Say not that voice is feeble-it may rise

On more than angel's wings and reach the skier;
Say not thy hands are weak, they have much might
To mould the spirit of thy child aright-
To turn the ardours of his brightening eye
From blood-stained wreaths to palms that never die.
Then plead, pray, love; such weapons shall avail
Where all the thunders of the battle fail.

What cause like that of peace thy heart to move?
The cause of Christ, of tenderness, of love.
Christ, woman's own deliverer! He whose might
Lifts the war-trampled gem, and makes it bright;
His kingdom is thine atmosphere; His power
First lifts the drooping rose, then builds its bower.
Oh man may well our Christ his Saviour call,
Man owes Christ all, woman owes more than all.

Open, ye lips of music, pour your stream
Of sweetness unto Him, your sweetest theme;
Shine forth, ye eyes of brightness, to that Sun
Which fills you with the rays of righteousness;
Oh, plead for Christ and Peace, they are but one,
He speaks the echo of His voice is Peace.

13 *

THE ART OF CONVERSING WELL.

WE afford hours to music and dancing; we throw away large sums upon wools and chenilles; but we bestow little culture upon an accomplishment that beyond all others promotes the happiness of home, enlivens society, and improves upon every other blessing in existence-the art of conversation. How many excellent women are deficient in the power of expressing themselves well, or, indeed, of expressing themselves at all! How many minds "cream and mantle," from the want of energy to pour themselves out in words: on the other hand, how some, equally wellintentioned, drown the very senses in their torrent of remarks, which dashes like a waterfall into a sombre pool of ennui below!

Let us recall some instances of either extreme.

Lucetta comes into society well dressed, well looking, polite she does not intend to chill it by her presence: yet her absence is found a relief. She sits at dinner as if she considered it sufficient to dress, to

look well, to eat. She brings no stock to the community of ideas. Her dull eyes return no response to the discourse which is going on. When you have once glanced at her, she becomes an expletive in the company. She leaves us, and goes home-"But how much worse must it be for her poor husband!" is the general reflection.

Angela, on the other hand, is a talker. She is like the canary-bird in that cage; when others begin to speak, she hurries in her remarks in an accompaniment. Her voice must be uppermost; conversation becomes a contest who can speak the most rapidly. The timid and modest retire from the encounterAngela has the field to herself. She goes on, without mercy: the voice of a syren would fatigue us, if we were to hear it continually. The mind revolts at the injustice of monopoly, and Angela talks to ears that would be deaf if they could.

These are extreme cases: there are many other minor errors. The higher qualities of conversation must undoubtedly be based upon the higher qualities of the mind: then it is indeed a privilege to commune with our fellow mortals: but it is not to the erudite nor to the imaginative only that it is given to please in conversation.

The art of imparting our ideas easily and elegantly to others may be improved by ourselves, if there are opportunities of mingling in good society, with little study. The mind must first be cultivated: but it should not abash those who are conscious of moderate talents, or imperfect cultivation, from taking a due part in conversation, on account of their inferiority. It is a very different thing to shine and to please: to shine in society is more frequently attempted than 'compassed: to please is in the power of all. The effort to shine, when fruitless, brings a certain disgrace, and engenders mortification: all good people are in

clined to take the will for the deed when they see a desire to please. A gentle, deferential, kind manner will disarm even the most discerning from criticising too severely the deficiencies of the inexperienced confidence, disrespect of others, volubility, eagerness to dispute must irritate the self-love of others, and produce an averseness to acknowledge talent or information, when they may even happen to exist.

It is wiser and safer for a young lady in general to observe the good old-fashioned rule of being addressed first; but then she must receive the address readily, meeting it half-way, repaying it by enlarging a little upon the topic thus selected, and not by sinking into a dull silence the moment after a reply is given. Some young ladies start as if thunderstruck, when spoken to, and stare as if the person who pays them that attention had no right to awaken them from their reverie. Others look affronted, possibly from shyness, and begin a derogatory attack upon the beauty of their gowns by twitching the front breadth,-or move from side to side, in evident distress and consternation. Time remedies these defects; but there is one still less curable and less endurable-that of pertness and flippancy-the loud "O yes!" "O dear!" "How strange!" the look of self-sufficiency and confidence. But these offensive manifestations spring from some previous and deep-seated defects of character, and are only to be repelled by what I fear they will frequently encounter the mortification of inspiring disgust.

Neither is the lengthy, prosy, didactic reply con

sistent with the submission and simplicity of youth; egotism, and egotism once removed, that is, the bringing into the topic one's own family and relations too frequently, are also antidotes to the true spirit of conversation. In general, it is wiser, more in good taste, safer, more becoming, certainly more in accordance with good breeding, to avoid talking of persons. There are many snares in such topics: not merely the danger of calumniating, but that of engendering a slippery conscience in matters of fact. A young girl, shy and inexpert, states a circumstance; she feels her deficiency as a narrator, for the power of telling a story is a power to be acquired by practice. She is sometimes tempted to heighten a little the incidents, in order to get on a little better and to make more impression. She must of course defend her positions, and then the sanctity of truth is in danger of being sullied. Besides, few things narrow the intellect more than dwelling on the peculiarities, natural or incidental, of that small coterie of persons who constitute our world.

It is in general a wise rule, and one which will tend much to insure your comfort through life, to avoid disclosures to others of family affairs. I do not mean to recommend reserve or art; to friends and relations, too great an openness can hardly be practised: but, with acquaintance, the less our own circumstances are discussed, the happier and the more dignified will our commerce with them continue. On the same principle, let the concerns of others be touched upon with delicacy, or, if possible, passed over in silence; more