ttt eirttr. M) "SONGS OF SEVEN." No one among modern writers has touched the depths of pathos in widowhood and maternal bereave meat,likTeanigei°rZheswo ners4oler ongso; Seven,"are u ftheVearce; but itis sliealthy sorrew, with which it is good to sympathize. SEVEN TIMES FIVE. WYDOWIIOOD. I sleep and rest, my heart makes moan Before I am well awake; "Let me bleed ! 0 let me alone ) Since I must not break!" For children wake, though fathers sleep, With a stone at foot and at head ; 0 sleepless God, forever keep, Keep both living and dead! I lift mine eyes, and what to see = But a world happy and fair I have not wished it to mourn with xne— Comfort is not there. so. What anear but golden brooms, And a waste of reedy rills; 0 what afar but the fine glooms On themare blue hills! I shall not die,, but live forlore— How bitter it is to part! 0 to meet thee, my love, once more!- omy heart, , my heart! No more to hear, no more to see! 0 that an echo might wake And waft one note of thy psalm to me Ere my heart-strings break 1 I should know it how faint soe'er, And with angel voices blent ; 0 once to feel.thy spirit anear, I could be content l Or once between the gates of gold, - While an angel entering trod, But once—thee sitting to , behold On the hills of God. SEVEN TIMES SEEN.'` LONGING EON. 11010 E. A song of a boat: - There was once a boat on a billow ;. Lightly she rocked to.her port remote, And the toam was white in her Wake - like snow, And her frail mast bowed when''tlie breeze would blow, ' And bent like a wand of a willow. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat Went courtesying over the billow, I marked her course till a dancing mote She faded out on'the moonlit foam, And I stayed behind in the dear loved home; And my thoughts all day were about the boat Arid my dreams upon the pillow. I pray you hear my song of a boat, For it is but short: My boat, you shall'firid stone fairer afloat, In river or port. Long I looked out for the lad she bore, On the open desolate sea, And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, For he came not back to me— A song of a nest: There was once a nest in a hollow, Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed, Soft and warm, and full to the brim; Vetches leaned overact purple and dim, With, buttercup buds to follow. I pray you hear my song of a nest, For it is not long: You shall. never light in a summer quest The bushee, amone— Shall never light; `on a prouder sitter, A fairer nestfull, nor ever know A sifter 3ound than their tender twitter, That wind-like did come and go. I had a nestfull once of my own, Ah happy, happy I ; Right dearly I loved them ; but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly 0, one after one they flew away . Far up to the heavenly blue, To the' better country, the upper day, And—l wish I was going too. I pray you, what is the nest to me, My empty nest? And what is the, shore where I stood to see My boat sail down to the west? Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Though my good man has sailed? Ca4,l call that home where myrtest warset, Now-all its hupe hath failed? .... Nay, but the port where my sailnr • 'And the land where my nestlings be: There is the horne.wheire my thoughts are sent The only home for me— . THE YOUNG BAVARIAN, ,AY MISS S. WARNER, AUTHOR OF " DOL • , LARS AND CENTS." , [Aathere has been considerable de= lay in .the publication of, successive 'chapters of this story, we have thought 'best ‘to reprint the' principal part of it, After we expect to' go on regu larly pnblishing a fresh portion every YfPek.] CHAPTER L Bavaria is a beautiful part of Ger . many. In some of its districts there. .are.liigh Alpine peaks, and lakes and . _glaciers; in other there are wide moors of moss and lichen; and in 'others still are great forests, and -- Meadow vallies that are fifty Miles long. Many riVers water the country; .:and it is full of wonderful buildings and strange old towers. The' climate teniperate and healthy ; the soil very: productive, and though some parts_ are too cold for much fruit, many others are warm enough for vineyards and.,almond trees to thrive . and bear abundantly. ✓ r 5 Near one of the old towers in Bava-, ria there stood, some years' ago, a_ farinhouse. The farinhouses in Our own land-thave always several rooms' and many windows; and though the ..,woodshed may be close at hand the Ilan. is, some distance off. But this louse had only one room, with the 4ppthatched roof overhanging it on all sidei. In'„.this room. all, the family slept: Each bed 'was of feathers, and instead. of quilted comfortables each had a‘feather coverlet too; so that it, was &little like sleeping bet Ween tw : o great pillows. The front door opened into , this room, and 'the, back door out Of it-into' the ,siable,— *the restless horses stamped tly,R4 the night long, and the , lek t coWs *pod chewing, the cud: front of the house was a gay dower garden, anal a vineyard, and a dancing brook below all. A great lime tree hung over the c9tta.ge and screened, it from the slim,. ' - Well, the old storks knew this cot ,tage, and had bu,Atheir nest year i after year in.the roof trate,h; and therwas great watching among the children in the spring, to see the firststork make his appearance. Barreirory- - -_winter all: the storks, went, , south for. their health,- anefo t tet their young Ones see the world; spending - the coil -- months in Algiers and Bagdad, and all such queer places; where to be sure it was hot enough. Arid though the country peo ple in Bavaria did not, like the Greeks long ago, pay a reward to him who first announced the storks' return ; nor proclaim the arrival by sound of trum pet, as their forefathers had done in the, last century, yet., they watChed 1 none the less eagerly for their feathered friends. And, no wonder,, for he who 'saw the first stork on, the wing, might kno;w that good, luck was hastening towards him; but . if the bird was sit ting still, so, had, his fortune gone to 'sleep for the present. Then if the first stork arrived with soiled plumage, the following summer was sure to - be .wet `and , dirty ; but woe , unto, him who 'hei m t a rd, the stork "clappering" without g seen itl—it was certain then tha he himself would make a clatter aano`n.g the cups and dishes, and "break' much earthenware So these,simple people believed,,and no one had ever, taught them. any - better. The children, on. their part, never doubted for an instant that the storks brought every, new little baby brother or sister that came into the house; but they showed their gratitude in a queer way, for they used to throw all man ner of things at the birds as they sat on the house roof; pelting them with sticks and little stones, and:lumps of dirt.. Or,indeed, I should say t7ing to pelt them,—for the storks held too high a position to be reached by such young ' miScbief-mak'ers. Perhaps the farmer's wife thought that the intention made the deed,-Lfor as soon as she saw the children beginning this kind of sport, she never' failed to look out of the door and say :--- " Children, if yon. do that, old father stork will fly away.; and then the wick ed sprites will come and set fire to the roof." - - Ah me 1 So she had. been taught in her child hood, and now she tried to teach the same old superstition to her children. However, the sprites never came; and the young ones danced in`the sunshine - and grew fatter and stronger every day. As for the storks, they seemed enough like Wicke,d things themselves sdinetillies, for they Would-fight! 0, how they' would fight. One day two of 'them had. a dueLwhich lasted one hour and a half, and 'only ended by their Pushing'each other into the well. There they splashed and struggled at a great rate, and each forgot what pleasure it would be to see the other drown, in the "fear of drowning him self. . And. when at last the old'firmer came and drew them out, they were quite cool and sober, and had as little to sakaS possible. lind so year after year passed, by, until the' old farmhouse echoed the 'Voices of a whole handful of children, standing like a flight of steps, each ove a little bit loigher'up in' he world tlianihe last • and' the farmer and his wife thought they had, not much to wish for in this world. There `came a time of trouble in all that region of country. The season I had been unfavorable, the crops Were scant and poor, and money was terri bly scarce. Every - one suffered, among the poorer people, and our old farmer with the rest. He could not wish that he had feNier of these laugh- - ing mOuths to feed, but Where should he find bread? And many a night after the young ones were sound asleep aniong the feathers, their father and. mother sat considering with tears what to do. Ah me! At lasi it came to this : they could , not stay and starve in . Bavaria,,there fore they "must`go . away; and 'with very heavy hearts they resolved to set out to seek their fortune. - The father had. heard of a country far across,' the sea, where everybody was free` - and happy and had enough; and •he thought if he Ai:6 lint there, it would be easy to earrebread'for his children— he'and his wife said. to each other, night after night, and at last made up their minds'to leave Bavaria forever. cannot tell yen what sorrow of heart it cost thena,,r-how hard it was for the old farmer, to sell. _the house ,where he, and his father had lived so long,—but he did sellit,;,, house, lime tree, storks' 'nest's and all, and pre ' d 'for his journey The feather pare, , beds and Coverlets' were packed' in cheats, and the children were scattered - here and .there among , their friends ; , for the father and-mother thought they -would try the new land first , them selves, before, they brought, out all' their little on«as. Only that they might not be qUite childless and forlorn in s. strange land, theYwould take john, 'the Oldest child of all. So there were fourth go, the farmer, hiswife, his wife'S sister,- and John ; and after many weary and sorrowful days and weeks, they had fairly left - their native land, and turned their faces towards America. The voyage was - long:I- .'hey not, afford, these poor - Teo*, to -come in one of the comfortable- swift steam_ TRE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY . 2, 1865. CHAPTER II ers ; and so they took passage in a crowded emigrant ship, and even that. required a greater part of their nio n.q. How long the voyage was I law wearily" they must have - thought of home I—the . vineyard and: the lime tree and the stoi!ks. So far theyhad made 1(1.0 . exchange of poverty for riches,—ft seemed as if they were to begin life in h . .the-Inew world..without arty_fhincr*, - 12e , -- •gin with, and all the homesick Bava -rians could - do was to study the prom -is-es-of-God. Each -- one - -of them-was" sure •to bring wealth, as now they brought peade to those who believed; and day after day on the rolling ship, the old farmer and his wife quieted their hearts With thoughts of Him whose word is steadfast. Day after day they sat together'and read. the Bible, teach ing little John to put his trust in the one great Friend they had in all the world.. * * * * And so the old cxaft,bore them on, day after day and week after week, un til at last from the lookout came the cry of "Landl" Then the distant faint blue line grew deeper and stronger as, the vessel plonghed.her way along, and then she came sailing up through the Narrows into the beautiful Bay of New York. She stopped at the Quarantine, ,grounds - and was boarded by the health °facer ; while the hpine-siek Ba varians looked sadly, round about them 'at the new land to which they had come; and" John gazed forward to, where a soft hazy line of smoke hung over the great, city. In a little while more the ship was at her journey's end. It was midsummer, and a hot,-smo thering New York day. N 6 cool shade of lime trees here,—no peaceful ." clappering",of storks, no rosy faced children, at play in sweet -gardens. The rich children were gone out of town to the distant green fields and fresh sea shore, the poor children were breathing in slow poison from the city streets. To the old German farmer and his wife the noise and dust and air of the city were alniost intolerable; and oh, how alone they felt I .'.Crowds hurrying by them, but not one familiar face; tongues calling and jabbering= but not a word that they could under stand. Their peasant dress, too,—the old farmer's queer boots and yips . and cap, add his wife's colored petticoat and jadlet and foreign-looking shoes— peOple looked and pointed at, and boys shouted and ""laughed. It seems to Me` that as they made their way along, following some one who had under taken to, guide them, they could only have thought over and over_ in their hearts the words of one of . their own native hymns ; repeating and repeat ing it their beautiful native tongue— " God liveth ever!" They had need to' remember that, at every step of the way which brought them to their miserable lodging. They had need to cry, "Loid, thou hat been our dwelling place in all gene-ra tions I" Lonely, friendless, and poOr, heaven seemed their homemuch more than earth. Fellow-countrymen were soon foulid in plenty, yet not such as they needed. Some would not help, and others, cheated them; and for a while the poor familylived on as - best they might, in one of the wretched tenement houses. 0, for a breath from the old lime tree! 0, for a sight of one of the storks!—. better to have died. of starvation at home among friends, than have heart and life wither in a New York tene ment house And how should they keep the one darling they had brought gith them fiorn being poisoned in soul as well as in body? John must hear the bad words spoken all round him -ft, would, his tongue learn, them? Would he preSently begin to do`the things he saw dime? Day :the old. farmer torayed for his boy, daily he brought out his dear German;Bible and-instructed John in the *ay of peace and righteousness often. they all.sang together— " RV liveth ever I Wherefore, - soul,' despair thou never. Our God good, in every' place His loVe *known, his help.is found; His migha w armtand tende,r, grace, s It'ivg good Troth hemus found. " EatireYthan we-think, ca ii .Tatii. to joy our adony. • Soul,yromember, In2i4 thy pains, God o'er all forever reigns. Ah, ho sweet - sweet - the thought was! and how poaerf4l . l And when their he4its were well cheered witl2i.remern berin.g the 14e and wisdom and'power then ; they were: ready, to sing those other words: " Jesus, still lead on, Till our rest be won I Andd - although the way be cheerless, We will follow, calm and fearless. • Guide us, by thy hand • To our-Fatherland." WHAT A TOAD - DID - EOA A SOLDIER. A friend connected with the United States Sanitary Commission rela,tes. for the American Agriculturist the: follow ing=incident, which he witnessed,: that .exhibits Mr:, and. , Ifirs. Toad in, a- new. leharacter:—, f!A. number of wounded. from the. battle of Petersburg were . lying p, in , hospital tent, among whom was a negro.. whose leg had been taken off. $e 'was' on a mattress on the ground, and, the .weather being hot; the dressed stump of his leg was exposed, and. a swarm, of flies were settling upon it. Pre, sently a large toad hopped into. , thet tent, and taking his station near the edge of the.bed, began gobbling up the blue-bottles in flouble-quick. The mo-. nient one alighted• within six -inches of the spot, he would square himself for the attack; his eye twinkling with ex citement, and then, with a flash of his towe and a smack of his mouth, the unlucky insect would disaugar. The boy was asleep when this conarnence4, but soon awoke, and was at first,fright , ened at the 'ugly toad'.; so near, Ipin; but Our friend bade him be quiet, 'and 'pointed out the service the creature when the negro. and. 011 present voted him a member - 6f_ the with many ;thanks,.and -his kindred were at-once-in highlavor." THE DARK VALLEY. „. Sweet LillY Gray has been confined to the house for many months. Her poor widowed mother has looked for ward through all the long cold winter to the coming Spring, as the time which was to brincr. back the bloom of health to her darling's cheek, and strength to her limbs. But, alas! although the sweet spring flowers are already filling the air with , their, fragrance, Lilly Nes 13ut grow weaker with each succeeding ' Still her mothers4lll not-give up hoping that her. is totbe. - spared to her for many yearA; hut Lillyknows better. One morning, as she sat propped up - with pillOws her young friend, Kate :Sourer, came ” funning in with a bou quet of. bea;utifal, fragrant, flowers, Which she vlaced in a cup of water .on a little stand by the bedside, saying:— "See, Lilly, are they not lovely?" adding, with an affectionate kiss, "I hope you will soon be able to go out and gather flowers for yourself.' ; Lilly smiled, and said gently:— " Sit down, dear Kate, I want to have a little talk." "What about?" asked Kate, gaily; "shall I talk to you about my new dresses, and the journey I am going to take next month?" "No," replied Lilly, "if you please, I had;rather talk, of the journey lam soon to take, and the dregs I must have to wear." "Why, where are_you going?" asked Kate, in surprise. «I am going down into a dark val ley and, across a deep river," said Lilly, gravely. "What valley and what river"?" asked Kate, still more puzzled. "Dear Kate !" said Lilly, pressing her friend's hand, "do you ;not.- know that I am going die?" " 0 don't talk so! It's too dreadful! You mustn't die!" exclaimed Kate, bursting iiltd tears. "I want to ga, Kate. Pm - glad, 0, so glad that I am going home to Jesus," said Lilly, earnestlY, while a sweet smile stP I P over her, face. . • "Aren't - you afirSid?" -whispered Kate. "Oh; no," said' Lilly, "I shall 'not go alone. Once, When I was a very -little girl, I asked my teacher what she meant byaslcing that the Lord Jesus, might ,go with u.s through the dark valley and . shadow . of . death. mean,' said she; `to i ask that he may go with us when we die. Dying is called, in the Bible, passing throat-1i the valley of the- ,shaclow, of death. You know we must all die, and. it ,would be very sad to go away al9- 11 e; but none of our earthly friends can go - With us. You Would' not' like to go . gone -into that 'dark valley, Lilly, Would you?' I said, '0 no, but, could .not some one gowith me? Couldn't . they, lie down in the coffin with Me, if they chose?' t_That Would do you no , good, dear,' said my teacher, 'for only the senieless body that lies therej dying, you know, is , the soul going away out of thedoody; the:7Bou/ is the part:that thinks,,and feels, i and knows, a, - nd. it is the ,part, _that wants some Rile to go withitAnd,'dcarLilfy, none, but Jesus could that.' "Then - I asked her how I could get the Lord Jesus t©°-go with me, and shei.said I „must seek him, at once,,for if I put it ,off I mjght,never, be alole to fm.d., li lm ; but if .I would g 6 at once and., give myself to m. - t asking hio forgive intsins, and "make me his - 7 child; lie would do so; and he would - be'my friend , always, , and never leave meiindife nor .in death, And I did go .to T-at§', and I feel that he has forgiven l all'my sins and made me his own dedr child. And., now dying seems only like going home, and - my dear Saviour 'Will go all the way -with no.e." " How, happy : you look," said ,Kate, brushing away her tears ; `` init., you spoke about a - dress that, you must have for,:yourjourney--,what ,did you mean by that?" - "I. mea,n.t., the c , .-beauties robe of _Christ's_ righteou.sness,. which he gives to each one s ot his:children," said Lilly. _ is -the:wedding garment which all, must: wear who, would ; partake: of the marriage supper. You 30.49 w dear ,Kate, that _w,e have all been doing wrong, all , our lives ; and though. We try ever so .ha,rd . ito.„ do right,, sin, is mixed upimith. everything that, we_ i can do or say, and.so, our very_ best d-eeds .must be very hateful in the sight of a .holy God, who _sees all -our . thoughts and motives. But the dear,Lord..Jesus has-. kept God's Jaw sfor,us i , and If we ill just throw - away all ou r own good _works, and beg of Him to cover itsiwith the;robe of His righteousness, He-mill do so; and then:we shall become pleas inglin the sight of God. Dear. K,ate ask:- Mtn to give it to you, for you. will want it.when you are _called, to take that last journey." "I will," said _T..ate, kissing her friend good-by. - Dear little reader, will not you seek to make the Lord Jesus your friend to-day? You will want him to go with you through the dark valley, anq w yoir will need the robe of righteoustieSs to cover you W,lien you. come to- appear before God.--=&S. Visitor. DON'T TELL -MOTHER, " Don't tell mother !" I heard a bright -looking- boy say, : p,s -he ran_with nimble feet-to joinwho were a crowd ere aceom pamng a returning fire-engine. The comments-of the-excited--boys and men as they passed, and perhaps the strange desire for forbidden pleasures, which' are inherent in our sinful natures, drew the boys away from home; but as he went, he remerabered the prohi bition, and uttered these Words, "Don't tell mother !" A good mother is a gift to than. God for ever. A mother's kiss, a mo ther's gentle word, a mother's gentle care, what have they not_ done for us all?,,Eliza. Cook's beautiful lines, "To an Old'ArM-phair," have thrilled through many heartii— "l love it, I love it, and who shall dare To "chide me for iovitik that old arm-chair? 'Tis bound by a thousand cords to my heart; Not, a tie will, break,_ not Et link *ill.start Would you learrahuspell? 'A mother sat there, And a,. sacred thing is her old' arm-chair." When ;I hear young lips exclaiming, "Don't let mother see this ; hide it away ;" "don't tell mother where I am going." I tremble for the safety of the speaker. The action which will not bear the kind scrutiny of a mothers love, will shrink .into shame at the look of ,Qrod. Little feet that begin life by going where mother does not approve, will not easily learn to walk in the narrow way of the Lord's com mandments. "Don't tell mother!" has been .the .rallying-cry of Satan's best recruits for hundreds of years. Dis regard of a mother's rule at home leacis to a nontempt of the laws of society., The boy who disobeys ids mother will not be likely to make a useful and law-hAnring citizen. "Don't tell mo ther !" is a sure step downward—the first step in those easy cars of habit, which glide so swiftly and so silently, with their freight of souls, towardS the precipice of ruin. The best and the safest way is always to tell mother. Who so forgiving as she?. Who,, ; so faithful._? Who so constant ho so patient? Through nights of wearisome watching, through da,ys of wearing anxiety, through sick ness and through health, through better and through worse, a mother's love has been unfailing. It is a spring that never becomes dry. Confide, dear young readers, in .your mother ; db nothing 'which she has forbidden ; consult her about your actions ; treat her ever_ with reverential love_ It been the crowning. gloryof truly good and .great men, that, when hun dred.s, and thousands bowed in admira tion to their feet, they gave honor to their mothers. Mother-love has dared dangers from-which the stout heart of the warrior has' shrunk appalled. Bappy, they who earlylearn to:appre ciate its priceless worth. - A. mother's prayer gave John. Newton to Christianity;' a Mother's loving effort dedicated 'John Wesley to the cross. W hat mother's have done for the work of ."evangelizing the world, what they 'have written ha' -letters of light, upon ;the recording history, what the pen ,of the recording angel has registered for them, in the open bOOk above, - known only to G - Od.' Boys and" girlS, never go to a 'place 'where 9, - .“ Don't tell mother': is necessary; to cover. your footsteps, Sunday-school scholars,in your every-day life show the „pure teaching of your''Ohristian hoMe, by obeying-the mother who endears:, and blesses; your whole =-Merry's` Mu seum. - A WELL - DESERVED MEMORIAL, ; A correspondent of -the Watch Tan al.ndßeileetorp.Poslwn, writes: — "lP, Viii ladelphia-we found a deep and melap,- clay, interest ; . awakened. by the death of two noble women, who, in the spirit of Vorerice Nightingale, have been givingtheinsellyes _to nursing the si,ck and wounded soldiers in the hospitals. Win. Stintliers and' 'Miss Hat - 3r A. Rules:ha - ye for year's devoted=nfuch of their .time, their. :strength, 'and' the funds ..thePaselves Aor-. other friends through them) could- furnish, to ,allevi ate the,sufferings °tour brave defend- erd. The last mentioned, a 4ughter `of the" late Dr. H. G;Jones, OfiPhila delphia,-not content with attendance on the suffering in the Philadelphia hospitals went down to the front and finding Sad „neglect andwanto able'li.elp there, in a nOble and martyr-, like spirit left her hone, and . engaged 'personally in the'effieienf end'eavor to introduce needed' reforms land - mire adequate nursing ,in ,the hospitals at pity - Point. Thep Ahe diediar a tent, as noble an instance, of ,patriotic hero isin as, that evinced by her brother, Col.-J. Richter Jones, , who' a few months befdre fell- in - the' arms of victory, at the. head.. of :a , brigade which,; he had successfully led against . the rebels in North :Carolina She was,buried. i froni the residence of hei, youngest trother, H. G. Jones; Esq, Roil:Omagh ; one of the late days of December. It - was a spectacle•.to move. any, heart, to, see' a large concourse of the convaleseent soldiers, whom, she had conscientiously bared for and faithfulliattended gather round her Ceffin, some OIL crutches, and, th streaming` eyes and • hearts, bear her to , •the': - grave: 'Such women are-. an -' honor to their sex, to their country, to the world!". "IN PRAYER IS STRENGTH." In.prayer is strength I ~- • AcrosiAhe .world's wide moor we wander far and long, Rude echoes only answer to onr cheerless song. The winds plow cold, the dying light departs : We faint and falter, till our weary hearts Seek - home at length. In prayer is peace 1 Hope's fond =a flittering tale proves but an airy, dream. In vain, we phase ambition's fitful firefly gleam: We toil and strugglethrough the night of sorrow, Waiting and watching fora brighter morrow To bring surcease. Prayer only gives Unto our tired souls the solace which we seek We go to Him—Efe answers even ere we speak On T9l - ' is strong arm we lean in calm repose; Peace, like a river, o'er the spirit flows— The dying lives. COUNT..TAFM. Count what? Why, count the mercies which have been quietly fall inab in your path through every period of your history. .Down they come, every morning and. every evening, as angel mes,serigers from the Father of lights to tell you of your best friend in heaven. Have you lived these years, wasting mercies, treading them beneath - your feet, and consuming them every day, and. never yet realized from whence they came? If you have, Heaven pity you. You have murmured under afilic tion,; but who has heard you rejOice over blessings? Do you ask what are these mercies ? Ask the sun-beam the rain-drop, the star, or the queen of night. What is life but a .mercy? What is health, strength, friendship, social life, the gospel of Christ, divine worship ? Had they the power of speech, each would say, "I am a ,mercy." Perhaps you never regarded them as such. If not, you have been ,a dull student of nature or revelation. What is the propriety of stopping to play with a thorn-bush, when you May just as well pluck sweet flowers and eat pleasant fruits ? Yet we have seen enough of men to know that they Have a morbid appe tite. for thorns. If they have lOat a friend they will murmnr at the loss, if God has given them a, score of new ones. And, 'somehow, everything as 7 sumes a value when it is gone, which mari`woiild not acknowledge when he had it in his possession, unless, indeed; some one wished to purchase it. Happy is he who _looks at the, bright side of life, providence, and of revela tion ; -who ayoids thorns, and thickets, And sloughs, Until his Christian growth is such that, if he cannot improve them, he may pass among them with out injury.. Count mercies before you complain of affliction.—Retig. Tele- scope__ BE IMPORTUNATE. I was sitting in my study, engaged in the ,preparation of a sermon for the coming Sabbath, and had determined tolaive the time exclusively to myself. There was' about the house a little, mischievous, blue-eyed boy, who seem ed: an enemy to all quiet; for from early light„ till darkness came, two little hands found baby-work, and feet seemed'' never tired. Our Willie was a little one then; now he can read and has two little sisters. But memory has the baby. Willie, with dimpled chin and tottering step, and, never sllent tongne. could_ not talk then -only a few little words,,bnt the chat ter was continuous. I need describe no thither, for many of you haVe or 'had just such a'boy. But I was going to say—l was sit ting in my study, busily engaged, when---patter—patter—l heard a pair of little feet.' I knew in NAat direction the toes were turned, and I- pressed my lips together-=and gave a ricid, say ing, mentally,, 'fall not let him in. I thought ,when I sat down IwoUld not, and 1 will not." Patter—fiatterand. somebody said "papa," just outside - the door. - I knew who it 'was, but he -must-mot disturb me. • - "Papa!" • I-rap- my,.finge,rs thrpugh my 4*, and tried to study. p a-p 4 1 77 theard - the latch rattle,' and I knew somebedfivas rising on tiptoe.to rdaeli it. I remembered a gold _pen Lome lost. by Willie's _ hand—bxPke4 ;by sticking itin the table like a, scratch t awl .It dick not take . me asiOng to think as 'c. - 6 does to write, or you to read - it 'now. "Papa ; pa-pa I" .thought flashed into my heart, not,min4, and tears came into my.eyes. Quickly :I opened the door, and clasp ing_the child to' my bosom, I Was Will ing to gratify its'simple 'for I `,.Was „going - to preach on importunate Trayer=and there, was an - illustration. .1. took it as ,providential. ,t4re,;ive not God's " little children ?" The kind 4 Apostle