DOMESTIC SCENERY. BY MRS. H. C. GARDNER. "Bachelor's children are proverbially well be haved." "You may laugh as much as you please, Agnes, "I terday,' Mrs. Agnes bachelor visit will confined, MET your old classmate, Henry Capron, yes- but if you will listen to a feeble account of my brother, as they sat at the breakfast table on a fine morning in early June. "Have you seen him?" "Yes; I spent last evening at his house. He has come to reside in Clinton." my saying such unamiable things. I don't think I am easily provoked. I bear trifling annoyances as well as most people, but there is a limit to human endurance." "The visit, Ned; tell me about your visit." “Well, you recollect Emma's passion for flowers. Before I left home I cut and arranged for her a bouquet of the rarest that we have, even robbing your favorite house-plants, Agnes, to com. bine the odors and tints that best suit each other. Then I took unusual pains with my toilet, for one does not like to look rusty or superannuated when "You were not at home when I came in with greeting old friends. I put on the white vest that that intention." "Well, is Emma unaltered? I thought Mr. Capron had grown young, but I only saw him from the carriage. Are the children really such cherubs as she described them? And have they a pleasant house ?" "The house is well enough, and Emma is the same as ever, a trifle more matronly and careworn than when they went to Iowa six years ago, but not noticeably changed. Capron, as you say, has grown young. He is two years older than I am." The young man leaned back in his chair and glanced sideways into a mirror that reflected his full figure. "I suppose," he said, "that we have all grown old in appearance as well as in years, since they left us on the morning of their bridal day." "All of us but you, Ned, you mean. But do tell me something about the children. The oldest is my namesake, and is no ordinary child for that reason." "As to the cherubs, I can not see them with cousin Emma's eyes. If I were to liken them to any thing living it would be to the petted cubs of a bear." "O Edward !" you gave me on my birthday last week, and was as particular in brushing my coat as if I were going to the President's levee at Washington. Emma saw me from a window as I approached the house, and, in the cousinly pleasure at again meeting me, ran down to open the door herself. Well, Agnes, the cherubs had learned from ‘papa' that a dear friend of his was coming to tea, and seeing 'mamma' start toward the door they both darted down stairs after her and managed to trip up each other's heels at Emma's feet just as she opened the door. She lost her balance and would have fallen forward upon the stone piazza had I not caught her in my arms, to the great diversion of a couple of rude girls in a house opposite, who seemed to think our greeting sufficiently cordial. We got safe into the drawing-room somehow, and the dear cherubs, who had been somewhat bruised by their exercise in the hall, sat down quietly to recover their faculties. So I made my best bow and presented my flowers. แ "Charming! charming! exclaimed Emma. "Exquisite echoed Capron. "Let me see! let me have it! let me smell it! shouted both children in chorus, reaching up their eager hands and standing on tiptoe. "No, no,' said Emma, 'let mamma put it in "I wish I had the training of them, Agnes; I the pretty vase on the mantle, where you can would mend their manners." both see it.' "No you sha'n't!' said your namesake, little Agnes, 'I want it myself. Give it me, mamma.' "She sha' n't have it,' screamed the boy; 'it's mine. Give it here.' "Be quiet, you naughty children,' said Emma; 'it's mamma's posy and you must not touch it. You can look at it as long as you like.' She placed it in a vase, but both children set up a howl that was absolutely deafening. "Pray let them have it a moment, Emma,' said Capron. "I told them they must not touch it, Harry.' "Well, we can't have such a noise,' said Capron, rising and putting the bouquet into little Agnes's hand; 'any thing is better than such an abominable din.' "I laid awake nearly all night planning a series of articles to be published in some popular periodical upon the subject of family government." "O, Edward!" "I am serious. must be had, or society." A revolution in such matters else adieu to all pleasure in CHAPTER II. "Be careful, Aggy,' said the mother anxiously; 'take care, Willie. There! you've broken that beautiful rose, you naughty girl. See, Henry, Willie has crushed that exquisite camelia. O, dear children, do give it back to me; it will be spoiled! The tears came into her eyes. “'Fie, Emma,' said Capron, 'to care so much idea had suggested itself to him. Most of his for such a trifle !' "But some of these flowers I have not seen since we left home six years ago,' she urged. "Willie!' shouted Capron, 'bring back mamma's flowers.' "The little fellow ran across the parlor without heeding him, followed by his sister, who, snatching the bouquet away, was in her turn pursued by him, and a regular frolic ensued, in which the last traces of poor Emma's flowers disappeared. Capron watched their mischievous actions with much apparent enjoyment, only saying 'cunning rogues,' when Emma at last succeeded in quieting them." "It was very annoying, certainly," said Agnes; "but children will be children. You can't expect them to reason about such things. Capron was surely as much to blame as they." "He loves them all the better for the fun that their mischief affords him. He watches their antics as he would a brace of puppies, and takes no thought about their spiritual natures. After the flowers were demolished they attacked my humble self, and forced me to beat a retreat directly from the tea-table, with the crystal of my watch broken, my white satin vest ruined, and my shirt bosom stained beyond redemption. So, Aggy, you have the secret of my ungracious language this morning." Agnes laughed in spite of herself. "I will come and see you when you have been married six years, and see what sort of government you and Delia maintain. Those mountains will look like mole-hills then; and you, Ned, will be only amused if you remember last evening's visit." "Why, you don't doubt, I hope, that wholesome discipline can be and should be observed in a family." "No, because I know some well-regulated families. But while the majority are of the ill-regulated order, I can not be sure that yours will be a model." Edward Colman was in earnest when he announced his intention of preparing a series of articles for publication upon the subject of family government. It was not the first time that the associates had assumed the responsibilities of husbands, and had accepted with joy the sacred trust committed to their charge when it pleased God to give them children. To that parental love that cheerfully bears or overlooks the countless imperfections that usually characterize the little beginners of life's unknown journey, he was, of course, a stranger; and forgetting the natural depravity of the human race and the weakness of undisciplined uman nature, he expected to behold the little unaccustomed feet pursuing, without deviation, the right way, which they had never found. He judged each little willful, uncouth, or impertinent action by his own cultivated ideas of propriety, and very rarely called on his old associates without being made indignant by the liberties allowed the young brood, or more particularly annoyed by their innocent attempts to establish a familiar acquaintance with himself. The utter insensibility to these vexations manifested by his married friends, excited first his wonder, then his contempt, and lastly his indignation. The expression of either of these emotions to his sister, who usually was his auditor when he unburdened his spirit of its load, only amused her, and instead of creating an answering sympathy, she would immediately begin to draw a picture of his own probable future experience in household discipline. "As if," said Edward to himself, after one of these discussions, "the being married was to deprive me of my common sense." His articles were written and the first series published without producing the sensation he desired. He brought Scripture authority to back his cogent reasoning; he was sure that sensible people could not help being convinced; but all his enthusiasm failed to awaken corresponding feelings in the minds of his readers. To be sure his papers were favorably reviewed by a bachelor friend, who insisted that a second Daniel had come to judgment; but the fortunate owners of the little folks contented themselves by wishing a happy experience of a parent's perplexities for the zealous author. Well, as if to give them all reasonable satisfaction, Edward Colman was married at last on his thirty-second birthday. As if further to afford a fair field for his educational powers to display themselves, it was so ordered that for eight years after his marriage only one anniversary of his wedding day-and that was the first-occurred without the presence of a beautiful little duplicate of himself or of his wife, which had only just arrived at the age when babies begin to look and act "cunning." make me blush with shame for our own wild little flock. "My first introduction to them was at tea-table, where none of them could be prevailed on by father or mother to greet me or the other guests, so absorbed were they in the contemplation of a dish of honey that stood in the center of the table. Eager eyes were fixed on it, impatient hands were extended toward it, and as soon as a blessing was asked every letter in the musical gamut-including semitones-was represented in the demand for 'honey! honey! "Before a single guest could be served each extended plate was furnished with the required The newspaper articles fell off as the babies delicacy. I think a simultaneous remembrance came on, and the cares of business and the or- of Ned's essays occurred to each of the guests. dinary bustle of life each had their effect in less- I dared not meet a neighbor's glance for fear of ening the distance between him and his less pre-laughing outright, and we all sat in solemn silence cise associates. Henry Capron had again removed from Clinton to a beautiful locality in the state of Pennsylvania, where his restless and enterprising spirit found full employment in the superintendence of a large farm. It happened that when Edward Colman had been married nearly ten years, the different benevolent societies of Clinton united in holding a grand convention to celebrate the different objects of the particular societies, and to awaken a more general interest in the cause of humanity. There were many of Edward's old classmates who came to attend the different meetings, and it so happened that business matters at the same time called Henry Capron back to his old home. Neither Edward nor Henry were slow in seeking out their former friends, and very joyous were the greetings interchanged. An invitation to Mrs. Colman's tea-table was accepted at once, and Capron was installed in his cousin's house as a permanent guest during his stay. We are indebted to this gentleman's letter to his wife for an account of the tea-party, and a description of his friend's family discipline; but as he is addicted to writing long letters we must perforce give a whole chapter to our long and instructive extract. CHAPTER I. "I can hardly believe, dear Emma," wrote Capron, "that I am sitting at your cousin Ned's desk and writing to you in the very room where the last of those immortal papers upon family government were composed. Yet to this honor has your unpretending husband attained. I have not forgotten my promise to send you a plain unvarnished description of the children, even though-in your language-their behavior should waiting our chance to be helped. "When the tea was poured out the conversation became general, and I began to feel as though we should get through quite creditably, when the baby, which was admitted to the table in its nurse's arms, was taken ill from the effects of the honey, and was obliged to be carried out. Poor Mrs. Colman, who was hemmed in on either side by a pet child, and who was in constant fear lest one of them should be scalded, had considerately placed the tea urn on the floor near her chair as soon as the guests were once served, and now nurse, in her headlong course from the table, ran against it and upset it, spilling the entire contents on the floor. "Several of the visitors were anxious to hear a celebrated orator, who was to give an address in one of the churches early in the evening, so there was no time to make tea anew; but we were all so positive that we did not need another cup that Mrs. Colman was soon consoled. I sat near her, and being Ned's cousin, in your right, Emma, she was quite easy with me. "Several of our neighbors do not admit their children to the table when they have company, and we began to manage in that way, but they were so troublesome and noisy when shut out that we soon yielded the point. In so trifling a matter it was not worth while to contend. How do you manage? "I was obliged to own, Emma, that we had no fixed rule, but that I believed you gave them a little treat by themselves in the nursery to keep them out of the way. "Is it possible? Why, such indulgence would spoil our children. We prefer always to keep them under our own observation if we can. My dear,' said she suddenly to her husband, 'do you see what Robert is doing?" "Robert, a lad of six years, held the sugar tongs in his right hand and the sugar bowl in his left, and was helping himself. "Robert!' said his father in a tone of thunder, that fairly started me from my chair, but made no impression on the boy, 'put down that basin!' last night, and you have been as cross as a bear all day in consequence. So run along without making a fuss.' "I do n't want to.' "Well, you'll go if you do n't want to. You may sit up just half an hour longer, but when the clock strikes seven you will go to bed. Do you hear? "Yes, mamma.' "Having obtained this brief respite, Clara brought out from an adjoining room a large "Robert ate away as composedly as if his wooden box full of playthings, and covering the father's voice had been a distant cannon celebra- center-table with them, sat down to make an ting Washington's birthday. apron for her doll. Occupied with the other chil"Hand me that rod from the shelf!' roared dren, some of whom had fallen asleep on the Ned. "Several children sprang to obey this order, upsetting their chairs in their cheerful alacrity and making considerable noise in their efforts to outrun each other. Of course the conversation of the guests was suspended. The young culprit slowly set the bowl in its place, and, with either cheek distended by a huge lump, resumed his seat. "He has concluded to mind. You may put the stick in its place again,' said Ned, and the children returned to the table. "We always keep a rod in sight,' said Mrs. Colman to me, 'but it is very seldom, indeed I might almost say never, that we are obliged to use it. It usually suffices to mention it. I suppose that Mrs. Capron and yourself have found the benefit of some such method.' "I tried to remember, Emma, if you had any particular way to correct the children, but could only recollect seeing you cuff Willie for looking cross-eyed, and so I told her. The visitors laughed heartily, I suppose in approval of your method. But I shall never have done if I stop to particularize. "After tea, when the rest were gone to the lecture, Ned and I sat down to have a chat about the old college times. Ah! Emma, had you been a listener, you would not have complained of the length of our reminiscences, as you do whenever I coax an old companion to our home. We had scarcely launched our bark upon the tide of memory when Mrs. Colman's appealing voice was heard above the childish din around her. She was speaking to her oldest, a girl of eight years. "No, I tell you. You'll not stay up another minute. You are going directly to bed.' "I don't want to.' "I can't help that. You are not old enough to sit up evenings. You were up till ten o'clock carpet and had to be undressed while half awake, Mrs. Colman took no further notice of Clara for an hour, when she suddenly exclaimed, 'Why, Clara Colman! what did I tell you? It's halfpast seven and you are not in bed. You don't try to mind me, you naughty girl. your toys and go directly.' "Let me finish this apron, mamma. It won't take five minutes.' "Well, hurry, then.' Put away "Another hour passed and Clara still maintained her post. Besides finishing the apron she had painted with vermilion and black every picture in Robert's new geography. Her mother's attention was attracted to her just as she finished the last one, which was a map. "I declare, Mr. Colman,' she exclaimed in a despairing tone, 'I wish you would make Clara go to bed. See what mischief she has done.' “Again were heard the father's heaviest tones, and the rod was taken from the shelf. Clara now began to move slowly toward the door, leaving all her toys on the table. At the door she lingered a moment, but a sudden fierce leap that Ned executed in that direction sent her out of the room in haste. I supposed that she was finally disposed of for the night, but I was mistaken. Imagine my amusement, Emma, when half an hour afterward I saw her in her old place by the table, busy with her mother's work-box. When I went up stairs at ten o'clock I left her asleep on the sofa. So much for a peep into a model family. "Ned,' said I, as we sat down together in the study this morning, 'had n't you better read your essays on family government? "Don't mention them, Harry, as you love me. I have learned by experience that when I attempted to enlighten other people they were full as wise as myself. It is not for want of knowledge that the young are so wretchedly trained. Every body believes in the theory of family discipline, in good rules, and all that. The difficulty is to practice set rules with cunning imps whose every wit seems seven times sharpened to set all rules at defiance.' "Yes; but it has been done. Our old friend Grant has a well-regulated family-six children, quiet and orderly in the house, obedient to the lightest wish of either parent, healthy and happy as their looks attest.' "Very true. I could bring a number of like instances. There is such a thing as sound, wholesome family government, and Solomon's rules are not wholly obsolete. But neither you nor I, Harry, have any reason to be proud of our success. I remember your young witches.' THE NAME IMMORTAL. BY REV. W. W. HIBBEN. ПHOUGH we totally discard the dogma of THO "the immaculate conception," and believe it to be overt idolatry to worship "the holy Virgin Mary," yet we can not but believe there is, after all, something indicative, even in a name, especially when that name is hallowed in love, and song, and story. We have long been incredulous in regard to the assertion, that "a rose would smell as sweet by any other name." It contradicts our ideas of flavors, and even confuses our philosophy. The day once was, perhaps, when it would have done so, but now the law of association has fixed the odor as well as the power of its name, and any change which might be made, at the present, would only result in confusing the senses of all floral amateurs. Odors, like beauty, are, for the most part, but mere matters of prejudice and taste. The whim of choice is often displayed in the decisions made, and a blurred perception is just as frequently evinced in the preferences given. A very remarkably homely man once assured us that "his "I uphold them in disobedience to Emma! good-sensed wife believed him to be the very You are surely mistaken.' "I know you did not mean it, but it really amounted to the same thing. A mother's influence is powerful; but no family can be well trained without hearty, intelligent coöperation on the part of the parents. They must act together; they must uphold each other in acts of authority, and each strive to inspire love as well as awe in the young hearts committed to their trust. And all this, I am persuaded, without the higher aim of training our children for God, will not insure success.' "You will agree with cousin Ned, I know; so with his closing remark I will close my letter." SPIRITUAL AND NATURAL USES. IT is the perfection of human life to combine spiritual with natural uses. Spiritual uses are properly of an interior kind, and consist in a man's preparing his understanding and will for God's purposes. From the spiritual states thus wrought in him during the progress of his regeneration, will spontaneously proceed outward uses, both religious and temporal, as opportunities offer. Till the mind is thus devoted to the Lord, although the uses performed may relate to the Church, they can not properly be called spiritual uses. handsomest man in the village." And though our risibles were all taken aback at the comical assurance of the tall and gangling "beauty," yet we were somewhat prepared to appreciate the one-sided partiality of the good woman, knowing that she was fondly attached to "the man of her choice," and perhaps believed with the old adage, that "pretty is as pretty does." The conviction has been upon us, even from our childhood, that names were important signs of ideas, as well as definite indications of the spirit, and genius, and power within us-true though it be that some may bear the same name, who are very dissimilar in principle, energy, and character. Indeed, the common sentiment of the world speaks to us with authority on this subject; for the capricious tastes of families, in the baptismal names given to their offspring, would type their belief in the theory, that fortune, or the goddess of destiny, favored some names more than others. One loves a high-sounding appellation-another, one full of romance, while many will string on a superabundance of them—enough, one would imagine, to be sufficient to press the poor little darlings into premature graves; while others, with a pious reverence for the noble characters of Bible story, keep up the old immortal names "Which were not born to die." |