gait THE PILGRIM'S PILLOW. Pity me, loving Lord Thou, who on Earth hadst nota place of rest, Andsparow has his nest, And I—l have Thy Word. In the world's wilderness alone I stand, Yet not alone, 0 God I I walk beneath the shelter of Thy hand, And kiss Thy chastening rod. I seek among the brambles for a spot Whereon to lay my aching heart and head, But find no place, yet I have not forgot How Thy beloved are led. I know that in the world's deep wilderness, The crystal waters of Thy mercies flow, But we are blinded by our small distress, And think too seldom on Thy sacred woe I sought a downy spot, but there was none, Saxe in the fragrant bloom of thistle-down, My softest pillow is a mossy stone— Thistles werebetter than my Saviour's crown Unbidden tears come welling to my eyes. And yet I know He watched me while I slept; The little larks with sweetest prayers arise, And I remember that my Jesus wept l It was not want, nor simple sufferitrk - ,` Nor, that the brambles wounded by the way, That caused the sorrow of the Shepherd King— His lambkins went astray. It matters little, if the weary way , . Be long or short, or flowry, straight or steep, For well I know that in His own good day • He giveth all of His beloved sleep. THE CLOUDED INTELLECT; BY THE AUTHOR OF "STUDIES FOR STORIES." On a lonely sea-coast, at some dis tance from any houses, a lady was wandering at the turn of the tide, and watching somewhat sadly the shadows of -the clouds as they passed over and changed the colors of the tranquil sea. It was a clear morning in the be ginning of September, and she had walked more than three miles from her lodgings in the nearest village. The first two miles had been under high rocky cliffs, from which tangled bugloss, thrift, and sea-lavender hung, and long trailing fern-leaves peeped, and offered somewhat to hold for the hand of the adventurous climber. The shore under these cliffs was rug ged with rocks which stood out from the soft sand, and were covered with limpets; the water washing among them made a peculiar singing noise, quite different to the deep murmur with which it recedes from a more level shore. She listened to this cheery singing, as the crisp littlef waves shook the pebbles, playing , with them, lifting them up and tossing them together; and she listened to the sheep bells, and watched with wonder how the adventurous lambs found food and. footing on the slippery heights of the cliffs. • The day was so sunny, the air and water so still, and the scene so quiet, that she was tempted to enter upon the third mile; and here the high cliff suddenly dipped down with a grassy sweep, and the shore changed its char acter altogether. Those who are familiar with the scene I am describing will know that I do not exaggerate in saying that after this range of cliffs, more than two hundred feet high, the last descending so steeply as not to be climbed with out risk, the coast and country become so perfectly level, that, standing on the low bank of sand—a natural bar rier which keeps out the sea—a spec tator may discern- spires and turrets more than twelve miles inland, and may carry his eye over vast fields, pastures, and warrens, undiversified by a single hill, and over which the shadows of the clouds are seen to lie, and float as distinctly as over the calmest sea. It is a green and peaceful district; the church bells, the sheep bells, and the skylarks, make all its music ; and a few fishermen's cottages are the only habitations along its coast for several miles. As I before mentioned, the lady had wandered for more than three miles from her temporary home; and now pausing to consider whether she should return, she observed a figure at a distance from her on the level sand; at first she thought it was a child, and then she imagined it was a large white stone, for it was perfectly motionless, and f a dazzling white in the sunshine. It stood upon a vast expanse of sand, and excited her curiosity so much that she drew nearer to look at it ; and then she found that it certainly was some person standing up but not moving; and upon a still closer ap proach, she found that it was a boy, apparently about twelve years of age, and that he was intently gazing up into the sky. So intent, so immovable, was his attitude, that the lady also looked up earnestly ; but she could see nothing there but a flock of swallows, and they were so far up, that they only look ed 'like little black specks moving in an open space of blue between two pure white clouds. She still approached, and again looked up, for the steady gaze of the boy amazed her ; his arms were slight ly raised towards heaven, his whole attitude spoke of the deepest abstrac tion; he had nothing on his head, and his white smockfrock, the common dress of that country, fluttered slightly in the soft wind. She was close at his side, but at tracting no attention, said, " What are you looking at, boy?" The child made no answer. He had a peculiar countenance ; and the idea suggested itself to her mind that he was deficient in intellect. "Boy, boy!" she said, shaking him gently by the sleeve; "what are , you doing? what are you. looking at ?' Upon this, the figure by her side seemed to wake up from his deep ab straction-; he-:r-u.bbed- his - eyes, ai • that painful smile came over his fea tures which we so often see. in those whose reason is beclouded. Boy," said the lady, " what are you doing ?" _The boy sighed, and again glanced towards the space between the clouds ; then he shaded his eyes and said, with distressful earnestness, "Matt was looking for G-od—Matt wants to see God. 7 Astonished and shocked - at receiving such an answer, the lady started back ; she now felt assured that the boy was an idiot. She did not know how, much trouble and pains it might have cost his friends only to convey to his mind the fact that there is a God ; and she was not one of those who incon siderately and _unauthorized will ven ture to interfere with the teaching of others. She therefore said nothing for she could not tell that to assure him of - the impossibility of his ever seeing God might not confuse him in his firm belief in the being of God. She looked up also, and prayed that his dim mind might be comforted, and his belief made more intelligent. The clouds were coming together, and as they mingled and shift out the space of sky the boy withdrew his eyes, and said to his new companion : " There was a great hole—Matt wanted to see God." —Mary H. C. Booth "Poor Matt," said the lady, com passionately ; " does he often look for God in the sky ?" The boy did not reply ; but as if to comfort himself for his dissappoint moat, said in a reassuring tone, " Matt shall see God to-morrow—shall see God. some day2' He then began to move away, but as he appeared to be rather lame, his new friend kindly led him ; but when she found that he did not seem to be making for any particular point, but wandered first to one side, then to the other„ she said, "Where does Matt want to go ?" The boy looked about him, but could not tell ; perhaps his long up ward gazing had dazzled his eyes ; perhaps the sweet sound of some church bells which was wafted towards them now louder, now fainter, attract ed his attention, for he stopped to listen, and pointing to a. grey church spire, told his new friend that the bells said, "Come to church, good people." This was evidently what he had been told concerning them. There were some cottages on the sand-bank a quarter of a mile from them, and not doubting that he lived there, the lady led him towards them. Though dressed like one of the laboring classes, the boy was perfectly neat, clean and obviously well cared for; his light hair was bright, and. his hands, by their shrunk and white ap pearance, showed that he was quite incapable of any kind of labor. He yielded himself passively to her gui dance, only muttering now and then in an abstracted tone, " Matt shall find God to-morrow." Very shortly, a little girl came out of one of the cottages and ran towards them. She was an active, cheerful little creature; and when she had made the lady a curtsey, she took the boy by the hand, saying to him in a slow, measured tone, " Come home, Matt, dinner's ready." "How can you think of leaving this poor boy to wander on the shore by himself?" said the lady. "Did you know that he had left his home?" "He always goes out, ma'am, o' fine days," said the child; "and we fetch him home to his meals." "But does he never get into mis chief?" asked the lady. The child smiled as if amused at the simplicity of the question, and said, "He's a natural, ma'am; he doesn't know how to get into mischief like us that have sense." " How grateful you ought to be to God for giving you your senses," sal. the lady ; " and what a bad thing it seems that children should ever use their sense to help them to do mis chief." The little girl looked up shrewdly ; and, perhaps, suspecting some appli cation to herself, began to evade it, as clever children will do, by applying it to another. " There's Rob, he's the smartest boy in the school, ma'am. Got the prize, he did, last year. His mother says he's the most mischievous boy in the parish. Mr. Green gave him 'Pil grim's Progress' for his prize, but I reckon he -doesn't know Rob's ways. Rob climbs up the cliffs after the pigeons' eggs, he does; and his mother says she knows he'll break his neck some day; he climbed a good way up one day, with his little brother on his back, and his mother says she, thought she should ha' died o' fright." "I am sorry to hear that he is such a bad boy," said the lady ; "I hope his little brother was not hurt." "No," said the child; "but Rob was beat—his father beat him, he did, when he got down, all the same as if he had hurt his little brother." Then, as the boy at her side appeared tip flag and come on with reluctance, his THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JUNE 29. 1865. little guide resumed the measured tone in which she had at first spoken rd and said to him, "Maq must make haste, the dumpling - 1i rtiddri haste, Matt." The kindness and care with which, she led him induced the lady s#-7 again, "Is it safe to leave this poor, boy all alone on the beach, when he Aioes mot — seem- to -know - the-way: home ?" - "He can't go out of sight, ma'am," said the - child, - sha;king - back - her - hair from her healthy brown face; "sud our folks give - a look at him now and then to see what he's about'?" • "0, then, you all care for him," said the lady; "you are all fond of him?" "Yes, sure," replied the girl; "he never does us any harm; and he must come out; he would fret unless he might come out and look for--" The child hesitated, but being en coUraged to proceed, continued in a lower tone-- " He expects that some day he shall see God, ma'am. He is always.asking where God is ; and when our folks tell him that God is up in heaven, he comes out and - looks up" ' "Poor fellow," said the ladY;. "does be know that we are talking about him now?" "No," said the child, decidedly; "his grandfather says he can only think about one thing at a time; and now he is thinking about his dinner." By this time they had reached the nearest Cottage, and a decent-looking woman came out and requested the lady to walk in and rest. She then led the boy in, set him on a low stool, and having cut up his dinner on a plate, gave it to the little girl, who began to feed him with it. A. chair had been set far the stran ger.' and as she gladly sat down to rest. she took the opportunity of look ing about her. A very aged man was sitting in a corner men a net, such a one as is used for BlEhing shrimps. A mid dle-aged woman was clearing away the remains of a meal ; and the other, having given the plate into the hands of the child, had turned to an ironing board, which was covered with laces and muslins. It was a tolerably comfortable kitchen; and as no one spoke. for a few moments, the lady had time to re mark the long strings of dried her rings that hung from the blackened beams in the roof, the brick floor which was a good deal worn away and looked somewhat damp, -the sea coats hanging on the wall, the oars lying under the chairs, and that gene ral over-crowding of furniture, and, yet neatness, _which is qften seen in a flshermau's cottage, mod.. gi-vps, it a resemblance to, the cabin Of It ship. [To be Continued.] Rev. Leigh Richmond was once con versing with a brother clergyman on the case of a poor man who had acted inconsistently with his religious pro fession, After some angry and. severe remarks had been made on the con duct of such persons, the gentleman with whom he was discussing the case concluded by saying: " I have no notion of such pretences; I will have nothing to do with him." " Nay, brother," replied Richmond, "let us be humble and moderate. Re member who has said, making a difference.' With opportunity at the one hand, and Satan at the other, and the grace of God at neither, where should you and I be ?" On one occasion that eminent lawyer and eloquent orator, Daniel Webster, was engaged to plead in the case of a will in which the interests of some children were involved, Ivhen the ex citement to hear him was intense. The array of women was unusually great during the entire three days that he spoke, so much so, indeed, that num bers of them, who could obtain no bet ter position, sat upon the very floor, forgetful of all comfort. Although, when he entered the court-room; he intended only to deliver a dry legal argument, yet when the effort was completed it was found to be a splen did sermon on the Christian ministry, as well as the religious instruction of the young ; and among many others of equal merit was this passage "When.little children were brought into the presence of the Son of God, his disciples proposed to send them away; but he said, Suffer little chil dren to come unto me.' Unto me; he did not send them first for lessons in morals to the schools of the Pharisees or the unbelieving Sadducees,. nor to read the precepts and lessons phylac teried on the garments of the Jewish priesthood ; he said nothing of differ ent creeds or clashing doctrines ; but he opened at once to the youthful mind the everlasting fountain of living waters, the only source of eternal truth, Suffer little children to come unto me.' And that injunction is of of perpetual obligation ; it addresses itself to-day with the same earnest ness and authority which attended its first utterance to the Christian world. It is of force everywhere, and at all times. It extended to the ends of the earth; it will reach to the end of time, always and everywhere sounding iu the ears of men, with an emphasis which nothing can weaken, and with MAKING A DIFFERENCE. CHRIST AND THE CHILDREN. an authority which nothing can super cede, € Suffer little children to come unto Jfe.' " it Was an affecting,andremarkab 6.1 fact that, during the Very'lackfr - of the; .vet day on which above Para , gr it- was uttered, one of Mr: Web -2 ster's own grandchildren, the child of 161'On Fletcher, died in its mother's arms, - .:an - dwasheed. - translated - torthe - - bosom of its Saviour. 'ABOUT -TOBACCO-. " Here Carlo will you. take a smoke?" Asked little TOmmy Carr, As in IDeggy'stmouth he put The end of - a cigar. " Bow, wow," cried Carlo, "master dear, You surely Mean a joke ; I never , knew a;dog , so lost - To shame, that he would smoke." " Then I will give it to the pig," Said little Tommy Carr, And at the sty he offered her The end of the cigar. The dignity of. Mrs. Pig Was sorely wounded now ; " Ugh, ugh my little man," she cried, " No dog, nor pig, nor cow, " However hungry they may be, The dirty.weed will touch ; How folks with reason smoke or chew, '1 winder very much 1" " Pil run and wash my hands," cried Torn, " And never, never more, Touch, a cigar, though uncle drop A. dozen on the floor." If from tobacco, senseless brutes Away disgusted inrn, That 't is not fit - for human mouth We cannot fail to learn. • —Songs for my Children for ttr Atittis fakz, F IMILIAR, TALKS WITH THE CHIL MEN, XII, BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON HAMMOND PRAYING CHILDREN AND INFIDEL FATHERS Somewhere in the United States lived a little girl whose father was an -He tried to believe that the Bible was not. God's word, and that Jesus was only a man and that he was not :able to save, all that would come to Him. I hope, my dear little friend, that your father is not such a man, but one who prays night and morning with his family. This little girl, after she had found peace in be lieVing in Jesus, began to want all her friends to know how good He was to die' for , us. And as she loved, her father dearly, she wanted' him to trust in Jesus, so that_: all his sins might be forgiven, and be he changed by the Holy Spirit from an infidel to a Christian. This little one, like all Christians, believes that God .oUsw - ers prayer. • d-so she - wrote me_ _to ask that-prg "st3E - -0e oifered-for-hiza- I know it wrl.P'interest you. I have just been reading it, and I could hardly keep the tears from my eyes. I shall not tell you the name of this dear little follower of Jesus, nor the place in which sho,lives, but I don't think it will do any hurt to let you read her toue,hing letter. DEAR MR. HAMMOND : Do you rember the night that you left, that a little girl caught you by the hand and could not bear to part with you? lam that very little girl. I have an infidel father, and I wish . that you would pray for him. I'ave talked with him. He loves me dearly and would , take more from me than any one else. I have prayed with him and for him, and he is feeling very badly now. Oh, do pray for him. I think that he will be converted if we only have faith. .1.. try to coax him to go to the meeting, but he will not. Sometimes he is so angry with me that he almost whips me ; but I could bear that for Jesus' sake. I feel as though I could die if it would be the means of convert ing him. I havelound Jesus, and Oh, such a change in my heart—l want to sing and pray and read the Bible all the time, and I speak to all my little friends and schoolmates. I cannot do enough for Jesus. After school my father generally talks to me, and some times he takes me on his knee; but last night I could not listen to him. I felt so bad about him that I sat on his knee a crying, and he wanted to know what the matter was and I told him, and he felt so bad that• he got up and went out of doors. We had a children's meeting here Yesterday afternoon, and there was between fifty and sixty children present, and Oh, what a lovely meeting we had. From your little friend, * * You see this little one says, "Ihave found Jesus and there is such a change niy heart." Till then, I don't be lieve she ever thought of praying in earnest for her father. But see her now, sitting on her father's knee, and " crying" to think he will not come and love her precious Saviour. She knows, young as she is, that he can never sing with her in heaven if he does not give up his sins and " believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." When a little child, or any one, gives themselves up, Jesus takes them, and not only forgives them every one of their wicked sins, but He also makes them something like himself. This, I think, He did for this little lamb whn He took her into His fold. In Luke 4l, you. see that when Jesus looked upon wicked Jerusalem sinners, and thought of how they had despised and rejected Him and neg lected the great salvation which He so freely offered to them, "he wept." You see in the 44th verse, he thought of the " children" in that guilty city. He wept to think that they too must perish. Is not this little girl, weeping for her guilty father, something like Jesus ? I think she must often have sung, " I long to be like Jesus, the Father's holy child." Are you like Jesus ? Do you know how to pray for yourself, and to weep over poor lost sinners? "HE SAYS HE IS AN INFIDEL, AND MAKES FIIN OF ME." I have found another letter from a dear child who has no father to tab her by the hand and lead, her to the Sabbath-school—no father to tell her about how Chris' t suffered for our sins on the cruel tree—no father to gatheit the little ones around the , altar Morning and' evening, and pray for them—and so she wants all the children to pray for her father. ' - - The day will come when this wick ed father will not make fun of his sweet child. If he does not become a Christian before that - great-judgement day comes, I am afraid he will weep `and call on the "rocks to fall" on him. The Bible'tells about suclvin Rev. vi. 16 and 17. DEAR SIR :-I think I have found the dear Saviour, and I love him so, I do not know what to do. I feel as if I wanted to sing and pray all the time to the dear Saviour, I love him so much. I want you to pray for my dear father. He says he is an infidel. I pray so much for him, and talk to him about the dear Jesus, and he makes fun of me, and tells me not to believe anything about Jesus. He says it is nothing at all, that is true. Won't you ask the children, to pray for my father? I must clpse now, to, get ready to go to meeting, so rood-bye now. Your little friend. FRA.Y FOR MY FATHER; HE DOES NOT LOVE -JESUS JESUS Here' is another dear child's letter, whose father does not love Jesus, and she wants Christians to pray for him. She too seems something like Jesus. You see her little heart yearn for the " - wicked men'' in the town where she lives. I saw this little girl when she came to some children's meetings, and she was at first careless and only came to hear some stories, but when she heard all about how the Blessed Saviour " was wounded for our trans gressions and bruised for our iniqui ties," she began to feel "how wicked she was to break his commandments." Havn't you too heard the sweet story of Jesus' love, and how He died for us on Calvary? Havn't you too broke a great many of His holy and good conimands ? Why don't you, go and tell Him you are sorry for your naughty sins, and that you havn't loved Him, and ask Him to forgive you ? and He will. He has been waiting to do this for you all the time. But you have been ashamed to have any one know that you wanted to be a Christian. You have been too proud to go and confess your sins, and what a wicked, stubborn heart you must have. This little one once had just such a heart, but I don't think shehm. such a one now, for she says " I ddill see how any one can help loving Jesus." You will find all about it in this letter of hers. I have found Jesus. .Oh how good he was to die on, the cross for me—ancl I have been so wicked as to break his command- `would - do any thing for him. 'How easy it is to love him, he has been so good to us. I feel real happy. I wish everybody would love him. I do not see how anybody can help loving him. There are a great many wicked men here in this town. We will pray for them. Will you pry for my father ? He does not love Jesus.. I. pray for - him and I want you to. I wish you would stay another week with us, for there are so many that have not found Jesus. But I suppose you cannot. But you can pray for them, and pray for me, that I may love him more and more. I cannot love him enough, he is so good. But I must close by saying good-bye. If we do not meet on earth again, I trust we shall meet in heayen. From a girl that loves Jesus, ***, 12 years old. THE LOVED NAME OF JESUS. There is a name I love to hear, I love to speak its worth ; It sounds like music in my ear, The sweetest name on earth. It tells me of a Saviour's love Who died to set me free It tells me of His precious blood, The sinner's perfect plea. It tells me of a Father's smile, Beaming upon His child ; It cheers me through this "little while," Through desert, waste, and wild. - 41 s me what my Father hath store for wiry day, And though I tread a darksome path, Yields sunshine all the way. It tells of One whose loving heart Can feel my deepest woe, Who in my sorrow bears a part That none can bear below. It bids my trembling heart rejoce, It dries each rising tear, It tells me, in "a still small voice," To trust and never fear. JESUS the name I love so well, The name I love to hear ! No saint on earth its worth can tell, No heart conceive how dear This name shall shed its fragrance still, Along this thorny road, Shall sweetly smooth the rugged hill That leads me up to (od. And there with all the blood-bought throng, From sin and sorrow free, sin the new eternal song Of Jesus' love to me. A JUST REBURE. "It was my custom in my youth," says a celebrated Persian 'writer, "to rise from my sleep to watch, pray, and read .the Koran. One night, as I was thus engaged, my father, a man of practiced virtue, awoke. 'Behold,' said Ito him, thy other children are lost in irreligious slumbers, while I alone am awake to, praise God." Son of my soul,' said he, 'it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of thy brethren.' " HOLD ON.—Hold on to your temper when you are angry, excited, or im posed upon, or others are angry. Hold on to truth, for it will serve well and do you good. throughout eternity. Hold on to virtue ; it is above price for you in all times and pfaces. A CHILD'S IDEA OF LIGHTNING. Not long ago I came homemy office at the close of a beautiful calm day in the early spring. I took a:seat in the yard under a large cherry-tree; and called my little girl, between five and six years, old, to keep me company while I enjoyed the balmy sp r i ng breeze. We sat there till dusk, lin the chair,,and she on my knee. A dark cloud was slowly overspreading the western sky. *Long streaks of lightning were running hither and thither over the dark surface. The little girl's eyes soon caught the sight. It was something nate:died% "0, pii, what is that ?" she exclaimed, pointing to the lightning. "Itis lightning, my dear," said I. "-Well, what makes it ?" she said. I told her she was too little to understand it, and that when she got larger I would explain it all to her. "0 I" she exclaimed, her eyes all aglow with the conception, "I know 71.010 what makes it—they are - rubbing matches up there to light the stars." Many a time she had seen me, at dusk, rub a match on the large,dark mantlepie.ce, leaving a lOng, bright, but quickly vanishing streak in its course, to light the candle or lamp. Prrat Irratintg. VARNISHING, FURNITURE, The appearance of furniture may be greatly improved by a coat of good varnish, which a skillful housekeeper may , lay on quite as well as some manufacturers of furniture. The pro per tools and materials are quite as essential as skill in order to varnish neatly. A clean, light, and warm room is indispensable, unless it can - be done in the open air, in warm weather. When varnish is exposed to sunshine it is apt to blister. If applied to cold or greasy furniture, sometimes it. "crawls," and settles down in ridges. When furniture does not take varnish well, rub it thorougly with a cloth dipped in alcohol or benzine. Then keep it in a warm room until all the wood has 136 en well warmed through. When the varnish is being laid on, let it be kept warm; by standing in a kettle Of water nearly boiling hot. . Procure a small varnish brush, not a paint brush, for Varnishing chairs, and take only a small quantity of var nish on the brush at once. Spread it evenly and thin, and work it well with the brush. When entirely dry, apply another thin coat. A beginner can do a much better job by laying on two thin coats than only one heavy Coat. There is'great difference in varnish that is sold for a- ' - ven kind,lanless • , - ymg. it will be well to . try it on- a piece of cheap furniture to ascertain whether it will dry well. Varnish that will stick to every thing that touches it, is a vexatious nuisance. Let such var nish or paint be rubbed thoroughly with good benzine, and afterwards two coats of good varnish applied. Walls that have been papered; may be varnished after a thin coat of glue water has been applied, to keep the varnish from striking into the paper. When varnish is laid directly on the paper, most of it will be absorbed, and there will be little gloss.--American Agriculturist. SALTING HAY. E. C. K., of Cape Vincent, N. Y., thus writes to the Country Gentleman on this mooted question : " Much has been said about salting hay by different writers, and many think that hay is as well, and even better, without salt. We have not put a lock of hay in our barns for some 20 years without applying about six quarts of salt to each ton of hay, which is about the amount required by stock in the consumption of a ton of hay - The result has always been that our hay was bright and as fragrant as tea, and never had a lock of musty hay. During haying last year, our hay was cut, cured, and got in the barn with out a drop of rain on it, and we thought it in such good eondition that we would omit the salt, and so we did, and what was the result ? Well, we have not used a lock of hay in the barns but what is more or less musty. FOr twenty years we salted our hay and we had the best of hay ; and one year we omitted the salt