CO famib Cita
BEFORE THE DAWN.
Between the midnight and the breaking
Of the purple dawn's awaking,
Saviour, I think of thee
While all is still, and dark, and holy,
As the fading stars pale slowly,
Saviour, I think of thee!
In the shadows. ere the dawning
Glorifies the ruddy morning,
Saviour, I think of thee I
In my heart the day is beaming,
Sunrise in my soul is streaming,
With the thought, 0 Lord, of thee I
For Thou shineitifiriiiiiliike sorrow
Of the heart, before its morrow
Rises clear and fair to see;
Andwhen now the spirit wearied
In the night; of doubt seems buried,
• Saviour, I think of thee I
All thy precious consolation
Cheers the spirit's desolation
With the single thought of thee I
Thus, while still the world is sleeping,
Ere its dawn, my soul is keeping
Its morning, Lord, with thee 1
In the hour of calm communion
Thou preparest me for union
In the coming day with thee !
Not alone to feel its sadness,
Not alone to share its gladness,
Saviour, I'll think of thee !
Light of earth arise in beauty,
Shine upon thepath of duty,
Way of love 0 Lord, with thee I
Break through ' all the shades of error,
Evil, talsehood, wrong and terror
Till the world shall love but thee !
In the darkness ere the claiming
Of the resurrection morning,
Saviour, I'll sleep in thee !
And my soul, to life awaking,
Wherethe eternal day is breaking,
Jesus, shall live in thee !
A CHAPTER ON COURTSHIP.
BY MRS. B. M.'LINCOLN.
Some time since a request came to
me that I would write an article on
Courtship for the Rural. . Though the
author of this request is a stranger to
me, I send a few thoughts. Should I
deal plainly with my subject, be as
sured it is truthfully so; and while
inferring to only two or three classes
to be met with, those inclined to criti.
die will remember there are happy
exceptions, of which but little need be
said.
"In no intercourse between the
sexes is there practised so much hypo
crisY as in the , companionship of those
who entertain view to marriage."
Whoever has studied closely, or even
casually; coald not fail . tb discover
this;'and while only observatiOn has
mae it evident in some instances, ex
perience has confirmed it in 'many.
Anna Dickinson insists that most girls
are trained for just one thing—to get
married. It is' talked of in the nur
sery, the parlor, the school-room—
indeed, everywhere, until at last the
young lady thinks of nothing more
than this. Consequently, should the
gentleman paying his regards be called
a " desirable match," every thought,
word and action is suited to this end
—securing a husband.
Young ladies seldom appear them
selves in gentlemen's company ; hence
they appear to disadvantage. 'the
charming simplicity of home life is
laid aside; the first sentence you hear
them utter confirms this. It is what
people call politely spoken—so polite
ly, indeed, as hardly to be understood.
Let them just step into the kitchen
and give orders for tea to their weary
mother. Would you recognize the
voice as belonging to her who, only a
moment ago, spoke so softly and so
sweetly to you ? To be sure, this
companionship of lovers calls forth
the sunniest, sweetest traits of charac
ter ; then why need simplicity be
thrown aside? Why need the young
lady be so generous and gentle, so
noble and forbearing, and yet, out of
your presence, be so selfish and exact
ing ? Why study your taste and tor
ture herself to suit it? Why read
your -favorite books, and yet detest
them? Why admire what. you ad
mire so devotedly ; why idolize your
pets, and yet secretly abuse them ?
Why never, from the beginning to
the end of courtship, appear her simple,
self ?
No wonder the lover experiences
pleasure in contemplating this, to him,
most - perfect of women so " nobly
planned," to whom he offers the wealth
of
,his,noble heart. She comes to him
.fresh and, fair, neatly and charmingly
attired, and he pictures a home, 0, so
pleasant, so perfect ; but, ah Me, did
b.e,eveir catch a glimpse of her room?
.Doesehe frequently mention economy
as a virtue she practises, and yet
nearly distract her father by ''her ex
travagance ? Does she insist that
mother will kill herself with care and
devotion to her family, and.yet never,
no never, seek to lighten her burden,
Or relieve her of care, in so much as
attending , to her own, wardrobe.? Is
nothervonstancy and.devotion to you
charming; but is she notjuin as dei
'oted to others in. your. , absence?
Many a: noble' young- man has , been
.the: victim of such deception, and
wedoisdie thought, one with whom he
cens.thoroughly acquainted, and found,
indeed, a stranger. Happy for them
it might have been,' had , not the heart
atm& an one-partaken largely of the
secisrai tendency among ladies at the
present time—namely, to be , in dress,
manners -and appearance, more. false
than true.
Gentlemen, though not trained so
exclusively to - this, idea of getting
married, are nevertheless just as de
ceptive. They seek to hide every
fault. They cloak their sins with
greater caution than ladies, yet are
not so hypocritical generally—at least
so they all declare ; but I confess I
think, it is their conceited opinion of
themselves. How many can approach
a lady and not use cloves, cardamon
seed, etc., to driVe away the itrobholie
perfume of their breath? The linger
ing odors of rum, gin, brandy, etc.,
are certainly poor- recommendations
for any gentleman. This may be the
first step in the way of deception ; "arid
0, how many successive ones are
taken ere the trusting, truthful heart
is won ! They denounce drinking,
smoking andi chewing ; gambling-and
everything pertaining to it they assure
the lady is too `debasing' for decent
men to' engage in; they admire only
pure and elevating pursuits; they de
sign to live always most strictly; moral
and virtuous; to be, in a word, all
their 'dear Fanny can desire. Doubt
less with many all these things are
truthfully uttered ; but where is the
determination to carry them out ?
Again, they are gentle and cour
teous: Nothing irritates them; not
even when others exclaim "How pro
voking!" are they disturbed. And
such things as oaths, why, they are as
far from their thoughts as—heaven 1
So attentive they are ; they bring such
beautiful bouquets, such splendid no
vels, such loves of pictures—arid no
wonder the fair lady is in ecstasy over
this most perfect of men. But could
she follow this her ideal as he joins
his' companioris—hear him pronounce
her mpg* with ah oath—see him drink'
glass after glass' of brandy—stake sum
after sum at the gaming table—or,
farther even, watch him as he enters
yonder house,pf infamy, where, think
you, her , ideal would be ? Deception—
if you find it not in such a class as
this, where Would you find it ? Vic
tinsthere are, however, who sacrifice
all at such shrines. The pure and in
nocent and trusting are sought by the
representatives of deception—not those
deserving of such a future as awaits
them.
One• might go. on enumerating ,the
various ways in> which the true char
acter of lovers is marked, but it would
occupy, too much space. If "the heart
is, deceitful above all things, and des
perately wicked,", until changed by
the Holy Spirit, can we look for un
blemished truth it those untaught by
Christ ?
alSince courtship is designed to bring
into clos'e and intimate companionship
those who wed, should not every, hin
drance to thorough acquaintance be
put aside Z look for pleasing cour
tesies and nameless attentions between
lovers; and who could object were
they continued after a brief honey
moon? I—'the husband were still
courteous and attenticv4—still careful
not to do things he would hafe seamed.
once to do—still denounced in prac
tice and principle what he once pro
fessed to despiie—still remembered
one-half the delicate courtesies he once
proffered ; if the wife still retained her
gentleness—still studied her husband's
tastes and preferences, and made her
self the same agreeable companion as
of yore—still dressed neatly and care
fully—in fact, if she tried one-half as
hard to please this, her husband, now,
as when a lover, things would go
more smoothly.
Such is the strict intimacy . of mar
ried life, that deception is impossible.
The mast so, long worn, innocently
perhaps, must be removed, and the
true character be discovered. How
useless, then, the brief, hasty, artificial
method of courtship. It is when all*
the pleasing attentions, all the name
less nothings (and yet so great we
can't define them) are laid aside—
when all the unfavorable points of
character are discovered— that the
foundation of unhappiness is beina.
laid. With all the frankness hearts
can offer, a long term of courtship
will discover little enough of what
there is to be learned ; ; and if, then,
having lived without seeing each other
Only in the "smooth walks, peaceful
bowers and quiet skies' H of courtship,
and even then artificially, (though the
judgment may
.have suggested unfit
ness and uncongeniality for each other,)
how will the trials of domestic life be
met ? Better, far better to heed the
faithful voice of judgment before it is
'too late to escape the evils of ill-suited
companionship. .
Those who have assumed least as
-lovers, find their domestic life more
nearly .what they faneied it would be;
not free from perplexities and stern
realities,; to be sure, but free from, the
sad reflections occa,sioned by. conceal
ing from "
each, other their real charac
ter.—Rural New Yorker.
NOT TOO COI D:
Very Bold drinks, and especially
iced water, weaken the digestive pow
ers,, and lay ,the drinkers open to the
assaults of Cholera and many forms of
illnesa. As to the quenching of thirst,
'which alone justifies the drinking even
of water, everybody knows that iced
water is not at all useful, but that
warm water is. One cup of tea, taken
as warm as you can swallow it, will
remove thirst, while a pint of iced
water increases it. The American
habit of swallowing quarts of ,iced
water daily is a sort of dram-drinking,
and ought not to be kept up. Why
should a rational being make an ice
house of his insides, when nature
plainly indicates that they are to be
kept in a warm—not to say a hot—
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1866.
state? But an American never denies
himself anything, particularly any
thing whiA is injurious to him. We
are all like , Lord lituskpry, who, on
his dying bed, said be died perfectly
content, for he had never denied him
self`anything he could: iet.—Boston
Traveller.
It was a pleasant greup of children
that were gathered in the play-ground
one bright Satuiday in May. School
was over for the week, lessons were
all recited, and now one merry' game
they must have before starting for
home. The play was over, and, weary
with their exercises, one party of boys
and girls had sat down 10. rest beneath
the old elm tree that stood in the cen
tre of their play-ground. They were
busily talking,—for when did happy
hearts 'ever meet without the sound
of merry voices ?
"Have you seen Mr. White's new
house ?" said Frank Leslie to William
,Green, who stood beSide him.
"0, yes; is it not handsome ? so
large; and then such beautiful trees
all around it. I think it , the finest in
the village."
`ql.ow I would like to build a - house
for myself!" exclaimed James Norton,
one of the older boys.' '
" Well, Jamie, how would You build
it ?" said his sister rate.
" 0, it should be a great deal hand
somer than Mr. White's:. I would
have it all of stone, with , handsome
carving in front, a wide hall running
through it, and a conservatory at the ,
end, filled with most beautiful flowers.
Then I would have a garden ; a pond
filled with gold fish; and summer
houses, with grape vines running over
them."
" And a long drive up to the house,'.'
said Frank " with great elm trees each
side."
"And a porter's lodge ,"added added ,Wil
liam, " where there should live an old
woman, and some pretty children to
open the gate."
"Well,'said Kate, "that would
not be my choice. No, indeed! Ido
not want ttklive in the country all my
days. I should build an . elp t *ant house
in the city, like those I the city
last winter."
",But, what would' you like, Mary ?"
she added, turning, to a more thought
ful-looking girl 'beside her, who was
her constant Companion and friend."
" I?" said Mary Green, "I think I
should like to live in one of those old
castles on the Rhine we were studying
about. I would not build anything
new, only make the place look pretty,
and train ivy everywhere."
".And what would Bella like ?" said
Kate, as, she bent to kiss a little girl
who sat on the grass at her feet. „Lit
tle Bella May was, the
_pet of them all,
iifid each waited to hear her aknswei
would` . 6uild me' a littieNvhite
cottage, and , have roses • growing all
over it. There should be a group of
cottages together ; and I would give
one to you, Katie, and one to Mary,
and have nobody live in them except
those I love."
At this moment Bella's mother
joined the children, (she vas walking
home, and stopped at the play-ground,)
and to her they all appeaed to know
who had made the best choice.
" Would you not like my cottage,
mother ?" said Bella. Mrs. May
smoothed back the curla from the
bright face turned towards her as she
answered, " Yes, my child ; and it
would be pleasant, no 4644,,4f you
were sure of always having those dear
friends near you. I see you would all
like to build houses for yourselves, if
you could, would you not?"'
" Oh, yes, yes indeed."
" But, dear children, did you ever
think you are all builders now ?"
" What do you mean, mother?"
cried Bella.
"Yes, you are each of you building
a house for eternity; and every day
you add something to it." .
`• Why, Mrs. May, we are children ;
how can we build houses?"
"It is really so, my little Katie;
and I will see if I can explain to you
what I mean. Bella, what verse did
you learn last Sunday ?"
"In my Father's house are many
mansions ; if it were not so, I would
have told you. I go to jrepare a
place for you," was rev - eientl, iereat
ed by the child.
" Well, dear children, if you all
love the precious Saviour, who spoke
those words, you will have one of
those mansions in Heaven. Jesus
Christ has:laid , the foundation; he has
made it firm.,and sure, and you are to
build upon it. Every good thing you
do adds an ornament to your house.
Every gentle wOrd, every obedient
act, every effort to, do right, makes the
mansion more beautiful: You are
building every day, and you may
make the house in Heaven a glorious
one. Do you not think it is better to
build for eternity,. than build here?
The pleasantest home, whether it,be a
quiet cottage, an old,castle, or a city
palace can be yours for only. a little
while. But if you "build a mansion
in Heaven, having the dear , Soviour
who died for you your dcalweAstone,
you have a home 'which ydu shall en
joy forever. William, do you remem
ber where the Bible speaks of Jesus
Christ as the foundation on which we
are to build ?"
"Is it not that , text, Other founda
tion can no man lay than is laid, which
is Jesus Christ ?'
BUILDING FOR ETERNITY.
" Yes • and then you. know, it says,
'Now if any man build upon this
foundation, gold, silver, precious
stones, wood, hay, stubble, every
man's work shall be mad 6 manifesP.'
Now, Mary, how may, we build our
Heavenly house of gold, *Ever, pre
cious stones ?"
"Do you not mean that we do so
when trying to be good every day,
please our parents and our Heavenly
Father ?"
Yes, my dear ; and now will you
not all remembei
,when you w are ,
tempted to 'do stpeak-qmek
lyrto.set.unkindly you not stop
and ask yourselves if this will not
prevent your house in Heaven from
growing more beantiful ; and' will you
not resolve so to live that' our man
sion above shall be all glorious with
in 7"-- Child's Companion.
OBEY THE BEST THOUGHTS.
Sometimes we are prompted to little
acts of kindness, to our friends and.
neighbors, that are wholly unselfish.
Perhaps, when we retire at night, we
say : "That, poor woman is in trouble,
and I must go and see her to-morrow,"
or, " I must inquire if the B.'s are not
in a suffering condition, and if they
are; I will help them."
• To-triorrow comes with its cares, and
our good resolves are forgotten, or
put aside for: a more convenient time.
I was deeply impressed, a few days
ago, in a conversation with an old
man one who had dandled me on his
knee in my, infancy who had left this
place and not returned till more than
twenty years had elapsed. He staid a
week' with us, and that was one of the
best weeks we even lived. It has done
us good ever since. There is scarcely
a day passes in which we do not medi
tate on some of the good things which
Mr. Gwinn told. us. He told me if I
was ever prompted to do a kind, un
selfish deed, not to put aside the still,
sweet voice, but rise up and do it
that it was the prompting of the
Holy Spirit=that, perhaps in answer
to some pleadin g prayer of the broken
hearted, or the sorrowing, he was
granting ;that prayer, and making us
the instilment in, accomplishing, it.
We had never thought of this be
fore. Christ
. and the blessed Ln.gels
making even us instrumental in work
ing for them.
It was not long after this until a
young man employed on a freight
train, by a' misstep, in the gray dawn
of the morning, fell between the cars,
and was cut to pieces. A telegram
was 'sent to his: parents. We were
neighbors, though not intimate, and
when the sad news reached us, I sat
down horror-stricken, leaning my head
oil my hand. I thought of his lonely
old - Par*ilta—:l9 was his old mother's
darling and pridt.-- -ghe'WaS left deso
late, crushed, felled to the earth by the
dreadful blow.
Instantly there was a tugging at my
heart. I was . Arawn toward her as if
by main force. I said, " To-morrow
I will go there—it would be intrusive
now, to look upon her sorrow—tears
will alleviate the keenness of her dis
tress." Stronger and stronger was I
drawn toward her. Something said,
" To-morrow a crowd will be around
her curiosity will be excited, people
will be wondering how they will bear
it, a,ndzo and stand, and stare, and
look on—she needs you now."
I put on my cloak and hood, saying
I would go across the woodland and
meadow, and reach there about the
same time the man, who bore the tele
gram would, and ride round the wind
ing road. I was just crossing the
brook, perhaps forty rods below the
house, when the blow fell. I heard
the shriek—the piercing, heart-rending
shriek that almost froze the blood in
my veins
The first words from her pallid lips
were—" Oh, I am so thankful that
you have come !" Then, while she
clung to my neck and moaned out her
sorrow on my bosom, it was mine to
weep with her in sympathy. There is
no comfort for one so utterly bereft ;
in the first tumult of their grief, tears
are thes best solace.
I felt glad that, perhaps, the good
angel had put the desire into my heart
to go there then.
Another time I had been thinking
the . morning of a poor woman who
lived beyond the village, and after the
work was all done up, I thought per
haps she was in need, or wanting to
see me, so persistently did thoughts of
her cling to me. In a neighborly
way, just as all the people do in coun
try neighborhoods, I filled a little
,basket with things - that are good in all
familics, and went over to see Eunice.
When Trapped there was no response,
and I opened the door quietly and
looked in. The poor woman was lean
ing her head on a table,lmd taking areal
good comfortable cry: : Her husband
was absent on a drunken spree, and
they were left in that winter weather
without pyovisions or wood. The two
babies were cross and half sick, and
PaNTioc's,Poor head was bursting with
pAan,wlile a worse pain a was breaking
her hesit.
As soon as she saw me, up went
both hands—poor, cold, glad hands,
ready to clasp me, and the first words
were "Oh, I am not ashamed before
you( I have been praying all this
morning to see you 1"
I could sit all day and tell of in
stances like these. I do believe God
uses humble means often to aid in
bringing about His wishes, and in an
swering pleading prayers put up in
faith. lam glad to believe thavit is
so. If it is a delusion it
does me good
to be thus deluded.4fme Magazine.
GOING HOME.
Where are you going so fast, old min,
Where are you going so fast ?
There's a valley to cross, and a river to ford,
There's a clasp of the h and anda parting word,
And a tremulous sigh for thlii - past, O/d man,
The beautiful yanished past.
The road has been rugged and rough, old
man,
TCO . , your feet it's rwed and rough,
But'feu see a'diar F•eriftWitti'gentle eyes,
Has shared in your labor and sacrifice ;
All thathas enough, old man,
For you andaneomnshine enough.
How long eincie you passed o'er the hill, old
man. , •. ,-,•
Of life o'er the top of theldll ?
Were there beautiful vtilleis on 'tother side?
Were there flowers and trees with their branches
wide )
To shut out the heat of the sun, old man,
The hetit of the fervid , sun ?
And how did you moss the waves, old man,
Of sorrow, the fearful waves ?
Did you lay your dear treasures by, one by one,
With an aching heart and "Gou's will be
done,"
Under the wayside dust, old man,
In the grave 'neath the wayside dust?
There is sorrow and labor for all, old man,
Alas ! there isittorrow for all,
And you; peradyenttre, have had your share„
For eighty long winters htive whitened your hair,
And they've whiten ed' your heart as well, old
Thank God, your heart as well.
You're now.at,the foot of the hill, old man,
At last at' the foot of the hill ;
'The sun has gone down in a golden glow;
And the heavenly city lies just below;
GO in throno the pearly gate, old man,
The beantiful imarly'gate. •
DANIEL WEBSTERS FIRST CASE.
Ebenezer .Webster, father A t Daniel,
was a 'farmer. The vegptables in his
garden suffered ceinsiderably from the
depredations of, a woodchuck, whose
hole and habitation was near the pre
mises. Daniel, some ten or twelve
years old, and his brother Ezekiel had
set a steel trap, and at last succeeded
in. capturing the trespasser. Ezekiel
proposed to kill the animal, and end,
at once all further= trouble with him ;
but Daniel looked with conipassion
upon this meek,, dumb captive, and
offered td let him go. The boys could
not agree, and each appealed to their
father to decide the case.
" Well, my boys," said the old gen
tleman, "I will be judge. There is
the prisoner," pointing. to the wood
chuck, " and you shall be the counsel,
and plead the case for and against his
life and, liberty."
Ezekiel opened the case with a
strong argument, urging the mischiev
ous nature of the criminal, the great
harm he had. already done; said that
much time and labor had been spent
in his capture, and now,_ if he was
suffered to live -and go• at largt7he
would renew his depredations, and be
cunning enough not to suffer himself
to be caught again, and that he ought
now to be put to death ; that his skin
was of some value, and that, make the
most of him they could, it would riot
repay half the damage he had already
done. His argument was ready, prac
tical, and to the point, and of much
greater length than our limits will
allow us to occupy in relating the
story.
The father looked with pride upon
his son, who became a distinguished
jurist in his manhood.
"Now, Daniel, it's t your turn ;
hear what you've got to say."
It was his first case. Daniel saw
that the plea of his brother had sensi
bly affected his father, the judge, and
as his large, brilliant, black eyes
looked upon, the soft, timid expression
of the animal, and he saw it tremble
with fear in its narrow prison-house,
his heart swelled with pity, and he
appealed with eloquent words that the
captive might again go free. God, he
said, had made the woodchuck ; He
made him to live, to enjoy the bright
sunshine, the pure air, the free field
and woods. God has not made him
or anything in vain; the woodchuck
had as much right to live as any other
living thing; he was not a destructive
animal, as the fox or wolf was ;
simply ate a few common vegetables,
of which they had plenty, and could
well spare a part; he destroyed noth
ing except the little food he needed to
sustain his humble life; and that little
food was as sweet to him, and as ne
cessary to his existence, > as was to
them the food on their mother's. table.
God furnished their own food; he
gave them all they possessed;, and
would they not Spare little for the
dumb creature, it* . really had as
much right to his small share of God's
bounty as they thertiselie,s had to their
portion? 'Yea, i110*; the animal had
never"violated -the laws of his nature
or the laws , of God, Aas man often, did,
but strictly followed :the simple in
stincts he had xeceived.from the hands '
of the Creator,of all things. -Created
by God's hands, he had a right, from
- God, to to food, to libertyoind
they had ho right to deprive him of
either:" He alluded. ' to the mute - latti
'earnest ".pleadings of the"animal for
that life, dear to him as was their
own to them; and the just judgment
they might' expect, if, in selfish cruelty
and cold-heartedness, they took the
life they could not restore again.
During this appeal, tears had started
to. the old man's eyes, and were fast
running down his sunburnt cheelcs.
Every feeling of a father's heart was
stirred within him; lie saw the future
greatness of his son before his eyes,
and he felt that: Godl4d blessed him
and his children beyond' the lot of
common men. His pity and sympathy
were awakened by the eloquent words
of compassion and the strong appeal
for mercy; and forgetting the judge
in the man and the father, be sprang
from his chair, (while Daniel was In
the midst of his argument, without
thinking that he had already , won his
case,) and turning to his elder son,
dashing the tears from his nye,s, he ex
claimed: "Zeke, gelee, you let that wood
gawk gor
"SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN, TO COMM
UNTO ME."
Jesus is the Saviour of the little
ones ; they can feel their need of a par
don, and they can love and trust the
Redeemer. Innumerable instances are
occurring, where, for the encourage
ment of parents and Sabbath-school
teachers, childlike faith in Christ is
manifested, in life and in death. A
speaker in a recent Sabbath-school
convention related an= incident occur
ring in England—that of a little girl,
seven years of age, who, having been
taken sick, was carried to the hospitikl
to die. "The last night," said
speaker, "nothing was heard to break
the silence, but the,ticking of the great
clock in the hall, as the pendulum
swung backw.cird„aml forwaro._ Then
it would strike the ; hours,' e-l-e-v-e-n,
o'clock, when there
came from the' couch of `the little suf
ferer, a voice of sweet nielocly. It was
one verse of a Sunday-sehool hymn—
"Jesus the name to sinners dem.,
The name to sinners'givtii ;
It scatters all our,gullty-fears,
And turns our hell to heaven."
Then all was silent again, and noth
ing was heard but the, ticking,of the
great clock in the hall, until she bro,ke
out after a while , in another verse
"Happy, if with my latest breath •
I may but speak His name;
Preach Him to all, and sing in death
Behold 1 behold the Lamb 1"
The nurse then hastened to the bed
side of the little sufferer, but she was
too late. The angels had been there
before.her, and carried that little Sab
bath-school, girl from beholding the
Lamb on earth, to His bosom in the
sanctuary above.
SPEECHES BY AN OLD• SMOKER.
No, madam I don't call that young
lady plain. I never use middle terms
to express extremes. Would you term
a bull-dog plain, for example?
The gorilla is not plain, but very
far from plain. So, on the other hand,
is your. daughter. On the other hand,
I say, ma'am. No compliment; only
o,,a_innatration:
Indeed, the fact is, that a plain girl
is generally more eligible than a pretty
one. Beauty is nothing when you're
used to it; which is very soon. It is
gone in a year or two, and leaves be
hind it—what? Generally what men
go to clubs to escape from, ma'am.
A plain wife has no beauty to lose—
and with it all her husband's liking.
Plainness washes and - wears—and does
not paint, ma'am, Plain good looks,
resulting from mental qualities, will
last a lifetime. A middle-aged lady,
once a plain girl, is commonly no less
handsome than most other middle-aged
ladies, and often handsomer. She may
still look as well as ever she did, when
the belle of former ball-rooms may
have shrunk into a Sycorax, or swol
len into a grampus.
A plain woman and a plain joint;
both well dressed in their way. None
of your French kickshaws and toys.
That is what I say to my nephew,
ma'am.
I also say that when a man marries
a plain woman with his eyes open, be
cannot be deluded by appearances into
marrying a fool.—Punch.
CHRIST TAKES NO SILENT PART-
NERS.
A minister in Brooklyn was recent
ly called upon by a business man, who
said :
I come, sir, to inquire if Jesus
Christ will take me into the concern
as a silent partner ?"
" Why do you ask ?" said the min
ister.
"Because I wish to be a member 0 1
the firm, and do not wish anybody to
know it," said the man.
The reply, was, " Christ takes no
silent partners ! The firm must be
`Jesus Christ & Co.,' and. the names of
the Co.' though they may occupy 3
subordinate place, must all be written
out on the sign -board."
Reader, are you trying to be a se
cret Christian ? Jesus Christ takes
no silent partners I— Congregational,'
"HE NEVER TOLD A LIE."
Mango Park, the traveler, relates
thai when he was in Africa, a party of
armed MoOrs made an attack on the
flocks of ii'Village where he was stop.
ping. A'yonth of the place was The
tally wounded in the affray. Th e ,
natives placed him or! horseback, and
conducted him home, while his m other
went before, proclaiming all the good
qualities of her boy ; and by her clasp'
ed hands and streaming eyes showny,
how she suffered. "He never," , ' 3l°
she, with affectionate earnestness, h e
never, never told a lie !"