'Tree of Life,' whose branches might have sheltered thee for aye! "Warm fall the sunlight on thy grassy pillow, sweet human blossom! Softly fall the night dews on the blue-eyed violet above thee! Side by side with thee are hearts that have long since ceased hoping or aching. There lies the betrothed maiden, in her unappropriated loveliness; the bride, with her head pillowed on golden tresses, whose rare beauty, even the Great Spoiler seemed loth to touch; childhood, but yesterday warm and rosy on its mother's breast; the loving wife and mother, in life's sweet prime; the gray-haired pastor, gone to his reward; the youth of crisped locks and brow unfurrowed by care; the heartbroken widow, and tearful orphan, all await with folded hands, closed eyes, and silent lips, alike with thee, the resurrection morn. A LITTLE GOOD ADVICE. FROM FANNY FERN. "No person should be delicate about asking for what is properly his due. If he neglects doing so, he is deficient in that spirit of independence which he should observe in all his actions. Rights are rights, and, if not granted, should be demanded.' A LITTLE 'Bunker Hill' atmosphere about that! It suits my republicanism; but I hope no female sister will be such a novice as to suppose it refers to any but masculine rights. In the first place, my dear woman, 'female rights' is debateable ground; what you may call a 'vexed question.' In the next place, (just put your ear down, a little nearer) granted we had 'rights,' the more we 'demand' 'em, the more we shan't get 'em. I've been converted to that faith this some time. No sort of use to waste lungs and leather trotting to SIGH-racuse about it. The instant the subject is mentioned, the lords of creation are up and dressed. Guns and bayonets the order of the day; no surrender on every flag that floats! The only way left is to pursue the 'Uriah Heep' policy; look umble, and be almighty cunning. Bait 'em with submission, and then throw the noose over the will. Appear not to have any choice, and as true as gospel you'll get it. Ask their advice, and they'll be sure to follow yours. Look one way, and pull another! Make your reins of silk, keep 'em out of sight, and drive where you like!" THE OTHER ONE. SOMEBODY rather ambiguously remarks:"Let cynics prattle as they may, our existence here, without the presence of the other sex, would be only a dark and cheerless void." Fanny inquires, in reply :-" Which 'other sex?' Don't be so obscure. Dr. Beecher says, 'that a writer's ideas should stand out like rabbit's ears, so that the reader can get hold of them.' If you alluded to the female sex, I don't subscribe to it. I wish they were all 'translated.' If there is anything gives me the sensations of a landsman on his first sea voyage, it is the sight of a bonnet. Think of female friendship! Two women joining the Mutual Admiration Society; emptying their budget of love affairs; comparing bait to entrap victims; sighing over the same rose leaf; sonnetizing the same moonbeam; patronizing the same milliner, and exchanging female kisses! (Betty, hand me my fan!) "Well, let either have one bonnet or one lover ୮. more than the other-or, if they are blue stockings, let either be one round the higher on Fame's ladder-bodkins and darning-needles! what a tempest! Caps and characters in such a case are of no account at all. Oh, there never should be but one woman alive at a time. Then the fighting would be all where it belongs-in the masculine camp. What a time there'd be, though! Wouldn't she be a belle? Bless her little soul; how she would queen it. It makes me clap my hands to think of it. The only woman in the world! If it was me, shouldn't they all leave off smoking, and wearing those odious plaid continuations? Should they ever wear an outside coat, with the flaps cut off, or a Kossuth hat, or a yellow Marseilles vest? or a mammoth bow on their neck-ties; or a turnover dickey; or a watch-chain; or a ring on the little finger; or any other abomination or off-shoot of dandyism whatsoever? Shouldn't I politely request them all to touch their hats, instead of jerking their heads, when they bowed? Wouldn't I coax them to read me poetry till they had the |