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Thrre is great significance in thia title, and the work which bears it should be of a peculiar character.

It is a work intended, not for mere amusement—not for the gay and trifling, who seek to beguile the passing hour—not for the profoundly studious or deeply learned—not for the study, or the school, or the nursery. It is a work designed for the family, and adapted to the various members who compose it.

It comes to them as they encircle the lamp of a summer evening, when the fragrance of the rose and the honeysuckle steals over them, or as they are gathered around the wintry fireside, enjoying its red and cheerful glow, while the snow and sleet of the storm are beating against the windows.

It rs intended for the Parlor, not the Drawingroom; and let none deem this a distinction without a difference. The drawing-room belongs to the abodes of wealth and fashion. Its lofty walls aud gorgeous furniture, its velvet carpetings and hangings of damask and lace, its luxurious sofas and divans, its splendid pictures and costly statuary, and the bijouterie so profusely scattered to indulge the taste or display the wealth, are all associated with visions of pomp and the glare and show of fashionable life, but with no dreams of domestic enjoyment or fireside happiness. We think of the drawing-room as filled with the festive throng, whirling in the mazes of the dance, the glittering chandeliers pouring their floods of light on jewelled forms and many-tinted dresses; or we think of the heavy doors as opened for the single visitor, who, finding all light excluded, the furniture covered, the splendor all shrouded, gropes carefully to the first seat, aud sinks in the cushions, striving vainly to penetrate the unaccustomed darkness. On the contrary, the Parlor is associated with all the scenes of domestic life. It belongs to that medinm class who possess the comforts, the refine

ments, it may be the luxuries of life, but who aim at no display of the show of wealth or the pomp of state.

It is the centre of the household, the gathering-place of the family. It has its table, withlta books and papers, its vases of summer flowers, its winter's lamp, with the circle of sisters with their implements of light labor, their embroidery, their woreted; while a brother, or, it may be, a lover, is reading some well-chosen page. It has its piano and music, where youthful voices are often blended in sweet harmony. It has its corner for Mother's table, with her ever-filled work-basket, waiting her Sysiphus toi's.

There is the large easy-chair in its wonted place, with the slippers before it, awaiting the coming of the father from his day of care and toil; and in the brightest light, the warmest spot for winter, stands the rocking-chair, where sits the aged grandmother, with her clean cap, her silvered hair, her white kerchief, her dark dress and full black silk apron—her spectacles and her knitting her care, her Bible and ber grandchildren her enjoyment. Its has its large, oldfashioned sofa, with many cushions and pillows for the loungers, while in the corner close by grandmother may be the little chair for the baby, the youngest.

Few parlors display pictures of great merit; but those grim portraits, which have descended as heir-looms, are rich in storied memories and pleasant associations; and it is pleasant to recognize in the present generation the lineaments of the past; and in almost every parlor is there a display of drawings and paintings by the daughters of the house, deemed worthy of a frame and a place, and displacing, as they were hung, the antique embroidery of the mother's school days, with its lambs and shepherdess and crook; or of some Scripture scene — Esther arrayed in her regal robes, her crown resplendent with gold, and her dress of gold and purple; or the daugh

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THE CHRISTIAN PARLOR MAGAZINE.

ter of Herodias, with skirt short enough for Celeste, despite the rigid morality of those days.

And the parlor ever boasts its book-case, with shelves well filled. There you will still find the "Rambler," and the "Spectator," and Milton, and Shakspeare, and Burns, and Cowper; while the window-seats, filled with bright geraniums and monthly roses, diffuse the beauty and fragrance of summer over the depth of winter.

The parlor is associated with all the scenes and interests of the life of the family.

Here parents and friends have held grave consultations upon matters of business, upon the education, establishment, and marriage of their children. Here the courtship of lovers has proceeded. Here have been social gatherings, and the family meetings, and holiday celebrations. Here all the scattered members of the household meet at Thanksgiving, exchange their Christmas gifts, and good wishes at New Year. And here has stood the bride, arrayed in her robes of lace and satin, with her encircling bridesmaids, while her train filled the room; and here has been the gathering around the dead, and bitter tears have fallen on the marble brow as the last look was taken of the coffined form.

But while the pirlor thus suggests the idea of social enjoyment, of domestic happiness—of a station which admits a participation of all the comforts of life, of refinement and intelligence, excluding only the parade of wealth and the idle show — does not the Christian parlor suggest something still higher, and demand still more? Surely it doe3.

The Christian parlor should be not merely the abode of domestic affection, of social virtue, of intellect, taste, and cultivation, but of a higher indwelling, a holier influence. The Christian parlor is a consecrated spot Here stands the family altar. Here, at morning and at eventide, the members of the household assemble to invoke the presence and the blessing of the Holy One: and from this, as a temple, should everything impure and unholy be excluded. "And into it there should in no wise enter any thing that defiled), neither whatever worketh abomination or maketh alie." Rigidly should there be excluded from its hallowed precincts aught that can corrupt or degrade.

The Christian parlor should thus be sacredly guarded, and its hinges should never turn to admit the man impure and immoral, however distinguished by talent, standing, or wealth; and there should never enter the corrupt novelist, the impure poet, or the unholy song.

It should be the centre of holiness, as the gathering-place of affection, and from it should be banished whatever could tarnish the delicacy of the daughter, or stain the purity of the son. No licentious novelist, no impure poet, should be admitted there; and while its walls echo the sounds of youthful mirth and gladness, the mirth should be harmless—not drawn from the heart's blood of others: while there should swell the strains of music, they should be pure as well as sweet.

"We would not exclude from the Christian parlor the works of imagination; but we would guard it from those works in which the imagination has been debased by an unholy heart and impure affections. We would not banish amusements from it, but none should there be allowed to excite the bitterness of an evil nature, or sully the purest delicacy of early life. As we would that it should never echo the voice of the profane, or the ehout of the reveller, so we would that it should never catch the whiaper of the elanderer, or the idle gossip of the busybody.

And while the Christian parlor is, and long has been, the favorite resort of refinement, intelligence, of affection and kindness; while here age has its reverence, and youth its indulgence, let it be still more the resting-place for the worn and the weary missionary and minister; for the pale student struggling for his education, and denying himself bread; for the orphan teacher who seeks here an early home; for the sons and daughters of affliction, who can work for bread but not ask for sympathy. Let it be remembered that the brotherhood of the Christian Church is not to be acknowledged alone at the Communion Table. Let it be remembered how many there are who, in the reverses of this life, feel far more that change which excludes from refined sympathies and intellectual associations, and throws them ieto an ungenial circle, than that which has subjected to the privations of want and the wear of toil.

As the Christian parlor is the family sanctuary, the gathering-place for the scattered members, the place of rest for the weary ones, so it is a type of that higher dwelling-place, into which those once admitted shall no more go out for ever.

CosirAitATrvE Loss,—When a certain worthy laird had his head taken off in the Scotch troubles, his housekeeper feelingly remarked, "It was nae great thing of a head, to be sure, but it was a sair loss to him."

SCHUBART, THE GERMAN PATRIOT-POET.

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At the time when the French taste—confirmed if cot introduced into Germany by the influence of Voltaire and Frederic the Great—seemed too strongly established to be easily shaken; when German nationality was almost forgotten in the prevalent cosmopolitanism of a Jean-Jacques philosophy; when one of the noblest of German men* was expiating in a fortress the crime of daring to speak truth among courtiers, and being a man among parasites, there appeared upon the public stage a man who, notwithstanding his erratic and unfortunate life, was destined to be an impotantally in producing that reaction which was to restore Germany to herself.

The scope of his life and genius, of his hopes i and efforts, cannot be better expressed than in his own lines:

Let Germany her true worth feel,

No more to foreign puppets kneel;

Keep her good usages infract,

Oid German modes of speech and act;

Never her Christian faith deny,

Treasure the truth and scorn the lie;

Nor call that li^ht which leads astriiy,

While she enjoys a heavenly ray;

Let manliness like Hermann's steel

This age with a courageous zeal;

Then Germany—let this be done—

Will be the first land 'neath the sun.

Christian Frederic Daniel Schubart, the genia1, fiery poet, as remarkable for his talents as the irregularities and miseries of his life, was born at Obersontheim, in the province of Limburg, in the year 1739. In his earlier years, he manifested no peculiar aptitude for study, and displayed no unusual intellectual capacity. But when at last his genius was aroused, he soon excelled all his associates. In 1753 his father sent him to the Lyceum at Nordlingen. Here he pursued the study of the Greek and Romau classics, and made hirubtlf familiar with the works of the German poets, especially those of Klopstock. Hie taste for music led him to compose popular songs, glowing with the spirit of German nationality, which he also set to music . In 1756 he went to Niirnberg, and two years later to Jena, to pursue the study of theology, to which his father's choice had destined him. But he indulged in a reckless course, and was soon plunged deeply in debt. In consequence of this, as well as of feeble health, he returned to his father's house. For his support he sought employment as family tutor, but this was soon abandoned. He now pursued for • John Jacob Van Moser.

a while a wandering life, earning a scanty provision for his wants by the exercise of his musical talent, or writing sermons for the use of the priests. In 1764 he became school-teacher and organist at Geiflingon, where he was married to one whose unfaltering love followed him through all the scenes of his sorrows and excesses, and to whose kindness and generosity of spirit he bears a noble testimony in more than one of his Prison Poems. His acquaintance with the officers and soldiers quartered in the neighborhood encouraged him in his irregularities: he was punished by the Archduke. Satire and epigram were the weapons of his revenge: their power and sting were confessed in his banishment from the Archduke's territory, which soon followed.

His wife's father had previously taken her and her children to his own house, and Schubart, with a single dollar in his purse, his whole property, began his wanderings without any definite aim. He went first to Stuttgardt, then to Heilbronn, supporting himself by means of his mubical talents. From Stuttgardt he went to Heidelberg, then to Mannheim, where the indiscretion of his own free speech lost him a favorable position which he might otherwise have secured. After a similar experience in eeveral other places, he at last found more success at Augsburg. He here commenced editing "The German Chronicle," whose circulation quickly became extensive. Schubart was now in his proper sphere. His paper was eminently popular, and discussed polities, art, literature and morals, with freedom, ability, and a generous yet critical apptcciation. By hia varied labors, he secured a handsome income, which was, however, lavishly and often recklessly expended. He was as reckless moreover in the use of his wit as of h'.s money. His satire spared neither priest nor magistrate. Previous to his banishment, he had not hesitated to parody the Litany, and the repetition of offences scarcely less heinous, secured his second banishment. He transferred the publication of his paper from Stuttgardt to Ulm, and here indulged in such severity of language against the Wurtemburg Court as to make it his bitter foe. Here he was rejoined by his family, for whom he was now amply able to provide.

But his season of repose was short. The Duke of Wiirtemberg brooded over his plans of revenge against the editor and the poet. Unable to seize him in Ulm, over which his jurisdiction did not extend, he drew him, by means of his emissaries, within his own territory; then violently seized and imprisoned him, adding the baseness

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