W c« 
meat 
"Written for Moore's Rural NeAV-Yorker. 
WAITING FOR THE CHILDKEN. 
BY ANNIE FALT-EY BOLAN. 
Soon shall I hear their pattering feet. 
Coming in from the busy street, 
Soon 1 shall hear their voices sweet, 
Soon I shall smile their smile to greet— 
Dear Fannie and Willie and Horace and Mat, 
Harkt and Bus— how they linger to-day. 
These were my words in the long ago— 
Then ir, the firelight's ruddy glow— 
Then I could smile, for 'twae mine to know— 
They would soon eome in though they lingered so. 
Dear little children—happy at play— 
Tarrying long in the sweet summer day. 
Then I could smile—hut to-day I weep, 
For some of the children hare gone to sleep, 
One lies where the wares of the ocean sweep, 
And one where the pennons of iry creep— 
Far from their childhood's home away— 
Horace and Fannie are Bleeping to-day. 
There's a little grave near the garden gate, 
"Where longest at erening the sue beams wait, 
"Where the stars smile early, and linger late— 
A dear little grave near the garden gate— 
’TLs a treasured name on the marble stone. 
And Mat— little Mat is a vision flown. 
The other children are stalwart men— 
Not fair and innocent—gay as then— 
The children—dear Willie and Harry and Ben, 
Bui earnest and strong, and careworn men— 
Bowed with the weight of their years. To me 
They are but the children, T'm waiting to see. 
And when to the homestead hearth once more 
They come and speak of their childhood o'er, 
I shall think of those who have gone "before— 
The children who wait on the shining shore. 
I shall wait no more in that country fair 
Their coming—the children will all be there, 
» 1 
Written for Moore’s Bural New-Yorker. 
SOCIAL SKETCHES-No. d. 
MISS L AZEE. 
Miss Lazee is an authoress. Miss Lazee 
languishes iu long curls and dirty fingers. Miss 
Lazee is a poor housekeeper, and don't know 
that, glass is traivq>arent. Miss Lazee is careless 
of her little obligations,—“forgetful of mundane 
things.'’ Miss Lazee would esteem it “heaven¬ 
ly'' to he eared for, even to the extent of 
having the necessary amount of bodily exercise 
done by proxy. Miss Lazee thinks work vulgaw. 
Miss Lazee “adores” hair,—in the shape of a 
moustache. Miss Lazee is “ exstatie ” over 
brass,—in the shape of a shoulder-strap. Miss 
Lazee is everybod’s friend—particularly every 
gentleman's —and doesn’t deny the soft impeach¬ 
ment of susceptibility. Miss Lazee is poetical, 
and “worships” Bsrox, and Byrou collars 
Miss Lazee often figures in the “poet’s corner” 
of the village newspaper. Miss Lazee is always 
in pursuit of lions. She’s in her glory when 
hanging on the arm of some (male) new-comer, 
and repeating to him, ad nauscaue, the effusions 
of her muse. Miss Lazee believes in phrenol¬ 
ogy. “ The (jigger the head, the bigger the 
brain-power,” is a favorite maxim with her. 
Miss Lazee corresponds with all the great ones 
of earth. Her album is full of their cartes de 
visits, with their autographs. Miss Lazee thinks 
lady friends “ great bores,” and deems them 
wanting iu that intellectual capacity which her 
companions should possess. Miss Lazee “en¬ 
gineers” the village lyeeum, and criticises the 
minister. Miss Lazee seizes upon a lapsus 
linguas, and treats it as a delicious morsel, to he 
made the most of. Miss Lazee paints, both 
her face and her canvass. She knows a daub 
from one of the old masters, and talks learnedly 
of “light and shade, &c.” Miss Lazee lias an 
eye for diamonds. If some itinerant barber 
should invest his earnings in a huge cluster 
ring, don the dress and address of a count, and 
visit our little villiage, Miss Lazee would be the 
first to be smitten, and 1 should speedily be 
called upon to chronicle a “ wedding in high 
life.” Aunt Katurah. 
HOW LADIES SHOULD DRESS. 
As you look from your windows, in Paris, 
observe the first fifty 7 women who pass; forty 
have noses depressed in the middle, a 6mall 
quantity of dark hair, and a sw’arthy complex¬ 
ion; but, then, what a toilet t Not only suita¬ 
ble for the season, hut the age aud complexion 
of the wearer. How neat tne feet and hands! 
How well the clothes are put on, and, more than 
all, how well they suit each other! 
Before American women can dress perfectly, 
they must have the taste of the French, espe¬ 
cially iu color. One reason why we see colors ill 
■arranged is, (hat the different articles arc pur- 
•ehasud each for its own imagined virtues, and 
without any thought what wns to be worn with 
it. "Women, while shopping, buy what pleases 
the eye: on the Counter; forgetting what they have 
at home. That parasol is pretty, but it will kill, 
by its color, one dress in the buyer’s wardrobe, 
and be suitable for the others. To be magnifi¬ 
cently dressed costs money; but to he dressed 
iu taste is not expensive. It requires good taste, 
knowledge and refinement. Never buy an ar¬ 
ticle unless it. is suitable to your age, habit, style 
and the rest of your wardrobe. Nothing is 
more vulgar than to wear costly dresses with 
a common delaine, or cheap lace with expensive 
brocades. 
What colors, it may be asked, go best together? 
Green with violet; cold colors with dark crim¬ 
son or lilac; pale blue with scarlet; pink with 
black and white, and gray with scarlet or pink. 
A cold color generally requires a warm tint 
to give life to it. Gray and pule blue, for in- : 
stance, do not combine W ell, both being cold 
colors. White and black are safe to wear, but 
the latter is not favorable to dark or polo com 
plexicms. Pink is, to some complexions, the 
most becoming; not however, if there is so 
much color in the cheeks and lips, and if there 
' be even a suspicion of red iu the hair or com¬ 
plexion. Peach color is perhaps one of the 
most elegant colors ever worn. Maize is very 
becoming, particularly to persons with dark 
hair and eyes. But, whatever the color or ma¬ 
terials of the entire dress, the details are all in 
all; the lace around the bosom and sleeves, 
the flowers—in fact, all that furnishes the dress. 
The ornament iu the hair must harmonize with 
the dress. If trimmed with black lacc, some 
of the lace must be Avorn in the hair, and the 
flowers worn iu the hair should decorate the 
dress. 
♦ »•+ 
WOMEN AND RELIGION IN WASHINGTON. 
A woman writing the Springfield Republican 
of the funeral of Senator Hicks iu Washington, 
thus moralizes:—But, after all, pageantry of 
burial is of little worth, and it seems an unnat¬ 
ural manner of going to heaven by the way of a 
Washington hotel. Death and eternity arc far 
off things here. The pressure and excitement of 
events, the crowding of sensuous allurement 
upon leisure moments, the utter absence of the 
toning quiet of private, domestic life, tend to 
fasten the thoughts and desires upon things of 
time, to the putting out of sight of concerns 
whose issues arc eternal. Christians come to 
Washington in official capacity, but of how 
much worth is the epistle of their daily lives ? 
I believe that a woman may dance and be 
fond of the drama aud go to heaven; that a man 
maybe a politician and love Christ; but such 
gregarious society as we have here always deals 
in extremes. Do w T e see Christian men and 
womeu oftener holding fast to their integrity, or 
being borne down by the stream ? One does not 
publish aud propagate a faith by tirades against 
so-called vanities, but rather by the appeal of a 
consistant and beautiful living. Religion is not 
made enough a vitalizing sentiment of our daily 
lives. Its virtues are too little ingrained into 
our beings by constant reflection and practice. 
It is too much a holiday garment to he put on at 
will. We never tire of talking about things 
which pertain to the perishable body, hut if we 
talk in a drawing-room of what concerns the 
welfare of the immortal soul, we are apt to do it 
iu a whisper. True faith wraps about and keeps 
the soul like a sacred and lambent flame. It 
will not flourish without tender nursing. Our 
religious observances are the frame-work upon 
which we hinge our daily adorations. We can¬ 
not neglect them without spiritual harm. If we 
think too little of heaven we shall dwell too 
much on earth. 
BEAUTY OF THE TURKISH WOMEN, 
As to the beauty of mere dress and ease of alti¬ 
tude, nothing that I have seen in life or in pic¬ 
tures, can give the slightest idea of the wonder¬ 
ful grace, the extreme delicacy, and bird-of-pora- 
dise like uselessness of the Turkish belle. 
Women of rank look like hot-house flowers, 
and are really cultivated to the highest perfection 
of physical beauty, having no other employment 
but to make their skius as snow-white aud iheir 
eyehrowrs as jet-black as possible. When young, 
their skin is literally as white as their veils, with 
the faintest tinge of pink on the cheek, like t flat 
in the inside ol a shell, which blends exquisitely 
with the tender apple-leaf green, and 6oft violet 
colors, of which they are so fond. The reverse 
of the picture is, that after the first bloom of 
youth is past, the skin becomes yellow and 
sickly looking, and you long to give the yash¬ 
mak a pull and admit a fresh breeze to brighten 
up the fine features. A belle, and a beauty, too, 
the Turkish woman must he; for nothing can 
be more wretched than to sec the poor thing at¬ 
tempting to walk, or to make herself at all use¬ 
ful. She shuffles along the ground exactly like an 
embarrassed paroquet, looking as if her loose 
garments must inevitably flutter off at the next 
step. The drapery which falls so gracefully and 
easily about her in a carriage, or while reclining 
on cushions, seems untidy and awkward when 
she is moving about. In fact, if she Is not a 
beauty, and is not the property of a rich man, 
she i6 the most miserable-looking creature pos¬ 
sible .—Lady Hornby. 
♦ - -- 
FEMININE GOSSIP. 
At a recent fashionable party in Troy—one of 1 
the most brilliant of the season—the invitations 1 
were given “from 8 to 12 o’clock,” and these 1 
sensible hours were rigidly adhered to. 
Two young ladies sit cosily by a comfortable 
fire. The married one says:—“Whenever I 
want a nice snug fire, all to myself, I tell George 1 
my mother is coming, and then I see nothing of 
him until one o’clock in the morning.” 
At a masquerade party the other night, Broth- j 
er Jonathan, alluding to a young lady industri¬ 
ously at work knitting, asked “why she was 
like the capture of Fort Fisher to the rebels?” 
and explained, “Because 6he is a blessing in 
disguise.” 
SOLDIER’S MONUMENTS. 
They gathered by the quiet homes 
Where white stones overlain 
The portals whence no footstep comes 
That, once has passed between, 
And raised a monument to keep 
A soldier's memory green. 
The grass had not been touched by spade 
Where its slant shadow lay, 
The soldier's restiug-place was made 
On red field far away. 
And yet with bowed, uncovered heads 
They kneeled around to pray. 
Thus did they consecrate the place 
To memory nr that one. 
One ? Why wns there a vacant space 
Left ominous on the stone t 
They turned to each their asking eyes 
"Who dared to look thereon. 
That little town its willing score 
Of patriots had sent, 
And thore was room for nineteen more 
Names on the monument. 
They only said, 11 Thy will be done,” 
And went their way content. 
The graver came another day 
And cut. a name lie:. 
And on the stone next morning lay 
Another dewy wreath; 
And pale forget-me-nots were there 
That sweeten even death. 
So let the eoldiers' monument 
In every grave-yard stand— 
Although their buried forms he blent 
With distant sea or sand— 
To keep their memory for aye 
Within a grateful land. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHAT IS TRUTH I 
The discussion in the Rural on the subject 
of dancing and card-playing has not, I think, 
involved all the. truth which is connected with 
the subject. The question should not be 
whether, in any manner you chose to view them, 
they are innocent or sinful, hut what is their 
legitimate tendency ? The approaches to almost 
every sin are so nearly parallel to virtue, that to 
characterize them as wrong ha9 the effect t o rob 
us of our influence, and place us in the company 
of croakers. But, the partaking of an “ innocent 
glass of ivinc” is acknowledged as one of the 
stepping-stones in the path of the drunkard, 
and if we accept the testimony of Green, the 
reformed gambler, leaniiog to play a game of 
eueher paved the way for his fall. 
That the constitution needs exercise and 
recreation, is a point admitted by all intelligent 
men, and many consider dancing as innocent 
and effective as any meant bv which these objects 
can he attained. Am^fbM^rpjtians to deny its 
members this means fcTthis end, is thought 
calculated to sour the minds oi the young aud 
indispose them to assume the yoke of Christ. 
But thinking men acknowledge that even lawful 
pleasures need restraint t > prevent excess, and 
wisdom requires the choosing of those least 
liable to excess. I admit that “wink and eatcli 
’em” is more childish than a well conducted 
dance, but a growing Christian will not choose 
either. 
We know that the mind of man craves happi¬ 
ness, and like all other desires implanted in our 
breast, Gor> has provided a reasonable grntilleu- 
tion. And if we seek it In accordance with His 
direction, we shall be far more successful than 
if we selfishly grasp this object regardless of 
duty. Who is so happy as he who promotes the 
happiness of others ? As the pleasures of child¬ 
hood grow vain and insipid to the adult, so 
Christianity, embraced In its fullness and with¬ 
out compromise with sin, loads the mind higher, 
and still higher, till we lose our relish for more 
worldly pleasures iu possession of those far 
superior and more enduring. Many deny the 
existence of such juys because of the apostasy 
of eome who once made a profession of religion. 
But the happiness of the Christian iaprogressive, 
and in proportion to his whole-hearted, uncom¬ 
promising acceptance of truth and obedience to 
duty. Such Christians never apostaLizc, and no 
others can he accepted as competent witnesses. 
Science opens a boundless field of pleasure 
and profit for the mind of man, and there is no 
excuse lor dallying in the llowcry pathway of 
sin. A game of euehei- may be good for the in¬ 
tellect, and in no way injurious save iu Its 
tendency to lead In the direction ol the gaming 
tabic. The position for the Christian to assume 
is not that these things arc sin, per sc, but eau 
wc not lead the mind to choose those pleasures 
■which satisfy our highest wants here on earth, 
and do not “ at the last bite like a serpent and 
sting like an adder ?” j. b. 
Spring, Pa., March, 1865. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
A MINEE BALL. 
A dill has passed both branches of Congress 
appropriating $1,500 for Mrs. Lucy A, Wright, 
of Richmond, Va,, for her courage and patriotic 
devotion in secreting Col. Straight and his par¬ 
ty, and enabling them to make their escape from 
the rebels. 
Mn. Hunt, in bis lecture on common law, re¬ 
marked, “that a lady, when she married, lost 
personal identity, her distinctive character, and 
was like a dewdrop swallowed by a sunbeam.” 
Snip says that thunder-cloud should he substi¬ 
tuted for sunbeam iu many instances. 
Aleiionso of Castile, who had a practical plea 
for regenerating mankind by killing nine out of 
ten, and was sure that if he had been consulted 
about the making of the world it would have 
been bettor made, disposes of woman in theso 
words:—“She is a human being, who dresses, 
babies, and undresses. ” 
Show your colors! Get off' the top of the 
fence. Don’t pray “Good Lord” and “Good 
Devil” in the same breath. If your heels and 
toes swing toward Dixie, set your face that way, 
t oo. Be one thing or another—loyal or disloyal; 
hut don’t be a go-between. One never knows 
where to Hit these no-sided natures. We want 
to know where to send tbo olive-branch, and 
where to point the cannon. 
If you are an Amerleau, be one. Don’t go 
strutting around in a coat from Paris, panta¬ 
loons from Germany, hat from Austria, and a 
walking stick from Pompeii, like an animated 
pudding-stone. 
If you are an Abolitionist, own it. I’m one — 
black as a thunder-cloud, and growing blacker 
every time a black regiment shouts “victory.” 
If you are disloyal, own it, — ’tIsn’t half so bad 
as serving the devil in Heaven’s livery. If you love 
your country you’ll pray for her, work for her, die 
for her! There is no genuine patriotism on the 
Canada side, or in the payment of high houuties 
■ to Hire foreign scum to don the glorious blue 
armor that none but lovers of America should 
wear. Christ said “who Is not/or us is against 
us,” and that contains the gist of the matter. I 
have some respect for an out-and-out enemy. 
But theso slick, slimy, saintly sinners, who 
“smile to kill,” ought to be dissected, so one 
may know what is bone and what is muscle ; and 
whether the pendulum that thumps under the 
left ribs, is a heart or a French gizzard. 
Be pro or con — milk or water — hut don't 
mix. So much from Mint wool’s artillery. 
Selah. 
Hilldale Farm, Tompkins Co., N. Y.. March, —, 180.5, 
Monday P. M., ten minutes alter the departure of a 
French - kidded, English - broadclothea, Coloenc- 
scented walking-apparatus, “who cannot find it in 
hie heart to be able, really , to decide voting either 
way for the Constitutional Amendment.” Requies- 
cat in nettles. 
- ■- - f >4 ■ - ■ 
OLD-FASHIONED COMFORTS. 
Our ancestors were a frugal, self-denying peo¬ 
ple, inured to hardships from the cradle; they 
were content to he almost without the luxuries of 
life, hut. they enjoyed some of Us comforts, to 
which many of us are slrangers, (old-fashioned 
comforts, wo may say;) and among these the 
old fire-place, as it used to be termed, held no 
mean rank. How vividly the picture of oue of 
those spacious kitchens of the oldeu time comes 
to our mind, with its plain furniture aud sanded 
floor, iimoceut of paint, hut as white as the 
neatest of housewives could make it! In one 
corner stood the clock, its very face wearing an 
aspect of good cheer, and seemed to smile be- 
nignantly upon a minature moon over its head, 
which tradition said had, at a remote period, 
followed the rising and the setting of its great 
prototype in the heavens, though its days of ac¬ 
tive service were long ago over. 
But the crow ning glory of that kitchen was 
not its white sanded floor, nor the high desk, 
with its pigeon holes and secret drawers, which 
no venturesome youngster dared to Invade; nor 
yet the old clock ticking so musically in the 
corner; but it was the old-fashioned fire-place, 
with its blazing embers, Luge back-logs, and 
iron fire-dogs, that shed glory oyer the whole 
room, gilded the plain and homely furniture 
with its light, and rendered the place a type of 
true New England in “ye olden times.” 
Never wore there such apples ns those which 
swung around and around upon strings before 
the bright lire of a winter’s evening, never such 
baked potatoes as those buried deep in the ashes 
upon the hearth, never such corn-cakes os those 
which caught golden hue from the blazing em¬ 
bers, or turkey like those turned upon a spit, 
filling the room with savory odors so sugges¬ 
tive of a dainty repast. 
Before the lire was a wooden settee, and here 
the children were wont to sit in the long even¬ 
ing telling stories, cracking nuts, conning their 
lessons for the morrow, or listening in silence 
to the words of wisdom that fell from the lips 
of their superiors, and anon gazing in silence 
into the lire, nnd conjuring up all 60 rts of gro¬ 
tesque, fanciful images from among the burn¬ 
ing cOfils. No fabled genii, With magic lamp of 
enchantment, could build such gorgeous palaces, 
or create such gems as the child could discern 
amid the blazing embers of the old-fashioned 
fire-place. 
And we must not neglect the chimney corner, 
where sat onr grandfather in his accostomed 
seat, his hair silvered by the snows of many 
winters—a venerable man, to whom age had 
eome “ frostily but kindly,” and whose last days 
were like those of an Indian summer, serene 
and beautiful, even till the stars appeared in 
heaven. 
llow pure was the air in those days! The huge 
fire-place, w ith its brisk draught, carried off the 
impurites of the atmosphere, and left it pure, 
life-giving, and healthful. Now, wo crouch 
around hot cooking stoves, and think it strange 
that we fed so stupid and drowsy of an evening; 
or we huddle about air-tight stoves, aud won¬ 
der that the air seems burned and impure; or we 
sit down in chilly rooms heated by a furnace, 
aud marvel that with all our costly furniture, 
soft carpets, bright mirrors, and damask cur¬ 
tains, they are cheerless places—so unlike our 
ideas of a New England home. 
Alas! that with all the so-called improvements 
of our advanced civilization, the fire should 
be permitted to go out forever in our old-fash¬ 
ioned fire-places, thus, burying in tbc ashes 
of the past so many means of health, home 
comfort, good cheer, and happiness.— Scientific 
American. 
RESPECT THE AGED. 
Many an old person has tbo pain—not bodily, ; 
but sharper still—of feeling himself in the way. 
Some one wants his place, llis very chair iu tbc i 
chimney corner is grudged him. He is a burthen i 
to son or daughter. The very arm which props i 
him is taken away from some productive labor. . 
As he sits at the table, his own guests arc too Idle i 
or to unkind to make him aslmrer Intholr mirth, | 
They grudge the trouble of that raised voice i 
which alone could make him one of them; and ] 
when bespeaks it Is only to be put aside as ig- i 
norant, or despised as old fashioned aud obso- - 
lute. O, little do younger persons know their <. 
power of giving pain or pleasure! It is a pain a 
for any man still in thiB world to be made to feel 
that he is no longer of it—to be driven in upon n 
his own little world of conscious isolation and < 
buried enjoyment. But this is his eouditiou! a 
And if any frelfulness or querulousuess of tern* ; 
per has aggravated it—if others love him not be- ; 
cause he is not amiable—shall we pity that t 
condition the less? Shall we upbraid it with a 
that fault which Is itself the Avorst part of It ?— 1 
Selected . ■ t 
"Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MUSINGB. 
BY MARGARET ELLIOT. 
Silent sat I and alone— 
God had taken all my oavtl 
All grief’s curtains dark I spread, 
And in sackcloth veiled my head, 
Lest some light with woful smart 
Should reveal my empty heart. 
In the silence and the gloom, 
Lo ! a voice within my room. 
And it said “ 0 soul, arise 
And look upivard to the skies!” 
But I plead with bitter cry, 
“In this darkness let me lie! 
“All my life is Avrapped in gloom, 
Let me shroud it in this tomb.” 
Still it said “ O soul, arise, 
And look upward to thc^kies!” 
Then I rose up. sad nnd sIoav, 
Lifting up my face of woe, 
Lo ! a ray or light divine 
Shone throngli this dark heart of mine. 
Then I saw the match]cssjove 
That would draw my heart above— 
Aud I heard sAA-eet songs afar 
nthoing through the radiant air. 
March, 1865. 
♦ ♦ ♦ - ■ - - ■ ■ 
HOW TO SPEND THE SABBATH, 
Rise early. God requires one-seventh part 
of your time.. The Sabbath is just as long as 
any other day. If you indulge iu sleep Sabbath 
mornings oue or two hours later than usual, 
you rob God aud your oavu soul of so much holy 
time; and if you begin the day by robbing God, 
you cannot expect be will bless you. 
Pray for your minister; he will then preach 
better, and you will be better prepared to profit 
by his preaching, lie needs your prayers. He 
tasked his energies to prepare good sermons to 
interest and instruct yon. Exhausted by the 
labors of the week, aud trembling under his 
awful responsibility, he will be cheered aud en¬ 
couraged if he believes he is remembered in 
your prayers. 
Pray that the preaching may he ble6t te your 
soul. He is a foolish man w ho sows his seed 
before he breaks up the soil. " You arc more 
foolish if you expect a blessing without asking 
for it, or preparing your heart to receive it. If 
a blessing is not worth asking for, do not com¬ 
plain if it is not bestowed. 
Do not indulge in secular conversation. To 
spend the interval between Ihe services of the 
sanctuary in talking about business, or pleasure, 
or politics, is nul remembering the Sabbg’h-day 
to keep it holy. If you spend your intermission 
in this manner, you must not wonder if in the 
afternoon you fed sleepy, and the preacher 6eems 
dull. 
Banish worldly thoughts. You must uot, on the 
Sabbath, “think your oavu thoughts.” If your 
thoughts are allowed to wander unrestrained 
over the business of the past week, or the plans 
of the week to eome, you will sutler for it, God 
will leave you In darkness; your love will be 
cold, your prayers formal, and you will be dis¬ 
qualified to engage profitably in the services 
of the sanctuary. 
Do not criticise the performances of your min¬ 
ister. If he has preached a poor sermon, make 
the best of It; if a good one, be thankful and 
improve it. Your praise or eeusure can do no 
good, either to him or yourself, but may do hurt 
to both. You will profit far more by praying 
over the sermon, and applying it to yourself, 
than by criticising it. 
Spend every Sabbath as though it Avcre your 
last. Your last Sabbath will soon come. Per¬ 
haps the next will be your last. Spend it then 
as you will wish you bad done when yon review 
it millions of ages hence. If you knOAV it Avould 
be your last, you would be much in prayer, you 
would banish worldly thoughts and conversation, 
you would meditate much on Divine things, 
and examine the foundation of your hope for 
eternity. Do this, and your Sabbath will not 
be spent iu vain. 
THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH. 
IIoav often is a stigma east upon Christianity 
because the veracity and moral integrity of its 
professors are so often called into question, U n- 
I fair, indeed, you will say, to blame Christianity 
for its counterfeits : as well cast away good bank 
notes, because there are some counterfeits of 
them. Yes, and not only unfair, but looked at 
thoughtfully, after all, an unconscious compli¬ 
ment to Christianity, lor the stigma implies that 
these men are not embodiments of the glorious 
creed they profess. Wc turn from the false 
copies to the fulr and Divine original: how re¬ 
freshing and stimulating to study His character, 
who came to bear witness to the truth, and in 
Avhose mouth was no guile! Beautiful words 
these —no guile —nothing even susceptible of 
mistake, or designed to conceal. IIoav clearly 
lie declares, Avlicn speaking of the rest of hea¬ 
ven, “ If it wore not so, I would have told you” 
—implying that truth would have obliged him 
even to correct their anticipations, if false, as 
well as to unfold tin": revelation of eternal life. 
Think of Him in the busy scenes of the market 
and the temple, sitting at the Pharisee’s ban- 
quet, and eating at the publican’s table, yet ever 
and alwnys revealing hidden hypocrisy aud inter¬ 
preting the sincere sigh for forgiveness and 
peace. True in what lie said; true in what he 
threatened ; true in Avhut he promised ; true iu 
what lie corrected; true in Avhat he revealed. 
The Way ; the Truth. “ In Him was light, nnd 
the light. Avas the light of men.”— Selected. 
