Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BRIDAL WISHES. 
BY KETTIE. 
May gentle breezes waft your boat; 
May clear and sunny weather 
Make shining pathway as ye float 
Adown life’s stream together. 
May all things prove so fair and bright 
You’ll always bless your marriage night. 
Quicksands lie along your way 
Where many boats have grounded; 
But not a bark was ever lost 
Where love and faith abounded. 
Let./hif/i be your anchor and love be your guide, 
And fearless of danger your life-boat will glide. 
Clouds may arise in the night-time 
With tempest of trouble and sorrow, 
Cast anchor ! and wait for the sunshine, 
It surely will come with the morrow. 
Be the night ne’er so dark still gleaming afar, 
You may see the clear light of your own guiding star. 
So start on your voyage with laughter and song, 
You have entered the life-boat together; 
With the anchor of faith and the guiding star love, 
Come fair or come cloudy weather, 
Y T our own hearts shall make the pathway all bright, 
God smile on your pleasant embarking to-night! 
Rochester, N. Y., 1859. 
-*-«>.,- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A WORD TO THE GIRLS. 
“Mother, how old is Ellen Brown?” 
“ I believe she is nearly eighteen—just about 
your age, Carrie. Why, my daughter ?” 
“0, nothing in particular. I called at Mrs. 
Brown’s yesterday, and Ellen was very proud be¬ 
cause she had just finished making a suit of clothes 
for her little brother. She said she had cut and 
made them, every stitch, herself, and they fitted 
and looked just as nicely as if they had come from 
the tailor’s shop.” 
“But some one assisted her, Carrie ?” 
“ 0, yes. Her mother had a tailoress there a week 
who cut some patterns for her, and then she watched 
her about her sewing; or, I mean, Ellen noticed 
how the tailoress did everything, and she said she 
resolved to learn how to do it herself—-and she says 
it is the nicest kind of sewing on light cloth, such 
as people use for childrens’ clothes, and she would 
rather work on it than on factory, or on calico, or 
any cotton goods.” 
“ But, Carrie, Ellen’s father is abundantly able 
to hire such work done. How came she to busy | 
herself about it ? It is not likely she will ever have 
occasion to be a tailoress, and go out to earn her j 
living.” 
“ That is the oddity of it mother, and so I told 
her; but she is the funniest girl 1 ever saw. She 
says she does not care if her father is able to sup¬ 
port her in idleness—how did he get his property? 
By hard labor and close application to business for 
many years, and she is not going to sit down and 
fool away her time over embroidery, and before the 
mirror, and make a ninny of herself, because her 
father is rich! 0, it was fun to hear her talk. But, 
after all, mother, it made me half ashamed of my¬ 
self, and I am not sure but she has the right of it. 
I never was much acquainted with Ellen, for she 
does not go into company a great deal, but she is 
always well dressed and well behaved. I knew her 
father was wealthy enough, but somehow, I never 
thought much about her.” 
“ Yes, Carrie, the Browns are quite indepen¬ 
dent as to property, and Mrs. Brown is very much 
of a lady, but I believe confines herself among her 
children and family cares more than most women 
choose to.” 
“And, mother, that makes me think of some 
other things. Ellen said she had persuaded her 
mother to cut out a half dozen shirts for her father 
and brothers, and she was going to make them all 
herself, so as to learn how. She knows how to cut 
and make dresses now, and she said, besides, she 
was going to learn to do and to superintend all 
kinds of housework. You know, mother, she has 
been at school almost constantly till within a few 
weeks, and now she says she has come home to 
help her mother, who is growing old, and is weary 
with the care of such a large family, and she is 
going to relieve her and fill her place as much as 
possible, so her mother can rest and recruit. She 
said she could take the whole charge of the boys’ 
wardrobe, and keep it in order, and could keep her 
own as it should be, and could take charge of the 
parlors, and closets, and see to the chambers and 
cellars, so her mother need not run up and down 
stairs—and, mother, I’m sure I don’t know what 
all she isn’t going to do, and she looks so cheerful 
and happy. One thing I do know, her father and 
mother are just as proud of her, and seem to think 
she is the greatest treasure in the world! 0, 
mother, I wish I were half as smart and good!” 
“ Well, well, daughter, you are quite excited, 
rea lly —shedding tears, I declare! Ellen is a dear, 
lovely girl, and I am heartily glad you have seen 
the beauty of her conduct, and I trust you will in 
time become as beloved and useful as she is.” 
May it not be said to other girls who read this, 
“ Go and do likewise ?” Queechy. 
——-. -- 
The Memory of a Mother.— When temptation 
appears, and we are almost persuaded to do wrong, 
how often a mother’s words of warning will be re¬ 
called to mind and the snare broken. Yes, the 
memory of a good mother has saved many a poor 
mortal from going astray. Long grass may be 
growing over the hallowed spot where all her 
earthly remains repose. The dying leaves of au¬ 
tumn may be whirled over it, or the chill white 
mantle of winter cover it from sight, yet the spirit 
of her, when he walks in the right path, appears, 
and gently, sadly, mournfully, calls to him when 
wandering off into ways of error and of crime. 
--- +++ -- 
Proud looks make foul work of fair faces. 
“EDUCATION AND INFLUENCE OF WOMAN.” j 
We select the following beautiful picture from a ! 
recently published address of Richard V. Cook, ' 
Esq., of Columbus, Texas, on this subject. It will 
touch the heart of the reader. We seldom stumble 
upon so well expressed an idea of woman’s true j 
mission : 
I fancy a young man just emerging from the 
bright elysium of youth, and commencing the 
bright journey of life. Honest, noble and gifted— 
the broad world to his warm hopes is the future 
scene of affluence, fame and happiness. Under his 
active energies, business prospers, and, as a conse¬ 
quence, friends come about him. Ere long he 
meets a sensible and simple girl, who wins his 
heart, and who loves and trusts him in return. He 
does not stop to ask what the world will say about 
the match in case he marries her. Not he. The 
world is kicked out of doors, and the man deter¬ 
mines to be the architect of his own happiness. 
He does not stop to inquire whether the girl’s 
father is rich in lands, and slaves, and coin; but 
he marries her for that most honest and philosophic 
of all reasons—because he loves her. He builds 
his house in some quiet spot, where green trees 
wave their summer glories, and where bright sun¬ 
beams fall. Here is the Mecca of his heart, to¬ 
wards which he turns with more than Eastern 
adoration. It is a green island in the sea of life, 
where rude winds never assail, and storms never 
come. Here, from the troubles and cares of exis¬ 
tence, he finds solace in tfie society of her who is 
gentle without weakness, and sensible without 
vanity. 
Friends may betray him, and foes may oppress; 
but when towards home his weary footsteps turn, 
and there beams upon him golden smiles of wel¬ 
come, the clouds lift from his soul — the bruised 
heart is restored, and the strong man made whole. 
I see the man fall into adversity. Creditors seize 
his property, poverty stares him in the face, and 
he is avoided on all hands as a ruined bankrupt. 
When he sees all go—friends, credit and property 
— grief-stricken and penniless, he seeks his hum¬ 
ble home. Now, does the wife desert him too ?— 
Nay, verily! When the world abandons and per¬ 
secutes the man, she draws closer to his side, and 
her affection is all the warmer because the evil days 
have come upon him. The moral excellencies of 
her soul rise superior to the disasters of fortune. 
And when she sees the man sit mournful and dis¬ 
consolate, like Themistocles by the Household 
Gods of Admcthus, hers is the task to comfort and 
console. She reminds him that misfortune has oft 
undertaken the wisest and best; that all is never 
lost while health and hope survive; that she still 
is near to love, to help and encourage him. The 
man listens, his courage rallies, and the shadows 
flee from his heart; armed once more, he enters 
the arena of life. Industry and energy restores 
him to competency, fortune smiles upon him, friends 
return, and 
“Joy mounts exulting on triumphant wings.” 
Again the scene shifts. I see the man stretched 
weak and wasted oil the bed of sickness. The 
anxious wife anticipates every wish and necessity. 
Softly her foot falls upon the carpet, and gently her 
hand presses the fevered brow of the sufferer.— 
Though the face gives token of her own weariness 
and suffering, yet through the long watches of each 
returning night, her vigils are kept beside the 
loved one’s couch. At last disease beleaguers the 
fortress of life; and the physician solemnly warns 
his patient that death is approaching. He feels it 
too, and the last words of love and trust are ad¬ 
dressed to her who is weeping beside his dying 
bed. And, in truth, the last hour hath come. I 
imagine it is a fit time to depart; for the golden 
sun himself has died upon the evening’s fair hori¬ 
zon, and rosy clouds bear him to his grave behind 
the western hills ! Around the couch of the dying 
man, weeping friends and kindsmen stand, while 
the minister slowly reads the holy words of promise: 
“I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the 
Lord; he that believeth on me, though he were 
dead, yet shall he live ; and who so liveth and be¬ 
lieveth in me, shall never die.” Slowly the clock 
marks the passing moments, and silently the sick 
man’s breath is ebbing away. Slowly the cold 
waters are rolling through the gateways of life.— 
And now, as the death damp is on the victim’s 
brow, and the heart throbs its last pulsations, the 
glazed eye opens and turns in one full, farewell 
glance of affection upon the trembling weeper who 
bends over him; and ere the spirit departs forever, 
the angels hear the pale wife whisper—“I’ll meet 
thee, — I’ll meet thee in heaven !” 
Cheerfulness.- —As often as I hear the robin red¬ 
breast chant as cheerfully in September, the begin¬ 
ning of winter, as in March, the approach of the 
summer, why should not we (think I) give as cheer¬ 
ful entertainment to the hoary, frosty hairs of our 
age’s winter, as to the primroses of our youth’s 
spring ? Why not to the declining sun in adversity, 
as (like Persians) to the rising sun in prosperity? 
I am sent to the ant to learn industry; to the dove 
to learn innocence ; to the serpent to learn wisdom ; 
and why not to this bird to learn equanimity and 
patience, and to keep the same tenor of my mind’s 
quietness, as well at the approach of calamity’s 
winter, as of the spring of happiness?— Warwick. 
Our happiness depends very much upon the 
estimate we form of life, and the effort we make to 
bring ourselves into harmony with its laws. There 
arc some who arc unhappy on system—from weakly 
adopting a philosophy which lifts all beauty from 
the face of things, and imbues all their thoughts 
with a coloring of sadness. These look too much 
to the negative of things. With them, present 
joys are ever darkened by the shadows of future 
griefs. 
Look Up. —So long as we confine our vision to 
mere natural laws, we keep ourselves upon the 
level of the animal creation, which never look above 
their instincts and the supply provided for them— 
which never go back to the sources or causes of 
things in themselves, or in the world around them. 
So long as we look merely to human agencies in 
the events of life, we keep ourselves upon the level 
of the temporal and the finite, never rising higher 
than the measure of human imperfection and frailty. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US. 
BY CLARA AUGUSTA. 
The world is too much with us! 
We labor for its gain, 
Forgetful that a mount of gold 
Would never ease a pain.' 
And not Golconda’s diamonds, 
Fresh from the midnight mine, 
Could win one ray of heavenly peace 
Down from the source divine! 
The world is too much with us! 
Our cry from birth is “ Wealth !” 
We hurry on, regardless 
Of happiness or health, 
To pile up gloated treasures, 
Increase our stocks and lands, 
Forgetful that a beggar man 
Holds out his bony hands ! 
The world is too much with us! 
Friendship wo scorn and slight; 
No time for sentimental trust— 
On, onward in the fight! 
We woo the coquette, Fortune, 
With e’er unsated thirst— 
Push by our fellow mortals 
To grasp the bubble first! 
Ah ! all this life is not too long 
To labor and enjoy ! 
For little play and all hard work 
Made Jacky a dull boy. 
- Then let us spice our toil with smiles, 
Our lives with cheerful days, 
And through the whole lift up our hearts 
In our Creator’s praise ! 
Farmington, N. II., 1859. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
TRAVEL. 
If we accept as true what Mr. John M. Daniel, 
late Minister to Sardinia, says, that “the chief 
enjoyment of travel is in anticipation and memory,” 
and if his neglect to indicate whether the expecta¬ 
tion of teeing or the satisfaction of having seen for¬ 
eign countries affords the greatest pleasure, leads 
us to conclude that, at least, with reference to this 
particular object, these two states of mind arc 
equally agreeable, those of us who journey for the 
gratification of curiosity, will be puzzled to know 
when to commence our tour of observation.— 
Doubtless, the majority of persons who go abroad 
make improvement as well as pleasure the aim of 
their wanderings; the)- look upon travel as an easy 
and entertaining way kof gaining knowledge—an 
elegant means of ed\A?uion—and to this class of 
tourists it is surely oHsomc consequence, not so 
much at what timvi as at what stage of cul¬ 
ture their travels occur. Another class of travelers, 
like the Livingstones and Taylors, who undertake 
journeys, perhaps less for self-improvement than 
for the purpose of contributing to the general en¬ 
lightenment, are still further bound to choose the 
most favorable period for making their explora¬ 
tions—the time when the advantages of education, 
combined with the faculty of observation and the 
power of bodily endurance, shall enable them to 
make their travels of the greatest public benefit.— 
Mere pleasure seekers—people who go abroad not 
out of any curiosity to see objects of interest in 
other lands, but because they enjoy the excitement 
of change from place to place, and find it irksome 
to remain at home, and others who visit foreign 
countries because it is fashionable — a stereotyped 
expedient—to create a sensation in their own little 
world, and to gain social eclat —these will never 
recognize the need of any intellectual preparation 
for travel; and, as with the object they have in 
view, the outfit required is evidently of a material 
nature, they may set forth whenever they obtain 
the necessary means for the prosecution of their 
journey. 
There is a certain advantage in traveling in early 
life sure to be fully appreciated by those who are 
impatient of study and in haste to see the world, 
and another and more decided advantage in putting 
it off later. In the former case, one enjoys longer 
the remembrance of what lie has seen and heard in 
foreign lands, and so far as lie has profited by his 
opportunities, the benefit extends over a longer 
period of liis life,—in the latter case, he may see 
and hear to better purpose after his taste lias been 
formed by study, bis mind enlarged by reading, 
and his judgment ripened by years and experience. 
Indeed, speaking with all the positiveness that a 
lack of personal experience allows, the young who 
go abroad thinking to find in travel a compensa¬ 
tion, much more an over-balance for the advantages 
of regular school discipline, must, so far as the 
solid results of the experiment are concerned, he 
disappointed. There is no denying that actual 
observation of persons and places gives even a su¬ 
perficial traveler a certain superiority over the most 
diligent, stay-at-home reader; but a comparison 
of the sums of knowledge gained by two persons of 
equal natural abilities, one of whom has spent liis 
youth in systematic endeavor to learn what lie 
could of the history, language, literature, laws, Ac., 
of different nations, the other in passing from one 
country to another, dependent on guide-books to tell 
him wiiat lie wanted to see, picking up what infor¬ 
mation lie was able under the disadvantage of un¬ 
settled residence and the more serious difficulty of 
learning at the same time facts and the vehicle of 
their communication—such a comparison will show 
largely in favor of the former. 
The place which an intelligent person assigns to 
travel, in his plan of culture, will have an impor¬ 
tant influence in determining the amount and qual¬ 
ity of preparation he will deem necessary. If he 
look to a leisurely progress through foreign coun¬ 
tries as a sort of supplementary education—an 
opportunity to review what he has previously 
learned of the various nations of the earth, under 
the favoring circumstance of actual presence in the 
scenes and among the people to which that knowl¬ 
edge relates,—he is very likely to be satisfied with 
a less thorough acquaintance with the geography, 
history, domestic and public economy, language, 
Ac., of the countries he proposes to visit, than he 
will wish he possessed when he finds himself in a 
strange land and undertakes to realize the full 
benefits he expected from liis journey. If he 
admit the idea that the past history, no less than 
the present condition of any country, may be 
studied to better advantage on its own soil than 
thousands of miles away, lie will be pretty certain 
to make that belief an excuse for hurrying over his 
historical readings, assuring himself that he shall 
repair all omissions, most profitably, during the 
intervals of leisure lie means to indulge in on liis 
travels. Pleased with the romantic prospect of 
reading the literature of a people under its native 
skies, he will jealously abstain from anticipating 
any share of the delight he promises himself from 
the master-works of Poetry, Fiction and Philoso¬ 
phy of a language, lest previous acquaintance 
impair the effect of the perusal he looks forward to 
enjoying under such happy conditions. In this 
way, between calculations of policy and sentimental 
considerations, lie heaps up a formidable amount of 
reading to be disposed of at a time when lie lias a 
great deal else to occupy liis attention; and when, 
indeed, it cannot be properly accomplished without 
changing the character of liis stay abroad from a 
journey to a residence. For a traveler, even when 
not hurried, always finds plenty of employment for 
liis eyes in looking about and learning what the 
country through which he passes is at present —an 
investigation of itsyia*^ is not included in the legiti¬ 
mate objects of travel—but as all the knowledge 
we can gain of the history of a country before 
seeing it, will unquestionably help us to appre¬ 
ciate its present condition, any one contemplating 
a foreign tour will do well to consider the expedi¬ 
ency of getting ready before lie starts. A. 
South Livonia, N. Y., 1859. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
STICK TO IT. 
Yes, “stick to it,” whatever may be your calling, 
and success will inevitably crown your efforts.— 
There is no saying more true than that a “rolling 
stone gathers no moss.” We may mark it where 
we will, those who are constantly changing, are 
obliged to change forever, while those who stick 
to their business always have something to stick 
to. Arc you a mechanic and does labor sometimes 
seem tiresome?—put away such thoughts, take 
hold with renewed courage and “stick to it”—you 
will feel better, the bread that you earn wil 1 taste 
sweeter. Are you a farmer, and do you often think 
there is an easier way to earn a living than by the 
sweat of the brow?—yours is a great mistake, the 
farmer is really the most independent man in the 
world, his fortune is secured in the fruitful soil— 
liis is an honorable calling. Are you a student?— 
be never discouraged, “stick to it,” there are many 
priceless gems concealed in the casket of knowl¬ 
edge which will be yours if you only persevere. 
Yes, stick to your business young man - let not 
a false glitter drav^ you away-—there is evty-ything 
done at the present time to disparage labor— any¬ 
way to get rich and not work for it. Still, no one 
fails to see that those are the most successful who 
stick to their business in spite of wind or tide — 
no character is more despicable than the undecided 
man — one who sits on the fence ready to jump 
either way is not worthy the name of man. In 
all our endeavors we should always find out the 
right way, and then “ stick to it.” 
Cayuga, N. Y., 1S59. Amelia. 
MEN OF LITERARY GENIUS. 
Tasso’s conversation was neither gay nor bril¬ 
liant. Dante was either taciturn or satirical.— 
Butler was sullen or biting. Gray seldom talked 
or smiled. Hogarth and Swift were very absent- 
minded in company. Milton was very unsociable, 
and even irritable, when pressed into conversation. 
Kirwan, though copious and eloquent in public 
addresses, was meager and dull in colloquial dis¬ 
course. Virgil was heavy in conversation. La 
Fontaine appeared heavy, coarse and stupid; he 
could not speak and describe what he had just seen; 
but then he was the model of poetry. Chaucer’s 
silence was more agreeable than his conversation. 
Dryden’s conversation was slow and dull, his 
humor saturnine and reserved. Corneille in con¬ 
versation was so insipid that he never failed in 
wearying; he did not even speak correctly that 
language of which he was such a master. Ben 
Johnson used to sit silent in company and suck his 
wine and their humors. Southey was stiff, sedate, 
and wrapped up in asceticism. Addison was good 
company with liis intimate friends, but in mixed 
company lie preserved liis dignity by a stiff' and 
reserved silence. Fox in conversation never flag¬ 
ged, his animation and variety were inexhaustible. 
Dr. Bentley was loquacious, so also was Grotius. 
Goldsmith “ wrote like an angel, and talked like 
Poor Poll.” Burke was entertaining, enthusiastic, 
and interesting in conversation. Curran was a 
convivial deity. Leigh Hunt was “ like a pleasant 
stream” in conversation. Carlyle doubts, objects 
and constantly demurs. 
Character. — The difterences of character are 
never more distinctly seen than in times when 
men are surrounded by difficulties and misfortunes. 
There are some who, when disappointed by the 
failure of an undertaking from which they had 
expected great things, make up their minds at 
once to exert themselves no longer against what 
they call fate, as if, thereby, they could avenge 
themselves upon fate; others grow desponding 
and hopeless; but a third class of men will rouse 
themselves just at such moments, and say to 
themselves, “ The more difficult it is to attain my 
ends, the more honorable it will be;” and this is 
a maxim which every one should impress upon 
himself as a law. Some of those who are guided 
by it, prosecute their plans with obstinacy, and 
perish; others, who are more practical men, if they 
have failed in one way, will try in another. 
-*-*-*- 
Books. — Books are standing counsellors and 
preachers—always at hand and always disinterest¬ 
ed; having this advantage over oral instructors, 
that they are ready to repeat their lesson as often 
as we please. 
Written for Moore'a Rural New-Yorker. 
FAITH ETCHINGS. 
Come ye that are a’weary and o’er-laden 
With this world’s toil and earc, 
Repose awhile, and give the task you’ve taken 
To God and holy prayer. 
The bow e’er-strung will lose its lastic tension— 
The mind o’er-chargcd will fail— 
Except that heaven receives its daily pension, 
Our works will not avail. 
Fair days are often crowded out of season, 
And we are wont (o chide— 
’Tis prayer alone can bring us back to reason, 
And help our grief subside. 
Each couch of sickness, fraught with pain and sorrow 
Finds glad relief in death, 
Why mourn we, then ? it may be, on the morrow, 
God may require our breath. 
Nay, mourn not! but with saddened hearts uplifted 
Reveal our earthly woe, 
And ask to have our sin from virtue sifted, 
And we prepared to go. 
And then our path witli roses shall be blended, 
Though some may have a thorn, 
Our march with music sweet will lie attended, 
And faith our lives adorn. 
Dedham, Mass., 1859. E. W. K. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
RAMBLING THOUGHTS. 
“ Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every 
creature.” 
What is the Gospel? Very crude notions are 
entertained on this point. We hear of a Temper¬ 
ance Gospel, an Anti-Slavery Gospel, Ac. “Do 
unto others as ye would that they should do unto 
you,” is a Gospel command, says one. Dow absurd! 
It is no more Gospel than is an edict of an earthly 
potentate. It is simply law! As such, it is a 
reflection of the mind, will, and character of a 
perfect Jehovah, in the light of which we see our 
fallen state. As if all within the lids of the Bible 
is Gospel! “ God so loved the world that he gave 
his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth on 
Him might not perish, hut have eternal life,” is 
Gospel. This, and this only, is. But how few, 
comparatively, accept this definition in its Divine 
simplicity, and hang their hopes alone on the word 
of promise. And how many public teachers, even, 
seem to “ darken counsel” in efforts to mingle Law 
and Gospel, which should ever be held clear and 
distinct. Will not another Luther he needed to 
rescue the doctrine of justification by faith alone, 
from the rubbish and darkness of the legalism of 
our day? Repentance;, aud faith, and love, are 
held up as conditions of our acceptance, when the 
offer “is without money and without price.” If 
love must pi'ecede acceptance or justification, and is 
itself the fulfilling of the law, is there not room for 
“boasting?” How much more Scriptural to place 
repentance, love, and all good works as fruits of 
faith, and our justification upon the one only ground 
of “faith in our Lord Jesus Christ,” and that, not 
in the light of a condition, upon the compliance 
with which we are accepted, but because through 
it, that is, faith, which is given us, do we appre¬ 
hend the forgiving mercy of God, for the reason 
that through no other medium can we? This is all 
against our natural heart, which greatly desires to 
have a part in the matter; “to work out its own 
salvation with fear and trembling,” in the sense in 
which these words are sometimes taken. We arc 
thus justified through “faith alone.” We give to 
God the whole glory of our salvation. The crea¬ 
ture is humbled, and God is exalted. Christ be¬ 
comes to us our “All in All.” And we draw 
large measures of comfort from the Divinely pro¬ 
claimed truth, “blessed is the man to whom God 
imputeth righteousness without works.” 
This simple Gospel is the Divinely appointed 
instrumentality for the reformation and conversion 
of the world. No other will succeed, or even ap¬ 
proximate to success, else is that not true which 
God hath spoken. But how is this truth contemned 
even in the Church! See how many are full of 
legal reasonings and immersed all over in reforma¬ 
tory schemes of man’s devising, which have for 
their foundation either the selfishness of the heart 
or hatred of the truth, and which never did nor 
never will renovate a single heart, not being for 
such purpose adapted or designed! And it is a 
lame defence of them to say that they subserve the 
purpose of “preparing the way” for the Gospel, 
after it has been announced from Heaven that “ I 
am the way.” In the estimation of this class, the 
Gospel is a weak and insufficient instrumentality, 
and must needs he coupled with legal codes and 
penalties, and even made to hold a subordinate 
place to their own vain measures. Of old, “ it was 
to the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks, 
foolishness;” and eighteen centuries later it is 
regarded in the same light. 
Neglecting Salvation. —Most of the calamities 
of life are caused by simple neglect. By neglect 
of education, children grow up in ignorance. By 
neglect, a farm grows up to weeds and briars; by 
neglect, a house goes to decay; by neglect of sow¬ 
ing, a man will have no harvest; by neglect of 
reaping, the harvest will rot in the field. No 
worldly interest can prosper where there is neglect; 
and may it not he so in religion ? There is nothing 
in earthly affairs that is valuable, that will not be 
ruined if it is not attended to, and why may it not 
be so with the concerns of the soul ? Let no one 
infer, therefore, that because he is not a drunkard 
or an adulterer or a murderer, that he will bo 
saved. Such an inference would he as irrational 
as it would be for a man to infer that because he is 
not a murderer his farm will produce a harvest, or 
that because he is not an adulterer therefore liis 
merchandise will take care of itself. Salvation 
would be worth nothing, if it cost no effort—and 
there will he no salvation where no effort is put 
forth. 
