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0, fair was the morning, and heaven brightly
smiled ; The air was perfumed with the sweet-brier wild, With the fragrance of flowers and fields newly
mown, Where the laborer turned the brown hay to the
And fresh was the breeze that swept over the hill, Where beneath the cool trees we were lingering
still, Regretting to part, and at heart saying o'er, " I shall see thee no more, I shall see thee no
Yet oft-times I seem to behold thee again,
screen, Just stirred the brown locks on thy forehead se
rene, And thy dark eyes bent on me in sorrow and love, Love that trial and time could but strengthen and
prove, While the sigh on thy lip, with the smile which it
wore, Seemed to mournfully say, “ I shall see thee no
SYMPATHY is not, as some stoical hearts would have us believe, a false unmeaning sound,-a mere word, intended to captivate the sorrowing, suffering soul, but leave it destitute of peace and consolation. Those who have realized its worth, who know how it nerves the heart to endure, and plucks from sorrow its sharpest sting, will not thus desecrate it. Those who have sighed long and vainly for the sympathy of a kindred spirit, and having finally found it, will never tell you that it is worthless. Although fair and lovely may be the beauties of nature to their souls, yet far lovelier the tear of sympathy shed over the misfortunes of another; though sweet the murmurings of the wind as it floats in gentle zephyrs through the perfumed groves of Summer, and soft the tones that fall from friendship's lips, yet still sweeter and softer the tones of sympathy that speak to the oppressed heart, and bid it know it is cared for by one who would seign relieve it of its burden. If in God's vast creation there is aught claiming our highest love, it is the radiant glow proceeding from a sympathetic soul; if in the human heart, aught we should most admire, it is sensitiveness for another's woe; that sensitiveness which will kindly bear with the waywardness of a care-worn and oppressed spirit, until it has been brought into the light of happiness and peace.
Sympathy! without it we live alone, within ourselves, cut off from all communication with kindred hearts, isolated and estranged from the world. Without it, we should, I fear, become
Though Summer returns with her sunshine and
showers; Her balm-breathing airs, and her music and Aow
ers; Though the places which knew thee are lovely
again, To joy in their beauty they call thee in vain
L. E. B.
wholly absorbed in self, indifferent to the inter- passed over the clean white threshold when sent ests and well being of our universal brotherhood. thither on an errand! I know not why, but I Such a state of mind would most certainly be was ever afraid when I entered the house. It an unhappy one, and in which no one would de. was so quiet, so very still, the voices of Mrs. sire long to remain.
Prantly and her only daughter Maria, were so Sympathy! soul-cheering comforter of life! low, their smile so solemn, and pleasant, too, With thee for a companion, we can dwell and the mutterings of the one only son,-a poor amidst the most intense rigors of adversity, idiot boy,--so strange and unearthly! I used to and still find the life within peaceful and gen- be so frightened and awe-struck, I never dared ial; we can brave the severest ills that may to speak above a whisper, and was ever glad assail us, with an unruffled brow, bow beneath to get out again, and would involuntarily draw affliction's storms, and finally lie tranquilly down a long breath, as if tired. But now I gladly visit to die, knowing that a true and loving heart the house; my childish fears are gone. Uncle watches the fast fading beams of the lamp of Phil ever bears a pleasant smile, though is life,--and when the last one shall be extinguish- more subdued than formerly. He has borne ed, will cherish our memory, and now and then much of sorrow, real sorrow, and patiently has drop upon our grass grown graves the tear of af- he struggled on without a murmur. Hardly a fection, and sigh for a re-union in the spirit Sabbath passes but this faithful couple ride world.
slowly by to the church. Five times has the Take wealth with all its allurements; honor church bell tolled for the children of their boswith all its pleasures and high sounding titles; Two died when but infants, then a sweet pomp with its gilded trappings, and power lim- little girl of five summers fell asleep; then the ited to earth's narrow boundary, but grant me poor idiot boy breathed his last, low sigh, and sympathy with kindred souls, and I am content. they swept over the cold deformed clay of one More than this, I ask not, and with it will I per- who, by his constant and utter helplessness, had forın life's journey rejoicingly.
riveted the chains of love around his darkened Hertwich Seminary, N. Y.
tenement. Now of all, none remained but the loved and loving Maria. All was lavished on her that they could procure; her few wants were
satisfied, the house was repaired and painted, SOME OF OUR NEIGHBORS.
the garden and yards beautified for her. At You asked me, I believe, Nettie, who dwelt in
length a wild cousiu of mine, to the utter astonthat neat little cottage, so completely surround
ishment of all, sell desperately in love with her. ed by pines, and laughed when I told you uncle
She was two years older than himself, and as Phil, and aunt Lottie. Well, it was a rather
different as possible. Yet he seemed to, and no different reply from what you expected, but nev
doubt he did, love her sincerely, and after a time ertheless, I suspect the past history of its in- they formed an engagement, which was looked mates, that I promised to give this evening, will upon with pleasure by the parties. But after a prove full as interesting as that of the newly time Maria, whose health was always delicate, married pair you supposed to be so snugly en
began to droop, and day by day her step grew sconced within its pretty walls.
more and more feeble, and her cheek more pale. Uncle Phil Prantly and his quiet help-mate, Vainly were all the usual remedies tried; she have dwelt in that same pleasant hone these
seemed to be fast sinking away; suddenly it twenty years and more; and the garden has seemed as if nature herself once more aroused, looked just as pretty ever since my earliest rec
without the aid of physician's skill, and she apollection, though the house has changed from its peared better. Accordingly they once more reformer “sombre brown” to its present white. I
sumed the preparations for her approaching mar. well remember when I first wended my way to
riage. The wedding dress was procured, and it the old red school-house, led by the careful hand was decided that if her health continued to of soine mother-waroed lassie, older in mischief amend, the nuptial vows should be taken the than myself, how I used to stand on tiptoe to ensuing Spring. reach the nice bunches of flowers handed over But alas! death with hardly a moment's the garden fence by kind uncle Phil, or his mod- warning, laid the young girl low. Oh! how est daughter. And then the awe with which I sudden seemed the blow. During the day before VOL. XX.
her death, she had seemed more unwell, and had
been obliged to take some slight medicine; in yet she is ever present at the communion table the night time she was taken worse, and at noon blessing God for a hope beyond the grave. Truly the next day the sunlight fell full and warm on " whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." the cold face of the last child. It was Sabbath when she died, and well do I remember the sad,
Bernardston, Mass. sad day, the quivering lip and bowed head of uncle Phil, and the agonized face of poor aunt Lottie. Cousin Henry was in Boston at the time, and a letter was immediately despatched to an
PRATER, nounce the solemn tidings of his loved one's death. The funeral was appointed on Wednes
Night playeth with the zephyrs, and the moon
Rests her white jeweled band upon the earth ; day, and anxiously did they watch for the arriv
The wakeful streamlet sings its sweetest tune, al of Henry. Time passed on, and yet he came
While in the soul the holiest thoughts have birth. not. At length they silently and mournfully gathered at the house of prayer. The service This is the season of refreshing Prayer, over, they bore her to the tomb, and when re- A flower of grace upon salvation's standturning thence they met Henry weary and worn A silent scene of glorious mystery where by his rapid journey, faint and filled with woe. The grave's dark fold reveals its golden band ; It was a sad, a.tearful sight to witness that mecting, words cannot describe it. Henry now
The low sweet whispers of the spirit cheer took the place of son in the hearts and home of
Each lonely thought of its desponding gloom, uncle Phil and aunt Lottie, and when up from
And Hope, with radiant eye devoid of fear, the city a larger share of his time was spent with
Points to a brighter world beyond the tomb. them than at his own home ; for although an o'for a soul of beauty thus to sing only son, he had sisters to cheer his father's
A song of silence, like the stars above, loneliness, and the Prantleys seemed to need his And daily borne on Faith's ascending wing, presence most. Thus two years past away,
Drink from the fountain of Eternal Love. when Henry came home on account of his health. He had been very sick, and country air
Dighton, Mass. was declared to be his only hope of cure.
But the exertion of coming from the city home, made him worse, and a ride over to uncle Phil's so fatigued him, that he was obliged to remain
SOME THOUGOTS ON WINE. there, and summons a physician. The same bed was brought down from the chamber that Maria The queer notions which some people form had died on, and placed on the same spot where concerning life preservers, may be well illustrait stood so short a time before, and after a short ted by the following extract which we cut from but very severe illness of about a week, he breath- an article on “ Club Life” in “Chambers' Edin. ed his last.
burgh Journal”: “Just two years ago," murmured uncle Phil “ Clubs, again, have helped to abolish the with forced calmness, as he glanced from the
once fashionable vice of drunkenness. Formerdead to the dial; and we saw that just two years
ly, one drunked made many, because, for the sake before, on the same day and hour, their sweet of conviviality, all were compelled to drink alike. girl had died. So the lovers had met again. Now, the individual is independent of his neighNow go with me to the burial ground, and I will bors in this respect, and so thoroughly has the show you where “ side by side the lovers are
scale been turned in favor of sobriety, that no sleeping." But not like Evangeline and Gabriel intemperate man is allowed to remain a memin “ lonely graves," for close by their side three ber of a club. A careful examination of the stasmaller mounds rise where the children all sleep
tistics of several of these establishments brings together, and flowers bloom upon them all. out the fact, that the average quantity of wine
And now uncle Phil, though paler and sadder, drunk by each member, has not exceeded of late goes about with the same pleasant smile that years half a pint per day. The moral bearing made me love him when a child; and aunt Lot- of the upper classes has been vastly amended by tie, though her health has failed, and the tear this improvement, not to mention health. It is ever starts as she mentions Henry and Maria,
said of one of the old school-an early member
HARRIET E. GARDNER.
of the Union'—that he regarded with envy the gentlemen who pay their money, sir, have a daily half-pint, and no more, which was served right to be served with whatever they may please to a certain witty and temperate author. One to order, sir-especially the young gentlemen day he took up the small decanter and exclaim- from Cambridge, sir. I'll tell you how it was, ed with a sigh, 'Ah! I wish I could make up sir. I never would have any wines in my house, my mind to stick to your infallible life-preserv- sir, but port and sherry, because I knew them to
be wholesome wines, sir; and this I will say, Many a poor exposed soul has found himself | sir, my port and sherry were the--very-best I sinking trusting to his half-a-pint a day, for this could procure in all Englandis a case where the less spirit a man has, the “ How! the best ?" more buoyant and safe he will be.
“Yes, sir-at the price I paid for them. But
to explain the thing at once, sir. You must A Letter writer in Paris speaks as follows of know, sir, that I hadn't been long in business
when I discovered that gentlemen knew very the falsification of Wines :
little about wine; but that if they didn't find “A business which begins with the wine.
some fault or other, they would appear to know grower and ceases only with the last sale, where
much less-always excepting the young gentleever that may take place. It is understood that three hogsheads of wine are made out of every judges!" [And here again Burley's little eyes
men from Cambridge, cir; and they are excellent one imported into this capital, by the addition of
twinkled a humorous commentary on the conalcohol, water, and coloring matter. This, ob
cluding words of his sentence.] “Well, sir; serve the journals, is poison for the lower class.
with respect to my dinner wines I was always es; and when they get admission into the hospitals, they are dosed even there with a pesti- dinner; so whether it might happen to be Ma
tolerably safe ; gentlemen seldom find fault at lent mixture.” Sick and well, people are really dosing them
deira, or pale sherry, or brown, orselves with wines when they imagine they are
Why, just now you told me you had but two
sorts of wine in drinking something akin to the nectar of the
cellar!" gods. The best judges of wine have been com
“Very true, sir; port and sherry. But this pletely deceived, and the stuff that is frequently -From one bottle of sherry take two glasses of
was my plan, sir. Il’any one ordered Madeira : sold as wine, even for the sick, is a mixture too bad to go into any human stomach.
wine, which replace by two glasses of brandy, and add therero a slight squeeze of lemon; and
this I found to give general satisfaction-espeAn English author, in one of his chapters, cially to the young gentlemen from Cambridge, treats of some of the tricks at wine making, un- sir. But, upon the word of an honest man, I der the title of Secrets in all Trades. The au- could scarcely get a living profit by my Madeira, thor, meeting a stranger in a country church- sir, for I always used the best brandy. As to yard, recognizes Burley, the late landlord of an the pale and brown sherry, sir,-a couple of inn he used to frequent near Cambridge, but glasses of nice pure water, in place of the same
appears, retired to enjoy the fruits of his quantity of wine, made what I used to call my industry. Falling into a confidential discourse delicate pule (by the by, a squeeze of lemon addabout the way in which this worthy conducted ed to that made a very fair Bucellas, sir-a wine his business, the author receives from him a most not much called for now, sir); and for my old luminous and satisfactory account of his wines. brown sherry, a leelle burnt sugar was the thing.
" " You can't deny it, Burley : your wines It looked very much like sherry that had been of all kinds, were detestable-port, Madeira,
twice to the East Indies, sir; and, indeed, to my claret, champagne-"
customers who were very particular about their “There now, sir! to prove how much gentle. wines, I used to serve it as such.” men may be mistaken, I assure you, sir, as I'm But, Mr. Burley, wasn't such a proceeding an honest man, I never had but two sorts of of such a character rather - ?" wine in my cellar-port and sherry.”
"I guess what you would say, sir; but I knew “How! when I myself have tried your claret, it to be a wholesome wine at bottom, sir. But your
my port was the wine which gave me the most “ Yes, sir-my claret, sir. One is obliged to trouble. Gentlemen seldom agree about port, give gentlemen every thing they ask for, sir: sir. One gentleman would say, ‘Burley, I don't
like this wine-it is too heavy! 'Is it, sir? I nished in the most gorgeous style, and patronthink I can find you a lighter.' Out went a ized most exclusively by women of wealth and glass of wine, and in went a glass of water. fashion, who go there first for ice creams, &c., • Well, sir,' I'd say, how do you approve of then for claret, champagne, brandy, mint juleps, that?' 'Why-um-no; I can't say- ''I sherry coblers, and brandy slings. This is no understand, sir, you like an older wine-softer ; | fancy sketch ; there are at this moment scores I think I can please you, sir.' Pump again, sir. of women of the first rank in society, who have Now, sir,' says I, (wiping the decanter with a become inveterate tipplers at these places.” napkin, and triumphantly holding it up to the On reading this paragraph to a lady, she relight) try this, if you please.' • That's it, Bur
marked, that she stepped into a Ladies' Saloon ley—that's the very wine; bring another bottle on Washington Street, Boston, and while there, of the same.' But one can't please every body a lady came in, took her seat at a table, and askthe same way, sir. Some gentlemen would ed for her glass of —-strong drink, as coolly as complain of my port as being poor-without an old customer at the bar! In our own citybody. In went one glass of brandy. If that Providence- last New Year's Day, wine was didn't answer, 'Ay, gentlemen,' says I, “I know furnished to callers, and some of the gentlemen what will please you-you like a fuller bodied, made three or four visits to the same place, berougher wine.' Out went two glasses of wine, ing too boozy to remember where they had caland in went two or three glasses of brandy. This led. Ladies retired early as an excuse for not used to be a very favorite wine-but only with receiving any more callers. Beautiful poetry of the young gentlemen from Cambridge, sir.” wine, so classical! so applauded as the soul of “And your claret ?"
wit, refinement, and good feeling! My good wholesome port again, sir. Three
“Ah, shy deceiver ; branded o’er and o'er, wines out, three waters in, one pinch of tartaric
Yet still believed ! exulting o’er the wreck acid, two ditto orris-powder. For a fuller claret,
of sober yows." a little brandy; for a lighter claret, more water."
“But how did you contrive about Burgundy ?" “ That was my claret, sir, with from three to
THE WELCOME. six drops of bergamot, according as gentlemen liked a full flavor or a delicate favor. As for
I Am coming ! yes, I'm coming ! champagne, sir, that of course I made myself." Let kind thoughts my welcome be !
How do you mean of course,' Burley ?" Thoughts of golden days of loving
Oh, sir," said he, with an innocent yet wag. When my heart was won by thee. gish look; “surely every body makes his own champagne--else what can become of all the
Thoughts of Earth and thoughts of Heaven gooseberries ?" !
Rainbow all my path to-day ;
Meet me in that heaven-ward way.
THOUGHTS OF THE DEPARTED. with a continued thumping, and on entering, saw six men stamping violently in a vat of six
He has gone to his rest! Your journal announfeet square, three on each side of a huge lever
ces his departure, far from his native scenes, beam. On our entrance, they redoubled their
upon our modern Eldorado's distant shores. Disexertions, till the perspiration fairly poured from tinctly do I remember bis manly bearing and them."
intelligent countenance, as my eyes first rested upon him, a stranger in our village church. His
stay in our midst was brief, yet he won all A PRACTICAL remembrance of some of these hearts by his courteousness and cheerfulness. things seems to be needed according to the fol- Young, gay and talented, with a mind thoroughlowing paragraph from a secular paper:
ly cultivated by study and observation, he seem“A respectable New York paper asserts that ed fitted to adorn the circles in which he moved, there are certain secret places in that city, fur- We met with him at the evening party, where