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haughty Fashion, while he would invite the Graces to superintend the minutest

matter.

Do the household fairies haunt your new abode? Did they come with the old books and pictures and pots of flowers?

Now, reader mine, we may never know whether these questions have yes or no for the answer, so let us please ourselves with the affirmative side. We will fancy that everything within those Gothic walls has been touched by Beauty, Grace, and Comfort, and that Harmony presides over all. We will fancy the household fairies tripping about in every room, with whole troops of them frolicking in the study. They doubtless nestle in the cushions of Mrs. Stowe's chair, or whisk airily among the papers on her writing-table. They are familiar fairies, the same kindly little sprites who helped on in the "House and Home Papers," by the inspiration of their mute presence.

Now I am aware that the establishment has a master, and that, according to strict etiquette, I should speak of it as belonging to Professor Stowe; but the learned gentleman is to me quite a mythological character, and the sons and daughters are as but dim, shadowy visions, not half as real as the household fairies flitting about Mrs. Stowe's easy-chair. Mrs. Stowe is an actuality; everybody knows her and loves her. We know her love of humanity, her lofty patriotism, her religious fervor, her kindly sympathies, her moral courage, and her fine imagination. We blend all these attributes in our ideal of Mrs. Stowe, and admire her accordingly. To the world, the woman and the author are one. Heaven bless her in both relations!

Therefore, I shall continue to call it Mrs. Stowe's cottage, without reference to the other dwellers therein, whether real or imaginary; and after all, in doing so I shall but follow the fashion of the multitude, who will look upon it and cry, 66 There is Mrs. Stowe's beautiful cottage!"

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By Lizzie.

LIKE some vague phantom, dim and dread,
Haunting thine onward way,
With fearful form and shrouded head,
Thy future seems to-day.

But look above, O shrinking heart, Through golden rifts, the sun! See how the shadows swift depart, When faith's sure race we run !

Not aimlessly the future fills

Our oftimes bitter cup; It is our Father kind who wills That we should drink it up.

And he will aid us as of old,

When One in anguish sore Prayed that the cup might pass. Behold! God strengthened him the more.

So thou, dear friend, shalt stronger grow, While life's full measure proves

His constant care as on ye go.

God chastens whom he loves.

Then through all tears and dreary pain,
Lift trusting eyes to him;
Thy loving heart, be sure, again A

Shall sing its triumph-hymn!
Gallatin, Tenn., June, 1864.

NAMELESS GRAVES.

By Mrs. Dell A. Curtiss. WHILE bugle-notes may gayly sound Their call to scenes of duty, The hearts that lie beneath the mound Shall thrill no more to beauty. Though banners bright may proudly wave, O'er fields bedecked with glory, They oft must droop above the grave

That tells no earthly story.

Yet sweetly rests the warrior there,

Afar from kindred loving, .
Though mourning ones, in sad despair,
No longer wait his coming.
While loving hearts alone may tell

How brave the heart that slumbers,
His deeds are known; his name shall swell
The roll that heaven numbers.

A NEW edition of "Theology of Universalism" has just been published.

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VANITY OF ANCESTRAL PRIDE.

By Cousin Maggie. Ir has never had another name since these green hills were inhabited. Yet, though its size is diminutive, it teems with associations, and every gurgle of its shining waves tells a story sweet to me. Since childhood, my home has been upon its wooded banks, and it has been a witness of my purest joys and deepest sorrows; and now my heart turns to its borders, and I know no home like that of my childhood. The Little Brook rises in the northern part of our town, and trickles away, soon joined by other threads of silvery moisture, until, fairly started on its way to the Deerfield, Little Brook creeps along, now under half-decayed trees, over which the "tizzy-wizzy" winds its slender vines and hangs its pearly berries, now under huge moss-covered rocks overgrown with squirrel's-rice and lady'ssorrel, dashing noisily over ragged rocks, or spreading out into miniature lakes, in whose crystal waters the trout have their hiding-places. Over all, the green old forest-trees clasp hands and catch the sunbeams on their crests, shivering them to atoms. A bridge perhaps two yards wide spans the stream near the centre of the town; and just below, the waters are gathered into a basin eight or ten feet in diameter and half as deep, though years

ago

it was much deeper and was used as a baptismal font. Here, with the hush of the deep wilderness" and the odor of the forest" around them, the first minister of universal salvation who preached upon these mountains - Rev. David Ballou - used to lead his willing followers for baptism.

I can imagine the scene: the trees bending their lofty tops as though to catch the words of inspiration and prayer; the hushed assembly, scattered upon the banks; the minister, his broad, uncovered brow lifted heavenward and crowned with a sunbeam; the clear, sweet pool, holding the shadows upon its waveless breast, waiting to receive the happy convert, whose spirit had been baptized with a new baptism, - the love of God. "In the name of Christ, the Father, and the Holy Spirit, I baptize thee!" The ruffled waters subside, as did those of the

sacred pool when the healing spirit had stirred it; the sweet hymn floats away in the woodland isles, the birds echo it, and the sweet, wild winds rustle the shining leaves. Nature joins in the song of joy and thanksgiving. It is a lovely dell, fitted by its quiet for the sacred rite. I do not like the marble font under the pulpit, nor the rushing dark river for this pure service; but all cannot have the clear woodland pool, troubled by nought but the singing birds- God's choirand the balmy breeze, - God's breath.

VANITY OF ANCESTRAL PRIDE.

If nobler sentiments than the following, which were uttered by Daniel Webster, ever fell from human lips, we have yet to see them. They are, indeed, pearls of the rarest value, which should be cherished in every heart of hearts by every one.

"It is only shallow-minded pretenders who make distinguished origin either a matter of personal honor or reproach. A man who is not ashamed of himself need not be ashamed of his early condition. It did happen to me to be born in a log-cabin, raised among the snow-drifts of New Hampshire, at a period so early that, when the smoke first rose from its rude chimney and curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence of a white man's habitation between it and the settlement on the rivers of Canada. Its remains still exist. I make it an annual visit. I carry my children to it, and teach them the hardships endured by the generation before them. I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the kindred ties, the early affections, and the narrations and incidents which mingle with all I know of this primitive family abode. I weep to think that none of those who inhabited it are now among the living; and if ever I fail in affectionate veneration for him who raised it and defended it against savage violence and destruction, cherished all domestic comforts beneath its roof, and through the fire and blood of seven years' Revolutionary War, shrunk from no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country and to raise his children to a condition better than his own, may my name and the name of my posterity be blotted from the memory of mankind!”

THE HENRIAD.

[From the French.]

By Rev. C. F. LeFevre.

CANTO VII.

Argument.

St. Louis transports Henry IV. in spirit to heaven and to hell; he shows him in the palace of destiny his posterity and the great men to whom France will give birth.

GOD, the Creator, in his infinite love

To soften the troubles we in this life prove,
Two beneficent beings has placed here below
To attend on our steps wheresoever we go.
In toil or in want we their benefit reap;
The one is named Hope and the other is Sleep.
When to labor or thought man his powers has
lent,

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Not so much to instruct as your merits reward.
Come, obey, follow me, by new paths we'll go
To the bosom of God, and your destiny know."
Both at these words, ascending a chariot of
light,

Take their course through the heavens from
earth out of sight.

Thus the lightning's sharp flash and the thunder's deep roll

The air traverse through and illumine the pole.

Till his nerves are relaxed and his energies Thus Elijah of old and Israel's famed seer, spent,

Sleep comes with her poppies the loss to repair,
And seal in oblivion his toil and his care.

In a cloud was upraised from this earthly sphere,

And with fiery steeds in a car borne away,

Hope inflames our desires and strengthens our Fled far from this globe and the precincts of

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By God himself lighted, the orb of day burns,
And in regular course on its own axis turns;
In torrents unceasing it light and heat gives,

Louis calls on them both to where Henry is And matter itself through its influence lives; laid,

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It dispenses the days, the seasons, the years, "Come here, faithful ministers, give me your To worlds that float round it in separate aid."

From her secret caves Sleep heard the appeal, And her steps near the soft shadows silently steal.

spheres;

Those planets, the subjects of equable forces,'
Are attracted at once and repelled in their

courses.

The winds at her presence their breathing for- And while to each other they mutual rules give, bear;

Blissful dreams, the sure offspring of Hope, too, are there;

Round the hero they hover, his senses transfix, And the olive and laurel with poppies they mix.

From his head Louis instantly taking his crown, On the brow of the victor himself lays it down:

"Reign and triumph," said he, "and fill a
son's place,

For only on you rests the hope of my race;
But a throne, O Bourbon, is not all that you
want,

They dispense at the same time the light they receive.

Outside of their course is a limitless space, Where matter floats in and God alone can embrace.

There worlds without number with suns hold

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That govern our bodies and people the earth; 'Tis the smallest of guerdons that Louis would And there from their earthly bondage relieved,

grant.

In these regions of light are forever received.

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"What justice," this thought passed through Henry's mind,

"What causes for judgment will the Infinite find? Can God punish man who in darkness lies, When the light he himself has removed from his eyes?

That law never varies; it always is pure.

In the light of that law with just judgment proceed;

If the Pagan acts true, he is Christian indced."

While the mind of our hero these questions revolved,

And his imperfect view left the mystery unsolved,

From the foot of the throne comes an ominous

sound;

The heavens and universe tremble around,
Like the voice which in thunder on Sinai broke,
When God by his servant to Israel spoke.
The choir of immortals keep silence to hear,
And the words are repeated by stars in each
sphere :-

"On the weakness of reason think not to de-
pend;

God made you to love him and not compre

hend.

While unseen by the eye, in your heart let him live,

The unjust he condemns, but will errors for give.

Only acts that are wilful are crimes in his sight; Mortal, open your eyes when his sun gives you light."

In a moment removed from this heavenly place,
Henry, caught by a whirlwind,is carried through
space

To that desolate region and barren abode,
The image of chaos, ere fashioned by God.
No brilliant suns there illumined the sky,
Beneficent agents of God the Most High.
In this terrible land, by angels detested,
The germs of existence God never invested.
There death and confusion dominion maintain,
And there undisputed and absolute reign.
What clamor! Great God, what horrible cries!
What billows of smoke! what fires arise!
"What monsters," said Bourbon, “here find a

retreat?

What sulphurous gulf opens under my feet?"

"Those, my son, are the doors of the terrible land,

found;

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For criminals built by Justice's strong hand. Is the code of the Christian the law of his Follow me, for the doors always open are throne? Will this hard Master judge by a law never And they enter at once on the infernal ground. known? There Envy malignant, with eyes askance lowers,

No; God is our Maker, he our happiness seeks;
He everywhere teaches, he everywhere speaks;
He stamps upon all hearts the law of our na-
ture;

With her foul mouth on laurels her venom she pours.

The light wounds her eyes as it sparkles below,

Sad friend to the dead, to the living a foe.

As she Henry perceives she turns and she sighs.
Next in order is Pride, self-conceit in her eyes;
Pale Weakness appears, her look downcast and
low,

Who yielding to Vice is to Virtue a foe.
Ambition, all gory, distractedly raves,
Surrounded by thrones, by tombs and by slaves.
Here Hypocrisy charms with her treacherous
spell;

Her face is a heaven, her heart is a hell.
Her false zeal promulges her fatal discourse,
And interest the last, but of all crimes the

source.

These unrestrained tyrants of mortals appear
Confused, as they see the great Henry draw

near.

To him they're unknown; the impious crew
Never dwelt in that bosom to virtue so true.

"What mortal," said they, "with that guide

£0 august,

Comes to persecute us in this dark abyss

thrust?"

The hero amidst all these spirits unclean
Passed slowly along where in vaults they con-

vene.

That terrible truth is their punishment here;
The veil is removed and their vices appear.
See those conquerors tremble, appalled at his
nod,

By men counted heroes, and tyrants by God.
The scourge of the earth by their fury made
red,

The thunders they hurled have returned on
their head.

Near them are reclined those indolent kings,
Whose sloth on the government odium brings.
Next the king are their insolent ministers seen,
And those who for evil have counsellors been;
Who, corrupting the laws in their lust for the
gold,

The honors of Mars and of Themis have sold;
Who first by vile actions the kingdom disgraced,
Where the rights of our valorous fathers were
placed.

Are you, tender hearts, to this judgment ex-
posed,

Who lived but for pleasure, on flowers reposed;
And equally void both of passion and pride,
Suffered life on the dull stream of idleness glide?
Beneficent being, by virtues surrounded,
Must you with the criminals here be confound-
ed?

Louis guided his steps: "Heavens! what do I Must thirty years' life to benevolence given, see?

The assassin of Valois! the wretch looms upon me!

My father, he still holds that parricide brand, Which the treacherous Sixteen had placed in his hand,

While in Paris the temple of God is disgraced, On whose altars the priesthood his image has placed,

For a moment of weakness exclude you from heaven?"

The generous Henry here melted in tears.
"If, alas, it is true, in these horrible spheres,
That the numerous race of mankind must be
banished

For the sad days on earth which so quickly
have vanished,

While the Leaguers invoke him and Rome adds They are doomed in remediless anguish to her praise,3

The torment of bell all this flattery gainsays."

“My son,” pursued Louis, "the laws most

severe,

To princes and monarchs are meted out here.
Those tyrants the people were called to revere;
The most powerful once are the most humbled
here.

God visits the crimes that through them were
committed,

mourn.

Would it not have been better they ne'er had been born?

How happy could they in the womb have ex

pired!

The freedom of man he had taken away,
Or if the great God their obedience required,
So that his commands he could not disobey."

"Believe not," said Louis, "that the punish-
ment here

Those they failed to avenge and those they per- Surpasses their vices, however severe,
mitted.

Their transient grandeur has yielded to death;
Their luxury, pleasure, the flatterer's breath,
Whose complaisant art was the conscience to
blind,

Nor that a just God, who created mankind,
In destroying his workmanship pleasure can
find;

His infinite love in rewards is declared; From infinite vengeance his creatures are spared. And to shut out the light of the truth from the On earth as a tyrant his name is reviled, mind. But here as a father correcting his child;

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