whole process of instruction is to advance] from principles to facts, and to deduce principles from facts. Who can teach another what he himself has not learned? Who can make that plain to another of which he himself has but an imperfect conception? Especially incumbent is it upon every young person, at the present day, to analyze the great subject of discussion among us, that from just premises he may arrive at those conclusions which shall show him the duties required at his hauds, and the manner in which they must be discharged. How numerous and momentous are the questions which now agitate the community, and how great and sacred the interests which they involve! Now indeed, is the time for men to think and act for themselves, and to take their own individual responsibilities. The latter rest upon them, however they may neglect to do the former! Who will weigh even the political responsibilities of the young men of this generation? Who that loves his country, will doubt the propriety of becoming acquainted with politics? I mean not party politics, but politics as a science embracing the theory of government -the duties and powers of rulers and subjects-the protective and banking systemsthe commercial and agricultural interests of the community-and all those questions which vitally affect the welfare of nations and the existence of republics. Who will say these subjects can be investigated without analyzing them? No one. My sheet being now full, I will close this article with a promise of writing another communication on this subject for the Miscellany. ROSE, September 9th, 1852.

BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT.

A man without some sort of religion is at best a poor reprobate, the foot-ball of destiny, with no tie linking him to infinity and to the wondrous eternity that is within him; but a woman without it is even worse-a

flame without heat, a rainbow without color, a flower without perfume.

A man may, in some sort, tie his frail hopes and honors with weak, shifting ground-tackle to his business of the world; but a woman, without that anchor which they call faith, is a drift and a wreck. A man may clumsily continue a kind of responsibility or motive, but can find no basis in any other system of right act on than that of spiritual faith. A man may craze his thoughts and his brain to thoughtfulness in such poor harborage as fame and reputation may stretch before him; but a woman—where can she put her hope in storms, if not in

heaven?

And that sweet trustfulness, that abiding love, and endearing hope, mellowing every scene of life, lighting them with pleasures radiance, when the world's cold storms break like an army with smoking cannon, what can bestow it all but a holy soul-tie to what is stronger than an army with cannon? that has enjoyed the love of a God-loving mother, but will echo through with energy and hallow it with a tear?

SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE AND
COMMUNION.

BY MARY.

Who

FUTURITY, how boundless the theme!how unutterably dear the thought of living on through the ceaseless ages of eternity!— Can finite man comprehend infinity; or mind contemplate its own eternal expansion, when like a winged spirit it shall soar above this earth and bathe its wearied wings in light resplendent and eternal, without being lost in a complexity of aspirations?

Could I but lift the sacred vail; could I divest myself of mortality, and think of that which is immortal; dwell but one moment in the divine light of that Heavenly clime, and feel the divinity within me--the gift of inspiration; I might dare to breathe the language of the soul and paint the raptures of the spirit's communion. But I must bear, with my fellows, the trammels of earth; and it is not mine to hold to mortal

eye the mirror of their purified being. The night watchings has not had the solitude dispoet has said:

"When coldness wraps this suffering clay, Oh! whither strays the immortal mind ?"

and thousands of hearts have united with

his to know the destiny of our immortal part. I would go into no deep metaphysical research concerning the spirit; yet who is there who could not lay his hand upon his bosom and say, there is that within me which throbs with wild, tumultuous emotion, yet unspeakable! Are these the throbbings of the mortal part? Nay there are the inward workings of the spirit! Who can define them? yet who has not watched a star at even until, losing his indentity, its glimmering beauty has lead him to another, a brighter, a holier world: who in the whispering gale, the murmuring rill or the thousand streams of nature's ever-tuneful lyre, has not echoed a silent response and turned from earth to Heaven? Yes! this is the whispering of the spirit-this is the soul's own peculiar language.

turbed by visitations from the spirit-land? Yes! oft have our lone and weeping vigils changed to smiles of gladness-oft have the departed, hallowed those moments, and with an "angel touch" and spirit-smile, made sacred our lonely hours, and left their purifying influence on our souls. Nor need we tread a fairy clime or bask in the light of enchanted realms, but press the soft turf of our own sweet world, and many a little flower would breathe in its fragrance, purity itself, and tell, in the blending beauty of its tints, that earth holds much that is pure, much that is spiritual. Or who has not ever met a kindred soul on earth and communed with such? who has not felt the magic of angel smile, and in a heart whose every throbbing lives in unison with his own, felt the sweet communion of spirit with spirit?

"Yes; the earth HAS angels tho' their forms are
moulded

But of such clay as fashions all below;
Tho' harps are wanting, and bright pinions folded,
We know them by the love-light on their brow."

And cannot mortal man hold communion
even more sacred than this? Can he not en-

Ay, who that has knelt at the holy altar of prayer, and felt that angels tuned their harps anew, as he poured out his soul in holy ac cents to the Lord, and that seraphs sang in happier strains; who has not known that for a time his spirit left its earthly tabernacle and rested in the bosom of its God?Who that has felt the bliss of such communings could deny the existence of the spirit, and its fellowship with God? And who could open the lids of the sacred volume;drink in its beauties and not feel that he had tasted food far sweeter than the nectar and ambrosia of the gods? Whose soul has not been refreshed with the dew drops of Solo

However imperfect the ideas of the nature of the spirit's essence, the doctrine of its existence has ever been a cherished one. It has been the fondest theme of all ages, how-joy sweet converse with God, who is a spirit? ever rude, from the metempsychosis of the heathen, to the doctrines of the New Church concerning the spirits of the departed, hovering around us, smiling sweetly and approvingly on our good, and with the same gentleness reproving our evil; yet still ever communing and existing with the living. It is the spirit which lights the first smile of innocence, and shines in the last gaze of departing age; and its flight to " God who gave it," which leaves the temple cold, chill and inanimate. Yet, what is the spirit's existence? It is the radiance of Heaven resting for a while on the darkness of earth and lighting for a brief space its gloomiest recesses; and its communion the holy inter-mon's wisdom and had written on his heart change of love with other purified existences. "Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen :" and who for one moment would throw aside the pleasing thought? Who in the loneliness of mid

with "a pen of iron and the point of a diamond," the lamentations of the mourning prophet? Whose heart has not vibrated with ecstasy at the inspired songs of the rapturous visions of Isaiah? and what Chris

passed away, singing, 'Oh, sweet Jerusalem oh, my sweet Saviour-Father '' so lightly and happily amid her pain, that our tears were more sacredly joyful over her little dead body, than were our smiles when she was first laid in my arms.

Eddy with curls like silver-flakes, and eyes of blue, took the next deep hold on our love; he was so gentle-tempered and unearthly beautiful, that it did not seem a sin

tian would give up this communion with the spirits of the "just made perfect?"Who would not sit by the side of the Apostles or kneel at the feet of Jesus and catch the holy words, as they fell, like drops of pearls, or gushed like healing waters from the lips of Bethlehem's child? It were a sacrilege to call this aught but spiritual communion, so pure, so elevating so holy in its influence ! But this earth is not the soul's resting-to worship him, and so we set him up in the place. There is a period when it must throw holiest niche of the heart; but God crumaside its fetters and ascend to that brighter bled the idol, and at His voice the gentle world above. It is there the souls of the child, with all his angelic loveliness faded in redeemed and purified meet as one conge- darkness, till but the pedestal stands, bearnial band-there is the brightest existence-ing only his dear footprints. there the sweetest communion.

[Ladies' Parlor Annual.

I DO SO LOVE PICTURES.

BY MRS. M. A. DENISON.

Then Alice and Lilly, my twins that lived just long enough to dance over the fields, and gather handfuls of the old-fashioned buttercup that poetry of flowers to the child; who used to sleep with both little heads upon my bosom, both little hands locked together; with lips and cheeks, and veined eyelids, and fair light locks, and smiles, even in dreams, so much alike, that one

seemed to the other as the shadow of a rosebud in clear water will seem to the bud itself.

"I do so love pictures," exclaimed a sorrow-stricken women, smiling in the midst of tears that we had caught her shedding over a little child's picture-book; "even these rude simple illustrations affect me now as readily They sleep in one coffin; and innocent as they did when I was a very 'wee' girl.Indeed more; for you have found me senti-fingers scattered roses over brow and upon mentally crying over these coarse and hard-bosom, and there was great grief at their ly explainable prints."

burial.

Here is another little picture-"Giving away the bride." That recalls Mary-the true, timid gentle-hearted Mary. I agonized over the cradle for her life, when the frail baby-form was shaken by the breath of dissolution; and God spared her until I gave her away at the alter; I did not know I was giving her to death. She never lived to press the lips of her first-born, when all the golden wealth of hope, of new affections, of joyous young mother-life, was showering at her feet, she passed into heaven, whispering "For me to die is gain-yes," folding her white fingers, and lifting her holy eyes, "great gain."

She wiped the tears away from her mild grey eyes, and bent her head again to the little book. "Here," said she, pointing to the figure of a nurse laying a baby in its father's arms; "nine such have I borne on my bosom; frail, beautiful things, with eyes that told me all I wished to know, long before the soul found vent between the little lips of coral. Gabrielle was the first; my heart was bound up in her; they deemed her an angel, and truly, truly, for the Lord that gave her called her back home in a few short months; but she was so heavenly, that this old home seemes sacred, because she smiled into being here. Isa-dear little laughing Isadore-hung her golden harp Pardon me if I weep; there were three next on the willow of our sad hopes, and more. Agnes, the sainted, who from her in"

Well, it is all over; Ellis has laid in his to have said. Among other servants was one little grave for fifteen years, and my Harry, who had lived with him from a child, and the only boy I raised to manhood, lies to- served him with fidelity and affection, till at day where the ocean sighs an eternal requi-length he became his coachman. This man em, as it sweeps above his lifeless body."

"I say," replied the lady, "he is continuhis black eyes glistening. Hope was pain-ally getting drunk, and I desire that he ted upon his cheek, his arms were raised, his might be turned off.” form swayed forward, and that holiest of earthly names trembled on his lips.

“Ay,” said his lordship, "he has lived with me from a child, and as you say a trifle

I could not forbear grasping the hand of should not part us."

John, however, one evening, as he was driving from Kingston, overturned his lady in Hyde Park; she was not much hurt-but when she came home, she began to rattle to the Earl.

"Here," says she, "is that beast of a John, so drunk that he can hardly stand; he has overturned the coach, and if he is not discharged, may break our necks!"

"Ay, my lord," says John, I humbly ask your lordship's pardon. I promise never to commit the same fault again."

"Ay, ay," says my lord, " you are right; nobody can prevent sickness, and if you should be sick again, John, I shall see to it, though perhaps you should not complain; and I promise you shall always have the same advice, and the same attendance you

"Ay," says my lord, "is poor John sick? have now." Alas, I am sorry for him."

"God bless your lordship," says John

"I am complaining," said my lady, "that "I hope there will be no need." he is drunk, and overturned me."

"Ay," answered his lordship, "to be sure he has behaved well, and shall have proper advice."

My lady finding it hopeless to remonstrate, went away in a pet; and my lord, ordering John into his presence, addressed him very coolly in these words: "John, you know I have a regard for you, and as long as you behave well, you shall be taken care of in my family; my lady tells me you are taken ill, and indeed I see that you can hardly stand; go to bed, and I will take care that you have proper advice.

"So do I too," says his lordship, “but so long as you do your duty towards me, never fear, I shall do mine towards you."

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE.

I was nurtured among the green leaves in an old decayed garden, on a sunny hill side, where the free winds of heaven fanned my brow, and the gentler breezes left daily their sweet kisses on my ruby lips. While a tender bud, I modestly sought to hide beneath the rich foliage with which I was surrounded; but when I had learned to love the sunshine--when its warm beams had reached my heart-I threw off the fetters with which I had been bound, and, gazing up into the blue sky, was lost in wonder and admiration. All through the long and sunny day I revelled in the glorious sunbeams; and when the quiet even-tide came on, I bowed my head in reverence and adoration, and my grateful orisons ascended on the zephyr's breath to the great Supreme.

Jobn, being thus dismissed, was taken to bed, where, by his lordship's order, a large blister was put upon his head, another between his shoulders, and sixteen ounces of blood taken from his arm. John found himself next morning in a woful plight, and was soon acquainted with the whole process, and the reason upon which it was commenced He had no remedy, however, but to submit; for he would rather have incurred as many more blisters, than to lose his place. My The solemn night succeeded to the holy lord sent very formally twice a day to know hush of twilight. I gazed around me: could how he was, and frequently congratulated Eden itself have been fairer? The glad, my lady upon John's recovery, whom he green earth, quiet and beautiful, was bathed directed to be fed with only water-gruel, and in Luna's silver beams; the tall grass bowed to have no company but an old nurse. In gracefully, as the night wind, with its musiabout a week, John having constantly sent cal voice, swept by; and the stars, holy, pure, word that he was well, my lord thought fit and exceeding fair, glittered and glistened in to understand the messenger, and said, he the azure robe by which heaven seems hidwas extremely glad that the fever had left den from view. "Ah!" thought I, "this him, and desired to see him. world is indeed a lovely place!" and I "Well, John," says he, "I hope this is glanced meekly upward; as I bowed again, about over." methought a tear of gratitude lay upon my