ti g gamit g (Sin's.
THE NOVEL-READER.
Cousin Hatty is an enthusiast in that branch of
domestic industry known by the name of "light read
ing." One night, after being rnpt in a volume of this
description till nearly twelve o'clock, she shut it up,
exclaiming with animation, as she did it, Oh; Tho
mas, where should we be, I wonder, were it not for
tiooks?"
The dying candle burns dim,
St. John's is tolling one;
Zoneless and slipshod the maiden sits,
A speechless statue of stone.
From morning's blessed light
To noon's meridian glare ;
From mid-day's splendor to black midnight.
She sits like a spectre there(
Read—read—read,
Magazine, novel, and tale,
With sateless appetite reading on,
Till the brain begins to fail.
Is it strange she is so pale,
Her eyes so heavy and red,
Her raven hair so faded and snarled,
Her languid blood so dead?
A worm is knowing her heart,
The book-worm hungry and lean ;
Twin-born to him of the fiery still,
With fangs as cruel and keen.
Books—books—books,
Conceived in labor and pain,
Vampires ye are of body and soul,
Whose ruin is yOur pin.
Health, and comfort, and friends
r * field to your serpent-chaims ;
Love, husband, child, are forgot, -
:_LTo clasp you within her arm%
While suffering sighs unheard,
While poverty pines alone,
She weeps over fiction's tender page,
And makes feigned sorrows her own!
O Godl that a creature so good
AS woman at her prime,
Should peak and shrivel on such.vile food,
So long before her time!
She might have a serious soul ;
She might be at forty a belle ;
Why need she live a frivolous thing,
When sense beeomes so well?
Tales—tales—tales,
Duty, reality, truth,
Are only fit for grandfathers now,
Too homely things for youth.
When stories are swallowed down
As hiinuries in disguise,
How long ere history will bedome
Put a. story in, our eyes?
Men `once 'saw the devil in
i.,The imp at the present day
Still handles types, but never before
In so, h a devilish way.:
In power he's stronger than steam,
Swift as the lightning, in speed,
Ink-blaek, though fair he may seem,
And talks like a lawyer fee'd.
This demon, subtle and false,
As once in' paradise,
Laughs in his sleeve to see the sex
Taking his good advice.
He tempts them with numberless tomes,
Duodecimos and octaves,
Where love-sick Fanny in woodlands roams,
Or moon-struck Manuel raves.
Beware I great reader, beware I
The rankest fancies of men
Have scattered poison everywhere,
By the power of press and pen.
The worst that ever was thought
Is stamped on the printed roll,
'And she who has gained all books have taught,
Has lost a virgin soul.
Still, 'tis heaven, she thinks, to read,
'Tis hell to sweep , and stew;
Millions are born` to suffer and slave :
She—she has nothing to do
But drop an indolent tear
For beings who never lived,
And break her heart for a ruffian in print,
Or a Miss in fancy deceived.
,So dreams the novel-sick heart,
Weak literary thrall -
'Ah I the Soul that thinks only others' thoughts
Is hardly a soul at all:
his but an echo, or shade,
Aparrot, ape,—what you will,—
An intellectual duplicate,
Not worth the room it may fill.
Past midnight,—still she strains
Her eyeballs over her book ;
Still toneless and slipshod the maiden sits,
With a wild and haggard look.
From morning's wholesome breath
t To noon's meridian glare;
`From mid•day's beauty to grim midnight,
By solar ray and pale lamp-light,
She has sat, a spectre there
[WRITTEN FOR OUR maim.]
THE YOUNG BAVARIAN,
BY MISS S. WARNER, AUTHOR OF "DOL
LARS AND CENTS."
CHAPTER V
I cannot begin to tell you—you
dear, happy little children—what a
place New York is to those that have
no home. It is a very grand place,
you think! When you walk down
.Broadway, there is the shop where
mother buys your shoes, and another
where she buys your dresses; here she
goes in to choose you a new bonnet,
and there to get some cakes for tea.
What beautiful carriages roll along
.the pavement ; in this , one, rides your
grandmother, in that, your uncle's
wife. And when you have walked
long enough, and are tired, there is a
sweet home all ready for you, with
-warm fires, and a good dinner, and lit
tle brothers and sisters as happy as
yourself. But Oh, what a weary, des
ert, waste place New York is to those
that have no home. Noah's dove,
when the waters of the Flood covered
the whole earth, and she could find no
rest for the sole of her foot, was yet
~ w ell.off, for she could return to the
,Ark ;, but for these poor wanderers
there , is no earthly shelter, and of the
-heavenly they have scarce heard.
~,Be very gentle to all the poor children
you see in the street, be very patient
even when they stop you on the slip:
pery crossing or sprinkle your white
stockings with their muddy brooms;
you do not know how many of them
have no home, nor friends, or worse
than none.
_
Slowly John walked through the
:busy 'streets, so full, so empty'! won:
4ering in his sad little heart what he
Was to do. And how he - lived for
some time, I can hardly tell you. The
nights were warm, so that it was no
great hardship to sleep, all curled up,
in a cart; or to rest his head against
some friendly door-post ; or to dream
of the dear old .stdrks on the stone
steps of some great house; and as for
eating, he managed as he could. Now
and then, perhaps, some pitiful baker
gave hint, that was . too" dry fora
customers; 'or - a - cartman - paid - him a
cent for watching his horse ; or he
earned. sixpence by sweeping the gro
cer's steps and sidewalk. Sometimes
he could get food in this way, but of
ten he was very hungry, and nobody
would hire a boy with such a sad face
who could speak no English.
One day, very weary, very hungry,
his little feet sore with roaming over
the hot pavements, his young heaxt
as weary of the-world, I suppose, as a
child's can be; John sat doWn on a
doorstep to rest and' .- think. Now and
then the tears flowed down at the
thought of his dear father and mother,
and then, as he remembered whither
they had gone, and that the Lord
had promised to bring him to, heaven
too, John's , heart grew peaceful and
full of brave resolves. "God liveth
evert" and what could not a small boy
do with his help? Besides, John
would soon be a man, of course, and
very likely_ his thoughts shaped them
selves somewhat as Jacob's did, long
ago: "If God will be with me, and'will
keep me in this way that I go, and
will give me bread to eat, and raiment
to wear, then shall the Lord be my
God." John sat still on the doorstep,
feeling both very strong and very
weak.
'Down the broad street came a gen
tleman, walking with the firm, quick
tread of one who has businesp on hand.
His dress was neat, his face' pleasant
and kindly, his eye quick and keen.
He took notice of John from a dis
tance—for anything like a boy always
caught his eye—and then scanned
him well as he came : near, saw the
clear intelligent expression of the
child's face, and took good note or
his thin, thin hands and face, and of
the Sint of homelels way in which he
sat there on- the -steps. This gentle
roan*4a:Plre lekiC6i4dPsriealt to many
of these pobr foreigners in their native
tongue,= and he stopped and spoke to
John.
"Well, my boy," he said; " what is
your name?" and John told it
"You come froM the old German
Fatherland," said the gentleman ; " haVe
you been long here?"
"Not very, sir. It seems a good
while."
"And where do you live?"
"Nowhere!" the gentlenaan repeat
~
ed, "that is a very empty house.
Why where are your friends? You
did not come to this country alone ?'-'
"No, sir," said• John, " 0 no, I Wasint
alone then. They dame with me."
But the boy's voice choked and fal
tered, and. he stopped short.
"Tell me all about it," said the gen
tleman kindly. And so encouraged,
John poured forth the story of his sor
rows. - How they had left the dear old
storks, and the lime-tree, and the old
farmhouse; and how soon, soon after
they got to New York; his father and
mother had left him for a far better,
country ; and how he had tried to live
along honestly since then, and what
hard work it was.
And so you are all alone in the
world?" ,said:the gentleman: •
" Yes, sir." -
" Well are you not afraid—such a
small boy as you ?"'said the gentle
man, wonderingly; for the child had
spoken with a steady; quiet voice,
sad though it was.
With a sweet, simple, trustful face,
John looked up.
"Nein, Mein Herr meine Vater and meine Mutter thud! gestorben, aber
Gott lebt noch."
[Autumn Leaves
"No, sir ; my father and my mother
are dead, but God lives still."
The gentleman listened, remember
ing with new assurance that God
has chosen the poor of this world rich
in faith."
"John," he said, "would you like
to leave this noisy city, and go away
off to the West, to live on farm;
among the fields and hills ?"
"Are there any storks there ?" said
John. ,
"No, there ate no storks there, but
there are a great many other birds,
and we would try to find you a home
with some kind family, if you Would
like to go."
."I should like it very much, sir,"
said John.
"Come with me then," said hii
friend, and they went down . the street
together.
A blind girl came, to her pastor, and
gave Edna twenty-se,ven francs ($5.40)
for missions. Astonished at the large
sum, the minister said, ".you are a poor
blind. girl ; it is impossible that you
can spare so much for the missions."
"True," said. she, "I am blind, but
not so poor as, you, perhaps, think ;
and I can prove that I can spare this,
money sooner than those that see."
The minister wanted to hear it proved.
" I am a basket-maker," answered the
girl, " and as I am blind, I make my
baskets just as, easy in .the dark as
with a light. Other girls have, dur:
ing last winter, spent more than twenty
seven francs for light.. I: had no such
expense, and can, therefore, bring this
money for the poor heathen and the
missionaries."—From the German.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1865.
“Nowhere sir.”
" SOWING LIGHT."
" THE KING OF TERRORS."
A SCENE IN A REBEL PRISON.
We hear much of the fearlessness of
the soldiers amid the harvest death.
.Whatever maybe the heroism of daring
deeds, or the excitement of battle, we
know- little of -theheart's experiences
in moments of reflection behind the
tumult of combat, or in the clear ap
prehension - of soon meeting God. The
following glimpse -of a scene in the
prison at Atlanta, Ga., when the rail
road raiders under General • Mitchell
were confined there, is an impressive
illustration. •
Young Pittmger, who was art in
mate, narrates that one day their mirth
was ; suddenly interrupted by the en
trance of officers. The explanation of
the surprise was repeated with white
lips.
" Nye are to be executed immediately,'
was the awful announcement whispered
with thrilling distinctness. The doomed
men came in all tied, ready for the
scaffold. Then came the farewells—
farewells with-no hope,of meeting again
in this world. It was a moment that
seemed an age of measureless sorrow.
Our comrades were brave; they were
soldiers, and had often looked death
in the face on the battle-field. They
were ready, if need be, to die for their
country; but to did on the scaffold---
to die as murderers die—seemed almost
too hard for human nature to bear.
Then too the prospect of-a future world,
into which they were, thus to be hur
ried without a moment's preparation,
was black and appalling. Most of
them had 'been careless„ and, had no
hope beyond the grave. Wilson was
a professed infidel, and many a time
had, he argued the truth- of the Chris
tian religion with me for half a day at
a single discussion; but in this awful
hour he said to me, chttinger, I be
lieve you are right now. Oh, try to
be better prepared when
, you come to
die than I am.' Then laymg his hand
on my, head, with a muttered 'God
bless you,' we, parted. Shadrack was
profane and reckless, but good-hearted
and merry , Now turning to, us with
a voice, the forced calmness of which
was more affecting th,an a wail of agony,
he said, 'Boys, am not prepared to
meet
• Jesus. , When, asked by some of
us; in tears, to think' of heaven, he
answered,' still in tones of thrilling
calmness, try, I'll, try ; .but I know
I am not prepared.' !'
Such was the contrast between the
blind' enthusiasm of; heroic adventure
-in the contest on the plain of :carnage,
and the honest testimony of conscience
when \ •
"Death's d'ecisive hour is near,"
with no false lights to divert - the Spirit's
eye from what lies beyond his finished
-work.
Oh, what ,revelatiOs are before us
of man's moral history, when none bnt
God was witness of his conflicts and
his fears.—Am. Messenger.
WINTER SHOES.
Like the gnarled oak which has
withstood the storms and thp.nderholts
of centuries, man. 'himself begins to die
at the, extremities. „Keep the feet dry
and warm, and We May snap our'fin
gers in joyous triumph at disease and.,
the doctors. Put on two pairs of thiek
woollen stockings, but
; keep this - to
;yourself; go to some honest sonof
Crispin, and hive your measure taken
for a stout pair of winter boots.4n. shoe:s ;-
shoes are better for ; Ordinary,ev4ry
day use, as they allow the ready escape
of the odors, while they strengthen
the ankles, accustoming them' to :de
pen.d. on themselves. 4 very slight
accident is sufficient , to cause a sprained.
ankle to a habitual bootwearer. Be-
Sides, a shoe compressesless, and hence
admits of a more vigorous circulation
of blood. But wear boots when. you
ride'or travel. Give direction also to
have no cork or India rubber about
the shoes, but to place between the
layers of the soles, from out to out, a
piece of stout hemp or tow-linen, which
has been dipped in melted pitch. This
is absolutely impervious to water—
does not absorb a particle, while we
know that cork does, and after a while
becomes "soggy" and damp for a
week. When you put them on for
the first time, they will feel as " easy
as an old shoe," and you may stand
on dainp places for hours withira
u
pnitSF. :
.A: writer . says:—"l have had three
pairs of boots for the last six years,
and I think I will not vrequire any
more for the next six years to coMe.
The reason is that I treat them in- the
following manner:—"l put a pound
each' of tallow and resin in a -pot on
the fire; when melted and mixed, I
apply it hot with a painter's brush
until neither the sole nor upper will
soak any more. If it is desired that
the boots should , immediately take
a polish, dissolve an ounce of 'wax in
a teaspoonful of turpentine and lamp
black. A day or two after the 'boots
have been treated with the resin and
tallow, rub 'over them this wax and
'turpentine, but not before the fire.
Thus the exterior will have a eoat of
wax" alone, and. ; shine like a mirror.
Tallow and grease become rancid, and
rot the stitching or leather; but the
resin gives it an antiseptic quality,'
which preserves the whole. ''Boots or
shoes should be so large as to admit
the wearing of cork soles." 'Cork is so
bad a conduCtor of heat that 'without
it in the boots the feet are always warm
on the coldest stone floor." The least
cumbrous protection against damp
feet from walking'or standing on damp
places, is the attachment of a piece of
India . rubber, abdut a. qUarter of an
inch thick, to the sole of the shoe for
ward the heel.
Corns are caused by too tight or too
loose shoes, - and'sometimes in the bOf- -
toms of the feet by the wooden pegs
protruding through.
_the soles of the
shoe, by the neglect of the maker to
rasp them off sufficiently smooth.
Medical
_books record cases where
the injudicious paring of corns has re
sulted in mortification and death.- The
safest, ;the best, the surest plan is to
never allow a corn to be touched with
anything harder than the finger-nail.
Ais soon as , it becomes troublesome
enough to attract attention, soak the
foot fifteen minutes, night and morn
ing, in quite warm water; then rub
two or three drops of sweet oil into
the top of the corn, with the end of the
finger. Do this patiently for a couple
of minutes. Then double a piece of
soft buckskin, something larger than.,
a dime, rather oblong. Cut a hole
through it large enough to receive the
corn, and thus_ attach it to the, toe.
This prevents , pressure on the corn,
which always aggravates it, and in less
than a week the corn will generally
fall out,, or can be easily picked out
with the finger-nail, and will not re
turn for'many weeks or months; and
when. it d.oes return, repeat the, pro
ce,ss.s.i No safer or Amore efficient plan
of removal has ever been made known.
I-removed. a corn permanently, by
wearing in contact with it, day and
night, a piece of India rubber, about
an eighth' of an inch thick, kept in
place with :;a string.
All part from an old shoe with spe
cial reluctance, because of the easiness
of its adaptation to the foot. To put
on a "bran,new" boot or shoe, with
the easy' fitting of the discarded old
one, is well worth knowing how to do.
It is only necessary to keep a secret.
Before yob. have your, measure taken,
put' on two pair of thick stockings, and
let Crispin ,go ahead. The new pair
will be Almost as easy as the old.--
qf Health.
GOOD AND BAD APPLES,
One day Robert's - father saw him
playing with some toys who were rude
and unmannerly. He had observed
for some time a change for the worse
in his son, and now he knew the cause.
He was very sorry, but he saidnothing
to Robert at the time.
In the evening he brought from the
garden six: - beautiful rosy-cheeked ap
ples, put them on a plate, and pre
sented them to Robert. He was much
pleased at his father's kindness, and
thanked him. " You must lay them
aside for a few days,. that they may
become•mellow," said the father. And
Y ilobeß cheerfully placed the plate with
the apples in his mother's store-room.
Just as he was putting them aside, his
father laid on the plate a se,venth ap
ple, which was quite rotten, an.d desired
him' to allow it to remain there.
"But, father," said Robert, "the
rotten apple willspoil all the others):
"Do , you think so? ; Why ; should.
not; .the fresh apples rather make the
rottenone fresh ?",.:said his father. And
.with these worAs =he -Ant the door of
the . ,
Eight 4 days afterward:he ask - ed. his
son' to open the dc,pox_and..- take,
_opkthe
appleS But, what a -sight presented
itself! The :six - apples, which had;
been , se, Sound , and . nosy.-oheeked, were
now, quite rotten', and spread a bad
•smell through, the TOO=
"0h; 'papal" 'cried he, "did I. not
tell you: that the rotten apple would;
spoil.,the-good ones? yet you -did not
listento me."
‘.‘lkly•boy," said-.the father, "have I
not' tolclyou often that the company
of bad :children. .will • make you bad,
yet you do• not listen- tome. See in
the condition. of the apples that which:
will happen to you if you ,keep com
pany with wicked boys.'
Robert did not forget the lesson.
When any of his former playfellovia
asked him to join in their sports; he
thought of the rotten apples, and kept
himself' apart from them
A TRUE HERO.
The Berlin journals relate the follow.
ing incident, which has just taken place
in Prussia :—" A pointsman., was at
the junction of two lines of railway,
his lever in. hand, for a train was sig
nailed. The. engine was within a few
seconds of reaching the, embankment,
when the man, on turning, his head,-
perceived his'little boy playing, on the
rails of the line the train was to pass
over.: 'Lie down!' he shouted out to
the child, but, as to himself he remained
at his post. The train passed' along on
its way, and the lives of a hundred
passengers were perhaps saved. But
the pear child I The father rushed
forward expecting to take up only a
corpse, but what was his joy on. find
ingihat the boy had at once obeyed
his order—he ;had lain down, and the
whole train, had passed over him with
out injury. The next, day the king
sent for the man, and attached to his
breast the medal for civil wimp,"
DOUGLAS JERROLD- once said, "The
ugliest of trades liave their moments
of pleasure. Now, if I were a grave
digger, or even a hangman, there are
some people I could work for with a
great deal of enjoyment."
GO TELL. JESUS.
Bury thy sorrow, •
The world has its share, -
Bury it deeply,
Hide it with care.
Think of it calmly
When curtained by night,
Tell it to Jesus,
- And all will be right.
Tell it to Jesus,
He knoweth thy grief ;
Tell it to Jesus,
He'll send thee relief.
Gather the sunlight
Aglow on thy way,
Gather the moonbeams,
Each soft silver ray.
Hearts grown aweary
With heavier woe,
Droop 'mid the darkness,
Go comfort them, go 1
Bury thy sorrow,
Let others be blest,
Give them the sunshine,
Tell Jesus the rest.
"LOOK ALOFT."
In the tempest of life, when the Wave and the
gate
Are around and above, if thy footing should
fail, • ' •
If thine eye should grow dim and thy caution
depart,
"Look aloft!" and be firm and be fearless of
heart.
ROW TO' SOLVE THE PROBLEM.
I heard it as- I sat on the deck of
one of our Hudson RiVer steamers.
It was the old story. A: man who had
toiled long and incessantly for wealth
had gained his reward.' It was the
old. story , too , about its failure to give
satisfaction. Many call this cant.
They shake their heads wisely when
told that rich men are .unhappy; they
ask only the opportunity to try it.
This man had done so once, and the
boon was granted. He had reached
and exceeded the sum he had. pre
scribed for himself. He had retired
from business. He had carefully in
vested his hundreds of thousands, and
now he had nothing to do but seek
enjoyment. For nearly a year he had
been deliberating and, planning, but
he could not decide what course to
pursue. 4nd - thus he detailed the case
to ,a minister of his acquaintance with
whom he ,had fallen into conversation:
"I have been thinking," said he, "of
going into that house of Mine in West
Thirty-fourth street. It was built by
G—, before his failure, for his own
residence, and would probably suit me
as well as any I could - find; but there
are several improvements I wish to
make, if I occupy it. And then, after
all, it is so burdensome to keep up a
style suitable for such a residence in
the city. Ido not know but I would
like it better up here on the Hudson.
If I could purchase one of,those hatd
some locations that we passed, near
T---, I think I could enjoy laying
out the grounds and riding about the
country for a while. But lam afraid
that just when I became comfortably
-settled and the novelty had passed
away,, I should find that I was too far
from the city. Then, again, it has oc-
curred to me that I might enjoy a year
in Paris first. And. among them all, I
really do, not know what to do."
"You are not so happy as 'When you
were making your money," remarked
the minister.
"No.; then I had a definite object in
view, and I. knew how to accomplish
it
In, the morning-I was intent_upon
'Some scherae or other, and at night- I
rejoiced in the success of my. projects?:
"..Even then, however, you only re
joiced
„in view of a supposed future
go.cd, the fortune to be secured."
bu:t • you do not tell me what
you think of
,iny i plans."
„." Well, then, ,since you ask me, I
must,s,ay that .I do not think that either
-of. them would make you happy."
- "No l" - exclaimed the rich man, in
blank. amazement. "What then?
What-woutd you propose?" ,
"Would you use a razor for paring
apples., or la pa.rlor-duster for sweeping
the streets 2".
"Certainly not. Those things were
not, made for such purposes.r
"Neither, was, man made for ends
such as youlave been. proposing., ge,
was made to glorify_God and„to i enjoy
-Him forever, and no,aim-les-than - that
can meet LL the wants of . his inamorto.l.
mature.. Now, if , you really wish ; to,
know how to satisfy. every want,,of
your being, set.yourself,with a I.o,lling
heart .to study how..you can devote
yourself, and your time, and your
money to the service of your Maker."
When I heard this, I considered that
the rich man ought to be very thankful
to have his hard problem solved, but
his muttered reply was indistinct to
my ear, and I thought that he went
away sorrowful.—Exchange.
OUR HAIR,
During the cold season the hair
cut too, short; the ears are exposed. ,
The cold winds not only produce, buz-
zing androaring in, them, but often
injure the, hearing. While the w9A
ther is cold,: the ears .should. bg
„coy
ered.., The natural, protection and the
best one is the
But the common. nakedness of. the
back of the neck is is till more mis
chievous. Leaving that•vital part ex-,
posed, to the extreme changes .‘.of = on" .
climate, produces . innumerable 'weak
eyes and irritable throats: :Women
are most fortunatarin the preient style.
_Thatonet - which hangs the hair. upon
the back of the. neck is.not only artis
tic, but physiological. - During cold
weather men should allow their hair
to - meet the coat-collar.—Dio Lewis,
RP.
"ONLY A LITTLE TIPSY;'
"Oh, mamma," said a bright boy of
n i ne y e ars, "did you hear the fire bells
ring this morning?"
"Yes, my dear."
"The city hall was burnt down,"
added the boy, "and a man who had
been put in the lock-up for disorderly
conduct was burnt to death."
"Was he, indeed?"
"Yes, mamma; and heffic-ns - 'a real
nice, kind man. He got in a scuffle
last night with some rowdies, and to
keep the peace till morning they put
him in the lock-up. People are so
sorry he is burnt."
"Yes, my boy, we have all reason
to be sorry. For- a man to - be burnt
to death is a very shocking thing. But
how came the poor man to be in that
scuffle? You say he was a nice, kind
man. That seems strange."
" W hy, mamma, he was only a little
tipsy."
"Only a little tipsy? That explains
" Yes, he was tipsy. Aqdttoy t4ink
that in lighting his pipe towards morn
ing, a spark fell on something.,-that
kindled very quick, and so the build
ing was burnt, and the poor man"in
He shrieked dreadfully to be let out t.
but they could not get him out till -it
was too late."
"Remember that, my boy. When
you grow bigger, and the boys want,
you to drink anything like rum,pi
wine, don't listen to them for a mo
ment. They may say, A little won
hurt you.' Remember that all the
drunkards in the world began by talrn
a little at first. The poor man who
was burnt to death this morning had
no idea of being a drunkard. Butbad
habits beeome stronger and stronger;
and they make slaves of us before we
know it. Always remember the man
who lost his life because he was 'Only
a littl i e7fips:Y?
"One word more, my boy ; remem
ber too, that no 'drunkard shall inherit
the kingdom of heaven.' "—Americatk
Messenger.
REACH: GUY FOR HEAVEN,
You long for the bread of God to.
come down from heaven: and give
you life such 'as the angeli enjoy, do.
you? You long for a warmer, ten.L
derer, more of the neighborly love,-do
you? You yearn for it, and pray for
it? Then go out yourself, and try to
live for others. Try to do something
to dissipate the darkness, to lessen the
burdens, to alleviate the sorrows, to
Multiply the joys, to smooth the rug
ged pathway of some neighbor.
Try to extract some rankling thorn,
or to pour a little oil and wine into
some bruised and wounded soul._
Seek out some friendless and needy
object, on whom to bestow your sym
pathy, your generosity, your offices
of kindness. And you need not go
far; such objects exist in scores all
around you—objects needing sympa
thy and comfort, if not material aid.
Do this; and see how your cold and
hard-hearted selfishness will begin to
diminish, and your neighborly love
increase! See how the windows of
heaven will be opened within you, and
your before waste and barren soul- be
gin to be flooded with the gracioy&
outpourings of love froM on high?.' It
is the outgoings of our own thought&
and feeling's With intent to bless 'that
'cause the plentiful ineorniiio of the •Di
vine love and mercy, ,agreeably to the
Divine declaration, "Giie . , and . . it shall
be giyen unto you."=.Rellgaous Maga
zine.
ACCESS. TO. GOD.
Vier
ly i
_r, aTn the morning you
seek tli4itteof access, you find it al
ready open; and hawever deep the
moment'midnight when you find your-
Self in the sudden arms of death, the
winged prayer can bring an instant
Saviour' near; and this wherever you
,ako lr 'lf needs not that you should
,e;i4erna
` Soe' awful shrine, or put off
v , • ,
5 94r, shoes on some holy ground.
, gduld a memento be reared on every
spot from which an acceptable prayer
passed away, and on which a prompt
answer has comedown we should find
Jehovah Shammala, "The Lord hath
been here," inscribed on many , a cot
tage, hearth and many a-dungeon floor._
We should find it not only in 'Jerusa
lem's proud teinplc, David's cedar gal
leries, but in the cottage
by the brink 'of Genesareth, and in
the upper chamber where Pentecost
began.
And whether"it be the field where
Isaac went to meditate; or the rocky
knoll where'''Jacob lay down to sleep,
or the brook where_ Israel wrestled, - or
the den where Daniel- gazed on the
hungry lions and the hungry lions
gazed :;on' him, or the hillsides where
the ,Man of sorrows prayed all night,
we should still discern the print of the
ladder's feet let down from heaven, the
landing place of mercies, because: - the
starting point of prayer.—Hamilton.
END . OV ire ScIuTRAEL. A
little
girl: who had, learned that.human
,beings *have souls but that animals
'have not, recently lost her pet squirrel.
She mourned his death bitterly, and
when her mother suggested that she
ougheribt to grieve so much at the loss
of an animal, she said, pathetically
"I shouldn't care, mother, if Bunny
went; ,any where—he just died, and
didn't go any where,"