184 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
dJiumiftomil Itfiartrafni 
BY L. WETHER ELL. 
RESULTS FROM LANGUAGE. 
BY PROF. C. DEWEY. ' 
Languages widely Different, but greatly Alike — One 
Origin—Proofs and Authorities — Name of the 
Divine Being beautiful and wonderful. 
The differences of languages are com¬ 
monly so great, that the speakers aro utter¬ 
ly unintelligible by those of another lan¬ 
guage. Yet, they have so many words from 
one common stock, and have such a resem¬ 
blance to each other, that the nations of 
Europe and Asia aro by their languages 
traced up to a common centre. The con¬ 
clusion is inevitable, in the words of the 
Bible, that “ the whole earth was of one lan¬ 
guage, and of one speech.” It is equally 
certain that the different languages of the 
people of those continents, originating from 
one, must have been formed from no grad¬ 
ual change but by some sudden and power¬ 
ful action. There is no cause alluded to in 
all history, adequate to the effect, but one, 
the confusion of longues at Babel. Idero 
the assigned power is adequate, the occasion 
necessary, and the result certain. The dis¬ 
persion of the nations must follow, and the 
division of the earth among the nations 
whose origin and history have come down to 
us, is what must have been secured. The 
argument on this subject is long, from the 
comparison of particulars, but wholly deci¬ 
sive in its conclusions from the necessary 
application. Thus the knowdedge of lan 
guages, which has been prosecuted with un¬ 
tiring zeal by the learned of Europe for the 
last century, leads us up to the unity of our 
race, to the origin of language, and to some 
of the great facts stated in the only history 
of the early ages of the human family—the 
Bible. 
The great conclusion of common origin is 
made by scholars of different nations and 
some of them opposed to the Bible. 
The distinguished Lepsius says:—“The 
mythologies and primeval traditions of all 
enlightened, and even of the most barba¬ 
rous tribes, aro fundamentally the same.— 
81 Everywhere we find certain singular coinci¬ 
dences in customs, opinions, language, &c., 
which the more fully they aro developed 
the more closely are they found to point to a 
common source.” 
Klaproth, who had “ no reverence for 
tho sacred history,” declares from consider¬ 
ing the affinity of languages, that we must 
admit among them “ the fragments of apri- 
ma ry Lang uage. ” 
The celebrated Count do Gebelin asserts 
that “ all existing languages are derived 
from one.” 
Tho most decisive authorities can be mul¬ 
tiplied, but there is not space for them. 
Look now at the names of the Divine 
Being, or God, as they are found in some 
languages, in their bearing on tho origin of 
language. Among the ourly Hebrews, the 
Creator or God was expressed especially by 
the word Jehovah, founded on the verb to he 
or to exist, to be fixed. “ I Am that I Am,” Je¬ 
hovah, was the designation. Say to them, “ I 
Am hath sent me unto you ;” the Being, the 
Eternal, hath sent me. How admirable is 
this name, when you consider tho desola¬ 
tions of the Deluge, the dispersion of the 
nations at Babel, the shortening of the life 
of man to seventy years, tho idolatry and 
worship of great heroes and warriors which 
had begun to prevail, and especially the re¬ 
ligion of the Egyptians under whose power 
the Hebrews were then pressed to the earth 
in bondage. Amidst all tho mighty and 
wondrous changes, I Am is on the univer¬ 
sal throne. What philosophy, what fore¬ 
sight could lead men, or even Moses, though 
“skilled in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,” 
to tho adoption of this wonderful name.— 
We aro led at once to the divine Author of 
language, who thus revealed his name to 
Moses from tho Burning Bush. 
Among tho Greeks, the word for the Di¬ 
vinity was and is Theos, derived from the 
verb to place, arrange, direct, which opens 
the view of man to the Almighty Spirit, 
which formed, fixed, arranged, and governs 
all things. This word is as old as the lan¬ 
guage of tho Greeks, and can not be suppo¬ 
sed to arise from any natural relations this 
rude people should in that age have discern¬ 
ed, but must have come from the Author of 
language of whom the name leads to a dis¬ 
tinguished and glorious attribute. 
Among the Latins the name of God was 
Deus, evidently taken from the Greek word 
by tho common cliango of T or Th to D, 
having tho samo meaning, and leading to 
tho same origin as in the Greek. 
In English, the word God is from an ear¬ 
lier word for good, meaning that God is the 
Good Being, and giving to Him the name of 
his distinguished and infinite attribute of 
goodness or benevolence, which He so fully 
displays before us in His works. Some 
have judged that men would not, among 
such a people, give this 'designation to tho 
Divine Being, which is doubtless true; as 
the name must have originated with the 
great Author of language, and been given 
by Him who alone possesses the glorious 
attribute. How beautifully in our language 
speaks the Savior,—“ Why callest thou me 
good ? There is none good but one, that is 
God,” the good. In calling me good, thou 
callest me Gon, the good. In no other lan¬ 
guage, it is believed, is the word for good 
and tho names, God, the same identical 
word. Thus we come to fountains of good 
from tho very nature and structure of tho 
languages of various nations. c. D. 
STUDYING TOGETHER. 
Shall pupils bo allowed to study togeth¬ 
er ? Lot often; nothing is more fatal to 
good scholarship, and yet no practice is 
more common. There are in every school 
some pupils, that belong not to the*class of 
treos, or even under-shrubs, but climbing 
plants ; they can never stand alone; they 
must depend upon somebody; their ten¬ 
drils are always clasping around some for¬ 
eign substance. Such persons belong to tho 
class of doubters; they have no certain 
ideas. If they express any truth with any 
degree of boldness, you may be sure they 
have heard some body else express the same 
thing before them. Such persons always 
fill their lamps with borrowed oil; if their 
wick emits one ray of light, it is proof pos¬ 
itive of a loan or a theft! Now, unto this 
respectable class it is not too much to say 
that many if not most of our pupils belong. 
If a difficult, or even an ordinary lesson "is 
assigned, they must at once club, and exam¬ 
ine tho matter. In the committee of the 
whole, thus constituted, there will naturally 
be some person of a little more sagacity 
than the rest, or who has traveled the same 
ground before. His opinions are received 
with great deference, and ho is requested to 
lead the way. It flatters human nature to 
be confided in, and so, partly from pity, and 
partly from pride, ho consents. The others 
have tho appearance of great diligence dur¬ 
ing the investigation, and suggest many im¬ 
portant considerations; but the difficulty 
they never expect to overcome. You mav 
be assured, they will never unlock the se"- 
cret until they steal a key ! In process of 
events, however, either by tho assistance of 
some more sagacious one, or tho combined 
efforts of guessing, the method of solution 
is found, and freely imparted to the whole 
circle. All this saves labor, and the class 
“ lay the flattering unction to their souls” 
that they have learned tho lesson, while 
they have only stolen it! It is a plagiarism. 
And when the time of recitation occurs, 
they shine, if they shine at all, by borrowed 
light; they boldly present tho spoils of their 
piracy, as if they were honest gain. Tho 
teacher perhaps is deceived; the pupils 
have taken another lesson in deception and 
fraud, and the impression is made still deep¬ 
er, that the business of education is to get 
over tho surface, to snatch at results ; and 
not, as is really the case, to discipline the 
thinking powers and learn how to learn. 
Wo cannot say that there aro no cases 
where mutual study is not allowable; with¬ 
out doubt there may he; but the habit is 
prejudicial in the extreme. It fastens upon 
the scholar the practice of deception, as' we 
have seen. It secures to tho pupil who 
‘dopts this method very imperfect ideas.— 
Very few scholars are competent to explain 
even what has been recently explained to 
them. 'The mind must carefully examine 
its treasures, and arrange them, before it 
can well impart them. Knowledge is not 
ours until we have digested it. When a pu¬ 
pil thus undertakes the business of expla¬ 
nation, he will be very likely to think too 
much of the phraseology in which the idea 
was conveyed to him; lie will not discrimi¬ 
nate between what is important and what 
is non-essential; and so thoro is more to 
fear that his explanation will bo only a 
rough daub beside the original, and we can 
well conceive how imperfect will ho the 
idea to the mind that comes from him. 
Again, it makes confusion in tho school¬ 
room, as most teachers know. And, what 
is worst of all. it blinds the scholar to the 
great object of study and defrauds him of 
the advantage he ought to gain. We study, 
not so much for the acquisitions, as for the 
discipline. If we then habitually forego tho 
labor, and seek to purloin tho fruits of toil 
from tho treasury of others, we imbibe very 
low and improper ideas of intellectual 
things, and at the same time lose all the 
vigor that accrues from hard and successful 
toil. The exertion, tho struggle is what we 
need, and, losing that, we may as well write 
down in our account that we have lost every 
thing. Indulging in such a practice, the 
scholar loses too a large amount of the most 
refined pleasure. Successful intellectual 
toil needs no reward from others; it brings 
its own pay. It is a pleasure to think that 
lie who would build and garnish a palaco of 
thought, in the chambers of which he can 
sit down delighted, must himself go down 
into the quarry with pickaxe and spade, and 
But if there is anything in intellectual mat¬ 
ters that seems like tho aid of superior bo- 
ings, that nothing can hinder, that no op¬ 
position can prostrate, that no worldly in¬ 
fluence can disappoint, it is tho power of 
patient, vigorous thought. It works won¬ 
ders. It instructs ignorance ; it raises men¬ 
tal weakness to power; it enlightens what 
is dark ; fathoms what is profound ; it has 
enriched science and art with discoveries; 
it has filled the earth with wonders ; it has 
enlightened tfcte world. 
But it is the independent thinkers that 
have done all this. That kind of thought 
that has no resources in itself, and no con¬ 
fidence in its own conclusions without tho 
approbation of otiiers. is worthy of less 
praise, if it deserves tho name. Now one 
prominent fault of the practice hero con¬ 
demned is, that it fosters tho habit of lean¬ 
ing upon others; it makes us “climbing 
plants.” It fills us with tho idea that we 
can do nothing alone; we must join to per¬ 
form tho slightest task ; not a lesson can be 
learned; not one difficult pass can be trav¬ 
eled, unless wo can feel the guiding hand of 
a leader. We are tho slaves of habit. In¬ 
dulging in this vile practico, then, through 
the important years of early trailing, how 
certain it is that the shackles will hang to 
us in after life, and that, having been depend¬ 
ent scholars, wo shall never make independ¬ 
ent, thinking men ! A much nobler way 
is for the pupil to resolve that, whatever 
task is assigned, ho will go to the discharge 
of it alone. If it is all as dark as night, and 
tho way exceedingly rough, and the pros¬ 
pect of success but slight, let them never¬ 
theless. go unattended by advisers or helps. 
If lie fails, let him fail with the thought that 
ho has done what ho could : and if ho suc¬ 
ceeds. succeed with the noble consciousness 
that the praise is all his own. Teacher, do 
not allow your pupils to study together.— 
Mass. Teacher. 
Ilnturnl Tiiriort], 
THE SNAKE AND THE CROCODILE. 
>ubbatlj Jbaiurtgs. 
A LANDSCAPE. 
AMERICAN INSTITUTE OF INSTRUCTION 
with substantial blows assist in preparing 
(he blocks. Other places may bo captured 
or bought; this, with our own hands, must 
be built. 
And last of all, the practico alluded to 
makes dependent scholars. There is no 
power we all admire and covet more than 
that of independent vigorous thought. It 
is a source of vast, and at tho same time 
most refined enjoyment to the possessor.— 
It is a most profitable quality. lie who 
can think patiently has the key of all knowl¬ 
edge. It was the bold and almost profane 
remark of one of the world’s chief warriors, 
“ God helps those who have the most can¬ 
non !' This suggests of course tho idea, 
that, in his own estimation, he was invinci- 
Tiie twenty-third annual meeting of the 
American Institute of Instruction com¬ 
menced its session in Troy, on Friday. The 
meeting was called to order by Mr. G. F. 
Thayer, the President, and after prayer, the 
members of tho Institute were welcomed to 
the city by Mayor Gould. The first lec¬ 
ture was delivered by Rev. 
of Medford, Mass., on “The Utility of 
Knowledge.” Mr. W. H. Wells, of New- 
burvport, Mass., delivered the next lecture, 
on the subject of Common School Educa¬ 
tion. Dr. J. W. Stone, of Boston, submit¬ 
ted a report upon Phonetics, and also de¬ 
livered a lecture upon the same subject._ 
Some resolutions recommending Phonetics 
to thoso interested in education throughout 
the United States, were fully discussed dur¬ 
ing the evening session. The Troy Post 
sa\ s that the number in attendance is very 
large, a large proportion being ladies. 
On Sunday evening, Rev. Barnas Sears, 
Secretary of tho Massachusetts Board of 
Education, delivered a lecture on “tho Cul¬ 
ture and Uses ot the Imagination.” Mon¬ 
day morning, lectures were delivered by Jo¬ 
seph McKeon, of New York, upon the Com¬ 
mon School System of that State ; by Rev. 
Mr. Butler, of Boston, on “Self-Culture 
of reachers;” and by George B. Emerson, 
of Boston, on “ the free Use of Text Books.” 
The Institute requested a copy of Mr. But¬ 
ler’s lecture for publication. Monday af¬ 
ternoon, a social levee was held at- Mrs. 
Willard’s Troy Female Seminary. By the 
reports published in the Troy papers, it ap¬ 
pears that tho session of the Institute has 
been very pleasant and instructive to all who 
have participated. 
The following officers for the ensuing 
year, were chosen : 
President— Gideon F. Tiiayer, Boston. 
Vico Presidents—Thomas Sherwin. Bos¬ 
ton ; Jno. Kingsbury, Providence, R. I.; S. 
Pettes, Boston; Barnas Sears, Newton; 
Horace Mann, West Newton; George N. 
Briggs, Pittsfield ; Benj. Greenleaf, Brad¬ 
ford ; David Kimball, Needham ; Wm. Rus¬ 
sell. Merrimac, N. II.; Henry Barnard, Hart¬ 
ford. Ut.; Wm. H. Wells, Newburyport; 
Dyer II. Sanborn, Washington, N. H.; Al¬ 
fred Greenleaf, Brooklyn.' N. Y.; Cyrus 
Pierce, West Newton; Solomon Adams, 
Boston ; Nathan Bishop. Boston ; Wm. D.’ 
Swan. Boston; Charles Northern!, Salem; 
Samuel S. Greene, Providence, R. I.; Roger 
S. Howard, Bangor, Me.; Benj. Labaree, 
Middlebury, Vt.; Edward Wyman, St. Louis, 
Mo.; Thomas Cushing, Jr., Boston; Rufus 
Putnam, Salem ; Ariel Parish, Springfield; 
Leander Wetherell. Rochester, N. Y.; Ethan 
A. Andrews, New Britain, Ct.; Thomas Ba¬ 
ker. Gloucester; John Batehelder, Lynn; 
Daniel Leech, Roxbury : Amos Perry, Prov¬ 
idence, R. I.; Nathan Hodges, Newark. N. 
J.; Christopher T. Keith, Providence ; Lorin 
Andrews. Columbus, Ohio; Peter W. Rob¬ 
ertson, Troy ; George Gould, Troy. 
Recording Secretary—Charles E. Valen¬ 
tine. Boston. 
Corresponding Secretaries — George Al¬ 
len. Jr., Boston ; John D. Philbrick, Boston. 
Treasurer—Wrn. D. Ticnor, Boston. 
Curators—Nathan Metcalf. Boston ; Ja¬ 
cob Batchokier, Lynn ; Samuel Swan, Bos- 
The following thrilling account of an en¬ 
gagement between a boa-constrictor and a 
crocodile in Java, is given by an eye-witness: 
It was one morning that I stood beside a 
small lake fed by one of the rills from the 
mountains. The waters were clear as crys¬ 
tal, and everything could be seen to the 
very bottom. Stretching its limbs close over 
this pond, was a gigantic teak-tree, and in 
its thick, shining ever-green leaves, lay a 
huge boa, in an easy coil, taking his illum¬ 
ing nap. Above him was a powerful ape, of 
the baboon species, a leering race of scamps, 
always bent on mischief. Now the ape, 
from his position, saw a crocodile in the 
water, rising to the top, exactly beneath 
the coil of the serpent. Quick as thought 
he jumped plump upon tho snake, which 
fell with a splash into tho jaws of the 
crocodile. The ape saved himself by cling¬ 
ing to a limb of the tree, hut a battle royal 
immediately commenced in tho water. The 
serpent, grasped in the middle by the croc¬ 
odile, made the waters boil by his furious 
contortions. Winding his fold round and 
round tho body of his antagonist, ho disa¬ 
bled his two hinder legs. and. by his contrac¬ 
tions made tho scales and bones of the mon¬ 
ster crack. The water was speedily tinged 
with the blood of both combatants, yet nei¬ 
ther was disposed to yield They rolled 
over and over, neither *being able tQ obtain 
a decided advantage. 
All this time the causo of mischief was 
in a state of tho highest ecstacy. He leap¬ 
ed up and down tho branches of the tree, 
came several times close to the scene of tho 
fight, shook the limbs of the tree, uttered a 
yell, and again frisked about. At the end 
of ten minutes a silonce began to come over 
the scene. The folds of the serpent began 
to be relaxed, and though they wore trem¬ 
bling along the hack, the head hung lifeless 
in tho water. The crocodile also was still, 
and though only the spines of his back wero 
visible, it was evident that he too was dead. 
The monkey now perched himself on the 
lower limbs of tho tree, close to the dead 
bodies, and amused himself for ton minutes 
v. John Pierpont, | making all sorts of faces at them. This 
“ The Utility of I seemed to be adding insult to injury. One 
of my companions was standing at a short 
distance, and taking a stone from tho edge 
of the hike, hurled it at the apo. He was 
totally unprepared, and as it s ruck him on 
the side of the head, he was instantly tipped 
over, and fell upon the crocodile. A few 
bounds, however, brought him ashore, and 
taking to the tree ho speedily disappeared 
among the thick branches. 
A PARROT'S AFFECTION. 
in uu uvrii ubimiauon, ne was mvinci- he wno nopes tor glory by 
hie; this was far from being uniformly true, i must not bo ignorant of old 
ton. 
Censors—Wm. J. Adams. Joseph Hale, 
Joshua Bates, Jr., all of Boston. 
Counsellors — Daniel Mansfield, Cam¬ 
bridge ; Samuel W. King, Lynn; D. P. Gal- 
loup. Salem; A. A. Gummell, Providence, 
R. I.; Elbridge Smith, Cambridge; Solo¬ 
mon Jenner. New York ; F. N. Blake, Barn¬ 
stable ; Charles Hutchins, Wellington, Del.; 
Leonard Ilazeltine, New York; David S. 
Rowe, Westfield ; Samuel W. Bates, Boston; 
D. P. Ilagar, West Itoxhury .—Boston Jour. 
If you would not ho forgotten as soon as 
you are dead, either write things worth read¬ 
ing, or do something worth writing. 
He who hopes for glory by new discoveries 
There was a lady who had hurled all her 
relatives, and who lived secluded from the 
world, with no other companion chan a par¬ 
rot of the largest and most beautiful species. 
This bird had been her mistress’ favorite 
from infancy, and besides being expert in a 
variety of pleasing tricks, was fondly affec¬ 
tionate and uncommonly docile. Between 
tho two was that strength of attachment 
which only those beings feel who have but a 
single object to love in all tho wide world 
whose affections are undivided. 
Few persons, probably, have ever attempt¬ 
ed to make a parrot useful; but this one, so 
well taught and obedient was she, would 
bring to her mistress order any small article, 
such as. a thimble or a spool of thread— 
and again, when commanded, return it to its 
place. Thus they lived—Poll and her mis¬ 
tress—year after year, few persons ever in¬ 
truding upon their solitude. 
But one day, a gentleman who was passing, 
had his attention attracted to the house by 
the unnatural screeching of the bird, and its 
wild fluttering against the window. On en¬ 
tering, he found Sarah, the mistress, lying 
upon her bed very ill—dying. She had only 
sufficient strength to say that she had not 
lett her bed for more than a week, and that 
Polly had all tho while furnished her with 
food from a closet in tho room, till to-night, 
finding her dear mistress could eat nothing, 
she had given tho alarm and summoned aid. 
Bogging the gentleman to be kind to poor 
Poll, Sarah died. 
Some women came and prepared tho body 
for the grave. From her cage, just by tho 
head of the bod, the bird, silent and appar¬ 
ently wondering, watched the proceedings ; 
when all was finished, and she saw her be¬ 
loved mistress lying there so still, she ad¬ 
dressed her with the customary “good-night 
Sarah,” many times repeated. 
At last, as though convinced that the ever 
kind voice would reply to her no more, and 
like one who feels that henceforth he is des¬ 
olate and friendless, the parrot turned sor¬ 
rowfully away and in plaintive tones be¬ 
moaned herself: “ Poor Poll! Poor, voor 
Poll! ” 1 
Numbers of a Flock of Pigeons.— A 
recently published work on Natural History 
estimates that a flock of pigeons which pass¬ 
ed for hours together, above gun-shot, but 
distinctly in sight, must have extended to a 
length of 240 miles, and that tho number 
composing it mast have amounted to 2,230,- 
272,000 pigoons. Allowing each pigeon only 
half a pint of food daily, tho vast family 
would require 17,424,000 bushels daily.— 
These statements extraordinary as they may 
appear, aro confirmed by Mr. Audubon, the 
ornithologist, who had tho fullest opportu¬ 
nity of ascertaining their truth. 
When our desires aro fulfilled to the Tcry 
letter, wo always find some mistake which 
ronders them anything but what -we ox- 
pected. 
Levity would change everything, porti- 
nacity nothing. 
Tiie day ia done ; and slowly from the scene 
The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts. 
And puts them hack into his golden quiver 1 
Below me in the valley, deep and green 
As goblets aro, from which in thirsty draughts 
We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river 
Flows on triumphant thro’ these lovely regions. 
Etched with the shadows of its sombre margent, 
And soft reflected clouds of gold and argent! 
Yet there it Hows forever, broad and still 
As when the vanguard of the Roman legions 
First saw L from the top of yonder hill! 
How beautiful it is! Fresh fields of wheat, 
Vineyard and town, and tower with fluttering flag, 
The consecrated chapel on the crag, 
And the white hamlet gathered round its base, 
Like Mary sitting at her Savior’s feet, 
And looking up at his beloved face ! 
O, friends 1 O best of friends 1 Thy absence more 
I ban the impending night darkens the landscape o’er. 
[Longfellow. 
THE EPISTLES OF PAUL. 
We have alluded to Paul as tho principal 
letter writer in the New Testament. When 
that change which passed over him with tho 
shock of a spiritual earthquake, had sub¬ 
sided into resolute attachment to tho new 
religion, what ardor and heroism were seen 
to he united in him—what a rare combina¬ 
tion ot intellect and heart, of enthusiasm 
and perseverance! Still with him there 
was no stoical abnegation of humanity; 
while he lived for the world, he lived in tho 
world. IIo shrunk from tho scourge, and 
declared himself a citizen of Rome, and tho 
shuddering expectation of a Roman dun¬ 
geon, suggested the warmth and comfort of 
a “ cloak.” Tho culture of the schools was 
in him, “ baptized with tho Holy Ghost and 
with fire.” Words aro ofion unable to con¬ 
vey his thoughts; they reel and stagger be¬ 
neath the weight and power of his concep¬ 
tions. And whether we turn to his alarmed 
appeal to tho people of Lycaonia, where 
he was taken for the god of eloquence, to 
his oration before the critics and judges of 
Areopagus, or to his pleading at the bar of 
Felix and Agrippa—or whether wo survey 
his letter to the Church in Rome, in its full¬ 
ness, profundity, and compacted system— 
or his Epistle to Corinth, so varied and 
magnificent in argument, so earnest and so 
persuasive in remonstrance and vindication 
—or the missive sent to Galatia, so vivid 
and startling in its surprise, indignation or 
sorrow—or that to Ephesus, so opulent in 
thought, and exalted in sentiment, as if to 
compensate lor tho costly books ot magic 
which had been given to the flames—or that 
to Fhillippi, so warm and exuberant in its 
congratulations to the first European city 
where the gospel had been proclaimed—or 
that to Colosse. exposing tho insidious as¬ 
saults of a specious philosophy which cor¬ 
rupted the purity and marred the simplicity 
ot the gospel—or his twin communications 
to Thessalonica, calm, affectionate, and con¬ 
solatory—or (hose to Timothy and Titus, 
replete with tho sage and cordial advices of 
paternal kindness, and long and varied ex¬ 
perience—or the brio! note to Philemon 
concerning a dishonest and fugitive slave, 
who had been unexpectedly brought to “ tho 
knowledge of tho truth”—or, the epistolary 
tractate addressed to tho Hebrews, with its 
powerful demonstration of the superior 
glory and tho unchanging permanence and 
spirituality ot tho New Dispensation—to 
whichever of these compositions we turn, 
wo aro struck with the samo lofty genius 
and fervid eloquence, the same elevated and 
self-denying temperance, tho same throb- 
hings ol a noble and yearning heart, tho 
same masses of thought, luminous and 
many tinted, like the cloud which glows un¬ 
der tho reflected splendors of the setting 
sun. the same vigorous mental grasp which 5 , 
amid numerous digressions is ever tracing 
truths up to first principles—all these tho 
results of a master mind, into which nature 
and grace had poured in royal profusion, 
their rarest and richest endowments. 
In the epistles, what specimens have we 
not of almost every form of composition— 
description, narrative, argument, oratory— 
hold invective and sudden apostrophe—an¬ 
tithesis and climax—the brief words of an¬ 
ger—tho sad regrets of disappointed hopo 
—tho soft breathings of affection—tho ve¬ 
hement outburst of self-vindication — tho 
long and effective argument, often ending 
in an anthem—logic swelling into* lyrics— 
tho torso deliverance of ethical maxims, and 
the cordial greeting and kind remembrance 
of former friends. ' No wonder that Longi¬ 
nus adds Paul of Tarsus to a list of names, 
“ which were tho crown of all eloquence 
and Grecian genius.” There are some pas¬ 
sages in the Epistles to the Corinthians 
which have all tho vehemont and thrilling 
penetration of Demosthenes, and other se<> 
tions in the samo books, which, in elevation, 
imagery, and music, have no parallel, even 
in the Platonic dialogues .—JYorth British 
Review. 
A wise conviction is like light; it gradu¬ 
ally dawns upon a few minds, but a slight 
mist arises with this rise of light. As the 
day goes on, and the light rises higher, 
spreads further, and is more intense, growth 
of all kinds take place silently and without 
great, demonstration of any kind. This 
light permeates, colors, and enlarges all it 
shines upon— Companions of my Solitude. 
Death is tho only subject upon which 
everybody speaks ami writes without a pos¬ 
sibility of having experienced what ho un¬ 
dertakes to discuss. 
Affection or Iov© is what constitutes tho 
life of every person, for whatever the af¬ 
fection is, such is tho whole man. 
Good company and good conversation are 
tho verv sinews of virtue. 
i 
