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the sake of her family and kind she may not ignore, if her physical and intellectual well-being is a matter of vital importance to her family—no / Our enemies themselves being judges, American mothers are the most devoted in the world. Our friends—and ourselves—reluctantly agree that it is not altogether the fault of the climate that our women break down prematurely in looks and strength. It Seems ungracious to call that devotion short-sighted that gave baby a doting thrall for the first years of his existence, and entail upon the man the burden of an infirm woman who outlived her usefulness just When the lad most needed the counsel and incentive no hireling can give. . . . As matters now stand, our nursery-maids are drawn from a class whose alternations of hurtful indulgence and brutal severity in the government of their own offspring are only surpassed by their ignorance of hygienic principles. Let your initial effort with such be to create in her a conscience. It is very unlikely that lectures on nursery dietetics, ventilation, infusoria and fixed hours will leaven the Soggy dough of her mind. Therefore impress yourself, ingeniously and with might. Possess her with the idea that you are the ruling spirit of the establishment, and that your will is absolute in the nursery. Issue clear and distinct directions, then see, not ask, if they are obeyed. It is practicable to do this without incurring the odium of spying. The mother's is the right to visit the nursery at all hours, to take the child in her arms whenever the mood seizes her; now and then to bathe and dress him herself or to prepare his food; to inspect drawers and closets when she will, even during “the competent’s” reign.

THE WOOD GIANT.

ROM Alton Bay to Sandwich Dome, From Mad to Saco river, For patriarchs of the primal wood We sought with vain endeavor.

And then we said: “The giants old
Are lost beyond retrieval,

This pigmy growth the axe has spared
Is not the wood primeval.

“Look where we will o'er vale and hill
How idle are our searches,

For broad-girthed maples, wide-limbed oaks,
Centennial pines and birches |

“Their tortured limbs the axe and saw Have changed to beams and trestles;

They rest in walls, they float on seas, They rot in sunken vessels.

“This shorn and wasted mountain land Of underbrush and boulder—

Who thinks to see its full grown tree Must live a century older.”

At last to us a woodland path, To open Sunset leading,

Revealed the Anakim of pines Our wildest wish exceeding.

Alone, the level sun before, Below, the lake's green islands,

Beyond, in misty distance dim, The rugged Northern Highlands.

Dark Titan on his Sunset Hill
Of time and change defiant

How dwarfed the common woodland seemed,
Before the old-time giant.

What marvel that in simpler days
Of the worlds’ early childhood,

Men crowned with garlands, gifts and praise,
Such monarchs of the wild-wood?

That Tyrian maids with flower and song
Danced through the hill-grove’s spaces,

And hoary-bearded Druids found
In woods their holy places?

With somewhat of that Pagan awe With Christian reverence blending,

We saw our pine-tree's mighty arms About our heads extending.

We heard his needles' mystic rune,
Now rising, and now dying,

As erst Dodona’s priestess heard
The oak leaves prophesying.

Was it the half-unconscious moan Of one apart and mateless,

The weariness of unshared power, The loneliness of greatness?

O dawns and sunsets, lend to him
Your beauty and your wonder,

Blithe sparrow, sing thy Summer song
His solemn shadow under |

Play lightly on his slender keys,
O wind of Summer, waking

For hills like these, the sound of seas
On far-off beaches breaking !

And let the eagle and the crow
Rest on his still green branches,

When winds shake down his Winter Snow
In silver avalanches.

The brave are braver for their cheer, The strongest need assurance,

The sigh of longing makes not less The lesson of endurance.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER,

Sturtevant's Hill, N. II.

THE UNFRUITFUL TREE,

HERE stood in a beautiful garden A tall and stately tree;

Crowned with its shining leafage,

It was wondrous fair to see
But the tree was always fruitless;

Never a blossom grew
On its long and beautiful branches

The whole bright season through.

The lord of the garden saw it,
And he said, when the leaves Were Sere:
“Cut down this tree so worthless,
And plant another here.
My garden is not for beauty
Alone, but for fruit as well,
And no barren tree must cumber
The place in which I dwell.”

The gardener heard in Sorrow,
For he loved the barren tree
As we love some things about us
That are only fair to see.
“Leave it one season longer—
Only one more, I pray,”
He pleaded: but the master
Was firm, and answered, “Nay,”

Then the gardener dug about it,
And cut the roots apart,
And the fear of the fate before it
Struck home to the poor tree's heart.
Faithful and true to his master,
Yet loving the tree so well,
The gardener toiled in sorrow
Till the stormy evening fell.

“To-morrow, “he said, “I will finish
The task that I have begun.”
But the morrow was wild with tempest.
And the work remained undone.
And through all the long, bleak winter
There stood the desolate tree,
With the cold, white snow about it,
A Sorrowful thing to see.

At last, the Sweet spring weather
Made glad the hearts of men,
And the trees in the lord’s fair garden
Put forth their leaves again.
“I will finish my task to-morrow,”
The busy gardener said,
And thought, with a thrill of sorrow,
That the beautiful tree was dead.

The lord came into his garden
At an early hour, next day,
And then to the task unfinished
The gardener led the way.
And lo, all white with blossoms,
Fairer than ever to see,
In its promise of coming fruitage
There stood the beautiful tree's

“It is well,” said the lord of the garden.
And he and the gardener knew
That out of its loss and trial
Its promise of fruitfulness grew.
It is so with some lives that cumber
For a time the Lord's domain;
Out of trial and mighty sorrow
There cometh a countless gain,
And fruit for the Master's pleasure
Is born of loss snd pain.

EBEN E. REXFORD.

He who with good gifts most is blest,
“Or stands for God above the rest,
Let him so think,+“To serve the dear,

The lowlier children, I am here.”

JEAN INGELOW.

THE LIBRARY,

HISTORY OF THE PEOPLE of THE UNITED STATEs. By John Bach McMaster. Vol. II. New York: D. Appleton & Co. E believe very few will find any tedious or uninteresting page in this History of the People of the United States, from the Revolution to the Civil War, by Professor McMaster. He gives us a continuous panorama of the hundred years during which our new Republic was in its formative stage, and paints the portraits of many leading citizens who were the representative men of their age. He gives us a Series of views of the lives lived by the people, of the coarse laws now refined away, by which they were governed, of the resolute struggle between the aristocratic and the democratic elements, of the Sentiments expressed by leading men in regard to the signs of the times, of the persistent abuse of the benefactors and devoted servants of the people; and interweaves with all this the general history of the progress of events. The sources of this collection of rather irregular history were the newspapers and pamphlets, and the books of travels of the times, and the Journals of Congress, and other archives of the Federal Government. Those who read this work will be discouraged from evermore affirming that the former days were better than these. Many will be grieved with the severe strictures on statesmen and patriots, long venerated by the American people, and must regret the revival of old slanders of these great men which were long ago discredited and almost forgotten.

Town GEOLOGY : THE LESSON OF THE PHILADELPHIA Rocks. By Angelo Heilprin, [Professor in the Academy of Natural Sciences.]

Professor Heilprin here presents us with a modest volume giving a record of the knowledge gained by him along the highways and among the byways of our city. The writer is widely known among us as a competent lecturer on Invertebrate Paleontology, and an accomplished teacher. We are glad he has published these studies, believing they are admirably calculated to stimulate scientific observation and to direct it to practical ends. Indeed, we venture to say, that taking this convenient manual as a guide an intelligent student in Philadelphia may study practical paleontology effectively close by home, and read the manuscript of God as written upon fragmentary rock conveniently accessible to our highways and by ways.

In the words of the author, we can acknowledge that there is a wonderful history revealed to us by the gravels, clays and cobble stones of Philadelphia, a history which cannot fail to sharpen the edge of the most dormant intellect: “The traveler to the city who sees the gravels swiftly fleeting before the windows of his railway carriage ; who laments the singularly unpretentious appearance of the outlying brick clays; and who ruthlessly treads the much, and justly, dispised cobble stones of our thoroughfares, little thinks what history these common-place objects unfold. They stand as monuments of a history far more wonderful than any written in book, and will continue to so stand probably long after man will himself have disappeared from the earth.”

FRIENDs’ CALENDAR.

A neat card, after the fashion of the many pretty calendars which have given us savery-clippings from poets or sages for every day in the year, comes to us for notice. We have here a leaflet for every day in the year and each leaflet has a sentiment from the wise and pious men and women to whom we owe the literature of Quakerism. We fear, at first, that we shall find only an iteration and reiteration of a few stock phrases. But instead, we find not cant, but grave, sincere, broad sentiment, on a vast number of subjects; and to every one of these selections we give a cordial welcome, as well worthy of being accorded a place in this Quaker Anthology.

By all means let us find a snug corner at the fireside for the Friends' Calendar for 1886, to the end that many a choice aphorism may pass in review before us, and find place in the minds of the rising generation as well as in the generation now hastening to rest.

SUNDAY READING FOR THE YOUNG. Erom E. and J. B. Young & Co., of New York, comes this quarto picture and story book, with 250 illustrations. It is attractive reading of a moral or instructive character and would be good enough to read on any day in the week. But if we had made it we would have left out the warlike pictures as calculated to stimulate a love for military display too much for the young mind. We commend the last story in the book, “Ezra Collins.” S. R.

SWAR.THMORE. PRESIDENT Magill lectured in Wilmington, Del., on the 23d inst., and in Baltimore on the 28th, on “The Advantages of a Collegiate Education.”

There has been an encouraging response to the invitation to aid the fund for the construction and equipment of the Observatory, and about $500 more will complete the amount asked for. It is very much desired to obtain this soon.

Special lectures, by persons outside of the College faculty, will form an important feature of the present year's work. This week, on Third-day evening, William Blaikie, of New York City, delivered a lecture on “Sound Bodies for All.” This evening, Aaron M. Powell, of New York, is to deliver his lecture on “Wendell Phillips.” Prof. R. E. Thompson, one of the Faculty of the University of Pennsylvania, will probably deliver two lectures during the winter, on topics in Political Economy.

THE SWAR.THMORE CIRCLE.

THE organization of a company for reading and literary study, at West Chester, under the name of “The Swarthmore Circle,” and with the design of encouraging the formation of similar companies in other

places, has devoloped a very active interest, especially amongst young Friends. The first meeting is appointed for the present week, to be held on the 30th inst., at the home of Anna B. White. By the advice of Professor Appleton, of Swarthmore, it has been decided to take up Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” to read books I. and II. There are two editions of the work, suitable for readers, one having notes by Homer B. Sprague, (Boston: Ginn & Co.), and the other with notes by E. F. Willoughby, (New York: Clark & Maynard.) It is proposed to read 200 lines a week, and as the two books contain about 1800 lines, this will Consume between two and three months, after which Some other suitable work will be taken up.

The design is to make it emphatically a Society of Mutual Help. Friends and their friends are invited to join. At least fifty will probably be in the company from the outset. During the winter it is expected that Prof. Appleton will deliver three lectures before the Circle.

NEW ENGLAND FLOWERS.

EVowo along this part of the road the

golden-rod was in bravest array, and indeed the land was strongly yellow, what with some late dandelions, the hawk-weed in the hedges, the primroses, and on all sides the golden-rod and the triumphant sun-flower. There were only the usual variations, the break in the fields, the change from tall sheaves of corn now bound together, and showing places for the activity of little mice, to level pasture; from closely verdant banks to straggling fences, where, happily, however, the clematis gave a touch of grace and sweetness. “Traveler's-joy,” I have heard it called, and the name seemed appropriate when the delicate tufts greeted our eyes in some otherwise monotonous line of fence or pathway; and it was on this road, just before entering the woodland, that we met thick clusters of the evening primrose, and remembered that it was long ago sent to England from America. How well worth half an hour it is to watch this flower when it is beginning to open to its evening life The divisions of the calyx gradually unfold, the flower shows tenderly, and sometimes the final laying back of the petals is accompanied by a little Soft, vibrating sound—the laugh of welcome as the blossom gayly looks you in the face. The clover was very thick and very rich in color all along here, which is not always the case in the New England September, and we looked to see if it belied its name of “husbandman's barometer.” If rain were coming, we knew there would be a drawing together of the leaflets; but every “leaf of three” we saw lay open, happily, and, moreover, there were no signs of rain in the pipe of the robin which greeted us. There was plenty of loosestrife along this bank, and some impatience and wild parsley, fairly luxuriating with its delicate green and white flowers almost in the roadway, and there were some vines of briony, carefully following out their law, and twined from left to right, as instinctively doing Nature's bidding as the poppy in the corn field, which hangs its head when the rain or damp may chill it, and springs up again to greet the needed

warmth of the sun. But of all the blooming spots before we plunged into the woods again, the most perfect was where a tiny brook flowed to the right, and into which we forded, that our horse might be refreshed. At the first glance it seemed almost as though some one—long ago, perhaps—had made a garden there, for on either side, in warm reds and yellows and intensest purple, the wild flowers grew together. The cardinal was especially fine, and speedwell, chicory, thoroughwort, clover, and primroses were assembled—a bold and happy little band, narcissus-like reflecting their glories in the stream.—LUCY C. LILLIE, in Harper's Magazine.

From The Philadelphia Ledger.
HOW TO A CCUMULATE.

HERE are two kinds of accumulation, very different in their nature and results. The one consists of storing up, laying away and adding to things, which, whether alike or different, bear no vital relation to each other; the other consists in such a use of them as shall reveal their true meaning, and accumulate their value rather than themselves by constantly moving them into changing and improving forms. We See these two processes in continual operation, marking out a broad distinction of character and an equally

broad divergence of results. One man, for example, is bent on accumulating money. He works hard and perseveringly, and gradually reaps the success he craves. His hundreds come to be thousands, and his thousands are carefully laid away in Safe repositories. His chief joy is in adding to them, and whatever he is compelled to take away for any purpose costs him a pang. His dollars lie side by side, in increasing numbers, but they have no mutual relation to each other—they serve no common purpose; they never lose their own identity in anything higher or nobler than themselves. When he dies, they will fall apart and be scattered like grains of Sand, when the bowl that held them is broken. Another man accumulates money in a different way. He regards it as a means, not an end, as an instrument. Wherewith to build up many things, especially happiness. He puts it into a bright and happy home, into the education of his children and the enlightenment of the community, into health and welfare, intelligence and moral advancement, in whatever of their conditions appears to him as the most important. Thus his money is continually being worked over into higher forms than itself; it no longer simply exists as dead matter, but is transformed into a Vital force, penetrating and uplifting the lives of men and Women. The difference is like that between two men who shall accumulate large quantities of building material—bricks, wood and iron—one of whom should simply store them in vast repositories all through his life, while the other builds them into noble structures and comfortable dwellings, which in their turn will develop fuller and happier human life. Money, however, is not the only thing that can be accumulated in these different ways. Two students sit side by side in the class-room day by day. Both are gaining knowledge, but in the mind of one it lies

inert and lifeless. Lesson after lesson is, perhaps, stored in his memory, but he discovers no relation between them, still less any relation that they may bring to his present or future life. Bye and bye, when instruction ceases to flow from the lips of his teacher, his knowledge will also cease to grow, for it has no vitality in itself. The other seizes what is of fered, not only for what it is, but for what it will lead to. Fresh difficulties incite his enthusiasm and strengthen his powers. Each new study prepares him for the next; all that he learns is brought into working operation, and made to fulfil purposes beyond itself; his whole life is being quickened and his powers strengthened, and, although much of what he learns may be forgotten, it is not lost, but only passed into more useful and living forms. So in all the easperiences we pass through. To some they are like beads upon a string, and when the thread of life is cut, they simply roll away out of sight and out of mind. A new business here, a new friendship there; here a lucky accident, there a disastrous failure; here a birth and rejoicing, there a death and mourning ; and as the mind recalls them it finds no special meaning to them, and no connection between them, except that of time or place. Another person comes out of each one fuller, stronger, wiser than before. A serious illness has led him to study the laws of his physical nature, and taught him how to secure health for himself, his family, and those whom he may influence. A disaster in business is sifted to the bottom, and new light is thrown on future plans. A peril threatens or overtakes him, and he emerges from it a braver and stronger man. His friend betrays or forsakes him, and his pain teaches him a stancher loyalty to those who trust him. Or a great happiness comes to him, and he hastens to share it

with others, or learns through it how he may bless

others. He is accumulating experience, not simply to count it over and recall its pleasure or its pain, but to develop out of it all, power and virtue and wisdom, by which his own life and the lives of all who approach him may be improved. People often boast of their long and varied experience, and claim, on account of it, the deference and acquiescence of all who are younger. The test of any such claim must be not what they have been through, but what they have developed from it. Has the result been a fuller, nobler, richer life? is the mind clearer and stronger ? is the character firm and established ? is the heart pure, true and sympathizing 2 If so, they have accumulated experience in the right way, and are worthy of all respect. But the mere passing through different phases of life, however exciting or numerous they may be—the mere suffering or enjoyment caused by various events, however intense they may be—does not constitute such a claim. All accumulation, then, whether of money or knowledge or experience, may thus be tested. If it is simply saved, hoarded and counted for itself, it is of little worth; but if it continually develops into Something higher and nobler, if it be willing to lose itself if need be in what it is able to bring forth, if it be the Source of power, character, happiness and life, it is honorable and valuable.

From the Atlantic Monthly. INDUSTRIAL TRAINING FOR THE COLORED PEOPLE.

WO significant facts appear to me to offer suggestions worth consideration on this subject:— The first is the universal increasing demand in every southern state for skilled labor. Machinists are wanted, carpenters, joiners, shoemakers, weavers,

plumbers, mill-hands,-every kind of craftsmen, in

short, who can efficiently aid in the countless new industries which are struggling into existence in the South. So great and pressing is the need for them that most strenuous efforts are being made to induce European emigrants to come to this new-old field, instead of to the Northern ports, to enter by New Orleans, and remain a few months before going West, if West they will go. The second fact was the negro exhibit at the New Orleans exhibition. It was significant and pathetic, because it showed what the free colored men wished to do, but never had been taught to do. Their schools and colleges made creditable displays of their intellectual progress. But the work of their hands was almost invariably the work of willing but untrained hands. There were attempts at every kind of handicraft, from shoes and rolling-pins to a steamengine cleverly made by a negro, who assuredly did not understand mechanics, as he could neither read nor write. Shoes, machines, tubs, even pictures, were, as a rule, proudly labeled as the work of a man or woman who never had been taught to make them. The whole exhibit was pitable as a display of wasted cleverness. In suggestive contrast was the work from the Hampton Industrial School, and some really admirable specimens of Saddlery and engraved glass made by colored men in Philadelphia who had “learned how.” General S. C. Armstrong, who has had seventeen years of experience in teaching the Industrial School for negroes at Hampton writes, “There is now a large class of negro mechanics in the South, carpenters, blacksmiths, and bricklayers. The proof of the capacity of the negro for skilled labor is, I think, ample. I fully believe in it. The great difficulty is their lack of opportunity to learn. They have less chance to learn now than in the days of slavery, which, in a crude way, was a greatindustrial School. I have seen so much evidence here of the negro's desire to learn trades, and have had such satisfactory experience of the race as mechanics, that I consider its success a question of opportunity only.” There are several colleges and universities in the South for the freedmen which profess to rank with those for the whites, but I know of no other industrial school than that at Hampton. No practical visitor to the South can help questioning whether the great mass of negroes and mulattos do not, in this crisis of their history, need training in handicrafts rather than in Latin and metaphysics; and whether, too, granting that the negro and mulatto have the mechanical ability to receive this training, it will not be more to the interest of the Southern white man to keep the new industries,

now opening with such splendid promise, under his own control, with his familiar freed workmen, than to surrender them to foreign capitalists and foreign laborers?

REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.

A MOCKING BIRD STUDY. THE mocking-bird's emotions were so intense and SO originally displayed that he was a constant source of interest. A hand-glass lying face up gave opportunity for an amusing exhibition one day. Leaning over it, he puffed out every feather, opened his mouth, and tried the glass with his beak at every point. Meeting no satisfaction, he turned to leave it, but first peeped slyly over the edge to see if the stranger were still there, no doubt unable to get over his surprise at seeing a bird in that position and ready to meet his bill at every point. The same glass standing up brought out a different demonstration. He stood in front of it and swelled himself out, while the feathers of the shoulders and breast were erected. Then he opened his mouth wide and attacked the reflection, but was astonished to meet the glass. He touched the bill of his double with his own, and moved all the way to the bottom of the glass, not taking it away, but apparently trying to seize the one which opposed his. He lowered his head as though to take hold of the enemy’s foot, then pulled himself up as straight as a soldier, wings and tail constantly jerking with excitement. After indulging for some time in these proceedings, he dodged around behind the glass, plainly expecting to pounce upon his opponent, and Surprised not to do so. Several times he drew himself up, swelled out his breast, and blustered before the glass. Once he flew up with the reflection in the manner of a quarrelsome cock, and upon reaching the top of the glass naturally went over and landed behind, without an enemy in sight. Upon this he stared a moment, as if dazed, then shook himself out, and flew away in evident disgust. The deliberate, leisurely dressing of plumage with which many birds pass away the dull hours is an occupation in which the mocking-bird never had time to indulge. He was a bird of affairs; he had too much on his mind for loitering. A few sudden, thorough shakes, a rapid Snatching of the wing and tail feathers through the beak, or, after a bath, a violent beating the air with both wings while holding tightly to the perch with his feet, sufficed for his toilet. Notwithstanding his apparent carelessness, his plumage was soft and exquisite in texture, and when wet the downy breast feathers matted together and hung in locks, like hair. Through a common magnifyingglass each tiny barbule was seen to be ringed with gray and silvery white, so finely that the rings could hardly be seen. OLIVE THORNE MILLER in Atlantic Monthly.

The Quaker element that has been diffused among us has done much for Society, and had an ennobling and purifying influence on the American people.— H. W. Longfellow.

God helps him who helps himself.

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