fautitg THE CHILD SAVEL. flush 'd was the evening hymn; The temple courts were dark; The lamp was burning dim Before the sacred ark ; 'When suddenly a Voice thyme Bang through the silence of the shrine, The old man, meek and mild, The priest of Israel, slept; His watch the temple-child,— The little Levite,—kept; what from Eli's seuse was sealed, And 'The Lord to Baru-tail's sou revealed. 0, give me Samuel's ear I The open ear, 0 Lordl Alive and quick to hear / t:ach w hisper of Thy wo lisi k Like him to answer at T's , And to obey Thee firs : dp , .t. : ~ 0, give me SatNethatitill A lowly he._ .I:, , Nl}y will. Where in T,.' Or w att , - thirid . r Bytla -;. t'Otsii faith 11/ j ° : v life rri e t i d death -. 7 t .„ I r refidli;tith childlike eyes, l'ar*F wif.hidden from the se. I NO I'ATHNII? ;0 1 „was .once in an awful storm at sea; we (ell) fot Inany hours tossed about in sight of ~dangetisus rocks; the steam engines would weld( no longer; the wind raged violently, and around were heard the terrific roar of the breakers, and the dash of the waves, as they broke over the deck. At.this dreary and trying time, while we lay, as might be said, at the mercy of the waves, I found great comfort and support from, an apparently trifling circumstance, it was, that the captain's child, a little girl of about twelve years old, was in the cabin with us. He had come two or three times, in the midst of his cares and toils, to see how his child went on, and it is well known how cheering is the sight of a captain in such a, time of danger. As ,our situation grew Worse, I saw the little girl rising on her elbow and bending her eyes anxiously to the door, as if longing for her father's re-appearance. He came at last. He was a large, bluff, sailor-like man ; an immense coat, great sea boots; and, an oilskin cap with flaps hanging down on his neck were streaming ;with the water. He fell on his knees on the floor beside the low birth of his child, and stretched - his arms over he., but did not speak. After a little while, he asked if she were alarmed. "Father," the child answered, " let me be th ~ nd I shall not be be afraid if you takg.ge with you. 0! father. lot me be witIVIPTou !" and she threw her arms round his neck, and clung fast to him. The strong mau was overcame; ho lifted his child in his arms, and carried her , away . _ with him. How much I felt her departure! As long as the captain's child was near, I felt her to he a sort of pledge for the return and care of the captain. 1 know that in the moment of greatest danger the father would run to his child; I was certain that were theiressel about to be abandoned in the midst of the wild waves, I should know of not move ment, for the captain would not desert his child. Thus in the presence-of that child I had comforted myself, and when she went, I felt abandoned, and for the first time fear ful, ,I rose, and . managed to .:get on deck,. The sea and sky seemed one. It was a dreadful sight; shuddering, I shrank - back and threw myself again on my couch. Then came the thought: the child is content: she is with her father; " and have I no father?" 0 God I tht,nk thee I in that moment I could answer, Yes. An unseen father, it is true: and faith is not as sight, and nature is not as grace; but still I knew I had a Father; a Father whose love surpasseth knowledge. The thought caltned•my - mind. Reader, does it calm yours 'I Oh! cries the trembling soul, the storm is fearful ; the sky is hid; we walk in darkness and have no light. "Be still, and know that I am God," saith .the Lord ; be happy, and know that God-is thy Father. -Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dis mayed, for lam thy God." All things are under the dominion of Christ; and all things, yea oven terrible things shall work together for good to them that love God. Tempest tossed soul; as the child clung to her fa ther's bosom, so cling thou to thy God; is the moment of thine extremity he wilt ap pear to be with thee, or take thee to be with A WIFE'S INFLUENCE. A Christian woman gave her band to the man on whom she had already placed her tenderest affection. He possessed almost every grace, but was destitute of the grace of God. By spending the early part of his. life in a foreign land, and associating with those who bad the reputation of gentlemen, he had imbibed the fashionable habit in that place of using God's name in vain in com mon conversation. His new . and much lov ed wife sought to reclaim him. She knew the only way to his heart. She took advan tage of his love for her to win him to Christ, and she effectually succeeded. One day, as she was standing before him, in company with a few &lends- who were ",you could not, with you," she re- be more frightened er, while the tears -ifSBYTERIAN THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 1868. THE A gERIC AN ___,......■•■•'"'"_____________ ___ _ der to listening to his conversation, liosed, as he -'e name to f aive additional interest, ac,lrd saw her what he was relating, 11( Chist lie looked at his 1.-te raised in tears. lie was c onfl, is' chin, ~ o h r, band and gently pyA4:44).7 much [ - love said she, " if yontra." u that dear n alng c h ed . B e ite"vel. again pain Lay heart by-A te - a her forg i veness, was unable iiie iletrlii• In this and to proce4.., and.. way h e ex soon ,Ikety is now an • was ....' .., 1 , eminent ex_ save ..• 'PETTY THIEVING IN ITALY. inth plenty of money and little time—or t,asto perhaps—for studying either the lan guage of the people among whom we are Wandering, always meeting with one's own Countrymen, no matter how remote or un. heard of a spot one may have the curiosity to visit, it is little wonder, perhaps, that the poverty-stricken Italians should consider us —as they really do—mere "travelling money bags," and believe that it is a virtue to oblige said bags to leave the greatest possible amount of their contents in their own debt laden and tax-cursed country. It would be amusing, were it not so vexatious, and did not theirpeculatincr propensities extend to everything, great and Mall. One would not care were one only occasionally victimized, but "a constant dropping of water will wear away stone," and constant thieving wears away the most stolid patience of the suf ferer. Take the one article of wood, which is very dear in Italy. When you buys load, if some `one doe§ not watch it constantly until the last moment, you will, in one way or an other, lose half of it. You must first see that the man who brings it to your door throws it all out or he will carry away part of it. Then having se..n the wood fairly on the ground, it is necessary to keep one eye, at least, on the man who saws and carries it into the house, for theso men have small boys commissioned to play about the door, who watch for an opportunity and slip around the corner and into open doorways with one or two sticks at a time until they have accumulated several arms-lull for him. Or, as happened to a friend of ours, the man who threw off Ow wood, thinking himself unseen, thrust a large quantity down the cellar of the adjoining house, having already made an arrangement with the man who occupied it to return in the evening and di vide with him I Another lady friend havingordered a load, the man who drove the cart stopped a few doors off, and taking a large number of the sticks, laid them in the open hall, then went on, deposited <the rest at her house, drove back, and repldeing that which he had' stolen; made off with it. We were happily relieved from all thisan noyanee. The same kind friend who secured apartments fo- us in the house where he has long resided, sent out into the country in the autumn and engaged sufficient wood for us all to burn through the winter. Our good Padrone, who seems to have all of the best and none of the worst traits of an Italian, and who deserves to be an American, he is so honest and true, went to the station omits arrival, followed it to the house, and:had it immediately deposited in the cellar, and locked in ! then hired two men to "saw and pile it," lockingthem in also, going at an &mt. agreed upon every noon and night to let the* out. No chance for thieving there; and it did not occur to the Padrone that he must look after anything but the safety of the wood. But as the winter advanced, we began to complain that the wood was too long, wouldn't go into the stove, &e. The Padroue came in and looked at our basketful with round eyes, and said, "Why,'this has only been sawed once, and I paid the men for saw ing it twice I" With a troubled countenance he went hastily to the cellar and returned with a still more woful expression. Upon a close examination he found that the men had sawed the greater part of the wood only once, and OW it rip, then Ilaivi.ng. the re mainder in three pieces (each stick) had spread it carefully over the top of each pile, and it was impossible to see that all was not as it iihoUld be without pulling thew Tole down. ,After finishing each ,clay,q,. allotted task, they probably lay on the floor and slept until the. Padrone went .down to let them out. Upon cutting the sticks in two, they were not long enough to reach across the " andiron," so when other resources failed, we had the not too ekciting,amuse ment of planning and arranging a respecta ble looking and comfortable fire out of too long and too-short wood, but the poor Pa drone was more unhappy about it than were his tenants. When a few Americans happen to meet they usually console themselves and amuse one another by relating, the tricks played upon them, and warn each other of what is to be expected in that line in the futare. One day a friend related us a little incident which passed before his own eyes in Rome. A physician recommended an intimate ac quaintance of his to drink ass's milk, a com mon practice here among feeble and debil itated persons. The patient knew• how diffi cult it is to obtain what you are willing to pay for not only exorbitantly, but all that the vender asks —even then he will cheat you and lament that he didn't charge more, which if you had given him he still would have grum bled and deceived you if pOssible ; this gentleman ordered that the animal should be driven to his door every morning and there milked, congratulating himself on having for once, at least, been " smart enough for an Italian?' But—some little time after, a lady said to our narrator while chatting with h:m—" By the way, you are a friend of the invalid gentleman who lives opposite me, and I think I should tell you of a little scene which I witnessed while looking from my window a day or two since. Your friend thinks that he obtains pure milk, but the man who drives the animal to the door always I stations himself on the side next the street. keeping the animal between himself and the house. When he had half filled the dish into which ha milks, I saw him pour a quantity of water into it from a bottle which was concealed in his bosom." Of course, this little episode was imme diately communicated to the invalid, who was not so feeble but that he went down to the door the next morning, when the milk ing was going on, and at the right moment at a given signal, pounced upon the unstis. petting diluter, and caught him with the bottle in his hand. Fancy the tableau! —Corr. Boston Advertiser. Haman nature is ever very frail. No man ever had a stronger sense of it under the in fluence of a sense of justice, than Lord Nel son. He was loth to inflict punishment; and when he was obliged, as he called it, " to endure the torture of seeing men flog , gled," be came out of his cabin with a hur ried step, ran into the gangway, made his bow to the General, and, reading the arti cles of war the culprit had infringed, said, " Boatswain, dd your duty." The lash was instantly applied, and consequently the suf ferer exclaimed, " Forgive me, Admiral, forgive me-!" On such an occasion, Lord Nelson would look around with wild anxiety, and, as all his officers kept silence, he would say, " What! none of you speak for him I avast! cast him off!" and then add to the suffering culprit. " Jack, in the day of bat tle remember me I" and he became a good fellow in future. A poor man was about to be flogged—a landsman—and few pitied him. His offence was drunkenness. He was being tied up ; a lovely girl, contrary to all rules, rushed through the officers, and, falling on her, knees, clasped Nelson's hand, in which were the articles of war, exclaim ing, " Pray, forgive him, your honor, and he shall never offend again."" Your ace," said the Admiral, "is a security for his good behavior. Let him go ; the fellow cannot be bad who has such a lovely creature in his care." The man rose to be a lieutenant. CAN'T RUB IT OUT. Don's write there," said a father to his son, who was writing with a diamond on the windoW. " Why not ?" " Because you can't rub it out." Did it ever occur, to you, my child, that you are,daily writing that . which you can't rub out? You made a cruel speeeh to your mother the other day. It wrote itself on her lov ing heart and gave her Treat pain. It is there now, and: hurts her every time she thinks of it. You can't rub it out. • You whispered a wicked thought one day in the ear 'of your'pfaYmate. It wrote it self on his mind and t , ed him to doa wicked act. It is there now ; you can't rub it out. All your thoughts, all your , words, all your acts are written in the book , of . God. The record is a very sad'one. Yoh can't rub it out. '' • Mind mel What.you write on the minds of, othert will stay there. It eaa't be rub- bed • out any how. Buti glorions .uews Whacie written in God's book can be blot ted out: You can't rub it 'out, but ,the'pre cious blbod of Jess can blOt it out if' you ,are sorry, and will ask Him. Goy_ then-,-o—mrchild,-and -ask Jesus to blot out the, bad; things you have written in the book of GOd.' THE NEED OP A MEDIATOR. One of Dr. Bellows' recent letters from the Old World to The Liberal Christian con ,tains, the following passage : Another thing has impressed me deeply in corning into closer contact with Judaism and Mohammedanism, both profoundly theo retical faiths—the absence of a Mediator has not added, to their spirituality or their purity. Without dogma , and without ritual, (in our day,) they are both intensely formal, and superstitious beyond belief God is so far off' that their , disciples cannot correct the falseinipressiong given of him in one age by fresh consultation WithiliCirdage or Representative of , His - character, ,He is too high and holy to be investigatell ; Ife.paraly see thought and refuses sympathy. He re mains an unknown God. There is no pro gress in such religions,_but only retrograde movement and deterioration. Judaism and Moslemism saw their best days in their earliest years. Christianity alone has the elements of progress infit. Its human char acter, which it =owes to Christ's position in it, keeps it sympathy with earnest life ; and it derives strength, freshnesik and per petual re-birth from the fact that Christ is re-born in , the heart of every new genera tion, the 'same, yet ever more and better, because more deeply understood, Institu tions, especially . of a religious kind, must have some flux in them, or they harden into alien forms, and finally, become crusts and ,prisons for the soul. The Mediator is really the perpetual renewer of Theism. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son; and the Greek Church owes no Small part of its deadness and want of relation to the age to its denial of this essential and catholic truth. I wish those who think the' Christ a transient element in : the mono-theistic faith, would study Juda ism, (which is still a great fact,) and Mosle mism, (which:. is still mightier,) with refer ence to the unmoral and unspiritual influence proceeding from their purely theistic theo logy. I think it would throw great light on the question of questions now agitating the liberal Church, how far. we can have and maintain all that is best and most vital in Christianity and leave Christ out of the account. I am fully persuaded that the i working principle of the Gospel is the pe'r: son of Christ; and that a public religion would Cease to exist were He exorcised from the, faith,. and his rnediatorial office, first NELSON, slighted and then denied. He is, I doubt not, the perpetual Mediator and vehicle of religious truth; the High Priest who is never to give up his office while human life endures; and I am confirmed in tn.) confi dence that real progress and true spiritual life and growth will come just in proportion to the union of free thought and large liberty with tender devotion to His guiding life and * holy leadership. God, in purely theis tic systems, is either unhumau, that is, un intelligible, or else too human, that is, such another as ourselves, and without life to give. The mediatorial character of Christ and His religion supplies the true super-human— God brought close to human sympathies, but always above them. Christ alone keeps the soul from worshiping its own image, under the name of God. God made man in his image, but is fatal to reverse the pro cess. Christ prevents it. "HE OPT= HIS BELOVED SLEEP," 0, earth so full of dreary noises! 0, men with wailing in your voices! 0, delved gold, the wailers, heap! 0, strife, &curse, that o'er it fall! God makes a silence through you all. And " giveth His beloved sleep." Yea! nien may wonder.while they scan A living, thinking, feeling man, Confirmed in such a rest to keep; But angels say—and through the word We think their happy smile is heard, "He giveth His beloved sleep." For me, my heart that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the jugglers leap,— Would now its wearied vision close, Would child-like on His love repose, Who "giveth His beloved sleep." And friends, dear friends,—when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier you come.to weep, •` Let one most loving of• you all, Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall. He givelh his beloved sleep." BENEVOLENCE. At a missionary' meeting among the negroes in the West Indies, it is stated that the following resolutions were adopted . : I. "We will all give something. 2. "We will all give according to our ability." 3. " We will'all give willingly." At the close of the meeting a leading negro took his, seat at the table, anal with pen and ink, to put down what • each came to contribute. Many advanced to the table and handed in their contributions—some more, and some less. Among the contribu-' tors was, an ,old negro who was• very rich, almost as rich as the rest united. He threw down a small silver coin. " Take dat back again," said they chairman of the meeting, "Dat 'may be 'cording to de fust resolution, but'not 'cording to de second." The rich old man accordingly took it up and hobbled back .to his seat much en raged., One after another came forward; and all giving more than himself, he was ashamed, and again threw a piece of money on'tbe table, saying: Dar--take dat ! - - It was, a Valuable piece of 9old but , was given so ill-temperedly that the chair man, answered " No, sir; dat won't do ! Dat may be 'cording .to de fust and second resolutions, but hot 'coiding to de third !" He was obliged to take it up again. Still aligrY_ with himself, he sat a long time, until nearly all were gone; he then advanced to the table, and with a-Emile on his countenance, laid down a larger sum of money. ' " Dar 'now, berry well," said .the presiding negro, "dat will do; dat am 'cor ding to all de resolutions." 1' Reader, this simple narrative,contains in a nutshell the formula of benevolence. The first duty is to give; the second is to give according to your ability, and third, which is equal to all, is to give willingly.— . Copied from ept old London paper. "WE NEVER DRINK." On the stage werc seven or eight soldiers from the Eighth Maine Regiment. While at the stage house, in Lincoln, there came into the office a poor blind man—stone blind— slowly feeling his way with his cane. He approached the soldiers and said, in the gen tlest tone,— ".Boys, I hear you belong to the Eighth Regiment. I have gt son in that regiment." " What is his name?" "John lf " 0 yes ; -we know him well. He was a sergeant in our company. We always liked him." " Where is he now ?" " He is a lieutenant in a colored regiment, and a prisoner at Charleston." For a moment the old man ventured not to reply; but at last, sadly and slowly, he said,— "I feared as much. I have not heard of him for a long time." They did not wait for another word, but these soldiers took from their wallets a sum of money, nearly twenty dollars, and offer ed it to the old man, saying,—:- "If our whole company were here we could give you 'a hundred dollars." • The old man replied,— " Boys, you must put it in My wallet; for I am blind." But mark what followed. Another indi vidual in the room, who had looked on this scene, tO, I had, with feelings of pride in our soldiers, immediately advanced and said, " Boys, this is a handsome thing, and I want you to drink with me. I stand treat for the company." waited with interest for the reply. It came. "'No sii; we thank you kindly; we ap preeiate onr offer,. but we:never drink." The scene was perfeet----the first was no ble and, generous ; the last was grand.' —Hrs. E. B- Browning MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG ORICSEIP-3. BY S. EDWARDS TODD Very few young chickens, or young tur keys, are allowed to die for want of food, while immense numbers are seriously injur ed by cramming their little crops with food that they did not need, and also with un suitable nourishment, even if the birds were hungry. Most people seem to think that because the young of mammiferous ani mals desire nourishment as soon as they are born, chickens, and all kinds of birds, should have something to eat as soon as they burst their shell. But such a conclusion is an eg gregious error. Young birds of the air, and the young gallinaceous fowls, and turkeys, do not require food until they are more than twenty-four hours old. Strange as it may appear, a wise and wonderful provision has been made for the nourishment of the young birds. Just before the little chick bursts his shell, the yolk of the egg out of which the bird is hatched is drawn through an opening in the breast into the crop. This is a wonderful provision of dame Nature for maintaining the life of a young bird, until the animal instinct is so perfectly developed as to enable the young, animal to choose pro per food and to reject that which is hurtful, Birds of the air never feed their young ones until thirtynr .forty hours. after they are hatched. When I wet a small boy, and even after I became a man, I have wondered why it was that birds' did not feed their very young ones I kne* they not feed them, as I have watched = them until I was satisfied that they did not feed them the first atom of food until they were morethan one day old, when the little fellows would open their mouths for something to eat. The truth is, they were born with a crop brim full of the choicest quality of food—the yolk of the egg. After-that is digested they are hungry; and to appease the hunger of such little, delicate, unfledged existences, we cram their delicate crops with raw Indian meal !--which the di gestive powers of a horse can scarcely con coct into nourishment. It is a;mystery to me, that many professedly intelligent people ever raise a single chicken, or young tur key, by such management A newly-born babe can digest a dish of saddle-rock oysters, or a cut of porter-house steak, quite as easily as a young turkey or chicken can digest raw Indian meal, or kernels of wheat, or wheaten grits. Do you .know, my reader, why an old hen tries hard to steal her nest, and when she has stolen it why she will rear more chickens than the samewhen will be able to hatch, when one that has never' laid an egg supervises her laying and- sitting? The truth is, an "oldsetting-hen'!, is endowed more scientific, knowledge th'an many chem ists. When'an old hen can succeed in steal ing her nest, she will usually remain on it after the eggs are hatched, until hunger has prompted every little chick to start out in quest of food. After the yolk in the crops of the young chicks is • igested, another yolk should be provi. hem. ney 'need soft, tender, `dello: Thinlpfor a moment, how won. ccessfu our domestic pigeons or do • . in rearing their young ones— a pair.every month Were they to feed their yoling with. rough, hard food, they know they would never rear a single bird. For this reason they prepare "dove's milk" for their tender offspring by taking the choicest food they can find into their own crops, mingling water with it,, triturating, macer ating, soaking, and stirring it: up, thus pro ducing a rich, delicate fluid, which they dis gorge into the throats of the young doves. Taking the hint from this fact, we are taught the eminent importance of preparing soft, delicate, and nourishing food for young chickens. Graham flour, cooked and made thin with milk is one of the best kinds of feed for all kinds of young chickens or tur keys. Some Indian meal may be cooked with the Graham. But avoid all coarse and raw feed for young chickens. • Curd is still better. Everything that has been salted should be kept away from young chickens and young turkeys. BTEALLN4 113.111 T. We have already stated that little is now said on this subject, but we know the evil still to be a formidable one. Many are de terred from planting the best fruit trees for fear of those animal's, which are to them more formidable than the unruly street cattle, known by the. name of vagrant boys We have been apprehensive that the general si lence on this subject has not been favorable to the improvement of public opinion, and we cannot have a thorough cure until pub lic opinion becomes enlightened. It wtle only a few months ago, that we had the best . pear tree in our garden entirely stripped 01 its crop in a single night: Suspecting, from several circumstances, including his tracks in the soft soil, the man who did it, we sent a servant immediately to inquire of him ii he had any pears to sell, aware that he cal' tivated none of his own. We knew that if lit: were innocent he would merely say no, and think nothing further of the, matter, but if guilty he would know by the inquiry being made at that time that he had certainly been detected. The result was, that al' though a near neighbor, he avoided us for the next six weeks. Possibly this hint maY be of use to others who are similarly to* noyed. But the best cure, in connection with an impassable thorn. hedge, is a con sciousness on the part of the thief that the whole community will be against him, 3 ' police detectives, judge and jury. We hope this subject will not be forgotten by 13 °! . .` 1. cultural journals, 'that the proper educatf of the people at large on the subject Will u regarded as worthy ia.t.'attention.—Country Gentleman.
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