THE MOTHER'S GREAT WANT, BROWN'S PATENT

BABY TENDER,

OR MAGIC SPRING CRADLE.

By those who have used it, the Baby Tender is pronounced next to the Sewing Machine, the

GREATEST LABOR-SAVING INVENTION

of the age for domestic use. It is not only

A MATCHLESS CRADLE

but may be instantly converted into either of the following articles, viz:

AN INFANT'S RECLINING COUCH,

A DELIGHTFUL BABY-JUMPER,

A HIGH-CHAIR FOR THE TABLE,

A NURSERY-CHAIR AND OTTOMAN, AN INGENIOUS BABY-WALKER, OR A CHARMING HOBBY-HORSE. It takes almost the entire charge of infants from their birth, saves vastly in washing, affords constant amusement and healthful exercise for children under 5 years, and enables the mother to

DISPENSE WITH A NURSE.

The Baby Tender stands on castors-no part being suspended-is safe, strong and durable, occupies very little room, and, having a vertical and noiseless motion, it effectually obviates the acknowledged serious

EVILS OF THE ROCKING MOTION

of the ordinary cradle.

HE SOLDIER'S NATIONAL MEMORIAL.-This Memorial is one of the finest works of art ever gotton up in this country. It is printed in oil colors, and will be as enduring as a steel plate engraving. It is so arranged as to be adapted to every rank, from a private to a Major-General, both for the living and the lamented dead. Persons wishing copies have only to send or give the following particulars to the principal or local agents who sell it: The Name; the Rank; in what capacity he entered the service; what Regiment and Company; his promotion, if any; the battles he was in, in their regular order; if wounded, in what battle, and date; if he fell, in what battle. and date; if honorably discharged from the service, and date. If still living, and is the service of our country, give all particulars up to the present time, and they will be filled up in the most beautiful style, leaving room to enter the particulars of what may occur to them up to the time they may leave the service. Please be particular in relation to the foregoing instructions, and all orders will be filled with he utmost care and promptness.

The following is a list of prices for which it will be solda large percentage of which goes to the brave men who have participated in the battles for the preservation of our glorious Union and Constitution:

685-7.

W. H. BEEBE, Sole Agent, 181 BROADWAY, First Floor, Room No. 3,

THE carrier of this paper, Mr. JOHN E. LINE, is authorized to receive subscriptions.

STEREOSCOPIC VIEWS OF "HOME" SCENES. There have been prepared, in order to give our distant friends a more perfect idea of the institution in its details, a series of twelve beautiful pictures, taken with life-like accuracy, by the well-known photographer, E. ANTHONY, embracing the following:

1. HOME FOR THE FRIENDLESS, 32 E. 30th St

2. CHILDREN'S DORMITORY.

3. NURSERY DORMITORY.

4. NURSERY CHILDREN.

5. SCHOOL CHILDREN AT PLAY.

6. HOME CHAPEL, 29 E. 29th St.

7. CHILDREN IN SCHOOL.

8. CHILDREN IN CHAPEL.

9. CHILDREN ON GALLERY-Anniversary.

10. CHILDREN AT DINNER-Thanksgiving,

11. PLAY GROUND SCENE.

12. ADVOCATE & GUARDIAN PRINTING OFFICE Price, plain, 25c: each, the whole set, $2.50; colored. 35c. each, $3.50 the set, sent by mail free of postage. STEREOSCOPES (in which to view them,) from $1 to $5. Profits entirely devoted to the "Home."

Address: Advocate and Guardian,
Care Mrs. Sarah A. Stone
Box 4740. New York,

I give and bequeath to the American Female Guardian Society, incorporated by the Legislature of New York, in the year 1849, the sum of 8. to be applied for the Benefit of the Home for the Friendless, or to other charitable uses of said Society.

The Will should be attested by three witnesses, who should write against their names, their place of residence, and state that they signed the instrument at the request of the testator, and in the presence of the testator and each other, and that the testator declared to them that it was his or her last Will and Testament.

POSTAGE ON THIS PAPER.

BY the new law, the postage on single copies of the A. & G. is now six cents a quarter-payable in advance-in al parts of the United States.

A package of four copies, which weighs 4 ounces, sent to *one address, is subject to no more postage than a single copy-according to Instruction 36, which Postmasters will please see.

From 5 to 8 copies, to one address, 12 cents a quarter. do 18 From 9 to 12 do do do and so on, at the rate of 6 cents a quarter for every 4 ounces or fraction thereof.

In order to receive the paper at the lowest rate of postage, it is necessary to take them, not singly, but at least four copies; and so of clubs, they should be made up-if possible -of 8, 12, 16, 20 and so on.

As an inducement to those who now recelve it singly, to make up a small club of four or eight, the Ex. Com. propose to put the subscription price for four copies-to one address -at 75 cents a year, and for eight copies-in the same way -at 60 cents a year

Twelve copies, and over, will be at the rate of 50c. a year. At offices where there are several single subscribers receiving it to their separate addresses, by their uniting together and having it in one package, to one address, it will materially reduce the postage on each

POSTMASTERS and others, desiring papers to be discontinued, will please send the name of the P. O. as well as of the subscriber

tribute in making happy human hearts, bringing sunshine to human lives.

"Christmas again! Once so merry, SO bright, so longed for. Once its coming was welcomed for the interchange of love gifts and the cementing of hearts that beat for each other. Now, alas, it comes with muffled tread, as but a bitter anniversary of the day when on Southern field, a soldier's grave was made, and beneath it placed the brave husband and father, who ever made our Christmas a merry one. Nothing to give now, no one to bestow, even what are necessaries of life, upon us, poor desolate ones. God help us."

God gave them a whole tree full, perhaps he would give us a branch. You tell us God called papa to serve his country, and then took him from us, all in love, and that he pities and loves us even more tenderly than an earthly father did, and more than we can each other. If, mamma, God loves us so dearly, perhaps if we ask Him, he will give us as papa did when he was with us."

Side by side knelt the mother and her little child, asking of the ever-loving Father and Great Dispenser of all things, for the needs of their daily life, praying that he who had given them "the unspeakable gift" of a Saviour, would through Him, make the widow's and orphans' hearts sing for joy by caring for their bodies and saving their souls. So wrapped were they in devotion, so far above their impoverished home had they been borne on wings of faith, that they heard not a noiseless entrance, that had left a single branch of the evergreen Christmas tree. Pendent therefrom, as if in answer to their prayer, were four little purses, and within them a sufficiency to make the widow's home comfortable, and her little ones happy.

The first grey streaks of dawn looked in upon the poor widow in her home of poverty, and rested cautiously, as if reluctant to waken them to their sad realities. Upon the face of the two little ones who called her mother, fell the morning light. No bright anticipations of filled stockings, or presents from Christmas tree were theirs, to rouse them, and so the little slumberers slept on, dreaming perchance, of a time in their memory when, father was at home, and merry Christmas days and gifts were theirs. There was needed no greater light than the twilight to reveal the poverty of that home. While the father lived, by industry and economy, they had always lived comfortably, and never until he was taken had they known their present bitter experiences. Most of the comforts once theirs, had one by one been sacrificed to supply the absolute needs of life, until, from their once cosy home they had been driven by poverty to the cheerless abode, through whose many openings the keen air of the Christmas morning came, with no merry greetings, no glad tidings, only the bitter knowledge of cold without, and the keener knowledge of nothing with which to make a fire within. A low, stiffled sob from the mother, in memory of past and brighter days, and in realization of present dark ones, opened a pair of blue eyes, and a child face nestled close beside hers, and a whisper came to her ear, "Is it merry Christmas, mamma, to-day? And shall we, as when papa was with us, have beautiful gifts, he giving to you, you to him, and both to little sister and me? We called them presents from Kriss Kringle; shall we have them now, mamma?"

"Mamma, I saw Carrie Wilmington yesterday, and she said they were going to have such a beautiful Christmas tree at their house, quite full of all kinds of choice and elegant presents. She told me, too, that her papa said they only made believe Kriss Kringle gave to them, but it was really God who gave, for He provides the means, and prompts them to kind acts to each other. Mamma, I thought, if

and physically when kept entirely away from stimulating drinks of every kind.

Another fruitful source of mischief is the constant prescription of strong drinks for almost every disease. In many cases it is absolutely mischievous; as for instance, because in the sinking, prostrated stage of typhoid fevers, stimulants afford the only means of saving life, ("strong drink unto him that is ready to perish,") therefore ignorance feeds with whiskey the strong man in the first stage of fever, and so adds fuel to the fire. Hundreds of precious lives have been burned out in this way.

It is fashionable, too, to prescribe whiskey, it is easily taken and always at hand, and men love it, so fashion, and convenience, and appetite go hand in hand, and men and women are "broken and snared, and taken." They will have much to answer for who heedlessly advise the use of this poison.

POISON.

We speak advisedly when we use this word. Alcohol is a poison and should be administered with care, as strychnine, and opium, and arsenic. No matter how pure it may be, it is a poison. But late investigation and earlier experience show that in all spirit distilled from grain or potatoes there is a rank, strong poisou called fusil oil. It exists in almost all our spirits, and is as sure a poison as arsenic. Then as many of our wines are manufactured from whiskey, &c., they also have their full share of this deadly oil, and so it is doing its work of death. If it killed at once, men would take the alarm, but it is not so rapid in its work. Life and health are slowly undermined, thousands of different forms of disease appear, and in many the dreadful appetite is formed and fed, which so slowly and surely carries downward, soul and body together.

WHAT IS OUR DUTY?

To set our faces as a flint against the use of these dangerous things. There are usually, if not always, remedies which will do equally well without the fearful risk, and though children may play with fire-arms without shooting either themselves or each other, the safest course is to let them alone. We may not be in danger, but if we are strong, our brother may be weak, and only such a spirit as Cain's would ask, "Am I my brother's keeper?"

For the Advocate and Guardian.

A LIFE GIVEN FOR FREEDOM. How many precious lives this fearful war has taken. We scarcely realize its terrors unless it comes nigh our own households or lays its hand on some we know or love. Is there a family in our whole country, either North or South, that has not been nearly touched by some sad bereavement? When we know of one cut down in the prime of life by the fate of war, we feel its horrors more than when we read of hundreds of whom we know nothing personally.

A. H.

For the Advocate and Guardian.

THEIR WORKS DO FOLLOW THEM. THE death of many a brave soldier, is chronicled in every paper of our land. It is sad to read of the valuable lives, so freely offered upon our country's altar. But the sacrifices are not of men alone. Many a noble woman has given time, money, and life itself, in her country's service. Are not such as truly martyrs to the cause, as the bravest soldier who dies in battle?

Of this number of self-denying, laborious, and patriotic women, was Mrs. Lucy Pomeroy, wife of Hon. S. C. Pomeroy, U. S. Senator from Kansas, whose recent death has carried a pang to many a heart who knew her worth. In the providence of God, a wide door of usefulness had been opened before her, for many years. Removing from a quiet home in Mass., to Kansas, in the early and exciting days of its settlement, she was a "help-meet" to her husband in his arduous public duties, and a zealous worker in every good cause for promoting

the interest of the State. Her house was first opened for public worship, at Atchison, where she resided. The wayfarer found a restingplace beneath her roof, and the needy were never turned empty from her door. Her active mind, unselfish heart, and willing hands were ever busy devising good to others, and during that dark period when famine assailed the land, she left no stone unturned for the relief of the suffering, and herself, rode miles into the country, seeking out and relieving the suffering and despairing. Following her husband to Washington, a wide field was still open for active labor. Our country's defenders en

For the Advocate and Guardian. THE SHUNAMITE.

PERHAPS there is not a story in the Bible more suggestive than that of the Shunamite. Her love and reverence for the Man of God, the confidence which her husband seemed to have in her judgment, and the readiness with which he entered into her plans for the comfort of the prophet; the quiet dignity and self-reliance with which she declines court favor, might each furnish a theme for a Hannah More or a Krummacher. And then And then when sudden and bitter affliction came upon her, her reticence, her tender consideration for the feelings of her husband; her earnest turning toward the Man of God, the anguish of the mother, and the submission of the believer; how rapidly does the sketch pass before the mind, leaving our own hearts to fill up the outlines.

But it is of the prophet and his instrumentality in raising the dead to life, of which we propose now to speak. It has often been a matter of wonder with the writer why Elisha should have sent Gehazi to lay his staff upon the face of the child; and then apparently so suddenly change his mind, and decide to go with the mother.

May we not without irreverence conclude that this reluctance to go in person arose from something akin to self-indulgence on the part of the prophet? He had divided the Jordan with Elijah's mantle, he had healed the spring of waters by casting in a little salt, he had foretold a remarkable victory to the armies of Israel, he had saved from bitter

The

bondage the sons of a widowed mother, and why might he not offer prayer where he was, and be the means of restoring this child to life by sending his servant and staff without going in person? He probably knew full well what the prayer of faith cost, and hoped that with his present high attainments he might grasp it more easily. But, no. agony of the mother dispelled the illusion, and the Holy Spirit undoubtedly taught him that if he would obtain this blessing, he must throw all the energies of his physical and mental being into the work; he must wrestle with strong crying and tears; then he must put his mouth upon the child's mouth and his eyes upon his eyes and his hands upon his hands, and stretch himself upon him until the flesh of the child waxes warm. He must do this once and again before he could say to the mother, "Take up thy son."

Christian parent, haye you a dear child dead in trespasses and sins, and have you hoped to see him raised to life without the self-denial, the agony of soul, the wrestling in the secret place, the rising while it is yet dark, the days of fasting and prayer, and the pleadings prolonged into the night? If so, I fear the response will be, "There is neither voice nor hearing." The child is not awaked. Let me entreat you to cast off this self-indulgent spirit. There is no truth more plainly taught in God's Word than that He is pleased with the simple, earnest importunity of His children. From Genesis to Revelation, how rich and full are its teachings in this respect. From Jacob, whose "I will not let thee go except thou bless me," brought much honor and blessing to his house, to the importunate widow, whose "Avenge me of mine adversary,' moved even the unjust judge, or rather I should say, from Abraham, pleading for Sodom, to the golden censer, and the golden vials, which John saw in the isle of Patmos, we are constantly receiving lessons on the importance, the duty and the blessing of earnest, fervent prayer. And yet

it is something which, when looked at rather than entered into, our natures often seem almost to shrink from. God is so pure and holy, and we are so weak and sinful; His nature is so far exalted above ours, that in some attitudes, the soul instinctively, though perhaps unconsciously, draws back even as the apostles feared when they entered into the cloud. But when brought into the attitude of wrestling, holy agony, when the Spirit itself helpeth our infirmities, when the whole being is given up to God, and the feet are fairly planted on the promises; when the soul feels its perfect nothingness and vileness, and the glorious fullness of its great Advocate and Redeemer; when it sees how entirely He has paid the ransom, and how the glory of God is concerned in the salvation and sanctification of those for whom it pleads; when it sees itself as but a speck, a mote in God's universe, and Christ and His redemption, and His promises, fill the whole vision, then it does not shrink from this nearness, but rather longs to be more and more filled

For the Advocate and Guardian.

A VOICE FROM THE HOME NURSERY.
GENTLE friends, from crowded city,

Or, the healthful country, come;
Hither led by love and pity,

Home."

To behold the children's
Here you see a band of cherubs
Fair as of celestial clime;
Innocents escaped the Herods,

Destitution, Wrong and Crime,
Can't you find, amid this number,

Some sweet bud of opening bloom?
One to watch your latest slumber,
And to weep upon your tomb?
Here are hidden mines of fancy

That may make you rich returns;
Each a Brainerd or Delancy,

Ward, or Howard, or a Burns.
All have latent worth or genius,
Power or patience for their dower ;
This Ignatius, that Ireneus,

Various fruit of various flower.
Mother, with thy spirit mourning
For a gem you could not keep;
Don't
you feel that spirit yearniug
O'er this smiling one asleep?

Take it up. and let it fondle

In thy heart so lonely grown;
Bear it with thee, precious bundle,
Make it evermore thine own.
She will be a sunlight radiance

Thrown around thy latest hours;
Gilding life with sweet obedience,

As the rainbow gilds the showers.
Weeping father, that revisits

Oft a little flowery mound,
Take this other babe, and kiss its

Snowy brow, with ringlets crowned.
Back with thee into the mountains
Bear the bright, immortal prize;
Let him drink their crystal fountains,
Learn him spell their starry skies.
Listen to the woodland breezes,
Merry song of brooks and birds,
Till the love of nature seizes

All his being's inmost chords.

Thus through wisdom's shining portal,
Lead his artless, trusting youth:
Up to hopes and joys immortal,
Lighted by the lamp of truth.

SUSAN MOWBRAY.

Children's Department.

WHAT WE SAW ON CHRISTMAS.

Ar ten in the morning we went to the Industrial School-rooms of one of the Home Schools, bearing with us some good things somebody had kindly added to those already prepared for the children's dinner. It was a beautiful sight to see the six very long tables amply furnished by bountiful hearts and skilful hands, with good nice food for two hundred little ones, and a side table for the poor mothers. A Christmas tree stood in the same room and from its boughs hung gifts for every pupil. A young lady had given seventy-two dressed dolls, one for each girl; and there were books, balls, &c., for all the boys. But before the children saw these things they sang for us, "Some call us the infants," "Jesus loves me,' "Christmas Hymn," and "Thank God for the Bible," and spoke some pieces. Then a gentleman told them Christmas story about two little girls named Selfish and Kindly; they listened eagerly to it, and answered questions very promptly.

a

They sang again for us, and then marched out to dinner. The room was so filled with them and their kind friends that we couldn't get a good look at them. But that they were eager to dispose of what was on the plates before them, we judge, for we heard the one who presided on the occasion, say, Children, wait a bit, you know we always give thanks to our heavenly Father, first."

Then they were quiet and attentive, and all joined vocally in their usual form of asking a blessing.

In the evening we went to the Home, for we heard the children there always had a Christmas tree. About seven o'clock the boys and girls came in with their teachers, and the nurses brought in the babies, and everybody that we saw in the chapel looked happy. The little folks because they saw so many pretty things that were soon to be somebody's, and the older folks because they had the means at their disposal to give so much pleasure. You remember Christ, for whose sake Christmas is kept a day of joy, said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

"Dear Mrs. Bennett,

MRS. C. M. H."

Is not this a pleasant letter? We have more of the same sort, but this is all we have room for this time.

These children, too, sang for us with wonderful patience. Then all that could walk filed before the tree, and to each was given some pretty toy or book. A lady before whom they passed on their way to their seats, gave them a paper of candies, raisins, &c. Then the babies were helped to something. For the next half hour the children made it indeed a merry Christmas. It would have done you good to have seen how happy they Kindly-we don't know her real nameOne dear little girl, shall we call her whispered to us about another who was absent, "I'm sorry L- is'nt here, to get a Christmas gift; 'twould please her so." We

were.

C. E. H.

HARRY'S LAST PROMISE TO HIS

GRANDMOTHER.

FAR away up the North River, farther up than any steamboat can puff its way, lived a grandfather and grandmother who had some dear little grandchildren in New York. Last summer this grandmother died, she was more than eighty years old. A short time before her death two of her grandchildren visited her. I saw them a few days ago, one of them was sick on the bed. He was rather restless and unwilling to lie there, as his mother thought it was best for him to do, although he was not very ill.

"Be a good boy,' was the last thing your grandmother said to you," said his mother, "and said you you would try." head, and I could see a gentle heaving over Harry pulled up the bed clothes over his his breast; I knew he was crying. In a few moments he uncovered his face. His eyes were red and moist, but he looked as if he remembered his promise, "I will try." His dear grandmother he will never see again on earth, but I hope he will never forget her last words to him and his last promise to her. How many little children are there who will make the same promise to their grandmother?