.E’S ETOAL HEW-YORKER. 
fsm 
U£< 
LADY JULIA. 
Lady Julia site in a gay boudoir, 
All lacker and buhl, and ormolu, 
And taps with her foot on the “tufted floor,” 
As dainty ladies are apt to do; 
Ab dainty ladies are wont to do 
When the lftst dear pet has untimely died, 
Or the last new novel has had too few 
“Sensation" scenes, and been laid aside. 
But the Ludy Julia has laid aside 
No novel, forsooth; for no thought has she, 
Except that to-morrow she'll be a bride. 
Though she loves not the husband that is to be. 
She loves not her husband that Is to be. 
For he’s ugly and old, but rich v. lthal: 
And his wealth U the saving clause, you see, 
The velvet cushion to break her fall. 
But the velvet cushion that breaks her fall 
May smother her yet In the coarse of timo, 
When tho love he bears her grows weak and small, 
Some few month# after the wedding-chime 
Some few months after the wedding-chime, 
When she his swallowed tho gilded pill, 
And supped the bitterness of her crime, 
She'll think of one who is weak and ill. 
She’ll think of one who Is weak and ill, 
Who's dying, perhaps. Tor her fickle sake ; 
But who' though she's false aud frivolous, still 
Will bless her, aye, till his heart doth break. 
Will bless her. aye, till hla heart doth break; 
For a man may die of a broken heart, 
Who life and liberty—all can stake, 
On a woman who playeth the traitor’s part. 
[Once a Week, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE WHISPERER. 
Whispering, when practiced to a certain ex¬ 
tent, is one of the most deadly weapons by which 
we may crush the character of those who may 
chance to be the -victims of our malice. We 
Written fer Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
never twice a child. 
4 
“ Stay in the nursing nest, Genie, 
Be not thence beguiled— 
You’ll never find a second, Genie, 
Never be twice a child." 
Wht can't we? This thought came to me 
after reading the above lines. And why not? 
This earth is the same as it was a few years ago; 
the grass and trees are as green, the eky as blue, 
and the flowers as beautiful and bright. To be 
sure our bodies are a “ little larger grown,” and 
wc have passed through trials and experiences 
that perchance have a tendency to make our 
faces look older, and to put a burden ©n our 
hearts. But to-day why uot cast them aside; 
they are past and gone,— let them lie. Let 
us imagine ourselves again a care-free, happy 
child. 
The house is lonely. Would we in our young 
days sit here so contentedly, reading by the 
window, occasionally glancing up at the passers 
by, calmly poising our nerves and letting the 
old clock on the mantel be the only voice to 
break the solitude of these great, lonesome 
rooms? No, with a bound we would leave this 
arm-chair, turn the foot-stool over, tie a string to 
one of its legs, and after cushioning It, place 
“naughty kittie” in to bo drawn, (which, by 
the way, they never seemed to relish in my 
childish days,) or catching up our hat we would 
be out doors swinging, jumping rope, making 
mud pies, “playing mother” in our play-houses, 
made by marking out the respective rooms with 
stones on the nice green grass. Did ever a meal 
I taste as well as when eaten off the bits of 
broken dishes in said play-houses ? Oh! I have 
had blessed experience in these seemingly child¬ 
ish plays. Blessed I say, for I am happy when 
recalling those bright, care-free days, and the 
care leaves my brow and the burden of life seems 
lifted for a time. 
How is it now, and why am I sad? Go back 
with me to an old brick house, near a wild glen, 
(then little known but since become famous,) 
the music of whose brook was the sweetest mu- 
may whisper in the ears of a professed friend, sic I have ever listened to, surrounded by huge 
and in confidence; but no sooner than said 
friend has an opportunity, will the secret be 
whispered to a third party, and at each recital 
the color will change according to the disposi¬ 
tion of the person who relates it, and if per¬ 
chance the fourth or fifth should get possession 
of the ill-fated secret, ninety-nine chances out 
of a hundred if a vestige of it remains. We 
may go into some communities and tho first 
weeks, perhaps months,.pass en, and we are as 
yet undisturbed by the Whisperer, — but ere we 
are aware of the fact we are the subject of gos¬ 
sip. Perhaps tho Whisperer is one nearly con¬ 
oid elms drooping their graceful branches low, 
as if to protect our home-nest and guard little 
sister and I {rorn harm: I am sure if it could 
have spoken it would have 6aid the same. We 
two; darling Minnie and I, would sit in its low 
branches by the hour with our books and dolls. 
And the old swing—that was a grand signal to 
every child in the village when the cold winter 
was past and the weather grew warm enough to 
warrant our safety out of doors. Then father 
would climb up aud fasten the rope (as large as 
my wrist, kept year after year for such pur¬ 
poses,) on the highest branch of the tree, How 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 
At this calm, sweet twilight, hoar, 
When my thoughts are wandering free, 
Memory brings, with magic power, 
Dreams of other days to me,— 
Days that fleeted rjnickiyby, 
Bright-winged hours too sweet to last; 
Rainbow hue* o’er childhood’s sky, 
Gladness, now forever past. 
Yes, those rosy hours have flown, 
Years have brought me toll and care, 
And have left me all alone— 
No fond friends my thoughts to share; 
For the frieuds of early years, 
All are scattered-some are dead, 
But the bitter burning tears 
O’er the false, the changed, I’ve shed. 
Gathering clouds aronnd me close, 
Dark and drear the future seems,— 
- Thorns I find on every rose. 
And my Joys are only dreams. 
Thus I muse with saddened heart 
On earth's changing scenes awhile, 
Friends, true-hearted, doomed to part, 
Sorrows hidden with a smile. 
But anon a pale sweet star 
Brightens In the darkening eky, 
Heaven-lit, shining from afar, 
On a world where all things die. 
Lo, while gazing on It there, 
All the radiant host appears. 
Telling of a home more fair,— 
Blissful home, all tree from tears. 
Now I see the friends I love, 
Faith has left, the gates ajar, 
And the bright heaven there above 
Seems no longer very far; 
And my spirit. Late so sad 
With its earthly sorrows here, 
Now with angel ones is glad— 
Now no evil do I fear. M . 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
OTHER PEOPLE’S BUSINESS, 
BY ARNO. 
neeted with us in the common walks of life, wc gazed at him with wondering, trembling 
and eoou the tide of slander ha6 spread 60 far 
that we even discern It la the countenances of 
very dear friends. Should we begin to wonder 
the cause of so great a change in this friend we 
soon feel the scorn, derision and even contempt 
hurled at us. 
There arc very few that will come to us and 
inform us that we are a subject of derision. In 
some families it is even deplorable, and often 
with those whose ties are of the most sacred 
character. A husband may get tired of the 
weakness of his wife, and ere she is aware of it 
there is whispering and murmuring as to certain 
weak poiuts in her moral character. All may be 
said in confidence, but how sad. “ The secret is 
a secret no longer.” The partner in business (not 
the partner in life,) is in keeping of the secret 
concerning the weak and helpless one that leans 
on him for succor from the cruel, cold and 
blighting world. Many whom she thought her 
friends would willingly see her once fair name 
blackened by the scorn of the Whisperer. Or 
it may be, the wife realizes something wrong in 
the character of the beloved husband; hastily 
she may make some remark which should have 
remained concealed in her own heart And 
sometimes ’tU 6een among a group of brothers 
and sisters, when all their trifles should have 
been settled their own happy circle. Even in 
the Church of Christ, where there should be 
naught but love aud confidence, you will see the 
Whisperer with his blandish smile entrap the 
unsuspecting by whispering Im the ear of some 
brother of another’s faults, and perchance draw 
out some remark that would never otherwise 
have been uttered, to mar the character of the 
the fellow Christatn. 
As I 6ee and realize the state of things which 
prevails I am led to exclaim in my inmost 6oul 
“No wonder the nation has been shaken from 
center to circumference.” May the time soon 
come when the Whisperer’s mouth will be closed 
and love for each other's rights be observed in 
every relation in life. e. p. p. 
South West Oswego, N. Y. 
Old Maids.— A sprightly writer expresses his 
opinion of old maids in the following manner: 
“ I am inclined to think that many of the satiri¬ 
cal asperatlons cast upon old maids tell more to 
their credit than Is generally imagined. Is a 
woman remarkably neat in her person? ‘She 
will certainly be an old maid.' Is she particu¬ 
larly reserved towards the other sex? ‘She has 
all the equeamishness of an old maid.’ Is she 
frugal iu her expenses and exact in her domestic 
concerns? ‘She is cut out for an old maid.’ 
And if she is kindly humane to the animals 
about her nothing can save her from the appella¬ 
tion of an ‘ old maid.' In short, I have always 
found that neatness, modesty, economy, and 
humanity are the never-failing characteristics of 
that terrible creature— ‘ old maid.' ” 
Religion is not the specialty of any one feel¬ 
ing, but the mood and harmony of the whole of 
them. It is the whole soul marching Heaven¬ 
ward to the music of joy and love, with well- 
ranked faculties, all beating time and keeping 
tune. 
faces for fear he would fall! Good, kind lather, 
• you are far from me now. Mother, I shall never 
• sec your dear face again. The old house is iu- 
! habited by strangers now, and to me life looks 
dreary and desolate, aud I await with patience 
the signal to come to the dear little sister and 
to meet those long lost parents in another, hap¬ 
pier land, and at last to have o home. a. m. m. 
THE FLOWER-GIRLS OF FLORENCE. 
' TnE flower-girls still drive their old trade 
with the same sort of languid interest which is 
characteristic of Florence, aud Florence alone. 
As you are walking in the streets, or driving in 
the gardens, or at breakfast in a cafe, young 
ladies, whose dress is a cross between a Tuscan 
contadina and a Parisian grisette, step up, and 
preseut you with a pink or rosebud, and then 
glide away with a smile as if you bad conferred 
a great favor on them by accepting it It is In¬ 
delicate to offer payment on the spot; it is j 
impossible to refuse a present for which you are 
charged nothing. Bat at some period or other 
previous to your departure, you are expected to 
make a present to the lady or ladies whom you 
have honored with your patronage. How long 
the supply of flowers would continue if you 
made no corresponding donation, or how little 
you can give without being considered mean, ere 
questions on which I have often pondered with¬ 
out coming to any conclusion; except that, 
putting sentiment aside, the ready-money sys¬ 
tem is in the long run the cheapest.— 
Love is a Mtstert. —Its origin is a mystery ; 
it£ essence is a mystery; every pulsation of its 
being is mysterious; and it is aware that it can¬ 
not break the shell and penetrate the mystery, 
without destroying both itself and the object. 
For the cloud, which is so beautiful in the dis¬ 
tance when the sunbeams are sleeping on its 
pillow, if you go too near and enter it is only 
dank and dun; you find nothing, you learn noth¬ 
ing, except that you have been tricked. Often 
have we been told that love palls after fruition; 
aud this is the reason. When it has plucked off 
its feathers for the sake of staring at them, it 
can never sew them on again. 
She Thinks She Sees It,— It is the duty of 
each member of the Mount Holyoke Female 
Seminary to .write aa anuu&l let«r, stating if 
she is married or siDgle, how many children she 
has, and other particulars concerning her status 
and progress. A young lady of the class of lSttl 
has just written to the class secretary that she is 
not married, but she thinks she can see a little , 
cloud that ariseth out of the sea of the future, 
like a rnan’6 head. 
A lady in Euglaud recently made a balloon 
ascension at nine o’clock at night. After being 
up twenty minutes and traveling nine miles, 
she saw the sea before her, and made a hasty 
landing in a vacant field, where she was com¬ 
pelled to pass the night in her balloon, in a wet 
and chilly condition. Her husband meantime is < 
reported t« have been anxious. 1 
Was there ever a person in all this wide world 
; of ours who just meekly condescended to attend 
to his own business ? If you, dear reader, have 
found such an one, you must not only have trav- 
‘ eled both far and near, but also in moBt favored 
localities! Now, curiosity is natural, a human 
characteristic. If ojeerted within its proper 
sphere it is of the greatest value to us all. By 
its prying research the great domain of science 
has been penetrated and explored, Had Isaac 
Newton been no more curious to discover the 
reason why an apple, when dislodged from its 
[ parent stem, should fail toward tho earth instead 
of towards t,he sky, than the mass of mankind 
around him, the great universal law of gravi¬ 
tation, 
I ’ » 
" Which holds the planets In their spheres.” 
might never have been discovered and explained. 
And had James Watt —the troublesome, mis- 
ehievious urchin!—possessed no more curiosity 
than mothers would have their boys possess, 
the rattling of a tea-kettle lid would never have 
led to the discovery of that great and now in¬ 
dispensable convenience to all mechanical enter¬ 
prise—steam. 
No harm can result from the proper use of 
curiosity; the evil only arises from its abuse. 
If we are only curious in regard to our own 
affairs—only desirous to pry into all the hidden 
mysteries which envelop our own business— we 
possess “ true wisdom. 1 ' But, generally, wc are 
not content with the curiosity which pertains 
to our own aflairs, and out philanthropy— if such 
it can be called — leads us to become curious in 
regard to the affairs of our neighbors. 
Our neighbor has good stock. They are 
lagre, fat and marketable. We are not satisfied 
with knowing the fact. Wc must still permit 
our curiosity to carry us farther, and enquire — 
just as though it was any of onr business— whose 
grain put them in such good condition. Then 
we very naturally, sometimes, conclude that 
they received the advantage of other people's 
grain. Then we begin to “think out loud,” and 
tell our neighbor that we believe, as Mr. So-and- 
so has such good cattle and neber had any grain 
to feed them on, and os Mr. Such-a-one has 
lost considerable corn, that Mr. So-and-so’s 
cattle must have been fed on that corn. Then 
we conclude by saying, “ Never mention this 
matter to any one, for I wouldn’t that Mr. So- 
and-so should hear it for anything in the 
world! ” Then we go to half a dozen other 
neighbors and tell them the same story, conclud¬ 
ing by giving them the same warning In regard 
to secresy. They, of course, tell the story to 
their friends and those friends tell to others — all 
the time remembering, particularly, to charge 
them “ not to tell another living soul! ” By and 
by Mr. So-and-so hears the report we have so 
gratuitously circulated, and, as the natural re¬ 
sult, a “breeze 19 stirred up,” none to the har¬ 
mony of the community or to the increase of 
good feeling and friendship between Mr. So- 
and-so and Mr. Shqh-a-one. 
Mrs. Fashion has purchased a new bonnet. 
It is a “splendid affair” — a perfect “love of a 
bonnet.” While many are full of words in 
praise of its marvellous beauty, some poor, in- I 
significant, selfish little bodies —not satisfied < 
that any one should possess an article of dress, 1 
hoimer small, without first consulting their ' 
tastes and fancies—begin to discover reasons ] 
why Mrs. Fashion — of all other women — 1 
shouldn’t wear such a bonnet I First, they re- ! 
member, and recall the fact to the minds of 1 
their friends, that Mr. Fashion, (poor man!) 
only last year was forced to sell one-half of his 
best farm for the purpose of satisfying an exe- 1 
cution levied upon his 6tore in town. And still t 
more, they, by counting fingers aud consulting 1 
almanacs, discover that it has been only six 
months since the Death Angel spread his dark 
wings over her home, carrying “from earth 
- away,” her dear, only son. “ Oh how unfeeling 
to thus make such a display of 1 fine feathers’ 
while yet the grass is not green on the grave of 
the departed! ” 
And thus we trouble ourselves just as much 
over the worldly and spiritual condition of Mrs. 
Fashion as though by her apendthriftiness we 
are made penniless, or by her want of realization 
of the dispensations of Providence, deprived of 
our heritage in the eternal world. Let us look 
at the affAlr in a more sensible light. What 
matters it to vs if Mr. Fashion is sold out by the 
sheriff on account of his extravagant wife, or 
why should wc complain even if Mrs. Fashion 
does uot wear mourning in memory of her de¬ 
parted son? These are private affaire. They 
concern only the Fashion family and not you 
or /. True, such acts of “ shameful improprie¬ 
ty” may shock our finer nature—but then, after 
all, is it not true “ Evils which cannot be cured 
must be endured? ” 
Again, there is Mr. Sikgleman— astraDgeand 
strikingly peculiar being! “ Why in the world 
doesn't he take unto himself a wife? ” There is 
Miss Jennie -, and Miss Fannie -, 
and a host of other Misses, every one of whom 
would make him the “ dearest, best little wife in 
all the world; ” and yet he (poor fool!) goes 
plodding on his way through this “ vale of 
tears,” “solitary and alone,” with 
“ No one to love—none to caress*.” 
Now, if other people would attend to their 
own affairs, there is no doubt but what Mr. Sin- 
glbman will attend to his. He, certainly, feels 
perfectly capable of attending to his own busi¬ 
ness, or he would, long ago, have called upon 
some of his good friends—so willing to advise— 
for assistance. When you were as Mr. Single- 
ton is, you claimed it as your natural right to 
select whom you c hose for a companion, and still 
more, to select that one Just when and where you 
pleased. Do, for once, be magnanimous and 
give Mr. Sinoleman the same privelege! 
“There’s Mr. Honeymoon — a man in the 
most moderate of circumstances — gone on a 
weddiug tour ’way down to Boston,” And all 
the young misses and old maids, (especially the 
latter,) turn prophets, and with a significant nod 
of the head, assure their friends that “he’d bet¬ 
ter have saved his money for 6ome wiser pur¬ 
pose — will have plenty of use for it iu keeping 
that good-natured, innocent, do-nothing wife of 
his.” Now, what’s the difference to them if Mr. 
Honetmoon hasn't plenty of money and has 
married a ‘ 1 good-for-nothing indolent ? ” Suppose 
he didn’t go to Boston at their expense! How 
fine it would be if there was a grand convention 
—composed of ail the men, women and children 
in the community—assembled once a week, for 
the purpose of arranging all such trilling affairs! 
If we only displayed half the zeal in regard to 
our own affairs that we uselessly exercise lu 
regard to the affairs of onr neighbors, success 
would crown our every effort, and thoughtful • 
industry soon place us on the highway to honor, 
wealth and ease. 
Hopedale, Ohio, Sept., 1366. 
SABBATH. 
The day of rest once more comes round, 
A day to all believers dear; 
The silver trumpets seem to Bound, 
That call the tribes of Israel near; 
Ye people all, 
Obey the call, 
And to Jehovah's courts appear. 
Obedient to tby summons, Lord, 
We to Thy sanctuary come; 
Thy gracious presence here afford, 
And send Thy people joyful home; 
Of Thee our King 
O may we sing, 
Aiad none with such a theme be dumb ! 
O hasten, Lord, the day when those. 
Who know Thee here shall see Thy face; 
When suffering shall forever close 
And they shall reach their destined place; 
Then shall they rest 
Supremely blest, 
Eternal debtors to Thy grace! 
[Thomas Kelly, 1806. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
IDOLATRY AND IMAGINATION. 
WANT OF DECISION. 
A great deal of labor is lost to the world for 
the want of a little courage. Every day sends 
to their graves a number of obscure men, who 
have ouly remained in obscurity because their 
timidity has prevented them from making a first 
effort, and who, if they had been induced to 
begin, would in all probability have gone great 
lengths in the career of fame. The fact is, that 
in doiug anything in the world worth doing, we 
must not stand shivering on the bank, thinking 
of the cold aud dauger, but jump in and scram¬ 
ble through as well as we can. It will not do to 
bn perpetually calculating risks aud adjusting 
nice chances; it did all very well before the 
flood, when a mao could consult his friends 
upon an intended publication for a hundred and 
fifty years, and live to see its success for six or 
seven centuries afterward; but at present a man 
waits and doubts, and consults hia brother, and 
uncles, and his particular friends, till one day he 
finds that he i3 sixty-five years of age, and that 
he has lost so much time in consulting first 
cousins and particular fjlends that he has no 
more time to follow their advice. There is so 
little time for over-squeamish ness at present, 
that the opportunity slips away. The very 
period of life at which a man chooses to ven¬ 
ture, if ever, is so confined that it is no bad rale 
to preach up the necessity, iu such instances, of 
a little violence done to the feelings, aud efforts 
made in defiance of strict and sober cal<^ila- 
tions .—Sidney Smith. 
Reading on the Cars. — Is reading while 
riding on the ears or boat Injurious to the eyes? 
It is. It not only weakens and injures the eye¬ 
sight, but tends to produce congestion of the 
head and headache. Let any one whose eyes 
are weak read for half an hour or an hour on a 
train of cars or a steamboat, and he will be likely 
to feel a dull, aching sensation of the eyes, and a 
decided fullness, if not pain, in the forehead. 
Think aud talk while riding, but do not read if 
you value your eyes .—Herald of Health. 
The Game of Guns vs. Armor, played so 
long ou a large scale, has taken a new and won¬ 
derful aspect, by an invention of Charles Ber¬ 
nard, a Belgiau. lie has devised a light coat 
which is impenetrable to musketry lire, and 
proves its efficiency by standing unharmed 
while musketeers shoot at him. The garment is 
a flowing one, reaching to the ground, and the 
head is protected by a steel casque. 
Idolatry and Imagination have far more to 
do with men and their works than they should. 
Idolatry captivates hearts that never intended 
to bow to false gods, while Imagination—the 
Goddess of Dreams—leads the minds of the tal¬ 
ented, old and young, to gaze upon her false 
pictures of happiness and misery, never known 
and never to be kuown. Mankind in general 
love to choose gods which they can serve, and 
at the same time serve themselves. They are 
willing to love to worship,—but they must serve 
what they please, da it wbeu, where and how 
they please. Thus it is that they choose idols 
which lead them in the smoothest paths, be¬ 
speak the brightest future, and point to the rich¬ 
est end. How true and fitting to all mankind 
was the noble answer of that great slave leader 
of Rome, Sfaetachs, when asked why he exci¬ 
ted the slaves to Insurrection and slaughter. 
Said he, “They wish to be my idols—compel 
me to worship them:—Have I not the right of 
Heaven to destroy my earthly idols? I break 
them because I wish to choose my own gods.” 
What la there better fitted to the nature of 
man than Idolatry; and what more fascinating 
than Fancy? They both seek to please their 
subjects while they rule them with a rod, lead¬ 
ing them here and there, compelling them to do 
this and that, while they almost unconsciously 
obey. Nowwhyisthls? Simply because we have 
too many gods to serve — we cannot do them all 
justice. While we are sporting with one we dis¬ 
please and play false to the other. The king of 
the cradle, the wildest romance, wealth, fashion, 
politicians and heroes, are all glorying In the 
name of gods of the present day. 
Talk about the days of Idolatry; gather your 
children around you and tell them of the Dark 
Ages,—the time when men bowed to wooden 
images, 6tone faces, and the rising' and setting 
sun; look around you and see how many wor¬ 
shipers, not of the true God, there are in this 
enlightened age! Gaze at those vast assemblies 
shouting, and praising one whom God created 
from the same dross as yourself, placed upon 
the same earth, governed by the sameTuws, des¬ 
tined to the same death, hurrying on to return 
to dust again, — and then, while all the dim 
shadows of departed heroes dance around you, 
exclaim if you can, “We are not Idolaters.” 
We are worse—we arc hero worshipers—serving 
those-whom the Creator ordained to serve Him. 
False imaginations are the precursors of Idol¬ 
atry-idolatry signalized by false love to God 
and man, and stamping misery and ignorance 
upon every brow. Those false pictures which 
Fancy uses to conquer—where true ones will 
not-are but images from our own hearts. She 
gearches our adulatious natures, and then is ful¬ 
ly able to draw a picture that will conquer those 
hearts. Therefore we have only to say to those 
“ dusty and rusty,” and thieving andljmg imag¬ 
inations, “Begone!—I will shelter you no lou- 
ger,” and Idolatry and hero-worship will begin 
to breathe shorter—go that when each shall pass 
through the dim twilight of a useful life, living 
heroes, who have drenched their land with blood 
to be worshiped, will not call upon us for ^ last 
shout of praise or song of worship. 
Summit Farm, Ill., 1866. c. a. c. 
Some authors have too much talent. They 
make even their idols talk wit and utter repar¬ 
tees. The generality of authors not having too 
much talent, go to the opposite extreme. 
GOD’S PROMISE OF SUPPORT. 
“When thou passest through the waters, I 
will be with thee; and through the rivers, they 
shall not oversow thee: when thou walkest 
through the fire, thou shalt not he burned; 
neither shall the flume kindle upon thee.” Isa. 
xliii. 2. What a diversity of afflictions in this 
trial world! "Waters,” streams,” “floods,” 
“flames,” “fires.” The Christian is here fore¬ 
warned that he will encounter these in some 
one of their innumerable phases, whether it be 
the loss of health, loss of wealth, loss of friends, 
baffled schemes, or blighted hopes. 
But, blessed thought, these trials have their 
limits. The floods will not “overflow,” the 
fires will not “burn,” the flames w’ill not “con¬ 
sume.” God will “stay his rough wind.” He 
will fay. "Thus far shalt thou go, and no far¬ 
ther.” And better still, Jesus will be in all 
these trials, aud prove sufficient for them all. 
“0, sirs,” says Thomas Brookes, “there is in a 
crucified Jesus something proportionable to ail 
the straits, wants, necessities, and trials of his 
poor people.” — Macduff. 
Most of the shadows that cross our path 
through life are caused by standing in our own 
light. 
