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.