:60 gamic eitttr. "I E STARLESS CROWN." NoTE.—Dear Mr. Mears :—lf the following lines have not appeared in your paper, you might like to publish them. A few weeks since they elicited the deepest interest at a morning prayer-meeting which -filled the gall of Repre sentatives in Springfield, Illinois. I pray that iheymaT inspire many of your readers to seek to save Souls, which shall be stars in their "gown of rejoicing.:' Yours, E. P. H. VBRNOiir OW. N•. AO' 2, 1866. " They that turn runny to righteousness shall shine its the stars forever and ever." DANIEL Xli. 3. Wearied and worn With earthly cares, I yielded to repose, I" `When soon before bay raptured sight a glorious vision rose.,-'; • I thought, while slumbering on my conch, in midnight''s Sdierntl 000 M. heiird'an angel's silvery voice, and radiance .. filled nip, room. A, ge,ntle touch awakened me, a gentle whisper said: '"Ariie, 0 sleeper,. follow m&;" .and though .the air welled. We left the earth, so far away that like a speck it seemed, Alid heavenly glory, calm and pure, scion our pathway streamed. . Still on we went—my soul was wrapt in silent ecstacy; ' • I wondered what the end would be, what next • , • 'shquld rueet,rnine eyp. I . knew not how we journeyed through the path •`'l4's§(fields' o fight; When Suddenly a; change) was. wrought and- I) &Ai 3%18.1'01nd in white. •, , -V,ire,stood upon a city's walls Copt glorious to behold Irorelihiigdithiongh gates of glittering pearls„ itreets of purest gold; . , needpd not the sun by gay, the silver moon' by night, 'The glory of the Lord WaS there, the Lainb' t). • Himself its light. *.• • Bright angels passed the shming"streets and music , filled the air, And f white-robed saints, with glittering crowns, from ; every clime were there. Auld Some that had laved on earth, stood with • theme round the throne. All worthy is the Lamb," they said, "the glory His alone." But fairer far than all beside, I saw my Se viourth face; And as I gazed, .I.e smiled on me with won drous love and grace. Lowly I bowed before throne. o'erjoyed that I; 'at lagt, ' 4111 ad gained the object o'f my hopes, that earth at: length was past. And then in solemn tones He said, " Where is the diadem, That ought to sparkle on. thy., brow adorned with many a gem? I 'know thon bast believed in 'Me, and life throiigh Me is thine: .But where are all those re.diantstars..,,that in thy crown should Shine? Tonder thou see'st a :glorionirthrong, with '- downs on every brow. • FOP•ellOr.V Soul lheyiledlo we, they wear a jewel, bright reWardrhad been, if such had beeirthfdded ; • if thou had'st sought some. andering sheep in , , . paths of peace to lead s ; , , • , £'l did not mean that thou shouldst tread the: way of-life alone.; tut thatthe clear and shining light which' round , ' 'thy I:mtliwaY Sh'one . • ," Should , guide some 'other wear:feet to My bright home of. rest, And thus, in blessing ,those around, thou had' st , " thyself been blessed." The vision faded from my sight, the• voice no longer spoke, A spell seemed. bropding o'er my ,soul which long,l feared. to break. , And when at last 1 - gazed"around in' morning's glimmering light, • ; • • • My spirit fell o'erwhelmed beneath that vision's awful night,, I rose and wept, with chastened joy, that Tet I dwelt below, That yet'AnOtlier hour was mine my faith by ' • wdrlt's•ti) show; That yet., some •-sinner I might tell of Jesus' dying love, And try to lead some weary soul to seek ,a home above. And no* while on the earth I stay, my motto this shall be, I'll live no longer , to myself but Him who, died q forme. And graven. on my inmotit soul, this word ot truth Alvinei They that turn many to the Lord, bright as the stars shall'shine," CLOVE'S--MAGICIAN, ` BY AUGUST BELL "Inti, minti, cuti, corn—there, Dick, it isn't fair to change places." iqt is, too:* I belOng here. Go ,ahead" Chglin, „that'll pale ; me r{lan fif you let 4 7um do,esP." amp t a., anti, por.n, apple seed, ,apple , thorn, wire, briar;:t 0, look!, there's an organman in the yard and .the monkey's jumping in \ at the 'window." , !And the children ran about the zoom shouting andaaughing, upsetting pp chairs, and ireading on the cat's 401. • ail', then, Ohm had sat reso lutely: in ;the.. corner, with, her fingers in her ears and her.forehead. all fretful 111 r d while , she studied away on hqr Sunday-school lesson. She was trying .to, learn (the. beatitudes, Blessecl.,are the meek Blessed are tihemeekir she repeatedlover and over, eating Lout Dtha4noitie about ~h er !ns iikilvistahe,cotadi but' when the tnon4 her :sprang/ uponi;the red Edsees , a indumnatleo 'giimacttst,' th* childrenis riot rosebeyondzdeiteriptioni andiVlove interrupted it shirply with' her voice. , • 0 "Do be quiet, children ; .you outbt tics be`ashanied) to act so. I shall just tell-motherohow naughty you are. so'' , cross,' Clove. There &beret a monk 4 come hardly ever" for us to See," said her little siSler, fiantly. "Well; you - needn't' make such a noina,about it," (Novo replied in a snappish toue < ' ' IvitiOrosa -Clove! ,She's rin cross as two:idieks,"zheuted Dick. and Charlie *thorns, and danced around her like punkt Indi an s.l tflahhed; and she lifted her hand as if grni=niCiiintt to box the nearest pair o f ears . "Pretty Sueday-e(hool scholar you are," added Dick, removing to a safe distance. Clove sprang after him, but failing to catch the little fellow, she stopped, and deliberately setting her'foot on a favorite toy of his, crushed it to atoms. "There!" she exclaimed, with hot anger burning in her face. Poor Clove! I think it is right to pity her and call her poor Clove— don't you?-for slie had let herself gradually become so vexed and wor ried, and now she had lost her temper and done an unkitid. — trinr - Peer Clove I Dick, whose tears were start ihg sight of ViOken Wind : mill,. was not so thoroughly cunhapu as she.., As, the children ; stood still in consternation, -she rushed out,.of . the room, meaning to find her. mother and to complain of her brothers and sisters. • Her mother was not in the house, nor in the zarden, where Clove went next.; but the little back,' gate was open,.and Clove went through it 'me chanically, with a- half idea' that, by following the path, she might find the one she. wanted. On she went, poor unhappy child, through!, , the ;green meadbws ands out into' a pasture-land, where :a few rods =before , her ,lay the woods. She .rnowr <should tot. meet. her micither, -but she was igladuto be alone, for . the angry; hateful mood was still:upon her. It was a -bright May day, but she did not think of the sun ands =the - green grass and trees • she only.thought how' unkind the ciiildren: had beer,. 'to her; to treat her :Wel 'when she was at her lesson. On she went with burning , cheeks, her . little throat swelling with half suppiessed sobs, when suddenly she saw an odd figure springing over the gray rocks and corning toward her. It. was a funny-looking little man, dressed all in brown, with a brown 'hat pulled over-his eyes; he carried a covered pail in - his hand, and he had slung over his shoulder with a leather strap a long;thin; battered book. As he came nearer, she could see that his face was almost as brown as his clothes, and two little black eyes twinkled curiously under, the hat-brim. Clove stopped short, for'she was half 'afraid; and looked around to see how far away the house was; but a little hill now hid it from her sight. " Can you tell me," asked the brown -man, in a peculiarly, gentle voice, "if those are :the Pember. woods,?" "Yes, sir," said Clove, quite relieved .tb find that he did not shoot her nor threaten her. "And there is a high ledge of gra nite there, I .believe, with a brook at the foot of it?" ,„ " Yes, sir,"- said Clove "Well, I Must find it., Don't you want to show me the way?" asked the brown man, with a pleasant smile. - And= Clove, feeling as if she were under= a spell, walked along with him toward 'the forest. What is your name?".. he asked, itsithey walked. ' " Clove." " Clove what? Clove Pink, the Ca r yophillus?" "No, sir; Clove Elliot," -said the little girl, staring: amazedly at him. "What an odd name !> I don't be lieve, the minister christened you so. I guess your name isifititherine, and so they called you I,T4tty, and then Kitty Clover, and then Clove; fOr short. Wasn't that the way 'of it?" "I don't kn'ow, sir," answered Clove, -laughing. - By this time they had almost reached the woods; the huckleberry bushes and" the barberry bushes began to thicken about theta. The little brown man sprang lightly along; sometimes holding. out his hand - to - lelP,'CloVe over the' rough places; - and hi:S"' keen eyes wandered restlessly, abont, peer ing through the brushw - aoil and:around every rock, as if in search or some thing. For some minutes - a conviction had ,beengrowing in 'Clove'a mind that was a sort of elf, although ias larger than her Laity stories, had given 'her any reason; to "auppoSe. But he, was somebody l inysterious, at all: events, and perliaPs he was one of the :genii, taking, this ferm to' disarm suspicion. She deterthined to keeP her eyes wide open, and not lose a single hint. Still she could not Make out why he carried a pail, that looked so ,commonplace; but no doubt he had his.,reasons So she was thinking hu.-. iply away in her, own mind, when suddenly he criedi; 0, take care! But it is,ton late ; , what a P;iV-I n ; , 'what's the matter ?" exclaimed dlove quite frightened. you didn't see, where you yere, stepping, an d now -you have. trodden down a:betoltiftd.dumP ef:AlaP, violets." And ,as. she , Amoved, aside, :herstoppeds and , : touched the braised leavestcareseingly. -i,"Poor little things I" he said;, "poor; !little .Cucullata your day was short, but you must try to grow up again." Clove looked on with , ,very, large, ;round eyes. She had read of brownies,. and she„thought he :must be a sort of brown fairy, or he Mould not talk to flowers , /as if they mere people, and call them such Timer, names. "I never like to see bright little flowers stepped on," he said, as they walked along the path, again. And Po* , they entered the woods—the great trees , arched their • leafy' bOughs pro tediagly overhead, and‘the path grew intrieatoamong the laurelsand.young tree saplings. "How many kinds of flowers grow THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JULY 19, 1864 about here ?" asked the little brown man. "I don't know. There are violets, honeysuckles and dog-flowers. That's all I know anything about." "0, my child," he said, pityingly, "how little you have seen. Now, what do you call this?" And bend ing down, he plucked a long, slender stem with lily-like leaves, and a deli cate pale yellow, bell-shaped blossom, nodding at the top, as if it was tired enough to go to sleep. "* . k don't know;‘4. - never noticed it before. How pretty!" And Clove took it admiringly. "That is one of the Noulariew, but you may call it bell-ivort." ", What was it that yon called those violets ?" asked Clove. " Cucullatczl That's the, name of one branch of the family." , "Family ! Do flowers have fami lies ?" she asked againi,convinc,e,d now that none but a fairy ; Man could have a.family acquaintance with violets. " 0, yes.; were yocheveri,ntroduced to then r?,, I see three or' fohr cousin violets, no'w. I Will Pit them in my pail, 'and bye-aliebye ive" . will sit under some tree and talk about them." As he. lifted the To ; -- Clove got a peep at . a idasst °RI:MIA% „I.Oaves and flowers inside. Howstrange I Did he carry.. a garden about with him ? Per haps he had enchanted it and could make it as large as an acre if he chose, with hot-houses and tiiiip-beds. She -would have been afraid of:him, but his voice was too gentle for a bad fairy. Presently they came to the verge of the great ledge, which shelved down steeply below them. The trees stood like sentinels, only a great deal closer together, on the high rocky ramparts. In the crevices of the ledge they could see green ferns waving, and soft moss clinging, and here and there a young tree had taken root and was bravely putting forth branches. Down at the bottom ran a little brook with broad, sunny shallows, and deep, dark pools. It was very pleasant to stand, there, and hear no sound but the wind in the leaves and the water on the stones. 1 ' Let's go down," said the little old man, with a merry sparkle in his eyes; and almost before Clove knew, he held, himself lightly swinging by a hemlock bough half-way down, with a hand extended ,to help her to follow. So she timidly set one foot before the other down the narrow pathway that a chamois would have delighted in, and by help of the hemlocks, and. ate brown man, she stood at last in safety by the little, brook. Then the brown man 'leaped down besideher and making a green goblet of broad plan tain leaves, dipped it in the,cool water and. gave it to Clove to drink from. " How nice !" she said, " I never thought of doing that before." " And now let us sit down a little while in the shade, and ..I will introduce you to some of the fa i mily.of violets?' So Clove nestled quite confidingly by the odd little figure of her new friend, and watched' him while he took a handful of violets from his pail. These white violets' I = gathered while you were drinking from your goblet. See, there are 'three kinds, three cousins' you , may call them. Can you tell the difference ?" " I don't see any difference," said CloVe, " only some are a little the largest, and the green leaves are not quite the same." " Exactly," he said ; "you can tell the cousins apart by the cut of their dresses. This one is the Lanceolata or lance-leaved' violet ; and this is. the Prz:mulacefolia, or primrose-leaved vio lets, and this dear little thing is a Blanda, or 'sweet white violet. And now, violets, allow me to introduce' to you Miss Clove Elliot, Who wants to get acquainted. Clove laughed, well-pleased, and then begged to hear the names of:the blue ones. ' " Well," he said, " here is one of the Cutullata, the common blue - violet: with a tear in its bhie eyes hediuse you stepped on some of its sisters: That's toObad isn't it? And here is a great purple Pedata, or crow-foot vio let,' with jagged green leaves, a real woodland beauty ; and here is a clump, root, leaves, flowers and all, of the Huh= lenbergii ' not so handsothe;perhaps,"but an amiable little flower. And now there is only one more, this downy yellow violet, which only'grovo about the woods, with its green leaves shaped like the candy hearts ioU get at the confectioner's. Do yolCetti candy ?" " 0, yes," said Clove, smiling broad-, - " Very bad for your teeth, very bad indeed. But about theviolets • there . ;are, a good. many . more cousins of the same family, but.they live so far away. 'Sonic of them live away out West, and .some of them. live among the moun tains. I have been to, see them all,' •and have taken their likenesses, but have notbrought them : with me to-day. Do you have pansies in your garden at home, so,purple that they are almost, 'black, and ,with great golden eyes ?" ," 0, yes," said Clove, "ever so '';Well, they are the City, cousins of these violets here;.they study the art of dress more, and are very elegant. When you go home, you can tell them that their country cousins send their Move to-them." • . promised Clove, earnestly. `, 4 Do,,you suppose they Will liear me 1'! Andishe looked up in his face as if a world hang on his answer. The little brown man nodded sage ly. " I like to think they do, Clove, though very few people would agree with me. But across the ocean dwell a dreamy people who write the'most lovely fanciful stories and poems, and one day I read in a story, that there are five little spirits in every violet, one in each petal, and' when the flower dies they go floating about the air, in visible to us ; but they whisper to the little young violets, and teach them how to grow." • "0, .:the dear, —dear ; little -flower spirits !" cried Clove ; " I never mean to ' gather any More, because that makes them die." The brown man smiled pleasantly and said, " Don't gather'.any to throw away, and don't crush them carelessly ; but .I think they like to havens take them home with us, when we are ready to learn sweet lessons from them. That is their noblest use—to purify human souls." ClOve sat suite still a little 'while, with `hew,wonderful'thoughts crowd ing.into her mind. At' last she asked curioUsly: 4 .lsAhat what you piethern in a,•paillorr = His eyes twinkled-as hetsaid, "Yes, I take, them_ hOme , to study;;;;,l c study them a,-great deal. 4nd now,,Clove, we mnst leaye this npleasa.nt spot, for you'll be missed at home; and I have a long, long tramp beforeme yet.' The mention or Mane brought a shadOiveinfO ClOve's lade; <for it made her, remember her, troubles. ,The little brown man's keen eyes were on her, and he asked suddenly, as they rose and walked along : "What was the matter with you when I found you ? You were almost crying." Then. Clove, with perfect trust, told him all the story, how she was trying to learn her Sunday-school lesson, and the children were so noisy, and , then they all ran about after a monkey, and she scolded them, and they teased her, and then she told how she trod on Dick's windmill, and rushed out of the room. " How do you feel about it now ?" asked the little brown man ; " as angry as ever ?" " No," said Clove, blushing, "'I feel a great deal better since I, have been in the woods. I wish rhaan't broken the windmill, and I wish I hadn't talked so." He looke,d at her very kindly. "Well," he said, " suppose you tell the children so when you go hOrne, and then, you will know a great deal better what it ineans - rwhen you say 'Blessed are the meek."' "So I will," assented Clove, "and will tell them about; the violets. Theu perhaps they will , forget how cross I was. Why, what's the matter ?" She, might well look amazed, for down went ihe pail rolling on the ground,; and down went the birch bough the little brown man was carry ing, and down * went the maa - himselt on his knees, digging with his hands in the moist.soil. " It's something I've been looking for for three years, but never happen ed tc;s2be where it grew before. I'm very. glad ►." "What is it'?" asked Clove, who saw nothing but some pale stems. "The Aphyllon-uniflarum I" he ex claimed, digging away. "It's a para site, and I want to get its roots 'up with whatever they grow from." In a minute more he had the great clump of soil, roots, and stems in his hands, and deposited in the pail. Teen gathering a few more waxy stems with a waxy blossom at the top, he opened the book he carried, which proved to be a sort df portfolio, and arranging them carefully between mime leaves, shut it again, and re-hung it over his shoulder: In a few minutes more they came to a grassy lane, with only a few cart tracks in. it. After following it a little way, the. brown man pointed out to Clcve,the chimneys of her own'house, and bidding her good-bye with a friendly hand-shake, iilunged into 'a bushy swamp cloie by,' and she never saw him again. In a happy half-bewildered state, the little' girl went on till she came to her.own home, and there at =the win dows were the children, watching for her. She ran in hastily. "0, Dick !" she exclaimed, "I'm sorry I broke your windnnll, and you may have my ten'cents to buy another. And I- haire had` =the' most splendid time in the woods with a magician !" " With a magician !" said her mother, logking startle 4. " Yes, he knows the family names of all the &were, and which are aunts and uncles and cousins,` and he- told me to tell our - pansies that the Cucul-' /ata sent their love tg them. I can't re-' member the rest. He was little and bent, and .all dressed in brown, with' eyes like lightning bugs. He vanish-, ed from sight in a swamp. "It was a crazy man gy !" said Dick.' No, he was a mia,gician!" persisted Clove. Well, why not ? Did he not work wonders? lam very willing myself t 6 believe that he was a magician, though I have since been told by a distin gished botanist, of 'a pleasant afternoon spentlong ago in the Pember woods in search , of. the Aph,yllon-unfiort on ,, ClarEs School Visitor. Hovi.ohanning is divine philosophy! Not, hp eh And cabbed, all 01 + fools suppose • But as is Apollo ' s ' And a perpetual feast of nectared swea s , Whose no crude surfeit reify/a—Milton. LOST SHEEP. BY THE AUTHOR OF "YOUR MISSION." How many sheep are straying, Lost from the Saviour's fold, Upon the lonely mountains? They shiver with the cold, Within the tangled thickets, Where poison-vines do creep, And over rocky ledges Wander the poor, lost sheep. 0, who will go to find them? Who, for the Saviour's sake, Will search with tireless patience Through brier and through brake? Unheeding thirst or ha - river, Who, still, from day to day, Will seek as fora treasure, The sheep thatto astray? Say, will you seek to find them? From pleasant bowers of ease Will yon go forth determined To find' the "legit of these?" For still the Saviour calls them, And looks across- he world, • ' And still He holds Wide open. The-door into His fold. HOW'sweet 'twould be at &ening, t you and I cord& say, • Good Shepherd, we've, been seeking The sheep that went astray. • Heart-sore and--faint with hunger, We ,heard them Makingmoan: • And, lo! we come at nightfall Bearing tliern sifeli-horne. .FIGHTING 'THE DEVIL. f . One night, at a late hour, Dr Bentley was disturbed at studies by, a rat tling sound among some tioOd, sawed and split, had been left by the teamster, the afternoon previous, too late to be properly housed. He arose, went cautiously to the window, and saw a womttn filling her apron with wood, which she hastily carried away. He resumed his seat, and commenced his study. Shortly after, the same noise occurred; and on looking out a second time, he saw a similar operation ; the woman filling her great apron to the utmost limits of its capacity. When she had gone, he returned to his book with a tender pity in his heart fur a destitution which sought relief in this lonely, dreary, not to say sinful manner. By-and-by he was startled by a heavy crash of falling wood, and, hurrying up to the window, beheld the poor woman casting the very dust of the wood from her apron. He remained motionless, his gentle heart filled with commiseration. She swiftly departed, and soon returned heavily laden with the wood, which she threw on the pile as if it were the "accursed thing." The doctor's compassion and curi osity were now intensely excited. He followed her retreating figure till he discovered her residence, and thus as certained who she was. Whitt she was was no mystery to him. The last honr had shown I,i m. her virtue's lofty height. He called early the next morning , on Mr. the wood-dealer, and. direc ted:4in). tci send half-a cord of his. best wood, sawed and split,. to Mrs.--, but by no means to let her know from whom it came ; which was readily pro mised. Mr. B--'s teamstCr, who happened to be within ear-shot,''though out of sight, was not so bound, and, when he tipped the wood into the poor widow's yard, replied to her 'eager in quiry, who had sent it, by relating the conversation he had overheard. The conscience-stricken mother, feel ing that her sin and repentance, in the lonely darkness a - that midnight hour, were known and understood by another heart beside her own, hastened without delay to the house Of the benevolent man, to express her gratitude and her sorrow, and with deep humility and bitterness told him the temptation to' which her extreme poverty had re duced her, of breaking the eighth com mandment. • "Though my house was dark and cold, though my heart was ; wrung with anguish at theT sight of my poor, shiv ering little ones, I could not keep it; : my conscience would not let me.' "Say no more, my deir "Madam," said the good man. "I saw yoncon quer the devil in two fair fightg." , A FUNNY DOG STO4Y. = When the war in Italy commenced; the Zonave,s embarked for Genoa; but as they were going on board the ship they saw a formal order forbidding the entrance dogs upon. the vessel. As they were very much attached to their dogs, they were stricken with grief. It was not easy to deceive the sharp lookout kept by the intendent, kir every soldier advanced along the narrow gangway, one by one, as their names were called. Necessity is the mother of , invention. The drummers .. unscrewed their drums, and, the -best dogs of the regipent were cnnsealed in them, which Are screwed up again. When regiments embark, no music is played; but on this occasion the golonel determined there Should be music. He ordered the trunpetiand drums to take the head of the column, and'tot day-a llvely tune: The faces of the drum pers—every one of whom had a dog in his drum maybe conceived, The `.trampets sounded; the drums mere all `silent. The colonel became angry, and bawled to know why ihe drums did not.beat. There was but one thing to do, and that was • to beat. The mo ment the drums began to beat,:innu merable`dogs began to howl and tobay, to the istonishment of everybody but the Zouaves. Everybody looked right, left, backward, forward—no sign of a dog anywhere • and yet the more the, drummers bea t, the more the dogs `'howled. At last a spaniel fell o.ut,o l fst 'drum, rolled over and over on the ground, got up and took to his heels, howling louder than ever. Roars 'of laughter greeted this explanation of the mysterious howls. The intendants ordered the drummers to advance on. board one by one, and to roll the drum as they came. If any barking was heard, the drum was unscrewed and the dog put ashore. Only one dog got on board. This was Touton, who kept quiet through all the rolling. It need not be said that the 3d Zouaves love Touton. He made his entry into Paris, at their head, a few days since.—Paris Letter. . BAD THOUGHTS, BAD WORDS AND BAD DEEDS. The Friends' Review gives the follow ing address to First-day scholars, as an illustration of its views of what such an address should be - There are three badthings, whichall should strive to aVoid,--bad thoughts, bad words, bad deeds. -A bad thought is the worst thing that ,can get under a bOy's jacket.; and the longer it ye mains there, the ` more mischievous it becomes. It is more poisonous' than arsenic, more deceitful than a Shake, and -far more dangerou'S- than - the bite of a , mad dog. A - bad= thought , got into the heart of theerst boy that ever was born, and it never made him kill hisinother, Shunbad thoughts,-, fear: them, hate them, fight against them, and ,pray against them Remember, our *lights are heard' - in heaven. j. „ Bad thoughts lead to bad words, which have brought much evil into the world. They creep through the ear into the-heart, caltrup all its had pas sions, and tempt it to : break. God's commandments. A .few bad words got into the ear of the first woman, and they led her on to eat the forbid den fruit, and thus to bring death into the werld. Stop your ears against bad words, and run from - those that use them as you would from a tiger. Bad deeds follow bad thoughts and bad words. Entertain bad thoughts, and you are sure to use bad words ; parctise the speaking of bad: words, and you are sure to do evil deeds. Quench the first, spark, and you will prevent the house being set on fire. SubdAe . the first evil thought, and the bad Teed will never be done. The disciples of our Saviour were tempted by bad thoughts; but they murmured only once. Peter was not free from bad words for with an oath he denied his Master:for, which he "wept bitterly." Let your prayer.be, "Search me, 0 God! and know my heart; try me and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Pray for good thoughts; for they are the begin ning of everything else that is good, and they are the best soure for bal thoughts, bad words and bad deeds. SINKING PETER. Sinking times are praying times with the Lord's servants. Peter neglected prayer at starting upon his venturous journey; but when be begin to' sink, his danger made him"suppliant, and his cry, though late, was not too late. In our hours of bodily pain and mental anguish, we find ourselves as naturally driven to prayer as the wreck is driven upon the shore by the waves. The fox hies to its hole for protection ; the bird flies to the wood, for shelter; and even so the tired believer hastens to the mercy-seat for safety. Heaven's great harbor of refuge is All-prayer; thonsands of weather beaten vessels have found a haven there, and the mo ment a storm comes on, it is wise for us to make for it with all sail. Short prayers are long enough. There were but , three words in the petition which Peter gasped out, but they were sufficient for his purpose; they reached the ear of Jesus, and his heart too. Not length, but strength is desirable. A sense of need is a mighty'teacher of brevity. If our prayers had less of the tail feathers of pride, and more wing, they would be all the better. Verbiage is , to devotion as chaff is to wheat. Precious things lie in small compass, and all that is real prayer, in many a long address, might have been ,uttered in a sentence as short as that which burst from the soul of the sink ing Apostle. Our extremities are the Lord's opp. tunities. Immediately a keen sense in danger forces an anxious cry from us -the ear of Jesus hears, and with Hun ear and heart go together, and the hand does not long linger. At the last mo ment we appeal to our Master, but his swift haiid makes up for our delact by instal:le - and effectual action. = ire we nearly engulfed by the boisterous waters of affliction? Let us then lift dr our souls unto our Saviour, and u ,may rest assured that he will not sin fer us to perish. When we can du nothing, Jesus can do all things • -e: us enlist his powerful aid upon side, and all will be well.--Rev. C. 11 Spurgeon. "SHE ALWAYS MADE HOME HAPPY.' Such was the brief but impressive sentiment which a friend wished tc add to ,an obituary notice of one wilc had gone before." What better trio ute donld be offered, to the memory al the loved and lost? Eloquence, Wit!' :her loftiest eulogy, poetry, with be; most thrilling dirge, could afro'' , lothing . so sweet, so touching, so sag' gestiTe of the virtues of the dead, 0 . those simple words :—" She shop made home happy."
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