GENESEE EVANGELIST.*.-Whole No. 723.; THE SHEPHERD’S CARE. , DBA* Bno. Me An's:— i'. ! It Is partly due to your Salutatory that I have just •written the following rhymes. I know not .that they hstte any merit; yet, I know that tf they.he4„heen m our Hymn Book, they would hare been sung more than once, in public worship, during the few years.of .rty ministry. It seems to me that the ministry is meageriy set forth in our book. I preach on education for the ministry, full onoe a year. I celebrate the anniversary of my installation as often as it returns. Ordinations and installations are not uncommon services whence; the ministry is a topic which claims some variety. The last of the four hymns in the Prayer Book ought to be In our Psalmist. Should yon sea fit to publish, the lines I have written, they may possibly prompt some one to write a good hymn on some aspect of the general-sub* ject’i and I think that any one of nine tenths of the vo lumes in my library, is not worth one.really good hymn; such, for Instance, as, My faith looks up : to thee,l would rather he the author of this hymn) than the autbor of any one volume that any one of the three great Doctors Alexander has written. Your neighbors “Stand up, Stand up for Jesus, 1 ’ is another meritorious hymn—we stng it almost every: week in some of our meetings. Fraternally, r . The pastor’s Ufa is peaceful, , v , f HU charge, the shepherd’s teres He feeds his, flock with wisdom, He lifts the voice of prayer. He leads Ip venlant pastures, And by the silver rills, That murmur sweetly flowing From everlasting hills: How beautiful on mountains, The herald’s feet appear, Proclaiming the glad tidings— Salvation, peace are here. So beautiful the pastor’s, In sandals well bedight, Beyond the bloom of roses, Or sheen of lilies white. The gospel’s preparation, And readiness for peaces - - In these he journeys heavenward, His fool steps never cease, Till aU hU charge afe folded:; Within the Saviour’s breast, Or he with all his fathers, Is gathered to his rest. Till on the mount of glory, Amid the holy throng, He praties God, his Saviour, In one eternal song. f§Otsi!«!Sp<W&e«tt. THE EAST DAYS OF THE REV. ETHAN OSBORN. As “the memory of the just is Messed,”, it af fords us pleasure to treasure up their utterances and their acts. Especially is this true'of their last sayings, and their last frames of mind/ before making an exchange of worlds. If they have been those who have long served the Church, and been, her favorites, their last days are regarded as a part of the heritage of the Church, and, if not preserved in her records and history, are at least treasured up in the hearts of her members. Their hearts make au indelible record of them in ! their me- mories. prominence in the Church, that are so dear to .the hearts of thousands, .as the Bey, Ethan, Osborn. He was not widely known,bu6hewas mpst dearly beloved at home, Almost the only records that were made of him were made on the hearts to whom he was endeared. Henee sad thousands col lected to take the last look at his remains, and see them deposited in that “house appointed for ail living.”. Onr churches. have lost men, whose reputation was woricl-wide, and. yet their fune rals failed to be attended by such a vast concourse of sorrowing ones, as came to pay, the .last tribute to his memory. It was no cold, formal' tribute, paid, because a great man had fallen in Israel, but it was the heart’s tribute—the sad office 1 of affection. The race of the Rev. Ethan Osborn was com paratively a long one: lacking but three months and twenty days of being one hundred years. His pastoral relation with the First Presbyterian Churcb of Fairfield, New Jersey, continued from 1789 to 1844; and bis ministerial earner oyer seventy years. So happy had been his entire pastoral relation, that, I believe, I may in truth, say, he died without an enemy, and almost all tenderly loved him. His friends were oonfined to no single sect, for all esteemed him. The friends of Jesus were bis friends. The universal feeling was, that he was a good man; as Bueh gopd men loved and respected him, and no tongue durst utter aught but his praise. It would have been perilous to a man’s reputation to have done other wise. As many have eulogized him, written and spoken of his life, we will make a brief record of the last months of his life, and of his death. For some years past, owing to a fit of sickness, his memory had so completely failed, that Ke had scarcely any recollection of any thing eaTthly, ex cept those things which had' transpired in his youthful days; even the number of his own chil dren were forgotten by him, but he never forgot Jesus—he never forgot to pray, and pray very frequently—he never forgot to feel for souls perish ing in sin, and to plead with and for them. His intellectual man was greatjy impaired: it was a mere wreck of what it had been; but his spiritual man did not suffer by the infirmities old ago. I believe that it isran interasjtihg ; fact, that while extreme old age and its infirmities often prostrate the intellectual powers, they seldom im pair the spirituality. It seems to be proof against the ravages of time. For nearly eighteen months prior to his death, he was afflicted with restless and painful nights, yet he never spoke a fretful or impatient word; and when free from pain, he was so cheerful that those who only saw him occasionally eould scarcely realize that he was a sufferer. So great was his affliction, that he often said, “Oh, f am in a pitiful condition! Wearisome nights are ap pointed unto me, I am afflicted like Job; but Job’s friends stood aloof, while mine ore.always at hand, and ready to do all they can to alleviate Notwithstanding his age, infirmities and, shat tered memory, he not only remembered the fast days, appointed by the Church a few months be fore his death, but he strietly observed them. Having taken a slight breakfast, he would take no more food until night, and then very little. Being unable to attend church, he spent the fast days in Btrictly devotional exercises, himself directing the portions of Scripture to read, the hy mas to be sang, and making some remarks. Some of the pbrtions of Scripture which he selected, were tho fifty eighth of Isaiah, and tho seventh and eighth 0 ■ ii if o chapters of Jeremiah, arid the first and third parts of the flfty-fhsst Psalm were snog. During the precious revival, with which God Was‘pleased to bless the church of Fairfield the winter before his death, his heart was so deeply iu the work, that at all hours in the night, he might be heard pfeadmg with God to carry on that blessed work. His spirit was so much in the re vival, —he was so much absorbed in it, that he really thought that his bodily presence had been in it. Hence he would at'times tell the family; how he and the pastor of tho church had con: versed with the,inquirers. Dear man of God, it was not his fault, that he was not personally in the work, pleading with sinners to be reconciled to God, and pointing the inquirers to the Saviour. His spirit wW willing, it was only his flesh that was weak. P rhaps no one entered more heartily into the work—perhaps no one prayed more fer vently for it. Weak, infirm and afflicted as he was; hi# ititflflse interest for perishing sotils drbyh sleep from his eyes, and caused him to spend the silent, lonely hours of the night wrestling with God. The bnrden of souls caused him to spend many a sleepless hour. May; we not have the pleasure to believe,-that in those sleepless hours, “as a prince he had power with God, and pre vailed t” There may have been the secret of some of the church’s power with man. It is mysterious, why one, who could not re member any thing worldly for five minutes, should have remembered God’s glorious work iu Fairton so well. It shows where his heart was—-what lay nearest to it. The worth of souls, and their sal vation, had an interest to him far transcending all earthly things. The glory of God, and his Messed Cause, could not be.forgotten by him. They were too deeply engraven on his heart to bo effaced in time or in eternity. . We are informed, that, “for some months be fore: his death, his' heart was wonderfully drawn blit in prayer, for his neighbors, bis church, the neighboring churches, and for ministers; and many times through the night bis low; voice could be hehrd, pleading for them with tears.” A great burden of his prayers, untila fewweeks previous to his death, was for the salvation of sin ners; but then God seemed to say to him, it is enough—your work is done—-let them alone—pre pare to come home. His prayers henceforward, were mostly for himself, that he might be freed froin all sin, and fully prepared for his heavenly' feat. : His last burden for others bad been borne —his agonizing prayer for them had been put up —his work for others was done. He seems to hear the call, come home, come home. He appears to see the peaceful harbor heaving in sight, and he prepares to enter in. Also the Stormsfrom the adversary, which usually assail the heavenly mariner as he nears the port of peace, began to descend upon him. The powers of darkness, knowing that they have but a short time, give vent to their malice. They do their worst, before he is forever beyond their reach—worry him, whom they cannot devour. Those malicious fiends are the dark valley in' peace. (It seems' to be a valley peculiarly haunted by fiends. Heneeit is so fear ful to pass through it; and fearful indeed is it to that soul, who has no Jesus with him in'the val ley—no everlasting arms around him and under neath him.) He who has fought those wily fiends many a hard battle by the way, may expect ano ther at the end of the way. “It is enough that the servant be as his master;” the master had to endure “the hour and the power of darkness,” just at the end. Father O. had his dark hours, when near the end of bis race; Like his Master, the powers of evil assailed him. He must have one more victory before he enters into his rest. But He, who had been with him through the long journey of life—lie, who hath said, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” did not forsake him in his last conflict with his malignant foes—Jesus was with him in the valley; and hence, he soon came off victorious—overcame them through the blood of the Lamb, and could Father 0. had conquered Satan, but he had not conquered death. Before that relentless enemy he fell; hut fell peacefully, joyfully, and in full hope of that morning, when he will triumph even over death. The agonies of dissolving nature were very severe, hut it was only nature that felt death had no terrors for him. His body was racked with pain, but he had great peace in his soul—the everlasting arms were underneath him. We are informed by that friend,; who had so long, so kindly and tenderly watched over; him, “That on the last Sabbath of his life he was very restless. On Monday he was better, and quite cheerful; hut as usual a restless night was ap pointed to him. .. On .Tuesday morning, after taking some breakfast, he slept till toward noon. When he came out of his room, he looked unliVo himself; his face was full, without a wrinkle, his eyes bright, and he walked erect, singing and re peating, ‘O happy, happy, my happy home! Oh, what a glorious King is. Jesus’! : What words can express the blessedness of the saints'in glory! The apostle John saw them stand on a sea of glass, which was both pure and safe, perfectly transparent, yet they would not sink; and they sang a new song.' With a great deal more in the same happy strain.” Another individual speak ing of that same happy day, said, “He was sing ing all day, just like a bird,” “After dinner ,he sat with his head, and his eyes fixed upward, singing for two or three hours, loud aqd clear, without regard to time, hut oil the words were praises. He sang the following verses, along with others. » O glorious boar t ’ O blest abode! ! T shall be- near; and like my God; And flesh and sin no more, control The sacred pleasures of the seal. “Smile at,6»tan’s rage.” Praise, everlasting praise be paid. To Him who earth’s foundations laid; Praise to the God whose strong decrees, Sway the creation os he please. I’ll praise my Maker with my breath, And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers; My days of praise shall ne’er be past. While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures. Joy to the world, the Lord is come, Let earth receive herKiog; Let every heart prepare him room, And heaven and nature sing. Join all the glorious names Of wisdom, love, and power, . That ever mortals knew, That angels ever bore; All are too meau to speak his worth, Too mean fo set my Saviour forth. I'itii auki miA, mr : l , “ Occasionally he repeated passages of Scripture in the same tone of voice; one of which.waß the language of Stephen, ‘I see the heavens opened} and .the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.’ He took but little notice of any thing, until he was invited to supper, when he promptly replied, 'Yes, willingly and thankfully.’ He drevrhis chair to-the table, and after having asked a blessing, be sang, (a thing, which he had never been known to do, when at the table.) ‘ My flesh shall slumber in the ground, ’Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound j Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Saviour’s image rise. l ; “During the evening he continued in the same happy frame, and several times requested a favor ite hymn to be sung: such as, • ‘ How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, Is laidfor your faith in his excellent.word! What mote, can he saythanto you he path said 1 YoUj Who unto Jesus forrefiigehave fled.’ 19 Afterward, when racked on a bed of pain, this same hymn was sung in his presence, and he at once became calm and peaceful, as though en during no pain, and continued so during all the time of singing the hymn. It seemed to soothe and ease the agonies of the body. ■ On that happy Tuesday evening, “Having re tired to bed, he repeated, the words of Watts, in bis Divine Songs, ‘Not more than otters I deserve, Yet God hath given me more; For I have food while others starve. Or beg from door to door.* “He then for some time spoke of the many bless ings he had enjoyed through life, and closed with the words: 'My early home was a very pleasant one, and since I left my father’s house, the lines have fallen to me in pleasant places,’ &c. . Through the night he slept but little, and often spoke of his children and relatives. “The next day he slept easy during the most of the forenoon, after which his restlessness re turned with a difficulty of breathing. His phy sician gave him medicine, which relieved, his breathing, but nothing oould ease bis distress. About twelve o’clock that night, he expressed his belief, that jfcie should soon have a happy release from pain ancf sin; and spoke Words of comfort to his family. From that time, though he tried to speak, we could only distinguish such words as, ‘Jesus—triumph—joyful—heaven opened —saints in bliss—mysteries revealed—glorious manifesta tions,’ and other expressions of like character, showing that though he had intense bodily suffer ings, ' his peace was as a river.’ At one time being heard to say, ‘The valley—the shadow,’ he was asked is the Shepherd with you in the valley ? He replied at intervals, 'Yes—good Shepherd— Jesus—Deliverer—faithful to the end.’ “Friday morning, he expressed the desire to depart and be with Christ. He then made a strong effort to address those around'bim, saying, ‘My Christian friends, for the last time’— but nothing more could/be understood.” ~, Doubtless, God, .angels, jind spirits, of, jqsf meg mase perfect.understood more. It was his last address, short indeed, bq£the will was taken for the deed, and he ; was taken home. Truly “ his* ruling passion was strong, in death.” And what was that passion ? It was the passion of a Chris tian. His last audible words showed what lay nearest his heart. In view of his happy, triumphant death, who is not ready to exclaim, “ Let me die his death, and let my last end fie like his; let my last utterances be like his.” Reader; would you not rather die his death, than that of the greatest statesman onr country has ever known ? \Ybuld you not rather have your last words ’like his, than like any of earthiggreat ones? Would you not? To die his death, you must live his lifel He was a Christian. It was his greatest, honor, that he was a Christian. . As the Christian minis try was the greatest honor that could be conferred oh him on earth, he delighted in it, and in its duties'. It was his delight to preach Christ, and him crucified —to warn men to “ flee from the wrath to come/’, and to lead them to submit to Christ. Hence that Jesus, whom he delighted to honor in his life, did not forsake him in death, but sustained him, Comforted him and honored him in death, and will honor him in eternity. Reader, would you have the same honors in death, and in eter nity? If so, follow him as he followed Christ. , Fpr the American Presbyterian. , REGENERATION. , The inspired definition of this great change of moral character and disposition, which our Redeemer has assured us is essential to enter ing the kingdom of God, (John iii. g—s,) is, that we are “Born (or begotten) not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” (John i. IS; James i. 18.) As “ the carnal mind (or will of the natural man) is enmity against God,—is not subject to his law, neither indeed can be,” (Bom. viih- 7,) ir must be considered as opposed to that change which consists in reconciliation to God’s law. How, then, can we consider “ this birth (to be) voluntary” oh the part of the natural or carnal man? Moreover, if it is.so, is he not bom or begotten, in part at least, “of the will of man,” which is contrary to John i. 13? If this change is voluntary on the part of the natural man, As the change is of a holy nature, the will of the natural man must be holy, which is to suppose that a corrupt tree can yield good fruit. To will or desire a. holy change, is itself holy will ing or desiring. It appears to be both most rational and scriptural to consider the carnal will as opposed to the change, until actually changed by the Holy Spirit of God. If other wise, what necessity is there for a change ? Every Christian, indeed, is “willing to be such,” but no man is willing to be a true Chris tian until the day of Christ’s regenerating power. (Ps. cx. 3.) The unrenewed may have a selfish desire for what they suppose to be ne cessary to their salvation, but a willingness to be a real Christian is a willingness to be holy, and can never be the exercise of an unholy heart. As no animal exercise or function can precede the principle of animal life, so no spiritual ex ercise or function can precede the principle of spirituaf life, imparted in regeneration by the Holy Spirit of God. The carnal mind, so far from co-operating with the Holy Spirit in the simple act of regeneration, acts in opposition, if at all, until it is actually regenerated,. As the moral character of the human mind must be either carnal or spiritual, the change effected by the Spirit to b*4»stantaneous. In this case, the infinite and sovereign grace of God precedes, “We love him because.he first loved us,” and choseus in Christ Jesus, “before the foundation of world.” (Eph. i. 3.) In harmony with this precious truth, we are informed that some of the hearers of the gospel at Antioch than others, not because of their owiijsuperior virtue or will ingness, but because “.they were ordained to eternal life.” (Acts xiii. 48: See Acts xvi. 14.) Lydia's willingness to receive the truth of the gospel in the love of it, was the effect of the Lord’s opening her heart fo do so. It is true, indeed, that we have nd . evidence that the Lord has chosen us, until w£ by renewing grace, have actually chosen him. ■ such is our de prayijty,; and the enmity"€l% carnal mind against God,if the :t ®bTC¥ot)Sd never choose us, to save by regenerafsfg power, until we choose him, we should newer choose him. Our carnal minds, are so at enmity with God, we should always prefer, sin ; to holiness, and the world to God, to our just and eternal condemna tion. “if, any man is in /Christ he is a. new creature; .old.things , are passed away ; behold all things'are become new; and ail (the) things abe.of God.” (2 Cor. v. IT, .18.) An English writer, from whom you published an interesting extract in one of your late issues)- Mr. Editor, complains of deficiency, in the conver sational faculty among the <(pomen of our time. This deficiency's an obvious fact to many minds, and his attributing it to-the||lose studies at hmne after school hours, to which young women are often subjected, is, to a degree, doubtless j ust. Butithereare ? id^^^4B^p|^>eraiting,against the acquirement} on thei^ of coUversatiOhal ability; and one of very considerable potency,-we take to he the unfortunate disposition and practice with young women to devotS most of their spare time to works of fiction. - .p > It will surprise him who for a moment reflects how large an amount of thisftsubstance or shadow, rather, may be taken : into kjie mind without any perceptible increase in its growth. The literature of fietion yields, unquestionably) a large amount of excitement of a certain ki&d. Like some other stimulants, however, it leaves-its victims in a state of mental vacuity. If it happens at times to par take less of the sensation -|ype, we shall find it still wanting in all those quhlities best calculated either to enlarge, to invigorate, or to enrich the mind, fiction is essentially, unsuggestive, and instead of stimulating the-thinking or the reason ing faculties, actually disposes to -somnolency and languor. . • - \ • - . - In the “ Book Table ” of One of our public jour nals, we find the following imparks on a new work of the class!to"whieh we ®ieT[Sci3enW of the story are fitted to each other with much skill of - literary joinery; and inasmuch as the au thor is a merciful man, and has • readers also who ought to be merciful, and can make his characters turn out as he pleases, we have always the com fortable assurance from the start, on taking up one of his’books; that ■ all the persons-to whom we are introduced will come Out right, and that what ever the complications and catastrophes may be or may threaten, the curtain will- descend at the ; last page on at’least a dozen most blissful weddings with spinster aunts and ■ bachSlor uncles; all rich and good-natured, and overflowing equally with love, friendship, and felicity ; so it is in the book before us, and if the people who are therein de scribed did not live together comfortably after he left them, it was not because our excellent author had not done them the very amplest justice, in making them all both good and lueky before th§y passed from his hands!’’ , This certainly hits the-promi neut features ofa vast pumb irof thebo'okswhich so engross the leisure,-dufori inately, of the young women of the present day. "at is plain that books of this character are betjp.calculated to satisfy, than to stimulate the mind: The reader finds in their perusal everything finished to his hand. All is performed by the au thor, and that so thoroughly, that the reader has only to keep his eyes cipen; it will be just as well if his mind goes fast asleep. There may be, and doubtless are exceptions, but as far as we have observed, we have generally found those minds the most insipid and hollow which have i mbibed the most of this food; James Boggs. Fiction even if it does r.ot contaminate, in otter words, if it be what is called; moral fiction, brings little indeed, we think, either to warm the heart or elevate the sentiments. That class of fiction termed the best by some— we mean that which is based on the actual persons, or events of historic record—yields but meagre re turns for'his 'perusal, who seeks to enrich his memory with topics the purposes of conversation. For real know ledge, he will find that the license usually taken with facts, and the' false lights which it throws' over characters and scenes, but lead to bewilder and dazzle the blind; , and this to such a degree as to make it scarcely doubtful if it be not a serious misfortune, that the actual facts, e vents, and per sonages of history should ever have been pressed into the service of fiction. It has been wittily and truly said, that no watches so thoroughly deceive us as those which are sometimes right. Gould anything be more ap plicable than this, to what are ; usually denomi nated “historical novels'?” Truth to all, but prominently to the young, is of the most .vital importance; and the real and practical in all periods of life, and for all purposes; are of vastly higher value than the romantic and the visionary. Besides, the practice in early life, of reading for the mere amusement of the fancy,' inevitably leads to the ultimate avoidance of read ing whatever fails to who enter on life accustomed to naughtshgt trifling and shadowy themes, will with those of real solidity and-impoirtance, when these,' as they must, present themselves in their turn. Works of fiction, it might be supposed, would furnish conversation, if not with others, at least with those who are themselves accustomed to their perusal, but strange to say fiction dpes not even per forui this office well!, The leading hits, the salient points of; a ; few, or of a jmniber ..df quaint; or striking characters, startling adventures, or wild Rifel', 'iIARCH 22, 1860. Respectfully submitted, t. CONVERSATION AND READING. scenes, by repetition, Soon ‘pall on - the minds of those to whom, from previous perusal, they are already familiar; and we can scarcely conceive,of a more dreary punishment than that of two con firmed npvel readers, condemned exclusively to each other's society for any length of time, with no other mental aliment than the re-hash which their memories might be able to reproduce from this unsubstantial source. The readers of fiction, as a general thing, sur render themselves entirely to its dramatis personae and the scenes described, while the author of the illusion with all his creative power, holds nothing like so important a place in their estimation as punch bears, in relation to • his puppets, in the minds of 'his auditory, or the cook, who furnishes savoiy viandt, in the mind of the epicure. Nothing can come of, nothing; and how should % of -conversation, which is in itself an elegant as well as a useful art, he the result of a mental training like this? We have known a certain species of conversa tion to grow out of a constant feasting on facetious fiction, if that can be called conversation, which is, com posed a]mosfcsolelyof light and laughable anecdotes, ion mots and puns. We have oceasion ally met persons addicted to a habit of this kind, w ?!9> ev S r . straining after something farcical: or ftnny,.seemed; to imagine, .that ceaseless,cachinar fWP P BS . tk B :9nd and aim-of alksocial/jntercourse; and that to be able to maintain perpetual hilarity, wherever thcy.appeared, was to shine. But in any circle, anecdotes introduced,neither for, embellish ment nor illustration, jbut as the staple of talk, by no . means, make a .bearab.le entertainment, much less conversation, except for the shortest possible period of time, or for the most frivolous of all vapid people. ~.. .It-were a most valuable service to the young, Mr. Editor,, for some. : one of sage, experience in theyplume of,-life an.dj in -books, to present some wisp counsel on. the. pelgction of works suitable to develop and energize the mind, andto enrich the memory with thoughts, ideas, and- themes adapted tp'occasional and varied conversation. The, sub ject seems, to us well worthy a volume; but- if some one or more, sir, of your own able editorial staff cpnld be induced to devote the time requisite to a series of short articles in - your columns, on helps ,to ,conversation, -they-could- not fail of awakening interest, or.of being alike welcome and useful. . ; , There are, some, it, is ; true, oil whom - the best precepts pud the.sagest advice are as .treasures cast upon quicksands,;al,wiays.lopt,; - ,Bu|, there are others, amo.ng-yqur youth .of-generous,impulses, and with ardent -desires iforiJmprovement, op; whom a few well-digested hints- of this nature would by no means.be thrown away. M. For the American Presbyterian. ' THE TIME IS SHOET.” of |3 in one of our Saßbathischb'drclassesinthis'city, answered the questions of his teacher so readily, was so well acquainted with Bible history, that it was evi dent his parents were doing their duty; towards him in the important matter of home religions instruction. ... .. ...... - ,He liyed;near i me,.,and as-his-father was a. qpiet reserved map,belongingto, the chnreh,. put not known- as. prominent at all*. I felt -that jt was both possible andagood thing, to be faithful in tliq more retired duties of life, .as -well as to be forward, and to “let your light shine’’ more luminously., A few.evenings since, -that father went, across the street to see a sick neighbor, one who had-kept his room for four long years. He prayed wifch the sick man, and deft him. One week after that evening the sick man-bad died And was buried, and a darkand desolate place too was the home of the faithful, praying Christian father that night. The wife was there, bowed with grief, the children all mourning, and kind friends were there, treading noiselessly through the house. They had come to assist in convey ing to the cars'all that was mortal of him, who, one week before, went in full health and vigor across the street to pray with his sick neighbor. A sorrowful party accompanied that stricken family to a town in the interior to bury that beloved husband and father. He had come home from his business feeling ill, the next evening after his visit to the sick neighbour, and in less than five- short days his spirit went to heaven, having left earth within a few hours of the departure of his neighbor across the way. ' When he found he was dying, his pastor was sent for, to whom he gave the blessed evidence that all was peace. Is not this a solemn call to you,'dear parents, to be faithfnl in the instruction of your children at all times, never waiting until they grow older, until their minds are better suited ko receive in struction ; for like the quiet, faithful parent men tioned above, one short week from to-day may find yon befog carried to the' house appointed for all the living? Have yon a sick neighbor? Don’t wait until he grows worse, to be sent for, but go at once, and perforin yonr duty as a Christian to him —a faithful prayer and conver sation with him may be blessed to the saving of his soul, and you and'he may have the blessed privilege of entering heaven together. In a single word, it may be too late. Yon may be no more of earth. “Brethren the time is short, be ye steadfast, unmoyahle, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye-know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.” ■.V G. W. M. KEYS OF THE HEARTS. There is a key to every man’s heart—though some have conibination locks, and it requires both skill and patience to open them. Yet in every man’s heart—as in that tiny mechanism of. Swiss invention—there sleeps a little bird of song, which, can you but learn to wind it aright, will start up at your call and imitate the notes of love that you have been taught of God. It is worth years.of toil to teach that bird the song of heavenly love. “All the little mean work of our nature,” says Mrs. Stowe, applying to the heart a figure from housekeeping, “all the little mean work of our nature is generally done, in a small, dark closet, just a little back” of the subject in which we pro fess to be interested. We do not suffer our mean ness to come to the light even of our own, con sciousness—if wo can help that. But when we find ourselves parrying off some appeal for -kind ness, giving way to some prejudice against others, inventing excuses for disregarding them—however plausible all this may seem to us —it is a most unhappy frame off mind—this'is not love at work -—but. some lurking selfishness, in the dark closet, is pulling: the wires, confounding moral distinc tions,-and perverting all good and generous affec tions;: : THE ITALIAN QUESTION. ~y Every item of news from Europe seems to indi cate that this question, just now the most absorb ing in the, political ,circles of the Continent, ap proaches ,a crisis. What the- solution of it will be, no human foresight. seems to be able to divine. It may be in favor of “liberty,” and open the way for,the spread of thb truths of the Christian religion, and the enfranchisement of the human mind;, and it may also be the opposite, and rivet the. fetters of despotism more firmly than ever oyer, the Italian people. - . The active elements of the solution seem to be the following: the London Morning Post of Feb. 3, says that “a virtual alliance has been effected between England and France, for the settlement of Italian affairs, ’’ not by treaty, but “from the fofee of' circumstances, and that it already begins t 6 produce its consequences—that it is determined that no intervention shall take place in Italy, and that the people shall be left to their own devices-. The French troops are to be withdrawn from northern -Italy and from Rome at a convenient opportunity.” Now, if this resolution can-be ad hered to, it is evident tliat the question would soon work, out its own solution. The curse of Italy has been the presence of foreign or mercenary troopsj keeping the people in subjection to their rulers. Left to j herself, she would before this time have been free and united; and will now soon inevitably and surely be free and united, if the resolution of France and England can be main tained. But there, are elements of opposition to contend with, the effect of which cannot be foreseen or cal culated. The Pope has come to a full stop, and apparently made up his mind to die by it, or to remain as he is—in possession of his "temporal power—like the fat woman and the police-officers, when she sat down, and said, “Well, if you want anything of me, or want me to go anywhere, you must move me.” lie does not mean to give up any of his provinces; indeed, lie is "in danger of becoming very conscientious, and saying, “They belong to the Church and not to me, and I cannot consent to give them up; it is impossible.” In this state of mind on the part off the old man, no, solution of the Italian question is feasible, but a violent one: It will be necessary to forqe him, or he will do nothing in the premises. .The Em peror’s advice he will not take. Rut force applied in such a case is a dangerous experiment.. It may be fatal in many ways. Arch bishop Hughes says there is; “a key which, if the Pope only touches it with one of his little fingers; would convulse kingdoms and provinces;”: and, from therstate of things in France, it would seem as if the Pope will not fail to touchthiekey, if it becomes necessary to his interests Wdo so. Louis Napoleon is a shrewd man, but. he may find the elements of strength brought against Mm more formidable than he supposes. Let us see what they are. There; are eighty bishops and arch bishops—several of the latter being cardinals, and boldingseatsas members of the “Senate;” there are forty; thousand priests, or cures, and assistant cures, who have charge of parish churches and “chapels-of-ease;” there are forty seminaries of learnipg, of various grades,, in which there is a large numbet'of .students, directfy under the con trol of the priests and bishops; besides, there is an increased and increasing number of monks and nuns in the religious houses; in a word, Catholi cism at this moment is in a better situation to make a struggle for any of its favorite aims, more formidable and successful, than at any time since the conclusion of the first Napoleon’s days. It has spread; its roots, strengthened itself, and flou rished to a wonderful extent. It knows its power, and evidently rejoices in it. It- is even confident and menacing, maintaining a bold front and a de • termined .position ; and this has never been more clearly manifested than during the last few weeks. The danger of the Pope’s losing the Romagna seems to have been the occasion of all its threaten ing demonstrations, and is earnest. Every possi ble engine of disturbance seems to have been put in motion, for the purpose of making a formidable opposition. Addresses to the Pope have Been pre pared and: Signed by hundreds of thousands of* men and women of all classes. These addresses have, been published apd widely circulated, with, the purpose of encouraging those who sympathize in the movement. Their servility is extreme and surprising, even for the Ultramontane clergy of France; in fact, to any one who cherishes personal self-respeot, the sentiments they' express are. re volting. We give a few sentences from, one of them: “Your rights do not come from man; you did not acquire them by violence or iniquity. , You are the most legitimate and kindest sovereign on tlie earth. What your people suffer ought not to be imputed to you, but to themselves, and those who seduce them. For ourselves, your Fre ich children, we believe that your authority cannot be defined, except by yourself; and we accord to you all the rights which you give yourself. Who more than -you will. love justice, respect the people’s rights, and cherish the poor ? Your independence is the salvation of human liberty. If the Pope was ho longer king'the cross would be torn from every crown, and nothing could save the world, which Would soon return to the worship of idols. O Father! 0 King! 0 most holy and immortal victim I On oiir knees, full of faith, full of love, we beseech your benediction, which strengthens our souls.” - • ■ In addition to this, many pastoral addresses and pamphlets, evidently from clerical pens, have been published and circulated through the whole em pire, calculated to inflame the passions of the fa- Datic, and encourage resistance. Sympathy is sought, too, and has been expressed in Ireland,' and even in the United States—with how much effrontery and bad logic, we have shown on a former occasion. Now, this seems clearly to indicate a disposition, on the part of the French Catholics, not to sur render the temporal power of the Holy Father without an effort to preserve it, if possible. Whe ther the Emperor will be so kind as to concede to John Hughes the “tea years’’ be demands for the friends of the Pope to make provision for him, before he leaves him to the tender mercies of his own people—the people to whom he has been such a kind and excellent father, according to his ear nest adulators among the French clergy—we pre tend not to determine. He seems, however, to accept, not unwillingly, the conditions of therfight. He has silenced the Ultramontane paper,' L’ Uni verse in Paris; and, though we have been told it will be transferred to Brussels and continued, it will be easy to keep it out of France in any quan tities- Single copies may be smuggled in in spite of the police, but-they will. necessarily be single ones, and hence effect but little, in comparison with what it might have done, but for his inter dict. He has, besides this, more than intimated to the Pope his intention of defending him only in the city of Home, or of withdrawing his troops entirely. It is even stated that* Gmta Wecbhia is being fortified, with the express view of there sta tioning the troops whieh'have so long occupied tbecity of Rome, and enabled the Pope to live in the Vatican; so that they may be ready to operate anywhere, as required in the progress of the dis pute. In the meantime, an outbreak has beeu threat ened iu the city of Rome itself; and it has become necessary-to patrol the streets at midnight, in oydey to prevent mischief—clearly indicating that Pope’s subjects differ, iu. opinion with -the; French prelates, on the subject of Ms government YOL IV.—NO. 30.—-Whole No. 195. and the paternal protection which he gives to the poor. _ Surely, there are enough of them, in all conscience; under his eye, to exeite his compassion and call out the kind feelings of his excellent heart. And their cries are importunate, likewise, enough to move him to action, if he be so kind and benevolent. In Naples, the tyranny is becoming every day more. grinding and intolerable, causing the op pressed to pray almost for a return of the days of the infamous Bomba.' How long they will he able to tolerate it, and not strike, even when the iron is forced into their very bones, no one can predict; but if the North and South unite in one vigorous effort for liberty and union, the poor old feeble Pope will be able, with all his.friends, to make but little resistance. He is trying, in the meantime, to stir them up by allocutions and encyclical letters to do something—what, he probably does not himself clearly perceive—only he means to wait, and if he cannot uphold, his temporal power, be buried under its ruins. It -is also said that Savoy is to be annexed to France; if so, then the word will go forth to the provinces of northern Italy, “Annex to Sardinia.” And if it is to be left to the people to say who shall rule them, Victor Emanuel will soon find his sway extending over the whole of the beautiful peninsula. Our Arch. John says, “There was a king of Rome who did not reign;” but he is not sure, nor are we, that there: will not soon be one who will do it, even to the Eternal City itself. Things, certainly, at, this moment, favor such an idea. ; ' There seems to be a determination, on the part of a certain class of thinkers'and writers, to paganize our language. They have thought it good for themselves to renounce, or stand aloof from, Christianity. But they dislike to be called infidels. We do not wonder at their dislike. The word has not a pleasant sound. It is a name which associates the wearer thereof with persons whose memory, has no very sweet savor with a large part of the community. But we cannot consent to the transnbstantiation of a word, so as to give us. an entirely new mean ing with the same vocalization. The word infidel is an old word in onr lan guage. It is found in the English Bible, and there expresses the sense in which it has ever since been current- —an unbeliever in the Chris tianreligion. “Be ye not unequally yoked to gether with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness ? and what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an. infidel?” 2 Cor. vi. 14—16. The same word ( apistos ) is rendered “unbeliever” in the first, and “in fidel” in the last clause. It'would not’be diffi cult to. sho w .that this has been the generally accepted signification of the word. There are two ways in which the established use of the term has been struck at. The Latin infidelis means “unfaithful.” Some writers have undertaken to turn the English substantive into an adjective, with the Latin sense. When a man of some' notoriety as a professional phi lanthropist was called an infidel, his friends voci ferated, “Infidel to what? In what lawful re lation has he been unfaithful ?” Perhaps they did not know that they were talking nonsense, but it requires some charity to think so. v A usual policy is to treaMhe imputa tion of infidelity as implying atheism, and to answer it by proof that the person so described is a theist. But everybody knows Tom Paine as an infidel, and Voltaire as another, though neither of them was an atheist: Or, the appel lation is assumed to charge declared irreligion —hostility to religion—and is met with proofs of a reverential disposition; kind temper, and decorous speech; as if a man could not reject Christianity, and still- have praiseworthy traits of character.: Mr. Bayard Taylor recently eulogized Baron Humboldt’s religious'character. He admitted that,the great’man was not. a Christian in his faith and worship, but maintained that his na tural piety was pare and pdwerfnl enough to dispense with the help of the gospel. What Mr. Taylor’s religious opinions are, we do not know, nor; are. we concerned to inquire. Per haps he thinks the Christian religion necessary, or, at least, highly advantageous, to ordinary mortals. But he evidently thinks that some men are quite as well off without it as with it. He insists, .however, that he was “defending Humboldt from the charge of infidelity,” by “stating Ms belief that a deep religious feeling formed the basis of: his character.” But Mr. Taylor, in Ms travels about the world, and in his converse with literature, must have found Out long ago that a a kind of religions sentiment may exist without a Christian belief. Every human being has religions instincts. Shelley not only rejected, but reviled the gospll. But he has been called a “natural devotee.” Was Humboldt anything more? “He that is not with-me,” said Jesus, “is against me.” There is no exception; even for a Humboldt. If he did not believe in the truth and authority of the Ghristiah religion, he was an infidel. It is saidjsometimes that the term is one of reproach.* It may be so, but whose fault is that? The term merely states a fact. If the opinion of the comm unity concerning infidels as a class is not flattering to them, the opinion has been formed with no want of opportunity to estimate correctly the valne of their services to ■society. Those who think fit to cast in their lot with them, -must be content to bear the re proach, until they can wipe it out by demon strating, if they can, that the world is better off without than with the gospel.— Examiner. The Rev. Dr. Tyng is discussing topics per taining to Sunday-schools in familiar letters to the Independent. The doctor’s last letter gives the following, timely hints concerning family culture: “ Many families have I seen who were fixed in the sentiment, that the Sanday-scbool was not needful for their children, and that even greater benefits would be lost by sending them thither. The simple result has been, that these children, though in some eases belonging to Christian pa rents, and I believe conscientiously instructed at home, have grown up free from any influence of mine, or of the ministry, or of desire therefor, and, as a rule, voluntary strangers in maturity to the blessings of a day and a church which they had never been accustomed to love in their youth. I have mourned over this error in occasional de terminations with exceeding sorrow —longing to see every child and youth in the Church in actual, constant connection with blessings which I have been perfectly convinced could elsewhere never bo supplied. I would entreat Christian parents to feel and to consider rightly upon this subject; and while in their prayers and efforts at home and in secret, they seek for the highest spiritual welfare of their children, to perceive and acknowledge how blessed add valuable is that helpful agency which the good providence of God has prepared for their aid and success .in the Sunday-school.”* WHAT IS AN INFIDEL? FAMILY CULTURE. DAILY DUTIES. Sum up at night what thou hast done by day; And in the morning what tboii hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul. Watch the decay And growth of it. If with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both.. Since we shall be. Most surely judged, make'thy accounts agree. Herbert. Christian Intelligencer.
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