familtj ©itch. SALUTATION TO JESUS DESIST.' BT JOHN CALVIN. The following sacred hymn, is taken from Dr. Schatt’s volume entitled Christ in Song. Dr. Schaff says: “This hymn, together with eleven others (mostly translations of Psalms,) written in French, was recently discovered by Felix Bovet, of Neucha tel, in an old Genevese prayer-book, and first pub lished in the sixth volume of the new edition of the works of Calvin, by Baum, Cunitz and Renes, 1868. It reveals a poetic vein, and a devotional fervor and tenderness, which one would hardly have suspected in the severe logician.” The English translation is by the wife of Prof. Henry B. Smith, D.D., of the Union Theological Seminary, New York: I greet Thee, who my sure Redeemer art, True Bridegroom and sole Saviour of my heart 1 Whoso much toil and wo And pain didst undergo, For my poor, worthless sake; And pray Thee, from our hearts All idle grief and smarts, And foolish care to take. Thou art the king of mercy and of grace, Reigning omnipotent in every place ; So come, 0 King! and deign Within our hearts to reign, And our whole being sway; Shine in us by Thy light, And lead us to the height Of Thy pure, heavenly day. " by which alone we live, Ami ill our substance and our strength receive; Comfort ua by. Thy laith Against tide pains 'of death: Sustain us by Thy power; Let not our fears prevail, Nor our hearts faint or fail, When comes the trying hour. Thou art the true and perfect gentleness; No harshness hast Thou, and no bitterness Make us to taste and prove, Make us adore and love The sweet grace found in Thee; With longing to abide ; Ever at Thy dear side, In Thy sweet unity; * Our hope is in no other save in Thee, Our faith is built upon Thy promise free; Come 1 and our hope increase, - Comfort and give us peace. Make us so strong and sure That we shall conquerors be. And well and patiently Shall.every ill endure. Poor, banished exiles, wretched sons of Eve, Fall Of all sorrows, unto Thee we grieve 1 To Thee we bring our sighs, \ Our groanings and our cries; / Thy pity, Lora, we crave.; We take the sinner’s place, \ And pray Thee, of Thy grace, To pardon and to save. , Turn' Thy sweet eye* upon our. low estate, Our Mediator and our Advocate, Propitiator best I „ Givp_us that .vision blest, . The God of gods, Most "High t ' f And let ns by Thy right, Enter the blessed light „ And glories of the sky 1 O, pitiful and gracious as Thou art, Tlie lovely Bridegroom of the holy heart, Lord Jesus Christ, meet Thou The Antichrist, our foe, In all his cruel ruth I The Spirit give, that we - May, in true verity, Follow Thy word Of truth. THE BLACKSMITH OF BEGENBAOH. [From the German of Hotfman.] There is a village called Regenbach in the Principality of Hohenlohe-Langenburg,where some twenty.odd/years ago, the following stlrribg and heart-rending • occurrence' took place. It was in the afternoon, during spring or harvest, my kind informant was not certain which, when there were seated in the public room of the tavern many men and women of Regenbach, engaged in quietly chatting with e'ach other, no one of them dreaming of . the fearful and terrible event which was , tp take place that day. The Blacksmith also was sitting in the cheerful crowd,—r-a stout, ro bust man with a very determined face and brave look, but at the same time with such a pleasant smile upon his lips, that every one who saw him was obliged to love him. Every tricky fellow kept out of his way; for the brave Blacksmith would tolerate no injustice or wickedness; and it was poor policy to quarrel with him. His arms were like bars of iron, and his fists like sledge-hammers. There were few men who were equal to him in ; bodily strength. The brave Blacksmith was sitting not far from the door, chatting with a neighbor, about I know not what. Suddenly the door sprang open and a great dbg came stagger ing into the room; —a great, strong, power ful dog, with an ugly, terrible face. He held his head down, with his dreadful, burniner red ejes, his mouth was open wide, his lead colored tpngue was hanging out, and his tail was squeezed between his hind legs. In this way the animal came into the room, which had no other mode of egress than the one door. Scarcely had the Blacksmith’s neigh bor, it was the Barber of the place, seen the animal, when he became pale as death, as white as the lime on the wall, and springing up cried out in a voice of terror: “Lord Jesus have mercy upon us. People! the dog is mad!’’ Picture the terror! The room was nearly full of men and women, and the mad animal stood in front of the only door, so that no one could leave without passing by him. The beast began to snap wildly on the right and the left, and it was impossible for any one to pass him without being bitten. Then there was an agonizing scream of terror! Every one sprang up and moved backwards, looking with a staring gaze full of mortal fright at the THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18,1869. mad dog. Who could protect them from him? Then the Blacksmith arose, and when he saw the mortal fright that had seized every one, and it occurred to him, as quick as lightning, how many happy people might be made inconceivably miserable by the raging animal, he determined to do that which has scarcely its like in magnanimity and noble ness in the whole of history. True, his brown cheeks became slightly pale, but his eyes sparkled with true heroic fire, and a lofty"re solution lighted up the lorehead of the plain, simple man. # “Back! all of vou!” he thundered with his jjeep, powerful voice. “Let none of you stir, for no one but myself can manage the brute! There must be some one sacrificed, and I will offer myself! lam going to seize him, and while I do it, fly the whole of you!” The Blacksmith had scarcely spoken these words, when the brute sprang forward to wards the shrieking human mass. “Now, with God’s help!” cried the Blacksmith, and im mediately he leaped upon the raging animal, seizing him with his giant arms, and threw him upon the floor. ' Oh! but that, was .a ; fearful, horrible struggle that followed! The dog bit at him fiercely, and struggled with groans and dull howls. His long teeth tore the arms and thighs of thei great-souled Blacksmith, but the latter did not relax his grasp. In spite of the fierce pain, in spite of the certain aw ful death that would follow the struggle, with a giant’s strength he held the snapping, biting, howling brute down Until all had fled, —until all, all were in safety except himself, Then he hurled the half-strangled brute away from him against the wall, and dripping with blood, covered with the poisonous saliva, he left the room and closed the floor behind hi m. The dog was killed by a shot through the window. But what could be done for the unfortunate, brave Blacksmith? Weeping and wailing', the people whom he had saved at the expense of his own life, surrounded him. “Be quiet, men; don’t weep for me. Women and children,” he said. “One was obliged to die in order to save the others. Do not thank me; for I have only done, a sacred duty. When I am dead, remember me in love; and pray for me now that God may keep me from long or much suffering. But I must now take care, that no further harm be done by me, as it is certain that I shall be attacked-hy the disease.” : And he -went aught away to his shop and: there sought for heavy chains, the heaviest and strongestin fiis stock; 'then he kindled his fire and worked his bellows until the chains, were made white hot, and with' his own hand lie fastened himself hands and feet to his anvil which n<* human, strength could, tear away, from the. ground,, no more than' human strength couldLreak the iron chains. “ There* now it’s done,” he Baid after he had completed his work in silence and earnest ness, “ now you are all safe and I am harm less. As long as I am alive, bring me my food; the rest I leave to God. Into His hands I commend my spirit.” Nothing could sqve the brave blacksmith, not webping, not pity, not even prayers. The disease seized him—and after nine flays he must die—-but in truth he died only to awake before the throne of God to a more’ beautiful, and more glorious life. He died, hut his memory shall live from generation to generation, from child to child, and be blessed to the end of time. . Look over all the pages of human history, and you wall find ho' deed more worthy of the noblest fame than the deed of this simple man: —the Blacksmith of Regenbach. It is indeed easy fox: a noble soul, like Winkelried, to die, or to throw life away like the high souled Roman youth Martius Curtius; but to meet certain death, to be obliged to die and yet to be obliged to wait, through anxious, fearful hours and days, for the most terrible form of death—this is to die not once only, but a thousand times. 1 And such a death died the Blacksmith of Regenbach, such an offer ing did the Blacksmith of Regenbach make for the preservation of his neighbors. Bless ed, ever blessed be his memory to us !—The Reformed Church Messenger. DISADVANTAGES OF BEING A EIOH MAN’S SON. The following story is said to be strictly true: Mr. P., a wealthy man, retired from busi ness, was urged by a friend to engage in a. mercantile scheme, from which large profits were apparent. “ You are right,” said he, “as regards the probable success of the scheme, but I shall not embark in it. 1 have too much money already.” He was asked to explain, and remarked: “ Yes, I would not cross the street to gain thousands. I should be happier if my in come were less. lam old, and, in a year or two, whatever I possess will avail me naught. My daughters are dead, and 1 'have three sons whom I dearly love.-’ My own education had been neglected; my.for tune was gained by honest labor and care ful economy; I had no time for study, but I resolved that my sons should have every advantage. They each received a classical education, and then,P.gave them\the choice °f ? profession. The eldest would be a phy sician ; the second chose the law; the third resolved to follow my footsteps as a mer chant. This was 'all to my mind; 1 was proud of my sons, and trusted.; one dayjto see them distinguished, or at least useful to their felloW-men. I spared no expense in their training; they • had. never wanted ihoney, for I gave each a liberal allowance. Never had men fairer'opportunities; but look at the results: the physician has* no' patients; the lawyer no clients; while the merchant—instead of following my exam ple—is above visiting his counting-room ! In vain I urge them to greater diligence. Whut is the response? ‘There is no use, father—we shall never want money ; we know you have enough for all.’ Thus, in stead of being energetic and useful members of society, my sons are mere idlers and men of vain display. Had they been forced to struggle against difficulties to gain their professions, and wore even now dependent on their own exertions for support, they would, in all probability, have done credit to themselves and me.” THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL LETTER BOX. We know not who originated this attrac tive little auxiliary of Sunday-school work, but we do know that where it is used its ef fects sire most happy. Have placed in a convenient position; for instance just at the main entrance; a letter-box, suitably in scribed. Encourage' the children to write little notes to yob, dither with or without their names: All of theFe that Way suitably be read before the school; read' .and com ment tin briefly. Such as are of a mote pri vate sort may be answered in other ways. A happy illustratfoffLf this process was re cently witnessed'at Grade Mission, in New York. After the. Opening exercises, Ralph Wells, the superintendent, produced' his Sunday’s mail. *, One scholar tells of having found Jesus. What a theme for a balf-min ■ute’s comment: Another is seeking Jesus. How Suggestive. Another asks prayer for her father. Another for hi's'efass-mktes. Theu comes a blank piece of paper, which some mischievous boy has put in. Mr. Wells holds it up, and turning one side to the school and then the other, and remarks: The little boy, or girl, who put in this,pa per asks for nothing, and will get. just what he asks for. A few more words, as to the sadness of such a state of unconcern, and siufal satisfaction, and then he passes onto other duties.- Recently, on one Sunday, morning, but one little ;noto was iti the box —only one, but it read: Mr. Wells, I do want to' love the Lord Jesiis Christ. How much of sweet variety and profit might such a Post Office Box introduce into every school. EFPEOTS OF TOBACOO ON BOYS.. Dr. Decasine. in the course of investiga tions on the influende of tobacco on the cir culation, has been struck with the number of boys, aged from nine to fifteen, who smoke, and has been led to inquire into.the connection of this habit With, impairment of the genetkl health. He has observed thirty eight boys, aged from nine to-fifteen, who smoked more or less. Of these, .distinct symptoms were present- in; twenty-seven.. In tweuiy twdth’ecci.were various',.dssorders .of the ci'rculalion—r-Arurt 1 tie s&ujflet in the djßordM-s ‘of jdigostioh* slowMsSVpf, inteljeet,' apl markedlnTiiraa the pulse wa.sdntermil.tent. r - . Iu eight there was fount! on examination more or less marked diminution of the red; corpuscles; in twelve there' was rather fro-, quent and four had slight, ulcerations of the mu cous membrane of the mouth, which disap peared on ceasing from- the use of tobacco for sohie days. Iu children who were very Well nourished, the disorder was; iii general, less marked.; >As to the ages, eight of. the boys were from nine to twelve years old; nineteen from twelve to fifteen. The dura tion of the habit of smoking Was, in eleven, from six months to a-year,-and in Sixteen more than two years. Tlie ordinary treat ment of ansemia in general produced no ef fect-as long as the smoking Was continued; but when this was drsisuid fritrii, health was soon perfectly restored if there was no organic disease. —British Medical Journal. FEESH AIR AT NIGHT. Too many people sleep with their win dows down; such people are thus excellent subjects 'tO. take cold. Now as' a very large pari of our time is spent in slumber, it be comes us to give as much fresh air to that period as possible. Our rule is this : Let each window in Iho bed-room be opened both at the top and the bottom,' and let the fire bo shutoff, or steam or beat,.from fur nace or stove, then, let all'the winds of hea ven blow. No matter,if the thermometer , marks zero; if you would have a robußt constitution, you must let the wind blow upon you. Do not, by any means; avoid!a draft, though Hall’s Journal and all the doc tors in Christendom saynay. Let the winds" blow. This world is a world of winds; atid show me a man who shuns drafts and I will show you a man who pays a good doctor’s bill regularly. The arm is made rugged and sU’ong by exercise; the constitution is never injured by watchful exposure. Some men go too: far, and women often show no care for dangerous and damp currents of'air. No person, who bathes regularly, is in the sunlight much, and does not avoid fresh currents of air, even to accustoming one’s self to all varieties of weather,' will be in danger from sleeping in the op'en air. In deed, we believe it would bear the test ol all ages and climes, were the house-top' always to become the place for rest. We know a man who takes a bath in the ocean surf every day, summer and winter. .When the thermometer is at zero and when at ninety, yet is he a! his station for a plunge. It seems almost incredible. He lives in Boston, and for years he has kept up expo sure of this kind freely. Now all men need not imitate the Boston hydropathist, but it shows us to what tough uses this nature of ours can be subjected. Rough winds make rugged the cheeks of men. The winter winds that blew the snow all through the log cabin where we were born, were winds that rooked the cradle of a race that shall give liberty to the-world. Winds give sturdy, oak-like^character; do not Bhut out the winds, if you would not call the doctor soon. The lungs are the life of man; then let us have all the air we can find. Get out of the city as fast as ever you can, and be sure you get a good breathing spot. Poison once fastened upon the lungs never can be eradicated. Fresh air is better than all that the device of man has invented to give one holy and noble thoughts. Up with the windows, girls and boys, while you sleep. There is death in a close room. THE SECRET OF SUCCESS- A plain man in the Second Baptist Chnrch of Chicago, a Straightforward, unpretending mechanic; without even a -gdod common school education, has gathered around him, every Lord’s day, three' hundred and fifty scholars in a Bible-class; which ho teaches with an interest and effect that are truly surprising; and ho will go through the driest parts of the Scriptures, and invest them with a meaning, and draw from them practical lessons of instruction,, that aston ish all who hear.. In 1866 there were one" hundred and six conversions in his, class. The Secret of his ,success is earnestness, and the skill that; earnestness gives, ’ 'The only true success must .pome from, a thoroughly earnest soul, and; without this, th e, greatest culture, the most, careful teacher-training, will bo of nO avail. A RASH CRITICISM. Sydney S.mith’once said that evei;y states man wtm had.,a rush of ideas, shoiild have his/oo7o»iefer by his. side to warn hint against offending public opinion.* tVe-were impress ed with the wisdonrof Hns precaution of the great satirist, by the utterance recently before a Boston audience,'of a very foolish expressidh, as Offensive to the'literary taste as the religions sentiment of Christendom. In one of bis historical' lectures, recently deliyered in Bqstpn,,Wendell Phillips, is .re ported as saying, that John Bunyan was a brhzy man, and his “ Pilgrim’s Progress” ! a book'unfit tb be read, particularly by Chil dren. ' ■ •>. . ■ . ■ No one questions the' fine litCrary culture and classic eloquence of Phillips.. He, is the Very: first of .American »orators,: This ac knowledged, prerem.inence 'only makes more glaring his foolish utterance. Eyidentlysin the rush, ;ol ideas, ha had not his foplqmo ter by his side. It is difficult to accoupt for such folly in Phillips, unless we .adopt the epigrammatic solution of Holmes, who dis posed of the bigot;,by comparing, his mind to the; pupil; of the eye, the more , light you let into,it themore it,-,contracts.’' This .foolish utterance from such, a man showsithe wisdom of, that ,old saying .of l)r,. Johnson : ~‘fi M .yvfriends S) cleaij.y,ons < mind of icant.’’ , By the ways Hr-; Johnson who was ;one oi thevraost desultory readers and Yarely read booksithrough,;made an exception in favor •of 'tho . Pilgiim’s Progress. . That work,, he -said, was; cSßTthree w*>rke ; which he wishedlcrngoj:. This.is no common praise from the njost pedaufre of critiesand the, most bigoted of/Tories. Mr. Phillips, is unfortnuate, in: saying that Pi I grim's;, Pro gKess!.iSipaj-tio'darJ.y unfit for,children,, when ia -almost every nursery it is: ia greater fav orite than Jack tbe Giant-Killer. Bunyan succeeded in making his allegory not only attractive to the imagination, but instinct with humph sympathy. r . Hence; while other allegories only amuse the fancy, the allegory of Bunyan has been read by many thou sands with tek'rs.' ' ‘ i Oowper said seventy years ago, that he dared not name John Banyan in his verse, for fear of thoviag a' sneer. 'Sat'iii'rely we live in better times, and w6confess no little surprise! at this reported utterance of the great no high jerrpaspp, should value B,unyan for his style, which is invaluable is’a'study to every one who wishes to obtain a wide command over the English language. “There is iio book in Our literature on> which we could so read ily.stnkelhefameof the old unpolluted En glish lan'gpage.; : no .book which,shows so' well how rich , that language is in its owin proper wealth, and how little it has been improved by all that it has borrowed;” To any who may be affected unfavorably, by such thoughtless flings at the, great dreamer, by men who think more ot .their philosophy,‘thah their Bible, and, more of “their, philanthropy' than of their Chris tianity, we would quote the testimony of Macaulay: “We are not .afraid to say, that though there were many clever men in England dhring the latter half of the Seyentee'nth century, there wore only two great creative. minds. Ope of these mihds'produeed the Paradise Lost, tlibother the Pilgrim’s Progress.”— The,Lutheran Ob server. ' ... THE ASS IB HISTOBY, BY H. T. TUCKBKMAN. '. The ass is intimately associated with the East and patriarchal life, their most ancient legends, domestic economy, and the ex periences of modern Oriental travel; ‘his origin has been ascribed to inland Africa, : Nubia, and Abyssinia. Tn the schedule of Abraham’s possessions, .when he went down in to Egypt, she asses are noted; among the possessions of our neighbor the pb'oaP ! logheforbids hs to COvet, ishis ass;'theprin ces and rulers of Judah rode thereon, Pnd Moses is said to have proscribed the use ot horses, because of their linsuitabloness to thO * Country; Deborah apostrophizes the great, “ Ye who ride On white asses;” and in the story of Isaac’s sacrifice, the patriarch is described as risihg early in the ! morning and “saddling his assj” -from Balaam’s ass who saw the angel of the Lord, and stood still until her master’s eVes were opened to the celestial Vitfon, long apparent to the beast he so cruelly smotm to the asp s foal whereon our Saviour rode into Jerusalem in triumph, the animal most despised by modern civilization figures benignly. It was with the jaw-houo of •. ass that Samson crushed his foes; and t*,.. evidence of prosperity of the thirty 50,,, of Jair of Gilead, cited by the sacred nU torian, is not only that they ruled that nm n ber of cities, but rode on as many agst ! ‘ Doubtless one reason for their decadence ii, popular estimation is the inferiority of breed in Europe; about the Tagus and E u _ phrates, where they yet exist in a wild slut all the old testimony to their fieetness ami beauty is confirmed. Both tbe Church and classical literature illustrate the traditional worth of the ass. The Feast of Asses was founded in honor of Balaam’s, and, in the middle ages, both < Christian legends and pagan ceremonies, wherein originated the drama, rehearsed, in quaint pantomime the memorable episode in the history of the ass; Balaam rode on a wooden ass the clergy walked in procession in costumes in. tended to represent Moses, David, the pro phets, and other renowned Hebrews and Assyrians. Homer compares Ajax to an ass, in no degrading sense, as whoever has seen the wild’ breed of tbe Syrian mountains can well, underhand. The Persians regarded it as a brave feat to run one of them down with greyhounds. HhSßOrah is famed for its excellent breed ; one of the best now is at Smyrna, Of Asiatic origin, and in Spain where the raefe Is cultivated S but natural ists maintain that the superior kind of ass comes frota stockii which were not the pro genitors of those known Commonly as the donkey of Europe.' Asses,, if would seem, haVe, like more noble; animals, their aristo cratic exceptions ; but though prized in bpnhtries where the breeding ,of mules is prpfitablo, so great Is the wan t of apprecia tion of the ass, that experiments to improve the race, though full of promise, based on the Original qualities of the, animal in a state of nature, meet with little or 110 en couragement. . / ; . How have the mighty fallen, even in the asinine realm! Once worshipped as a sacred creature, cared for with exquisite nurture, the favorite of monarchSj the free and fleet denizen"of mountain and desert, a .gift for, princes, a grace of courts and pride of households—the ass is now the drudge of mendicants, the butt of gamins, tbe vaga bond of animals, the contemned, belabored, overburdened victim, and the synonym for im ' bfecility ,and obstinacy in the human species. Only in the Orient do some ,of his ancient honors linger, and now and then, iu South era Europe, we catch glimpses dt. the origi ,D®l, Sfrry of the tjribo, of frayn, on dizzy summit or ' dreary 'wild. to apprfeciate the pa tient, frugal, Sure-footed or eathrb, who bears us so safely where no other quadruped could pick his way without a stumble,' or keep his pace without drooping.-—i’uf/mm’s Ma gazine. ' ' ; SLEEPIJTG INT OHUROH. 'A. S°°y dqal has jheon said lately about sleepers inchurehy too euuslit utml too indis cnrhinatelycoudemhatory. There maybe some cases of; somnolency in the sanctuary, which are sacrilegious anil" deserving of public reprehension., When a man pr wo man sleeps in church from .pure indifforent lam to. the sanctities of ' divine worship or about the, soul or the wdrd of G6d, let the misdonxeauor be re buked in a becoming manner. But such somnolisls are, we think, the exceptional SometimeStßere is physical debility, or nervous exhaustion, w ; hich induces sleep as soon as the body is in repose; bometimes * Chrohifconstitnuonal somuoleu m which_ baffles tile ten tibns: such cases indicate the, propriety if being eau up&Q the , ' And’then'there are ofien, causes external to ; e ;must:>e considered. Often there is delective ventilation, or stu pidity in the thermal condition ,of the room, that would induce sle f ep in a saint. Sornc tiincs, we are sorry to say, the somnolency ,m the pew ; tnay ‘come from the , pulpit. There is something contagious in drowsi ness, and there is no use df 1 lecturing the pew, it the pulprHs soporific. We should ,go to , the root of the matter. If, speaking jinetonymically, the pulpit is awake and.liv- , there will be no somnolency in the , Qur friend Jj. W. H. has.sent us the fol lowing historical fragment, translated from • %¥ ne u deS Mats we pub lish for the use of any churches that may lieed the corrective suggestion. j Mow peopU ore: kept awutehimtke Danish churches, 'lu tkemth century. ■ si A Be! S ia . n P»PW publishes the followinrr SSilTyffi & kiDg, wa* mutdon May 37th of tbl > ».n>n or tnose who algep. in the churches during a *fe w* men * ro ™ d in ’Tn rV *£3*® th ° church-goers JS&JkiSWW* men shall be ■rfgjltl surrounded- with a ; Chicago is Potter business on 2*£j<¥ a foptnnA n f ttre system, made VeS in ** Cl "' s It Wi'ti- OOTOHDg farmer's bov i 8 He be g° n ]| fe as a bachdor. fort 7 years oid, and a oPm!*? * sUpi»e»‘ <(At» “ »• B -”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers