MOORE'S RURJtL MEW-YORKER. 
aites’ Mtywtmmt. 
THE WISHING-GATE. 
’Twas oil a clour bright Autumn day 
That cousin John ami I 
Strolled in the little winding paths 
That through the meadow* lie; 
And far above, the wild birds broke the mountain e 
solemn hush, 
And close beside, but out of sight, we heard the river 
rush. 
John was silent, and so was I, 
And never a word we epakc, 
Till, with « smile and half « sigh, 
lie on the silence brake, 
Saying 11 We’re near the 1 Wir hing-Gate,’ and we must 
lingor there; 
For truth in this quaint fancy hides-a wieh may be 
a prayer." 
We stood there, cousin John and I, 
Beneath the fading trees, 
A sound of singing, sweet and fresh, 
Came to ns on the breeze; 
’Twas but some little children by the river Bide at 
play. 
But it seemed a gate in heaven had closed when it had 
passed away. 
I know what wish was in my heart, 
God only knows beside! 
And what John thought I cannot tell; 
I only know he sighed. 
And then wo turned away, and went upon our quiet 
walk, 
Speaking in solemn tones, like theirs who in a church¬ 
yard talk. 
That's ten years since. Five years ago 
A good ship, homeward bound, 
Sank down with six hundred souls 
In sight of English ground. 
John's chair stood ready at our hearth, his room was 
decked with flowers; ^ 
Six hundred homes were desolate, and one of them * 
was ours 1 1 
And now to day I stand alone 
Beside the " Wishing-Gate 
The walk has tired me very much, ^ 
And It is growing iHtc. 1 
But this I feeL, that Death doth keep the troth which t 
Life might break; ( 
That many a hope which Bleeps on earth in heaven ( 
shall awake. j 
[Leisure Hour. , 
- - — - 
f 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHEBE ARE MY SCHOOLMATES GONE 1 
As we listened, a short time since, to a song 
with this title, the thought at once applied it 
self to our mind. And, as we glance backward 
through a period of years, a panorama, varied, 
yet forcible Is presented, and with deep interest 
we study its different features. How strange 
are life's realities! How different the anticipa* 
lions and the realizations! With all the vivid 
imagination of little children we planned our 
future lives all sunshine. We were never to 
know separation, and predicted that the future 
would lavish naught but smiles upon us—think¬ 
ing little that that fate which sundered the pre¬ 
cious box, in which were hidden all the sorrows 
of the world, and which were tbeu scattered 
throughout all space, should ever cross our path¬ 
way. But ILub it is. We have realized some¬ 
what the changes of lime in friendships sudden¬ 
ly severed — trusts frequently betrayed. But us 
in all de^rts" there are some oases, so wc And 
pure, loving friends among our schoolmates. 
And as we think of the many little frolics and 
strolls enjoyed together, the confidence so often 
entered into, their self-denial and readiness to 
assist when in difficulty, it lightens the heart, 
and agaiu we seem to live over those days. 
Looking far backward we see distinctly ike 
flr&t day of school. Tear-drops mark its histo¬ 
ry, but very soon, accustomed to the strangeness 
and the strangers, they wear away, and we begin 
to feel a little at home. Again we look and one 
alone of those early schoolmates remains, with¬ 
in our knowledge, and he a College lad-, 
A tall yonng man, with a stovo-plpehat— 
A black moustache, and a pink cravat. 
We remember, just now, oucGekvik from the 
“Sunny South,” and it saddens the heart to 
think of her blighted youth. The light of hope 
seems darkened in her earth-life altogether. B nt, 
her heart is full of love and confidence and en¬ 
ables her to look upward and pursue her lonely 
way. 
Rural! Ever faithful, ever true, together we 
have shared the trials and joys of school-life; 
each lias striven for the same rewards, and now 
- each has left the old academy, and find our com¬ 
panions, of scarce a year ago, widely scattered. 
Some have sought more popular institutions, 
ivherein to cultivate their talents; others have 
I nought to instill into youthful minds the know¬ 
ledge there attained, and one, 
3 “A blooming maid, unbinding the roses from her 
hair," 
r lias Indeed moved 
“Mournfully away from amidst the yonng and 
fair." 
It hardly seems real that she, so fully fitted for 
all the enjoyments of life, possessing all the 
qualities of a highly cultivated mind, could be 
no longer one of our number. 
Oil, glory of onr race that so snddenlv decayed! 
Ob, crimson flush of morning that darkens as wc 
gaze t 
Oh, breath of summer blossoms that on the desert 
air, 
Scatters a moment's sweetness and flies we know 
not where ! 
And so wc ever find life, full of change. But 
wo will not linger with our friends. We should 
find them scattered tip atid down the earth, and 
the history of many would be sad. Wedding 
scenes have been frequent, and scarcely less so 
those of Heath. But we recognize o’er all a 
Father’s guidiug hand, and to Ui6 protecting care 
cheerfully commit ourselves and schoolmates 
wherever they may be. 
Rome, May, 18BC. A Farmer's Daughter. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
RECIPE FOR MAKING TATTLERS. 
Take a handful of the vine called Run-about; 
I the same quantity of the root called Nimble- 
tongue; a sprig of the herb called Buck-bite, 
(either before or after the dog days;) a tabfe- 
spoonful of Don't-you-tcll-it j six drachms of 
Malice; a few drops of Envy, (which cau be 
purchased in any quantity at the little grog-shop 
in tho south-east corner of-’s block, or at the 
tea-tabio of Miss Nancy Niglitwalk.) Stir them ‘ 
well together, and simmer for half an hour aver J 
the fire of Discontent, kindled with a ilttle Jeul- t 
ousy. Then strain it through the rag of Mis i 
construction, cork it up in a bottle of Malcvo- <■ 
fence, hung it upon a skein of Street-yarn, shake £ 
it occasionally for a few days, and it will be fit 1 
for use. Let a few drops be taken just before 
taking a walk, and the patient, will be enabled 
to speak all manner of evil, and that continually, i 
Lake Ridge, N. Y. *. *, *, fl 
THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 
Here I am creeping, creeping everywhere; 
By the dusty roadside. 
On tic sunny hillside, 
Close by the noisy brook, 
In ever>- shady nook. 
I come creeping, creeping everywhere. 
All around the open door 
Where sit the aged poor, 
Here where the children play, 
In the bright and merry May, 
I come creeping, creeping everywhere. 
In the noisy city street 
My pleasant face yon'll meet, 
Cheering the sick at heart, 
Toiling Ids busy part, 
Silently creepiug, creeping everywhere. 
You cannot see me coming, 
Nor hear my low- sweet humming; 
For in the starry night, 
Ami the glad morning light, 
I come quietly creeping, creeping everywhere. 
More welcome than the flowers, 
In Summer's pleasant hours; 
The gentle crew is glad, 
And the merry bird not sad, 
To sec me creeping, creeping everywhere. 
When you're numbered with the dead 
In your still and uarrow bed, 
In the happy Spring I'll come 
And deck your silent home; 
Creeping, silently creeping, everywhere. 
My humble song of praise 
Most gratefully 1 raise, 
To Him at whose command 
I beautify the land; 
Creeping, silently creeping, everywhere. 
“RURAL” REMINISCENCES. 
FALSE STEPS. 
It is rather a striking circumstance that the 
inullcr in which men and women most com¬ 
monly take a serious falso step is that which is 
least readily acknowledged. Probably about 
tho most fatal blunder that anybody can perpe¬ 
trate is a bad marriuge; and, moreover, of all 
blunders this is the commonest. It is also one 
which the parties to it most carefully conceal 
from themselves. The reluctance which people 
feel to recognize, oven in their own minds, an 
irreparable mistake such as this, is a measure of 
the sincerity with which they are willing to 
attribute ill-fortune to their mistakes in other 
pieces of conduct. Certainly Iiobudy can blame 
them for making the beat of what is irretrieva¬ 
ble. If a man finds that his wife is shamefully 
extravagant, or a great fool, or a ebrow, he may 
he more than pardoned for not. trying to see 
what a fearful bnrdon he has been at the trouble 
to tie around his neck. And when a woman 
finds that her husband is a tyrant, or intolerably 
self-opinionated, or openly Indifferent to her, 
she is right in making the best of her bargain. 
Where a real false step has been taken, every¬ 
body docs all that lie can do to make it as little 
mischievous as may be. When people are found 
bemoaning some one blunder as the cause of all 
their ills, instead of leaving the blunder to itself, 
wc tuay be pretty snre cither that they do not 
mean what they say, or else that their ills have 
been the natural results, not of one falso step, 
but of a confirmed habit of mental staggering 
and stumbling.— /Saturday Review. 
TOILETTES AT A FLORENTINE BALL. 
,, : “ 13 , “, U1 L dUU confidence and eu- The Italian ladies do not appear to be at all 
files her to look upward and pursue her lonely behind their Parisian sisters in the mania for 
,a x v , , finery. At a fancy ball lately given at Florence 
Now, before we go up stairs with the “ft/// by the wealthy banker and Senator, Signor 
i? fty comes our first knowledge of the change- Feim, a lady is described as having achieved 
hillfir r, f hntvioi, » 1 .. Oi<.. 
girls” conics our first knowledge of the change¬ 
ability of human nature. Strange it seemed 
that one highly esteemed could in so short a 
time sever and seemingly forget the ties of friend¬ 
ship. We then thought, in hours of mhffor- 
“ the most absolute triumph of plastic beauty,” 
by appearing in a simple skirt of white satin 
over a tight-fitting flesh-colored silk, while the 
classic “cotlmrn” replaced the modern shoe. 
[An eMecmed lady contributor sends us the ac¬ 
companying arllcfe with this remark in a private 
note:—“Among my MSS. 1 find a paper devoted to 
tho Ruralh of Lang Sync, which yon aro at liberty 
to publish.” The article delineates volumes of tho 
Hun a i, published several years ago, when the titles 
of some of the Departments were different, and most 
of them were embellished with appropriate illnstrn- 
live headings.—E d.) 
Holland Patent, May, 186-. 
Dearest Isadore:— You remember the Ru- 
RAL8? I have recently renewed their acquaint¬ 
ance. Like true friends, the better they are 
known, the more do they challenge admiration 
and respect. This may apply to the whole 
Rural family, but the particular Rokalb to 
which I allude, are Moore’s, issued weekly at 
Rochester, whose surname, you remember, is 
New-Yorker. 
Would you like tho history of my acquaint¬ 
anceship, and the condition in which I left my 
friends? Well, it is a sad talc, if wc couslder 
their individual well-being, but when we reflect 
that the true missiou of life is to subserve the 
highest Interest of tho world, their history 
grows luminous as-, but 1 will not philoso¬ 
phize Ibis fairy-like morning. The Run a lb in 
question were two somewhat antique volumes 
that had been preserved with the view of bind¬ 
ing at some future time which bad never trans¬ 
pired; so when our picture-loving Johnny was 
found to be in need of an accession to life pic¬ 
ture books the old Rubalb were brought into 
requisition and their pictorial illustrations con¬ 
verted into a scrap-book, which to his baby eyes 
was one of the seven wonder#, and when regard¬ 
ed in connection with his life-iuvesting interest, 
it became scarcely less 60 to more experienced 
visions. 
Rilled of their illustrations, tho file, in so di¬ 
lapidated a state, was adjudged to be the rag¬ 
man’s legitimate portion. About that time l 
chanced to remember that when a little girl my 
love was warmly iucited toward a lady who sent 
me 6ome very choice 6tcries for my own scrap¬ 
book, which at that time afforded me much 
pleasure and profit—profit, inasmuch as it helped 
to establish a habit of iudustry, without which 
what is life but literally a vapor. A good man, 
who has seen much of the world and is not tired 
of it, says:—“Thegrand essentials to happiness 
in this life arc something to do, soracthlug to 
love, and something to hope for.” If we have 
the something to do, dear Dora —if it be that 
which God requires, and for which he has pro¬ 
vided the requisite gifis—have we not the three 
graud essentials of happiness combined? 
But to return to the Bubals. As “there is no 
way ol' judging the future but by the past," the 
he may protest against its corruptions ? How 
I love to hear those swelling anthems—now like 
the adoring angels—now like the wailing of the 
“ lost! Efow I love to contemplate those repro¬ 
ductions in art of the great passious and wants 
of our holy religion ! How 1 long to visit that 
land that has inspired the rehearsal of the won¬ 
ders of Creation and the realities of a “Victim 
Christ" in their deepest signiflcancy. 
Do I wonder? —waB I wilting of the Rural? 
Then will I leave classic Italy and take hither¬ 
ward my flight that I may plume my pinions in 
my quiet home in the Empire County of the 
Empire State. Once more imagine me amid a 
chaos of literature and art, and, if you can, im¬ 
agine me to jiave become so earnestly impressed 
with the system of “ Domestic Economy” as to 
be induced to fag through the whole flic again, 
to appropriate those columns over which the 
busy-bodies preside —columns which, by the 
way, quite Eupplant the poetic corner of the 
Ladles Olio, of which, from time Irnme-J/oore-ial, 
they have been positive rivals. 
The Useful Olio interposed so eloquently in 
behalf of its Chemistry, Mechanism and Philo¬ 
sophy that even those to whom material science 
is a humdrum branch of knowledge could hardly 
be disregardful of its meritA. The Educational 
Department revived the associations of bygones. 
The old school house is familiar—with its math¬ 
ematical apparatus, it* bodies celestial and bodies 
terrestrial, both of which are beyond the pre- 
eints of masterly attention. Why not exhibit, 
the interior with its fixtures properly adjusted, 
and, as I have turned critic, note the relative 
dimensions and location *f the various objects? 
What do you think of that school-room accom¬ 
odating such considerable instruments — and 
such considerable lads? 
Agricultnrc has reached the golden harvest, 
and Horticulture has gathered in her bountcona 
treasures, while the lovely Flora has brought in 
“the last rose of summer,” along with some 
daintier offerings to attest her appreciative re¬ 
gard for Pomona, her more utilitarian sister. 
The “Traveler” has vanished —good angels 
speed him- on his journey. 
Tho “ Youth’s Corner,” well filled with Ana¬ 
grams, Enigmas, and divers other problems, 
with a commendable profusion of “ Reviews," 
“ Aphorisms,” “Strings of Peris,” “Salmagun- 
dies,” etc., contribute to make up an aggregate 
of interest in favor of the Rural, which, as a 
family paper, has few compeers, if, Indeed, it is 
not entirely non pari el. 
Now I confess to yon, dearest Isadore, that 
1 never before noted with minute attention these 
little artistic features of the Rusal. Do you 
think me singular or solitary in this ? Are wc 
not all too Insensible to the beautiful objects so 
lavishly scatterred around us? Were we not 
perpetually surrounded by such master pieces 
of nature, and copies of art, we should be more 
regardful of their merits, which now so impera¬ 
tively demand the mission of the pen to portray 
their less obvious but rarely less beautiful 
phases. 
The mission of the pen then must be Bemi- 
matcrial, semi-spiritual, otherwise it takes up 
the material kingdom and invites the inner sense 
to take cognizance of its creations through 
which to behold aud adore the Creator. 
Thesequal to the history of the Rurals refer¬ 
red to may be summed up as resulting finally in i 
two other volumes—viz., a Pictorial Scrap-Book ] 
and a vade-mecum of Domestic Economy. i 
Au revoir, Maud. ] 
HASTE NOT! REST NOT! 
FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE, 
Without haste! without rest! 
Bind the motto to thy breast; 
Bear it with thee as a spell; 
Storm and stmehine guide it well! 
Ilecd not flowers that round thee bloom, 
Bear It onward to the tomb! 
Haste not! let do thoughMe;a deed, 
Mar for aye the spirit’s speed ; 
Ponder well and know the right, 
Onward then with all thy might; 
Haste not! years can ne’er atone, 
For one reckless actiou done. 
Rest not! life is sweeping by, 
Go and dare before yon die; 
Something mighty and sublime 
Leave behind to conquer time! 
Glorious ’tia to live for aye 
When these forms have pass'd away. 
Haste nott rest not! calmly wait! 
Meekly bear the storm of fate! 
Duty he thy polar gnide— 
Do the right whatever betide! 
Haste not! rest not conflicts past, 
God shall crown thy work at last. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE RICH AND POOR MEET TOGETHER. 
HOW TO LIVE. 
A wealthy gentlemau of Boston, several 
years ago, gave the editor of the Worcester Pal¬ 
ladium a short narration of his own experience. 
He had an income of $10,000 a year, (a large sum 
then, but not considered so now,) a house in 
town, and a country seat a few miles out. He 
had several children—a coach, fine horses and a 
driver; aud took pleasure in riding every day 
with hia children. 
One day, when riding, the thought struck him 
that each one of bis children would expect to 
have a fine house, and coach, and horses and 
driver, as their father had before them, and to 
live as he lived; and if they did not they would 
be unhappy. Hu did not think that all of them 
could have things as he had them, or live as be 
was living; and he rode home; sent his coach 
and horses to market and sold them ; bought a 
cheap carryall, and became his own driver. 
With emphasis he declared that no amount of 
wealth could induce him to return to his former 
mode of living, for if any of his children should 
11 Tins rich and the poor meet together: the Lord 
Is the maker of them all.” 
How these words have kept running in my 
thoughts since a late visit to the Cathedral at 
Buffalo. We spent almost half a day in this, the 
finest Cathedral In Western New York. It was 
not time of service, but the edifice was open as 
always. We were standing near a prostrate 
image of the crucified Saviour, when the farther 
entrance door opened aud a little child walked 
up the alEle —a little beggar girl, hare-foot, 
dirty and ragged; she bad one of those pinched, 
half-starved luces, so often seen among the poor 
in cities; it betokens heart-hunger oftcuer than 
physical need—ollcncr still, both. She set 
down her basket of cold pieces and knelt with 
clasped hands before the image. The child is 
praying —her face loses half Its hardness. But 
the door opens again; a lady magnificently 
dressed enters — she too approaches. Surely 
she will go and kneel before some other Blirine; 
the Infant Jesus is in an alcove just byhernow; 
but no, she passes it, merely with a salutation, 
and comes on past thu Virgiu and the Holy 
Saints and kneels here. The dainty silk touches 
the tattered little dress; the poor, cold feet had 
never before covering eo costly. “ The rich and 
the poor” have “ met together:" together they 
look upon the agonized face and the crown of 
thorns j together they murmur the same prayers 
to their common Saviour. 
We turned away, gladdened and yet saddened. 
Thought turned quickly to another church — a 
church where the pew doors were dosed and the 
ables had velvet carpeting—a church which was 
kept shut &ix days in the week, and where the 
poor seldom or never came. Conscience said, 
“Wc Protestants can learn much from these 
Catholics yet." But again a door opens — a 
little almost unnoticable door opposite the en¬ 
trance. This time It is a priest, with cap, and 
long, black flowing robe, that enters; he does 
reverence to the Virgin Maky and crosses him¬ 
self before the Saints; then with heavily re¬ 
sounding footsteps he comes down the aisle. 
His manuer is no longer devotional, bis face is 
full of avarice; his heart cannot be sanctified by 
grace, for no answering purity of expression is 
in tho face. We fauey it was snch priests that 
Luther found when he went ou his quiet pil¬ 
grimage to Rome. 
The spell is broken. We thank God for the 
Reformation and for the uprising of a holier 
church, the teachings of which bring man iu 
spiritual contact with his maker. But the im¬ 
pression yet remains, and like Bancho’s ghost, 
will not “down." In this one thing the old 
Romish church is better than ours —they have 
no “fashionable churches.” “The rich aud 
poor meet together.” a. l. 
State Normal School, Mansfield, Pa. 
CHURCHES IN AMERICA AND GERMANY. 
The United States as a whole, are better pro¬ 
vided with churches and ministers and the means 
of grace thau any other country of the world, 
conclusion was quite natural that some 1 little ch * Qce 10 bu P oor ' as probability some ol un i ess W e except England and Scotland, where 
. — - — • — J-- —~ — « V**V AUVWV* U OitWVl 
une, twuuld ie but the natural inclination of A Hungarian lady, the youthful Countess Kar&ly, 
flip hf>c<ri i r, i . . i . . _. » 1 
the heart to turn to some tried friend and true, 
and disclose its griefs. But pride assumed the 
defensive, and we saw that friend turn coldly 
away, and even strive to avoid us. ’Tia but sel¬ 
dom that wo meet now, and then, as formally as 
possible, she receives our congratulations. 
if lees purudieaic in her garb, was yet more “ the 
cynosure of neighboring eyes.” She repre¬ 
sented tho Mer do Glace. Beneath a double 
veil of white and of blue tutlo, by way of clouds, 
appeared the terrific undulations of tbo Mer de 
Giftcc, painted and woven on a white satin skirt. 
X „iv,, ,• . -J X----- “ * — WO* U 'TUI IV rauu cjv.il 
' ther feature Ispresented in the scene, and Sharp-pointed blocks of ice, bears, chamois, 
'Voc, . a couutenauc<i ever the same, birds of prey, hunters—nothing characteristic 
p c an good natured, and familiarly known was omitted. A very loose tunic, forming a 
h V nil. iCllf’llPt’fl AYiH CnltrilnK.. MM 11 11. l. • ... .. .. ... ® 
by all, teachers and scholars, as “that mischief 
Fannie If ever anything went wrong, 
or anything was hidden, we always suspected 
her, and in this direction sought an explanation. 
None but she dared brave tho chiding# of the 
teachers, and often, as soon as the las" rebuke 
was given, she went plotting again, and ere long 
some unsuspecting girl was the victim of her 
mischievous designs. 
Again, memory brings before us one of whom 
we are entirely ignorant. We remember the 
chief trouble of her school-life was the Latin 
language. In it there was little variety f 0r her 
aud her verbs were always in the third conjugal 
tion, perfect, Indicative, passive, third person,, 
plural and agreeing with ego, understood. Jn 6 t. 
now my mind’s eye rests upon a sweet, truthful 
train, depicted on the left side a mass of white 
and blue clouds, and on the right a splendid sun 
darting rays of light. At the bottom of the 
white satin skirt a light silvered stuff simulated 
hoar frost. The body of the dress was of white 
satin, cut in small pointed basques, trimmed 
with swausdown and glass. The; Countess’ 
frosted hair was prevented from falling quite 
Ioobc by erys.tal chains, while her head was 
framed, as it were, in swausdown. 
-- 
“You would not take me for twenty ?” said a 
nice girl to her partner while dancing a few eve¬ 
nings ago; “what would you take roc for?” 
“ For better, or for worse,” replied he. 
A youno girl is a fishing-rod, the eyes arc the 
hook, the: mile the bait, the lover the gudgeon, 
pteture, not altogether unknown to yoi V dear 1 and marriage the butter In which he is fried 
Misses—no more little girls — that I wot of, 
might be interested in the stories that remained; 
those were accordingly rescued from the ruins, 
after which the “Ladies’ Olio,” the “Choice 
Miscellany,” and the “Sabbath Musings” came 
in for their quota of attention—each embellished 
with au appropriate illustrated heading. 
Closely regarded, pleasant studies were these 
little embellishments. The Ladies’ Olio — an 
impersonation of industry, intelligence and gen¬ 
uine childish sport, with a back ground illustra¬ 
tive of the Fine Arts. Choice Miscellany em¬ 
bodies authorship and its somewhat ponderous 
productions, in association and apparent harmo¬ 
ny with the poetry of uuiutelligent nature if, 
indeed, nature may be said to embody such a 
department. Sabbath Musings represents the 
Word of God upon whose open page rests the 
crucifix haloed with glory; on the right the 
waiting ones have erected an humble tribute to 
the dear ones gone before, while on the left 
stands the rustic church whose Gothic features 
noue, not even those who aro most rigidly Puri- 
tuuic have longer auy reason to fear,)or wish to 
transform. Aud who, dear Isadobb, jdoes not 
admire tho more imposing arch, and interior 
features, impressive with music, poetry and 
painting? — who can be indifferent to the sub¬ 
limities of Christian worship, howmuchsoever 
them would be, they should not sutler in their 
feelings by the reflection that their father rode 
in his coach while they had to rough it on foot. 
The example he gave them afforded him a satis¬ 
faction greater than his wealth had to bestow. 
President Lincoln and a Noble House.— 
Germany sends over a fresh and good anecdote 
of Mr. Lincoln: A lieutenant in one of the Ger¬ 
man armies, whom debts compelled to leave his 
fatherland aud service, succeeded iu being ad¬ 
mitted to the late President, and, by reason of 
his commendable and winning deportment and 
intelligent appearance, was promised a lieuten¬ 
ant’s commission in one of our cavalry regi¬ 
ments. He was so enraptured with his success 
that he deemed it a duty to inform the president 
that be belonged to one of the oldest uoble 
houses in Germany. “ Oh, never mind that,” 
said Mr. Lincoln, “ you will not find that to be 
an obstacle to your advancement.” 
Many who think a great deal of the maxim 
that “truth shouldn’t be told at ail times,” 
can’t be made to understand that falsehood 
never should. 
A fool in a high station is like a man in a bal¬ 
loon— everybody appears little to him, and he 
appears little to everybody. 
the noble free church movement alone has added 
: hundreds of churches since 1SFL The city of 
New York, for iBstance, with a population of 
one million, numbers now three hundred and 
eleven churehos; Brooklyn, lying opposite,with 
about three hundred and fifty thousand, num¬ 
bers nearly two hundred—many ol them in both 
cities very costly; while Stuttgart, with seventy 
thousand individuals, has barely ten; Berlin, 
with six hundred aud thirty thousand, hardly 
fifty. In the country matters are still better. 
In the lesser towns and villages, especially in 
New England, we find, as a rule, a church and 
a preacher to every ten thousand, sometimes 
even to every five hundred souls ; while iu Ber¬ 
lin it is known that there are congregations of 
thirty thousands, forty thousands, nay, of seven¬ 
ty thousand souls, in which, of course, the care 
of souls becomes practically an impossibility. 
What a colossal monstrosity iu the metropdfcs 
of German science and culture!— Jteu. Dr. Schaff. 
‘Religion is not only an act, or a series of acts, 
but also and essentially a state, of mind, an order 
of the faculties, a temper and condition of the 
soul. It is essentially love of truth and good¬ 
ness, devotion to humanity, reverence for justice, 
worship of holiness. It is the accordance of the 
soul in all its sentiments with the spirit of God. 
