210 6itB eirtts; . "UNSPOTTED FROM THE WORLD." a unspotted from the worldl" 'oh, Father, keep them Free in the guilelessness of purity And let thy sacred and eternal presence Protect and bless them when deprived o me I' 'Twas thus a mother breathed her last petit tion, Mingled with faith, that the reply would , prove All that 'a saint midway 'twist earth and heaven • , ~, , e, , ligould.ask for, the dear- childrenofiter love. "Unspotted from the world!". that .holy prayer • ' Was echoed on by ooft angelic voices, Till breathed ae incense o'er the throne of heaven, The angel of the Presence hears—rejoices. A Gabriel receives the high commission To quit those realms of endless bliss and peace, To hover near those children in their wan % derings, Anc i ii;ide them to the land were sorrows • cease. " trospotted from the world 1" a magicpower Lies hidden in those gentle holy words, As if the echo from sonic seraph's lyre Had formed the key-note to those heavenly chords. They were, the first bright links of that blest chain Which drew the wanderers' hearts to things. above The stars amidst the firmament of earth, That led the gaze to' worlds of light and love. " Unspotted from the world t" the angel whis-, pered, When Fame her brightest offerings hadshed, Arid crowned with honors gay, bat frail and fleeting, The best, the dearly-loved, the first-born's head. He paused upon the threshold of his , nian hood, And, with a prayer for help controlled 'his will; He passed the ordeal with a God-like spirit,— Angels rejoice—he is " unspotted" still " Unspotted from the world !" the maiden trembled To hear those words so shriid in memo ry's heart, She paused ere yet the binding vows were• taken— What could the Lord and mammon have in part? The spell was gone—the empty dream had vanished, Touched by the proving fire of heavenly treth ; And she.was left a holier, sadder being, Unharmed by ill, "unspotted" e'en in youth. " Unspotted from the world I" they rest in blessing, • Two; buds of promise severed from the stem, But only to be pruned and made more holy, Ere, grafted in the vine's bright diademt That mother's prayer: by Heaven has been anawev.d ; , Her children gnarded by a "dOd of love, • And when the•great Archangel's trump has snd ed , , "Unspotted froin the woiid !" meet above. • --„Ohristian Treasury. GIVING AWAY THE, PET BIRD, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. "What makes you give away your bird, Harman ?" said little Johnny, climbing into a chair very near to his brother, who was holding a large green canary upon his forefinger. "What makes you give it to widow Tileston ?" Because she's sick and unhappy ; she cannot get off her bed, and lies there alone a great many hourS." "Boys don't give away 'their birds," said Johnny, rising on his knees, and eagerly and admiringly watching the pretty bird as it:turned first one bright eye, then 'the other, to Harman's Sobered face. "Boys don't give :away 'their birds." "Why not ?" Johnny's reason, like that of many other children, and some grown.up people, was only a repetition of his as- sertion, the assertion' based upOn personal feeling or wish. ' "Boys ought" to give away their birds sometimes," answered Harman. " Well, they don't," urged Johnny: "You..don't know what all the boys do:; but: if they, don't giye away their birds, ,nerhapseome of them ought to." " WV, asked jOhttny. "'becatise they j .ought, to do just ;as they'd `iliave others do to them. , " Baty, who stood le,aning• on the tableaistatching the bird as admiringly as - Johnny; looked !More and more sorrowful. " Does mother. know- you you're going to give your bird away ?" she asked—. ' u t"g,es; rYP4aked,yfitlaptyr about it." And does Mrs. Tileslori know she's goinkto have ,it ? 4 ' AiA must you give it to her'?" ' I r tgitik so. I think We mist mind God. At;y rate, I' want 'to. "'Did' ' . `Go' . , Go tell you to give away lA yo - bird ?" iriquired Johnny, quick itfid 'artxibusly; . "He told me to do as I would ,be done by. NOW, if Were sick and loposome,..r should like to have some bbdyiive Me a bird, sci I must ive poor Mrs. Tileston mine. She needs it:a great deal more thap. I *do," an tittered Harman, inioothini the 1:4111.= eirs of his little favorite, ind holding it tenderly to hhi 'cheek: `The cage stood on the flcior, nicely ekaned. It was to go with the bird. Balmart put his pet into it, and cover- Wit with the cloth, carried it away. nil laid her head upon the table, and solped, but bearing little Johnny run ning'a:fter Hannan, and cry:ingloudki, kind and 'sensible quickly hushed herself, and hastened to soothe 114. T She knew lowlo for she - Trire*"of a anji.g_p . orner behind a bagel in the - 15 - arrit - iii ii - nice warm Wait of Soft straw; lay %lir of the 'Orettleag dnimingesi of kittens. iria ° n ' had c'sliOwed 16ern .to her Niko morning, and JokinViNlitAiiilaiirici a kittens, soon forgot everything else in his joy over the young Maltese. *Fp...l'i%got". was delighted with Hatipaii's Vr, and 'touched by hia a Eg ki U.nei. od sacrifice. " Why, don't, ti, bird yourself, ram ?" a yp ..liya, ant t v e, , fl T s : „ litiet ked. " I want to give it to you," was his answer. -- ' l 9ll - tellna - afraid you're robliirig ypurself, /11 -...r-,r- " Don't be troubled about me, Mrs. Tilestoa rsh - aTI - be glicTifilielliari good company for you," answered liarman. ' Though the bird was dearer to im t au to any one a set is sates= faction in doing a kind action more than, compensated for his pain irLpart ing with it. As he had hoped, it was a source of much enjoyment to the unfortunate ' bedridden woman. to whom he,had given it. Helad had it from the nest, and had taught it many pleSsant and cunning, ways, which di verted her and her visitors; . then , it had the rarest and sweetest of songs, compelling her to forget her doleful thoughts and listen to it. " Where did you get such a fine bird ?" asked one of her visitors. Mrs. Tileston answered that it had been given her by the best boy in the town, to keep her from being lonesome. "Had he other birds?" asked the lady 'visitor. "No, , he had no other bird." "And,yet he gave it away ?" " Yes, he gave it to me. I didn't like to take it, but I saw that he'd set his. mind to have me, and so I thought I might as Tt was not long after, that a wagon stop)ed 'before the gate where Har man's parents lived, and a man alighted frorn it, holding something in his hand. "Is your brother Harman at home ?" asked the man of Johnny, who was playing near by.. "No sir, he's gone to the. store." Well when Be comes back will. yon give him this ?" sa,id the man, as he set down beside him a bird cage hid in paper wrappings. " Can you carry it into the house, my little fel low?" added the man. "O, yes sir ;I. coald carry alundred times.as much," answered Johnny, stretching and swelling in his vanity. as strong as - 7 " The man did not wait to hear how . strong 'Johnny • thought himself, but spring into his yagon and drove off: Johnny to his Mother with the,'cage, and' told her in-great excite nient how he-bad . coine by it. On taking off the wrappings; there'ap peared init a pair of beautiful cana ries, one of which was sitting on the rtiniest..of. nests. Johnny was uneasy till it had left,the nest, and he had seen -there what delighted. ,him more than t twe,ntylialiese kittens, four half-fledg ed youg birds. He laughed and danced and clapped his hands. ' What little bOy could. have helped doing' so ? " Where they come from? Who sent them?" he asked. " Who sends every good and perfect gift ?" asked his mother. " God," answered Johnny, in a low and reverent tone. There was, a note appended to, the handle of the cage door. Johnny would have pulled it off, but his mother checked him, telling him it belonged to Earman ; and putting the cage beyond his reach.. The little fellow could now hardly wait .for Harman's coming ;, and, when he,ftaw, him approacbing he, ran to,meet shouting, : "him, O, Harman, Harman, you don't'know something You don't knoW something I dO 1" '"What is it s ? What do you knOw ?" inquired liaijMan. "O;`"sorndihing good something good;" was.all johnny would answer. He pulledvHarman 'into the, room where his _mother had set, the nage, at the, sight, of which, Harman was • Aike surprised and delighted. ,C)n opening the ,note accompanying it, Harinan read : "My dear boy; am glad you are , so - early learning to love others as well as yourself ; tofdo‘ , .as you , would be done unto.. .Though self-denial is hard at ftrst, youowill alwayLfami that ',`in keeping ,Ood's eomms,ndmentS there is great ,rowaTd.' *,` The liberal soul is made fat' ',He that watereth Shall be watered. GiVi3 and,it shall be given unto ' you, good measure, pressed 'down; running over.' I hope that 'among the little-canaries-in the 'nest you will' find as., sweet a songster and as dear a pet as: the one you. gave toF Mrs. Harman was moved to tears. " Ah, Johnny, yvb4do you think now about boys giving away, their birds ?" he asked. " Will you give me one'?" was Johnny's well-timed though selfish response. " Perhaps ; perhaps I shall have enough for you, and Kitty, and every body else that wants one. "And if I should give, mine, away, do you think I would get six back again asked the calculating Kitty. The mother answered this question: "Whenever you give as unto God, according to his will; hoping for noth ing, you will reap a rich reward."--- Congregationa/i4.' IF you love others, they will love you. If you speak- kindly to. them, 'they will speak kindly. Love is xepaid with love,. and hatred with 4.. 11 Xed• hear RlC*4.o,echo,, speak i s eetl : and 'pleasantly yourself; • THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JULY 5, 1866. THE HEART'S DOOR. " never forgive Fred!" sai& Dora, angrily/As qhtk , camei auto * parlor, holding, up‘leireik& mot 4,1' the fragments Of kb e t c -o-a dap_ sofa-a, piectof then t ofi='furniffrdj her uncle had given herT few dais before. _ "Well; mean just whii I say !" • col:ail:med.+ the angry little girl. " Fred came-rushing...into-the. summer-house just as.he always.- does, and, trod-on A with this greit -boots ;• 4fiett Applies alaautaitphessaid.the,didiat- , care a bit, and - withe 4 he had brolf-en theleliairs-tde " Think before you 'say more, my dear. Perhaps you vexed Frederick by your manner of speaking." ' I only told him he, was careless and stupid, and so he was. It's too bad. No, I will never forgive him;" and as she turned over the pieces of the ruined toy in her hands, her face grew dark- with wicked' feelings. "Hark, Dora. listen some one is knocking, I am= sifi.e." Little Willie, a three-year old younger brother, stopped playing with , his, blocks on the floor, and looked at the door ,as if, expecting a visitor, " 'What do you - mean, mamma ? I do not hear any one," said DOra. "Have you forgotten; thy daughter, that there is 'a door to ' your hea'it ? You have opened it once this morn ing, and let in an evil,:hateful thing. No picture that could be made of it would be:too dark to represent what is now in your, heart." Dora hung her head, for she began to understand her mother. "And now, if you will listen you will hear One, your best Friend, at that door. He is knocking gently. Dear little daughter, let Him in. He has 'a message 'for you; and' it is, 'lf ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses and that word 'men ;means:, everybody, even Freddy, who, you think, has offended you so mu.O.' .s , Dura' heart was softening. The tears came into her eyes`: She opened' the do& of her heart a little way. Willie, Who had been listening, caine,, and putting his little arms around" her neck, kissed her, but said nothing.k Her heart's door swung wide opennow,' and love entered. " Yes, mother,, L will. forgive Fred dy,," sobbed Dora. "I was as ranch to blame as he; and I know .tspoke sttitefully, or he would' have f* sorry when he did it." ' " Then, my, darling, thank that dear Friend who has found_ the_ way into your heart with,.E[ii love,land go now to Freddy, and niake'it , np with him." Dbra laid away the fragmentiof the sofa, and went out' with apshine in her face and joy in her heart; for its door was closed figain, and her best Friend was within. I am alone in the•houSe this Sabbath morning with, my ',little James. All are gone to church but the lambie and his mother. How sweetly he sleeps— safein having felt her near when the little:eyelids dropped, and the clenChed hand softly opened, like a:night-blow ing bud, as his, sleep came on. Ho* sweet to, feel myself 's° much to him 1 "As one whom his mother • . comforteth, so will I , comfort you." God speaks so. ,He knows all hearts; the' mother's teni.lerriess, her baby'S eager search for her soothing, the father's heart pitying, his' children and' giving "good thinglPto them. All these are known to 'Him-given us by Him as lesions in His word, and, repeated to our very hearts in the 'sight and sound of these His little messengers. So He teaches us to understand 'His love. :Ms AilCiren ,'shall. bp comforted "as. one whom his, mother comfort eth." And how is it?-- See how, in Smiciyance,. pain, `'end weariness, 'the little One turni,to. his mother. She alone can. soothe ;,,she' alone. can: sat isfy. His first lesson is to know her, to gasp `atid 'cry for her at 'his first vague conapiousnesa of a want. No, it is not in later, life that 1. mother and her consolations can 'l:4i', better understood and appreciated.. Others can ih4l4ol3lfOrt. Other ties are recognized; and it is not ,neceisa rily (alas ! it is not often)' that a man, seeks his mother's comfort, above and before all others; After he has left her side and• braved the,, world's battle alone or, with other companions. It is better so. There are other lessons in God's word; and man's life than those the ,children bring us. !Ilhe mother's heart could ill brook to spare that sweeter, earlier lesson of man's, love, and that , higher Love which it shadows forth, that inbound up in the words, (a little bitter to 'the mother's ear,) "A than shall leave father and mother." But the mother spoken of. in-the,. verse is the babe's mother—his only one. The sight of ;:her loving fac.e is the delight of his eyes; her tender voice is his music ; her.arms his cradle of rest. To soothe and satisfy, she is all he wants. Truly she is the type of what God is to his children—"a very present help in time of trouble." The mother of "the text is a mother as God would have her—a good, nay, the best & Motheis. What honor' 'to ;be .pointed to-.7.,shadow. forth: ,such spiritual realitieSq -•••What.ettrifte.' MY :BABY'S' SERMON. cltence and care are required to ben,. thl honor and fulfil aright the charge olgivenl : ' 0`,., t ..„„ ' Lord, make ~,- :sdphli t s Mothqb to my litt.onel ~ d rbeiVhou tojnyv oul a hat I , 'lli ttb 1" 41 ..I)cirdP. : k 14 , in ke me learn o -aittt hgtl - ought at all times to turn to Thee, cry after Thee and be satisfied with nothing 'ETA - Thee! - Wiwi learn of him - - t - a' That in Thee, and, having: this, portion, to set* ngnther.—Bible Sours. . _ _ ai;4llitttetoWth Our lamps bright burni4g resulyfor.our Lord? tehOld'Hs'eximetli qUiakly l --very , Bearing- with/Shino Mill wondrouergioat ward. Last year our ears could hardly hear his foot steps • For all the land was, filled with war alarms ; On hill and shore where once the storm was raging, Christ's little children singtrium phan t psalms. See once again the same sweet, holy picture, On which, long years ago, the, angels smiled; The starry night, the shepherds bending lowly, The blessed' Virgin and the royal Child. As He came then, our Prince, our Lord, oar Saviour, - So will he come again-0, hear. His call, • His warning call, and go ye out to meet Him, For Christ may,c4ame, this Advent—to us all. No warnieg,notv shall sound stills appearing, The sun will rise just as it did this day ; • Theineuittiiii- tops shall fluiEwitli golden glory, The morning mists shall melt in light away. All wait for Him :`'none knoweth of His corn It may be eventide or early day,— We only hear His footstep on the mountains, We only knciw.He is mot far away.' 0, wait and watch, for blessed are those ser vants Who yet are faithful, though their Lord de- Stand in , your place, your lamps all trimmed and burning, He cometh. guickly—Christian, watch . and 'pray. TfIE *PERSIAN TRAVELER, BY, REV. JOHN TODD, D.D `The Persian traveler came to our (country to seemthe new world," as he had., heard it called. On his arrival, instead of finding a few huts with ,thatched roofs, rag ,he expected, ,he found agreat, rich city, the largest he had ever seen: The great ships,lay at the wharves, the tall, masis looked like a'forest„ and the harbor was full of.shipping of all.kinds.. So he landed; and. Went' to the hotels, and traveled through.' the different Stites, and'saw the farms ' the- factories, the sehools, and the benevolent instittitiOns, such as hospitals, asylums,,and the' like. At length he , reached Washington. Congress; and the;; Senate were, about , ,adjourn Among other things,, he , ,felt very, anxious to, see the President of the United States. A fij.ind walked 'With him to the White' House, and in troduced him. • r`z, Well, said' the Ptesident,- after the. compliments of the introduction, "what - do you think of our country ?" "Sir, I have no words to express my wonder." • , " Will you, please explain your self ?" " Why, sir, on my arrival they car ried me to a 'magnificent palace, which they call a hotel. We have no palace hi Persia as large. When I Game to travel, instead of riding a donkey or a hired horse, and moving at the rate , of twenty miles a day, they put me into a beautiful house, and-whirled me of three hundred miles a day. Then I said, why, their very caravans are better off than our richest citizens are at 'the' honied which hive taken getLer7 ations to adorn. Then, sir, they took me to a great, palace looking building, where hundreds of blind, people were gathered together, and where they read. -with:lheir fingers, and where they , made sweet music and,were very happy. -0 , 1 I -said,. the,very blind in thi,siland are better off than those who: have eyes in my. country. Then they took me to, another such place where those were gathered together who could not 'hear or Speak ;That they could, read—and- write anything, and , ccfuld-talk,with t their fingers by 'making Ahl those in this country who' are born dumb are better off than those in my country who can hear with both ears. 'No ears and no eyes Ikris, here better thin two ears and two . Ayes atletne. Then, Mr. President, I came to WashingtOn. ,To my amaze-: went; I fou.nd no army , here, no body-, paid for the 'Chie,f 'Magistrate of 'this gieatnation. beg that you, sir, was tip at the Capitol/last evening till after midnight / signing the bills which Congress passedrand-then, in the dark, you walked , quietly homealone, with out a guard or anybody to defend I you., I see no army. in all the,. States where .I ,have, been ; and one live gov ernor of agreat State I actually found out with his Irishman, planting pota toed. Sir:to one - who has been brought, up where armies f.nd swords are every; 'Where, this slate of things has amazed me, beyond expression." "Do:you like it.?" !SD, more, than I can describe to you." " How do account for it ?" "Sir, there is only one answer to, that, question. Your land is governed by the Bible; mine by the sword! Your Bible hai done' tenfold more for you. in a few centuries than the sword has done for us - for ages. Here, you don't seer tholairyou 'don'tEhear it. , It i s a sort ()fitting thatt seems to dwell in thee'airi :Out •oft Sight ; '*iforit 'corn , down tt eLmdmentuit lees' ed: With my country, lavZ4W-nittd i e , -iiaiiiniar i iti is in armies, and guns, and guards. It *is like wearing a heavy n. mail shirt, instead of i.the loose cotton shirt PO - 14 RAW hfil . i ma r deichooli, and 'col legi4 andiinsOmilonitiof learning; our ive svW never ,ieard4 a , sdgml-hki in t `all l ' ersia; Your - t-Bille liiskes:read erg, and so you have paper ~.. a nd magazines and books, and a reading) I thinking natiorr — Oir -sword inikea ho readers, no.thiakerkno teachers of gßod things. C),_ sir there is no de partment of life in which' we are not centuries behind you. I find that Jour, Jisals i .doh't J know what has ix= this nation what it iii;Titt it is Vain, ,to me. ,And now, sir, I beg ,tour: pardon for talking solong and 4elling,yon what you know. But you were so good as to ask my opinion, and I could not give it in fewer words. .May you, sir, live twelve thousand moons, and your country , live as long as the sun and moon endure. I thank you, Mr. President,' for' the light of your face and that I may go home telling' my7ountrymen that great po ,sition and high office never look so majestic as in their naked simplicity." The President and the traveler both arose, shook hands smiled, made each a low bow, and the traveler went on his way. The President was heard to say to himself, "The fellow is right." THE FIRST BOOTS. "Johnny wants a pair of boots," bursts from ' two little roky lips ; an sparkling eyes bear evidence to the spoken wish. "Johnny wants some boots like papa's." Then two little feet, tipped with ten peach-blossom loes r are stretched out upon the hearth stone and placed by the , side of two large feet in nice gray socks with white tips, which are basking in the warmth from the bright fire. - "Yes, Johnny Shall haVe boots,' says papa. Then the little 'feet are thrown up-and down in the-glowing light, and Johnny brings his little chair, and sitting down crosses his legs to make. a horse as papa does. • Then little spoiling lips steal' up to rnamma's cheek, and leaving a ,soft „kiss, Whisper, " Will mamma_ knit Johnny some socks like papa's ?" YeS, mamma will knit socks for her 'boy." Mammalboks up from her knit ' ting and smiles proudly on her darling. "My boy must go to bed now, and in the morning he shall help: harness; the horses,-for-papa will go to town with the big WagO3WICI 4 4/ 4 bring 4 home nice Oftodts 'for Toliiiny." Johnujo:gives his good-night kids, and -inarnina-layslim in his little crib. Be thinkd of his boots---then...long lashes droop upon . ; his _cheeks and he stops thinking. IFp in the morning early, Johnny thinks. breakfast will never be over. At, length papa comes, in whittling 6, strip of shingle, and. tells Johnny to . stand up against the door-post and he will measure his foot. Johnny's heart is brimfull of happiness. I I It seems as though mamma never would get through telling papa all the errands; then there are.so many things to put into the wagon. There is the sugar box and the molasses jug, and the shovel which is to be mended. After papa gets in, he gets out again to fix the 'harness; then. he starts, but stops to tell Johnny to bring the whip. Finally the wagon rolls over the crispy grass out of the yard, leaving two lines 'on the frosty ground. Johnny holds on behind .untill it passes through : the gate, then he jumps down and calls out, "Ilenietaber, papa, they must have red. tops and yellow straps." _ - jOhnny watches the wagon for a few minutes, and it seems as though Snip and Sprig never did move so slowly. He shuts the' gates and Oda to-the barn to hunt hens nests. He sees the men hnsking corn, and sits down 'and builds housei with 'the shining yellow ears. ..11e plays till she, is tired, then runs ,out to. see, if papa- is conking, , when he, sees ; the wagon just disappearing in s , the bCnd of the, road. , Time never passed to efOlanny; and he constantly runs to - ask Mamma how' king it will be before noon. At length he Sees a black spot in the distance; yes, there are Snip and Sprig, and papa too. ' The gates. are thrown wide open-=-never did they need to, be so wide before. The wagon rolls, slowly through and stops before the,door. Johnny's heart { ats fast. Papa, with a mischievous twinkle be in his eye, begins to unload. Mainina stands in *the 'door and Johnny carries a paper Of 'cOffee, gin ger, Spice, and. so many papers- he thinks 'he never will-- get- ithrough. The hired • man comes and .takes the sugar box, ,the molasses jug, snd -the shovel. . Johnnyls heart_ sinks, and a big tear comes which he tries to keep, back. :Finally papa stands up and' holds out, a pair of little boots= the .•. 'same little boots that have been flitting in Johnny's vision all day, with the red tops and yellow straps. Johnny takes 'his boots; feeling very big, and wishes Ned Smith could just see them. ~ The old shoes are thrown contemptuously aside, and. with much display, biting the , lips, and distorting the face, Johnny pulls on the new boots by the: yellow straps, though mamma" declares one is large enough for both feet. All the afternoon 'Johnny iatrying lis'boots; walki and he-runs; la's first . goeit , oarefully=soyasi ilot to spil them; then he walks over , soft muddy; *cm:that ' , .he see e trades., From .the mudi he ventures into, the id n AO pleasant not to be afraid of wetting bis feet ! he wades in the gutter deeper4nd deeper until the water comes to the red tope; then he goes, home pleased and : tired. Johnny sits up to the supper table with more importance than usual, and his mind seems laboring with some great thought. Papa and „ mamma look at each other and 'smile. At length papa -leaves the table,llldLas usual, taking the jack from its nail in the closet drawn his boots. 4 1848 on and then sa y,l take it now, papa. wiThe great idea is eiitti Johnny places, his fp s t i n te - gingle*otthe jack, and, with•many gyrations and distortions, succeeds in drawing his boots. How happy are all to-night 1 A pair of little feet are stretched out beside a pair of big feet on the hearth, and a pair of little boots stands beside the big boots in the corner.--June Isle. PRAYER AND THE BEAR'S PAW. A little buy, who, was warmly at tached to a 'missionary, was much alarmed on hearing that in the coun try to which the missionary was ap pointed there were fierce bears,"who were often dangerous to traveldts. One day the child threw his ^arms round the neck of the missionary; And said, "You sha'n't be a , missionary, ,you sha'n't go." ,The missionary demanded, " Why not ? I, "Because the bears will kill you and eat you. Yon must not go:" " 0, but I must go,"said the good man. " God calls me to the work, and I must trust in Him and nthibe afraid. He can preserve me. You must pray to, God .for me, that lie may keep me from the bears. you pray for me?" "Yes," said the little' one, "I will." The dear child after this used alWAys to finish his prayers, both night and morning, with this brief, appropriate petition: "And please, God Almigh ty, keep -the nilhaiciiiary from the bears." ' It happened that on a missionary excursion in North America, when this gentleman was, of the, party, they meta large and • savage bear. One of their number fired .at the bear, and wounded, but did not kill, him ; on which the animal turned.,bh. the mis sionary iwith great fur y y, y and had just caught hith, Attic atcother shot laid him dead. Calliik to the prayers of his little friend, the missionary had one• of the paws cut off .the , whichike :sent home ; and we have been told that it haa:now a silver plate attached to it, with an inscription re cording the circumstance, mid is pre served in the family as a trophy a,nd token of the power of prayer.—S: Advocate. HE LORD'S PRAYER. Did you ever think, short though it is, how much there is in it ? 0, it is beautiful ! Like a diamond in the crown of a , queen, it unites a thousand sparkling gems in one. It teaches all of us, every one of us, to look to God as our parent,—" Our Father." It piornpts us to raise our thoughts and desires above the earth,--Who art in heaven." It Aells us we must reverence our Heavenly Father;—".Hallowed:beithy name." It breathes , a missionary spirit,— "Thy kingdom came." And a stibmissive, obedient spirit, -"Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven:" " And a dependenV trusting spirit,— " Give: TiS this' day our daily bread." And a forgiving spirit,—"Torgive us-our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass-.against,us." .And a cautious spirit,— from evil." , And, last of all, an adoring spirit,— ""t'or thine is the, kingdom, and the poWer, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen:" To..,yovNG MEN. Your course in life will be in a great degree,. what you choose to make it. You may become distinguished in some department of Jabor t , or live, known only by a small circle of acquaint ances. You may be useful in exerting an influence for - good and leave an elevated impression on the minds of those with*hom you have been assn: dated, -or you may be a'" plague spot in- society, and remembered only for mischief done during anourse of folly and infamy. In a ,country like our own, where nobility of birth , cannot command po sition independent of capability, the sphere, of action is exceedingly large. The avenues to usefulness and dis tinction are numerous, and the facilities for 'acqtdring the requisite means of advancemenV are within the grasp of every young person in the ordinary walks of life. Raise, then, the stand ard of attainment high, have lofty aims and noble aspirations. Never be satisfied with present attainments , much less with those of your predeees• sor t s who have been placed in similar circumstances. Virtue eQuid.see, to do what Virtue would By hei own radiant 1i 4 . 0 4, though sun and moon WeiOztrdtelat Bea tunk.. f Deliver us
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers