NESEE EVANGELIST.—WhoIe No. 726.
THE VOICE Of SPRING.
BY JAMES JUSTINE,
The blue-bird sings on yonder Sprig,
Just budding into vernal bloom,
The trumpet tone, the magic lay,
That calls the flowers from their tomb.
For when the silvery Voice is heard,
Fresh blossoms shower on the trees,
And sings the happy woodland bird,
Borne thither on the southern breeze.
Then from the oozy hill-aide near,
The tender flowers deign to peep,
Gemmed with the morning’s glittering tear,
That gathered in the hour of sleep.
But When the genial sun shall pour
Fresh glory from the summer skies,
Bweet scenf shall hallowing hover o’er*
Th'y bloom, and to the heaven rise.
And then perchance some seraph blest
Shall breathe thy perfumed Incense there,
And Bigh that thou art doomed to rest,
Where rudely blows the blast of care.
Bpt ab! how many a pensive eye
Has caught the beauty of that flower,
And turned a grateful look on high,
To Him, the all-creating power.
And then perchance that flower’s scent.
Has wafted to the sick man’s bed,
Whose feeble life was nearly spent,
And sleep soothed not his aching head.
Then he has lifted up his voice,
‘ Asking of thee, thou gracious One,
The joy that makes the soul-rejoice,.
Of those who linger round thy throne.
Breathe on! fair flower, thy sweet perfume,
And teach the hearts of those below,
Like thee tn prayer to waft their Bloom,
■ Where endless summer, sheds her glow.
Philadelphia, April Ist, 1860.
DEATH THE KING OF TERRORS.
jroß‘ xvtn. 14*
Oftentimes, O Death, thou enterest .
The dear home I love so well, ,j ;
Noiselessly thou takest from me,
Treasures, which I would not sell.
Bike a thief at night thou comes!,
When I;do not look for thee 5
When, all bless’d in ray possessions,
No dark future can I see.
With thy thin and icy fingers,
Thou dost loose the silver cold,
Heeding not my silent anguish,
Nor the prayer to my dear Lord,
How T tremble when thou takest^
. ’Mid the chill, and damps ofnight,
Those I have most fondly cherished,.
Hiding them from my sad sight.
Ah, I fear thee, cruel angel 1
Standing by the gloomy side
Of that deep, mysterious river,
WhiChreceiveS life’s ebblo^jtide.
■Whilst 1 tremble, still I linger
Where the friends 1 love haye pass'd,
Walk’d in faith thine angry waters,
Beach’d their Home, their Heaven at last.
«. • * «
March 3d, 1860.
dbcct'Sjon&fttrt.
For the American Presbyterian.
THE CLAIMS OE KANSAS.
The opening of every new territory imposes a
high responsibility upon the Church, and one she
should be prepared promptly and fully to meet.
On the constant expansion of our population—in
the filling up of the almost innumerable boundaries
of our country’s area, it is important, above all
things, that the church, with her ministry, and
ordinances, and especially with her living piety
burning on her altars, should go with the people.
If the love of gain, or motives, of ambition, or any
other motives, prove sufficiently influential to in
duce men to leave their homes, and seek to im
prove their condition in new settlements, the love
of Christ in the hearts of God’s people should be
no less operative. Here, then, is a- duty de
volving upon the whole church—to go with the
people,—whether to the fields of commerce, or to
the fields of agriculture, or to the shops of manu
facture. The church must not be behind, but
with the people, and prepare to do her work, and
meet, as God would have her, her responsibilities.
As the cloud and pillar by day, and the fiery
Column by night, followed the Israelites in all
their journeyings through the wilderness, in an
cient times, so the church, as a Divine presence j
and power, by her ordinances, and by the living
fire of our burning piety and zeal, is to be found
going over every hill-side and valley, and climbing
mountain-top, where motives of gain, or ambition,
impel men to go. We say here is a duty, than
which none is more imperative,, and none more
important, devolving upon the whole church. The
missionary worfcln the new seiftiemegts has
been regarded as the most responsible, and the
most important work of the church; The neces
sity for such a work has originated all our societies
for Home Missions. And we hazard nbthiug in
saying, that the missionary spirit, in. its. purity
and intensity, is the best possible gauge of the
purity and piety of the church. A, church de
ficient in this one element, is deficient in all others
that makes the church aggressive upon the world,
or ghres her power anywhere for good. With
these general remarks, to whieh all are ready to
subscribe, we might inquire, Has the church done
her duty—met, as her great Head would have ter,
her responsibilities to Kansas? It might be ar
rogant and presumptuous for any one denomination
to answer for another, but each may and ought to
be able to furnish their own- individual answer.
To the inquiry, Has our branch of the Presbyterian
Church met her responsibilities io supplying the
religious demands pf Kansas? we, as an humble
laborer in her ranks, should.be compelled to put
in an emphatic negative. -
Whether Kansas can prefer a strongerdate
upon our church than any other, is not important
to determine. Rut one thing appears to us very
certain, that no church is better fitted than ours,
for the field. None in its government—its past
history—its spirit—is better suited to the charac
ter of its people. None oconpies a higher vantage
ground, in fact, than ourselves, especially to those
who have toiled, and suffered, to make Kansas in.
all ttme the home of the free- Onr church, in its
past history, and in its present position, stands
before them, erect and firm, on an ariti-jilavery
basis; not alone, because we can refer to'resolu
tions condemning slavery, passed in a better age
of the cburcb, and there remaining uprepealed,
but practically obsolete: but certainly for tbe bet
ter reason, that slavery, by tbe .living moral pow
er of our cburcb, has been driven from our borders,
never, as we trust, to return again. Now this ele
ment in our church adapts it to the public senti
ment of Kansas. • .
Kansas demands of the church an anti-slavery
creed and practice, firm, consistent; not violent
and denunciatory, because such a spirit defeats its
own object. Now, in such a field as Ka‘nsas-~set
tling more rapidly, and destined to become, from
its central position, from the mildness .and salu
brity of its climate, the fertility' of its soil, and its
vast capabilities, a'leading State in the We'si—
our church has a work to do, high responsibilities
to meet. Has she met these responsibilities?.
Has she done, and is she doing the wort for which
she is so well fitted, and which .the Great’ Head of
the ohurch demands at her hands?’ Thefollow
ing statement will show:
Up to a recent date, only a little more than a
year since, there was connected with our branch
of the .church but one small organization, and only
one ordained minister in tbe Territory. We have
now, in Eastern Kansas, which embraces more
than two-tbirds of the entire population of tbe
Territory, but one lone, tofOary! laborer, .with’ a'
parish of some 10 or 12 counties to ride over.
Within these bounds there is a demand—a pre
sent, Urgent demand —for at least 8 or 10 active,
devoted men to cultivate fields, and to take charge
of, and build up churches already organized. And
yet where are tbe men? This inquiry has been
made again and again, arid yet, in response, no
one rises up with the reply: “Here am I; send
me.”
There is, beside this, a vast missionary field,
increasing we say every day, and extending all.
over Kansas, arid yetf%e again ask, arid let the
inquiry be borne to the East, and the West, any
where, to all our seminaries of and
whprever Christ's ambassadors are to be found,
where are the men in whom the missionary spirit
lies so. in tensely, that they shall, be compelled to
do this work? It is certainly well for Kansas that
other religious denominations are not obliged to
confess to such delinquencies; -that they have
come in, and, in fact, done our work and taken
our .men, as, uncared for by us, they had a right
so to do, and employed their, otherwise unused,
energies with which to do it. Our old school
brethren, our Congregational brethren, and the
Methodist church, and the Baptist church, are all
well manned and equipped, and laboring earnestly
and successfully in the cultivation of this new field.
And the past winter has witnessed much religious
interest, and, in some instances, a large increase
of their membership. We make out. a strong case
against ourselves in these statements, and yet we
are unwilling that the inference should be made,
simply because we doi- riot beHeve'- there is really'
anything to warrant it, that we have less of a mis
sionary spirit than other Christian sects; that we
feel our obligations to our church, to our country,
and to our God less deeply. We make no such
concessions, we, say, because we feel that truth
does not demand it. There are two reasons which,
■ „ ' 1 . ■\ i
if they fail to satisfy, will at least account for what
we have already stated. One is, we have less men
unemployed in our ehurch, than, any other leading
denomination. Our men are all at work, busy in
the cultivation of other fields. When this new
demand, so suddenly made,, for a little army to
march forth, and oeeupy this frontier settlement,
was made, we had no men that we could spare.
They were pre-engaged, and the policy of our
church would not permit us : to call out of the
ranks of private members, a ministry uneducated,
and .untrained, and unused, if not unfitted for the
work. There has been another reason. As w§
Had not the men on the ground to do the work,
We have failed to know the wants of the field..
We have had no watchmen on their walls, and
therefore no cry has gone out proclaiming our
wants, and calling for men.
The writer of this article has written many pri
vate letters, but it is slow work, and accomplishes
but little. We ask the. aid of that mighty voice
that can speak to our entire land, and make itself
atiywhere audible, so that the plea of ignorance
can no longer be made. We desire; above all
things, that the wants of 'Kansas should be known
to our people, and that we should be prepared to
do what God would have us, to give to her that
greatest of all'blessings,.the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
By delay we have lost much, and, we.fear, sinned
much. Shall we delay longer?-. Bather ought
not .our past remissness to stimulate us,-not sim
ply to endeavor to retrieve our, losses,- but to ad
vance in. the employ of redoubled zeal aud'activity
the cause of our blessed Master.
Olathe, K. X., March 21, 1860.
LEGISLATURE OF lOWA..
A long ariff’storiny session of our General As
sembly of lowa is drawing to a close. I say,'
stormy session, meaning thereby, that there has'
been much political excitement, in perfect good'
keeping with our national Congress. A requisi
tion from Governor Letcher of Virginia for Barclay
Coppoch, a citizen of lowa, as connected with the
Harper’s Ferry Affair, being denied on the ground'
of informality, has increased the agitation of par
ty feeling here, already excited by Governor Kirk
wood’s allusion to the Harper’s Ferry matter.
The young man Coppoch, of Quaker descent, is
represented as on a decline with consumption, the
son of an aged widow, and so appeals strongly to
the sympathies of our citizens, who generally
would rejoice to find the vengeance of the sovereign
State of Virginia satisfied with the past victims
of death, one of which was a son of this aged
widow. Still, it would seem that this is not the
case, since a new requisition, in due form, hasbeeri
received, it is reported,»and granted by our Execu
tive. Our new code, just adopted, prescribes in
what manner and on what evidence, the Governor
shall hereafter surrender fugitives from justice.
Our Legislature has been divided on the question
of liquor laws, —the House of Bepresentatives
going for the restoration of the clause in our pro
hibitory law, repealed last session, whereby wine,
beer, and cider, from grain or fruit, grown in this
State, were made free: but the Senate refused to
pass the bill, and substituted a severe license law.
And there the matter is likely: to end.
»es Molnw, tons, March 2Stfc 1866;
Tor the American Presbyterian,
BASTOBS AND PBEACHEBS.
The extracts in this paper of the 29th ult.,.
taken from the March No, of the Atlantic Monthly,
afford suggestions which I wish, to present. The
“religious want" of every small community is, at
least, a pastor. The qualifications for ah excellent
pastor may be posse3sed by one who eariitot becoihe
even a preacher of mediocrity. In this affluent
age of religious reading of every description, from
the Sabbath School library to instructions of every,
kind,m;newspapers,thepastomZ duty of ministers
in charge of a congregation is coniparatiVely more
Important thari- pulpit duties.
ln.'the early period of disseminating the truths,
of Christianity,Jhis was not so. Oral instruction
Wm then mainly, depended on, and the only means
by which the masses could have access to the
truths of philosophy or religion} 1 hence the saying
of St. Paul—r“ How shall theyherir without a
preacher?" ~
Tbe ear was the only avenue through Which
they could be reached; and so important did the
Apostle consider it, that Christ should in some
way be preached, that even when objectionable
and unqualified preachers were employed, he: says,
“ Notwithstanding every way, whether in pretence'
or in truth; Christ is preached, and T herein do
rejoice, yea, and I wiS rejoice.” We see here
none of that modern dainty fastidiousness about
preachers which is the bane of the Church. Pretty
men in “leather and prunella" were not then of
so higb account Wheu the great preacher of the
age wks “in bodily presence weak, arid in speech
contemptible.” But. the fact is, too much stress
is now placed upon a talent for preaching, and too
little importance is attached to the pastoral duties
of the clergy, and as a consequence, a majority of
our young licentiates destroy themselves in trying,
by superhuman exertions, to meet the demand of
a people (having “itching ears”) for two and
sometimes three acceptable sermons in each week
—a task' which, in truth, is beyond the ken of
any human intellect for any long period; unless,
like a certain good Elder, he preach the same dis
course in substance from innumerable texts.
“ Mach study is a weariness.; so said
The sage of sages, and the aching eye, . . -
The pallid cheek, the trembling frame, the head
Throbbing with thought, and' torn with agony,
Attest the truth.”
This is.why one half our clergy, after spending
the best ten years of life in preparation, are pre
maturely laid upon the shelf. Clearly the wrong
kind of labor is required of them, much of which
is thrown away Upon the public, for truly we are
surfeited With sermons. Permit me to suggest a
remedy: —Let the plan be everywhere adopted, to
ask but one sermon a week of the settled pastor.
It is all .any man can prepare as it ought to be
prepared. It is all the people really want. Ask
nine-tenths of a church-going people to give a
synopsis of the afternoon’s discourse; they will not
he able, in mpst instances, to tell you tho first
no .means. When a person has taken a hearty
repast at. 12 o’clock, can he sit down and dine
again at 2 ? Veriljr not; and this is in accordance
with the laws of mind. The intellect may become
cloyed with mental food as the stomach does with
too much nourishment, although the aliment may
be in ifeslf wholesome. As a substitute for thp
present onerous task o£ writing two or three in
different discourses a week, let the minister be
ooiffe a true pastor of his flock, and spend much
more of his time in visiting and becoming ac
quainted'with the “inner life” (as the phrase now
is) of his people; let him become intimately ac
quainted with every child arid every other inmate
of the families of his parish. He can in no other
way become a “ living epistle” to his congregation.
The family physician has a great advantage ini be
coming familiar with the individual idiosyncrasy
of his employers. As clinical experience is the
sheet anchor of success, to him,, so, it. may be said,
the physician to the soul acquires a tact by sitting
frequently in a familiar way at the family, fireside,
the lack of which no pulpit performance, can com
pensate. This is the “religions want of the age,”
which has been getting more and more neglected,
until the clergy haye lost much of their power to
do good- They have literally changed places with
the people, and,, instead of being looked-up to as
of , old and, even within the recollection of the
writer, as the oracle and ensample to .the flock, it
may be said, I fear,, . ,
“Some ne’er advance a judgment of their own;
But catch the spreading notion of the town;”
A minister cannot heebme'acquainted with his
people by a friendly greeting or a shake of the
hand as he passes, from the pulpit down the aisle.
He must commune face to face with them at their
homes—not with a few families who pay the
greatest Salary, or wield the most influence, but
he must go into the by-ways, and amongst the
poor, and show himself a true shepherd of the
flock, and strive to “bring them in." The say
' ing t&dt “fatriillh'fity Wrefedk WritetDptJt? never ap
plies to a faithful minister of th‘e;gospel. All this
requires time, and time well spent, even as a
wholeSoiUe relaxation front study. By' sueh a
change in the present habits of our clergy, the
powers of body and mind would h>e‘ better balanced,
and health preserved, their influence
and the “religious wants of the age” much better
met. That “the harvest is plenteous and the la
borers few,” is as trap now as at any former pe
riod.-
Let it be borne in mind that the majority 0 f
these laborers must arid will continue to be, from
the nature of the case, men of medium ability,
though it is to be hoped of good hearts. Then
let the kind of labor be properly adjusted to the
real “religious wants of the age.” These are
“met,” not “ by enticing wordsof man’s wisdom,”
nor by “able doctrinal discourses,” but by a much
more faithful and rational discharge of those pas
toral duties which men of heart-felt piety and
mere common-place talents can perform with an
unction which is as much more eflieieat and du
rable than pulpit eloquence, as the genial and
steady warmth of the sun is more effectual than
the sudden and erratic movements of the electric
fluid. Lest it be thought that this is written by
a clergyman wishing to shirk labor, I subscribe
myself J. B. Smith, M. D.
Ogden, Monroe Co,, 2V. Y, April 2, 1860.
Of all the divine communications- that seems
most profitkbleand pleasing which we readlasC
, Aligustine;
8. S. H. ,
PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY APRIL 12, 1860.
{!'), !• rsi
JOSHUA, OE THE EEOUn>feE< Of (SOD.
The providence of God is;se|U>ta ( moje; con
spicuous ,:than in the,,
for the important stations they jire.designed.to
occupy. This was eminently the
to Joshua, the assistant ahd toclSssdF'Of' MosOs,
the leader of Israel. Barly a sense
of ; the, perfections and : glory of <p>d, he devoted
his life to his. service, and displapd jhis yalor in:
achieving victories for the Lordtof liosis. We
view thfe scenes of bis labor, diiijlM Jthe'jdurhey
iogs of the Israelites, as God mpnifested him Self
to them in mercies and judgment|y and findthem
full of-instruction tp one who sees in each-event;
of life the ruling hand of Gpd. fy
Joshua was early treated :by Mose? in a Very’
confidential manner, and chosen |«sltt~'aihong' the
most - prominent of his oount^|e#vfg I .t thfe'' di's
charga of peculiar and
tended him, as the only one:who qualified
to be tbp companion of IsraeljV |hospn Reader,
when he .ascended Mount Si,naJFfb ]recpive ,llip
tables of the" law from the Go'd. He also
proved himself faithful when* idolatry
of the people in .thetworship
He returned,# (favorable the promised
land, to which he was sent, aS one tojuryey ,their
future residence. .. r
.rißvet having-Hreceived lessors jtraetleMitv;is
dom from the providence of Gtfd and from the lips
of Moses, be was constantly forming hjs character
for an important sphere in- the - o.hurcli .of God.
Thus trained and qualified to become the; suc
cessor .of the illustrious leader qf j the Israelites,
he was chosen by God himself to fill that, high
office, .and was solemnly set apart for-it , a short
time ! before Moses left, the .wdrifl. its the: de
parture of 'Moses drew near,, these;servants of:the.
Lord were summoned to the Tabernacle, where
the divine presence appeared fcO.them inthepillar
of cloud, and Joshua received.this charge: “ lie
strong, and of good courage, .and I will be with
thee.” ■,, ■ - .•
When the Lord had removed .'Moses by. death, ,
Joshua became, the governor add guide, of his,
countrymen. His very name, the import of which.
is, “he shall save,” seemed his char
racter, and invite the confidence of ; all. Every
eye was now turned to. Go ( d’s chosen,
leader; ~.. •
The- hosts of near the
promised land, were itapatieht,W ; %nter -upon; the'
possession of their, inherita'nce/s and their .hopes
were soon realized, for Joshua received the divine
mandate from God to proceed :;*‘Now, therefore,
arise, go oyer this Jordan, all this people,
into-the land which I.giye thee. Be. thou! strong:
in the Lord, and observe all the law which.l com
mand thee.” .f"%:
•From 'a-perusal;:of-the history, of Joshua,' ; we
learn, that God’s word and .pocmdence. must: sol
rale, the heart, that in all. and con
duct, both private qnd officialj tfosy shall:be t-be sole
guide. It was this that' : Joshua and bis
people the assurance that ; they should ; succeed in
their great and important work. ,Joshua’s ex
ample will. be followed by aliichildren who are
trained in the' way they shoald*go, and like liim
they may be chosen by God to fill places of honor
in bis church, on earth. ' : - ,• .;
Our Lord himself took upejk .him the form of
a servant: then God higlilyfoSilted him.- Even
Christ must become man, was seated at
the right hand of God. as Mediator,; giving us. the
truth .that those who have learned tp iobey, are
prepared-to rule;; that if w&wqftld- have our; chib
dren useful, we must. in :thaJmfguage of Christ,.
True success in life is thfe result of implicit
obedience to Christ’s;commatrds, exhibited in plaus
formed for -promoting, the glory of God aDd the
welfare, temporal and spiritual, of our fellow-won.
RELIGION AT HOME.
BY REV. L. A. FIELD.
Every Christian will- acknowledge' that there
are peculiar difficulties in. living a dftrisistentlife at
home. ,It is one of the severest tests which' can
be applied to a man, to ask, “Is he a Christian
in his' family?” And I fully believe that many
whoto the Chrireli arid the’world'regard as sincere
(Christians, give the' least ’evidence of their piety
at home of any place on earth. When abroad
they arfe under', somfe mfeaimMof restraint. The
eyes of the world are upon them.' They have a
character to maintain among men,,and are un will
ing to lose their respect and confidence The de
sire fori the’ approbation of others is a powerful
restraint or stimulant, as the. case may demand,
and" exerts a great on- the lottos of piety .
Biffed,'when thus throfern %he world, are
not only exposed' td great'’ but arc
also surrounded .with cheeks,»sdiich keep them ori
the watesh agfeinst Being overeetoe: • '
' * The ease now is different at 'home; The ’free
dom of fatoilyintereourse retooyes these restraints,
and presents us just as we are) with our natural
tetopers aud infirmities. We do riOt- always stand
there Ss'.we do in.soeifety; holding our faults add
weaknesses under control; cheeking . any signs of
ill tetoper; guarding our speech by ’the rules of
refined' add friendly' conversatio’ri! Add the con
sequence is, that things are said' and -done which
never would have' been said and done in more de
liberate moments, and under the eyes of those
who are comparatively strangers, We all know
that in 'the arrangement, plans, and intercourse of
families,‘ there is metre or ’less of friction;’ inorfe
or less of irritation, arid of conflicting views and
opinions'. At such tiides'd person is'thrown off
his guafd' and’ manifests'signs of pfetnjaricej arid
perhaps gives way to feelings which do not become
him as a man, much less-as a -Christian. And
strange-as it may seem, apaft from experience, yet
so it is in a painful number of instances—those
often, who'areregarded ' iri f 'teoiety *as retnat-fcably
uniform and even-temperedf > resent
ments, hard, ,6pfeeches, v IU.temperjyfor the-,family,
circle. Here they throw off their reserve, and
forget their gentleness. The studied'forid's ; of
politeness are now laid aside* The 'restraints of
society are 'felt no longer.''* And the' Christian
members of a family wilL sometimes -manifest,
phases, of .character and life which willamt.- attract,,
but ever repel, the unconverted from the cross,of
Christ. ; ’■ •' '
_ Yet every Christian believes that the family
circle', when arranged* and*' ordered asrak should
be, is the place of tlie-purestand' strongest af
fections which the world ever knows. The love
6f parents and children, husbands and wives,
brothers and sisters, and all the endearing ties
which spring up and flourish around the fire
side, make a well-ordered household the sphere
Pf the best affections and Widest sympathies.
All other bonds are weak in comparison' with
those which bind together the members of an
affectionate family. It is so arranged, that
these should not be ties of interest merely, of a
worldly and politic nature, but such as spring
out of the very constitution of man, and root
themselves in the essential'element's of his be
ing. _
Now, if rois be the case—if home Is' the*
sphere of these strong affefetions, is ‘ there any
place where a Christian catv have greater influ
ence ? Do we not expect that our wishes and
our words will be most regarded in thoseplaces'
where we are most loved and" respected ? Do :
not .these very ties-which bind families together
become so many channels which God has opened
fpr onr mutual influence, and deepening of those
gpod impressions which must be made, if made
at all, iii early life ? Yes, if..the family is what
it should be—if the.different members are or
dered and-trained as God designed they should
be—there is no place where Christian,influence
Will be so great. It enters’ into the' very con-'
stitutioh of the family that it should Who—aiiil
it Vt'.-rA SW---OY-VT
whoever neglects* ortnrnsawayfromit,-wilfully
leaves the first points of ..Christiaa Jabor, and
makes a vital, mistake as td where would
hate him coiriinehce his work: - "
' And yet, as I have said/mafiy ; db tbris fiter
look' the • dntyand importance of:this work, i
The,simple, duties of .the, Christian life are, in
their, view, irksome ,and forbidding.- Yon ean ■
interest them easily, in some plan of benevolence.;
If a inissidhary is to be sent to Somb' distant
heathen nafiob; thby che'effnlly assist in his finp
port. If Hindoo or Chinese families are to be l
furnished with 'religions instruction,-ithbi work
engagestbeir.warmest interest., Bnt, for some
reason,many fail, to realize the fact that the
plac'd of 1 their' ’greatest infruepcd ' and*; sndcdss
mast Be at* HbiftM Of ’countoy bthbrithings add
nbt to be 'neglected-^—no personis-to’ confine his;
attention.to his ownfamily.and forget thewants
of a-perishing world: but to show,
piety—the place to manife.st the best Christian
ht one’s'own fireside htiil’aitari' ' "
.This is. ]the title .of, a new work just issued by
MSartiens, of this city, which, we noticed last week.
It will attract attention, and open a new vein of.
thought and speculation. We extract below the
two chapters on the “Nervous System," and.
“ Physiology ofthe Spirit.”
THE-NEayOUS SfSKEH;
• The light which, Scripture sheds on the natural
history of .the human race may be ,still further in
creased hy an examination of the structure ofthe
human tody, It is J q whll-eStahlished doctriiie of
Sdripthre; that th'e'hddyls'animated'tiy' ah iri'telli--
gentiands'immortal tspirit,-> that ; feels and aets by
means of its material mechanism, without being
itself material.. We .also lepra from Scripture,
that at death the spirit is, not iestroye'd with, the
ibddy, but only Separated froin' it, and is 'capable of
; maintaining an independent existence; so that 1 in'
its disembodied state it possesses aoneasure -of eon-:
sciousncss and intelligence sufficient to preserve
its identity of person. . ,
It may he desirable, .but certainly it is not ne
cessary, that wftshpsjd b.e able to prove a doctrine
by uieapsof two distinct.processes;' and therefore,
although oilr' ifeSeardlieS. in ahatO'my-- might Bever
conducting tqjfhe.necessary conclusion,; that there
is. an. .immortal spirit ,;Te.sidpnt in every .human
body, it is .sufficient tha.t,such.a conclusion is war
ranted ky Scripture, and' is,' at the,same time, quite
efonsisterit witn f afl'the teachings of natural science.
If may be ttefthis admlssibh wohldalso involve
the probability that every animate object; however
• low, in the. scale has some-immaterial
'pupstanee etwme.cted with, it, eorrespon ding to the
human spirit; but it’ does do£' 'fbllow"£h£tt‘fhes‘e
substances-are immortal: on the ; contrary, Script
ture speaks of th'eldwdrJihiirials as “ the beasts that
perish,’.’ and affirtns,.that while tlie spirit of.a man
gpeth ,up,wfr^s,,;ang, returns t.to God who gave it,
the spirit of a beast gdeth downwards.!. It may
be.that ainatpmy might never be able to prove iudfi
a dis'tiiietidti bdtween ; thetw'd natures—it'is enough
that it does not disprove'it, and; therefore, Serip
tu‘re test|i niOOy is sufficient' for pur purpose.
, Taking for,,granted, : thep,, tliat { there .ip an im
mortal spirit distinct and .separable from the body,
we ne'Xt' , ihqu!rh , wh& light'anhfdroy 'tbrows on
theif cdniiecliou and action one upon tlie other.
' iOnfexamining the humambody, we,find>a canal
youp
and*sends out,'at different, places,'through en
tire length, Cords audfflaffie'nfe which? branch-out;
like the rainifieatidn's'of a tree, over tiieWhole body r
this is erflled.the: cerebro-spinal system.-,. It has also
been found that this nervous matter ..consists of
two distinct columns,, different from one another,
and perfohning totally different ‘functidhs. One
of these columns (the posterior) consists entirely
of sensory nerves,- by means. of which- the spirit
receives impressions of things without;. the. other
Consists of motor nerves, by which the spirit is
able to set the body in motion, by energizing the
muscled. It is by means of the former of thesej
spread over the whole body; that the spirit-within
receives intelligence ofiyhat is taking place with
out.;, .because by means .of them „tbe, sensations .of
heat and cold, resistance and pain; are experienced;
It is the same kind of nerves* that cofonufnibate
with the eye, and the' ear, although they do-not
pass through • the. back-bone., The, optic nerye
passes ,directly from the brain into the back of, the
eye-ball, and spreads itself over the whole of what
is called the retina, to receive the light that passes
through the pupil.
"The second-or,anterior column of nprves which
are eontained in the-hollowtube, of the back-bone,
is of a totally different- nature: these do not con
vey intelligence to the spirit, but they convey ener
gy /rojni the'spirit to the muscles, in order to pro
duce action';' they are called the motor or moving
nerves, and it is by tli'eirmeans that the spirit is
able to set- the body ; in action. •
rWe may ifegard these..two, columns, as like the
double line of rails on'a railway; oiie line of rails
carrying the trains in one direction, the other car
rying them ’ hack r in the opposite direction:' the
column of the sensitive;nerves carrying' despatches
upwards and inwards—the column of the motor
nerves carrying the despatches downwards, and
outwards. .
Supposing;'then : , that, we Cut across the first of
these columns, the’itomediate consequenceis,-that
sensation in aU tlie parts beneath the section stops.'
They.uiay be cut, bruised; or burned without pro-,
duejng pain or any sensation whatever; and yet,
whiie the motor column .continues whole and
Healthy, the pbwer of the : body remains fei : before.'
It is like’the-'Cutting- of the telegraphic! wires, by
which communication is-ioterrupted. , .
If, Instead >of euttiug the first; we cut across:the
second column of nervous matter, a very different
result is contiriues'/in its
usual manner, but voluntary motion is now impos
sible; the limbs fere paralyzed; andshang loose upon
the: body, because the;spirit; has ceased to have
any control over,, opcommunication with the inus
cles. . 1
Here, .then, twe.have a view of the residence of
the human spirit, with ali its furniture arid conve
niences provided.’ By means of- the brain and the
spinal cord, : the spirit becomes embodied, and gre
sent to our observation, and is able to hold con
verse with external nature., Without such an
apparatus its Communications ! Would be stopped,
and, being practically absent, would be an agent
mysterious and unknown!
PHYSIOLOGY OP THE SPIB.IT.
All God’s works are according to law—it is His
method ; arid the toote we think of it, the more
do we see its rifeCessity as a covenant between God
and creation.; * Without law there could be. no in
dependent action among the creatures,-far less could
there he responsibility. It is God who makes the
gunpowder explode iu the assassin’s pistol, and the
poison operate in the "Body 'off his victim. If He
did not do so—if He introduced His own moral
perceptions and sovereign will so as to modify or
suspend the laws of His administration, the act
would be the afet no longer of the creature but of
the Creator. : ' y ;
o • Even miracles are according to law,; and until
we adopt this view "of them we never can finally
set aside Hume’s argument against them. Belief
in law is an instinct of our nature, but it is stronger
in some men than in others.. In some it is so
weak as to seek an explanation of all extraordinary
phenomena in the sovereign will of the Deity; iu
othersjt is so strong as to assert the infinite, eter
nal, and unchangeable justice of God’s physical
laws. 'They are quite prepared'to adiriit tfiC goodi
ness,* mercy, arid justice of Hod; but they feel ! th¥t
these must aot, not in violation of,- Butrin' accord-*
V f
■ * Home' Monthly.
ance-jwith lawvTSuch a mindwasHiune’S. Tiftste
Can be little doubt that in his Celebrated argument,
he. drew his inspiration from a deep-seated end
instinctive conviction of the: inviolability of the.
ahd that; #hen-he elaborated it
into a r logical shape,, this wasithe, last, and to his
own ruind r perhaps the least satisfactory form into
be cquld put it. If Hume-had received the
definition of a miracle as “the act of a superhu-.
inan Cgetit acting; acbdfdihg to lawJ s ’ his iCgie Vnd
his instinct wouhfalike' have been Satisfied. His
only difficulty would have been the.question of the
existence er : non-existence > of, any superhuman
agent; but in -the settlement pfthis.question logic
and instinct would have had ho jurisdiction.
It is the Buty of science toredover frohi Ihe do
mains- of mystery to the domain df'latf ill the
phenomena.of nature, aad although its pastachieve
ments have beqn almost entirely confined to things
outward and visible, we are warranted in believing
that the phenomena oif life and intelligence are not
less within the pale of its dominion. :
■ To say that spif itual phenomena emerge accord
ing tolaw, is, to assert that there is a,-physi6logy
of the spirit; and.althpugh.it.bas.not as yet been
sciences, \t is by
no nSeahS’unlifely that we EavCjdready broken
ground"Cpon the subject, in the recent disfeoveries'
of the eo’nvertibility and indestructibility of^fince’'
—doctrines ;most valuable, not so much on account
of their own importance, as because of their being
the avenue to an entirely new field of research.
this—light/ heat; electficity/ magnetism; and' mo
meiitum (possibly also Chemical affinity, gravififtion
and elasticity)—are' all of* them different modes Or
forms of one essential ( “fpree.'’ , . This force can
assume any of these forms, and change from one
to another without) losing iEs identity. For exam
ple, if wC have it in the form of heat, we may
change it into light by concentration, or into mo
mentum- by the steam-engine. If we have, it in
the form of electricity, we may change it into light
by the electric spark, or into heathy the, attenua
ted wire, or into magnetism by the artificial mag
net, or into momentum by the electro-magnetic
engine. : If we have it' in, the form of momentum,
we may change it into light by percussion, or into
electricity by the electric machine; or 1 iidid'Heatoby
friction. ~
What is meant by the inflcsti'actibility of force
is, that, as it cannot be genera tfed from ady source,
so neither can it be sp.erftj lost, or 3eSiroj i 'ed. For
example, if it exist'id the form of momentum, it
can never stop unless it .be. changed into some of
its other forms, such as heat or electricity. If
one elastie.lMl ,he StrueK iby of equal
weight, it will fly off in the same direction, and
with the same velocity, after having received its
momentum. The other ball,/which communicated
the impulse, will be at‘ the same instant put to
rest; <"Btit, 'suppbse that a leaden ball is shot
against a’rock, and is thus arrested in its course
withowt communicating motion .to the rock which
it strikes, the force is not,destroyed—it is con
verted into heat, and the amount of beat produced
will be hrt exadt e^uitalent'' of the three ‘expended'
in producing'it.'
; There is yet one other quality of force which we
must notice, and that is, its capability of •bein<*
stored up in a latent or quiescent state. For ex”
ample,-steam and water contain latent force, and
this hitent force may be developed a : S ad ahtihe
force by the Steam becoming-water, andthewater
becoming ice.; Eleetricityalsomay store up force
in a latent state by decomposing water. It then
resides in the oxygen and |ydrogen of which the
jpater was comppsed,. underlie for m of .chemical
dffini’ty, imef is "flevelopid W Ifie fdfmf of!%H ; t MS
heat when they are again in combustion.
, Bat this is not all: the < forces which exhibit
themselves in the phenomena of inorganic matter
are found to b'e related to the forces which are in
action in Jiving organisms. There is, therefore,
another convertibility of which force is capable,
by which light, heat, and electricity can be con
verted into another, or living for'ee, possessing
perfectly different properties, and in the produc
tion of, which the. original force disappears.
This is proved by the fact that the new" force
may be reconverted into the old; that is to say,
light! heat, and electricity may be converted'in
to living force, and living force may be recon
verted into light, heat, and electricity.
The ascent which thus takes place in the trans
lation of inorganic into organic force does not
end in it*'vegetable. Form? The force peculiar
to vegetable life undergoes a still further trans
lation into the force peculiar to animal life, and
yet the same law operates ; there is no genera
tion of force, and there is no destruction* of it.
All the forces in operation in an animal body
were originally light, heat, arid electricity, but
it was'necessary that they should undergo Un
intermediate Change by means of tfye vegetable
kingdom, in order to render them accessible to
animal life, because animal life is unable to draw
its supplies of vital energy directly from tlie in
organic kingdom. Vegetables can live on light
and heat—animals require the intermediate ac- :
tion of vegetable life to make these forces avail
able for their support. .
So far as we have gone, we are guided by
observation and experiment; another step in
the same direction leads’us directly to the phy
siology* of spirit; and if the briginal force of
light and heat ascend by. translation',’first into 1
the vegetable kingdom, , and after that, by a
second translation, into the animal kingdom, we
have strong reason to .conclude that,the forces
of spirit life are only a'third translation of the
original force, and not tho generation or crea
tion of a new one; .
It has long been an interesting question among
scientific.men, whether light be a material sub
stanee, or no substance at all, all it's phenomena
being capable of explanation on the hypothesis
that it is nothing mbre than the effect of vibra
tions,' or modulations, communicated to a medi
: tup, supposed to exisjf the universe.
May it not be that neither of these views is the
true one, but that God has created another kind
of sribstarice, altogether different from matter, of
which light, heat,* arid electricity are some of the’
forms—a substance which is as varied and inva
riable in its properties, and as indestructible in
its essence as matter itself?
It is difficult, indeed; for ns to conceive of
force.being , an actual substance distinct from
matter; arid were it not for its indestructibility,
and stiir more for its being found to exist in a
latent or quiescent state, it would not be necessary
that we should; but our studies in nature are
continually bringing us into contact with new
conceptions, the unexpected nature of which
fills ris at first with curious surprise, but this,
after a more mature experience, ripens into re;
verential admiration. The nature of spirit-phe
nomena, alsoj would lead us to anticipate some
sueh discovery as this; and whether it be or
riot the substance of which spirit is composed
(srippoSihgitto have a substantive existence;) it
cannot differ very widely in its attributes from
we have described as belonging to’
Vforce.” In its,ascent from its inorganic forms
into organic life, where it assumes a quasi or
ganic character (beginning with its perform
ances in the vegetative cell of the red snow plant,
and rising-upwards into the vital forces of the
animal economy,) - we discover a line, which,
though we fail to trace it, seems to point signi
ficantly to the nature and powers of the human
spirit. It resembles spirit, in being correlative
to matter without being matter itself, and in
being void of those two great characteristic pro
perties of matter, gravitation and impenetrabi
lity ; and if force be not only incapable ofbeing
destroyed, but also incapablepf being generated,
taay we not conclude that the physical energy
possessed by the human spirit, arid exercised
npqn system; 'bas ; been elaborated;
YOL IV.—NO. 33.—Whole No. 198.
f , Ki> ;< f
first by vegetatiop, then by animal.' life, 1 ahd at
last received its full .development as spirihener
gy?' v -
: There still remains the question, what relation
dobs spirit-energy bear to spirit-Suhsfance? a
qnestion to which we possess no materials to
provide a direct answer, We have indeed ana
logies of vegetation and animal life, but these
cast rather ah inquiring than an explanatory
light upon the subject. That there is somethiug
in the ptant'more than its mere matter, that first
converts and’then wiplds the force which it ap
propriates, there can be no doubt; but what
that something may be is the mystery—a mys
tery perhaps reserved for the studies of a future
existence, when we shall know even as we are
known.
The subject will again occupy oar. attention
when we come to speak of the soul, or Psyche
(which is distinct from the Pneuma.) In the
meantime, we shall endeavor to collect and ar
range what information W 6 possess, regarding
ihe functions and phenomena ;of spirit, as record
ed in the historical narratives of Scripture.
DR. STOCKTON.
()ur readers will be ; interested in the following
grtiphie-accounts of Mr. Stockton's* preaching to
Congressmen: ■ : ;
The House hall was crowded yesterday with a
very large audience, who came, out to hear a ser
mon from the new House chaplain, Rev. Thomas
HI Stockton. His discourse was a very interesting
and eloquent one. Twenty-five years ago Mr.
Stockton was chaplain to the Senate, and his
allusions to the prominent Congressmen of that
day were full of pathos. The chaplain was him
self a picture—tall, slim, and with long and thick
hair of- snowy whiteness falling down upon his
shoulders, he brought' to mind the patriarchs of
the Old Testament. Me has been very ill of late,
and was too weak to stand, so he sat while deliver
ing his sermon; yet, in spite of this fact, it was
one of the most touching, eloquent and impressive
sermons I ever heard. A remarkable feature of
it was its hold defence of “the higher law.”—-
Raising his voice to its shrillest tones, the old
man said: “No man, who is not an unblushing
infidel, will deride the higher law!” It was a
novel thing for a Congress chaplain to have the
courage to even utter the phrase “ the higher law,”
lest members of Congress might take offence.
Another account.
The House Chaplain, Rev. Mr. Stockton of
(Methodist,) preached his first dis
course to-day in the Representatives’ Hull. The
audience was large, and remarkably attentive.—
His text was—“ Heaven and earth. shall pass
away, but my words shall not pass away.” The
-preacher is in feeble health, and was-therefore
obliged to sit while speaking. His first conclu
sion was powerfully drawn, to prove the infinite
character of the Word of Christ, or the Bible.—
He ,assumed its superiority over all earthly things,
and at this point arose, from his seat, and, with
wonderful impressiveness; pronounced the words
of the text, as the spiritual representative thih
day of the American people, addressing the people
through their various representatives. largo
majority, of the, members were present. The
speaker then resumed his scat, and, for the . first
time in his discourse, touched upon political topics,
or tlie “ Higher law.” He assumed the infinite
superiority of the Bible over our Constitution and
all earthly laws, and that all provisions or customs
; conflicting with this “Higher Law” were without
\ effect; and votet' ofaddresA
He evinced the most Spirit and energy. One or
two persons, evidently offended, left the Hall, but 1
his doctrines were couched in such inoffensive
language and earnestness of belief; that it would
be. exceedingly difficult to gather offence from
them. Several Southern gentlemen, well known
for their radical South-side views, paid marked
attention to this part of the discourse. His
closing appeal to the people of America, to secure'
the great necessity of the age—thorough religious
! views and habits—was eloquen t beyond description.
Ho enumerated a number of tbe lights of the
nation, who were great men twenty-six yeats ago,
when lie first* assumed the duties of Chaplain in
the U. S. Congress. As he spoke of Webster,
Olay, Calhoun, Benton, Adams, Choate, and others,
and paid to them bis tribute of respect and
memory, tbe tears rolling down'his withered,
sunken cheeks, I saw women, children and strong
men; bow down and weep, throughout the congre
gation. The whole discourse was eloquent, severe
; to some degree, but earnest and sincere.
Mr. Stockton is according to his own statement
51 years of age. He was first elected Chaplain
at the age of 25, : once subsequently, and now for
the third time. He looks, a man of TO years.-f
His locks are very long and silvery wbitej his
complexion pale, cheeks and eyes sunken, and
forehead massive. He stoops a little, and moves
and speaks with slow and measured firmness.—
As I returned home I heard very many exclaim,
“Why-we,have elected an abolitionist for a Chap
lain!” This is true, though most of those who
voted for him did not know it at the time. But
he will never be such offensively.
VENICE.
If a spark of that old chivairic fire which in
the Middle Ages so often converted- the soldier
into a knight and the knight, into a disinterested
hero, and’so led men to do battle for the oppressed
—if an inkling of tliis sacred feeling and force sur
vived inbur busy; commercial; luxurious, and'ego
tistic age,—the spot towards which such champions
of humanity would hasten, would be Venice. The
scorpion of Austrian tyranny driven out of Lom
bardy,- —powerless in the States of the Church,
and’ threatened in- Hungary,-—concentrates her
spite and cruelty upon Venice. Every week
scores of the best citizens of .that glorious old
city are transplanted in chains to distant northern
fortresses for the identical crime that made the
British government in 1776 set a price upon the
heads of Samuel Adams and John Hancoek.
The wrongs of the outraged people of Venice
invoke redress; —that Venice so familiar and dear
to readers of English through the works of Ot
way, Shakspeare, aud Byron, andßogers, Cooper,
arid Buskin, —that Venice so admirably self
governed during her brief interval of freedom
under the provisional auspices of the noble Manin
and his patriotic comrades, —that Venice, ever the
mart of commerce —the seat of the most famous
press in Europe—whose architecture and paintings
delight and instruct to-day as they did centuries
ago; Her outraged people now dwell therein
mute suspense, under the perpetual espionage of
Austrian soldiers, whom, to avoid, they tjuU the
cafe, cross the piazza, cease talking with a friend.
A word, a look, a peculiarity of costume, a volume
or newspaper in their hands, a letter taken by
them froth the Post Office,- —the slightest cause,
is enough tolcxeite the suspicion of the vigilant
myrmidons. of Austria, and lead to arrest, long
and,secret imprisonment, confiscation and death!
Venitia is becoming depopulated; gloom and
fear hang like a cloud over her palaces; scarcely
a family remains which is not agonized for tlie
fate of a loved son, brother, husband, or father.
It is a spectacle to. move.the heart of the civilized
world —to justify the intervention of a crusade.
If Napoleon had but driven the Austrians, as he
promised, from Venitia—if ho would but now
insist upon reform arid mercy—the world would
applaud and sustain Kim. The condition of Venice
becomes indeed more and more deplorable. The
baffled despotism of the vilest tyranny in Europe
finds unrestrained scope in this defenceless State;
while the'public'mind 'of England and France, as
well as Italy, is intent upon the’ Papal problem.
—-Boston 'lhdnscripL. , V