l e7'4jt fautiti ei.ittif
NUMBERS OF THE SORROWFUL.
'TRUST Him who is thy God and have no fear:
Ilis eyelids ache not with the drowse of sleep,
He cannot tire, and how should He forget?
Self-centred in His own infinity,
He that is all is cause and law of all
Alike in orb and atom infinite.
The worlds He soweth broadcast with His hand,
As o'er the glebe the sower soweth seed,
Till with Hie glory all the heavens are sown.
Yet perfect from His shaping fingers sent
The rain-drop glitters populous with life ;
And in a jewelled aurcoat wheels the gnat
Behold the yearly miracle of spring 1
The pinky nipples of the budding leaves
Break in a night, and, 10, the wood is green !
Art thou more bare than is the winter wood,
Or less esteemed of Him who gives thee joy
In the fresh rustle of the April leaves ?
And if thy prime be gone and thou lament,
" The leaves are falling and the fruit is done :"
Yet shrink not from the winter of thy days.
See, where the cruel winds have swept the trees,
And all are branching bare against the night,
There, in the barren spaces, hang the stars
So, when the leafage of thy days is past
And life is desolate, repine thou not :
God can give thee the stars of heaven for fruit !
Nor fear thou death. God's law is gain in loss
Growth and decay obey a common law,
The starry blossom and the seed' are one.
Think ! Thou wert born and fashioned for a world
Assorted to thy needs and thy delights,
And wherein thou hast dwelt and had content.
Not of thy strength or cunning didst thou come
into the fief and heritage of life,
And shall all fail thee in thy going hence?
The salt foam of the sea upon thy lips,
The blown sand of the desert in thy face ;,;
Shall these outlast the ages and not thee?
Content thy soul and comfort thee in this!
In God's design is neither best nor worst,
But ever-ordered change is ordered good :
In Him love rounds the infinite of might,
And He who giveth both to live and die
Is equal Lord of Life and Lord of Death.
—Gentleman's Magazine
OUR CHAT WITH THE LITTLE FOLKS.
We believe that children generally are
fond of dogs, if they are not cross dogs.
But whether they like dogs or not, we are
sure that they are all fond of dog stories.
These animals are very knowing; indeed,
they seem sometimes to reason, and we have
known some dogs which really appeared to
know more than their masters. There are
many very interesting stories about dogs,
some of which, from time to time, we hope
to give to our young readers. Dr. Beetle
says he has one for us now. So let us hear
what it is.
"HOW A DOG SAVED A SHIP
" A Yankee sea captain, when in France,
got a fine little rat-terrier, which he called
Neptune. He took the little dog to sea
with him, and he soon became quite a sailor.
They were sailing at one time in the Gulf
of Mexico in. a dangerous neighborhood,
and had to keep constant watch; for all along
the coast near which they were there are
long, low reefs and islands and bars, which
have caused the destruction of many vessels.
" One evening when the captain went to
bed he told the mate to be sure and call him
by three o'clock in the morning, for by that
time he expected to be within sight of a
light-house which was near a dangerous
reef of rocks called the 'Double-headed Shot-
Keys.' He wanted to look after the ship him
self at that dangerous place. After the cap
tain went to bed, the mate went into the
bin for something, and while sitting there,
being very tired, he fell asleep. The men on
deck having no one to watch them, also
fell asleep one by one, and even the Spanish
boy at the wheel, whose business it was to
steer, was about half asleep.
" Meantime the wind changed, a stiff
breeze sprung up, the sails were filled, and
the good ship ploughed through the ocean
briskly, straight toward the Double-headed
Shot-Keys. The little Spanish boy, half
asleep at the helm, knew not of the danger,
nether could he see ahead from where he
stood, for the great sails concealed the view
of the light-house ; but Nep, good sailor
that he was, discovered that land was near;
he smelt it, and he saw the light. He
rushed down to his master's state-room,
and barked, and jumped up to him as he
lay in his berth. Get down ! be still, Nep
said the sleepy captain. But Nep would
not be still—be only barked the louder.
Be still,' said the captain again, and he
pushed the dug away. Again the faithful
little fellow jumped up, pulled his master's
sleeve, and took hold of his arm with his
teeth. Then the captain thorou t ,ahly roused
began to think something must be the mat
ter. He sprang up, and Nep ran forward,
barking, to the companion -way. The cap
tain's head no sooner came above the deck
than he saw what was the matter. Right
ahead was the fearful rock and the light
house, and the ship plunging toward it at
the rate of, nine miles an hour! lie seized
the helm, the ship struggled, swung round,
and when her course was shifted, she was
so near the rock that in three minutes more
she would have struck and been a wreck.
The sleeping sailors were roused to their
duty, and the astonished mate rose up from
his nap on the chest, to learn that but for
the faithful' dog the waves might have al
ready closed over them.
"Do you wonder that the captain thinks
his dog is worth his weight in gold ? He
has been offered large sums of money for
him, but money cannot buy him. He does
not go to sea now. Nep went as long as
his master went, and now he makes himself
quietly useful at home by catching all the
rats in the neighborhood."
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 6, 1869.
That was certainly a faithful dog. He
was more faithful than the sleepy mate
The only way for either men or clogs to
succeed is by faithfulness. Hold on and
hold out, and success is yours.
" That I know to be true," says Mr.
Short. " I've watched folks a good deal in
my time. I've seen some who are lazy,
who sleep when they ought to work. They
never get along well. I've known some
who get discouraged very easily. They
are not the ones to push their way through
life. Then I have known others who kept
on trying until they succeeded. I read the
other day about a boy of this sort. Here's
the story.
" THE PERSEVERING BOY
" ' Sir,' said a boy, addressing a man, ' do
you want a boy to work for you ?'
" ' No,' answered the man, have no such
want.'
The boy looked disappointed; at least the
man thought so, and he asked : Don't you
succeed in' ottinA- a place?'
" have asked at a good many places,'
said the boy. ' A woman told' me you had
been after a'boy, but it is not so, I find.'
" Don't be discouraged,' said the man, in
a friendly tone.
" Oh ! no, sir,' said the boy cheerfully,
because this is a very---big world, and I feel
certain God has something for .me to do in
it. lam only trying to find it.'
" Just so, just so,' said a gentleman who
overheard the talk. 'Come with me, my
boy;
. I am in want of somebody like you.'
He was a doctor; and the doctor thought
any boy so anxious to find his work, would
be likely to do it faithfully When be found
it; so he took the boy into his employ and
found him all that he desired." .
Yes ! God has something for everYbody
to do in this world. It's "a very big world,"
and there's room enough for all. - •
A GOOD .STOAL
A very amusing anecdote is told Ofanlrish-!
man who happened to be in Paris a short
time, ago, while three crowned' heads 'of _Eu
rope were there on a visit tophis Imperial
Majesty Napoleon. These distinguished
persons were the Emperors of Russia and'
Austria and the King of Prussia. One day;
having thrown aside all state ceremonial,
they determined to see the sights of the beau
tiful city on the Seine, for their own delec
tation, and for that purpose' they resolved
to go mcog., so as not to be recognized by
the people. However, in their stroll through
Paris, they went astray, and meeting a gen
tlemanly-looking person, who happened to
be an Irishman, they politely asked him if
be would kindly direct them to' the Palais.
Royal.
" Faith and that I will, my boyS," says
Pat, at the same time taking a mental pho
tograph of the three " boys. " This way,
my hearties ;" and'so they were conducted
to the gates of the Royal Palace; and the
Irishman was about bidding them farewell,
when the Emperor of Ru ma, interested and
pleased as much by the genuine politeness
of Pat (and what son of Erin was ever yet
deficient in courtesy and politeness ?) as by
his naivete and witty remarks, asked him
who he was. -
" Well," rejoined their guide, ." I did not
ask you who you were, and before I answer
you, perhaps you would tell me who you
may be ?"
After some further parleying, one said :
"I am Alexander, and they call me Czar or
Emperor of all the Russias.'
" Indeed," said Pat, with a roguilala twin
kle in the corner of his eye, and an incredu
lous nod of the head (as much as to say,
" This boy is up to Codding me a r ,' bit!'y
"And might I make bould to ax who ye
may be, my flower ?"
They call me Francis Joseph, and the
Emperor of Austria." ,
" Most happy'to make your acquaintance,
Frank, my boy," said the Irishman, who,
thinking he was hoaxed, and in his despair
ing efforts to get the truth, as he conceived,
out of any of them, turned to the third one,
and said : " Who are you ?"
"They call me Frederick William, and I
am King of Prussia."
They then reminded him that he promis
ed to t(11 them who he was, and, after some
hesitation and a mysterious air of confi
dence, Pat, putting his hand to. his mouth,
whispered : " I am the Imperor of China,
but - don't tell anybody." -
THE PEARL...
BY JENNIE WREN
One afternoon Daisy was eating some
oysters, when • suddenly a pert youngster
jumped out of the plate, and, landing on the
spoon, began to speak.
" You little cannibal," said he : "do you
know what you arc eating? You are worse
than the heathen in the Sandwich Islands,
who live upon missionaries."
"But you are not a missionary," replied
Daisy. " You are not a man, and you don't
preach."
"Yes, I am a missionary; for I am always
preaching. My whole life is a sermon; and,
if I am not a man, I am very much like
one."
" What a fib," interrupted Daisy.. " You
are nothing but a little soft gray thing, not
worth listening to; and I an] just going to
eat you right up as fast as I can."
" Stop, stop!" sighed :the oyster; "I Came
from Yankeeland, and. I must ask one ques
tion before I die. What is a man ?"
" A man—why, a man is papa," said the
hesitating Daisy.
" Yes; and papa is a being with a heart,
and lungs, and liver, and stomach. And so
am I."
"Dear me, dear me, what an impudent
creature I Show me your lung", and heart,
and liver, and stomach, if you wish me to
believe you." So the oyster made a little
martyr of himself, and dropped all into
pieces on the spoon, in order to satisfy
Daisy's curiosity.
A little black piece said: "I am the liver;
the stomach is hidden in me."
And a fair-shaped piece said: "I am the
heart, and take the blood from the lungs."
"But I don't see any lungs," said Daisy,
perfectly bewildered by this unexpected
lesson in physiology.
" The lungs are those thine, finely-streaked
plates which make a fringe at the very edge
of my shell."
" Very well, Messrs. Lungs, and Heart,
and Stomach, and Liver, come right into
my mouth, and let me see how you taste !"
"Oh 1 wait! wait! wait 1" squealed the
oyster, in a faint, frightened voice. " I want
to tell you something else. I make pearls.
I made that large one you admire so much
in mamma's necklace." .
"Impossible l" said 'Daisy. "How can
you make pearls without. any hands?"..
"Oh ! I just take a jelly that comes from
my skin, and feed it with sunbeams; and
when the jelly has had plenty of sunbeams
it grows into a pearl. ' If you don't believe
me, look at mamma's necklace, and you can
see the sunbeams glancing and gleathing,
beautiful prisoned rainbows of color. It is
the easiest thing in theivorld to make'pearl,
if you only know how. have made so
much that I didnftrknow what to do with it,
until finally I pearled :myihouse all overin
side. That proved to be'a very brilliant
proceeding, for I- have never -been in dark
ness since; even when I , shut up for the
night, the prisoned sunbeams gleam in a
faint way, mitring the' ruostiovely_twilight."
" You dear little artist," said Daisy; "-if
you really made my lavorite pearl, you are
too smart to live = you are;good enough to
eat." And ; so saying, she tossed •the, oyster
into her pretty mouth, and smashed 4 all to
pieces, with her shining teeth.
0131"SCHOLARS' WATCH US. '
was early at my: post' one 'Sabbath.
morning, but LfoundJohn'there before me.
Hitipeenliarly happy smile told me of great
,joy and peace Within,' for he had some
monifitif befOre Opened his heart to the Lord
Jesus. After a, few words of greeting, I
said, John, I am ;010 to see 'you are so
near the Saviour 'this n:Lorning.' ' Yes, Ido
feel very happy ; but hovi r did you hnow ?'
Ah, I can tell as soon at§, leek into' your
'face when you are. happy,' I said. .He
smiled, and looked 'as he wished to say
Something, but could hardy speak it. What
is it, m 3 boy ?' I asked; 'did' you. 'Wish' to
'tell 'me something?': Yes,' teacher, I was
going to say, I can always tell ;when you are
close.to JeSus, too.' How can you tell ?' Oh,
by your lboks one way, and then by the
way you talk to us.' -Just then the rest of
the class•came and'iwiE, talked no Mere ;.
but those few words kept speaking to me
allthe day, I can tell when: you are sear to
Jesus. . I had often scanned each face, to
see if love of Christ lighted up the eye,
or if the tear of penitence welled .up from
the heart: So long bad I been with them,
so well had.l .kno w n them, that , 'thought I
could tell. muchiof the heart' ,by the out
ward appearance., But John had turned
,the tables. He had 'been watching me,—
could tell when I was far from Jesus. I
knew that my-pupils watched my conduct,
to see if precept and example went togeth
er; knew they watched my words when
I spoke of Jeshs; but I knew not that they
watched my very;looks. I had not expec
ted this. I had not thought they felt the
difference whenl came with a heart warmed
by communion with Jesus, or with a closely
studied but' prayerless lesson. ThoSe few
words made me •think, if I would have.them
close to Jeans, I must be there myself.
Teachers, our, classes are watching us. Do
they see that we are near to Tempi ? We•
must lead, if we wish, them to follow."
The Rive. '
ENGLISH GIRLS -IN FOREIGN CONVENT'S.
The Paris Correspondent of the London. Post
reminds the public, of the number of English
young ladieS who become Roman Catholics abroad,
and then later enter occasionally a convent, and are
lost to their parents and the world. They have.
almost invariably, a little fortune,.which becomes
the property of the convent on their taking the
veil. The financial part of the business is all
arranged beforehand. 't I will narrate how two
sisters, born and educated as Protestants, caused
so much grief, to friends at home. The:daughters
are sent to a school, a sort of retreat, where the,
young ladies of Italy are Prepared for-the world
by an education which is almost exclusively re
ligious, and where useful mun&ne knowledge is
ignored. The mother does not visit the girls of
ten, but sends them all they want.- Two years
pass over when mamma.„ who .is now in Paris,
hears from Augusta that she has-become a Roman
Catholic. Anne is called to Paris immediately,
but is so inexplicably, unhappy With her mother;
looks ill, and weeps, and has fits, and prays to the
Virgin Mary. W ell, it comes out that she
wishes, to become a Roman Catholic too
Mam
ma. says ' No r The girl runs away from the ma
ternal home and. cannot be traced. As time
rolls on Augusta informs her mother that she has
decided on retiring from, the world, and has al
ready gone through-the probationary steps. Au
''-
tmsta is of acre, and is mistress -of 8,0001. All
that the mother has heard of the daughter since
is by a letter which reaches her periodically on
the saint's day of her name from the pretty little
nun (she was pretty, at all events, but not bright
minded), saying she is very happy, has never re
pented, and prays eternally for ber family. The
other young lady turns up later in America,
where she has become a nun also. Now, here is,
the curious part of it. The superior of the con
vent in America applies to the mother for money
for a dowry, as this young lady,, on coming of
age, contrary to expectations, has no claim on the
father's will. Anne had been horn after the will
was executed, and the father had not made any
provision for the youngest girl. This was not
pleasant to the finance minister of the little
queendom where Anne had been taken in, as
8,000/, was, expected on her, coming of age. No
one knows to this day how she got from Paris to
the United States. Up to the time I lost sight
of Mrs. X— she had not paid a farthing, and
declared she did not intend to do so. What
way be the life of these girls—how they may be
treated—will never be known to the outer world.
The letters they write to the mother are evident.
ly dictated. I believe most English ministers
plenipotentiary at foreign courts in Catholic coun
tries have stories to tell about British subjects in
foreign convents."
(Prepared weekly for the American Presbyterian.)
LESSONS ON PAUL—XV.
Acts xiv. 28; xv. 1, 4. Gal. ii. 1-40.
How long were Paul and Barnabas in An
tioch ?
What position in the Church would they
hold ?
,In'what relation did the Church of Antioch
Stand to the Church, at large ? •
Shortly after the return of the Apostles what
great controversy arose ?
Who had come froth Judea to Antioch ? •
What did they teach ? What was theirl,pur
pose ?
Were these men regularly commissioned as
teachers ? • •
When they required men to be circumcised,
what test was it ? .'• ,
ifeaninc , of " after the manner of Moses!' ?
What heretical sect adopted this doctrine?
Whit, was the first characteristic of the separ
ation-between the Jews and Gentiles ?
• Whatwould be abhorrent to the in.. all
Gentile religions? • 3
How were proselytes regarded, by. both Jews
and• Gentiles? ii• ,
What was the sec,ond. characteristic ?
Whntidid the Jews think of Greek and Ro
man philosophy?
Was it studied in any Jewish schools ?
What was the third characteristic ?
In 'What respeets , did the Jews ',mingle freely
with Gentiles .?•
In what respects keep themselves separate ?
What did they consider particularly . unlaw
ful?
Was , it expressly forbidden in 1 the law of
Moses?
What separation in a modern heathen nation is .
somewhat like this ? •
What important point in reference to the Gen
tiles had previously been settled? •
What did the Apostles say at: that, time ?
• What was the precise point. now?
How did Paul's recent: journey.bring up, this
question.?,
Were the Jewish Christians 'sincere' in their
opposition.to Paul? • , •
• .What'had our , Saviour said which they might
quote on •their. side ?,
Matt. , XT: 24 26. . •
Of what sect were th9se l Judaizing, teache'rs ?
What did Paul think of their doctrine ?
Meaning of " - dissension"? What does it
imply ?
- -
Meaning 'of " disputation"'?
What would be the natural result among the
Syrian' Christians
How could the question 'be decided ?
What was determined at last ?
Why was it, proper that it should be decided
at Jerusalena ? '
Why were Paul and Barnabas appointed as
delegates
What account does Paul himself give of it ?
How to reconcile the two?
Who was one of the "certain "other" men-•
tinned as accompanying Paul ? •
Where else is he spoken of?.
Meaning of "being brought on, their way by
the Church" ?
Was this usual ? Was it merely an act of pri
vate
friendship ? -
Through what provinces did they pass ?
Why is not Galilee mentioned ?
When .and by ,whom bad the Gospel been
preached in. Phenice and Samaria?
Is it probable they had heard before of the
tidings brought by the Apostles ? r ''
How
Hew many times before, since hiS conversion,
had Paul been in Jerusalem? •
On what occasions ?
What, changes had taken place since his last
visit?
ARE WE-CHRIST'S?.
BY Ray...THEO. CUTLER:
Hundreds of our readers have lately sat
down to commemorate the love of Jesifs at
His table. We have just, come from that
scene where we, saw Him by the 'eye of faith.
At His bidding we prepared' the " guest
chamber where He might eat the supper
w.th his disciples."
His countenance seemed to present itself
to Sometimes when we sit, at twi
lig,ht, by the fireside,the face of an absent
friend, or of, a dear departed child comes
back and looks into ours. Upon that sweet
visage are the traces of Gethsenaane's
struggle and Calvary's agonies. Meekness
broods on that face like a dove, and love
that is stronger than death. , Holy, harm
less undefiled Himself, He has come to-day
to " be a guest with one, who is a sinner."
As that countenance of the Divine Re
deemer looks in upon me at these sacra
mental seasons, thuse lips that tasted the
myrrh and :the 'gall seem to say to me :
"Thou art, mine ! I redeemed' thee with,
my blood. Dive for me ! Whatsoever ye
do, do all for, the glory of God."
Christ seems to say that every strength
,ened. power or the every faculty of the
mind, - improved and purified by His grace,
and every impulse of the converted heart,
must all be tributary unto Him. " Yo are
mine !" I redeemed you unto myself and
for myself, to be_a peculiar people,
.zealons
of good works.
Brethren, this ownership of us by our
blessed • Saviour-±asserted and confessed
anew ,Eit, the. commtinion-table--should go
everywhere , with us.. Sometimes a,bribe is
offered us to betray, Him; and then that divine'
countenance seems to look, upbraidingly
upon us ; as if He said: "Betrayest thou the
Son of Man with .a kiss ?' Sometimes we
are strongly tempted into sinful complian
ces-and self-indulgences, then that holy face
rebukes me with the 'tender reminder : Ye
are mine. Wound me not in the house of,
my friends. Be ye not conformed to the
world. If ye love the world more than m e ,
ye cannot be my disciples.
At another time we are computing the
cost of some coveted luxury. "Itis so su
perb; just the thing we want. Can we af..
ford it ?" Bat a hand seems to be laid on
our purse, and in that hand is the mark of
the nail that pierced it on the cross. "This
is mine. This silver and gold belong to
me. The Lord hath need of it. It is more
blessed to give than to receive." When a
genuine Christian hears this plea falling on
his conscience, he drops the longed-for lux
ury at once ; it is too costly for him if it
costs a sting of conscience and the frown of
Christ. The dearest articles in Christians'
houses are those which are purchased out
of the stealings from Christ's treasury.
Shall I help that poor woman again ? She
has come , to me already, and here she is
again with the , same sad story. "Yes," re
plies the loving Jesus; "inasmuch as ye do
it unto her ye do it unto me." And so there
is not a struggling church that asks for our
dollars, or a mission-school that demands
our time and our gifts, or a hungry orphan
that asks for a• share of our loaf, or a drunk
ard erigaged in his awful daily combat with
the bottled devil, or a neglected child run
uitig wild to ruin through broken Sabbaths,
:or a heart-broken harlot. sighing for re-ad
tniSsion ! to her , lost home and hopes—not
ori6 of all thae Cali come up before except
the face of our Master comes with them,
saying : "Ye are mine. Do this for me.
Help them for my sake. Ye are not your
own. No man liveth to himself, or dieth to
himselfi , but, living or 'dying, ye are . the
Lord's. Glorifylne With , your bodies and
spirits and substance,which are mine."
What is the title of possession which our
Redeemer holds? We are His by-gift. On
the night of His betrayal, Jesus prayed :
"Holy Father, keep through thine own
name those whom thou haat given me. I
will that they whom thou.halt given me
be with me where I am."
.*We are His by. the purchase of His redeem
ing blood. "Ye are not your own ; ye are
bought with -a price." "Ye were not re
deemed (i. e., ransomed) with corruptible
things, as silver and !gold; but witti the
precious blood of a Lamb without blemish
and without spot:" " I lay down my life,"
said Jesus, "for my sheep."
We :are Christ's by - Voluntary choice.
We gave ourselves to 'Him. when we chose
Him as our Saviour, and joined ourselves to
His band of disciples. We took upon us
that yoke which grace makes easy, and that
burden which loVe makes:light. We made
our solemn vow to be His for time and for
eternity.
- Now, if we are Christ's by divine gift,
and by -Christ's own redeeming purchase,
and by our own free surrender, then " what
manner of persons ought we to be ?" Christ's
am' I? , Then my brain is His to plan for
Him, and my hand:is Histo toil for Him, and
my ininostheart is His to adore and to love
him. Christ's am I? Then must I strive
to be pure as He is pure, and holy as He is
holy. "How can Ido this great wicked
nessand sin against Him ?" Then .must
provide things honest
,in • the sight; of all
men. Therobe of Jesus is large and ispot
lege ; but He never lends it to cover kna
very; or to , screen a lie. A man can't be
honest at the communion-table who cheats
inhis. daily business., Let a man, beware
how he takes the bread which typifies the
broken body of Jesus, into lips that are be
fouled. with falsehood. 'We may all well
shudder at the thought that "verily he who
betrayeth me sitteth with me. at the table."
Finally, milli. Christ's?, Then this one
thing must I do :- forgetting those things
which , are behind; I must press toward the
, mark of'the prize of His , high calling. "Go
a little deeper,"' said the:-wounded French
%soldier tothe surgeon who probed his left
'side forth bullet;," g6a, little deeper, and
yourwilli find my; emperor:" So should we,
thh '-blood-botight Solloivers , of Jesus, say:
•" , Go deeper—deeper than gold, or lands, or
houses, or kindred ; go to the very core of
thy heart, and yoti will find my Saviour!"
HOW IvIUQH IS LEFT?
A correspondent, of the Rural New Yorker
has ,as article on the • agricultural value of
our public domain, from which we clip the
folio wing
" Without •counting Alaska, the United
States has still 1,500,000,000 acres of public
lands." Why not count Alaska ? It cannot
be more superlatively worthless than ninety
nine hundredths of this niuch heralded " bil
lion and a half acres of public land." It is
high time that our careless, credulous, spend
thrift, 'sovereign: people, should know, not
merely the extent, but the quality of their
possession. • ;
Of all this vast public domain, not one
acre in three hundredis worth one dime for
farming purposes: Exeepting a few fertile
valleys on the Pacific slope, which generally
have' to be irrigated in order to produce
crops, there is no land fit to farm on west of
a line drawn through Texas, Kansas, Ne
braska, and Minnesota.
This line will . leave at least one-third of
those States "out inthe cold"-or more de
finitely, out in the dkv, for drought comes in
to spoil what sterility has spared. West of
this line, and east of the Continental divide,
(the Rocky Molintains,) most of the surface
is covered with wild grass generally short
And thin, but which gets a start the last of
May, and , for three or four months affords
some pasture, but early frosts render it
nearly worthless. Its value as a grazing re
ginn has been greatly overrated. This year
stock would fall away rapidly, if left on
prairie grass after the middle of September,
These dry prairies will not bear close feed
ing. Cropped like New York pastures, they
will run oat, and there is little hope that
they can be renewed with tame grasses.
Our cheap, fertile, arable lands are mostly
all appropnated,—bought up by actual set
tlers or speculators,--and this fact should be
speedily known to all w ho intend to go West
with a little money toprodnce hothes.