15'11F fulfil; Efiintr.
[For the American Presbyterian.)
ONLY A LITTLE BROOK.
A. little girl about nine years old was dying.
She had felt great fear of death, but just at the
last moment, a look of rapture came over her
face and exclaiming, " Mother it's only a title
brook," she breathed her last. I saw the inci
derit in the Norfolk Virginian.
All night beside the dying child, the mother
watched and wept,
With gentle touch shesmoothed her brow, and
- back the ringlets. sweptv , :: , -
She held,the little dimpled hand, that clung to
her's so tight,
And strove to calm the trembling heart, that
shuddered with affright.
The rounded cheek, all fever-flushed, was paling
hour by hour,
The violet eyes: were growing dim; the lovely
, household flower
Wu fading fast! No mortal love, could stay
the angel hand,
That came to bear the darling child, to the far
better land.
O, earthly love 0, mother lovel it's bitter
work to say
"Thy will be done," when Christ's sweet will,
would take our babes away ;
When little steps we glided first along life's
"morning street{''
Are tottering where the eternal , seas rush by
with sounding feet.
" 0, mother, help me!" cried the child, "For
I am sore afraid ;
I know that Jesus loves my soul! but I would
fain have stayed
Right here in this dear home of ours, with every
one I love ;
It seems so lonely in that great wide heavenly
land above!
"It seems so far I those cruel waves are capped
with crested foam;
I'm all alone! and I must leavemy mother and
my home! L.,
If I could feel the Savionr'e, arm - around" 'me
folding strortz,
I think theway would hardly seem so weary
and so long."
The mother knelt beside the bed, and lifted up
her prayer
To Him, whose ear is never shut to sounds of
man's despair:'
He heard, and sent on swiftest wing, aminister
of light,
To open on those timid eyes, a glimpse of glory
bright.
All swiftly through the fields of air the ;kindly
spirit sped
All noiselessly he entered in, and hovered o'er
her bed :
The pallid watchers only saw the morning wan
and gray,
That came to bear their .darling one, from
earthly love away. .
They only saw the cold blue'light, that barred
the eastern sky ;
They only saw the purple flush, when came the
sunrise nigh;
They only heard the morning mind about •the
casement moan,
They could not see, they could not hear, what
• came to her unknown.
But suddenly the violet eyes were aped in sweet
surprise,
The parted lips were smiling now, she saw the
fair sunrise,
The brightness of another land, where never
night shall come,
The golden gleam, the diamond sheen, or oti r
immortal home.
"0, mother!" l, cried the little voice, with sweet
trin * n' frai l dl I'm
'ttone
ra nott
not afraid! ,I am not all
alone :
The river's rushing at my feet, I did not dare to
look—
But heaven is on the other eidel it's just a little
brook !"
That day, they wept with salt, salt, ears, about
the form so cold
They parted round the marble face, the sunny,
curls of gold :
But up in yonder shining land, the landrof song
and story,
.mother harp was thrilling to the touch of one
in glory. ' ' M. E. M.
NEVER GIVE UP
[From *a little volume entitled
" What to do," in press by the Presby
terian Publication Committee, by the
Author of " Piety and Pride," &c.
" I cannot I I'm surel shall never
be able to learn this- bard lesson!".
said little Fred, stamping his foot,
throwing down his book, and almost
crying with anger. " I won't learn it,
either I"
Fred did not see that his mother was
Sanding in the door-way looking at
Wino for his back was toward it—
". Fred !Freddy I" she said, coming into
the room„. "suppose you „try once
more. 7 Try, try again,' the little song
says. You must met give -up so, my
boy."
But, mother," said Fred, " there is
no use in my trying. I shall never be
able to learn it ! never !"
"Very well, my son," said Mrs:
Brown, "lay aside your books, while
I read to you, what Solomon says, 'He
becoineth poor that dealeth with a slack
hand, but the hand of the diligent
maketh rich.' Do you wish to grow
up to be an ignorant man ?"
` NO, Ma'am."
"Then, my son, go diligently to
wok over your books. Never give
up,' is an ;'excellent motto for a boy.
Try _again, Fred, never give r. up:
Life is called a battle, and if we would
beeonquerors, we must be persevering ,
and diligent." '
Not many days after Fred came
running into his mother's zoom,-hold
ing an open book in his hand.
",Mother I mother I" hesaid, "I wanted
to do as you told me, and I did not
Wish to be a stupid man; so I tried, and
tried again, to learn this hard lesson.
Now I, can say every word of it.
Just hear ine; - Mother."
Yes, Fred ,had lesrned his lesson
perfectly. "Now, my son," his mother
said "ever remember ,that, to accom
plish our object, we niust. never give
up before we try. Persevere; be dill
gent. With folded hand we can do
ig.othing.. l7
F r( V.l.l',ll do -better next time, mother,"
Statet.Fod, as he ran off, delighted with
* rani l Am:was. How much 'better and
N. he lil3lt, than if given
zary Litera.
A,. (Jo. ph i vt his books away I
" No, no ; I'll never give up
again ; 11 he said, " and by-and-bye I'll
he a man, and do something for
muther."
Fred had a kind mother, who work
ed very hard to support him ; he knew
this, and would often say to himself,
" Never mind, I'm going to work for
her by-and-bye." But poor Fred gave
up too easily. Let us see if the hard
lesson had taught him that by perse
verance we can accomplish great
things.
The hard lesson having been really
learned, Fred felt encouraged to go on
trying to overcome greater difficulties.
"if I can do one thing,"'he said, "
can do another. I mean to try, and as
mother says, ' never give up.' "
From the very bottom of the class,
Fred began to find himself slowly
going up ; until, one day he was at the
head. Purely from trying, and never
giving up.
Daily he watched his mother work
ing for him. " Why can't Ido some
thing to help her ?" he said, " I'm
twelve years old. I will ; yes, I will."
These thoughts were passing through
his mind one morning, as he walked
down the street with his little dog at
his side. Turning his head to loOk
into a handsome store-window, he saw
on a paper inside, A boy wanted."
" A boy wanted," he 'read it over
and over, while his heart beat against
his breast. "If I could get a place
like that," he said, " why I could help
mother, I'm sure I could." His
thoughts were full of it, and he ran as
fast as he could to ask his mother if he
might,not try to get the place,
She gave her consent, " for," she
said, " Freddy, I'm obliged to take you
from school for awhile, because I can
not pay the bills. You may try, my
boy.'
Fred was very impatient to be off at
once, lest some one else should have
procured the place before him. He
made himself very neat, brushed his
clothes, and blacked his shoes as
brightly as possible. Then, eating his
dinner, he hurried back to the store.
The paper was still in the window,
and \vita' a great fluttering at his heart,
Fred Walked into the fine store.
"I'm afraid," said the gentleman,
" that you are too small."
" , I'm twelve years .old, sir ;" said
Fred, standing very erect, " and I
could try."
The gentleman smiled, and said, "I
should like to have you, my boy, if you
were only a little' stouter. I don't
think that you would be able to take
home large bundles like that ; would
you ?"
" I could try, sir ; mother says, we
ought never to give up."
" You are the right kind of a boy,
my son. I'll give you a trial—you
may come in the morning."
Fred was almost breathless with
delight ; he ran home as fast as his feet
could carry him, to tell his mother of
his success. "Mother," he said, "I'm
glad I got that hard lesson ; because
now, whenever I feel like giving up,
I think of it ; and I say to myself, I
won't give up yet. I'll try again. I
mean to be a rich man some day ; so
as to take care of you."
" Go, on, my dear boy," his mother
said, " persevere, but don't forget that
it is Gbd who giveth us the power to
do. Ask him to keep you from temp
tation's:rid sin, and to help you to
overcame the difficulties that may
come in your way."
Fred determined to follow his
mother's advice ; and he entered upon
his duties resolving , to do, his best, and
never to give up if he could help it.
He got very tired at first, running here
and there with heavy bundles; but
then he said to himself, "I learned
that hard lesson; and if I go on trying
I 'shall : get a better place by-and-bye.'
Thus Jie comforted himself one hot
summer day, as he carried along sever
al bundles strapped together, and slung
across his shoulder. He stopped for a
moment to rest on the steps of a fine
house, for he was very warm and tired ;
and while he was wiping the perspira
tion from his brow, the door was open
ed, and Mr. C , the proprietor of
the store he was in, came out.
"Ah, Fred, is that you ?" he said,
" you look tired,"
Fred thought for a moment, before
he answered. For would it be brave
or manly to say he was tirPd?
"Tis very warm sir," i,e said, with
a slight shake of his head.
" That it is, my boy," said the gen
tleman, smiling, to see with what an
air of confidence Fred shouldered his
burden.
For two whole years Fred remained
errand boy in Mr. C 'a handsome
store. His motto had always been,
never give up Temptations and dif
ficulties had frequently come in his
way, but he had not forgotten the hard
lessart, and nis mother's daily admoni
tion, "Trust in God, my son, and never
give up trying to do right." So, on
Fred battled his way, gradually gain
ing the good opinion and confidence of
those around him. His wages had
from time to time been increased, and
now he was really able to do some
thing to help his mother.
"Mother 1 mother 1" he exclaimed,
bouncing into the room on New-year's
eve, "look here! look here I Mr.
has given me a twenty-dollar
gold-piece for a New-year's gift, and
here is a note and a dress-pattern for
you I
"'My boy! my darling boy I" said
Mrs. Brown, lifting her hands.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. MAY 31. 1866.
" This comes from not giving up.
Let us read the note."
Better--better still, Mr. 0— had
offered Fred a situation behind the
counter, and much better pay.
0, it was a happy, happy evening
to Fred and his mother.
"Pm glad I learned that hard les
son," cried Fred ; " it taught me never
to give up."
" God bless you, my son," sa id. his
mother, with tearful, eyes, ."and lead
you ever in the right way !"
Eight years longer Fred labored on
in the same store; never
giving up,
though he had often felt like it. He
persevered in everything, until he
gained a thorough knowledge of the
business, and had made himself indis
pensable to the house. Another change
has taken place in Fred's circumstancs.
He is a partner now. See him walk
ing arm in arm down the street with
that elderly gentleman I How pleas
antly they seem to be talking now, as
they stand before a pretty cottage
garden.
It is Fred's new home, to which he
has just taken his mother ; there she
is coming to meet them, with smiling
face. Fred supported his mother now.
She no longer sits up late to sew by
candle-light for him; there is no.need
for that. Fred was a kind, good son.
The hard lesson had taught him how
to be successful in life.
Think of Fred, my dear children, if
you should be tempted to give up,
and to say, " I can't!" Do as he did ;
"Try, try again." "Go on—don't
give up. What is to hinder you from
succeeding as well as Fred?"
It was very pleasant to Fred, after
the week's labors were: over, to be able
to spend one day out of therieven—
the Sabbath-day—between church and
home. It is Sabbath-naornink, and
Fred and his mother are going to
church. Fondly she leans upon his
arm. And how carefully he guides
her steps, for she is not strong. The
bells are ringing, calling God's people
together to worship Mtn.
Just watch the people—see how
kindly they extend their hands to the
young man who has risen so happily
by God's blessing on his exertions and
perseverance.
Don't give up, my boys ! Remem
ber, there is no disgrace in honest
labor. If you do not succeed the
first time, try again. Learn the h::.rd
lesson. Overcome the difficulties by
repeated efforts. Trust in God and do
good, and "verily thou shalt be fed."
He will help you, if you ask Him.
He will be your strength and your
guide, if you trust in Him. Don't
give up!
A woman must make herself obvious
to her husband, or he will drift out
beyond her horizon. She will be to
him very nearly what she wills and
works to be. Unless she adapts her
self to her husband, be will fall into
the arrangement, and the two, will fall
apart. I do not mean that they will
quarrel, but they will lead separate
lives. They will be no longer hus
band and wife. There will be a do
mestic alliance, but no marriage. A
predominant interest in the same ob
jects binds them together after a
fashion ; but marriage is semething
beyond that. It a woman wishes and
purposes to be the friend of her hus
band—if she would be valuable to
him ; not simply as the nurse of his
children and the directress of his house
hold, but as a woman fresh and fair
and fascinating to him, intrinsically
lovely and attractive, she should make
an effort for it. It is not by any means
a thing that comes of itself. She must
read, and observe, and think, and
reach up to it. Men, as a general
thing, will not tell you so. They talk
about having the slippers ready, and
enjoin women to be domestic. But
men are blockheads—dear, and affec
tionate, and generous blockheads—
benevolent, large hearted, and chival
rous—kind, and patient, and hard-
Working, but stupid where women are
concerned. Indispensable and de
lightful as they are iii real life, plea
sant and comfortable a- women actually
find them, not one in ten thousand
but makes a dunce t himself the mo
ment he opens his mouth to theorize
about women. Besides, they have an
axe to grind. The pretty things they
inculcate—slippers and coffee, and care
and courtesy—ought indeed to be
done, but the others ought not to be
left undone. And to the former,
women seldom need to be exhorted.
They take to them naturally. A great
many more women follow boorish
husbands, with fond little attentions
than wound appreciative ones by ne
glect. Women domesticate themsel
ves to death already. What they
want is cultivation. They need to be
stimulated to develop a large, compre
hensive, catholic life, in which their
domestic duties shall have an appro
priate niche, and not dWindle down to
a narrow and servile one, over which
those duties shall spread and occupy
the whole space:
There are women less foolish. They
see their husbands attracted in other
directions more often and more easily
than in theirs. They have too much
sterling worth and profound faith to
be vulgarly jealous. They fear nothing
like shame or crime; but they feel that
the fact that their own pre-occupation
with homely household duties precludes
real companionship, the interchange`of
emotions, thoughts, sentiments, a liv
THE ART OF WIFE PHESEfiVING,
ing and palpable and vivid contact of
mind with mind, of heart with heart.
They see others whose leisure minis
ters to grace, accomplishments, piq
uancy, and attraetiveness, and the
moth flies toward the light by his own
nature. Because he is a wise and
virtuous and honorable moth, he does
not dart into the flame. He does not
even scorch his wings. He never
thinks of such a thing. He merely
circles around the pleasant light sun
ning himself in it without much
thought one way or another, only feel
ing that it is pleasant ; but meanwhile
Mrs. Moth sits at home in darkness
mending the children's clothes, which
is not exhilarating. Many a woman
who feels that she possesses her hus
band's affection misses something.
She does not secure his fervor, his ad
miration. His love is honest and solid,
but a little dormant, and therefore dull.
It does not brace, and tone, and stimu
late. She wants not the lOve only,
but the keenness, and edge, and flavor
of the love, and she suffers untold
pangs. I know it, for I have seen it.
Tt is not a thing to be uttered. Most
women do not admit it even to them
selves; but it is revealed by the lift
of the eyelash, by a quiver of the eye,
by a tone of the voice, by a trick of
the finger.— Gail Hamilton.
SIR WALTER SCOTT ON THE SAB-
BATH.
It may not be without its use the
submitting to our readers the follow
ing opinion on the Sabbath question,
of one whom none could certainly
accuse of bigotry, namely, Sir Walter
Scott. It is taken from the Quarterly
Review, of 1828: "If we believe in
the Divine origin of the command
ment, the Sabbath is instituted for the
express purposes of religion. The
time set apart is the Sabbath of the
Lord,--a day on which we are not to
work our own works, or think our
own thoughts. The precept is positive,
and the purpose clear. For our eternal
benefit, a certain space of every week
is appointed, which, sacred from all
other avocations save those imposed
by necessity and mercy, is to be em
ployed in religious duties. The Roman
Catholic Church, which lays so much
force on observances merely ritual,
may consistently suppose that the time
claimed is more than sufficient for the
occasion, and dismiss the peasants,
when mass is over, to any game, or
gambol which fancy may dictate,
leaving it with the priest to do on be
half of the congregation what further
is necessary tor the working out of
their salvation. But this is not Pro
testant doctrine, though it may be imi
tated 'by Protestant Churches:- The
religious part of a Sunday's exercise
is not to be considered as a bitter medi
cine, the taste of which is, as soon as
possible, to be removed by a bit of
sugar. On the contrary, our demeanor
through the rest of the day ought to
be not sullen, certainly, but tending
to instruction. Give to the world one
half of the Sunday, ar•d you will find
that religion has no strong hold of the
c,ther. Pass the morning at church,
and the evening according to your
taste or rank, in the cricket-field,
or at the opera, and you will soon find
thoughts of the evening hazards and
bets intrude themselves on thdsermdn,
and the recollections of the popular
melody interfere with the Psalms.
Religion is thus treated like Lear, to
whom his ungrateful daughters first
denied one-half of his stipulated at
tendance, and then made it a question
whether they should grant him any
share of what remained."
F(►R WHIT CHILDREN ARE MOST
GRATEFUL
Parents spend a life of toil in order
to leave their children wealth, to se
cure them social position or other
worldly advantages. I do not under
rate the worth of these things. Had
they not been valuable, there would
not have been so many providential
arrangements impelling men to seek
them. I would not only show that
there is something of infinitely greater
value, not only to the parent, but to be
transmitted to the child. What does the
child most love to remember ? I never
heard a child express any gratification
or pride that a parent had been too
fond of accumulating money, though
the child at that moment was enjoying
that accumulation. But I have heard
children, though their inheritance had
been crippled and cut down by it,
say, with a glow of satisfaction on
their features, that a parent had been
too kind-hearted, too hospitable, too
liberal and public-spirited to be a very
prosperous man. A . parent who leaves
nothing but wealth or similar social
advantages to his children, is apt to
be speedily forgotten.
However it ought to be, parents are
not particularly held in honor by chil
dren because of the worldly advan
tages they leave them. There is com
parative little gratitude for this. The
heir of an empire hardly thanks him
who bequeathed it. He more often
endeavors before his time to thrust
him from his throne. But let a child
be able to say my father was a just
man, he was affectionate in his home,
he was tender-bearted, he was useful
to the community, and loved to do
good in society, he was a helper of
the young, the poor, the unfortunate
be was a man of principle, liberal
upright, devout—and the child's me_,
mory cleaves to that parent. He
honors him, reveres, him, treasures his
name and his memory, thinks himself
blest in having had such a parent,
and the older he grows, instead of for
getting, only reveres and honors and
remembers him the more. Here is ex
perience and affection sitting in judg
ment on human attainments. It shows
what is most worth the seeking.—
Ephraim Peabody.
SABBATH-SCHOOL WORK.
"Teacher ! who sityst with little band,
Leading their thoughts,to the better land I
Telling of Jesus, whose dying love
Rath purchased' for them the joys above,
-
Rejoice that to thee the work is given,
Of turning those youthful minds to heaven."
Is it not a glorious sight to go to
some small, quiet village where no
Christian Church is found, but where,
from Sabbath to Sabbath, the friends
of Christ gather the children, to tell
them of Jesus ? What thoughts come
to the heart, as we sit and look upon
the bright countenances of those chil
dren 1 What changes may come to
them! The boy to-day may be the
noble-hearted, earnest Christian of
coming years. This little garden of
the Lord's hath only immortal flowers,
not one shall cease to live, they shall
blossom and bloom to win others in
paths of peace and eternal happiness,
to make the world more beautiful, to
fill it with praises to the Creator; or
they shall be those flowers which re
ceive the sunshine and the rain, God's
gifts, only to lead others into paths of
eternal death. Yes, each child here
has its work to do.
It was said by one, as she passed
through Westminster Abbey, and
looked upon the splendid monuments
of poets and sculptors, warriors and
statesmen, of kings and queens, that
all these faded away as she stood by
one which bore the name of "Isaac
Watts." She says: "I could only re
member the hour when my mother,
kneeling by me, taught me the child's
petition which this vcry Watts long
years before had framed." Could he
look down from the walls of the erol
den City and behold the hundreds
which visit that grave, or the thou
sands which his hymns have blessed,
truly he would feel how little he knew
of the fruit of his life while he was on
earth.
It is said that, after the death of
the missionary Stoddard, at the still
evening hour, . those whom he had
taught would go to his grave and sing
sweet songs of Zion ; and, says one
who listened to those songs, " Who
could wish a better monument than
those songs of victory which arose
above that lohely grave in the still
evening air of a Persian sky ?"
So the teacher in the Sabbath•school
may, from week to week, be build
ing a monument more durable than
marble; there he may so bend the
twig, that it may grow up a beautiful
fruit-bearing tree in the vineyard of
the Lord. Labor will not be lost in
this work, for as the Master path said,
so it will be, that " Whosoever shall
give to drink unto one of these little
ones, a cup of cold water only, in the
name of a disciple, verily I say unto
you, he shall in no wise lose his
reward."—Boston Recorder.
REAIARKABIA ESCAPES OF EMINENT
Som-years ago, a young man hold
ing a subordinate position in the East
India Company's service, twice at
tempted to deprive himself of life, by
snapping a loaded pistol at his head.
Each time the pistol missed fire. A
friend entering his room shortly after
ward, he requested him to fire it out
of the window; it then went off with
out any difficulty. Satisfied thus that
the weapon had been duly primed and
loaded, the young man sprang up, ex
claiming, "I must be reserved for
something great," and, from that mo
ment gave up the idea of suicide,
which for some time previous had
been uppermost in his thoughts. That
young man afterward became Lord
Clive.
Two brothers were on one occasion
walking together, when a violent
storm of thunder and lightning over
took them. One was struck dead on
the spot; the other was spared, else
would the name of the great reformer,
Martin Luther, have been unknown to
mankind.
The holy St. Augustine, having to
preach in a distant town, took with
him a. guide, who, by some unaccount
able means, mistook the usual road
and fell into , a by-path. He afterward
heard that his enemies, having heard
of his movements, had placed them
selves in the proper road, with the
design of murdering him.
Bacon, the sculptor, when a tender
boy
. of five years old, fell into the pit
of a soap•boiler, and must have per
ished had not a workman, just enter
ing the yard, observed the top of his
head, and delivered him.
When Oliver Cromwell was an in
fant, a monkey snatched him from his
cradle, leaped with him through a
garret window, and ran along the
leads of the house. The - utmost alarm
was excited among the inmates, and
various were the devices used to rescue
the child from the guardianship of his
newly-found protector. All were un
availing; his would-be rescuers had
lost courage, and were in despair of
ever seeing the baby alive again, when
the monkey quietly retraced his steps
and deposited his burden safely on
the ted. On a subsequent occasion,
the waters had well-nigh quenched
his insatiable ambition. He fell into
a deep pond, from drowning in which
a clergyman, named Johnson, was the
sole instrument of his rescue_
At the siege of Leicester, a young
soldier, about seventeen years of age,
was drawn out for sentry duty. One
of his comrades was very anxious to
take his place. No objection was
made, and this man went. He was
shot dead while on guard. The young
man first drawn afterward became the
author of, the "Pilgrim's Progress."
Doddridge, when born, was so weak
ly an infant, he was believed to be
dead. A nurse standing by fancied
she saw some signs of vitality. Thus
the feeble spark of life was saved from
being extinguished, and an eminent
author and consistent Christian pre
served to the world.
John Wesley, when a child, was
only just preserved from fire. Almost
the moment after he was rescued, the
roof of the house where he had been
fell in. Of Philip Henry a similar
instance is recorded.
John Knox, the renowned Scotch
reformer, was always wont to sit at the
head of the table with his back to the
window. On one particular evening,
without, however, being able to
account for it, he would neither himself
sit in the chair nor permit any one else
to occupy his place. That very night
a bullet was shot in at the window
purposely to kill him ; it grazed the
chair in which he sat, and made a hole
in the foot of a candlestick on the
table.
Many years have now elapsed since
three subalterns might have been seen
struggling in the water off St. Helena ;
one of them, peculiarly helpless, was
fast succumbing. He was saved to
live as Arthur Wellesley, Duke of
Wellington.
The life of John Newton is but the
history of a series of marvelous deliv
erances. As a youth he had agreed to
accompany some friends on board of a
man-of-war. He arrived too late ; the
boat in which his friends bad gone
was capsized and all its occupants
drowned. On another occasion, when
tide sure, or in.the port of Liverpool,
some business had detained him, so
that he came much later than usual, to
the great surprise of those who were
in the habit of observing his unde
viating punctuality. He went out in
the boat, as heretofore, to inspect a ship,
which blew up before he reached her.
Had he left the shore a few minutes
sooner he must have perished with the
rest on board.
THE FIRST AMERICAN TRAITOR.
On the 14th day of June, 1801, at
Gloucester Place, London, at the age
of sixty-one years, died Benedict Ar
nold, the first American traitor. Like
the traitors of the present time, he
was employed and trusted by his
country, received promotion and honor
at its hands, and then, because a check
bad been temporarily put to his ambi
tion, basely betrayed the nation that
had reposed confidence in him_ His
fate was that of all traitors. Cursed
by the country he had betrayed, he
was seorned and despised by the na
tion to whom he bad dishonorably
sold himself. At last, unhonored, un
pitied, he died in merited obscurity,
and has become a synonym of the
basest treachery wherever the English
language is spoken. The following
acrostic on the name of Benedict Ar
nold, containing the fiercest invective
of his treason, is ascribed to the pen
of his cousin, Oliver Arnold. It is
unsurpassed in bitterness.
Born for a curse to virtue and mankind,
Earth's broadest realm ne'er knew so black a
mind,
Night's sable veil your crime can never hide,
Each one so great 'twould glut historic tide.
Defunct, your cursed memory will live,
In all the glare that infamy can give ;
Curses of ages will attend your name,
Traitors alone will glory in your shame.
Almighty vengeance sternly waits to roll
Rivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul,
Nature looks shuddering back with conscious
dread
On such a tarnished blot as she has made;
Let hell receive you, riveted in your chains.
Doomed to the hottest focus of its flames.
British sentiment concerning this
American traitor is sufficiently shown
by the following extract from the Pro
ceedings of Parliament:
" March 20, 1782. On the Sari of
Surry's rising in Parliament, to make
his motion about removing ministers.
he happened to espy Arnold, the Ame
rican seceding general, in the House, and
sent him a message to depart, threat
ening, in case of refusal, to move for
breaking up the gallery ; to which
the general answered that he was in
troduced there by a member. To
which Lord Surry replied, he might,
under that condition, stay, if he would
promise never to enter it again. With
which General Arnold complied. This
is the second instance of public disre
spect he had met with; the king
having been forced to engage his
royal word not to employ or pension
him—a just reward for treachery,
which is ever odious."—Curecen, page
338.
Unless the world is degenerating
the names of Jeff. Davis, Floyd Co
will yet be equally odious to all men
A GERMAN PRINCESS, Maria Doro
thea, took leave of a Christian mission
ary with these words: "Christiana
never part for the last time—Adieu.'