'lif fail* eirdr.
REPENTANCE AND FAITH.
" Repentance toward God, and faith toward
our Lord Jesus Christ."
There was a ship, one eve autumnal, onward.
Steered o'er an ocean lake ;
Steered by some strong hand as if ever sunward;
Behind an angry wake,
Before there stretched a sea that grew intoner,
With silver fire far spread,
Up to a hill mist-gloried, like a censer,
With smoke encompassed;
It seemed as if two seas met brink to brink,
A silver flood beyond a lake ofink.
There was a soul that eve autumnal, sailing
Beyond the earth's dark bars,
Toward the land of sunsets never paling,
Toward Heaven's sea of stars :
Behind there was a wake of billows tossing,
Before a glory lay.
0 happy soul 1 with all sail set, just crossing
Into the Far-away
The gloom, and gleam, the calmness and the
strife,
Were' death before thee, and behind thee life.
And as that ship went up the waters stately,
Upon her topmasts tall
I saw. two sails, whereof the one was greatly
Dark as a funeral pall 3
But oh I the next's pure whiteness who shall
utter? •
Like a shell-snowy strand,
Or when a sunbeam falleth through the shutter
On a dead baby's hand;
But both alike across the surging sea,
Helped to the e haven where the soul would be.
And as that soul went onward, sweetly speed
ing,
Unto its home and light,
Repentance made it sorrowful exceeding, •
Faith made it wondrous bright;
Repentance dark with shadowy recollections,
And longings unsufficed, •
Faith white and pure with sunniest affections,
Full from the face of Christ:
But both across the sun-besilvered tide
Helped to the haven where the heart would
ride.
'--.llev. TV. Alexastler
[WRITTEN FOR OUR COLUMNS.]
THE FUGITIVE SLAVE AND THE BOUND
BOY
BY THE AUTHOR OF " DAVID WOODBURN, THE
MOUNTAIN MISSIONARY."
CHAPTER I
It was a wild December night, the
snow fell thick and fast, the wind, in
fitful gusts 'moaned through the bare
trees, and whistled round the corners
of the house. Our family were gath
ered round a bright fire that blazed
and crackled up the ample chimney;
but a band of anxious hearts: was
there, fn. father, we knew, was out in
the storm. He had signified his inten
tion to return that night, and he never
was known to break his promise need
lessly. At last, however, we heard the
sound of sleigh-bells—a welcome sound
indeed ; we knew it was he, for the
country then was new, the forest 'near
ly unbroken for miles around us, and
travellers were rarely seen in the
neighborhood.
Mother called Pat, our hired man,
to take the horse round to the stable,
and father presently appeared, bring
ing 'something in his arms, wrapped
up in a blanket, which he quickly
unrolled, and set the contents down
on the floor in the shape of a boy
of perhaps five years old . . Then turn
ing to my sister, with a humorous
twinkle in his eye, he said, " Here,
Norah, I have brought you a pre
sent."
Norah said, "Qh, papa, what a fun
ny present ; much obliged to you, all
the same."
Then we all crowded round, asking,,
"who is it, and where did you get
him ?" But father, as he laid aside his
overcoat and wrappings, cried out,
"One at a time, children, I can't an
swer so many questions all at once;
get something for this famishing child,
,and give me a cup of tea, and then
you shall hear all about it."
Meanwhile the little waif thus unac
countably blown among us, stood in
the centre of the room, looking from
one to another in silent wonder, He
was miserably clad, and looked, indeed,
half famished.
Norah brought him a bowl of bread
and milk, which he devoured in a very
short time. "My little man," said
she, when he had finished his meal,
"what is your name."
Name's Jake," was the quick rejoin
der, "and I aint nobody's little man."
Poor Jake's story ran on this wise,
as father related it to us all there as
sembled. His mother was a poor,
helpless imbecile, so weak in her
mind that she was unfit to provide
for her own wants, and was conse
quently on the pauper list.. As there
was no poor-house in the township,
the paupers were farmed out by the
overseers to the lowest bidder—that is,
whoever would maintain a pauper at
the cheapest rate, was the anccessful
competitor for the prize. This was
the way Betsy Morrow, the mother of
Jake, was supported.
Betsy did not like her boarding
house, and took frequent opportuni
ties of running away. At such times,
her favorite resort was a large hollow
tree, and here she and Jake had a
home thata suited their tastes better
than the one assigned them by the
cold charity of the world; and while
the weather continued warm, they did
very well, for the farmers' wives
around never refused a morsel of food
to poor Betsy and her little one.
When the winter came, however,
Betsy fared worse; no doubt she was
Oftenel frightened from the home as
signed her, by harsh treatment. ,
On the evening in question, father
had stopped at a Colonel Warner's, in
the neighborhood. While there, the
overseer called to enquire if they had
seen anything of Betsy, stating that
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1865.
she had again gone off with her child,
and might perish with the cold. Short
ly after that, father left, to return
home. As he drove through the thick
wood, he thought he heard groans.
Getting out of his sleigh, he waded
through the snow' in the direction of
the sound, and presently reached a
hollow tree, where he found poor Bet
sy, apparently in a dying condition,
with little Jake sitting by her side,
crying most piteously.
He took up the child, and wrapping
him in the buffalo robe, carried him to
the sleigh, and then drove rapidly to
nearest house, where he procured as
sistance
made
remove the mother. She
was made as comfortable as circum
stances would admit, but she died that
night ; and father brought the child
home, and gave him to Norah to
train.
She accepted the gift, undertook
the allotted task, and though Jake
was neither a pretty or an engaging
child, being dull, and by no -means
red tempered, she never once flagged
in her labor of lave. He was gener
ally docile and affectionate; at least he
loved Norah, who never failed him in
any emergency. When, on occasions
s
he considered himself badly treated. by
the other children of the family, his
unvarying cry was, "Now I'll jist go
and tell Miss Norah." Poor little
outcast ! no doubt he often enough
had reasott for the big tears that were
so ready to run down his chubby
cheeks ; for we were all young then,
except Norah, who had attained the
ripe age of‘eighteen.
I remember well, the first Sabbath
evening after Vake was domiciled in
our household. , We were all assem
bled in the sitting-room, to recite the
Shorter Catechism, a duty that was
never omitted in our family, except
for very pressing reasops. After the
Catechism, with appropriate remarks
and explanations, was disposed of,
father turned to Jake, saying, " Well,
my child, what has Miss Norah taught
you ?"
" Please sir, I can say, Our Father,
and who made me, and who was the
first man."
" Very well, now, who was the first
man?"
"Why, Adam."
And who was the first:woman?"
Upon this, Jake hesitated a little,—
in a moment however, he brightened
up, and answered promptly, " Why,
Missus Adam."
This reply had an unfortunate effect
on the risible facultie4 of the younger
members of the circle, causing quite a
chuckle among the boys, and a titter
among the girls; but Jake defended
his position stoutly,• saying, with . a
shake of his head, "You needn't
laugh, Mister Fred, nor you neither,
Miss Joanna, for if Adam's name is
Adam, his wife must be Missus Adam."
Little Lottie then opened her blue
eyes to an uncommon extent, and re
marked, " Why, Jake, you know
Adam is dead long ago, and. so is his
wife."
But Jake denied this fact, declaring
that Adam was still alive, for he had
seen him.often; and his wife too.
One of the boys present was en
gaged in b., printing. office at the time,
and he wrote out this little dialogue,
and it appeared in the columns of the
village newspaper that week. This, ..I
believe, was the veritable origin of
that famous saying, that has crept
about, in one form or another, from
year to year, ever since.
Jake increased in stature and use
fulness as the years rolled on. He
loOked up to my sister Norah with a
feeling that I think amounted almost
to adoration. Her word was a law tq,
him in all his ways. With unwearied
patience, she taught him to read and
write; but she never succeeded in im
pressing even the first principles of
arithmetic on his mind. Once, she
bribed,him, by. the promise of a bright
red pocket-handkerchief, to commit
two columns of the multiplication
table to memory. Jake succeedekand
won the prize; but next day the whole
was forgotten, and he could not tell
how many three times three make.
When he was about ten years old,
the great question of Abolition was
exciting the country pretty generally;
people were then, as they have been
since, greatly divided in opinion, and
families differed on the topic then just
as, they have always done. My father
stoutly ignored the movement, forbid
ding his family to attend the Abolition
lectures, which were ,indeed ' often
scenes of riot and disorder.
How well I remember him, as, sit
ting in his great arm-chair, he often
spoke to us on the subject, saying
words to this effect: "Children, be
ware of these things; depend upon it,
they are the harbingers of a civil war
that will rend this country and deluge
it with blood. I will not live to see it,
but you will, probably."
At such times Norah stood • up
stoutly for the slave, and spared no
words in condemning the whole sys
tem ; and as for the rendition of slaves,
her whole soul revolted from such in
iquity, and then she would say : "Now,
papa, would you render up a fugitive
who had sought shelter with you ?"
This was a poser, for the whole family
knew that Jake had been sent, time
and again, with bags full of bread and
bacon to the deserted huts of the char
coal-burners, and they all knew that
there were no charcoal-burners there
to eat the said bread and . bacon, but
we all shrewdly suspected that some
fugitive slaves were hidden in those
deserted huts.
{TO BE CONTINUED.]
LITTLE EVA'S PRAYER.
One day a missionary's wife, while
walking oat, encountered a little girl
in a dirty lane gleaning among the
filth of the gutter for broken meat and
rags. The poOr child was very rag
ged, and her face was sad with an ex
pression of loneliness and neglect. The
lady approached her with kind words,
and held out her hand, which was
eagerly taken by the thin, bony fin
gers of little Eva. She had seldom
heard the voice of kindness, and it
went right down to her little aching
heart. She was taken to the mission
house, washed, fed, and arrayed in a
complete suit of nice clothes. There
she found a great company of children,
all looking happy and neat, who a
short time before yere as neglected
and uncared for as herself. Little
Eva was amazed and delighted. " 0
how different," she thought. "is this
place from my own dirty, dreary
home!"
Little Eva was asked if she would
like to come and be one of the mission
school. She said :
" Yes, if my parents will give their
consent."
So she hurried home with a full
heart to tell her parents of all Ishe had
seen and heard. They hardly knew
their daughter in her nice clean dress,
and with such a changed expression
of countenance. Her paren were
both intemperate and poor. ey had
very little use for Eva at h e, and
they soon gave their consent,pd she
became a member of the inission
school.
Eva improved very fast, add soon
became au interesting and beloved
scholar. She was taught the !Way to
the Saviour, and delighted in prayer
and praise. She became very pxious
and earnest for the conversion ',of her
parents. She read to them fiAm the
Bible and religious books, and both at
last became, deeply convicted f sin.
One night, when the famil had re
tired, the father was deeply e ercised
in view of his sins. He groped in
spirit, and inquired earnestly, € What.
shall Ido to be saved?" lie ' rose,
dressed himself, and tried to pray.
The heavens seemed like brass over
his head. His wife could give no con
solatory advice. So he calledt aloud
upon God alone and in the dtrkness
to pardon his sins, but 'he i fotpid no
comfort. Now the thought/ struck
him: ,
" God will h,ectir Eva , if he' will not
hear me. She is good , and I ail. a poor,
wicked sinner."
Little Eva was called. She came
down in her night clothes, and, kneel
ing by the side of her father, clasped
her hands, and prayed :
"0, God, won't you convert my
father? He has been a very wicked
man, but he is so sorry for it now.
0, God, do convert my poor fther !"
God heard the little darling'g prayer.
He did convert her father, who found
peace in believing. Very soon, too,
her mother became a Christian and
they were all united in the bonds of
Christian unity and love.
Not long after, littld" Eva sickened
and died. But she was so happy in
view of death, and a home with God
and the bright angels, that every one
said, "It is well with the child."
Not far from the city of Pittsburgh,
out a little way in the country, there is
a little grave. The grass is green upon
it, the bright houstonias of Spring
open their little pink blossoms all
around it ; the birds sing their sweet
est songs there, and the plain white
headstone has the inscription—"EvA. "
A AIOTHER'S INFLUENCE.
Dropping into a Conference', Meet
ing, says a 'writer in one of Our ex
changes, I was very much interested
in the remarks of a good ruling elder,
a veteran of forty years' servile. In
illustration of the topic that \\las up,
" Mother's Influence, he relatbd the
following incident :
" Many years ago," said he, t' - while
ill
residing in Vermont, a family 'ved
very near me, in which were two little
boys. They were very poory and the
boys were sometimes dirty and raged,
and apparently neglected. The father
was dissipated, but the godly Mother
trained them as best she could for use
fulness and duty. Her utmost e i Worts
could not keep them decently clothed
or regularly in school.
.1
" I attended the late Gem-- 1 Arof
bten e • ne ate enera_ _ Bern
bly at Pittsburg, and there listened to
a returned foreign missionary. I
learned his name, made his acquain
tance ; and what was my surprise and
astonishment to find that, in the person
of the missionary, I beheld one of the
ragged boys who, more than forty
years ago, was wont to play at my
door on the green hill-sides of Ver
mont ! He had worked his way
through college and seminary by his
own exertions, and had been some
years in the foreign field. His brother
had done the same, and is now a,mis
sionary in Africa." So much for a
Christian mother's influence. " I have
a son in Congress," said the speaker,
"but I would rather that son would
be like one of these—a self-reliant,
humble, godly man—than a prayerless
man, and President of the United
States."
LEISURE.
Sweet is the leisure of the bird ;
She craves no time for work deferred :
Her wings are not to aching stirred
Providing for her helpless ones.
Fair is the leisure of the wheat
All night the damps about it fleet;
All day it basketh in the heat,
And grows, and whispers orisons.
Grand is the leisure of the earth;
She gives her happy myriads birth,
And after harvest fears no dearth,
But goes to sleep in snow-wreaths dim
Dread is the leisure up above
The while He sits whose name is Love,
And waits, as Noah did, for the dove,
To wit if she would fly to him.
He waits for us, while, houseless things,
We beat about with bruised wings
On the dark floods and water-springs,
The ruined world, the desolate sea ;
With open windows from the prime
All night, all day, He waits sublime,
Until the fulness of the, time
Decreed from His eternity.
Where is our leisure ?—Give us rest.
Where is the quiet we possessed?
We must have had it once—were blest
With peace whose phantoms yet entice.
Sorely the mother of mankind
Longed for the garden left behind;
For we still prove some yearnings blind
Inherited from Paradise.
JEAN IFGELow
WHO DID IT ?
" I have just dropped in, Mrs.
Thompson, to get your receipt for mak
ing currant wine, for I think that yours
is the test I have tasted anywhere, and
I want to make some just like it."
" I believe my wine is considered
pretty good, Mrs. Lee; but I have
three kinds of it, with some little dif
ference in the manner of making. You
must try each kind, and select which
you like best."
With housewifely pride, Mrs. Thomp
son then displayed to her visitor vari
ous samples of her skill in the manu
facture of domestic wine, giving her, at
the same time, the necessary instruc
tions for a novice in the art. Not
much heed was paid by either of the
ladies to little Hugh Lee, a child of
some six summers, who, following his
mother's steps, at first from a spirit of
imitation, but at last with evident
relish, drained every glass from which
his mother had sipped. Mrs. Lee pro
fited by the instructions she received,
and soon became as noted as her neigh
bor for the excellence of her home
made wine. Not unfrequently, and
invariably when guests were entertain
ed, was this beverage produced, nor
was it strange, that a liking for it soon
developed itself in little Hugh.
" Come, boy's it's the Fourth of July ;
let us have a good time of it. We will
go down to Connor's Cove, where we
will be by ourselves. We will have a
shooting match, there is good. fishing
there, we can take a nice swim, and I
have a bottle of prime whiskey, real
old and mellow. What do you say ?"
The speaker was our friend Hugh,
now a fine, manly boy of sixteen, gen
erous in his impulses, and a great fa
vorite with all his companions.
" I like it very well, Hugh," said
W ill Simpson,. " all but the whiskey.
I don't see any use in that. We can
have a real good time without any
help from the .bottle at all."
"But, Will, the old folks will be
drinking their toasts to-day. Even the
ladies, many of them, will. join in a
glass of wine. Let us act like men,
and be patriotic too."
Will, however, could not feel the
force of these arguments, and after no•
small discussion, the company of boys
divided, some going with Will to the
celebration at the church, where law
yer Stevens made a grand speech,
after which there was a nice collation
in the adjoining grove. The remain
der of the boys followed Hugh to Con
nor's Cove, a secluded spot, where, be
fore the day was over, some of them
had taken their first lessons in the
manly vice, as they deemed it, of ine
briation.
* .*
Ten years have passsed. A
,happy
company has gathered to do honor to
the union for life of the village beauty,
Susan Templeton, and the young mer
chant, Hugh Lee. Many friends anti
cipated for the youthful pair a pros
perous future, yet some of the older
ones forboded ill from the strong incli
nation which Hugh had manifested to
indulge with boon companions in a
social glass, so that even upon this
occasion, which appealed so power
fully to his better nature, he could not
conceal the feverish thirst'with which
he grasped the cup. Nor were there
wanting whispers that already, in sev
eral instances, he had tarried too long
at the wine—too long for his own self
respect—too long for the confidence of
those whose esteem was worth more to
him than all his stock in trade.
Ffteen years, and what a change has
passed, like a dark cloud, over the for
tunes of Hugh and Susan Lee! Down
ward and still downward Hugh's path
had been. Business and credit gradu
ally forsook the once prosperous young
merchant, when friends and customers
found that he was not a man to be re
lied upon, and that frequently he was
incompetent, from the effects of drink,
for the transaction of business.
Why, alas! was there no friendly
band stretched out to draw him from
the perilous brink on which he stood ?
—no friendly voice to warn him of the
danger, ere it should be forever too
late ? Reader, would your hand, your
voice, have been - enlisted in his behalf.?
Then•look around you and see how
many young men there are, walking
in your very sight the same dangerous
path on which poor Hugh had entered.
Can you do nothing to save them ?
It was a dark, wintry night when a
shivering, half-clad little girl edged
her way up to the bar of the hard
featured, h:-.rd-hearted rumseller, to
implore him to sell her father no more
of that poison which was making his
home so wretched.
" Here, Lee, is this your child ?
walk her off, if she is," was the brutal
answer ; and the miserable father had
so far forgotten the kindly heart that
-once beat in his bosom, as to raise his
hand and drive away, with cruel blows,
the child that had presumed to pl ea d
for him. Out into the cold, poor, hun
gry, ragged Nelly ; back to the hovel
that formed the drunkard's home.
What matters it that wive§ should
weep, and children starve, and homes
once the abodes of happiness ' become
the haunts of despair, if but the
pockets of the whiskey-sellei.s be filled
with the money coined out of tears
and blood !
The winter had not yet passed when
one morning the lifeless body of Hugh
Lee was found, where he had fallen
and perished, as he was staggering
home through the drifting snow from
the shop where he had bartered away
for 'rum his life, and all that makes life
desirable, and all that sheds hope upon
the future that lies beyond the grave.
The happy child—the light-hearted
boy—the promising young merchant
—the husband—the father—the pil
grim to eternity—how sad the end—
how common the story. Can oar
voices—our influence—our example—
help to stay the dreadful ruin 7—Pres
byterian Banner.
Many years ago Mr. S—, a.good
missionary who had left home and
friends and gone out to the far West
to tell the poor Indians of the love of
Jesus, sat in his log-cabin on a cold
winter's day. He was not quite alone,
for his wife and the wife of a btother
missionary were with him. The ladies
were very sad ; tears .would fill their
eyes as they looked first at the mission
ary and then at the little table where
their scanty breakfast had just been
set out. There was one small piece of
meat and three potatoes ; that was all ;
no bread nor cakes.; no flour in the
barrel to make any ; nothing more in
the louse to eat, and no place to go to
buy food ; for they were out in the
wilderness, very far from any town,
and with no neighbors but the Indians,
who were even poorer than themselves.
There was no game either, for the
Indians had hunted the ground for
miles all round them over and over
again ; and even if there had been,
Mr. S— had no gun, as the other
missionary had taken it and the canoe,
'and gone many miles a way to a fort
to try to get some provisions to keep
them from starving; but they knew
he could not return soon; they did
not expect him for ten days ; and that
small piece of meat and the three pota
toes were. all that these three people
had to live upon until he came back.
Do you wonder that the ladies were
sad and troubled? that their eyes were
filled with tears as they looked at Mr.
S-7 No, it was not strange: you
and I would probably have felt just as
they did: and yet they ought not to
have been troubled, for the Lord has
promised to provide for his people.
But there were no ..tears in the good
missionary's eyes, because he remem
bered what God had said, and believed
it ; they had been asking their heaven
ly Father to help them out of their
trouble, 'and he believed that their
prayers had been heard and would be
answered. This was faith, and it made
him cheerful and happy in the midst
of their poverty and distress. .
" Trust in the Lord, and do good ;
so shalt thou dwell in the land and
verily thou shalt be fed ;' " he repeat
ed in a joyful, exultant tone;
and.with
a pleasant smile invited his Com
panions to sit down and eat. "Don't
be afraid," he said, " that is God's own
promise, and. he will be sure to fulfill
it. We shall not be left to starve."
" No," replied the ladies, "we will
not eat; there is not enough for us all,
and you must eat it that you may have
strength for your work ; you are more
needed than we."
C',IME:I
"No, no," said Mr. S—, "the
number of potatoes shows how the
food is to be divided, we will each take
one, and I will cut the meat into three
pieces."
He did so, and they began to eat.
They had not yet finished when the
outer door opened, and the first thing
they saw was a quarter of venison,
which you know is the flesh of a deer,
coming in, followed by an Indian who
held it in his hand.
"I come to feed you," he said in his
native tongue. Ah! now the tears
came from the good missionary's eyes,
as he first praised the 'Lord for his
good ness , and then thanked the kind
Indian, who was much astonished to
hear how near starvation they had
been.
“ Ah,” sai.d. he, "now I know why,
when I killed my deer seven miles
away, something said to me, go
quickly and carry a piece to the mis
sionary.'
This is quite a true story, dear chil
dren, for I heard it not very long ago
from the good missionary's own lips ;
and he told me that he had always
found God faithful to his promises. Is
it not a blessed thing to have such a
THE LORD WILL PROVIDE.
friend always able and ready to help
us in every time of need Do you
not want such a friend, dear child ?
Ah !he wants to be your friend. He
invites you to come and put your trust
in him. He is waiting to receive you.
Will you not come and give your
heart to Jesus, and trust him to save
your soul, and to provide you with all
you need to make you happy here and
hereafter ?_s. S. Visitor.
THE LESSONS OF THE LEAVES.
How do the leaves grow
In spring upoothett-s ?
Oh, the sap swells up - with a dro 11,
And that is life to them.
What do the leaves do
Through the long summer hours?
Oh, they make a home for the wandering birds,
A-tlcl shelter the wild flowers.
How do the leaves fade
Beneath the Atunah blast?
Oh, fairer they grow before they die
Their brightest is their last.
We are like leaves, too,.
0 children, Weak and small;
God knows each leaf of the forest shade
He knows you eaelt and all.
. -
'Neeri.ts part s
aleaf fall:
until
nc,:
God gives us grace like sap. and then
Some work to every one.
You must grow old, too.
Beneath the autumn sky;
But lovelier and brighter your lives may grow,
Like leaves before they die.
Brighter with kind deeds,
With love to others given
Till the leaf falls off from the autumn tree,
And the spiritis in heaven.
A DOG'S FEELINGS.
Many people laugh at the idea of
being careful of 'a dog's feelings, as if
it were the height of absurdity ; and
yet it is a fact that some dogs are as
exquisitely sensitive to pain, shame,
and mortification, as any human being.
See, when a dog is spoken harshly to,
what a universal droop seems to come
over him. His head and ears sink, his
tail drops and slinks between his legs,
and his whole air seems to say, " I wish
I could sink into the earth to hide my
self."
Prince's young master, without
knowing it, was the means of inflict
ing a most terrible mortification on
him at one time. It was very hot
weather, and Prince, being a shaggy
dog, lay panting, and lolling his tongue
out, apparently suffering from the heat.
"1. declare," said young Master
George, " I do believe Prince would be
more comfortable for being sheared."
And'to forthirith he took him and be
gan divesting him of his 'coat. Prince
took it all very obediently ; but when
he appeared with his unusual attire,
every one saluted him with roars of
laughter, and Prince was dreadfully
mortified. He broke away from his
master, and scampered off home at a
desperate pace, ran down' cellar and
disappeared from view. His young
master was quite distressed tho Prince
took the matter so to heart ; he fol
lowed him in vain, calling, "Prince!
Prince!" No Prince -appeared. He
lighted, a candle, and searched the cel
lar, and found the poor creature cow
ering away in the darkest nook under
the stairs. Prince was not tq be com
forted; he slunk deeper a i nd deeper
into the darkness, and crouched on the
ground when he . saw hienlaster, and.
fora long time refused even to take
food. The family all visited and con
doled with him, and finally his sorrows
were somewhat abated; but hie would
not be persuaded to leave the cellar for
nearly a week. Perhaps by that time
he indulged the hope that his hair was
beginning to grow again, and all were
careful not to destroy the illusion by
any jests or comments on his appear
ance.--lfrs. Stowe
PORTP I IIIT OF CHIEF JUSTICE CHASE.
The Evening Post relates the follow
ing amusing incident:—During the re
cent southern tour of Chief Justice
Chase, formerly gecretary of the Trea
sury, while Key West, he visited a
somewhat noted iwro. • This man is
said to be the strongest person in all
Florida, and he possesses strength of
dharacter as well as of body. He was
formerly a slave in.-Maryfand, but by
overwork purchased his freedom 'while
yet young, removed to Key West,
where he prospered, and is now the
owner of a large plantation. He very
politely conducted Mr. Chase over his
grounds, pointing out the various fruit
trees, etc., and was himself greatly
pleased with his visitor. Finally,
when they returned to the house and
were seated on the verandah, the col
ored man said he would like very
much to have a portrait of his guest.
Mr. Chase, having no photograph, took
from his pocket a one-dollar greenback
and -handed it to him. The negro
looked first at the picture on the'end,
then at Mr. Chase, and at last in his
surprise broke out, " Why, you's Old
Greenbacks hisself, isn't you ?" Mr.
Chase grea,tly enjoyed the' incident,
and the negro equally so, for he added,
"If I lives fifty years, I shall always
remember sure, just how you anti I
was sitting together.",
No HIDING PLACE.—W hen we have
done wrong and want to conceal the fault,
the very way we take to hide it often leads
to detection. We must go where God is
not, if we would be safe -from detection;
but since God is in every place, we may be
sure our sin, however seeret it may.be, will
find us out.