: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."