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A WIFE'S DREAM. Back again, darling ? Oh day of delight! How I have long'd for you, morning and

night! Watch'd for you, pined for you, all the day

through, Craving no boon and no blessing but you,-Pray'd for you, pled for you, sought you in

vain, Striving for ever to find you again,Counting all anguish as nought, if I might Clasp you again as I clasp you to-night!

Oh, I have sorrow'd and suffer'd so much Since I last answer'd your lips' loving touch, Through the night-watches, in daylight's

broad beams, Anguish'd by visions and tortured by

dreams,Dreams so replete with bewildering pain, Still it is throbbing in heart and in brain : Oh, for I dream'd-keep me close to your side, Darling, oh darling! -I dream'd you had

died ! Dream'd that I stood by your pillow and

heard From your pale lips love's last half-utter'd

word ; And by the light of the May-morning skies Watch'd your face whiten, and saw your dear

eyes Gazing far into the Wonderful Land, Felt your fond fingers grow cold in my

hand;“ Darling," you whisper'd,“ my darling !"

you said, Faintly, so faintly—and then you were dead !

Yet, in the midst of the darkness and pain,
Darling, I knew I should find you again!
Knew, as the roses know, under the snow,
How the next summer will set them aglow ;
So did I always, the dreary days through,
Keep my heart single and sacred to you,
As on the beautiful day we were wed,
Darling, oh darling, although you were dead !
Oh the great joy of awaking, to know
I did but dream all that torturing woe !
Oh the delight, that my searching can trace
Nothing of coldness or change in your face !
Still is your forehead unfurrow'd and fair ;
None of the gold is lost out of your hair ;
None of the light from your dear eyes has

fiedDarling, oh how could I dream you were

dead? Now you are here, you will always remain, Never, oh never, to leave me again ! How it has vanish'd, the anguish of years ! Vanish'd ! nay, these are not sorrowful tears, Happiness only my cheek has impearld,There is no grieving for me in the world ; Dark clouds may threaten, but I have no

fear, Darling, oh darling, because you are here !

Eliz. Akers.

I AM CONTENT IF THOU ART HAPPY. I am content to be dwelling in shadow,

If only the sunlight may sweep over thee; I am content though the thorns be around me,

If only the roses be shower'd on thee. I am content though the north wind be cruel, If sweet southern breezes be comforting

thee ; I am content to abide in the darkness,

If only the starlight shine brighter for


Oh the dark hours when I knelt by your grave,
Calling upon you to love and to save,-
Pleading in vain for a sign or a word
Only to tell me you listen'd and heard-
Only to say you remember'd and knew
How all my soul was in anguish for you;
Bitter, despairing, the tears that I shed,
Darling, oh darling, because you were dead !

I am content if the shower fall o'er me,
If rainbow of pron ise shine clearer for

I am content though the casket be empty,

If only the jewel have fallen to thee; I am content with the desolate valley,

If only the song-birds are singing to thee; I am content to drink drops of enjoyment, If only the fountain fall freely for thee.


Oh the black days of your absence, my own!
Oh to be left in the wide world alone!
Long, with our little one clasp'd to my breast,
Wander'd I, seeking for shelter and rest.
Yet all the world was so careless and cold,
Vainly I sought for a sheltering fold;
There was no roof and no home for my head,
Darling, oh darling, because you were dead ! !

Every shadow of his lot,
In her sunny smile forgot.

T. Moore.



It is not in the mountains,
Would that, in order to make a model

Nor the palaces of pride, home, we were led ofttimes to cross and re

That Love will fold his wings up cross in thought Gennesaret's lake Then

And rejoicingly abide ; would our hearths and households more fre

But in meek and humble natures quently be like Edens, blooming in a desert

His home is ever found, world-miniatures of the great heavenly

As the lark that sings in heaven home, where still there will be the beautiful

Builds his nest upon the ground. combination of untiring energy in God's

Laman Blanchard.
service, and of peaceful rest and repose in
God's love.
Rev. 3. R. Macduff.

Surely, if there be a name dearer than any

other to the heart of man, it is that of home. WOMAN'S KINGDOM.

At that magic word, what tender associations, It is by the regimen of domestic affection

| what soothing thoughts, what sweet rememthat the heart of man is best composed and

brances gather round the heart! To that regulated. The home is the woman's king

loved spot how does the mind instinctively dom, her state, her world, where she governs

cling, in foreign regions and distant corners by affection, by kindness, by the power of

of the earth! Who that has been blessed gentleness. There is nothing which so settles

with a happy home does not respond to the the turbulence of a man's nature as his union

beautiful sentiment of the poet—“The kindred in life with a high-minded woman. There he

| ties of country and of home." finds rest, contentment, and happiness--rest

Rev, Peter Grant. of brain and peace of spirit. He will also often find in her his best counsellor, for her

THE PARADISE WHICH STRONG AFFEC. instinctive tact will usually lead him right

TION GUARDS. when his own unaided reason might be apt to go wrong. The true wife is a staff to lean

Whose soft voice upon in times of trial and of difficulty; and

Should be the sweetest music to his ear, she is never wanting in sympathy and solace

Awaking all the chords of harmony; when distress occurs, or fortune frowns. In

| Whose eye should speak a language to his the time of youth she is a comfort and an

soul ornament of man's life; and she remains a

More eloquent than all which Greece or faithful helpmate of maturer years, when life Rome has ceased to be an anticipation, and we live

Could boast of in its best and happiest days; in its realities.


Whose smile should be his rich reward for

toil; Whose pure transparent cheek, when pressid

to his, fidelity TO HOME AND LOVE.

Should calm the fever of his troubled So all that eve they twain did sit

thoughts, Together, losing not a space;

And woo his spirit to those fields Elysian, Each gazing on the other's face,

The paradise which strong affection guards. To fill each other's heart right well

Bethune. With treasure of its love, a spell Against long parting and all crime

HOME SANCTIFIED BY RELIGION. Of falseness through the bitter time. Full many a vow she had of him

Let the tint and fragrance of the “Rose of That evening in the twilight dim,

Sharon” follow you to your homes, your That, in what lands or with what men closets, your places of business, your scenes His fate were, all his joy, as then,

of enjoyment. Let all your daily thoughts, Should be in holding her most fair words, actions, be moulded and regulated by And thought of soon returning there. the inquiry, How would Jesus have acted Arthur W. E. O'Shaughnessy. I here?

Rev. 7. R. Macduff.

THE HOME OF HIS OWN MAKING. HOME, SWEET HOME, IS ALL TO ME. Man enters a new world of joy and sym- | Some love to range the world's wide round, pathy and human interest through the porch Some court the city's giddy charms, of love. He enters a new world in his home Some list the trumpet's clanging sound, -the home of his own making-altogether Joy'd at the thought of war's alarms; different from the home of his boyhood, Ambition's arts and pleasure's smiles where each day brings with it a succession With deep distrust I cautious flee, of new joys and experiences. He enters | And glory's vain deceitful wiles-also, it may be, a new world of trials and For home, sweet home, is all to me! sorrows, in which he often gathers his best

Fond hopes of wealth, vain dreams of ease, culture and discipline. ... A life exclusively

Of future riches, future rest, occupied in affairs of business insensibly

And all that fancy's self could please, tends to narrow and harden the character.

Fill the void chasm of many a breast; It is mainly occupied with self-watching

They seek the busy haunts of life, for advantages, and guarding against sharp

Explore the desert, brave the sea, practice on the part of others. Thus the cha

For these they join in worldly striferacter unconsciously tends to grow suspicious

But home, sweet home, is all to me! and ungenerous. The best corrective of such influences is always the domestic; by

Loved home! dear scene of every bliss withdrawing the mind from thoughts that are

That clings around my grateful hcart ! wholly gainful, by taking it out of its daily

My Mary's smile! my infant's kiss ! rut, and bringing it back to the sanctuary

What purer joys can life impart? of home for refreshment and rest :

Content with what my God has given,

I live what others wish to be;
“ That truest, rarest light of social joy,

Enjoying earth and hoping heaven--
Which gleams upon the man of many cares."

My home, sweet home, is all to me! “Business,” says Sir Henry Taylor, “does

Anon. but lay waste the approaches to the heart, whilst marriage garrisons the fortress. And BEAMS FROM THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUS. however the head may be occupied, by

NESS. labours of ambition or of business, if the Wherever a home-landscape is dreary, and heart be not occupied by affection for others its horizon clouded, we believe that it proand sympathy with them, life, though it may ceeds, not so much from the storms of man's appear to the outer world to be a success, will petulance and unreasonableness, as because probably be no success at all, but a failure." woman has forgotten to draw a sunbeam Smiles. from the Sun of Righteousness.


WOMAN'S PROPER STUDY. I hold it indeed to be a sure sign of a mind

Nothing lovelier can be found not poised as it ought to be, if it be insensible' In woman, than to study household good, to the pleasures of home, to the little joys And good works in her husband to promote. and endearments of a family, to the affections

Milton. of relations, to the fidelity of domestics.

LOVE OF HOME. Next to being well with his own conscience, Love of home is planted deep in the nature the friendship and attachment of a man's

of man. The finger of God points to home, family and dependants seems to me one of

and says to us all, There is the place to find the most comfortable circumstances of his

| all your earthly joy.

Goldsmith. lot. His situation with regard to either forms that sort of bosom comfort or disquiet THE CHARMS OF SOCIAL LIFE. that sticks close to him at all times and The sweet charities of life, sympathy, affecseasons, and which, though he may now and tion, and benevolence, are the blessings then forget it, amidst the bustle of public or blended with sorrow, sickness, and infirmity ; the hurry of active life, will resume its place and from the restraints of temper and mutual in his thoughts, and its permanent effects on forbearance we practise to each other, arise his happiness, at every pause of ambition or the kindness and goodwill which are the of business. Bishop Horne. charms of social life.

Mrs. King

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What care I for the sullen war

Of winds without that ravage earth ? It doth but bid me prize the more

The shelter of thy hallow'd hearthTo thoughts of quiet bliss give birth ;

Then let the churlish tempest chide, It cannot check the blameless mirth

That glads my own fireside !

My refuge ever from the storm

of this world's passion, strife, and care ; Though thunder-clouds the skies deform,

Their fury cannot reach me thereThere all is cheerful, calm, and fair :

Wrath, envy, malice, strife, or pride, Hath never made its hated lair

By thee-my own fireside !

The scales of household polity are the scales of love; and he who holds them should be a sympathising friend, ever ready to make allowance for failures, ingenious in contriving apologies, more lavish of counsels than rebukes, and less anxious to overwhelm a person with a sense of deficiency than to awaken in the bosom a consciousness of power to do better. One thing is certain : if any member of a family conceives it his duty to sit continually in the censor's chair, and weigh in the scales of justice all that happens in the domestic commonwealth, domestic happiness is out of the question. It is manly to extenuate and forgive, but a crabbed and censorious spirit is contemptible. There is much more misery thrown into the cup of life by domestic unkindness than we might at first suppose. To love is to be happy and make happy ; and to love is the very spirit of true manliness. Coarseness, rudeness, tyranny, are so many forms of brute power —so many manifestations of what it is man's peculiar glory not to be ; but kindness and gentleness can never cease to be manly.

T. S. Arthur.

Thy precincts are a charmed ring,

Where no harsh feeling dares intrude, Where life's vexations lose their sting,

Where even grief is half subdued; And peace, halcyon, loves to brood.

Then let the world's proud fool deride; I'll pay my debt of gratitude

To thee-my own fireside !

THE GOLDEN MEAN. Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach, So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse fortune's power :
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep

Along the treach'rous shore.
He that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between

'The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,

Imbitt'ring all his state.
The tallest pines feel most the power
Of wintry blast ; the loftiest tower

Comes heaviest to the ground;
The bolts that spare the mountain's side
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.
The well-inform'd philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesome fear,

And hopes in spite of pain : If winter bellow from the north, Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,

And nature laughs again.
What if thine heaven be overcast,
The dark appearance will not last-

Expect a brighter sky;
The God that strings the silver bow
Awakes sometimes the muses too,

And lays His arrows by..
If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen :
But oh, if fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvas in.


That is not home, where day by day
I wear the busy hours away ;
That is not home, where lonely night
Prepares me for the toils of light;
'Tis hope, and joy, and memory, give
A home in which the heart can live :
It is a presence undefined,
O'ershadowing the conscious mind;
Where love and duty sweetly blend
To consecrate the name of friend :
Where'er thou art is home to me,
And home without thee cannot be.


MY OWN, MY CHOSEN HOME. Sirmio, fair eye of all the laughing isles And jutting capes that rise from either

main, Or crown our inland waters, with glad smiles

Of heartfelt joy I greet thee once again, Scarce daring to believe mine eyes, that see No more Bithynia's plains, but fondly rest on

thee, My own, my chosen home! Oh, what more

blest Than that sweet pause of troubles, when

the mind Flings off its burthen, and when, long

oppress'd By cares abroad and foreign toil, we find Our native home again, and rest our head Once more upon our own, long-lost, long

wished-for bed ! This, this alone, o'erpays my every pain ! Hail! loveliest Sirmio, hail ! with joy like

mine Receive thy happy lord! Thou liquid plain

Of Laria's lake, in sparkling welcome shine! Put all your beauties forth ! laugh out! be

glad! In universal smiles this day must all be clad!

Catullus (translated by the Earl of Derby). GOD'S BEST GIFTS TO MAN. God's first gift to man was religion, and a glimpse of personal liberty: His second was love, and a home, and therein the seeds of civilization. His two great institutions are two great charters, bestowed on every creature.

Augustus Wm. Hare,

secLUSION. My next desire is, void of care and strife, To lead a sost, secure, inglorious life. A country cottage near a crystal flood, A winding valley and a lofty wood. Some god conduct me to the sacred shades Where bacchanals are sung by Spartan maids, Or lift me high to Hemus' hilly crown; Or in the plains of Tempe lay me down : Or lead me to some solitary place, And cover my retreat from human race.

Drydlen's Virgil.

Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.


In many ways does the full heart reveal The presence of the love it would conceal.

Coleridge. z z

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