2fiE3g;8*sj| 
wmmM 
BY ROSA V. JOHNSON. 
In every nook or corner sly, 
Ilis roguish eye is sure to peep, 
And grandma’s pocket he will try 
To fathom, be it e’er so deep. 
He pulls the buttons off my dress, 
And then says “ Look!” My pretty boy 1 
When I might scold, I pause to bless 
Thy upturned face so full of joy. 
“A very little girl Who often read her bible 
gave proof that she understood her obligation to 
obey its precepts. One day she came to her mother, 
much pleased, to show her some fruit which had 
1 been given to her. The mother said the friend 
was very kind and had given her a great many.— 
‘Yes,’ said the child, ‘very indeed; and she gave 
me more than these, but I have given some away.’ 
= The mother inquired to whom she had given them; 
“TWO YEARS OLD.” when she answered, ‘I gave them to a girl who 
- ’ pushes me off the path, and makes faces at me.’— 
by rosa v. johnson. 0 n being asked why she gave them to her, she 
y , , replied, ‘ Because I thought it would make her 
In every nook or corner sly, 1 ’ & 
His roguish eye is sure to peep, know that 1 wish to bc kind t0 her > and she wil1 
And grandma’s pocket be will try not, perhaps, be rude and unkind to me again.’ ” 
To fathom, be it e’er so deep. Such examples are worth treasuring in the mind 
He pulls the buttons off my dress, and being often repeated to children. It would be 
And then says “ Look!” My pretty boy! well for every mother to have at command a fund 
When I might scold, I pause to bless of anecdote illustrative of various moral princi- 
1 hy upturned face so full of joy. pies, that she may the more forcibly impress them 
His father’s hat he loves to wear, upon their plastic souls. 
And, hiding half his tiny bead, In connection with this subj'ect, we would allude 
A glow of beauty, rich and rare, to that of general benevolence. In an age when 
Upon that old black hat is shed. covetousness has set up an idol in nearly every 
Lor ’neath its brim so dark and deep, heart, how vastly important that an opposite prin- 
Ilis dimpled face, all bright with bloom. . , , • i i • r i , , 
~ ciple be nourished in those fresh souls born to ex- 
Peeps out, as rosy vapors peep 1 . . 
Sometimes from clouds of wintry gloom. erc,se heroafter au mfll,ence upon society! In an 
age when it would seem that the tears of woe which 
He’ll slyly pull his brother’s hair, God is bottling up would almost be enough to 
Or steal their toys, and run to me, , , „ , ,, 
„ , , „ ’ ’ overwhelm a nation of oppressors—when the 
But when they gather round in prayer, , , . , , ,, , , 
He, too, will bend his little knee; min ® led s, g hs and S roans that enter the ears 
And, though he scarce can speak a word, of the Loidot Sabbaoth would form a fitting re- 
There’s worship in his speaking eye, quiem over the destruction of a world of wicked- 
And Bobby’s prayer I know is heard ness, how needful that the blessed angel of Charity 
When he looks up to God’s blue sky. be welcomed into the heart of childhood, and with 
-*-•-*- her pitying, consoling influence reach forth thence 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. hand to pour the Balm of Gilead upon the 
ryi . m_n a a • -tir >t ^ wounds of sorrow, and lift humanity from degra- 
Pldill Talks tO Anillican TV OIUCll. ISO. 6. dation ! Teach, then, the little one, that the great 
-- lesson of life is love —that to make others happy, 
dy mrs. m. p. a. c rozieh. should be one great aim of its being—that the 
One of the more prominent evils with which the “ 1>ure and undefiled reli S iou ” of d ^sus inculcates 
mother has to contend, is the natural selfishness of ! 10t ° n ! y a s P otk ; ssness of P urit T> but an active 
. - . nABAVn AntlA <( V lfllf flin fiifhovlnca onrl tirirlnura iv» 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE OLD BARN. 
BY CLARA AUGUSTA. 
Rickety, old, and crazy, 
Shingleless, lacking some doors; 
Bad in the upper story, 
AY anting boards in the floors; 
Beams strung thick with cobwebs, 
Ridge-pole yellow and gray, 
Hanging in helpless impotence 
Over the mows of hay. 
IIow the winds tore around it— 
Winds of a stormy day— 
Scattering the fragrant hay-seed, 
Whisking the straws away; 
Streaming in at the crannies, 
Spreading the clover smell, 
Changing the dark old granary 
Into a flowery dell. 
His father’s hat he loves to wear, 
And, hiding half his tiny bead, 
A glow of beauty, ricli and rare, 
Upon that old black hat is shed. 
Bor ’neath its brim so dark and deep, 
His dimpled face, all bright with bloom, 
Peeps out, as rosy vapors peep 
Sometimes from clouds of wintry gloom. 
Oh, how I loved the shadows 
That clung to the silent roof, 
Day-dreams wove with the quiet 
Many a glittering woof! 
I climbed to the highest rafter, 
Watched the swallow's at play, 
Admired the knots in the boarding 
And rolled in billows of hay! 
He’ll slyly pull his brother’s Hair, 
Or steal their toys, and run to me, 
But when they gather round in prayer, 
He, too, will bend bis little knee; 
And, though he scarce can speak a word, 
There’s worship in his speaking eye, 
And Robby’s prayer I know is heard 
When lie looks up to God’s blue sky. 
Palace of king couldn’t match it! 
The Vatican loses its charm 
When placed in my memory’s balance 
Beside of the gray old barn ! 
Splendor, wealth, may not charm us, 
Association is all— 
We love the loved our childhood 
Better than marble-floored hall! 
AATitten for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
Plain Talks to American Women.—No. 6. 
BY MRS. M. P. A. CROZIER. 
I sat for hours in the summer 
On the threshold so gray, 
And saw the cow's to the pasture 
Take their lazy-paced way: 
The lambs, snow-white as the daises, 
Frolicked from hill to tarn— 
Or fell asleep in the shadow 
Made by the “ clever ” old barn. 
give them up to a companion. And Jbe poor that are cast out to thy house!” “Undo 
o say, that, in our opinion, no child th ° heaV { burden ® When thou seest the naked 
J . 1 ’ _nm-w him!” T men am /-.f 
the human heart. It is exhibited in a very early 
stage of childhood, when the little one, just totter¬ 
ing around the floor, claims all the toys for itself, 
and refuses to give them up to a compauion. And 
this leads us to say, that, in our opinion, no child 
should ever be brought up alone. Accustomed to 
have everything to itself, it will almost certainly 
retain the selfishness of its nature. If Heaven 
has given you but one, seek out from among the 
orphaned and destitute, some other child to be a 
brother or sister to it, educate them together and 
alike, be a mother indeed to the motherless, and 
God will bless you for it—will bless you iu the en¬ 
larged sympathies of your own offspring. 
Selfishness is an evil of such magnitude that no 
pains should be spared to eradicate it. It is, in¬ 
benevolence. “ Visit the fatherless and widows in 
affliction!” “Love mercy!” “Believe the op¬ 
pressed !” “ Deal bread to the hungry!” “ Bring 
deed, one of the corner-stones of the temple of sin. the of happincss . 
—cover him!” These are some of the duties of 
Christians, and the principles upon which they 
rest should be taught to children. Encourage 
them to do good as they have opportunity; not to 
wait for occasions to do great things, but to relieve 
little sorrows—to dry up single tears—to speak 
kind words—to be ready to lend a helping hand 
whenever needed—to divide their enjoyments with 
others, dropping pennies into the poor child’s hat 
plucking flowers for those who have them not, 
carrying comforts to the sick—in short, every¬ 
where they may, to light up human hearts with 
I’ve roved o’er the Southern country, 
Stood in Mosques of the East, 
Galloped the AVestern prairies, 
Gathered contentment, at least; 
And I’d rather scent the clover, 
Piled in the barn's roomy mows, 
Than sit in breath of the highlands 
Poured from Appenine brows ! 
Farmington, N. II., 1859. 
Dig up this and the edifice falls The religion of Teach them especia lly to deny themselves for the 
Jesus Christ is the only effectual lever for the ac- 0 „, r a ■ , , . 
... , ‘ , Y-. i , , . sake of doing good to others. It is an easy thing 
comphshment of this work. But what is selfish- „ . .., 7’ , . , . , ., , °\ 
„ T . . , „ . . tor a cmld to bestow a penny which it has not 
AYritten for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE HILL'S. 
ness? Is it simply self-love? No, for this is lauda- earned to ive when 
ble. Self-love begets self-respect, and a person but lead it to fcel th 
who has no respect for himself, will fail to secure T m ,, 
,, • -j 7 - ■ Let the pure blessin; 
that of others. It is idolizing self,—loving self ,, . , , , 
,, ,, b flow into its soul thr 
more than others. The commandment of supremo , , , „ . 
i i w. ii , . , ,, K see dethroned the n 
love to Cod, and the golden rule, aim deadly blows worsb ; , ascending f 
at the root of this idolatry, and the earlier these q qd 
can be impressed upon the mind of childhood, the ’ - 
more complete will be the uprooting of the prin- FASFIOfi 
ciple from its nature, the more delightful will be 
the home of its unfolding, and the more effectual Fashion kills more 
earned, to give when it has a plenty left for itself; I love the hills. I say love, because my feelings 
but lead it to feel the blessedness of self-denial .— in regard to hills are best expressed by that word. 
Let the pure blessing of God upon the charitable AVliat I feel is not admiration merely, or venera- 
flow into its soul through this channel, would you tion, pr a selfish attachment, f/jgjlmore than any 
see dethroned the idol of self, And an acceptable or ala of these. St i3 l\ve, arid (m'ore signtti- 
worship ascending from its altar to the throne of cancc to the word than does the young lady who 
worship ascending from its altar to the throne of caned to the word than does the young lady who 
God. says,—“ Oh! I do love boiled cabbage!” I confess 
FASHIONABLE WOMEN. 
Fashion kills more women than toil and sorrow. 
all correct systems of physical and mental culture. Obedience to fashion is a greater transgression of 
that I look down, figuratively and literally, upon 
plains and valleys, and have a horror of swamps 
and ravines. Prairies do very well in the summer, 
but if they are destitute of trees the wind is apt to 
have full sweep, and I don’t know what will take 
year, her little brother struck her in a fit of anger, woman at her tasks will live and grow old, and see ]<>w zer0> your admiration of the scenery is apt to 
hhe mstantty turned the other cheek and said, two or three generations of her mistresses fade down wit h the merC ury, and you shrink back 
mildly, there, Corie. The uplifted hand was and pass away. The washerwoman, with scarce a into your coat, like a turtle into its shell, and ap- 
dropped, and when the child was asked who taught ray of hope to cheer her in her toils, will live to preciate the sublime about as much as does that 
her to do that, she replied, that she heard papa see her fashionable sisters all die around her. The tcstudinous iusec t. Then, a level country that is 
read it one morning out of the Bible at prayer- kitchen-maid is hearty and strong, when her lady covered with , voods is al)t to be in tersnersed with 
Kiicnen-maiu is nearly auu strong, wnen ner iaay covered with woods i s apt to be interspersed with 
has to be nursed like a sick baby. It is a sad marsbeSj miasma and musquito-breeding swamps, 
There, at that family altar, was implanted in that truth that fashion-pampered women are almost and although a distinguished President of a W. 
kU/Vo TV.;,.,! c,-. nfrcw-Oi-iall V llirt n* n»m n Iyvttq _1UI_ e .11 1_ l.T. ° ° 
pression of my feelings. A monotonous waste of 
“ Bolts of dusky pine-land 
And gusty leagues of plain, 
child s mind so effectually the principle of love, worthless for all the good ends of human life.- tern Co)lege once said to a clas8 in Rhetoric, that 
that it is probable her whole life was influenced They have but little force of character; they have few scenes are as impressive as an extensive forest, 
by it. AA e often too little realize the influence of still less power of moral will, and quite as little j must subst itute the word oppressive as the ex¬ 
tins principle, and perhaps in consequence fail so physical energy. They live for no great purpose ssion of my feelings. A monotonous waste of 
thoroughly to impress it upon the hearts of our in life—they accomplish no worthy ends. They 
children as we would otherwise do. AA r e fail to are only doll-forms in the hands of milliners and And^ust ^ea^ucs'of 'lain 
drink in a full draught from the well-spring which servants, to be dressed and fed to order. They . ° & , ’ 
our Savior caused to gush forth into the world, all dress nobody; they feed nobody; they instruct uo- a PP ears to mc l‘ kc Shakspeare s definition of life, 
sweet with its life-giving elements,— the dark body; they bless nobody, and save nobody'. They “ stale, flat, and unprofitable.. A alleys depend for 
spirit too often broods over our spirits, tempting write no books; they set no rich examples of vir- tb(dr vei “ V ex * stence 011 t!ie kids tkat inclose them, 
us to remember injuries, and revenge them, rather tue and womanly life. If they rear children, ser- and 1 sba11 not notlce tliein - 
than practice that blessed lesson of forgiveness vants and nurses do all, save to conceive and give As I intend to say the best things about hills that 
taught us by Christ, and most forcibly illustrated them birth. And when reared, what are they ?— occur to me, I will here remark that in all times 
by Him, when upon the cross he prayed for his What do they ever amount to, but weaker scions P ast tke inhabitants of hilly countries have been 
enemies, “ Father, forgive them, for they know not 0 f the old stock ? AA r ho ever heard of a fashiona- noted for a more ardent attachment to their homes 
what they do.” There is a sentiment of Lacon’s upon ble woman’s child exhibiting any virtue and power than their lowland brethren. “The brave and 
revenge, worth remembering. He says, “There of mind for which it became eminent? Read the peaceful Swiss,’ of whom every school-boy has 
is a difference between a debt of revenge and every biographies of our great aud good men and wo- heard, have attained a world-wide celebrity, on 
other debt. By paying our other debts we are men. Not one of them had a fashionable mother, account of the tenacity with which they cling to 
equal with all mankind; but in refusing to pay a They nearly all sprung from strong-minded women, s * des of their not very productive, but much- 
debt of revenge, we are superior.” wbo bad about as little to do with fashion as with l° ved hills. 
“ A gentleman who had filled many high stations the changing clouds. Quite a spirited engagement once took place in 
in public life, with honor to himself and advantage -_ the upper part of Greece, between the inhabitants 
to the nation, once went to Sir Eardley Wilmot in t iie Wife.— It is astonishing to see how well a of tkat P emusula and a number of warlike 
great anger at a real injury that he had received man may live ou a small income, who has a handy P eo P^ e > who, not liking theii o\\ n flat counti j, vv eie 
from a person high in the political world, which he and industrious wife. Some men live and make a out 011 a predatory excursion. History has in- 
was considering liow to resent in the most effect- far better appearance on six or eight dollars a week, f 0I ' me d us that the odds in favor of the Spartans 
ual manner. After relating the particulars to Sir than others do ou fifteen or eighteen dollars. The were hi the proportion of 20,000 to 299.. Auld 
Eardley, he asked if lie did not think it would be man does his part well, but his wife is good for Scotia” too, not a very level land, we believe, has 
manly to resent it. ‘Yes,’said Sir Eardley, ‘it nothing. She will even upbraid her husband for been loved by others than the “monarch peasant” 
would doubtless be manly to resent it, but it would not living in as good a style as his neighbor, while w b° prayed that, 
be godlike to forget it.’ This, the gentleman de- the fault is entirely her own. His neighbor has a “ Howe’er crowns and coronets be rent, 
clared had such an instantaneous effect upon him, neat, capable and industrious wife, and that makes 'dttuous populace may rise the vv liile, 
that he came away quite another man, and in tem- the difference. His wife, on the other hand, is a Aud stand a wal1 of nrcaround their much lovedlsle ” 
per entirely altered from that in which he went.” whirlpool, into which a great many silver cups And, to conclude our references, we will only call 
That was a noble reply, like an apple of gold in a might be thrown, aud the appearance of the water to mind that it was on a promontory, which vve 
picture of silver, and blessed was its effect. would remain unchanged. No Nicholas, the diver, take to be an elevation of land, that Obeeox sat 
the sides of their not very productive, but ruiicli- 
who had about as little to do with fashion as with l° ved bills. 
the chan<nii«- clouds. Quite a spirited engagement once took place in 
_, a t _ the upper part of Greece, between the inhabitants 
of that hilly peninsula and a number of warlike 
people, who, not liking their own flat country, were 
picture of silver, and blessed was its effect. 
“ A gentleman once sent liis servant to John is there to restore the wasted treasure. It is only 
Bruen, Esq., of Bruen, requesting him never to an insult for such a woman to talk to her husband 
set a foot upon his ground. He sent this reply:— about her love and devotion. 
‘ If it please your master to walk upon my grounds -«■•♦ - 
he shall be very welcome; but if he please to come The attempt to govern by ' 
“ And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s back, 
Uttering sucli dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song; 
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres 
To hear the sea-maid’s music.” 
he shall be very welcome; but if he please to come THEattempttogovernbyloudspeaking,stamp- 
to my house, he shall be still more welcome.’ By ing, thumping upon desks, or using an unnecess- Now, there are different kinds of hills. Inregaid 
thus heaping coals of fire upon his head, he melted ary amount of words, is vain. Subjection to to tbe emotions that they produce in an apprecia-* 
him down into love and tenderness, and made him wholesome laws, properly administered, is as e m * nd ’ ma Y be classed as 
his cordial friend.” much a part of essential education, as the know- Sublime hills —where rocks are piled on rocks in 
his cordial friend.” much a part of essential education, as 
A sweet little story is told of a child who had ledge acquired from books and teachers. 
early learned the lesson to “overcome evil with -- 
frood.” Envy sliooteth at others and wounds herself. 
Sublime hills —where rocks are piled on rocks in 
wild confusion—“where dizzy precipices frown— 
where mountain torrents roar and tumble down, 
plunging into romantic chasms with ceaseless tur¬ 
moil seething” from whence the silver mists arise 
and calmly float toward heaven, as with the proud 
consciousness of having freed themselves from the 
demon that was forever dragging them down, where 
crags beetling and bare, with wierd and fantastic 
forms, have a wild grandeur all their own—where 
peaks, that point towards heaven, are crowned 
with mists of which the sunlight makes a glorious 
halo, and through which, in the glimmering moon¬ 
light, they seem like gaunt spectres, gloomy and 
grand. 
Beautiful hills —with wavy outlines and sunny 
slojies where every knoll is a jeweled diadem, whose 
gems are violets, anemones and dew-bespangled 
moss—where waves of perfect melody are ever 
floating onward and upward, made up of the sweet 
chording of joyous birds, the hum of the insect 
world, the murmuring of leafy boughs, and the 
liquid music of hidden brooks. 
And, finally — plain matter-of-fact hills, whose 
chief merit lies in the fertility of tlieir soil and 
whose importance is iu proportion to their crop¬ 
bearing qualities. 
Now, the subscriber is a farmer who depends for 
his Necessary food and wearing apparel, &c., lite¬ 
rally upon the “sweat of his brow,” consequently 1 he 
can’t get along with the agreeable alone,—the use¬ 
ful also is of some importance. But I believe in 
letting them stand together as they did in the old 
Spelling Book “ utile et dulci .” 
Those hills rock-ribbed and “ancient as the sun,” 
are not entirely my favorites,—but those that are 
of more recent date—that have had their sharp 
edges rounded off and tlieir ribs covered with, not 
exactly fat, but some not-azotized substances that 
can easily be converted into fat. Then, as a gene¬ 
ral thing, hills don’t need draining, they can be 
worked sooner in the spring, and they contain 
more land to the acre. But above all, they are 
| healthier, the air is more bracing, the summer 
breezes are cooler and more pure, and, where the 
view is fine, the mind expands and sooner looks 
“ From Nature up to Nature’s God. ” 
If I have not said anything yet worth the paper, 
ink and time I have used, I must stop now, aud I 
finish with a somewhat lengthy quotation, which I 
quote because “Sahkspeare” is not found in every 
farmer’s library. The words are those of a king, 
and they show in what light the “myriad minded” 
regarded the humble occupation of a shepherd. 
“ O, God ! metliinks it were a happy life 
To be no better than a homely swain; 
To sit upon a, hill, as I do now, 
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to see the minutes how they run, 
IIow many make the hours full, complete, 
IIow many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish up the year, 
How many years a mortal man may live. 
AVhen this is known, then to divide the times : 
So many hours must I tend my flock; 
So many hours must I take my rest ; 
So many hours must I contemplate ; 
So many hours must I sport myself— 
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years 
Would bring white hairs into a quiet grave. 
All, what a life were this ! how sweet! how lovely! 
• Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on their silly eliecp, 
Than doth »> canopy 
To kings that fear tlieir subjects’ treachery? 
O, yes, it doth ; a thousand fold it doth, 
And to conclude—the shepherd’s homely curds, 
His cold, thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
Ilis wonted sleep under a fresh tree’s shade, 
Is far beyond a prince’s delicate’s, 
Ilis viands sparkling in a golden cup, 
Ilis body couched in a curious bed, 
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.” 
Grove Hill, N. Y., 1859. A-y G-y. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE DOVE OF PEACE. 
Why did’st thou come, O ! Thou Dove of Peace, 
From that far off better land, 
Where flowing waters of life ne’er cease 
On Eternity’s golden strand ? 
As angels open'd the pearly gates 
When the righteous Judge went in, 
Who told the tale of a dreaded fate 
Thrown around this world of sin ? 
In pitying haste, from those regions fair, 
Did'st thou hie to rescue man, 
For gulfs of guilt, full of dark despair, 
Thine unsullied wings could span. 
The glorious task was ere long complete ; 
The immortal guest had flown 
On wings of Love to the Mercy Seat 
YVliere Redemption reigns alone. 
When stormy billows on Galilee 
Beat around the brow of Faith, 
The Dove of Reave hover’d o’er the sea, 
And a calm stole o’er its path. 
Thougli hoary heads of the crested waves 
Bow around the voyage of life, 
Its gentle form has a power tiiat saves 
From the storm-king’s mighty strife. 
AVhen mortals tread on the vergo of time ; 
AVhen a spirit wings its way 
Through Beulah’s land, with a trust sublime, 
To a bright eternal day, 
The holy Dove that in Jordan’s fount 
AVas the Savior’s brightest gem, 
Dost bear on high to the sacred mount 
E’en a star for His diadem. 
Piffard, N. Y., 1859. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PERVERTED INQUISITIVENESS. 
If it is not necessary for a soldier to fully under¬ 
stand all the plans of his commander to faithfully 
discharge his duty, how much less is it necessary 
for man to know the secret counsels of Deity, to 
fulfill his mission? There is a tendency in the 
human heart to pry into all the secrets of the in¬ 
comprehensible Sovereign of the Universe, which, 
if known, would not be for his advantage, while 
those truths which are essential to his development 
are either entirely neglected, or only receive a hasty, 
partial examination. By indulging this tendency, 
man first becomes a Sceptic and then an Atheist; 
for what Deity has been pleased to place beyond 
the grasp of the human intellect, man seeks in vain 
to comprehend. It leads him to reject as false, 
what he cannot understand. It conceals the fact 
that reason has her prescribed limits, and that her 
sun never affords her light beyond those bounds. 
Now, he no sooner sits down to examine the in- 
sgnred mS-nnc iban he meets mjhiiy truths beyorid 
the sphere of reason. This destroys the beauty of 
the work in his eyes, and its Divine origin is de¬ 
nied. He next turns his attention toward creation; 
but the same difficulties meet him in Nature. In 
vain he attempts to grasp something beyond the 
simple fact. Pursuing his course a little further, 
he tries to dive into the nature of Deity. Here all 
is mystery. Not a single ray of light breaks the 
surrounding darkness. He reels and stumbles at 
———-- every step. Disgusted with the result, lie ceases 
Love of Approbation. —The greatest enemy that his efforts, declaring that there is 110 God, simply 
we have to combat in the education of children, is because he cannot comprehend His nature. In this 
self-love, and to this enemy we cannot give atten- way he is led even to deny the existence of self, 
tion too early. Our business is to weaken it, and declaring that deluded man has an existence only 
we must be careful not to strengthen it by indis¬ 
criminate praise. Frequent praise encourages 
in fancy. 
Now, it is a part of man’s work to overcome this 
pride, induces a child to value herself as a superior tendency to meddle with what does not belong to 
to her companions, and renders her unable to bear him. He has a right—yes, it is his duty—to resist 
any reproach or objection, however mild. AVe what is contrary to his reason; but he must not 
should be cautious, even in the expression of affec- interfere with what is beyond his reach. The 
tion, not to lead children to suppose that we are sphere of reason in Revelation is to ascertain the 
constantly occupied with them. Timid children authenticity of the work. If man has evidence that 
may be encouraged by praise, but it must be judi- it came from Deity sufficient to create belief, he is 
ciously bestowed, and for their good conduct, not to receive it, notwithstanding it contains some 
for personal graces. Above all things, it is neces- things which he cannot understand. AA’liat is 
sary to inspire them with a love of truth ; to teach above the comprehension of reason, he receives as 
them to practice it at tlieir own expense; and to true on the testimony of the Author. The sphere 
impress upon their minds that there is nothing so of reason in the material world is with the qualities 
truly great as the frank acknowledgment—“I am of matter—in the world of mind, with its energies. 
wrong.” — Madame de Lamqibert. Reason deals not with essences, but with attributes. 
- ■*-*-* - A man cannot believe what he sees is contrary to 
Education. —Thewald thought it very unfair to his reason; but he can believe, on proper testi- 
influence a child’s mind by inculcating any opinion mony, what he cannot understand. A blade of 
before it should have come to years of discretion, grass grows, and man believes the fact on tlietes- 
and be able to choose for itself. I showed him my timony of his senses; yet he fails to comprehend 
garden, and told him it was my botanic garden.— it. Man thinks, desires, and wills, and believes 
“ How so ?” said he, “ it is covered with weeds.” the fact on the testimony of consciousness; but he 
“ 0,” I replied, “ that is because it has not yet cannot understand how this can be. Deity spoke 
come to its age of discretion and choice. The the rolling spheres into existence, and those bright 
weeds, you see, have taken the liberty to grow, and intelligences that surround His throne, aud man, 
I thought it unfair in me to prejudice the soil in the crowning glory of creation, and we receive the 
favor of rosos and strawberries.”— Coleridge. fact on the declaration of Deity Himself; yet we 
-- fail to comprehend that fact. On the same testi- 
Self-Reform. —If a man would reform the world, mony we receive other truths, such as— God being 
let him begin the work iii his own body. How can just and yet saving one who has trampled His law 
he hope to purify others while his own breath is under his feet—one God mysteriously existing in 
tainted ? No other can begin the work for him. three persons—the eternal bliss, or the eternal 
He must bring the physical into subjection to the torment of the immortal soul. In relation to such 
spiritual of his own nature by his own effort. He truths, reason does not say they cannot be ; but 
must ascend into the frosty air of purity himself merely, I cannot fully understand them. Now, she 
before he can beckon others to follow him. If he can say the same in regard to other truths, such as 
remain at the foot of the eminence, he can only act the existence of Deity, the immortality of man, his 
the part of a guide-board which points out the dependence on Deity, and his accountability to 
way, never leading up to it .—Life Illustrated. Him,—truths which she will not hesitate for a 
-4-*-.- single moment to admit. That Sceptic never lived 
At five years of age the father begins to rub the who could prove to you that a single declaration of 
lother out of his child; at ten the school-master Revelation was contrary to reason. Press him 
mother out of his child; at ten the school-master 
rubs out the father; at twenty the college rubs out closely, aud you will wring from him this confes- 
tlie school-master; at twenty-five the world rubs sion:—/ cannot understand, therefore I will not 
out all his predecessors, and gives us a new educa- believe. To take this position is to assume the 
tion, till we are old enough and wise enough to take place of Deity, since it claims that everything is 
reason and religion for a pastor, when we employ false which is not within the comprehension of the 
the rest of our lives in unlearning what we had human mind, and unlimited comprehension is an 
previously learned. attribute that belongs only to Deity. —s.— ii. 
Better try all things and find all empty, than to Evil men speak as they wish rather than what 
try nothing, and leave life a blank. they know. 
