Year: 1864

Once more the sun goes down into the


western ocean of time to usher in Sabbath


morning. Again has the wheel of the week
rolled around crushing the life out of many


a strong man and loving wornan-the heart
out of many a true love, who alone, uncar-


ed for and neglected, is left to wander over
! the shoals and broken rocks on times shore


to die broken hearted and with no loving
hand to smooth the hair and drive the death
! damp therefrom. Saturday night! Blessed


night of all its brethren. Priced night OF
all the week-loved corpse of all the six
which have been lain under the place of


midnight Night of respite from labor, and


communion with the heart. Night of re-


pose for the mind and the resuscitation of
driven energies. Who of our readers does
not thank God for this boon? And how will
it be spent? We can look into its hidden
leaves aud see as in Album full many pic
ture.


Happy fresdes and home circles, where
sit the loved ones of mature years, caressing
each other with hearts full of added love,
and toying with the innocent GIFTS FROM
GoD. How blessed is this night to such
and how feryent should be the prayer Of
thanks for Ii is mercies. And there are rooms
where lovers sit lip to lip-hand in hand
palm to palm-eye to eye-heart to heart
silently threading the labyrinths of the
weird future which allures far more than it
repays. Aud there are deserted homes
wives alone, weary vigils eeping-widows
mourning, for their hearts lie on Southern
fields Of death-mansons where even love is
Silded-cottages and cabins where affection
llghtens up the hour as the monday sun
lights Gods Temple-mothers praying for
abseuts children and in fear lest those with
them will not honor mans high estate
children running wild on the road to ruin
the temple: and the tenn pted-the good
and the bad-the old and the young -even
forming separate picture. Why the world
IS full Of pictures.


Saturday night is an index. We can
look back upon hours misspent-words we
would but cannot recall, VOWS we have bro
ken--hopes which have died as rose leaves
fall from your hands and float over the
brink OF Niagara-promises we have made
but to be broken-frends we have betrayed
for nothfug-kind acts we might have done
but did not-relief we might have granted /
but for selishness-happiness we might
have given but for a wicked heart. How
the fiOod-gate of the week opens on Satur- !
day night! Y ct we learn no wisdom from
the past. Tho same old story! 1T might |.
have BEEN WAC will fortifv the coming
week with new resolves for good? We can
all do it. 1t will not be long ere the grave
closes over us-a few thin tears-a few sobs


"a few looks-a few sad thoughts-a few
regrets-a few shovels full of earth-a few
feet under the soda few days of sadness
real or counterfeit, and our souls are away
on the sea of eternity, and those who know
US now will kiss other lips-will clasp other
hauds-will read each Others eyes-will /
return each others embraces-will mingle /
thor tears or wed their joys together-will ,
love those they now wo. not of-will forget !
US forever! Do you ever think of this
think how thin earth ard its aliurement
are? Is it worth while for us to hate each
other for so brief a time? Will the sheen
of selishness mellow the mold in which we
must lie or whiten the marble which may
per chance stand sentry over our bed for the
GREAT SLEEP? Let US look back over life
and the time to do it on this Saturday night
-" BRICK" PoMERoY,