(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.