family; ©felt.
THE ANSWEEING HEAET.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Her window opens to the ba j,
On glistening light or misty gray,
And there at dawn and set of day
In prayer she kneels:
“Dear Lord,” she saith, “to many a home
From wind and wave the wanderers come;
I only see the tossing foam
Of stranger keels.
Blown out and in by Summer gales.
The stately ships, with crowded sails,
And sailors leaning o’er their rails.
Before me glide;
They come, they go, but nevermore
Spice-laden from the Indian shore,
I see his swift-winged Isidore
The waves divide.
0 Thou! with whom the night is day
And one the near and far away,
Look out on yon gray waste, and say
Where lingers he;
Alive, perchance, on some lone beach
Or thirsty isle beyond the reach
Of man, he hears the mocking speech
Of wind and sea.
0 dread and cruel deep, reveal
The secret which thy waves conoeal,
And, ye wild sea-birds, hither wheel
And tell your tale.
Let winds that tossed his raven hair
A message from my lost one bear—
Some thought of me, a last fond prayer
Or dying wail!
Come, with your dreariest truth shut out
The fears that haunt me round about;
0 God! I can not bear this doubt
That stifles breath.
The worst is better than the dread:
Give me but leave to mourn my dead
Asleep in trust and hope, instead
Of life in death!”
It might have been the evening breeze
That whispered'in the garden trees,
It might have been the sound of seas
That rose and fell;
But, with her heart, if not her ear,
The old loved voice sue seemed to hear
“I wait to meet thee; he of cheer,
For all is well! ”
OHEEEIES QP HAMBURG.
s- In the early part of the sixteenth century
cherries were very rare in Germany. There
had been a rot, and it was with the utmost
difficulty that any could be preserved. But
a citizen of Hamburg, named Wolf, had in
the middle of the town a walled garden, and
in the garden he had gathered the rarest of
cherry trees, and by constant watchfulness
he had kept away the disease from his fruit,
so that he alone possessed healthy cherry
trees, and those in great abundance, bearing
the juciest of cherries. All who wished cher
ries must go to him for them, and he sold
them at the highest prices, so that every sea
son he reaped a great harvest of gold
from his cherries. Far and near Wolf’s
cherry trees were known, and he grew richer
and more famous.
One season, when his cherry trees were in
blossom, and giving promise of an abundant
crop, a war broke out in the North of Ger
many, in which Hamburg was invaded. The
city was besieged, and so surrounded by the
enemy that no help could reach it. Slowly
they consumed the provisions that were gar
nered, but famine was staring them in the
face; nor did they dare yield to the enemy,
for in those days there was little mercy shown
to the conquered, and while any hope re
mained the people held out, making .vain sal
lies into the enemy’s camp, and growing
weaker daily, as less and less food remained
to them.
Meanwhile, the enemy grew more fierce
without. The heat was intense, and had
dried up the brooks and springs in all the
country about, so that the besiegers were be
coming wild with thirst; it made them more
savage, and the Commanding Ceneral would
listen to no terms, but swore to destroy the
city, and to put all the inhabitants, soldiers
and old men, women and children, to the
sword.
But would it not be better thus to be killed
outright than to suffer the slow death of famine ?
Wolf thought of these things as h'e returned
one day to his garden in the midst of the
city, after a week of fighting with the enemy.
In his absence the cherries had ripened fast
in the hot sun, and were now superb, fairly
bursting with the red juice, and making one’s
mouth water at the sight.
A sudden thought came into his head as
he looked at his cherries, and a hope sprang
up that he might yet save his fellow-towns
men. There was not a moment to lose, for
twenty-four hours more of suffering would
make the town'delirious. He brought together
all the children of the town, to the number
of three hundred, and had them dressed
wholly in white. In those days, and in that
country, the funeral processions were thus
dressed. He brought them each into his
orchard, and loaded each with a branch, heavy
with rich, juicy cherries, and marshalling
them, sent them out of the city, a feeble pro
cession, to the camp of the enemy. The
dying men and women filled the streets as
the white-robed children passed through the
gates and out into the country.
The besieging General saw the procession
drawing near, concealed by the boughs they
were carrying, and he suspected some strata
gem, as if it were Birham wood coming to
Dunsinane. Then he was told that they were
the children of Hamburg, who had heard
that he and his army were suffering of thirst,
and were bringing lucious cherries to quench
it. Thereat he was very angry, for he was
of a cruel and violent nature, and said that
they had come to mock him, and he would
surely have,, them put to death before his
eyes, even as he had sworn he would do to
all the people of the city'.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MARCH 28,1867.
But when the procession came before Mm,
and he saw the poor children, so thin, so
pale, so worn out with hunger, the rough
man’s heart was touched; a spring of fath
erly love that had long been choked up in Mm,
broke forth; he was filled with pity, and
tears came to his eyes, and what the warriors
of the town could not do the peaceful child
ren in white did—they vanquished the hard
heart. That evening the little cherry bearers
returned to the city, and with them went a
great procession of carts filled with provisions
for the starving people; and the very next
day a treaty of peace was signed.
In memory of this event, the people of
Hamburg still keep, every year, a’ festival
called the Feast of Cherries; when the child
ren of the city, clad in white garments; march
through the streets, holding green boughs, to
which the people, coming, out, of their house,
hasten to tie bunches of cherries; only now
the children are chubby and merry, and they
eat the cherries themselves. —-Riverside Maga
zine for Young People ; March Plumber.
A BOY’S YIOTOEY.
A dozen boys stood on the green by the
school-house, careless and jolly, just from a
game of ball. A boy came round the corner
of the school-house, with an old cloth cap on
Ms head, and wearing a loosely-fitting garment
of some very coarse . cloth. . In Ms hands
were an iron stove-shovel and a hod of
ashes.
‘Here comes old Dust and Ashes,’ shouted
one of the group, springing forward, and
giving the coat a twitch.
‘ Hallo! what’s the price of sackcloth ?’
The boy’s cheeks flushed in an instant.
The shovel rang on the gravel-walk, and his
fingers clutched; but as quickly his cheek
paled again, and clenching his teeth, as with
a great effort to keep back sometMng, he
turned a little and muttered the word “ mo
ther!"
‘Ho ! ho!’ shouted the other. ‘ The baby’s
sick and wants to see his mother.’
The boy in the course frock turned away,
and rapidly disappeared behind the old barn;
then breaking into a run, he fled swiftly down
the path to the maple woods, his faithful
Hunter bounding and racing through the
grass by his side.
Most graciously stood the maples, all rus
set and crimson and yellow, bathed in the
yellow haze of the still October afternoon.
In among their shadows he sprang, his feet
rustling the already fallen leaves, and fling
ing himself in a little hollow, he buried his
face in his hands. Poor Hunter stood by,
wondering why his young master, any .more
than himself, could possibly think of any
thing but birds and squirrels at such a time.
Then the boy, seizing his only playmate in
his arms, cried,
‘ 0, nobody loves me, nobody loves me in
the world but you, Hunter! 0, mother, mo
ther, why did you die?’
And the sobs came fast and thick, and the
tears flowed like rain. Long did the mo
therless boy wail and cry, till from very weari
ness, he could weep no longer. Tears
brought relief, and the holy quiet of the
grand old woods filled him with solemn and
heavenly thoughts of his angel mother.
Only one year ago she had died, and he
remembered his agony and loneliness, and
the year of toil as the ward of a cruel uncle.
He remembered his, eagerness to go to
school, his trying to pay his way by working
about the school-room, and the unfeeling jibes
and jeers his humble station and coarse* cloth
ing had earned him. Again-the angry re
bellious thoughts came up, as his eye fell on
liis coarse frock, and the quivering sobs re
turned ; but then camethe words of that mo
ther, and how her poor fingers had toiled to
make that frock, the best she could give him.
Though coarse its texture, every thread was
hallowed by a mother’s love. He took
from his vest-pocket the well-worn Bible,
her Bible, and read the precious promise to
the widow and orphan, again and again.
New and strange thoughts came to him, and
there, in the grand old forest, with the au
tumn sunset shimmering the golden maple
leaves, was a new purpose born j> his soul.
He had begun to conquer himset, Hence
forth there was no hesitation for him. Body
and soul he devoted himself to God. Com
panions may jeer, but Jesus reigned in his
heart, and his mother waited for him in
heaven.
The years rolled on, and the boy became
a man, but the purpose formed in the old
maple grove burned in his bosom yet; and
now his feet tread the deck of an Indian
steamer, bearing him swiftly to the chosen
scenes of toil, for these words are in his heart:
“ I must be about my Master’s business.”
The Congregationalist. s
KATY’S SELFISHNESS.
“ Katy, lay down your book, and come
amuse the baby while I finish Willie’s jack
et.”
Katy looked up.as she replied, “Yes,
mamma, in one minute ;” but directly she
was again absorbed in her book —“The His
tory of the Swiss Family Robinson A —a
Christmas gift from her papa.
Presently her mother called again, in a
pleasant tone, “Katy, dear, are you com
ing?” • ;
This time Katy did not raise her eyes
from the book as she said, “I will come as
soon as I have finished this page, mamma!”
but it was not until her mother had sum
moned her for, tjie third time, and that, too
in a somewhat ‘ peremptory manner, that
Katy threw down her book with a sigh and
slowly entered the nursery. She was think-
ing to herself all the while, “ How hard it
is to be interrupted in such a nice story —
just when I was in the most interesting part
too: that troublesome baby, he spoils all my
pleasure.”
Yet this was the same little girl who, on
that very morning, had lavished the most
tender caresses on her baby brother, calling
him all manner of endearing names, and
telling him Bhe would not part with him for:
all the world.
What had wrought so great a change in
Katy’s feelings ? I will tell you, my little
readers. J
Deep down ih Katy’s heart there was
springing up a germ of selfishness, which
made her prefer her own gratification to
the pleasure of helping her mother or min
istering to the enjoyment of her little bro
ther. t
Katy took up the laby with a rough, im
patient jerk, which njade him scream with
terror and affright, aid, as he had already
become irritable from long waiting and ne
glect, it was a long ime before she could
pacify him. Baby k iew as well as Katy
did herself, that there was sometMng wrong
that afternoon.. ' His find and pleasant lit
tle sister, who had spared no pains in amus
ing him, and who haditaken such delight in
listening to his. merry laugh, had gone, and
a cross, sullen little gir had taken her place.
No wonder he was fi etful and determined
not to be pleased.
You see, children, fiat a bad' example is
contagious, and one wrong and wicked feel
ing, fostered and. indulged, will, not only
make its possessor miserable, but likewise
destroy the peace and comfort of a whole
family, casting a shadbw over the brightest
fireside. It is a law df our being that every
sin, sooner or later, firings its own punish
ment; and often the innocent suffer as well
as the guilty.: • >
Katy did not struggle against the wicked
spirit that had takep .possession of her.
heart, but yielded to it, though she felt
every moment that see was growing more
and more unhappy, ajid when her mother,
having finished her work, relieved her of the
care of baby, unable fio restrain herself any
longer, she rushed up Stairs and burst into a
passion of tears. Byjdegrees, her sobs be
came fainter and fainter; and when she
finally became calm, the sat down by the
window, for it was growing dark, and look
ing out on the peaceful stars as they began
to twinkle in the blue sky, she. began to
think upon her naughty conduct, and how
deeply she had grieved; per mother, and how
unkind she had been to her little brother,
her darling brother, whom, after all, she
loved so dearly. At thjs thought her tears
burst forth afresh, and'by the time her mo
ther called her for te4, she was ready to
throw herself in her arms and ask her for
giveness.
“Good Katy, come hack again!” said
Eddie, who was scarcely three years old.
Katy smiled, her own sunny, pleasant
smile; and baby, stretching out his arms,
cooed his approbation.
Dear children, when tempted to seek
your own gratification,-regardless of the
comfort and happiness of others, think of
Katy; and bravely trying :to overcome the
first selfish desires as they spring up in. your
heart, spare yourself Katy’s tears and sor
row. ,
Above all, remember thej holy example of
the blessed Saviour, whose whole life on
earth was.marked by unselfish deeds of love
and kindness.
A CUP OF COLD WATEE.
There is a pleasant story told of a man
living on the borders of an African desert,
who carried daily a pitcher of cold water
to the dusty thoroughfare, tod left it for any
thirsty traveller that might pass that way.
There is something so quiet and spontan
eous, so genial and unselfish in this little act
of kindness, that it meets an instinctive re
sponse from the common heart. It is such
a little thing, and yet so full of blessing to
the weary pilgrim, panting with thirst amid
burning wastes and under tropical skies!
There is such an oUtgleam of goodness from
the humble deed, that it touches our hearts
with genial sympathy, and glowing impulses
of kindness for the needy and sorrowing of
our world. Such humble deeds of pity;need
but an infusion of the Christian element, in
the motive—love to Jesus—to make them
not only beautiful in the eyes of men, but
beautiful in the sight of Him, who Baid:
“And whosoever shall give to drink unto
one of these little ones, a cup of cold water
only, in the name of a disciple, verily I say
unto you, he shall in no wise lose his re
ward.”
Not only in African deserts may such deeds
be done. Our world is a spiritual Sahara , a
vast desert full of pilgrims that are way-worn
and weary, to whose fainting lips may be
pressed, by loving hands, the cup of cold wa
ter. And here we touch what is the special
beauty of the benediction of Christ upon
the kindly deed, however humble. There
may be wanting the talents, or position, or
means, for great achievements or enlarged
beneficence, but Christ tells us, that the
least gift to one of His needy disciples for
Mis sake, shall not lose its reward. It may
be but a .look or warm .grasp of sympathy
to some disconsolate spirit; it may be but a
visit to some lonely couch of sickness with
your flowers and the divine promises and the
offered pi*ayer; it may be but a word of en
couragement to some one weary with the
conflict of life; it may be your helping hand
to some neglected child you have led to the
Sabbath-school, and taught the way to vir
tue and to heaven; it may be but the genial
sunshine of your heart, diffusing joy among
the loved ones at home —whatever it may be
of kindness arid love to any one of Christ’s
disciples, in His name, and for His sake, He
takes it as a flower of remembrance and will
press it in the Book of Life, and keep it for
ever. Yes, these little generosities of every
day life, these ministries pf. charity that run
along the by-ways of a great city, blessing
the poor arid neglected—those pulses of love
that run through our homes and circulate
around the globe, are : beautiful in the sight
of Jesus! And when He shall come in His
glory He will remember the “caps 0/ cold
water.’’ given to His disciples, andin recogni
tion of their unconscious ministry to Him
self utter that final welcoirie, “ Gome ye bles
sed of my Father, inherit the kingdom pre
pared for. you from .the foundation of. the
world)” —with the. uriexpected supplement,
“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one ,of
the least of these my brethren, ye have done,
it unto me.”
Let no one Bay, however limited or lowly
his spherepthat there is nothing in the com
mon routine of daily life to inspire him with
the aim and effort of nobleliving. Does riot
the teaching of Christ, invest the Huriiblest
deed of a loving heart in his service, though,
it. bo but the giving of a cup of cold Writer,,
with a divine beauty, and glory. What
would we greater, than what, in opportunity,
God'hath given to us all ? And shall w 6 let
the fewness of our talents discourage us, in
constant arid genial living for. Christ, and
His needydisciples', or allow the humbleness
of earthly fortunes to shade .the brow that
maybe radiant with the. crown of virtue?!
Ho, rather let us use our gifts and opportu
nities, though feeble and few; in such ways
of kindness and charity and Christian living,
as, shall make us a blessing to our generation
and give us here the earnest of heaven. , .
“This world’s hot‘all,a fleeting Show,
For man’s illusion given,—
He that hath Soothed a widow’s woe,
; Or wiped an orphan’s tear, doth know,
There’s something here of heaven:” ■ - -
Lutheran Observer,
.THE, vEEAVE. SAIL,OB.
Many a Christian must covet the fearless
ness of the honest fellow, the annexed ac
count of whom. in some of the writings of
Dr. Robert Hewton is so well adapted to Stir
every pious heart to emulation. Few, iri T
deed, if they would sincerely try theexperi
mentj would be,found unable to imitate the
sailor’s courtesy:
A merchant arid ship-owner of Hew York
was standing at the entrance of his ware
houses conversing with a gentleman on busi
ness. A pious sailor belonging to one of his
vessels came to the warehouse to enter it,
but observing that the doOr was occupied,
modestly stepped aside, not willing to inter
rupt the conversation.
While ’waiting there he heard the name of
Jesus profanely used, and on turning to
look, he observed thas it was. his employer
who was speaking. Instantly changing his
position, and standing in front of the gentle
man with his head uncovered, and his hat
under his arm, he addressed the merchant
in this language:
“ Sir, will you excuse me if I speak a word
to you?” ;
The gentleman, recognizing him as one of
the crew of his vessel recently' arrived, and
supposing he might have something to say
about the business of the ship, told him to
speak on. ’ -■ ‘
.“You won’t be offended then, sir, with’fa
poor, ignorant sailor if he tells’you his feel
ings?” said he'. ; '
.gSi,
“Certainly not/' replied the merchant.
“ Well, then, sir,” said the,honest-hearted
sailor, with much feeling, ‘‘.will: you :be so
kind as not to take the name of my blessed
Jesus in vain ? He is a good' Saviour! He
took my feet out of ‘ the horrible pit and
miry clay, and established my goings.’ O,
sir! don’t; if you please, take the name of my
Master, the Lord Jesus, in vain ! .He is your
Creator as well as mine, and He has made
you, and preserves you, and is always doing
you good.’’ '
This was said with so; much earnestness
and feeling that the gentleman was quite
touched. Hib eyes filled with tears, and he
said
“My good, fellow, God helping me, I -will
never again take the name of the Lord Je
sus Christ the Saviour in vain.”
“ Thank you sir,” said the honest tar; and
putting on his hat, he went away to his
work.
OLD OOEAH,
The, shades of color observable in . the
ocean differ as widely as its different depths,
to which, indeed, they in great measure owe
their existence. As a rule, a greenish tinge
is the indication of shallow water. The blue;
which is the most universal characteristic of
the ocean, is lighter or more intense in pro
portion to the depth of the sea, the color be
ing darkest where the'.depth is, more pro
found. The green color, which occurs about
the meridian ofLondon, and is liable, to fre
quent changes in position and intensity, has
been attributed by Dr. Scoresby to the ex
istence of myriads of animals; but, according
to others, the comparative shallowness in
these seas, with the quantity of earthy mat
ter brought into them by the numerous
rivers, is sufficient to account: for . the gem
eral hue. At a few miles from the shore
however, in clear, calm weather, “ the deep
blue sea” exhibits its characteristic color
which is due to the fact that the waters ab
sorb all the other prismatic hues, and reflect
the blue alone. The general color is greatly
affected by atmospheric changes, and almost
every tint may occasionally Be seen under
the brilliant sunlight, which, at times, gives
the waters the appearance of burnished gold.
The lied Sea, and the Vermillion Sea, off
the coast of California; it is admitted, owe
their colors to myriads of animalcules; and.
the Artie green and Antarctic broWh ‘are
attributed to the same cause. The peculiar
tinge of the. Chinese or Mellow Sea, is also,
probably,; due, to this influence*, f The beauti
■ful' phosphorescence of the sea', which isfre
quently observed, is ascertained to have the
same origin. The Black Sea often presents
the aspect from which it takes its name, and
which is considered to be due.to the quantity
of earthy matter brought down by the large
rivers that flow irito. it, together with the
atmospheric influence of the frequent storms
which occur in those latitudes.
Why the sea is: salt isa question which has
often afforded of speculation, and
formerlyit was "conjectured that this pecu
liar quality arose from the existence of im
mense salt basins at the bottorii of the ocean.
Experience and' scientific investigation have
nowhere justified this theory, arid there 13
now no doubt that its saltness is due to the
original qualities received from the hands of
, the iGreat Creator. The amount of common
salt held iri suspension by thb ocean is esti
mated at three million cubic miles, or five
times more thari the great mass of the Al
pine mountains. Some waters .are far more
salt than others.' The Mediterranean i s
above the Atlantic in this respect. In the
Baltic there is found only 1-18 per cent, of
salt, while in the Mediterranean the percent
age is 4-18. ; The saltncss of the sea is a pro
vision of infinite wisdom to preserve its con
tents from putrefaction.
We cannot here dwell on the innumerable
Ouriosities,,of the ocean, which everywhere
teems with life of various kinds; nor can we
touch upon its active influence in changing
the surface of the earth, here undermining
or sweeping over a coast, and there receding
and leaving dry land where oricb it found its
bed. But, with all its .power in this respect,
its limits are circumscribed.- .onp. mightier
than the ocean has said, “Hitherto shalt
thou come, but no. further; and': here shall
thy proud waves be staid." 1 “He,hath com
passed the waters with bounds, until the day
arid night come, to ari end.”- — Quiver.
WHAT, MAKES. THAT BOY SO SOUR?
We : have'seen the folio wing'question and
answer ip more than one of our exchanges:
“ Charleyj wtat mpkes; you so sweet?"
said a loving, mother to; her little 1 boy, as slu
pressed him to her bosom:
“I dess when Dod make me out of dust
he put a little thugar in,” said'Charley.
One, in commenting on it, says:
“This was a queer.conceit for a little boy.
There was no sugar put into the dust of his
body, but I BUBpect that some : sugar —the
sugar of love —had been put into his heart.
That Was what made him so sweet and pre
cious to his mother.”
When we find a cross; crabbed, sour little
boy, we should like to ask him what makes
him so sour. What do you suppose he would
say? Would he say.
“I dess when Dod made me he put a little
vinegar in?”
Well, I don’t know what ho would say;
but I don’t think it is so. When God made
man, he made him pood; but sugar may be
converted into vinegar by man. The little
boy made himself sour. He turned the
“thugar” into “vinegar.”
Here is another comment:
“God has put a little sugar into the dispo
sition of All Children. Some of them keep
it there, and they are always sweet, and we
cannot help loving them. Some lose the
sugaT that God gave, them, and then they
become sour and disagreeable. . Keep your
selves, always sweet, dear children, with the
sugar of love, and you will always be loved.”
“Mother,” said a dear-little girl,. “I al
ways: mean to do right, but somehow or other
I findmysolf naughtyJ’
“Meaningto do right is not enough, my
love,” said the mother; “you must do right,
and then naughty won’t find you.”
“DO . THY LITTLE."
A certain.king woiiM build a catfcedral, and
that the credit of it might he all 1* own, he
forbade any from contributing to imerection
in the least degree. : A tablet wasiWaeed on
the side of the building, and on it Jm name
Was carved, as the builder. But th® night
hesaw in a dream, an angel, who can® down
and erased his name, and the name orll poor
w;idow appeared in its stead. This wkMhree
times repeated, when the enraged kin®mm
monedthe woman before him, and de*b rul
ed, “What have you been doing? arußvhy
have you broken my commandment?” ®[he
trembling woman, replied, “I
Lord, ana longed to do something for h'
name, and for the building up of his ebu:
I was forbidden to touch it in any way;
in my poverty, I brought a whisp of hay
the horses that drew the stonesl” And
king saw that he had labored for his
glory, but the widow for the glory of
and he commanded that her name
be inscribed upon the tablet. —Ralph
AH/, EXTRAORDINARY TR.
Dr. Stanley Gr. Haynes, in a shor
let entitled A Ramble in the New ZeaL
tells i the following remarkable trei
“ The pata tree is said to have a
markable mode of commencing its *
The young plant takes root in the
caterpillar, which buries itself befc
(or is killed by its strange'parasite'
enables the young, plant 'to obtain
mate and radical nourishment from
Dr. Haynes possesses four specimei
lusus [natural. In throe of them i
grows from the caterpillar’s head
other it grew straight forward bet\
eyes; on one of them the stems arit
the head. The caterpillars are three
long and half an inch in diameter, a;
quite dry and brown, without ihdicati*
•having been decomposed; ;On the com
the true and false feet and. the eyes
mouth are well preserved’*
> tfjs confess small;fauits, by -way of in:
■ ating - that we have no> great ones.