famitg girds.
THE HIGHWAY TO MOUNT CALVARY.
Repair to Pilate's hall
Which place when thou hast found,
There shalt thou see a pillar stand
To which thy Lord was bound.
'Tis easy to be known
By any Christian eye ;
The bloody whips do point it out
From all that stand thereby.
A little from that place,
Upon the left-hand side,
There is a curious portlie door,
Right beautiful and wide.
Leave that in any N a
Forbid thy foot go — thither ;
For out thereat did Judas go,
Despair and he together.
But to the right•hand turn,
Where is a narrow gate,
Forth which,St. Peter went to weep
His poor distrest estate.
Do imitate the like,
Go oukat sorrow's door,
Ween bitterly as he did weep,
That wept to sin no more.
By this direction, then,
The way is understood—
No_porch, no door, nor hall to pass,
Unsprinklecl with Christ's blood.
So shall no error put
Misguiding steps between,
For every drop sweet Jesus shed
Is freshly to be seen.
A crown of piercing thorns
There lies imbrued in gore
The garland that thy Saviour's head
For thy offences wore ;
Which when thou shalt behold,
Think what his love hath been,
Whose head was laden with those briers
T' unload thee of thy sin.
Follow his feet that goes
For to redeem thy loss,
And carries all our sins with Him
To cancel on his cross.
Look on with liquid eyes,
And sigh from sorrowing mind,
To see the death's-man go before,
The murdering troupes behind.
Then press amongst the throng,
Thyself with sorrows wed ;
Get very near to Christ and see
What tears the women shed ;
Tears that did turn Him back,
They were of such a force—
Tears that did purchase daughter's names,
Of Father's kind remorse.
Think on their force by tears—
Tears that obtained love ;
Where words too weak could not persuade,
How tears had power to move,
Then look toward Jesus' load,
More than He could endure,
And how for help to hear the same
A hireling they procure.
Join thou unto the cross,
Bear it of love's desire;
Do not as Cyrenfens did,
Who took it up for hire.
The voluntary death
That Christ did die for thee,
Gives life to none but such as joy
Cross-bearing friends to be.
Up to Mount Calvary
if thou desire to go,
Then take thy cross and follow Christ,
Thou canst not miss it so.
When thou art there arrived
His glorious wounds to see,
Say but as faithful as the thief,
" 0 Lord, remember me."
Assure thyself to have
A. gift all gifts excelling,
Once sold by sin, once bought by Christ,
For saints eternal dwelling.
By Adam, Paradise
Was sin's polluted shade ;
By Christ, the dunghill Golgotha
A Paradise was made.
[Samuel Rowland, 16th century.
[Written for the American Presbyterian.]
"TALKING TO GOD."
BY MARY LOUISE
'Twas harvest-time, and in the fields
were heard the voices of the merry
reapers as they felled the ripened
grain. The warm sun poured down
a golden flood, making the glad earth
laugh in the sunlight. Grandpa Wil
lerd sat by the vine-draped window
of his daughter's sitting-room, musing
with closed eyes upon the happy past.
The soft,_ breeze lifted the snowy locks
lying upon his calm, peaceful brow,
lined by so many years of toil and
weariness; but now he was nearing
the other shore, he was " only wait
ing" for the coming of the angels, and
to his dulled ear came the dip of their
silver oars as they bore his loved ones
over the river.
Little feet were heard tripping along
the hall, and a childish voice said,
"Where's mamma?" The old man's
thoughts went back to a little pair of
fleet that wandered restlessly in search
" mother" away back in the past.
Two children appeared at the open
door and approached their aged friend,
$ tall, dark-eyed boy leading by the
hand a sister, whose little hands had
Wicked the flowers of four brief sum
aims.
There was a look of sacred awe
upon their faces, and the little girl
said softly, "Mamma is talking to God,
grandpa." "Fes," continued Harry ;
" she's talking to Him about me." "I
am glad, dear children, very glad you
have a mother that talks to Him. Sit
down and let me talk to you a little
while." Clara sprang into his lap,
throwing her arm about his neck and
pitting her bright young face up to
his "withered cheek. Harry sat down
on .a stool near them, lifting his dark
eyea to the face of his grandfather.
"Harry, do you 'know the reason
your mother talks to God about you
AO °ilea ?"
"Not quite; please tell me."
"Supposing you were ready to start
M a long, long journey; over rough
hills, across deep- , rivers, and there
were many lions and tigers by the
aide of your path, waiting to spring
upon you at any moment; your mo
ther nor no other of your friends
atould help you, and there was only
one person who was able to assist you,
who oould smooth the rough places
add cloie the mouth of the lions,—
&nit you think we would all ask him
to take care of you and keep you
from all harm ?"
"Yes; and I think I know what
you mean. The journey is my life,
and the
,friend is God.
"You, are right, Harry, and it's a
long, - 'weary way. At first it leads
through pleasant fields, with but now
and then a cloud to sadden you or a
thorn to pierce your tender feet; but
by-and-by there will be more lions,
more clouds, and very many rough
places for you to pass over. This
Friend will go with you all the way,
if you will only take His offered
hand."
" Will the naughty lions eat Harry
up?"
"No,_ pet; the lions are the tempta
tions that are ever near us, and if we
yield to them, they will do us more
harm than a roaring lion. Don't Clara
remember eating the nice cake in the
pantry ? When mamma asked her if
she had done it, did not something
say, Tell her no' ? "
"Yet I didn't, grandpa," said the
little one with a joyous smile
"No ; you conquered the lion, shut
his mouth up so he couldn't bite, by
saying Yes.' Next time it wont be
so hard to say it. 'Tis these prayers
that help us to do right. My mother
prayed. for her little boy very long
ago, when I did not need this cane to
support my trembling form.
"I remember once in particular ;
it was in this season of the year. I
went with my father to the mill, and
while we were there, a boy by the
name of Martin came along, and
asked if I might go with him and see
them cut grain with horses. That was
before there had. been many machines ;
the grain was nearly all cut with a
hook. Father thought Martin was
not a good boy ; but I plead•so hard,
he let me go after I promised to return
very soon. We hastened away and
followed on and on after the brightly
colored machine. I was so pleased
with it that I forgot my promise till it
began to grow dark ; then I begged
Martin to go home with me, for I
dared not go alone. He would not
leave till after supper, and I, too sad
and tired to eat, went out behind the
house and threw myself down upon
the grass. 0, how I longed to be at
home in my own dear little bed I
"We went across the fields till we
were out of sight of the house. Then
Martin refused to go farther, saying,
We must lie down here and stay till
morning.'. I besought him with tears
to go on, though I was very tired.
He still refused, and at last I laid
down. There were myriads of stars
shining brightly above us, and the
soft breeze rustled through the corn ;
but I could think of nothing but
home. I seemed to hear mother's
voice talking to God about her lost
boy. I could see her bending to kiss
sister good-night,' while her tears fell
upon the pillow because of her naughty
son.
"At length I fell into an uneasy
slumber, disturbed by terrible dreams.
Drops of water falling in my face
awoke me, and I started up in terror.
Dark clouds hid the bright stars,
fierce lightning flashed through the
blackness, and deep-muttering thun
der rumbled around us. I crept closer
to Martin, praying to God in my fear.
That is the way, Harry—when the
wicked are in trouble, then even they
talk to God. The rain fell in torrents,
but we dared not remain longer under
the tree, for fear of the lightnina b ; so
we groped in the darkness between
the rows of corn to a distant stump.
When we paused, a bright flash lit
up the sky, quickly followed by a
roar of thunder, and. the tree under
which we had lain was wrapped in
flames!
"How near we had. been to death 1
I think we both thanked God then
for His care over us. That was a ter
rible night; all through its long hours
the rain came pouring down, and we
lay shivering with fear and cold.
When it began to grow light we crept
home. 0, how mean I felt. I thought
even the sky was weeping because I
had been so naughty. Martin left me
at the gate, and I went slowly up the
path, my heart throbbing quick and
loud. My mother met me at the door;
her clothes were dripping with the
rain and her face was so sad and sor
rowful.
"I rushed into her outstretched
arms, saying, 'Mother, mother, I've
been so naughty. She kissed me
many times as I told her of the night,
and her fade was wet with both our
tears when I told her of the lightning.
" After we were dressed she led me
away to her room, and we knelt down
by her bed while she prayed for me.
I can still hear her voice, though it
has long been hushed in death: 'Keep
my son from straying from the right
again, dear Father; make him a good
little boy.' Then she thanked Him
for keeping me safe from all harm
through the long night.
"It is many years since my mother
talked to God about her son, but
through all my youth and manhood
the memory of her has been with me,
and her prayers have kept my feet
from straying.
" Harry and Clara must always re
member their mother talked to God
about them."
" What became of Martin ?"
"He died in prison, friendless and
alone; no mother ever asked God to
help him do right. There! Aunt Mary
is- calling you." •
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 23, 1866.
The children went out hand in hand,
leaving the old man alone with his
thoughts.
Little ones ! talk to God with your
own sweet voices, for He will, from
His great white throne, bend down
and listen to your fainteat whisper.
He was a little child once, and He
knows just how hard it is to pass by
the "lions." He loves you, and will
gently, very gently carry you over the
rough, thorny places, if you will let
Him. Mothers, let your children know
you talk to God as if He were your
Either., In the sacred hours of even
ing; , in the :bright,--joyous morning,
bend the knee with them and teach
their lisping voices to repeat our
Father's name; and it may be; at the
last, you will find them numbered as
the jewels in your crown of rejoicing
on the other shore.
A convert in India, entreated to
give up the Christian religion, said :
" I love Jesus Christ beause he loved
me, and I must obey Him. Even
if I knew heaven were full, and there
was no room for me, I should still love
Him, and live for His honor ald glory."
Efforts were made to convince him
by argument. He said : "Should they
even be able to bring sophisAcal
ments which I could not answer, I
should not be troubled. I have an in
ward experience of the love of Christ
which can never be shaken or remov
ed I" His relatives wept over him as
going to perdition. He said to the mis
sionary : " Threats I can bear ; argu
ments do not shake me; but the hard
est thing to bear is the persecution of
tears. It almost breaks my heart to
hear them; but not even for this can
I leave Christ."
Other converts and inquirers in his
native village were told that he was
about to return to his old faith. He
said : " Should I go back, they would
all be discouraged. I thank God that
he has helped me to stand firm for
their sakes. No; if my own soul were
not worth saving, I would cling to
Christ, in order to bring them to him
also !" Surely this is the spirit. of
primitive consecration and endurance.
`HOW WOULD JESUS HAVE ME DO?"
There is much power in an humble
spirit.
A young man was acting as clerk
in a large commercial house in the
city. An older clerk cherished a great
dislike to him, and seemed determined
to make his situation as uncomfortable
as possible. He crossed him when
ever he could ; found fault with him,
and took every chance of showing his
dislike to him before his fellow-clerks ;
even going so far as to accuse him to
his employers.
Robert was not only a noble, but a '
Christian younc , man, and tried to
have the spirit of his Saviour. Many
a time he said to himself; " I can't
stand this, and I wont." Then he
thought of his widowed mother and
his dear young brothers and sisters,
and he determined not to be troubled.
" This is a part of the discipline," he
would say to himself. "It is not half
as bad as they treated the Saviour, and
he opened not his mouth. I profess to
follow him—how would he have me
act ?" Thus questioning, he grew
quiet. He knew that nothing had
happened to him or would happen but
what was permitted of God ; and. how
ever grievous to him, he knew it.was
needful or it would not have been per
mitted. Instead of treating his asso
ciates in the same manner, he showed
meekness and forgiveness for insult,
respect to his employers, and attention
to his duties.
Slowly but steadily he won his way
along in spite of evil communications.
He was respected by his employers,
and confided in as no other was.
Months passed. The pestilence
broke out in that city, and among the
most severe cases was that of the clerk
who had shown such a marked dislike
for Robert. He was poor and without
friends, but Robert watched at his
bedside with the love of a brother.
" The Saviour returned love for hate ;
gentle loving words for contumely
and scorn. If I follow him, must
do the same." With such refiectiong,
it was easier for him. As he looked
upon the pale wasted, features, he saw
one for whom Christ died; and should
he not do all in his power to make
known to him a Saviour's love ?
Sick almost unto death, he at last
recovered. But he was a changed
man. The hand of death had been
upon him, yet he was now back to life
by the careful nursing and prayerful
love of his injured-friend. It had been
a severe ordeal for Robert, but when
he' saw the color come back to the
cheek, the brightness to the eye, and
strength to the entire system, he was
glad.
One morning, when the sick man
was able to walk about a little, he
called Robert to his side. "Robert, I
ask your pardon for my conduct. I've
been very cross to you. I was angry
because I could not have my friend in
your place, and I determined to make
it as unpleasant for you as possible.
I meant to drive you awe; but you
have been too much for me. Your
spirit I have never seen before. It
beats me and tears came into his eyes.
"Nu brother could have taken care of
me as you have. If this comes of re
ligion, 1 want it. Will you teach me
how 1i may gain such a spirit?
A TRUE SPIRIT.
The unfriendly clerk turned quite
round in his conduct, and became one
of the best friends Robert had. He
also became a devoted Christian, doing
all he could to win others to the pre
cious Saviour.
To resent slights is natural and,easy ;
but you may depend upon it, it is not
the spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ.
"He that is slow to anger is better
than the mighty ; and he that ruleth
his spirit, than he that taketh •a city."
To keep in check the pride and anger
which is apt to spring up in our hearts,
is perhadm the hardest thing that we
are to do.- Yet how imuch easier it is
if, when tempted, as we often are, we
Would bridle our lips sufficiently long
to ask, " How would Jesus have me
do ? What spirit would He mani
fest ?" For except we have the spirit
of Christ we are none of His.—Ameri
can. Messenger.
TEMPERANCE ANECDOTE.
The Rev. T. P. Hunt, the temper
ance leCturer, tells the following
story :
A small temperance society had
been started in a community very
much under the control of a rich dis
tiller, commonly called- "Bill Meyers."
This man had several sons who had
become drunkards on the facilities
afforded by their education at home.
The whole family was arrayed against
the movement, and threatened to break
up any meeting called to promote the
object. Learning this, Mr. Hunt went
to.a neighboring district for temper
ance volunteers for that particular
occasion. He then gave out word for
a meeting, and at the time found his
friends and enmies about equal in
numbers. This fact prevented any
outbreak, but could not prevent noise.
Mr,. Hunt mounted his platform; and
by a few sharp anecdotes and witty say
ings soon silenced all noise except the
sturdy " Bill Meyers"—the old Dutch
man crying out, " Mishter Hunt,
money makes the mare go." To every
shot which seemed ready to demolish
him, the old fellow presented ,the one
shield, Mishter Hunt, money makes
the mare go."
At last, Mr. - Runt stopped and ad
dressed the imperturbable German
" Look here, Bill Meyers, you say that
money makes the mare go, do you ?"
"Yes, dat ish just what I say, Misb
ter Hunt."
" Well, Bill Meyers, you own and
work a distillery, don't you ?" inquir
ed Mr. Hunt.
"Dat is none of your business,
Mishter Hunt. But, den, Ish not
ashamed of it. I has got a still, and
work it too." •
"And you say, Money makes the
mare go . ; do you mean that I have
come here to get the money of these
people ?"
" Yes, Mishter Hunt, dat ish just
what I mean."
" Very well ; you work a distillery
to make money, and I lecture on tem
perance to make money, and as you
say,: Money makes the mare go,' Bill
Meyers, bring out your mare, and Pll
bring out mine, and we'll show them
together."
By this time the whole assembly
was in a titter of delight ; and even
Meyers' followers could not repress
their merriment at the evident embar
rassment of their oracle. In the mean
time, we must premise that Mr. Hunt
knew a large number of the drunkards
present, and among them the son of
Meyers himself.
" Bill Meyers, who is that holding
himself up by that tree ?" inquired Mr.
Hunt, pointing to a young man so
drunk that he could not stand alone.
The old man started, as if stung by
an adder, but was obliged to reply :
"Dat ish my son; but what of dat,
Mishter Hunt?"
"Good deal' of that, Bill Meyers;
for I guess that son has been riding
your mare and got thrown tool"
Here there was a perfect roar from
all parts of the assemby, and, as soon
as order was restored, Mr. Hunt pro
ceeded, as he pointed to another son :
" Bill Meyers, who is that staggering
about as if his legs were as weak as
potato vines after frost?"
" Well, I suppose dat ish my son,
too," replied the old man, with a
crest-fallen look.
" He has been riding your mare, too,
and got a tumble."
At this point the old man put up
both hands in a most imploring man
ner and exclaimed :—"Now, Mishter
Hunt, if yon won't say any more, I
will be still?'
This announcement was received
with a roar of applause and laughter,
and from that moment Mr. Hunt had
all the ground to himself.
IS THE MATTER SETTLED?
"Is the matter settled between you
and God?" I asked solemnly of one
whose declining health warned us to
expect her early removal from this
world.
"0 yes, sir l" was her calm reply.
" How did you get it settled ?"
"The Lord Jesus Christ settled it
for me."
"And when did He do it for you ?"
I inquired.
"When He died on the cross for
my' sins
"How long is it since you knew►
this blessed and consoling fact?"
The answer was readily given
"About twelve months ago?'
Being anxious, however, to ascer
tain the grounds of this confidence; I
asked, " How did you know that the
work which Christ saccomplished on
the cross for sinners was done for
you?"
She at once replied, "I read in the:
and believed what I read."
And now, dear reader, have you
read in the Bible, and believed what
you have read ? It is written, " Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sin
ners." Does this bring comfort to your
soul? Do you believe this faithful
saying ?
" WILL SAIL TO - MORROW."
The good ship lies in the crowded dock,
Fair as a statue, firm as a rock;
Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,
Her funnel glittering white and bare,
Whence the long soft line of vapory smoke
Betwixt sky and sea like a vision broke,
Or slowly o'er the horizon curled
Like, a lost hope fled to the other world.
She sails to-morrow----
Sails to-morrow.
Out steps the captain, busy and grave,
With his sailor's footfall, quick and brave,
His hundred thoughts and his thousand cares,
And his steady eye that all things dares ;
Though a little smile o'er the kind face dawns
On the loving brute that leaps and fawns,
And a little shadow comes and goes,
As if heart or fancy fled—where, who knows?
He sails to-morrow—
Sails to-morrow.
To-morrow the serried line of skips
Will quick close after her as she slips
Into the unknown deep once more ;
To-morrow, to-morrow, some on shore
With straining eyes shall desperate yearn—
This is not parting? return, return
Peace, wild-wrung hands I hush, sobbingbreath I
Love keepeth its own through life and death :
Though she sails to-morrow—
Sails to-morrow.
Sail, stately ship ; down Southampton water
Gliding fair as old Nereus' daughter :
Christian ship that for burthen bears
Christians, speeded by Christian prayers ;
All kind angels follow her track I
Pitiful God, bring the good ship back I
All the souls in her forever keep
Thine, living or dying, awake or asleep.
Then sail to-morrow I
'Ship, sail to-morrow.
THE CONTENTED YOUNG SHEPHERD,
Have you read thatwise and pleasant
book, the " Pilgrim's Progress?" If
so,. you will remember good Christian
and his wife Christiana, with Evange
list, Faithful, Hopeful, and others they
met on their journey. It was when
Christian came to.the Valley of Hu
miliation, under the guidance of bold
Mr. Great-Heart, they saw a boy feed
ing his father's sheep. Though poorly
dressed, he was of a ruddy face and
very happy. As he sat by himself, he
was heard to sing very sweetly.
"Hark," said Mr. Great-Heart, "to
what the shepherd's boy saith." So
they hearkened, and he said—
He that is down needs fear no fall ;
He that is low, no pride ;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.
I am content with what I have,
Little be it, or much;
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because thou savest such.
Fulness to such a burden is,
That go on pilgrimage;
Here little,
and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.
Then said the guide, " Do you hear
him ? I will dare say, that this
boy lives a merrier life, and wears
more of that herb called heartsease in
his bosom, than he that is clad in silk
and velvet."
THE HORSE.
We often look with wonder and awe
upon the many fine specimens of this
noble animal which are seen in our
cities. What would man be and what
could he do without a horse ? His
presence, and the service and the ben
efits which he bestows upon man,
seem to us alone a sufficient proof of
the existence of God and of tale degree
of care and protection which he exer
cises toward man. A hundred ani
mals, quite as useful and as capable of
being domesticated for the service of
man, might easily have been created
`by the same Power that made the horse.
This one, however, was sufficient, and
as the Creator only designs to furnish
us with what is necessary for our use
and' requisite for the development of
our faculties, only this one was given.
We confess that we have often la
mented the fate of the horse, when we
have seen him, as he frequently does,
evincing not only more of the virtues
of usefulness; amiability, and effort, but
even a higher degree of intelligence
than his owner or driver. One is
sometimes strongly tempted to believe,
if this animal could walk erect and
possessed hands and the power of
speech, he would be the superior of
man, and to wonder if all his intelli
gence, docility and usefulness is never
to receive any other reward than his
measure of corn and oats, until the
time comes for him to end his brief
but laborious and useful existence.
We , cannot resist the thought, some
times, that he is a higher intelligence
than we suppose, perhaps a fallen
spirit, degraded in its embodiment,
and working out a life of probation
and, pennance, and never look at a fine
intelligent horse, without feeling . in
some degree an increase of reverence
and thankfulness to the . Almighty
Creator.
The Bible seems to decide the point
that the first domestication of the horse
was in Egypt and not in Arabia,
as some have supposed. When the
Israelites came into. Canaan we find
that the Canaanites went out 'to fight
against them, with many chariots and
horsemen.
Six -hundred years after the time
just referred to, Arabia had no horses-
Solomon imported'; silver, gold and
spices from Arabia, but all the horses
for his own cavalry and chariots he
pr?cured from Egypt. In this place
it is mentioned that a horse brought.
from Egypt cost one hundred and
fifty shekels of silver, which at two
shillings three pence each, the accept
ed value of a shekel of silver, amount
ed to about £l7 sterling, an enormous
sum for those days.
Though the horse has long been the
companion and the servant of man, yet
his native country cannot with certain
ty be4raced. , It-seems probable that.
he was first domesticated in Egypt,
but the precise period is not knowu.
About two thousand years before the
birth of Christ, when Abraham was
driven into Egypt by the famine which
raged in Canaan, Pharoah offered him
sheep, oxen and camels. Horses would
doubtless have been added, had they
then existed or had they been domes
ticated in Egypt. Fifty years after
ward, when Abraham joufneyed to-
Mount Moriah, to offer up his only
son, he rode upon an ass, which, with
ail his wealth and power, he would not
have done had the horse been known.
Thirty years later, an account is givers
of the number of oxen, sheep, ,camels,
goats and asses which Jacob sent to ap
pease the anger of Esau ; but no horses
are mentioned. Twenty-four years
after this, when famine again devastat
ed Canaan, and Jacob sent into Egypt
to buy corn, we first hear of 'horses.
Wagons drawn by horses were sent
by Joseph into Canaan to bring his
father into Egypt. Even then, how
ever, horses do not seem to have been
used as beasts of burden, for the corn
which was to be conveyed some hun
dreds of miles to afford sustenance to
Jacob's large household, was carried
on asses.—Journal of Commerce.
THE GERMAN PRISONER AND THE
GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN.
A touching incident, related at a
Bible meeting by the chaplain of the
Swansea county prison, is given in
the Bible Society Reporter:—
"Among the prisoners recently under
his charge there was a young woman,
a German by birth, who, although she
could speak a little English, was un
able to read in that language. She
was brought up a Roman Catholic,
and had never read the Scriptures.
She asked him for a book in her own
language, and he was glad to have it
in his power to place in her hands the
Gospel of St. John in German. He
visited her iu her cell, but made no
further allusion to the book than to
ask whether she read it. He, how
ever, noticed a great change .in her
manner, both in her cell and in the
'chapel. The day before her discharge,
he visited the prisoner, and during the
conversation she manifested consider
able emotion. Presently she ventured
to say : Will you please, sir, to give
me the little book which you left with
me ?' It did not occur to him at first
that she meant the German Gospel, and
he therefore said that the books were
the property of the county, and could
not be given away. Her lips quivered,
and her eyes were filled with tears. She
then said : 0, sir, lam so sorry for
that; nothing has ever done me so
much good as that little book. lam
sure that, if I had read it before, I
should never have been sent to prison.
When she was asked what book she
meant, she took it out from the place
where she kept it, and said : Here it
is; lam sorry to part with it. I never
read such a book before.' The chap
lain then remarked : 'lf that is the
book you refer to, I will give it to you
with all my heart, and may God bless
it to your soul !' She then went down
on the floor, pressed the little volume
to her heart, and exclaimed : '0!
He has blessed' it to me already. I
thank Him, and I thank you for it.
I shall read it again and again, and
I am sure that I ;hall never come to
jail again.' "
AN OBEDIENT PRIVATE.
During the war, a good story used
to be told of a private in one of the _Mas
sachusetts regiments—the 14th, I
think. It seems that his captain was
noted for his love of good things, and
one day told the high private to go for
some oysters; also giving him, in Ins
usual jocose way, the command, "Don't
come back without them."
Off went the man, and no more was
seen of him for several days, and the
indignant and disappointed captain re
ported him as a deserter, and gave him
up as a " lost child." Butlol after the
lapse of nine days, the captain beheld
his reported deserter, Bailey, coming
into camp, leading a train of fear
wagons loaded with oysters. Ap
proaching and respectfully saluting
the amazed captain, Bailey reported :
" Here are your oysters, captain;
could not find any at Alexandria, so
I chartered a schooner, and made a
voyage to Fortress Monroe and Nor
folk for them. There's about two
hundred bushels; where do you want
them?"
Bailey, it seems, really did make the
trip, hired his men, and sal, oysters
enough in Geor,getuw n, before report
ing, to pay all expenses, and leave
him a profit of a hundred and fifty
dollars. Two hundred bushels w o l
divided among the re4oneut, o
Bailey returned to his dur as . i . f no•
thing had happeued.—N. Y. 01404.