jr famitti tit& THE TWO VILLAGES. Over the river, on the hill Lieth a village white and still ; All around it the forest trees Shiver and whisper in the breeze; Over it sailing shadows go Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, And mountain grasses, low and sweet, Grow in the middle of every street. Over the river, under the hill, Another village lieth still ; There I see in the cloudy night Twinkling stars of household light, Fires that gleam from the smithy's door, Mists that curl on the river's shore ; And in the road no grasses grow, For the wheels that hasten to and fro. In that village on the hill, Never is sound of smithy or mill; The houses are thatched with grass and flowers, Never a clock to tell the hours; . The marble doors are always shut, You cannot enter in hall or hut ; All the village lie asleep; Never a grain to sow or reap ; Never in dreams to moan or sigh, Silent, and idle, and low they lie. In that village under the hill, When the night is starry and still, Many a weary soul in prayer, Looks to the other village there, And weeping and sighing, longs to go Up to that home from this below ; Longs to sleep by the forest wild, Whither have vanished wife and child, And heareth, praying, his answer fall, "Patience! that village shall hold you all!" WAKING UP THE DEMON. [The following is a chapter from a story—" Not Anything for Peace"— now running through Arthur's Home Magazine. We select it for insertion chiefly as an illustration of how nat urally and yet insidiously a mind, smarting under injuries received, may be fed with wicked and destructive suggestions.] The offer made by Wheeler to grind for nothing, kept his grist mill in full operation all the while, and left that of Ellis nearly idle. There were a few, of more just and manly character, who were not to be influenced in the mean and sordid *ay that distinguished the many, and these came to Ellis. But their number was too small to be of much good service. To some of these Ellis talked freely, giving his own side of the case, and exhibiting his wrongs. He denounced the law as made for the benefit of scoundrels; and darkly hinted his purpose of .tak ing the law into his own hands. Some advised prudence, while others led him on to talk as freely as he list, and encouraged a spirit of retaliation. " There'd be a fire in this neighbor hood," said one of these less considerate friends, "were I the owner of your mill. I don't say where ; but, I'm sure of one thing—it wouldn't be in my premises." And he looked mean ingly at Ellis. This man's name was Porterfield. " Where would it be?" inquired the miller, who very well understood what was in. his neighbor's mind. I. I don't say. But one thing is cer tain, no man should drive me to ruin. If the law failed to protect me, I'd protect myself. I had a neighbor once who was the owner of a trouble some steer. The animal had a trick of opening gates and taking down bars. There was 110 security against its depredations. One day my corn field suffered pretty badly. I sent the owner a bill of damages, and he re fused to pay it, giving me some impu dence. When Igo in, I'm bound not to come out second best. So I gave the bill to a magistrate, and told him to. sue. Well, as luck would have it, I lost the case through some defect of proof, and had costs to pay. I was angry, and no mistake. But, as I had gone in, I wasn't coming out so—not I. I swore revenge against the old steer; and that was bad for the steer. One day his owner found him with a broken leg, and had to shoot him. I think he understood the case ; but .I had taken care that no evidence should lie at my door." Ellis cast his eyes upon the ground, in a thoughtful way, and stood for some time without making any an swer. The neighbor eyed him closely, and with something of a sinister ex pression. " Good day," he said, as he jumped into his wagon. Ellis started, and a slight flush came into his face as he looked up at the farmer. " Don't be driven to the wall. Self preservation is the first lalx of nature," said the latter, as he took up the reins and gave them a jerk. "I know very well what I'd do, if I were in your place." " What ?" asked Ellis. The man glanced across the stream in a peculiar manner, not to be misun derstood, and then speaking to his horse, drove away. The next man who came to the mill found Ellis so deeply immersed in thought that his approach was un heeded. "Asleep I" said he, touching the miller with the end of his whip. Ellis started up, like one affrighted, his face crimsoning—his air confused. His appearance, for a moment or two, was that of a person trying hurriedly to conceal something. "Only day-dreaming," he answered, affecting an in.difference that caused the other to wonder at the contrast of calmness in the tone with a strange excitement of look and manner. "Rather a hard customer to deal with over there," remarked the man, as he sat waiting for his corn to be ground ; and he tossed his head in the direction of Wheeler's mill. " Rather," was coldly responded. "I never liked him," said the man, who was inclined to draw out the miller. Ellis slid not answer. His mind. was too much oppressed by many thoughts to be at all inclined, just then, to con versation. "Nobody likes him." The man was more emphatic. " Why, then, does nearly everybody go to his mill ?" asked Mr. Ellis. " Oh, as to that, if something can be had for nothing, nearly everybody is willing to accept the accommodation." " Which doesn't say much for nearly everbody's sense of justice and inde pendence." . "Of course not. But you can buy one half of the pewee around here for a dollar—their self-respect, I mean. As for Adam Wheeler, he can't grind for me at any price, while there's an other mill within a distance of ten This drew Ellis a little out of him self and he replied, with considerable warmth: " His mill wouldn't stand where it does for twenty-four hours, if justice were done." " That's a fact," replied the other. " understand the case thoroughly. A more shameless violation of an in dividual's rights has not occurred in this community. Why don't you come down on him with a strong hand and wrest by force the justice denied by law ? I would do it " It's easy enough to talk," said Ellis, fretfully. " Only a little easier than acting," answered the man. Ellis looked at his customer steadily for some time, trying to read hiS face; but he could make out nothing satis factory. " One thing is certain,"_went on the other, "I would never stand it to see that mill-wheel flaunting itself in the sunshine, day after day. It should stop, and at any cost." "How would you stop it?" "I'd find a way." "Show me the way." "Can't; you must find it out for yourself." And the man, who was standing in the door, looking across the creek, turned back into the mill, and sat down on a bag of meal, lightly humming a tune. " I've tried law, to my sorrow," said Ellis. "Law !" the man snapped his fingers in contempt. " Honest men usually come out second best in law." " What other safe recourse is left?" "One thing is very plain," was an swered, if you sit still, and let your enemy gain one or two more trifling advantages, it is all over with you," " I know that as well as you." "And you're going to sit still ?" "Me ?' Two red spots came out on the cheeks of Mr. Ellis; and there was a flashing light in his eyes. " So I understand you." " Don't." "Ah I Then you are not going to sit still ?" "Perhaps not—unless my hands and feet are tied." " That's talking like a man. When you have Justice on your side, fight to the bitter end." " What I intend doing." " Desperate diseases require desper ate remedieS: and this case is a des perate one." "That's so," replied Ellis,swith knit brows and a clinched hand, that was shaken menacingly towards his neigh bor's mill. f‘ There are reserved forces with every man, and he is a coward who fails to use them in extremity." "And elements quite as potent as law," said the tempter. " Exactly." "I thought it was in you. Now, do you know, that Wheeler and Wing think you: a coward. A man who will go down rather than fight in mortal desperation." " How do you know this?" de manded Ellis, in a fiery manner. The remark had stung him. • " Some things are _said and some things are heard. Men talk out as they think, when they feel safe in.re gard to listeners. Wheeler talks now and then, and so does Wing. heard them." "What do they say ?" "I dori't know what, they say now ; but I have heard them talking in my time." "About me ?" y es! , "And they intend driving me to the wall, I iuppose ?" " They do ; and not only driving you to the wall, but pinning you there. Now, you understand just what you have to expect from them, and must govern yourself f.ccordingly. It has come to be a case of life and death, friend Ellis; and you'll have to look it steadily in the face. They are bound to destroy you, root and branch. Strike first, and destroy them—that's my advice." "Strike first," said Ellis to himself, when alone. " Where shall I strike ? How shall I strike ?" He sat down in a dull, abstracted way; but did not long remain so. In a few minutes he rose up hurriedly, and as if by a forced effort gave him self to the work around him ; now ex amining the flour as it came from a pair of mill-stones to see if the grinding was right, and slightly altering the THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 1865. pressure ; now looking down into the cog-pit, and listening to the jar and rattle of the great iron wheels ; now passing to the upper floors, and exam ining the grain garner ; and now, guided by the creaking of a dry journal, giving to the heated machin ery a needed supply_ of oil.: In this way, Mr. Ellis occupied himself for more than half an hour. Then, lean ing from one of the upper windows, that looked across the creek, he fixed his eyes on Wheeler's mill. There had been a partial lifting of the clouds from his countenance while he moved about, and gave thought to the com mon duties that . lay around him; but now the shadows fell over it again. Nearer than the tempting neighbor had stood te him a little while before, stood a subtle enemy, whispering of revenge, assault, and destruction. Questioned the fiend, tauntingly "Are you going down. without a, last, fierce struggle ?" "No !" ejaculated the miller, clinch ing his hand. "By all that I hold dear and sacred, no ! I will not be swept down and leave him secure and triumphant. For the sake of peace and neighborly good-will I gave way in the beginning, when right admon ished me to stand firm. I putweapons into the hands of mine enemy-, and now he pursues me to utter destruc tion. Shall I not, being at bay, fight with mad desperation ? Shall I not destroy this enemy to save myself?" "If you are a man!" whispered the fiend. Then a vision passed, for an instant, before the eyes of Ellis. Suddenly flames broke out, and. leaping upwards and around the mill opposite, held it in a fiery pall. The miller caught his breath as the vision passed, and turned from the window with a pale, startled face. "It must come to that. There is no other way of safety. If he, stands, you fall. One of these mills must go down. Shall it be yours ?" "It shall not be mine 1" answered the miller to himself, sternly. STORIES FOR LITTLE CHILDREN THE MUSHROOMS.—The mother sent her little Catharine into the woods to gather inushrooms, of which the father was exceedingly fond. " Mo ther," cried the little girl, as she came back, "this time I have succeeded very well. Just see now," said. she, and she opened her little htsket, " they are all as red as scarlet, and look as if they were set with pearls. There were plenty of those grey, ugly-looking tbings, whitlryotr-lrawjurva but - I did not like the looks of them, and let them - alone." " Oh, you simple, foolish child!" cried the terrified mother. "These beautiful scarlet mushrooms set with pearls are nothing but poisonous toad stools, and whoever eats them must, the. But those grey things you despise are, notwithstanding their miserable appearance, greatly the beSt. And so, dearest child, it is in the world. There are many virtues that' make but little show, and brilliant vices that astonish the simple. Indeed, even sin itself seeks to lead us astray by its bewilder ing brilliancy. But the sins that promise us much pleasure are bat sweetened poisons that are not to be trusted.' " THE OAK TREE.—OnCe, in very ancient times, two young men, Ed mund and Oswald, appeared before the court of justice. Edmund thus addressed the judge More than four years ago, I went on a journey, and gave to Oswald, whom I then thought my best friend, a costly ring, set with gold-stone, to keep for me until my return ; but now he will not return it to me." Oswald laid his hand upon his breast and said " I assure you, upon my honor, that I know nothing at all about the ring. On that point, my friend Edmund must be out of his senses." " Edmund," said the judge, " is there any one who can bear witness that you gave him the ring ?" "Alas ! replied Edmund ; " there was nothing near us but an old oak tree in the field, beneath which we took leave of each other?' " I am ready to take my oath," said Oswald, "that I know as little of the tree as I do of the ring." "Edmund," said the judge, "do you go and bring me a twig of the tree that I may see it. But, Oswald, you are to wait here until he returns." Edmund went. After a little while the judge remarked : "I wonder why Edmund stays so long ? Oswald, open the window and see if he' be not com ing ?" " Oh, my Lord !" said Oswald, "he could not get back so soon as this ; the tree is at least over a mile from here." " You wicked, deceitful man I" ex claimed the judge, " your are ready to swear that you know as little of the tree as you do of the ring You know as much about the ring as you do about the tree !" So Oswald was obliged to restore the ring and to hang himself upon the tree. " Thus wickedness is always discovered; for all things are ordered by a just God." TrtE purified righteous man has become a coin of the Lord, and has the impress of his King stamped upon him. THE FIVE CLERKS, In one of our inland towns were, a few years since, five boys, apprentices in as many different stores. By - a simi larity of disposition, education, and age, they becume very intimate, and in a revival that occurred in that vil lage, all became Christians. They at once identified themselves as such before the world, and went out to labor in the vineyard of the Master. In Sabbath and mission schools they were faithful, zealous, earnest workers, their voices were heard in prayer and praise in the week]y church meetings ; the outcast, the sorrowing, the des pondent, were cheered with words of hope and courage; their respective pastors looked to them, even in their youthfulness, for active c,ooperation in every- good word and work, and did not look in vain. Although entirely dependent upon their own industry for support, and, in some instances, aiding dependent brothers and sisters, with the meagre salary of clerks under age, yet from a sense of duty, thy made a mutual pledge to each other to give one tenth of their income to the Lord. Nobly has that pledge been fulfilled, and God has testified in their expe rience that he will honor those who honor him. Without money or in fluential friends, each has attained an enviable position in business circles and in society. One is a highly-esteemed merchant in one of our cities, whose heart is ever devising liberal things, respond ing to every call made in behalf of the poor and needy. As he once remarked to the writer, " I can't help giving, there is so much pleasure in it." Another is an active, energetic, business man, in Cleveland, Ohio, but even more active in the church and Sabbath-school, disbursing freely of his own substance, and the trusted almoner of others' bounty. The third is the cashier of a bank in Wisconsin, of whom a well-known Western missionary writes thus: Noble soul that he is ! Your town has sent out none more noble. I think that for Christ, daily, his example tells as much as any that I know." The fourth is a partner in the bank ing-house of one of the most responsi ble firms in Wall street. Upon ,few men do such heavy business re,spoie sibilities rest. Honored, trusted, loved by his partners, and held . in respect and confidence by the Wall street fraternity, he has attained a position that few could reach after years of the most laborious effort. In churob_a*; • • •- - • ut • • . Ti- • is also a business man ofsrare probity, shrinking from no duty, though it lead through fire and flame, conscien tious to the last degree, and ever " diligent in business, serving the Lord." The enviable position these once poor and penniless boys now sustain, shows the truth of the eternal word, " There is that scattereth and yet in creasetft," and proves that godliness is profitable, even in this life. Their benefactions are not limited by their pledge, but in many cases, perhaps in each, exceed that amount. Great power far the church and for Christ lies in the hands of business, Christian men, and it is a very beauti ful sight to witness an.extended busi ness carried on in the fear of the Lord, making him—with reverence we speak it—a partner, and a partaker of the profits. We know . of firms that open, on their ledger, a regular account to the credit of Benevolence, and as con scientiously pay this debt as any other. Such men are an honor to the church and the world. "Go and do thou likewise."—CAgregatianalist. "I WONDER WHAT GOD WOULD LIKE ME TO DO ?" The boys were going nutting. Of course Harry Gray wanted to go. They were not going to rob anybody's trees ; they were going with the leave of the owner of a great grove of walnuts. But Harry hesitated. " Go," cried theboys. " What's to hinder ?" Harry knew. He had a sick mother at home, and he thought he ought to stay at home - and keep the younger children from trou bling her with their noise. The boys said it was girls' work to stay at home, and still cried, "Go !" With a half promise to meet them at the creek bridge, the place of rendezvous, Harry walked home. "I wonder what God would like me to do ?" said Harry to himself as he went slowly along. Al if a boy asks this question, he is not likely to decide selfishly. If he asks it sincerely, con science, that still small voice which God has put in, us, and the teaching of the Spirit, will help him to know God's will. " I wonder what God would like me to do ?" said Harry. Conscience imme diately said, "Stay at home, and com fort your sick mother. Do, what you can, , you can never repay her care and love. There was a struggle in Harry's bosom. Nutting was good fun, and he wanted to go over so much. As he thought of it, he was almost angry that there was anything in the way of his going. To some boys, a sick mother might not stand in the way;they would not have thought. But arry Gray, rough little fellow as he was, thought. His heart was tender. The Holy Spirit had taught him how sOr- rowful sin is, and had lifted his soul up to God. All the way home the struggle was going on—" go, or stay ?" When he reached the house, Bobby and sis met him, shouting, "You going nutting? Bring me home some!" "I'm not going," said Harry, "not this after noon, at least." His mother heard it in her beedroom. "Why are you not going with the boys, Harry?" she asked. "Because, dear mother," said he, "I had rather stay at home and take care of you. I want to keep the chil dren from worrying you. I have to be off a great deal, but nutting is not a have to." "Dear boy," said Mrs. Gray, draw ing hi.m down fora kiss, "my comfort and joy." Not all the nuts in the world could' make him so happy as that kiss did; and happy himself, he did much for his mother, and made the children very happy too. WITH ME' IN PARADISE. "To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." What a day to that dying man 1 How strange the contrast between its open ing and its close—its morning and its night ! Its morning saw him a cul prit condemned before the bar of earthly judgment; before evening shadowed the hill of Zion, he stood accepted at the bar of heaven! The morning saw him led out, through an earthly city's gates, in company with one who was hooted at by the crowd that gathered round him ; before night fell upon Jerusalem, the gates of another city, even the heavenly, were lifted up, and he went up through them in company with one around whom all the hosts of heaven were bowing down, as he passed on to take his place beside the Father on his everlasting throne. Humblest believer in the Saviour, a like marvellous contrast is in store for you. This hour it may be, weak and burdened, tossed on the bed of agony, in' that dark chamber of stifled sobs and dropping tears; the next hour, up and away in the Paradise of God, mingling with the just made perfect, renewing death-broken friendship, gaz ing on the unveiled glories of • the Lamb. Be thou then but faithful unto death—struggle on for a few more of these numbered days, or months, or years, and of that day or your depar ture hence, in his name I have to say it to you, " Verily thou shalt be with me in- Paradise."—Rev. Dr. Hanna. ittis ftdo. FAMILIAR TALKS WITH THE GMT,- DREN. • NO. I. BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON RAJA:3IOND "I'VE DONE IT, I'VE DONE IT." A few miles from Newark, New Jersey, in a church were many little ones were seeking Jesus—some of them weeping bitterly to think they had never loved Him—was a .little girl, with tears in her eyes, asking what she must do to be saved. While min isters and Sabbath-school teachers were moving about the church and speaking with these anxious little ones, I. came across this dear child, about twelve years of age, and tried to soothe her by telling her what Jesus had done for her—how He died on the cross for her—that He suffered there for her sins. And I told her that all she had to do now was to come to Him, and give herself right up to Him. I told her that if she would confess her sins and believe in Him, He would at once give her a new heart, and make her a happy little Christian. - Her only answer was, " I can't, I can't •it's so hard." Her little heart seemed very stub born. I talked to Iftr a long time, but it seemed to do no good. It made me _feel sad, for I knew how willing Jesus was to take her and make her His happy little child. But something kept her back, and she went home with a sorrowful heart. The next day she pressed her way through a crowd of little children, and .seizing me by the hand, and with a face beaming with joy, she said: "I've done it, Pve done it !" " What have you done 7" I asked. " Oh, I've done it, I've done it !" "Done what ?" I asked again. " Why," Said she, " I just gave myself right up to Jesus, and He took away my stubborn heart, and now I love him." That day she joined, with.many others who had just given themselves up to the Saviour, in singing, " 'Tis done, the great transaction's done, I am my Lord's and He is mine. He•drew me and I followed on Charmed to confess the voice on, v ine." That you, my little friends, may the better remember this little story, I have written it for you in simple verse. 13LAVE DONE IT, I HAVE DONE IT A joyous little girl, With sunshine on her brow, While hastening through a crowd, exclaimed : "I've done it, done it now!" " What is't you've done?" I asked, When quick was her reply, "1 grave myself light up to Christ, Who on-the cross did die. " My wicked, stubborn heart He's taken all away; , • And now I love my dearest Lord, My hopes on him I stay." Dear, happy little one! The angels will rejoice, To see thee trusting God's dear Son, And listening to His voice. Will you, my little friend ] Go do the same to-day? Oh!' flee at once to Jesus' arms! There's danger in delay! I could not help thinking of this happy little girl's words as my eyes rested upon the following little letter from a Sabbath-school scholar. When you, my dear little friend, have done the one great thing for. which God is sparing youkiife, then with the writer of this note you can say, "I FEEL LIKE : SINGING ALL THE TIXE. ,, CHICAGO, June 2, 1864. 0 ! Mr. Hammond, I feel like singing all the while. I hope I love Jesus now. I went to your children's meeting for the first time a week ago .last Sunday. I went home as mis erable-as that Jew, and thought I would go Monday to the meeting' on, the South side. I went, and when I went in I made umy mind that I would not go home till I p had given my heart to the Saviour. You and another gentleman came and spoke to me. I prayed earnestly, and hope all my sins are forgiven. Pray for me and my brother ; he has not found Jesus yet. I pray night and morning that Jesus will give him a new heart. Another Sabbath-school scholar who lives among the hills of Massachusetts writes, "IT IS REAL EASY TO Envy" THE SA- IF lOUR." And so it is when we are willing to give ourselves "right up to him." Jesus says, John v. 40, "Ye will not come to me that ye might have lite." In those words, my dear little friend, if you are not a Christian, Jesus tells you the reason. It is because you wile not come to Jesus. He is willing to receive you. He has done all he can to save you. 0, then, come and con fess to him how stubborn you have been, and ask him to forgive you all you sins, and then you too, can say, "I've done it ! I've done it !" and then, too, with this little child of only ten summers, whose letter you will now read, you can say, "It is real easy to find the Saviour." I went to your first children's meeting. I came horde and asked Jesus for a new heart, and I think he gave me one. I think that now I have found Jesus. I wish you knew how happy I feel. I hope that a zood many children will find the Saviour who died on the cross to save us. Sinners as we are. it L. , real easy to find the Saviour. I pray night and morning,_ I like to pray to my dear Saviour. How can any body loving him ; he was so kind to die 1; 1 us. Two or three of us girls met at one o f my Mends' houses, and Mr. came in and spoke to us. What a happy thing it 1. to be one of Christ's children. I hope I :Ital! always lead a Christian life. "He that lo lieveth on the Son bath everlasting life, and he that believeth not on the Son shall not io life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." This last versc ,, •9 7l-116 4-4,liird chapter or John is the verse I love. .1 ..)n meet in heaven. So good-bye. From 'Aged ten years.] Among a pile of letters from chil dren and youth I another, which will help you understand about way to do the very thing you must do, if you expect to' be saved in hearc: when you die. "I GAVE VP ALL TO JESTS I attended a few of your meeting , . Nvh.-11 began to be very miserable, for I felt tir,: was a great sinner. But something to tell me that I was too young to hoc it.., a Christian, and that it would enough when I grew older, and so I tt; to drive away all such thoughts did not succeed, and I am _clad that I did not for it was Satan trying to tempt ro At lasCl went and told my Sabbath teacherall about it. She talked and rra: - .. with me, and at last I thought I gave to Jesus, but my trouble did not end here. I began to see how wicked and sinful Iny he was, and I could not make myself that Jesus would take me; so I had a gr ; many doubts and fears. At last I stayed ; one, of the inquiry-meetings at the CCIIP: Ohurc.h. You came to me and I told y something how felt. You prayed with It. and then .1 felt that I gave up oil to Je-•:- and was very happy. The very next day asked me to go and talk with some little ti.. dren, but I refused, and you could not I ..- suade me to go. Afterwards I felt v,ry about it. The next day I tried to sire:L , you, but did not get a chance. The In.xt I succeeded in doing so, and you Lttty. some work to do. Now, I am liatT . y - time, and I think that if a Christian ; be happy they must do something t;n• Oh, I do not feel as if I can ever do en - ! 1:- for the dear Saviour who has washed nii... sins away in his precious blood. As you read these little letters, do it not seem an easy thing to becolli , : Christian? It is indeed a great th You cannot do it without the hell) God's Holy Spirit. But God is rcz:, to give you the aid of that bles, , Spirit. Jesus says: "Come, fur .. things are ready." Oh ! then, do wait another minute, but come just you are, with all your sins, with y , stubborn, hard heart, not waitiL longer than for more feeling, but kru. down, and in some place alone this little PRAYER. "I thank thee, Oh 1- God, that tiL::. hast made it easy for a wicked ch:- like me to be a Christian. Help in: by thine Holy Spirit, to give right up to thy dear Son„ whom The: hast given to die for me on the Cro , ' Show me how much He has loved how He let wicked murderers dri' the cruel nails through His hands an. feet, all because He loved such a wick sinner as I am. " Dear Jesus, take me 'just as I ail' and make me all thine own. Help 1 live for Thee, work for Thee, and tr. to bring others to Thee; this I ask tc thine own dear sake. Amen." * Copyright secured ALL the good that we enjoy in any L. , is but the beam of the face of (..;."'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers