MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. Ut 
Cjrc (fcntiflr. 
UNIVERSITY COMMENCEMENT. 
Tin? anniversary exercises of the University 
of Rochester, will take place at Corinthian 
Hall on Wednesday, July 11th. The proces- 
eion will form in front of the University 
Buildings at nine o'clock A. M., and march 
thence to the hall in the order stated by ad¬ 
vertisement in the daily papers. The gradu¬ 
ating class numbers sixteen members, thirteen 
of whom are residents cf this State, and one 
each from the Slates of Maine, New Jersey 
and Michigan. Our own city has but a single 
representative, Ju.v L. Otis, in the class — 
This is altogether too small a representation 
in the senior class of the highest educational 
institution of a city which numbers fifty thou¬ 
sand inhabitants. 
The annual exercises of the Theological 
Seminary w ill take place on Tuesday, the 10th, 
in connection with the anniversary of the 
New Yoik Baptist Union, which commences 
on Sunday, the 8th. 
The University, both in its theological and 
its literary departments, possesses an able and 
earnest corps of instructors, but labors under 
a disadvantage in the temporary location of 
ita buildings. They occupy at present a brick 
edifice on Buffalo street, not intended in the 
first instance for a literary institution. The 
corporation own3 amp’e grounds in the east¬ 
ern part of the city, and intends to erect 
thereon suitable edifices at a future day. The 
location is a fine one, and when the buildings 
are once completed, the University cannot fail 
to assume the high position it justly deserves 
to occupy. The Faculty, consisting of seven 
members, embraces three Doctors of Law and 
Divinity, aud four Masters of Arts, and each 
performs active duties as a teacher in the dif¬ 
ferent departments of the University. 
NOT ASHAMED OF RIDICULE. 
I siull never forget a lesson which I re¬ 
ceived when quite a young lad at an academy 
in B-. Among my school-fellows were 
Hartly and Jemson. They were somewhat 
older than myself, and the latter I looked 
up to as a sort of leader in matters of opinion 
as of sport. He was not at heart malicious, 
but he had foolish ambition of being thought 
witty and sarcastic, and he made himself fear¬ 
ed by a besetting habit of turning things into 
ridicule, so that he seemed continually on the 
look-out for matters of derision. 
Hartly was a new scholar, and little was 
known of him among the boys. One morning 
as we were on our way to school be was seen 
driving a cow along the road toward a neigh¬ 
boring field. A group of boys, among whom 
was Jemson, met him as he was parsing.— 
The opportunity was not to be lost by Jem¬ 
son. “ Halloa 1" he exclaimed ; “ what’s the 
price of milk ? I say, Jonathan, what do you 
fodder on ? What will you take for al' the 
gold on her horns? Boys, if you want to see 
the latest Paris style, look at tho : e boots ?” 
Hartly waving his hand at us with a p’eas- 
ant smile, and driving the cow to the field, 
took down the bars of a rail fence, saw her 
safely in the enclosure, and then putting up 
the bars, came and entered the school with the 
rest of us. After school in the afternoon he 
let out the cow, and drove her off. none of ns 
knew where. Ard every day, for two or three 
weeks, he went through the same task. 
The boys of-Academy were nearly all 
the sod3 of wealthy parents, and some of 
them, among whom was Jemson, were dunces 
enough to look down with a sort of disdain 
upon a scholar who had to drive a cow. The 
sneers and jeers of Jemson, were accordingly 
often renewed. He once, on a plea that he 
did not like the odor of tbo barn, refused to 
sit next to Hartly. Occasionally he would 
inquire after the cow's health, pronouncing 
the word ‘ ke-ow,’ after the manner of some of 
the country people. 
With admirable good nature did Hartly 
bear all these silly attempts to wound and 
annoy him. I do not remember that he was 
even once betrayed into a look or word of 
angry retaliation. “ I suppose, Hartly,” said 
Jemson, one day, I suppose your lady means 
to make a milkman of you.” “Why not?” 
asked Hartly. “ 0 nothing ; only don’t leavo 
mnch water in the cans after you rinse them 
—that’s all 1” The boys laughed, and Hartly, 
not in the least mortified, replied, “ Never 
fear ; if ever I should rise to be a milkman. 
I’ll give goed measure and good milk.” 
The day after this conversation, there was 
a public exhibition, at which a number of la¬ 
dies and gentlemen from other cities were 
present. Prizes were awarded by the Princi¬ 
pal of our Academy, and both Partly and 
Jemson received a creditable number ; for, in 
respect to scholarships, these two were about 
equal. After the ceremony of distribution, 
the Principal remarked that there was one 
prize, consisting of a medal, which was rarely 
awarded, not so much on account of its great, 
cost,as because the instances were rare which 
rendered its bestowal proper. It was the 
prize for heroism. The last boy who received 
one was young Manners, who three years ago, 
rescued the blind girl from drowning. 
The Principal then said that with the per¬ 
mission of the company, he would relate a 
short story. “ Ne t long since, souk" scholars 
were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor 
hoy on horseback rode by on his way to mill. 
The horse took fright and threw the boy, in¬ 
juring him so badly that he was carried home, 
and coufiued some weeks to his bed. Of the 
scholars who had unintentionally earned the 
disaster, none followed to learn the fate of the 
wounded boy. There was one scholar who 
had witnessed the ccc’dent from a distance, 
who not only went to make inquiries, but 
staved to render services. 
Thus scholar soon learned that the wounded 
boy was the g andson of a poor widow, whose 
sole support conskbed in selling the milk of a 
fine cow of which she was the owner. Alas ! 
what could she now do ? She was old and 
lame, and her grandson on whom she depended 
to drive the cow to pasture, was now on his 
back, helpless. “ Never mind, good woman,” 
said the scholar, “ I can drive your cow 1” 
With blessings and thanks the old woman 
accepted his offer. 
But his kindness did not stop here. Money 
was wanted to get articles from the Apothe 
cary. “ I have money that ray mother sent 
me to buy a pair of boo’s with ; but I can do 
without them for a while.” “ O, no,” said 
the old woman; “ I can’t consent to that; 
but here is a pair of cow-hide boots that I 
bought for Henry, who can’t wear them. If 
you would only buy these, giving us what 
they cost, we shouki get along nicely.” The 
scholar bought the boots, clumsy as they were, 
aud has worn them up to this time. 
AA ell, when it was discovered by olher boys 
of tho Acidemy that our scholar was in the 
habit of driving a cow, ho was assailed with 
laughter and ridicule. His cow hide boots in 
particular were made matter of mirth. But 
he kept on cheerfully and bravely, day ofter 
day, never shunning observation, and driving 
the widow's cow, and wearing his thick boots, 
contented in tho thought that he was doing 
right, caring not for all the jeers and sneers i 
that could be uttered. He never undertook 
to explain why he drove a cow ; for he was 
not inclined to make a vaunt of charitable 
motives, and furthermore, in his heart, he had 
no sympa'by with the false pride that could 
look with ridicule on any useful employment. 
It was by mere accident that his course of 
kindness and self-denial was yesterday discov¬ 
ered by his teacher. 
Aud now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to 
you was there not true heroism in this boy's 
conduct? Nay, Master Hartly, do not slink 
out of sight behind the black board ! You 
are not afraid of ridicule, you must not be 
afraid of praise. Come forth, come forth 
Master Edward James Hartly, and let us see 
your honest face 1” 
As Hartly, with blushing cheeks made his 
appearance, what a round of applause in 
which the whole company joined, spoke the 
general approbation of his conduct! The 
lad cs Blood upon benches and waved their 
handkerchiefs. The old men wiped the gath¬ 
ering moisture from the corners of their eyes 
and clapped their hands. Those clumsy bouts 
on Hartly’s feet seemed prouder ornaments 
than a crown would have been on his head. 
The medal was bestowed oa him amid general 
acclamation. 
Let me tell a good thiDg of Jemson before 
I conclude. lie was heartily ashamed of his 
ill-natured railery, and a ! ’ter we were dismiss¬ 
ed, he went with teare Lis eyes and tendered 
his hand to Hartly, making a handsome apol¬ 
ogy for his pa9t ill mariners. “ Think no more 
of it, old fellow,” said Hartly, with delightful 
cordiality ; let U3 all go and have a ramble in 
the woods before we break up for vacation.” 
The boys, one and all, followed Jemson s ex¬ 
ample ; and then we set forth with huzzas 
into the woods. What a happy day it was ! 
THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 
1. The perceptive faculties are those by 
which we become acquainted with the exist¬ 
ence and qualities of the external world. 
2. Consciousness is the faculty by which we 
become cognizant of the operations of our 
owu minds. 
3. Original suggestion is the faculty which 
gives rise to original ideas, occasioned by the 
perceptive faculties or consciousness. 
4. Abstraction is the faculty by which, 
from conceptions of individuals, we form con¬ 
ceptions of genera and species ; or, in general 
classes. 
5. Memory is the faculty by which we re¬ 
tain and recall our knowledge of the past. 
6 . Reason is that faculty by which, from 
the use of the knowledge obtained by the other 
faculties, we are enabled to proceed to other 
and original knowledge. 
7. Imagination is that faculty by which, 
from materials already existing in the mind, 
we form complicated conceptions or mental 
images, according to our own wilL 
8. Taste is that sensibility by which we 
recognize the beauties and deformities of na¬ 
ture or art, deriving pleasure from the one, 
and suffering pain from the other.— Dr. Wais¬ 
land. 
How Dickens Writes.— Dickens affords in 
one of his letters an interested glimpse of his 
state of mind while composing one of his in¬ 
teresting stories: 
“ I have been beset in matiy ways ; but I 
shut myself up for one mouth, clove and tight, 
over my little Christmas book, * The Chimes.’ 
All my affections and passions got twined and 
knotted up in it, and I became as boggard as 
a murderer long before 1 wrote the end.— 
When I had done, I fled to Veuice, to regain 
the composure I had lost.” 
Imrortant for School Boys. —Walter K 
Foster, of Bang"r, has invented and had pat¬ 
ented an instrument which he terms the pen¬ 
cil sharpener, and which does the work of 
sharpening with great, facility and neatness. 
A cutting blade is sdjusttd in a hollow coDe 
of zinc, and by inserting the end of the pen¬ 
cil and revolving it between tho thumb aud 
finger for a moment, it is brought to a point. 
By using a different blade, ihe principle is 
applied to a slate pencil sharpener.— Portland 
Argus. 
I think that every man is conscious at 
times that, it is only his borders, his seaboard, 
that is civilized and subdued. Behind that 
narrow strip stretches the untamed domain, 
shaggy, unexplored, of the natural instincts. 
(DlifL 
Pojp Moor^'a RnraJ N«w-York#r, 
INDIGO-ITS CULTIVATION AND MANUFACTURE. 
Many of the circumstances connected with 
the cultivation ef Indigo are of interest. The 
value of the plant in the arte—the capital in¬ 
vested in ita production—each place it ; iu a 
commercial point of view, in a position of 
importance. 
This drug has been brought principally 
from India, but large quantities are produced 
in the West Indies and Mexico. Although a 
warm climate bas been deemed essential to its 
perfect development, still experiments have 
been made in both Europe and the more tem¬ 
perate regions of America, which in their re¬ 
sults have been exceedingly favorable as re¬ 
gards the quality of tho Indigo. These in¬ 
stances, however, were more matters of curi¬ 
osity than pecuniary benefit, the yield not 
warranting its general introduction aud cul¬ 
ture. 
Cultivation. —The requisites to success in 
its cultivation are a loose, rich soil and a warm 
climate. T(ie raiuy season (a period which 
prevails in those countries best adapted to its 
growth) is the time chosen for sowing, for if 
the soil be dry and remains so for any length 
of time after planting, the germ becomes 
heated and is lost. The seed is deposited in 
trenches about one foot apart and three to four 
inches in depth. When the weather is favor¬ 
able the young plants make their appearance 
in from four to seven days, when it is careful¬ 
ly and constantly weeded to prevent the mi- 
mixture of any herbs which would deteriorate 
the quality of the dye. This is all the atten¬ 
tion it receives until ready to cut, which is 
from two to three months from the time of 
sowing. 
Its culture is very precarious, not only as 
regards its growth from year to year, but as 
to the quantity and quality of the same plants 
the same season,—ita uncertainties arising not 
from one, but a succession of chances. The 
soil must be well tilled, then kept entirely free 
from weeds. The plant when up is liable to 
wither, requiring exceeding moisture to per¬ 
fect itself. It suffers also from a worm re¬ 
sembling the caterpiller, which, springing as 
it were from the tarth, in the course of a day 
or night, lays whole fields bare of vegetation. 
In the gathering, great care is necessary that 
the delicate bloom of the plant is not lost and 
its quality thereby seriously deteriorated— 
The fermenting, agitating, or beating, and the 
subsequent processes of its manufacture, must 
all be conducted with the most scrupulous 
exactness that tbe planter may meet with suc¬ 
cess, and that the crop may be a profitable one. 
Manufacture. —After cutting, the herb is 
placed in vats, or cisterns, with water suffi¬ 
cient to cover it. It here undergoes fermen¬ 
tation which occurs in from six to twenty 
hours, according to the maturity of the plant 
and the warmth of the weather. The liquor 
becomes heated, thickens and acquires a violet- 
blue color. A 3 the fermentation increases, 
the herbaceous mucilage separates and the 
vegetable is decomposed. At this point the 
skill of the manufacturer is called forth—no 
test having been discovered which designates 
the amount of fermenting needful to the elab¬ 
oration of the drug in its purity. Should this 
process be too brief, the quantity is diminish¬ 
ed, the plant berng still impregnated with es¬ 
sential salt, and if it be too loDg continued, 
the extremities undergo a putrefaction which 
destroys the color. When the liquid is at the 
proper stage it is drawn off into a second vat 
and kept constantly agitated, that the parti¬ 
cles of coloring matter may be separated and 
settle iu a body at the bottom. When this 
separation is effected the water is drawn 
through the sides of the vats, and the sediment 
collected in a third vessel. It is then drained 
by the aid of cloth sacks and afterward ex¬ 
posed, in thin cakes, to the action of the air 
alone. Before thoroughly dry it is cut into 
small pieces ready for packing. It is now 
manufactured and is brought to market in one 
of two states—either in barrels or in coarse 
linen sacks enclosed in dried, untanned hides. 
The Great Comet. — The great comet 
which was expected in 1848, was first observed 
in the year 104, and afterwards iu 392, 682, 
965, 1264 and 1556, there being an iuterval 
of about 290 years each appearance. The 
comet did not appear in 1848, and has not 
since beeu seen or heard from. Mr. Borume, 
of Middleburgh, Germany, has, with a truly 
German patience, gone over all previous cal¬ 
culations, and making a new estimate, bas dis¬ 
covered that it is not lost to us, but only re¬ 
tarded in its motion, and will probably ap¬ 
pear again in August, 1858, with an uncer¬ 
tainty of perhaps two years. 
Curious Recreation. —It has been ascer¬ 
tained, by carefully c inducted expe.ritneDts, 
that the loss by friction, or wear upon gold 
coin, when iu use as currency,does uot exceed 
a twentieth of one per ceut. per annum ; and 
upon silver a half of one per cent. In other 
words, a go’d coin kept constantly in circula¬ 
tion would last two thousand years before it 
would entirely disappear ; a silver coin would 
last two hundred jears. 
THE LATE AMOS LAWRENCE OF BOSTON. 
The Boston Transcript gives a brief sketch 
of the Diary aud Correspondence of the late 
Amos Lawrence, which has been printed for 
private distribution auiODg the friends of the 
deceased. The Diary sajs : 
“ i have never iu my life smoked a cigar ; 
never chewed but one quid, and that before I 
was fifteen, and never took an ounce of snuff.” 
la 1807 he came to Boston with $20 in his 
pocket, feeling, as he says, *• richer thao I had 
ever felt before or have lelt since, ’ and he gave 
the neighbor who drove him to the city §2 of 
his 20. During the first seven years of his 
mercantile life, he Dever allowed a bill to stand 
unsettled over the Sabbath. He kept an ac¬ 
curate account of the merchandise bought and 
sold each day, avoided excessive credit, and 
practiced the most rigid economy, never, a3 he 
says, “allowing himself to spend a fourpence 
for unneoes ary objects till he had acquired it.” 
During the first year he made $ 1.500, and the 
second $4,000. In January, 1808, his whole 
profits were $1750. but at successive intervals 
of six years from that time he became worth 
(1814) $60,000, (1820) $112 000, (1826) 
$280,000, and (1832) $427,000. In 1829, 
Air. Lawie ce commenced a memorandum 
book, and continued it to his death, December 
30, 1852, containing a statement of all his do¬ 
nations, in money, cr o her articles charged at 
cost. They, within this period, amounted to 
$639,000 ; and added to his prior unrecorded 
charities, probably make a total of seven hun¬ 
dred thousand dollars. 
NAPOLEON’S HORSE. 
“ There is a link between animals and the 
Deity,” said Napoleon. “Man is merely a 
more perfect animal than the rest. He rea¬ 
sons better. But how do we know that ani¬ 
mals have not a language of their own ? My 
opinion is, that it is presumption in U3 to say 
no, because we do not understand them. A 
horse has memory, knowlerfge, and love. He 
knows his master from the servants, though 
the latter are constantly with him. I had a 
horse, myself, who knew me from any other 
person, and manifested, by capering and 
proudly marcliog with his head erect when I 
was ou his back, his knowledge that he bore 
a person superior to the others by whom he 
was surrounded. Neither would he allow any 
other person to mount him, except one groom 
who constantly took care of him; and when 
ridden by him, his motions were far different, 
and such as seemed to say that he w r as con¬ 
scious he bore an inferior. "W hen I lost my 
way, 1 was accustomed to throw the reins 
down his Deck, and he always discovered it iu 
places where I, with all my observation and 
boasted knowledge, could not. Who can de¬ 
ny the sagacity of dogs ? There is a link be¬ 
tween all animals. Plants are so many ani¬ 
mals who eat and drink, and there are grada¬ 
tions up to man. who is only the most perfect 
of them all. The same spirit animates them 
all in a greater or less degTee.” 
Ikrtl/s Corner. 
oo 6 
For Moorts’3 IIoral Nfevr-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I ain composed of 26 letters. 
My 12, 23, 10, 25 is often freely indulged in. 
My 17, 26, 22, 6, 2, 5 is a girl’s name. 
My 3, 5, 15, 10, 7, 8, 18 is seriousness. 
My 1, 16, 21, 13, 23, 10 is an alarm bell. 
My 9, 16, 4, 11 is to allure. 
My 24, 23, 10, 20 is a possessive pronoun. 
My 14, 5, 21, 18 is truth. 
My 19, 20, 28, 6 is an imponderable agent. 
My 4, 23, 10, 25 is cover. 
My whole is eagerly sought after. 
Genoa, N. Y., 1355. A. a P. 
gif’* Answer next week. 
YTouxo msn. beware of idleness. Accustom 
the mind to habits of regular labor. Fix the 
attention upon a course of usefulness to your¬ 
self and others. Awaken within yourselves 
an interest for tho accomplishment of a pur¬ 
pose. Cultivate a habit of patient endurance. 
Let it be your desire to secure the approbation 
of the wise and good, and lot your motto be 
determination, activity and perseverance. 
ANSWERS TO CHARADES, ENIGMAS, 4c. 
Answer to Charade in No. 287 : 
All peoples, languages and nations, 
Of whatsoe’er pronunciations, 
Far as the north, south, east, west can reach, 
Sound a, the letter in their speech. 
Alike the savage and polite, 
In this at least agreeing quite, 
A surely stood in front of Adam, 
As second and as fourth in madam. 
Adam prefixed it to the name 
Of creatures all that to him came; 
All who confounded were at Babel, 
To utter this one sound were able. 
Utter’d by rudest Hottentot, 
As 'twas by Zeno in his stoa ; 
And if days were when it was not, 
It must have been in days of No.Ah. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem in No. 287: 
As h of the time past, added to | of the time 
before sunset, is equal to the time past since 
sunrise, £ of the time past must be equal to 
| of the time to elapse before the setting of 
the sun. Henoe the day of 11 hours must be 
so divided, that $ of the first part shall be 
equal to 4 of the second. Consequently the 
first is to the second as 3 is to 2. So the part 
of the day past is 3-5 of 11 hours—6 hours and 
36 minutes—which added to the hour the sun 
rose, make the hour of the day 6 minutes past 
1 o’clock P. M. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 287: 
A good Agricultural Newspaper. 
Sabfetji Jpimnjp. 
UNDEVELOPED GOOD. 
BV JOH.V BOWaiXG. 
Tkesb is in every human heart 
Some not completely barren part. 
Where seeds or truth and love might grew, 
And flowers of generous virtue blow ; 
To plant, to watch, to water there— 
This, as our duty, be our care. 
Hast then e’er seen a garden clad 
In all the robes that Eden hid— 
Or vale o’erspread with stream? and trees, 
A paradise of ir.ysterie :— 
Plain.? with gr. en hills adorning them. 
Like jeweia in a diadem ? 
These gardens, va’63, and plains, and hills, 
Which beauty gilds, and music fills, 
Were once but deserts—cultnro’s band 
Has scattered verdure o’er the land, 
And smiles and fragrance rule serene, 
Tv here barren wilds usurped the scene. 
And such Is man. A soil which breeds 
Or sweetest flowers, or vile-st weeds ; 
Flowers lovely as the morning’s light, 
Weeds deadly as the aconite ; 
Just as his heart is trained to bear 
Tho poisonous weed, or flow’ret fair. 
Thy outcast brother’s blackest crime 
May, in hts Maker’s eye sublime, 
In spite of ail thy pride, be less 
Than e’en thy daily waywardness ; 
lhan many a sin and many a stain 
Forgotten—and impressed again. 
Tfor SCoora’s Rural JJew-YorScw 
“LET US PRAY.” 
In a quiet little church, on a calm, beauti¬ 
ful Sabbath day, the people had asiembkd for 
the purpose of God's worship. From far and 
near they had come, a3 was their wont—had 
taken their usual places, aud were awaiting the 
arrival of their revered pastor; all around was 
still, save the gentle rustle of the locust trees 
near the windows, and the sweet notes of some 
feathered songster, which served to render 
more impressive the silence within. At length 
the minister came in and ascended the pulpit 
—then most solemnly did he invoke tie bless¬ 
ing of the Almighty, and render sincere 
thanks to the Omnipotent kindness which had 
spared him and his little flock again to meet 
in His earthly tabernacle ; a hymn was then 
chanted by the village choir, aud after this was 
concluded and he had read a portion of 
Scripture, he pronounced the words, “ Let us 
pray.” And he seemed to pour out his whole 
heart in earnest petition for the welfare and 
safety of the souls over whom he exerted a 
spiritual guidance—that they might be kept 
unspotted from “ the world, the flesh and the 
devil,” and be saved with an everlasting sal¬ 
vation by “ that repentance which needeth not 
to be repented of.” Now, while he was thus 
addressing the Throne of Grace, there were 
many who deported themselves as though they 
did not know or care how he was engaged, nor 
what they ought to have done themselves; 
they were staring at each other, or out of 
doors—anywhere and everywhere, and evinc¬ 
ing not the slightest interest in what they 
should have regarded as their greatest aod 
most intima f e concern. Some of them, even, 
were members of the body of Christ, and pro¬ 
fessed to be hii followers—and yet while their 
pastor was invoking blessings for them thro’ 
His name and mediation, they were as appa¬ 
rently unconcerned a3 a few others certainly 
were who had fallen asleep! 
And then I thought of how common it is, 
this careless conduct—how few there are who 
in their inmost hearts respond to the call, 
“ Let ns pray,” aid join the pastor in his sup¬ 
plication for mercy and forgiveness. O! that 
all would remember that when they enter the 
house of God, they should conform to the 
custom of true Christian?, whether they be so 
in heart or not; aid that thus it .becomes to 
them a solemn duty to exhibit there that oon- 
duci which they would were they to realize 
that the jealous eye of God is upon them. He 
cannot but know whether the worship offered 
to Him oomes from the heart or from the lips 
merely ; and from those who do not wor¬ 
ship Him at all, He requires that respect for; 
His ordinances which leads to such depo ( > 
meat as at least shall not distract nor disti 
those who honestly and sincerely engage 
them. This is evident to a candid conscien 
Reader, when the prayer ascends from t 
pulpit to Heaven, does one also go with 
from your heart, and do you also say with t 
pastor, “ Let U3 pray ?” q 
I ought to study Christ as an intercess 
He prayed most for Peter, who was most t! 
be tempted. I am on his breast plate. I 
coaid hear Christ praying for me in the ne 
room. I would not fear a million of enemi 
Yet distance makes no difference ; he is pr 
ing for me.— McCheyne. 
It is a thing morally impossib'e for pe 
proud and ambitious to frame their mil 
an impartial, unbiased consideration of 
giou that teaches nothing but self-deni 
the cross. Humility is the Christian’s 
est honor; ai-d the higher men cfiml 
farther they are from heaven.— Bardcr. 
Oxb of the saddest things about huma: 
ture is. thit a man may guide others is 
path of life, without walking in it hinf 
that he may be a pilot, aud a cast-aw, 
