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So over the hills of Judah,
Along by the vine-rows green, With Esther asleep on her bosom,
And Rachel her brothers between;
Or waited his touch and his word,
She pressed to the feet of the Lord.
Said Peter, “with children like these ?
He teacheth and healeth disease?”
Permit them to come unto me!"
And Rachel he set on his knee;
Was lifted all earth-care above,
And blest them with tenderest love,
“Of such are the kingdom of heaven”_ And strength for all duty and trial That hour to her spirit was given.
- Pamily Treasury.
LOVE AND DISCIPLINE.
Tales and Sketches.
THE USE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. I adornment but an ordinary wall paper and
a framed copy of the Declaration of IndeBY MRS. H. B. STOWE.
pendence; on each of the three sides stood DEACON TILDEN had the squarest, neatost four chairs ; under the looking-glass was a white house that ever showed its keen shining mahogany table, with a large Bible angles from the dusty clumps of old lilac and an almanack on it; and a pair of cold, bushes. In front of it stood, on each side glistening, brass hand-irons illustrated the of the doorway, two thrifty cherry trees, fireplace. The mantel-shelf above had a which bore a bushel each every season. pair of bright brass candlesticks, with a Excepting the aforementioned lilac trees, pair of snuifers between, and that was all. there was not a flower or shrub around the The Deacon liked it-it was plain and place. Rose bushes the Deacon thought | simple-no nonsense about it-everything rotted the house, and the honeysuckle for use, and nothing for show-it suited which his wife tried to train over the porch him. His wife sometimes sighed and looked was torn down when the painters came, round it, when she was sewing, as if she and on the whole the Deacon said, what wanted something, and then sung in the was the use of putting it up so long as it | good old psalmdid not bear anything ?
“ From vanity turn off my eyes ; By the side of the house was a thrifty,
Let no corrupt design well-kept garden, with plenty of currant
Or covetous desire arise bushes, gooseberry bushes, and quince trees
Within this heart of mine." -and the beets, and carrots, and onions The corrupt design to which this estiwere the pride of the Deacon's heart; but, mable matron had been tempted had been as he often proudly said, “everything was
the purchase of a pair of Parian flowerfor use,"—there was nothing fancy about
vases, whose beauty had struck in her heart it. His wife put in timorously one season when she went with her butter and eggs to for a flower border—Mrs. Jenkins had the neighbouring city; but, recollecting given her a petunia, and Mrs. Simpkins herself in time, she had resolutely shut her had brought her a package of flower-seeds eyes to the allurement, and spent the money from New York—and so a bed was laid
usefully in buying loaf sugar. For it is to out. But the thrifty Deacon soon found | be remarked that the Deacon was fond of that the weeding of it took time that Mrs. good eating, and prided himself on the Tilden might give to her dairy, or to bounties of his wife's table. Few women making shirts and knitting stockings, and knew better how to set one; and the snowy so it sorely troubled his existence. The bread, golden butter, clear preserves, and next spring he turned it into his corn- ! jellies, were themes of admiration at all the field; and when his wife mildly intimated | tea-tables in the land. The Deacon didn't her disappointment, said placidly, “ After mind a few cents in a pound more for a all, 'twas a thing of no use, and took time," | nice ham, and would now and then bring -and Mrs. Tilden, being a meek woman, in a treat of oysters from the city when they and one of the kind of saints who always were dearest. These were comforts, he suppose themselves miserable sinners, spe said-one must stretch a point for the cially confessed her sin of being inwardly comforts of life. vexed about the incident in her prayers The Deacon must not be mistaken for a that night, and prayed that her eyes might | tyrannical man or a bad husband. When be turned off from beholding vanity, and he quietly put his wife's flower-patch into that she might be quickened in the way of his cornfield, he thought he had done her minding her work.
a service by curing her of an absurd notion The front parlour of the Deacon's house for things that took time and made trouble was the most frigid asylum of neatness that and were of no use; and she, dear soul, ever discouraged the eyes and heart of a never had breathed a dissent to any course visitor. The four blank walls were guilt. | of his, loud enough to let him know she had Jess of any engraving or painting, or of any one. He laughed in his sleeve often whery he saw her so tranquilly knitting or shirt. | mother's suffused eyes, “it is one of the making at those times she had been wont most useful things that has been brought to give to her poor little contraband | into the house this many a day.” pleasures. As for the flower vases, they 1 “I don't see how you're going to make were repented of--and Mrs. Tilden put a that out," said the Deacon, looking apprehandful of spring anemones into a cracked | hensively at the young wisdom that had pitcher and set it on her kitchen table, | risen in his household. till the Deacon tossed them out of the win “What will you wager me, father, that dow-"He couldn't bear to see weeds I will not prove out of your own mouth growing round.”
that this statuette is as useful as your own The poor little woman had a kind of cart and oxen ?". chronic beart sickness, like the pining of a "I know you've got a great way of comteething child, but she never knew exactly ing round folks, and twitching them up what it was she wanted. If she ever was before they fairly know where they are: sick, no man could be kinder to her than but I'll stand you on this question, any the Deacon. He has been known to har way." And the Deacon put his yellow ness in all haste, and rush to the neigh silk bandanna over his bald head, and took bouring town at four o'clock in the morn | up his position in the window seat. ing, that he might bring her some delicacy Į “ Well, now, father, what is the use of she had a fancy for-for that he could see | your cart and oxen ?" the use of; but he could not sympathise in "Why, I could not work the farm withher craving desire to see Power's Greek | out them, and you'd all have nothing to Slave, which was exhibiting in a neighbour. eat, drink, or wear.” ing town; “What did Christian people "Well, and what is the use of our eating, want of stun images ?” he wanted to know. drinking, and wearing ?” He thought the Scripture put that thing “Use? Why, we could not keep alire down: «Eyes have they, but they see without it." not; ears have they, but they hear not: "And what is the use of our keeping neither speak they through their throats.
alive?” They that make them are like unto them ; so The use of our keeping alive?" is every one that trusteth in them.” There “Yes, to be sure ; why do we strive and was the Deacon's opinion of the arts ; and twist and turn to keep alive, and what's Mrs. Deacon only sighed, and wished she the use of living ?” could see it, that was all.
“Liring? why, we want to live; we enBut it came to pass that the Deacon's joy living-all creatures do-dogs and cats, eldest son went to live in New York, and and every kind of beast. Life is sweet." from that time strange changes began to " The use of living, then, is that we appear in the family that the Deacon didn't | enjoy it ?" like: but as Jethro was a smart, driving 'Yes." lad, and making money at a great pace, he “ Well, we all enjoy this statuette, so at first said nothing. But on his mother's that there is the same value to that there is birthday, down he came and brought a in living; and if your oxen and carts, and box for his mother, which, being unpacked, food and clothes, and all that you call contained a Parian statuette of Paul and | necessary things, have no value except to Virginia, lovely, simple little group as ever keep in life, and life has no value except told its story in a day.
enjoyment, then this statuette is a short Everybody was soon standing around it cut to the great thing for which your farm in open-mouthed admiration, and poor | and everything else is designed. You do Mrs. Tilden wiped her eyes more than once pot enjoy your cart for what it is, but beas she looked on it. It seemed a vision of cause it is of use to get clothes—and food beauty in the desolate neatness of the bed- and clothes we value for the enjoyment room.
that they give. But a statuette, or a pic" Very pretty, I s'pose,” said the Deacon ture, or any beautiful thing, gives enjoy doubtfully-for like most fathers of spirited ment at once. We enjoy it the moment twenty-three-year-olders, he began to feel a we see it-for itself, and not for any use little in awe of his son-"but, dear me, we mean to make of it. So that strikes the what a sight of money to give for a thing great end of life quicker than anytbing that, after all, is of no use !"
else, don't it? Hey, father-haven't I got “I think," said Jethro, looking at his my case ? "
“I believe the pigs are getting into the , miles; and though back in the hills I am garden," said the Deacon, rushing out of narrow and small, I water the roots of the front door.
hundreds of trees, and give drink to flocks But to his wife he said, before going to of birds and animals that would perish bed, “Isn't it amazing the way Jethro can without me. All those green elms along talk ? I couldn't do it myself, but I had those valleys send down their loog roots it in me though, if I'd had his advantages. to me to get nourishment, and I have Jethro is a chip of the old block.”
never failed them since they were saplings, which is at least a hundred years ago."
" A hundred years! Are you so old ? "
interrupted the boy. THE LESSON OF THE BROOK, “ Yes, and twice that, and I do not
know how much older, and I have been FOR THE YOUNG.
making my life useful ever since I was a “What are you babbling to yourself little rill. But do not interrupt me so about ?" said an idle boy to the brook, as often; I shall have to leave you soon. he lay on its banks gazing up into the After I leave the hills I flow into Farmer willow.
Goff's meadow, and then I am useful to “I am talking of all I have done to men and cattle all day long. The cattle day, and all I have yet to do," replied the stand in my channel for hours in the shade, brook,
while I wash their feet and limbs, and I "Done! You do nothing but run and like very well to see their great, quiet, brown play: what do you do?'
eyes looking down at me. Once a year I "I haven't time to talk with you here; I am obliged to wash the sheep, which is not the miller is waiting for me. But if you so pleasant a task; for they care very little will meet me below your grandfather's mill for me. I supply the farmer's table with at the stepping-stones, I shall be able to trout, and every week do all his wife's tell you there; for then I am not in a washing. Meanwhile, you know, I keep hurry."
the meadow green, and in the spring I am Saying which the brook sped singing by, able to spread out into a broad fertilising and the boy rose and walked lazily across sheet, really imposing and beautiful. In - the fields to the stepping-stones. Here old times the children and I used to have
there was an old beech tree, and more wil. | great sport in that meadow, but that has lows, with a great swing under one of passed long since; there have been no them. It was a charming spot; po won children there for forty years. For though
der the brook liked to loiter there. The I am always at work, I enjoy every moment - boy waited only a few minutes for the of my life. When am I not singing, or
stream, which came racing down from the when do I refuse to smile on the children? mill in considerable excitement, but soon “But I hasten from the meadow to do composed itself.
my duty at the cross-roads. There I afford "Here I am," said the boy ; "now for refreshment to travellers and their weary your story."
horses at all times of day and night. We “You think I am an idle do-nothing streams do not hush ourselves into useless like yourself, do you ?” began the stream. sleep eight hours out of every day, as you "I wonder you cannot see that I do mortals do; night or day is equally time more work in a day than any man in the for our work. After crossing the ford I village. But idle people are never ready to answer similar purposes, to the next five or acknowledge that any one else is indus six farmers ; and without me I wonder trions,"
what would become of them? Then I wind “You turn the mill, I know, but that's | round Meeting-house Hill and by the quite as much fun as, work; what more school-bouse ; whether I do any good there you do I cannot tell.”
no one knows better than yourself. Let “Yes. I turn the mill, and that gives me assure you, my young friend, though you your bread and butter. As to the rest you think me only a gay Prattler, I am of listen. In the first place, I run more than that degree of importance that, should I a mile in the valleys of Ilickory Hills." have stayed at ease up in my fountain in
“Why, do you line from away off Hickory Hills (which would be by far the there ?"
pleasantest place to stay), this whole village “ Yes. My course in all is six or seven would never have existed here."
"Indeed !” said the boy, who by this | thing changes around me; grows old and time had become convinced that the brook passes away." was worthy of great respect, and had ceased “But you do not grow old and die; to interrupt it.
is not this strange ?" “Next I enter the village and cross it in “No, not strange; there is my fountain three different places. First at the Old back in the hills ; that is a living fountain Bridge, where many a traveller has been fed by an ever-living God, whose will I cheered by my voice, and many a schoolboy gladly do. But I have lingered too long; taken an accidental batlı-at the country the tide is waiting for me. Try and profit road, and at Dibble's Bridge, where you by me! You are idle, or work and com. love to go fishing when you play truant. plain ; I work and am happy!" with which Ah, I could make many a boy wince if I the brook ran by, and paid no further Leed chose to tell tales ! At length I enter your to the boy, who called for it to stay and grandfather's farm, where Noisy Brook answer his questions, for he thought of joins me to help me in my great work—the many now; but the only answer was the turning of the mill. I have first to fill my constant, cheerful murmur, “Work, work pond, and that is a work of time. I could -make your banks green; make your place tell you stories about that pond all day, flourish about you; be faithful and never if I had time. I remember when your complain.” grandfather and his father before him used Heed its lesson, careless, crying, loiter. to skate on my frozen surface, winter nights, | ing children! For you, too, there is a with half the boys and men in the village Living Fountain, of which, if you drink, —for while they counted me frozen to your life may be full of refreshment, vigour, death, far beneath I was always wide-awake and peace! and stirring, and through the clear ice could see the gleaming of their fires, and hear their shouts and merriment. The girls used to slide round after the boys,
“A LAUGHING-STOCK." holding fast their coats, though they knew He was a good man, that Deacon L. I they were sure to be overthrown on the knew him well. He was my kindred and middle of the pond. Of all merry scenes, my friend. He stood over six feet high, this was the merriest. Now-a-days the boys and was proportionately large ; a farmer, have no such fun.
“well to do "malways moral and upright. “There, too, one dark autumn night, | When about forty years old, he became when the wind and rain sobbed dolefully in deeply interested in religion. Naturally the trees, your old great grandmother came very, very diffident, he said little or nothing wandering along the bank, her grey hair to any one about his feelings. Months streaming in the wind, crying and com rolled on, and still he was anxious, dis. plaining of her ungrateful children. A tressed; while yet he had regular seasons heavy plunge soon told what a desperate, of secret prayer, read his Bible, and was crazy deed the poor woman had done ; I doing all he felt he could and ought to do, closed my waters decently over her, and save one thing. He was the head of : hastened away, troubled and frightened.” family. He had a sweet wife and four “I never heard of that.”
children, all impenitent, but they were his, "No; I suppose it is not spoken of. It and conscience urged him to the duty of is not the only secret I hold. A hundred erecting the family altar. But the cross, years I have turned this mill,” continued oh, it was too great for his timidity! So the stream, resuming its cheerful tone, it was put off, and new duties discharged " fed three generations of men and women, in other directions as an offset, but he grew and I love its old red walls. Once well | nothing the better, nay, rather the worse. past the mill, I have a little leisure to my. At length, one morning, in his field, he self here, and to join the children at their solemnly resolved that that night he would, sport. Rare times they have always had come what might, make the attempt at here. I remember when there were two least, to pray in his family. A seamstress great sweeping elms, and red men built was at his house, from whose ridicule and their wigwams and held councils on this scorn he shrank--but his mind was made very spot, and naked Indian children swam | up. And here I give his own language. and frolicked about these banks. Every. I « When I went to dinner, she told me she