it must be
washed and sent home tb Cousin Bart
lett tiy the first chance. 1 She then de
liberately united the tap which fasten
ed the 'lid, and gently raised it, each
leaningi forward over the table to catch
the first glinipse, when Io ! the box toe. ,
empty ! I '`
The exclamations of the astonished
group called Bessie from her occupa
tion ,of folding ribbons and. picking'up
buttons, and, pale with dilniay and
disappointment, she sat down, in the
nearest chair. " And took all that
trouble with an empty box," . ! was all
she could say as the tears started into
" Somebody has stplen it,i" cried
Tom, " I'll ride after the coach and
see about it."
" Yes, it must have peen
deed," said poor Besiie, •
cannot think. There was
looking man, I remember,
with the driver."
•cAnd he has got it", child, you may
be sure," said her grandmother, ...for
thiives always take the top of the
" And are you sure this is your box ?"
" Quite, quite sure of it, there is a
blue rabbit on the lid."
'Exactly so," said Sam, taking it
Mrs. Bond involuntarily re-examined
the box, observing there is five dollars
gone," and telling Toni he had better
lose no time. ' -
Aye, saddle the horses, boys, and
we'll-be Off at once," said the farmer;
" and here is Harry Davis coming up
the lane, he'll go too ; I promise."
Harry dismounted and ivas pet at
the' door by Tom, who, in a few words,
told the story of the stolen bonnet. The
young man instantly. .offered to accom
pany, or rather to precede them, as his
was already saddled. Ton► had, how
ever, been most expeditious, and in a
few moments the two were seen gallop
ing down the hitt, and were followed
soon after by the farmer and his son
,The coach was overtaken at the next
stopping-place, about three miles dis
tant, but no tidings were to be gained
of the missing treasure. All the pas
sengers were there, and even the
strange-looking man who had occupied
a part of the driver's seat was' calmly
smokine , his cigar 'with a face - of un
doubted' honesty. The coachman de
clared loudly that he had never left his
horses except for about fifteen minutes,
when they dined, and, if stolen at all, it
must have been stolen then. At any rate,
all baggage with him was taken "at the
risk of the owners, and he should not
consider himself accountable for any
lost property. Nothing further could
therefore be done at present; it was
finally settled that Farmer Bond should
ride to W., the next morning, to make
inquiries, and they all returned slowly
to the farm.
Poor Bessie's chagrinlwas scarcely to
be concealed even before Harry Davis,
who came in with-Tom, and was pur
suaded to stay to supper, at which time
every circumstance of the purchasing
and packing of the luckless bonnet was
recounting afresh, and Bessie was not
surry that Harry wished them an early
good-night, as she longed to forget her
sorrow and her weariness in quiet
The next morning a number. of the
neighboring dames came in to hear
what news, and to see what finery Bes
sie had brought home with her, and all
with one voice lamented and bewailed
the lost hat. One thought the bbys
'ought to be sent out to search the roads,
and another declared if it were hers,
she would have every one of the pas
sengers ar,rested and examined before a
magistrate, not. excepting the old Qua
keress herself; while the third pro
nounced it the most wonderful and
mysterious affair she had ever heard of.
The farmer, in the mean while, had
gone over to %V., where the coach stop
ped for dinner, but had returned with
out success, and Bessie once more set
about brushing and trimming the die
carded silk, with secret assurance that
-she should never see again, its beautiful
and spotless snccessor.
Thus the (lay wore on, till the long
shadows on the grass, as the sun 'sunk
behind theliills, warned Mrs. Bond that
-the hour for supper diew near. The
table was-set out, the family assembled,
the old farmer just asketkablessing. and
was bidding Bessie cheer up. for they
1652 wocouttoza emu
would lend an advertisement to the
paper. and maybe :something Jucky
.would yet come to pass. when who
should come _trudging up to the kitchen
door but Harry Darvis, bearing in his
hand a band-box.
..:Oh I the hat ! you've found • Bes
sie dial, I know you have, - .far. you
smile," cried -Anne, springing from her
seat and running toward him. •
Why. Harry!" exclaimed high the
W hy, Harry !" was echoed by the
farmer and his wife, while Bessie has
tened to take the box from him, saying
joyfully, Where on earth did you
find it ?"
Harry came in and took the, chair
that was handed to him by the old lady
herself, and then proceeded to tell, that
while they were all wondering about it
at supper the previous evening, a sud
den thought had struck him, which be
immediately decided to act upon.—
That, as the nights were fine, he had
set off instantly, changed his horse up
on the road, and reached the city at
daybreak and repaired to Mrs. Bar
tlett's as soon as it was possible to
gain admittance, where he told, the
story of the stolen hat • without loss
of time. That the good lady was much
astonished, and. how she went up stairs
and found, to her still greater surprise,
that she had in haste.tied up the wrong
box, and that the new, bonnet was safe
in the closet ; . how he had staid to
breakfast, and then jogged home again.
and was very, glad if Miss Bessie was
pleased with what he had done.,
Every body'vsas loud in their thanks,
• except the person who ought to have
been the most obliged, but Harry seem
ed quite satisfied V with the few words
she offered him, accompanied as they
were by a smile and a blush, which
said more than words could have done.
The boys now demanded to see the
mighty affair that had occasioned all
this fuss; so the box was !opened, and
there, sure enough, was the prettiest
`straw hat in the world, with its white
ribbon outside', and its neat pink flow
ers within. Then the farmer desired
Bessie to - put it on, for it was 'the face.
he said, that set off the botinet after all,
and when she had placed it lightly over
her smooth brown hair, and looked
round with heightened color, Harry
Davis was a lost man.
but bow. I
on . the top
Supper was a merry meal that night
at Farmer Bond's, and. after it was
over, Harry had a long message for
Bessie from Cousin Bartlett, but as the
kitchen was rather warm. the whole
party adjourned to the porch, till at last
the farmer. went off to bed, for he had
been hard at work all day, and Mrs.
Bond walked away to look after her .
dairy, and Torn and Sam, two as cute
boys as ever - lived, began to think,frorn
certain signs, that they were no longer'
wanted, and so Harry soon had a clear
coast, And then came the important
question, Could she be happy with
an honest man who loved her ?" And
Bessie, blushing ten times more than
ever, thought she might, and so, to
make a long story short, the little mai•
den really promised to becothe Mrs. ,
Harry Davis. and to wear her new bon ,
net for the first time as hig bride. The
wedding and the merry making came
off in due time, and not a few of the
wise ones declared they had always )
said it wont(' be a match, and doubted
that Bessie Bond Went to New York,
on purpose to buy her wedding finery.!,'
Truth Stranger than Fiction.
A poor country girl traveled from (lee
Cross, near Manchester, to London, du
ring the troubles in the time of Charle
the First to seek a place as servant f .-H
Failing in this object of her ambition. ;
she engaged herself as, what was called
tub-woman to a brewer—that is; she card
tied out the beer from the brew house
Pleased with her healthy, handsome face,
the brewer raised her- to the position of
his servant-=then fo that of his wife--fil
nally, to that of a widow, with a hand l_
some dowry. She engaged .Mr. Hide
then celebrated as a clever lawyer, t
settle some puzzling money matters for
her, and, as his own money matters hapl
peaed to be, not only puzzling, but in
hopeless state just then, he proposed t
the rich widoW, and married her. Mr
IL became Lord Chancellor and Earl o
Clarendon. The only daughter of the
Marriage became wife °flames H, an 4
mother to the Princesieis Mary and Ann;
and so the poor tub-Woman ended her
life as Countess of Claredon, wife to the
Lord Chancellor of England, and mot
er to one, - and grandmother to two Queen:
Hope is like `
a rock in a hOt elimate .
the shadow is worth more than' tk