at family eittrif. A SUNSET AT PORT ROYAL There called a distant whippoorwill, Else wood, and bank, and field were still No sea-breeze sighed among the pines, Or moved the overhanging vines. No rustle from the myrtle stem; The tide lapped in an even hem, And silent swung the banks between, Through shaded, leafy vistas seen. And over all the twilight grew ; The faint earth drank the gathering dew; And yet the western heavens were bright, And clouds were glorified with light. A rosy bloom crept through their folds, A long, slant splendor upward rolled, And midway met the tender moon With face half turned, as though too soon She'd climbed through vapory amethyst To meet on slender ropes of mist Those shining feet, which came to bring The kisses of her lord, the King. The dusky laborer homeward turned; Afar the flickering camp-fire burned; And tent lights glimmered through the. gloom Like stars paled by the harvest-moon. And gathering round their cabin fires ! Worn mothers met with grey-haired sires, And in a quaint, sad, thrilling key; They sung, "0 Lord, remember me."* And the drum beat out an answering hymn— (Surely the Lord's remembering them;) And out upon the busy street, Were heard the pat of little.feet. And children's voices bold, and free, Clomb up : "My . , Country:tis of thee." The sentry beat in answering time The future of this sea-girt clime i And we gazed up, through damp and gloom Which had crept out from swamp so soon, On paths which seraphs might have trod In guiding souls up through to God. * A favorite negro melody [wNrrtsx FOR 01JR COLUMNS.] THE YOUNG BAVARIAN. BY MISS S. WARNER, AUTHOR OF "DOL LARS AND CENTS." CHAPTER VII (CONCLUDED.) A great many of the boys at the Lodging-house have, as I told you, their regular street business. They are lit- tie street merchants, very inaustrious sometimes, often laying, up money; and laving never known anything better than New York, are in no, haste to quit it. But there are many others who do not like this way of life, or who do not succeed in it, or who have a.chila's longing for a. real .hOme, or a- boy's desire to see the world, and from tim.e to time whole troops of such children are sent to, the West.. Some kind gentleman goes with them. to take , charge ; and at one town and another on the way, some of the boys are left to be received, or adopted, into the families of the towns' people or,the ,neighboring farmers, and so on until the whole troop is disposed of. •Generallly, the boys turn out very well.;:generally, it - is 'said, they find, a kind home, And it is touching to see how some of these wild young ones who have spent their lives, so far, on ' a muddy street crossing, or in the worst city haunts, enjoy and love the sweet country things which they now see for the first time. I have read. a good many of the letters which they write to the kind teachers at the Lodg ing -house, or to the agents of the Chil drenl& Aid Society. - "I can plough and. harrow, and ride on- horseback," writes one from EH nois. ",I have one cow to milk, she is a very gentle cow. I have six. pigs to.take care of. We have four horses, and one OH, six pigs, two wagons, one buggy, a - fine lot of hens, one, big dog, and two cats. Oh, Illinois is a pretty place !" Even the cats look different there, I suppose. " I would not go back to New York for any money," writes another. " The fields and groves are so pleasant." "I think there is as much fun as in New York," writes a third, from In diana, "for all (he apples anc nuts are free." I must give you another bit of .this last letter, for the young writer was so full of the new pleasure of being "re spectable," that he poured it out for the ,lmnefit of his old friends at home, ."All the newsboys of New York," he says, "have a bad name; but we should, show ourselves,and show them - that we are no fools, that we can become as respectable as any of •their countrymen, for some of you poor boys can do something for your country—for. Franklin, Webster, Clay, were poor boys once, and even Com-, modore V. C. Perry, or Matth. C. Perry. But even George Law and Vanderbilt, and Astor, some of the richest men in New York—and Matth,. and - V. C. Perry, were nothing but printers, and in the navy on Lake ':Erie. And look at Winfield Scott. So now, boys, stand up and let them see you have got the real stuff in you. Come out here and make respectable and honorable men, so they can say, there,,that boy was once, a newsboy. " ow, boys, you all know I have tried everything. I have been a news boy, and when . that got slack .you know I .have smashed baggage. I have sold nuts ,I have peddled, I have worked on the rolling billows up the canal. I was a boot-black, and you know when I sold papers I was at the top of our profession. I had a good stand, of my own, but I found that ail would notd.o. I. could not get along, but I am now going ahead. 3 have a first rate home, ten dollars . a month, and my board ; and I tell you, fellows, that is a great deal more than I could scrape up my best times in New York. We are all on an equality, my boys, out here; so long as we keep ourselves respectable. To one of these Western homes went our young Bavarian. He had been respectable-evety-where,-. : but--ypu can guess how happy he was 'to see .the green fields Sgain, and to run in the woods and pick - flowers:- -Then-there were such fine things to do on the farm ; and I suppose that milking the 'caws; catchinytthe thorses, , and- work , ing in the garden, and turning hay, were just as pleasant to him as to these other boys of whom you have read. Ah, much pleasanter, for he knew the love of God far better shan many of them; and so had joy from heaven in his heart, as well as joy from. earth. By degrees, as John grew stronger, he learned to plough, and to reap, and to mow ; and they were kind Chris tian people with whom he lived, who taught him other things too, and gave him a chance to study. So five years passed away—then John Wrote this letter to his good friend in New York: " Mr. M--, Dear Sir :--- " Your letter of the 25th of October has been received by me in good health, and I am glad. to learn that you are all well. I should have answered it before, had it not been that I calcu lated to change my address, and did not know exactly where to. I had in view to attend some higher school this winter, and have chosen C---- for the place. -I came last Tuesday to at tend college, and mean to. stay •for some twenty weeks, and would like very much to take a regular college course somewhere, but cannot, on ac count of means. I am studying Green's English Grammar, Robinson's Univer sity Algebra, and Ilistory of the United States, and -intend to attend a reading and singing class, if I can. I can choose my own place of worship, and. have chosen the Congrega tional church, of which Mr. R. is pas tor. I- have to , attend twice each Sab bath, and in the same place, according to the rules of College. "Where I shall be next simpler, and, what I shall do, I do not know. I would like to find some other business than farming, if I could; if not, I know I can that. " I like it here in:o very well, and what I have seen of this State, it is one of the handsomest places in. it— more properljP speaking, the neatest— for I have not seen any place equal to it in the West. "Yours, respectfully, " Joirn Well, children, that summer came— the. first summer of the war, and JOhn soon found out what he was to do, for he entered the army as a volunteer. Do you want to know Why ? This has been a good country to me," he wrote to his friend Mr. M— " and it is myduty to do something tb,defend its institutions; and I pray God ,if I fall in battle, :I 'shill not die like a coward,, but a.brave man." And now, as yet,` God has not taken him; he has been promoted, and is still .fighting for his adopted country. It. may be thai he will live to do good service in peaceful tinieS—it may be that froth. the. midst of the battle, God will call..him to his Fatherland on high. But living or dying, be well with hiin, for "he that putteth his trust in the Lord i shall be safe." For " God liveth ever." THE WORKING MAN'S REBUKE. He set his:empty kettle on the table, and threw himself on the homely lounge. He, was a laboring man, his face brown with exposure, his hands spread with toil. All day long he had been out in the, hot pin upon the top of the house, slating the, roof. Sometimes his head was giddy, and his back weak, but he strengthened himself with thoughts of home and. the treasures there. And now at sound of his feet,, at sound of his voice,, clim pies break over smooth red, cheeks, and loving fingers play with hiscurls. He shuts his, eyes to frame the picture in his heart—the picture of his wife getting supPer-*--the picture Of the quiet and comeliness of the room—the picture of his prattling baby. He feels the coming cool of evening, and al] these things comfort him, yet he is not quite grateful—not wholly happy; for,to-day while busy at his work, he saw another picture that made him envious ; rich Sam- Marlowe, riding out with his wife and child—a hand, some trio • Sam, portly, contented, and smiling, his, wife, with a dainty color,in her cheek and _rich -rich garments folded about her. Re and I were boys together,". thought the.poor man, ,bending to his work again, " and see how Providence has blesse.d him, though he began al most with nothing. Now _he keeps horses and a carriage, lives in a beau tiful house, has married a fortune, and with plenty of leisure can bring up his one boy, just as I have longed to do by my Tom. Iby marrying early and. poor, have brought burdens upon Mary's shoulders that must be hard to bear. Five little ones and I only,a day laborer yet I" and he sighed wearily. Ail day the heavy .heart never left him, and his fellow-laborers wondered what had come over, their usually merry friend ; now he ,had brought:hat shadow home with him— the phantom horse and rider, the envy and the care. THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, , THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 1865. Over the five graves of his ,little children, a treasure of gold was ,ready to be poured. Harry, listened with a stoney glance. What was wealth, to him now ?...Oh, for just one loving smile from the blue-eyed baby! Take the treasure, dear Lord ; I don't _want it now—rather give me a few feet of earth - beside my children.,_ Heap. up the gold and put my little Berty beside it, living;. only, for one, how to let, me feel his dear lips pressed to mine, and for that choice I would 'barter every dollar. Oh, for poverty, blessed poverty, with my children!" A strong hand came on his shoulder ; it seemed to hold him with a vice-like grasp. "I say Harry do you know you're fast asleep in the draft?" Bewildered, up into the thick bearded ,face of the speaker the day laborer_gazed. " Well, havn't you a word of wel come for your brother ? What do you see with those wild eyes of yours? Is the man crazy ?" For Harry had flung himself upon his knees, and with strong cries thanked God again and aga:in. Then he sprang up and wrung the hand of his sailor brother- 7 -ran past him, caught, his wife and kissed her, and gathering his babies about him, held them all to his strong, loving heart, while great tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘ Then, as his wife looked on wondering, frightened, he cried- in a choking voice— " I dreamed they were all dead,, Mary, all dead—and I thank, God that it was only a dreadful dream. N ever, ; never shall I be envious again.. dh, .Mary, to see them as they lay there I" —and again he covered their smiling lips with kisses, sobbing in his joy. And that was the way the repining " My Mary is a handsomer woman than his wife," he muttered, nursing his *misery, " and yet Ahe never knows rest. As for taking her out for a drive"—he ended the sentence• with a bitter laugh. Moments passed during , which -the -cloud grew thicker,-A -neigh bor passing by told of a strange dis ease 'that had lately appeared in -their -midst; - the doctor--called it dip theria, she said, and it was a terrible and fatal sickness. Then the door the - woice faded away but the something dreary did not pass from the man's heart. Suddenly there was a sound of alarm in the bright kitchen; " Harry, come here. ,, • He arose-slowly and passed through the door of the plain little parlor. His wife held their babe-in her arms ; the other children were gathered anx iously about her, looking on.. " What can' be the matter with him ?" cried. -Mary; he seemed well enough till mow. But his lips are blue, and suddenly he has teased to play; and hear how he dikws his breath!' Harry, he is very sick, , yon. 'mUst'go for the doctor "•;, Harry- started 'at once'; lifitle Her bert was his idol—a most t eautiful and attractive child, Winning! and lov ing—a very angel in the humble home. It was not long before the physician was in "their midst . ; his • first glaiace was startled, his second gra,ve. Her-. bert was very ill ; the terrible sick ness was upon him in its r4st fearful form. All-that night they Ministered to him. in agony, for they nilt that in such struggles the frail lit' flower would soon be broken from the stalk, though shielded by their ienderest care. And alas ! when thedmorning broke in unclouded brightkess, the sweet face of the babe was set< toward it, but it' saw no light; the litle spint had gone to its upper home, and left the house desolate. Then came the sad dlities ;,thelittle,' body to be &eased and' kissed,: and: lingered over for the last `time` darkened room-=the flower4brought by loving hands to Wreathe about the forehead, and place within the slender baby fingers ; and so they car ried and left him i in a lowlier bed than 'he had ever knOwn, Teturning to find another child ',in the power of the dread destroyer. ' How long a time elapsed no one knew in that hous6old, for the hours passed by unheeded : ;' but death came again and again, `and Harry and his wife stood in their lone home desolate. , The_ strong man was bowed tei the, earth with agony. - For a dr:de:his reason' was threatened. He accused,.God;.lo heaped, curses. on himself: _ " I was envious of another,."; he cried, " and see how God has sittsn me. Oh, ~give me back my c • dren 1.. Only give me back the blessing fmy hi eyes, , the jewels of my heart, and I'll toil like a slaVe—not only trough the burning hours of the day, Ihit into the blackness and chill of midnight 1 I would live on, a crust., I ask not even for comforts but givee my children, Lord, for," am i bereft l' Ffis wife in the midst of hei owt grief .tried, to comfort him ; bt he would not, listen to reason. IV saw only through the crowding l eartk, black with damps, and horriblyyialive with insect vitality, the .beautiful brows of his five little Children hid den away . from him forever And for eyer, , .., ~j While this ,Cruei * sorrow wa4-02111, fresh upon him, came a letter post; marked " England." His wife opened it, And learned that an uncle of whom they had heard nothing for years, had died within a few months, and ieft:_ker husband his heir husband and father was led to give up " envy and all uncharitableness." Truly sometimes the Spirit doth come to instruct us in• our , dreams.—Home Monthly. THOUGHTS OF HEAVEN. BY THOMAS HASTINGS. - Talk to me of things celestial, Far above the silent tomb ; I:irig'ring yet in bonds terrestrial, amTanting for my home.: Scenes eternal, Ever vernal, Tell me of the friends departed, Happy on yon blissful shore; Pure and perfect, loving hearted, They do meetto part no more. There our Jesus Will be with us, Whom,forever,we adore..,. Tell me of that Test , remaining, _Where:the saints with angels join— . Father', Son, and Spirit reigning, One. Jehovah-all divine: Glorious ever, Changing:never, Though all worlds should, cease to shine me-of the. anthems swelling • Round the throne of Majesty— Of that love, alllcrie excelling, Condescending.e'en to me: forgiving, Ever living, Self-determiued, full and free. Talk to me of things celestial, Jays - that never-will decay; Fix beyond these scenes terrestrial Soon we'all must pass away. Through death's portal, Life immortal. . Rises to, eternal day. "1, WANT JESUS" On her death-bed lay an aged Chris- Lim. She had been pining in le bor der land for some years, "only waiting," and one morning ; coming down stairs to her breakfast, she was suddenly .seized with paralysis, her limbs ceased to support her, and she was laid on her bed, to rise no more, She had -but little use of the organs of speech, and as she' descended lower and lower\, into the dark valley, her utterances becarrte fewer and more difficult day by day. Her mind also failed with her bodily powers, and it was very sad for her friends, who had been wont to to enjoy 'her sprightly conversation, to wat'ch the'slow and silent preparation .for that "sowing in weakness, corrup tion, and dishonor, to 'which all the glory of 'humanity must be brought down." For a while she _exerted her self to welcome her friends when they came to see her, but she was eventu ally obliged to desist. An acquaintance calling, when she was near the end of her .suffeirngi was told by her nurse, that she had alniost I entirely eeasedj easedspeakingLand would pioably never articulate much, if any more: The dying eyes - sh Owed recog nition, but`there was tio motion of the lips. Her friend sat by her and' talk ed of the joys of heaven and tender, loving syrnpathy'Of our Lord-for his weak and suffering `children, and for her asshe lay helpless; how tenderly his arms were around her, how 'pre cious she was in his sight. Presently there was emoving of the nauscles of her Mouth/ and an effort to Speak. With great exertion, evidently' sum moning all her energies, she finally Uttered the words, "I want JEsus,' - Speaking that blessed name with all the distinctness' and empha.sis in her. power—her`pallid features lighting up like - the's.sudd.eti 'blaze of an expiring lamp, in the expression of that last great want of the .A6lll. - Alt! how many' have "=wanted Je sus " when heart and flesh failed, when. 1-all,the, scenes and relation,s of earth -were fading and (*solving before their dying, eyes. They wanted, ELim„",that ,liveth,and. was dead, and is alive for!' ,evermore, and , has the, keys of hell and 4904”—wh0 "since the childiew were partakers, oifiesh and, blood;also himself likewise took part of the,ipame, that , through _death he might IdestrOY him who has the power of death, and deliver them mho through fear of death were all their life time subject, to bon dage." - , When the mighty soul of dro - nawell saw the dark vale opening before him, and felt his valiant ; arm must submit to be powerless in the grave, he called for the . Bible and requested that these words of Paul, in Phil. 4th, might, be read. to hini, "I have learned in ,whM sOever state I am, therewith, to : be con tent. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and , in an things, lam instructed both to be full, and to be hungry,, both :to, abound and to suffer :need. .I can -do all thingi through Christ ,which strengtheneth me." 'Repeating , the text himself, he said, "It's true Paul, you have learned this, and . attained to this measure of grace,; but what shall I, do ? A.h! poor creature, it is a hard lesson for me to take out. I find it so; "but reading on to the thirteenth verse, "I can do all things through Christ which strengthened me, " "then faith began to work," says Thurlow ; " and his heart, to find, support and comfort, and he said thus to himself, 'he that was 'Paul's Christ, was my Christ too;_ and so drew water out of the wells of salvation." These wells stood open long before Cromwell's day, and many thousands have drawn from them since.' The lofty and the lowly have felt the same thirst, and have found the same living water there. A cherished daughter faded slowly like a delicate rose, and all that skill and _all. that love could do were un availing to arrest the steady and sure decline. When the last quivermg,breath was passing awayi-anOhe• spirit taking its flight, ler miiiihqtrestrained the burst ing anguish Of het heart, kid kneeling by, the bedside-in ,a tOrte that can never be forgotten, uttered, "Lord Jesus, receive my darling." She leaned over_ the dark abyss, and placed her child in the strong arms of a loving Chri,st. All over the earth, the dying are " looking unto Jesus." On the battle-field, in the solitary prison, the..-lonely sufferer, away from home and kindred, leans in his last agony on the tender bosom of him that hatb loved us, and made himself an Offering and sacrifice to God for us." None but an Omnipresent being can meet this "want" of universal humanity. The arms of infinite love alone can unfold these suffering, sink ing souls of every age ,and every chine. An incarnate GA stooping to bear our sorrows And carry our griefs, is the "confidence of all the ends of the earth." Yet there are great men, philoso plaers-, philanthropists, reformers, spir itualists,. moving on an elevated. plane" and beckoning,,., us to their level, who tell us, that, the advancing intelligence of the world is outgrowing the necessity of 'faith in a drvine, atoning Saviour. - ''- Whom'will ye give tis in his place, oh ye wise men? We are rapidly approaching the fearful hour when we shall "want Jesus." ThingS of Yesterday, withering like grass under the mower's sc3rthe, we shall want an everlasting God to bear upon—one "who Bath life in himself," yet a "God : manifest in, the flesh;' who, when his human nature shrunk from the terrors of dissolution, yet bore them, that*he might take away the sting of death for us ; who can heal the wounds of sin in our souls by his own dying blood; who will not break the bruised reed nor quench the Smoking flax.; who' will lead us through no darker path than he has trod before, and who will eventually change our vile bodies, that they may be fashioned like to his glorious body according to the working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto him self." Such is Jesus our Saviour. Who wand what is.yours-?—Presbytery Re porter. BURIED IN THE SEA, It is soothing and softening to visit the quiet grave-yard where lie the ashes of those we love. There'qs; a melancholy pleasurein smoothing : the green toArti that hides the loved,and, cherished form, and in hanging wi` eatiks of irnmoltelles upon the memorial 'stone. We have seen gfaves, that from year to year, in Summer's. heat and winter's cold, bore the oft-renewed tribute of affection, in the forms of crosses, and clusters, and coronals Of living floWers. And this was no empty' `offering, like 'Many of those garlands and boquets that grace the ball-room or the banquet. , It bespoke a heart of-te - nder love, and holy memories, and cherished scenes of former sweet association. Perhaps,. too, it told of hope, as well 'as of - grief, of a land " Where everyflower borne safe through-death's ' p'orta'l;' Becomes immortal:" , • . , eastern lands7the women, robed in white, pass, one day of every week in, the,, cemeteries, among the ,turbaned f ro onuments planting flowers, and show n, deli Cate care for the dwellings 'of the detta,ited, WhiCh - naight well . rebttke the . tie;gldct.bf manf in Christian conn tries., . But - the , ,poor . sorrow-stricken mother, of the , drowned sailor cannot .even have tftis.little consolation. The 'Ong seaweed Was the shroud .that Wrapped her son, the wild NIS I and the.toSsing'surge 'd it beat the ragged rocks, was 'his' only requiem. In . the dark depths-of ocean The, must lie, -with no memorial but that ; whichshe bears in her.desolateheart, till the solemn Morning comes, when "the sea shall give up its dead." - Oh, 'what a - vast assembly will then be gathered-from the waters; and. how little will it matter -then, whether- the mortal form. : reposedrin the peaceful churchyard among kindred and friend's, or 1 'alone beneath the' uneasy angry waves ! iSriatural *and seriptural to wish to lie in some' sacred spot , beside those whom we have known and. loved ,on earth, and ,affection bids us bury our, dead .where we inay visit and beautify a, their graves; burthii is, after all, but slightmatter, not unworthy of long thought or unavailing regrets. The Christian wish should chiefly be, that. whether they lie, near us, where love may rear the memorial stone, and Visit often the; hallowed place, or far away aineng, strangers, or in the deep blue sea, they may " sleep in Jesus." " Those that sleep in Je sus shall. God bring with him." He shall bring them to a land, where there is no death, no grave, no sorrow - , and where "there shall be no more sea." " Asleep in Jesus ! blessed sleep I From which none ever wake to weep; A calm and;undisturbed repose, Unbroken by, the last of foes. "Asleep inlesus l ah, forme May such a blissful - reflige be : • Securely shall my ashes lie, And wait•the summons , from on high." Seamen's Friend: UNEVEN walking with a negleCt Of watch ing, makes a disconsolate soul. SACRED BY T, NIELD i; Salvation'through Faith in jes6. 4 - • 7 Sinners groaning neath your load, AskinerloV the way to God, Are ye anX:10113 t 9 be whole ? Faith in . aesui saves the soul. AU ithteons - hath - Came atfirst, by humble faith;_. - Nought beside could make him !whole— Faith in Jesmi-sav'd his sonl. • Nothing more can now be done, Since the Father gave His Son ; Yield, in faith, to His control— Faith in Jesns saveithe soul. Cease your-frantic cries, and tears:; Christ the friekul appearg, Trust in . Him and you are whole— Faith in JegiiVatiVekillie RED WING, . TURN HIM ,OUT. Rude words—were they not, ?—to be used toward a war-worn soldier. One who had served his country on many a toilsome march and on many a bloody field, deserved more generous treat ment--.-did he `not? But alas ! the brave fellow,who had never-surrendered to his rebelfoeman, had yielded to, an enemy equally dan gerous, if not indeed more to ~be dreaded. Thi&ranch I sa*in £1 glance, -as I saw the poor soldier ejected from a drinking-saloon, one of the many that infest our streets, and helad, in passing, the words at the head of this article: • What the poor man had said or done,' I cannot tell. Perhips he had behaYed in - very disorderly *.iY; if so, it only made the matter worse. But this did not keep me from pitying him, as ,he reeled a - way, perhaps to squander some more of his money - in some other vile resort. As I watched the blue-coated vol unteer staggering . along, I remembered that some father hopes, some mother's heart, were wrecked in that sad rain. Once full of promise, as little suspect ing the danger before him as any who read these lines, the future was all bright and cloudless for him, and for those whose love was.centered in him. Perhaps, a wife looks out from, the window other dreary dwelling, antici pating his return from his drunken orgies'; perhaps children listen timidly for his dreaded footsteps. Soldier! the rumseller is a deadlier foe to you than the rebel sharpshooter, who lurks and waits to aim his fatal weapon at your heart. He would rob you of your last dollar, rob you of your good name, rob you of your own self-respect, make' you—if possi ble-=--as--guilty and degraded a being as himself; and then, when he could get no More from you, , NT0. 1 3- 1 4 en with A* in ,shouting--" Turn Ifoyi, do you 'think there is enemy lying in ambush' beside your path, cruelly thirsting for 'your very life.?-So thought this poor soldier once,:and yet he was snared and taken. Be ever watchful. If your companions urge you to drink; . if they plead it will do you no harm ; if they point you to older persons; and even to some very good people, who occasion ally indulge in a glass- of wine, or of something stronger still;,—remember the soldier who was once so unc,on scious of danger, and deemed hunself as strong in his resolution never to be °Onto intoxicated, as you-can be. And now i ; so low has he fallen,, that the -.very authors of his ruin "turn him out —Presbyterian Banner. VERY. PROUD TO-NIGIIT. ' It was Cold night in winter. The wind blew, and the snow was whirled furiously, about, seeking to hide itself beneath °leaks and hoods, and in the very hair of those that were out. A distinguished lecturer Was to speak, and, - notwithstanding the storm, the villagers ventured forth to hear him. William Annesley, buttoned up to the chin, in his thick overcoat, accompanied his mother. It was difficult to walk through the , new-fallen snow, against the Piercing wind; and William said to his mother "Couldn't you walk more easily if youtook my arm ?" "Perhaps. I could," his mother re plied, as she put`her . arm thrOugh his, andare'w-ap as close'as possible to him. Together they breasted the storm, the mother and, the boy, who had , once been carried in her arms, but who had grown. up so tall that she could jean ohhis. - They had not walked far be fore he said to her': - " I am very proud to-night." "Proud that you can —take care of me ?" she said - .to hiacn, with; a heart gushing with tenderness. . - - " This. is the first tithe you have leaned upon rrie," said the happy boy. There will be few - hours in that child's life of more exalted pleasure than he -enjoyed that evening, even if he should Ilve to, old age, and should, in his manhood, lovingly provide for her who watched over hino in his help less infancy. It was a noble pride that rria.ile' , his mother love him, if possible, more than ever, and: made her pray for him with new earnestness, thankful for his, devoted love, and hopeful for his future. There is no more beautiful sightth'an affectionate,de voted, Obedient children. lam sure thatne who cora manded. children to honortheir father and mother,. m hist' look upon such with pleasure. May Il i ebless dear William , and every Other boy ,whose heart is fille,d' with ambition .tb be h blessing and " a staff" to his mother."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers