THE GERM* OP THE-3EAUTIFUL, Scauer llio x«rras uf itoo beautiful. By the wuyside let. them l’al), That the rose may spring by the cotjAge gate. And tho vine on the garden wall. Cover the rough and rude of earth With a veil of leaves and flowers, And mark with the opening bud and cup The maroh of summer hours. Scatter tho germs of the beautiful In the holy shrines of home: Let the pure”, and the fair, and the graceful there, In their loveliest lustre coma; Loavo not a trace of deformity In tho temple of the heart; But gather about its hearth the gems Of Nature and of Art. Scatter the gerrhs of the beautiful In the temple of our God— The God who starr’d the uplifted sky, And flower'd the trampled sod. "When he built a temple for himself, And a home for his priestly race, He rear’d each arch in symmetry, And curved.each lice in grace. Scatter the germs of the beautiful In the depths of the human soul: They shall bud, and blossom, and bear the fruit, While the endless agbs roll. Plant with the fiowerg of charity The portals of the tomb, And the fair and the pure above thy path In Paradise shall bloom. BT J. a. HOLLAND. Heaven is not reached at a single bound ; But wo build the ladder by which we rise Prom the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round. I count this thing to be grandly true, That a noble deed is a step toward God, — Lifting the soul from the common sod To a purer air and broader view. We rise by tbo things that are under feet; By what we haVe mastered of good and gain; By the pride deposed and passion 'And the vanquished dlls that we hourly meet. We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we truist, When the morning.calls us to life and light, But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, . Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, And we think that we. mount the air on wingß Beyond the recall of-aensual things, While our foot still cling to the heavy clay. Wings for the angels, but feet for the men 1 We may borrow the wings to find the way We may hope and resolve, and aspire and pray; But our foot must rise, or we will fall again. Only in dreams is a ladder thrown Prom the weary earth to the sapphire walls; But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, And the. sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. Heaven is not reached at a single bound ; Bnt we build tho ladder by which we rise Prom the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, .And we mount to itMumm.it, round by .round. [FROM AUTHOR'S HOMS MAGAZINE.] A HUNDRED YEARS. I knew long ago a little girl who used to every night after she had said “ Our Father.who art in Heaven,’’.and “Now I lay me down to sleep,” had slipped its sweet twin couplets through her child ish voice, to add a petition that she and those dearest to her might “ not die until they were .more than. a hundred vears old.” J A ISttle child’s prayer, so simple and earnest that the angels it seems to me may have smiled over it, half in love, half in pity. For to this little girl life was very Bweet, and to her childish fancy a hundred years was like eter nity. That long, long path, up through childhood, and out through youth, and across the table-lands of middle life, and down into the chill and ■ dimness of old age, placed Heaven such a very long way off. , And so the prayer interpreted itself as the small petitioner little suspected. She wanted to get to Heaven, but she preferred staying here as Jong as possi ble. Life was sweet, and hope was Btrong in the little warm child-heart; and Heaven—oh, dear! such a big, vague, dark, dreadfully good place as it was, while perhaps some vague ideas of Binging hymns relieved a little the no tion of its stern, still, solemn, go-to meeting aspect. And this world was an actual, living, vital thing to the child. Here was the blue sky, and the trees in which the birds sang, and the soft young grass where she searched for the clover and dandelion blossoms, and the dear laugh-: ing sunshine. Of course, Heaven was to be desired above all other things. ■ I bear witness that this child wanted, with all her little heart and soul; to get there; but then—but then—she wanted to be a hundred years on the way! Dear reader, I think we are many of US like this child—n6t'much wiser ; —not much clearer in our ideas and feelings. W© do not pray that we may live a hun dred years for ourselves, or those whom w© love}: but after, all, wo do not often -apeak Sp, though the best thing that Cduld happen to them or us, would be to 4i«> dying meant “ going to Heaven.” , L dft not believe it is safest or wisest td dwell on that other side of death, from winch all life must of necessity shrink frightened and appalled. The ifcs^ettirnal stillness, and , darkness, and ! mould, can never be “lonely 'Unto tbe eye of life.” But that is only one side—the nar row, material one. It is not that death with whioh wp haye mpst to do, And from my imaoistf heart I pity the little children who are brought up with no pleasant, ennobling thoughts or associ ations regarding death—whose young imaginations .seize fast hold of and re tain nil that is gloomy, and chilling, and terrible in the thought. The path for them from earth to Heaven may be a very short one. Is it wrong to teach them that the great Father, who has covered the earth with joy, and praise and beauty, has doubt less made fairer that new home into which no sin shall ever enter ? Shall not its pure life be as vital —its nobler interests a.s real as those amid which we dwell for a little while ? Is it not for the little children as well as for our sakes that those blessed words were written—“ There shall be no more pain, and all tears shall he wiped away ?” Whether the ilswers sing or the wa ters bloom by the “ River of Life ” none of us can tell; but if they do, it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive of their new gladness and their finer glory. And God has not left himself with out witnesses iq all nature, which you have no right to neglect; which indeed; you cannot do without harm, oh, father and mother. Teach your children out of the blessed Bible texts, but teach them also with texts of sprouting grasses, and singing birds, and opening blossoms, -and leap ing waters. [Drifted Snow Flakes. They are His creation, His gift, His ministers, fulfilling IRs will. Tell your children this, and when every night the curtains of-the darkness are drawn down across the silver moun tains of the twilight, they shall mur mur their evening prayer unto that Father in Heaven to whom they shall not feel afraid to go—the heart of a Father stronger and wiser, more tender and pitiful, even than yours. V. F. T. One Sunday evening, Mrs. 'Lee, the wife of a wealthy country gentleman in the South of was reading a chapter from the Bible, to her little daughters, Gertrude and Alice. As she read, she explained all the difficult pas sages, and encouraged the children to ask questions concerning them. Gertrude and Alice greatly resembled one another, and as they were always dressed precisely alike, they looked al most like twins—yet there was two years difference in their ages; Gertrude was nine, and Alice seven. But it happened that they had both the same birthday, the Bth of June. It was now the eve of that day, and they had some difficulty in keeping their childish thoughts from wandering away from' the sacred things, of which their mother was read ing and Bpeaking, to dwell upon the ex pected pleasures and presents of the morrow. At last Mrs. Lee came -to the passage, “ It is, more blessed to give than to receive,” and paused to ask them if they had ever felt its truth. “ I suppose,” said Gertrude, “ that giving makes people defter, but I don’t see how it can make them happier. It seems to mo that the most delightful thing in the world is to have presents— especially on birthdays." “ Yes, mamma,” said Alice, “ it makes us feel as though everybody we love was glad we were born, and was thankful that God had let us live another year." “ Yes, my dear children, there is great /pleahure in receiving gifts, from those we love, but the pleasure of giving, especially to the needful and grateful, lasts much longer. It is, not merely a a pleasure, it is a holy happiness. The blessedness of God consists in his power to give good gifts to his poor children forever, without danger of impoverishing himself. Now, my dears, as to-morrow is your birthday, and you will doubtless have many presents, suppose you teat the matter. Take some of your own money—-all, if necessary—and purchase presents for some of the poor tenants, and for those nice little girls down at the Lodge; and after a few months I will ask you which you have had the most happiness from—your presents re ceived, or your gifts bestowed. The little ladies smilingly agreed to her proposition, and the next morning drove with her into the to wn to make their pur chases. They expended all the money in their purses, not a, large sum—but. the good judgment of their mother made it go alongway, Qn theirreturn, they were allowed to go out by themselves, to distribute their little gifts. Everywhere their offerings were re ceived with grateful thanks; but nowhere was such surprised delight expressed as in the sweet, shy faces of the Lodge keeper’s well-bred little daughters, Mat tie and Susie Bruce. They were too diffident to say much, but they blushed" and curtsied, and their pretty blue eyes fairly ■ danced with,. joy as they received each a beautiful book, with at red cover and gilt leaves, and filled with the charm ingest, darlingest colored pictures. Gertrude and Alice Lee went homo to receive their own costly presents, and to make ready for a birthday party; and in the pleasure and excitement of the day and evening they forgot the pure, unsel fish enjoyment of the morning. Six months passed away, and it was wintry weather at Moorlands, On a Sunday evening the Lee children were (Sitting before, the library fire, listening to'their mother’s .sweet voiced reading of the Scriptures, aud it happened tb'at she read again the passage, “ It is more blessed to give than to receiveand that reminded them all of the birthday THE BIRTHDAY GIFT. BV GRACE GREENWOOD. PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 11, 1864. in the sweet rose-time of tho early sum mer. Mrs. Lee asked them what they thought now of the pleasure of giving and receiving. “Well,mamma,” said Gertrude, “we were ever so happy with our presents at first, weren’t we, Alice? The party was, in some sort, a present to us, and oh, so delightful ! and the dolls Aunt Milly sent ns were lovely.” “ But you soon, tired of them, did you not ?” “Oh yes ! and they are soiled and broken now.” ; “ What about the pretty canaries your papa gave you V’ h “Ah, mamma, they have been such a trouble !” exclaimjsd Alice. “Gerty’s got?out and flew a wdy weeks ago, though she took such good care of him, and loved him dearly ; and he seemed to take my bird’s voice witlihim, for he wouldn’t sing a note after tljat, and moped and looked disagreeable; so I let him go too.” , j ; “ And the ponies sour grandpapa sent you?” ! “ Oh, they did beautifully for a while ; but we are so little they despise us ; and* it’s no pleasure to -ride with a groom holding the reins all bhe time. I like our old donkey betterjifter all,don’t you, “ And the fairy |ooks your Uncle George sent you?” J “ Oh, we have readlhem through long ago.” f V “ Well now what about your gifts be stowed? Have you Beard from them since your birthday.?” 1 1 “ Oh yes, indeed,” replied Gertrude, “old Mrs. Martin saidj, only the other day, that the shawl we ) gave - her is a great comfort these chil)y evenings, and poor sick Jenny Welch the smelling bottle helps her headache; and Grana lather Watson always leans on the cane we gave him when he rises in church; and Roger Ames, the lamcjboy, has made a. great many baskets witn the knife we gave him, and helped his .poor mother ever so much.” : “And, mamma,” put in Alice, “who do you suppose .goes every day to read the Bible to blind Mrs. Mason? It is Susie Bruce, 'and she has learned, oh, so fast to read, out of the book I gave her.” “ Yes, mamma," says Gertrude, “and Mattie Bruce tobk the prize for recita tion at Miss Embury’s school.; and the piece she recited was Wordsworth’s poem, ‘ We are seven,' and Wnd it in the book I .gave her.” “Well, my dear children, what does this little experience teach you?” asked’ Mrs. Lee. “That it is more blessed to; give than to receive,” replied Gertrude, reverently. “ Yes* said AjjCe, ‘‘l sup pose the good ApOßtleTEaALsraasrjghfcrr he generally was—wash’t he? OBut I hope we shall have a few nice presents next birthday, for all that—don't you, Gerty?” —Little Pilgrim. TOM THORNE’S TROUBLES. “ Oh, it’s awful hot, I’m more than half dead ; this is the hottest place I was over in!” This is what Tom Thorne said, one of those hot days nearly two weeks ago, as he burst into the parlor where we were all sitting. There were six of us —Tom’s-father, and mother, his sisters' Kate and little Annie, Susie Miller, and I. It was intensely hot—there was no mistake in Tom’s exclamation; and af ter dinner, while waiting for the mail, we had all retreated to the parlor as the coolest place to. be found,' and had reached that most philosophic conclu sion that the best way to keep cool is to stop trying to be cool, and occupying our minds with something, to forget in part, our physical discomfort.". So Kate, who is a splendid reader, wasregalir g us with some chapters from one of Haw thorne’s delightful books, while some ,of us worked on slings for the soldiers, and Mr. Thorne was snoozing in the great rocking-chair. Tom’s entrance was the signal to make us drop all work and look eagerly for letterß- —but none appeared. “Why, Tom, haven’t you been at the post-office?” said Mr. Thorne, start ing up and reaching out his hands for the" papers. “ Oh yes, sir ; I had to w;ade through the dust knee-deep to get there ; it was just like hot ashes. I never saw such a, place,” said Tom, handing out papers and letters. “Any for me ?—for me ?—Here Tom, do give it to me, that’s a dear boy!” exclaimed one after the other, for the arrival of the mail is a great event up here in the country, where we are nicely fixed for the summer. “Now, do be patient, will you, and let me. see who has one ?- Here Kate, of ooursp you have—l never saw any body get so many letters; and mother, here’s one from Harry; aiid Sue, here, that’s Fred’s writing, isn’t it?—-no, it isn't either—well it’s for' you, at any rate.” So, having emptied his maii-bag, Tom threw himself on the floor, panting and puffing like a large dog. . As the rest were all busy with the letters and pa pers, he addressed himself to Annie and me, and went on somewhat in the same style. “I declare, I never saw such a wretched place;—no rain for a fortnight -*-you can’t stir without getting per fectly; covered with dust—there’s no thing “but inj the place, and tfye thermometer at 90. I wish—” ; “Tom,” said his mother, “stoptalk ing so"; I’m, ashamed of you. Whom are you complaining of ?” Here Mr. Thorne’s voice was heard: “ Grant’s rapid progress—attack on Petersburg, thirteen cannon and three hundred prisoners taken—bravery of negro troops—precarious position of Richmond—our troops much exhausted but eager to push forward.” “ There,” said little Annie, “ I should think you’d better think of the soldiers, Brother Tom, before you talk about the hot weather here.” His mother glanced reprovingly at her boy, who said, in a sober voice, “ I sup pose the poor fellows do suffer with heat; but really, mother, don’t you think this weather is intolerable—did you ever know it so hot before ?” “Why, yes, my son, a great many times; it is certainly very warm, but does it make you feel one bit more com fortable to be all the time talking about it, worrying and fretting; in such a way as to make everybody around you un easy ? We have been talking this all over while you have been to the post office, and have decided that our com fort or. discomfort on such a day de ! pends very much on ourselves, after all. Now, just after dinner, I thought I could scarcely endure the heat: but we have been sitting quietly here, listening to Kate’s reading, and I became so much interested in it that I actually had for gotten the heat and dust, until you mushed in so furiously and brought it back to mind.” Tom looked up with a sort of twinkle in his eyes. “ Well, mother, I know you’re equal to almost anything—no doubt of that; but it you can so lift yourself out of the body as to forget that this is an awfully hot day, I’ll give up—you’re the greatest woman I ever saw.” “Why,” said Kate, “ It does not re quire any such* wonderful degree of men tal or moral power to do this. Now, Tom, will you promise one thing?—for three hours, or from now until tea-time, will you—?” “No,” fairly shouted Tom. “I’ll make no promise about it to-day:; wait until to-morrow; I know what you’re going to say well enough.” “ Well,” said his sister, “ to-morrow then will you promise to say nothing about the weather any way, either to complain or scold—simply to say no thing about it, and to.find something to do that will make you think of some thing besides yourself?” Tom’s answer was unheard, for at ths,tmomenfc little Annie’swords, “What’s the matter with/ Cousin Sue,” made us all look across the room, where sat the poor girl, her face perfectly white, her eyes fixed in a sort of stare at the letter she held. When she heard her name, and saw us start toward her, she darted _put of the foom, throwing the letter to-; wards Mrs. Thorne as she went. ( “ Oh dear, what’s happened to Fred 1” asked Tom, in a frightened voice. His mother glanced at the writing, and handed it to her husband, who read as follows; “ Hospital, Juno 19th. Mr Dear Sister ; —Wa bad another sharp fight Thursday. My leg is off below the knee. Many a poor fellow is worse off than I am. I am doing well. Don't worry. I have good care; but it is very warm, and I suppose I’d better not use my strength writing any more. “Yours, Fred." Is there need of describing the scene that followed ? Alas, how many know too well the grief and sorrow that such letters bring to hundreds of families! We tried to comfort poor Susie, the orphan, whose only brother is made a cripple. She has a brave heart, and is ready to make sacrifices in our great cause; but she staggered under the thought that the very hot weather might so reduce her brother’s strength that he could not survive the amputation. Yon should'have seen Tom’s face when the letter was read, especially when Fred alluded to the heat. His face fairly worked with pain, with a kind of re morse, and his first exclamation was: “ I’m afool, a wretch, a blockhead! Fa ther, may I go to Washington to-mor row, and find Fred ?” , “Why, my son, do you, think you can go alone? Hadn’t I better go?” said Mr. Thorne. Then came questionings about the time trains left, etc., and Tom used such strong arguments in favor of his going instead of his father that at last, it was decided that he should start that night. Tom is a great stout boy of seventeen: —fully competent to journey alone to Washington, and much further than that in his own estimation. Ho looked relieved when his father said he might go, but dashed out of the house when Kate said, very quietly, “Tom do you you can endure the heat of the journey ?” At six o’clock he was off, his manly face wearing a look of responsibility, and we all felt that, after all, a kinder or more generous heart could not be sent to that helpless young soldier, tor tured with pain and heat in—; Hos pital. Three days after, came this dispatch from Tom: Washington, June 25th. “ Fred is, doing well. I shallstay witbhim. Ido not suffer with ,the heat. Tom.” WORDS. "Words are mighty, words are living; Serpents with their venomous stings, Or bright angels crowding round us, With heaven’s light upon their wings ; Every word has its own spirit, True or false, that never dies; Every word man’s life has uttered Echoes in God’s skies. .• .OOCA ■ . ' Miss Proctor. The blessings we enjoy are not the fruit of our own merit, but the fruit of God’s mercy. ONE OJ UNOLE SAM’S BOYS. The fallowing story has got into the papers/without any indication of its source, so far as we have been able to discover. As nobody undertakes to be responsible for its truth, we give it as simply “very good, if true.” A sergeant stepped out of our rifle pits, and moved towards the enemy, waving a late paper, regardless of the probability that he would at any moment be shot. A rebel officer shouted to him to go back, but the sergeant was unmind ful of the warning, and asked, “ Won’t you exchange a newspaper?” “No,” said the rebel, “ I have have no paper, and I want you to go back.” With singular persistence the sergeant contin ued to advance,saying, “ Well if youhaint a paper 1 reckon some of your men have, and I want to exchange, I tell you.” My men have not got anything, of the kind, and you must go back,” said the officer, in a louder tone, and with great emphasis. Nothing daunted the Yankee sergeant still advanced, until he stood plumply before the indignant officer, and said, “ I tell ye now, you needn’t get your dander up. I don’t mean no harm no way. P’raps if you ain’t got no newspaper ve might give mesuthing else. Maybe your men would like some coffee for some tobacco. I’m dreadful anxious for a trade.” The astonished officer could only re peat his command. “Go back, you ras cal, or I’ll take you a prisoner. I tell you we have nothing to exchange, and we don’t want anything to do with you Yankees.” The sergeant said ruefully: “Well, then if you haint got nothing, why, here’s the paper anyway, and if you can get one from Richmond this afternoon, you can send it over. You’ll find my name thar on that. ’ ’ The man's impudence or the officer’s eagerness for news made him accept. He took the jiaper, and asked the sergeant what was the news from Petersburg. “0 ! our folks say we ean go in there just when we want to, but we are waiting to gobble all you fellows first,” was the reply. “ Well, I don’t know but what you can do it!” said the lieutenant, turning on his heel, and re-entering, his rifle pits ; “meanwhile, my man, you had better go baek.” This time the sergeant obeyed the oft-repeated order, and on telling his adventure, was the hero of the morning among his comrades. A MINISTER’S WOOING. T. L. C., writing to the Evangelist from Greenfield Hill, Conn., gives the following among other reminiscences o olden days which he has gathered up. It is certainly more sensible, and has more verisimilitude than some things which we have read under the above title. Among the amusing reminiscences of those days is the famous courtship of the Rev. Stephen Mix, of Weathersfield. He made a journey to Northampton in 1696, in search of a wife. He arrived at the Rev. Solomon Stoddard’s, in formed him of the object of his visit, and that the pressure of home duties required the utmost despatch! Mr. Stoddard took him into the room where his daugh ters were, and introduced him to Mary, Esther, Christiana, Sarah, Rebekalf, arid Hannah, and then retired. Mr. Mir, addressing Mary, the eldest daughter, said he had lately been settled at Weathersfield and was desirous of obtain ing % wife, and concluded by offering her his heart and hand. She blushingly re plied that so important a proposition re quired time fcr consideration; He re joined that he was pleased that she asked for suitable time for reflection, and that ■ in order to "afford her the needed oppor tunity to think of his proposal, he would step into the next room, and smoke a pipe with her father, and she could re port to him. Having smoked his pipe and sent a message to Miss Mary that he was ready for her answer, she came in and asked for further time for con sideration. He replied that she could reflect still longer on the Bubject, and send her answer, by letter, to Weathers field. In a few weeks he received her reply, which is probably the most laconic epistle ever penned. Here is the model letter which was soon followed by a wedding: Northampton, 1696. Rev. Stephn. Mix t Yes. Mary Stoddard. The matrimonial Mix-ture took place oil the Ist of December, 1696, and proved to bo compounded of most con genial, elements. Mix was pastor of that paradise of onion* for 44 years. ROT A BAD DEFENCE. A dog was present in one of the churches in Scotland, and, m the sermon, the worthy minister was in the habit of speaking very loud, and, in fact, when be got warmed with his subject, of Shout ing almost at the top of his voice.! The dog, who, in the early part, had been very quiet, became quite excited, as is riot uncommon with some dogs when hearing a noise, and, from whining and whinging, as the speaker's voice rose loud and strong, at last began to bark and howl. The minister, naturally much annoyed at the interruption, 1 Called upon the beadle to put out the doe who .his f endiqesa to obey the order, but could not resist ;tfio.teinD tation to look up to the pulpit, and to fay,very significantly: “ Ay,ay,sir; but, indeed, it was yereell began it.” SUtofrtisif mutts. WISTAR’S BALSAM. irx&@ mmmm* ONE OF THE OLDEST AND HOST BED!ABLE REMEDIES IN THE WORLD FOR Coughs, Colds, Whooping Cough, Bron chitis, Difficulty of Breathing, Asthma, Hoarseness, Sore Throat, Croup, and Every Affection of THE THROAT, LUNGS AND CHEST, INCLUDING RVBN CONSUMPTION. WIS TAIL'S BALSAM OF WILD BERRY. So general has the use of this remedy become, and so popu lar is tt everywhere, that it is unnecessary to recount its virtues. Its works speak for it, and find utterance in the abundant and voluntary testimony of fto many who from long suffering and settled disease have by Misuse been restored to pristine vigor and health. We ean-present a mass oj evidence in proof of our assertions, that •. CANNOT BE DISCREDITED. The Rev. Jacob Sechler, "Well known and much respected ameng the German population in this country, makes the following state ment for the benefit of the afflicted. . ~r .... . „ Hanotbr, Pa, Feb. 16,1860, Dear Sirs:—Haring realized in my family important benefits from the use of your valuable preparation— WiBTAR’a Balaam or Wan Cherry-—it affords me pleasure to recommend it to tho public. Some eight years ago £n® of my daughters seemed to be iu & decline, and little hopes of her recovery were entertained. I then procured a bottle of your excellent Balsam, and before she had taken the whole of the contents of the bottle there was a great improvement in her health. I have, in.my individual case made frequent use of your valuable medicine, and have always been banefitted by it. JACOB SECHLER. From 11. D. MARTIS, M. D., Of Mansfield, t ioga 00., Pa. Having used id my practice the last four years, Wifi tar’s Balsam of Wild Cherry, with great success, 1 most cheerfully recommend it to those afflicted with obsti nate Coughs, Colds, Asthma, Ac. From Jesse Smith, Esq., President of the Morris County Bank, Morristown, New Jersey. “ Having used Da. Wisrtu's Batsiu or Wan Chsubt for about fifteen years, and having realized its beneficial results in my family, it affords me great pleasure in recommending it to the public as a valuable remedy in cases .of weak lungs, colds, coughs, Ac-, and a remedy which I consider to be entirely innocent, and may be taken with perfect safety by the most delicate in health.” From Hon. John E. Smith, A Distinguished Lawyer in Westminster, Md. I have on several occasions used Da. Wistsb’s Baluk r Win Cherry for severecoids, and always with decided benefit. I know of no preparation that is more effica cious oi more deserving of general ttse. The Balsam has also been used with excellent effeet by J. B. Etuor, Merchant, Hall’s Cross Roads, Md. Wistar’s Balsam of Wild Cherry. None genuine unless signed “I. BUTTS," en th wrapper. For sale by J. P. DINSMORE, No. 491 Broadway, New York. S. W. FOWLE A Co., No. 18 Tremonfc streetßoston, And by all Dmggkjta. SAMUEL WORK 1 WILLIAM McCOUGH, KRAMER A RaHM, Pittsburg. JMSTIOBI© M©Ugffi ©ff WORK, McCOUGH & CO NO. 86 SOUTH THIRD STREET, PHILADA, L^oi'nq 8 NCUR S I iS T BANK NOTES AND JJ COINS. Southern and Western Funds bought on the most favorable terms. 6 Bills of Exchange on New York, Boston, Pittsburg. Baltimore, Cincinnati. SCLouis, etc. etc.' constantly for promptly made on all accessible points in the United States and Canadas. r Deposits received, payable on demand, and interest allowed as per agreement. Stocks and Loans bought and sold on commission, and Business Paper negotiated. Refer to Philadeiphia. and Commercial "Banks, Phila delphia; Read, Drexel 4 Co, Winslow, Lanier & Co. New York; and atisens' and Exohanse Bank,Pitta bur K- feliU LIFE & TIMES OF JOHN HUSS. 2 Volchis Boru, Bto. pp. 6*l—€66. Prise $6. For Sale by SHELDON &CO-, CARTERS, RANDOLPH, and others, in New York; also by the Booksellers' generally throughout the Country. This important and valuable as well os attractive work, which is in reality, as its full till© imports,—“The History of the Bohemian Reformation of the Fifteenth Century,”—ha* been received with almost unexampled favor by the press. It covers a field hitherto unoccu pied by any work Accessible to the mero English reader yet one of the deepest interest to the student of history. Has? was in some revpeots the noblest and purest of tbe great reformers, while his lofty .aims, his life-long struggle and martyr death invest his career with more than the charm of romance. As the victim of th© Council of Constance* we see him the central figure of a group which might well be de scribed representative Christendom. In the elucida lionof his career, and in tracing th© fat© of his fol lowers down to the period of the Thirty Years* War, the condition of Papal Europe for more than a century is depicted. Tbo leading minds of th© age are mad© to pass before up, and w© discern th© influences and causes which produced th© Great Reformation of the succeeding century, as well as th©relation sustained to it by the labors and fat© of Huss. Th© work is one that not only, challenges th© attention of th© scholar but carries the reader on with unabated interest through the varied and dramatio story.’* The New York Examinet>6&ya of iti w The period ftu mahedl a; ma/uificfinc, raoge to the. historian* and th© and Hues* a central figure of unusual interest around wh