MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
©huatunnu. 
BIBN1NG SHIOOLS. 
The school system of most of our Northern 
States is ample for the general education of 
the people, and is provided at a cost quite 
within the means of the humblest and poorest 
citizen, provided he can find time to attend 
the schools. We venture to say there is not a 
young man to be found in New England or 
New York, who has been really anxious to 
obtain a liberal education, and possessed suffi¬ 
cient courage and nerve to pursue a favorite 
object with steadiness and undeviating energy* 
but that has accomplished the undertaking.— 
It is only necessary to fix the aim at any de¬ 
sired point, and then never stop short of it. 
The actual expense of the school is not the 
great obstacle in the way of persons who have 
arrived at man’s estate destitute of an educa¬ 
tion. It is the want of time, the cessation 
from labor, the stopping of wages, and the 
consequent cutting off of supplies, which hin¬ 
der many a young man, and indeed many a 
middle-aged man, from acquiring at least the 
rudiments of an education. 
There are hundreds, especially in cities,—a 
large portion of them foreigners by birth, new 
comers to our shores* and to the precious ad¬ 
vantages afforded by our schools,—who can 
neither write nor read, but who are sincerely 
anxious to do so. Their children can attend 
the public schools,—at least those not old 
enough to work,—while the parents them¬ 
selves, and the older children, are compelled to 
labor for a living. Unless, therefore, some 
means are provided, whereby the rudiments of 
an education can be obtained without trench¬ 
ing materially upon the time necessarily devo¬ 
ted to their daily employments, this latter class 
must remain forever shut out from the benefits 
of an illuminated intellect, and the country 
consequently suffer from a horde of ignorant* 
superstitious, and unprofitable citizens. 
In view of this state of facts, many city 
boards of education, (ours among the number,) 
have established evening schools, where per¬ 
sons employed at laborious occupations can 
assemble after the labors of the day are done, 
and receive instruction from a competent corps 
of teachers detailed for the purpose. There 
are two such schools now in operation—one 
in the eastern and one in the western portion 
of this city—and are well attended by just 
such persons as are shut out from the privile¬ 
ges of the day schools. The scholars'cf the 
latter are prohibited from attending in the 
evening, so that the class designed to be bene¬ 
fited by the evening schools can receive the 
undivided attention of the teachers; and the 
amount of good accomplished by them is in¬ 
calculable. While the long evenings of the 
autumn and winter continue, these schools are 
kept open. The gleaming windows of the 
school-room rival in brightness the illumina¬ 
tions of a cotton-mill; but the object of that 
illumination is in the former instance of infi¬ 
nitely greater importance, clothing the mind, 
instead of the body, iu habiliments of beauty, 
and elevating blinded and depressed humanity 
to the true position designed it by the Creator. 
METHOD. 
Dispatch is the soul of business, and noth¬ 
ing contributes more to dispatch than method. 
Lay down a method for everything, and stick 
to it inviolably, as far as unexpected incidents 
may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in 
the week for your accounts, and keep them in 
their proper order; by which means they will 
requite a very little time, and you can never 
be much cheated. 
Whatever letters and papers yon keep, 
docket and tie them up in their respective 
classes, so that you may have instant recourse 
to any one. 
Lay down a method also for your reading, 
for which you allot a certain share of your 
mornings; let it be in a consistent and consec¬ 
utive course, and not in that desultory and im- 
methodical manner in which many people 
read scraps of different authors, upon different 
subjects. Keep a useful and short common¬ 
place book of what you read, to help your 
memory only, and not for pedantic quotations. 
Never read history without having maps, and 
a chronological book, or tables, lying by you 
and constantly recurred; without which, histo¬ 
ry is only a confused heap of facts. 
One more I recommend to you, by which 1 
have found great benefit, eveu in tho most dis¬ 
sipated part of my life, that is, to rise early, 
and at the same hour every morning, how late 
soever you may have sat up the night before. 
This secures you on hour or two at least of 
reading or reflection, before the common inter¬ 
ruptions of the morning begin; and it will save 
your constitution by forcing you to go to bed 
early at least one night in three.— -Selected. 
A Love op Literature. —Were I to pray 
for a taste which should stand me in stead un¬ 
der every variety of circumstances, and be a 
source of happiness and cheerfulness to me 
during life, and a shield against its ills, howev¬ 
er things might go amiss, and world frown up¬ 
on me, it would be a taste for reading. Give 
a man this taste, and the means of gratifying 
it, and you can hardly fail of making him a 
happy man; unless, indeed, you put into his 
hands a most perverse selection of books.— 
You place him in contact with the best socie¬ 
ty in every period of history—with the wisest, 
the wittiest, the tenderest, the bravest, and the 
purest characters who have adorned humanity. 
You make him a denizen of all nations, a co- 
teporary of all ages. The world has been cre¬ 
ated for him .—Sir John Hcrschel. 
Defective Education.— It is said that out 
of 400 young men just now seeking British 
Government employment, only 80 could pass 
the following examination, simple as it is, viz: 
lo write a good business note; take down a 
paragraph from a standard author from dicta¬ 
tion; write out the names of the different coun¬ 
ties iu England, and exhibit a knowledge of 
the four first rules of Arithmetic. Of the in¬ 
competents it is said that the majority were 
offshoots of the aristocracy, and not of the 
middle class whom Cobbett used to conjure to 
“turn away their eyes from Somerset house.” 
Darirtti.—(Sntbe aitir (San. 
J.ittlk drops of water, 
Little grains of sand. 
Make the mighty ocean, 
And the beauteous laud. 
And the little moments, 
Humble though they be, 
Make the mighty ages 
Of eternity. 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER OF SEBASTOPOL. 
A YOUTHFUL PRODIGY. 
The following is from the Paris correspond¬ 
ence of the N. Y. Express:—“The prodigy of 
to-day is a little boy of nine years of age, who 
possesses the most wonderful talent for draw¬ 
ing; not the school-boy sketches of peaked 
faced cats and tumble-down houses, but mas¬ 
terpieces of the art are executed by him. He 
is the son of one of the heads of the Sevres 
porcelain factory, and is thus ever surrounded 
by graceful and beautiful models for his pen¬ 
cil. His manner of drawing is in itself some¬ 
thing out of the common way. Does he wish 
to execute a horse, it is not by the head he 
commences, (I mean no pun,) but by one of 
the hind legs or the tail; it is not his pencil 
that moves onward, but the paper which 
gradually pushed by the child’s left hand un¬ 
derneath the massive lead, receives the lines 
proportion and shades intended by the little 
designer. A short time since the Emperor 
and Empress, with their suite, visited the fac¬ 
tory. The boy’s father was not there, but in 
his absence his youthful representative did the 
honors, and talked very glibly to their majes¬ 
ties. After a time they missed him, and when 
he was discovered it was with an elegant and 
astonishing drawing of the imperial carriages 
before the door, and, what was more astonish¬ 
ing still, the persons in the carriages were all 
portraits of their Highnesses and their ac¬ 
companying suite." 
This gift is evidently inherited; he being the 
son of the head of a porcelain establishment.— 
In making stone tho clay is moved. If this is 
so in making porcelain, and undoubtedly it is 
measurably so, it would account for his mov¬ 
ing his paper instead of the pencil.— Phreno¬ 
logical Journal. 
Amherst College. —The Rev. Dr. Stearns 
was inaugurated as President of Amherst Col¬ 
lege on the 22d instant. An address was de¬ 
livered by the retiring President, Rev. Dr. 
Hitchcock, and another by the new President. 
Dr. Hitchcock was also installed as pastor of 
the college church. The sermon was preach¬ 
ed by Rev. Dr. Leavitt, of Providence, his 
brother-in-law. 
The best cough mixture that has yet been 
made, consists of a pair of thick boots, mixed 
with lots of air and plenty of exercise. Peo¬ 
ple who hug the stove and grow lean, will 
please notice. 
A proud boy boasted that his father had a 
horse, when his companion, of poorer parent¬ 
age, replied exultingly:—“ And my father has 
a horse and a saw too.” 
It is in Utah that tho demise of a married 
man is adequately mourned. One of the Mor¬ 
mon Elders recently deceased, is deplored by 
twenty inconsolable widows. 
Mrs. Partington is anxious to know, if the 
compass has a needle and thirty-two points, 
how long it will take a woman with such a 
needle to make a shirt. 
The church of Hod is often the most pros¬ 
perous, when she has least in her coffers, few¬ 
est in her temples, and nothing but hostility 
in the world. 
Be slow to choose a friend, and slower to 
change him; be courteous to all; scorn no man 
for his poverty, worship no person for his 
wealth. 
Adversity overcome, is the brightest glory; 
and willingly undergone, the greatest virtue. 
Sufferings are but the.trials of valliant spirits. 
The greater part of men have no opinion, 
still fewer an opinion of their own, well reflect¬ 
ed and founded upon reason. 
He is rich who receives more than he spends; 
he, on the contrary, is poor, who spends more 
than he receives. 
TnE idle should not be classed among the 
living; they are a sort of dead mon who can’t 
be buried. 
An Irish editor, in speaking of the miseries 
of Ireland, says:—“ Her cup of misery has been 
for ages overflowing, and is not yet full!” 
Something must be left as a test of the loy¬ 
alty of the heart—in Paradise, a Tree; in Is¬ 
rael, a Canaanite; in us, Temptation.— Cecil. 
When a noble life has prepared old age, it 
is not the decline that it recalls, but the first 
days of immortality. 
Man ought always to have something 
which he prefers to life, otherwise life itself 
will appear to him tiresome and void. 
A want of confidence has kept many a man 
silent A want of sease has made many per¬ 
sons talkative. 
He that preaches gratitude pleads the cause 
of God and men; for without it wo can neither 
be sociable nor religious. 
AN HOUR AT THE ASSAY OFFICE. 
The JYew York Evening Post, under the 
above title, gives an interesting account of the 
operations of the Assay Office iu that city, 
which we propose to furnish to the readers of 
the Rural; dividing it into such portions as 
will uot mar its arrangement or break the 
continuity: 
What becomes of the gold? Doubtless this 
is the question that some of the readers of the 
Evening Post are often puzzled to answer.— 
They know all about the digging, grinding, 
and washing of it iu the mountains and streams 
of California, and its transmission over the 
Isthmus till it reaches the port of New York. 
They hear of its sate arrival in the trusty 
hands of Adams’s and other express compa¬ 
nies, but after that they know nothing of it 
except when they are reminded of its presence 
by the sight of some bright, newly-stamped 
five or ten dollar piece, which, however, has a 
proverbial facility for taking to itself wings, 
before the possessor has had time to reflect 
whence it comes or whither it goes. 
If our inquisitive readers will take a walk 
with us to the rather venerable looking (at 
least lor New York) granite building adjoin¬ 
ing the Custom House, in Wall street, and 
how occupied as the United States Assay Offi¬ 
ce, they will be able to satisfy their curiosity. 
Mr. Butterworth, the superintendent, of whom 
we make our first inquiries, informs us of the 
objects of the Assay Office, namely, the de¬ 
termination ol the value of the gold brought 
into our city, and the preparation of it for 
coinage by the United States Mint at Phila¬ 
delphia, or tor transhipment, in bars to foreign 
countries. This view of its duties is not, how¬ 
ever, agreed to by all parties, though it has 
been approved by the Secretary of the Treas¬ 
ury, Mr. Guthrie. 
Our readers will bear in mind that the As¬ 
say office, where the melting, refining, parting, 
and other operations upon the gold are per¬ 
formed, is in tho rear of the building fronting 
on Wall street. The latter is occupied by the 
Sub - Treasurer’s office and weighing room, 
and by the private rooms of various incum¬ 
bents of government offices. But before we 
witness the processes referred to, let us visit 
the Treasurers’s weighing room, which is in 
the front building. Here all the deposits, 
whether in bars or dust, (generally, however, 
in dust,) are first brought, and here their orig¬ 
inal weight is ascertained. The dust, which 
lies in, it may be, half-peck boxes on the floor, 
is uot, as might be inferred from the name, a 
fine, bright yellow powder, but looks rather 
like dingy, brass-colored granite, broken by a 
hammer into the fineness of ordinary Turk’s 
Island salt After weighing, the deposit is 
carried into the Treasurer’s vault, in the Assay 
Office proper, whence it is taken and melted.— 
The melting is done in crucibles containing two 
or three gallons, over a coal furnace heated to 
an intensity that would satisfy Nebuchadnez- 
zer himself. The poor, swarthy melter, who 
superintends with a long handled ladle, say 
ten feet in length, even at that distance turns 
to a most copperish huo of complexion, and has 
to abandon the work iu a few hours lor the 
rest of the day. There he stands, watching 
the boiling yellow fluid, alternately covering 
it up and stirring it with his long pole, until 
in an hour or two the contents of the crucible 
can be dipped out and the molten mass poured 
into moulds, by which it it is shaped into bars 
of about three hundred ounces each. 
The gold is then returned to tho vault of 
the Melter and Refiner, a cell some twelve 
feet square, with two iron doors, secured by 
four locks, and with granite walls, put together 
with cannon balls inserted between the stones 
in such a manner as to defy the most ingenious 
and persevering burglar. Four men are ap¬ 
pointed to sentinel this depository at night, 
and a similar provision is made for the Treas¬ 
urers vault, where the gold that has gone 
through all the processes which are appointed 
for it, is placed. 
On entering this vault in company with Mr. 
Morfit, the courteous Assistant Melter and 
Refiner, we were not at first impressed with 
the appearance of what was there exhibited. 
Usually one derives his idea of such places 
from his readings in fairy tales and in the 
Arabian Nights, where we are told of caves 
so full of precious metal and jewels that the 
mind craves a little variety in the way of some¬ 
thing more common-place. Not so here, how¬ 
ever. In one corner there were perhaps a 
couple of wheel-barrow loads of silver, as pure 
and white as the goat hunter, clambering over 
the hills of Potosi, pulled up with the roots of 
the sapling he was supporting himself by. In 
another corner was, perhaps, the same bulk of 
gold, weighing about four times as much. In 
such a situation it was not unnatural to think 
how pleasant it would be to trundle that glit¬ 
tering heap off for the benefit of whom it 
might concern, and how little one would ob¬ 
ject to its weight, if such a task were imposed. 
But how much it expanded one’s estimate of 
what he saw, when informed that that diminu¬ 
tive pile of golden bricks was worth half a 
million! To what excellent uses could it not 
be applied I A house in Fifth avenue, ditto 
Newport, railroad stocks, reputation as a pat¬ 
ron of philanthropic societies and foreign mis¬ 
sions—all the possible amenities of life are 
suggested by that litttle heap in the corner.— 
There it lay, as Hood says: 
Gold I Gold I Gold 1 Gold I 
Briglit and yellow, Lard and sold; 
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled; 
Heavy to get and light to hold ; 
Hoarded,bartered, buught and sold; 
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; 
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old 
To the Very verge of the churchyard mould; 
Price of inuiiy a crime untold! 
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 
Good or bad a thousand fold! 
The great law of social life is “ Do unto oth¬ 
ers as you would they should do unto you.” 
It is well known that by far the greater 
part of the corps of scientific men in the ser¬ 
vice of the Russian Government at ihe present 
day me foreigners—English, Germans, French 
or American!—who have been induced by the 
liberal offers of the Czar to cast their fortunes 
in the Muscovite service. But it is not gener¬ 
ally known that the Chief Engineer of Sebas¬ 
topol. he who built the fortifications, deepened 
the harbor, and rendered the city almost a sec¬ 
ond Gibraltar, was an Englishman. Such was 
the fact, as we learn from an English paper. 
His name was Upton, and thirty years ago he 
was the Chief Engineer of the Dimchurch and 
Stratford Railroad, and superintended all the 
groat improvements on the Holyhead Road. 
His taients and abilities wore of a high order, 
and acquired for him the respect and confi¬ 
dence of the Commissioners of the roads upon 
which he was engaged. Unfortunately, being 
a man of expensive tastes, lie lived beyond his 
means, and, for ihe purpose of procuring mo¬ 
ney, defrauded t he Holyhead Road of "many 
small sums, exceeding iu tho aggregate $10- 
000. The frauds were discovered, and he was 
held to bail to answer the charge. 
On the day before the commencement of 
the trial, he accidentally obtained information 
that ho would be indicted for forgery, as well 
as for baud, and, if found guilty, would prob¬ 
ably be hanged, lie retired‘to his couch, 
however, as usual, at his hotel in Northamp¬ 
ton. but arose at an early hour, and went out 
to take a short walk before breakfast. He 
ex! ended his walk to the railroad depot, and 
took the cars for London. In that city, by 
some means, he got a recommendation’ to 
the Russian authorities, and receiving from 
them the appointment of engineer, was soon 
on his way to the Crimea. He was there em¬ 
ployed upon various fortifications in the Black 
Sea. and some years previous to his death, 
which occurred twelve mouths since, he was 
the chief engineer at Sebastopol. He found 
Sebastopol in a very inefficient state, and at 
once proceeded, by dint of labor, science and 
Russian money, to render it the strong fortifi¬ 
cation which it is at the present day. The 
Emperor was so much pleased with the result 
of his labors, that, among tho other high hon¬ 
ors, he conferred upon him tho rank of Lieut. 
C oloncl .—Host on Journ al. 
AGES OF ANIMALS. 
A hear rarely lives more than twenty years; 
a dog lives twenty years; a fox fourteen or 
sixteen; lions sometimes live to the age of 
seventy. The average of cats is fifteen years; 
n squirrel and hare seven or eight; rabits seven. 
Elephants have been known to live to the age 
of four hundred years. When Alexander the 
Great had conquered one Porus, King of In¬ 
dia, he took a great elephant, which had 
lought very valiantly for the king, named him 
Ajax, dedicated him to the sun, and then lot 
him go with this inscription:—“Alexander, 
the son of Jupiter, hath dedicated Ajax to the 
sun.” This elephant was found with this in¬ 
scription three hundred and fifty years after.— 
Pigs have been known to live to the ago of 
thirty years; the rhinocerous to twenty. A 
horse has been known to live to the age of 
sixty-two, but average twenty-five or thirty.— 
Camels sometimes live to the age of one hun¬ 
dred. Stags are long lived. Sheep seldom 
exceed the age of ten. Cows live about fif¬ 
teen years. Cuvier considers it probable that 
whales live one thousand years. The dolphin 
and porpoise attain the age of thirty. An 
eagle died at Vienna at the age of one hun¬ 
dred and four years. Ravens frequently reach 
the age of one hundred. Swans have been 
known to live three hundred yoars, and the 
tortoise a hundred and seven. 
CREDIT AND CHARACTER. 
There is no lesson more important for the 
young, than that which inculcates promptness 
and punctuality, not only in all momentary 
dealings, but in every transaction of life.— 
Nevertheless, it is a common error with many 
to disregard both qualities, and thus to impair 
confidence, destroy credit, and weaken charac¬ 
ter. Only let it once be understood that an 
individual is reliable and may be depended 
upon, and tho character of that man will be 
established upon a rock of adamant This is 
one great secret, not only of success in trade, 
but of confidence, esteem, and respect among 
friends and neighbors. It forms the soul and 
source of au enlarged credit Reliability is 
indeed not only a great virtue, but it is abso¬ 
lutely essential in our dealings with one anoth¬ 
er, and in every phase and condition of life.— 
Never make a promise that you do not intend 
to perform, and be especially careful to avoid 
entering into an engagement that you know 
it will bo almost impossible to fulfil. The eon- 
scquencWf such an error must be to impair 
confidence, induce caution, and excite distrust 
Four Good Habits. — There were four 
good habits a wise and good man earnestly 
recommended in his counsel, and also by his 
own example, and which he considered essen¬ 
tially necessary for management of temporal 
concerns. These are Punctuality, Accuracy, 
Steadiness and Despatch. Without the first 
of these, time is wasted; without the second, 
mistakes tho most hurtful to our own credit 
and interest, and that of others, may be com¬ 
mitted; without the third, nothing can be well 
done; and without tho fourth, opportunities of 
great advantage are lost which it is impossible 
to recall. 
One of the greatest evils of the world is, 
mon praise rather than practice virtue. The 
praise of honest industry is on every tongue, 
but it is very rare that tho worker is respected 
more than tho drone. 
DEATH AND HEAVEN. 
bt tons r. MosKia. 
1 v you are disquieted at anything, you sho’ld 
consider with yourself, is the thing of that 
worth, that for it I should so disturb myself, 
and lost* my peace and tranquility. 
Tim righteous weep; yet every tear’s a gem 
By augel beauties horue 
To grace the Saviour’s blazing (liiulom. 
At!he ascension morn. 
The righteous suffer, and their frames decay, 
Again from death to rise; 
Jesus shall come to bear them all away 
To yonder skies. 
There la a victory o’er all mankind. 
Impartial to tho just; 
It conquers clay, butspares the steadfast mtnd; 
The Saviour’s trust. 
A beam of glory leaves the world of lovo, 
And o’er their features plays; 
The soul, rekindled nt the source above, 
Seems all a blaze. 
A song exceedingly beautiful Is hear*! 
From that delightful tongue, 
And “ Jesus; Johus,” is the sweetest word 
Its notes among. 
A whispered farewell, and an angel smile ( 
The mortal race is run; 
And still the spirit hovers for awhile. 
Ere glory's won. 
“ I am with Jesus,” Is the last we hear; 
The lips are cold and calm; 
Upon those features rests no shade of (ear, 
He’s with tho I<aml> I 
DEATH OF JOHN RANDOLPH. 
The following beautiful specimen of “ word 
painting," we extract from “ Party Leaders,”’ a 
new work by Joseph G. Baldwin: 
Randolph, in fast declining health, reached 
Philadelphia, whither ho went to take passage 
from that port. Ho was too late for the Liv¬ 
erpool packet, lie exposed himself to the 
inclemency of the weather, took cold, which 
aggravated his disease and hastened its final 
termination. He was put to bed—his death¬ 
bed—in his lodgings, at the City HoteL The 
idiosyncrasies which had, oflate yearn especial¬ 
ly, marked his demeanor, distinguished the last 
hours of his life. The sudden bursts of petu¬ 
lance which disease wrung from him; the 
affecting kindness and tenderness which disease 
could not take from him; the rambling conver¬ 
sation in the intervals of acute suffering, in 
some passages as brilliant as ever—the last 
gleams of the sinking lamp, the groanings of 
remorse, which a review of his past life, at the 
bar of a stern self-judgment, drew from his con¬ 
trite heart; the fervid prayer; the hesitating 
hope; the trust qualified by self-condemnation, 
in the Saviour, whose name he professed; the 
concluding act, ere the curtain fell npon the 
last scene of earth, when propped up by pil¬ 
lows, he called witnesses to his confirmation 
of his will, providing for the freedom and sup¬ 
port of his slaves, and the last conseions words 
which fired his eye and braced his sinking 
frame, as, speaking in this connection, he laid 
his skeleton hand strongly upon the shoulder 
of his faithful servant, John, and said with em¬ 
phasis—“especially for this man.” And then, 
—this hist charge upon his conscience off—his 
mind wandered away to the light, and tho 
scenes, and the friends of the Early Day; and, 
the mutterings of the voice growing gradually 
fainter, as he passed on into the thicker shad¬ 
ows of the dark valley, the fluttering pulso 
stood still, and John Randolph, of Roanoke, 
was numbered with ihe dead! ('June 24,1833' 
aged CO.) 
They carried him back to his solitary home, 
and buried him—in death as in life, unsocial 
aud isolated—in the forest of Roanoke. In 
the soil of Virginia he loved so well, they laid 
the corpse of her faithful and devoted son.— 
They left him to rest, after the long fever of 
his troubled dream of life was over, in an hum¬ 
ble and sequestered grave, beneath two stately 
pines. There let him sleep on! The gloom 
of their shade, and the melancholy sighing of 
the wind through their boughs, are fit emblems 
of the life which was breathed out in sadness 
and in sorrow. 
The Right Kind of Preaching. —It was a 
beautiful criticism made by Longinus ftpon 
the effect of the speaking of Cicero and De¬ 
mos' 1 :’ ues. He says, The people would go 
from o.ie of Cicero’s orations, exclaiming, 
“What a beautiful speaker! what a rich, fine 
voice! What an eloquent man Cicero is!”— 
They talked of Cicero; but when they left 
Demosthenes, they said, ‘Twi nsfight Phillip!" 
Losing sight of the speaker, they were all ab¬ 
sorbed in the subject; they thought not of 
Demosthenes, but of their country. So, my 
brethren, let us endeavor to send away from 
our ministrations the Christian, with his mouth 
full of the praises, not of “ our preacher,” but 
of God; and the sinner, not descanting upon 
the beautiful figures and well-turned periods of 
the discourse, but inquiring, with the broken¬ 
ness of a penitent heart, “ What shall I do to 
be saved?" So shall we be blessed in our 
work; and when called to leave the watch-tow¬ 
ers of our spiritual Jerusalem, through the 
vast serene, like the deep melody of an angel’s 
song, heaven’s approving voice shall be heard. 
— Dr. Clark’s Sermon. 
Moss will grow upon grave stones, the ivy 
will cling to the mouldering pile; the mistletoe 
springs from the dying branch; and God be 
praised, something green, something fair to 
the sight, and grateful to the heart, will yet 
twine around and grow out of tho seams and 
cracks of tho desolate temple of the human 
heart. 
Faith. —Faith does not consist in thinking 
that thy sins are comparatively little, and 
therefore may be forgiven; but in knowing- 
that they are very great, and believing that, 
though they are ever so many and great, past 
or present, Christ’s blood is above them all 
