'6 . 't familg Ciult. GOD liNOWS IT ALL. In the dim recess of thy spirit's chamber Is there some hidden grief thou mayest not tell? Let not thy heart forsake thee, hut remember His pitying eye, who sees and knows it well— God knows it all! And art thou tossed on billows of temptation, And wouldet do good, but evil still prevails? 0 think, amid the waves of tribulation, When earthly hope, when earthly refuge fails, God knows it all I And dost thou sin ? thy deeds of shame concealing, In some dark spot no human eye can see? Then walk in pride, without one sign revealing The deep remorse that should disquiet thee? God knows it all! Art thou opprest, and poor, and heavy-hearted, The heavens above thee in dark clouds arrayed; And well-nigh crushed, no earthly strength im parted. No friendly voice to Fay " Be not afraid ?" God knows it all l Art thou a mourner? Are thy tear-drops flowing For one so early lost.to earth and thee? The dtpth of grief no human spirit knowing; Which moans in secret like the moaning sea— God knows it all! Dost thou look back upon a life of sinning? Forward, and tremble for thy future lot? There's One who sees the end, from the beginning; ; Thy tear of penitence is linfOrgot: God knows it all I Then go to God l Pour out your hearts before Him, There is no grief your Father cannot feel And let your grateful songs of praise adore 'Him— To save, forgive, and every wound to heal ! God knows it all I ME MISSING . RUBY. " David !" " Yes, sir," promptly responded a brisk boy of sixteen, coming forward to await the old banker's orders. Mr. Taft was rapidly writing at his desk and said no more for some time, while Da vid Prescott stood waiting. Perhaps he, .wished to send a written message some where. A few minutes passed. A gentleman came to see the banker.on business.. Lea ving• his writing, Mr. Taft began to talk with him, paying no attention to the boy.. David waited till the gentleman had gone, and then asked, "Did you want me, Mr. Taft ?" "No," said the banker, and he returned to his writing and David to the place be hind the counter. The old gentleman had probably intended to send David on some errand, but in talk ing and thinking of other things had for gotten all about it. He was amery absent minded man. Several days after this, David was again called to the banker's desk. This time he found him unoccupied. With an ominous look upon his face, he said, " Last Saturday I sent you to Grant & Willoughby'i with a ruby ring to have the stone re-set. I 'find it has never reached them. What does it m ‘an ?" David looked puzzled. His face plainly said, "What do you mean, Mr. Taft ?" but of course he dared not speak it. "I think you must be mistaken, sir," he replied, re spectfully ; " I certainly have no recollection of being sent with a ring:" "Certainly I am not mistaken," said the banker, tartly. "I called you and gave you the ring at this very spot. It is lost. I hold you responsible for it." David turned pale with excitement. Look ing his employer full in the eye he answered, " I am positive that I was. not sent to Grant & Willoughby's lot Saturday at all, and 1 have never to my knowledge taken your ring into my hand.' Mr. Taft stared an instant as if amazed at the boy's assurance. " You deny it, then, do you ?" he said, al most fiercely. lie was a man of impulse, and, unfortu nately, when once he had formed an opinion, he was so conceited that he could not be made to see that it .might be incorrect; so he continued, " if you had confessed that you had taken it, I might have been easy with you ; but I bate-a thief and a liar. Andrew, call in a policeman." " I am not a thief or a liar, sir," said he, bursting into a passion of tears. "There is no need of more talk," replied the banker. "I know that you took the missing ring. If you can show where it is, or will give any account of it, so much the better for you.' "Arrest this boy and take him to jail for stealing jewelry," he said to the police man, who soon after entered; and the young clerk went out in custody of the officer. David bad been with the banker about six months. This was the first time any suspicion had rested against him. Ho was an active, willing lad, and seemed to satisfy his employer perfectly. Both he and his mother supposed he was sure of hi. 4 place, and were,anxiiiusly awaiting the pro mised increase of wages at the end of the year. When, therefore, Mrs. Prescott heard the sad news of her son's arrest, it for the mo ment took away all her strength. As soon as she could she hastened to see hint. Poor Davy could thnow little light upon the mat ter he was charged with, or give any ex planation why the theft of the ring should be so confidently fastened upon him, unless it was that the banker had made a mistake. If the ring was "lost some one else had cer tainly taken it. He had never touched it. Mrs. Prescott was a widow; poor and un known ; but she was a woman of spirit. Being strongly assured of her son's inno cence, she determined to leave no effort un tried for his release and the vindication of her family from disgrace. She went to Mr. Webb, a good lawyer, and told her story. He promised to do what he could. Accordingly he first visited the banker, and afterward examined David in jail. Fro,m neither of them, however, could he obilin any satisfaction as to the true state of the case. Iklr. Webb was pleased with the appear. ante of David, however; thought him inno cent, and undertook his defence with more than ordinary zeal. Being a really humane man he was touched with the apparent helplessness of the boy and his widowed mother, and was resolved, if the banker had wronged them, either intentionally or unintentionally, to force him to an acknowledgment. Starting on the theory that there was really no crime in the case, only a mistake somewhere, his first step was to visit the principal jewelry stores, and make inquiries for the missing ruby. It was a weary search, but he persevered, and at length, in one establishment, kept by one Mr. Anderson; he came upon the clue that he wished. ' At this point he could have adjusted the case; but, he felt that the boy's character and - future success in life were at stake, and therefore determined to vindicate his good name in the most public manner; and at the same time give a needed lesson to the quick-tempered impulsive banker. At the ttial everything seemed to go against poor David. His mother sat weep ing and sobbing as'if her heart would break. Mr. Taft told his story under oath as N, ve; w have already stated it, and the judge as "evidently quite satisfied of its truth and correctness.”. Few could have thought of doubting the evidence of so respectable a witness. When Mr. Webb came to cross-examine him he put his questions so rapidly and sharply, and made him repeat so often his positive assertion, that he gave the boy the ring as first claimed, that the old gentle man grew angry, and was on the point of appealing to the judge; but suddenly the quiet lawyer produced a fine ruby ring, and handing it to the banker, asked him if he had ever seen it before. " It's mine," said th'e banker, looking at it with astonishment. "Then you identify it as the one you swore you gave to the boy, do you? asked Mr. Webb. "I do," said be, beginning'to look morti fied. "That is all, sir," said the laWYer. "And now, may it please your hdn6r, shall call one witness for the defence. Will Mr. Anderson take the stand." Mr. Anderson stepped up, and being duly sworn and shown the ring, testified that he recognized it as one he had mended about a week before for an elderly gentleman who called and left it with the order. "Is that gentleman in the room, MY. An derson ?" asked the lawyer. "'He is," replied the. jeweler. "He sits in that chair," pointing directly to Mr. Taft. The judge and all the spectators were as tonished, and the old banker was covered with, confusion. There was no more, now to be done, save to . hear the stammered apology of the rich man to the court and his injured clerk. The explanation was 'll simple one, but did him far less credit than it would if he had made it before pressing matters so far, and having it at last forced from him. As we have said, he was one of those dog matic 1110 C -who .think they can never do wrong, and, unfortunately for such a dispo sition, being very absentminded, he some times misplaced objects and events very strangely, as he now confessed. Il e had intended to send the ruby by Da vid to Grant & Willoughby's to reset, and actually called him for the purpose, as we related at the beginning of the story., The hurry of other things had put the matter out of his mind, and, as we have seen, he never even named the errand to the boy. The same absence of mind seemed to/have followed him all that day,-for when, on his way to dinner, he passed the store of Mr. Anderson and left the ring, he retained no recollection of it whatever. Recurring afterwards to his first inten tion, he assumed it as a fact that he had sent the boy, and called, at Grant & Wil loughby's expecting to receive his ring. Being told, much to his surprise, that no such article had been left there, instead of recollecting; or trying to recollect, if any other disposal bad been made of it, he at once made up his mind that David had sto len it. Having taken that position, he was too set in his own opinions to take any ,other view of the matter. The result of the affair taught him a les son, old as he was, and'he went so far in personal acknowledgment and amends to his wronged clerk, as to present him a hun dred dollars for the trouble and pain he had caused him and his mother. JOHNNY THE NEWSBOY. A RAILROAD INCIDENT. Something more than a year ago, as the writer was seated in the cars going West, a pleasant voice sung out, " Paper, sir, paper, sir, morning paper, lady ?" There was nothing new in the 'words ; nothing new to see a small boy with a pack age of papers under his arm ; but the voice, so low and musical, its clear, pure tones mellow as a flute, and-tender as only love and sorrow could , make it, called up hallow ed memories. Ong look at the large brown eyes, the broad forehead, the mass of tangled nut brown curls, the Pinched and hollow cheeks, and his`history was known. " What is your name, my boy?" as half blind with tears'l reached out my hand for a paper. "Johnny ; the last name I did not cateli." PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1869. " You can read ?" " 0, yes, I've been to school some," glanc ing out of the window to see if there was necessity of haste. I had a little brother once, whose name was Johnny. Re had the same brown hair, and tender, loving eyes, and perhaps it was on his account I felt very much like throw ing my arms around Johnny's neck and kissing the thin cheek. There was some thing pure about the child, standing modest ly in his patched clothes, and little half worn shoes, his collar coarse but spotlessly white, his hand clean and beautifully mould ed. A long, shrill whistle, with another short peremptoty, and Johnny must be off. There was nothing to choose; my little Testament, with its neat binding arid pretty steel clasp, was in Johnny's band. " You will read it, Johnny ?" " I will, lady, I will." There was a movement : we were off; I strained my eyes out of the window after Johnny, but I did not see him; and shut ting them I thought and dreamed of what there Was in store for him, not forgetting to ask his love and care for this destitute, tender-vOiced boy. A month since I made the same journey, and passed over the same railroad track. Halting for a moment's respite at one of the many plices on the way, what was my sur prise to see the same boy, taller; ileillthier, with the! same calm eyes, and clear, pure voice. "I've thought of you, lady. I wanted to tell you it's all the little book." " What's all the little'book, Johnny?" "The little book has done it carried it home and myfatiber read it: He was out of work then, and Mother cried over it. At first I thought it was a wicked buok to make them feel so badly ; but the more they read it the more they . cried,. l and it's all'heen different since. It's—all the little; book; we live in a better house now, and father dbn't drink, and mother pays 'twill be all right again." Dear little Johnny, he had to talk so fast, bUt his eYes were bright and sparkling- i 'and his brown face all'aglow. "I'm not selling many paf)th's 'n'o\V, and' father says maybe I can go to schobl -this fall." Never 'did I so crave a moment of time. But no, the cars were in motion. Johnny lingered as long as prudence would allow. It's all the little book, sounding in my ears, the little book that told of Jesus, and of His love for poor, perishing men. What' change!a A comfortable home; no more a slave to strong drink. Hope was in the hearts of the parents health mantled the cheeks of the children. No wonder Johnny's words came brokenly I From the gloom of despair to a world of. light; from being poor and friendless, the little book told them of One mighty to save, the very Friend they needed, the precious Elder Brother with a heart all love, all tender- Would' that all the Johnnys who sell papers, apd have fathers that drink, and mothers that weep over the ruin of once happy homes, took to their wretched dwel lings the little book that tells of Jesus and His love. And not only these, but all the Joitnnys that have no parents, living in . cellars, and sleeping in filth and wretched ness,—would that they could learn from this little book what a friend they have in Jesus.— Sunday-School Times. SCOLDING IN TILE' PULPIT. "He that winneth souls is wise. Proverbs xi.,30 There is a difference between winning and driving, and one of the commonest mistakes of the pulpit is the confounding of the two, and of indulging in a fault finding, cerisori ous spirit, instead of the opposite. Minis ters may find many things going wrong in their cnurches, their members becoming luke-warm and worldly-mirded, indulging in practices inconsistent with their profes sion, and that hinder the cause of Christ, and they rail out against them from Sabbath to Sabbath, and wonder that their tirades do not check these evils; that they continue just as bad, or become even worse than they were before. They feel that ministerial faithfulness requires that they shoilld bear testimony against the sins of their:flocks, and endeavor to induce them to forsake them ; and so it does, but they mistake the, best method of doing it. Churches, in this matter, are very much like families. They may be governed and modeled by kind ness and affection, but not by scolding and fault-finding. When affection is, at the, helm of, a family, and beams out in every look and action of its head, and sorrow,, rather than anger,is depicted in the couti tenanee,•when any of its members do wrong, the family can be very easily corrected, in all ordinary cases. But when petulance and railing follow each other in quick succilision, t and the members come to feel thathe will be scolded and harshly foundlault with for every little error they may fall into, all family government soon comes' to an end'. The head of the family loses all, power to mould-it. Just so it is with" churches. They may be persuaded, encouraged, and reasoned into 'almost anything that is proper, but they can be scolded' and driven into nothing. Said the sweet-tempered Gliiistitin poet, Cowper, in' . a letter to the ReV. - john Newton : • • "No man was ,ever scolded out of his -sins. The, heart, corrupt - as it is, and be-' cause it is so, grows angry if, it be not treated 'with. some management and good Manners, and sephis again. A surly mastiff will perhaps bear to be poked, though •he will even growl under the operation, but if you will touch him roughly he ',will bite. There is no grace that the spirit of self can counterfeit with more :success than a religions zeal. A man thinks that he is skilful in searching the hearts' of "ot'h'ers, when he is only gratifying the njalikriity of his own, and charitably supppses his hear ers destitute of grace,. that he' Inraiy shine the more in his eyes by comparison. When he has performed this notable task, he won ders that they are not converted. He has given it to them soundly, and if they do not tremble and confess that God is in them in truth, he gives them up as reprobate, incor rigible, an lost forever. But a man that loves me, it he sees me in error, he will pity me of it, and persuade me to forsake it. It he has great and good news to tell me, he will not do it angrily, and in much heat and discomposure of spirit. It is not, therefore, easy to conceive on what ground a minister can justify a conduct which only proves that he. does not understand his errand. The absurdity of it would certainly strike him, if be were not himself deluded." Sharp rebuke is sometimes necessary and Useful, but all other means should be tried before it is resorted to. And when we who preaPh the Gospel, fail in our attempts to reform Our hearers, we ought not at once to settle down in a state of self satisfaction with our own efforts, and lay the blame on the depravity of others, and not our own. It is possible that. : we may not have ap proached them in a right spirit, and plied them with proper motives, and if so, we may be as, much to blame as they are.-- House's Scripture . Cabinet. BUDGET OF ANECDOTES. • , —There is a suggestive story current, respect- . ing, Mr. Spurgeon, whether apocryphal or not we cannoesay: A gentletuan who was greatly in terested in the freshness and point of his courses, called to ask a question : " How, Mr. Spurgeon,,if .1 may be permitted to inquire, do you succeed so constantly in ha.ving matter that just fits your people ?" " Partly," was the reply, "•becituse,df my. reading papers and books, but mostly because of my reading men; and if you are not careful I will have a sermon out of you before you'leave." —Rev. " Billy" Cravens (a " shouting Meth- Mist ") bad - preached the Gospel in a 'certain place - with "alai boldness, denouncing popular 7giriA;Ahowing their guilt, their enormity, their crimponand scarlet color; and, having.touched ; -!N4 WOW a• man's besetting sin, he was greatly offend ed;iand threatened to whip him, and said he " would stand no such preaching from , him or any other man." He made an attack upon Mr. Cravens, to puilish him by personal violence. But Mr. Cravens defended himself with his brawny arms, which Bishop Morris said "were so devel oped they looked like. mill posts," and soon laid the man on his back, and, as the Quaker said, ".held him uneasy;' and he held both his arms, as if they were in x vice, and placing his great knee upon him, and weighing two hundred and seventy-five pounds, , the man had anything bui a plea / silo position • and finding it difficult to breathe, he struggle.d like a hero to get away, but all in vain. He quailed, and begged and prom ised, if he would let him up he would never abuse a minister again. Mr. Cravens said : " not let, you up till you pray." "I do not know how," said the man. " 111 teach you how," said Cravens. " Now, repeat after me." "I will," said the poor,'trembling fellow, as Craven's knee still pressed him, and he still felt his heavy weight. " Now begin," said Cravens. " ' Our Father which art in heaven;' repeat." " Our Fa ther which art in heaven," said the poor, conquered, humbled, and subdued man, with a tremulous voice. And thus he repeated every word in the Lord's prayer after him. At the'conclusion Mr. Cravens said " _Amen." " Amen," responded the man; and thus the solemn exercises closed. No 'man ever rejoiced more when a prayer was ended —none more glad to hear "Amen." —" It was my invariable custom in my youth," says a celebrated Persian writer, " to rise from my sleep towatch, pray, and read the Koran. One night, as I was thus engaged, my father, a man of practical virtue, awoke. ' Behold, said I to him, 'thy other children are lost in irreligious 'slumber, while I alone am awake to praise God.' Son of my soul,' said he, it is better to sleep 'than to awake to remark the faults of thy breth ren.'" —One of our exchanges tells a good, and quite likely to be a true story, of an agent who lately visited a Connecticut clergyman, in pursuance of his object, which was to get money in the way of charity, for the institution whiehle represent ed, and: for, whose interests be was labbring:The agent frankly said to the divine : " What I want is this, that you will direct me to people of wealth, who are either in the last stages of consumption or are hereditarily disposed - to apoplexy. I find this class of persons are more easily reached tban those who have means, and are in possession of perfect health. In one Western town I found a gentleman who had received two apoplectiC strokes, and he put our college in his will for $15,000, and a lady consumptively inclined gave us $lO,OOO. Neither is dead yet,.but, you see the importance of getting such people on the right side." The clergyman didn't see it, and couldn't think of any rich people in just the desired state of health among his flock. But that agent ought to be appreciated by his institution. He is a philosopher of the first water. —Deacon 8., of Ohio, a very Pious man, was noted for his long prayers, especially in his family. 'One Monday morning, the deacon and his with were alone, and as was his custom, after break fast prayer was offered. There being an unusual amount of work that day, the deacon's prayer was short, and seizing his hat and milk pail he start ed for ihe 135 - rn. His wife, beina b deaf, did not notice his absence, but supposed him to be still engaged in prayer. On his return from milking he was surprised to find her still ' kneeling. He stepped up to her and . shouted Amen," when she immediately arose and wsipit about her work as if, nothing had happened.' --One of the mostmarked illustrations of the change which has taken place in way in which the . good men regard certain things, is afforded by the following extract from the diary of -the Rev. Samuel Seabury of Ledyard, Conn., father of Bishop Seabury of Connecticut. Re says: "The ticket No. 5366, in the Lighthouse and Public Lottery of Ne . w,York, drew in my favor, by , the blessinc , of Almighty God, £5OO, of which I re ceived .44'25 there beine• a deduction of fifteen per cent:; , for. which I now record' to my posterity my thanks and Praise In Altiiighty God the giver of all. good gifts!: —The Sprinvield Rep?tblirus Contai ns a of a candidate lately preaching befire one of th y , churches of its denomination who was " so nrit r . tunate and short-sighted " as to utter the folli w , ing statement : ‘• when women become degraded through sin, they suffer less from remo rse compunction of conscience, than men." The st9ry goes on : " very properly and righteously rezient ing this gross reflection upon the sensibility arid delicacy universally accorded to their sex, th e ladies of church promptly organized. , entered their indignant protest against settlement, and succeeded in pre. venting it —Rev. Newman Hall communicates to the In dependent an incident which recently occurred in one of the outdoor meetings which he has been holding. A free-thinker, ,who happened to be present, rose, and said he came to hear about temperance, but't'hat, in his opinion, the man who invented gas had done more to enlighten. the world than all the parsons. Quite a disturbanc e ensued, but a friend of Mr. Hall at once heed for a fair hearing, even for the objector ; and then being himself Called up, he said : " I'm for free thought, and forfree'speech ; and yonder gentle man has a right, 'to speak and think for himself, as' much as I baye. [Loud cheers from friends of the objector.] That gentleman says he con siders the man :who invented , gas did more to en lighten the world than:all the parsons. Well, if that is his opinion, he has a right to hold it. and to_maintain it. But; whatever. our different opinions, there is a.time coming al us all which we call death, when most men are somewhat se rious, and like. to get advice and comfort res pecting the world they are going to Now, when this season comes to our friend, I' would recom mend him to.send for the gas man." An immense sensation, with a tumult of applause, followed this sally, which Mr. Hall says was better than a ser mon, and not likely to be forgotten. —Thaddeus Oonolly, who used to spend - much of his time in wandering through Ireland, and instructinc , b the lower classes in their native lan guage. "I went," said he, " one Sabbath into a church to which a new incumbent had been lately appointed. The congregation did not exceed half a dozen, but the preacher delivered' himself with as'much energy and affection as if he were ad dressing a crowded audience. After the service, I expressed to the clergYman my wonder that he should preach so fervently to such a small num ber of people. ' Were there but one,' said he, my anxiety for his improvement would make me equally energetic.' " The following, year Oonolly went into the same church; the congregation was multiplied twenty-fold; the third year he found the cnurch full I - TOLERANCE ITEMS. —George Copway, the once celebrated Indian, chief, preacher, and lecturer, a died recently at Ypsilanti, Michigan, from the effects of "fire water." =The son and daughter of a millionaire re cently joined one of the Williamsburg Divisions S. of T. Temperance is good for rich and poor alike. .—Bakersfield, in Vermont, spends 530,000 per annum fbr liquor, and $5OOO for preaching the Gospel and teaching schools. We hope there is not it , baker's dozen of such towns in the Green Mountain State. —The Washingtonian Home, at Chicago, have opened a department for females who have been addicted to intoxicating drink, and already have several patient& For terms, etc., addressl MN. E. A. Forsyth, Superintendnet, or H. C. Morey, Esq., Chicago. —"With regard to the extent of opium-smok ing in China,there is no data froth which to make a reliable statetnent. In addition to native pro duction, $5B, 290,000 worth of opium is annual ly imported, all of which is consumed,-partly by snickers, and partly as a poison for self-destruc tion." —The County of Cortland, N. Y., has an EsC eise Board which have steadily refused to grann license to sell any intoxicants whatever. 'There is, therefore, ,no one selling liquors legally in the county. Every possible influence has been brought to bear upon the, public officers to induce them to change their course, but in vain. Nor have they rested here,. but they have instituted suits in every case of complaint with evidence of the violation of law by the sale of liquors, and the parties will be fined, and the process of pro secution followed up. The temperance people of the county are also resolved to elect none but anti-license members of the Senate and House to Legislature this fall. —The Temperance Convention which met in Chicago, Sept. let, organized a National Temper ance Party and adopted a platform, the third ar ticle of ;which, affirms that existing political parties refuse to do anythinc , z' for the suppression of the rum traffic, and that therefore, it is a duty to organize a new party having having for its primary object the entire suppression of the traffic of intoxicating drink. At the late State election in Maine, this party ran a separate ticket. The candidate for Governor, M. G. Hickburn, received between four and five thousand votes. This is a small beginning, but we believe great results are destined to flow from it. When the Fifteenth Amendment is adopted, and out of the way, there will be no question of public interest to compare in importance with this of prohibi tion. Its turn has about come, and has quite as good a right to a place in the political arena as anti slavery, equal rights, or the tariff. —A clergyman was called upon to marry a couple, and the man was so very drunk that the clergyman said, " I will have nothing to do with you. You must come when you are sober.' You are miserably drunk, and not in a fit state to be married." He went home, and in about a week afterward came again, as drunk as ever, or a little worse. " Why," said the clergyman, " I told you before that I would not marry you in such a state as that,. Go away with you, and come again when, you are in a: prOper state." About a week after that, the clergyman met the girl in the street, and said to her, " Young woman, you should not bring that4nan in such a shock ing state to be married." "Lori, sir," said she, " he won't come when heis sober !"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers