Year: 1874

benedictions, and half redeem it from


the curse of the fall We are not hall


good enough TO our mothers. The first


duty of any man is to deserve well of his


mother. l was lately reading Bicker,


steth's "Y yesterday, To-Day, and Forev.
er." 1t is a noble poem, but l find it
hard to forgive him for his seeming want


of affection for his mother. He speaks


of beautiful vision, in which he went


to the good world, and where he met and


greeted his wife, and his children, and
| his friends and lastly, his mother To


my mind, he ought to have seen her first
of all, and this blunder, this thoughtless-


ness on his part, has left blemish on a
book, in other respects of great beauty.
The manner in which women are too Of


ten regarded is admirably illustrated by


Dickens in his graphic description of


Dombey and Son. This world is overrun


with male Dombeys, and their sons are


not much better. In the lives of few


men, we find bright picture. We like


to contemplate the affection of Washing


ton for his mother, and of Jackson for


his wife. Cowper speaks of his mother
with most pathetic tenderness, and some
of Hollands brightest paper attes this de-
votion and endearment to the wife and
mother that he loved so we'll


Here is a woman who has performed
the greatest mission on earth-sie e has
been to some man a good wife, and has
carefully reared large family She has
given her boys to her country in the
hour of its peril Some of then, and
perhaps the father also, have fallen in
battle that the country might live. To
her praise be it said, (and let it be forty
times repeated, she has never gossipped,
nor tattled, nor slandered her neighbors


Il Il I.
large and coarse, and rough with toll
and labor-her best dress was not made
in Paris-her last bonnet is not in the
McFlimsey style, and therefore the I'M
charitable world votes her questionable
she is neglected and forgotten-cruelly
styled the old woman, and endured only
from mercenery motives, or others equal
ly degrading. Another woman equally
deserving, is complained of, and called
proud, because the trail of her dress is
too long, or because she has one flower
too many in her hat, or, (what is most
objectionable of al, y because she is bet
ter looking than somebody else;
and straightway she is charged of
belonging to the Stuckup family,
and so first for one cause and then for
another, and oftener for none our wo-
men, be they good or bad, receive but
little sympathy, and are all treated pretty
much alike


If you want to get a knowledge of the
meanness and injustice of men in gen.
eral, and of their want of charity for
women, go to the Record of Wills and
see the manner in which many of tn EN-
dispose of theiI property. The wife who
has been neglected all her life is most
put off with less than even
the law would allow her. Here seems to
be mans last opportunity for almsgiving,
and he pursues it to the last moment
The wife gets the use of so much while
she lives, to be doled out in small sums
by some grudging reversioner, generally
to be forfeited in case she should marry
again. Girls are not considered of much
account and they get but little the
boys get the lions share, and if there
happens to be a prodigal son among them
he gets more than anybody else Now
this is the way of the world. This is
called charity 1t is often said that there
is good time coming, and l am so glad
oh so glad for the very thought-so anx-
ious for the time when we shall have
better appreciation of what charity is
to whom it is due, and how to bestow it.
The theory that all wrongs are finally to
be righted, demonstrates to my mind the
absolute necessity of a hereafter where
all things will be made even at the last,
and where every one will receive his just
deserts, which he cannot always have in
such an uncharitable world as this
cannot come to tho conclusion that God |
entirely ignores his own creation, or that |
he is indifferent to them that trust him.


am not ready to say, ..F
Spirit, thou art left alone, alone on waters |


wild,


For God is gone, Love is dead, and Nature


spurnS her child.
Thou art drifting a deluge, waves below and |


clouds above,
And with weary wings come back to thee, thy !


raven and thy dove"