Lead Pencil, Esq., asked himself what he 
thought of the revelation of life the occurrence haji 
given him. And ibis is the order in which th 
thoughts came: 
1, Why did she ask a "stranger to read that letter 
for her? Because she was truthful—or, because she 
was cosmopolitan, and had learned that human 
nature is alike everywhere—or, because 
believed it safer to trust an entire stranger to real 
her husband's letter to her, than any friend or 
neighbor who might use the knowledge to be gtuned 
from it to her disadvantage—or, which is more 
probable, because she didn't care who put her in 
possession oi the contents, so that she knew them 
at once. 
2, “One touch of nature makes the whole world 
kiu,” wrote Shakspeare. Similar experience 
beget similar sympathies, create a free-masonry as 
exclusive as ever existed. “Are you a husband?” 
—and upon the reply depended the evidence of irty 
appreciation of the contents of that letter, i.nd 
intelligent sympathy. The reply, given affirma¬ 
tively, a relationship is felt —a kindred cord is 
touched, and the woman trusts the stranger ae -he 
could not have trusted him without this knowledge. 
3, Wbat if we were all to be more trustful-to 
regard all strangers friends, and in our mjupiing 
with the world cultivate our hearts so that we may 
say pleasant, frank words to all with whotr we 
come in contact. Is it not a fact that distrust i the 
WOMAN’S COUNSEL 
Whkn on my ear your loss was knelled, 
And tender sympathy upburst, 
A little rill from memory swelled, 
Which ouee had soothed my bitter thirst; 
And I was fain to bear to you 
Some portion of its mild relief, 
That it might be as healing dew, 
To steal some fever from your grief. 
After our child's untroubled breath 
• Up to the Father took its way, 
And on our home the shade of death 
Like a long twilight haunting lay; 
And friends came round with us to weep 
His little spirit's swift remove, 
This story of the Alpine sheep 
Was told to us by one we love: 
“ They, in the valley's sheltering care, 
Soon crop the meadow's tender prime; 
And when the sod grows brown and bare, 
The shepherd strives to make them climb 
To airy Shelves of pastures green 
That hang along the mountain side, 
Where grass and (lowers together lean, 
And down thro' mist the sunbeams slide. 
But naught can tempt the timid tilings 
That steep and rugged path to try, 
Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings, 
And seared below tile pastures lie: 
Till in liia arms their lambs he takes, 
Along the diy./.v verge to go, 
Then, heedless of the rifts and brakes, 
They follow on o'er rock and snow. 
And in those pastur es lifted fair. 
More dewy soft than lowlaud mead, 
The shepherd drops Ills tender care, 
And sheep and lambs together feed.” 
This parable, by nature breathed. 
Blew on me os the south whirl free 
O’er frozen brooks that float unsheathed 
From icy thraldom to the sea. 
A blissful vision, ilirongh the night, 
Would all my happy senses sway. 
Of the Good Shepherd on the height, 
Or climbing up the stony way; 
Holding our little lamb asleep; 
And, like the burthen of the sea, 
Sounded that voice along the deep, 
Saying, “Arise andfollow vie 
A traveler writing to the Christian Advocate 
saya of Venice:—We lounged in a gondola through 
the grand canal, passing palaces swimming on the 
waves—flowers that had passed their hour of per¬ 
fection and were fast hastening to decay. Its grand 
quay is void of ships, its marts of business, its peo¬ 
ple of wealth. With all its charms as a place to 
visit, if. has none as a place to dwell in. Land, horses, 
Cows, chickens and children, are what mankind 
chiefly desire. None of these, except the last, are 
found here, and children seemed scarce. They 
must lie tied to their chairs, for a run in the streets 
would soon be followed by a plunge in the waters. 
A tew dogs, pats and rats were all the animals we 
saw there, and these didn’t seem at home. One gets 
tired of the Intense silence. The drip of the sus¬ 
pended oar, the cries of the boatmen, the pattering 
of feet are all the sounds of Venice, save its bells. 
When these cease the silence is like Egyptian dark¬ 
ness; it is felt. We long for the undertones with 
which nature elsewhere breaks up the too oppressive 
stillness. The sea, even, is voiceless here, as well 
as the land. It is so quiet in its rise and fall that no 
ripple breaks on shore or quay. No wonder its 
population fled when its power and business disap¬ 
peared. They have not all gone yet, for it still 
supports nearly a hundred thousand people by its 
moderate commerce and some branches of manufac¬ 
ture, chiefly in glass. 
Little Wife, while tine flies fleetly, 
Tiny household fairies, M eetly 
Weaving magic charms completely, 
Flutter in a fire and glow. 
Sitting mid the murk Decemler 
With the light of flame and ember 
On our faces, we remember 
That sweet joy wherewith we kist, 
When with arrows and with bow, 
Id another murk December 
Very many years ago, 
Cupid snared us ere we wist 
(Tou remember f) 
Mid the mist I 
Yes, my darling, youioniember 
That one evening in December, 
When the city lights all twinkled 
Mid the fog, like glow-worms sprinkled 
And the heavy, dull and dreary 
Tread of men and women w^ary, 
Mingled with the splisliing. sploshing 
Of the Wheels and horses' feet 
Moving onward rushing, crashing, 
With a thunder in the street; 
And the people, coming, going. 
Passing on in countless hosts, 
Swift and frantic, 
Crown gigantic 
By the fog clouds round them flowing, 
Seemed like ghosts. 
From a cloud there came a maiden 
With u market basket laden, 
Picking dainty footsteps lightly, 
With a fao" that shone more brightly 
Than the sun on beds of pearls: 
Ho she came, the queen of girls. 
And the mist that gathered round her 
First in filmy darkness drown'd her; 
Then it seemed to fall before her 
To her feet, and to adore her. 
Came to me this little straDger. 
With a face In blushes basking,— 
Setting every heart in danger— 
With a modest tremor asking 
For her way. 
And I led the little maid, 
As she took my proffer’d aid, 
To her home within the city, 
Where, reflected from her pretty 
Face, a bo US oho hi sunshine lay 
Night and day. 
And through all that murk December 
My pulses seemed to beat 
To a music soft and sweet, 
As the tinkling of the fays 
That seemed passing in the blaze 
Of the film-encumbered ember 
At our feet. 
And evening and night, 
When I wandered in the street, 
The fog clouds, waving white. 
Seemed to flutter and arise, 
And uncertain to my eyes 
Thatjewel of a girl, 
With her smile and lips of pearl: 
Till we met again and parted, 
Tender hearted. 
Onee again, add in December,— 
By those blushes you remember,— 
How I drew tlic maiden to me, 
Blood like music thrilling through me, 
And I told her hoiv I loved her, 
Auil it seemed my pleading moved her, 
For we ended in soft blisses, 
Melting, trembling into kisses; 
And we set the bells a ringlng 
On an evening such as this; 
Aud toward th* stars upspringing 
I gave, as 1 earc.it her, 
All my life I 
Now I press her as 1 prest her, 
While the fairies in the ember 
Hail another sweet December, 
Little Wife! 
Let no man ralnc at a little price 
A virtuous woman's counsel; her winged spirit 
I* feathered oftentimes with heavenly words, 
And like her beauty, ravishing and pure ; 
The weaker body, still the stronger soul, 
When good endeavors do her powers apply 
Her love draw s nearer man's felicity. 
Oil, what a treasure is a v irtuous wife, 
Disereet and loving ! not one gift on earth 
Makes man so highly bound to heaven ; 
She gives him double forces to endure 
And to enjoy, by being one with him, 
Feeling his joys and griefs with equal sense. 
But a true wife both sense and soul delights, 
And mixeth not her good with any ill ; 
Her virtues, ruling heart all powers command ; 
All store without her leaves a man but poor, 
And with her poverty is exceeding store. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
EMPLOYMENT. 
I met my sweet young friend, Lizzie L-, the 
other day. She was walking along with quick, 
elastic stop, a bright glow on her face, and a bril¬ 
liant light .in her eye. “ Why, Lizzie, what is the 
matter?—you seem happy and grow good-looking 
every day. Von used to be pale and low-spirited. 
Your health must be much bettor, isn’t it? 
“Yes, Mrs. Overton, my health is better; but 
then it was never poor. It wasn't poor health that 
ailed me at all; nor is it good health altogether that 
makes me feel happy now.” 
“What is it, then?” 
II Employment, Mrs. Overton!” 
“ Employment!—why, you always had enough to 
to do, didn’t you?” 
“Yes-but it wasn't the kind of work that I 
am doing now. Then I wrought on lancy articles, 
merely to pass away time; now I work t'onnyliving 
and/or my clothes— that'6 the difference.” 
I needn’t give the whole of the conversation. 
Lizzie had a brothor who supported her and pur¬ 
chased for her a gratification for every wish; but the 
war, and the derangement resulting, bad thrown 
him out of business, and he had been compelled, 
either by patriotism or want of employment, to 
serve bis country. Of his earnings, a liberal por¬ 
tion of them were sent to Lizzie; but her depend¬ 
ence upon him and the possibilities, not to say prob¬ 
abilities, of being deprived of her brother, had set 
her thinking of what she should do in such case; 
and she had determined to do nothing no longer. 
She sought and secured a situation in a large retail 
house, deposited her brother’s remittances in the 
Savings Bank, adding thereto such part of her own 
earnings as she did not choose to use. 
There is no better dressed girl than Lizzie L. 
among my young acquaintances — nor better in¬ 
formed; for in her little home-nest is a library of 
choice books aud periodicals. And she is happy. 
Why shouldn’t she be? She earns her own living, 
pays for all she has and uses, from her own earn¬ 
ings. She is happier than ever before, she says, be¬ 
cause she is independent. 
This is one case. There areh undreds of a like 
character. What, a nation of lady shop-keepers this 
war is educating! Lid you ever flunk of it? Why 
may not these young ladies, many of them, rise in 
their business, as young men do. to become Junior 
and then Senior members of the firms that employ 
them? If they do not haste to make marriage con¬ 
tracts, why not?—and if they do, may not the co¬ 
partnership be both of a business and conjugal 
character? All marriages are or ought to be—we 
are help-meets. 
Employment! Why, Young says, 
“ Life’s cares are coin lor Is: such by Heaven designed; 
lie that has none, mast make them or be wretched — 
Cares are etuploj mentis; and ■without employ 
The soul is on a rock; the rock of rest, 
To souls most adverse; action all their joy” — 
And Galen calls employment ‘ Nature’s physi¬ 
cians ” — and so it is. 
But young ladles need not all seek to become 
chop-keepers—tradeswomen. The great field open 
for American women is designing and manufactur¬ 
ing. We ought to learn how to produce, so that we 
may compete with France in the supply of our own 
markets with fancy goods. American women have 
good taste; aud such as they have may be cultivated 
to become much better. We have paid foreign 
countries all the money we ought, to gratify our 
tastes. Let us begin, to supply our own demands 
for the finer fancy goods. There are many women 
who have no time to spend making the little orna¬ 
mental articles which are now regarded essential in 
every welliumisbed home, who would be glad to 
pay liberally for a home-made article, such as 
almost auy American girl could make—lamp-mats, 
tidies, needle-books, cushions, embroidered covers, 
coiffeures, collars, ties—a thousand things which 
auy lady could enumerate. And the sale of these 
things would depeud as much upon their design as 
upon their material. I once knew a young ladies’ 
club, organized for the purpose of manufacturing 
articles of this character for sale—and that was the 
way they got their “ pin money.” They did a good 
business, meeting and working only a couple of 
hours per day. I don’t know but it still exists. It 
was in an Eastern city. 
These are suggestions. The happiest women— 
young and old—are those who labor, and with a 
good motive. A new field has been opened for 
young women by the absence of young men in the 
army, and they should hasten to occupy it, and 
profit by opportunities it offers for enlarging the 
sphere of their usefulness and influence. 
"Weedy nook, Dec , 1862. Mrs. Jane C, OvXkton, 
Is it not a fact that distrust i the 
habit of men’s minds? And is it not a fact tlia this 
is daily more and more manilest? Ought jt 0 be 
cultivated? Does it not beget the same fcillig in 
others, wheraver it is apparent. No one win our 
confidence until he or she has exhibited souje impo¬ 
sition to be confiding also. There are nmp vhose 
faces tell us Ibey can be trusted. Why” Wh> can 
We look and confide and are never rlisap- 
answer 
pointed. Is this a natural or acquired expi 
All parties who know (he habits of President 
Lincoln, are not surprised to hear of his personal 
visit to General Burnside—nor would any such be 
astonished to know that be was in New York at any 
time. If he wanted to see anything or anybody, he 
would be quite as likely to come on as to send. lie 
has an orbit of his own, and no one can tell where 
he will be or what he will do, from anything done 
yesterday. If he wants a newspaper he is quite as 
likely to go out and get it as he is to send after it. 
If he wants to see the Secretary of State he gener¬ 
ally goes out anil makes a call. At night, from ten 
to twelve, he usually makes a tour all round—now 
at Gov. Seward’s, and then at Ilalleck’s; and if 
Bum side was nearer, he would see him each night 
before he went to lied. Those who know his habits 
and want to see him late at night, follow him round 
from place, to place, and the last search generally 
brings him up at General Ilalleek’s, as he can get 
the latest army intelligence there. Whoever else is 
asleep or indolent, the President is wide awake and 
around .—Boston Journal. 
A man eats up a pound of sugar, and the pleasure 
he has enjoyed is ended; but the infornialii n he gets 
from a newspaper is treasured up in Ihe ru nd, to be 
used whenever occasion or inclination te Is tor it; 
for the newspaper is not the wisdom of 01 e man or 
two men—it is the wisdom of the age—of mst ages, 
too. A family without a newspaper i- e ways be¬ 
hind the times in geueral information; i>e ides, they 
never think much or find anything to tb nk about. 
And then there are the little ones gb n ng up in 
ignorance, without a taste for reading. Insides all 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
BE NOT WEAHY IN WELL-DOING, 
“But ye, brethren, rr ye not weary in well doing.” 
—2nd Tliess: 3-13. 
It was a thorough knowledge of the weakness of 
human nature which caused the Apostle to give 
(he above command to his disciples. The heart is 
so governed by impulse; and there are few natures 
so lost that they are not at times melted and long for 
the possession of a pure heart iu the sight of God. 
But habit and inclination, together with a lack of 
moral firmness to follow the rugged path of self-im¬ 
provement, causes the noble impulse to die out and 
they fall back into their old ways of sin. There are 
others who with enthusiastic feelings enter the 
straight and narrow path, and in their ardor they 
feel that, they shall never faint by the way—that 
they can overcome the obstacles which lie in their 
paths without effort. Such are very apt to become 
weary iu well doing, and cease entirely, after a time, 
iu their strivings, or only labor as the impulsive 
feelings dictate. To such the solemn mandate of 
the Apostle was spoken. No permanent good can 
be accomplished without observing it. Our hearts 
may be filled with love aud pity towards the suffer¬ 
ing; but to do them good we must be prepared for 
discouragements ol’ many kinds, and must guard 
against the tempter who would lure us to procrasti¬ 
nate,—to seek our own ease first. We cannot claim 
the reward ol' well doing unless our actions are the 
result of fixed principles, and not of mere impulse, 
Genova, Wis , 18(52. B. C. D. 
Milk, Tea and Coffee.— In Prof. Loomis’ arti¬ 
cle on “ Food,” in the last Patent Office Report, he 
thus speaks of milk, tea and coffee: 
Milk contains in solution not only a due propor¬ 
tion of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, as 
before mentioned, but all the other elements neces¬ 
sary for the construction of bone, nerve, &c., and 
hence is always a proper food in all circumstances 
ot health. 
Tea derives its beneficial qualities not from its 
direct supply of nutrition, but from its affording a 
peculiar substance called tbeine, the effect of which 
in the system is to diminish the icastc , thus making 
less food necessary. Tea thus has a positive 
economic value, not as a supplying but as a saving 
nutriment. 
Coffee, though of a taste so little allied to tea, de¬ 
rives its value in precisely the same manner and 
from nearly the same substances. Its value and 
effect in the system are therefore the same as those 
above stated. It is hence evident that milk, tea and 
coffee are valuable articles of food under all condi¬ 
tions of temperature. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
EVERY- DAY LIFE. 
The Thankful Heart.— If one should give me a 
dish of sand aud tell me there were particles of icon 
in it, I might look for them with my eyes, and search 
for them with my clumsy fingers, and be unable to 
detect them; but let me take a magnet and sweep 
through it, and how would it draw to itself the most 
invisible particles by the mere power of attraction! 
The unthankful heart, like my finger in the sand, 
discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart sweeps 
through tiie day, and as the magnet finds the iroD, so 
it will find every hour some heavenly blessings: 
only the iron in God's sand is gold. — 0. IF. Uolmes. 
Smoky Chimneys—T o he read to her husband by 
every wife interested — A correspondent of the Lon¬ 
don Builder gives the following cure for a great and 
common evil: A smoky chimney and a scolding 
wife are two of the worst evils of dome.stic,15fo, says 
(be old proverb, and to obviate the lirsl evil, ingen¬ 
uity is ever racking its brain. Hence, Regent street 
and every pari of the metropolis has its house-tops 
bristling with pipes and deformed by cowls of every 
conceivable and almost inconceivable variety. Now 
I have built many chimueyB in all possible situations’ 
aud have found one simple plan everywhere suc¬ 
ceeded, the secret being only to construct the throat 
of the chimney, or the part just above the fireplace, 
so small that a man or boy can barely pass through 
it. Immediately above, the chimney should be en¬ 
larged to double its width, like a purse, to the extent 
of about two feet in height, and then diminished 
again 10 the usual proportions. No chimney that I 
ever constructed thus, smoked. 
BY LEAD PENCIL, ESQ. 
Did you never take up from the table where your 
mail-boy had laid the last mail, the weekly paper, 
which, above all others, you wish to lean back in 
your coziest chair and read by the light of a well- 
shaded lamp, of a Saturday evening, and opening 
it, glauce all through it without reading a word in 
it—puzzling and hesitating, half-distracted in your 
effort to determine which of the tit-bits you will 
devour first? You nibble here aud there, read 
the headings, glance at the first sentence, skim over 
the paragraphs, and unconsciously wish you could 
absorb the whole at one effort. There are two or 
three such papers that come to my table; but it is 
not of them or anything in them that I am gorng to 
write. 
But-and now I wish to say what 6eems t,o me 
here, to wit:—Does the reader ever think how much 
of romantic interest there is, and may be to all, in 
the commonest, events of every-day life? —how 
much we can glean that is golden, and bright, and 
blessed, if we accept the opportunities thrust before 
us constantly—thrust before too many who never 
notice them, and go through the world living a 
comparatively barren and unfruitful life? 
But—to return—I met a good woman to-day, who 
was in quite as great a dilemma over a letter, as yon 
and 1 are often over our fresh weekly paper. 1 
stood at a corner near the post-office, waiting ior a 
horse-car to take me home to dinner, when a 
decently dressed, tidy woman, came to me and said, 
“Will you be su kind as to read that letter for me? 
It is from my husband, and he is in Gen, Grant’s 
army, and I want to hear from him very much; but 
my eyes do blur so when I try to read that I can’t 
get through with it. I’ve been trying so hard.” 
I looked into her eyes as she looked into mine 
while making this appeal, and saw there the cause 
of the blur. They were brim full of teal's, and a 
tremor of excitement — whether apprehensive or 
joyful 1 did not wait to determine —agitated her. 
-Exchange. 
THE CHIMNEY COE] 
The old chimney cornel! It is andeared to the 
heart from the earliest recollection*/ What dreams 
have been dreamed there! What spries told! what 
bright hours passed! It was a pla® to think in, a 
place to weep in, to laugh in, and auch the coziest 
place in the house to rest in. It ft as there where 
dear old grandmama used to si: st her knitting, 
warming her poor old rheumatic back against the 
warm wall; where grandpa used to fall aeleep over 
his newspaper; where mamma used to place her 
spinning-wheel, and papa used to ait there too, and 
read in the great arm-chair. 
It was there where you used to lead fairy tales in 
your childhood, folded all so snug, and warm, and 
cozy, in its great warm lap, wile the wind of a 
winter’s night was whistling with Jit. Your favorite 
plum-cake was never bo sweet aslvhen eaten there, 
and the stories you read by tbel sitting-room fire¬ 
side were never half so lascinatiag as those read in 
the chimney corner. 
If you were sad, you weut tluie to cry. If you 
were merry, you, with your bothers and sisters, 
nestled there to have a right Iierry time. Even 
puss and the house dog lovoi the old chimney 
corner! 
Look back to the old house, where every room, 
every nook is so lull of pleasalt recollections—the 
family sitting-room, where vlre so many happy 
meetings; your own ebambej. with its little win¬ 
dow, “where the sun came fceping in at nforn;” 
mother’s room, still sacred wih her presence. But, 
after all, the brightest raemor.lt cluster about that 
chimney corner. You long twie folded in its faith¬ 
ful old bosom again, as you wffo in childhood, aud 
have a good cry over all thosepast huppy times. 
It is desolate now. The bight faces that clus¬ 
tered there of yore will nevir come back again. 
Black and dingy are the lovedwalls, and the smoke 
from the kitchen fire never mikes them warm auy 
more. But still memory sets up some of the holiest 
and most beautiful statues of ljr carving in the old 
chimney corner !—Boston Recorder. 
A Golden Thought.—I never found pride in a 
noble nature, nor humility iu an unworthy mind, 
Of all the trees, I observe that God has chosen the 
vine—alow plant that creeps upon the wall; of all 
beasts, the soft, patient lamb; of all fowls, the mild 
and gentle dove. When God appeared to Moses it 
was not in the lofty cedar, not the spreading palm, 
but a bush—an humble, slender, abject bush—as if 
He would, by these selections, check the conceited 
arrogance of man. Nothing produces love like hu¬ 
mility, nothing bate like pride. 
Pkoharle Origin of the Saving, “Die in the 
Last Ditch.” — When Louis the NIY. invaded 
Holland, carrying fire and sword as he advanced, 
overtures were made by Buckingham, one of 
Charles the Second's Ministers, to Prince William 
of Nassau, the head of the United Provinces, to 
make him King of the residue of the country, after 
France and England, who had agreed to a secret 
treaty for dismembering the country, had taken of 
it what they wanted. “ Do yon not see,” said Buck¬ 
ingham, “ that the country is lost?” “ I see,” said 
William, “ that it is in great danger; but there is a 
sure way of never seeing it lost, and that is, to die 
The Finished Garment.— A Christian man’s life 
is laid on the loom of time to a pattern which he 
does not see, but God does, and his heart is a shut¬ 
tle. On one side of the loom is sorrow, and on the 
other is joy; and the shuttle, struck alternately by 
each, flies back and forth, carrying the thread, which 
is white or black as the pattern needs; and iu the 
end, when God shall lift up the finished garment, 
and all its changing hues shall glauce out, it will 
then appear that deep and dark colors were as 
needful to perfectness and beauty as the bright and 
high colors. 
Smelling a Minie Ball.—A correspondent from 
the battle-field, speaking of the effects of a passing 
rifle ball, says: “ But the most singular thing, and 
which 1 do not remember to have heard mentioned 
heretofore, is the effect of these balls upon the 
atmosphere through which they pass. The passage 
of one immediately across your face is followed by 
a momeniary sensation of deadly sickness. The air 
seems thick, stilling and putrid, like that of a newly 
opened vault, accompanied by au odor of certain 
kinds of fungi found in ihe woods, and never wil¬ 
lingly disturbed by either man or beast. 1 should 
like to know if auy one else has felt this, or is it a 
peculiar fancy of my own.” 
Beautiful Legend.— There is a beautiful legend 
illustrating the blessedness of performing our duty 
at whatever cost to our own inclination. A beauti¬ 
ful vision of our Savior had apdeared to a monk, 
and in silent bliss he gazed upon it. The hour 
arrived in which it was bis duty to feed the poor ol 
the convent. lie lingered not in bis cell to enjoy 
the vision, but he left it to perform his humble duty. 
When he returned, he found the blessed vision still 
waiting for him, and uttering these words, “ lladst 
thou stayed, 1 must have fled.” 
Ladies interested in Domestic Economy (and 
who is not?) are referred to that department of (he 
Index to our present Volume lor reference to a host 
of useful matters. The department is a regular 
Housekeeper's Encyclopaedia, and a friend at our 
elbow says it’s worth a year's subscription to any 
family, in town or country. 
A Beautiful Fancy. — In the “Legend of the 
K Tree of Life,” published in New York in 1775, 
J eccurs the following: — “Trees aud woods lmve 
twice saved the world—first by the ark, then by the 
.vj cross—making full amends for the evil fruit of the 
T tree of Paradise, by that which was borne on the 
tree in Golgotha.” 
I know not when I ever prayed iu earnest, that in 
one way or another I had not satisfactory evidence 
that God heareth prayer. Ten thousand times hath 
He reproached unbelief by saying. “ Here I am. 
Why art thou fearfol, 0 thou of little faith?” And 
so strong is this evidence to me when 1 examine the 
detail, that I see and feel that He said not in vain, 
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye 
shall ask what you will, and it shall be done unto 
you.”— Cecil. 
Drink Less with your Meals. —Many men have 
relieved themselves of dyspepsia by not drinking 
anything, not even water, during their meals. No 
auimal, except man, ever drinks in connection with 
its food. Man ought not to. Try this, dyspeptics; 
and you will not wash down mechanically that 
which ought to be masticated and ensalivated be¬ 
fore it is swallowed. 
Fill your affections with thelcross of Christ that 
there may be no room for sin. The world once put 
Him out of the house into a stable, when He came 
to save us; let Him now turn the world out of doors, 
when He is come to sanctify us ,—John Owen. 
Rank and fashion may be all very fine in time of 
peace, but rank and file must have precedence of 
them in time of war. 
Instead of fighting misfortune, we too often make 
it prisoner. 
