BY F1TZ GREENE HALLECK. 
Merrilt bounds the morning bark 
Along the (summer sea; 
Merrily mounts the morning lurk 
The topmost twig od tree; 
Merrily smiles the morning rose. 
The morning sun to see j 
And merrily, merrily greets the rose. 
The honey-sucking bee 
Bnt merrier, merrier, far are these, 
Who bring on wings of the morning breeze, 
A music iswetcr than her own, 
A happy group of loves and graces, 
Graceful forms and lovely faces, 
All In gay delight outflown; 
Outflown from their schoolroom cages, 
Schoolroom rules, and schoolroom pages, 
. Lovely in their teens and tresses, 
Snmmer smiles and summer dresses, 
Joyous In their dance and song 
With sweet sisterly caresses, 
Arm In arm they speed along. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SOCIAL FALSEHOOD. 
BY W. R. N. 
There is a species of falsehood in w hich the 
purest of us sometimes indulge and which gen¬ 
erally passes tuieondemned by the most scrupu¬ 
lous persons. It is the practice of so acting or 
speaking as to convey the. opposite Of what is the 
real truth in the ease. Falsehood is not confined 
to those expressions which are calculated to in¬ 
jure some one. It is any outward expression, 
whether of gesture, action or speech, by which a 
person intends to create in the mind of another 
an impression, either partially or entirely, differ¬ 
ent from the truth. Do we not often hear good 
people excuse u false statement with the scem- 
ingly palliating reflection, “It is nothing but a 
' white lie!’ ” They seem to indulge such kind 
of falsehood because it is not calculated for in¬ 
jury. Wc think the species of falsehood to 
which we refer is poisonous to frankness and 
candor, and that every unmistakable manifesta¬ 
tion of this evil should be labeled as such and 
shunned as a hurtful drug. 
We. take the liberty of addressing these re¬ 
marks to the ladles, not because they arc the only 
persons who seem to regard this evil lightly, but 
rather, to enlist their potent influence toward 
its correction. The social falsehood, to which 
we refer, cannot live and thrive if it is continu¬ 
ally met with a frowu from the ladies, and we 
therefore appeal to their good sense, to frown . 
down any and every manifestation of it. 
An incident related in “ Pickwick Papers” oc¬ 
curs to us in Illustration of one form of this 
social falsehood. It is where Winkle and Snod¬ 
grass were on their way to meet Dr. Slammer, 
an antagonist with whom Winkle had engaged 
to fight a duel. Winkle broke the silence. 
“Snodgrass,” he Eaid, stopping suddenly, 
“do not let me be baulked in this matter —do 
not give information to the local authorities — 
do not obtain the assistance of several peace 
officers to take either me or I)r. Slammer of the 
97th Regiment, at present quartered In Chatham 
Barracks, into custody and thus prevent this 
duel; I say do not." 
Snodgrass seized his hand warmly as he en¬ 
thusiastically replied, “Not for the world.” 
Unfortunately for the cowardly Winkle, Snod¬ 
grass was a simple minded man and took him 
at his word. He never Imagined that Winkle 
really desired the very opposite of what his 
speech indicated. Does not the unpleasant pre¬ 
dicament of Winkle, who was guilty of false¬ 
hood in order to conceal his cowardice, warn 
you, ladies, from a similar course to convey the 
opposite impression from the truth. How much 
candor was there in your expressions of regret 
the other evening at the inordinate haste of a 
casual acquaintance to depart, when his call was 
keeping‘you from your lover in the back parlor? 
It sort ed you rightly that he remained an hour 
longer to gratify (?) you. Then do you not know 
that more tliau half of the positive knowledge 
in regard to a young lady’s affection for a gentle¬ 
man is gathered by knowing cues from her 
extraordinary abuse of him? Your attempt to 
forestall such a suspicion is the very means of 
establishing it, ‘ The next time you find yourself 
professing a desire which you do not possess, re¬ 
member the predicament of Winkle in the inci¬ 
dent above related; and beware of manifesting 
too much enthusiasm in the denunciation of a 
gentleman or you will thereby inspire a suspicion 
which you would most deprecate. This is one 
form of social falsehood. It has its own punish¬ 
ments and rewards; but, also, it has its blasting 
effect upon the candor of the person who indul¬ 
ges in it. 
To observe the prevalence of another form of 
t his evil you have but to direct your attention to 
the remarks of flattery and the protestations on 
the part of some of the guests at the next eve¬ 
ning party you attend. You will think little or 
nothing of the expressions of Miss Anna, about 
to take leave of the hostess, when she says she 
has passed a most delightful evening, not even if 
she has told you but a moment ago that it had 
been perfectly stupid. Wo have often pitied our 
poetical friend when, upon proposing to read his 
last production of one or two hundred lines to 
an acquaintance, he has unrolled his manuscript 
with a smile of gratification at the remarks of 
his friend:—“I shall be very happy to hear it.” 
At the same time we could not withhold our cen¬ 
sure for the falsehood, on the part of his friend, 
nor could we deny that his punishment of being 
compelled to listen, was just 
We think wc EC*e you bold up your hands and 
6 ay; _GWhy, it won’t do to be candid,—we 
■would be denounced by everybody.” It is to 
cure that mistaken judgment in society for which 
wc are asking your aid. Begin by refraining 
from denouncing others for the same reason. If 
a gentleman is frank (wc don’t mean impudent,) 
encourage it. If he is forever telling these 
“white lies,” pretending that he enjoys what 
you know he does not; if lie says you are beau¬ 
tiful (when you know he tkiuks the opposite) do 
not smile on him as if you believed him, and 
above all do not be guilty of the same error by 
declaring that you do not agree with him. 
There are many people, too, who resort, to this 
kind of falsehood to cover up their own defects 
and in addition make others believe that they 
have qualities and powers which they do not 
possess. Such people arc mostly those who 
praise their own works. It is at least safe to let 
one’s works speak for themselves. It is hard to 
believe that any one directs attention to what he 
has done lor the sake of the thing done. It is 
rarely with any other motive than 6cif-laudation 
that a man speaks highly of what, he himself has 
done. If his motive be to ImpresB others with 
a belief that he possesses powers which he really 
does not possess, he Is guilty of social falsehood. 
We have no doubt but that a candid self exam¬ 
ination will reveal to any one his, or her, short¬ 
comings In this respect. If all will strive to 
correct these habits in themselves, and cease 
to encourage them in others, society will be 
decidedly benefited. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
“COME TO BREAKFAST.” 
BY ANNIE ASHLEY. 
How simple, yet full of meaning is this little 
sentence, which ka3 been daily heard or used by 
nearly every individual, from the child of tender 
years to the gray-haired man bowed beneath the 
weight of “ three-score and ten.” 
It was a chilly, autumnal morning,— but not 
more somber were the clouds without than the 
shadow on my brow, as, dejected and sad’, T left 
the parlor and passed slowly through the hall. En¬ 
tering the family room, the cheerfully arranged 
table, with Its plentiful provisions, attracted ray 
notice; and with the fragrance of coffee and 
steaming vegetables preparing in the kitchen 
beyond, seemed invitingly to say to me, “Come 
to breakfast.” I glanced casually toward the 
he ad of the table, as the thought came across my 
mind that, very soon I would be expected to take 
my accustomed place. Then followed the ques¬ 
tion, “ Am I iu fitting mood to scatter kind words 
and cheerful smiles, like morning sunbeams, as 
the family group assembles around the board?” 
I remembered, other mornings when, a happy 
I school-girl, boarding in a quiet family, I num¬ 
bered the “breakfast call" among the most 
pleasant. Incidents of the day. 
. Thus musing 1 busied myself with household 
[ duties, until, all being ready, almost involuntarily 
the words passed my lips, “ Come to breakfast.” 
A merry response greeted my ear in answer to 
the call, and as I thought of my husband—ever 
patient and kind, laboring faithfully that those 
dependent on him might lack no needed comfort 
— I said to myself, “Who better deserves a Cheer¬ 
ful welcome to the morning meal V ” Reflecting 
on the blessings of my home, 1 could but regret 
that I had allowed a slight iudlsposition to drive 
cheerfulness from my heart. And with an effort 
to overcome my failing, and with higher views 
of what the morning reunion should be, I turned 
to seek the happiness of those around me, feeling 
that in oue brief hour I had been taught a profit¬ 
able lesson. 
Broome Co., N. Y., 1805. 
PROGRESS OF REFINEMENT. 
The other day, on looking over marriages in a 
Bostou paper, we observed that the names of all 
the brides in the list, were made to end with ie, 
and not oue of said names was a proper one, 
according to old-fashioned notions, but were 
nicknames, or baby names, iu conformity with 
the “refined” tastes of the day. They were 
Carrie, Maggie, Susie, Lizzie, and, last of all, 
Molllc, which last, we suppose, is a corruption 
of the beautiful name of Mary, for which ihe anath¬ 
ema of the Virgin Mary, if she ever pronounces 
any, ought to fall on those who display such “ re¬ 
fined" shallowness. 
Judging from the progress in this line which 
we have been forced to witness in the past, we 
may calculate in a few years, at the longest, that 
all the pretty names of women which have stood 
prominent for centuries in English literature, 
will be banished entirely from the fashionable 
part of It. Nicknames are not applied to the 
male sex yet, to much extent, but, if things 
progress, the probabilities are that crc long we 
shall sec the marriage of Mr. Bubble Jones and 
Miss Sissle Smith. 
--- ■ - - 
A LADY PR0FE8S0R. 
A correspondent in Kansas writes to the 
Lady’s Book as follows;—One year ago, Miss 
Martha Baldwin, a graduate of Baldwin Uni¬ 
versity, at Berea, Ohio, was elected to HU the 
chair of Professorship of the Greek and Laiin 
languages in the Baker University at thi| place, 
which was chartered by the Kansas Territorial 
Legislature in the w inter of 1857 and has been in 
active operation seven years. It is an Institu¬ 
tion attended by both sexes, and Miss Baldwin 
has been the sole occupant of the ehair above 
stated, and has given entire satisfaction during 
the College year which has closed. She was 
elected by the Faculty of the University, con¬ 
sisting of two gentlemen aud three ladles, to de¬ 
liver tlielr Address for the Commencement exer¬ 
cises, and most nobly and beautifully pefformed 
the duty, though it was with much modesty, for 
she is but twenty-one years of age. 
Mrs. Gaskell, the much esteemed authoress 
of “Mary Barton,” “Ruth” “North and 8outh,” 
a “ Life of Charlotte Bronte,” and other popular 
works, died in England, Nov. 13th, aged about 
65 years. 
INDEED, I NEVER KNEW. 
When they asked me of his eye, 
If it was black or blue, 
I could only make reply: 
“ Indeed. I never knew ! 
I only saw the sunny glance, 
That broke in splendor through.” 
When they asked me of his face, 
If it was dark or fair. 
I could only answer back: 
I neither know nor care; 
I paused a moment but to read 
The fine expression there.” 
When they asked me of his form, 
His manners aud hi# rnJnd, 
I could only answer them, 
With feelings undefined: 
“ I only know that when he went, 
His image stayed behind.” 
And when they asked me If I loved— 
If my young heart was stirred, 
I blushed, and could not answer them— 
I cpuld not say ft word. 
Nor tell them that my heart was sick 
With happiness deferred. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE. 
BY A FABMER’8 DAUGHTER. 
Our old friend — the year eighteen hundred 
sixty-five — is leaving us, aud as its departure 
draws near, we would review its life. For 
almost three hundred and sixty-five days it has 
been with us, and we had grown to love It much. 
With its birth, we had found hopes for its future, 
many of which have been realized in all their 
brightness. Some of its days are recorded iu 
history as no others have ever been. Who will 
ever forget the fourteenth day of April in eighteen 
hundred tixty-Jlve? Events have marked its path¬ 
way, which will ever give it an honored place in 
the records of time. Where is the civil war i a 
which its birth saw us engaged? In the year of 
sixty-five the trump of war has died away, and 
instead is heard the silver flute of peace, breath¬ 
ing, throughout our land, notes of Thanksgiving 
and praise, whispering of future happiness and 
bliss. 
But our rejoicings are mingled with sorrow. 
Our victory lias been bought with a price, and 
many who went forth to procure liberty for all, 
have fallen themselves a sacrifice on Freedom’s 
altar. Who hath not lost a friend? Not only 
on the tented field, in the eheerlcsB hospital, or 
within barred prison walls, have our loved ones 
takeu their departure,—but within our own 
quiet, homes they have slid from our grasp. 
Those who have long borne life's burdens, have 
cheerfully lain them aside; others, busily en¬ 
gaged in every-day life, hat e left us toiling here 
—and blooming youth hath severed the golden 
links of our home circle, leaving us desolate and 
lone. So hath sixty-five proved most evidently, 
Things we prize most 
Soonest decay; 
Those we love the best, 
First pass away. 
And now, as we bid our aged friend farewell, 
and open our arms to receive the new, we shrink 
back a moment, before the untried, and then go 
forward to new duties and new pleasures. We 
ask ourselves how many will be prepared to meet 
the records of eighteen hundred sixty-five at the 
last great day? We grieve for its dissolution, 
but rejoice that it occurs with the dying hours of 
our next Sabbath. For is it, not typical of that 
day, devoted to God’s service? Should not all 
its days utid hours have been spent in labor for 
Him who hath blessed us so abundantly ? Again 
we ask, how many who see the close of sixty-five 
will be spared to behold the departure of sixty-six. 
Lastly, as wo prepare to celebrate the birth of 
another year, with kind feelings, sad regrets, and 
bright hopejjj mingled in its departed days, we bid 
a kind farewell, to Eighteen Hundred Sixty-Five. 
Rome, N. Y., Dec. SO, 1865. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“WE LIVE IN THE FUTURE.” 
“We live in the Future. More than half the 
happiness of the Present is made up of that 
delightful uncertainty which the hope of better 
thiugs inspires.” So 6ays Timothy Titcomb; 
and a truer thought was never penned. 
How dark soever the night may be, we soon 
cease to contemplate its gloom, and look for, 
aye, and expect, the dawning of a brighter mor¬ 
row. Else, when the clouds (which often gather 
so swiftly) loom 60 darkly, shutting out all the 
sunlight from a human life, reason would soon 
totter from her throne, and the stricken heart 
break ’ncath the burden too heavy to bear. 
“ We live in the Future.” Often, and clearly, 
has this truth been demonstrated during the 
four terrible years just passed. When some, to 
whom the Nation had looked for sure support, in 
her hour of trial, were “weighed iu the balance 
aud found wanting," —when others, brave and 
true, sank to rest upon the gory field, their gar¬ 
ments all dripping with crimson rain, their pale 
lips pressed by none save the shadowy messenger, 
who from “ The Great Commander, bore to them 
the new countersign , and placed in their tired 
hands the furlough of Eternity,— when the dark 
and angry tide of battle rolled even into a North¬ 
ern State, and broke in the red wave of Gettys¬ 
burg—even then we did not wholly despair; even 
then we said not, “ the morning will never come; ” 
but rather, “ the night has been so long it must be 
almost morning.” And, God be thanked! our 
faith was not iu vain. For to-day we stand in 
the glad, pure sunlight of the morning of Peace, 
though many homes are desolate, and many 
hearts are bleeding because of the long absence 
of those once fondly cherished. And as we 
listen to the shout of glad thanksgiving for 
Victory, as it rises from all parts of the land,—as 
the entire North joins in the glorious refrain of 
“Union and Liberty,” — we again thank God 
fervently that we have been permitted to see 
“the cruel rod of war blossom white with right¬ 
eous law.” And we rejoice that through all the 
trials of the Past we have been enabled to live in 
a Future, which, despite its saddening memories, 
has become to us a living, glorious Present. 
Michigan. 1865. D. E. H. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SAVE THE YOUNG FROM INTEMPERANCE! 
Everywhere throughout our land intemper¬ 
ance is accomplishing its fearful work. Thou¬ 
sands, and I may safely say tens of thousands, 
yearly go down to a drunkard’s grave, unhonored 
and unwept, save for what they might have been 
had they not tasted of the poisonous cup; and 
the thought of every Christian is, or should be, 
“ What can be done to prevent the further spread 
of this alarming evil, and win those who are 
already under its fatal power from their slippery 
path to the paths of peace ?” 
Our brave soldiers are returning from the 
army, where they have been exposed to every 
temptatation, with, in very many cases, appetites 
for strong drink, and many will become slaves to 
that enticing tyrant, Bacchus, unless strong and 
effectual efforts are made on the part of those 
who love them. Oh! mothers, will you see your 
sons perish in such an ignoble manner, after 
they have braved a soldier’s death on many a 
hard-fought battle-field, without trying all the 
powers of a mother’s love and patience to reclaim 
the erring ones? Sisters, can you hesitate t. 
employ all the means, which a loving sister can 
devise, to win them from the body and soul 
destroying cup? And you, young ladies, can 
accomplish much in this good work, if you 
rightly use the strong and salutary influence 
which you possess, or may readily possess, over 
the mitids of every young man of your acquain¬ 
tance. A kind word or look has often been the 
means of turning a misguided youth from his 
debasing way. The weakest attempt that the 
inebriate makes to rise from his slavish condi¬ 
tion should meet with kind words of encourage¬ 
ment, and he should be made to feel that, if he 
succeeds, he will once more be honored and 
respected. 
But I will say no more. Every one who 
desires to see the youth and young men of our 
noble land respected and happy, ami our count ry 
cleansed of the foul stain of intemperance, will 
readily find the way and means to labor for 
this end. Prayers, temperance lectures, earnest 
and kindly spoken words, will all bring tlielr 
sweet reward. . n. 
MEN AND BOOKS. 
— 
Books written by great men are great things; 
buf the living man is still greater. It is to the 
imperfect apprehension of this truth that the de¬ 
fective results of English schools are mainly to 
be attributed. The public feeling of this country 
does not recognize the extreme value of the spe¬ 
cific gift of teaching, even though it was SO con¬ 
spicuously illustrated by the life of Dr. Arnold. 
Both the public and schools are content if mas¬ 
ters are men of high classical attainment, if they 
have obtained distinguished honors at the uni¬ 
versities, if they can construe any bit of Greek or 
Latin, if they turn out a good supply of special 
boys, who carry off iu abundance open scholar¬ 
ships and prizes. These are esteemed good 
schoolmasters, and their schools are lifted up on 
the wave of public admiration. And yet for all 
that, they maybe in fact radically bad schoolmas¬ 
ters, and the success achieved by their eminent 
pupils may furnish the most scanty justification 
Of the general results of their schools. They may 
be totally wanting in the true gift of teaching; 
and a classical education is but a lame affair for 
the mass of boys without a real teacher.— Shilling 
Magazine. 
Antiquity of a Bad Habit. —Henry V. was 
a learned prince, but hffhad the bad habit of bor¬ 
rowing books aud never returning them. After 
his deut.h a petition was sent to the Regency by 
tho Lady Westmoreland, his relative, praying 
that her Chronicles of Jerusalem ancl the Expe¬ 
dition of Godfrey of Boulogne, borrowed of her 
by the late king, might be returned. The Prior 
of Christ church, likewise, in a most pitiable 
complaint, said that he had lent to his dear lord, 
King Henry, the works of St. Gregory, but they 
had never been restored to him, thuir rightful 
owner. 
Singing.— Singing is a great institution. It oils 
the wheels of care, and supplies the place of sun¬ 
shine. A man who sings has a good heart. 
Such a man not only works willingly,but he works 
more constantly. A 6iuging cobbler will earn as 
much money again as a cordwainor w r ho gives 
way to low spirits, and he who attacks singing 
throws a stone at the head of hilarity, and would, 
if he could, rob June of its roses and August of 
its meadow larks. Such a man' should be 
looked to. 
NATIVE GREATNESS. 
As the wondering traveler sees. 
In forests dense and dark. 
Grander far and nobler trees 
Than ever graced a park: 
So in the common walks of lift- 
Are nobler beings found 
Than those we style the lofty bora. 
The titled, and the crowned. 
The reason of an tmregenerated man’s unwill¬ 
ingness to holy duties lies in this, that they 
are appointed, and the tendenccy of them is to 
bring two enemies together; for such are their 
hearts and God. And the reason of a regenera¬ 
tion of a regenerate man’s willingness is, that in 
the duty two friends meet together; God, who 
hath from everlasting owned the soul, and the 
soul who hath chosen God to be his God. 
[We are indebted to John McIntosh, Esq., for the 
following poem on the death of our late Editorial 
Associate, Charles Ellis Caldwell. There is not 
less of truth than poetry in the lines. While we 
heartily reiterate, the sentiments therein expressed, 
we would not disguise our gratitude to the author for 
this beautiful tribute to the worth of our departed 
friend.— Ed.] 
IN MEMORIAM, 
Ambition held hie heart. What need 
Had Death for occupation there ? 
The mellowed fruit, not bursting seed. 
Ib Death's. He was Love’s share. 
Tears for the cherished and the young! 
Tears for the Urge fraternal eonl! 
Ah me, how ranch my heart is wrung! 
So soon to reach Life’s goal! 
Fnll fifty years too soon, 0 Death ! 
Heart yearning for the prize of Fame ! 
Time tending fairest buds to wreathe 
The Scholar’s ripening name. 
I’m old. The busy world would pass. 
Nor miss me in my little round: 
But he, so fresh, so brave, alas ! 
Dead—I, with but a wound. 
Ardent and brimful of young life; 
Wrestling with Fate for leave to-cope 
• With strongest forces in the heady strife; 
Yearning with trustful hope. 
Flushed o'er with manly beauty, too, 
Courteous as e’er was knight of old. 
Caldwell, a mourner deep, and true, 
Weep I thy heart is cold. 
Wyoming, N. Y. J. m. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
OUTER AND INNER LIFE. 
Carelessly we gaze upon the beauties of 
the outer world, dreaming not that down deep 
within the bosom of our Mother Earth are 
hidden stores of wealth, until some penetrating 
mind socks out and brings to light the treasures 
of our rocks and hills. Thus carelessly wd*look 
upon our fellow man, and, judging alone by the 
outer life, we know nothing of the thoughts and 
feelings that dwell within. How oft in daily 
life do wc meet persons seemingly cold aud 
careless—those whom we deem harsh and un¬ 
feeling,—but could wo penetrate to the inner 
depths we should find a fountain of tenderness 
whose waters have not been stirred perchance 
for years, because no loving tones have breathed 
upon them since a mother’s tender voice was 
hushed in death; but let some skillful hand cast 
but a pebble into the unruffied surface, and auou 
there comes bubbling forth pure, fresh thoughts 
where we had expected to find only bitterness. 
And there are others, those whose outer life 
seems all of sunshine, who have a sin He for all 
they moot, but within is mpolsoued fountain, tmd 
the smile but hides the troubled waters, vailed 
from all eyes euve God’s. 
But there are those who, with God’s love iu 
their hearts, go about doing good — seeking not 
to hide all the sunshine of their lives—but when 
trials come meet them bravely, cheerfully, hiding 
within their own bosoms all that may give min 
to others, aud searching out the good, strive 
to crush the evil in the heart of mau. It is 
well for us that the outer life is not always 
an index of the inner, — that to us has been 
given the power to conceal within our hearts 
their deepest emotions. We watch the leaves 
and bnds unfolding In the spring-time, but we 
cannot sec the hand that gives to them life aud 
vitality. So we may w r ateh the life of man, but 
we cannot know of the hidden motives that may 
prompt his every deed. Only by our own weak¬ 
ness, our own sorrows, are we taught to look 
with lenity on our fellow beings—and were we 
to search deeper we would find that within the 
hearts of all there are some hiddeh chords 
which, if but touched aright, would send forth 
harmony where uow we find only discord. 
Then let us judge not alone by the outer life, 
remembering that every “ heart knoweth its 
own bitterness." s. e. w. 
Maple Hill, Cazenovia, N. Y. 
Beautiful Religion. — Beautiful religion! 
which, kneeling before the cross and the altar, 
feels the outgusliing Inspiration of love for the 
souls of distant and unknown men, and clasp iu 
the faith of brotherhood those upon whose faces 
we have never looked; which converts the price 
of selfish and useless luxuries into riches of wis¬ 
dom for the poor in knowledge; which goes forth 
with a martyr’s heroism to win victories of mercy 
over ransomed minds; which pursues its 
triumphal way to the heavenly gate, surrounded 
and followed, not by bloody trophies and chain¬ 
ed captives, but by thankful penitents, widows 
smiling in their sackcloth, orphans rosy with 
joy, and heathen blessing the name of Jesus! 
Wiat have arms, arts, letters, philosophy, like 
this? , _ 
Benevolence is a Christian grace. It is 
Christ in us. Its acts are not mere appendages, 
but fruits, outgrowths of it. We must learn to 
regard this element of the Christian character 
with more reverence than is the custom. Its 
life has been dishonored. Its place has been 
too low. There has beea an unwarrantable and 
criminal willingness to torn off appeals to its 
nature with a smile or a shrug of indiffereace, or 
with the charge of being a sort of ministerial 
wire-pulling, and leave the poor to the hard fare 
of their suffering poverty, and the cause of the 
Redeemer to a miserable beggary, that bespeaks 
the Church’s shame, and the Christ himself to 
being an hungered and naked at our gates. Oh! 
when shall we find the Master’s saying verified, 
“ It is more blessed to give than to receive? ’’ 
A Mild Answer to an angry man, like water 
cast upon fire, abateth his heat, and from au 
enemy he shall become thy friend. 
