S44 
MOORE’S RURAL MEW-YORRER 
CALLING THE CHILDREN. 
Calling them "Freddy,” and “John,” and “Faul:’ 
As only a mother her children can call; 
Musical cadences all through her speech. 
That a love so tender alone can teach, 
Something so loving, and ILngemg too. 
In the “John,” and “Freddy,” and “Paul, comedo.” 
As biddiag to her for dinner or rest, 
Each one is gathered in turn to her breast. 
Then looking them over, as divers do pearls, 
Smoothing one's cheeks and another one's curls, 
Taking the brown, soiled hands In her own, 
A whip out of this palra, from that one a stone. 
Drawing from pockets of corpulent girth. 
With outward remonstrance, with inward mirth, 
Potatoes for pop-guns—a bottle of flies— 
Twine, balls and whistles, and two dirt-pies. 
Redeemed from the soil of the street, and anew 
Clothed in fresh aprons, and troweers too; 
Tangles brushed out of the silken floss; 
That rings and ripples in golden gloss; 
Striving with eager aDd innocent heed 
For mother’s approving " Well done, indeed!” 
Mother, and Freddy, and Paul, and John, 
Make the sweetest picture to look upon. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHAT SOET OF MEN DO WE LIKE ? 
What odd ideas men have about pleasing 
women —about what pleases women, I mean. 
They fancy we admiro curled hair and waxed 
moustaches, and the general appearance of a 
hair-dressed block. It is a great mistake. And 
why should they think that we only like and ad- 
miru handsome men, when for one man in a 
thousand who is liked and married for his 
beauty, five hundred are loved and adored for 
their positive ugliness ?— and if it were not so, 
how do you suppose half the men in this world 
were ever accepted? You may laugh, but it is 
a fact that absolute beauty in a man, instead of 
being an advantage, is a very great misfortune— 
only none of them have the sense to know it! 
We women, I assure you, think it of very little 
importance; indeed, it requires the strong 
minds of the “ sterner sex” to be carried away 
by the influence of mere good looks. 
“But what do you like, then?” I think I 
hear^some perfumed exquisite say. Why, my 
dear sir, we like manliness, and that does not 
consist in curled hair and intensely black whis¬ 
kers. A sensible man, will a kind, considerate 
heart — 
“ Kind and good, like a man, was he 
may he just as ugly in looks as ever he pleases, 
and it is entirely his own fault If he does not 
make every woman he meets like him. It needs 
but the will, aud instead of his plainness being 
a drawback, he will, on the contrary, be liked 
because of it — not in spite of it. But I know 
that some think they must possess genius to 
Counteract their ungainly appearance, yet that 
is not to the purpose. If you havo a strong 
wish to please, and exert yourself honestly, you 
must succeed. A man's admiration is not In¬ 
tended to be bestowed upon himself, therefore 
the plainer he is the more probable it is he will 
admire beauty in woman. 
The more mind a man has the better, but it Is 
not indispensable. People don’t loveeachother 
for their intellect, and Heaven knows not always 
for their virtues. We can only discover this 
rule in the matter, and that is, we like those 
who like us. But this notion, that almost every 
young man seeni6 to have, that dandified pup¬ 
pies, big or little, all pomatum and bandoline, 
are liked best by the real lady, whose opinion is 
worth having, Is an error of theirs which ought 
to he corrected, for, as far as I know my own 
sex, it is entirely false. • Kit Nop.val. 
Assyria, Mich., 1866. 
----- 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AUTUMNAL DAYS. 
October, the golden and scarlet - colored 
month —“ the orchard of the year”— is again 
with ns ; again are we the recipients of her 
bounty —again do the trees yield their ripened 
fruits for us—again the golden corn is gathered. 
The warm, delightful days are ours to enjoy, 
ours to garner in. Beauty aud Industry walk 
hand In hand,— the one gathering the plenteous 
variety scattered in field and wood, the other 
noting with kindling eye all this gorgeous rich¬ 
ness of Nature. The commingling of dark green 
delicate yellow, bright red and somber brown) 
present a picture more beautiful to twr eyes than 
any other season but autumu can present. 
Aback in the past a few years and we were 
domiciled in a little red school room, whose 
maple tree overshadowed us for a five-months, 
and the turning of those maple leaves was the 
one bright oasis of our sojourn there. How we 
loved that maple—loved it in its fresh greenness, 
as it put forth its buds for us in erring,— but 
loved it so much more when the ripened, richly- 
colored leaves fell at our feet, those messengers, 
as it aeetned to ns, of God’s love of the beautiful, 
ever-changing autumn-time. And how delight¬ 
ful are these dreamy, hazy days, when summer 
returns to take a last farewell of her handiwork, 
when we can recline indolently upon the warm 
moss and watch the slowly-falling leaf, and the 
many changes of the fleecy clouds, muse and 
dream at our leisure,— while the autumn wind 
brings to our ears the soft rustling of leaf and 
tree. Instead of being “ that most melancholy 
time of the year,” because di-cay is written upon 
all Nature, to us It is the most beautiful, being 
symbolical of the glories of our after existence, 
instead of our decaying present. The soul is filled 
with the idea of God’s infinite bounteousness to 
us, his children, and instead of being cast down 
we exclaim—“ Lord, how great and manifo2dare 
all thy works! ” Sara J. Cook. 
LeRoy, N. Y., Oct., 1866 
For Moore’B Rural New-Yorker. 
WHAT I SAW AT THE PAIR. 
- Not long since I attended a State Fair, and 
there I saw okc way of exhibiting which struck 
me as decidedly original. There were about 
’ twenty-five washing machines on the ground, 
each one faithfully attended by a man with a 
particularly loud voice who declared that his 
special patent was the best and only one there. 
I noticed that those whose machines required 
the most labor talked the loudest, as If that was 
what made clothes wash easy. One genius in 
particular attracted my attention; he was ex¬ 
pending his energies in washing a piece of crash 
toweling in the interval of declaring that his 
machine could be easily worked by a child five 
years old, besides which it was warranted not 
to wear the clothes at all. However, the per¬ 
spiration whioh stood in great drops on his face, 
and the quantities of lint which floated on the 
surface of the water, rubbed from the cloth, told 
a different story. His self-Batisflod air was 
highly edifying to a judge of house-work. 
When I afterwards walked around among the 
plows and reapers I was surprised not to see a 
woman in a fashionable drees with a waterfall, 
(since the gentlemen seemed to admire them so 
much,) pointing out with her parasol the advan¬ 
tages of this and that machine for men’s work: 
it would have been bo very consistent. I have 
resolved on one thing, however, since then— 
that if I ever take out a patent for a washing 
machine, and wish to show its benefits to a 
crowd, I will have it superintended by some one 
who knows the practical part of washing aud 
let the machine tell its own story. 
Elkhora, Wis., 1866. Aunt Rachel. 
A NEW KIND OF RECEPTION. 
Tub newest and sweetest thing in receptions 
is the “mother and infant reception,” one of 
which has just occurred in New York and made 
talking Umber for the gossips. The wife of a 
distinguished lawyer invited her lady friends to 
call and see her Infant when it reached the age 
of four weeks. The invitation cards were got¬ 
ten up after this fashion; 
§kmt lEisfillaw. 
Mas. C - C. L. and Daughter, 
At Horn*, Thursday. 
From 2 untLl •! o’clock. No. —, W— 8t. 
The baby, which of course was a rosy cherub, 
was attired in a beautiful dress of lace, sleeves 
looped with gold, and a broad blue sash around 
its virgin waist. The mother wore an elegant 
French gown of deep lavender, made in broad 
plaits at the hack, and floated from the neck in 
a long train. Broad lavender ribbons were fas¬ 
tened on each shoulder, brought down to the 
waist, and finished with low and long ends. 
The point of the robe opened over a skirt of 
cambric, tucked with cluny lace between each 
tuck and lined with lavender. Lavender gloves 
and ribbons of the same color completed her 
toilet. 
The reception was of two hours’ duration, and 
during that time the street in front of the house 
was lined with elegant carriages. Jenkins co old 
not be there, but his wife was, aud in descikbing 
the scene she says: — “ Benoiton was in the 
ascendant. Fair forms floated from the car¬ 
riages, dressed in the latest style. Bonnets, 
which looked like head-dresses, basques, deep- 
pointed &hawls of lace aud cashmere, dresses of 
moire and corded silk, and diamonds, lent their 
richness for the occasion. The perfume of the 
sweetest flowers filled the rooms, and the ladies 
gloried in enjoying themselves all the more 
within, when the nearest pair of pantaLoons 
was on the coach box outside.” 
No gentlemen were admitted. The place was 
not even profaned by the presence of a man ser¬ 
vant. The conversation, which is said to have 
been unique, can only be guessed at by outsiders; 
but the imagination of any matron who has been 
inducted into the masonry of motherdom will, 
we presume, readily suggest it. 
Tne object of this new Institution may be only 
to add another novelty to the little nonsenelcali- 
tics of fashionable life; but we suspect the secret 
of the whole thing lies deeper and is revealed In 
the sentence: — “ Many rich presents were given 
to the unconscious little cherub, on whose ac¬ 
count so much fuss had teen made.” A large 
and increasing family can hardly be supported 
on the avails of golden, silver and glass wed¬ 
dings ; and so this new method of geateel beg¬ 
ging has been invented. It raay serve a good 
purpose, however, if by offering a premium on 
babies it tends to lessen a certain crime of which 
much has lately been said in print. 
MATRIMONIAL ADVERTISEMENTS. 
Tii 2 Y rather out-do us in England in regard 
to matrimonial advertisements, judging from 
the following; 
“Ada Emily Jenny, just nineteen, fair, blue 
eyes, and handsome, would like to be married 
as soon as possible.” 
“Rosebud, who is seventeen, and pretty, hav¬ 
ing rich golden hair, wishes to marry a tall young 
man about twenty-four years of age.” 
“Violet wants to be married to a tall man. 
She is tall and very good looking.” 
“Lalla Rook would dearly like to get married. 
She moves in first class society, and has £500 a 
year. She is eighteen, tall, and strikingly 
handsome.” 
Some of the applicants put the matter rather 
upon the ground of duty and destiny: 
“ Mary G., who has good looks, but does not 
wish to speak of them, wants to he married. 
She has read her bible, and knows that marriage 
is the destiny and honor of women. She is 
twenty-four.” 
“Catharine E. B., who has dark brown hair 
and Eoft eyes, with pretty features and nice 
figure, wishes to fulfill the woman’s mission, 
and marry. She will have money.” 
GLORIOUS SUNSHINE. 
Globiouh sunshine! happy sunshine! 
Let me toam the world with thee: 
With thee only, never lonely 
Field or lane or brook can be. 
The darkest river onward flowing 
Hath some wave where tboa art glowing; 
E'en through tangled forests peeping, 
Bonny spots are in thy keeping. 
hftorlous sunshine I happy sunshine! 
’’Ughting up this world of ours; 
ffl rtfs are singing, flowers are springing, 
CjAd thou emllest on the flowers. 
If hearts are ever dark with sadness. 
Thou canet light them Into gladness— 
Bid them hope; for clouds can never, 
Dark though they be, exiist forever. 
> Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE GE NESEE VALLEY. 
Nowhere in the State of New York is there 
more beautiful scenery, or more to kitereat the 
traveler, than the Genesee Valley and the sur¬ 
rounding country. It ia not ODly noted for its 
faming facilities, but rich in historical facta, 
old Indian haunts, traditions and legends; and 
while gazing upon the broad, lovely valley—the 
river end creeks—mountains and ravines—we 
do not wonder that It was the favorite hunting 
grounds of the “Senecas.” 
It was recently my good fortune to pass a few 
delightful days in this charming locality. Pass¬ 
ing the lakes, Honeoye and Hemlock, we came 
to Livonia Station, a thriving little place that 
has sprung up within a few years, and is now 
putting on quite a business air. A short drive 
brought us to Conesus lake, gleaming like a 
sheet of silver between its leafy shores, with 
scarcely a ripple to disturb itB quietude. One 
felt like putting off in the little boat moored 
there, and drifting away among the blue moun¬ 
tains in the distance. 
Geneseo, six miles west of the lake, is beauti¬ 
ful beyond description, surrounded by highly 
cultivated farms, tasteful residences and elegant 
grounds. Nothing can surpass the beauty and 
elegance of the Wadsworth grounds—beautiful 
as a dream of other lands. Wc visited the mon¬ 
ument raised above the remains of the patriot 
and soldier. His country’s honor was dearer to 
him than home, friends and vast possessions, 
and his useful life was given up in her defense; 
sacred be his resting place. “After life’s fitful 
fever he sleeps well.” As we leave the village 
by the old Wadswortu mansion, the Valley 
meets the gaze—a beautiful, ever-changing pan¬ 
orama—gradually rising in the west, and dotted 
with farm-houses, villages, hamlets and spires, 
upon which the rays of the declining sun linger 
long and lovingly. 
Never dawned a fairer Indian Summer morn¬ 
ing, than when a small party started from 
the quiet little village of Moscow to visit Mt 
Morris and other places of Interest. Passing 
the mound where tlih supposed remains of Lieut. 
Boyd were fo^nd, vq stopped at Fall Brook- 
looked Into the “ifuvil’fi Hole,” while one more 
venturesome than the others, went down. How 
dark and deep it. was; we needed but a little 
stretch of fancy to hear the balls whizzing and 
crackling over head—to see the Indians leaping, 
writhing and crashing against the jagged sides, 
driven by Sclltvan’s soldiers. This is open to 
dispute, but I choose to believe it correct, how¬ 
ever ; for what is the use of having old stories 
aud traditions, if one cannot believe them when 
in the proper receptive mood. 
The road to Mt. Morris Is through a rich 
farming region. Cattle and sheep were lazily 
feeding in the rich pastures. The Valley had a 
softened, dreamy look iu the mellow light—the 
river wound along with a silvery gleam—the 
mountains in the distance were blue and shad¬ 
owy—a touch of Italy was in the sky—and over 
and around all, the balmy, delightful, deli¬ 
cious day. 
Mt. Morris is a stirring, enterprising place, 
with mills, railroad, river, canal and bridges, 
(the latter In abundance,) and altogether quite 
au air of the bustling world. From here the 
river winds around the mountains, aud we, fol¬ 
lowing the road, soon reach the “ High Banks.” 
Nature revels in her wildest, grandest mood— 
magnificent beyond description- rocks rugged, 
torn and made bright by the autumnal tints of 
bush and tree—gorgeous, royal coloring that 
never artist can produce; and far down hun¬ 
dreds of feet the river going noiselessly by. 
Down in the bend of the river a hermit has buUt 
his hut. What real or fancied wrongs, what 
disappointments, scut him to these wilds, I 
know not; bat there, in the deep solitude, sur¬ 
rounded by the eternal roeks aud “everlasting 
hills,” Nature must reveal solemn, sublime 
truths, and Nature’s God be very near. The 
“Old Council Tree,” near Mt. Morris, was 
blown down not long since. It had stood the 
blasts of nearly five centuries, but lieth low nov¬ 
as the brave chiefs that met under its branches 
iu grave council. Near to Moscow we passed 
the “ Old LogCouucil House,” ouce the lodging 
place of Mart Jewison, the “Indian White 
Woman” of the Valley of the Genesee, whose 
history is so intimately connected with the early 
ri6e and progress of the “Eden of Western 
New York. 1 ’ b. 
South Bristol, Oct., 1866. 
Smtlbs.—W hat sunshine is to flowers, smiles 
are to humanity. They are but trifles, to be 
sure, but scattered along life’s pathway the good 
they do is inconceivable. A smile, accompanied 
by a kind word, has been known to reclaim a 
poor outcast, and change the whole current of a 
human life. Of all life’s blessings none are 
cheaper, or more easily dispensed, than smiles. 
Then let us not be too chary of them, but scat¬ 
ter them freely as we go; for life is too short to 
be frowned away. l. 
THE COUNTRY OF GOLIATH. 
So many books have been written upon the 
Holy Land that the subject was thought to be 
quite exhausted. But we have a book before us 
that contains something really new aud valuable 
for the illustration of Scripture history. Most 
tourists in Palestine go over the established 
routes and see the same things. Rev. J. L. Por¬ 
ter, an Irish Protestant clergyman, who has 
spent some years in the East, and published sev¬ 
eral books of recognized value respecting its 
ruins and traditions, has recently explored 
Western Palestine aDd visited the great cities of 
Bashan, which are as old as recorded history, 
and given a very graphic account of them and 
the singular country in which they are situated. 
These cities are structures so massive that they 
are likely to endure as long os the mountains 
among and upon which they are built, and are 
remarkable as having been the home of the giant 
raco called Rephraim in the Old Testament, be¬ 
side whom the Jews declared themselves to be 
as grasshoppers in size, and of whom Goliath 
was one of the last specimens. Bashan has 
scarcely before been visited by European trav¬ 
elers, on account of the great natural obstacles 
to be encountered, as well as the more formida¬ 
ble perils from the Bedouins who infest the 
country and rob and murder ail who are unable 
to protect themselves. The cities of Bashan are 
almost unoccupied, though many of the houses 
aro as good as built. The few families of 
Druses who live among these remarkable ruins 
have perpetuated primitive manners 60 perfectly 
that the account of their hospitalities to Mr. 
Porter and their conversations with him remind 
the reader continually of the elaborate courtesy 
of the old patriots. Mr. Porter’s book not only 
affords fresh confirmation of the truth of Scrip¬ 
ture history, but brings it up vividly before the 
imagination, and gives it a new reality.— Spring- 
field BepuUiean. 
TEMPERATE HABITS. 
The value of temperate habits in prolonging 
life and diminishing sickness has been exhibited 
in the comparison of temperance provident socie¬ 
ties with other societies. The Teetotal Society 
of Preston, England, presents, as we learn from 
the sanitary reports of Rev. Mr. Clay, not merely 
the smallest proportion of sick, but it also 
suffers the shortest average duration of illness. 
The annual mortality in the Temperance Provi¬ 
dent Society of London, during seven years, 
averaged only 4 in 1,000. In agricultural labor¬ 
ers In the prime of life, the most highly- favored 
of the working classes iu England, it is rated at 
8 per 1,000. Among healthy persons generally, 
it is rated at 10 per 1,C00. Among clerks at the 
same age, it is no less than 23 per 1,000. If we 
compare this with the other picture, how great 
i3 the difference! Everywhere the intemperate 
are among the first victims of epidemics and 
also contagious febrile diseases. They are more 
readily attacked, and more readily sink under 
disease than any other class of persons. The 
pernicious effects of intemperance in throwing 
the Bystem open to cholera, have been admitted 
by all medical writers in the different countries 
of Europe. 
HOW PRESIDENT LINCOLN BORE ABUSE. 
The President was once speaking of an at¬ 
tack made on him by the Committee on the Con¬ 
duct of the War, for a certain alleged blunder, 
or something worse, inthefiouthwest—the ma£ 
ter involved being one which had fallen directly 
under the observation of the officer to whom he 
was talking, who possessed official evidence com¬ 
pletely upsetting all conclusions of the commit¬ 
tee. 
“Might it not be well forme'” queried the 
officer, “ to set the matter right in a letter to 
some paper, stating the facts as they actually 
transpired?” 
“Oh, no,” replied the President, “at least, 
not now. If I were to try to read, much less 
answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop 
might as well be closed for any other business. 
I do the very best I know how—the very best I 
can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. 
If the end brings me out all right, what is said 
against me won’t amount to anything. If the 
end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I 
was right would make no difference.— Six 
Months in the 117. lie House. 
MOST DEPLORABLE IGNORANCE. 
A recent issue of the British Quarterly 
Review contains the following astounding—nay, 
almost incredible—revelations of the ignorance 
which exists among some sections of the Brit¬ 
ish community;—“In Birmingham, S3 persons, 
averaging more than 12 years of age, including a 
young man of 20 and two young women, could 
not tell the Queen's name. The commonest and 
simplest objects of nature, such as flowers, birds, 
fishes, mountains and the sea, were unknown. 
Some thought London was a county—one that 
it was in the exhibition; a violet was said to be 
a pretty bird, a primrose a red rose, a lilac also 
a bird; but whether a robin or an eagle were 
birds none could say; some knew not what a 
river meant, or where fishes live, or where snow 
comes from; and a cow in a picture was pro¬ 
nounced to be a lion. Multitudes of these poor 
children can never have seen a primrose by the 
river’s brim, or heard the song of a lark.” 
All superior quallities ignore themselves. 
Who has ever believed himself humble without 
thereby being proud ? Does not generosity be¬ 
lieve that it owes what it gives ? 
We make conquests only of husks and shells 
for the most part — at least apparently — but 
sometimes these are cinnamon and spices. 
Words are but poor fig-leaves to cover the 
M/ilrA/ln/Yar rtf /J 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AT MY MOTHER’S GRAVE. 
BT F. H. GUI WITS. 
The snow-flakes fall in silent showers, 
Like fairies’ steps in midnight hoars; 
O, in the grave beneath this willow 
Cold la thy pillow, 
Dear Mother, and so hard thy bed — 
Such was not thine ere thou wast dead. 
My life's sweot joy—to light thy day 
And smooth the ronghness of the way 
Before thy feet—Is now departed. 
And, broken-hearted, 
I mind me of that coffined brow, 
And weep,—How can I serve thee now 2 
When April showers with Spring return 
To wake the flowers by hedge and burn; 
Home from my task returned aweary, 
Thy accents cheery 
And restful ways, how shall I grieve 
To miss at noou and fragrant eve. 
The plunging beck, by storms increased, 
Into yon copse springs like a be3et; 
And from the northern hills down creeping, 
Then gathering, sweeping, 
The rising bLast pipes o’er the mere 
Dear mother, mast 1 leave thee here! 
Our house is desolate; the walls 
8 tare at me coldly, and there falls 
Across my room the dead light broken 
By branches oaken, 
All gnarled and stricken with a blight, 
Wherein a fowl moans all the night. 
The cat grows angry when I’m near;' 
The kennel Is silent, and I hear 
No bird-songs now; but night and morning 
Its solemn warning 
The old dock from Its mantel rings 
That Time is passing on fleetest wings. 
Lost Mother, life is dreary now; 
O for one kiss upon my brow,— 
One hour thy motherly caressing, 
And fervent blessing : 
But weary heart, thy anguish quell, 
We yet shall meet:—Farewell, farewell! 
Clinton, Mich., 1866. 
THE BEST OF ALL. 
Bishop Butler, upon bis death-bed, sank 
into despondency, under a sense of his sinful¬ 
ness. “My lord,” said his chaplain, “you 
forget that Jesus is a Saviour.” “True,” re¬ 
plied the Bishop, “ but how shall I know that 
he is a Saviour lor me? ” “My lord, it is writ¬ 
ten, ‘Him that cometh unto me I shall in no 
wise cast out.'” “True,” said the Bishop, 
“and I bave read that Scripture a thousand 
times, but I never felt its fuU value till this 
moment; stop there! for now 1 die happy.” 
“For all I have preached or written,” Baid 
Mr. James Durham, “ there is but one Scripture 
I can remember or dare grip to. Tell mo if I 
dare lay the weight of my salvation upon it — 
‘ Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast 
out.'” His friend replied, “You may, Indeed, 
depend upon it, though you had a thousand sal¬ 
vations at hazard.” A glance of joy lighted up 
the soul ot the dying saint, under the radiance of 
which he was ushered iuto the glory aud bright¬ 
ness of eternity. 
The following incident is another example of 
one who, in his low estate, grasped this cord, 
let down to reach the lowest, grasped it with 
feeble, dying hands, and was drawn forth by 
means of it into life, and light, and full sal¬ 
vation : 
It was a sorrowful company to whom I was 
introduced, composed of old and young. But a 
wasted figure iu the chimney-corner fixed my 
attention. He was crouched ou a low 6tool with 
hh head buried In his hands, and leaning on the 
great wooden coal box which served as a sofa 
for the feebler patients. Ilis life was evidently 
drawing near to the grave, and he seemed 
scarcely able to support himself on hia seat. 
But he suffered more in bed, he said, and so he 
sat up as much as possible. In the course of his 
ponversation, I repeated the gracious offers and 
invitations of “Him with whom we have to do,” 
ending with these words, “ And him that com¬ 
eth unto me I will in no wise cast out.” In 
feeble, faltering accents he repeated them after 
me, adding, “I thiuk that is the best word iu all 
the Bibl e.” __ 
MENTAL ACTIVITY. 
If the water runneth, it holdeth clear, sweet, 
and fresh; but stagnation turneth it into a nob 
some paddle. If the air be fanned by winds it L 
pure and wholesome; but, from being ehut up, 
it groweth thick and putrid. If metals be em 
ployed, they abide smooth and splendid; br- 
lay them up, and they soon contract rust. L 
the earth be labored with culture, it yielded 
corn; but, lying neglected, it will be overgreif 1 
with bushes and thistles, and the better its It 1 
is, the ranker weeds it will produce. AllnaV- e 
is upheld in its being, order, and 6hape by y'*’ 
slant agitation; every creature Is ineessf^y 
employed In ac tion conformable to its d 
use. In like manner the preservation ai£ 
provement of our faculties depend ou thl- con ' 
stant exercise,—to it God hath annexed’lf 5 best 
and most desirable reward — success tci ,ar UI *' 
dertakings, wealth honor, wisdom, vijr e > ea ‘” 
vation, all whic h, as they flow from Qo'lf 1 ountj > 
and depend on His blessing, so {roum im tlie ^ 
are usually conveyed to us through o’# ’ 
as the ordinary channel and iustrumeff- attam ' 
ing them.— Harrow. f 
The Merit of the Gospel.— mcr .^ 011 
which my hope relies consists - Q 1 L3 ° iee 
things; — The love of adoption, die trut o c 
promise, and the power of its performance. 
Bernard. / 
Bigotry murders religion/ 0 frl = hten fool ° 
