"Life's Voyage" has two or three good stanzas, and we were half tempted to insert it; and may do so yet, with a few corrections. "Life and Death" has some striking thoughts; but we can hardly pass it. Were it not for some confusion both of idea and im agery that mars its beauty, "My Angel Babe" would have been inserted. It has more of the genius and power of the Muse than many pieces which are rigidly squared by the rules of the poetic art. We would have liked to publish "The Man of Rhyme;" but some parts of it lack euphony. We give the first two stanzas: "Amid the carking cares of time, Amid the world's wild strife, What purpose hath his life? 'Cui bono? cries the multitude Who tug at Mammon's car, "Tis not his part to rake for gold He longeth not for pomp and power, To singe a wing or scorch a flower "The Resurrection" is altogether too grandiloquent. The closing paragraph of it reads as follows: "Heaven's gates of pearl shall swing upon their diamond hinges, while the redeemed hosts of God press in. Upward shall they fly to where living clouds of white-robed seraphim float with gossamer ease in the expanse of heaven; while myriads of mellifluous voices are trem. bling on the Eolian winds of glory. They shall traverse the groves of living emerald that skirt the margin of life's crystal stream; and upward still ascend, and play with familiar dalliance among the clustering coruscations of glory that wreathe the immaculate throne of the Eternal, and gaze with undazzled vision on the flashing scintillations of immortality that radiate from the bosom of the triune Jehovah." The author has an exuberant imagination. It needs culture, chastening. Let him see to that, if he would make a writer. "The Sabbath in the Prairie Land" has some excellent descriptive passages in it; but it is too long, and is not well sustained at the close. We should be glad to hear from the author again. "Old Letters" will hardly do. We take a few lines: "Then old letters-yes, O, spare them! They are sacred to the dead; Their tear-stained pages read." EXCERPTA FROM CORRESPONDENCE.-Note from a Contributor.-Here is a note too genial to be lost-a model in its line: "Dear Brother Clark,-Here come my 'victims' again, you perceive. They have been waiting long for that dissecting-knife of yours, and they will probably soon share a fate as destructive as a ride over the Falls of Niagara. But they will no doubt look you in the face till you look them out of countenance. My motto is one thing at a time; and when this is disposed of, I will try again. If ever published, let it be through merit, and not through mercy. With a thousand good wishes for your prosperity and the Repository." Another of the Same Character.-"Rev. Mr. Clark-Dear Sir, I take the liberty to send you a small poem, which, if you deem worthy of the Repository, is at your service, 'free gratis for nothing.' But I do not wish you to publish it to oblige me, although I am a 'regular subscriber.' The poem has been pronounced a little outre by a good poetry critic. If you, being also a 'judge of poetry,' consider it as 'commonplace,' give it to the rag-picker; but, if not, I shall be pleased to open the Repository some time in future and find myself a small contributor to its success." Struggling for Knowledge in Conflict with Poverty.—The following is an outgushing of thought and feeling from one who is struggling for an education amid the stern obstacles of poverty: "For many dark, long years of gloom have these unresting hopes and aspirations impelled me on. The way is dark. It has always been dark. It requires a heart stung to almost madness by thirst for knowledge and desire for expansion to nerve and buoy up an obscure and ungifted boy, with no means but his hands, no resource but his will, no encouragement but despair, while he measures himself with adversity, and rushes to battle with destiny. Perhaps you were never there. But I do not believe in fortune.' I believe in making destiny to suit one's self." Is there no one to help a boy who can write like that? Who will respond? Note About the Author of Sunny Side.-A literary friend of the editor-rather of the editor's wife-makes the following note of her impressions and feelings after having read the article in the June number: "I finished the sketch of Mrs. Phelps last evening, and present the editor my thanks for the pleasure it has afforded me in the perusal. I have never read of a literary woman with whom I could sympathize so fully. Nearly all highly gifted females have seemed too masculine for me; but Mrs. Phelps was a true woman. Like her, I once was fond of mere natural beauty; but for years I have loved to study character,' and all loveliness seems tame unless it expresses 'a soul.' Like her, too, I love to write for amusement and improvement, and have always had the same apprehension lest I should neglect duty for literary pleasure. I might have loved the study of languages had I been in her situation, but I think not. Her Christian experience, too, is much like my own. I often cling to the cross, and yet fear that I shall not 'be saved.' And then I can not think of death with pleasure, esteeming it a duty to live,' comforted by the assurance that my Savior will enlighten the dark 'valley of the shadow of death,' when he leads me through it." SOMETHING ABOUT CHILDREN." Thy Will be done.”— A little boy, whose infantile mind had already imbibedyes, that is the word, imbibed-some of the sublimest truths of Christianity, seeing his mother overwhelmed with anguish at the death of his father, while nestling in her lap, he threw his arms around her neck, and whispered, "Dy will be done on eart, as it is in heben!" Who can tell what an amount of maternal care and labor was compensated for in that one brief sentence! Touching Incident in a Police Court.-Not long since a small lad, about eight years of age, was brought before Judge Pruden, in the Police Court of Cincinnati. "What do you do for a living?" said the Judge. "Sell papers, sir." "What do you do with the money?" "Give it to my father, sir." This proved to be literally true. The little boy earned money enough to furnish him with food and decent clothing; but the inebriated father squandered the whole for rum. His mother is also grossly intemperate. Alas for that bright, intelligent child! Thank heaven, he has been removed where the influence of his wretched parents will press less heavily upon him! The Little Girl who Loved her Bible.-Mr. Hone, the well-known author of the "Every-Day Book," in the days of his infidelity, was traveling in Wales on foot, and being rather tired and thirsty, he stopped at the door of a cottage, where there was a little girl seated reading, and whom he asked if she would give him a little water. "O, yes, sir," she said. "If you will come in, mother will give you some milk and water." Upon which he went in, and partook of that beverage, the little girl again resuming her seat and her book. After a short stay in the cottage, he came out and accosted the child at the door: "Well, my little girl, are you getting your task?" "O, no, sir!" she replied, "I am reading the Bible." "But," said Mr. Hone, “you are getting your task out of the Bible, too." "O, no, sir! it is no task to me to read the Bible; it is a pleasure." This circumstance had such an effect upon Mr. Hone that he determined to read the Bible. And he has now become one of the foremost in upholding and defending the great truths contained in that holy book. "How Could John Go Away?"-Mrs. Sigourney, in her Sayings and Doings of Children," gives the following incident: "A boy had taken great interest in hearing incidents read from the life of the apostle John. That he had leaned on the breast of Jesus at supper, and was called the beloved disciple,' were to him themes of pleasant contemplation. To be loved by the Savior seemed to him an unspeakable privilege, a source of delightful happiness. "Being too young to read, some time elapsed ere he happened to listen to the passage, 'Then all the disciples forsook him and fled.' "What, all the disciples?" said the child. 'Did he whom Jesus loved go?" Music of Nature.-As a general thing, it may be remarked that the music of nature is sad: the cricket in the hearth, the nightingale in the grove, the owl in the wood, the wolf in the glen, the jackal in the desert, all have melancholy and plaintive voices set to melancholy melodies. Friends of What?-Wealth maketh many friends, says Solomon; but the possessor has need to distinguish between its friends and his. Below are a few gleanings from "Recollections of Maternal Influence:" Absence of Religion. The absence of religion is irreligion; and how can irreligion exert a religious influence, or fail to exert an irreligious one? If, in all a parent's plans and conversation, religion has no placeif the will of God is never referred to-if the name of Jesus is never spoken-if eternity is never mentioned or practically regarded-if there is no religious instruction, no family prayer-what is the natural effect of this upon the child? "Example strikes All human hearts: a bad example more; More still a father's." Sowing beside all Waters.-My dear friend, let us sow beside all waters. And in the morning sow thy seed, mind; and then, of all the good thy children do, thyself will be the grandmother, yea, and the ancestor of all the good which thy children's children, and the whole line of thy posterity shall do, down to the world's end. "The good begun by thee shall onward flow, In many a branching stream, and wider grow." The Elements of a Happy Home.-What are the elements of a happy home? Love, first of all, the soul of all-mutual love, conjugal, parental, filial, and fra ternal-love, confidence, and harmony. There must also be neatness and order, and a measure of taste and refinement, even in the humblest dwelling, such as Christianity, if listened to, dictates and commends. There must be industry and mutual helpfulness; judicious reading, conversation, and innocent amusement. In such a home-if piety pervade, or, at least, preside over it, without which such a home can hardly be-all virtues have their most congenial soil, all pleasures their purest "Then, bursting into a passion of tears, he said, 'O, and most unfailing earthly source. why did John go? How could John go away!' "Nor was he easily comforted for the fault of the character he had so much admired, nor able to understand how the dear Savior, who had so loved this friend and follower, could ever have been forsaken by him." STRAY GEMS.-The Excellence of Knowledge.-Wisdom is a defense, and money is a defense; but the excellence of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it. Bible. Thoughts of Heaven.-Our thoughts, when exhaled toward heaven, like the waters of the sea, will lose all their bitterness and saltness, and sweeten into an amiable humanity, till they descend in gentle showers of love and kindness upon our fellow-men. The End of Learning.—The end of learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge to love him, and to imitate him, as we may be nearest, by possessing our souls of true virtue.-Milton. Family Religion.-All the duties of religion are eminently solemn and venerable in the eyes of children; but none will so strongly prove the sincerity of the parent; none so powerfully awaken the reverence of the child; none so happily recommend the instruction which he receives, as family devotions, peculiarly those in which petitions for the children occupy a distinguished place. Hidden Causes of Good.-How often does the descending stream of influence owe its salubrity to the salt some pious hand cast into it at a point so high that it has ceased to be acknowledged or known! A PERSONAL NOTE.-The editor gratefully acknowledges the pressing personal invitations he has received to attend several conferences. It would afford him great pleasure to comply with those requests; he would like to take his brethren by the hand, and extend his personal acquaintance among them; indeed, he determined and partly promised to visit several conferences; but he finds home duties so imperious that he must enter this Levity-Levity of behavior is the bane of all that is general apology to his brethren for what might otherwise good and virtuous.-Seneca. Loquacity.-Thou mayest esteem the man of many words and many lies much alike.-Fuller. seem to be intentional neglect. |