t familij firnfc A DREAM OP SUMMEE. Bland as the morning breath of June ■ The south-west breezes play ; . And through its haze, the winter noon j Seems warm as summer day. The snow-plumed .Angel of th,e North Has dropped his icy spear; ~ Again the mossy earth looks forth,' Again the streams gush clear. The fox his hillside cell,forsakes, . The muskrat leaves his nook, '• The blue bird in thb meadow brakes Is singing with the brook, “ Bear up, G Mother Nature cry Bird, breeze/ and streamlet free,, “ Our winter, yoiees, prophesy i. , Of summer days to thee!” So, in those winters of. the soul, ■ By: bitter ,blasts and'drear: ■: > Or swept from, memory’s frozen pole, , Will sunny days appear, , Reviving Hope and faith, they show The soul its living powers, And how. beneath tile winter's.3ll t)w Lie germs of summer flowers. ~, The Night is jfother of the Day, • j The Winter of the Spring, . . . And ever upon old Decay ~ The greeriesi 'mosses cling. Behind the’cloud thp starlight lurks,’ Through, showers the snnbeatns fall.; ; .. For God,; Rho lovcth all His works, " Has left His Hope with all. " ~ ’ I , ' John G. Whittier, JESSICA’S FIBST PRAYER. I. . THE COiIFEE-STALL:. AND .ITS .KEEPER, In a screened and secluded corner of one of the many railway-bridges which span the streetb of London, there 1 could’ be seen,'a few rears ago/fro'm'fiTb o’clockWery morn/ ing until half-past eightj atidiiy set put cof fee stall, consisting of 1 a ,trpstle and board, upon which, stood .two-large tin cans, < with a small lire of charcoal bunting under each, so Rs to keep the coffee boiling during the early hours of the morning when the work people were thronging into the city, op their way to their daily toil. The coffee-stall was a. favorite: one,.for besides being under shel ter, which was of great consequence upon rainy morhings, itwas also in so' private a niche that the customers taking their out of-door breakfast were not too much expdsr ed to notice; and moi/eoyer, the coffee-stall keep'er was a quiet man, who. cared only to serve the busy workmen, without, hindering them by any gostip: - He'was:a tall, spare, elderly man, with a 'singularly solemn 1 face, : and a m anner whi'eh Was’grave and Secret.' Nobody knew either his name or .dwelling place ; unless it might be the policeman who strode past the 'co'ffee-stall eVei-y'half hour, and nodded familiarly to the solemn man behind it: There—were very few who cared, to make any, inquiries about him; but,those who did: could only discover that lie-kept the furniture of his stall at a neigh boring colfee-hbuse, whither he wheeled his; trestles and Board and crockery ,every day, no later than half-past eight in the morning; after, which he waswont to glide away-withs a soft footstep, and a mysterious and fugitive air, with many' fiackward and sidelong glances, as if he dreaded observation, until lie was lOs't crowds whi'ch: throng ed the streets. So one had ever had the persevering. curiosity/tO. track him .all the way to his house, or, tp, jind out liis other means of gaining a' livelihood; but in gen eral, his .stall was surrounded by customers, whom he served with silent seriousness, and’ who did not grudge' to “pay him his charge for the refreshing coffee-he- supplied--to them. For severaFy.eai[S f the crqwd'qf work-peo ple had pdiishd by the coffee-Stall Under the railway-arch, when one morning, in a par tial lull of his business,- the owner became suddenly aware of at pair of very bright dark eyes being fastened upon him and tie: slices of bread and butter on his board, with a gaze as hungry as that of, a mouse which has been'driven by famine into a trap. A thin and meagre faco belonged to the; eye's, which was half hidden by a mass of matted hair hanging over the forehead, and down the neck,; the, only covering which the hpad or neck had; for a tattered frock; scarcely fastened together with broken strings, was slipping down over the. shivering 1 shoulders of the little girl. Stooping down to a bas ket behind his stall, he caught sight Of two bare little feet curling up, from the damp pavement, as the child lifted up first one and then the other, and laid them one over another to gain a momentary feeling of warmth. Whoever the wretched child was, she did not .speak; only at every .steaming cupful which he poured out of his can, her dark eyes gleamed hungrily, and he could hear her smack her thin lips, as if in fancy she was tasting the warm and fragrant cof fee. • “ Oh, come now! ” he said at last, when only one boy was left taking his breakfast leisurely, and he leaned over his stall to speak in a low and quiet tone, “ why don’t you go away, little girl? Come, come; you're stajdng too long, you know.” “I’m just going, sir,” she answered, shrug ging her small shoulders to draw her frock up higher about her neck; “ only it’s rain ing cats and dogs outside; and mother’s been away all night, and she took the key with her; and its so nice to smell,the coffee; and the police have left off worritting me while I’ve been bore. He thinks I’m a cus tomer taking my breakfast.” And the child laughed a shrill little laugh of mockery at herself and the policeman. “You’ve had no breakfast, I. suppose,” said the coffee-stall keeper, in the same low and confidential voice, and leaning over his stall till his face nearly touched the thin, sharp features of the child. “ No,” she replied, coolly, “ and I shall want my dinner dreadful bad afore I get it, I kbow. You don’t often feel dreadful hungry, do you, sir? I’m not griped yet, you know; but afore I taste my dinner it’ll THE AMERICAN' RRESBYfERIA®, ffHfRSSAY, -JELT 18, 1867. be pfetty bad, I tell you. Ah! vei*y bad in deed!” : . She turned away with a knowing nod, as much as to say she had one experience in life to which he was quite a stranger; but before she had gone half a dozen steps, she heard the quie t voice calling to her in rather louddr tones, and in an instant'she was back at the Stall. .7 7, ,7 7 Slip, in hero,” said the .owner,*in a cau tious whisper; phere’s. a little coffee left and a few crusts. There, you must never cohie again; you know; I never give to beggars ; and if'you’d begged, I’d 'have cillled the' po lice'-. There; put.your poor feet towards the the fir.e. Now, aren’t you comfortable ?”, The ehild looked, up with a face pf.intense satisfaction.- She was seated upoman empty basket,;with her feet near the pan of char coal/and a cup of steaming coffee on her liip; but her mouth was too full for her to reply, .except by a very deep pod, Which 7 ex pressed unbounded delight. The, man was p,u,sy for up his crockery: but every now and then be Stooped: to look down upon, her, and to shake bis head gravely. v - ’ “ •“ ' '/ ' “What’s your name?” he asked, at length'; “ hut .there, mind.!, what i,t is. What’s your name /to./ do! with -me, I wonder? ” 7,<:77:'Vi !-, “fit’s Jessica,” said the-girl; “ butmother and’ everybody .calls ’me Jess. You'd be tired Of being Called Jess, if'you was ’ine; It’s Jess here, and Jess there;/and. everybody wanting me to go errands./ And they /think poih/ingof giying me, smacks!,; and kicks, and pinches. Look hero! ”. / ' Whether her arms’were black and blue fromthe cold, or from 'ill-usage, he eOiild not tell; but lie shook his head 1 again seriously, and the child felt encouraged to'go on. / . J ‘T wish,l could stay heraJo'reyer an.d,eyer, jiist as ram ! ” she cried.. “ Butyou/re,[go ing away, I know; and I’m never to come again, oriyou’ll set the police:after-me!’ ’ “ Yes;’’ said the coffee-stgli keeper, very softly, and looking; 'around to see If there were.any other'ragged children within sight; ff if you’ll promi'se not to/come. again for/ a whole week, and not to tell any body . else; you, may come once morel > il’lbgive lyou one Other treat. “Butyou hxust be off/now.” : “I’m off,“sir!” she said;, ih'arply; “but if you’ve a errand I ; could/go/dh, I’d 'do it. all right, I would. 1 Let pie carry some of .your things.” . : ' ■ 77/, ...,../ No, no,”,cried-the man;; “you run away, like a good girl ; arid mind ! I’m not to nee you again, for a whole week. ’ ’ , / “ All right'!,” answered Jess, setting off down the rainy street at h quick fun, as if tp show , her,'‘willipg ,agreement to the bar gain ; while the coffee-stall keeper, ;with many a cautious glance around him, remov ed his stoek-in-tradeto the coffee-house near at'hand; and’was’Seen no more for the rest of the day ini the neighborhood of the rail way-bridge./ ”■ 7. 11. Jessica’s temptation; j? The bargain on Jessica’s' pari, was faith fullykept;. and though the solemn and sf lent man under the dark shadow of, the bridge looked out for her every morning as he served, his ''customers,,’ he caught nb glimpse of her wan face arid thin little frame. Blit! when the appointed time/was finished/ she presented, herself at the; .stall, with her hungry eyes fastened again upon the piles of buns and bread and butter, which were f'ast disappearing before’ the demands of . the. buyers. The- business was’at'its height, and the famished child stood quietly bn one side watching for the throng to melt away. But as soon as the. nearest church clock had chimed eight., she drew-a, little nearer to the stall, and at a signal from its owner she slipped between the trestles of stand, and tbbk up her former “position on the empty basket, To his eyes she seemed even a little thinner, arid certaifily mbre ragged than .before; and ./.he' laid a .whole bun, a stale one which was left from yester day’s stock, upon her lap, as she lifted the eup of Coffee to her lips with both her be numbed hands. “I -- 1 “ What’s your name? ” she askedjlboking up to him with 1 her keep eye's. “ Why ? ” he answered, .hesitatingly, as if he was reluctant to tell so much of himself; “ my christened name is Daniel.” “And where do you live, Mr. Dan’el! ” she inquired. “ ■ “Oh. come now!" he exclaimed, “if you’re going to be impudent, yoil’d, better march off. What business is it of yours where I live? I don’t want to know where you live, I can tell you.” “ I didn’t mean no offence,” said Jess, humbly; “ only I thought I’d like to know where a good man like you-lived. You’re a very good man, aren’t you, Mr Dan’el ? ” , “ I don’t knovy,” 1 ho answered, uneasily; “ I’m afraid I’m mot.” . Oh, bat you are, you know,” continued Jess. “ You make good coffee; prime! And buns too! And I’ve been watching you hundreds of times afore you saw me; and the police leaves you hlone, and never tells you to move, on. Oh, yes! you must be a very good man.” . ! Daniel sighed, and fidgetted about his crockery with a grave and occupied air, as if he were pondering over the child's notion of goodness. He made good coffee, and the police left him alone! It was quite true; yet still as he counted up the store of pence which had accumulated in his strong canvas bag, he sighed again,still more heavily. Ha purposely let one of his pennies fall upon the muddy pavement, and went on counting the rest busily, while he furtively watched the little girl sitting at his feet. Without a shade of change upon her small face, she covered the penny with her foot, and drew it in carefully towards her, while she con tinued to ichatter fluently to him. For a moment a feeling of pain shot a pang through Daniel’s heart; and then he congratulated himself on having entrapped' the young thief. It was time to be leaving now; but before he went, he would make her. move her bare foot, and disclose the. penny con-, cealed beneath it, and then he would wain her never to venture near his stall again. This was' her gratitude, bethought ; he had given her two hrealoasts and mo,re kindness than he, had .ever shown to any fellow-crea ture for many a long year; and, I .at the first chance the young jade turned upon him, and robbed him !’ He was brooding 1 over it pain fully-in his mind, when Jessica’s uplifted fac/e changed .suddenly, and a, dark flush ci/opt dyer, >per pale, cheeks, and,the/tears started,to her eyes. She stooped down, and picking up the coin from amongst the mud, she rubbed it bright and clean Upon her rags', ail'd laid it 'upon the/stall close to his hand, hut /W i thout speak’in g a /word. i Daniel jopk ea dbjyh, upon hei; solemnly and seai-chingr ly- .•j.i,'!,, r , ; „. f 7',“,'; '- !’-! '!;:!■- “AVhat’s this ? ” lie asked. .: , , > - ' ’ “ Please, '-Ma?. Daniel,”- r she answered, "“it dropped,“and you didn’t hear it’.”' ” '- ’“ J ess;” 'he'Aaid/sterhly,’«tell'me all abbx/t it.” “ 1 7- 7“ ■ ii; “ Oh, please-,” she sobbed,l never had a penny of my very.own butionoe; and it roll ed close to rnyffoot,;-and’ yOu.Rdidnlt -see .it; and I hidiit upi sharp; and then I thought how kind you’d been, and’hb'w gO'bd'tbb cof fee and buns,are, and 1 how, you let/m'e; ivarrli myself' at your , fire;, and epuidn’t keap ithe.pepny .any longer, never let ■me.pomp'again,! ligues.s.” . -m, : ■ 1; Daniel tunned away for a: minute, busying hi hisel f w i th' pik tti ng'■ h is cups 1 and san'cers into thc basket, wb : i 1 e ( Jessi ca' ;stob'd.by'trbth bling, With/ the large tears foiling sloy’lj* do wn her,! cheeks. /, The/ kniig./iiark:', corner, w. its. waijm dye; an.d ats! iffa grant smell of coffee; had been a-paradisejto her,-for these ;two brief spans of time; but she had been guilty : of"the sin which-would driveoher'ffpm ii. ; AlTbeyoiid the raliwajl arch. 1 the ‘'stfeefs stretehed'away, cold arid dreary, with.'ub, ffien'diy tp nfeet/^ey.’s, an, vvflfm eups.of ~cpffpe. tPi.refres.iiTher!; yet-,she: wasiionly. lingering isorrowfuily<to hear the words- spoken-which-should for-b'id heir to retufn , ' , to this; pleasant *Bpo^.-7-''•'Atr: Danipr turned roiin'd 1 ' fit’ last; aiid niet - her tka!rful gaze,yflth'.'a lobk/of'strange,einotiph iipbn.his/qijv'n. splemh/jf'ace, 7 7’, 7,7 .{-‘iJess,” hb: #aid, :“I„cpuld never have done it myself. But.you may*come here every Wednesday morning;as thiß is'a Wedheisdayj aiid there’ll always-be' ‘a cup' of coffee for yOU.” 1 * ,1;.',.:" ~ She thought he meant! that, h/e!'.could not hayp hidden-the/ penpy foot,.and she went away a little saddened,and subdued; notwithstanding: her great/.delight in the expectation ' of - such a treat’ every week'; While Damp)/ ‘poh'defih'g over the : striigglh that'must h’ave passed through hPfehi'ldtsh mind,,went pn liis/way, fi'bm. ti'me ,to time shaking his.head, .and muttering fp/himself, “ I ,couldn’,t ;hav,e .done it myself ': I never could have done it myself.” 1 - ' : i, - VISIT TO THE PYRAMIDS. -/ ■ ; , Gizeh and its, chicken;, ovens are / left/.lje hincl.. On ;we ,gp, now,...riding,, through/a beautiful palm grove, now, passing an Egyp tian village, with its low mud houses, lazy mbn and^dirty women and children: - Soon you reach the boundary-line which the‘rich vegetation bf the val/lfy/of the /Nile/and the eyef , Changing sands/,of the/ great .Lyh.ian desert, side, by, side, apt emblems ,of, life and death, keep, up.-a, perpetual warfare with eaoh- . other. :: So ’ marked is this boundary line; it; is but’a step-frofn onb to the oth'er. Thb 1 gray' forms dfthese gigantic sepuU chfarmohiimentsi /are now “just beforey’ou. They seem rapidly,/to .increase ,in size as you approach them. At a distance they appear perfectly smooth, and pointed, at the top; as you approach them they assume a more ragged’outline, for the “Caliphs-of fo.rmeT days Have' quarried ffom their ! enormO(is Sides, and taken''abou/t/tliir'ty/feet from /the top/of the largest one,,, They: stand ,at"/thb foot of the range of hills, 1 behind;whieh lie a vast ocean of,desert sands: .Upon-this rocky eminence they'are elevated about-one hum dr ed and fifty feet'abovb thb plain. : When they Were:built Egypt swarmed with inha hita/fi!tb,/and'they could not afford room fbr them.'on/ the feriilo/lands of /the valley, be sides thp dry sands of the ; desert was a/bet ter place for sepulchres., How we 'stand at their base; let us pause and contemplate THEIR I.M MEN SE .SIZE, ” The largest of the tbrWe how'before us is Cheops,'and indeed this is the king of all the pyramids in. point of;.size. Ithe, figures are quickly given. The base each side 7.82 feet. But tbiSj.is not-the, original size.. As we have said, the vandal'liands of the old Caliphs were'laid upon it, they tore off the gbaiiite easement that c'onslitiited the smooth exterior, and then removed layer after layer of the huge Hmestqne bioc,ks to build their palaces and mosques atferand Cairo,! They seem to have quarried, from, it with as little eompunetloh of conscience as though it had been only a'bed of native-rock 1 in the hill side. Its original base was 764 feet for each; side,' and its. height a little over '4BO .feet. But mere figures give no just conception of its immense magnitude. It is only by com parison'that we can.appreciate this moun tain massofstorie. The present base covers n early thirteen acres the origin al base was about thirteen and one-half acres'. It is only when we begin to compare it, with other struc tures that our astonishment is excited. If you are a farmer, imagine a lot of thirteen acres; many. a : man who has.thirteen acres thinks he has-qiiite a farm: Or, if you live in the’city, imagine a.good sized city lot, sixty feet deep.' On such a lot/you could put a large block of 'buildings, yet the base of Cheops would give you eighty, such lots! A church fifty feet by one hundred is a large church for a city, and yet on the ground covered by thisenormous pyramid you could place ono hundred and thirty such churches. Now imagine .this great .field of thirteen acres all covered f pver with huge .blocks,of stone, laid closely side by side, • Then begin and pile stone on atone, drawing in each successive layer a little, as the farmer does his' sheaves fin finishing his grain stacks: Oil you go, piling them higher and higher, in one solid mass, till you reach the top of the tallest forest trees, and yet you have only laid the foundation. Stone is lifted upon stone, layer piled upon layer; you have overtopped Bunker Hill Monument, reached. the height of the tallest church Steeples of otir bities, and yet our clod-tow eVing pile is not half completed.. Take one pi 1 the- churchps with a spire of one hun dred and fifty feet, and few church steeples are as tall as:that, then lift another ehiifch of the same : heighth, and balance it upon the top of that, then lift another high in the air, and set it upon the toprabst. point' of that, and then the golden-tipped point pf this last spire is not,as high by more than thirty.feet as.:the original.apex of.this bnor mous structure. Mbmask then in -astonish ment,!! ; ' 1 ■ '■ '■ , The stonfes.were brought from the- oppo site side of the valley of the- Nile, -twelve to fifteen miles distant. - i-The first -work waS’- to build la -giant- causeway or sroad. over which tb "transport ‘ the Stdn'e's. 'Hefcfdotus .'says'; otie hundred 'thousand I 'men; w’ere "ehaplciyed •.ten ; years oiitkis part "of tlie',*wqri£, -After this preparatory’work came tlie leveling of the, rocky foundation,'.ithe-'cutting (Out.of the subteranean'chambers,'and-the elevation of the huge mriffies- Of ‘stone, y iTtois wdrk; the same writer Issriys,occupied' fHree'Jhtitdred and sixty thousand-men-’twenty years. These mehwere drafted by the authority of a!fy rant sovercigti;ns men' aredrafted in time ofwiir, : e'ach'lbyy;'S^ryihg'a 1 certain number of months, then; others .taking their places- Such is, the structure,,we have!,come to examine, and; wMeh-now stands before us in .aliJits; huge -proportions. What Ah im mense labor! 'What'eountleßs years of hu man toil ! '"Could these''stones Speak, what Stories; of crushingidespotis'in, of hard-hand ed Slavish would tell!, ,’ But the hands that toile,dj apd the hearts - that ached .beneath this despotic,'labor have long do'dustm Centuries! of obli vion nave'EOlled' OVeMtheir silent ■ and 1 now unknowh-rcsting-pIhOTS. But here stand the astonishing moriumbnfB of their toil. Here they have stood of y ears defy ing the banicT of the barbarian, the storms; of the desert and theliglitnings of heaven. Their lofty heights have looked down with proud cbntempt' upon 'the changes of time,’ the rise,',arid Ml'bfhiatidris, and 1 smiled upon the conflicts, of 1 human '.'passions, as conquering armies ,have' cbme;to“deiuge;with blood, and heap with carnage the beautiful plains above which they lift their lofty heads. When iny Willie ivas sixteen he accident ally, (Iropped a valuable,watch info the well. His father was absent, fromhome, and>with out consultjng me, he resolved to recover the treasure. ', Providing/himself with a long-li andled rake, he gave if .in charge of his sister Jennie, two years younger,,and bidding her lower it to him when he 'Called, he stepped into, the bucket, and holding fast by the; ropey icominenced Ms r descent. .The bucket descended more rapidly than Willie expected, and strubk heavily against the side of. the well; the rope broke, and he -was thrown into the water. •; . •l.tlv'U . "Itifl “Mother, I shall be drowned! ”'was his despairing cry, which Jennie re-echoed with a wail of anguish. But -I, knew the depth of the water, and” shouted to him as' calmlv as ; l Would, “ Stand upon' your"feet, ‘Willie’; tlievater.isn’t over four feet deep.” . “ But I shall sink iu the mud,” said the poor boy, still strivingto keep himself afloat by .clinging, desperately to the /slippery stories. ' / //; j' ‘ ■ “No, Willie, there’s rock at the bottom. Let'go.the stories' arid sand“ ■'■■■- •The I ‘assurance of hard foundation and the impossibility of holding much longer to the slimy surface ,of the stone' wall, gave him confidence. - He felt for the 'bottom, plated his feet firmly upon it, arid to his great joy found that the water only reached his shoul ders. 1 sent- Jennie into the house for a new, strong rope, and- fastening/one end' se tufely, I lowered the other to be tied into the bucket, and we drew him up. ~ . : “ Oh, mother,” said the dear;, boy, when lie was rescued, “those were precious Words to me, ‘ There’s Rock at the bottom.’ I shall never forget them.” , ;Y,\ Two years after, in a commercial panic, my husband’s property was swept away, arid we were reduced to poverty. At first I bore bravely up. I did not prize'wealth and luxury for my children. I chiefly mourned for my husband’s disappointment and his crushed hopes, and strove 'by unflagging cheerfulness to chase away the gloom which settled so-heavily, upon him. I endeayored to assist him, not only by the utmost - econ omy in household expenses, but by devising plans for the future. ' Willie and Jennie were old enough to earn their-support, and even to assist in the education of the young children. I ‘succeeded in putting them 1 in the way to do this. I felt strong, and brave/ and-wondered at my husband’s despondency. But new reverses came.. The bank in which Jennie had deposited her quarter’s salary, which might possibly meet our ne cessities, suddenly failed and her mpney was lost. I could bear this too; she would- soon be able to replace it. Next, the school in which she taught was disbanded, arid Jennie had to take much Tower wages; but she still earned a little, and I said - cheerfully, “ We will not murmur ; half a loaf is better than no bread.” Next, Willie’s hand was disabled by- an accident, and'-he lost - his situation. My courage began to give why, but rallying myself foi one. effort, I resolved . to ,brave the reproach of, friends and-the world’s dread laugh; and seek remunerative employment now were fnPtßbii.f? 1 THEREIS ROOK AT. THE BOTTOM. for myself. It sorely tried my woman deli cacy, yet it brought the needed aid, and I battled with my wounded sensitiveness and again screwed up my failing courage. But the last blow came. Sickfaess sudden ly laid me prostrate. “I shall give up now; we must sink together,” was the language of my despairing soul. “Hear mother,” said Willie, when lie heard mv lamentation, “do you remember what you said -to me when I was at the bot tom, of thfe wfellf- I" fciive often thought of it of late. , I know we are in deep waters, but God has., promised; they shall not over flow- us; And is His word without founda tion?'Let us plahtourfeet on His promises, and stand firmly, We canhoiriink, for i/iere’s jtlock at the bottom. ’’ T heard, and took the lesson to my heart. T saw that T ‘had been clingihg'tb the slip peiry stbiies of' ftriman strength;. hnd ,self-de penden.ee, and.so when the Providence of Obd bade.me Jet- go 'tny-ihold-, I was-in l de kpaliir. Butthe badk -bf'heaven had hot fail- and tKprigh I it would,, not - overwhelm meyi neither, would I sink, for - There’s iock I ait thM bottom-’ ’ k > So, from the chaih'ber\whei , e pairi-ahd ill ness dicild: Me a; s&§drier j I'.send ,to each burdened and weary. child.ipf tjrpd who is tempted to feel t-hat all is lost, thekey-note bf‘my; hew arid grateful psalm. "Whatever sorrot? M.ay.be, plaritybiir feet ontherock of, ages, and .with ime “thank God and take courage.” . - • j Mt)EE WOiTDEEiTrL THA3TTHE TELE GEAPH., " You have heard the people talk about the telegraph; perhaps you have seen the wires, as they run'acifogs,the country, stretched’on high poles by the side of the. railroad. " What can' beiittore wonderful than the fact, that a •picc'e of intelligence'fcdn fro-sent from the city of , New',Ybrk’'in , 'ohc instant to the most, distant part .of , our .country ? , . Hun dreds of ■ people have. said,!When will'- won ders c'edse ” Surely this is the wonder of all tronders.V r .’' : .... (deorge and Mary Bateshad often wished to visitthe telegraph office. ! iDhey had heard of the strange doings bf- tfre yfondeidhl ma chine there. One day Mary lasked ;Georgehow it could be, that on -thosewires unseen, messages were passing fo ahd'fro ? ‘ ■■ 1 .“I do'not khoW hof it Is,’!replied George; ‘-‘father-says-it;is ,by, means ,of; electricity; and lightning : is electricity, and that is-the reason‘news "travels so quickly by the tele graph.” 1 . In the evening the children could talk of nothing biit the wonders of the* telegraph. “ Is it not thelinost wonderful thihg yoii ever heard of, father?” said Mary.’ “No,” replied her father;, “I.Have heard of things more wonderful.” “ But, father,” said' George, “you never heard of any message being, sent so quickly as by this means, have you?” “ Yes, I have, .my son, 1 !’ “ And receiving an answer as quickly ?” added George. ’ . “Yes, much sooner,’’replied his father. “Are you in earnest,;father?” said Mary, looking eagerly in his face. “Is it possible you know of a more, wonderful way of send ing .messages than by telegraph?” , } “I never was:more in earnest than I urn when I say ‘yes’ to your questibn.” ' “Well, father,” said .George, “do tell me what it is, and in what-respect it is better than the telegraph.” : ~ “Ini the first'place, ” said his father, “you do not have to wait to send your message while others ar.e attended to; fori your mes sage can go with thousands of others, with out hny interruption or hinderance.” “Yek, 1 that, is an. improvement,” said George; “for we had to wait for, some time, you know.” .: ;“And in the next place, ’’ continued his father, “there is no need of wires, or elec tricity, or any machinery. . And what is more wonderful than-all is the fact, that you need not always express) in words the riature of your message; 1 though it is/quite neces sary that you truly and sincerely desire a favorably reply to your request. , “Is there any account,published of this wonderful matter ?” asked,George. “Yes, there is, my son; and I hope your interest will not be diminished when I- tell you it is found in Me - ' u ln the Bible, ‘father ?” cried -both the children. “ Certainly; and if you both will get your Bibles, I will tell you where to find the pas sages confirming what I have said.” The children opened their Bibles, and found, as their father directed them, the twenty-fourth verse of the sixtyfifth'chapter of Isaiah, which Mary read, as' follows: “ Arid it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speak ing, T will hear.” 1 : - Next, George found.'‘arid read 1 the ninth verse of the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah: U _ ell thou c&llj and the Lord shall answer; thou sh'alt cry, and He shall sav, Here I ani.” ‘ J “Now turn,” said their father, “to-Daniel, ninth chapter,- twentieth, twenty-first; second, and third verses.” : 1 1 see, father, from these passages,” said Mary, “ that you mean prayer.” “Yes, said Mr. Bates; “and lam sure that you will both agrbe with me, that this mo ~?communication with heaven is more wonderful .thaix any otjher;. for, by this means, it wecalluponGod,with faith iri our Lord Jesus Christ; we shall receive an ’answer. ’’
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