R. 
. 17 . ' 
Ipte’ gfiepertami 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ANNIVERSARY STANZAS, 
TO IVL ~V HUSBAND. 
BT FANXIB W. J-. 
FrvE years ago to-day, do you remember ? 
’Tis just five years to-day since we were wed; 
Nature was robed In Autumn's somber beauty,— 
Bright was the sun, and scarce a cloud o’erhead. 
With hands clasped close, and hearts by love united, 
We started on life’s journey gay and free; 
We’ve met some storms, yet many happy hours 
God has vouchsafed In love to you and me. 
To-night, my husband, as I »lt and listen 
To the quick raindrops rattling on the pane, 
And waiting for your ever-wolcome footstep. 
My fancy views those bright scents o’er again. 
Yes, we were hnppy; LUe eoemed rich and golden, 
We shared a common joy five years ago: 
Now, while the autumn storm heats darkly o’er ns. 
Our hearts arc knitted by a common woe. 
In the old graveyard where tho tall grasa waveth, 
A tiny monnd covers onr joy and pride; 
We know ’Us right, but yet Go»> hand is heavy, 
And life is darkened since the baby died. 
She was our sweet white rosebud, blighted early, 
She left our hearts grief-laden here below,— 
Onr chain of love is broken j wo mast sadly 
Take up the severed links and forward go. 
And yet, ’mid all our sorrow there is gladness; 
We know the Saviour loreth such as sho— 
For when on earth, lie said of little children, 
“ Forbid them not, hut let them come to me.” 
Then let ua strive to bear our burden meekly; 
Life surely has some brighlaess yet In store ; 
And there’s a glorious hope—for when life's o'er 
We’ll meet our darling on that happier shore. 
Honeoyo Falls, N. Y., Oct. 29,1866. 
Written for Moore's Kara! New-Yorker. 
LOU GR AY’S CORNER. 
“ There must be some people Just to fill oat 
the corners, you know—stray walf-ere, hermet¬ 
ically sealing up the niches, to prevent the dust 
and wind from spoiling the efforts of life’s busy 
workers. That may be your case, Lou and a 
musical laugh furnished the punctuation to the 
saucy speech. 
Lou Gray and Sybil Merrill were pictures 
juBt then. Sybil, with the laugh still lingering 
about her 6mall mouth and dancing in her eyes; 
Lou, quiet and grave, stood, with the earnest- 
seeking look that never long left her face, and 
which the words of her friend only Becmcd to 
deepen. Between them the dickering shadows 
of the leaves played their merry dance over the 
patchwork quilt the deft fingers of the girls 
were cornering with a web of “ herringbone.” 
But, you say, “lias Miss Sybil been left 
laughing through onr prolonged stare l”’ Noth¬ 
ing unusual, I assure you, if she has. But now 
her voice shapes itself again in words. 
“My dear Lou, don’t transform yourself 
into a statue, for my benefit only. * Sweetness 
wasted'—you know the rest. A penny for 
your thoughts, fair lady.” 
If the offer was accepted, the long sigh in 
which the thoughts expressed themselves was 
evidently au unknown tongue to Miss Sybil, 
for she resumed her needle and her humming 
of “ Six hundred thousand more.” Lou, too, 
bent her eyes upon her work, and the shadows 
played further and further into the room, and 
at last lay down with the sun to rest. 
Then Sybil went *to the kitchen fora lamp, 
and Lou pressed her fingers wearily over her 
eyes. “ If what Syb said is true,” she thought, 
“ought not I to be thankful I haye always 
dreamed of doing—in the hour of trial I am 
found ‘wanting.’ Lou Gray, I despise you; 
you are none to good to ' fill out corners,’ yet 
keeping bright the corners of others is no mean 
.gift. I am content." 
Lou Gray had prayed, as so many another 
soul has done, to know her life-work, but never 
until that 6till autumn twilight had she accepted 
the answer that to the few is given the laying 
of the corner stone, to the many the toilsome 
placing of the bricks, and in her new strength 
she went out to her daily duties, homely no 
longer, because she accepted them in the light 
of that humble truth. 
The winter over, spring came with its glad 
greeting, and Stb’s voice, happier than ever, 
called in at the open door, “ Lou, darling, 
where are you ? Oh, busy as usual. Do lay 
aside that tiresome work, and come and ride 
with Henry and me. Now, not a word,” as 
Lou bent over her work and 6hook her head, 
“ for if you wont we must ask his sister, and 
she is forever in the way, but you never are. 
You must go, please.” And Lou gathered up 
her work, aud with a face which Sybil must 
not see, lest even her careless eyes 6hould read 
its secret, she went for her things. But as she 
went she said, though to herself, “ Only a cor¬ 
ner, even In his heart.” n. b. 
Lapeer, Mich., 1866. 
No More Hair Markets. — A curious decree 
has been issued by the Municipal Council of the 
Department of Correge, France. That august 
assembly met last month in high council, and 
decided that the practice so prevalent of late 
years for the young women of Normandy and of 
Brittany to sell their hair in the market-places of 
their respective villages, was highly immoral, 
and, therefore, passed a statute forbidding the 
practice. The custom has been that those who 
wished to dispose of their chevelure, should wear 
bright ribbons in their chignon, which were 
synonymous with the words, “Look at my 
hair, it is for sale.” Hair venders were then 
privileged to go up to the girl, untie the ribbons, 
examine the hair, and bargain as to its price. As 
soon as the knotty point was decided, the pur¬ 
chaser, armed with scissors, cut off his merchan¬ 
dise, leaving but a few short curls in front. 
Written tor Moore’s Baral New-Yorker. 
ERRORS IN JUDGMENT. 
Men may be pre-eminently groat in some par¬ 
ticular vocation, and yet go astray in matters of 
minor Importance. It is possible to be politi¬ 
cally or medically right, and morally wrong in 
some other social duties. An Individual, worthy, 
professionally speaking, of being called great, 
may be oblivious of rights justly claimed by his 
own household. 
A paragraph recently appeared in tho Rural, 
aDd other papers, relative to the late General 
Scott and his daughter. Was it right or justi¬ 
fiable in him to sacrifice the affections, the peace 
of wind, and even the life of his child, because 
there existed a possibility that at some future 
time, this country and France might be at war? 
He realized the importance of his official posi¬ 
tion, but did he not, in his own person, magnify 
his office? It is said that the suitor for his 
daughter’s hand was in all respects “ unexcep¬ 
tionable,” save only that he was a Frenchman. 
His daughter withdrew from the world, and 
died of a broken heart. Many will think that 
the General’s “Inflexible purpose” was unwise 
and inexpedient. It was a heavy penalty paid 
by the victim, to avoid a remote, If not improb¬ 
able, contingency. r. 
Ponfleld, N. Y., 1866. 
. ■ - - ♦ • ♦ ■ - - - 
A PAIR OF STOCKINGS -THEIR MORAL. 
Tub following letter from Holden’s Magazine, 
is said to have been written twenty years ago, 
by a lady of great literary distinction, to her 
cousin, a gentleman who has occupied honor¬ 
able official positions in the Empire State. It is 
written on the eve of his marriage, and accom¬ 
panied by a pair of blue-mixed stockings, knit 
by herself. The letter will need careful reading 
to be fully appreciated : 
“ Dear Cousin: —Herewith you will receive a 
present of a pair of stockings ; knit by my own 
hands; and he assured, dear coz, that my friend¬ 
ship for yon is warm as the material, active as 
the finger-work, and generous as the donation. 
“ But I consider this present as peculiarly ap¬ 
propriate on the occasion of your marriage. 
You will remark, in the first place, that there 
are two individuals united in one pair, who are 
to walk side by side, guarding ugainet coldness, 
and giving comfort as loDg as they last. The 
thread of their texture is mixed, and so, alas, is 
the thread of life. In these, however, the white 
is made to predominate, expressing my desire 
and confidence that thus it will be with the color 
of your existence. No black is used, for I be¬ 
lieve your Jives will be wholly free from the 
black passions of wrath aud jealousy. The 
darkest color here is blue, which is excellent, 
where we do not make it too blue. 
“ Other appropriate thoughts rise to my mind 
in regarding these stockings. The most indif¬ 
ferent subjects, when viewed by the mind, in a 
suitable frame, may furnish instructive infer¬ 
ence, as 6aith the poet; 
. • Tho iron dogB, the fuel and tongs, 
The bellows that have leather lungs, 
The fire-wood, ashes, and the smoke, 
Do all their righteonsuesa provoke.’ ” 
But to the subject. You will perceive that 
the tops of these stockings (by which I suppose 
courtship to be represented) are seamed, aud by 
means of seaming are drawn into a snarl, but 
afterwards comes u time when t he whole is made 
platD, and continues so to the end aud final toe¬ 
ing off. By this, I wish to take occasion to con¬ 
gratulate yourself, that you are now through 
with seaming, and have come to plain reality. 
Again, us the whole of these comely stockiugs 
was not made at once, but by the addition of 
one little Btitch after another, put in with skill 
and discretion, until the whole presents the fair 
aud equal piece of work which you see; so, life 
does not consist of one great action, but mil¬ 
lions of little ones combined; and so may it be 
with your lives. No stitch dropped when du¬ 
ties are to be performed —no widening made 
where bad principles are to be reproved, or 
economy is to bepreserved; neither seaming nor 
narrowing where truth or generosity are in ques¬ 
tion. Thus every stitch of life made right, and 
set in the right place—none either too large or 
too small, too light or too loose; thus may you 
keep on your smooth and even course, making 
existence one fair and consistent piece—until, 
together, having passed the heel, you come to 
the very toe of life, and here, in the final nar¬ 
rowing off, and dropping the coil of this em¬ 
blematic pair of companions and comforting 
associates, nothing appears but white, the token 
of innocence and peace, of purity and light- 
may you, like these stockings, the final stitch 
being dropped, and the work completed, go to¬ 
gether from the place where you were formed, 
to a happier Btate of existence; a present from 
earth to heaven. Hoping that these stockings 
and admonitions may meet a cordial reception, 
I remain, in the true blae friendship, seemingly, 
yet without seaming, 
“ Youre, from top to toe,-.” 
State of Matrimony. —The State of Matri¬ 
mony has at last been bounded and described by 
some out We6t student, who says;—“It is 
bounded by hugging and kissing on one side, 
and cradles and babies on the other. Its chief 
productions are population, broomsticks, and 
staying out late at night. It was discovered by 
Adam and Eve, while trying to find a passage 
out of Paradise. The climate is eultry until 
you cross the equinoctial line of house-keeping, 
when squally wether sets in with such power as 
to keep all hands cool as encumbers. For the 
principal roads leading to this interesting State, 
consult the first pair of bright eyes you run 
against.” 
If the memory is weak do not overload it. 
Charge it only with the most useful and solid 
matters. 
THE EXPECTED SHIP. 
BY JOHN G. SAXE. 
Thus I beard a poet say, 
As he fang in merry glee, 
“Ah: ’twill be a glorious day, 
When my ship comes o'er the sea! 
“ I do know a cottage fine, 
Asa poet’s house should be, 
And the cottage shall be mine, 
When the ship comes o’er the sea 1 
“I do know a maiden fair, 
Fair, and fond, and dear to me, 
And we’ll he a wedded pair, 
When my ship come* o’er the sea! 
“ And within that cottage fine, 
Bloat as any king may be. 
Every pleasure shall be mine, 
When my ship comes o’er the sea! 
“ To he rich Is to he great; 
Love is only for the fre>e; 
Grant me patience, while I wait 
Till my ship comes o'er the sea!” 
Months and years have come and gone 
Since the poet sang to me j 
Yet he still keeps hoping on, 
For the ship from o’er the sea! 
Thus the syren voice of hope 
Whispers still to you and me, 
Of something In the future’s scope— 
Some golden ship from o’er the sea! 
Never sailor yet hath found, 
Looking windward or to lee, 
Any vessel homeward bound. 
Like that ship from o'er the sea! 
Never comes the shining deck; 
But that tiny clond may be— 
Though it seems the merest speck— 
The promised ehlp from o’er the sea 1 
Never looms the swelling sail, 
Bnt the wind is blowing free, 
And that may he the precious gale 
That brings the ship from o'er the sea! 
FORCE or CHARACTER. 
[The following article, cut from the columns 
of a Syracuse paper many years ago, I should 
like to sec Inserted in the Rural New-Yorker. 
It is too true to be lost, to the general reader. I, 
myself feel the pungency of its truths.—L. n. e.] 
Ingenious Individuals who construct theodi- 
cleft, and who arc in love with the ajiriori form 
of reasoning, have attempted to proTe that every 
creature has a mission to perform; yet notwith¬ 
standing all their efforts, students of natural 
history have been exceedingly puzzled as to the 
utility of the sloth. But, turning from brutes 
to man, tboAssertion that nothing lives in vain, 
seems still mor^ipojcryphal, as the real difficulty 
is to find men that ao live with some purpose in 
view, and having it, steadily persevere in its 
pursuits. 
Success in life, unless accidental, is to be 
attained only by unremitting toil, and a large 
majority of men being constitutionally and hope¬ 
lessly lazy, the consequence Is their lives are, 
practically speaking, failures. This Is the result, 
not of lack of hraius, bnt solely from tho want, of 
a settled purpose, a determined course of action. 
Tho force of character is wanting, and the abil¬ 
ity to do one thing well, haring no guide, dissi¬ 
pates itself in doing many things indifferently. 
The intellectual capital Is squandered in small 
change, when, had it been accumulated, it would 
have yielded an ample income. 
It is for this reason, and for no other, that in 
every path in life, whether in the counting-room 
of the merchant, at the work-bench of the arti- 
zan, or amid the wrangles and dust of courts, he 
who possesses the elements of stem decision of 
character and unconquerable energy, is morally 
sure of gaining some post of profit and honor, 
while he that has double the talents, but lacks 
that mental firmness which is to the intellect 
what sinews and muscles are to the body, re¬ 
mains in the 6ame sphere of action, ever pursuing 
the same tread-mill course, leaving no fixed 
mark on the age in which he lives, unless it be 
some accidental stroke, merely showing what he 
might have been, and rendering the more con¬ 
temptible, by the contrast, the thing ho is, until 
at length, after having abandoned a hundred 
schemes, any one of which, if carried out, would 
have proved successful, distrustful of his own 
powers and vacillating in painful indecision be¬ 
tween the plans advised by friends, he finds at 
length, when too late, that, like the man with 
the ass, he has been trying to please everybody, 
and succeeded in pleasing no one. 
Great men have been radical men. Men not 
of remarkable mental calibre, not those to whom 
Phrenology gives well balanced heads and eqal- 
ized temperaments, bat those whom she marks 
as extremists. These urc the ones who distin¬ 
guish themselves from the crowd by giving 
prominence to 6ome one idea and clinging to it 
until they have wrought out something for his-’ 
tory to chronicle, and for the world to gape at. 
Men of this stamp having once definitely settled 
what it is they have to do, immediately begin to 
do it; there is no need of further deliberation, 
of comparing notes, and of seeking opinions. 
The simple conviction that any object is worth 
attaining and is within their power is enough; 
as for the rest, they are laws unto themselvee. 
This stern determination of character, this 
concentration of mental strength joined to an 
unwavering steadiness of purpose that is the 
secret of human greatness; this is what raised 
the obscure farmer of St. Ives to the throne of 
England, transformed the charity scholar of 
Brienne into the hero of an hundred battles and 
for a time rendered him the dictator of the world. 
Let him, therefore, he his station what it may, 
who would succeed in life, carefully measure his 
strength; let him ascertain what it is he can do 1 
best, and haviDg settled this, with a fixedness of 
purpose which no Obstacle can tnrn aside; let 
him set out to reach the gaol of his hopes, the 
reward of his ambition. 
There will be many circumstances which will 
6eem to presage naught but failure; many times 
will he fain say to himself, “ It is of no nse, it is 
beyond my reach; ” yet if, notwithstanding all 
that is disheartening, and in Epite of the allure¬ 
ments which beset his path, he remains true to 
his resolution—if he says with Sheridan, “I 
have got it in me and it shall come out,” “ I will 
be something or die youDg” —then be sure he 
will succeed, and that too, while those of greater 
promise bnt of weaker stuff, have either wholly 
failed or at best 6UDk Into an inglorious medi¬ 
ocrity. 
The high road to fame is no easy one to pur¬ 
sue, and though genius and wealth may indeed 
strew the way with flowers, it is only energy, 
dauntless energy, which spans It with the tri¬ 
umphal arch on whose imperishable marble 
fame Inscribes the names of the great and good. 
Beunonian. 
BACHELORS. 
Those consummate blockheads, the bache¬ 
lors, they must join the hue and cry to deface 
and defame the most beautiful part of creation. 
Conscious that they are running contrary to all 
law, human and divine, they come forth with 
hard words instead of an argument — they are 
not able, say they, to support a wife; why it 
costs yon more in six months to pay for the 
soda water you drink, and the cigars yon smoke 
and give away, (two articles that yon can well 
dispenee with, and an article too that yonr 
father never 6aw,) than it would take to support 
a sensible woman for a twelvemonth. He that 
hangs creation on His arm, and feeds her at His 
board —He that bears the young ravens when 
they cry, will never suffer the young Yankees to 
starve. When you have money enough to buy 
furniture you will then go to honaekeepiag and 
marry. Here the fowl of tho air will teach yon 
— in the spring he looks out for his mate — he 
has not a stick or straw towards housekeeping; 
together they gather the sticks and straws, and 
in a few days a dwelling is prepared for the 
young. But the bachelors, in everything, put 
the cart before the horse,—always wrong end 
foremost with them. They say as 60 on as they 
get a nest they will look out for the bird, thus 
running quite cross-grained in the face of na¬ 
ture..— Grant Thorbum. 
T AKE CARE OF THE MINUTES. 
As in money, so in time, we are to look to the 
smallest portions. Take care of the minutes, 
and the hours and years will take care of them¬ 
selves. Gold is not found, for the most part, 
in great masses, hut in little grains. It Is sifted 
out of the 6and in minute particles, which, 
melted together, produce the rich ingots which 
excite the world’s cupidity. So the small mo¬ 
ments of time, Its odds and ends, put together, 
may form a beautiful work. 
Hale wrote bis contemplations while on bis 
law circuit. Mr. Mason Good translated “Lu¬ 
cretius ” in his carriage, while as a physician he 
rode from door to door. One of the Chancel¬ 
lors of France penned a bulky volume in the 
successive intervals of daily waiting for dinner, 
Kirk White studied Greek as he was going to 
and from a lawyer’s office. Burney learned 
French and Italian while riding on horseback; 
and Benjamin Franklin laid the foundations of 
his wonderful stock of knowledge in his dinner- 
hours and evenings, while working as a prin¬ 
ter’s boy. 
MEN OF FEW WORDS. 
Some men nse words as riflemen do bullets. 
They say hut little. The few words used go 
right to the mark. They let you talk, and guide 
with their eye and fucc, on and od, till what yon 
say can be answered in a word or two, and then 
they lance out a sentence, pierce the matter to 
the quick, and are done. Yonr conversation 
falls into their mind as rivers into a deep chasm, 
and is lost from &ight by its depth and darkness. 
They will sometimes surprise you with a few 
words, that go to the mark like a gunshot, and 
then they are silent again, as if they were re¬ 
loading. Buclr men are safe counsellors, and 
true friends, in every case where they profess to 
be sucln To them truth is more valuable than 
gold, while pretension is too gauzy to deceive 
them. Words without point, to them, are like 
titles without merit, only betraying the weak¬ 
ness of the blinded dupes who are ever promoters 
of other men’s schemes. 
QUODLIBETS. 
What is the key-note to good breeding ? B 
natural. 
What is the greatest virtue in a sea captain '! 
Ans.—Wrecklessness. 
What five letters form a sentence of forgive- 
ness# Ans.—Ixqqu. 
Every day is a little life; and our whole life 
is hut a day repeated. 
Vicb has no friend like the prejudices which 
call themsclveB virtues. 
The only blusterer from whom a brave man 
will take a blow is the wind. 
What should a man do when his boots leak ? 
Take to his pumps of course. 
What is that which ties two persons and only 
touches one ? A wedding-ring. 
True sensibility leads ns to overcome our own 
feelings for the good of others. 
Delicious jam. Getting half squeezed to 
death in a crowd of angels in crinoline. 
Water isn’t a fashionable beverage for drink¬ 
ing yonr friend’s health; but it’s a capital one 
for drinking your own. 
Written lor Moore’s Baral New-Yorker. 
COMFORT TO THE AFFLICTED. 
Each thing of good we mortals gain, 
Each sweet enjoyment here, 
Mast first be won by toil and pain, 
With mingled doobt and fear; 
And that for which we hardest toil. 
The senses better please 
Than that which, free from life's turmoil, 
We gain in sloth and ease. 
Then, mourning Christian, do not weep, 
Though dark thy pathway be; 
Soon wilt thou sleep thy last long sleep, 
To wake, from suffering free. 
Then heaven's joyB will seem so fair, 
And so supreme Its bliss, 
Thou’lt ne’er regret the toll and care 
Which thou hast met in this. 
And weary sufferer, whose frail form 
Disease has racked for years, 
Bear up against aflllction's storm, 
And wipe away thy tears: 
For all thy suffering will be o’er 
When God shall call thee home; 
Then will the sorrows of thU world 
Make bright the world to come. 
Macedon, N. Y. si. j, 
MINGO’S EXPERIENCE. 
The editor of the Northwestern attends a 
camp-meeting in Michigan, and thus narrates an 
incident worth preserving: 
On the ground was an Indian named “Min¬ 
go." He was well known and htghly esteemed. 
As the meeting rose in interest, Mingo grew 
more and more excited, and yet preserved the 
self-command bo characteristic of his race. At 
length he said: 
“Mayn’t I give my testimony?” “Yes,” 
said the presiding elder. 
“Brothers: Iv’e been long in the warfare. 
Fifty-nine years on the way. I’m seventy-six 
years of age. The winds have blown hard on 
this old carcass, bnt the good hope is here. 
“ I see yon white people brought up at home, 
able to read, taught arts and sciences, and yet 
yon live without J escs ! Poor me I I grew up 
wild—no father—brought np in the woods. Yet 
I found Him. Borne of you have knowed me 
many years, and I’m ft good boy yet! Poor me! 
Couldn’t read, knew nothing, yet gave Je3US 
my heart! 
“ The first Bible I ever had I took home, put 
it under my pillow and slept with it there! 
“This old frame totters, the strong wind 
Bhakes it and it must go down, but I bless Jesus 
I’m under way to glory.” 
Not a few wept and not a few praised God as 
Mingo gave his testimony. His voice Is rich, 
and his manner while simple, is yet impressive. 
In the evening he again spoke, detailing more 
fully his experience, stating that before his con¬ 
version his hatred of the white race was so in¬ 
tense and bitter that he longed for the day when 
he could shed their blood. 
CLOSET WORK. 
Flee to the closet as yonr life, your safe¬ 
guard, your hope, your joy. God is there, 
Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, salvation. No 
one can discharge family duties acceptably, 
household ministrations, or governmental re¬ 
lations— no one can resist the wiles of the 
devil manfully, sustain an equilibrium of calm, 
peaceful, humble resignation and joyfnlness, 
without gaming wisdom and strength in the 
closet. Wives, do you believe this ? Mothers, 
do yon? Mark well, behold that mother, that 
daughter, coming from the closet, with a face 
shining in holiness as did that of Moses when 
descending the Mount of God. What now? 
Panoplied? armed with helmet, sword, and 
shield? her feet shod with the preparation of 
the gospel of peace ? Satan is bruised under 
her feet. Satan finds no lodgment. All his 
flefy dart6 are hurled in vain. She is clothed 
with humility. Tho graces of the Spirit shine 
forth radiantly; love, joy, peace, long-suf¬ 
fering, gentleness, goodness, faith. She goes 
forth from the closet armed. Sisters, mothers, 
daughters, old and young, flee to the closet- 
have your regular stated seasons, adhere to 
them strictly, undeviatingly. Let no earthly 
care deprive you of these. — Author Home 
Truth s. 
COLPORTAGE IN THE OLDEN TIME. 
“The divines of the Puritan age,” says the 
Christian Work, “undoubtedly recognized the 
vast importance of diffusing the Holy Scrip¬ 
tures and subordinate religious literature. Of 
Dr. Baxter’s Call, ‘JO,000 copies were sold 
within twelve months after its publication, 
and of Alleine’s Alarm, 70,000 copies within 
three years. These were bnt two of thousands 
of publications, from folio to 34mo, that then 
swarmed from the Puritan press. Sibbes’ 
‘Bruised Reed,’ purchased at the door by his 
father, was largely the means of Baxter’s con¬ 
version. Well therefore might Baxter say, ‘ I 
would rather he the author of books to be car¬ 
ried in peddlers’ packB to jioor men’s doors, 
than of books to stand in golden libraries.' In 
the same age the works of Runyan, Baxter, and 
especially of Boston and the Erskinee, were 
scattered widely over the lowland counties of 
Scotland.” 
“They pray in vain to have sin pardoned 
which seek not also to prevent sin by prayer, 
—even every particular sin by prayer against 
all sin.”— Hooker. 
■ - - ♦ 
It is remarkable that the words in all Euro¬ 
pean languages which expresses forgiveness or 
