Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LITTLE WITCH. 
BV ALICE KINGSBURY. 
False and fickle, false and fair, 
With thy mystic eyes and hair 
A spell around my heart is thrown; 
To others 'tis no heart, but stone, 
’Tis bound so firmly to thine own, 
Thou Sorceress 1 
Raise thy spell, or love but me; 
From inconstant, constant be; 
Then we’ll live in Fairy land, 
Tread the diamond-sparkling sand. 
By Love’e own wings our cheeks be fann’d, 
Goddess divine 1 
Quebec, Oct., 1865. 
A LITTLE GEM. 
There is a form of girlish mould, 
Under the spread of the branches old, 
At the well-known beachen tree, 
With the sunset lighting her tresses of gold, 
And the-breezes waring them, fold npon fold, 
Waiting for me. 
There is the sweet voice, with cadence deep, 
Of one that eingeth our babe asleep, 
And often tarns to see 
How the stars through the lattice begin to peep, 
And watches the lazy dial creep, 
Waiting for me. 
Long since those lockB were laid in the clay; 
Long since that voice has passed away, 
On earth no more to he ; 
Bnt still in the spirit world afar, 
She is still the dearest of those that are 
Waiting for me. 
Written for Moore’s Kura 1 . New-Yorker. 
WORK AND WAGES FOR WOMEN. 
Latterly, certain reform journals havebegun 
to discuss tie important question of work and 
wages for women. The vast predominance of 
tie female over tie male population in Borne 
INTEMPERANCE AMONG WOMEN. 
The alarming statement was made in the Tem¬ 
perance Convention at Saratoga, that the names 
of thirteen hundred rich men’s daughters, in 
the State of New York, are on the list of appli¬ 
cants for admission to the Inebriate Asylum at 
Bingham tOD, in this State. This nmy be some¬ 
what of an exaggeration; we trust that it i 6 so. 
But no one who hears and reads the reports cir¬ 
culated concerning the present habits of fash¬ 
ionable society, can doubt that intoxication is 
fearfully prevalent there, though not apparent to 
the world as it. is among the degraded classes. 
That it should be so is net strange. Wine is 
nsed freely at the evening party, in the Christ¬ 
mas holidays, at the sea- 6 ide, and at the Springs. 
And now, as in old time, “wine is a mocker; 
strong drink is raging." It will make its power 
to mar and to destroy to he felt upon female 
purity and loveliness, as well as upon the 
strength of manhood. The only way of perfect 
safety to either male or female, is to be found in 
obedience to the divine injunction which saith: 
“Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, 
when it giveth color in the cup, when it moveth 
itself aright." Those who addict themselves to 
its use, whether men or women, will learn, with 
bitter experience, that “at the last it biteth like 
a serpent, and stingeth like an adder." 
LITTLE CHILDREN. 
I think them the poetry of the world — the 
fresh flowers of our hearths and homes — little 
conjurors, with their “natural magic evoking 
by their spells what delights and enriches all 
ranks, and equalizes the different classes of so¬ 
ciety. Often as they bring with them anxieties 
and care 6 , and live to occasion sorrow and grief, 
we should get on very badly without them. Only 
think — if there was never anything anywhere 
to he seen hut grown-up men and women, how 
we should long for the sight of a little child! 
Every infant comes into t_e world like a dele¬ 
gated prophet, the harbinger and herald of good 
tidings, whose office it is “ to turn the hearts of 
the lathers to the children," and to draw “ the 
disobedient to the just." A child softens and 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TO ENOLA. 
B T CLIO STANLEY. 
“ A shaft of light touching a trembling grass blade, 
a scarlet leaf flashing down to iny feet, a spot of blue 
shining between rifted clouds, have been powers 
slight, but strong enough to lift heavy clouds of care 
from my sad sky ” 
I dreamt of a maideu that sat by the sea. 
And rhymed s weetest measures for me; 
She sang of the sunshine 
In summer's sweet bowers, 
And tho’ there were clouds overhead, 
Their gloom was forgotten 
Amid those bright hours. 
When sunshine to music seemed wed; 
She e&og, and I listened 
To cool-dropping showers, 
That chased the glad sunshine 
From summer's sweet bowers. 
And her voice was thine own, 
Enola ! 
I dreamt of a maiden who stood by a brook 
Running wild thro' a flowery nook: 
She sang of the fragrance 
Of wild summer rose. 
And tho' not a rose could be seen, 
It seemed the cool breeze. 
That in summer-time blows 
O'er the meadow and freshens its green, 
Had heard her sweet singim?, 
And canght the bright glows 
On her fair cheeks, and th Jight them 
The hues of tho rose, m 
And hastened to greet tbed® 
E.s-ol® 
The maiden I dreamed of charfis many an hour 
With her magical, wierd word-power: 
The hills langh in gladness* 
Back echoes the plain,— 
Sweet Nature unveils her to listen— 
’Till the golden air quivers 
To silence again, ■ 
And the still dews of eventide glisten: 
I am listening now 
For a eweet refrain, 
That shall break the stillness 
Of night again,— 
But the words must be thine. 
. Enola! 
Philadelphia, Pa. 
• . — ♦ « - 4 - 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
“NIL NISI BONUM,” 
BY OLD SLOUCH. 
portions of our country, has opened the eyes of purities the heart, warming and melting it by 
all not purposely blind to the fact that unless 
some of the avenues of employment now closed 
are opened to women, starvation or something 
worse must be the inevitable fate of many of 
them. Of the comparatively few means of em¬ 
ployment left open for women, all are both over¬ 
run and underpaid; hence, a vast amount of suf¬ 
fering, want and woe must inevitably follow until 
something more like justice is done in the 
premises. 
Of the many thousands of women now left 
dependent npon their own exertions for a liv¬ 
ing, a great majority are the wives, mothers and 
sisters of those fallen heroes, whose graves are 
so thickly strewn over Southern soil. We pro- 
fesss great respect for those heroes who have 
died that onr country might be saved — should 
not the same sentiment impel us to throw open 
the avenues of honorable employment to daugh¬ 
ters and widows, who, having lost their natural 
protectors, are compelled to rely wholly upon 
their own exertions for support ? Do we 6 how 
honor to the noble dead, when we leave their 
darling ones starving for the lack of employ¬ 
ment, or doom them to a slower process of 
starvation by meagre payment for work, which, 
if performed by masculine hands, would bring a 
decent living ? How many men, having a clerk¬ 
ship or other situation vacant, would not sooner 
fill it with a masculine deserter from his coun¬ 
try’s service, than give it to the needy wife or 
sister of one who has given his life for his 
country ? 
But I would not unduly censure individuals 
for doing what they have so long and so 
thoughtlessly done with the full sanction of 
society. I merely wish to do my share toward 
opening the eyes of society to the inevitable 
consequences of unjustly depriving women of 
the privilege of providing for their own main- 
tainance. 
Even though there were no predominance in 
number of the female sex, the fact that there are 
so few kinds of employment which society deems 
it proper for woman to engage in would still he 
an evil; for were it not for this fact, girls would 
no longer be compelled to marry simply for 
a home, and consequently there would be 
fewer marriages without love, fewer divorces, 
fewer homes of perpetual discord, and fewer 
crimes committed, because fewer criminals. 
Out of those discordant, unbarmonious homes 
come the criminals, and you will scarcely find 
a criminal whose parents have always lived 
together in love and harmony. Give woman 
what is as much her natural right as it is the 
right of the sun to shine — the right to earn an 
honest living; give her the same opportunities , 
that her brothers have; give her the same wages . 
for performing the tame work; give her the 
privilege of competing with man in the multifa- , 
rious employments for which she is so well i 
adapted; do away with the idea that she is an ( 
inferior being, and you will have little need to , 
build asylums for vagrant, destitute, and disso- ; 
lute women. Maude Myrtle. \ 
its gentle presence it enriches the 6 onl by new 
feelings, and awakens within it what is favorable 
to virtue. It is a beam of light, a fountain of 
love, a teacher whose lessons few can resist. 
Infants recall us from much that engenders and 
encourages selfishness, that freezes the affec¬ 
tions, roughens the manners, indurates the 
heart; they brighten the home, deepen love, in¬ 
vigorate exertion, infuse courage and vivify and 
sustain the charities of life. 
FEMININE TOPICS. 
A “ Woman’s Promise. ” — Henry Carey, 
cousin to Queen Elizabeth, after having enjoyed 
Her Majesty's favor for several years, lost it in 
the following manner: As he was walking one 
day full of thought, in the garden of the palace, 
under the queen’s window, she perceived him, 
and said to him in a Jocular manner, “What 
does a man think of when he is thinking of no¬ 
thing?” “ Upon a woman’s promise,” replied 
Carey. “ Well done, cousin," answered Eliza¬ 
beth. She retired, but did not forget Carey’s 
answer. Some time after he solicited the honor 
of peerage, and reminded the queen that &he 
had promised it to him. “ True,” she said, “ but 
that was a woman’s promise." 
s A Cincinnati young lady who enthusiastically 
admired Gen. Grant, stole his cigar from under 
s his nose at a reception at the Burnett House, 
l one day last week. The hero was too much 
l astounded at the audacity to prevent or punish 
the theft. 
A street car conductor in Chicago had the 
hardihood to compel the ladies in the car to oc¬ 
cupy no more space on the seats than actually 
belonged to them. The balloons were collapsed, 
the ladies furious, the men gratified, and the 
Journal conferred fame on this model “ conduc¬ 
tor of a city railroad car." 
One of the merry wives of Bedford, Indiana, 
played a practical joke on her husband, by hav¬ 
ing their babe, a sweet little infant of six 
months, done up in a basket, and left on the 
front door step, with a note informing him that 
he was t he father of the child, and must support 
it. The indignant husband swore roundly that 
it was not his, but saw the joke finally, when he 
found the cradle empty. 
Among the honors conferred by Brown Uni¬ 
versity on Wednesday, was that of B. F., which 
the class of 1862 gave to the father of the first 
boy baby. The diploma, instead of a dusty 
piece of parchment, was a fat, jolly silver cup, 
bearing on one side the seal of the University, on 
the front a classic medallion, and on the other 
side the following inscription -.—“Prior tetnpor, 
prior jure,” “ Presented by the class of 1862, to 
-, born Ang. 3,1861. 
An exchange gives the following modus oper¬ 
and i of keeping babies quietAs soon as the 
squallcr awakes, sit it up propped by a pillow, 
if it cannot sit alone. Smear its fingers thick 
with molasses. Then put half a dozen feathers 
into its hands, ana it will sit and pick the feathers 
from one hand to the other, until it drops asleep. 
As soon as it awakes again, apply more feathers, 
and in place of innumerable sleepless nights, 
there will be silence and enjoyment unspeakable^ 
A manufacturer of Vienna was going to 
celebrate his marriage, with a yonng girl without 
any fortune. On arriving at the church the in¬ 
tended bridegroom wished to leave his hat in the 
carriage. He raised it from his head, but unfor¬ 
tunately brought away his wig as well. No 
sooner did the young lady see the artifical head 
of hair detached from the skull of her lover 
than she refussed to become his wife, and re¬ 
turned home, to the great disappointment of the 
witnesses and others who were present. 
A story is told of a certain Mrs. Petroleum 
whose husband had suddenl}’ come into posses¬ 
sion of a large fortune, and had erected n house 
to correspond to the enlargement of his means. 
Mrs. Petroleum had heard it was necessary to 
have a library, and accordingly sent to a popu¬ 
lar bookstore apd ordered one. A well assorted 
library of standard works was sent up to her 
house. Next day, down come 6 my lady in a 
towering rage at their selection. “Choicest 
works?" cried she, as an explanation was at¬ 
tempted, “ bother your choicest works; they 
were all of different sizes and colors. I wanted 
them all to be in blue and gold, to match my 
furniture.” 
Many men go through life with a morbid ap¬ 
prehension ol beirg taken for less than they are. 
Tortured, perhaps, by a secret conviction of 
their demerits, they bid high for favorable esti¬ 
mation, and go to infinite trouble to be spoken 
well of. even by persons whose good opinion is 
not worth securing. Highly c-lated by meaning¬ 
less flattery, they are also made unhappy, often¬ 
times, by the merest accidents; as when their 
host inadvertently puts them “b«low the salt” 
at table, or an acquaintance, in a fit of abstrac¬ 
tion, fails to recognize them on the street, A 
man of this class wo call * 1 thin-skinnedand 
he is so completely at the mercy of hi 6 fellow- 
men that no spontaneous, independent action i 6 
possible with him. The opinions of others, 
bounding the sphere of his activity, form a 
charmed circle, whose spoil he cannot break. 
He leads a negative existence, and is distin¬ 
guished chiefly not by what he does, bnt by 
what be neglects to do. As bis greatest anxiety 
is occasioned by a fear of offending some one, 
he consults the views oi others in every trans¬ 
action of his life. 
If there is one human spectacle more humili¬ 
ating than all others, it is that of a man-made 
in the image of his Maker — thus struggling in 
the meshes of Opinion, like a hapless fly caught 
in the toils of the spider. Conventionality is 
such a man's God; upon whose altar he sacri¬ 
fices the choicest blessings and privileges of life. 
He lays thereon individuality, manhood, inde¬ 
pendence, and all the nameless graces and pow¬ 
ers which belong to a strong, virile character; 
and too often amid the embers of his ignomini¬ 
ous offering are found the charred and blackened 
remains of personal honor and Integrity. 
Again, then are men whose tough bull’s hide, 
seven-lold, like the shield of Ajax, turns aside 
the keenest shafts of envy and malice. One 
such, opposed to common men, is like a mail- 
clad knight tilting against a mob of unarmed 
peasants. He lays about him at pleasure, deal¬ 
ing with every stroke a death-blow to some one, 
whiio bis adversaries strive in vain to find his 
vulnerable points. In bis social relations he is 
never disconcerted by neglect or wounded by 
rebuffs. 
Unfortunately, it is in this latter class that 
Slander and Libel find their most active emissa¬ 
ries, who, impervious themselves, lacking sensi¬ 
bility and refinement., and not seldom character 
and reputation, usually have just a sufficient ap¬ 
preciation of tho value of their own soulless 
existence, to cherish a brutish feeling of resent¬ 
ment, against the nobler race of men, and cour¬ 
age enough to choose the least hazardous mode- 
of expressing that feeling. 
But these t wo classes arc exceptional; and 
while the over-sensitive meet with but little 
sympathy in a state of society when every man 
expects as a matter of course that others will 
“treads on his corns " more or less, the law is 
in most cases competent to protect us from the 
assaults of undisguised Slander. 
Evil speaking is not confined exclusively to 
the latter class, nor do its baleful results affect 
alone the former. Almost every man indulges 
to some extent in a thoughtless kind of gossip, 
by which he frequently injures those who are 
very dear to him. An exhaustive inquiry into 
the causes of so universal a habit would be ' 
very curious and instructive. Without touching i 
the question of motives, the original tendency ‘ i 
itself might be found in the very constitution of 
our nature. The natural relation of man to his 
fellows is one of warfare and opposition. Na- 
- ture teaches him to provide for his own wants 
regardless of the rights of others; and the best 
of ns, who claim to be enlightened, are so 
hedged about by individuality that our own 
material interests are of more moment to us 
than all the world beside. Wa make capital of 
e each other’s necessities, and rise to wealth, po- 
e sition and influence on the broken prospects of 
our neighbors. It is the province of Religion 
and Morality to restrain and modify this savage 
tendency in man; and this is done by the form¬ 
ation of enlightened communities, which create 
and multiply public duties and mutual interests. 
But our common human nature will perhaps 
always prove a little too strong for us, so that 
we may never altogether refrain from deprecia¬ 
ting what pertains to our neighbor, while at 
t he same time we generously give our own affairs 
the benefit of the best possible construction. A 
great many men will be on the road to reforma¬ 
tion in this particular, when they cease to justi¬ 
fy the wisdom of that cynical maxim of Roche¬ 
foucauld's, that “there is something extremely 
pleasant to us in the misfortunes of our friends.” 
What is the most familiar class of topics in the 
conversations we hear? Do we not appear to 
dwell with more gusto upon the faults and 
follies, than upon the successes and excellences 
of our friends? How often have you known a 
fine moral trait in the character of one of your 
acquaintance become the object of general com¬ 
mendation ? And yet, dear reader, have not you 
and I wasted a great deal of valuable time, now 
and then, in making much of some slight failing 
of a friend ? Now we are not the ivorst people 
in the world, and we may rely upon it that our 
little peccadilloes—nay, all the acts of our lives 
furnish others with material for similar com¬ 
ment. What a striking picture you get, in this 
way, of the condition of society where evil 
speaking has assumed a virulent form ! 
There is a curious drawing by Gustave Doke, 
entitled “A Municipal Misunderstanding.” It 
represents a very narrow street, crowded with 
quaint, old buildings, from the doors and win¬ 
dows of which a strangely excited mob of men 
are leaning and impaling each other on the 
points of pikes, rapiers, halberds, or whatever 
weapon comes to hand. The contest rages 
fiercely above, below, and across the passage. 
The significant feature ol the scene however is, 
that although each man is being spitted at the 
very moment he spears some one else, he is so 
intent on his own sanguinary project that he 
hardly appears to notice the injury which he is 
himself receiving. Quite an analogous spectacle 
is presented to the impartial observer, in villages 
■ and neighborhoods where gossip and inter¬ 
necine social strifes prevail. Each person 
seems bent on giving his neighbor a deadly 
thrust, apparently regardless of his own ex¬ 
posed position. 
Many very common methods of injuring the 
fair fame of men will occur at once to the intel¬ 
ligent reader. We have all of us known a lew- 
let us hope a very few—men, who seemed to 
feel that they could build themselves up by 
pulling others down. The ruin of the good 
name of another is a feather in the cap of such 
men. To hide their own failings from the eyes 
of others, they 
“ Compound for sins they arc inclin'd to, 
By damning those they have no mind to." 
An insidious and fatal manner of undermining 
a reputation is by skillfully mingling praise and 
blame. This practice lias been well defined in 
the following lines: 
“ Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 
And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer." 
Still another mode is an affected appeal to sym¬ 
pathy on behalf ol others; by expressing pity 
for them when in reality they do not need our 
commiseration. Again we become participants 
in the crime of slander, by failing to defend one 
whose character has been unjustly assailed. 
But most of the injuries resulting from habits 
of ill-speaking of others are not inflicted with 
deliberate malice. At the most they are occa¬ 
sioned only by some momentary pique, or hasty 
resentment of a fancied slight. Few, indeed, 
are the men not amenable to the charge of a 
very careless use of that dangerous weapon, the 
tongue. “Love thy neighbor os thyself”—alas j 
how far we are from obeying the divine injunc¬ 
tion in all its Bcope and bearings. What a sub¬ 
lime charity we manifest toward our own 
short-comings, off setting motives against fol- i 
lies and pleading temptation in mitigation of . 
reproach for the sins. But the faults of our ( 
neighbor— 
“ Alas 1 for the rarity , 
Of human charily. 
Under the sun f 
with what a lofty scorn, with what an air of f 
superior virtue, we condemn them ! We admit 
no extenuating circumstances, we would visit 
them with the severest penalties. 
The principle of the old Latin maxim, “ fie * 
mOrlitis nil nisi bomim ,’’ which enjoins upon us * 
never to speak ill of the dead, applies with still J 
greater force to the living. The former are be¬ 
yond our power to injure them. Earth end ' 
earthly Interests are over for them, and they as | 
little heed our captious criticisms as they do 1 
“ the flower which decks their mold." But all c 
the material comfort and happiness of the latter ; 
maybe “snuffed out like a candle" by u light 
word or a careless innuendo. I would not har¬ 
row up your feelings with tales of usefulness I 
impaired, prospects blighted, friendships sun- k 
dered, and hearts broken by some Idle report a 
or malicious remark. The theme is hackneyed, ii 
and your own observation will furnish you with g 
fresh instances daily. But in closing I would 
suggest that we err greatly in supposing that we u 
are much better than our neighbors; and that if 
we would only judge their conduct as benevo- a 
Iently as we do our own, we might not tiud it so 
difficult a thing to speak “ nil nisi botium " of ti 
others. a 
it HEAVEN. 
o - 
n Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies— 
_ Beyond death’s cloudy portal— 
j, Thero is a land where beauty never dies, 
And love becomes immortal, 
I- 
,f A land whose light is never dimmed by shade, 
Q Whose fields are ever venial. 
Where nothing beautirul can ever fade, 
Bnt bloom for aye, eternal. 
L- 
e We may not know how sweet its balmy air, 
How bright and fair its flowers; 
‘ We may .not hear the songs that echo there 
Through those enchanted bowers. 
The city's shining tower we may not see, 
£ With our dim, earthly vision; 
For death, the silent warder, keeps the key, 
That opes the gates elyslan. 
But sometimes, when adown the Western sky 
The fiery sunset lingers, 
Its golden gates swmg noiselessly, 
’ Unlocked by silent fingers. 
’ And while they stand a moment half ajar, 
B Gleams from the inner glory 
Stream brightly through the azure vault afar, 
j And half reveal the story. 
5 Oh land unknown! Oh land of love divine 1 
i Father all wise, eternal, 
r O guide these wandering, way worn feet of mine 
Into those pastures vernal! 
l 
SUFFERED FOR US. 
r L 
Seventy or eighty years ago a fierce war raged 
. in India between the English and the native 
- monarch named Tippoo Stub. On one occasion 
. several English officers were tukeu prisoners, 
j among them one named Baird. One day 
I a native officer brought in fetters to be put 
upou each of the prisoners, the wounded not ex¬ 
cepted. Baird bad been severely wounded and 
was suffering from pain and weakness. 
A gray-baired officer said to the native official, 
“You do not think of putting chains upon that 
wounded vouDg man ?” 
. “There are just as many pairs of fetters as 
. there are captives,” was the answer, “ and every 
pair must be worn.” 
“Then," said the noble officer, “put two 
pairs on me; I will wear bis as well as my own." 
The end of the story is that Baird lived to re¬ 
gain his freedom,—lived to take that very city; 
but the generous friend died in prison. 
lie wore two pairs of fetters ! But what if he 
had worn the fetters oi all in the prison ? What 
if instead of being a captive himself, he had been 
free and great, aud had quitted a glorious palace 
to live in their loathsome dungeon, to wear 
their chains, to bear their stripes, to suffer and 
die in their stead that they might go free! Such 
a thing has heen done. For all who receive the 
grace of God’s Son the chains are struck off, and 
the prison is thrown wide open. 
HOW TO BE HAPPY. 
*’ Sometime since," says Dr. Payson, in a 
letter to a young clergyman, “ I took up a little 
work purporting to be the lives of sundry char¬ 
acters as related by themselves. Two of these 
characters agreed In remarking that they were 
never happy until they ceased striving to he 
great men. This remark Etruck me, as you 
know the most simple remarks will strike us, 
when Heaven pleases. It oceured to me at once 
that the most of my sufferings and sorrows were 
occasioned by an unwillingness to be nothing, 
which I am, aud by consequent struggles to be 
somethiug. I 6aw if 1 would but cease strug¬ 
gling, and consent to be anything or nothing, 
just as God pleases, I might be happy. You will 
think it strange that I mention this as a new 
discovery. In one sense it was not new; I had 
known it for years. But 1 now saw it in a new 
light. My heart 6aw it, and consented to it; I 
am comparitively happy. My dear brother, if 
you cau give up all desire to be great, and feel 
heartily willing to be nothing, you will be hap¬ 
py too." 
CHRISTIAN COURAGE. 
There Is one thing that I have often noticed 
on the field in every battle that I have witnessed, 
viz., that the Christian man is the best eoldie^ 
siys a minister of the Gospel writing upon^this 
subject:—“It is a saying common among the 
officers that, as a class, the men who stand 
firmest when the battle ruges are the Christian 
men. Many a time I have talked to them about 
such scenes, aud they have told me that their 
souls have stood firm In that hour of strife, and 
that they have been perfectly calm. I have had 
Christian Generals tell me this. I have heard 
General Howard often say that in the midst of 
the most terrific portion of the battle, when his 
heart for a moment quailed, he couldjpause, and 
lift up his soul to God and receive strength. 
‘And,’ said he, ‘I have gone through battles 
without a particle of fear. 1 have thought that 
God sent me to defend my country. I believed 
it was a Christiau duty to stand in the foremost 
of the fight, aud why should I be afraid?’"— 
Nurse anil Spy. 
It was said that when the late Commodore 
Foote was in Siam, be bad, upon one occasion,the 
king on board his vessel us a guest. Like 
a Christian man, as he was, he did not hesitate 
in the royal presence to ask a blessing, as the 
guests took their places at the table. 
“ Why, that is just as the missionaries do,” re¬ 
marked the king, with eome snrprise. 
“ Yes,” answered the heroic sailor; “ and I am 
a missionary, too.” 
There is a most important lesson of Chris¬ 
tian devotion and cousistancy in such an ex* 
ample. 
