Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MY MOTHER’S BEAUTY. 
— 
DT WILLIAM WIRT BIKE'*. 
- 
Beautiful f What, then, is beautiful, pray, 
If not the face where the love-light beams. 
Anti the eyes that mirror a beautiful soul ?— 
I hate a soft-cheeked, brown-haired ghole 
Whose face but the map of a bad heart seems. 
Oh, I hate a hag with a velvety akin 
And a wlender waist and a shapely ankle, 
Whose soul la sodden, whose eyes should look blear'd 
With the seething of passion, whose lips should bo 
sear’d 
With the hot words born of the inward rankle! 
Beautiful ♦ Look at her forehead smooth, 
Her kind blue eyes and her tender smile. 
Old! I grnut it, And Love is old !— 
And both to my heart I fondly will fold 
When both arc equally clear of guile. 
My darling mother, your peaceful brow 
1* the fairest page that ever was writ 
With life’s long legend of love and duty; 
No need to go wandering after beauty— 
No spot for a kiss is so clean as it! 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“LET THAT COUNTRY PASS.” 
BY MRS. M. D. LINCOLN. 
It was a festive day in the aristocratic town of 
<j-, w hen there gathered many of all classes 
from the surrounding country, to enjoy the 
grand festivities, hear the booming cannon, see 
the floating flags, and welcome back the faithful 
soldiers who had lived to return, though the traces 
of shot and shell were visible in more than one 
scarred face and crippled form, i watched group 
alter group go by, with faces all aglow, and 
heard their merry, musical laughter come back 
through the summer air, and fancied all were 
happy, though the streets were crowded,— for 
who, on such a gala day as this, could expect 
auytliiug else 'i 
Presently 1 saw amid the crowd several friends 
from the country, who were chatting gaily, when 
a lady (V) suddenly stopped and haughtily ex¬ 
claimed, — “ Step one side and let that Country 
puss; It’s Impossible to attempt to go any farther 
now.” I wonder her quick eye of discernment 
did not take iu tills group sooner/so she might 
have avoided the contact with these country 
people that so much annoyed her. 
Though our cities and villages are blest with 
the truly good and noble, — true gentlemen and 
ladles,— there Is a class that possesses neither of 
these virtues, that looks upon country people 
as intolerable. Everything awkward, uureflned, 
and ridiculous Is confined to country people,_ 
and they sweep disdainfully by each representa¬ 
tive of the country; and should they be forced 
to speak to one such, they are In as much trouble 
us the poor Hindoo, lest they lose caste. The 
city is their world, and though it be a modern 
Sodom, with its gambling saloons and dens of 
infamy, it Is too often gracefully accepted and 
smilingly tolerated because stylish and elegant. 
The same vices under the thatched roof and in¬ 
elegant surroundings of country life would be, 
“ Oh, so horrible.” In this class are those who, 
to keep up appearances, will use their last fart h¬ 
ing and boastingly talk of “ high life in the city,” 
and really it proves such when one has to ascend 
several flight of stairs to find it. Again, there 
arc those who, without the avails coming from 
the class they despise, could not live; and yet 
when you meet them they arc more lofty thau 
a Rothschild. They forget that trade and 1 raf¬ 
fle, patronage and profit, come from and through 
the country people In a large degree. Some¬ 
times I think if such persons were to take a trip 
through the ‘‘rural districts,” and see how farm¬ 
ers live, they would change their views, —and 
yet the absence of style might cause them to be 
disgusted. 
To lie sure there is much style in city life 
— found there in all degrees, from the huge 
waterfall, that might be mistaken for Niugaria in 
a net, to the ragged, dirty urchin of eight, years, 
smoking a cigar and flourishing a walking stick. 
Ah, yes, there is style, 1 admit, beyond my feeble 
eomprehenson to appreciate, and perhaps this 
is why I so dearly love the country with its 
bright sunshine, pure bracing air, green fields, 
grand forests, rocks and rivulets—changing from 
the brightness and bloom of summer to the 
innumerable charms of autumu. And, more 
than this, I like the work I find there. In liar- 
vest time, when the gathering clouds threaten 
to deluge the grain, then I work with a will, 
carrying the golden sheaves together; but more 
cxhllerating and charming still Is helping stack 
grain. Yes, I assure the pale, pulseless city 
belles it would start the sluggish blood in their 
veins (as perhaps the idea does,) to tug, and pull, 
and pitch the heavy sheaves of wheat. I was 
once favored with such exercise and found it 
most invigorating, beside the most charming 
observatory I ever bud the pleasure of looking 
from. Standing on this pinnacle of grain, I saw 
below me the beautiful lake of C-, glitter¬ 
ing like a mirror under the summer sun, and 
yonder the great hills locked their arms about 
it,, and thence stretched heavenward to the clear, 
cloudless sky, while northward rose the glitter¬ 
ing spires of village and city, 
I love, too, the sweet simplicity of country 
life, elegant iu Its purity, and attractive even to 
the class who choose to term it verdant. But, 
ah! the wheels of despotic Fashion are moving 
so rapidly, and llud 60 many who are willing to 
be crushed under her Juggernaut weight, I fear 
simplicity Is doomed. Should this day come, 
perhaps the country lasses will not hear the ex¬ 
clamation from their superior sisters, “Step one 
side and lot that Country pass;" but, having 
sacrificed their simplicity for folly and fashion, 
he counted worthy to walk side by side with her 
devoted followers. 
Canandaigua, N. Y. 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
REVERIES. 
Clouds, sunshine and shadows attend Earth’s 
weary pilgrims; and it is well that human des- i 
tiny is thus ordered. Our pleasures arc sweeter, 
our joys more real, by reason of our path wind¬ 
ing through valleys. It shows the “more en¬ 
during substance — it develops and matures 
latent powers, and it adornB the inner sanctuary 
most beautifully with that which none can take 
from,—none can gather those priceless gems | 
and appropriate them to their own naked walls. 
Each must search if he would possess the I 
“hidden treasure.” 
What would "Life’s better part” become, if 
all was culm and peaceful ? Where would be 
the bliss of dying, if no foes had been over¬ 
come, no victories gained, no inward struggles ? 
We need chilling winds sometimes to drive us 
to action — constant exercise to give the other¬ 
wise dormant function of the soul a healthy 
tone. With what tenacity the heart’s tendrils 
cling to BconOB fraught with sad remembrances— 
over which the dark pinions of grief and sorrow 
hovered so closely—when the warm spirit wended 
its way amid dim, shadowy paths whose air was 
laden with sighs. 
But was nothing gained — was all for naught ? 
Ah, no! — precious gems were found along the 
way — our thirst was quenched by the crystal 
waters of that stream which flows through the 
low, quiet valley of Duty, while ever-blooming 
flowers were gathered from its banks. Beauti¬ 
ful flowers arc those, for they have dwelt iu an 
atmosphere of Prayer, and pearly tear-drops 
fringe their faultless leaves. The breath of Ad¬ 
versity settled upon those delicate buds, and its 
vivifying influence unfolded the exqusit.e love¬ 
liness which would otherwise have remained 
forever hidden ; the 1 (right sunlight of Prosper¬ 
ity would have searched and withered such 
heavenly exotics. 
Oh, we envy not those to whom Life is but 
a summer’s day, .with no shadows lying across 
their path — who hear only joyous notes, never 
heeding the deep, low heart-chords. How we 
love to listen to the solemn music, such heaven- 
inspiring tones. We bend our cars to catch the 
last mournful vibrations as they die away. 
North Bergen, N. Y. Dorau G. 
VALUE OF ELOCUTION TO LADIES. 
We concur with a Loudon writer who, speak¬ 
ing of elocution as regards ladies, thus wisely 
argues: —“I think It is much to he regretted 
that this charming accomplishment of reading 
aloud is not more cultivated by ladies. You see 
half-a-dozen girls In a family, whether they 
arc musical or not, doomed to daily hours of 
practice on the piano, which is, in fact, so 
many hours of precious time wasted. How few' 
ever play sufficiently well to be listened to 
with pleasure; and many of those who play 
decently give it up as soon as they are married. 
I am not Bpcaking against music — let those 
who have a real taste devote themselves to It — 
but certainly, It ought not to be viewed as an 
educational necessity, like geography or history. 
Now, there are few people who cannot tye taught 
to read well, and there are a thousand ways in 
which a good reader can give pleasure. When 
fathers and husbands come home tired from 
their professional duties of the day, how pleas¬ 
ant it is to them to have the Times, or some 
good review, read aloud by wives or daughters! 
But, to do this well, a certain amount of study 
is requisite; first of all, it is necessary to acquire 
a habit of sustaining the voice; then, one must 
learn to modulate the tones, to attend to punc¬ 
tuation, and, above all, the reader must have a 
fair appreciation of the author’s meaning. This 
involves a study of English literature, which Is 
sadly needed by most young ladies who are sup¬ 
posed to have finished their education. It is 
impossible to estimate sufficiently the impor¬ 
tance of reading uloud In the family circle. Cbil- 
dren arc wonderfully impressed by hearing poe¬ 
try; their tastes are formed, and their minds 
stored with knowledge, often far beyond their 
years, if they have been brought up where the 
English classics arc read aloud, and talked aloud. 
And, iu after life, how often, amidst turmoil and 
trouble, some scrap of poetry or prose comes 
back to us in the tones In which wc heard it 
read. Some noble sentiment—some pure thought 
— is thus forever associated with ‘the tender 
grace of a day that is dead,’ and w ith ‘ the sound 
of a voice that is still-’ We all know that the 
Queen lias set au example to the ladles of Eng¬ 
land in this matter. I have heard every one 
say, who has had an opportunity of hearing her 
Majesty, that she reads aloud in the most fault¬ 
less manner it is possible to conceive. It has 
always 6truck me that true refinement of mind 
H more 6hown in this 6lmple accomplishment 
than in almost any other.” 
English Girls and Physical JJxebcises.— 
The English girl spends more than one-half her 
waking hours in physical amusement, which 
tends to develop, and Invigorate, and ripen the 
bodily powers, fitie rides, walks, drives, rows 
upon the water, dances, plays, sings, Jumps the 
rope, throws the ball, hurls the quoits, draws the 
bow, keeps up the shuttlecock—and all this with¬ 
out having It. pressed upon her mind that she is 
wasting her time. She docs this every day until 
it becomes a habit she will follow through life. 
Her frame, as a natural consequence, is larger; 
her muscular system better developed; her 
nervous system in better subordination; her 
strength more enduring; and the whole tone of 
her mind healthier. 
__ _ • —- 
A lady on one occasion, traveling in a rail 
way carriage, was much annoyed by a cockney 
companion continually embellishing his conver¬ 
sation with “This ’ere” and “That air.” A 
few' moments afterwards she quietly requested 
him to close the window', remarking, This ear 
is affected by that air.” 
Written for Moore’a Rural New-Yorker. 
LABOR. —A COMMON-SENSE LYRIC. 
BT L. LIGHT. 
A song for honest labor,— 
The band which serves to bind 
Each yeoman to his neighbor. 
And to the human kind 1 
Not he deserves our praises 
Who lives bat to be served. 
But he whom labor raises 
To fame that is deserved. 
Then shout for honest labor; 
The hero of the plow 
Looks not to ship or saber 
For wreaths to crown his brow. 
We honor all our brave men 
Who fought for liberty, 
Or died, like saints, to save men 
From curse of slavery. 
We love our gallant seamen, 
Those patriotic tars, 
Who, like true-hearted freemen, 
Defend our stripes and stars. 
But still those same brave sailors 
Would not be “worth a fig,” 
Unless we had ©nr tailors 
To give them each “a rig.” 
With honest pride we cherish 
The fame, our soldiers due. 
Their names shall never perish, 
Those noble boys in blue. 
But all our men of battle 
Would everywhere retreat, 
Unless the men of cattle 
Coaid find them food to eat . 
Then let us love to labor, 
To strengthen bondB which bind 
Each freeman to his neighbor 
And to the hnman kind. 
Written tor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THOUGHTS FOR THINKERS-NO. HI. 
BY L. SEN EX. 
Think and Act for Yourselves. 
A fund of Information upon all subjects is 
the most valuable aud pleasant acquisition any 
one can perhaps possess. A writer of marked 
ability has truly said, “that he whose knowledge 
is confined to any one particular science, finds 
himself not oDly circumscribed to that science, 
but he is restricted iu his investigation within 
that science.” He that makes chemistry a 
speciality hardly find* time to think of anything 
else, and after years of study of that science, 
perhaps hides his "light under a bushel," and 
lives and dies in ignorance of the world that Hur- 
rounds him —forgot and forgotten. Still the 
farmer and mechanic may be much benefited by 
a knowledge of chemistry. Wc should not, by 
any moans, value a friend lightly, who on a sum¬ 
mer-day stroll could tell us the history of the 
grim old rocks jutting out from among the bills 
at our left, and the romance of the boulder at 
our right. He who has familiarized himself with 
the study of botany, floriculture, or horticulture, 
and who can give ns the names and the peculi¬ 
arities of the plants surrounding us, the flowers 
blossoming at. our feet, aud the various trees 
overshadowing our pathway,—may proTo him¬ 
self a most agreeable and interesting companion, 
not only for the young, but a successful man 
of the world. 
In looking back ou the lives of such men as 
Douglas aud Lincoln we are taught that man, 
by his own exertions, may perform more won¬ 
derful achievements than were wrought by the 
Imagined hero of an Oriental fabulist. Stephen 
A. Docolas, the j ourayman cabinet-maker, 
raised himself from obscurity to be one of the 
greatest statesmen oft he lUlh century; and Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln, the rail-splitter and flat-boat¬ 
man — the poor boy — became, through his own 
exertions, to occupy the highest position in the 
gift of a free and enlightened people. These 
two men called light out of darkness; they 
made fortunes out of nothing; they attained posi¬ 
tions such as birth could not bestow, and the 
proudest noble might envy. Then let us seek 
general knowledge — let us discard onc-ldeaism, 
and learn by residing the thoughts of others, to 
think and act for ourselves. Let your idle hours 
be employed, as were those of Douglas and 
Lincoln, and a host of others, in marking out a 
future for yourselves. 
The Vuluc of Time. 
In the second volume of the “ Rambler” Dr. 
Johnson thus dlscourseth upon the loss or 
squandering of time, which we can do no better 
than to place among our “ Thoughts for Think¬ 
ers,” trusting the reader will peruse the follow¬ 
ing extract with the same pleasure wc have. On 
the value of time the Doctor says“ The story 
of Melaxcthon affords a striking lecture on the 
value of time, which was, that, whenever he 
made an appointment, he expected not only the 
hour, but the minuU to be fixed, that the day 
might not run out iu idleness or suspense. Life 
iB continually ravaged by invaders; oue steals 
away an hour, and another a day; one conceals 
the robbery by hurrying us into business, an¬ 
other by lulling us with amusement. The dep¬ 
redation is continued through a thousand vicis¬ 
situdes of tumult and tranquility, till haring 
lost all, wc cau lose no more.” 
Clasificatiou of Readers. 
Who that has read Coleridge can but be 
struck with the singular significance with which 
he classifies readers. His conclusions, iu the 
four classes represented, are drawn as “ iu pic¬ 
tures of living light.” The first class he de¬ 
nominates as sjwnges, who absorb all they read 
and return it nearly in the 6ame state, only a lit¬ 
tle dirtied. Another are as sand-glasses, who 
retain nothing, and are content to get through 
a book for the sake of getting through the time. 
This saying will apply with much force to read¬ 
ers of the present duy and age. Another class 
are denominated strain-bags , who retain merely 
the dregs of what they read. The fourth are 
moral diamonds, equally rare and profitable, who 
profit by what they read; and enable others to 
profit by it also. The thorough scholar and 
careful student may be classed under the last 
heading, very appropriately,— he whose means 
are limited—who is striving to obtain an educa¬ 
tion, that he may become a useful member of 
society. We trust our young readers will think 
of this last saying of Coleridge and profit by 
the advice therein contained, for it is not what 
we read, but what we remember that makes us 
learned. _ 
Losk on the Brltchr Side. 
Reader, let us always look on the bright side 
of all of our undertakings, for it is the right 
side. Whatever wo may do or be engaged in 
we should hope for the best and look on the 
bright side, although there may be, In the dis¬ 
tance, a dark and portentious cloud which over¬ 
hangs that brightness. The times may go hard, 
but it will make them no easier by wearing a 
gloomy countenance, for it will be readily ob¬ 
served liy the reflective mind, that it is the sun¬ 
shine and not the cloud that makes the flower. 
There Is always that before or around us which 
should cheer and fill the heart with warmth. 
The sky is tinted with blue ten times where it is 
with black once. You may be surrounded by 
troubles. So are others — none are tree from 
them. And undoubtedly It is better that none 
should be. Trouble gives sinew and tone to life 
— fortitude and courage to man — which would 
be a dull sea, and the mariner would never get 
skill, were there nothing to disturb the smooth 
surface of the ocean. It Is the duty of every 
one, both old and young, male and female, to 
extract all the happiness and enjoyment they can 
without and within ; and above all, they should 
seek for the bright side of all things. What 
signifies, though they arc dark V For in the 
language of a patriarch,—“The lane will turn, 
and the night will end in broad day.” This is 
another true maxim for the thoughtless, with 
which we close our third essay on “Thoughts 
for Thinkers.” 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
WINTER SKETCHES. 
THE CITY DURING A SNOW-STORM. 
Rochester has presented Itself to me under 
a variety of aspects. I have seen it deluged with 
rain, flooded with water, and plastered with 
mud; — have walked its streets when for weeks 
the sky had been cloudless, and treading the 
pavement was like walking on fire; —have rode 
through its busiest thoroughfares in the beauti¬ 
ful spring-days, when a breath from the country 
seemed to wander up and down, sweetening and 
beautifying everything. I have listened there to 
the tread of armed men marching to the beat of 
the dram — marching away from homo to death; 
and have seen the city silent, and seemingly 
deserted, save by the spirit which always per¬ 
vades the place where men dally meet, while all 
were gathered, at home or in church, to mourn 
and fast. 
But, a little while ago, I saw the city in —a 
snow-storm. ’Twas the first of the season, and 
it surprised tne. I had forgotten, if ever I knew, 
that a city could be so quiet, so pure,—could 
hold so much of that Invisible Presence of which 
we are often conscious in the country. I had no 
idea that there one could, to such a degree, for¬ 
got men, and remember the outward presence 
of God. 
It was just at nightfall. The snow came down 
in the trampled streets, as gently and unhesita¬ 
tingly as In the wind-swept meadow, or the silent 
forest where it clings so long to the brown 
branches. How it hushed the roll of wheels, 
and the footfalls on the pavement! The people 
passed me like ghosts, with a weird, fur-oil' 
look, all their bold Individualities lost. Those 
who came near enough to seem a little more of 
earth, carried with them a warmth and bright¬ 
ness born of thoughts of closely-drawn curtains, 
and bright tires on home-hearths. Out beyond 
the most frequented streets, the hush almost 
awed me, and the lights glimmering over the 
river, seemed like dim torches burning on the 
shore whither all those ghosts had fled. 
The river flowed darkly out of the dimness, 
swallowing the flakes that touched it, then fell 
sullenly over the rocks and was lost again. 
Somehow it reminded me of the life of thai 
haunted man Dickens tells us of, whose past 
was blotted from his memory, his future veiled, 
while the dark present swallowed all sweet 
thoughts and hopes, I involuntarily prayed, 
“Lord, keep my memory green,” and, as if in 
answer, came the thought of that other twilight, 
when my friend and 1 walked through the village 
silent as a city of the dead — where bud and leaf 
were weighed* down with the sparkling crystals, 
while we passed under the trees arched like the 
crypt of a cathedral, and above glittered turrets 
and domes of purest 'white — on, through this 
aisle which seemed to have no end, or one in 
which only such a path could terminate. Well, 
her walk on earth is ended, while I, waiting 
below bore in the dark, know surely that one 
day I shall walk with her, had in hand, the streets 
of “ Jerusalem the Golden.” Enola. 
Pursuit of Knowledge. — He that enlarges 
his curiosity after the works of nature, multi¬ 
plies the Inlets to happiness; therefore, we 
should cherish ardor in the pursuits of useful 
knowledge, and remember that a blighted 6pring 
makes a barren year, and that the vernal flowers, 
however beautiful and gay, are only intended by 
nature as preparatives to autumnal fruits. Let 
ns profit by the admonition. 
SATURDAY EVENING. 
BY BULWER. 
The week is past, the Sabbath dawn comes on: 
Rest—rest in peace—thy daily toll is done; 
And standing as thou standest, on the brink 
Of what is gone, is now, and soon shall be, 
As one that trembles In eternity. 
For such as this now closing week is past, 
So such advancing tira« will close my last. 
Such as to-morrow shall the aw ful light 
Of the eternal morning hail my sight. 
Spirit of good l on this week’s verge I stand. 
Tracing the guiding influence of thy baud; • 
That, band which leads me gently, calmly still, 
Up life’s dark, stony, tiresome, thorny hill. 
Thou, thou, in every storm hast sheltered me, 
Beneath the wing of thy benignity: 
A thousand graves ray footsteps circuit went, 
And I exist—thy mercy’s monument; 
A thousand writhe upon the beds of pain, 
I live, and pleasure flows through every vein; 
Want o’er a thousand wretches waves her wand; 
I circled by ten thousand ciercir* stand. 
How can T praise thee, Father! how express 
My debt of reverence and of thankfulness, 
A debt that no intelligence can count, 
While every moment swells the vast amount. 
For the week’s duties thou hast given me strength, 
And brought me to its peaceful dose at length; 
And here my grateful bosom fain would raise 
A fresh memorial to thy glorious praise. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AVOID CORRUPT CONVERSATION. 
“Let no corrupt communication proceed out of 
your mouth." 
Upon the ear of those who are daily and 
habitually vulgar in manner and conversation — 
who have not made the word of Inspiration the 
“guide of their youth,” aud “counsellor” in 
later years — these words will doubtless fall un¬ 
heeded. Indeed, wc may safely presume there 
are many outside of “ heathendom,” who are 
not aware that the Bible contains any 8uch in¬ 
junction, or, if so, it falls alike powerless upon 
both ear and heart. We sometimes fear such 
arc so firmly “Joined to their Idols” that it is 
vain to lift one note of warning. 
But what shall we say of those who, “ profes¬ 
sing godliness,” listen to and Join the conversa¬ 
tion of those whose delight is the vulgar jest or 
story. Surely they are straying in “ by aud for¬ 
bidden paths” — gathering the rust aud taint of 
•immorality upon their souls, which were made 
to expand with purity, benevolence and love; 
to assimulate to all that is noble aud good — to 
become more and more like “ the image of the 
heavenly,” that they may be prepared for that 
pure and sinless state which, by striving, we 
may attain. The companionship of those out 
Of whose mouths proceed only “ filthy conver¬ 
sation” is not calculated to uufold those graces 
which are essential to the character of the pro¬ 
fessing Christian, and It seems strange that any 
who have once been enlightened by the truths 
of the Gospel, should bo inclined to thus sqander 
the precious hours which might he improved in 
enriching and elevating the mind. 
We fear that could Paul come even into our 
most quiet,’and apparently moral communities, 
he would find quite as much, If not more, neces¬ 
sity to condemn ami reprove, than In the (lays 
when he wrote his most stirring Epistles; and 
should he pause at the threshold of our public 
places —even stores, shops, or post-offices,—he 
would be so disheartened as to make a liaBty 
retreat, else the spirit of disgust aud indignation, 
joined with zeal for the honor of his Master’s 
cause, would compel him to cuter and preach 
more pluinly and out-spoken than ever before. 
He would forget to “stammer” (if that was his 
“thorn in the Jlesh”) uutil his audience had all 
retired abashed from his presence. 
Let us kindly advise the young man to shun 
such intercourse, especially if striving to walk 
In the way of righteousness, or a blight will 
come upon his soul — darkness will gather 
over his path, — aud the pure light In which 
he commenced walking, be obscured. If 
you pray “Lead us not into temptation,” then 
avoid the company of those who disregard such 
Scripture prohibitions as we have quoted. And 
to all who profess to be followers of Him who 
“ spake as never man spake,” we entreat yoO, 
flee the Influence of corrupt and foolish conver¬ 
sation, and seek os far as in your power to have 
your example and words such as you will not be 
ashamed to review — ever bearing in mind that 
“ out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
fqvsaketh” Bell CLINTON. 
Cheunngo Co., N. Y. 
The Church a Wonder.— The existence of 
the Church iu this wicked world is one of the 
wonders of Providence. It is a vessel living in a 
tempestuous sea; a hush on flru but uot con¬ 
sumed. If we reflect on the enmity of the 
wicked against the righteous, their great superi¬ 
ority in numbers over them, the attempts that 
have been made to exterminate them, the fre¬ 
quent diminution ot their numbers by defection 
aud death, their existence, and especially their 
increase, must be wonderful, and cannot other¬ 
wise be uncounted for but that Christ liveth.— 
Fuller. _ 
“Stand Fast.’’—So long as the garrison can 
keep besiegers outside the fort, all the advantage 
is on their side; but once give them a footing 
on the walls, and they can rain down death till 
the survivors are compelled to yield. So as long 
as the Christian soldier hearkens not to any sug¬ 
gestion coining from the i’oc—concedes nothing, 
he cannot be dislodged; but let bitn for the sake 
of keeping on good terms with the wicked and 
worldly e ven appear to fall in with their opinions, 
and he opens the door to a horde of bandits that 
will push him from point to point till from his 
stronghold he is utterly driven. 
