How does it come?--wait, let me see, It very seldom comes to me; It comes by _rule_ I guess, and _seale_, Sometimes by riding on a _rail_, But oftener, that's the way it goes From silly belles and fast young beaux; It comes in big, nay, _little sums_, Ay! that's the way the money comes.
There was a time when girls wore hoops of steel, And with gray powder used to drug their hair, Bedaub'd their cheeks with rouge; white lead, or meal, Added, to stimulate complexions fair; Whereof by contrast to enhance the grace, Specks of court-plaster deck'd the female face.
That fashion pass'd away, and then were worn Dresses whose skirts came scarce below the knee, With waists girt round the shoulder-blades, and scorn, Now pointed at the prior finery, When here and there some antiquated dame Still wore it, to afford her juniors game.
Short waists departed; Taste awhile prevail'd Till ugly Folly's reign return'd once more, And ladies then went draggle-tail'd; And now they wear hoops also, as before. Paint, powder, patches, nasty and absurd, They'd wear as well, if France had spoke the word.
Young bucks and beauties, ye who now deride The reasonable dress of other days; When time your forms shall have puffed out or dried, Then on your present portraits you will gaze, And say what dowdies, frights, and guys you were, With their more precious figures to compare.
Think, if you live till you are lean or fat, Your features blurred, your eyes bedimm'd with age, Your limbs have stiffen'd; feet grown broad and flat: You may see other garments all the rage, Preposterous as even that attire Which you in mirrors now so much admire.
LOYALTY TO LIBERTY OUR ONLY HOPE.--_Bishop Whipple, of Minnesota._
The love of country is the gift of God--it can not dwell in homes of sin, it has no abiding place in saloons of vice or dens of infamy, it belongs not to infidel clubs or fanatical conventions, they would tear down the sacred edifice which they have never loved; they are impatient for change, for in the seething caldron of rebellion they are brought to the surface. With nothing to lose, they have no fear of the days of terror; their only dread is in the majesty of the law. The love of country belongs to a God-fearing people; it is seen in the purity of private life, in the privacy of Christian homes, in the devotions of the closet, in the manliness of Christian character. The church is its nursing mother. Loyalty to God and to His institutions is her first and last lesson; it is the earnest cry of her loyal children "that peace and happiness, truth and justice, religion and piety may be established among us for all generations." The love of country belongs to loyal men. The power of self-government depends upon a loyal people.