for days in the great highway of nations, and 
not even catch a glimpse of the topmasts of a 
ship on the far horizon. 
But you are not lonesome, for there is plenty 
oi thinking and observation to be done. You 
love to look on the glad face of ocean, when a 
ten-knot breeze is blowing, and watch the spark¬ 
ling waves as they toss their foam-crested heads 
gaily in the sunshine. How glad and gay it 
seems. Every thing is in motion. The ship 
goes like a thing of life. The waves dash 
against it.* sides, and as they part the salt foam 
leaps to the decks, and you may see all the rain¬ 
bow colors in the glittering shower. Dolphins 
and sharks swim and play about the ship—per¬ 
haps you may see the whale spouting and tumb¬ 
ling in the distance. Icebergs hold their steady 
way southwards, sailing solemnly from the 
Arctic Regions. Sometimes you will discover 
pieces of a wreck, and perchance you may come 
across several of the deserted lumber-hulks 
which, lighter than the water drift about, till 
stranded on some beach. The air, too, leas its 
inhabitants. Sea-gulls venture boldly to the 
middle of the ocean; sometimes a land-bird, 
blown off to sea by a tempest, lights on the rig¬ 
ging to rest its tired wings, and Mother Carey’s 
chickens, the snow-birds of tbe ocean, twitter 
and sport around, and suffer not even the crumbs 
of the table to waste in the briny depths. 
But tbe discomforts of ocean-sailing are great 
aud many. I think the majority of those who 
cross, suffer from sea-sickness more or less 
during the whole of the first voyage. There is 
constantly a sickening sensation in the stomach, 
which prevents the enjoyment of the luxuries of 
the table, aud one’s life on the ocean may be a 
life of fasting, if not of prayer. This discom¬ 
fort, however, is atoned for by the huge appetite 
that comes on going ashore. One of the great¬ 
est discomforts arises from the constant motion, 
for you must remember that the ship new is 
-•ill. Imagine the room in which you are at 
present sitting, dear reader, to be the saloon of 
a vessel at sea. Now when the ship rolls from 
side to side, one side of the room rises several 
feet, and the other falls. Then as the bows rise 
and fall on the waves, the ends of the room have a 
like motion. The furniture is all securely lashed, 
and when you stand or sit down you arc never 
entirely at ease, but must put forth efforts to 
maintain your balance. Your berth is the most 
comfortable place, but there you are rolled from 
side to side, and pitched on your head and feet, 
till you ardently but vainly long for one hour of 
quiet. When the ship is sailing with any wind 
hut one directly alt, she runs constantly on her 
lee side. If your berth runs crosswise of the 
ship, you go to sleep with your head to the wind¬ 
ward, which is the highest side. But while you 
sleep the wind may change, and the ship be put 
on another tack, so that your head will be much 
lower than your feet, and after having had hor¬ 
rid dreams, you will awake not a little bewild¬ 
ered as to the cause of the change of situation. 
I have remarked that one’s life on the ocean, 
if the person he afflicted with soa-sickncss, is a 
life Of fasting. If, however, he escape that dis¬ 
ease, it may be a life of feastiDg, for the table of 
a steamer is most profusely supplied with luxu¬ 
ries for the appetite. The fare on a sailing ves¬ 
sel is not so profuse. It is sufficient, however, 
and resembles tbe style of a private family, not 
having so much of the hotel oir as the steamer. 
The sublimity of the ocean is best seen in a 
storm; and you are not fortunate If you cross 
without having experienced one gTeat blow. 
The decks are then drenched and swept Inces¬ 
santly by the waves. You cannot walk, without 
holding on to some support; even the captain 
and his officers must have a rope across the deck 
to aid them. The huge timbers creak and groan 
as the vessel labors in tbe seas, and the mad 
waves, thundering against the sides, make her 
quiver like a leaf in the wind. 
Byron's grand verse, the best in the English 
language on the ocean, is most fully understood 
in the storm, and it may appropriately form the 
close to this wandering article: 
“ Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty’s form 
Glasses Itself it tempests: in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or In the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving: boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity—tue throne 
OI the Invisible; even from out thy slime 
The monsten of the deep are made, each zone 
Obeys thee, thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, 
alone.” Yotagecr. 
less than the following admission from so ex. 
cellent an authority as Mrs. Stowe: 
1 “Let people individually look around their o wu 
little sphere and ask themselves if they Icnow 
any woman really excelling in any valuable call¬ 
ing or accomplishment who is suffering forwent 
of work. All of us know seamstresses, dress¬ 
makers, nurses, aud laundresses, who have made 
themselves such a reputation, aud are so beset 
and over-crowded with work, that the whole 
neighborhood is constantly on its knees to them 
with uplifted hands. The fine seamstress, who 
can cut and make trousseaus and layettes in ele¬ 
gant perfection, is always engaged sis months 
in advance; the pet dress-maker of a neighbor¬ 
hood must be engaged in May for September, 
and in September for May; a laundress who 
sends your clothes homo in Dice order always 
has all the work that she can do. Good work 
in any department is the rarest possible thing in 
our American life; and it is the fact that the 
great majority of workers, both in the family 
and out, do only tolerably well,—not so badly 
that it actually cannot be borne, yet not so 
well as to he a source of real, thorough satisfac¬ 
tion. The exceptional worker in every neigh¬ 
borhood, who does things really mil, can always 
set her own price, and is always having more 
offering than she can possibly do.” 
The same facts will be found to obtain in re¬ 
spect of the higher kinds of labor. Theyoung of 
both sexes need to be impressed with a thorough 
conviction of the necessity of knowing how to do 
something which the world wants done. 
Here is Mrs. Stowe's statement ot the main dif¬ 
ficulty in finding employment for women:— 
“The trouble then in finding employment for 
women lies deeper than the purses or conscien¬ 
ces of the employers; it lies In the want of edu¬ 
cation in women: the want of education I say,— 
meaning by education that which fits a woman 
for practical and profitable employment in life, 
and not mere common school learning." 
Those w ho really think that it is necessary for 
women to invade the domain of masculine labor, 
in order to find remunerative employment,should 
ponder on the grave assertion of Mrs. Stowe, 
that “good work in any department is the rar¬ 
est possible thing in our American life,” and 
also upon the equally important fact that in a 
new country the demand for skilled labor is al¬ 
ways greater than the supply. Fausta. 
Written for Moore’s Rnral New-Yorker. 
THE CHRISTIAN’S WARFARE 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorke: 
A DREAM. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New Yorker. 
“PRECIOUS.” 
EV JOHN MO INTOSH, 
BV ROSETTE ANNIE ROSE, 
I dreamed last night 1 baa a daughter— 
Some angel must have sent the sprite— 
Ah I bow I blessed the one that brought her 
Seraph-face to bless my sight. 
She looked as if her second summer 
Had o'er her closuring tresses Gown; 
Strange, while I watch’d the graceful comer 
I marveled not where she had grown! 
How could I, while my heart was burning 
With the new-born seuse of bliss: 
Throbbing, panting, wildly yearning 
For a father's holy kiss 1 
I gently turned aside a cluster 
Of her glancing golden hair, 
And bathed my spirit in the lustre 
Of her face so heav’nly fair; 
And her eyes my being flooded 
With a 'wildcring sense of pride. 
As with artless grace unstudied, 
Stood she smiling by my side. 
My lips touch’d hers, O biest communion! 
My gray hair; mingled with her curls; 
Alas I in Dreamland —vague dominion! 
Alone must dwell my little girls. 
Wyoming, X. Y. 
Stand on guard. O Christian soldier! 
Stand on guard, ne’er leave your post 
For the ranks of sin are marshaled 
In a strong and mighty host. 
Think of Him who suffered for thee, 
Tiiiak of Him who bore the cross; 
Feeble heart, arise, take courage, 
Count as gain all earthly loss. 
0 bo brave, be strong and valiant! 
Arm yourself with truth and love; 
Forward presB to conquer evil— 
Strength shall nerve you from above. 
Aud If e’er your soul grows weary, 
And your heart begins to fall. 
Look above and pray for courage, 
Aud you surely shall prevail. 
And ere long will come the summons, 
When your waiting soul shall fly 
To its Father’s blissful mansions, 
T.> its home beyond the sky. 
Then, from earthly sin and sorrow 
Shall your soul be ever free, 
In the glorions light of Heaven's 
Blessed immortality. 
Precious to thee I O my Beloved, 
Can Time e'er teach me to forget 
The wondrous music of those words 
That strangely thrills my spirit yet ? 
Am I so blest? 
And can I he. 
Precious to thee, and only thee ? 
Like manna to a famished soul, 
Like waters From a cooling spring, 
So to my longing, feverish heart. 
The blessing that thy love doth bring. 
Hope, joy and peace, 
Have come to me 
In this sweet thonght—“Precious to thee.” 
Precious to thee t What dearer wish 
Have I in all the world beside ? 
To be thy comfort and thy rest; 
To lean on thee, my strength, my guide! 
My best Beloved, 
’Tis heaven to be, 
Precious to thee, and only thee. 
Precious to thee I As future years, 
With their sad changes, come and go, 
We will not fear their blighting power; 
Thy heart and mine no change can knew, 
Daily thou’lt be. 
More dear to me, 
And I more precious unto thee. 
Riverside, Nov. 10,1S65. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GOD IN NATURE. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
A SEA VOYAGE. 
To the eye of the casual observer, Nature is 
a sealed book; while to him who is desirous of 
searching out truth, Nature discloses in all her 
varied aspects the power and beneficence of the 
Creator. Upon every page of her out-spread 
volume he discovers the evidences of the Divine 
mind, not only in the perfect adaptability of all 
God's works to tbe wants of his creatures, but 
also in the transcendent loveliness and majesty 
of natural objects. He beholds how the Divine 
purpose permeates all things, giving a delicate 
grace and beauty to some, and sublimity and 
splendor to others. “ The heaveus declare the 
glory of God, and the firmament showeth forth 
his handiwork.” “ When I behold thy' heavens 
the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars 
which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou 
art mindful of him? or the son of man that thou 
visitest him.” 
In this language, David clearly shows that 
God is over all, and that he takes cognizance of 
all his works. Nothing is so small, so inferior 
or so delicate, that ne does stoop to notice it, 
although it may seem insignificant to short¬ 
sighted man. “ Consider the lilies of the field, 
they toll not neither do they spin; yet Solo¬ 
mon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of 
these.” 
It is not necessary that we should understand 
all the secret processes of Nature, in order to 
give the glory thereof to Goo. We see the 
grass, under tbe influence of refreshing show¬ 
ers and the genial rays of the summer’s sun, 
spring up and come to maturity, yet we fail to 
to know why it grows in such a peculiar form, 
—why it Is green instead of red, or why it grows 
upright instead of running on the ground like 
a .vine. The seed is buried beneath the soil, it 
germinates, sends forth a tiny shoot, which bears 
its precious burden of buds and blossoms, fades, 
droops and dies; and that which but a short time 
since was pleasing to the eye, now lies withered 
and blasted upon the bosom of the earth. 
Thus everything brings forth Its fruit In its 
season, praising in a still, inaudible voice the 
great Architect of Heaven and earth. The 
change of the seasons, in their silent ever on¬ 
ward course; earth yielding her fruits, each at its 
accustomed period; summer’s heat and winter’6 
cold, all proclaim the existence of a great First 
Cause. The secret caves of the earth, the moun¬ 
tains that rear their lofty peaks toward heaven, 
their enow-crowned summits glistening like 
diamonds beneath thu rays of a tropical sun; tbe 
broad majestic rivers and the laughing brooklet 
wandering amid fertile meads, old ocean, sublime 
and awful with its ebb and flow of tide, its foam- 
crested waves now lashed into fury by the wrath 
of the storm-king, then siukiug to a gontle 
calm,in obedience to the voice that said, “Thus far 
shalt thoa come, and there thy proud waves shall 
be6tayed;” all these reveal the glory and power 
of God, the Ruler of the Universe. r. M. j. 
Ulysses, l’enn. 
No subject is more interesting than the sea. 
Wo listen with eagerness to the twice-told talcs 
of Us excitements and monotonies, its hard¬ 
ships and pleasures, iis uncertainty and danger, 
and above ail to the vast variety of scenery and 
life it presents to those who travel aud meditate 
over its unsounded depths. There is a native 
passion, as it were, in the human heart for the 
sea, a passion which education and experience 
do not create, but only develop. The boy turns 
with natural eagerness to the perusal of “ Rob¬ 
inson Crusoe,” “Mosierman Ready,” “The 
Swiss Family Robinson,” and the sea stories of 
Cooper ; and when he becomes a man, be makes 
real his boyish dreams, and relinquishes the 
pleasures of family and society and the quiet 
comforts of home, and meets with delight the 
boundless dangers of tbe boundless sea. 
But my object is not to write an essay on the 
ocean, but to describe some incidents, and 
sketch the characteristics of a voyage on the 
Atlantic. We will start, if you please, from the 
port of the most magnificently situated, first- 
class city in the world —New York. 
I would rather cross to the Old World in a 
sailing vessel, but I prefer returning in a steamer. 
I am willing to loiter, aud wait the bidding of 
the elements on my course, to have time to 
meditate on what I have left and to anticipate 
what is before me, wbeu I set forth to wander 
from my native Inn* But when I return, let 
me be borne on the wings of steam; let neither 
storm nor calm delay me, but day and night 
swiftly, steadily, onward let me go till I behold 
the western sun sinking at eve behind the blue 
highlands that sentinel the noblest gateway to 
the New World. But to our voyage. 
It is quite likely that your vessel is advertised 
to sail ou Friday, and by noon you are comfort¬ 
ably situated iu yotir state-room, expecting the 
upheaval ot tbe anchor. But you will be disap¬ 
pointed, the vessel will lie by her anchor all 
night; lor superstition has yet too strong a hold 
on the minds of sailors to permit them to quit 
port on the unlucky Friday. Saturday forenoon 
a little steam-tug, with her bulwarks hardly out 
of ’.he water, comes snorting up to your big 
ship, takes hold of a rope, and you move down 
the bay. The voyage down occupies several 
hours, for the channel is sinuous, and the 
steum-tug drags the huge ship but slowly 
along. In the meantime two o’clock arrives, 
and the cook summons you from the beautiful 
scenery to tbe admiration of his roast-beef and 
plum-pudding, whereof you partake largely. 
Alas! for the mutability of human affairs, and 
especially for the plum-pudding and roast-beef; 
consider that Sandy Hook is dose at haud, and 
that beyond arc the dominions of Neptune, to 
whom you must deliver tribute. 
Sandy Hook is a long, low, hook-shaped strip 
of barren sand, stretching out from the shores 
of New Jersey, and opposing a barrier to the 
waves that roll in from the south-east. Here 
the steam-tug is cast off, the pilot steps into his 
small boat to return, and the captain assumes 
the command of the vessel. Rapid orders are 
given, and the sailors scramble quickly to the 
rigging. Sail after sail la dropped from the 
tapering yards, and a? they catch the wind and 
“fall asleep,” as the sailors say, the ship heels 
to the larboard and glides gaily on her pathless 
way to the Old World. But 0 novice In the art 
of voyaging! how does your dinner leel? Don’t 
you realize that you have a stomach, and that 
something is the matter with it. The moment 
the ships bows are outside of Sandy Hook, they 
meet that “ground swell,” which I believe is 
never absent from tbe Northern Atlantic, and 
as the ship rocks under its influence, sea-sick¬ 
ness lays its remorseless hand upon you, and 
leaning over the bulwarks, yon pay your respec ts 
most reverently to Father Neptune. 
When leaving port you have plenty of com¬ 
pany. Off the entrance of New York harbor 
you may count twenty sail, half of them out¬ 
ward bound. But the courses they hold are 
diverging, and If the wind keeps fair during the 
night, when daylight comes there may not be a 
ship In sight. One would naturally think, when 
he considers the multitude of ships passing be¬ 
tween Europe and America, that no vessel, 
keeping the usual track, would ever find itself 
alone; and nothing brings more forcibly to 
mind the immensity of the ocean, than to sail 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EMPLOYMENT FOR WOMEN. 
It is quite natural that at the close of such a 
war as has just swept over our land, social 
reform should be the paramount question of the 
hour. A reaction is sure to take place; and 
having been for a time 60 much worse than we 
ought to have been, or ever were before, we 
straightway attempt to become a great deal bet¬ 
ter than we know we can possibly be. We are 
not satisfied with crushing out the vices which 
always follow in the train of revolutions, and 
bringing matters back to their old relations, 
but we propose to rc-adjnst the constituent ele¬ 
ments of society in accordance with the most 
progressive views, and inaugurate a state of 
things in which every one will be comfortable, 
“Virtuous and happy.” 
Few of us, then, were much surprised, when 
we witnessed renewed agitation upon the ques¬ 
tion of “ Womua's-Rights;" but many of us, no 
doubt, have been both surprised and pleased by 
the practical character which this reform is as¬ 
suming, and by the good sense and moderation 
displayed in the published views of some of its 
advocates. We hear less now about the right of 
women to vote &c., but a great deal more about 
her rights and duties in the matter of work and 
occupation. Few sensible men will dissent from 
the propositions laid down in a late contribution 
of Mrs. Stowe’s to the “Atlantic Monthly,'' 
viz.:—“ 1. The right of every woman to hold in¬ 
dependent property; 2. The right of every 
woman to receive equal pay with man for work 
which she does equally well; 3. The right of any 
woman to do any work for which, by her nat¬ 
ural organization and talent, she is peculiarly 
adapted.” 
There are two classes ot agitators upon this 
question of “ Woman’s-Rights.” The one class 
would have us believe that there is an infinite 
number of spinsters, at present condemned by 
the tyranny of man to sit with folded hands, 
who are thoroughly competent to perform not 
only all the kinds of labor that by universal cus¬ 
tom are assigned to woman, but also to sustain 
upon their delicate shoulders the accumulated 
responsibilities of the multifarious professions 
and occupations now monopolized by “ the lords 
of creation.” There is another class— to which 
Mrs. Stowe belongs — who teach that reform 
should commence with the promulgation of a 
higher conception of womanhood; who are 
seeking not only to elevate the character and 
widen the circle of feminine pursuits, bnt also 
to enforce a juster estimate of the value and 
importance of those duties and labors, which, as 
matters stand at present, devolve exclusively 
upon woman. In other words, they are trying 
to make woman better and more useful in the 
sphere which, in all civilized countries, is with 
one consent accorded her. Unquestionably, 
most of those who engage in this good work 
complain not a little of the narrow limits of that 
sphere, and think it ought to be widened so as 
to include pretty much all of the masculine 
activities; bnt nevertheless I think that 6uch 
agitation is on the whole uselul. No one can 
deny, I imagine, woman’s right to engage in many 
pursuits which are now apparently closed to 
her; and consequently more respect should be 
paid to that class of “agitators” who arc urging 
her to greater skill and excellence iu those de¬ 
partments which are exclusively hers. Instead 
oi teaching woman to despise domestic and 
household duties, we should so educate her that 
she might perform them with still greater 
intelligence and fidelity. 
There should be no general objection to wo¬ 
men engaging—as so many of them do with great 
credit—“In the professions requiring natural 
genius,—authorship, painting, sculpture, with 
the subordinate arts of photographing, coloring 
and finishing; ” or in the higher branches of 
teaching, architecture, landscape-gardening, the 
medical profession,” or even in “the great 
world of busiuess;” but 1 believe that, the chief 
difficulty in the way of finding employment for 
women lies in the fact that so few of them are 
taught now a days to discharge well those duties 
ancl labors, in the performance of which they 
do not come into competition with men. 
Upon this point the reader would expect no 
AMERICAN WOMEN, 
Dr. Robert Vaughan, late editor of the Brit¬ 
ish Quarterly Review, in an article recently con¬ 
tributed to that magaziuc, entitled “ Notes on 
the United States Since the War,” speaks as 
follows of American women: 
“But the real American woman, after all, is 
a liigh-souled, noble creature, fit to battle 
through life at the side of her country, too, if 
needs be, to the utmost extent possible. She is 
as domestic as the English woman, but she has 
more public spirit, and generally she is more 
skilled in rendering a reason when you take ex¬ 
ception to the strength of her feelings. Demo¬ 
cratic institutions which send politics to every 
fireside, are sufficient to account for this differ¬ 
ence. In the upper class of American society 
nearly all that is distinctive of it elsewhere 
passes away. The houses of these persons are 
models of convenience and good taste. As if 
to compensate for the absence of such appear¬ 
ances in some other connections, the signs of 
culture and refinement are made to present 
themselves everywhere. Nothing can be more 
agreeable than these homes of our cousins over 
the way, and their hospitality is most cordial 
and generous. I thank some of them from my 
heart of hearts, for the many kind offices which 
their love of Old England promoted them to 
render to me.” 
FEMININE TOPICS, 
In Prague, some enthusiastic singers sere¬ 
naded Miss Gallemeyer, an actress. The lady ap¬ 
peared at the window and made the following 
speechGentlemen, I thank you. But may 
1 ask another favor from you ? ” “ Oar lives! ” 
was the enthusiastic reply. “ Well, then, go 
home and let me sleep." 
A heartless old fellow, writing for a maga¬ 
zine, says:—“I have seen women so delicate 
that they were afraid to ride for fear of the 
horses running away; afraid to sail for fear the 
boat would upset; and afraid to walk for fear 
tbe dew might fall upon them; but I never saw 
one that was afraid to get married.” 
A Washington dispatch of the 29th says:— 
Application for a pension was made in behalf of 
a woman living in Ohio, to-day. wherein It ap¬ 
pears she had eight sons in tbe Union army, 
three of whom were killed in battle. It stated 
that many cases have come under the supervis¬ 
ion of the Pension Office, but none so remarka¬ 
ble as the above. 
A maiden lady, not remarkable lor cither 
beanty, youth, or good temper, came for advice 
to Mr. Arnold as to how she could get rid of a 
troublesome suitor. “ 0, Mary! marry him! ” 
was the advice. “ Nay, 1 would see him hanged 
first.” “No, madam, marry him, as I said to 
you, and I assure you it will not lie long before 
he hangs himself." 
Going from market one day, we observed a 
very small boy, who gave no special indication, 
by dress or face, of other than ordinary training in 
lile, carrying a basket that was so heavy as 
nearly to bear him down beneath it. We ob¬ 
served, “My boy, you have a heavy load.’ 
“Yes," said he, “but I'd rather carry it than 
that my mother should." The remark was one 
of a nature we love to hear ; but we do not 
know that we should have thought enough of it 
to have chronicled it, had wc not seen aeroES 
the street a highly accomplished young lady 
playing the piano, while mother was washing the 
windows. 
CHANCE CHIPS, 
If you would render your children helpless all 
their lives, never compel or permit them to 
help themselves. 
The Jews are a piece of stubborn antiquity, 
compared with which Stonehenge is in its 
nonage. They date beyond the pyramids. 
An open month is a sign of an empty heart, 
as a chest open is a sign there is nothing in it. 
When money and jewels are within it is kept 
locked. 
We are told that “ like cures like.” Wc wish 
our clever homeopaths would invent a much 
more valuable system to society by which “ dis¬ 
like should cure dislikes.” — Punch. 
Solitary thought corrodes the mind, if it be 
not blended with social activity; and (social 
activity produces a restless craving for excite¬ 
ment, if It be not blended with solitary thought. 
Dic’kjjns thus explains the origin of the say¬ 
ing, “May your shadow never he less:”— 
“ What do you mean,” said I to an ambassador, 
who had passed a long time in Europe, “ by the 
salutation, ‘ May your shadow never be less t ’ ” 
“We live,” answered the khan, pleasantly, 
“under a very hot sun In Persia, and we retire 
to the shadow for repose and peace. The power 
of a great man gives rest and tranquility to 
a great many, for no one dares to iDjure or 
molest those whom he protects. So wo call 
that his shadow , and hope, for our ow n eakes 
as well as his, that it may never diminish.” 
GRAVE THOUGHTS FOR SUNDAY 
Hope never leaves the human heart. 
It was a beautiful expression of Burk’s upon 
the death of his son, that liis child in this world 
would be his ancestor in the skies. Elder-born 
in glory—the junior of the household is the sen¬ 
ior in heaven. 
It may be that in the great day of the Lord 
it shall be found that the most useful men in 
the Church were not always the highest, uor the 
pulpits most consecrated by souls won for Christ 
always the most brilliant or attractive. 
Do not say you cannot pray because you can¬ 
not apeak much, or well, or long. Praying is 
wrestling with God; the heart is the wrestler; 
holy faith is the strength of it; If by means of 
this strength thy heart be a good wrestler, 
though thou art ever so tongue-tied, thou wilt 
be a prevailed Rhetoric goes lor little in the 
heavenly court, but sincere groans have a kind 
ol omnipotency.— Bnrgeti. 
De Quincy, speaking of the grandeur and sub¬ 
limity of tbe human spirit, says most beauti¬ 
fully that all of our thoughts have not words 
corresponding to them In our yeti mperfectly de¬ 
veloped nature, nor can ever express themselves 
in acts, but must lie appreciable by God only, 
like the silent melodics In a great musician’s 
heart, never to roll forth from harp or organ. 
