360 
T!> *f? ’ 
jdiu 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
HOME, SWEET HOME. 
2lUM.Ii 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. J 
BE THE SOUTH WIND TO ME? 
BT J. BKI.I.. JU.VMNGS. 
Thk Boft South wind is stealing 
O’er mountain aud o’er lea, 
The vefspor bells ure pealing 
Out on the calm blue sea; 
And hosts of zealous worshipers 
Bow the hared brow and knee; 
All lore the South \V’ind’» loss 
“ Be the South M 'inti lo n'/” 
The cirri, long and sweeping, 
Float up the asture fi«I<J; 
The sweet spring flowers, in keeping, 
Their fragrant perfumes yield. 
Each with a kindiy, loving grace. 
Sends out it* incense free, 
Holding the rest in warm embrace. 
“ Be (he Sweet flower to me ?” 
Each memory now is teeming 
With Hopes and Scenes of old, 
Aod like life’s jewel* gleaming 
Are those bright dreams of gold. 
But Time is onward Meeting— 
Let those past dreaming* be— 
Let “Hope” and “Love” be wedded. 
Be. the Fond Hope to me ) 
New Castle, Lawrence Co., Penn., 1861. 
rWritten for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
SUGGESTIVE BUBAL LETTEB. 
Eds. Rural Nkw-Yorkkk: —How I do love to ait 
down and peruse thy paper’s pages in the evening, 
after the toils of the day — a luxury that I would wish 
every man around me could enjoy. But why mur¬ 
mur? 
“If ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to ho wise. ” 
In vain have I attempted to introduce your valuable 
paper, as well as others, but with poor success. Mine, 
and those of my two laboring men, are the only three 
taken in this whole neighborhood, which is indeed 
speaking poorly for my aurroundings. 
As I consider your paper one that cheers the fire¬ 
side of many a happy home, and lacka not in Scien¬ 
tific, Natural, and Mechatiicul subjects, it becomes 
the organ tor the million. Wo ure of one race in 
a measure, and In my humble opinion there is no one 
» subject to interest man more than the study of man; 
and josh in such a paper as the Rural do wo find 
every act, every play, and every scene of domestic 
life portrayed; often so vividly tliut it carries me 
buck to childhood, and in the next place sets me 
exactly where 1 now stand —a trifle over the summit 
of life—or, in other words, past the middle of an old 
age. But to the subject which I had intended. 
Here 1 am, in a fertile region as healthy as can be 
found in tbo country, surrounded with all the fruits 
“of my own raising.” Evergreens to break the 
high winds around my dwelling, with flowers and 
shrubbery, such as will cheer the Cye at all seasons 
oi llieir time. Just land enough to raise my own 
bread, or rather for self and wife, together with six 
children and a goodly sprinkling of visitors, who are 
glad to see and who can very nearly always find us at 
home. My visiting is of a very limited range; find I 
plenty to do at home, and can find no place abroad 1 
that seems quite so comfortable. 
The question may be asked, “What do all of you 
dot' I lie first thing in the morning is to get up and 
make the fire—“we keep no help in the house”_ 
then go out and work until breakfast. “ Why don't 
your wife or oldest children make the fire?” some 
may ask. Simply because I chouse to do it. My 
wife gets up, prepares breakfast, while the oldest 
daughter, thirteen, dresses the little cnes, and all 
come down to breakfast together. Here h*t me say, 
that the man who does not provide his house with 
fuel of the right kind, so that a fire is quickly kimtkd 
and easily kept up, deserves a poorly cooked meal—«. 
thing which, thank Hon, I have never reason to 
complain of, nud for which blessing 1 can do a great 
deal which some men might consider beneath a man’s 
notfee. My oldest daughter can bake as good bread 
as man need ever wish to break and eat, and can cook 
an excellent dinner without any assistance, which I 
consider nothing to boast of, but well know that too 
many of that age car? nothing about domestic aftuirs. 
Now for u rainy day; and lest some might think 
your subscriber is one of those henpecked fellows 
who only writes to relieve himself of a burden heavy 
on his mind, let. me state that in my house the old and 
even now prevalent custom of putting nwaythe stoves 
at a certain time in the spring, there to remain until 
the chilling blasts of autumn makes one shiver, is au 
“act” never yet “passed” in this establishment. 
Nor shall it be so long as 1 am ruler of my own house. 
My “better half” thought at first it was out of order 
to have a stove standing all summer in a room; but 
she has long since como to the conclusion that it is a 
great comtoit. In our latitude there is scarcely one 
month during the whole summer but bus a few chilly, 
wet days; and oh! how chilly they arc if you have no 
place to go to keep warm. Where this stove stands 
is my room, which opens into the parlor, and when 
the company is large it is also occupied as a part 
thereof. Here is my library and a sort of fruit store; 
this latter will draw the most fastidious out of the 
other room. In this room my little boys have their 
sports when the weather is too severe for them to be 
out of doors. 
^ e live plaiu in household matters as well as in 
diess, and aim at no distinction; yet we receive com¬ 
pany ot high respectability and standing in society, 
who can come here, throwing off all formality and 
etiquette, and it does my heart good to see them 
enjoy themselves in a free and easy manner. 
Ibis is not written to make our abode appear like 
a paradise, by no means. We have carried one out 
ol our family to the grave, have had sickness and 
calamities befall us, quite a full share, and have 
family troubles as well a» other people; but if in this 
communication there is a him or suggestion that will 
be of use to others, then my object is attained. Since 
we have ripe fruit the whole year round, use no sal- 
crutus or soda, or at least very little, hut little of can¬ 
dies, much less meat than most of our neighbors, we 
have been blessed with remarkably good health, (the 
doctor says distressingly so,) which I attribute to 
these abstinences. If this be worthy of a place in 
your columns it is at your service. Pomona. 
Sunny Side, Pa, Oct., 1861. 
What a charm rests upon that endearing word, 
home,—consecrated by domestic love, that golden 
key to all human happiness. There a father wel¬ 
comes with fond affection,—there a brother's kind 
sympathies comfort in the hour of distress—there a 
pious mother first taught infant lips to lisp the name 
of Jesus, —and there a loving sister dwells, she the 
companion of our early days. Truly, if there is a 
place tliat is lovely here below, it is home,—it is 
like the oasis of the desert. The passing of onr days 
may be painful, our path may be overrun with sorrow 
and aare, miklndness and frowns may wither the 
joyonsDess of the heart, may efface the happy smiles 
from the brow and bedew life’s path with tears; yet 
when the memory hovers over the past, there is no 
place in which it so delights to linger as around the 
sceneB of childhood and home. It is the Btar of onr 
existence. 
What cheers the mariner when far away from 
friends, in a foreign land, or tossed upon the bound¬ 
ing billows as he paces the deck at midnight alone? 
What thoughts fill his breast? He is thinking of the 
loved ones far away in his own dear home. In his 
mental vision he sees the group of friends seated 
around the fireside, and in his imagination he hears 
their voices united in singing the sweet songs which 
he loves. He is anticipating the hour when he shall 
return to his native land and greet those absent 
friends so dear to his heart. 
Why rests that deep shadow upon the stranger’s 
brow, as ho seats himself amid the family circle? 
He is surrounded by all the luxuries that wealth can 
afford. Happy faces gather about him and strive, 
yet vainly, to win a smile. Ah! he is thinking of 
the loved ones assembled in his own cot. Why those 
tears which steal down the cheeks of that young aud 
lovely girl, as she mingles in the social circle? Ah! 
she is an orphan; she, too, had a happy home, but 
its loved ones are now sleeping in yonder church¬ 
yard. The gentle mother that watched over her in 
| infancy, and sung that low sweet song which none 
but a mother cuu sing, who in girlhood taught her 
of the Savior, and tuned her youthful voice to sing 
praises to His name, has passed from earth to the 
mansions of joy above, and is mingling her song 
with those of angels in heaven. Poor one! she is 
now left to tread the thorny path of life, a lonely, 
homeless wanderer. 
Thus it is in this world of changes. The objects 
most dear arc snatched away. We are oft-times 
deprived of the friends we most love, and our cher¬ 
ished home is made desolate. “Passing away” is 
engraved on all earthly things; but there is a Home 
that knows no change,—where separation is un¬ 
known,—where those afflicted ones of this world 
may obtain relief for all their griefs, and where the 
sighs and tears of earth are exchanged for joys 
uuending. This homo is found in heaven. 
In the shadowy past there is one sweet thought 
which the storms of life can never wither,—it is the 
recollection of home. Yes, and in the visioned 
future there is a star whose golden lustre never fades; 
it is given to the good ones of this earth,—it is the 
hope of home,—a home beyond the skies. 
Norway, Herk. Co., N. Y., 1861. C. E. A, 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
TWILIGHT MEMORIES. 
BT CLARA P. TAWCKR. 
When the sun 1 b splendor ha* sunk to rest 
Mong the down*' cloud* of the glowing west, 
And bright-frlng'id curtain* of gold and rose 
Roond hi* couch of crimson in glory close; 
When all in beauty each sparkling ray 
From hi* gorgeous pavfiliou fade* away, 
And one by one from the pure, far skies, 
The star* look forth with their clear, calm eyes, 
While afar in the dusky vale i* heard 
The plaintive note of the loue night bird; 
And a Bolemn nwo with the gathering shade 
A holy hu*h on e»eb Up ha* laid, 
Till the busy pulse of care grow* still, 
And the heart o'trflows, and the “ eyelids fill,” 
While hovering spirit* whisper low 
Of the dead—tbo distant—and “long ago;”— 
Oh, then, a* we pensively wander hack, 
Retracing our foeUtep* along life’* track, 
Through the shadowy twilight of vanished years, 
Now bright with *un*bine, now dim with tears, 
What a throng ol hallowed memories come 
From the olden time—of onr early home, 
With it* joyous hand, whose scattered feet 
No more on this mnny earth will meet — 
Of the llowery vulo, with its winding *tream 
And willowy bower*, where we loved to dream 
How happy and famous we yet should he 
In day* we wero destined to never nee— 
Of dim old forest*, with lonely nook* 
And money loung.j*, where sweet old books 
Beguiled the hour* with a magic spell 
Till the last day-Learn bade tbo west farewell— 
Of the aspiration* of ardent youth, 
With it* trusting faith and confiding truth, 
Ere we had learutsl that heart* grew cold, 
And that which “ most glitters ” is ofl “not gold.” 
Anon we linger to breathe a sigh, 
Where hopes once cherished in ruin lie; 
Or broken links in affection’s chain 
That Time can never unite again. 
And often, how often, we pause to weep 
O’er the grass-grown patches where comrades sleep, 
Who wearied of walking life’s dusty road, 
And lay down to rest In the silent abode. 
As memory Ilngor* above each bed, 
Recalling the lovely—forever fled— 
The fondest, the dearest, tho brightest, the best, 
Whose smiles made our pathway so sunny and blest— 
Who, meekly fading, ere faint noonday, 
Dropped one by ojne from the bu*y way, 
Till our first companion* have all, all Mown, 
And left us to journey on, nearly alone— 
Oh, then for a spirit’* wings wo sigh. 
Away from this clanging scene to fly 
To realms whero fond ones ne’er say farewell 
But, undivided, forever dwell. 
[Written for; Moore’s Rural New-Yorker ] 
differences. 
WOMAN’S VENERATION. 
Ik women have one weakness more marked than 
men, it is towards veneration. They are bora wor¬ 
shipers— makers of silver shrines for some divinity 
or other, which of course, they always think fell 
straight down from heaven. The first step towards 
I their falling in love with an ordinary mortal is gen¬ 
erally to dress him out with all manner of real or 
fancied superiority; and, having made him up, they 
worship him. Now. a truly great man, a man really 
grand aud noble in art and intellect, has this advan¬ 
tage with women, that ho is an idol ready made to 
hand; and so that very painstaking and ingenious 
sex have less labor in getting him up, and can be 
ready to worship him on shorter notice. In particu¬ 
lar is this the case where ft sacred profession ami a 
moral supremacy are added to the intellectual. Just 
think of the uareer of celebrated preachers and 
divines in all ago*. Uave they not stood like the 
image of “NebuohafiqeEzar the king set up,” and 
all womankind, coquettug and flirts not excepted, 
been ready to fall down aud worship, even before the 
sound of cornet, Hate, harp, tackbut, aud so forth. 
Is not the faithful Paula, with her beautiful face, 
prostrate in reverence, before poor, old, lean, hag¬ 
gard, dying St. Jerome, in the most splendid paintr 
ing of the world, an emblem aud a sign of woman’s 
eternal power of self-sacrifice to what she deems 
noblest in man? Does not old Richard Baxter tell 
us, with delightful single-heartedness, how his wife 
fell in love with him first, spite of his long, pale 
face; and how she confessed, dear soul, after many 
years of married life, that she had found him less 
sour and bitter than she expected? The fact is, 
women are burdened with fealty, faith, reverence,' 
more than they know what to do with; they stand 
like a hedge of sweet peas, throwing out fluttering 
tendrils everywhere for something high and strong 
to climb np by, and when they find it, be it ever so 
rough in the bark, they catch upon it. And 
instances are not wanting of those who have turned 
away from the flattery of admirers to prostrate them¬ 
selves at the loot of a genuine hero, who never 
wooed them, except by heroic deeds and the rhetoric 
of noble life.—TV Minister's Wooing. 
Influence of Sistkrs.— “ That man has grown 
up among kind and affectionate sisters,” I once heard 
a lady of much observation and experience remark. 
“ And why do you think that?” I asked. 
“ Because of the rich development of all the ten¬ 
der feelings of the heart which are so much appa¬ 
rent in every word.” 
A sister's influence is felt even in manhood’s later 
years; and the heart of him who has grown cold with 
its chilling contact with the world will warm and 
thrill with pure enjoyment, us some incident awakes 
within him the t ones and glad melodies of his sister's 
voice; and he will turn from his purposes which a 
warped and false philosophy has reasoned into ex¬ 
pediency, and weep for the gentler influence which 
moved him in his earlier years. 
The Heart and the Tongue.— The cure of an 
evil tongue must be- done at the heart. The weights 
and wheels are there, and the clock strikes according 
to their motion. A guileful heart makes a guileful 
tongue and lips. It is the work-house wherein is the 
forge of deceits and slanders; and the tongue is only sex 
the outer shop where they are vended, and the door 
of it. Such ware as is made within, such, and no 
other, can come out.— Leighton, 
A Lady Bachelor.— Among the candidates for 
the degree ot Bachelor of Letters, during the present 
academical session in Lyons, France, was a young 
lady, who, being compelled by a reverse of fortune to 
become a governess, has had the perseverauoe to 
carry her studies much further than usual for her 
She passed through the first examinations with 
great credit, and there is every probability that she 
will be the first bucheiiere admitted by the University 
of France. 
People mnstdifer; if everybody were willing to 
have it so to a ceriiin degree, there would be less 
bigotry and exelm veneRs in the world. .Although 
truth never oontrad cts itself, it is often developed in 
ft diversity of ways and in tho tastes, manners, und 
feelings; of men tlJ re is great room for differences, 
i Many are hard to bj reconciled to this; to them truth 
lies in one. dir-ctuy and they arc impatient and 
ready to condemn tiio.M) who choose to look another 
way. They wish > coniine everybody ’s vision to tho 
line of light they have discovered, not considering 
that the broad light of truth shines all around. They 
fix the gaze upon a single point until their eyes 
become so blinded they are incapable of discerning 
truth from error. 
There ure no two faces alike, no two voices pitched 
to exactly the same key, no two minds alike in their 
I impulses and powers,—so it is needless to expect 
people to act and think alike. The orator can 
influence thousands of people to smiles or tears, and 
a looker-on might say they all felt the same. There 
is a similarity in their emotions, through the power 
of social sympathy, and from tho fact that all minds 
have elements in common; yet the speaker, in reality, 
addresses each person ns u separate individual, and 
upon his power lo effect a variety of minds depends 
his success. There is something in the constitution 
of every one which makes hlrn differ from all besides, 
and of this he is fully conscious in the “Hilent hour 
of inward thou gut.” Eloquent appeals awaken, in 
the listeners’ minds, varied feelings, even as the 
musician's hand brings out different tones from the 
different keys of his Instrument. What a wide raDge 
and variety ol thought do we find even among those 
of the same class. What differences among authors. 
Young says, 
“Life iB war, 
Eternal war with woe.” 
Another poet affirms 
“ ’Tis peace and love, with never a war, 
Excepting what fools may wage.” 
Ilow shall we reconcile Bancroft’s assertion that 
“A star would as soon depart from its orbit as 
Washington from his integrity,” with the acknowl¬ 
edged truth that all men are liable to do wrong? 
Shall we believe Clarkndk.n, in the English Encyc- 
clopiedit, when he says that “Charles the First was 
the best private gentleman, the best father, and the 
best Chri-tiau it England:' - or shall we credit Mac- 
At-LBY'a Wrtim that “he was au unscrupulous 
and unluety diFembler?” 
One writer tels us to rise above the common-place 
things sroued ik and presses upon us the example 
of the illustiiovk dead. Another assures us that in 
tho faithful performance of tho smallest duties, we 
may achieve nure heroic victories than a Welling¬ 
ton on the fiill of battle. Writers are ODly ob¬ 
servers and eroniclers of human actions and 
opinions. Fining such a diversity of thought and 
conduct, and olen viewing the same objects from 
different stand |oints, it is no wonder we find so 
many difference] in their productions. How, in the 
midst of such alvariety, shall we know the truth? 
We mnst exaijne with discernment and candor, 
without any redid to the prejudices we may have 
formed, avoidii credulity on the one band, and 
exclusiveness of the other. Good and evil, truth 
and error, are frangely intermingled in this world, 
though not on terms of friendly intercourse.— 
As foes in batfe, they meet to win the day, and 
this conflict is going on in every thinking mind. 
But with pure jsnciples and an enlightened reason, 
we may safely walk along life’s uncertain way, 
achieving for orselves the victory over wrong and 
error, aud gaiilig at last an entrance into the 
world of eternalrfuth and purity. it. o. 
Wisconsin. Oct .18til. 
“ If at first yon don’t succeed, 
Try, try again." 
\ es, I'll try agaiD, — and the boy went on fashion¬ 
ing and fitting, toiliDg patiently, hopefully, until at 
last the little vessel was completed. Then, as he 
launched it upon the waves, and watched its white 
sails filling with the wind, and the little flag stream 
ing gallantly from the mast-head, while an exulting 
smile played over his features, he exclaimed, I was 
sure I could do it ,—and “I’ll never give np again, no, 
never.” 
If all possessed the spirit of that boy, would there 
not be more snccessfnl triumphs, and less successful 
failures amODg us? Victory ever supports the stand¬ 
ard that bears upon its banner this brave motto,_ 
“ never give up.” 
Alexander did not conquer the whole world by 
one bold invasion of his mighty armies. Nor can 
we expect to conqner all difficulties by one effort, 
strong and resolute though that effort be. “ Life 
is but a strife,” a continual, never ending strife, and 
we mnst bring to bear against its great army of 
doubts, fears, and discouragements, patience, perse¬ 
verance. hope; these, supported by faith, and all 
wielding that mightiest of weapons, prayer, will tri¬ 
umph in the conflict,—surely, gloriously triumph. 
“ Never S i?e U P*” Everything can be accomplished 
by the energy of a resolute will. Y e who will may 
share the favors of fortune, — ye who will may wear 
the glory-wreath of fame. Nay, all who will, may be 
honored, great, and good, for “ God always helps 
those who help themselves,” Weary and discouraged 
one, the star of hope is not dimmed that tbou canst 
not see it, the path to prosperity and happiness is 
not blocked with obstacles that tbou canat not tread 
it. Remove the blindness from thine eyes, and take 
courage to thine heart, tbou wilt overcome at last, — 
only never give up. Fallen and degraded one, even 
to thee is the promise, “my strength is sufficient” 
Lay hold upon it, cling to it as thy only hope, and it 
will draw thee onward and upward in the path of 
purity and peace. 
Oh, let us “never give up.” The path of duty lies 
more in snnshine than in shadow,— it is oftener 
strewn with roses than thorns, —its entrance may 
sometimes be shrouded in darkness, but it terminates 
in light, even in glory. We have but to follow 
it faithfully, resolutely, as many have followed it 
before us, to reap some portion of the reward given 
to the faithful even here on earth. Surely, if happi¬ 
ness in life, comfort in death, a immo in heaven, and 
a crown of glory are all lost, by the ungirding of the 
Christian armor, even for a moment, should we not 
bind it on with firmer hand, and renew life’s battle 
boldly every day “until the victory’s won.” 
Genera. N. Y , 1861. E . u Ford 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
FLOATING AWAY. 
Thk leaves are afloat on the river 
This sunny autumnal day. 
Now gliding, now tossed by the wavelets, 
Or down In the eddies at play. 
There *Te some that are crimson in beauty, 
There are some that are faded and old; 
Yet alike Bte they all passing onward 
As fast as the moments are told. 
Thus adown Life’s magical river 
Our barks forever and aye, 
Like those leaves of the chill frosty Autumn, 
Are floating and gliding away. 
For Time is the fast-flowing river, 
And the waves are the hours of the day; 
They are cruelly drifting us onward, 
We are floating forever away. 
They are drifting ns down to tho ocean, 
To Eternity’s fathomless sea, 
And my heart thrills with strange, dread emotion. 
While I dream what the future may be. 
Shall our barks, in some moment unguarded, 
If ’neath a dark storm-cloud we’re tost, 
Be o’ercast by the waves of temptation. 
And we aud our frail barks be lost! 1 
Or shall we glide safe to the harbor, 
And enter the haven of rest, 
And with Life’s toilsome voyage all over, 
Find a home in the realm of the blest? 
Greenfield, Penn., 1861. 
Irvihh. 
DEFECTIVE PBAYEBS. 
MEBIT AND SUCCESS. 
Extreme popularity in this country and age ap¬ 
pears a very arbitrary thing, I defy any person to 
predict a priori, what book, or song, or play, or 
picture Is to become the rage to utterly transcend 
ull competition. I believe, indeed, that there can¬ 
not be popularity, for even a short time, without 
some kind or degree of merit to deserve it; aud in 
any case there is no other standard to which one 
can appeal, than the deliberate judgment of the 
mass of educated persons. If you are quite con¬ 
vinced that a thing is bad, which all such think 
good, why of course yon are wrong. If yon honestly 
think Shakspeare a fool, you are aware you must be 
mistaken. And so jl a book, or a picture, or a play, 
or a song, be really good, and if it be properly 
brought before the public notice, you may as a 
general rale predict that it will aiffain a certain 
measure of success. But the inexplicable thing, the 
thing of which 1 am unable to trace the law, is 
extreme success. How is it that one thing shoots 
ahead of everything else of the same class, and with¬ 
out being materially better, or even materially 
different, leaves everything else out of sight behind? 
H twenty novels of nearly equal merit are published, 
it is not impossible that one shall dart ahead of the 
remaining nineteen; that it shall be found in every 
library; that Mr. Mudie shall announce that he has 
iV-'f-O copies of it; that it shall be the talk of every 
circle, its incidents set to music, its plot dramatized; 
that it shall count readers by thousands, while others 
count readers by scores; while yet one cannot really 
see why any of the others might not have taken its 
place. 1 he will of the sovereign people has decided 
that so it shall be. And as likings and dislikings in 
jnoBt cases are things strongly felt, but impossible to 
account for even by the person who feels them, so it 
is with the enormous admiration, regard and success 
which fall to the lot of many to whom popularity is 
succe.-s .—Country I*arson» 
True prayer has power with God. It brings to 
the weakest Christian the aid of an omnipotent 
Helper, and Is always answered, though often in 
ways quite otherwise than those anticipated or even 
desired. Bat there is a vast difference between the 
forms and the spirit of prayer, and many who feel 
that their prayers accomplish little, may learn the 
reason in the following suggestions: 
1. Those which embody no desire. They are 
formal and lifeless. The soul will not be easily 
pacified when it has a great desire which cries out 
for someth ing God alone can give. 
2. finch as are not earnest. Prayer is real work 
for life, while yet disclaiming all personal p»wer to 
Bccure ft or merit it. 
.1. Such as arc without faith. There are three 
grounds for faith in approach to God. 1. His cove¬ 
nant. ?, Hia promises. 3, His attributes. Surely 
upon one or the other the confidence of the petitioner 
may rest unshaken. 
L as are made in wrath. The heart which 
secures favor from God mnst love manhood. It mnst 
put away all wrath, and malice, and evil speaking. 
It must forgive and bless as it would be forgiven and 
blessed. 
5. Such as are connected with a disposition to live 
in sin. “If I regard iniquity in my heart the Lord 
will not hear me.” 
fi. An unwillingness to do the will of God. Many 
a man dares not ask for the coming in of the Holy 
Spirit, lest it reprove him for some long-neglected 
duty. If we pray for light, we must accept its reve¬ 
lations; for strength, tin? duties it imposes. 
'• The lack of praise to God. Thanklessness Bhuts 
I God out,—is a non-conductor of mercy. We do not 
praise God half enough. 
| 8. Praying to be seen and heard of men. Prayers 
for human ears have little audience in Divine ones. 
GOD BEIGNS. 
FALSE PROVERBS. 
“Passing Oi’s Time.” —There is no saying 
shocks me so mill as that which I hear very often, 
“that a man dot not know how to pass his time.” 
It would have lien 111 spoken by Methuselah in the 
nine hundred iid sixty-ninth year of his life. 
“A young fellow must sow his wild oats.” In all 
the wide range of British maxims, there is none, take 
it for all in all, more thoroughly abominable than 
tills one as to the sowing of wild oats. Look at it 
on what side yon will, and I will defy you to make 
anything but a devil's maxim of it. Whatever man, 
be he young, old, or middle-aged, sows, that and 
nothing else shall he reap. The one only thing to 
do with wild oats, is to put them carefully into the 
hottest part of the fire, and get them burnt to dust, 
every seed of them. If you sow them, no matter in 
what ground, up they will come, with long lough 
roots like couch grass, and luxuriant stalks and 
leaves, as sure as there is a sun in heaven—a crop 
which it turns oue’s heart cold to think of. The 
devil, too, whose special crop they are, will see that 
they thrive, and you and nobody else will have to 
reap them; and no common reaping will get them 
ont of the soil, which mnst be dug down deep again 
and again. A\ ell for yon if, with all your care, you 
cun make the ground sweet again by your dying 
day. “Boys will be boys,” is not much better, but 
that has a true side to it; but this encouragement to 
the sowing of wild oats is simply devilish, for it 
means that a young man is to give way to the tempt¬ 
ations and follow the lusts of his age’ What ure we 
to do with the wild oats of manhood and old age— 
with ambition, overreaching, the false wt-ights. hard¬ 
ness, suspicion, avarice—if the wild oats of youth 
are to be sown and not burnt? What possible dis¬ 
tinction can we draw between them? If we may 
sow the one, why not the other?— Tom Brown at 
Oxford. 
In the darkness and uncertainty of the present 
time, this truth should cheer and encourage the 
Christian. That He has often permitted evil, we 
know to be a fact. The reason why He does so, is a 
problem we arc not able to solve. But we do know 
that He has not only declared that ne has power to 
j restrain and control it, but He has often proved that 
He has this power. As volcanoes and hurricanes 
are often terrible in their effects, yet they are made 
to subserve important purposes in the arrangements 
of our earth; so God also causes the wrath of man 
to praise Him, und at the same time proveB to him 
that He lias supreme control. For illustration of 
this fact, we need look uo further than Fharaoh, 
King of Egypt, to the accusers of Daniel, and to the 
murderers of Jesus Christ And amid the storm 
that now rages, we should remember that God still 
rules. He holds the hearts of all men in His hand, 
and their acts are altogether under His control. He 
is not the author of evil, but He can overrule it for 
good. “The Lord Omnipotent reignetb,” and we 
may and ought to exercise confidence in Him, that 
He will control the present storm; will bring good 
out ot it; will accomplish His own purposes in con¬ 
nection with it, and will cause it, in the end, to tend 
to the establishment of the Government which some 
are seeking to destroy, and to the spreading of those 
principles of liberty which they desire to check. 
Vanity of Life. — When I look upon the tombs of 
the great, every emotion of envy dies within me; 
when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every 
inordinate desire goes out; when I meet the grief of 
parents on a tombstone, my heart melts with com¬ 
passion; when I see the tombs of parents themselves, 
1 consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we 
must quickly follow; when I see kings lying by those 
who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed 
side by side, or the holy men that divided the world 
with their contests, I reflect with Borrow and aston¬ 
ishment on the little competitions, factions and 
debates ol' mankind; when I read the dates of the 
tombs of some that died but yesterday, and some six 
hundred years ago, I consider that great day when 
we shall all be cotemporaries, and tnake our appear¬ 
ance together. 
There are two modes of establishing our reputa¬ 
tion; to be praised by honeBt men, and to be abused 
by rogues. It is best, however, to secure the former, 
because it will be invariably accompanied by the 
latter. His calumniation is not only the greatest 
benefit a rogue can confer upon us, but it is also the 
only service he will perforin for nothing. 
JrsT as the bleak weather sends us into our homes, 
and makes us thankful for the warmth and shelter we 
lately slighted, so separations, sorrows, felt infirmity, 
will send us back into these faithful sayings, and 
will make us gladly retreat into the truth of the 
Gospel — a Gospel which has brought life aud immor¬ 
tality to light, and which over against nature’s death 
aud desolation reveals an endless life, a deathless 
Savior, an eternal God. 
Reading the Blblk.— I will answer for it, the 
longer you read the Bible, the more you will like it; 
it will grow sweeter and sweeter; and the more you 
get into the spirit of it, the more yon will get into 
the spirit of Christ ,—Romaine. 
Good temper is like a sunny day; it sheds a bright¬ 
ness over everything; it is the sweetener of toil aud 
the soother of disquietude. 
