124 give tamilg Citric Potential Hoods. I am'. and dream Of the time that prophets have long foretold, Of au age surpassing the age of gold, Which the eyes of the selfish can never behold, When truth and love shall be owned su preme. I think and weep O'er the thousands oppressed by sin and woe, O'er the long procession of those who go, Through ignorance, error, and passions low, To the unsought bed of their dreamless sleep I wait and long For the sway of justice ' the rule of right; For the glad diffusion of wisdom's light; For the triumph of liberty over might ; For the day when the weak shall be free - from the strong. I work - and slug To welcome the dawn of the fairer day, When crime and sin shall have passed away, V, hen men shall llve as well as they pray, And earth with the gladness of heaven shall ring. I trust and hope In the tide of God's love that unceasingly rolls, In the dear words of promise that bear up our souls, In the tender compassion that sweetly consoles, When in death's darkened valley we tremb lingly grope. I toil and pray For the beauty excelling all forms of art; For the blessings that comes to the holy heart; For the hope that foretells, and seems a part Of the life and joy of the heavenly day. —Continental Afonthl,y. THE ROME OF BEN. AT the appointed time, Mr. Elliot found himself again in the wretched court; within whose precincts Ben's father lived. The houses were black and ruinous—many of the windows were stuffed up with old hats and rags, while from others were lolling out idle, dirty, flaunt ing women, talking and laughing loudly. In the centre of the court was a heap of rubbish, about which prowled some starved, guilty looking cats and dogs, while children,- that looked like nothing in the world but bundles of rags and dirt, grovelled in the mire, or started up with fearful .unehild-like words to squabble and fight. It was a painful scene, and Mr. Elliot groaned over the want of la borers in.this mission field, " Where souls were wandering far and wide, And curses swarmed on every side." One or two touching little things struck Mr. Elliot's eye. There was a broken flower pot in one widow, in which a small fuchsia was hanging. out its graceful but sorely blighted blossoms. In another there was a little box of mignonette, pale and stunted, but still a green thing,. which might per chance take a thought of freshness into its possessor's heart. From yet another window a lark, imprisoned in a small cage, was pour ing out its heavenward notes, and at inter vals beating the bars of its cage, with the wild veheme,nce,of its longing or purer air and freedom. Mr. Elliot wondered if, in that dreary court, the lark's song took a mes sage to any of higher things—if there were but one soul that longed to spread its wings and flee - away. There was, none of those little external symbols of hotter things in poor Ben's dwelling. It looked , more for lorn than ever. The step-mother was less stupid, but more ferocious than-she had been during Mr. Elliot's last visit. She had just finished boxing poor little Ben's ears so soundly that lie had , fallen against the wall, and his nose was bleeding, and he was cry ing loudly; but the pain somehow lulled, and the tears dried up by the very sight of his friend. His father, two other men, and a bold, liandsoxne girl, were playing caxds, smoking, and drinking in one corner; while in another a wan, stricken-looking wonian was leaning against the wall with her arms fold ed, and at her feet lay on the same dirty straw the same sick child whom Mr. Elliot had seen before—" little Moll." She was leaning'on her elbow, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed with feverishness, as she watched her mother and Ben with stran g e, wistful looks, that kept turning frotti. them again up to the dirty broken panes, And to the dim blue strip of sky which she had , watched, and watched, till it had grown like the face of a friend. Mr. Elliot thought that there was something like the little prisoned lark in the upward look of the sick child. She was murmuring some. words over and over to herself. Jle bent down to listen, and was surprised to hear her repeating a verse of that pretty hymn: • 14 I lay my sins on Jesus, The spotless lamb of God." "Who taught her that ?" he asked. "Ira some gammon of Sue's there," an swered the woman impatiently, while one of the men shouted out rudely: " " What! Sue the sinner turned Sue the saint ! What's to be next ?" ' The poor woman flushed and turned sadly to Mr. Elliot, Saying in a weak, low voice " It were none o' mine, but • Ben's Mother kept crooning it over before she died. good lady taught it to her ' and a deal more,, and she kind of smiled when she said it, and I told it over to the, little lass there * but I know naught more of IL" "What's your business, if se you- have any?" interrupted Ben's step-mother, look ing fiercely at Mr. Elliot. "You'd best be quick," Said one of the men, in a threateninc , . 'one: - . Mr. Elliot turned .to a man who had not spoken, and whom Ben had pointed out as his father, and in a few short but kind words made known his wish to take the boy from his home, ,put him at school, and afterwards get hint, taught a useful trade. The man hesitated, and then said; "But how much'll you give for hid?" * Mr. Elliot was too wise to show his horror at the idea of the child being sold by the father, but repeated that he should be com pletely taken off his hands, and instead of growing up in habits of ignorance and crime, which might end in the gallows, he should learn to be a useful and respectable man. " Well, well, master, answered the man, 44 but it's just this—what's good enough for me's good enough for him, I reckon ; he'll turn a penny when he gets big, and unless you fork out some tin, I wontpart with a bit of him." "Are you a fool, Joe Brown ?" interposed Sue, trembling with agitation. " I tell you his mother won't rest in her' grave if ye mur der the child's Soul as ye a'most murder his body. Lot him go, and be thankful, or she'll be at you. I know what I know, and you've a guess what I mean, maybe." A. fast. The man was evidently not insensible to her words, for he looked uneasily round, and then said in a subdued tone : Well, but you'd surely give me something for the lad." Thoroughly disgusted, Mr. Elliot was be ginning to .repeat his first offer, with the ad dition of a small bribe, for poor little Ben's face of fear and doubt made him resolve to do his utm6st to rescue him, when the step mother, who had fortified herself with another dram, stepped forward with her arms a-kim be : "Would she allow that gallows' bird of a boy, who was the plague of her life„ to be set up like a gentleman indeed, when she and her children were left behind?—not she !" and with a fearful oath she declared that the boy should never set a foot in their grand schools. With a scowl and a curse the man replied : "You'd best be quiet, mis tress, pretty gentle folks .you and your brats would be, save little Moll, mayhap," and his face softened. " Well, continued he, "I'll think on it, master." At that moment a tremendous- noise of cheering and laughing was heard below, and 'loud calls came for "Joe the joker," and " Tim the tinker." With the love of excite ment common among their class, they were off in a moment, followed by the girl and the woman. She instantly turned to Mr. Elliot: "I'll get him to go to-morrow, and see you anywhere out of this, and he'll maybe come to his lenses." Fernie Lea was too far off, and Mr. Elliot appointed a friend's house in the town, though with little hope of seeing the man again. "Now," said Sue, speaking fast and low, "say a word to the child there, and, to me, too. Who was it that Ben's mother saw. and I couldn't, though I strained my eyes ?—who was Jesus, that was near her, and why did she keep saying, and saying, 'l'm a great sinner, but he's a great Saviour ?--tell, tell," repeated she impatiently. Thus urged, Mr. Elliott answered her ques- tion ' with something in his words and manner of the simplicity.of a little child. He had never felt the doctrines of his faith so clear and beautiful, so suited to be what they pro fess, words of comfort "to them that are lost." The woman's hollow eyes fixed - on him, with an eagerness that would turn to despair if no word of his brought hope to her , soul. The unnaturally bright preeociouslook of the, dy ing child, turning away from his face to the blue distant. ski, and the wondering gaze: of little Ben, made him feel that he was called to speak a watilin season to,those for whose souls no man had cared. If any: doubts had ever mingled with his -pride of intellect, they had vanished now. Here were the sick— blessed be God, there was an infallible Phy sician ; 'here were the sheep, lost and strayed, and fallen among snares and wolves, but there was them also a Good Shepherd and a happy fold. "Listen," said he, " God, the great God that made us, was very grieved because men ad sinned and become altogether hateful; but He had .an only and well-beloved Son, Jesus Christ the ilighteous. And of his own will the Son came down from heaven, and lived thirty yearion earth as a poor car penter, mocked and hated, and at last he died a cruel death on the cross ; but he said, 'Be lieve on me and ye shall be saved and live.' Then He rose again after that death, and now He lives in heaven forever; and so it is, since that day, that whoever believes that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin is saved from his guilt and misery, and though he be dead, he shall live with God forever. There was a pause; little Moll smiled a smile of peculiar and intelligent beauty, and again she murmured, soft and low, her old burden: • " I lay my sins on Jeans, The spotless lamb-of God.T' The woman's head was bowed low, low, but no voice came. Little Ben started for ward with clasped hands, and said : " Mam my, mammy, is she alive—has she got away from the black box and the ugly black men— () inammy where is she ?" and the child's tears fell fast and warm with his longing to see the old . fantilier face and form, as dear to hini as to the sons of bedecked and . jewelled mothers, nay dearer, because it was a. menio ry of the only tenderneas he had ever known. Mr. Eliot put, his arm round the little fellow, and told him that he must. wait till his time came to die. No,- he musk not, kill himself now, that would make God angry: but if he loved Jesus and believ'ed on him, he would then go to live with the bright angel-mother, in the blessed, angel-borne, which the. Lord Jesus had bought for mother and child by his own precious blood; and the boy's sobs were hushed, and he longed and resolved to know,x and to love that kind and loving Savi-, our, and to be with him forever. ' ‘ i- But: it isn't for me, it isn'tfer-me,"_ murmured poor Sue, with her Tagged apron: tlirciwn tight over-herAead. "Ren's mother was never so bad as .me, and these children are inno cents, bless them!.'but I : tell you that if you've a wife or a sister, or a daughter, she should shrink the sight of me; and - I've stolen, and I'Xe been drunken, and I've had no• pity on they child that was born to me ; aiTd Pve kriowti of larder and Aida% tel Lit ; and woe is me, wouis me I" - "Listen" "Said Mr. Elliot again, "I will tell you a-story. • There was once a woman who had beeii as "great a sinner as you, and when Jest's Christ was alive on earth, she came behind him; she did-not dare tospeak to him onto appear in his sight, because she hated herself for being a sinner, only' she washed•his feet with her tiars.of penitence, and she wiped-them with - her - 116r ; and the Saviour turned round and :said, in lovitig tones: ' Thy sins are forgiven, thy faith hath saied-thee, -go -fit-Tette:3.l" - Something of a happier smile-and gentler look came across, the poor woman's agonized face, but' she started up a moment after, say ing " You'd best go now. They aren't safe to deal with in a- rage. I'll not forget, God bless you, _sir.! " and she hurried hiin away. The court :was : almost; deserted, but he heard the minds of drunken fighting,,apd rioting which had caught Sue's quick car, come surging from the,,next still more miser able alley.—The Hotheileee Boy. THE SOLDIER'S TRUST. IN the present War, the rebels made an attack upon one - of our regiments doing'picket duty on the Maryland side of the. Potomac. There were three houses standing upon the Virginia shore which afforded shelter to the enemy, and it became necessary to have them removed. The colonel tried the effect of shelling them ; but owing to the short range of his guns and the great distance, could not demolish them. The only thing accomplish ed by this was driving the enemy out of them to the shelter of the woods beyond. The colonel then asked for volunteers to cross the river and burn the buildings. Only two men came forward, one a private, the .. • t gkiz-,etit-a-n 'Vrter.i i iittt-tii . lit ititiVll'''t.itt4f.':E":4ttitt:ttiiii: other an orderly sergeant. The colonal gave the command to the sergeant, and told him to select as many men as he needed, and go. Selecting three men from his own company to manage the boat and assist him, the brave fellows departed on their perilous mission. Ere they reached the middle of the stream, . they were greeted with a shower of bullets ; volley followed volley, each passing over their heads without touching a man. As they neared the shore, the house immediately in front of them, which was a large brick one, offered them shelter for landing ; and it was not many,minutes after, ere the smoke issuing from the roof showed their work was accomplished there. The next house was soon in flames also; but the third stood some distance from the river : to get to it, they must cross a ploughed field directly under fire of the musketry. Here, as in crossing the river, they were made the target for the enemy's bullets. Strange to say, this " for lorn hope" returned uninjured, and were re ceived with enthusiastic cheers from, their brave comrades. The young sergeant, upon being compli mented upon his courage, and interrogated as to the source of it. replied, "It is not in me ; give God the glory. When I started, I committed my beloved wife and child to his fatherly care, should I never return. I breathed a prayer for myself and the little band with me. I went further; I entreated that we might all return in safety; and as,l stepped from that boat, these words of the ninety-first Psalm came forcibly , to my mind : '-A thousand, shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand ; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habita tion; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.' I received it as an answer;to my prayer.; and though we could hear the bullets whizzing by almost touching us, I felt no more fear of them thanaf they bad been hailstonea." My dear soldier, what is the source of your courage ? Is Jesus your strong tower, your refuge in the da - y of battle, as well as amid the storms of life ? Is he your - fortress, Aul'lshield, your defence'? If not, haste to make him such to you. True, without him you may go to the cannon's mouth, you may rush to the thickest of the fight without fear ; you may have no fear, because at the moment you do not think of your danger, 6r -that' " after death douteth the judgment ; " . If Jesus is your friend, the battle-field may be to you-the very gate of heaven ; the , bullet which pierces your heark-will be but the friemilyr messenger to call you home ; and such a home ! The earthly mansion dwin dles to a miserable hovel as we contem plate the glories of that mansion where Christ has gone to prepare a place for you—yes, for you if you love him. If Jesus is not your friend, if you do not love him, the deadly missile would be your death-warrant, both of soul and body. The death of the soul I The unutterable woe of the lost soul ! Would you stand befor,e the face of the Judge of all the earth with the mighty weight of all your sins, upon you? Would you rush into his presence Without a Mediator ? If not, come to the fountain opened in Christ Jesus, and wash in his blood. Take Jesus for your Advocate-and Redeemer. lie stands ready to receive you. He will - away empty. ' Only believe on him- - -believe that he died for you. - Take him at his word: "Though your sins be as scarlet, 'they shall be as white as snow." Let the - language of your heart be, Just as ; .I am, without one plea,, 'But that thy blood was shed for me, • And that thou bidst•me come to thee, 0 Lamb of God, I come." - • —Premium Tracts. plioallantouto. • ANECDOTES OF BLOOD-LETTINO. From "A Book about Doctors." . LORD CitEsTERFIELD, wantina. -an Addi tional vote for a coming division in the House of Peers, called on Lord Radnor, and after a little introductory "conversation, complained of a, distressing headache. Younught to,lose your blood then,', said Lord Radnor. "Do. you indeed think so ? Then, my dear lord; lo add to-the: service of your ad vice by performing the operation. . I know you are a NIL' skillful surgeon." - Delighted at the Compliment, Lord Radnor, in a_ trice pulled out his lancet-case, and opened a vein in his friend's arm. "By-the-by," asked the patient, as < his aim Was being-adroitly bound up, " do you go down' PP to, the House to-day?" I had not intended going;" answered the noble operator, "not being sufficiently in formed on the question which is to be debated; but yon, that have considered it, which side Will you vote 0n.?." . In reply, Lord Chesterfield unfolded his view of the case; and Lord Radnor was so delighted -with the reasoning of ,the -man (who had ,held his surgical :powers 'in such high estimation),' that 'he forthwith promised to support the wily earl's side in the divi " I have shed My blood for the good of My country," said Lord Chesterfield that even s ing, to a party of friends, who, on hearing the story, were convulsed with laughter. BLoRweEnwm - ention has been ,made of a thousand:pounds ordered to be paid Sir Ed mond King, for promptly bleeding Charles the Second. A nobler fee was gtveh :by a French-lady to a surgeon, who used his lan -cet so_ clumsily that he cut an-artery instead of a vein, in consequence of which the lady died. On ;her death=bed she, rWith- 'charming humanity and: irony, made a will,, bequeath , ing the operator-a life-annuity of eight him ' died livres, ,on condition "that he never again bled anybody so long as he lived." In the Journal Rneyelopedique of January 15, , 1778, a similar story is told of a Polish prin cess, *lO lost her life in the,same way. In tier-will, made in extranis, there was the fol loWing- clause :—".Convinced of the injury that my unfortunate accident will occasion to the unhappy surgeon who is the „cause Of my death, I bequeath to him a life annuity of two hundred ducatsi secured" by myestate, and forgive his mistake from the heart : I wish this may indemnify him for, the discre dit, which my sorrowful catastrophe will king upon hiui." MoNsmun, brother of Louis ".XIV., had an insuperable aversion to the operation, howev er dexterous might be the operator. At Manly, while at table with the King, he-was visited with such ominous symptoms, that Fochon, - the first :physicianof the court, - Said —" You are threatened with apoplexy, and you cannot be too soon blooded." But the advice was not acted on, though the King entreated that it might ,be oompli ed with. "You will find," said Louis, "what your obstinacy will cost you, We shall be awoke some, of these nights to be told that you are dead." The royal prediction, though not fulfilled to the letter, soen : proved substantially true. After a gay slipper at St: Clond, Monsieur, just as he was,abont-to retire to bed, quitted the world. He was asking M. de Ventadour for a glass of a liquor sent him by'the Duke of Savoy, when liediopped down dead. Any how Monsieur went out of this life thinking of something nice. The r Marqnis of Hertford, with all his deliberation, could not,do more. A FAMOUg French Marechal reproved the clumsiness of a phlebotomist in a less grati fying manner. Drawing himself away from the bungling operator, just as the incision was about to be made, he displayed an un willingness to put himself further in the power of a practitioner, who, in affixing the filltt, had given him a blow with the, elbow in the face. "My lord," said the surgeon; "it seems that you are afrai of bleeding." "No," returned the Marechal, " not of bleeding—but the bleeder.' STEELE tells of it t phlebotomist who adver tised, for the good) of mankind , to bleed at " threepence' per hdadt" Trade- competition has, however, induced practitioners to per form the operaticiWeven, :without take three pence?' -lathe SifianftPrbr Mercury for March 28, 1'716, the f6llowing - announcement was made.:—" Whereas the majority of apothe caries in Boston have agreed to pull down the price of bleeding to sixpence, let these certifie that Mr. f Clarke, apothecary, will bleed anybody at his shop gratis:". THE HMI AND U 1 LOW IN LANGUAOES. tine of the strangest, phenomena connect ed with the history of languages, is the pre valence of two chtracters in the same _lap- , guage aide by side\ like the major and minor keys in music,. - . These: characters have re ceived the names 4if high and Low. 'They appear to belong tiGo - all the languages of the highly organised rites. We have high Cel tic in the Welsh, hrelon, and extinct Cum brian and Ciffirishilanguages ; low Celtic in the Irish; Gaelic;'4nd ALinx. We-have the old high German' andi the Gothic,- and'the mother of the' S''''f.••e*Oivian, Anglo-Saxon, and present Platt oh,. Dutch, and Fle mish. We'have high Pelasgian in the Hel lenic language ; kW . Pela,sgian in the Latin and Etruscan; and we have bifurcat&subdi visions of these bnches, one dialects of the same language mol e approaching the high, And the othirthe lOw ley. In the languages derived from the atin,, we'have high. Latin in French and Itallan, low Latin in Spanish and Portuguese—the Portuguese being pitch ed still lower than the Spanish. In Greek we have high Hellerie' in the lonian and At tic dialects, low Hellenic:in the Dorian and Tuition a year, for a young Lady, in this institution. Its location for advantages cannot be `airPassed. The instration is' equal to that imparted in.any School of the highest order. A native French teacher resides in the family. Pupils are received at any time, and chatted accordingly. REV.,L -ADDISON °WHITAKER,' A.M., Principal. MISS DELIA A. SLOCUM, Vice Principal. octld Iy MELODEONS I HARMONIUMS !! -rfONSTANTLY on hand a stock of Melodeons of . Owar mom, which cannot be excelled. I ami sole agent for CARHAET 7 S SPLENDID HAIM. - rams, posse s unequalled powers, variety and beanty,of tone. The best instrument for CHURCHES .everantroduced. IL M. MORRISS, No. 728 Market street. UNDERTAKERS. CYRUS HORNE, -. UNDEIi T=AiCIR, . IV'o-28 krawin ELEvENTrt Sneer, Philadelphia. C °IIIT'T S t Hearses, Carriages, and everything ap - Rertain.uig tisFtniendsifurnished at the shortest nntiee.. Lead Coffins on hand. nov2B _.:..GEORGE W. - LOTT, Geaeral Furnishing Undertaker, No. 509 SOUTH THIRTEENTH STREET, Fiist house below Lombard street, Philadelphia. - Every requisite furnished at shortest notice, and on most reasonable terms. - . Personal attendance at all hours. nov2l /y EDWIN-A. lINDEETAXER • . _ SFLX.TON OF DR. WADSWORTIrS CHURCH, No.' 259 Sou= TEN= sTREET, above Spruce street, ziov2El ' 'Philadelphia. .T;t:'IVIS FAY EsTTE, "MINERAL - FURNISHING- UNDERTAKER, No: 770 South Second street, 'above Catharine, AATOULD respectfully inform the citizens of Phil ;A adelphie, that he still ;cOntinues• at, his old stand, 356 S. Second street, above Catharine, where he will :keep constantly on band a large. assortment of 'Rabat Isimm Cor.rms, of all qualities, together with the complete paraphernalia necessary for the pro per interment of the dead. His horses and carriages are unsurpassed, and his drivers among the most care ful._Charges moderate. Od stand, No. 356-S. Second street, New No. 770. , • , ' nov2l ly STEEL C omposition A. CARD. HE tuideiggned takes`pleasure int announcing to • the -pdtrons ,of 'the "American Presbyterian,' •and the public in general, that the - ,„ .• CLOTHING , manufaciured, either ready-made or special order, is from material of the VERY BEST FABRICS, `and WarranteCto give Satisfaction. The prices are.marked in PLAIN FIGURES, an each garment, and in-all cases, uniformly low. TERMS' OASH,, EDWARD T. TAYLOR, For CHARLES SToxss, No. 824 Chestnut street : Phila : W ilmE§.-A- reduction of a Hundred Per Ambrp' s.ee_Z7 Superior Colored Photographs for V. REIMEWS PHVIMRAPHIC GALLERY, jan-2 ly • Second street, above Green. X5OO, ON 250 Ot i At 5 Year• 7 Year 10 year Rates, "Rates. Rates, sep 29—!y Per Churches, Sc Farms, Factories, ete, eta THESE Bell; are made from 'an ALLOY or. STEEL; by ,a new process that enables the propri etors to sell Rhein' at one-half the price of others, and at the same time to - furnish a Tsar streEnton Bell. They are not liable to 'brink, and are war. 'ranted. Por,particulars rela ve Keys, Hangings. Prices,- and Warranty, send fOr cirmilar to the raanufactu- Ters, , -BROWN & WAITE, No. 20 Libertj , street, jan2 New York