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Show WOMAN'S THE DREAMER. Oh, I love that old hall', While the leaves o'er it fall, And the green ancient walk is there still; And the summer house seat, In the garden so neat. May the Peddemoor children long fill. Grace Ingles Frost. Near a bend of the river On a bright summer day, A winsome maid with heart so gay, Sits idly dreaming the hours away. By Frances Hanbon. Her hand she trails in the silvery stream. That plays an accompaniment to her dream, While from trees above her blossoms bright, Are falling upon her in showers light. And the perfumed breath of the warm June breeze That's playing such havoc with flow'rs and trees, Is fanning her face so wondrous fair, And plays "hide and seek" with her golden hair, There she sits thro' the long bright day, Dreaming loves golden dream alway; And never a cloud in the sky appears, To warn her that troubles come with years. Oh, beautiful dreamer! dream on! dream on! Build your castles in sunny Spain! With never a thought of the waking hour, Which brings the clouds and rain Others have dreamed as thou dost today, 'Neath summer skies and fragrance sweet, Only to waken and find that life, Brought them trials which all must meet. For "Life is a stag5 where all play a part;" Tho' we may dream we awake with a start, To find that in dream-lanour fancies have strayed; And those castles we builded, in dust now are laid. d PEDDEMOOR HALL, SUTTON OLD FIELns, WARWICK CO, ENGLAND. Oh, how I love that old hall, With its trees so tall, They seem to have hidden from view, And its mantle of green, Formed of ivy, is seen, Growing there as it formerly grew. Then around, the old moat Is still there to denote That it claims all the honors of time; And cuckoo's soft song, From its bushes among, Demands a fond tribute in rhyme. Not only around Is beauty there found, There are blesings that gladden within Peace and welcome are there, For the stranger to share, Faraway from the busy world's din. ; Oh, it brings to my mind All its meuories kind, That time nor the world can efface; For a parent once dear May have helped to rear The woodbines that bloom round the place. The old patriach, too, Has passed from our view, Whose goodness ennobled on earth; He was gentle and kind. And has left none behind Who love not to speak of his worth. May the happy old dame Through life pass the same; And live long in the hall to be blest; May her old age be crowned, By her children around, With bliss as she glides to her rest; And may those who survive, At the same fate arrive, When time on their heads brings its snow, May mirth and good cheer Be ever found there. And each child in affection still grow, Blest, perfect retreat, 1 never can meet With charms so abounding as thine; For fruit, flower and tree, With the blithe snmmer bee, Seem all in thy praise to combine, EXPONENT A AN INDIAN SCARE. TRUE STORY OF EARLY DAYS. One beautiful Sabbath morning I think in February, in 1853, in the then small town of Nephi, Utah. Nearly all of the adult inhabitants were in the log meeting A peaceful spirit pervaded the house. We were listening to a fine displace. course by the President, Elder Joseph L. Heywood, I was leaning my head against the side of the house when I heard the terrible war whoop which rang down from the snowy side of old Mount Nebo, where the Indians, had their winter wickeups, I heard the clatter of many horses' hoofs, and ere the people were aware of trouble the Indian warriors surrounded the house. The five windows and the door were crowded with the dark angry faces, their eyes fierce, and visage stern, no pity lingering near, for the defenceless worshippers; guns and arrows were pointed at every one in the house, and apparently every moment was our last; some of the men that sat with their backs to the windows, were a little nervous, but Pres. Heywood's calm voice quieted them. "Sit still brethren don't move. You are as safe there as anywhere in the house," he said. The Indian Chief Old Batteus threw open the door, and strode to the fireplace, turned his back to the fire, and faced the audience, who astonished and quiet, sat awaiting results. One resisting motion, one note of alarm, and death awaited us. But there was hope, in the Father in Heaven, that He would preserve us from the fury of the untamed savages. The old chief, erect and defiant, commenced dancing, and singing the "Death Song." He threw off his blanket, still singing and dancing and one article of clothing after another, until the naked savage was brought to a stop by President Heywood springing forward, picking up handed it to the his dirty breech-clou- t, commanded and calmly owner, angry him to put it on. Old Batteus obeyed. The dance was stopped. The song was silenced. That one act of our President, with the blessing of the Lord saved us for had Batteus gone on unmolested, at a raise of his hand, and a pitch of his song, the signal would have been given, for the Indians to fire, and none could have escaped, hemmed in as we were. The peace of the Lord was with us. We felt His care was over us. A talk ensued, and after hours of talk and interpretation, the old chief confessed that he was angry, because the night before, a sub-chi- ef had been appointed by the Mormons, chief over him, and he didn't like it. He wouldn't have it so. He was Big Chief, and Big chief he still would be. "He is not Chief over you" was told him, "You are the Big Chief, and he is the Little Chief" "we told him to teach his Indians not to fight, not to kill, not to steal, nor to lie, that is all." "He was not to meddle with you. He is not over you." The heart of the old fellow softened The wild savage relented. After all he was still Big Chief, with no one over him. He demanded tobacco. President Hey ii "Hand olit your tobacco brethren," Every man that used it, pulled it out of his pocket, and parts of plugs were handed over from one to another until all they had was giyen to the Interpreter, who gave it to the chief, who took it with a grunt of satisfaction. "Quinch in bungo ash nida mina" was the next demand. "Who has an ox they will give Batteus?" asked President Heywood. "I have a white ox he can have" answered one of the brethren. The young Interpreter told Batteus that he could have an ox in the morning.' "I will send for it he said," He was pacified. He could have a big feast. He went out, called off his warriors, and they rode rapidly away to the camp, on the wood said, side of Mount Nebo. How thankful we were that our lives were spared, and that the ordeal was over. Some even laughingly said "Batteus wanted an ox, and thought he would, scare us to get one." Emily B. Spencer, Cannonville, Utah THE AMERICAN CHURCH, BERLIN. Situated on Motz Strasse, in the new and fashionable quarter of Berlin this church is known far and wide, It is a fine commodious structure, of American The Rev. Dr. Dickie, a typical style. American gentleman, is pastor. He was very proud of his countrywomen of the Congress, and, on the occasion of the speaking of Miss Susan B. Anthony. Rev. Anna Shaw and Mrs Sewall, showed them marked courtesy. These women as brilliant speakers perhaps, are unequalled in the world, and here, Where such a thing perhaps before, had never been seen, they received all but an ovation. After the close of the Congress, Miss Alder, and the writer, attended Sabbath School in the Church, and were courteously conducted to the bible class. Soon another lady from Utah entered, to whom we bowed. At the close of the session when we moved back into the body cf the hall, the writer detected the above mentioned lady pointing at her, School while speaking to a third lady. out. the writer was introduced to that lady, who abruptly said: "Where are ycu from?" "Utah" was the reply. "Gentiles, I hope," she exclaimed. "We are thankful to say, Mormon." we said as in one breath. "I am sorry," she remarked, "And trying to be good ones," the writer rejoined.- ' 'I am glad of that" the lady said, mistaking "good" for our meaning "faithful" Her voice betrayed her bitter feeling, yet had she not been informed of our faith she would have been glad to welcome, sisters from a far off land. We remained for Church, where any American can attend, "without endangerIt is well to ing their standing at homewe consider all things, "that may hold we So thought fast to that which is good." as we wended our way home. The heritage of Christ has followed through the generations, and as then, the question is asked, "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" - - Lydia D. Alder. |