A LEAF PROM LIFE. 
I lent my love ft book one day; 
She brought it b»clc; I laid it by, 
■’Twae little either had to say— 
She wan BO tt range, and I bo shy. 
But yet we loved Indifferent things— 
The sprouting bade, the birds in tuue; 
And time stood still and wreath’d his wings 
With rosy links from June to June. 
For her, what task to dare or do? 
What peril tempt? wbftt hardships bear ? 
But with her—ah! she never know 
My heart and what was hidden there! 
And she with me so cold and coy, 
Seem'd like a maid bereft of sense; 
But in the crowd all life and joy— 
And full of blushful impudence. 
She married I—well—a woman needs 
A mate, her life and love to share— 
And little cares sprang up like weeds, 
And played around her elbow chair. 
And years roll’d by—but I, content, 
Trimm’d my own lamp, and kept it bright 
Till age’s touch my hair besprent 
With rays and gleams,of silver light. 
And then, It chanced, I took the book 
Which she perused in days gone by; 
And as I read such passion shook 
My soui—1 needs must curse or cry. 
For here and there her love was writ 
In old, half-faded pencil signs; 
As If she yielded—bit by bit— 
Her heart in dots and underlines. 
Ah! silver fool!—too late you look! 
I know it; let me here record 
This maxim: Lend ny girl a book 
Unless you read it afterward! 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE WISE MAH—A PHOTOGRAPH, 
The aptitude, talents Mid cultivation of Mr. 
Wjsbtowjkh are wonderful to witness, but quite 
impossible to describe, even w ould space permit 
of sufficient amplification to touch upon the 
various powers of his uncommon mind. He is 
au fait on all subjectsnothing too high for 
ills mental grasp, or too insignificant for his in¬ 
quiring mind. He can readily decide the most 
momentous questions; Indeed, by occasionally 
borrowing a daily be is enabled to judge w hether 
the Chief Magistrate is capable of filling the 
Presidential chair, as well as the capacity of all 
lesser functionaries. 
During the “ War in America,” the ignorance, 
incapacity and “masterly inactivity” of the of¬ 
ficers, aud others, was daily warmly descanted 
upon; and notwithstanding it. was found in 
the. beginning that cannon and munitions of war 
hud been plundered and transferred to the 
houth; that the comparatively small army w'as 
scattered over the South, and Southwestern 
States, while the navy was on distant waters — 
.that vast armies were to be organized, and dis¬ 
ciplined;—In short, that a proud, arrogant, des¬ 
potic race, deaf alike to reason and justice, mad 
with ambition, and ripe with treason—leaving 
no means untried to overthrow a kind aud be¬ 
neficent government — was to be subdued and 
the Union restored. Yet Mr. Wisbtoyver, 
seated at home in an easy chair, fretting and 
fuming over whatever was done, or left uudoue, 
instated that the most wicked and stupendous 
rebellion that ever disgraced history, could and 
should be immediately quelled. Nor Is he Jess 
familiar with foreign affairs. Tie is not limited 
to any particular branch,—but his knowledge 
all-embracing, comprehensive, extends over I 
every age and part of the globe! As he graphi¬ 
cally expresses it,—“What I don’t know isn’t 
worth knowing.” 
Perhaps you imagine that with his gigantic 
intellect, Mr. Wisktoweu wouldn’t descend to 
the miuutia of domestic matters —the small, 
insiguitlceut details of every day life. Quite the 
contrary, I assure you; his genius in that line is 
undeniable, and he is not troubled with any 
scruples that his wife may prefer managing 
and attending to the petty, multifarious duties 
of her household. Certainly Mr. Wisetower 
could not have so erred in judgment as to have 
selected a helpmeet incapable — but a man is so 
much better fitted to understand such thiugs! 
So he decides when anything is needed for 
housekeeping purposee, as well as the quantity 
and quality. For instance, he sometimes con¬ 
siders sugar cheapest, and preferable for every¬ 
thing—inelndiug old-fashioned Indian bread 
and molasses (?) gingerbread;—then for a time 
nothiug but sugar is forthcoming. Again, mo¬ 
lasses carries the day and must be used for jelly, 
pound cake and the like. He is not fearful of 
compromising his dignity by peering into the 
oven, sniffing over the dinner-pot, ferreting out 
stature of womanhood,) what they are to think; 
nor are they permitted to smile but at his 
sovereign will and pleasure, as one’s risibilities 
: are always under control! But his acumen, his 
penetration , arc most, remarkable. When one 
complains of Illness (especially If of long dura¬ 
tion,) he can invariably tell, at least to his own 
satisfaction, the patient’s condition to a fraction. 
Fanny Feen says that “ the great He does not, 
never did, never will, and ought not to be ex¬ 
pected to have, any patience with any pains or 
aches, that he does not feel in his own person.” 
But Mr. Wisetower usually finds with his gift 
of intuition the sickness merely a pretence—the 
suffering individual being only afflicted with 
laziness! 
If auy of my readers are in any way connected 
with Mr. Wisetower they have the hearty com¬ 
miseration of Lakcillotti. 
Grcenport, L. 1., 1806. 
THE EMPTY CRADLE. 
Many a mother’s heart will respond to this 
sketch: 
We met John on the stairs. He was carrying 
an old cradle to he stowed away among what he 
termed “plunder” in the lumber-room. One 
rocker was gone, and the wicker-work of the 
sides broken; it was an old willowy affair: but 
we could not refrain from casting a sad look into 
its empty depths. 
“Gone,” we said, dreamily, “all gone!” 
What golden heads were once pillowed here, 
heads on which curls grew moist in slumber, 
and the cheeks and lips flushed to the hue of 
rose leaves. When sleep broke, the silken- 
fringed lids opened heavily from the slumbrous 
eyes; smiles flitted like sunbeams over the face; 
the white list was thrust Into the mouth, and 
when mamma lifted the muslin and peeped in to 
see if baby was awake, what cooing and crow¬ 
ing was heard! The little feet began to kick 
out of pure delight, and kicked on until both of 
the tiny red shoes were landed at the foot of the 
cradle. Where are those heads now? Some 
that were embrowned by vigorous manhood arc 
sleeping on battle-fields; some are bleached with 
time and cares; and the feet have grown sore 
and weary on the rough paths of life. 
Perhaps some little one once tenderly rocked 
here is sleeping In the coffin. Over it grows 
heart’s ease and vigorous box, and white candy¬ 
tuft, and starry jessamine. The blue bird flut¬ 
ters Its bright wings through the willow boughs, 
and the cool summer wind whispers to the green 
leaves and grass-blades on the grave. What of? 
Perhaps of its mortality. Sleep on, little dream¬ 
less one! “Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
AQUATIC COURTSHIP. 
A London Magazine, in an article on bathing, 
tells the following story. We suppose ail the ' 
young ladies will pronounce the adventurous 
youth who went on so swimmingly with his court- . 
ship, a dear duck of a lover: 
“ It is reported that one young gentleman who ] 
swam Indifferently, followed out into the sea a ( 
young lady who swam excellently; that, pant- . 
ing with emotion und exertion, he assured her 
in the briefest possible manner of his attach- ( 
ment., and almost choked himself in the attempt . 
to seize and kiss her hand ; that, floating upon 1 
his back, be explained quietly bis position and 
circumstances, and breathed words of tender- j 
ness, while the fair one again and again plunged 
underwater to conceal her blushes; and that, ^ 
dually, when they swam to shore, the daring . 
youth had been accepted, at the cost of being j 
almost paralyzed with the cold. 
Important to Ladies. —When a lady would j 
compose her mouth to a bland and serene char- j 
actcr, she should just before entering the room, 
say “bosom,” and keep the expression into t 
which the mouth subsides until the desired effect , 
upon the company is evident. If on the other ( 
hand, she wishes to assume a distinguished and 
somewhat noble bearing, not suggestive of t 
sweetness, shoshouldsay “brush,” the result of 
which is infallible. If she would make her ( 
mouth look small and needs enlarging, she must r 
say “ cabbage.” If she wishes to look mourn- c 
ful, she must Bay “kerchunk.” If resigned, t 
she must forcibly ejaculate “ scat.” Ladies when c 
having their photographs taken may observe j 
these rules with some advantage. 
*** r 
Be Friends with Your Children. — Too ( . 
many parents, alas, live in a state of war, or, at t 
best, in an armed truce with their children, as 
though they were enemies conspiring against 
the peace of home and the interest of life; aud 
the children, lindidg coldness where they look 
for warmth, turn and look elsewhere for the 
sympathy and affection, the cheer and guidance, Y 
which parents neglect to give. Make your child j, 
feel that you are the best of friends, and that rj 
tmt 
THOUGHT 
EXPRESSION. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AUTUMN. 
Glorious, golden summer days, 
With the cheering sun’s bright rays, 
With the zephyrs soft and light, 
With the flowers rich and bright : 
With the shower? still and mild, 
With the lightning leaping wild, 
With the hum of busy bees, 
With the music through the trees: 
With the songs of happy birds, 
With the loo of distant herds, 
With the reaper's merry whistle, 
As he cuts the grass and thistle. 
Summer days 1 love you all, 
But when Autumn's gorgeous pall 
Wraps you, folds you from my Eight, 
With her colors rich and bright— 
Then I sigh aud w ish you back, 
But none of that says “ Frosty Jack 
So in the valley and on the bill, 
lie scatters the enow so white and still. 
Then, oh, the dear grave* arc hid from sight! 
And the once loved faces and eyes so bright, 
Are sleeping beneath the new made weight, 
Is it wicked to long to share their fate? 
Is it wicked to wish to be at rest ? 
With our bauds folded quietly on our breast— 
To never know care or sorrow more, 
Bnt to meet our Lord on the other shore. 
Watkins, N. Y. a. m. m. 
SIGHTS IN HOLLAND. 
A Rotterdam correspondent of the Boston 
Traveler writes: 
Imagine a city where every other street is a 
dirty canal filled with barges, where half the 
front doors open into brooks, and the other half 
directly Into the streets, which are paved with 
brick. Imagine everything, from (street door 
signs to tree trunks, perfectly white and clean, 
with the exception of the water with which 
everything Is washed. Imagine everything look¬ 
ing as if they had just been sent home from the 
laundry, nobody dirty or shiftless or slovenly, 
and all the peasants hobbling about in huge 
wooden shoes of a hundred pounds burden (to 
use a nautical phrase,) with soles two inches 
thick. 
Imagine several hundred small hand carts 
laden with fruit and vegetables, pulled by dogs, 
who trot under the axletrce while the seller 
holds the affair up by the handles in the rear. 
The horses are very few in number, and don’t 
resemble horses at ail, and are so thin and mis¬ 
erable in their aspect, that I don’t wonder at 
the peasants preferring the dogs in their places. 
All freight and heavy goods are transported by 
water, and consequently there are but few wag¬ 
ons. Those few are heavy and awkward, and are 
fastened to the horses by ropes. The streets are 
lined with 6hade trees, and many of the houses 
have beautiful gardens, with rivulets instead of 
flowerbeds, and shaded islands In the place of 
summer-houses. 
Dutch beds, stables, barnyards—in fact every¬ 
thing that I have seen l.n Dutchland is clean and 
fresh. Iu cow-houses (be animals’ tails are tied 
up to a hook in the celling that they may not 
get soiled by contact with the floor; and when 
they go out to pasture in the spring they have & 
cloth tied around them, as like boys have bibs, 
to keep them nice aud clean. Bugs and spiders 
stand no possible ebauee of existence in Hol¬ 
land. Every week the whole energy of the in¬ 
habitants is devoted to scrubbing aud cleaning, 
and, indeed, the whole city retains a damp ap¬ 
pearance all the week from the terrible drench¬ 
ing which it gets on Saturday. 
When a person is sick an announcement to 
that effect is put up outside the door, and 
changed like a bulletin as the disease progresses 
or is checked. 
In walking abont this morning I saw several 
men walking very rapidly, with enormous three- 
cornered black hats on, short black coats cover¬ 
ed with ribbons, small clothes and black socks. 
They carried in their hands black-edged papers, 
covered with w riting. The hideous hired mourn¬ 
ers of England are ugly enough, but these out¬ 
do them. They were all hats and ribbons, and 
I have just found out that they are the death 
announcers, and that it is their cheerful busi¬ 
ness In life to continually call upon the friends 
of any one deceased and usher in the mournful 
tidings, with an invitation to the funeral. 
A DINNER OF EIGHTEEN HUNDRED 
YEARS AGO. 
closets, inspecting tea grounds, and inquiring your “No” shuts the door on a coveted pleasure 
every day particularly about the potatoes — in only to shut out greater ills or to make a greater 
constant alarm lest one the size of a dwarfed happiness possible to him. 
walnut should be wasted. But rather thinks his ---- 
family should each, individually, unceasingly honey’ and kisses. 
thank their stars for having one so capable to To heal the wound a bee had made 
decide ior them; and it is a source of much Upon my Nellie's face, 
mental w’ondeiment how they manage to exist Its honey to the part she laid, 
during his absence. So unerring aro his intu- And bade me kies the place, 
ltive powers he can tell the exact degree of Pleased, I obeyed, and from the wound 
warmth necessary lor the family in the winter, Sacked both the sweet and smart ; 
and so assiduous is he in their behalf that he The honey on my lip I found— 
actually designates the number of pieces of coal The sling went through my heart. 
to be put iu the stove at one time, and how -*-*-•- 
often the process can be repeated — never for- A lady’, modestly attired, was on her way to 
getting to mention at his departure that the New York, on board one of the Hudson River 
dampers are to remain closed until his return. night boats. She sat quietly reading in the 
Though he believed in (reedotn of speech at ladies’ cabin, w hen a flashy dressed dame, a 
the South, it's quite another matter in one's shade or two whiter outside, mistaking her for 
own family, and when he has thundered forth a servant, rudely accosted her with, “Do you 
his opinion, like the great Dr. Johnson, l >he know this cabin is for ladies?” “Certainly I 
wishes the subject ended.” Tie coolly informs do,” was the answer; “ aud have been wonder- 
his children (albeit some have reached the ing for some time whv you are hero.” 
The citizens of ancient Pompeii knew what 
was good. They relished roast pig. A family 
in that aristocratic city, one of the F. F. P.’s, 
perhaps, were about to dine on the rich and 
succulent dish on the very day that the restless 
Titan, under Mount Vesuvivus, expectorated 
from his fiery lungs the shower of red hot ashes 
which entombed the Pompeiians in their dwell¬ 
ings. The pig was being cooked, and was pro¬ 
bably near done, at the time when the volcanic 
storm burst in and spoiled it. This is not a mat¬ 
ter of conjecture, reader, for only a few weeks 
ago a mass of indurated lava and ashes was 
found in a stew-pan, standing on a cooking 
stove in the kitchen of a house recently disin¬ 
terred, and on opening the lump a perfect mold 
of a sucking porker was disclosed. A east was 
Upon the opening of the Statistical Section of 
the British Association, Lord Stanley, the presi¬ 
dent, offered some excellent advice as to speak¬ 
ing: 
“ You can say all you have got to say in very 
few words if you will think it over beforehand. 
It U not abundance of matter, it is want of prep¬ 
aration, want of exact thought, that makes dif- 
foseness. A man goes round and round his mean¬ 
ing when he is not perfectly clear. Again, we 
don’t want preamble or perorations. We are 
not a school of rhetoric; and in addressing an 
educated audience a good deal may be taken for 
granted. Lastly, we only wish to get at the 
truth of things.” 
Quintilian has written to the same effect, and 
goes even further, for he says that a perfect 
thought will always clothe itself in appropriate 
language, and that when people suppose that 
they are in want of words to express themselves 
they are really in want of thought, have only got 
hold of a part of a thought instead of the com¬ 
plete thought, and are in difficulty about the 
clothing of an unformed thing. De Retz says 
that strong emotions find their utterances in 
monosyllables, and the language of the poor in 
grief is often of an earnestness and simplicity 
rising to eloquence. Out ol the fullness of the 
heart the mouth epeaketb. It was said of au 
ancient writer’s negligence that it was that of a 
man studying his matter more than his expres¬ 
sion; but, if Quintilian be right, the author had 
not completely mastered his matter, and there¬ 
fore fell into faults of manner. Quintilian may, 
perhaps, push the proposition a little too far, 
but it is a safer general rule to suspect the com¬ 
pleteness of thought when its delivery iu words 
is difficult, and calls for help. As Lord Stanley 
well says, “ a man goes round and round his 
meaning when he is not perfectly clear .”—London 
Examiner. 
WHAT LUTHER LOVED. 
Luther, when studying, always had bis dog 
lying at his feet—a dog he had brought from 
Wartburg, and of which he was very fond. An 
ivory crucifix stood at the table before him. He 
worked at his desk days together without going 
out; but when fatigued, and the ideas began to 
stagnate, he took his guitar with him to the 
porch, aud there executed some musical fantasy 
(for ho was a skillful musician) when the ideas 
would flow upon him as fresh as flowers after a 
summer’s rain. Music was his invariable solace 
at such times. Indeed, Luther did not hesitate 
to say, that after theology music was the first of 
arts. “ Music," said he, “ is the art of the proph¬ 
ets; it is the only other art which like theol¬ 
ogy can calm the agitation of the soul, and put 
the devil to flight." Next to music if not be¬ 
fore it, Luther loved children and flowers. That 
great gnarled man hud a heart as tender as a 
woman’s. 
The Equai.itt of the Grave.— Nature knows 
no rich, who brought us all poor into the world. 
For, in fine, we are not born with line clothes, 
nor with silver and gold. She who brought U3 
into the world without clothes and food, will 
receive us again quite naked into her bosom, 
She doth not know how to contain our posses¬ 
sions and estates in the grave. A little space of 
ground after death is enough both for the rich 
and poor. Nature then produces us all alike, 
and makes us all die without any difference. 
Who can find out the different conditions of the 
dead? Open the sepulchres, view the dead 
bodies, move the ashes, aud distinguish, if you 
can, the rich from the poor. Pcrhapsjyou will 
THE BIBLE. 
BY MK5. JUD80N. 
’Tis a ray of purest light, 
Beaming through the depths of night, 
Brighter than ten thousand gems, 
Or the costliest diadems. 
'Tls an orb-more radiant far 
Than the fairest evening star; 
Yea, the eun outshining even 
When it rides midway in heaven! 
’Tia a Fountain, pouring forth 
Streams of life to gladden earth; 
Whence eternal blessings flow, 
Antidote for human woe. 
’Tis an Ocean, vast aud dear, 
In which rays divine appear, 
Bearing freight, the choicest store 
Ever borne the wide world o’er. 
’Tls a mine, far deeper, too, 
Than cm mortal ever go: 
Search we may for many years, 
Still some new, rich gem appears. 
Blessed Bible! Precious Word! 
Boon most sacred from the Lord; 
Glory to Ills name he given 
For this best, rich gift of Heaven. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
BEST-HERE AHD HEREAFTER. 
Rest! It is the never ceasing desire of the 
soul; ’tls that for which we wish when weary of 
Earth, of its joys and sorrows, hopes and fears 
—Sts disappointments, tolls and trials,—all that 
makes up the busy scenes and struggles of life. 
We desire Rest, both physically and mentally. 
Without this precioiifl- boon the constitution 
that is the most robust would soon become a 
wasted skeleton, and the most learned Philoso¬ 
pher would ere long degenerate into an idiot. 
There are hours when the moat energetic spirits 
are wearied, — when they have no hope, no de¬ 
sire, no wish but for repose. While, amidst the 
tumults of life, dark clouds of ill aud disap¬ 
pointment gather and o’ereast the soul with 
gloom —when the world, with its deceitl'ulness 
and pleasures, with its gilded temptations, fills 
the mind with sorrow —when the past, with its 
trials, transgressions, its accumulating respon. 
sibilitics, Its clinging memories, weighs down 
the spirit, and when hopes that cluster around 
life have fallen like the forest leaves when chilled 
with the frosts of autumn are beheld around 
us—’tis then we ask and seek for rest. 
And there are hours when those who toil 
almost unceasingly for wealth, whose every 
thought seems placed preeminently on the one 
great object, gain, are weary, worn and sad, and 
gladly would they exchange all the wealth that 
they possess for rest. Aud often is the votary 
at pleasure’s shrines tired of the world on which 
he bestows so many thoughts, and from which 
he expects to receive every enjoyment. ^ Aud 
those, too, who are compelled ta labor for their 
daily bread ardently wish for some respite, some 
cessation from their ever-wearying, never ceas¬ 
ing toil;—bat necessity ever sternly urges them 
onward. And those who are harrassed with pain, 
who count the tedious hours or measure the 
very moments by their throbbing pulse, hope 
for some relief, some Rest from their suffering. 
And as the lamp when Night has robed the earth 
iu darkness shed6 its pale, flickering beams o’er 
the emaciated form ol'the “author” as he traces 
those lines that gain for him a livelihood, and 
endeavors from the beauteous scenes of Nature, 
know him by the magnifleient tomb, which will *or the exhaustles 3 fountains of Philosophy or 
taken of the hollow, and the result was a fic 
A lady, modestly attired, was on her way to simile in plaster of the little animal, which had 
New York, on board one of the Hudson River 
night boats. She sat quietly reading in the 
ladies’ cabin, when a flashy dressed dame, a 
shade or two whiter outside, mistaking her for 
a servant, rudely accosted her with, “Do you 
know this cabin is for ladies?" “Certainly I 
do,” was the answer; “ aud have been wonder¬ 
ing for some time why you are here.” 
been roasted in scientific style, and is supposed, 
from the shape of the matrix, to hav r e been just 
ready for the table. The inquisitive antiquari- 
aus are continually poking their noses into lit¬ 
tle domestic secrets of the Pompeiians of eigh¬ 
teen centuries ago, which the people of the ex¬ 
cavated neighborhood would have hesitated to 
tell one another. 
only show you that he possessed more goods, or 
rather that he hath lost more than the poor man 
has. There is no other distinction, and both 
rich and poor here fare alike. 
October in the Country. — The golden 
beauty of the autumn is now fairly begun. The 
shrubs and trees in the woods are fast changing 
to the rich browns and yellows and reds of the 
fading season. There is promise of an unusu¬ 
ally rich harvest of beauty, for the summer 
growth has been full aud strong and luxuriant, 
and the autumn ripening and decay should be 
equally vigorous and perfect. Already, indeed, 
is the .'promise realized. The youDg oaks are 
aglow with deepest, richest reds; and the divine 
alchemist is working His wondrous changes 
through all the fields and forests with an over¬ 
flowing supply of all the marvelous juices of 
nature. Now is the time to come to the country, 
to revel in its colors, and to drink deep of its 
soft and sweet autumnal airs.— Ex. 
■ ■ .... + ■ . . . . 
Early Rising gives long days, invigorating 
light in abundance, aud healthy cheeks. This 
beautiful passage from Bulwer’s Caxton, is 
worthy of perpetual remembrance“ I was an 
early riser. Happy the man who is! Every 
morning day comes to him with a virgin’s love, 
full of purity and freshness. The yoxitli of na¬ 
ture is contagious, like the gladness of a happy 
child. I doubt if any man can be called old as 
long as he is an early riser and an early walker. 
And youth — take my word for it — youth in 
dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over break¬ 
fast at noon, is a very decrepit, ghastly image 
of the youth which sees the sun blush over the 
mountains and the dew sparkle upon the blos¬ 
soming hedge rows.” 
■ — 
Montesquieu, author of the laborious and 
celebrated work, “Esprit des Lbis,” observes: 
“ A man is worth what he will sell for; in some 
countries he is worth nothing, in others less 
than nothing.” This may be regarded as rather 
a humiliating view of the “ paragon of animals” 
— one calculated according to the Hudibraslic 
rule:— 
"What is worth in any thing 
Bat so much money as ’twillbring.” 
Science, time after time to bring up treasures 
upon which the eye of mortals never before 
rested —laboring thus he becomes weary, worn 
and sad, and anxiously he sighs for Rest. 
And what does Rest then promise that all so 
much desire it? It builds no grand palace in 
the distant future to which our fancy leads us. 
It gilds not coming scenes with vain illusions 
that disappear as we approach them. It makes 
no promises of bliss or glory. It cheats us not 
with airy phantoms er visions, bright with splen¬ 
dor. It paints not the memories of the past 
with a false coloring,—but it stops imagination’s 
wild career. It calms our feelings and stills the 
noisy tumults of Life’s busy scenes. It awaits 
us each night and soothes our fevered, aching 
brows with quiet, peaceful slumbers. It comes 
to us each Sabbath day, and quells the strife aud 
battle with the world. ’Ti6 emblematical of 
that Eternal Rest from labor, sin and suffering 
that greets the weary spirit as it comes near the 
“ Celestial City” where angels beckon it to its 
eternal home. Then, and not till then, shall 
each of us fully experience the reality of this 
Rest. c - K - 
Fairview, Ohio, 1S66. 
---- 
RELIGIOUS MISCELLANY. 
__ 
A sinless state! “0, ’tis a heaven worth 
dying for!” I cannot realize anything about 
heaven but the presence of Christ and his peo¬ 
ple, and a perfect deliverance from sin; and I 
want no more. I am sick of sinning—soon I 
shall be beyond its power.— Satnud Pearce. 
A hypocrite may spin so lair a thread as to 
deceive his own eye. He may admire the cob¬ 
web and not know himself to be the spider. 
Joy may take her wreath and make it a wed¬ 
ding ring of friendship or love; and grief may 
do the same with bis girdle of tborns. 
When once infidelity can persuade men that 
they shall die like beasts, they will soon be 
brought to live like beasts also. 
We must all experience two births, or we shall 
die two deaths. 
Truth can never be bought dear,|nor sold 
cheap.— Flood, 
