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
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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<ch to group th* vanons and attrac
tive details of the picture. .The work of Mr. Gillett
reminds us .of the beet historical -writings of our HgiWr
We hail with real satisfaction he appearance of thes©
volumes, and beg to commend them as ©specially
Appropriate for the increase:of a pastor's library at
about his treason of the year. The pastor who reads
them'aright will bej with God's blessing, a more spirit
ual man, and a better preaoher.”
Thetfew York Observer says: «Tbe author has achieved
a great work, performed a valuable'service' for PiO
testaotiem apd the world, made a name for himself
.among and produced a book that
«KgiouischolS“ ~,e Ptao °. “‘eSm of every
°f the foohminatidu it represents,
Co J u,naa toannfcioe of thework. It
have we. known a task, performed
an d success. Mr: GWerthaspro-
SSI: . . The
other raeiita besides those of histo*
? mam nfSSl'S** interest. The author is more than
- A has. not or ly scrutinized, but
hsa surveyed th© whole field as well
portions, and he has firmly grasped and
P th© great leading features of the
period and the fundamental ideas involved in th©
o work, in short, is a labor of love, well
and faithfully done.** :
The New speaks of it as u One of th©
most valuable contributions to ecclesiastical history
yet made in this country.”
The New. York Independent* In devoting more than a
column to an. editorial notice of; the work,remarks:
His researches are ampler his materials abundant, his
selfctions ; discreet, hut 1 style mmA and racy, strong
without rage, without o’erflowi&jtftil]. Be has secured,
we judge, a high and permanent place in m oor litera
ture.**
1 TH# Christian of H-as*An histo
rical and biographical narrative, in method, style, and
elevation of j-ennrnent, every way worthy of bis great
theme. His description of Bohemia, pnor to the sd
vont o» Hubs, is h mast*-r-pieoe, ana reminds one of the
™y hjgheet efforts of Baaoroft in desetipave compo*