- , . . .. , ,•• . . , .. ' . . . . .• ' . -.''• -‘ • . •,-• . ' . . • ~,,, ~ , ' ~, [;,l ~,..,,, „,' 0 ...i - ,..:,... , .•, ' ~ • :,...-; „ . :'4, . 4 17% j.„ . 'C , :.:Ii; i ; 7 1.1:1, I . S . z• ... , T TM: : : .. t - :, - ,:rfL.T7:, , '1''.?,),•• • . 2 .- , „Ij:. ;: g 2: :,:. • w , ~,,.,,i ce, , ,, . ".,) J.! • • • 1 II ''.:s 5. LI.- .:..:7L:' s -.- ' ' 5 ssi . .:...i ;. s.'. -. 1 '5.'5 I. ' Y , sf. q i •,,, , ~. • . t .i. ~ /.. ,i• . r ~,,„ i ., -,.. ki , . , • • ' (:..• i ,i,',.• ~.e, ki..2 ...',' • .- ' '.: ~..:i. • -.:•:,., 5: ' 5 •• ';. i " 10. r... 11 5, :I• ' . . 'l. 7. ''. . . ' 5 5. ' - c -. • ' 7 '' . 2 ,• V, e/ .' It .i ' " ''' ' 7 ,5 ' . ~ .i'f s • '' -5f 1 - s'; ,I. 1 i;. ' 7 , . r I , ' •• ,;, 1„,;.; .~,., , ~ ~,,i, • , l• . ; . ......... .... ~ . -11...- ...., . . " %., •‘.,- • qq, , ,, , '--,... ~.. J. , l' . • •,, . ... • ' . - . , . - . . . .44 '4l A '''• -5 .. , :i , r. ,. , . i • . V[l : ; * i -- - • . . . ; .-. ~.- . 5 • _ .. , .. ' • . •Ci • . • . . : , t1: - 3 - 1' ' , i,' • :. 4 - , ,). ( '''' . ..' ,• ' ' I' . ' '•• , r - 4 , :. p fr. `" • , Trri,,4-- ~ : .. • . , —•-- - hareimmi : ' -?.., - ~, 4... _ . • ;• , :. -." , , •, , _ - • , • -, , , . . i • • __ i 3 0 f: win, .1311.01.r0 * - . - ' " . • , •- . (MUNE' XIX , ~ . 3FP-cp . ET1C 1 494,4. •. -•,- .. ."..e.:. , -1-, : : -._ ~. ~, , -- .-.4 ,-- • i•,, r-4 - ;- - ---:„..,:-. -.;:-•,..,::,„-, —L741 , " • . -4r ~..,_,...1---- - • •-• ..:—.........:,,,, ~ -.; . fr,lW. -...'...z4 - ,. . L.t--- f • ,d,':' _I/ ii--., 440 _c. , • , • ~.4 -------'------- - THE ?BACH AUTUMN. ,ere none ra icrinmr — kdrea..... _afraid,-- For For Peace that sits as Plenty's guest Beneath the homestead shade ! Thank God for rest, where none molest, Bring pike and gun, the sword's red scourge, The negro's broken chains, And beat them at the blacksmith's forge To ploughshares for our plains.. Alike henceforth our hills of snow, And vales where cotton flowers; All streams that flow, all winds that blow, Are Freedom's motive-powers. IThild up an alter to the Lord, 0 grateful hearts of ours ! And shape it of the greenest sward That ever drank the showers. Lay all the bloom of gardens there, Anil-there the orchard fruits; Bring golden grain from sun and air, From earth her goodly roots. There let our bAuners droop and flow, The stars uprise and fall; Our roll of martyrs, sad and slow, Let sighing breezes call. Their names let hands of horn and tan And rough-shod feet applaud, Who died to make the slave a man, There let the comma► heart keep time To such an anthem sung, As never swelled on poet's rhyme, Or shrilled on singer s tongue Song of our burden and relief, Of peace and long annoy; The passion of our mighty grief And our exceeding joy ! A song of faith that trusts the.end To match the good begun, Nor doubts the power of Love to blend The hearts of men as one ! TDB RAI?iY DAY. BY 11. Ir7t(M-GYELLOW The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wits] is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall But at every gust the dead loaves fall; And the day is dark and dreary; My life is cold, and dark. and dreary; • It 'rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad hearts! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. THE COINERS. FROM THE DIARY OF A DETEC',TIVE During the year 1841 the West w a flooded with counterfeit coin. It was so well manufactured that it passed readily.— The evil at last became so great that the U nited States authdrities requested tha t a skillfull detective might be sent to ferret out the nest of coiner& I was fixed upon to perform that duty. I had nothing, to guide me. The fact however, that Chicago was the city where the counterfeit coin was most abundant, led me to suspect that the manufactory Was somewhere within its limits It was, there fore, to the capittil of the West that I pro ceeded. I spent . five weeks in the city with out gaining the slightest clue to the counter feiters. I began to grow discouraged, and really thought I should be oblidged to return horn - 0 without having achieved any result. One day [ received a letter from my wife request ing me to send some money, as she was out of funds. I went to the bank and asked for a draft, at the same time handing a sum of money to pay for it, in which there were several half dollars The clerk pushed three of them back to me, saying, "Counter. felt." "What 1" said I, "you don't mean to tell me those half dollars are counterfeit?" "I do." "Are you Certain?" "Perfectly certain. - They, are remarkably executed, but are deficient in weight. See for yourself." And be placed one of them in the balance against 'a genuine half dollar, and the latter brought up the former, "This is the best counterfeit coin I ever saw is my' life," I exclaimed, examining Oath closely. "Is all the counterfeit money in 'eircalation.bere of the same character as this?" ".' "0 dear, no," the clerk replied, 'fit .is not nearly-so well done. , These are the work of the famous New York counterfeiter, Ned Willett. I know them well; for I have handled a great, many of them in my, time /lareis some L otthe_money thatis otreulated here," be added, taking half dollars from a drawer. :!.You see 'that the milling is not so will done as NO&Willett's although this is pretty good too." I compared the, two and found that be was. right. 1.. supplied the place of the three counterfeits with good coin, and-raturned , the, former to my pocket. A few days after this rreceived 1,46 - flEh tion which caused me to take a jOurney to a small village about thirty miles from Chicago. •I arrived there at night and took up my quttrat - the-only -tavern_in _the —pl ace. It was a wretched dwelling and kept by an old man and woman, the surliest bonnie, I think, it has ever been my lot to meet. In answer, ~ther I could have a lodging there that night I noticed the host gave a particu lar look at his wife, and after some whisper ing, I was informed in the most ungraoious manner possible that I could have a bed. I have-frequently in the course . of my life been obliged to put up with wretched ac commodations, so I did not allow my equani mity of temper to be uestroyed by the mis-. erable sleeping apartment into which was ushered after I had fiuished my repast. The chamber was of small size, nud cer tainly well ventilated, for I could see the stars through the roof'. The bed was situ.: ply a bag of straw thrown into one earner of the room, without sheet or covering of any kind. This last fact, however, was not of much consequence, as it was summer and oppressively hot. - stJod for more than an hour gazing out of the opening which served for a window. Before me whs an immense prairie, the Jilt- ~~~ its of which I could not gee. The tavern' in which I had taken up my abode appeared 41.„ be isolated from all other dwellings, and save the croak of the tree•toad anti the hum of the locust, not' a sound reached my ear. It was a beautiful moonlight night. ao bright that I could see to react the smallest print. At last I began to grow weary, and throw int, myself on my pallet I was somi — flunged in deep slumber. flow long I slept I know not, but "I was awakened by a dull sound which resembled some one hammering in the distance. sif ,, posed - it was-the—pecuiiatity of the sound which awoke me, for it was by tio-nrcatalontl-,—but_conyeyc fed to me the idea of some one striking, iron with a muffled hammer. I rose from my bed and went to the window, The moon . was now in the western-horizon, by which fact I knew that it must be near morning. The sound I have before referred to reached me more distinct ly than when in the back part of the cham ber. It appeared to come from some out houses which were situated a hundred yards from the house. Atlantic lifundily. Now I am naturally of an inquiring mind, and this sound occuring as it did in the mid dle of the night; piqued my curiosity, and I felt an irrepressible desire to go out and discover the cause of it. ' This desire, as the sound continued, grew upon me with such intensity, that I resolved to gratify -it at any price. I put on my boots, the only article of at tire I had discarded, and cautiously opened . the door of my chamber and noiselessly des cended the ricketty staircase. A few stepti brought me into the lower apartment, which I found entirely deserted. I crept quitely to the window, anti unfastening it without making the slightest noise, was soon in the moonlight. Not a soul was visible, but the sound I have mentioned grew much snore distinct as I approached the place -from whence it proceeded,. At last I found myself before a long, low building, through the crevices of which I could percbive a lurid glare issu ing. I stooped down and peeped through the key hole, and to my extreme surprise I saw half a dozen men, with their coats off and 'sleeves up, perferming - a variety of strange occupatitins. , Some were working at a forge, others superintending the cast ing of moulds, and some were engaged in the process of mining, coin In a moment the whole truth burst upon me. Here was tithe landlord and his wife evidently belonged to the same hand,lor in one corner I perceiv ed then:, employed,—the man• polishing off some half dollar pieces, and the woman was packing the finished coin int r rolls. I had seen enough and was about to re turn to my apartment, when I suddenly felt a heavy, band placed on my shoulder, and turning my head around, to my horror found myself in the grasp of as ill•looking a scoun drel as ever escaped the - gallows. "What are you doing here my good fel low V e he exclaimed giving me a shake. "Taking a stroll by mbonlight," I replied, endeavoring to retain my composure. ' "Well perhaps you will just take a stroll • side,-will-your-returned. the ruffian,spush lag open the the door, and dragging me in after him All the inmates of the barn immediately stopped work and rushed toward us when they saw me. "Why, what's all this?" they exclaimed. "A loafer I found peeping outside," said my captor. "He's a traveler that came to the tavern last night and asked for lodging; the last saw•of him he was safe in bed." la id • the landlord. The men withdrew to a corner of the a partment, leaving one to keep guard' over me. I soon saw they were in earnest con sultation, and were evidently debating some important question. The man keeping guard over we said nothing, but scowled fiercely, I hud not said a single word during all the time I had been in the barn I was aware that whatever I might say would in all pro bability do more harm than good, and it h as always been a maxim of mine, to hold my tongue when.in doubt. At last the discus sion seemed to,be ended . , for the blackest of the whole came forward, and without any in troduction, exclaimed : "I say, stranger, look tibre, you must I did•not•move a mugele or, utter a word. "You have found out our secret, and dead inn telt no talcs." • A. Fatll3r Mitervtrarb . n3prtor • Neriaviria in. 3['c olitiois "act •T.Ol,UEsioit. WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COIINTT, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 21;.1865. • I was silent. "We will ginn you ten minutes to say your prayers. and also allow you the privilege ; of being shot or hung." , - Suddenly an idea struck me. I 'tiepin._ 'tiered something that might save my life.= I. burst into a violent fit of laughter, in fact it was hysterical, but they did not know it. They looked at une another in amazement. "Well, be takes it mighty cool, anyhow," said one. "Suppose ho don't think we're in earnest," said another. "Cotne,•stranger, you had better say yoUr prayers," said the man who had first spoken, "time flies." My only reply was a fit of laughter more violent than the_first "The man's mad," they exclaimed. "Or drunk," said some. "Well, boys," cried I, speaking for the first time, "this is the best joke I have ever seen. What, hang a pal ?" "A pal—you a pal r' . "I ain't nothin' else ; " was my elegant re joinder. 'What is your name ?" "Did you ever hear of Ned Willer?" I re plied. "You may be certain of that. Ain't he the head of our profession ?" "Wel f.hen,.l'm Ned." "You 1 ed Willet ?" they all exclaimed. "You ma et your life. on that," I re turned, swag , * gup to the corner where I had seen the old woman counting and pack ing the counterfeit half Fortune favored me. None of the men present had ever.seen Ned Signet, although his reputation was well known to them, and my swaggering, insolent manner . had some what thrown them off their guard, yet I could plainly see that their doubts were' not all removed. "And you call those things well done, .do you ?" I asked taking up a roll of money. .-I!..l.V..ell i _alllative to say is that if you can't do better than this, youhad better shut shop, that's all." "Can you show us any better ?" asked one _of the men. "I rather think I can. If I 'couldn't I'd hang myself." "Let's see it," they all cried This was my last con)), mid one on which* my life depended. .'Look here, gentlemen," I exclaimed tak ing one of the counterfeit half dollars from my pocket that had • been rejected at the bank, "here's my lust job, what do you think of it ?" It was handed hand•to-hand, some saying it was no counterfeit at all, and some saying it was. "How will you prove it is no counterfeit?" asked one. "By ,weighing it pith a genuine one," I replied , _ This plan was immediately adopted and its character proved. :lo "Perhaps he got this by accident," I heard a man say to another. E• , "Try these," I said, taking the other two out of my pocket. All their doubts now vanished. "Beautiful," exclaimed some, "very splen did !" said others. When they had examined them to their satisfaction they all cordially took me by the hand, every particle of doubt shaving vanish ed from their mindS. I'earried on my part well. Some questions were occasionally ask ed me involving some technicalities of the business; these, however, I avoided, by sta ting that 1 was on a journey and would rath er take a glass of whiskey than answer ques tions. The whiskey was produced and we made a night of it. It was not until morn ing dawned that we separated. The next day I returned to Chicago and brought down the 'necessary assistance, and captured the whole gang of' counterfeiters in the very act, The den was broken up forever, and most of them were condemned to serve a term in the State Prison. I have those half dollars still in my pos session, and never intend to part with them, for 'they were certainly the means of saving my life. How to Make Money Do you complain that you have nothing to begin with? "Tom," you say, "has a farm, and Harry has one thousand dollars, but I have nothing." We say to you look at yoUr hands, and tell us what they are worth.— Would you take a thousand dollars for them, or for the use of them through your If you can make half •a dollar a day with them it would not be a bad bargain. for that sum is the interest of more than two thou sand dollars; so that if you are industrious and Harry is lazy, you are more thite twice as rich as he is, and when you cando a man's work and make a dollar a day, you are four times as rich, and are fairly worth four thou sand "dollars. Money and land, therefore, is not the only capital with which a young man can begin in the world, if he has good health and is industrious. Even the poorest boy in our country has something to tread upon, and if hd be beside well educated, and have skill in any kind of work, mid to this moral hab ; its and religious principles, so that his em ployers may trust him and place confidence in him, be may then be said to set out in life with a good chance of becoming inde. pendent and respectable; and perhaps rich, as any man in the country. Let it be re membered that '.every man is the maker of -his own fortune. All depends upon setting out upon the right principles,& they are these: 1. Be . industrious. Time and skill are your capital... 2. Be saving,. Whatever it be, live with in your income. 3. Be prudent. Buy not what you can 30 _without., 4. Bc resolute, Lot your economy be al ways of to-day, and not of to-morrow. -- 5.- Be contented and,Thankful. A cheer ful spirit makes labor• light, and sleep sweet, and all .nrennd happy—all which ,is much better than . only being rich. . THOUGHT IT WAS ER'S VOICE The following incident may have appeared in. our columns before, but can'be read again' with profit: A friend told me, not long ago, a beauti ful story about kind Words. A good lady, living. in one of the large cities, was passing a drinking saloon just as the keeper was thrusting a young man out into the street. He was very young and very- pale, but his haggard face, and wild eyes , told that he was very far gone in the road to ruin," as with oaths - lie bandished his elenehed fists, threat. ening to be revenged upon the man who had so ill used him. The poor young 'man was so excited and blinded with passion that be did not see the lady, who stood very near to him, until she laid her hand upon his arm, and spoke in her gentle, loving voice, asking him what was the matter, At the first kin . word - , — tho — young—ma. started as though a heavy blow had struck him, and turned quickly around, paler than before, and trembling from head to foot.— lie surveyed the lady for 'a moment, and then, with a sigh of relief, he said: 'I thought . it was my mother's voice for it sounded so strangely like - it. But her voice has been hushed in, death for many years.' 'You had a mother, then,' said the lady, 'and she loved you ?' With the sudden revulsion of feeling which often comes to people of fine nervous tem peraments, the young man burst into tears sobbing out, 'Oh, yes. I had an angel moth er, and she loved 'her boy ! But since she died all the world has been against me, and I am lost—lost to good society, lost to hon or, lost to decency, and lust forever.' No pot lost forever; for God is merciful, and his pitying _love can reach the chief of sinners, said the lady in her low sweet voice; --and---the-timely words swept the hidden chords of the feelings which had been long untouched in the young man's heart, thrill! ing it with-magio power,and wakening a host of tender emotions, which had been buried very deep beneath the rubbish, of : sin and crime. More gentle words the lady spoke, and when she passed on her way, the young man followed her—Remarked the house where she entered, and wrote the name which was on the silver door plate in his little memor andum book. Then he walked slowly away, with a deep, earnest look on his with° face, and deeper, more earnest feeling in his ach ing heart, Years glided by, and the gentle lady had quite forgotten the incidents we have related when one dark night a stranger sent up his card, •ana desired to speak with her. Wondering much who it could be, she went down to the parlor, where she found a noble lookino• 'i well.dressed man, who rose to meet her. 11 olding out his band be said: 'Pardon me, madam, for this intrusion, but I have coma many_miles to thank you for the. great service you rendered me a few years ago, said he in a trembling voice. The lady was puzzled, and asked for an explanation, as she did not remember having seen the gentleman before.' have changed so . much,' said the man, 'that you have forgotten me; but though I only saw your face but once, I am sure I should have recognized it anywhere. • And your voice, too—it is so much like my moth er's!' I Those last words made the ladmeniember the poor young man she had kindly spoken to in front of, a saloon so long before, and she ininglAd her tears with those which were falling slowly over the man's cheeks.. After the first gush of emotion had subsi ded, the gentleman sat flown and told the la dy how those few gentle words had been in strumental in saving him_ and making him what ho was, The earnest expression of not lost forever, followed me wherever l'went:,' said he, Bann it always seemed that it was the voice of my mother speaking to me from the tomb. I repented of my many transgres si`ons and resolved to live as Jesus and my mother would be pleased to have me; and by thii grace and mercy of. God I have been en abled to resist temptation, and keep my good resolutions.' never dreamed there was such a power in',a i few kind words before,' exclaimed the lady, 'and surely ever after this I shall take more pains to speak them to•all the sad and suffering ones I meet in the walks of life.' MARRIED LIFE —The affection that links together man and wife is a Jar holier and more enduring passion than young love. 'lt may want its gorgeousness and imaginative character—but it is far richer in holy and trusting attributes. Talk not of the absence Of love in wedded life What-1 because a man has ceased to sigh like a furnace, are we to believe the fire .extinct ? It burns with a steady flame, shedding a benign in fluence upon existence a million times more precious and delightful than the cold dreams of philosophy. A confirmed bachelor used the following argument against matrinaohy: Calico is a great prompter of laziness. If young men wish to accomplish anything of moment, either of head or of hand. they must keep clear of the institution, entirely. A pair of sweet lips, a pink waist, swelling chest, a pressure of two delicate hands, will do as much to unhinge a man as . three fe vers, the measles, a large sized 'Whooping cough, a pair of lock jaws, several hydropho- bias, and the doctor's bill, A correspondent tells of a little girl who, attending Sabbath-School for the and being asked if she loved the Loyd, re plied : "Don't know, thir; I haiu't got no thin' agin him." Theory, of- "GiimEtip," ,m 3 We are °lien , asked, I •What is gossipr We answer, 'in dgeneral way, that it - hi talk ing of persons rather dim things.—Nothing' shows the paucity of ideas more than this talking about the" affairs of your neighbors., It is not only malicious people who originate Seandal,it is narrow-minded people, ignorant people, stupid people. Persons culitire and tntelligettee are not so hard run for top 7 ies of conversation. They can usually find something to say about art, literature, fash ion or society. The moment people begin to talk of their neighbors-zof person rather than things—tbey_ are apt to degenerate in to scandal for whcie one speaks_of_the vir tues of an acquaintance, a dozen expaCate on his o r her shortcomings. An d this brings us to speak of real culture, or what we consider to be such at least. A culti vated person, in the highest sense df the term, is not merely one who can talk of books, "eturea r an subjectsd-other_elevated_ of hu - man interest. To be thoroughly cultivated the heart, as well as the intellect, should be refined and enlarged. Sometimes w e see women who, without , education, yet having _been born_amiable, tire never guilty of goss ip. • Again we see women net naturally ami• 'able, whom education has taught to talk of things, not of persons. The perfect woman, in this respect; is one who is' both amiable and educated. But education does not al ways elevate people above the regions of gossip.. A really bad heart is always "mali cious. The beat advice we can g ive is home ' ly old adage: "blind your own business." Very few of as ever know the whole truth about any-, thing concerning a neighbor, and to speak of his or her conduct is usually to run the risk of being unjust- Much less should we talk of the motives of others,— Very few of us know our own motives, and to venture on discussing a neighbor's mo tives is always impertinenee, and often a real crime. There is something beautiful in'the church bells—beautiful and hopeful; they talk to high and low, fish and poor, in the same Voice; there is a sound in them that should scare pride anti envy and meanness of all sorts from the heart of man; that should make the earth seem to him, at least for a time, a holy place. There is a preacher in every belfry, that cries, Poor, weary, strug gling, fighting creatures—poor human things! take rest; be quiet. Forget your vanities, your follies, your weekday craft, your heart burnings! And you, ye human vessels, gilt and painted, believe the iron tongue that tells ye ye are of the same Adam's earth with the beggar at your gates, Come away, come!' cries the bell, "and learn to be bumble— learning that however daubed and stained, stuck about with jewels, you are but grave clay. Come, Dives, and be taught that all your glary, as you Wear it, is not half so beautiful in the eye of [leaven as the - sores of the uncomplaining Lazarus! And ye, poor creatures, livid and faint,=—tinted and crush ed by the pride and harshness of the world, —come, come," cries the boll with the voice of an angel, "come and learn what is laid up for ye; and, learning, take heart, and walk among the wickedness, and Cruelties of the world, calmly as Daniel walked among the lions," "Nature, through all her depths, •is full of music—varied in its tones and rich in its melody: There is a music in the stillness of the twilight hour; in the voices of the balmy breeze, as it sighs amid the stirring leaves of the starlit grove, or sleeps upon the calm bostim of the reposing waters; in the bub bling of the inland fountain, and the thun dering of the . foaming cataract; in the rip plings of the mountain rill, and the majestic voice of the storm-stirred sea. There is mu sic in the glad symphonies of the joyous songsters of the grove beneath, and the mut terings of the thunders above; in heaven; on earth; in the outspread skies and the in visible air; in the solitary dell, and on the mountain's cloud-veiled top, where human footsteps have never left an echo; in the deepest cells of. the Passion-stirred heart, and the inanimate depths of the material world ; in the dim rays of earth, and the beams of those celestial lights which gem the high firmament and light the an g els to their even in•orisons; in the tones of woman's voice on earth, nod the devotions of the pure spirits of a better land; in all, through all, and over all, and forever vibrating, the rich music of universal harmony, and the deep tones of undying melody. Thousands of invisible harps are pouring their united melody through the depths of air and earth; millions of arch -angels touch their 'heaven strung lyres, and -send of harmony through the vast balls of the temple. of the living God. It is the air of earth; it is the atmos phere of heaven. The unbounded universe is one sleepless lyre, whose chords of' love and hops and purity and .• peace are fanned into a dreamy and mystic melody by the breath of the invisible God." A "GttEr.N" ISLANDER.—In a criminal oonii, the counsel: dissatisfied with his want of success with an . Irishwitness . complained to the 'court Paddy replied—" Sure, I'm no lawyer, per honor; and the spalpane 'only wants to puzzle me." "Come, now, do yon swear you are no latiyer 2" said the counsel. "Fair, an' I do: and yez may swear the same about yourself, too, without fear of • perjury." • • d olAn editor in Ohio says ho was never hap •py but once, and that .was one warm day, When he lay in the . raps of two blooming maidens, being fanned by a third, and kissed by all three. • Artemis Ward says his hair resembles lov ers on the eve of-separation. It is hard to part. . . Church Bells Music) 00.0.0 • ifi,4:l2? trei.air NUM 0 3 , =EMI Re'edr4. LeaveS from' a;7'eacberi .Journal. ND. - PIIILOBOPIIY The word .philosophy, in our common ver naoular,.htus a wide signification. It is de rived frotn Iwo Greek, words, phites, 4ue, and sophia,. wisdom, and literally means Me love of wisciriM. - . In our modern aceeptatieti t : however, it is applied to the investigatiOri 'of the cause of, phenomena both of Mind and of Matter. Accordingly we have Intellectual Philosophy,, Moral Philosophy, Natural - Phi- - losopby, &o. ,The word occurs but once in' the Scripturesillol. 2,8, "Beware losi any man spoil ,you through Phil6sophy and vain _ eeeitXu_ indAtere-refers-to-thefalse-wisdom of the pagan philosop4rs — of — the --- age, - Nho by their heathenphilosoPhy 'opposed the wisdom and the - tcptrit tif' Christ. Mental Philosophy investigates the laws . andeause of mental phenomena, and incre dulity, being the result of mental action, we place in the science of dental Philos() h• . We do not wish to place a high sounding title over-a trivial subject_when -we speak.of the philosophy of incredulity but the subject is one of the most important that ettin claim thp_a tteD ti on _of_the_pnyelt ologist, Belief is the assent of the mind to facts, attested or supported by reliable testimony, and as man is a being possessed of reason and wimioni, belief must be the Fault of-cer tain mental operations after. facts have been Oren to the mind. Belief of "certain di7ine truths, ol• facts, is commanded in the. scriptures, andia fear ful.condemnation pronounced upon'it disbe lief of' them; and "faith," says Pail, L•eorn oth by hearing and bearing by the word of God;" and as God is a God of love, Justice, and mercy, end has made salvation accessible to all men on condition of belief' and obedi ence, we may rightly conclude that lie has endowed man with the power of investiga ting thernerit of facts ari - d their title to cre dence. But some men will consider ,facts and believe them on the same testimony that others reject ,'them upon. Why is this?— Let us take for instance the great truth that "Jesus is the Christ." We are commanded to believe this truth on the pain of eternal condemnation, and as our belief must be the result of our examination of the evidence on which it rests,•it follows that all may arrive at the same conclusion from the saute evi dence:, yet we know that- sonic men in all a ges have refused to believe this truth, And if all can believe this truth, and some do not believe it, it follows that the mind must ho influenced LI) , sonic cause else than a natural one. We conceive several faculties of the mind working together to decide the ,issue of faith. Facts, on being presented to the mind — , are taken bold of by the imagi*tion; the reasoning and reflective powers then go to work, analyze, compare, 'and deduce, and if the testimony is found true, conviction sinks into the heart, and according as the truth is important the heart is affected by it. Thus, the same functions of 'the mind that decide matters of faith in ordinary transac tions of life, decide the most important issues in religion. b Pollok most truthfully and bea,u tifully says, "All faith was one; in object not in kind The difference ley. The faith that saved a sons And that in which the common truth believed In essence were the same." The constitution of the mind is such, that when sane and unbiassed by prejudices and fit. se teaching, belief will follow properly at tested truth, as naturally as •ligln and dark ness folrow each other. But it is possible for the mind to be so perverted and fettered by prejudice and fabe teaching that no tee timony will convict. This is a fearful and awful condition, and one in which we would not stand for ten thousand worlds, and from what we know of the philosophy of mind we believe it to be the only reason why respon sible men will reject truth. In this condi tion how easy it is , to entertain delusions, to believe a lie and be .condenaned. The man who preserves the uprightness and purity of his mind by cultivating correct habits of thought, honors his Creator and his own being. He, and he only, has the right to the title and dignity of „NAN, To him a lone can we apply the words of Shakspeare. "How uoble in reason! how infinite in facul ties! in action how like an angel!- in appre hension how like a - god!" • The perverted mind may be • the result of either defective and improper training, or of self made habits of incorrect thought and reasoning. We admire the man who breaks away from the fetters.and prejudices imposed by himself or others, and throws himself in the full, clear light of heaven and of his own reason inAhe investigation of truths, human and divide. We counsel all who have the training of youth to beware, and see that the - intellect is trained to true and correct habits of thought. Mighty issues depend upon your work pa rents and teachers. Don't be confronted at the bar of God .by ruined souls, and re proached with "ye knew your duty but ye did it not." November I7th, "Pat can you tell me what is a virgin ?? ""rd be sure,•l ean,,Jitutuy." • "Well, thin, wilt ye, be after doing it ?" "Yes,jist—it's a svonian that has never been married at all be Jailers.' "Be ye in earnest, Pat ?" "Yis, Jimmy." "The eaints of flivin be praised, then! my mother is a Virgin—ray father never married at all•eure," . Virtue spritme from industry rather than religion. We care not how ."pious" a man is; let him "loaf" for a week, and ho will Teel the 'devil in him bigger than wood cock'. - 4,young.ykan in conversation one avening . ellsaned to remaig rank uo prophet. True, replied a lady preseilt, no profit to yourself nor to any, one. else. ~ 1 -l: " k i- / ',', 2 , ;• i . if "j: , . • '',"C‘ A NITCC 9
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