Written ft>r Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A WIFE’S SIGH. 
In the days of my girlhood be called me “ Alt,' 
When he came to my side— 
When from over the breast of the heaving ocean, 
He sought for his bride— 
And my sleeping heart awoke to the music 
Of the love in hie tone, 
And, with fearless faith, I gave my future, 
My all, to be bis own. 
In the days of my brldehood he called me “Alt,” 
And O what joy was mine 
To know I should travel lire’s weary journey 
With him, through all time! 
And when they laid in my arms my baby— 
The hope aDd joy of my life— 
How my heart leaped when I heard him call me- 
“Alt; my darling! my wife!" 
I know that sickness and years are leaving 
Their mark on my brow; 
But O my heart was never younger 
And stronger to love than now. 
I know that my husband's heart beats for me 
Now, as ever before— 
His strong, true arms are still around me; 
What can I ask for more! 
My heart will sigh in the summer twilight, 
When I rock my boy, 
For the sweet pet names he used to call me 
In that, dream of joy. 
When my weary temples throb with the ceaseless 
Care of a mother's life, 
O, how I long lor the dear old music— 
“Alt! Alt! my wife!” l. 
--^4-4--- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
CHILDHOOD GLORIFYING GOD. 
Without doubt, the subject of early piety 
does not secure among Christians the attention 
which its importance demands. It is too lightly 
regarded, as well as the instrumentalities by 
which it may be brought about. All this will 
be changed; efforts are id ready being put forth 
which tend to bring children to the Savior's 
arms, and these will be followed in time by 
more personal and powerful influences, until, as 
the day of triumphing truth approaches, human 
lives will “grow up in Christ” from child¬ 
hood. Then can it be truly said all over a world 
vocal with praises to God> “ Out of the mouth 
of babes bast Thou ordained strength because of 
Thine enemies, that Thou mightest still the 
enemy and the avenger.” Then will God he 
glorified from the cradle to the grave. Infancy 
will glorify Him. Childhood will glorify Him. 
Manhood will glorify Him. The lisping accents 
of infancy and trembling tones of age will be 
harmoniously blended with the voice of man¬ 
hood in praises to our God. 
Among the earliest memories of a young man 
who is known by me, is the memory of a pious 
mother leading him to the place of prayer. 
Kneeling there, she worshiped God and taught 
him to pray. It seemed to him that she led 
him into the presence of the living God. The 
Holy Spirit fell upon his heart almost with 
dawning consciousness, and a high faith sprang 
up that became inseparable from his life. Years 
have passed, childhood gave way to youth, and 
manhood has come, but his eyes never close in 
rest until the prayer which his mother taught 
him has fallen from his lips in connection with 
the petitions which the Holy Spirit has since 
taught him to utter. The prayer of the child 
is the prayer of the man. The mother often 
has a rich reward in time, but it is chiefly 
received in the future world, and extends 
through all the life to come. 
I have occasionally heard Christian mothers 
lament the limited nature of woman’s sphere. 
My dear friends, it seems to me that you are 
mistaken. Do you not too rarely estimate 
aright your duties and the power which you 
possess to bring early piety to the heart and 
lead childhood to glorify God? Woman’s is 
really the most unlimited sphere. I do not say 
that it is unlimited—its limitations are her 
glory. Man’s sphere is limited, and its limita¬ 
tions are his glory. The glory of a star is in 
shining oti forever in the path by Gon pre¬ 
scribed ; the glory of intelligent creatures is in 
acting in accordance with the evident purposes 
of God. Man’s work is amid the busy scenes 
and cares of public life, carrying forward the 
operations of society; woman’s duties are with 
the silent influences, always the most potential 
that tend to elevate the race. She may stand 
before God in the earth as tbe minister of His 
truth, casting through the present life the 
heavenly influences that tend to mold it to the 
purposes of Heaven. A Christian mother may, 
generally, almost make her child what she will. 
It can not be said of any woman’s life that it has 
been lived in vain, if she bas been crowned by 
God’s benediction as a mother, giving and lead¬ 
ing to Him a deathless soul,—adding a saint to 
the number of the saved and a voice to the mel¬ 
odies of Heaven. There is nothing that can 
increase the consideration hr which woman is 
already entitled as the mother of the race, nor 
is there a w ider sphere of usefulness, or one of 
greater honor, than that of motherhood, with 
the duties wliich it imposes and the powers of 
usefulness which it places within her reach, for 
her’s may he the glorious work of training death¬ 
less souls for immortal blessedness. 
November, 1861. A. T. E. C. 
Wiiat is tbe happiness of our life made up 
of? Little courtesies: little kindnesses; pleas¬ 
ant words; genial smiles: a friendly letter, and 
good deeds. 
-■»,- — 
Thk joy which we inspire has this charming 
thing about it, that far from being weakened, 
like ordinary reflections, it returns to us more 
radiant than before. 
THE PROFESSION Of WOMEN. 
A magazine article says the profession of 
women is housekeeping, declares it thoroughly 
dishonored and offers the following proofs: 
The delicate constitution and failing health of 
young girls, tbe sickness and sufferings of 
mothers and housekeepers, the miserable quality 
of domesLic sendee, tbe stinted wages of seam¬ 
stresses, the despair of thousands who vainly 
Btrive for an honest living, and the awful in¬ 
crease of those who live by vice, are more and 
more pressing on public attention. 
What is the cause of all this ? The chief cause 
is, that woman is not trained Jor her profession, 
while that profession is socially disgraced. 
Women are not trained to be housekeepers, 
nor to he wives, nor to be mothers, nor to be 
nurses of young children, nor to be nurses of the 
sick, nor to be seamstresses, nor to be domestics. 
And yet what, trade or profession of men in¬ 
volves more difficult and complicated duties 
than that of a housekeeper? 
When parents are poor, the daughters are 
forced into considerable practical training for 
future duties, though many a mother toils to the 
loss of health that her daughters may have all 
their time for study and school. 
Iu the more wealthy classes the young girl is 
subjected to a constant stimulus of the brain, 
involving certain debility of nerves and muscles. 
Books in the nursery—books in the parlor- 
books in the school-room surround her. Her 
body is deformed by pernicious dress, her 
stomach weakened by confectionery and bad 
food. She sleeps late in the morning, lives more 
by lamps and gas than sunlight, breathing bad 
air in close rooms or a crowded school. A round 
of scientific study and fashionable accomplish¬ 
ments alternate, while her ambition is stimu¬ 
lated to excel in anything rather than her 
proper business. 
School is succeeded by a round of pleasurable 
excitement till marriage is secured, and then— 
perhaps in one short year—the untrained novice 
is plunged into ail the complicated duties of 
wife, mother, and housekeeper, aided only by 
domestics as ignorant and untrained as herself. 
What would a watch-maker be called who 
should set up his son in the trade when he had 
never put together a watch, furnishing only 
journeymen and apprentices as ignorant as his 
son ? If in addition to this the boy’s right baud 
were paralyzed, he would he no more unfit for 
his business than are most young girls or the 
wealthvtclassee when starting in their profession 
at marriage. 
Then, on the other hand, women who do no: 
marry, especially in the more wealthy class, 
have no profession or business, and are as ill- 
provided as men would be, were all their trades 
and professions ended, and nothing left but the 
desultory pursuits of most single women who do 
not earn their living. A few such can create 
some new sphere as authors, artists, or philan¬ 
thropists. But the great majority live such aim¬ 
less lives as men would do were all their pro¬ 
fessions ended. 
Almost every method that can be devised to 
make woman’s work vulgar, and disagreeable, 
and disgraceful has been employed, till now the 
word “ lady,” signifies a woman that never has 
done auy of the proper work of a woman. 
Dark and dirty kitchens, mean and filthy 
dress, iguorant and vulgar associates, incon¬ 
venient arrangements, poor utensils, hard and 
dirty work, and ignorant and unreasonable 
housekeepers—these are the attractions offered 
to young girls to tempt them to one of the most 
important departments of their future profession. 
The care of infants and young children is 
made scarcely less repulsive and oppressive, and 
usually is given to the young or the ignorant. 
Thus the training of young children at the most 
impressive age, the providing of healthful food, 
and suitable clothing, and of most of home com¬ 
forts are turned off to the vulgar and ignorant. 
A woman of position and education who should 
attempt to earn her living in any of those 
departments of woman’s proper business would 
be regarded with pity or disgust, and be re¬ 
warded only with penurious wages and social 
disgrace. 
Meantime, while woman’s proper business Is 
thus disgraced and avoided, all tbe excitements 
or praise, honor, competition, and emolument 
are given to book-learning and accomplishments. 
The little girl who used to be rewarded at school 
for sewing neatly, and praised when she had 
made a whole shirt for her father, now is re¬ 
warded and praised only for geography, gram¬ 
mar and arithmetic. The young woman in the 
next higher school goes on to geometry, algebra 
and Latin, and wiuds up, if able to afford it, with 
French, music and drawing. Twenty other 
branches are added to these, not one of them in¬ 
cluding any practical training for any one of 
woman’s distinctive duties. 
Tbe result is, that in the wealthy classes a 
woman no more thinks of earning her living in 
her true and proper profession than her brothers 
do of securing theirs by burglary or piracy. 
This feeling in the more wealthy classes de¬ 
scends to those less favored by fortune. Though 
forced by lack of means to some degree of train¬ 
ing for woman’s business, the daughters of re¬ 
spectable fanners and mechanics never look for¬ 
ward toward earning a living In their proper 
business, except as the last and most disgraceful 
resort, of poverty. They will go into hot and 
unhealthy shops and mills, and even Into fields 
with men and boys, rather than to doing 
woman’s work in a private laniily. Not that, 
take the year round, Ihey cln m .ko so much 
more money, but to avoid the tyranny and social 
disgrace of living as a servant iu the kitchen, 
with all the discomforts connected with that 
position. Few except the negro and the poorer 
German and Irish will occupy the place which 
brings to respectable and educated women social 
disgrace and the petty tyranny of inexperienced 
and untrained housekeepers, who know neither 
how to perform their own duties nor how to 
teaeh incompetent helpers to perform theirs. 
fliwffam 
v._xJ ® 
THE LONGING. 
ET SCHILLER. 
Heatt vapors coldly hover 
Round the vale I cannot flee ; 
Outlet ci mid I bn t discover, 
Blessed were escape to me! 
Ever green in fair dominion, 
Yonder hill top I survey: >, 
Thither, could I find the pinion, 
Thit her would I wing ray way, 
nark! I hear the music ringing— 
Harmonies of heavenly calm, 
And the gentle winds are bringing— 
Breathing—bringing down the balm. 
Yonder, fruits are golden-glowing, 
Beckoning from the leafy shade, 
And the blooms that there are blowing 
Never doth the winter fade. 
Bsantifnl must, life he yonder, 
Sans eternal there to see; 
Airs that on the mountain wander, 
Oh, bow healing must they he! 
Yet before me rolls a river— 
Itoaringly ita waters roll, 
And ita waves, that swell forever, 
Send a horror to my sonl. 
On the surge a boat is tossing, 
Bat, alas! the pilot fail*; 
Enter—enter, dare the crossing— 
Breath spiritual fills the soils. 
Guaran’ees no gods concede thee; 
Safety in believing dwells; 
Only miracle can lead thee 
To the Land of Miracles. 
_ «•-* - 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CHANGES. 
It seems sad to us, after a long absence, to 
return to our home and find all around us, 
wherever we turn, strewn thick as the fallen 
leaves of autumn, the marks of change. There 
are new streets with new houses upon them, 
new houses on your own street, new shrubbery 
and trees in your neighbors’ yards, or the trees 
in your own yard have grown so that you hard¬ 
ly recognize it as the home you left. There are 
new faces walking about the streets, and many, 
oh, so many that you were wont to see. aie 
there no move. You ask where is such an one ? 
“Gone, moved from town;’’ of another, “In 
the armyof another, and another, ** Dead.*’ 
You remember now as you came from the depot 
you saw crape on your neighbor’s door knob. 
You see a small coffin carried there, and then 
you think of a little prattler who used to peep 
slyly at you through the hedge, who asked you 
daily for flowers, who brought his broken play¬ 
things for you to look ut, and, by a thousand 
and one sweet, childish ways and words, made 
you feel that you had an interest in him—that 
he was one, almost, of your own home circle. 
But the pet is gone, aud a great wave of lone¬ 
liness sweeps over your heart. 
The old people of years ago, those who made 
the place, the society, when you was a boy, have 
silently stepped, one by one, into their rest, and 
their sons stand to-day in the footsteps of the 
fathers. You look for one who stood in the 
highway of prosperity, gifted with talents 
which bade fair for a high and noble manhood, 
whose youth was full of promise of something 
great and good. You ask of him, “ la he fulfill¬ 
ing the promises which nature, wealth and cul¬ 
ture made for him?” “He is fallen,” is the 
answer you meet. Ah, you did not know that 
he was in the army where so many of our brave 
and true men have fallen. “ Not that, but fallen 
from all that he was, and might have been, to 
become a mere worthless profligate.” 
Some, whom nobody encouraged, nobody 
helped or hardly respected, have shaken off the 
fetters with which circumstances had shackled 
then/and stepped into the front rank. To-mor¬ 
row, they will be the men who lead. So changes 
wax and wane. The sun shines brightly to¬ 
day—it sinks into the bosom of the west cauo- 
pied about with crimson and gold, but in the 
morning it will rise upon a different world, for 
all things are constantly changing. We. too, 
are changing, physically, mentally, morally. 
We are either progressing with a downward, 
retrograde tendency, or the soul is growing 
larger and stronger, developing itself to a higher 
and more sublime state, as it comprehends more 
the Infinite—as it clasps the Father’s hand and 
walks with a cbild-llke confidence toward the 
Delectable Mountains of Life. Each step that 
we take upward, causes us to feel that \vc arc 
new beings—that the soul is a new conscious¬ 
ness to which we have just awakened. 
HOSPITALITY. 
The home education is incomplete unless it 
include the idea of hospitality and charity. Hos¬ 
pitality is ft biblical and apostolic virtue, and not 
so often recommended in Holy Writ without 
reason. Hospitality is much neglected in Amer¬ 
ica, for the very reasons touched upon above. 
We have received our Ideas of propriety and 
elegance of living from old countries, where 
labor Is cheap, where .domestic service is well 
understood, permanent occupation, adopted 
cheerfully for life, and where, of course, there 
is such a subdivision of labor as ensures great 
thoroughness in all its branches. We are 
ashamed or afraid to conform honestly to a 
state of things purely American. We have 
uot. yet accomplished wbatour friend the doctor 
calls “our weaning,” and learning that dinners 
with circuitous courses and divers other conti¬ 
nental aud English refinements, well enough in 
their w ay, cun not be accomplished in families 
with two or three untraiHed servants, without 
an expense of care and anxiety which makes 
them heart-withering to the delicate wife, and 
too severe a trial to occur often. America is a 
land of subdivided fortunes, of a general aver* 
age of wealth and comfort, and there ought to 
be, therefore, an understanding in the social 
ba-is far more simple than in the Old World. 
Many families of small fortunes know this— 
they are quietly living po—but they have not 
the steadiness to share their daily average lin¬ 
ing with a friend, a traveler, or a guest, just as 
the Arab shares his tent, aud the Indian his 
bowl of succotash. They can not have com¬ 
pany, they say. Why? Because it is such a 
f uss to get out the best things, and then put 
them back again. But wby get out tbe best 
things? Wby not give your friend what he 
would like a thousand times better, a bit of your 
average homo life, a seat at any time at your 
board, a seat at. your fire ? If he sees that there 
is a handle off your tea-cup, and that there is a 
crack across one of your plates, he only thinks, 
with a sigh of relief, “Well, mine aint tbe only 
things that meet with accidents,” and be feels 
nearer to you ever after; he will let you come to 
his table aud see tbe cracks in liis tea-cups, and 
you will condole with each other on tho tran¬ 
sient nature of earthly possessions. If it be. 
come apparent in these entirely undressed rehear¬ 
sals that your children are sometimes disorderly, 
and that your cook sometimes overdoes the 
meat, and that your second girl is sometimes 
awkward iu waiting, or has forgotten a table- 
propriety, your friend wily feels, “Ah, well, 
other people have trials as well as I,” and he 
thinks, if you come to see him. he shall feel easy 
with you.— Atlantic Monthly. 
PERSONAL GOSSIP. 
— An English Working-man belonging to a 
deputation which visited President Lincoln, 
thus describes the interview:—“We saw a 
colored man lighting fires, whom we informed 
that we wanted to see the President, at the same, 
time giving him a uote to take to him. In less 
than five minutes after we were before the Pres¬ 
ident, about whom I had heard so much in Eng* 
land. I little thought, when I used to clap at 
the announcement of his name in the free trade 
hall, and elsewhere In Manchester, that I should 
ever grasp his hand or engage with him in a 
conversation. We opened the door ourselves. 
Mr. Lincoln was busy writing. When we had 
reached about half way into tho room, he sprang 
to his feet with a smartness that quite surprised 
me, shook hands with -us all In turn, drew forth 
some chairs and requested usto be seated. When 
we had complied, he sat down himself, threw 
out his long logs in true Yankee style, drew his 
hands across his face, lighted up with honest 
smiles, and began, ‘Well, gentlemen, I see 
what your business is by your note;’ but it is 
useless to note all that was said, but I can say 
that it is almost impossible to keep a straight 
face in his company, he being so brimful of jokes, 
all having some bearing on tbe subject under 
consideration. But now and again In his argu¬ 
ment he rivets your serious attention. You can¬ 
not under stand him be is so solid; and then he 
will finish with a pun.’ 
— Thk following story is told of Washing¬ 
ton Irving, illustrating his humors toward 
children. It occurred at Saratoga:—“In one of 
the.-e rambles, 1 recollect his attention was ar¬ 
rested by the crying and sobbiug of a poor little 
barefooted and ragged boy, weaving an old 
‘cone shaped’ liat that had lost all its original 
form. Ho had just been punished by his elder 
si.-ter, a thin, slatternly young vixen, who was 
following him. Mr. Irving, at once reading the 
whole story, turned aside from our route, and 
commenced, iu a most friendly and affectionate 
tone, with: 
“ I know what is the matter with my little 
boy. It U enough to make anybody cry, to 
wear a hat that falls down over his eyes ho ho 
can’t see and stubbing his little toes. I see the 
cause of all this trouble.” And, with that, ho 
took off the old hat, and, rolling its flabby brim 
inward, replaced it on the little boy’s head. 
“There,” said he, “that is all right now.” 
Both the children, confounded by the event, 
stood for a time silent, and then moved off. chuck¬ 
ling together at his oddity; while Mr. Irving, 
resuming his walk, seemed not less gratified at 
his success in turning the scene of grief iuto one 
of gladness. 
Drawling Style of Singing. — In mauy 
of our churches the hymn is an infliction, 
whereas it should be a refreshment and a joy. 
Tne organist must show off bis skill, and the 
slow movements of the song sometimes make 
one yawn. A capital reform will be accomplished 
when we suppress the Interludes, or limit them 
to ten second*, and then rouse ourselves to rapid, 
cheerful songs of praise. Mr. Spurgeon’s con¬ 
gregation did not sing fast enough to satisfy him 
the Sabbath T was there, and ho begged them to 
sing faster—a request which secured ft great im¬ 
provement in the next hymn. It is an interest¬ 
ing fact that the idea of more rapid hinging is 
! everywhere prevalent and growing in England, 
and that a few years promise to socuro tho 
greatest improvement in the spirit and pleasure 
I of public praise .—London Letter. 
I A BkUtiful Thought.—A writer, whose 
life has passed its meridian, thus eloquently dis¬ 
courses upon ibespeedy flight of time:—“ Forty 
t years once seemed a long and weary pilgrim* 
s age to make. It now seems but a step; and 
i yet. along tbe way are broken shrines, where a 
? thousand hopes wasted it to ashes; footprints 
r sacred under their drifting dust, green mounds 
, where grass is fresh with the watering of tears; 
. shadows even which we would not forget. We 
i will garner the sunshine of those years, and 
j with chastened steps aud hopes push on toward 
t the evening whose signal light will soon be 
h seen swinging where the waters are still aud 
1 the storms never beat. 
MSitttJS. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SPIRIT SISTERS. 
1)Y WILLIAM 8. LEB. 
Three spirit Bisters over glide about ns. 
Death, Deatblessncss and Life, 
Each oftentimes the other’s semblance taking, 
And with strange fancies rife. 
Sad, still, ami beanttful, Death seems too happy, 
Happier far than Life, 
As, opening sweet white arms, she softly whispers 
“ Peace!” ’raid our troubled strife. 
And Deuthlessness, with finger spired. Is pointing 
Uuto her home afar,— 
A world like thought, not work, of Gon, existing 
Beyond earth's noise of war. 
Bat Life, with checkered brow of shade and sunshine 
Binds ns to her below, 
And flings about as fairest passion-flowers— 
So loth to lot us go- 
And sometimes will our finite mind, in strangeness, 
Blend into one these three, 
So close are Life and Death entwined together 
With Immortality. 
Rochester, 1884. 
NATURAL RELIGION. 
True natural religion that I mean is referred 
to in the sixty-filly Psalm. The old Hebrews, 
half-civilized its they were, if not rather half¬ 
savage, were wiser lu this thing thau wo. To 
them it was the voice of the Lord that broke 
the cedars of Lebanon. It was the Lord that 
sat upon the flood. They saw his mercy in the 
heavens and his faithfulness reaching unto the 
clouds. It was be who prepared rain for the 
earth, and made the grass to grow upon tbe 
mountains, who gave to the beast Ills food, and 
to the young ravens which cried, who filled 
them with the finest wheat, scattered the hoar¬ 
frost like ashes, called forth his ice like morsels, 
caused his wind to blow and the waters to flow, 
brought out the hosts of the stars by number, 
and called them all by name. Well will it be 
for us when the unlearned seek wisdom, and 
the learned humility; when the fool on the one 
side and the philosopher on the other, — the 
child in knowledge and be that is a huuderd 
years old,—shall alike call not only upon bis 
angels to praise the Lord, but “Praise ye him, 
aim and moon: praise ye him, all ye stars of 
light. Praise him, ye heaven of heavens, and 
ye waters that be above the heavens. Fire, and 
bail; snow, and vapor; stormy wbid. fulfilling 
his word; mountains, and all hills: fruitful trees, 
aud all collars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping 
things, anil flying fowl; praise tho name of the 
Lord: for He commanded, and they were creat- 
ed.- His name alone Ls excellent: bis glory is 
above the earth and heaven.”— Gail Hamilton. 
FIVE KINDS OF CONSCIENCES. 
There be five kinds of consciences on foot in 
the world; first an ignorant conscience, which 
neither secs nor sayeth anything, neither be¬ 
holds the sins in a soul, nor reproves them. 
Secondly, the flattering consciences, whose 
speech is worse than silccce itself, which, 
through seeing sin soothes man in the commit¬ 
ting thereof. Thirdly, the sacred conscience, 
which had neither sight, speech, nor sense 
In men that are past feeling. Fourthly, a 
wounded conscience, frightened with sin. The 
last and best is a quiet, and olear conscience, 
pacified in Christ -Jesus. Of these, the fourth 
is incomparably better than the three former, 
so that a wise man would not take a world to 
change them. Yea, a wounded conscience is 
rather painful than sinful, an affliction, no of¬ 
fence, and is in the ready way, at the next re¬ 
move, to be turned into a quiet conscience.— 
Thomas Fuller. 
■ — ♦ ■ ' — ■ 
THE GOSPELS HARMONIOUS. 
The single history of the life of the Lord 
Jesus which the four Gospels furnish, is pre¬ 
sented under the different aspects of four wide¬ 
ly differing and typically significant individual 
views. This fourfold reflection of tho one 
light of the world, when viewed askance, pre¬ 
sents a thousand dazzling reflected lights, com¬ 
pletely confusing the vision, while a direct 
view of the four reflections show but one light. 
In this respect it may bo affirmed, that the mu¬ 
tual relation of tho four Gospels more excites 
and evokes the criticism of the human mind 
than anything else, and at the same time becomes 
it&eir tbe criticism of all false criticism. Who 
would undertake to harmonize the results of 
modern criticism? A harmony which should 
seek to bring these critics into accordance 
with each other, would find a thousand times 
more difficulties than those harmonies which 
geek to reconcile the discrepancies between tho 
several Gospels. 
“It is finished.” We are ever taking leave 
of something that will not come back again. 
We let go, with a pang, portion after portion 
of our existence. However dreary we may 
have felt life to be here, yet when that hour 
comes,—the winding up of all things, the last 
grand rush of darkness on our spirits, the hour 
of that awful, 6udden wrench from all we have 
known or loved, the long farewell to sun, moon, 
stars, and light,—l ask you t chat will then be 
finished ? W hen it is finished, what will it be ? 
Will it be the butterfly existenue of pleasure, 
the more life of science, a life of uninterrupted 
sin aud selfi.-h gratification; or will it be 
“ Father, 1 have finished the work which Thou 
gavpsi me to do?”— Robertson's Sermons. 
„--— ♦ «-» — 
“I would rather die for Jesus Christ than 
rule to the utmost ends ol tho earth.”— -Ignatius, 
