famihj;
AT THE GRAVE OE A LOVED ORE.
BY REV. C. R. BURDICK.
Thou art my darling, turned to clay,
No wealth of love could make thee stay,
Bright angels hore thy spirit home,
And left me here alone to roam,
A pilgrim in this desert land,
A wanderer on this dreary strand,
Where sickness, pain and sorrow meet
My weary, stumbling, aching feet.
The grass grows green above thy bed,
The flowers spring o’er thy lowly head,
The birds sing sweet in yonder tree,
They sing but do not sing for me.
Nor singing birds, nor grass, nor flowers,
Can charm for me these weary hours,
My heart is buried in thy tomb;
This once fair world is full of gloom.
0 tell me, dearest, is it true
Thy spirit bends from heaven’s blue,
To light my path and cheer my way,
And lead me forth to brighter day ?
Then we shall meet in heaven above,
And there renew our changeless love,
Where parting never more can come
To cloud the sky of our sweet Borne.
SELF-DENIAL—A STORY.
It was a bright winter’s evening—so balmy
as hardly to seem like the week before Christ
mas. Old Joseph Harper stood leaning
against his door, talking to the minister—
both too much interested in their conversa
tion to notice the softness of the air or the
beauty of the sunset. “Self-denial indeed!”
said old Joseph, taking his pipe from his
mouth; “I don’t believe in, it as a part of
religion: it is enacted often enough, but
there’s always some selfishness behind it.”
“Your words prove this much, my friend,”
said the minister, looking at him regretfully,
“that you have never practised it yourself;”
and with a kind good-bye to Edward Harper,
the old man’s grand-son, who stood near his
grand-father in the door-way, he .took his
leave.
“Why, grand-father,” said Edward, look
ing up earnestly, “we Sunday-school child
ren practise some self-denial almost every
week.” “Yes;” said his grand-father, “you
buy as much candy as you want with your
money, and what’s left you carry to your
teacher; but did you or any other chap like
you ever deny yourselves to give the money?”
Edward was silent—he felt that his grand
father was much too bitter and severe, yet
when he thought over it, he was hardly satis
fied that their giving was always pure. A
moment after they both left the door, and
drew up to the blazing fire, where, between
Edward’s thoughtfulness and Mr, Harper’s
moodiness, there was silence until Edward
said, “ Grand-father, did’nt you tell the man
that brought the wood to come in the morn
ing and cut it up?” “Yes,” he replied.
“ Will-you-give me the money you promised
him if I will cut it?” “ Yes, but I thought
you said you didn’t have time,” his grand
father said. “Well, we boys were all going
over to the old field before school and have
a great bon-fire; hut as you say the wood
can’t wait till evening, I will give up the bon
fire and commence on it before school.”
To leave his bed next morning before sun
rise would have been an effort even with the
glorious bon-fire in view; but to leave it that
he might spend the next three hours cutting
wood and storing it away, was an effort so
great that self-comfort might have proved
stronger than the promised half dollar, had
not the longing to carry a larger offering
than usual on tbfc Sabbath of Christmas
week been strong enough to overpower other
emotions.
“Pretty cold-morning, Edward,” said Mr.
Harper, as they sat down to breakfast.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, “the coldest of the
season.” “The boys didn’t feel it around
the bon-fire, I reckon,” Mr. Harper con
tinued. “No, sir, nor I over my good exer
cise,” Edward said smiling. Mr. Harper
looked at t him inquiringly for a moment.
Wood-cutting he knew was a peculiar aver
sion of Edward’s, and he was a little curious
to know what had moved him to employ him
self upon it, when he really wished to be else
where.
It was Friday, and when school was out
the boys’ shouts rang through the play
ground in honor of the next week’s holiday.
“ Just waiting for you, Edward,” exclaimed
three boys whom he found standing near his
door, as he followed some moments after them
from school. “Father,” continued the larg
est of the group, “says the fire works have
come at the store, and if we come up after
school he will have them open, and will sell
us the kind we want, cheap, and what we
three have got, with your half you showed
us this morning, will buy us enough to send
up a splendid welcome to Christmas holiday
to-night on the common. Now come, Ed
ward, no body knows the fire-works are here,
and we will astonish the boys so.”
To go up to the store and see the beautiful
Christmas things, and then to be one to enjoy
the fun on the common, was a most delight
ful anticipation; and though his face had
lighted up a moment, he said nothing, and
his brow clouded as he moved off, the only
silent one in the chattering group. The boys
looked about the gay store for some time,
and then gathered around the fire-works.
“I am very sorry, boys,” said Edward, hesi
tatingly, “but I can’t give my half dollar.”
“You hav’nt spent it!” said the boys. “No,”
he replied. “Well, what is there that you
would rather spend it for than these?” “I
am not going to buy anything with it;” and
before they could reply, or before they could
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MARCH 14, 1867.
see the tears that filled his eyes, he was gone,
running in liis haste over a gentleman, who,
standing near them in the doorway, had heard
their conversation. “I am glad I left,” said
Edward, as he ran on down the street. “ I
shouldn’t have stood the temptation much
longer.”
That evening, after their rather silent tea,
Edward and his grand-father took their seats
near the fire, and there being no more lessons
for a week, Edward took down his Bible to
find a verse for Sunday. As he opened it
his eye fell upon this verse: “The Lord
loveth a cheerful giver.” Unconsciously he
read it aloud. “ Why didn’t you show your
self one this evening ?” his grand-father said,
looking at him keenly. “Because I kept
my gift to show myself on Sunday,” Edward
replied, and then said, “How did you know
any thing about it, grand-father ?” “ I was
standing near you and heard the whole af
fair,” he replied, “ and was somewhat morti
fied at your apparent want of liberality.
What is it you arehoarding that money for?”
“ I thought,” Edward said, “ after what the
minister told us about self-denial the other
evening, that very few of my contributions
to the Sunday-school had been fruits of sacri
fice, and though I had the ten cents you gave
me to carry, I thought I would try and offer
on Christmas Sabbath a real self-denial.”
“It was a double denial that I hadn’t
looked for,” he continued after a short pause,
in which the bursting of a rocket and the
shout of voices reached his, ear from the com
mon —“ to cut up the wood was all I had
expected, but—his lips quivered slightly—
the last was the hardest. “ I have found it!”
Mr. Harper said, as he looked at the boy’s
thoughtful face; “and if every feature in
this religion, which the minister says to learn
we must become as little children, be as
beautiful as this, then I should like to be a
Christian.”
Every child is a minister in its little way,
and even the giving of a piece of Sunday
School money may be made as beautiful a
sermon as that of the often-read “widow’s
mite.”— Christian Observer.
HEAVENLY LIGHTS.
It was a very sad day to Mrs. Graham,
and to Harry Graham too, when the doctor
told them that little Joe would never again
see their faces, or look upon the beautiful
flowers which Harry loved to bring him
every morning, for he was blind. He had
been ill for a long time, and at last, when his
eyes had been affected by the disease, he had
been kept in a dark room in the hope that
they might be cured; but when he did get
well, his sight was gone.
Now Harry thought he could not do too
much for his little blind brother. His father
was dead, and his mother took in washing to
support the family, so Harry had to work
too. He brought all the water and wood
which his mother used, and went for the
clothes and took them home again. But
still he found time to take care of Joe. He
picked up some little wheels which some one
had thrown away, and made a wagon, upon
which he placed a basket for his brother to
sit, and no king upon his throne was, ever
half so happy as the little blind boy when
his brother drew him about in this rude
wagon. It was a good deal of trouble to
make, but when it was finished, Harry was
never seen carrying the clothes backwards
and forwards from his mother’s customers
without the little wagon and Joe.
He still picked all the flowers he could
find for his little brother, and told him the
colors, and said, “You can smell them, Joe,
though you do not see them.”
And when the birds sang, Harry would
say, “Aren’t you glad you can hear the
birds, Joe? lam sure I would rather hear
them than see them without hearing them.”
Every evening Mrs. Graham taught Harry
to read, and soon he could read well enough
to read for Joe. Many were the books he
read to him, for many of the kind people in
the village were interested in the boys, anc
gave or lent them books. And above all,
he read to him from the best of books, from
the Bible, which is the word of the living
God.
Harry went to the Sunday-school too, and
as Joe grew old enough, lie loved to repeat
to him the lessons he had learnt there; One
_Sunday afternoon he came running full of
eagerness to tell Joe something he had
learned.
“ Oh !” he exclaimed, “my teacher says
that you will not always be blind, that you
will see in heaven; and she says if you love
Jesus now, that He will make you happier
than if you saw every thing in the world.
Mother, will you find me the verse which
says, ‘Jesus is the light of heaven ’ ?”
Mrs. Graham found it, and Harry read:
“ And the city had no need of the sun,
neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the
glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is
the light thereof.” “The Lamb means Je
sus,” said Harry; “my teacher says if-you
love Him now, He will make you so happy
that it will be like having heavenly light
even in this world.”
Jesus is called the Lamb because He died to
save us from our sins. As long ago lambs were
sacrificed for the sins of the people, as a fig
ure of Him that was to come, that is a sort
of picture to show what he is, and what He
would do.
The poor blind boy did learn to love Jesus,
and he walked in this heavenly light for
many years until Jesus took him to enjoy it
more perfectly in His glorious home above.
—Child’s Magazine.
A THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLAR JOB.
The head clerk of a large firm in Charles
town promised an old customer, one day,
half a bale of Russia duck to be on hand
precisely at one o’clock, when the man was
to leave town with his goods. The firm were
out of duck, and the clerk went over to Bos
ton to buy some. Not finding a truckman,
he hired a man to take it over in his wheel
barrow. Finishing his other business, on
his return to Charlestown, the clerk found
the man not half way over the bridge, Bit
ting on his barrow, half dead with heat.
What was to bo done? It was then half
past twelve, and the goods were promised
at one. There was not a moment to lose.
In spite of the heat, the dust, and his fine
light summer clothes, the young man seized
the wheelbarrow and pushed on.
Pretty soon a rich merchant, whom the
young man knew very well, riding on horse
back, overtook him. “ What,’.’ said he, “Mr.
Wilder turned truckman!”
“Yes,” answered the clerk. “Th'e goods
are promised at one o’clock, and my man
has given out; but you see I am determined
to be as good as my word.”
“Good, good!” said the gentleman, and
started on.
Calling at the store where the young man
was employed, he told his employer what he
had seen, “ And I want you to tell him,"
said the gentleman, “that when he goes in
to business for himself, my name is at his
service for thirty thousand dollars.”
Reaching the store which he di.d in time,
you may be sure the high price set on his con
duct made amends for the heat, anxiety, and
fatigue of the job.
Keeping his word. You see how important
it is regarded. It is one of the best kinds
of capital a business man can have. To be
worth much to any body, a boy must form
a character of reliability. He must be de
pended upon. And you will like to know
perhaps that this young man became one of
the most eminent merchants of this coun
try. His name was S. Y. S. Wilder, and he
was the first President of the American
Tract Society.— Ex.
WASH THE TEETH AT NIGHT.
A few who inherit good teeth, and care
nothing for “looks,” neglect brushing their
teeth; but none who study cleanliness and
a sweet breath, or who wish to preserve
their teeth, good or bad, as long as possible,
should neglect to brush them well one or
more times a day with a brush so stiff as to
clean them well, but not so hard as to wound
and irritate the gums. They should be
brushed both night and morning; but if only
once, let it be done the last thing before re
tiring. Portions jof food, sweets, etc., left
on or between the teeth during the night de
cay or acidify, and corrode the enamel, and
thus gradually injure them. If the cavities
between and in decaying teeth be thoroughly
brushed out with water at night, and when
rising, it will add years to their effective use
and freedom from pain. Most of the tooth
powders sold contain an injurius acid, which,
though it gives the teeth a clean while sur
face, does it at expense of some of the na
tural surface. A little hard soap, pleasantly
perfumed is the best possible application.
We would not recommend even the finest
charcoal, or prepared chalk or clay, for
though inert, they wear upon the enamel.—
American Agriculturist.
LET THE CHILDREN SLEEP.
We earnestly advise all who think a great
deal, who have to work hard, to take all the
sleep they can get without medical means.
• We caution parents, particularly, not to
allow their children to be waked up of morn
ings—let nature wake them up, she will not
do it prematurely;'but have a care that they
go to bed at an early hour; let it be early
until it be found that they get up themselves
in full time to dress for breakfast.
Being waked up early, and allowed to en
gage in difficult or any studies late, and just
before retiring, has given many a beautiful
and promising child the brain fever or de
termined ordinary ailments to the produc
tion of -water on the brain.
Let parents make every possible effort to
have their children go to sleep in a pleasant
humor’. Never scold or give lectures, or in
any way wound a child’s feeling as it goes to
bed. Let all banish business and every
worldly care at bed-time, and let sleep come
to a mind at peace with God and all the
world.— Dr. Hall.
SLAM IN CHILDREN'S BOOKS.
A friend in New England, in a letter upon
other topics, writes to us:—
“ And now I wish to say a word in refer
ence to the bad taste of writers of Sunday
school books in this.region, in the admission
of slang phrases and ot all sorts of inelegant
and often ungrammatical expressions, with
the hope that such faults do not extend to
your part of the country. I find the books
here really nauseating. Here is a fragment
of a dialogue between the children of Chris
tian parents.
“ Kitty having ‘ squatted right down on the
floor, as near her brothers as ever she could
get,’ Frank says, 1 she takes up every smitch
of the room,’ adding, ‘There, you've spoiled
my go.’ ‘ What a plague you are !’ Kitty—
‘l aint a plague.’ Charley—‘You be, too’
—come, Frank, let’s skedaddle.” They run
to the barn as fast as their legs can carry them ,
and jump into a chest of bran. ‘ Quick! pile
in,’ Says Charley, &c., &c. One writer re
presents the boys as constantly saying ‘you
toas.’ Another introduces a deacon' whose
speech would disgrace a plantation negro.
Surely these writers forget that there is a
connection between manners and morals—
that the influence of Christianity should be
refining in every-respect, and that they are
defeating their own aims while they soil
their pages with such vulgarisms. Will not
some one look into this matter, and utter a
protest against it?”
We print and second this protest, but in
only one way can the evil be remedied. Let
our good people refuse to buy such books
and they will not be published —at least iOr
Sunday-schools. The difficulty is, that our
“Library Committees” look for interesting
books , und' these are the books that seem in
teresting. —Presbyterian Monthly
LEARNING TO WALK.
Only beginning the journey,
Many a mile to go;
Little feet, how they patter,
Wandering to and fro.
Trying again, -so bravely,
Laughing in baby glee;
Hiding its face in mother’s lap,
Proud as a baby can be.
Talking the oddest language
'‘'•'Ever before was heard;
But mother (you’d hardly think so)
Understands eyery word.
Tottering now and falling.
Eyes that are going to cry;
Kisses and plenty of love-wordß,
Willing again to try.
Father of all, O! guide them,
The pattering little feet.,
While they are treading the up-hill road,
Braving the dust and heat!
Aid them: when they grow weary,
Keep them in pathways blest,
And when the journey’s ended,
Saviour, 0! give them rest.
—Qeorge Cooper .
A QUEER OLD LADY.
BY REV. JOHN TODD, D. D,
How different people appear at" different
times, as, when we are sick or well; rejoicing
or mourning, laughing or weeping. A few
days since, I met an old lady, who nodded
very familiar to me, and yet, I hesitated to
call her by name, lest I should miscall it.
She looked old, and yet young; soft and smil
ing, and yet wore stern frowns. She was fair
in face, yet'her hand's were iron: It seemed
as if the wind would blow her away, and yet
she moved with the strength of an elephant.
“Why, sir,” said she, “you seem to stare
at me, though you have seen me a thousand
times before.”
“That may be, madam; but I never saw
you so loaded down with all sorts of things.
lam curious to know about them. Would
it be rude if I should ask you a few ques
tions?”
“ Hot at all. Ask away.”
“Well, what are you going to do with
those small, thin, ladies’ shoes ?”
“ Why, make the ladies wear them, to be
sure.”
“Hot in this cold, wet season? Why, I
can hardly keep my feet warm in these
thick, double-soled boots. I must have over
shoes. How can they wear such thin, cold
catching shoes ?”
“ 0, sir, I have only to bring them to them,
and the dear creatures put them on and
never hesitate a moment. Theyknow me!”
And those little half-dresses, hanging on
your arm ?”
..“ They are to be put On little children in
cold weather, or to walk out in—naked at
the knees, naked at the neck,'and hardly
covering half the body. You can’t think
how eager parents are for these dresses.”
What have you in this little tin box ?”
“ Lozenges, sir; troches, hoarhound can
dy—things that always go with thin shoes
and thin dresses. And this bright, red box,
sir, contains what is called ‘conscience salve,’
which I always keep on hand to rub on the
conscience when any one feels that he has
done wrong in obeying me. It’s in great
demand, sir, and a certain cure.”
“ What have you in that bundle Madam?”
This ? Why a few knick-knacks, which I
sometime distribute in Sabbath-schools, in
the shape of dialogues, speeches^—things to
make people laugh, and to prevent the school
from feeling too serious, or thinking too
much about religion. You must understand
sir, that I continually have to attend church
to regulate things there, and see that the
bonnets are right, the rings are bright, and
dresses complete; yet religion itself I hate
as poison ! And here is a box of the finest—
what shall I call it? It is a sort of wit and
smartness, which I deal out to preachers,
with which they spice their sermons, and
become popular. I sell them by the gross.
They are. growing in demand, and they are
a real-saving of conscience and heart-ache.
Warranted to keep in any climate—a kind
of sensation powder.
Pray, Madam, what are those screws
for?”
“Why, to pinch the feet, and make them
look small, without regard to corns and
bunions. They can’t wear those little, dear
little shoes, except you have these pinchers
to go with them.”
“And that great heap of hooks in your
arms ?”
“Those! They are the latest, most excit
ting, and the weakest, most silly novels. But
I hand them out, and shake my head with a
smile, and crowds read them.”
“ Well, Madam, I’m very inquisitive, I
know, but I do want to know what you have
in that bag thrown over your shoulders.”
“A great variety of valuables—such things
as ‘late suppers’ —in great demand, and
which send people to the grave early, and
thus make room for more. Then there are
‘late hours,’ and Tate rising,’ and all'manner
of hair-dressing, and expensive dressing
things that ladies must have, even if their
husbands fail. Here are diamond pins and
rings—just the thing to stir up envy and
create extravagance. Here are gold watches,
cigars, meerchaum pipes, gold-headed canes,
eye-glasses, and all manner of things to suit
all manner of people. And I laugh and coax
and frown and command, till I get them to
wear anduse them, and do just what Iplease.
How, I have stopped to talk with you a few
moments; don’t you see what a crowd have
gathered around me—low necks, thin Bhoes
muslin dresses, tight boots; some on crutch
es, some coughing, some breathing short, all
crowding to get near me > an< * w^en mov e
you willsee how they all run, and rush, and
crowd after me. O, sir, I am the great power
of the world. I rule kings and queens, beg.
cmrs and philosophers. Don’t you see!”
° “ Truly, Madam, truly. And now may I
ask your name ?”
“Hamel Fashion, sir; my name is Mrs.
Prevailing Fashion ! I thought every body
knew me!”
THE SABBATH DETEBMUfES THE WEEK.
A story is told of two children who fell
into a dispute in regard to the number of
days in the week; the one contending for
seven, the other maintaining that there
were but six. The latter to prove hiß cor
rectness began naming them; Monday,
Tuesday, etc.; but stopped Bhort at Satur
day. “But,” put in the other, “you have
left out Sunday." “Oh no,” replied the first,
“ Sunday belongs to'the other week. I
have often thought that debaters on the Sab
batical question, especially, perhaps, those
outraged in the present.agitation ol the sub*
jeet in our own country, make a more griev
ous mistake than this 'little child, and do not
consider Sunday as belonging to any week.
Yet a man might as well try to maintain a
seventh part of bis body by a separate heart,
and separate digestive organs, as to change
his mode of spending a seventh of his days
without its changing his life upon the others.
If .we are to observe a-Scotch, German, or
Italian Sunday, wo must live a Scotch, Ger
man, or Italian Monday, and' so on to the
end of the weeki One cannot hold the faith
of the Covenanters, and keep the Sunday of
a Pantheist. If we are to change our mode
of observing this day, we must, and will
eventually, change our week-day life to the
model from which we have taken our Sun
day-life. For this reason I believe that a
careful study of the observance of Sunday
among the nations of the old world, would
shed no little light upon the subject. But
this is more than a mere traveller spending
a day here and a day there,.can. hope to ac
complish; nevertheless I believe that it will
not be without interest, and I hope not with
out profit to your readers, to know what an
American sees and hears on Sunday, in the
various cities of th.e old world. -
“GET THEE HEHOE, SATAH!”
’ A little girl sat upon the large Btone door
step of her father’s house, and beside her was
a boy of about the same age. He had been
eating a fresh, rosyapple, and had thrown the
core into the gutter beyond the walk, and
watched it as the muddy water carried it
from his sight; then, turning back to his
playmate, who seemed absorbed in the pic
tures of a new book, he asked, —
“Give me a bite of your apple, Clara;
mine’s all gone.”
“Hot now; wait till I eat it,” was the ab
stracted reply; but the voracious little fellow,
not quite content to wait, took the apple up,
turned 'it round and round, smelled of it a
little, and then began to toss it lightly in his
hands, each time catching it again. I expec
ted to see his teeth go into it ; but he was too
honest for that. At last, in an unlucky mo
ment, it dropped from his chubby hands, and
rolled across the walk into the filthy gutter,
and was borne away.
His exclamation brought the large eyes
of the little girl upon him. The rich blood
mounted to her brow ;■ and with a spring she
was upon her feet, with one hand raised, ap
parenty to strike the shrinking form beside
her; but it did not fall; and as she stood, her
hair thrown back, the white hand poised in
the air, the whole face and form showing a
struggle within, I prayed that she mightnot
be’too strongly tempted. A moment more,
and the clear, triumphant tones of her voice
fell on my ear,—
“ Get thee hence, Satan 1 get thee hence!”
The mother within the door heard the
sound too, and, coming to them, asked the
meaning. Again a blush mantled the noble
brow of the child, but it was humility and
shame that caused it, while with slightly
drooping head, she answered, “ Satan wanted
me to Btrike Breddrie; but I didn’t.”
The mother drew her within her arms,
and kissed her, saying, “That is right, my
child; resist mm, and he will flee from you.”
Would that all might learn in childhood to
resist the power of temptation with the Holy
Spirit’s help ! Truly the world would be.the
better for it. —Christian Banner* 0
IS .SLAVERY DEAD?
Dead! is it dead ?
Bury it deep! bury it deep!'
Lest it should waken and rise its head
Out of a sleep.
Dead ! is it dead ?
king the bells that men may know
It goeth down to its burial bed,
And let it go.
Dead ! is it dead!
Over its grave a tablet set,
And write: “By all that rule is dread
This doom be met.”
Dead! is it dead?
Proclaim it to the universe:
“ The storm is past from overhead
And gone the curse.” ’
Dead! is it dead ?
Roll the rock over its tomb,
•\ , And plant a new growth overhead,
To rise and bloom.
Ring! the old tyrant’s dead I
The fair estate is free;
Ring for the brave new heir instead l
' Come, Liberty J
Catskill, N. Y,
Conscience and Sloth.—How often has
God roused nay conscience by sharp trouble,
stinging conviction, and alarming terrors of
his law, but my sloth and stupidity have
stifled and checked the voice of conscience
and wrapped me in a deeper slumber than
ever. >
Cakl Spencer