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Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MAKE HOME BRIGHT AND PLEASANT. 
JIT GEO. A. HAMILTON. 
Mock than building showy mansion— 
More than dress and fine array— 
More than domes or lofty steeples— 
More than station, power, and sway, 
Make your Home both neat and tasteful, 
Bright and pleasant, always fair, 
Where each heart shall rest contented, 
Grateful for each beauty there. 
More than lofty, swelling titles— 
More than fashion's luring glare— 
More than mammon’s gilded honors— 
More than thought can well compare, 
See that Home is made attractive, 
By surroundings pure and bright, 
Trees arranged with taste and order, 
Flowerets with their sweet delight. 
Seek to make your Home most lovely, 
Let it bo a smiling spot, 
Where, in sweet contentment resting, 
Care and sorrow are forgot; 
Where the flowers and trees are waring 
Birds will sing their sweetest songs, 
Where the purest thoughts will linger, 
Confidence and love belongs. 
Make your Home a little Eden, 
Imitate her smiling bowers, 
Let a neat and simple cottage 
Stand among bright trees and flowers; 
There, what fragrance and what brightness, 
Will each blooming rose display ! 
Here, a simple vine-clad arbor 
Brightens through each summer day. 
There each heart will rest contented, 
Seldom wishing far to roam, 
Or, if roaming, still will cherish 
Mem’ries of that pleasant Home. 
Such a Home makes man the better, 
Pure and lasting its Control— 
Homo with pure and bright surroundings 
Leaves its impress on the soul. 
South Butler, N. Y., 1S59. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
Plain Talks to American Women.-No. 4, 
BT MRS. M. P. A. CROZIER. 
3. Give the child proper nourishment, and at pro¬ 
fit?' intervals. Nature points out the food usually best 
adapted to the infants’ nature, and if it is neces¬ 
sary, from disease, or otherwise, that any other be 
substituted, lot it be of the simplest and purest 
.quality. Nor does the child need to take nourish¬ 
ment every half hour. Think what an injury you 
are doing to the poor babe’s stomach, when you 
keep it constantly laden with food! How soon 
would your own stomach cry out against such 
treatment—and think you the delicate organization 
of an infant can bear safely that which would soon 
subject you to all the horrors of indigestion ? “ But 
the baby cries—it must be hungry !” More likely 
it cries because its poor stomach finds it difficult 
to dispose of the load you have already given it! 
Writers differ a little as to how often a very young 
child should be fed, but once in two or three hours 
is sufficiently often, and when it is a year and a 
half old, perhaps earlier, it needs only the three 
regular meals a day. Simplicity of diet should 
still be observed as the child advances in years.— 
How absurd to be continually stuffing a little child 
with sweets, and pastry, and stimulating meats, 
which even older persons would do well to let 
alone! Yet how often does it occur that the little 
darling, perhaps just able to totter around the 
floor, must have its stick of candy—which, by the 
way, is often poisoned with paint—nearly every 
time its father comes from town ; must sit in his 
high chair at table and delight himself with a pork- 
rind, and have an occasional sip of mother’s tea 
or coffee, and then, half a dozen times, perchance, 
before the next meal be treated with a piece of 
cake, or pie, or a lump of sugar to keep him quiet! 
Do any wonder that the years of human life are so 
often few ? Rather wonder we that so many sur¬ 
vive their treatment in infancy, and attain as vig¬ 
orous a maturity as they do ! 
4. Don't drug your infants to death. A little 
judicious letting alone would vastly benefit the 
health of some children. In nine cases out of ten, 
perhaps, where some slight ailment affects your 
child, nature will, if allowed the opportunity, 
prove that she is a better physician than yourself. 
The natural power of the system will generally be 
sufficient to overcome the difficulty, unless it is very 
serious. In such a case call to your aid all the hy¬ 
gienic agencies at your command—those agencies 
which are necessary to preserve health, are most 
beneficial in its restoration. It is said that the 
celebrated French physician Damoulin, on his death 
bed, when surrounded by the citizens of Paris, 
who regretted the loss which the profession would 
sustain by his death, said :—“ My friends, I leave 
behind me three physicians much greater than my¬ 
self.” Being pressed to name them, each of the 
doctors supposing himself to be one of the three, 
he answered, “ Water, Exercise and Diet.” 
You do not, or you should not, give your child 
drugs to keep it well,—they would be sure to 
defeat your object; beware lest that which would 
cause illness in a well child, should pro ve fatal to 
one already prostrate with disease. Many wise 
physicians have come to the conclusion, after long 
experience, that medicine does more injury than 
good. There may be instances where parents are 
ignorant of proper therapeutic means, and unable 
to avail themselves of the knowledge of others, 
that it would be most wise to administer it, but in 
all cases let it be sparingly, and with caution. 
5 Allow your children a proper amount of sleep. 
Young children require a much greater amount 
than older persons. Dr. Hall remarks“ Obser¬ 
vation and scientific experiment constantly confirm 
the fact that the brain is nourished and repaired 
during sleep. If, then, we have not sleep enough, 
the brain is not nourished, and, like everything 
else, whon deprived of sufficient nourishment, 
withers and wastes away, until the power of sleep 
is lost, and the whole man dwindles to skin and 
bone, or dies a maniac. The practical inferences 
which we wish to impress upon the reader, are 
two:—1. By all means sleep enough; give all who 
are under you sleep enough, by requiring them to go 
to bed at some regular hour, and get up at the mo¬ 
ment of spontaneous waking in the morning.— 
Never waken up any one, especially children, from 
a sound sleep unless there is urgent necessity—it 
is cruel to do so. To prove this, we have only to 
notice how fretful and unhappy a child is when 
waked up before the nap is out. 2. If the brain 
is nourished during sleep, it must have most vigor 
in the morning; hence, morning is the best time 
for study; then the brain has most strength, most 
activity, and must work most clearly.” 
C. One of the most important things to be observ¬ 
ed in physical education is cleatiliness. The office of 
the skin is so important in the physical economy, its 
agency, if unobstructed, so great in freeing the 
body of impurities, that when this is neglected, it 
soon becomes loaded with disease. This will bo 
more manifest when we consider that, in the adult 
human system, the united length of the glands of 
the skin which drain the body of impurities amount 
to “ nearly twenty-eight miles,” and of course is 
proportionally great in the child. Then “how im¬ 
portant the necessity of attention to the skin lest 
this drainage be obstructed”—how important that 
the clothing be frequently aired and washed, satu¬ 
rated as it becomes with these impurities. Fre¬ 
quent bathing and clean clothes, then, become 
necessary to health, and the cool bath, to which 
one may easily become accustomed by a gradual 
reduction of temperature in the water used, is 
considered more invigorating than the warm. In 
bathing a young child avoid chilling it. Uncover 
only a small portion of the body at a time, wash, 
thoroughly dry, and cover it again; or, if you re¬ 
move all the clothing, bathe very quickly, and 
immediately throw around it a warm blanket and 
rub briskly till dry. 
“ But,” says one, “ dirt is healthy; see those 
children who are always at play in the dirt—how 
tough they are!” Yds, but do not imagine it is 
the dirt that toughens them ! It is far more likely 
to be the amount of exercise in the fresh air which 
they have. This every child should enjoy daily.— 
Not that it is advisable to carry out young infants 
into the open air in mid-winter, but they should 
have fresh air made comfortable in the nursery.— 
Those children who are old enough should be clad 
in such a manner as to be thoroughly protected, 
and then allowed daily to run out and gather all 
the healthful influences possible from the bracing 
air, and grow strong in the exercise of muscular 
power. And lest they take cold on slight expo¬ 
sure, let the atmosphere of your rooms be uni¬ 
formly of a moderate temperature. 
By observing these rules, parents in general may 
hope to see their little ones grow up as flourishing 
“ olive plants” around them,—to see the beautiful 
bud of infancy unfold into a lovely blossom, and 
in due time may be looked for the fruit of a noble 
and healthful life. It may be a new idea to some 
minds that physical education has anything to do 
with moral; but we believe it will be found a just 
one. Without health, the child will naturally be 
peevish and restless, and moral aberration be¬ 
come the result of physical ailment. 
SCHOOL GIRLS IN WINTER. 
We wish to put in a special plea for the girls.— 
Make their dresses short enough to swing clear of 
the snow and mud, and give them good water-proof 
boots, to wear to school. Yes, we insist upon it— 
they should have boots. Women’s shoes of the 
present fashion are no more fit to be put upon 
country roads in winter, than an Indian’s birch- 
bark canoe is fit to cross the Atlantic. Boots will 
not look quite so trim about the ankle, or step so 
lightly upon the floor, but they will do what is of 
more consequence—preserve the health to show 
off these graces in after life, and to take a great 
many elastic steps that otherwise might be fewer, 
and those leading directly down to the grave. 
Another thing we are glad to see coming in fash¬ 
ion : the ladies are learning to skate, and for this 
they must have boots. Now, girls, get each of you 
a pair of neat winter boots, and a pair of skates to 
fit, and the first ice that forms in your neighbor¬ 
hood, large enough, go out with your brothers, or 
somebody else’s brothers, and learn to skate. Be 
prudent about it, and not overdo the exercise, and 
you will find it a capital medicine —next to horse¬ 
back riding. 
The only way to bring about a race of healthy 
women, is to attend to the physical development of 
the girls before they are diluted in the false system 
of fashionable accomplishment, that fits them for 
nothing but elegant imbeciles.— Ohio Cultivator. 
LITTLE GRAVES. 
Sacred places for pure thoughts and holy medi¬ 
tations are the little graves in the churchyard, 
says a writer. They are the depositories of the 
mother’s sweetest joy—half unfolded buds of inno¬ 
cence, humanity nipped by the first frost of time, 
ere yet a canker worm of corruption has nestled 
among its embryo petals. Callous, indeed, must 
be the heart of him who can stand by a little grave 
side and not have the holiest emotions of the soul 
awakened to thoughts of that purity and joy which 
belongs alone to God and heaven—for the mute 
preacher at his feet tells of life begun and ended 
without stain; and surely if this be vouchsafed to 
mortality, how much purer and holier must be the 
spiritual land, enlightened by the sun of infinite 
goodness, whence emanated the soul of that brief 
sojourner among us? How swells the heart of the 
parent with mournful joy while standing by the 
earth-bed of lost little ones ? Mournful, because a 
sweet treasure has been taken away—joyful, be¬ 
cause that precious jewel glitters in the diadem of 
the Redeemer. 
As it is the chief concern of wise men to re¬ 
trench the evils of life by the reasonings of philos¬ 
ophy, it is the employment of fools to multiply 
them by the sentiments of superstition. 
SNOW. 
BY LUCY LAEOOM. 
Light, and still, and soft, 
Flake after flake comes down, 
Dimming tlie air aloft, 
Flecking the oak-holes brown ; 
Light as the fall of years 
On a head grown white in peace; 
Light as the breatli of the angel Death 
When he wliispereth of release. 
Whito, and calm, and cold, 
Under a sunset sky, 
Glowing with red, aerial gold, 
The unstained snow-drifts lie. 
Calm as the pulseless dead 
In the grave-niche, cold and white, 
With a kindling glow on each marble brow— 
A glory of lovo and light. 
Pure, and soft, and still, 
Drifting down to the sea, 
Melt the snows of the pearl-white hill 
Into sunshine, silently. 
Blue aro the depths above, 
Deep is the blue below, 
White from the bay glides a sail away— 
And a soul passed white as snow.— \Orayon. 
■Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THERE IS WORK ENOUGH TO DO. 
We often see men idling round,—men who appear 
to have no business,—men possessed of fine talents 
and good health, and whose idleness is unaccounta¬ 
ble. But, say they, “ there is nothing to do.” Let 
us look about and see if this is true,—if the mov¬ 
ing, bustling, hurrying world does not present 
some opening where these unfortunates may find 
that for which they so earnestly long. 
Farming, the most extensive interest in this 
country, is in continual want of more laborers. 
From one end of the land to the other, the call is 
ever going forth for men to labor in the forest, in 
the field, in the workshop, and the factory; and 
yet these poor men are compelled to rest idly for 
the want of something to do. The truth is, they 
do not wish to do anything. They arc watching for 
some chance by which they may gain what they 
wish without putting their own hands to labor; or, 
as Micawber says, “ waiting for something to turn 
up.” They are the drones of the hive. They ima¬ 
gine, as I heard one of their number say, that they 
are “ born to a higher destiny” than to be content 
to labor in any low sphere, and they are looking for 
that higher destiny everywhere but in the hard 
blows of life. Most likely it is in the furrows of the 
farm, or in the anvil, aud«J^t be dnt or pounded 
out. And then, “Ilig jW^pk-y” isMmt arrayed, 
when found, with the slippers and gloves of the idler, 
but has the brogans, the hard hand, and the bust¬ 
ling activity of the '{ or).> . There always was, 
there is now, and there always will be, enough to 
do for those who waut to do it. 
There is work enough for our ladies—rather than 
to spend their time in novel reading and poor em¬ 
broidery—to try and open a wider sphere for their 
talents, and to fill it better than they do their pres¬ 
ent one. 
There is enough for the philanthropist, to allevi¬ 
ate the sufferings of humanity; to feed the hungry; 
to give clothing to the poor and destitute ; to give 
the means of a moral and intellectual education to 
the millions of poor children who are now deprived 
of these blessings; to find homes for the homeless, 
and to be a friend to the friendless; to win the 
drunkard from his ways, and restore him to his 
family. The thought is sublime, it far exceeds the 
power of the fabled gods, whose bolts could shake 
the earth and cast down the stars, and “ whose 
frown could darken half a world.” It is taking the 
beast from the mire, breathing into it a noble 
spirit, and giving to the world “ a man.” 
There is enough for the teacher to do, to in¬ 
struct his charge in all that tends to make man or 
woman noble,—to inspire them with high and noble 
sentiments of what is worthy of ambition—to edu¬ 
cate and give character to the next age when they 
shall be at the helm to direct. 
There is work enough for the Minister of Ciiirst 
to lead men from the paths of darkness and error, 
and show them the glory, the goodness, and bound¬ 
less love of Him whose blessings they each day en¬ 
joy, and to bring them to love and serve Him better. 
There is work enough for the farmer. His field 
is wide, and though he labored faithfully, yet he 
will find that there yet remains much to be done. 
He must educate himself. The arts, the sciences, 
mechanics, mathematics, and all that he can learn, 
will tend to improve the best of all professions.— 
Let no farmer say that his work is all done, and that 
he has nothing to do, while there is a spot on his 
farm that can be made better by draining, or 
enriching,—while his fences are not all in proper 
order,—while he has fruit trees that need pruning 
or cultivating ; but let him—when he has sown his 
grain, and planted his corn—look and see if there 
is not some little thing still to do, and he will find 
it. His work, like woman’s, is never done, and be 
he great or small, rich or poor, he may still find 
that he need not stand in the market-place “ all day 
idle” for the want of something to do. Solon. 
Cayuga, N. Y., 1859. 
An Old Man’s Advice.— The Rev. Daniel Waldo, 
late Chaplain to Congress, says :—“ I am now an 
old man. I have seen nearly a century. Do you 
want to know how to grow old slowly and happily? 
Let me tell you: always eat slowly — masticate 
well. Go to your food, to your rest, to your occu¬ 
pations, smiling. Keep a good -nature and a soft 
temper everywhere. Never give way to anger.— 
Cultivate a good memory, and to do this you must 
always be communicative, repeat what you have 
read; talk about it. Dr. Johnson’s great memory 
was owing to his communicativeness. You young 
men who are just leaving college, let me advise 
you to choose a profession in which you can exer¬ 
cise your talent the best, and at the same time be 
honest.” 
LANGUAGE AND ITS TINKERS. 
Tns “ Professor,” at the February Table of the 
Atlantic Monthly , has some large-hearted, sensible 
thoughts upon language. Here is a part of what 
he said :—“Language is a solemn thing—I said— 
it grows out of life — out of its agonies and ecsta¬ 
sies, its wants and its weariness. Every language 
is a temple, in which the soul of those who speak 
it is enshrined. Because time softens its outlines 
and rounds the sharp angles of its cornices, shall a 
fellow take a pickaxe to help time ? Let me tell 
you what comes of meddling with things that can 
take care of themselves. A friend of mine had a 
watch given him, when he was a boy, a ‘ bull’s eye,’ 
with a loose silver case that came off like an oyster 
shell from its contents; you know them — the cases 
that you hang on your thumb, while the core or 
the real watch lies in your hand as naked as a peel¬ 
ed apple. Well, he began with taking off the case, 
and so on from one liberty to another, until he got 
it fairly open, and there were the works, as good as 
if they were alive — crown-wheel, balance-wheel, 
and all the rest. All right except one thing—there 
was a confounded little Juiir had got tangled round 
the balance-wheel. So my young Solomon got a 
pair of tweezers, and caught hold of the hair very 
nicely, and pulled it right out, without touching 
any of the wheels, when, buzzzZZZ!!! and the 
watch had done up twenty-four hours in double 
magnetic-telegraph time! 
The English language was wound up to run some 
thousands of years, I trust; but if everybody is to 
be pulling at everything he thinks is a hair, our 
grand-children will have to make the discovery that 
it is a hair-spring, and the old Anglo-Norman soul’s 
time-keeper will run down, as so many other dia¬ 
lects have done before it. I can’t stand this med¬ 
dling any better than you, sir. But we have a 
great deal to be proud of in the life-long labors of 
that old lexicographer, and we mustn’t be ungrate¬ 
ful. Besides, don’t let us deceive ourselves — the 
war of the dictionaries is only a disguised rivalry 
of cities, colleges, and especially of publishers.— 
After all, the language will shape itself by larger 
forces than phonography and dictionary-making. 
You may spade up the ocean as much as you like, 
and harrow it afterwards, if you can—but the 
-moon will still lead the tides, and the winds will 
form their surface.” 
MENTAL LAEOR. 
Tub injurious effects of mental labor are, in a 
great measure, owing to extensive forcing in early 
youth; to sudden or misdirected study; to the 
co-operation of depressing emotions or passions; 
to the neglect of the ordinary rules of hygiene; 
to the neglect of the hints of the body; or to the 
presence of the seeds of disease, degeneration, and 
decay in the system. The man of healthy phleg¬ 
matic or choleric temperament is less likely to be 
injured by application than one of sanguine or 
melancholic type; yet these latter, with allowance 
for the original constitution, may be capable of 
vast efforts. £'he extended and deep culture oft 
the mind exerts a directly conservative influence 
upon the body. Fellow laborer! one word to you. 
Fear not to do manfully the work for which your 
gifts qualify you, but do it as one who must give 
an account of both soul and body. Work, and 
work hard while it is day; the night cometh soon 
enough—do not hasten it. Use your faculties— 
use them to the utmost, but do not abuse them; 
make not the mortal to do the work of the immor¬ 
tal. The body has its claims—it is a good servant; 
treat it well, and it will do your work; it knows 
its own business; do not attempt to teach or force 
it; attend to its wants and requirements, listen 
kindly and patiently to its hints, occasionally fore¬ 
stall its necessities by a little indulgence, and your 
consideration will be paid with interest. But task 
it, and pine it, and suffocate it—make it a slave in¬ 
stead of a servant; it may not complain much, but, 
like the weary camel in the desert, it will lie down 
and die.— Journal of Physiology. 
MUSIC AND FLOWERS. 
Two gifts God has bestowed on us that have in 
themselves no guilty trait, and show an essential 
divineness. Music is one of them, which breathes 
over the gross, or sad, or doubting heart, to inspire 
it with consciousness of its most mysterious affini¬ 
ties, and to touch the cords of its undevoted, un¬ 
suspected life. And the other gift is that of flow¬ 
ers, which, though born of earth, we may well be¬ 
lieve, if any thing of earthly soil grows in the 
higher realm—if any of its methods are continued 
—if any of its forms are identical there, will live on 
the banks of the river of Life. Flowers, that in all 
our gladness, in all our sorrow, are never incon¬ 
gruous—always appropriate. Appropriate in the 
Church, as expressive of its purest of most social 
themes, and blending their sweetness with the in¬ 
cense of prayer. Appropriate in the joy of the 
marriage hour, in the loneliness of the sick room, 
and crowning with prophecy the foreheads of the 
dead. They give completeness to the associations 
of childhood, and are appropriate even by the side 
of old age, strange as their freshness contrasts 
with the wrinkles and the gray hairs; for still they 
are symbolical of the soul’s perpetual youth, the 
inward blossoming of immortality, the amaran¬ 
thine crown. In their presence we feel that when 
the body shall drop as a withered calyx, the soul 
shall go forth as a winged seed.— Rev. E. II. Cha¬ 
pin. 
Happiness. —Now let me tell you a secret — a 
secret worth knowing. This looking forward for 
enjoyment don’t pay. From what I know of it, I 
would as soon chase butterflies for a living, or bot¬ 
tle up moonshine for cloudy nights. The only true 
way to be happy, is to take the drops of happiness 
as God gives them to us every day of our lives. 
The boy must learn to be happy while he is plod¬ 
ding over his lessons; the apprentice while he is 
learning his trade, the merchant while he is mak¬ 
ing his fortune. If he fails to learn this art, he 
will be sure to miss his enjoyment when he gains 
what he sighs for. 
It is more difficult to forgive an injury from a 
friend than from an enemy. Your favorite dog 
flying at you, pains you a great deal more than a 
similar assault from a strange dog. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AN ENTREATY. 
15 Y ANN in I'. ETOn. 
Cast lliy bread upon the wators and thou shall And It 
after many days.— Eccl. 11: 1. 
Cast thy bread upon the waters. 
It shall not be lost, 
Though upon Time’s billowy ocean 
It is tossed. 
Oast it forth with trust implicit 
In God’s marvelous ways, 
And most surely thou wilt And it 
After many days. 
Cast in forth—be not reluctant— 
Wait not till the morrow’s dawn— 
Ero then the time to thee allotod 
May be gone. 
Cast it forth—be it thy mission 
To succor earth’s opprest, 
And reliove the broken hearted 
From sad unrest. 
Cast it fortli! O, point the sinner 
To that Savior’s love, 
Where life and peace is freely purohaaed. 
And a homo above. 
Cast it forth, and rich rewards 
Freely shall be given— 
For thee thy Savior has laid up 
Sweet rest in Heaven. 
Marion, N. Y., 1859. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE DEATH OF THE YEARS. 
“For ho sang of what the world will be 
When the years have died away.”—T hnnyson. 
We contemplate this material body and find it 
mortal — merely the dwelling-place of the soul.— 
We look abroad over the beautiful earth, aud upon 
that decay is written—and in the above couplet 
we are reminded that the years, too, are mortal,—• 
that they will die. What will the years be when 
the perishable present is among the years that 
were — when Time, pinioned with the wings of 
Death, shall swiftly make his transition flight from 
past to future, aud, like the destroying angol, shall 
have claimed his own ? We cannot tell what they 
will be. We only know that with the present shall 
pass the things of the present, and that, when we 
are gone, the world will continue to move and have 
its being — our presence will not be necessary. 
But this is a sad retrospect and very unlike the 
poet’s song. He is represented as going forth 
among the glories of nature at the sweet evening 
time, and singing a song so melodiouS( and gay, 
that even the birds were charmed into silence.— 
The song of the future — it should be a melodious 
song! When perishable time shall be no more, 
and with it shall have passed away all that is mor¬ 
tal, then, our Creator bath said, “ Behold I create 
a new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwolleth 
righteousness.” This earth, renewed and beauti¬ 
fied, shall blossom as the rose, everlasting and un¬ 
changeable. A habitation for redeemed spirits in 
robes of immortality. It will be a world of infinite 
purity and bliss, and “ the Lamb will be the light 
thereof.” A world where there will be no pain, no 
mourning or sighing for departed joys or blighted 
hopes. All our yearnings for something higher 
and beyond will then be satisfied. The mysteries 
of the other world, which we so often desire to look 
into, will be opened to our spirit’s view. This is 
what the world will be when the years of time have 
ceased, for there are no years in eternity. Aud, 
like the wanderer from his youthful home, who 
will not rejoice in the thought of dwelling again 
and forever where he was wont to be in tho child¬ 
hood of his existence? 
Changeable, fleeting and perishing years, 
Counted by man in a valley of tears; 
Bowing, thou Time, to the Angel oi Death; 
Staying thy flight at his sickening breath; 
Thou hast not ever tyrannical power, 
O’er us exerting it every hour, 
Shortly, according to sacred decree, 
Lost in eternity, evor thou’lt bo. 
Mortals shall soar above perishing things ; 
Sharing tho bliss immortality brings; 
Passing where Christ and tho martyrs have been; 
"Witnessing glories that eye hath seen.' 
Piffard, N. Y., 1859. Janr E. H. 
> Faith in God. —Have faith in God. Faith will 
be staggered even by loose stone in the way, if we 
look manward; if we look Godward, faith will not 
not be staggered even by inaccessible mountains 
stretching across and obstructing apparently our 
onward progress. “ Go forward,” is the voice 
from heaven ; and faith obeying, finds the moun¬ 
tains before it flat as plains. “ God with us,” is 
the watcliward of our warfare, the secret of our 
strength, the security of our triumph. “ If thou 
canst believe, all things are possible to him that 
believetli.” How strong faith is when we are just 
fresh from the fountain of redeeming love! A 
good conscience, and then faith will do all things, 
for it is in its very nature such as to let God work 
all; we may say that it i3 most active when it is 
most passive, and that it wearies least when it does 
most work.— Ilewitson. 
Affliction.— We argue, “ Cannot God bring us 
to heaven with ease and prosperity ?” Who doubt- 
ethbuthecan? but bis infinite wisdom ordereth 
the contrary ; and though we cannot see the rea¬ 
son, yet he hath the most just reason. It is your 
part now to believe, and sutler, and hope, and wait 
on. Whether God comes to his children with a 
rod or with a crown, if he come himself with it, it 
is well. Welcome, welcome, Jesus, what way 
soever thou come, if we get a sight of thee ! And 
sure I am it is better to be sick, providing Christ 
come to the bedside, and say, “ Courage, I am thy 
salvation,” than to enjo^ r health, and never be 
visited Jiy God.— Rutlurford. 
^ juiatiWi ir.r rawimran; 
