peared to me would have been highly advantageous. But I now see the wisdom and goodness of our Heavenly Father, even more in what He has denied, than in what He has bestowed. The rugged paths through which I have passed, the sharp regrets I have experienced, seem smoother and softer in the distance behind me. Even my wrong-doings and short-comings have often been mercifully transmuted into blessings. They have helped me to descend into the Valley of Humility, through which it is necessary to pass on our way to the Beautiful City. My restless aspirations are quieted. They are now all concentrated in this one prayer:

Having arrived at this state of peacefulness and submission, I find the last few years the happiest of my life.

To you, my dear friend, who are so much. younger, I would say, Travel cheerfully toward the sunset! It will pass gently into a twilight, which has its own peculiar beauties, though differing from the morning; and you will find that the night also

is cheered by friendly

glances of the

stars.

BL

By J. G. WHITTIER.

LAND as the morning's breath of June,
The southwest breezes play,

And through its haze, the winter noon
Seems warm as summer's day.

The snow-plumed Angel of the North
Has dropped his icy spear;
Again the mossy earth looks forth,
Again the streams gush clear.

The fox his hillside den forsakes;
The muskrat leaves his nook;
The blue-bird, in the meadow-brakes,
Is singing with the brook.

O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole,
Will summer days appear.

Reviving hope and faith, they show
The soul its living powers,
And how, beneath the winter's snow,
Lie germs of summer flowers.

The Night is mother of the Day;
The Winter of the Spring;

And ever upon old decay

The greenest mosses cling.

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks;
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For God, who loveth all his works,
Has left his Hope with all.

THE CANARY BIRD.

TELLOW, small Canary bird,

YELL

Sweetly singing all day long,

Still in winter you are heard,

Carclling a summer song.

Thus when days are drear and dim,
And the heart is caged, as you,
May it still, with hopeful hymn.
Sing of joy and find it true.

JOHN STERLING

OLD BACHELORS.

By L. MARIA CHILD.

HE use of the term old bachelor might be objected to, with as much reason as that of old maid, were it not for the fact that it has been regarded less contemptuously. Until within the last half-century, books have been written almost entirely by men. Looking at the subject from their point of view, they have generally represented that, if a woman remained single, it was because she could not avoid it; and that her unfortunate condition. was the consequence of her being repulsive in person of manners. The dramas and general literature of all countries abound with jokes on this subject. Women are described as jumping with ridiculous haste at the first chance to marry, and as being greatly annoyed if no chance presents itself. To speak of women as in the market, and of men as purchasers, has so long been a general abit, that it is done unconsciously; and the habit

doubtless embodies a truth, though few people reflect why it is so. Nearly all the trades, professions, and offices are engrossed by men; hence marriage is almost the only honorable means of support for women, and almost the only avenue open to those who are ambitious of position in society. This state of things gives an unhealthy stimulus to match-making, and does much to degrade the true dignity and purity of marriage. But I allude to it here merely as explanatory why old maid is considered a more reproachful term than old bachelor; one being supposed to be incurred voluntarily, and the other by compulsion.

There is a germ of vanity, more or less expanded in human nature, under all circumstances. Slaves are often very vain of bringing an unusually high price in the market; because it implies that they are handsome, vigorous, or intelligent. It is the same feeling, manifested under a different aspect, that makes many women vain of the number of offers they have received, and mortified if they have had none. Men, on the contrary, being masters of the field, are troubled with no sense of shame, if they continue in an isolated position through life, though they may experience regret. The kind of jokes to which they are subjected generally imply that they have been less magnanimous than they should have been, in not taking to themselves somebody to protect and support. Such a "railing accusation" is rather gratifying