(Is 4faiuull eittit. MAGGIE READING HER TESTAMENT. BY MRS. S. E. HENSHAW Mamma, when our Lord was a dear little child, Did His mother love Him as you love me? Do you think that He played, and prattled, and smiled, And love to clamber upon her knee ? Did she clasp Him close and hold Him long, And call Him her own, her heavenly boy, And softly humming, sing over the song That the angels sang on that night or joy? Did He say His prayers when he went to sleep, Asking God's care for His mother dear? Did He ever grieve? Did He ever weep? Did He ever wish? Did He ever fear? Did He always think, I wonder, of God? Was He always praying, and never gay ? Was He always reading the Holy Word? Was He not ready sometimes to play ? His playmates, too, I wonder about— What were their games when all together ; 1 cannot think He would run and shout As other boys do in the pleasant weather. Who taught Him, I wonder, His letters to know, Those letters that look so strange and hard; I wonder if He to school did go ? And how early He learned to read the Word. Did he utftlerstaad what the prophets meant? Did he always feel sure that He was the Lord? Did He always know that He had been sent To open the straight and narrow road? He had brothers and sisters the Bible says— James, and Joses, and Simon, and Jude; I suppose when they quarrelled, one look of His Would make them ashamed, and make them good How did He look? I sometimes say, And would He have spoken had I been there ? Spoken and not have sent me away? Of His notice allowed me a little share? At night, I suppose, when all were asleep ; The angels came and talked with him long; Bade Him His faith and His courage keep, Sang Him to sleep with a heavenly song. He lived at Nazareth on the hill; Do you think He gazed at the sunset glow, And sighed at the glory so bright and still, And the toil in the carpenter's shop below? Thirty long years He waited apart; Thirty to wait, and three to teach! All of that time was He searching His heart? So long getting ready to heal and to preach ? I shall some time know, for now above, Where the golden gates in splendor shine, The Lord of Light and the Lord of Love, He sits in a glory all divine. An divine and with naught of earth, Save the glorious form which He took away ; Yet I'm sure he remembers His lowly birth, And I know that He hears when children pray JOE BENTON'S COAL YARD. Just imagine the loveliest May morning that ever was made ; the sun so lately risen that his long, golden hair still trailed on the bill tops, and the robins singing such extravagant songs, that the violets opened their blue eyes as wide as possible, and asked a neighboring lilac bush, if he ever heard of any one getting drunk on sunshine. There must have been something very curious in the air that morning, for when little Joe Benton sprang out of the back door, with hair as golden as the sun's, and eyes as blue as the violet's, and voice almost as sweet as the robin's, he took one long breath, shouted a vigorous hurrah! but seeming just as crazy as the birds, he didn't feel at all relieved till he had climbed a tree, tarn ed three somersaults, and jumped over the garden fence. " Saturday, too," he said to himself, as he rested upon the other side, " was there ever anything so lucky? Now I'll have just time to run down to the brook before break fast, and see if our boat is all right. Then I'll hurry home, and learn my lessons for Monday; for we boys are to meet and launch her at nine o'clock, and the captain ought to be up to time." So Joe's feet clattered vigordusly down to the little cave, where the precious boat was hidden. But as he neared the place, an exclamation of surprise escaped him, for there were signs of some intruder, and the big stone before the cave had been rolled away. Hastily drawing forth his treasure, he burst into loud cries of dismay, for there was the beautiful little boat, which cousin Herbert had given him, with its gay sails split in a hundred shreds, and a large hole bored in the bottom. Joe stood for a moment motionless with grief and surprise ; then, with a face as red as a peony, he burst forth,—" I know who did it ! the mean scamp I It was Fritz Brown ; and he was mad, because I didn't ask him to come to the launch. But I'll pay him for this caper," said little Joe, through his set teeth ; and hastily pushing back the ruined boat, he hurried a little further down the road, and fastening a piece of string across the footpath, a few inches from the ground, he carefully hid himself in the bushes. Now the good, honest sun was afraid something was going wrong, and he held a little cloud handkerchief over his eyes, but Joe did not notice it. He only knew that he was very angry and miserable, and he wondered that he had ever thought it was a pleasant morning. Presently a step was heard, and Joe eagerly peeped out. How provoking, in stead of Fritz, it was Cousin Herbert, the very last person he cared to see, and hastily unfastening his string, Joe tried to be very quiet. But it was all in vain, for Cousin Her bert's sharp eyes caught a carious moving in the bushes, and, brushing them right and left, he soon came upon little Joe. " How's this," cried he, looking straight into the boy's blazing face; but Joe an swered not a word. " You're not ashamed to tell me what you were doing ?" "No, I'm not," said little Joe, sturdily, THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JULY 1, 1869. after a short pause; "I'll just tell you the whole story," and out it came, down to the closing threat, "and I mean to make Fritz smart for it." " 'What do you mean to do ?" " Why, you see, Fritz carries a basket of eggs to market every morning, and I mean to trip him over this string, and smash 'em all." Now Joe knew well enough that he was not showing the right spirit, and he mut tered to himself, "Now, for a good scold ing," but to his great surprise, Cousin Herbert said quietly :• " Well, I think Fritz does need some punishment; but this string is an old trick. I can tell you something better than that." " What'll cried Joe eagerly. " How would you like to put a few coals of fire on his head?' " What, and burn him," said Joe, doubt fully. Cousin Herbert nodded with a queer smile. Joe clapped his hands. " Now, that's just the thing, cousin Herbert. You see, his hair is so thick, he wouldn't get burned much before he'd have time to shake 'em off; but I'd just like to see him jump once. Now tell me how to do it, quick !" "If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat ; •and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink ; for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head, and the Lord shall re ward thee," said cousin Herbert, gravely ; " and I think, that's the best kind of punish ment little Fritz could have." Joe's face lengthened terribly. "Now, I do say, cousin Herbert, that's a real take-in. That's just no punishment at all." " Try it once," said cousin Herbert. " Treat Fritz kindly, and I am certain he will feel so ashamed and unhappy that he would far rather have you kick or beat him." Joe was not really such a bad boy at heart, but he was now in a very ill-temper, and he said sullenly :—" But you've told me a story, cousin Herbert. You said this kind of coals would burn, and they don't at all.. " " You're mistaken about that," ' said his cousin, cheerily. " l've known such coals to burn up a great amount of rubbish—malice, envy, ill-feeling, revenge, and I don't know how much more, and then leave some very cold hearts feeling as warm and pleasant as possible." ‘; Joe drew a long sigh. " Well, tell me a good coal to put on Fritz's head, and I'll see about it." "You know," said cousin Herbert, smil ingly, " that 'Fritz is very poor, and can seldom buy himself a book, although he is extravagantly fond of reading, bat you have quite a library. Now suppose,--ah I well, 1 won't suppose anything about it. I'll just leave you to think over the matter, and find your own coal; and be sure and kindle it with love ' for no other fire burns so brightly and so long ;" and with a cheery whistle cousin Herbert sprang over the fence and was gone. Before Joe had time to collect his thoughts, he saw Fritz coming down the lane, carry ing a basket of eggs in one hand, and a pail of milk in the other. - For one minute the thought crossed Joe's mind, " What a grand smash it would have been if Fritz had fallen over the string," and then again he blushed to his eyes, and was glad enough that the string was safe in his pocket. Fritz started and looked very uncomfor table, when he first caught sight of Joe, but the boy began , abruptly, " Fritz, do you have much time to read now ?" " Sometimes," said Fritz, " when I've driven the cows borne, and done all my chores, I have a little piece of daylight left; but the trouble is, I've read everything I could get hold of." " How would you like to take my new book of travels ?" Fritz's eyes danced. " Oh, may I, may I ? I'd be so careful of it." " Yes," answered Joe, " and perhaps I've some others you'd like to read. And, Fritz," he added, a little slyly, "I would ask you to come and help sAil my boat to-day, but some one has torn up the sails, and made a great hole in the bottom. Who do you sup pose did it ?" Fritz's head dropped upon his breast ; but for a moment he looked up with a great effort and said, " I did it, Joe; but I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. You didn't know I was so mean, when you pro mised me the books ?" " Well, I rather thought you did it," said Joe, slowly. " And yet you didn't," Fritz couldn't get any farther, for his cheeks were in a perfect blaze, and he rushed off without another word. " Cousin Herbert was right," said Joe to himself; "that coal doe's burn ; but I know Fritz would rather I had smashed every egg in his basket than offer to lend him that book. But I feel fine ;" and little Joe took three, more somersaults, and went 'home with a light heart, and a grand appetite for breakfast. When the captain and crew of the little vessel met at the appointed hour, they found Fritz there before them, eagerly trying to repair the injuries; and as soon as he saw Joe, he hurried to present him with a beau tiful little flag which he had bought for the boat, with a part of his egg-money that very morning. The boat was repaired, 'and made a grand trip, and everything turned out as Cousin Herbert had said; for Joe's heart was so warm and full of kind thoughts, that he never was more happy in all his life. And Joe found out afterwards, that the more he used of this curious kind of coal, the larger supply he had on hand—kind thoughts, kind words, and kind actions. "I declare, Cousin Herbert," said he, with a queer twinkle in his bye, "I think I shall have to set up a coal-yard." The little school-boys, who saw that Joe was always happy, studied the secret too; and at last, if any trouble or dispute arose to see how soon all the evil passions were burnt to ashes ; and how quickly the young some one would say, "Let's try a few of Joe Benton's coals," and it was astonishing hearts grew warm towards each other. Come, little Tom, Dick, and Harry, who have ever so much rubbish to be burned, and whose hearts are all in a shiver with the cold, unloving looks you gave each other this morning; won't you try, just for once, to find out the happy secret that lies in little Joe Benton's queer coal yard ?—Relps Over Bard Places. ENCOURAGE THE CHILDREN TO GIVE. Most persons are apt to ignore or despise the ability of the little ones to help sustain and carry forward a great work; and it is my firm: belief, that not a few instances have transpired of humiliatine , '' failure, where triumphant success might have been secured by a judicious use of the children. A. case, for illustration, came under my own observation recently. In a visit to one of the counties in Southwest Missouri, where I organized a county Sunday-school convention, I noticed that the Sunday-schools were languishing for want of some inspirit ing music; and T suggested that they get an organ to assist them. But I was told that effort after effort had failed, and that ten dollars could not be got in the town for such purposes. I insisted that they were mistaken, and was asked to propose a plan. This I did, by first exciting a desire for it in the minds of the little ones, and then putting them to work. Two weeks later I received a letter, informing me that one hundred and fifty dollars had been raised and forwarded to St. Louis for the organ, and also that the ardour, as manifested by the workers, had communicated itself to the community, and an increase of fifty percent. in the attendance was the result. I need scarcely add, that the friends in that locality no longer ignore that element of power. This second gift from the Sixth street Mission Sunday-school, of five dollars, to Miss Chloe Lankton, to help her in her great work, following as it does so quickly upon their noble New Year offering to Jesus, is but the legitimate result of impressing upon their minds the fact that_the,y can do some thing, and arousing in their_ tender hearts the noble desire to do that something. Who can say how many that shall yet cast their crowns at Jesus' feet, will trace the origin of that bliss back to the humble gift of one of those dear lambs of the fold, thotigh,that giver may wear the garb of deepest poverty? Again, I repeat, encour age the children to give.—S. S. World. ANECDOTE OF DISRAELPS WIFE. A story is told of Lady Beaconsfield's de votion to her lord and his ambition, which if true, is a touching commentary on the unselfishness of womanly affection. On one occasion, when Disraeli was Chancellor of the Exchequer, his wife accompanied him to the Parliament House. It was "Budget" night-414 most momentous of all sessions to the Chanceller of the Exchequer, for he had to unfold his financial plans for the en suing year to a critical and .not too easily satisfied House. Disraeli, as he took his place in the carriage, was wholly wrapt up in his subject and his figures : it was a crisis in his career; if he failed this night, he might well take Wolsey's advice to Crom well, " Fling away ambition ! " His wife entered the carriage also, softly, so as not to disturb the thinker. In getting in, how ever, her finger was caught by the door, which, shutting upon it, jammed it terribly and held it so fast that she could not with draw it. She uttered no - cry, made no move ment : her pain and agony must have been intense. There was the finger crushed be tween the`'panels : to speak or to endeavor to withdraw it would disturb her lord— would drive the figures and arguments from his head. So there stayed the finger, every moment more painful, until they reached the House ; nor did Disraeli bear a word of it till long after the famous debate of that night had become history. All that evening the faithful wife sat in the gallery, that her husband's quick-glancing eye might not miss her from it : she bore the pain like a mar tyr and like a woman who loves. No wonder that by her husband's act she has become Viscountess Beaconsfield : still less wonder that, as Lady Beaconsfield, she is honored in England's proudest castles, and has taken her place in the hereditary socie ty as naturally and easily as if she too had been " to the manner born." BUSINESS AND RELAXATION. Every few days we read in the papers, that such a man, lawyer, clergyman, mer chant, or general student, "broke down" by too much mental labor or study. This may be the case where study, or mental ef fort, or business is not properly mingled with relaxation, recreation, and physical ex ercise. It is not often, however, that health is impaired by too much study,linless that study is pursued at the expense of proper relaxation and, bodily exercise, or at unsuit able hours, and under injurious stimulants. The German student is rarely injured by study, though, on an average, he stulies quite as diligently, and more hours of the twenty-four, than we do. But he takes,good care of the house, for the sake of the tenant that inhabits it, and carefully observes inter vals and hours of relaxation. These are as necessary to health as food and drink. Cicero ' who was feeble in his youth, be fore he learned the means of preserving health, or traveled from Rome to Greece, to strengthen his physical Powers in the gym nasium of the latter, in his-oration for the poet Arcbfeus, has the following passage, which gives a clue to the manner in which he relaxed his mind: " You will doubtless ask, Gracchus, the reason of my being so delighted with this man? It is because be furnishes me with what relieves ray mind and charms my ears, after the fatigue and noise of the forum. Do you imagine that I could possibly plead, every day, on such a variety of subjects, if my mind were not cultivated by science, . 2 Or, that it could bear being stretched to such a degree, if it were not sometimes unbent by amusement ? " By science, this great man undoubtedly meant that the fund of knowledge which be was constantly treasuring up from his vari ous reading for discharging the duties of his professional life; and by amusement, those poetic effusions, which such men as Arch us sent forth. Here, then, we see the secret of Cicero's accomplishing so much, and veri fying his prediction in another place, that " he was writing for the latest posterity." Nor is health often lost by too much work. It is admitted that there may be, and un doubtedly are, cases where too much labor breaks down the constitution. But these are exceptions only to a general rule. Adam Clarke, the commentator, and emi nent Oriental scholar, says: "Too many irons in the fire ! you can't have too many —shovel, tongs, poker, keep them all mov ing." This is the way to live. Up and be doing. If you wish to know whether the blood circulates, give it a trial. Breast the northern blast; lay hold of the axe, the saw, the hoe, and you will soon find the blood circuulating, the lungs playing, the heart beating. Are you afraid of poverty ? Visit the poor. See their wretched condition ; no bread to eat, no clothes to wear, scarcely a bed to sleep in. Spend a few hours in visiting such families, and you will be likely to return contented with your lot. The great evil of our day is, men are too much afraid of work. Manual labor is their abhorrence. They will do anything else ; run of errands, brush out rooms, clerk it, Measure tape, sell bonnets, anything and everything that does not involve real hard work. This they hold as the Egyptians did Shepherds—" an abomination." Agriculture and horticulture are among the best means to preserve health, or to re store it when lost, or to rejuvenate the ex hausted mind' The benefit and pleasure of these employments have been sung by poets, and praised by philosophers, from early age. Never give up business, or relinquish an occupation, so long as you can attend to it. -Most men, when they retire from business, are restless and unhappy, and soon drop off; while those who hold . on to their business not only live, but keep bright and healthy. There are some remarkable cases exactly in point, in Boston, at the present time. " Fa ther Cleveland," as he is familiarly called, is one. At the age of ninety-seven he is ac tive, and about his missionary business ; and when he gives that up, he will go up himself to heaven. William Ropes, lately deceast.d, at eighty four or five, was straight and fresh, and ac tive as he was at, forty, and visited his store as regularly as he ever did till a few days before his death. The late Josiah Quincy, at the great age of ninety, was strong and bright. Franklin, by business, reading, and mingling with the young, preserved his sprightliness to his great age. Mr. Emm ons, at ninety, was bright as a boy. Rev. Dr. Storrs, now of Braintree, at the age of eighty-one, performs regular pastoral duties without a colleague. While there are a number of this class, both laymen and clergymen, there have been vastly more, who, having relinquished busi ness, have soon died. Hence, our advice to every man is, hold on. "Live, while you live." The case of Dean Swift, that eccentric and wonderful man, was just the reverse of those named above; and Dr. Samuel John son ascribes his fatuity to two causes : First, to an early resolution that he would never wear spectacles, which precluded him from reading in the decline of life; and secondly, to his - avarice, which led him to exclude visitors, or to deny himself company. In thili manner he deprived himself of all food for the mind; hence it languished and col lapsed into idiocy. He died in a hospital which he had himself founded, for just such persons as he became. Perhaps one of the most illustrious exam- . ples the world has ever seen of a proper commingling of study and relaxation, was found in Sir Isaac Newton, who, at the age of eighty-four, was as bright and active as he was at forty. John Wesley was another example of mingling labor and recreation. He tells us how he and his brother Charles used to roam the fields, while at the same period they studied and labored intensely. Church Union. PLEASURES OF DUTY. One of the most pathetic elegies in• the English language is that which was uttered by Edmund Burke over the loss of his son, and which is embodied in a paragraph in "A Letter to &Noble Lord." The eloquent outburst of his indignation at the. thought of his wounded honor gives place to the melody of a subdued and manly grief, while he speaks with pride of one "who was made a public creature, and had no enjoy ment whatever, but in the performance of some duty." Let it be granted that a father's pride ad ded something to the exquisite finish of the portrait, and yet who can fail to admire the lofty ideal which he fondly believed his son to have exemplified ? It is certainly a high reach of attainment for any man when it can be said of him that he_has "no enjoy ment whatever but in the performance of some duty." It implies a loftiness of aim, a strength and cheerfulness of self-denial, and a measure of devotion to the welfare - of mankind, which are the proper and genuine outgrowth of Christian conviction alone. , It seems the full relization of compliance with the counsel which Shakespeare puts into the lips of the disappointed, dying Cardinal Wolsey : "Let all the ends thou aim'et-at be thy Country's, Thy God's, and Truth's. Then, if thou fall'et, thou fall'st A glorious martyr!" To find enjoyment in duty seems to some impossible, if not absurd. They would fee: far more confident of finding an oasis on the desert. They would as soon think of ex tracting the materials of an Eden from Al pine clifs and snows. This "stern daughter of the voice of God"—as Wordsworth apostrophizes duty—is no favorite with them. Their satisfaction—and of what mul titudes is this true—must come from the gratification of some sensual appetite or some earthly craving. Higher aspirations, if they ever existed, are extinguished, and they live and act, think and toil, for self alone. But how does even the providential con stitution of the world, to say nothing of the revealed law of love and mutual obligation, utter its protest against such an abuse? The universe is mutually balanced—system against systems, world against worlds, one _particle against all other particles—till not a single atom exists that can be left to itself, isolated and alone,—till, in the words of, the poet, " Let earth, unbalanced, from her orbit fly; Planets and suns run lawless through the sky." And the social and moral systems find their emblem in nature. The la* of love here answers to the law of gravitation there. Give it absolute supremacy, and perfect moral order is established and maintained. Yet it never can be tiff within each con scions spirit there reigns that aim or pur pose which finds the highest gratification in the discharge of duty alone. It may be that a skeptical disposition to ward- duty exists in some minds in such strength as to lead them to regard 'the epi thet, "pleasures of duty," as simply extrava gant. They can read poems like Akenside's "Pleasures of Imagination," or Rogers' "Pleasures of Memory," or Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope," with some confidence that the thing set forth in the title is not a pure fiction. But "pleasures of duty" would seem to them almost as much a misnomer as the delights of pain. They would regard the very term as "a root out of dry ground, without form or comeliness." And yet we believe that it remains, and would be possible, for a genuinely Christian poet to gather up out of human experience illustrations that might be wrought into "Pleasures of Duty," to enrich his theme and enforce his argument, compared with which all that the genius of Akenside, Rogers or Campbell has gathered or wrought out would be almost like an Arab's tent to a Solomon's temple. A half-heathen poet like Pope may have caught a.half glimpse of the sublime reality when he wrote: "And more true joy Dianellue exiled fe&, Than Caesar, with a Senate at hie heels." But a half-heathen poet will not suffice here. One is needed who can enter into the sympathies of the Christian soldier endur ing hardship for the Master's sake and glory ing in it; who can go back and sit down with David Brainerd in his Indian cabin, or' with Judson in his prison, and share their heavenly communings and high hopes , one who knows something of the conscious peace of the good Samaritan and the re flected smile of duty done, filling the heart with light and peace. Such a poet, in the portraiture of spiritual realities, would sim ply bring to view what actually exists, but remains obscured from the apprehension of thousands by their own blinding impulses or mistaken apprehensions. GOOD STORIES. At the last meeting of our Presbytery, when tliesubjectOf Scripture giving was under discus sion, Bro. W. said early in his ministry, he and that brother were conducting a meetino• c in which there was much religious interest. At!, old man gave expression to his joy by shouting, and con tinued it till it began to interrupt the services. Brother H. said to Brother W. Go stop that old man's noise." He went to him, and spoke a few words, and the shouting man at once became quiet. Brother W. asked brother H., " What did you say to the old man that quieted him so promptly ?" Brother H. replied, " I asked for one dollar for foreign missions." " There's nee good' dune, John, till ye get to the close grips." go said Jeems, the doorkeeper" of Broughton Place Church, Edinburgh to the immortal Dr. John Brown, the author of " Bab and his Friends!' Old Jeems got into a mar vellous nearness with God in prayer, and con versed with him as he would -with his " ain father." He understood the power of a close grip when an earnest soul is wrestling with God for a blessing. Prayer is power. When Luther was in the mid-heat of his awful battle with the Great Beast, he used to say, " I cannot get on. without three hours a day in prayer." John Welsh, of Scotland often leaped out of his bed at midnight, and wrapped a plaid- about him, and wrestled with the Lord until the breaking of the day. His preaching was mighty, when he came to his pulpit from these Penuels of pleading with his God. There is many a church among us which is in 'a midnight of slumber ati4 barrenness. But repentance and wrestling prayer will bring it to daybreak. W. K. S. says there lived, a great many years ago, in Clyde, Wayne Co., N. Y., a man of good education and considerable property, whose be setting sin was 'penuriousness. lie was a sound Presbyterian, but strenuously Opposed to all societies requiring contributions -of money to keep them alive—not even excepting missionary societies. Once he'attended the monthly con cert of prayer for foreign missions, when the minister asked him to pray, 'He complied al once, and made prayer after the usual style, en tirely unexceptionable, .until the very close, when his ruling idea came out in'these words : " Oh Lord, may we all act in such a manner that by our lives we may preach Christ and him cruci fied to the whole world and thus save consider able expense." W. g. Ksays he has often heard the officiating clergyman tell the anecdote, and laugh heartily over it. Independent.
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