&pf 4autitg ktiFfif. WHY DOST THOU ti' TT Poor, trembling lamb ! Ah! who outside the fold Has bid thee stand, all weary as thou art, Danger' around thee, and the bitter cold Creeping and growing to thy inmost heart? Who bids thee wait till some mysterious feeling, Thou know'st not what—perchance may'st never know— Shall find thee, when in darkness thou art kneeling, And fill thee with a rich and wondrous glow Of love and faith ; and change to warmth and light The chill and darkness of thy spirit's night? For miracles like this who bids thee wait? Behold "the Spirit arid the Bride say, ' Come,' " The tender Shepherd opens wide the gate, And in His love would gently lead thee home; Why should'st thou wait? Long centuries ago, Thou timid lamb, the Shepherd paid for thee! Thou art His own.. Would' st thou His beauty know, Nor trust the love which yet thou canst not see ? Thou hest not learned this lesson to receive More bless'd are they who see not, yet be lieve. Still dost thou wait for feelings ? Dost thou say, " Fain would I love and trust, but hope is dead, I have no faith, and without faith, who may Rest in the blessing which is only shed Upon the faithful? I must stand and wait." Not so. The Shepherd does not ask ofthee Faith in thy faith, but only Faith in Him. And this he meant in saying, "Come to Me." In light or darkness, seek to do His will, And leave the work of faith to Jesus still. APOLOGIZING The Academy boys were not bad, as boys go. They were not profane' nor mean, as a general thing. They did not lie nor steal. . They were just such boys as_ you young folks are. But then, you know, all boys have more or less of the savage still clinging to them. This is not anything very bad, for do we not often speak of the " noble savage ?" But Dr. Alcott's boys were a little more wild-Indian like than usual one afternoon, because they were out on a tramp and frolic to the Mayne Woods; and just as they trooped through the lane, Farmer Pen nell came along riding on his old white mare---a sorry least. Her whiteness was weather-worn and time worn into a gray that was hardly ven erable. Her ribs were uncommonly numerous and very prominent. Her —what do you call it ?—shoulder blades (?) stuckup like the pommel of a saddle. Then she had no tail to speak of; but if you should speak of it, you would call it a " bob-tail." As a graceful variation of the straight line in which she usually carried her neck, she would occasionally give 'her head a huge upward toss and shake, then drop it near the ground, and then re sume the placid straight line • again. Also, she had the spring,haft. She would draw up oue ofher - ltgs almost close to her body, and set it down cau tiously every time she started; where fore it took her a long time to start, and she was not swift even after she had started. So when she came down the lane bearing Farmer Pennell, with a gentle but jarring trot, no saddle nor bridle, but a fragmentary wagon har ness angling and dragging from her sides—why, Ai - was a - little comical, to be sure, and nobody could have been' blamed for a quiet remark or two,' or even a side laugh. But such expres sion did not at all satisfy the Academy boys. You would have thought- it a sight the most ridiculous that was ever seen. They laughed and shouted and held their sides. "It's a,.Guv-ment steed!" roared little Dick Acres. "It's General Grant's fa vorite ' oss.'" " Vance guard of Kilpatrick's caval ry going on a rat/ too Byington." That was Joe Fillo who was too lazy to find out whether r-a-i-d spelt one thing or another. "Going at 2.40, going, going, gone,' cried Frank Ralston. And so they amused themselves till horse and rider were out of sight and out of mind, and a squirrel or a woodchuck's hole roused their interest anew. After a merry afternoon, they went home to supper as hungry and noisy and up roarious as the little savages they were. But the next morning a message comes to Mr. Joseph Fillo, Mr. Edward Oushlee, and Mr. Frank Ralston, that Dr. Alcott wished to see them in his study. The three held a hurried con sultation at the foot of the stairs, for it was no laughing matter to be summon ed to an official interview. " What's the row ?' queried Edward. " Rows enough," answered Joe, "if a fellow comes to reckon 'em up ; but which pertickler one do you suppose he's got scent of?" "It's the circus, most likely," said Frank. "I believe I shall own up right off." " And more fool you," cried Joe, pettishly.. " What do you want to souse head first into a stew for ? P'raps %isn't that. Lay low, can't you? Time enough to speak when you're spoken to." And without com ing to any unanimous agreement, the trio proceeded somewhat tremblingly into the august presence of Dr. Alcott. " So, young gentlemen," he said, when the salutations were over, for Dr. Alcott was always courteous to his boys, "I hear that you have been .rather strenuous in your attentions to -ray . friend, Mr. Pennell." My friend, Mr. Pennell ! They start ed in unaffected astonishment; and some little explanation was necessary to recall to their minds the incident of the afternoon before. " 0, is that all?" spoke Frank, ab ruptly, quite thrown oft his guard. " • thought"— " What ?" said the doctor, pleasant- ly, as % t ank hesitated. - " Well," replied Frank, confusedly, blushing and twirling his thumbs, " I did not know but"— " Nor did I know either. But I think you will do well to tell me the whole story ;" and with those pleasant, yet determined and searching eyes fastened upon him, Frank did tell the whole story of an afternoon's escapage, a fortnight before, to a wandering circus, and honestly confessed that they did not ask leave, because they thought it would not be granted. " But we ran for luck, sir," he said, earnestly ; " we shyed off a little, but we took the risk. We didn't mean to he about it, anyhow," " I rather think I do not need to be assured of that," said the doctor, with a warmth of confidence that made their young hearts glow, and that would have amply atoned for far se verer scoldings and penances than their good-natured master ever admin istered. "But you must make an apology to Mr. Pennell," he said, em phatically, after haVing set before them the true character of their be haviour. " Yes, sir," they answered, charmed to be let off so easily. " Such an apology as shall satisfy him, and not be mere words to shield yourselves from punishment Such an apology as shall restore a gentle man's self-respect when he has unwit tingly been guilty of a gross breach of propriety." a "Yes, sir," they responded again, swallowing the implied rebuke, but sweetening it with the implied charac terization. " I select you three, as the oldest boys of the group. But I wish you to bear also the apologies of the others. If you find, after investigation, that there are any who refuse heartily and sincerely to apologize, send them to me." Possibly the other boys were very slightly influenced by this alternative, but certainly they all gave in their ad hesion to the apology, and. when school was over, the three boys started across the fields, the nearest way to farmer Pennell's. They found him gathering cider apples . in his orchard. " Good morning, Mr. Pennell," be gan Frank, and cleared his throat for action. " Good art'noon," responded Mr. Pennell, with a sly twinkle in his ro guish old. eyes. "0, afternoon, I, mean, of course," said Frank, blushing and laughing at his betrayal of his, uneasiness ; " but you. know what we've come for, Mr. Pennell. W e're a set of scamps, that's what we are; but we didn't mean any thing only fun, and now won't you forgive us?" "Master's been aroun', eh ?" "Well, yes," hesitated. Frank. " But we think it's mighty mean our own selves," said Edward, quick ly ; "only it was funny," he added, dis mayed to find himself ready to laugh at the remembrance. " 0, I'll forgive you quick enough," said the placid old man, "jes' liv as not. 'Taint no matter. Only 'taint a ;good way for young gentlemen to be brought up, to fling out at an old fellow if he aint quite so handsome." " That's so !" cried Joe, enthusiasti cally for him. " It's right up and down low, handsome or no handsome. And if you catch me doing it again, you may roast me, and spit me, and eat me. That's all." " That's enough," said Mr. Pennell, laughing. "What's the good of goin' into fits if you have got out of kilter once in a way. An' 'taint me, arter all, that's the trouble. I don't mind laughin' at me, my feeling is tough ; but I don't want anybody to be po.kin' fun at my hoss. Now, that air hoss," said he, approaching and patting her rigid sides admiringly, as the patient creature stood waiting to draw the full cart to the barn—" that ar' mare, she's a good creeter. She aint quite so spry as some, mebbe—a little stiff in the jints, and not so handsome as she was when I first knowed her, nigh thirty years ago, But she's a trusty creeter, and she's got a sight o' wear in her yet. She knows me like a book, and all the roads round in this coun try, sir, like you know your alphabet. I was comin' home in a snow storm once, so thick you couldn't see your hand afore you, and I got sort o' be wildered like, and didn't know where. I was no more'n the , dead, and she wouldn't go this way, and would go that, till I finally gave up and let her have her own head, and she never took a back track, but brought up at the stable door. She aint a gay beast, but I don't want nobody naggin at her. Come, jump on, an' go up and have some cider." Nothing loath, the boys climbed up the sides of the rickety old cart, and found precarious footing and handing somewhere on its jutting timbers, and I suppose they would have rather hung on by their elbows than have walked ; and farmer Pennell cracked his whip, which old Dobbin did not mind at all, for she knew it would not hit her, and if it did, her hide was like leather, and it would not hurt her; so undisturbed she drew the creaking cart and the merry boys up the irreg ular hill, bouncing and ; jolting to their hearts' content. Then the boys leaped THE. AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1866. out and rushed to the cider-press, helped to clean the nuts and to screw down the the pomace, but did the most execution of all in sucking the cider through straws from the foaming half-hogshead into which it was run ning; nor did 'it trouble theM in the least in the world that it had not been strained. Then farmer Pennell. de clared that such hard workers must not go home without their supper ; and " mother" was' appealed to, who immediately spread them such thick slices of bread, with butter and. honey, 'as boys love, and w - Opped -up for them a whole plateful of doughnuts in a newspaper—to be sure, but who cares? —besides every pocket stuffed full of great rosy apples, at which the young savages gave a war-whoop of delight, and went home in a great good humor with the Pennels, man and beast, and " Don't, you, please, want us to make some more apologies to somebody, sir ?" said Frank, meekly, after having given an account of themselves to Dr. Alcott. Whereat Dr. Alcott pinched his ear, the younc , saucebox I— Gail Hamilton, in Our Young Folks. [Fertile American Presbyterian.] A TALE FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS. Once upon a time there was a farm er who had a very large farm. He had plowed and planted and enriched his ground very carefully, and, for a time, all went on well: But by-and by his corn began to say, " I want water ;" and so said the rye ; and pota toes, and cabbage, and,everything else. The poor farmer did not know what to do. He looked down at the ground, and it was thoroughly baked and cracked. He looked up at the sky, and there stood the sun, burning and burning. It looked just as though it meant to burn till all- his grain and things were spoiled. The poor farmer, I say, didn't know what to dO. Well, somehow or other—l don't know ex actly how—some of the little rain drops up in the l'ky found it out-- found out the trouble, and theywent right off and held a consultation. One said, " I feel so sorry for that poor man, he wants rain ' • says he doesn't know what to do." Another said; "I should like to help him." " Yes," says another, "I should, too; but you see I am very little, and I do not intend the least offence to any member of our society when I say that I think we are all little." Indeed, the whole company took a very gloomy view of things, and were just going to give up, when, most opportunely, a very wise rain-drop came floating by, and to him they carried their "Well," said he, "I know I am- little, and ye are little, and we all are little ; but my advice is, that we join together and go and get others to help us, and then to-night—this very night—we go and give that man a surprise party." This proposition was received with much applause, and that very night, when the farmer was fast asleep, mil lions of rain-drops left their cloud home and came pouring `downon those thirsty fields, till the corn said, "Enough, thank you;" and the wheat said, "Enough, thank you ;" and so said the rye, and potatoes, and cab bages, and everything else. When the farmer arose in the morning and looked over his broad farm, now so fresh and green, he said he didn't know how to be glad enough for the help of those tiny rain-drops ; and that he was sure even his kindest neigh bors could not have surprised him so agreeably. Now, it seems to me that the words and actions of little folks are some what like the rain-drops. They all go to make up your life. They all go to make others happy or unhappy, to do good or do evil. And this, top, al though there may not be a single one of them that the world calls great. As to your thoughts, the Bible sayt, "as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." So be sure, my dear children, to take care of each little thought and each little word, and each little action. And let us ask God to help us. H. BURNING THE BOOK. An intelligent and, spading-eyed boy, of ten summers, sat upon the steps of his father's dwelling, deeply absorbed in a highly embellished but pernicious book, calculated to poison and deprave the young mind. His father approaching, at a glance discov ered the character of the book. "George, what have you there ?" The little fellow, looking up with a confused air, promptly gave the :name of the author. The father gently re monstrated, pointed out . to him the danger of_ reading such books; and' left him with the book closed by his side. - In a few moments the father discov ered a light, and on inquiring 'the cause, it was ascertained that the T4ttle felldw had consigned the pernfeious book to die flames. "My son, what have you done?" " Burnt that book, papa." - "How came you to do that, George?' " Because, papa, I believed you knew better 'than I what was for my good." "But would it not have been better to have kept the leaves for other pur poses, rather than destroy them ?" " Papa, might not others have read and been injured by them ?" Here is a threefold act of faith"— a trust in his father's word, evincing "love" and "obedience" and "care for the good of others." If this child exercised such faith in his earthly parent, how much more should • we, like little children, exercise a simple, true-hearted, implicit faith in our Heavenly Father, whose word is al ways to be thoroughly confided in. SABBATH. - • —The-day of'rest once - more comes round, A.day to all believers dear ; The silver trumpets seem to sound, That call the tribes of Israel near; ''Ye'People all, Obey the call, And to Jehovah's courts appear. Obedient to thy summons, Lord, We to Thy sanctuary come ; Thy gracious presence here' afford, And send Thy people joyful home ; • Of Thee our King 0 may we sing, And none with such a theme be dumb ! 0 hasten, Lord, the day when those, Who know Thee here shall see Thy face; When suffering shall forever close And they shall reach their destined place ; Then shall they rest Supremely blest, Eternal debtors to Thy grace ! —Thomas Kelly, 1806: A GEM FROM HERBERT. TO BE READ JUST BEFORE CHURCH TIME When once thy foot enters the church, beware, God is more there than thou; for thou art there Only by his permission. Then beware, And make thyself allreverence and fear. Let vain and busy thoughts have there no part; Bring not thy plow, thy plots, they pleasures thither.;. Christ purged his temple—so must thou thy - heart ; . • All worldly thoughts are but thieves met to gether To cozen thee. Look at thy action well, For churches either are our heaven or hell. SHOOTING A SHARK. The great ship-of-war lay at easy anchor in the beautiful bay, and the - waters slept around her, smooth as a mill-pond and silvery as glass. The sailors were idly moving here and there on.the ship's deck, for there was nothing to be done. The old boat. swain, a favorite with all, was among them, telling his long stories, or, as they called it, "spinning his long yarns." Among this crew was a bright little boy, a son of the old boatswain, the idol of his father and the pet of all the sailors. He was so cheerful, and bright, and good-natured, that there was nothing which they would not do for "little Jem." The morning was warm and the water just at a right temperature for bathing. A group of the sailors leaned over the side of the ship, and seemed greatly delighted with something they saw. It was "little Jem," their pet, far out from the ship, swimming alone. He could whirl over, drive, float, or shoot for ward like a duck., " Boatswain," cried one, " what a swimmer little Jem is !" "Ay," says the father; "he seems to take to the water kind o' natural. I never had to teach him." " Boatswain 1 . Boatswain ! a shark 1 a shark ! 0, he will get Jem- in one minute more I" The- old man leaped up, and a sin gle glance took it all in. There was the son, playing in the water, lying on his back, unconscious of any danger, and a huge shark making straight toward him, and it was plain that in a moment more he would be craunching the limbs of the boy. The old man remembered that one of the cannon was shotted. Quick as a flash, and with almost superhuman stength, he wrenched thegun into place, depressed the muzzle, aimed a few feet between the child and the shark—just where the fish would be in a single instant. The match was applied, the gun roared and reeled. The poor father sunk down beside the giin, too faint to look. The smoke of the gun cleared away, and up rose a shout from the sailors, almost as loud as the roar of the gun. " What is it ?" calls the father. "0, Jem is safe ! There lies the shark, dead and torn in pieces ! How could you move the gun, and sight her, and get her off so quickly and so accu rately ?" " I don't know, but I believe God helped me ! W,on't some of you bring Jem to me ?" The next moment a boat was lower ed and the oars were bending as she cut her way to the boy. He had just begun to understand the thing, and was paralyzed with terror. Gently they lifted him into the boat, and in a few minutes placed him in the arms of his weeping father. The old man seemed to receive him as from the dead, and could only rock him in his arms and cry like a babe. The tars around so far sympathized with him, that they welcomed Jem again as if he had come from the dead. How wonderful that Providence stepped in, and from a source so uncommon and unsuspected, sent sal- Vation to the life of that child ! The only man who could have managed the gun so quickly and accurately, the only man who thought of the thing, was the father ! And when life and death hung on an instant of time, and on the accuracy of his eye and the steadiness of his hand, how he had them all in full use as long as needed ! My little readel, there are sharks after you, with wide jaws and sharp teeth—coming directly toward you. Will, any power come in between you and them and save you ? Have you a father watching over you who will see that you are safe ? • There is one boy who has several sharks after him, in the shape of com panions who are profane, unclean in conversation, who are trying to make him swear, and drink, and smoke. Will they succeed ? Will his Heav enly Father send some power that will save him ? Perhaps the prayers of his mother, or the gentle voice of his sister, or the loving heart of some good boy, may be the instrument.. Perhaps his Sabbath-school teacher will be that power. Perhaps the Holy Spirit will do it. There is another boy who has a shark coming toward him, in the temp tation to forget the fifth commandment and not to honor his father and his mother. The hour that he does this, he puts himself out beyond the prom ise of life, and his end may be near. There is a third upon whom the shark, in the form of doubt and unbelief, has fastened his eye. Will he reach him and destroy his faith in Ids mother's prayers, in his father's religion, in the word of God, and in the name and salvation of Jesus? O that between every child and this great spiritual danger there might come a power loud as the the cannon's roar, quick as the speed of a ball, and "sure as the eye of a loving father ! When we look at the dangers of our dear children, we feel that they must fall into the jaws of the monsters swimming around them ; we tremble and see not how they can be saved ; but when we see what instrumentalities and agencies God has at his command, 'we feel the hope that . he will send a power in between them and the dan ger, and save them, not only out of the jaws of the lion, but no less out of the jaws of the silent but terrible sharks around them. For this every good man will earnestly pray.—. Dr. Todd, in ,Sunday School Times. WHAT A SPIDER CAN DO. Although spiders- are so ugly and so much disliked, there is much about them to admire, and something, chil dren, we may well imitate too. When we examine a slpider through a micro scope, we find there are some rare things for us to see. We find, for in stance, the greater part of him covered with rich soft hair. He has eight eyes, brilliant and shining as diamonds. Like all other insects, his eyes are im movable, and for this reason they are in different portions of his body, that he may see the better. He has eight legs in all, joined like those of a lob ster. At the end of each leg there are three crooked, moveable claws, forming a sort of hand with two fin gers and a thumb. For this reason, Solomon speaks of the spider as taking hold with his " bands. About the middle of his body is a very curious spinning machine. No human me chanic ever invented anything to com pare with it. Connected with this machine there are four little bags of thread—such little bags ! In every bag there are over one thousand holes —such tiny holes! From each hole runs one thread ; and there being in the four bags four thousand holes, we have in all the same number of threads from this curious spinning machine. All these threads the spider spins to gether in one thread, which, after all, is so small, that the finest silk thread that man = ever made is five hundred times larger than it. Wonderful things, then, are these spiders. There is more skill displayed, children, in making them, than in the finest watch or sew ing -machine you ever saw. So you see there is much about the spider to admire. But there is also something about the spider we may well imitate. The spider is a hard-working little creature. He is, very industrious. The spider, as soon as he begins to live, begins to work. Every spider is a weaver and rigger, and the young and the old spiders are hard workers. Children, you never saw a spider that was reared it idleness. Then, again, he never does his work hurriedly or carelessly, as many children do. Look at his web. See how regularly the threads are drawn, how neatly the cross-pieces are fastened to them, and how securely it is held to the wall" or the brush. The strongest wind may sweep by it, but it stands there still. As an example of industry, then, the spider is worthy of imitation. In dustry is a most honorable quality. It is becoming in all—those who occu py the lowest, as well as those who occupy the highest station in life. When God made Adam and Eve, he put them.in the Garden of Eden, that they might have an opportunity of dressing and keeping it; He never in tended that they shuld lead an idle life. For the same reason, the angels have constant employment in heaven. —R. C. Advocate. DULL BOYS. Sir Isaac Newton, when at school, stood at. the bottom of the lowermost form but one. Barrow, the great Eng lish divine and mathematician, when a boy at the Charterhouse School, was notorious for his idleness and indiffer ence to study. Adam Clark, in his boyhood, was proclaimed by his father to be a grievous dunce. Even Dean Swift made a disastrous failure at the University. Sheridan was presented by his mother -to a tutor as an incorri gible dunce.. Walter Scott was a dull boy at his lessons, and while.a student at Edinburgh University, received his sentence from Professor Dalzell, t h e celebrated Greek scholar, that "dunce he was and dunce he would remain: , Chatterton was returned on his moth. er's hands as "a fool, of whom nothi ng could be made." Wellington never gave any indications of talent until h e was brought into the field of practic a l effort, and was described by his strong. minded mother, who thought him little, better than an idiot, as fit only to be "food for powder."—Scientifi c can. Tiff KINGDOM COME. Everybody in this room has be et , taught to pray daily, " Thy kingdo m come." Now, if we hear a man s wear in the streets, we think it very wrong and say he takes God's name in vai' z , But there's a twenty tintes worse - way of taking His name in vain than that. It is to ask God for what we don't woir He doesn't• like that sort of prayer, If you don't want a thing, don't a s k for it ; such asking is the worst mock. ery of your King you can mock Hit_ with ; the soldier's striking him on the head with the reed was nothing tp that, If you do not wish for His kingd om, don't pray for it. But if you do, y ot must do more than pray for it; y or , must work for it. And to work for i; you must know what it is ; we have all prayed for it many a day without thinking. Observe, it is a kingdom that is to come to us; we are not to g o to it. Also, it is not to be a kingdom of the dead, but of the living. Also, it is not to come all at once, but quiet. ly ; nobody blows how. "The king. dom of God cometh not with observa tion." Also, it is not to come outside of us, but in the hearts of us ; " the kingdom of Christ is within you,' And being within us, it is not a thing to be seen, but to be felt ; and though it hiings all substance of good with it, it does not consist in that; "the king. dom of heaven is not meat and drink but righteousness, and:peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ;" joy, that is to say, in the holy, healthful, and hopeful Spirit. Now, if we want to work for thi3 kingdom, and bring it, and enter into it, there's just one condition to be firs; accepted. You must enter it as tail. dren, or not at all. ."Whosoever wil: not receive it as a little child, shall no: enter therein." And again, "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Of such, observe. Not of children themselves, but of such as children. I believe most mothers who read that text think that all heaven is to be fit, of babies. But that's not so. Thtn will be children there, but the hoar head is the crown. "Length of day , and long life and peace," that is the blessing, not to die in babyhood. Chil dren die, but for their parents' sins. God means them to live, but He can: let them always; then they have thei: earlier place in heaven; and the little child of David, vainly prayed fo: —the little child of Jeroboam, kille] by its mother's step on its own thresh. hold—they will be there. But wear old David, and weary old Barzdls haviiig learned children's lessons last, will be there too; and the one question for us all, young or old, have we learned our child's lesson ? it is the character of children we want and must gain at our peril.—Bak LIGHT FOR THE DARK VALLEY One of our greatest statesmen it wrestling with his last enemy. his learning, all his eloquence, all the worldly applause he had won, wer nothing to him now. Though he co: plained of no bodily suffering, yet frame tossed restlessly upon his coti,:n and his countenance betokened agony within, which all his pride ant . power of will could not command. 1 1 asked a friend to read to him, and Irri favorite poem, " Gray's Elegy," wa the consolation of his dying hour. Lately a light has gone out fro the land. One of America's brave; sons, and most honored, has left The record of his deeds of valor Wl' ring down the centuries. And ye'. what have his victories achieved to: him at the grave's mouth. W'n B things occupied his last moments' We may not fully know, but it i= re . corded that the last intelligible word' of one of America's greatest general! Winfield Scott, were addressed to hostler: "James, how is the horse. "He is well, general." " Take care 01 him ;" and in less than half an 'nog his soul took its flight. How different the scene when j poor converted red man laid dowil, ( ' die on his bed of leaves. Thougc racked with suffering, he exclaimed te one who watched over him : "Ye r `, have plenty book learning like wh'L i t : men; but Jesus teach poor Indian. come in night-time, when. all is Liar and then me have light and joy 10 2`, happiness. And now me go soon il •t i Him. He come quickly, take P j , Indian home, and then there be more dark."—Sunday School 71:70' EFFECTS OF EVIL COMPANY , A boy of eighteen was recently es. ecuted at Manchester, Englaw -I, f o l Pt murder. He acknowledged his ;S u i to warn all, young people of 0 0 '. sexes to be obedient to their pareioi not to neglect the Sabbath, the solo ° and the Bible, and against all profaa r - laws - and debauchery, a nd especia l . l u, against evil company, wh i c h, b e s aid, was his ruin.
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