RURAL 
&A& 27. 
Written lor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
BIRD SONG. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
NEATNESS. 
BT L. LIGHT. 
On ! on 1 ever, ever, — 
Over lake and over river, 
Over land and over pea. 
Sweeping onward, wild and free— 
Soaring liifh 
Through the sky, 
Wing wo now oar merry flight, 
Warmer shores shall cheer our eight. 
Sing! eiug! Join the chorus. 
Birds, the way ift clear before up ; 
No fierce eagle o'er 1,9 gleaming • 
Shakes the air with dreadful ecreaming; 
There's no pound, 
All around, 
But our joyful, joyful pong, 
Merrily we eweep along. 
Ilark! hark! winds are Pighing, 
O’er the earth where Autumn dying, 
Flushes red before she pales 
Neath the cold and icy gales 
Sweeping forth 
From the north, 
With a melancholy moan, 
While the shiv'rlng forests groan. 
Joy! joy 1 here are bowers 
Scented with ewoet orange flowers; 
Here the etarry southern skies 
Greot our weary wandering eyes, 
Here we rest, 
And are blessed 
With prosperity and peace, 
And of sadness a surcease. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WINTER SKETCHES. 
Tub beautiful 6 iiow is falling In the gray morn¬ 
ing twilight, filling the air, and, for aught I know, 
the universe, I’ll open the window;—in all the 
world there’s nothing alive but the snow and 
me. I can do nothing but kneel in the silence, 
and wait. So, I think, the earth waits, dark and 
still, with voiceless pleadings lor light—and it is 
coming. A flash just touched the furthest height. 
Nearer aud nearer it glows, till each hill-top be¬ 
comes a crystal isle lilted out ol the sea ot dark¬ 
ness. A moment, and that sea is no more. 
An d now, poor, struggling Earth, ever with her 
face toward Heaven—who had prayed, perhaps, 
for a purer robe, a more glo*ous garment — lies 
wrapped in the mantle of the skies; soft, shim¬ 
mering blue—sparkling, crystal stars; a heavenly 
robe indeed, covering all Earth’s deformities, con¬ 
cealing all that is low, all that creeps;—only the 
grand, old trees, ever reaching upward, It cannot 
hide, nor the church spires, nor the grave-stones. 
Earth is earthy yet. The heavens must roll to¬ 
gether as a scroll, aud the elements melt with 
fervent heat, ere that shall be a new earth, on 
whose holy mountain shall set the New Jerusa¬ 
lem. 
Yes, so soon in the early morning is her white 
robe soiled and rent. See here! It is a man’s 
footstep crushing the delicate points whore the 
light hung. A hasty step it must have been; 
not the slow, steady step of a man who has the 
a right to enjoy the peace aud purity. Here he 
has leaped t he fence, scattering the snowy wreath 
hanging lightly over the smooth plain, with a 
warm rosy tinge bcueath. And here are other 
foot-prints tracking this us the hounds do the 
hare. Away, across the Helds, they went, bring¬ 
ing to ruind the legends of that olden time when 
one man hunted another with horse aud hound, 
to make him, body aud mind, his slave. Have 
all those foot-prints crossing from mountain to 
sea the sunny south, been quite washed out by 
the blood of her sons ? The Nation is no longer 
young. She lias measured her time by the heart- 
throbs of humanity. Even now the world does 
) u . r reverence, while from the north and the 
south, the east and the west, kings come to learn 
wisdom of her rulers. But will the time ever come 
when the angels looking down with their pure 
eyes shall fail to see these traces, because they 
are covered by the sweet flowers of brotherly love 5* 
Perhaps so,—but the millennium has not fully 
come yet; it is only dawning; aud angels look 
down just as sorrowfully upon these foot prints 
of a man, the irons just slipped off his wrists, 
fleeing from the punishment of bis crimes. All 
slavery is not dead. Only when the kingdom of 
God has come into all our hearts shall all be free. 
Are not many of us under the same condemna¬ 
tion as this criminal ? Is it not hard to feci 
brotherly love for such as he? Not many years 
ago he was a little boy, sitting on the same 
bench, and reading from the same book with our 
Mends, our brothers, perl mps. I was a little girl, 
and having been taught that the poor and the 
stranger were ever my neighbor, 1 sought to do 
him some deed of kindness. My efforts wore 
l-udcly repulsed, and theu I heard one whisper of 
that great lesson, that whoso would benefit 
mankindmust carry mankind, aud not himself, in 
his heart;— aud thus I caught one gliuise of the 
way we must tread in following Him who loved 
us and died for us while we were yet sinners. 
Enola. 
The mother who trains her sons and daughters 
to habits of neatness confers a lasting benefit 
upon those who may come after her. The 
mother who neglects to do this leaves half her 
task undone, beside transmitting to her pos¬ 
terity a lasting disgrace. 
Is it not cheering for a husband to find in 
selecting a wife, one who can arrange his home 
with taste and neatness? Is not the snow- 
white cloth and brilliant China pleasant? Are 
not the well-swept carpet and polished stove 
charming? Aud are not the kisses Irom little 
lips sweeter if the face is clean, and the hair 
brushed nicely? Some tell me tt is impossible 
to keep things tidy; hut certainly if everything 
cannot be clean there can be order. Is it not 
just as easy to put things in their proper places 
as to throw them “helter-skelter" about the 
house ? — and then if a friend chances to come in, 
what a source of mortification, beside the effort 
to put tilings to rights. Teach your little oues 
to put up their things. Have nails driven low, 
and how soon children learn to hang up their 
things. They like to imitate their parents in 
this as well a* other things. And then when 
your sons and daughters marry they will not 
make homes unfit, for mortals to live in, or more 
like pig-styes than dwellings. They will not 
treat their guests to repulsive sights at the 
table, or lodge them in beds whose linen looks 
as if it had been used a month. 
Gon made man perfect, Order was Law, and 
I cannot believe that disorder and its conse¬ 
quences please a being BO pnre and holy, 
There are a great many things requisite for 
completeness in a home—patience, forbearance, 
courtesy, kindness and religion; hot if all these 
abound and disorder presides, their charms are 
lessened, their beauty dimmed, and we see only 
the skeleton of what might have been a perfect 
home. Mbb. M. D. Lincoln. 
Canandaigua, N. Y„ 1866. 
LEARN TO LOVE MUSIC. 
A writer in the New York Musical World, 
speaking of the importance of encouraging 
children to learn the art of music, also -says in 
that connection, that “every woman who has 
an aptitude for music or singing should begrate- 
ful for the gift, and cultivate it with diligence; 
not that she muy dazzle strangers, or win ap¬ 
plause from a crowd, but that she may bring 
gladness to her own fireside. The influence of 
music in strengthening the affections is not per¬ 
ceived by many; yet sweet melody binds hearts 
together as it were, with a golden cord. But 
flic music of the fireside must be simple and un¬ 
pretending; it docs not require brilliancy of ex¬ 
ecution, but tenderness of feeling. 
It Is a great mistake to suppose that to enjoy 
music requires great cultivation; the degree, of 
enjoyment will, of course, vary with our power 
of appreciation, but like all other great influ¬ 
ences, it is able to attract even the ignorant; 
and this is what the poets taught when they 
made Orpheus and his brethren the civilizers 
of the earth.” 
Wife —There is no combination of letters in 
the English language which excites more pleas¬ 
ing and interesting associations in the mind of 
man than the word Wife. It presents to the 
mind’s eye a cheerful companion, a disinterested 
adviser, a nurse In sickness, a comforter in mis¬ 
fortune, and on ever affectionate companion. 
It conjures up the image of a lovely woman who 
cheerfully undertakes to contribute to your hap- 
plness, to partake with you the cup of weal or 
woe, which destiny may offer. The word wife is 
synonymous with the greatest blessing, and wc 
pity the unfortunate wight who is compelled by 
fate’s severe decree to trudge along through 
life’s dull pilgrimage withouj one. 
The Women that Scandalize Christians.— 
St. Jerome gave a rebuke to the women of his day, 
which up exchange thinks is not wholly inappli¬ 
cable at.the present time. He 6 aid: — “Ah! I 
shall tell you who are the women that scandalize 
Ghristlaus. They are those who daub their 
cheeks with red, and their eyes with black — 
those who piaster faces, too white to be human, 
remind us of idols—those who cannot shed a tear 
without its tracing a furrow on the painted sur¬ 
face of their faces—those whose idle years fail to 
teach them that they are growing old—those 
whose head-dresses are made up of other people’s 
hair—those who chalk w rinkles into the counter¬ 
feit presentment, of youth, and those w ho affect 
the demeanor of bashful maidens in the presence 
of troops of grand-children.” 
BETTER THAN GOLD. 
Better than grandeur, better than gold, 
Than rank and titles a thousand fold. 
Is a healthy body, a mind at ease. 
And simple pleasures that always please; 
A heart that can feel for another's woe 
And share his joys with a genial glow. 
With sympathies large enough to enfold 
All men as brothers, is better than gold. 
Better than gold is a conscience clear, 
Though tolling for bread in an humble sphere, 
Doubly blest with content and health, 
Untried by the ln9t of cares or wealth; 
Lowly living aud lofty thought 
Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot. 
For mind and morals In nature's plan 
Arc the genuine test of a gentleman. 
Better than gold Is the sweet repose 
Of the sons of toil w hen their labors close; 
Better than gold is the poor man's sleep 
And the balm that drops on his slumbers deep, 
Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed 
Where luxury pillows bis aching head. 
His simple opiate labor deems 
A short, road to the laud of dreams. 
Better than gold is a thinking mind, 
That in the realm* of books can find 
A treasure surpassing Australian ore, 
And live with the great and good of yore, 
The sage’s lord and the poet'e lay, 
The glories of empire passed away, 
The world's great drama will thus enfold 
And yield a pleasure better than gold. 
Southern Pride. —We heard, recently, an 
amusing instance of Southern pride. A Tennes¬ 
see Indy was in Washington, interceding for a 
pardon for her rebel husband. Jler application 
to the President was well received, and he treated 
her with great consideration and kindness. In 
speaking of her interviews with him to a friend, 
the lady remarked that the President was very 
cordial and gracious, spoke very kmlly of her 
husband and Ids family, and invited her to stay 
at the White House while she remained in Wash¬ 
ington. “ Well,” said her friend, “ you accepted 
the President’s hospitality ? ” “ No,” remarked 
the lady; “ we never knew the Johnsons.” We 
wonder if the President will know the Browns !— 
Al'V; Bedford Mercury. 
Better than gold is a peaceful home, 
Where all the fireside charities come, 
The shrine of love, the heaven of life, 
Hallowed by mother, «r sisler, or wife, 
However humble the home may be, 
Or tried with sorrow by heaven’* decree, 
The blessings that never were bought or sold 
And center there, are better than gold. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
RESPECTABILITY - WHAT IS IT 1 
BY RUSTIC. 
This is a question which is, to many minds, 
easier asked than answered; but were we to 
judge from the conduct and ideas of some per¬ 
sons, among both sexes, respectability consists 
in driving last horses, wearing rich apparel, 
drinking, smoking, aud idling away life. To 
put on false airs and make a good impression in 
society—on the promenade or at a watering 
place—seems to be the only essential aim of 
many women, who were born tor better things. 
To cultivate a moustache or whiskers, sport a 
good coat or act as a model exhibitor for some 
fashionable tailor, is the conception of a digni¬ 
fied and respectable career formed by not a few 
of our young men. 
Respectability iu either man or woman, is, to 
our notion, doing what is duty. The poorest 
and humblest person, who pays bis debts, obeys 
God’s laws, and fulfills his other obligations to 
society aud to his fellow creatures, in our opin¬ 
ion, is a thousand times more respectable than 
the wealthy idler, the educated spendthrift,, the 
callous miser, or the fashionable fool. So, also, 
the modest and unassuming female —whether 
seamstress, book-folder, store-tender, waiting- 
maid or even house servant — is, in the true 
sense of the word, infinitely more respectable 
than the extravagant wife who is ruining her 
husband, than the thoughtless votary of fashion, 
or the butterfly flirt. In a word, WORTH, not 
wealthy constitutes true respectability. 
It is what really is, not what merely seems to 
be, respectable, that men of sense honor as such. 
The millionaire, who has obtained wealth by 
knavish practices, though he may creep through 
the meshes Of the law, cannot escape the indig- 
uant verdict of an honest public; lie may give 
grand dinners, drive a showy equipage, inhabit a 
palace, aud even subscribe liberally to benevolent 
purposes, yet,, with all ids outside gilding, people 
recognize the rottenness within, and from the 
very summit of his splendor, trace back t he shiny 
track by which he rose. Such a man, let him do 
what he will, can never become respectable, in 
the best acceptation of the term. 
A gulf, as wide as that between Dives aud 
Lazarus, separates him from the esteem of the 
good. So the low-minded, In all pursuits—those 
cruel aud unfeeling towards their fellow-men, 
charlatnus of every hue, bypocrits, demagogues, 
toodies, sharpers, and all others of a similar kind, 
—cauuot be called respectable. Pinchbeck never 
passed long for gold. Or, as the old proverb lias 
it, “A camel cannot enter the eye of a needle,” 
or “ you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s 
When Golman read “Inkle and Yarico” to 
Dr. Mosely, the latter exclaimed:—“It won’t 
do. Stuff! Nonsense!" “Why!” asked the 
alarmed dramatist. “Why, you say in the 
finale: 
“ Come, let us dance and sing, 
While all Barbadoes’ bella shall ring!’’ 
• “It won't do; there is hut one bell in the 
Island!” This mistake was excusable enough; 
but when Milton described 
44 A green mantling vine. 
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,” 
he must certainly have f&rgotton be had laid the 
scene of “Comus” in North wales. Ernest 
Jones, describing a battle in his poem, “ The 
Lost Army,” says: 
“ Delay and doubt did more that hour 
Than bayonet-charge or carnage shower;” 
and some lines further on pictures his hero 
“All worn with wounds, when day was low. 
With severed sword aud shattered shield;” 
thus making his battle rather a trial of the re¬ 
spective powers of ancient and modern weapons 
than a conflict between equally armed foes. Mr. 
Thackeray perpetrates a nice little auachronism 
in “The Newcomes,” when he makes Clive, in a 
letter dated 183—,quoting an Academy exhibition 
critique, ask: “ Why have we no picture of the 
sovereign and her august consort from Smee’s 
brush?" —the author, in his anxiety to compli¬ 
ment the artist, forgetting that there was no 
consort till 1840. 
A bull in a china shop is scarcely more out of 
place than a bull in a serious poem; but accidents 
will happen to the most regular of writers. 
Thus, Milton’s pen slipped when he wrote: 
“Tbc sea-girt Isles 
That like to rich and various gems inlay 
The unadorned bosom ot the deep:” 
a quotation reminding us that the favorite cita¬ 
tion, 
“Beauty, when unadorned, adorned the most,” 
is but a splendid bull, beautiful! for its boldness. 
Pope, correct Pope, actually tells tts: 
“ Young Mars In his boundless mind, 
A work t' outlast immortal Rome designed." 
The author of the “Spanish Rogue” makes 
“a Bilcnt noise" invade the ear of his hero. 
General Taylor immortalized himself by perpe¬ 
trating one of the grandest bulls on record, in 
which he attained what a certain literary pro¬ 
fessor calls “ a perfection hardly to be surpassed.” 
Ill ids presidential address he announced to 
the American Congress that the United States 
were at peace with all the world, and continued 
to cherish relations of amity with the rest of 
mankind. 
-- 
REMEMBER THE POOR-A WINTER SONG. 
BY WILLIAM BOSS WALLACE. 
I. 
Was it a “ Waterfall!”— In that admirable 
book “ The Canoe and Saddle,” by the lamented 
Theodore Winthrop, in the description of the 
manner of catching salmon by the Klulain In¬ 
dians up in Paget’s Sound, we find the following: 
“They don u head gear like a ‘rat ’6 nest,’ con¬ 
fected of wool, feathers, furry tails, ribbon and 
rugs, considered attractive to salmon and liighly 
magical.” This sounds very like a description 
Of the modern waterfall. Perhaps our belles 
took the hint from the Klalams aud think their 
“head gear” will make them more successful 
“fishers of men.” 
Transient Young Men. —Girls, beware of 
transient young men; never suffer the addresass 
of a stronger; recollect that one steady farmer 
boy or mechanic is worth all the floating trash in 
the world. The allurements ofa dandy Jack with 
a gold chain about, his neck, a walking stick iu 
his paw, some honest Tailor's coat on his back, 
aud a brainless skull, cun never make up the loss 
ofa lather's house and a good mother’s counsel, 
and the society of brothers and sisters; their 
affectious last, while those of such a young man 
are lost iu the wane of the honeymoon. ’Tis true. 
ANECDOTE OF JEFFREYS. 
Tnn British Quarterly Review say 3 of Jeffreys: 
Sometimes he met a witness who was his match, 
and the laugh was turned against him. Thus, 
one day in cross-examining a countryman in a 
leathern doublet, he bawled out:—“You fellow 
iu the leathern doublet, what have you for swear 
ing?” “ Truly, sir,” answered the witness, “if 
you have no more lor lying than I do for swear 
ing, you might wear a leathern doublet as well 
as I.” 
On another occasion, when he was Recorder of 
London, a post which he secured in 1G7S, a case 
was brought before him as to paying for music 
at a wedding. One of the witnesses being culled 
a “ fiddler,” said indignantly that he was a 
“musltioner." Jeffreys sneeringly asked what 
difference there was between a “ WUSitloner” 
and a fiddler. “ As much, sir,” said the man, 
“as there is between a pair of bagpipes and a 
Recorder 
Again, being displeased one day with the evi¬ 
dence of a witness with a long beard, the Recorder 
observed that “ if his conscience was as large as 
his beard, he would swear to an jibing.” “ My 
lord,” replied the man, “ if your lordship meas¬ 
ures consciences by beards, your lordship has 
none at all.” 
Remkmber the poor 
In the street, at the door, 
As they stretch out their tremulous, thin pallid palms, 
And ask you in a tone 
Faint as Autumn's low moan, 
When it sweeps o'er sere leaves, for some small, sav¬ 
ing alms. 
ii. 
Remember the poor 
On the street, at your door— 
For the chance giving thanks to Humanity’s God; 
What are you through the year 
But a poor pensioneer 
Of the Father of All on this bleak, lowly sod ? 
Remember the poor 
On the street, at your door, 
And when yon at the last reach Eternity's goal, 
The Christ will lean down 
With a glorious crown, 
And a robe, angel-wove, for your poor, Naked Soul! 
Written far Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LITTLE ORPHAN. 
ear.' 
As people are generally what habit or inclina¬ 
tion renders them, it is for the young of both 
gcxe.n that these remarks arc intended. The old 
cauuot be cured. If they are shams now, shams 
they will remain;—nothing, alas! can ever make 
them respectable. But the young have yet their 
habits to form. Let them take a high standard 
and become truly respectable. Let them shuu 
the advauecs of evil disposed persons—shun the 
low dens of iniquity as they would the most 
loathsome disease —sliuu the dram-shop, and 
the society of even the moderate drinker; aud 
they are on the true road to respectability — and 
they will learn, from close observation and prac¬ 
tice of the principles herein laid down, what is 
genuine Respectability. 
Monroe Co., N. Y., 1866. 
Room for All.— Though the world is wide 
enough for every one to take a little, and there 
appears no reason why we should jostle and 
make one another unhappy as we pass along, yet 
so it is; we are continually thwarting and crossing 
each other at right angles; and some lose all 
memory ol the temper that governed at first set¬ 
ting out. 
Honest John Tompkins, the Hedger and 
Ditcher. —The following capital old household 
scrap was handed to us by a gentleman who wrote 
it from memory, having heard it repealed iu his 
childhood fifty years ago. It was old theu, and 
its author i- not known, but it is well worth re¬ 
printing, and the moral it inculcates might prof¬ 
itably he adopted through all time: 
llonest John Tompkins, the hedger and ditcher, 
Altlio' very poor, didn’t wieh to be richer, 
Wishes so vain he always prevented 
By a fortunate habit of being contented. 
“ No, I have nothing for a dirty little boy like 
you. Go, and don’t trouble me with any more 
of your pitiful stories.” 
These unkiud words were addressed to a sor¬ 
rowful looking boy of about ten years of age. 
His tattered garments, his weary look and his 
every feature betokened the keenest poverty and 
distress. As he turned from the home of the 
lady of whom he asked but a crust of bread and 
a place where he might reet his weary limbs, he 
tried in vain to suppress the sobs tbht were 
rising unbidden, and to keep back the keen 
anguish that was wearing his young life away. 
His lost hope almost died out in hi* heart, as 
night wrapped her sable mantle about his tender 
form, and the chilling wind sought a hiding place 
among the rags that served as raiment for his 
body. The snow was fast covering his pathway; 
but for a time he trudged along, hearing from all 
of whom he asked assistance a reply similar to 
the answer mentioned. At lust he sank down 
upon the door-steps of an humble dwelling, 
weary and exhausted, and knowing not what 
course to take. He thought of his mother’s last 
words to him, and how she tried, in faltering 
tones, to point him to a Higher Power, and 
assured him, though all earthly friends should 
f'arsako him, yet He who hath said that not even 
the little sparrow tallcth to tiie ground unno¬ 
ticed, He would watch over aud care for him. 
How could he doubt his mother's word? 
As these thoughts filled his mind lie fell asleep 
and dreamed of their once liappy homo. There 
sat his fatLcr iu the accustomed corner, and he, 
with his brother and sister, played by his side. 
Once more he knelt beside his mother; again 
she imprinted on his rosy cheek the good-night 
kiss, and breathed a prayer for his preservation, 
nis troubles arc all forgotten, and be again is 
happy Alas, little sufferer, would that it were 
reality. The night wore away. The morning 
dawned. Where now is the little sleeper ? He is 
dead. But was there no mother by his side whose 
heart was wrung with anguish at the loss of her 
boy ? and no father to shield him from the cold, 
cold storm; and no kind frieud to drop one tear 
of affection upon his pale cheek as he said his 
lost good-by ? Ah, no ! All alone, with the cold 
hard stone for his bed, and his check pillowed 
upon his little hand, he died. Yet he did not 
die alone, for angels stood hovering over him, 
and softly brushed, with their heavenly wings, 
the & 119 W that gathered about him. And as he 
breathed his last farewell to earth, they clasped 
him to their bosoms, and gently bore him to a 
fairer clime, where adversity’s cold winds will no 
longer blow furiously about his frail form, and 
where he will know uo more of poverty. 
Who now would recognize the little orphan as 
he stands encircled iu the arms’ of Him who has 
said “ Sutler little childreu to come unto me, 
aud forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom 
of heaven.” A white robe takes the place of 
his worn apparel; a crown lias been placed upon 
his head, and his fingers sweep the golden harp, 
in praise of Him who is a father to the fatherless. 
Stockton, Chaut. Co., N. Y. 
Though cold was the weather and dear was the food, 
Johu never was found iu a murmuring mood - ; 
He was heard very often in words to declare 
What he could not prevent he’d endeavor to bear. 
ne said grumbling would make a calamity deeper, 
But never w,oald bring bread and cheese any cheaper; 
If auy one injured or treated him ill 
John ever was found in good nature still. 
For. he said, revenging an injury done 
Was making two bad when there need be but one; 
Mnch better'twould be if folks wiser and richer, 
Would copy Johu Tompkins, the hedger and ditcher. 
Notes to be Remembered.— Constant occupa¬ 
tion prevents temptation. Virtue and happiness 
are mother and daughter. God gives every bird 
its food, but does not throw it into the nest. An 
able man shows his spirit by gentle words aud 
resolute actions; he is neither hot nor humid. 
A man is never so apt Lo be crooked as when he 
is in a strait. Our real wants are few. The 
stomach tires of everything but bread and water. 
There is one good wife in the. country; let every 
married man think that he hath her. A woman’s 
tears soften a man’s heart; her flattery his head. 
Small cheer and great welcome make a merry 
feast after all. 
A. W. B. 
Little Things.— There are people who would 
do great acts; but. because they wait for great op¬ 
portunities, life passes, and the acts ol love are 
not done at all. Observe, how the considerate- 
ness of Christ was shown on little things. And 
such are the parts of human life. Opportunities 
for doing greatly , seldom occur; life is made up 
of infinitesimals. If you compute the sum of 
happiness iu any given day, you will find it was 
composed of small attentions, kind looks, which 
made the heart swell, and stirred into health that 
sour, rancid film of misanthropy which is apt to 
coagulate on the stream of our inward life, as 
surely as we live in heart apart from our fellow 
creatures.— Robertson. 
The Lord’s Prayer.— From how many hun¬ 
dreds of thousands of lip* this prayer goes up 
every day! Parents and children repeat it. Iu 
homes in the crowded city and in the quiet coun¬ 
try, in every land, and from many a ship upon 
the sea, and in almost every language that is 
spokeu on the earth, the beautiful prayer is offer¬ 
ed: aud “Our Father in heaven" hears, and for 
Christ’s sake answers that prayer when it comes 
from a humble and believing heart, by whomso¬ 
ever it may be uttered. 
God proportions out our trials,’and’eupplies 
us with the remedy; where His rod strikes us 
His staff supports us. 
*2 
