611 t famills eirtit.
CHRIST THE HEALER.
As Christ went into Jericho town,
'Twos darkness all. from toe to crown,
About blind Barticueus.
He said, "Our eyes are more than dim,
"And so, of course, we don't see Him,
"But Day.d's son can see us.
"Cry out, cry out, blind brother, cry;
" Let not salvation dear go by
"leave mercy Son of David."
T tough they were blind, they both could hear
They heari, and cried, and he drew near;
And so the blind were saved.
0, Jesus Christ, I'm detf and brnd.
Nothing comus through into my mind,
I only am not dumb.
Althqugh I see Thee not, nor hear,
1 cry because Thou mayst be near
0 son of David come.
A finger comes into my ear;
A voice comes through the deafness drear ;
Poor eyes, no more be dim.
A hand is laid upon mine eyes;
I hear, I feel, I see, I rise--
'Tis He, I follow Him
THE STORY Or A BEE.
What .a big chestnut-tree that was, doWn
by the brook I In summer it 'was like a
huge green unibrella, all full of glancing,
bright-eyed squirrels, and birds that hopped
in and oat_ of their nests, chatting away
like so many Frenchmen. And in the au
tumn, when the leaves fluttered down, and
the red apples began to glow in the orchard,
what a bursting open of brown prickly
burrs there was, and what a falling of shiny
big chestnuts I tell you, there was a run- .
ruing and scampering then among the little
boys at the farm-house, and the squirrels,
and the greedy field mice! Which got most,
we don't pretend to say, but as the squirrels
were the earliest risers, and moreover were
always promptly on hand alter the brisk
adtumn gusts sent the nuts rattling down
through 'the boughs, Tong before Tommy
and Jack could get their caps and boots
on, we rather think that the little bushy-tails
came out first and foremost.
Bat that was not all the chestnut tree
held. About half way down the main
trunk there was a great hollow place, where
a colony of wild bees had built up their
cells, and filled them with gold-colored hon
ey. Busy little people they wore, always
on the wing, and generally on the buzz, and
great travellers beside.
"Don't ' you think those bees make an
unnecessary noise in the world ?" said Spot,
the toad, as he sat in Silverwing's bower
one day. Now Spot, being neither hand
some nor good tempered, had a habit of
grumbling tat every body and everything,
which made him rather disagreeable. com
pany.
" Here comes Mrs Buzz, now, I should
think her wings would be tired gadding
here and there. I shan't stay to lear her
gossip."
And Spot hopped briskly away, scolding
as he went, greatly to Silverwing's relief.
" Won't you take a seat on my rose-buds,
Mrs. Buzz ?" said Silverwing, good-natured
ly."
" Well, perhaps I will," said the busy lit
tle bee. " The truth is, Silverwing, I'm in
trouble."
" Dear me 1" said good natured little Sil
verwing, " what's the matter?"
"It's that boy of mine, Lazylegs," said
Mrs. Buzz. "He sits all day on the comb,
eating honey, and won't stir out to look for
sweets among the flower bells. Nothing
that I can say to him makes the least im
pression, and only yesterday the queen bee
said she should turn him out of the hollow
tree if he didn't alter his course of conduct.
Just fancy the disgrace of having my'boy,
Lazylegs, turned out of the hollow tree!"
"it would be awful indeed," said little
Silverwing.
" I think," said Mrs. Buzz, " that if you
would step round and talk to him, Silver
wing, it would do more good. Here it is
bright noonday, and every bee abroad ex
cept him, and there he sits, gorging himself
with honey, and listening to the foolish sto
ries of the chattering little yellow bird that
lives in the crook of the tree ! I don't won
der the queen bee gets out of patience 1"
"Nor I either," said Silverwing. " How
ever, I will go round and see what I can do,
Mrs. Buzz."
The July sunshine was very hot; but un
der the big chestnnt tree it was cool and
shady, where Silverwing floated in and out
of the green boughs upon a glancing thread
of sunlight.
There sat Mr. Lazylegs in the opening of
the hollow tree, winking his sleepy eyes,
while his little mouth was all smeared with
fresh honey.
"Lazylegs," said the Fairy, balancing
herself' on the sunbeam, " why don't you go
to work ?"
" Work l" echoed the little drone. "Don't
you see how hot it is ? Work never did
agree with me Fairy Silverwing."
" But all the rest of the family are work-
ing."
" Because they are 'fools, it's no reason I
should be ono."
"But, Lazylegs, you ought to earn your
living."
" I went out last week, Silverwing, and
you can't imagine what a pain'l had under
my yellow belt. Besides I'm a poet, and
poets never work."
" Fiddlesticks! ' said Silverwing, in great
scorn.
"Yes, but I am indeed. Shall I read you
the poem I wrote this morning on the
win side of a Oliestat leaf ?"
"I won't trouble you to read it, Lazy
legs; you had 'a deal better go out and try
to get a little honey against winter weather.'
" Oh, I aszore, you that's entitely against:
my principles," said .Lazylegs., '" may go
up to the farm house towards evening. I
—George Macdonald.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THT_TRSD
always try to get out of the way when the
old folks come "-rumbling home, with their
everlasting clack about shiftlessness,
and in
dolence, and coming to poverty. Then I
come quietly home, when they are all fast
asleep and snoring. There's a fine family
of hornets among the blackberry bushes,
and we have fine times stinging the cherries
by moonlight."
" Lazylegs, I'm afraid you are a misera
ble vagabond," said Silverwing.
" Oh, no! you're mistaken. I'm only , a
gentleman of leisure," answered Lazylegs,
pertly.
So Silverwing skimmed away on her sun
beam, feeling very sorry for hard-working,
industrious Mrs. Buzz.
But the queen had overheard this con
versation from her nook in the crystal cells,
and no sooner was Silverviing gone, than
she sent her maid of honor to summon
Lazylegs to her presence.
" Well, your majesty, what's wanting ?"
said the drone, flippantly. ,
"I want• you to gat out, of my sight and
hearing," said the queen-bee, indignantly.
"I won't have such a ne'er-do-well in my
swarm. Now go, and never come back."
" Just as your majesty says," said •Pcirt
Lazylegs,
drawing out' his gauzy wings to
make a low bow. And off he went, hum
ming a tune he had learned from the little
boys who came to play under the chestnut
tree..
" The 'hornets will take me in," said Lazy
legs. " They're jolly, hospital le,fellows.'
Bat Lazylegs found himself entirely mis
taken. The hornets liked an occasional fro
lic with Lazylegs very well, but they had
no idea of being burdened with him all the
time.
"No you don't," said Striped-jacket, the
chief hornet. "Go about .your bdsiuess,
and don't hinder my boys and' girls froth
working."
Lazylegs whirruPered a little, bat nobody
paid any attention, as he wiped his eyes
with his wing, and went on up to the farm
house, to see what the big grass-hopper un
der the currant bushes would say to him.
"I'm really afraid, at this rate, I shall
have to work for a living, like the common;
eat bee in the swarm," thought he. "Hallo I
here's something quite extraordinary I"
It was a gilded cage, hanging out on the
parlor - window, with cups of seed, and cups
of water, 'and oh! delight I a great lump of
sparkling white 'sugar pushed in between
the wires ; while on a wooden perch in the
centre of the cage, a fat mocking-bird sat
with his head under his wing, fast asleep.
" This is 'famous," chubkled Lazylegs.
" Who wants to go sticking their noses into
honeysuckle bells 'and hollyhocks when
there's such fat living as this to,be had for
no trouble at all. Here goes for a fine sup
per of white sugar, such as all the bees in
the swarm never tasted before."
But Lazylegs in 'his incautious haste bniz
ed so loudly, and attacked - the crystalline
lump so greedily, that the brown mocking
bird waked up from his afternoon nap.
" Hallo !" thought the mocking-bird, "here
is uninvited company, but I'll soon settle
this business."
And before Lazylegs knew what he was
about, the mucking-bird had darted from
the perch, and swallowed , him, wings, legs,
yellow-belt and all.
That 'was the and - of Lazylege; and poor
little Mrs. Buzz never knew 'what hid be
come of her graceless son.
" I'm afraid he's gone to Anstralia,". said
the little mother.
"Jost as well " said the queen-bee. 44 He
never would have come to any good here."
The mocking-bird knew all aVout it of
course—bat ho .'kept his own counsel.
" If, any of the rest come to, inquire after
him, I'll serve. them just th'e same!" said
the warlike bird.
But no one mane' for Lazylegs. Like all
indolent people he• had very few friends,
and so the mocking-bird had no more bee
suppers.
HOW THE ,OLIFF WAS OLAD.
Between two cliffs lay a deep ravine, with a
full stream rolling heavily through it over
boulders and. rough ground. It was high, and
steep, and one side was bare, save. at the foot,
where' clustered.a'thick, fresh wood; °lese to
the 'stream that the mist from the' iiter lay
upon the foliage ih spring and autumn. The'
trees stood looking upwards and fcrrwards,
unable to move either way. ,
"What if we were to - clothe the Cliff'?" ,
said'
the Juniper' one`day to the foreign Oak that
stood next him. The Oak looked down to find
out who was, speaking, and 'then looked up again
without answering a ,word. The Stream worked
so' hard that it grew, white; the North wind
rushed through the ravine, and shrieked in the
fissures; and the bare Cliff hung heavily over
and felt cold. ." What if we were to clothe the
' Cliff?" said the Juniper to the Fir on the 'other
side.. " Well, if anybody is to do it,'l suppdae
we must," replied the Fir, stroking his, beard;
" what does, thou think ?" he added, looking
over to the Birch. "In God's' name, let us
clothe lt," answered the Birch, glancing timidly
towards the Cliff, which" hung, oier, her so
heavily that she felt as if she could scarcely
breathe.
,And thus, although they were but
three, they agreed to clothe the Cliff. The Juni
per went first.
When they had gone a little way they met t,he
Heather. The Juniper seemed as though he
meant to pass her by. ," Nay, let us take the
Heather with us,"' said the 'Fir. So on' went
the Heather. Soon the Jitniper began 'to slip.
" Lyy bold on me," said the Heather. The
Judriper did so, and *here there was only.a little
crevis.e the Heather put in one finger, and where
she had got in one finger the Juniper put in his
whole hand, They. crawled and climbed, the
Fir heavily behind with the' Birch. "Itis a
work of charity," said the Birch.
' But the Cliff began to ponder what little,
things these could be that came clambering up it.
And when it had,thought.,,over this a few bun
'dred years, it sentqlown a little Brook to see•
about it. It wasjust spring flood, and the,Brook
rushel on ti!l she met the Heather. "Dear,
dear Heather, canst thou not let me pass ? I
am so little," said the Brook The Healher,
being very busy, only raised herself a little, and
worked on. The Brook slipped under her, and
ran onwards, •' Dear, dear Juniper, caust thou
not let me pass ? I am so little," said the Brook.
The Juniper glanced sharply at her; but as the
Heather had let her pass, he thought he might
do so as well. The brook slipped under him
and ran on till she came where the Fir stood
panting on a crag. " Dear, dear Fir, eanst thou
not let me pass? I am so little," the Brook said,
fondly kissing the Fir on his foot. The Fir felt
bashful and `let her pass. But the Birch made
way befOre the Brook asked. " He, he, he,"
laughed the Brook, as she grew larger. " Ha, ha,
ha," laughed the Brook again, pushing Heather
and Juniper, Fir and Birch, forward and back
wards, up and down on the great crags. The
Cliff set for many hundred years. after, ponder
ing 'whether it did not smile a little that day.
It was clear the Cliff did not wish to be clad
The Heather felt so vexed that she turned gyeen
again, and then she went . on. ." Never mind;
take courage !" said the Heat : 6Y-,
:The Juniper sat up to look at the Heather.
and at last he rose to his 'feet.' lip Scratched
his head a moment, and then went on again . .
an& clutched so firmly, that he thOught the Cliff
could .not help - feeling it., •" If thou -wilt not
take . me, then I will take thee," said he. :The
Fir bent his toes ,a little to feel if they were
Whole, lifted one oot; which he found all right,
then' the other, which was right too, and then
both feet. He first examined the path he had come,,
then where he had been lying, and at last where
he had to go. Then he strode onwards, just as
thotigh 'he had never fallen. The Birch had been
Splashed very badly', but now she got-up and made
herse . f tidy And - ,so they went rapidly on, up
watds and sidewards, in sunshine and rain. " But
what in the world
,is all thjs?" said the Cliff,
When the summer sun shone, the dew-drops glit
t -red, the birds sai , ithe wood-mouse squeaked;
the hale bounded, the weasel :hid and screamed
among the trees.
Th day came when the Heather 'could peep
over the Cliff's edge. "0, dear me I" said she,
and over she went.
." What is it the Heather
sees; 'dear ?" said the Juniper, and came for
wards till he, too,.could . peep over. " Dear me P'
he cried, and over he went. " What's the matter
with the Juniper to-day ?" said 'the Fir, taking
long strides in the hot sun. Soon' he; too, by
standing on tiptoes, 'could peep -over. " Ah
eveiy branch and prickle stood on end With aS
tonishinent. He strode' onwards; and over he
went. " What is it they all see, and not I.,!" . said
- the Birch, lifting up her skirti, and tripping
after. "Ali I" said she, putting her head over,
" there is a whole- forest, both of Fir and
Heather and Juniper and 'Birch, waiting for us
oti`,the ` plain ;" and her leayes trembled in the
sunshine till: the dew-dropi fell, " This comes
of reaching foiwards" said . the Juniper.=
Bjornson. •
PARENTAL INFLUENCE.
A short time since there 'was published an
account of the suicide of a boy, 13 yea,rs of
age, in this city, by taking arsenic. Quite
lately a school,. girl, having been repri
manded by-her :teacher, informed her school
mates that ,she intended drowning 'herself,
and having persuaded them to assemble on
the bank of the river, she actually COllBlll3l
- the terrible deed, and; before assist
ante 'could reach " her, life 'was extinct'.
A contemporary states that three boys un
der fifteen years of 'age have committed sui
cide in Fulton °minty, Illinois,' within a
period of nine, weeks—two by shooting, and
one by hanging. These ,eases may, well
startle every parent and edacator of youth,
and lead them to ask how such things can
be. When the strong . vitality and love of,
life that characterize the young, and the
terrible and bitter despair that is usually
supposed to induce the act of suicide, are
considered, the causes "that have been
brought to bear upon these yottng. Teeple
to produce so'unnatural, so awfal,, result;
may well be a subject of earnest inquiry.
It is true, in a certain, sense, that the
children of the present day enjoy far more
freedom and happiness, and. lead upon' the
whole a pleasanter life than those - of'olden
times, who were more restricted in action,
whose pleasures were' feWer, and whose'
toils were more - 'Perhapa 'the
parenis of the present day are less likely 'to
err by umlue severity than by negligent in
dulgence, and yet -it may be thatin 'the
cases cited' above, as well as in too many
other instances not brought into public no
tice, the
,sympathy and love that wohld•
have made life pleasant 'to the young have
been denied, and stein and 'chilling se
verity has, turned the naturally hopeful life
into desolate despair. In numerous cases,
where no severity darkens the life of child
hood, yet' neglect and indifference prove
almost as baneful in their 'results. The
father immersed in his' daily business, and,
the mother too often plunged into the _vor
tex of fashion that allows no, time 'for the
most precious duties of 'life, permit their
children to grow up 'Under the care of
others, and deny themthe•affectionate com
panionship and. intercourse which would,
of itself, be an education worth ~more than
all that schools have power to impart.
Children possess keener -sensibilities and
deeper feelings than is usually believed
possible. If their reason is,less , developed,
and their judgment more faulty than those
of their elders, their susceptibilities are
more acute, and their affections more ardent
and easier wounded. While by harsh and
stern rules there may be secured a sullen
obedience of action, these can 'never reach
the heart of the child, a.nd tlae.only.way ;to
influence it truly for good is through love
and confidence.,
Parents little know how much 'they lose
by refusing companionship 'to their 'chil
dren. Of all affections,.one/ :then:Lost en
.during and. - , grateful is r that Of the child,
Nam, having arrived at inaturity,turns fond
ly back to. the:authors of his .existence and
happiness, and strives. to Lrepay them for
their love and care, by- blessing and- honor
ing. their old - age. Such blessings and
honors, howeier, are' only given to_those
4,Y, JULY 29, 1869.
who have secured the confidence of their
children in early life. Naturally every
little child comes to his parent anxious to
share with him his joys and sorrows, his
hopes and fears. If he is met with sympa
thy and consideration, his love and faith
are unreservedly bestowed, but if he be
coldly repulsed or carlessly slighted, his
heart recoils in sullen disappointment, and
he seeks and soon finds other and less suit
able channels for his sympathies. Every
parent who values his child's best welfare,
r who hopes to reap an affectionate grati
tude in after life, should bestow upon him
at once, and always, the kindly considera
tion, the loving sympathy, and the confi
dential intercourse which will bind them
together in ties that no distance, no
changes, and not even death itself can
sunder.—Public Ledger.
BE A WOMAN. •
Oft Pve heard a gentle mother,
As the twilight hours began, •
Pleading with a son on duty;
Ltrging.hiinto be a man,
But unto ber . blue-eyed daughter,
' Though with love's words quite as ready,
Points she out the other duty—'
"Strive, my, dear, to be a lady." '
What's a lady? Is it something •
Made of hoops and sillis'and airs,
Used to decorate the parlor,
Like the , iiincy rings and.ehairs?
Is it one that wastes on novels
Every feeling that is human?.
If 'tis this to be a lady,
'Tis not this toa: woman.
Mother; then, unto your daughter
Speak of something higher far
Than to be mere fashion's lady—
" Woman" is the , brightest star,
If you, in. your strong affection,
Urge your son to be a true man,
Urge your daughter' no lees strongly
To arise and be a woman..
Yes, a momma! briorliteSt model
of ;that high .and perfect beauty,
Where the mind and soul and body
Blend to work out life's great duty
Be a woman! naught is higher •
On the gilded crest of fame ;
On the catalogue of virtue
There's no brightier, holier name.
A TRITE STORY FOR THE LITTLE ONES.
A little girl, six years old, was one even
ing gently reproved by her pious mother
for some of her faults during the day. She
seemed very sorry: and shortly afterwards,
when she was alone, some one passed by
and .beard her talking, but in too low a
tone for any one, to - u.ndorstand - what she
said.
The next evening, after repeating her
usual prayer; at her mother's knee, the
little girl asked earnestly, "Have I behaved
betttx to-day?" Her motheranswered that
she was much pleased with the day's im
provement, and hoped that her little daugh
ter would afways behave as well. " Then,"
replied the child, "I must go and talk 'with
God again. I told Him yesterday that I
wanted to be good, and I begged Him to
help me, and He has helped me all day long,
so that I could not be naughty, even When
I felt'it in me."
Yes dear children ' the evil is in us all the
time, and it is only by God's grace that we
can subdue it. Go and talk to Him about ,it,
that' He will help you to,, avoid every evil
way and- to obey the precepts of His holy
faw all the days of your life.L—Religious
Reial&
FIDGET OF ANECDOTES.
—Billy Hubbard was a queer Methodist
ounius. Once when .roll was called in the Con
ference, his name was read William. He rose
,at once and objected, saying that his name was
not William, it was Billy. "But, brother
Hibbard," pleaded Bishop Ashbury, "Billy is :a
little, .boy's name." " Yes, Bishop," was the
quick .reply, "and I was a little -boy when my
fiither gave it to me." " Billy" was apt to be
pugnacious in the pulpit. It was well-nigh im
possible for : him to say "Amen" until he had
given the Five Points of Calvinism a rap. 'Once
t after he had been thus freeing his mind, a good
Presbyterian friend who had t. een listening said,
"Brother- Hibbard, you hurt my feelings by
What you said about so and. soo—some point of
Calvinistic doctrine. 0," was the reply,, "
am' sorry you took that I aimed that at the
devil, and you stepped in cia took the' blow
instead. Don't get 'betiveen`nie -and the devil,
brother, and, you won't'get hurt."
=—One of Peter Cartright's pioneer experiences
is thins narrated in Zion's Herald : ‘• On the
thii'd year he had an appointment so poor that
`even his presidinr , elder advised him te give it
4 ... On going there again, he found two young
ladies; well dressed in hothespun, in his congre
gation, whom he had never seen'before. They
seemed affected by his preaching, and he' in
'quired where they lived, with..a. view -to .calling
there. He was told that the mother of the girls '
was a fearful woman, and would curse him to
the teeth. He replied that his mission was to
save sinners, • and he should go, though she had
seven devils. He went into the • cabin, but the
woman never, spoke. to Jam The man 'of the
-house was one of these women-pecked creatures
who,,,have no moral courage. However, he'
asked alioit the'girls, and was told to let thein
aldne, the Old woman evidently, thinkinc , he had
come a courting. : He declared his purpose
,to
pray, and she ordered him out, for she didn't
want, any, of his prayers, she said. She walked
up,
( put her fist, under his nose, and told him ' to
take the doer.' He thought, best to frighten
: her a' little, and told. her she, had better, not,do
.
it again;: for if she did, God pity her. Whether
she was frightened or not, she seemed a little
composed. He ordered her to ',sit down on a
.stool ,while he prayed, but she 'retorted by
threatening to kick: him .out
.of,4oors. How
.eyer, •he got through with, singing a hymn, the
old woMaii, meanwhile making a terrible racket
with • her tongue and the stools and. kettles:
!When , he
_got.., through - singing he-,knelt-down.to
pray, and if he ever watched, and prayed at the
same time he did then, keeping one eye on th e
old wunian. She made no demonstration, ho w _
ever, and he prayed that the Lord would con.
vert her it' possible, and if not, to let her die and
go to the devil at once, where she belong,ed.'
He then went away on his circuit, and on his
return, four weeks after, he found that she ex
perienced religion, as also her husband an d
daughters. This might be a novel way to bring
about a revival, but there are some people who
have to be whipped into religion."
—The Rev. Samuel Clawson, a Methodist
preacher of eccentric manners, sometimes called
the " wild man," was very popular in Western
Virginia some twenty years ago. He was cross
eyed and wiry made, and very dark skinned for
a white man. At times he was surprisingly elo
quent, always excitable and occasionally extrava
gant. He once accompanied a brother minister,
Rev. Mr. R,-a prominent pastor, on a visit to a
colored church. • Mr. R. gave the colored
preacher the hint; and of course Clawsen was in
vited to preach. He did so, and during the
sermon, set the impulsive Africans to shouting
all over'the house. This, in turn, set Clawsen
to extravagant words and actions, and he leaped
out of the pulpit like•a.deer, and began to take
the hands of the colored brethren, and mix in
quite happily. He wept for joy. Then, press
ing 'through the - crowd, he . found Brother R,
and sitting down beside him, he threw his arm
around his neck, and with' tears streaming down
his cheeks, he said : " Brother R., 1 almost wish
I had been born a nigger. These folks have
more religion than we have." "Well, well,"
said - Brother R., "you come so near it that you
needtet,try about •
—One of our ministers who recently delivered
an address at the laying of a corner-stone of a
Reformed (Germhn) church in Lehigh valley,
said_ that he kne* of no people more richly
favored and blessed, thap the people of that
healthy, rich, and magnificent valley—all being
enriched by its agricultural, but especially, its
mineral resources. One thing, however, should
be seriously considered. That was the gain of
the Lord's day—the money that is made in
keeping the iron. furnaces in full blast and opera
tion on the holy Sabbath. This Sabbath work,
it is alleged, is a work of necessity—and he was
not well enough acquainted with the present
process of iron manufacture to pronounce on it,
either way. But, granting it to be so, the
seventh day is the Lord's own day, and the ore
is the Lord's, and they make as much iron on
that day as on Any other day; therefore, the
one seventh of all the clear gain from these fur
naces should be the Lord's also—and whoever
holds this seventh part back from Him, shall
not be guiltless. We learn that a certain proini
nent and wealthy stockholder in those iron
works, who was present, contributed one hun
dred dollars on the occasion; and said that be
had never before considered the points presented
by, the speaker ; but he believed he was right,
and from henceforth he purposed to give—as
near as: he 'could calculate—the one seventh of
his prcifits from iron to the Lord.—The Presby
terian.
—James Oliphant, minster of Dumbarton, was
especially quaint in' his public prelections.
Wimp reading tbe Scriptures he was in 'the
habit of making comments in undertones, on
which account seats , near the pulpit were much
prized and best filled. - It is sdd, in reading the
passage of the, possessed swine running into the
deep, and, being there choked, he was heard to
mutter, Oh tat the devil had been choked
tool" Again, iu the passage as to Peter
We have all and followed thee
the iemark. was, " Ay boasting, Peter, ay brag
ging; What had, ye to bate but an old crazy
boat and may, be twa or three rotten nets?"
=One of the lest things that was ever said
about a minister, is told "o Rev. Henry Cum
mings, D. D., who' died after 'a pastorate of more
than half a century "over the (now Unitarian)
church in Billerica, Mass., in 1823. It became
a' proverb '
among his people: "pour a' bushel
basket full of gossip and scandal down at his
door, and he will never stoop to pick it up." It
is said 'of him also, in illustration of the same
trait, that a parishrter whti was one day dining
with him, beginning to speak in a confidential
way with hinr,:in disparagement of certain parisl,
oners who were not, ;present, was suddenly
stopped by a stern rebuke, after this wise, Sir,
" I invited you to dine with me to-day, as a
friend to me, and not as a slanderer of any of
my people- - -all of whom I consider as my
friends."— congregationalist.
ROW TO MARKET BUTTER.
,The Boston. Cultivator tolls how the best
farmers near Pbiladelphia get so high, a
price for their butter.
First, they always make a first-class
article, so their customers, sure of mettina•
the best there is, will not desert them on ac
count of a rise in the price. Second, they
bring in their batter : in a showy and attrac
tive condition. NQ pot of delf ware, no tub
or pail of, oak or hemlock, no vulgar firkin
is used to entomb thOse noble balls, golden•
hued with the aroma of white clover and
Poa pratense lingering in firm grain. A
large tin •vessel, designed expressly for the
business, has chambers at each end, into
which ice is put. Thin wooden shelves,
about'three inches apart, rest on little pro
jections on the sides. A layer of balls is
placed on the bottom and covered with its
shelf, but not so as to touch or mar the
handsome print of a sheaf of grain, which
stands out on the top of each ball; on thi
.shelfan)ther layer of prints, and so on till
the, vessel. is full, then containing forty or
fifty lb. prints. The tip, with ice in each
end,,is then set.in, a wooden tub, which bas
been cooled with ice
,or spring water.—Orer
this is drawn a cover of padded' carpeting.
with an 'oil cloth on top. Thus hot air and
dust are wholly excluded, and the butter
rides to the city. and opens in the market
house in as fine condition as when packed
in the spring horse. In just this way, with
this degree of care and skill, is the best
Philadelphia butter made, marked and
marketed. No wonder the Philadelphians
would "rather/pay seventy-five cents than
go baek from sueh manna to the leeks and
onions , of the common firkin.