344 



MOORE'S RURAL NEW- YORKER: AH AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSi'ATER. 



OCT. n. 



fo&M' f§ crt-JflJifl. 



• MY LOW BBIDE." 



. form of M |.l baaatr 



GRATIFY THE LITTLE OHEB. 



"Fatiieb," Mid a little buy, Bonn I • 

 yearn old, "may 1 go out and roll my hoop io the 

 street?" 



" No, Wii.lt, It is Sunday morning, and you mnst 

 not play to-day." 



" But, Fattier, What shall I do? I wantsomc body 

 to play willi. FiQOBO tot me go out and''— 



"Stop your noise, young man, and go and get 

 your books and Bit down, aud don't let me hear 

 another word I" 



Crest- fallen, and with a iad, yet flushed face 

 Willy wont to gather his book'*, and sit down— 

 Ho had seen nil the hooks before — nothing was 

 now, nothing omuFcd him. Finally, be ventured 

 to Lis father's chair again, with some request. 



"Didn't 1 tell you lo keep away? Dont yon eec 

 I am reading, and can't be bothered? Go read 

 your books." 



Jnst then mother came in, ami Willy turned to 

 her. 



"Mother, I don't like Sunday. 1 wish there never 

 Van a Sunday in the WOrldl [t'fl the meanest day 



"Why. Willt, what's tho mutter of yon? Come 

 here, and lot mo see." 



"'Oaon father niBkcs me sit down all day, and 

 do nothing, and won'! lei rue play a Lit." 



"And you feel bad enough about it, Lotus go 

 out in tho other room, where wo shall not disturb 

 father, and look at the pictures, and Ml explain 

 them to yon awhile, and then yon may take my new 

 knife and see what yon c:hj make with iL" 



"0, do, please do, mother! How I love to have 

 you show mo tho picturcsl" 



And ao mother chatted and amused him for a 

 couple of hour*, and then she was really tired, for 

 alio had been very busy about the house all the 

 morning and wasted to rosl and read some. Fnlher 

 ,■ tptrt, aud took bis hat, and went out 

 to v.. ill., and enjoy the flue day, and divert himself 

 as he chose. Willy teued and hung around bis 

 mother, till from very weariness, she let him go out, 

 and once out of sight, smne idle boys, enticed him 

 to the brook to nee the little fish. 



When father came in, the Brit question was, 

 "Where's Woiy?" 



"I don't know. I let him go out, and I dare say 

 he has strayed away Homcwbere." 



■ Don't mre, why don't you say? I should think 

 yon might keep track of one child ! I'll whip that 

 hoy within u inch of hit life, if be runs away 



"Well, husband, I amused the child till I was 

 completely tired. Why could not you spend a 

 little time with him too? You always command 

 bim to nit down and read, just aa though such a 

 child, who can scarcely rend, could amuse himself 

 in that way. Von nowr bond yourself a moment 

 to please or interest him. Either I muBt do it, oi 

 ho must find amusement elsewhere." 



"0, ye*, the same old story. 1 pity the hen, tha 

 can't scratch for one chicken." And so it weal, 



Willy grew to bato the Sabbath, and his mothei 

 to dread tho day, for truly It was u long, sad, weary 

 day to her. Sbe loved her boy, and was willing 

 amuse bim, jet she was often sick, and full of cares, 

 and liked to read, but never could she take up 

 book or paper but she must lay it down, and do a 

 ather calculated 

 to have his lime to himself— tbe child must n 

 tease or Interrupt Aw,. ■ It belonged to the worn 

 to take oar* of the ohUd 



Reader, did yon over see such a family, and d. 

 »y Btory contain any instruction, or moral? 



QCEBCtrT. 



Whom to Marhy— When a young woman 1 

 haves to her parent, in a manner partloal* 

 tender snd rtspMtftd, from principle as well 

 nature, there u nothing good and gentle that m 

 not b« expected f rom her> in whMe „ t CODditlon 

 she maybe placed. Wat, I to advise a Mend 

 to the choice of a wire, m, a m connBe l would be, 

 "look out for one dtetin |U Uhed for her attention 

 and sweetness to her parents." The fund of worth 

 and affection Indicated by such behavior. Joined 

 by the habits of duty and consideration thereby 

 contracted, being transferred to the married 6ta1t . 

 will not fall to render her a mild and obliging 



THE GIFT OF BEAUTY 



' Mothie, Herbebt CaiTfOK seje that I am 

 beautiful" remarked a little girl of eight summers, 

 as through the Tine-wreathed pinz* Bhe came 

 tightly tripping into her mother's room. And, in- 

 deed, nature had been lavish In tinting the picture 

 that met the parent's gaze. A half hoar had that 

 patent been pleading with her God to guide her in 

 training her household plants, and an answer to 

 the child's remark rose to her UpB as readily as the 

 water pours over the basin of a fountain. 



"Come to my side, my Emily," Bhe said, then 

 twined ber arms around the form of ber fair bud 

 " You are pretty," said she, " bat this should beget 

 neither pride nor haughtiness, or plant within your 

 heart Beeds of selfishness. Beauty is a gift that 

 Jetjoyah bestows alike on flower, tree, brute crea- 

 tion, and man, in varied forma. My daughter boa 

 received it In the form of grace of figure and 

 comeliness of feature; in the silvery tone that 

 mat kB her laughter and speech, and In her light 

 tread over house BDd field. Days will come to her, 

 and she wilt have a chance to use these gifts in 

 making glad the hearts of the family banc 1 , and of 

 those who shall tread life's paths with her, by 

 speaking the gentle word, arranging the etck one's 

 pillow, wreathing a kindly smile for the care-worn, 

 timid, and weary. Bat nam- will she have Jurf oc- 

 casion to let vanity dwell in her heart, or exhibit 

 itself in her demeanor, for by no merit of her own 

 does she possess these attributes; and saiftly 

 will time go by and behold them decayed and 

 crnmbled back to their mother duet Mother 

 hopes that her spirit beautified by a right use of 

 the gifts will dwell in 'mansions not made with 

 bauds, eternal in the Heavens."' 



Emily went from the room with a new lesson 

 printed upon her heart, which remained (damped 

 there until childhood bad given place to woman- 

 hood. And not only In ber heart did it find b 

 place, hut was lived out in her actions. Her com- 

 paratively pure heart, a true tell tale of those enr- 

 ronndlng her, was never won by aBy of the haughty 

 and pretending ones who nought it; but by Heb 

 bbbt Grayson, the "upright farmer's boy," as he 

 was called by all. 



It was twilight, a golden autumn eve, when the 

 newly wedded pair stood beneath the same elm 

 tree around which the y had been playing just pre> 

 vlons to the opening of our story. Said Emily to 

 her companion, "It was here that yon oauaed the 

 awakening of a new life in me," and answered his 

 wondering gaze by telling how his boyish remark 

 had provoked a priceless lesson from the Ilpa of 



i over whom the green turf lay now; and which 



1 caused her to oast vanity aside, and seek for 



companion the fair maiden, Humility. 



Which beautified her spirit so much," returned 



Hebbbrt archly, "that Bhe has ever since met my 



lea by chiming, in her Bttvery tones, the old, 



old ndace— "Handsome is, who handsome does" 



ILIA does not wear hoop". And why? Sim- 

 cause she tiinks this fashion is ono of the 

 ridiculous the world baa ever seen. "Oh, 

 in are behind time," somebody Bays, "every 

 ears them." What if tbey do, it shows very 

 plainl. iliat lliongh their bodies arc "puffed out" 

 an unnatural size, their minds require no hoops. 

 The followers of Hoopology tell us they wear 

 them for comfort. A short time ago, when the 

 extreme in dxeu was raging, that was com- 

 for table, too. "ConsisUncy is a jewel." Thatthey 

 graceful, none can fail of observing when a 

 dumpy woman resembles a jug, and a tall one a 

 hogshead — of their convenience we need not speak 

 i'ui every one who has traveled at all the past J ear, 

 stify to this feature in thescience. Wi<ll,«hat 

 usion do we come to? Just this. Hoops are 

 because it is the fashion, aud that is the only 

 a. And thxt is the very doctrine that we de- 

 spise, not that we would uphold singularity in dress, 

 or any of the new-fangled dress- it form notions.— 

 What we want is moral courage to say to the lie tie 

 goddess thus far ebalt thou come and no faither. 

 If ladies would tike this stand/aud follow ber die- 

 only so for as taste would lead them, "Mrs, 

 Crinoline" would soon leave the stage of action. 



great cry is made about men sharing their 

 heada and making tbem*elvcs look like young por- 

 cupines. Who blames taeru! Rather let us won- 

 der they do not shave their heads and clothe them- 

 i in auk-olfflth and sskc*, on account of the 

 degeneracy of the female race. " O, tempora, O, 

 ," — that Hoopob'gy should be tolerated. 



SHTJN AFFECTATION, 



TliEl 



is nothing more beautiful In the young 

 plicity of character, It is honest, frank 

 How different la affectation 1 The 

 simple minded ore always natural. They are, at 

 the same time, original. The affected are never 

 natural. And as for originality, if they ever had 

 it, they have crushed it out, and barled It from 

 tight, utterly. Be yourself, then, young friend! — 

 To attempt to be anybody else is worse than folly. 

 It 1b on impossibility to attain it, It is contempti- 

 ble to try! But suppose you could succeed in imi- 

 tating the greatest man that ever figured In bUtory, 

 would that make yon any the greater? By no 

 u would always suffer in comparison 

 Itated one. and be thonght of only as 

 substance — the echo of a real 

 pure coin! Dr. John- 

 imitator — for such is 



with the i 

 the shadow > 



oompared the h 



be who affects the character of another — to the 

 Empress of Russia, when she did the freakish thing 

 of erecting a palace of ice. It was splendid and 

 conspicuous while it tasted. But tho sun soon 

 melted It, and caused its attractions to dissolve 

 into common water, while the humblest atone cot- 

 tages of her subjects stood firm and nnmarred. 



Let the fabric of yoor character, though ever so 

 bumble, be at least real. Avoid affecting the char- 

 acter of another, however great. Solid up your 

 own. Be what God Intended you to be— yourself, 

 and not somebody else. Shun affectation. 



Sir I'uTf.n Lily made it a rule never to look at 

 a bad picture, having found by experience that 

 whenever he did ao bis pencil took a hint from ft. 



$boi« fpscdlang. 



fcodsesps, Hit dj-ios Sato 

 l»!th b«Mtr-ti» glo' 



d pleasant sunlight o 



Till', I>KK\Mr,K.-N.>. III. 



"Man proposeB but God disposes," raid some 

 one, and we are all proving the truth of the saying 

 We all plan and say to-morrow I ehall do this thing, 

 and another day that, but fortunately for us, a 

 wiser than us sends the event. We are too blind 

 sometimes to see why our dearest plans are thwart- 

 ed, and, perhaps, our Uvea embittered, but assuredly 

 it must be good. Bitting on the sofa In a pleasant 

 cool room, I say, "To-morrow, Suby, I will go 

 home to the city and let Joon have a vacation." 



" Why must you go so soon?" 



"0, I left John alone there, and my business 

 will require my presence by this time. Besides, 

 poor JortN is tired, and wants a little recreation as 

 well as myself," 



"Well, if you must, go; but we should like to 

 have you Btay, you know." 



"Thank you, but I mnst go." And I turn to my 

 newspaper and the kind matronto her work. 



All this plan I make on the sofa, with perfect 

 confidence that I shall be able to do just so, and re- 

 lieve John and myself in just this way. Bat the 

 paper seems dull and nothing has power to inter- 

 e. My head seems ready to burst, and I can 

 feel the fever creeping slowly along my veins. " I 



o afraid I'm sick, Soar." 



How busily the little woman bustles about to re- 

 lieve me. What unknown teas, aud syrups, and 

 cordials, I must try. And when they all fail with 

 what an air does she say, " You'll have a thorough 

 e of fever." Bo tho doctor cornea in and 

 looks wise, and busy, and gratified, almost I bear 

 him say, briskly, "A very interesting case!" in tho 

 y some tone we used when we found a new bug, 

 plant, or mineral, when we hunted the fields 

 long ago. Have doctors any feelings? Perhaps 

 they have. But they are so used to sickness and 



ffering that they only Bee In you and I " interest- 



g cases," which must sooner or later come under 



eircare. And then comes along, confused vision 

 of bottles and papers, and a doctor, and dim figures 

 floating in the misty atmosphere, and strange, 



irtliog fancies, the weird images conjured up in 



e brain by the necromancy of fever. 



Who can describe the absurdities of a sick man's 



eame,— all the more absurd because of the little 

 sprinkling of possible reality in them. We are 

 fully convinced they might bo real, but bow utterly 

 absurd they would be if they were. And bo wo 

 laugh at them. Yet It is just as cruel as Itis to laugh 



the troubles of a child, or grown person even.— 

 Tbey are just as real to the sufferer as our afflictions 

 are to us,— nay, even more so, sometimes. It ia 

 strangely true that many times our dreams seem 

 real, and our real situation a dream. 



At last comes the awakening, and I overhear the 

 doctor faying to SrSY, " He's entirely out of dan- 

 ger, Ma'am," and I fancy I cau see him rub his 

 hands with glee. " A few days of euoh excellent 

 nursing, Ma'am, and he will be out" 



8o I had been pretty eick, had I? and I had had 

 good care? It mast have been Bray who cared for 

 me. Itconld'ntbeToM; no, I amsureitwaaSreY. 

 I wonder bow long I have been eick? Wonder If 

 I was dangerous? How weak I am? — and I lazily 

 close my eyes and try to steep again. Outside the 

 curtain are eoft footsteps, and hushed voices, and 

 their noise comes to my ear with a pleasant hum 

 like the Bound we all love to bear in the sea-BhelL 

 Even Ton's hearty voice Is hushed as he comes 

 into tho house. What a task it must be to him to 

 keep from loud talking with those deep, full lungs 



And Srar comes in now, quietly, tenderly, as if 

 she feared to injure me by an excess of kindness. 

 There are two wsyB of doing a favor, as If yon tho'l 

 all the time it would be a favor, and aj if you dld'nt 

 think about that, but just did it ss the prompting 

 of a kind heart The. first fears to be too little 

 praised, the second to be too much. Which do you 



And soon SrSY telle me I am convalescent 0, 

 the joyB of convalescence! The mind and the 

 borfy are both beginning to grow. The body haa 

 been ill and is weak— it must rest and gain strength. 

 The mind has had a rest — a vacation— and It comes 

 to things of the world with a rest and a relish 

 which eeem almost like the fresh vigor of a child. 

 We are learning. All the realities of life are as 

 new to us as if they never existed, and the effort 

 wa make to remember our condition is liko finding 

 it out for the first time. 8c- w 'rings me some let- 

 ters. Hero La one from Sot*. Poor fellow! be 

 must be tired waiting fo: me. And perhaps 

 another, away in some qnlei | mntry nook, la tired 

 too,— and some bright ejci may be dim with 

 watching for bim. 



Ton v 





rious things of importance to me, and one of impor- 

 tance to himself. — to go homt rot ■ week. Job* 

 will be once sorry for me and twice glad for him- 

 self when he gets that. Aud the bright eyea will 

 be dry and will sparkle. 



Ton sits by tbe fire reading bis paper, the chil- 

 dren are far in fairy-land, Susy is busy at berwotk- 

 baaket while I lie watching her. There ia a qniet, 

 kind expression on her face, as if tbe reflection of 

 some good deed bad lingered there. Conventions 

 may r«o/w, and enthusiasts prate, but woman's 

 highest and only true sphere, is aa the refiner and 

 helper of man. From her we get our standards of 

 beauty and worth, bodily or mental. In Prosperity 

 she cheers, and in Adversity consoles us. Bho may 

 not fight our battles for u?, bat when faint, and 

 wounded and bleeding from tbe fray, ber bends 

 shall bind up our wonnds snd soothe our mind?. 

 Her foes in their trouble shall bless tho heart which 

 pities and the band which relieves them. And we 





Cyn 



the 



Cradle to the Grave, as Mother, Sister, or Wife, 

 reverence, we love, and we cherish True Woman. 

 May her Rights be ever heeded. 

 But invalids must sleep. Good nigh'. 



THE COMET. 



I HiTB just been oat "star-gazing." and as the 

 " cynoBuro of all eyes," at present, ia tbe Comet of 

 course I coold see nothing else. Looking at this, 

 bb it went wbiBking and flashing through tho Solar 

 System, the thonght struck me how like some hu- 

 man beings la that erratic visitor. 



Mr. A.— a person of small means, and Btilt smaller 

 head — cornea flashing Into n neighborhood, and 

 soon draws a long train after him, who give out that 

 he 1b a person of vast resources, end all lesser lights 

 must bo thrown in the back ground. It is surmis- 

 ed that if his course Is obstructed and a collision 

 ensaes, that everything will be knocked into pi and 

 a general chaos be tbe result. But in a few days 

 be again recedes into space and the world goes on 

 aa before. A Cbemlco Agricultural Philosopher, 

 Comet-like, appears In the Solar System, and with 

 his theories is determined to throw light on all 

 surrounding darkness, bat his rays alt have n ten- 

 dency in one direction. People Boon dlBCoverthat 

 his "seat of life" Is only a nucleus for making 

 money, and he passes away. 



We have many notable examples of erratic visi- 

 tors in eome Divines of tbe present day, with their 

 teachings of getting to Heaven In some dillorent 

 manner beside the good old one of loving God 

 and doing good in the world. They may thine for 

 a few dajB, but their brightest places can bo easily 

 seen through, and are soon sent inln outer darkness. 



Tbe Fashions of the generation seem much like 

 these Heavenly bodies. As they are supposed to 

 revolve around, and again appear— after a long 

 time — so with the fashionB In dress and appear- 

 ance, Theorbltaof each are somewhat eliptlcal, 

 and are vailed by the attractions of other Heavenly 

 bodies, still the eame expansive appearance may 

 again, in tlme.be seen enlarging as it nearn the 

 centro of attraction till It spreads over half tbe 

 firmament and anon sinking into nothingness agoiD. 



Politicians of tbe present day are striking exam- 

 ples of our Bhinlog visitor. As this 1b supposed not 

 to shine by its own light, but only reflects the bor- 

 rowed rays of the aun, ao our Politicians have no 

 light of their own, but give out such aa Is received 

 from headquarters. And as these were thought by 

 Bir Isaac Newton to feed tho great luminary, so 

 Politicians, though making a great blaze, are only 

 giving "aid and comfort" to some higher power, 

 and generally end by being thrown off into space. 



COMFORTS OF A SMALL HOUSE. 



Wb confess to a liking for small houses and small 

 women. Touching tho former, we will here gi 

 seven good, and as we think, sufficient reasons f 

 our preference. In the first place, they Imply 

 email, cozy rooms. Not cramped, but mensurable. 

 So small that the light and heat are reflected and 

 radiated from all parts. Family comfort cannot 

 thrive In a hall or a field. I imagine that tho boy 

 who did not feel sufficiently acquainted with bis 

 father to ask him for a new cap, lived in a "pala- 

 tial residence." I doubt not, for the same reason, 

 people living among mountains are more sociable 

 than those who live on plain?. Affection, like a 

 smile, dies nnless It Is reflected. Secondly, we like 

 small houses because they look paid for, and a 

 small house paid for holds more happiness and 

 real friends than a large one unpaid. Anything 

 unpaid Is uncomfortable. To an honest man, debts 

 are demons, and an Indebted house a haunted 

 bouse, full of creeping horrors and disquietudes as 

 those described by Hood. Thirdly, we like small 

 houses, because they look sympathizing. They are 

 like people not overdressed, more ready to make 

 acquaintance. A big house is like a big man — uu- 

 accostable. Stately porticos end lordly halls are 

 like the titles D.D., I.L.D., etc.— Imposing, distant 

 and Inclined to be repellent In the fourth place, 

 wo like a small house, because It excites no envy. 

 It matters not how elegantly it is furnished, how 

 tastefully snrrounded and adorned by shrubbery 

 and flowers, its observers are its admirers and 

 friends. It does not fall under the "evil eye," and 

 no man who has a soul would wish even his bouse 

 — his home — the abode of bis wife and children — 

 to he on object of envy. Everybody can say, and 

 la encouraged to say, " I can build such a house" — 

 which words are equivalent to a blessing. Fifthly, 

 we like a email house, because it must always 

 remain the people'e house. The industrious me- 

 chanic can earn each a house. The diligent 

 laborer can own, by patent industry, such a bouse. 

 ive in such a house ; and what a 

 lfort It is to live In such accom- 

 necessity must be the dwelliug- 

 ths of the race? Sixthly, we like 

 :b most of us begin 

 life. It ia with small houses that the affections of 

 young couples, the first care aad joys of mar 

 life, are mostly associated. Mos 

 all way." In the last pi 



The widow cat 

 ricb, rational c 



places of nine 1 

 small houses, bee: 



mat) hoi 

 or last c 



e it is 





us begin life 

 prefer the 

 oved from 

 ya few steps down, and 

 : t>ot from the Largo pal- 

 ibc change ia too abrupt 

 ee orders of architecture, 



^alilmth Hidings. 



BTRIYR, WAIT AND'PRTYT" 



0, thb bitter pang of parting from those we ! 

 and with whom we have so long associated. It 

 starts the tear drops, and we weep at the sad 

 thought of bidding adieu to our bean's cherished 

 idols. A brother or sister lcavos the parental roof 

 to dwell in a distant land, and as wo watch the 

 busy wheels which hear them forever from our 

 sight, and listen to that low "goodbye." do wo not 

 feel that the hour of parting 1b indeed a sad one? 

 The gay young bride as she goes forth from ber 

 childhood's homo feels that Bhe is leaving those 

 who are bound to her by strong ties of affection, 

 and st she takes a last look of each familiar ob- 

 ject, memories of the past and gone sweep o'er her 

 mind and she feela 



But there ore other parting*, more bitter than 

 theee. When we are summoned to tbe bed aide of 

 a dying loved one, it ia then that we feel tho 

 severest anguish. Then oor deepest emotions are 

 called forth, and as we gaz* npon the pallid brow, 

 and lips alosed forever in death, und know that we 

 shall never ogain hear that voice on carlh, we feel 

 this world is a dreary place, und it would indeed 

 bo so were it not for tbe bright anticipations of a 

 land whero beauty unUding blooms— aud where 

 farewells and adieus are u sound unknown. There 

 all broken ties will be re-united, and those long 

 parted on earth will meet 





iriubt Eemphlc b 



THE TRUE B01TECE OF HAPPLRE5S. 



In tracing tho history of the human race, from 

 tbe time our first parents were driven from tbe 

 Go,. deu of Eden, down to the preEcnt time, wc 

 that happinesa ia tho chief end and aim of 

 exiatenco here; yet how few of the vast oonco 

 of human beings, who go up aud down in 

 great busy world, ever secure the ol ject for which 

 they ore so diligently searching. How many a 

 the ways that present themselves to the mind of 

 tbe traveler, and how rare is tbe case tha 

 chooses the right path to secure It Some cl 

 to tbe topmoBt round of the ladder of Fame, 

 for a time vainly Imagine that tbey have attained 

 their object; but the pomp of power, aud nil the 

 fancied pleasures that attend this accomplishm 

 of great designs, soon loose all their fascinations, 

 and the man, left to himself, is, after all, unhappy, 

 Others imagine that Wealth will confer upon them 

 lasting happiness, and In tbelr headlong baste to 

 attain great riches, they trample on every princi- 

 ple of right and justice, and In the end find they 

 havo been pursuing a delusive phantom. Others, 

 still, Beck for Happiness in Pleesnre, and In the 

 gay revel, may for a time fancy tbey are happy; 

 but soon, very soon, it is changed to disgust, and 

 the victim is left to the gloomy reflection, that the 

 talents which should have been devoted to tbe 

 good of bis fellow men, have been wasted— aye 

 worse than wasted— in dissipation and folly, and 

 be learns, but too late for his own peace, what all 

 must learn, that "Godliness with Contentment is 

 great gain." /. u. 



A 8 HI NIK CHUBCH 



A chubcq may be made up of men of wealth, 

 men of Intellect, men of power, blgb-born men, 

 and men of rank and fashion; and being eo com- 

 posed, may be, In a worldly sense, a very strong 

 church. There are many things such a churob 

 can do; it can laoncb ships and endow seminaries; 

 it can molntain an Imposing array of forms and 

 activities; it can build splendid temples, can rear 

 a magnificent pile, and adorn lis front with iculp- 

 tares; can lay stone upon stone, aud heap orna- 

 ment upon ornament UU ,lie costliness of the 

 ministration at the aliar thall keep aoy poer man 

 from entering the portal. Rut, my brethren, I will 

 tell yon one thing It can not do— it can not thine. 

 It may glitter and blaze like an keberginthesoa; 

 of all that Is formal and material in Christianity, 

 it may make a splendid manifestation, but it can 

 not shine. It may turn almost everything into 

 gold at its touch, bat it can't touch tbe heart. It 

 may lift up Its marble front, and pile tower upon 

 tower, mountain npon mountain; but it can not 

 touch tbe mountains, end they shall smoke; it can 

 not conquer bouIb for Christ; it can not awaken 

 the sympathies of faith and love; it can not a*o 

 Christ's work in man's conversation. It Is dark in 

 itself, and cau not diffuse light It is cold at heart, 

 and has no overflowing and subduing inflaencea to 

 . _ upon tbe lo*t And with all of lis strength 

 that church is weak, and for ChrUt'a peculiar work, 

 worthless.— Dr. Otia. 



