..Fft lautitg eirrlE.
THE SOUL'S ANSWER.
" Abide in Me, and I in you."
That mystic word of Thine, 0 sovereign Lord !
Is all too pure,.too high, too deep for me ;
Weary of striving and with longing faint,
I breathe it back again, 0 Lord I to Thee.
Abide in me, I pray, and I in Thee,
From the good hour, 0 ! leave me never
more.
Then shall the discord cease, the wound be
healed,
The life-long bleeding of the soul he o'er.
Abide in me—o'ershadow by Thy love
Each half-formed purpose and deep thought
of sin ;
Quench, ere it rise, each selfish, low desire,
And keep mYlsoul as Thine, pure and divine.
As some rare perfume in a vase of clay
Pervades it with a fragrance not its own—
So when Thou dwellest in• a mortal soil
All heaven's sweetness seems around it
thrown.
The soul alone, like a neglected harp,
Grows out of tune, and needs Thy hand
Divine
Dwell Thou within it, tune and touch the
chords
Till every note and string shall answer
Thine.
&bide in me: there have been moments pure
When I have seen Thy face, and felt Thy
power:
Then evil lost its grasp, and passion hushed,
Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.
These were but seasons beautiful and rare
Abide in me—and they shall ever be . ;
I pray Thee now fulfil my earnest prayer,
Come and abide in me, and I in 'Thee !
THE CHILDREN'S JOURNEY. k
" Whew I mother, how cold it is,"
said. Charlie Foster, as he ran in from
school, one December afternoon. " I
declare,"
" he proceeded, as he balanced
himself on one foot before the glowing
stove r " my feet are so numb that it is
a wonder that I ever reached home.
I shall have to do like "Uncle John's
turkeys, draw up one foot at a time, to
get it warm ; don't you remember,
Milly, how funny they used to look,
standing on the fence that way . ? You
thought they had all been to the war,
and had one leg shot off."
" There's a letter for you, Charlie,
from New York," said. his sister Milly.
" Where ?" said Charlie, cutting
*short his performances, and gazing
around him in every direction.
"On the mantel," answered his
mother.
"It's from Cousin Tom, I'll be
bound," said Charlie, starting for the
mantel in such a hurry that he over
turned a chair on the way.
"Yes, it is," he proceeded, as he
tore open the envelope and glanced
hastily down the page. " Hurrah
say, mother, Torn wants us to come on
and spend the Christmas holidays in
New York. He says there will be lots
of fan, and he will take us both out
skating at the Central Park."
" And who may us be ?" asked his
mother.
" Why, Milly and I, of course.
Here's a letter for Milly, too, from
Cousin Ninie;" and he tossed a tiny
note into his sister's lap.
" Wont you let us go, mother ?"
"I hardly know what to say, Char
lie. lam almost afraid to trust you
to travel alone with NHlly."
"Trust me to travel alone 1" said
Charlie, drawing himself up with a
look of offende% dignity; "I guess
you forget, mother, that I was thirteen
last birthday. • Milly is ten, too; she
isn't a baby."
" I'm ever so much over ten," said
Milly, looking up, from her letter,
which she had been slowly spelling
out. " Wont you please let us go,
mother? Ninie says that Uncle Wil
liam will take us out sleigh riding,
and we can go out every day to see
the stores ; she says they are splendid
now."
" Well, I will see, if your father is
Willing," said Mrs. Foster.
The short winter day soon darkened
into.evening, and soft feathery flakes
of now began to fall from the dull,
leaden sky. Charlie and Milly had
remarked a dozen times that father
was very late coming home that night,
when at length they caught the spund
of footsteps
_in the aide yard, and pre
sently heard him stamping or the
snow beneath the porch.
No sootier was the door opened,
than Milly sprang forward, regardless
of the snow-covered overcoat, and
grasping one cold, gloved hand, com
menced, " 0, father, mayn't we go, to
New York this Christmas, Charlie and
I, to stay till - New Year's ? Mother
says we may, if you are willing."
€ Mayn't we, father ?" chimed in
Charlie; 'tCousin Tom wants us both
to come. Now do say jr es, father-?"
"Why, what is all this about ?"
said Mr. Foster in. astonishment; ".are
the children crazy'?"
" Crazy to go, that is certain," said
their mother, smiling. " Charlie had
a letter from Tom this afternoon, and
he has talked of nothing else since."
" And are you certain you can &a
wl alone, Charlie?" asked his father.
"0f eourse,; why, father, I am al
'ppet; aft tall as you.
"When you stand on tip-toe, you
fil ogr, I dare say. But how abouty
; isn't she afraid r
"Not a bit," said Milly, looking
very brave.
- " Well, if you are both good chil
dren, and study your lessons well
next week, I will let you try it."
Milly at once commenced to dance
for joy, and Charlie, after whistling all
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. DECEMBER 20, 1866.
the tunes he could think of, stopped at
last for pure want of breath.
Now -it 'happened • that, this year, Christmas fell on Monday ; so, of
course s it was 'necessary that the little
travellers should start on Saturday.
Milly had already selected one, from
her numerous family of dolls, to ac
company her, and was very busy all
the week in arranging its wardrobe ;
but Charlie, having no such family
cares to take up his time, thought that
Saturday would never come.
However, the long-expected day
dawned at last. > Charlie, who had
scarcely slept all night, was up long
before daylight, thundering at the door
of his sister's room, and shouting,
" Wake up; Milly ! you'll be late !"
Poor Milly, roused thus suddenly,
rubbed her sleepy eyes till she was
sure they were open, and then groped
her way down the dark, cold staircase,
through the dimly-lighted sitting-room,
into the bright, cheerful kitchen, where
fire-light and gas-light cast a ruddy
glow far out into the snow-covered
yard.
By the time she was dressed, the
sausages were crackling in the pan,
and the red light from the grate was
reflected on the white cups and sau
cers of the breakfast-table. *.
"Isn't this jolly, Milly ?" Mid Char
lie, taking nearly half a slice of bread
at a bite ; " I like - getting breakfast so
early, don't you ? Do eat a little
faster, that's a good:girl ; I'm so afraid
we'll be late."
No danger," said his mother, who
was busy filling a little basket with
apples, crackers, doughnuts, Ste. "You
had better eat a good breakfast, so as
not to be hungry. There," she added,
as she handed the basket to Milly, " I
think that will last, you till dinner
time. You will surely reach New
York by two o'clock, and I dare say
your aunt will have dinner ready for
you."
Their carpet-bag was already packed,
and Charlie whirled round on one
foot very impatiently, while Milly ad
justed coat, scarf, muff, veil, and
gloves.
" Dear me, Milly there's nothing
left 'of yoa ; I can't see even the tip of
your nose. Come along, I'm off;
boat starts at eight o'clock !" and he
caught up the heavy carpet-bag.
" You had better let me help you
with that to the car," said his father.
" No sir!" replied Master 'Charlie ;
" I don't want to be helped, I could
carry it if it was twice as heavy2'
The last good-bye was spoken, the
last kiss given, and the little pilgrims
started on their journey. If was only
a short ride' in the passenger-car, but
Charlie fidgeted all the time lest they
should be late.
No sooner had. the car stopped,
than he started off on a run for the
wharf, carpet-bag and all, leaving Mil
ly to follQw as she might. He was
soon compelled to slacken his pace,
however, for want of breath, and he
had quite enough to do .to pilot his
timid little sister through the throng
ing crowd at the ferry.
"Dear me, Charlie, is= that the
river ?" said Milly, as she caught the
first glimpse ; " why it's half cover
ed with ice: The boat isn't in, either
we are early."
"So we are," said Charlie, with
a sigh of relief.
"Let us go into the ferry-room,"
said Milly ; "my feet are almost
frozen."
It was rather a cheerless place, that
ferry-room, just then ; a bare, dirty
room, with an old rusty stove in the
middle, the fire just lighted, and only
tantalizing the half-frozen travellers
who surrounded it, vainly trying to
get warm, the floor half covered with
baskets, bandboxes, carpet-bags, and
bundles of all descriptions, and every
body out of patience because the boat
did not come in.
After placing Milly as near the fire
as possible, and watching the crowd
out of the window for about ten min
utes, Charlie sallied out to see if the
expected boat was coming.
In a few moments he returned, with
a most dismal look On his round, rosy
face. "0, Milly 1 what de you tkink ?
the men outside say that the boat is
stuck fast in the ice in the middle of
the river."
Milly's lip quivered, "0, Charlie !
I'm afraid well never get to New York
at all:"
Yes, we will ; I dare say they'll
poke the old boat out after a - While.
Here's a picture-paper I bought you, to
look at, - while I go out and see again."
An hour passed away, during which
Charlie ran in and out at least a dozen
times ; at length, just as Milly was at
tacking the doughnuts to console her
self, he rushed in, shouting, Hurrah
she's corning. Hurry up, Milly, and
get aboard !"
Milly snatched up her basket, and
the box containing the precious dolly,
and taking her brother's hand, was
dragged along through the crowd,
over the slippery plank, and. on board
the boat.
Away they went, the ice crashing
and grinding against the sides of the
boat, which Charlie assured his sister
was prime fun; then , reaching the
other side, they hurried over an ex
panse of snow '
-eovered ground, into
the long, dark depot, and almost before
Milly *covered from her bewilder
ment, she was seated in the comforta
ble car, with its red velvet cushions,
and speeding away into the bright sun
shine beyond.
For the first few miles, she amused
herself with - watching the corn-fields,
whose little heaps of stabble; Franged
diamOnd-wise, gave. them the appear
ance of great brown checker-boards;
then they entered a fiatl.3ountry,
stretching as far as the eye could
reach, covered with yellow grass and
dotted with stunted evergreens, whose
tops were powdered with snow.
Milly grew rather tired of, looking
at these ; her eyelids drooped; arid she
was just falling asleep, when fill at
once there was a violent jar, mid , the
train stopped. Some of the tladies
gave a little scream, while the gentle
men all started from their seats and
ran out on the platform, to see what
was the matter.
" Will you be afraid to stay here
alone, Milly, while 'I go outsi e a
minute ?" asked Charlie.
"No," she answered; '" but •
stay long."
Charlie soon came back, repo , ting,
" The old locomotive has run off the
track, but nobody's hurt." I
" Oh, is that all ?" said Mi 4,; r well
I hope they'll soon get it on again."
Minute after minute passed away,
however, and the train seemed d if it
never intended to move again. 7
" Wouldn't this be a nice Ace to
spend Christmas, Milly ?" said 'Char
lie ; " there are hundreds of Chriftmas
trees outside ;" and he pointe .6 the
dwarf evergreens. k
"But there's no Santa Claus 'hang
things on them," said a little gi, who
sat just in front. " I want to go to
Boston, to see my father, an I'm
so afraid we wont get there by S rist
mas."
"Don't cry ; " said Maly, not
the tears in the blue eyes, "I'll
you myidolly ;" and she comma
untying the box.
All their troubles were forgotten,
rnd the little girls had just dressed
dolly for the fourth time ; when the
train commenced to move again, very
slowly at first, but gradually quicken
ing into what Charlie indignantly
called a " snail's gallop."
It was now past one o'clock ;
Milly's little basket had long since
been emptied, and she was beginning
to feel very hungry, when the train
stopped at a small way-station.
" 0, o !" groaned Charlie, "I declare
this train stops at every third house
along, the road."
" Charlie," said Milly, who had been
looking out of the window, "it says
' Pies' on that house over there. Wont
you• buy some ?"
" I think I will," responded Charlie,
jumping' up ; "just wait a minute."
- Presently he returned, holding some
thing in a paper: - " Mince pietii, Milly
isn't that jolly? just warm, too—whew !
take it, quick ! it burns my fingers."
The pies soon vanished, and Milly,
after trying for the twentieth time to
discover whether the lead-colored road
beneath her was composed of sand or
dirty snow, turned round with the
question, "Isn't it time for the train
to start ?"
" Just what I have been thinking
for the last ten minutes ; go and
see."
Back he came, boiling over with in
dignation.
Nally, the locomotive is broken,
and they are going to put on a new
one."
"Well, I suppose we wild. get to
New York some time," said
meekly.
"I declare," broke forth Charlie,
"if we didn't have to go part of th t e
way by water. I'd set out on foot ; I'd
cret there at least a week before thi's
old l:) concern."
All things must come to an end,
however, and so, in due time, did their
halt at the station, and the . train moved
on.
" There's the river 1" called Milly,
delightedly, as she caught sight , of s
broad sheet of water.
" Yes, and we have to go o - ver,a
bridge ; I heard a man say so."
Milly almost held her breath as they
passed over the slender structure, 4t
the thought that the river was beneath
thin ; but at length they, gained the'
other side, where the steamboat 14
waiting to receive them. Charlte,
was sure that it intended to wait Bill
night before it started ; but at length,
about the middle of the afternoon, the
ponderous wh eels commenced to move,
and they glided out into the stream. ,
Of that lOng, weary'river journefr,
Milly remembered little, except that
she was very cold, ?ery hungry, and
a little sleepy. The boat was .0:)
crowded with passengers that she
could not find a seat, so she drew the
carpet-bag to Charlie's feet, and lay
ing it on its side, sat down upon it.
Gradually her head drooped toward
Charlie's lap, and she was fast asleep,
when she was aroused by, the boat
grating against the wharf.
They were landed upon a crowded
pier, a perfect Babel of men, horses,
carts, barrels, boxes, piles, of railroad
iron, intermingled with trunks, bag,
kets, and baggage of all descriptions.
"dilly was almost run over three or
four times, till at length a gentleman
-lifted her- up in his strong arms, and
bore her out into the street, while
Charlie followed with the carpet-bag,
picking his way, As. best : he might.
The gentleman, who was ; in haste to
reach another train, hurried awaY, and
they were left alone.
" Cousin Tom promised to meet us
here," said Charlie, looking around;
"I wonder where he is ?"
He must have missed us in the
Crowd," said Milly, half crying; "what
shall we do ?"
"Ask . our way, of course," said
Charlie, stoutly ; " I wish I could see
policeman."
In vain he looked around. Not a
glimpse of a star could he see, except
those in the sky overhead, which were
just beginning to peer out.
" Well, there is no use in standing
here; let us cross the street, and ask
some one over there."
The first one he accosted was an
Irish porter.
" Can :you tell me how to reach
Ludlow street ?"
"Ludlow street, is it ? That's a
long way from here. Sure, an' I can
hardly tell ye. If ye will cross over
by the Battery, and turn into Broad
way, I think ye will find some stages
that will carry ye:%here."
Battery and Broadway 1 Charlie
had not the least idea where either lay.
He turned away, with Milly clinging
to his hand, 'and put the same question
to a stout old gentleman hurrying by.
" Ludlow street: eh ? A pretty long
distance for two such chicks to travel.
Near what other street do you want to
go ?"
" Grand street."
" Very well; you see that street
over there ?" pointing across a wide,
open space. " Those white stages will
take i fyou to Grand."
0 arlie thanked him, and reaching
the street, hailed a stage going, as it
hapriened, in the oppdtite direction.
The/driver stopped.
"poes this stage go to Grand street ?'
"INo," shortly answered the driver,
whe was both cold and cross, and he
dr.6 on. Milly, now fairly disheart
en:a commenced to cry aloud, and
Ch rlie stood Still, more bewildered
th:i, he had ever been in his life.
icing
how
=laced
/list then, a hand was clapped upon
shoulder, and a familiar voice said:
" ell, old fellow, what are you look
at ?"
" 0, Tom I" exclaimed Charlie, half
disposed to cry himself, "I am so glad
y u have come."
" You see," explained Tom," there
L:,
as such a horrible crowd down there
t at I missed you altogether, and I
was just starting for 7 home, thinking
that you had not come to-day, when I
Bought sight of you, looking like the
Babes in the Wooct Come along
&filly ; there's a stage over yonder ;"
and peeing the carpet-bag, he marched
off, followed by ithe rejoicing little
travellers. O -
O Broadway, with its hril
liantly lighted. stores, past the tall vire
of Trinity Church, on and on through
th,,e, glitter and the noise, they passed,
till at length they reached their desti
nation.
A throng of laughing, shouting
cousins met them at the hall-door, and
bore them_off in triUniplrto - thc - pariot.
".Why didn't you come sooner, Char
lie'?" "0, Milly I we've been watch
ing for you alb day 1" "Do tell us
what kept you so late ?"
" Silence 1 silence !" called their
mother, after affectionately kissing the
strangers. " Come, children, supper is
ready."
No second summons was needed ;
for, as Charlie declared, they were,
hungry as
_bears.
Over the pleasant supper-table all
their mishaps were recounted at length,
amid shouts of laughter, and 'thus
merrily ended the misadventures of the
children's journey.—Little
LITTLE JOHNNY'S FIRST BIBLE,
" Happy indeed he who learneth,
In a meek and an humble way,
The precepts our Saviour has given,
• And follows them day by day."
Johnny cared little for toy and
candy-stores, but he never passed a
book-store without wishing that he had
money to buy something. He had
many little story-books, but he had no
Bible that he could call his Own, and
his great desire was to own one. It
was, no use, he thought, to ask his
mother for one ; he was too young.
His brothers were Older before they
got theirs. So he thought he would
spend no more money on story-books,
but would save his pennies till he had
enough to buy a Bible.
Often he counted over the pennies
he saved ; the time appeared long, but
he kept to his purpose, and at last
found that he had five shillings. With
this sum he started off by himself to
Mr. Knight's book-store, determined
to Surprise, and please his mother when
he should return and show her his
pretty new pocket-Bible. -
" Sir, I .want to buy a Rible," he
said, as he bounded into Mr. Knight's
store. " A Bible 1" said Mr. Knight.
" What ! can you read in the Bible so
soon ?" " Yes, sir." Mr. Knight then
showed a number of cheap Bibles; brit
Johnny put them aside, saying : "I
want a better. What is the price of
those bound in red morocco with gilt
edges?" "Five shillings," said the
bookseller. " Well, said Johnny,
" grve t rae one of ` them;" and down
went his five shillings on the counter.
Mr. Knight gave him a piercing
look and asked : " Where did you
get, that money ? Does your mother
know that you have come to buy a
five-shilling Bible? 'Are you sure
you got those five shillings in a right
way ?" JOhnny's heart swelled with
pride, grief, and indignation. li e
burst into a flood of tears, tried to
speak, but could' not. " I see how it
is," said Mr. Knight, putting the five
shillings in his drawer, and the Bible
back on the shelf ; "go home and tell
your mother to come and see me."
Johnny sa:w that Mr. Knight con
sidered him a thief. He ran home,
threw himself over his mother's knees,
writhing and sobbing with grief, and
unable to utter a word, tilt his mother
was greatly alarmed lest he had been
hurt. At last she understood the words
" Knight -- Bible--money--thief."
" What 1" said she, "have you been to
Mr. Knight's to buy a Bible, and he
thought that you had stolen the
money ?" " Yes --yes---yes," he
sobbed out. She tried tb soothe him,
and immediately went to see Mr.
Knight.
Mr. Knight saw that she had been
crying, : and told her what he had done,
and why he did it. She thanked him
for hig well-meant kindness, but told
him how he had mistaken the charac
ter of her son, and that it had well
nigh broken his little heart to be mis
taken for a thief. She told him of the
little boy's love of books, and how he
saved his pennies to buy- - a pocket-
Bible, and that the five shillings were
indeedlis own.
The old gentleman, who was a pious
man, was much affected, begged the
mother's pardon, and asked her to
send her son back to him. As soon
as he saw Johnny at the dcior, he took
him by the hand and asked - him to
forgive him, and led him into the
store, where he told all that had hap
pened to some gentlemen who were
there at the time. He then wrapped
up the Bible and gave it to Johnny,
kissed him, and rek - urned the five
shillings, saying ; " The Bible is yours,
read it; and God Almighty bless you.
Give the five shillings to your mother,
and whenever you want a book come
to me. I shall not lose sight of you."
And to his dying day the old gentle
man was a friend to Johnny.
"Speak gently; like the morning dew,
Thy words will rise and shed
From pregnant elands the glorious showers
Of blessings on thy head."
—Author of "Home Thrusts."
THE DISCONTENTED GIRLS.
Mary Miller went out to take a walk
in the fields one Staturday afternoon.
She had been to school all the week,
and she was very, glad to have a nice
ramble. She soon lett the dusty road,
and roamed about the hills. Some
times she watched - the brook, and
listened to the singing of the birds.
Then she watched the gay butterfly,
or ran to pluck some bright flower
which met her eye. In a word,
wherever her, light heart prompted
her to go, her nimble feet carried
her. ,
She was near the roadside, when
she saw a fine coach pass slowly by.
There was in it a little girl about
Merges—Eige. When.the young lady
wished to step; the driver checked the
horses ; and when she wished to go
forward, they started at his word. A
footman was on the stand behind. If
the girl saw a flower in the field or by
the roadside, she had only to speak,
and the carriage stopped, while the
footman ran to' fetch it. Indeed, she
seemed to have no wish ungratified.
As Mary looked - - at the coachilier
feet lost their lightness, her spirits their
gaiety, and her face its smiles. She
walked glooinily along, and, with
pouting lips, she entered her mother's
humble dwelling.
"Have you had a pleasant walk,
Mary?" asked her mother.
"0, no," said Mary, pettishly; "I
should have enjoyed it very well, but
the young lady came along in her car
riage, and when I saw how happy she
appeared, with her coachman and her
footman to wait upon her, and remem
bered that I was a poor girl, and must
always go afoot and wait upon myself,
I could hardly help crying. If she
wanted' anything, she had only to
speak, Or to point to it, and the foot
man instantly ran and brought it to
her. But when. I saw something I
wanted, if it was ever so far off, I must
go and get it myself."
Her fretful voice was scarcely hush
ed, when Mrs. Parks called at the cot
tage._
"How did your. daughter enjoy her
ride this afternoon," said Mrs. Miller
to her rich friend. Here it should be
told that Helen was lame. She had
not walked for three years.
"She -would have enjoyed it very
well," said the lady, "but just as she
came to where she had the finest pro
spect, she saw your little girl skipping
about the fields. She wa i t i ched her happy
movements, as she ran wherever her
fancy' led ; and when she remembered
that she could never enjoy herself
thus, she said she could scarcely keep
from crying. You cannot think,' she
said, bow sad it is to feel that I must
be lifted into the carriage whenever 'I
wish to take the. air ; and when I see
a pretty flower, I can never pick it
myself, but must wait till some one
can go and fetch it to me. Ilwatched
thehappy girl for a feiv Miniites, as
shudauced so gaily among'the flowers;
and-then ordered the footman to bring
me a few daisies which grew by the
wayside;.but I soon threw them
away, for I could not bear to look at
them'
" She they diree,ted the coachman
to drive home, that her feelings - might
no longer be tried by the sight of
pleasure whieh she could not share.
When the, footman brought her in,
and placed her carefully upon a sofa,
she laid. her fact on my lap and wept."
Thus we see that each of these girls
had enough to make her happy, if she
had only learned one of the best les
sons—to be contented with the station
in which God has placed us.
•
HUMAN BROTHERHOOD,
The monarch, glittering withthe pomp of state.
Wears the same flesh as those that die of
hunger:
Like them, the worm shall be the loathsom e
mate,
When he resigns his glory to a younger.
The beauty, worshipped,by the limner's eye,
On whom a hundred suitors gaze admirin g ,
Insister to the hag, deformed, awry 4,
Who gathers in the road her scanty firing.
The scholar, glorying in the stamp of mind,
Master of the wisdom time hath hoarded
Is brother to the lumpish, untaught hind, ,
Whose vulgar name shall perish unrecorded.
Therefore let human sympathies be strong,
Let each man share his welfare with hi s
neighbors ;
To the whole raceheaven's bounteous gifts be
n
None may live idly while his fellow labors.
—4ll the Pear Round.
CALVARY.
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, 0 Christ, beneath thy Cross
To number, drop by drop, Thy blood's slow
loss )
And yet not weep ?
Not so those women loved,
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee
Not so fallen Peter, weeping bitterly
Not so the thief was moved ;
Not so the sun and moon,
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A. horror of great darkness at broad noon,—
I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the
flock ;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more,
And smite a rock.
THE . pIDOCTORS AND THE " WEED."'
"Doctor," we said to a splendid
specimen of the profession, " tell us
something about the baneful effects of
tobacco." "hs effects, sir," he replied,
"its effects are evil and only evil, and
that continually, and it is a perfect
mystery, that gentlemen of my pro
fession care so little, and do know so
little, about a poison that is doing mis
chief at so terrible a rate.
" Sir," the doctor continued, "I was
on a council of physicians, the other
day, on the border of this town ; the
patient was a young man, prostrate by
paralysis ; he was deprived of the use
of his lower limbs from the abdomen
to the toe ; we overhauled him ; we
withdrew and talked about antece
dents and probable causes, and came
to no satisfactory conclusions. Dis
satisfied and impatient, I inquired of
his attending physician whether the
poor fellow used tobacco ? 0, no,'
he replied, guess not;' and with an
air of nonchalance added, What if-he
does? that can have nothing to do with
his case.' did not ask you,' I re
plied, about the effects of tobacco,
but simply if the patient used it?'
Gruffly he said, 'Go and see' Step
ping to his bed-side, I said, 'My friend
do you use tobacco?' With a squeal
ing voice, more cat-like than human,
he answered, I use a little.' How
do you use it ?' 'I smoke a little.'
'Did you smoke this morning ?" Yes,
a little.' Did you smoke at noon 7'
Yes, a little' Before I quit his side
I ascertained that he had actually con
sumed sixteen cigars a day, and the
poor fellow's soul was so obfuicated
by smoke that he considered that pro
digious amount but little I'
" This," continued the doctor, "may
seem strange ; but the strangest of all is
the fact that his attending physician—
regular and well-bred—did not know,
in the first place, that his patient used
tobacco ; and secondly, if he did, lie
did not know that a rank and deadly
poison could have had anything to do
with his case.
We are indebted to the medical pro
fession for the most effective testimony
against this popular poison, hence we
have no wish, to arraign it and de
nounce it in wholesale style. But ac
count for it as we may, on the score
of selfishness or ignorance, the main
body of the profession are mournfully
derelict in duty touching the ruinous
effects of this great and fashionable
narcotic. We have here adduced one
fact tending to substantiate this state
ment; we have other facts ; we " hart
enough of urn," as the boy said. of the
commandments.— Congregationalist.
WHAT LUTHER LOVED.
- Luther, when studying, always haCi
his dog lying at his feet—a dog he had
brought from Wartburg, and of which
he was very fond. Au ivory crucifi
stood at the table before him. Be
worked at his desk days together
without going out; but when fatigued ,
and the ideas began to •stagnate, he
took his guitar with him to the porch.
and' there executed some musical fan
tasy, (for he was a skilful musician,
when the ideas would flow upon biro
as fresh as flowers after a summer's
rain. Music was his invariable solace
at such times. Indeed, Luther did
not hesitate to say that, after theology;
music was the first of arts. " Music,
said he, " is the art of the prophets; it
is the only other art which, like theo
logy, can calm the agitation , of the ,
MA and put the devil to Bight'
Next to music, if not before it, Luther
loved children and flow:rsh.earTtThat
great gnarled, man had
tender as a woman s..
—Rosetti