oft famitg
ARE THE CHILDREN AT MIME?
Each day when the glow of sunset
Fades in the western sky,
And the wee ones tired of playing,
Go tripping lightly by,
I steal away from my husband,
Asleep in his easy chair,
And watch from the open doorway
Their faces fresh and fair.
Alone in the dear old homestead
That once was full of life,
Ringing with girlish laughter,
Echoing boyish strife,
We two are waiting together;
And oft, as the shadows come.
With tremulous voice he calls me,
" It is night! are the children home T"
"Yes, love, I snsvrer him gently,
"They're all home long ago;"
And I sing in, my quiyaring treble,
,-.A !tong soaoft and low,. .
Till the old man drops to slumber,
With his head upon his band,
And rtell to myeelf the number
Some in the better land.. r,
Home, where never a sorrow
Shall dim their eyes with tears!
Where the smile of God is on them
Through all the sununer years!
I know !—yet my arms are empty,
That fondly folded seven,
And the mother heart within me
Is almost starved for heaven.
Sometimes in the dusk .or evening,
I only shut my eyes,
And the children are all about me,
A vision from the skies;
The babes whose dimpled fingers
Lost the vr,:ty. to my breast,
And•the beautiful unes, - the angels,
Passed to the world of the blessed ;
With never a cloud upon theta,
I see their radiant brows ;
My boys thtt I Ova to ft0doltl:
The red sword sealed their vows :
Inn tangled Southern forest,.
Twin
Twin brothers, bold and brave,.
They fell; and the flag they died for,
Thank God! floats over their grave
A breath, and the vision is lifted
• Away on wings of light,
And again we two are together,
All alone in the night.
They tell me his mind islailing,
But I sm I at idle fears;
He is only back with the children,
In the dear and peaceful years.
And still as the summer sunset
Fades away in the'Wesf,
And the wee ones tired of playing,
Go trooping home to rest,
My husband calla from his corner, "
"Say, love! have the children come ?"
And I answer with eyes uplifted,
44 Yes, dear, they are all at home !"
—Atlantic Monthly for November.
GRANDMOTHER'S NAP.
BY MRS. F. S. SMITH.
The old lady sat knitting upon a blue
yarn stocking, although it was a hot July
day, for she never forgot in the midsummer
time the pinching seasOn that was to come
when little "Ben" and Jessie would need
a warm covering for their tender feet.
The children were playing in the shadow
of an apple-tree just outside the oplin door,
and in sight of their grandmother, who was
left to watch them while mother and father
had gone to the neighboring village fur a
few purchases.
"Ben" was a mere baby, only two and a
half years old, and Jessie's fourth birthday
had just passed away.
They could look into the room where
grandmother was sitting, and feel a sense of
her loving care and protection while the-,-
played; and if Ben, little, fat, clumsy fel
low, met with a tumble and a bruise ' he
knew where to go for a gentle pat and kiss
to make all well again.
The children could see the old clock in
the corner, and hear it ticking the passing
time. They noticed the patch of sunshine
upon the carpet, with the white "Tabby"
lying there asleep, and now and then they
went to sit in the doorway with their aprons
full of grass, and little bits' of blue china,
that they had picked up for a baby-house.
They were, very neatly dressed,—Jessie
in her simple light print, and her stockings
white as snow, with soft kid ,shoes. Little
Ben still wore his baby frock, with bib-apron,
and his hair was brushed in one great curly
roll on the top of his head, from the crown
to the forehead. Jessie's was tied snugly
with blue ribbon to keep it from her oyes.
It would -be very nice to, write stories
about children that were always good, but
that is impossible. There is, nobody, in the
world who does not sometimes `do wrong,
and the only comfort is, that if we are sorry,
and try hard not to commit the sin again ' God
for Christ's sake will forgive us, and look
upon us just as if we had never gone astray.
When mamma kissed her little girl and
boy "good-bye" to-day as she was going on
her shopping-errand, she said, "You will be
good children, and not plague grandmamma;
and, Jessie, you must take the best of care
of your little brother. You can play here
in the door-yard, but you must not, open the
gate, nor come outside of it, remember."
The child said, "Yes, mamma," and when,
she had watched "Old a-ray" down the road
to the turnin g by the school-house, she and
Ben went back to the step and the shadow
of the apple-tree.
Grandmother got up from her easy-chair
and brought them each a doughnut from
the stone jar in the pantry, and sat down
again to her stocking, thinking of the
olden times as the needles flew around and
around, and the work grew beneath her nim
ble fingers.
The morning had been very sultry, and'
as - the noontide drew near the old lady was
so oppressed by the heat that she felt heavy :
and drowsy, and although she tried to keep
her eyes wide open,
and her hands at their.
full speed, her lids drooped, and the stock=
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1867.
ing and the hands together fell idly upon
her lap.
Jessie was a busy little body. She must
have something to do all the time; or mis
chief would be to pay. She sat still for a
minute, thinking, and then ran to ask grand
mamma for another doughnut. As she drew
near the door she heard the gate creak, and
saw that it was unlatched and swinging upon
its hinges.
As quick as thought, she planned a walk
outside. She must have known it was wick
ed, for she went first and peeped in at the
cottage-door to see if her grandmother wls
observing her. The old lady's head was
bowed upon her breast, and she was sleep
ing very sweetly. Everything favored. The
little girl did not stop to look twice, but
went towards .the gate, leading baby Ben by
the hand.
" Pitty out here l" said the little fellow,
delighted at the change and novelty.
Jessie made him run as fast as his feet
could carry him until they were out of sight
of the house. It was 'a down-hill road, and
seemed easy to their fresh young strength.
Half way to the bottom wee a stile' by the
roadside, and beyond; a 'meadow all golden
and white with buttercups and daisies. .
The children were in high glee as Itity
wont through the stile to pluck the beanti
ful.flowers. The grass' came almost up to
baby Ben's head, and the white and yellow
blossoms nodded to him such a glad welcome
that the little fellow laughed and clapped his
hands for joy. • For a while all
.went on mer
rily; onnugh4Bees s re bilttint around,
with their strange, lulling music.; big but
terflies with black win4g,s dotted brilliantly,
and little yellow ones, light and airy, were
flying about or, settling softly upon the flow
ers. The children forgot everything but the
beauty of tlke,scene before them. Jessie did
not once think of the dear old grandmother,
whONfdfildliivikeTrom her nap, and' be in
a gretit fright;' - ivben - - She Missed her dar
lings.
The little glrl drew pen on and on chas
ingthe bright insects, until -they reaLed-a
fence that separated them, from. the woods.
By this time the little feet were growing
weary, and the hot sun shone too fiercely upon
the uncovered heads. How refreshing the cool
shady woods looked ! Jessie was hesitating
whether to squeeze through the bars, when
a squirrel whisking along just beyond de
cided her, and she was over in a minute,
pulling the little brother after her. The
sqirrel led them a long chase, round and
round among the trees, until they were tir
ed enough. Besides, there were vines thick
with briers, that tthe Jessie's neat frock
and scratched little Ben's face; and the mos
quitoes made red itching blotches upon his
bare neck and arms till he cried for the dis
comfort.
"It isn't pitty any more. I want to go
home, Jessie," pleaded the little fellow, look
ing the very picture of sorrow.
Jessie tried to cheer her little brother,
though her own plight was forlorn enough.
The pretty blue ribbon that bound her hair
had been torn from her head as she pushed
through the thick bushes, and the smoothly
parted locks were tossed upon her forehead.
A rag hung here and there from her frock,
and one shoe was sticking fast in a marshy
place that was hidden by green grass and
mosses and ferns. Sheiat down upon a stump
that the woodman's axe bad left, and taking
tired little Ben in her arms, she soothed him
as well as she could while her own heart was
so full of trouble.
Jessie.tlikought yearningliy,of the dear old
cottage as she sat there, torn and heated,
upon the forest stump, resting little Ben.
"If only I had minded mother, and not gone
outside of the gate," said she, "Benny and
I would be cool - and nice now,, under the ap
ple tree."
There was the house-door still open, with
the sun-patch upon the floor, andpussy and
oTandmarama fast. asleep. The old clock
was ticking sa loud that she seemed to hear
it at this long distance. Little Ben's play
things were scattered around. The baby
house of blue china was upon the steps, and
dolly lay comfortably upon her bed of grass.
The home picture was too enticing, and Jes
sie started up to return.
It was hard tugging the little brotherover
the way that had seemed so easy in coming.
The meadow flowers had lost their attrac
tions far him. All he wanted was to be
"home with mother.," Who would bathe his
hot face, and give him cool drink, and lay
him to rest on his little snowy bed t
"I'm sure I shall never do it again,'-' said
Jessie, as she plodded over the hot road, up
the hill that had been so easy to descend.
Anybody who had seen the two neat little
creatures going down would never have re
cognized these as the same children.
Meantime, grandmother had waked from
her slumber quite refreshed,and as she look
ed' at the clock and saw the hands point
ing two, she recollected the children's din
ner. "Little dears !" said she, her very first
thought for their comfort. " How hungry
they must be I"
Then she went to the door to take a peep
at them, for they were "the light of her
eyes," as she often said.
No little girl and boy outside !
Down the road she looked, for the open
gate told its story. Only " Towser " was to
be seen, running towards home, and behind
him rolled the wagon with the father and
mother of the little children in it.
" Where are my babies ?" asked mother,
almost before the horse stopped at the gate.
She had her hands full of books and toys
for to dear little daughter and son, whose
hapfiness was her chief aim and pleasure.
Of course it frightened her when they
could not be found in the house nor about
the grounds. When grandmamma, told about
her nap, and about finding the gate open ;
mother seemed to know in a minute where
to look.
"You'd better jump into the wagon, fath
er," said she, "and go down the hill to the
meadow-side, and maybe you'll see them ;
they will be tired enough, I'll warrant. As
she has never run away before, I think I
shall have to pass it over this time. I don't
believe she thought how naughty it was!
Only I am so sorry she has begun to do
wrong things."
All this Jessie's Mother said to grand
mamma, for father was off in a trice after
his treasures
He sad , two miserable-looking little chil
dren dragging slowly towards him as he
drove over the brow of the hill, Jessie with
her 'one. shoe, and . a muddy stocking and
torn dress, and tumbled hair; and dear, lit
tle fat Ben, with tears and dirt commingled
on his red and swollen face..
Jessie sobbed her penitence out upon her
mother's breatzit, and received her forgiving
kiss, and little Ben cuddled up in Grand
mamma's lap after his bath, and fell asleep
with the white pussy hugged closely in his
arms.
Mamma did not whip Jessie ' but she talk
ed to her very seriously about her fault, and
'Made her understandbow surely sorrow fol
lows sin, especially the sin of disobedience.
The little girl promised to try and--be
worthy her znother s confi . d am
dente, if :she, ould
only trust her again. "Even if I am left
alone with little brother, and grapdtriamina
wants t. 4; sleep in her chair, I'll shut .tbe
gate if it Ries - open," she--said,
." and I'll
watch Benny carefully while grandmanirna
takes a good long nap.'
To be sure mother trusted her again`, .and
I know you will be glad to-learn that Jessie,
proved faithful, and , led 'baby-Ben into no
more eVil.—Sabbath' at Rome.
WHAT PRINCE DID AND SUFFERED'.
One day a friend .was wondering at the
sagacity of the dog, and his master thought
he •wotild show off his trick-4 in a still more
original style; and so, calling Prince g to him,:
be "Go home and bribg:Puss-to- me!"
Away bounded Prince to the farm-house,
and, looking about, found the you of
the two cats, fair Mis,trOs l llaiky, busy clean
g *hi te 411 e -.611 - tiviver
Prince took her'igently,up 'by the nape of
the neck, and cal-Agit her, hanging head and
heels together, to the fields, and laid slier
down at his master's feet.
"How's this, Prince ? • sai&- the, master;
"you didn't understand me. ,I _Baia ifie cat,
and this is the kitten. Go right back, and
bring the old cat."
Prince looked very much ashamed of his
mistake, and turned away, with drooping
ears and tail, And-went back-to. the house.
The ord. cal, was it,' - venerabLe, somewhat
portly old dame, and no small lift for Prince;
but he -reappeared with old Puss hanging.
from his jaws, and set her down,
a little dis
composed, bat not a whit hurt' by her unex
pected ride.
Sometimes, toAry Prince's skill, his mas
ter would hide his gloves or riding-whip in,
some out-of-the-way corner; and when ready
to start, would say, "Now, where have I
left my gloves? Prince, 'good fellow, run in,
and find them ;" and Prince would dash into
the house, and run hither and thither with
his nose to "every nook and corner of. the
room ; and, no matter how artfully they were
hid, he would upset and tear his way to them.
He would turn up the corners of the carpet,
snuff about the bed, run his nose between
the feather-bed" and mattress, pry into the
crack of a half-.opened drawer, and show as
much zeal and ingenuity asA,policemaß, and
seldom could anything be so hid. as to baffle
his perseverance. •
Many people laugh at the idea of' being
careful of a doi's feelings, as if it were the
height of absurdity; and yet it is a fact that
some dogs are as exquisitely sensitive to
pain, shame, and mortification, as any human
beincr. See, when a dog is spoken harshly
to, what a universal droop seems to, come
over him. His head and ears sink, his tail
drops and slinks between his legs, and his
whole air seems to say, "I wish I could sink
into the earth to hide Myself."
Prince's young master, without knowing
it, was the ineane of inflicting a most terri
ble mortification on him at one time. It was
very hot Weather, and Prince, being a shaggy
dog, lay panting,.and lolling his tongue out,
apparently suffering from the heat.
" I declare," said young Master George,
"I do believe Prince would be more com
fortable for being sheared." And so forth
with he took ,him and began divesting him
of his coat. Prince took it all very obedient
ly; but when he appeared without his usual
attire, every one saluted him with roars of
langhter, and Prince was dreadfully morti
fied. He broke away from his master, and
scampered °Thome at a desperate pace, ran
down cellar and disappeared from view.
His young master was quite distressed that
Prince took the matter so to beast; he fol
lowed him in vain, calling,"Prince! Prince!"
No Prince appeared. He lighted a candle
and searched the cellar, and found the poor
creature cowering away in the darkest nook
under the stairs . Prince was not to be com
forted; he slunk deeper and deeper into the
darkness, and crouched on the ground when
he saw - his master, and for a long time re
fused even to take food. The family all
visited and condoled with him, and finally
his sorrows wore somewhat abated ; but be
would not be persuaded to leave the cellar
for nearly a week. Perhaps by that time he
indulged the hope that his hair was begin
ning to grow again, and all were careful not
to destroy the allusion by any jests or com
ments on his appearance. -
Stich were some of the stories of Prince's
talents and exploits which Aunt Esther used
to relate to us. What finally became of the
old fellow we never heard. Let us hope, that
as he grew old, and gradually lost his
strength, and felt the infirmities of age
creeping on, he was tenderly and kindly
cared for in Memory of the services of his best
days—that he had a warm corner by the
kitchen fire, and was daily spoken to in kind
ly tunes by his, old friends. Nothing is a
sadder sight than to see oor old favorite,
that once was petted and caressed by every
member of' the family, now sneaking and
cowering as if dreading every moment a kijk
or a blow—turned from the parlor into the
kitchen, driven from the kitchen by the
cook's broomstick, half-started and lone
some.—Airs. Stowe's "Queer Little People."
A CALL TO YOUNG MEN
William W. Tyler, the son of Prof. Tyler,
after graduating at Amherst in 1864 with
the second highest honor in his class, com
menced his apprenticeship in the Ames Com
pany's works at Chicopee, where he now is.
studying the theory of the business and
learning to do with his own hands all kinds
of the work: We give this fact because
should like to see the example of young
Tyler imitated by two or three hundretrof
the graduates of our colleges No - field 'of
labor offers such prizes of wealth and honor
to liberally educated young men as the Me
chanic arts. None in which they can more
beneficially serve with their trained intel
lects the community and themselves. For
labor requires ap,d,the world is urgent in its
demands that herealter the men who work
with their hands also.WOrk '4‘ - ith 'their
brains. As inventors, as masters ofmachine
shops, as managers.bf faatories. as 'engineers
of great public works and as architects, our
educated young men, if they will learn a
trade, would find ample remuneration' and a
broad margin for the display of genius and
talent. No merchant i -no lawyer, no• physi
cian,—we'leaVe out tbd Ministry becatise it
is a vocation which requires a supernatural
call,—has such a chance for the fame which
lives from generation' to generation as the
man who links his name With a beneficial in
vention or'st;amt)sit4i- it:treat-pal:4k work.
It is the Fultons, the Stephenses; the Brun
nells, the -Bliss Howes• who now • build to
theniselfea - :Mantimente' more- 'durable than
b'ras's. Isto' kith in' tlmis:do „fy has a
household immortality*
wherever the, sewing-machine -lightens wo
man's work his -
The-great-want of--the--day is skilled-la
bor, that is ; trained- bands-direoted l by train
etl'brai 'And ' 6 y )t- 'l4ll who; hA v
ng been liberally educated,,,ttirn from the
orowd etirprofessipti - Sfttellator, trotVe • an_.; ,
firentic hsh s`oi a frge Yin (.1% - n&11 4 6 t us
ters of their business,. will find-themselves
befor4 emriy j - earB'in'p"ositione of li(Slior and
profit.
We are entering on a new era,-the-era of
labor. All over the world th'e'"
classes are seeking their. emancipation. In
this country, the walling zieti; though far
more advanced , thaw those of Europe, are
dissatisfied with; their. position and their
wages, and have organized a movement
for their own benefit. The movement
needs the direction which only educated
men can give it; men of brains, who are
themselves workers, and who, from living
with,workmen, know their prejudices and
their wants, are needed as leaders to give
clear expression to the inarticulate demands
of the laboring class, to adjust harmonious
ly their relations to capitaliSts and to ele
vate the laborers themselves'from the plane
where life is only a struggle for existence.
If a young man of education is a philan
thropist, the broadest scope for the exercise
of his vocation will be furnished to him, if
he will but identify himself with the labor
ing class. He must not stand without and
patronize them, they will not stand that;
but he must be one of them, able to say,
"My hand is as skilful and as bard as your
hand," and then they will let his brains di
rect their movements.
One of the ominous signs of the times is,
that culture is separating itself in thought
and action from the uncultivated masses.
Even in the churches this sign is apparent.
It excites uneasiness among those who be
lieve that one of the distinctive marks of
Christianity is that "to the poor the Gospel
is preached."
The highest service that a young man of
piety and education, if, he be not called to
the ministry, can render to his generation,
is, to enter a shop and serve a regular ap
prenticeship at a trade. Like the Moravian
missionaries, who sold themselves as slaves
that they might labor among the slaves of
an island in the Wdst Indies, and found their
reward in the conversion and love of hun
dreds, so the young man who has the spirit
to. turn from the glamour of false social and
professional distinctions, and identify him
self with the laboring class, will find not
slaves, but earnest, devoted men, :who will
gladly listen to his words if they be wise,
and follow his lead if he be a leaden—Watch
man and Reflector.
EVIL EFFECTS OF EARLY RISING.
It is tolerably certain, if early rising
makes• one stupid and• sleepy through the
day, that nature is protesting against an in
fringement on her laws, and . in the "Life of
Josiah Quincy" is a capital story of a joke
passed by Judge Story on two of his friends
addicted to this habit:
I have related, in telling my father's tio
ings as President, how he never failed to set
the sleepy students an example of rigid
punctuality at morning chapel. Be de
serves the less credit, for this example,
however, in that he . had contracted, long
years before, the habit of rising every morn
ing, winter and summer, at four o'clock, so
that he bad been long astir before the pray
er-bell rung out its unwelcome summons.
This excess in early hours, however like
every other excess, brought its penalty
along with it. Nature Would not be cheated
of her dues, and if they were not paid in sea
son she would exact them out of season. Ac
cordingly-, my father was sure to drop asleep,
wherever he might be, when - his mind was
not actively occupied; Sometimes, even in
company, if the conversation was not es
pecially abimatekand 'always:as soon as he
took bis seat in his gig, or "sulky," in which
he used, to drive himself, to town. It way
good 'lll6k atd thd - pod inStilrct of his
horses that carried him safe through
‘r
many years One clay
Mr. John Quincy Adams, who was addlu e ,i
to the same vice of intemperate early ris
ing, with much the same consequences, w a .,
visiting my father, who invited him to p
into Judge Story's lecture-room and hear hig
lecture to his law class. Now Judge Story
did not accept the philosophy of his tw,,
friends in this particular, and would
silt that it was a more excellent way to
take out one's allowance of sleep in bed, am
be wide awake when out of it—which he
himself most assuredly always was. The
judge received the two Presidents gladly ,
and.placed Ahem in the seat of honor on the
dais by his side, fronting the class, and pro.
ceeded with his lecture. It was not long be
fore, glancing his eye aside to see how hi s
guests were' irapressed by his doctrine, he
saw that 'they were both of them sound
asleep, and- he saw that the class saw it too.
Pausing a .moment in his swift career of
speech, he pointed to the two sleeping fig
tires and uttered these words of warnio,; :
"Gentlemen. yo h
see before you a melancholy
example 'of the evil effects of early rising!"
The shout of laughter with which this judi
cial °biter dictum was received, effectually
aroused the sleepers,-and it is to be hoped
that they heard and profited by the remain
der of •the discourse.
00-OPERATIVE KITCHENS
Co-operative kitchens are suggested as a
remedy .for the chronic evils of housekeep
ing. If a number of families living near to
each other would club together and furnish
a joint kitchen, and put it in the charge of
an efficient cOok and steward, then each fam
ily would be relieved from the worry of ser
vants, the trouble of marketing and the ex
-pease of, separate establishments. The food
would be of an improved quality, better
cooked - and furnished at a less cost than un
der the'old system, and, what is more, there
Would be more leisure and loth occasion for
fretting; a change- which would reconcile
the ladies of the family to the system. In
Paris you can send out for your meals, and
they are brought to you in a heated appara
tus; but then you must pay the keeper of
the restaurant his profit The co-operative
kitchen would furnish 'every thing at cost,
and the amount could be paid by assessment
on each family, according to the number of
mouths to be fed.
PUBLICATIONS OF THE
PRESBYTERIAN
PUBLICATION - COMMITTEE,
_ 1334 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
•
Just Issued.
roP, SABBATH SCHOOLS.
Beggars of Holland and Grandees of Spain.
By Rev. John W. Mears, RD. 477 pp., 16mo.
Eight Illustrations and a Map. $1.60
A history, of the Reformation in the Netherlands, il
lustrating the heroic constancy ofihe witnesses for
the truth in Holland, and the cruelty of their Spanish
persecutors. The efforts of Philip of Spain and the
Duke of Alia to crush out liberty, civil and religious,
from the Netherlands, and the resistance of the peo
ple, led by William of Orange, form one of the most
deeply interesting chapters in history. It is out that
our young people should understand,
Flora 'Morris' Choice.
By the author of "Bessie Lane's Mistake," "George
Lee," &o. 320 pp., 16mo. Four Illustrations. 1.25
In this tale the author contrasts simple, Christian
life with the conformity to the world so prevalent and
so debasing to society. It is designed for young hi
dies and their parents.
Shoe-binders of New York.
By Mrs, J. McNair Wright : 237 pp., l6mo. Three
Illustrations. 1.00
A thrilling picture of low life in New York City, il
luminated by the loving labors of a Christian woman.
It is shown that there is a power in the love of Christ,
borne to the degraded, to raise them out of the depths
of sin into a higher, holier walk.
Weakness and. Strength; or, Out of the
Deep.
By the Author of "Peep at Eaton Parsonage," &c.,
&c. 295 pp., 18mo. Four Illustrations. .85
This is a narrative that will chain attention. The
thought is made real that human strength is unequal
to the reform of the life, that it is weakness, and that
God's strength is equal to the work.
Ancient Cities and. Empires; Their Pro
phetic Doom.
Ste description below. A book that should have a
place in every library for Bible classes and older pu
pils of the Sabbath-school.
STANDARD AND MISCELLANEOUS
Ancient Cities and Empires; Their Pro-
Phetic Doom.
By E. H. Gillett, D.D., Author of "Life and Times
of John Hass," " History of the Presbyterian
Church," "England Twe Hundred Years Ago."
" Life Lessons," &c. Twenty-two Illustrations.
302 pp., 12mo. 1.7:3
Keith on the Prophecies did a good work for the
truth, but modern research has opened rich stores or
information then unknown, and a new book on the
fulfilment of prophecy is called for. Such a book is
this, enriched from many modern books of travel, and
fully illustrated by wood cuts.
Future Punishment.
By the late Moses Stuart. 225 pp., 16mo. - 9 " )
An examination of all the passages in the New Tes
tament in which terms relating to Future Punishment
occur, including the kindred Hebrew words of tin ,
Old Testament. This work is one of great :value, and
being entirely out of print has been reproduced. It
'will be found valuable by the popular reader as well
as by the scholar.
Life Les Sons in the School of Christian
Duty.
By E. H. Gillett, D.D. author of "Ancient Cities
and Empires," "Life and Times of John Huss,"
&e. 407 pp., 12mo. 1.50
A new edition of an already popular book, now first
issued by the Presbyterian Publication Committee.
Parental Training.
By Rev. William Bacon. 209 pp., 16mo. 60 ets.
This book was announce*: on our April list; but an
unavoidable delay occurred in the issuing of it. It is
now in press.
What Then P or, The Soul's To-morrow.
128 pp., large 32m0. 'Flexible muslin.
By the same Matho'r as "Life Lessons," and, like
that book, maw' issued in a second edition.
Wm. M. Christy,
Blank Book Manufacturer,
Statipner and Printer,
127 SO= THIRD STREET,
octal -2m pm - LA DE LPILLI.