MY LITTLE WIFE. 
BY DAVID WI.VQATK 
Mt little wife owe, ('tis strange, but ’tis true,) 
Sweet little, dear little, love-troubled Jank, 
So deeply absorbed in her day dreaming grew, 
The bell chimed and ceased, yet she beard not its strain; 
And I, walking near her 
(May love ever cheer her 
Who thinks all such wandering of sin void and free,) 
Strove hard to persuade her 
That He who had made her 
Had destined her heart love for no one but me. 
My little wife—well, perhaps this was wrong— 
Sweet little, dear little, warm hearted Jane, 
Sat on the hill side till her shadow grew long, 
Nor tired of the preacher that thus could detain. 
I argued ho neatly, 
And proved so completely 
That none but poor Andrew her husband could be, 
She smiled when I blessed her, 
And blushed when 1 kissed her, 
And owned that she loved and would wed none but me. 
My little wife is not always quite sure— 
Sweet little, dear little, hearteheering Jank— 
That joy will not tarry where people are poor, 
But only where wealth and her satellites reign. 
In each baby treasure 
She finds n new pleasure: 
If purse and demand should by chance disagree, 
She smiles, bravely humming, 
“ A better time's coining,” 
And trusts in good health, in the future, and me. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 
Mr. Editor:— Perhaps your long, dignified 
lace will he twisted somewhat askew (this isn’t 
very respectful, but never mind. 4i taint” only 
me,) when you discover the subject of my cogi¬ 
tations. Hut your paper matter must be varie- 
tlzed it seems to me, even if it is at the expense 
of a few wry faces and contortions. Yes, I’m 
going to wri—write about love — certainly I’m 
brave enough to dure, spunky me, who’d a' 
thought it! 
Now, my dear friends (unmarried ones, of 
course,) take it calmly if I do speak out in loud 
letters of that awful subject which is generally 
and customarily whimpered over so much. Yes, 
actually, I’ve been spending some of my “pre¬ 
cious thoughts’’ about lliat little, “desperate, 
curious” chap, Curio. You know he’s always 
present (don't say “taint ho,” tor any time when 
1 look I oan sec him iu your “jet eye of am¬ 
ber” swinging on a winker, telegraphing dis¬ 
patches like “ nnmlcralion.”) This which I'm 
going to say is for the *• solenmest ” klud of 
serious contemplation. 
Dear friends, I’m afraid you wont be affected 
deeply and strongly — ( don’t like to see those 
thousand and one smiling grins looking so sun¬ 
shiny, no. I’d rather behold the salt teal's rush¬ 
ing like “0, Nidgcri/” down your benighted 
cheeks. “ Going a Courting” ami “getting mar¬ 
ried” “ won't never meant” to be made fun of 
and sneezed at, Jet mo tell you, but it's an ate* 
ful important matter, and must have “sights” 
and hosts of consideration placed on It. But if 
you won’t exercise the remotest particle of com¬ 
mon sense, and won't stop being “silly,” why 
I’ll have te call your devoted ears to hearken 
to the counsel of age and experience (me, for 
instance. Don't say pshaw ! I “aint" no shal¬ 
lower for being decrepid and rheumatic.) 
Young beaux, when you start out with your 
arms full of hope, and your months full of com¬ 
pliments, without thinking or hearing advice, 
you’ll be “most sure and sartain” to go back 
home with your arms full of “mittens” and 
lasting something bitter, and “can’t imagine” 
why. But I’ll tell you why. It is because 
you’re ten thousand times more gallant and 
agreeable. (?) than you need to be. Flatterers 
“wont catch nothin’” but chaff, nor compli- 1 
lUCUts, either, when they are showered out in ' 
multitudes. That are is the truth. But you 1 
won’t believe it,— no, you’ll keep iu the same « 
track if it kills you. 0, dear, it makes the tears • 
'roll down like “balls of yarn ” and “strings of 1 
pearls” when I fall to cogitating about poor, 
blind, dumb and contrary “human nature.” 
And, girls, I've found it particularly needful [ 
to say a little to you. You put on miles and * 
miles too many ribbons, bows and “airs." That \ 
“aint” what traps “nice young men,” mercy on j 
me ! no! I tell you taint, but it’s common sense. t 
that every-day, mean stuff you hate so, that t 
traps ’em. But you won’t believe it, either: uu, 1 
you’ll go on nipping, starching , sighing and c 
fainting everlasting, and it’s no more use for me h 
to open my sage lips and shout wisdom against 
your calloused ears, than it would be u> under- ] 
take to plow up the whole of Bigfoot Prairie s 
with a "darn-kneedle.” t 
But it’s my duty to do my share of scolding 
the fractious, head-strong, tool-hardy “critters” 
of this world. Oh dear! what a great “ huge ” ( 
responsibility, and a cause of move than three- j 
thirds of my utter despairing misery! It dis¬ 
tresses me a mountain height beyond imagina¬ 
tion to see- you walking right “straight as a 
string” into the fire, and won't learn to keep ^ 
out under any possible guidance. Perhaps you’ll { 
say you don’t; what I mean is that you don’t , 
do anything “ smarter ” than that would be. j 
Now, I’d rather walk light into the fire with 
all my “rheumatics," and cover up in the mer¬ 
ciless embers, than to be so “shocking, ridicu¬ 
lous, foolish" as you are whou you commence 1 
marching ou the road to matrimony. If I bad ( 
not all the fortitude, patience and benevolence 1 
in “ creation " I never could bear to go about f 
with my eyes open, and have such obstinate 
ignorance “stalking abroad” to spoil my sight. 1 
O, my goodness, I've got out of patience — I 1 
shan’t write any more. 
Yours a sorrowing, and wailing and crying 
Mrs. Partinoton’s cousin. “Rier.” 1 
Walworth Wis., Jan., 1863. t 
W’ 
JCa 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LADIES’ DEPARTMENT. 
I am not a writer for the Rural. My duties 
lie in another sphere; and I would not leave that 
sphere to appear thus publicly, had not an 
article in a recent issue of this paper impelled 
me to do so. 
It is with deep regret that I have seen the 
columns of the Ladies' Department devoted to 
unimportant subjects: or, to say the least, to sub¬ 
jects incongruous with the feelings and wants of 
the age. If pjd bachelors and old maids want 
to talk over their matters, and quarrel about their 
affairs, let them form a secret conclave; or, if 
they must needs make them public, ltd them 
wait till the great wave of sorrow and anxious 
thought which now throbs the Nation's pulses 
has passed over,—or, if gifted young gents and 
misses wish to give their education an airing, let 
t hem choose a theme worthy of the noble powers 
God has given them, let them seek the luxury 
of doing good. They will find it far greater than 
they ever experienced in impulsive self-gratifica¬ 
tion. 
Woman’s mission in this day is one of anxious 
thought, and toil, of self-denial and devotion,ofi 
courage and endurance, of heroic fortitude when 
cherished hopes are blasted, and the heart is 
blanched will) agony. These are elements in 
her character that need to be strengthened and 
fostered—that require the whole energies of her 
nature and being. And now. good Rural Edi¬ 
tor, I appeal to you, in case we women cannot 
correct, this evil, to put forth your strong arm, 
and stop this prate and chatter, (does that sound 
any better than “twaddle?”) and make these 
columns what you so well know bow to do—a 
medium of Light and Knowledge, of Strength 
and Comfort,—that they may both elevate and 
purify, refine and strengthen the heart of woman. 
1 cannot close this article without offering a 
tribute of t hanks to the authors of “ The Unwrit¬ 
ten History of War,” and *■ My Poor Soldier Boy.” 
They came to us in the hour of direst need, when 
from I he distant buttic-tield the dread tidings of a 
loved one lost smote our hearts with anguish. 
Blessings on those who can thus skillfully touch 
the broken harp-strings, causing them to vibrate 
to sweetest music. “Missing” (a sweet gem in 
in Rural of Oct 4th,) came tons in like manner, 
when sorrow had spread over us her hood wings 
of darkness at the unknown fate of a dear, brave 
bov. reported “Missing” in one of those terrible 
death struggles on the Rappahannock. Alas: 
Nor bird, nor moon, tior whispering wind 
Has breathed the tale of the hollow. 
St. Joseph, Mich., Jan. 16,1803. K. 
T IS 
THE FATHER’S LAMENT. 
Child by God’s sweet mercy given 
To thy mother and to me. 
Entering this world of sorrows 
By His grace ho fair to see ; 
Fair as some sweet flower in summer, 
Till death’s lmnd wan on Ihee laid, 
Scorch'd the beauty from my flower, 
Made the tender petAis fade. 
Yet I dare not. weep nor murmur, 
For I know the King of Kings 
Leads thee to His marriage chamber, 
To the gloriou* bridal brings. 
Nature fain would have me weeping 
Love asserts her mournful right, 
But I answer they have brought thee 
To the happy world of light 
And I fear that my lainenlnigs, 
As I speak tliy '•berish’d name, 
Desecrate the Royal dwelling; 
Fear to meet, deserved blame, 
If I press with tears of anguish 
Into the abode of joy; 
Therefore will I, meekly bowing, 
Offer thee to God, my boy. 
Yet thy voice, thy childish singing, 
Soundeth ever in my ears, 
And I listen and remember, 
Till mine eyes will gather rears, 
Thinking of thy pretty prattlings, 
And thy childish words of love; 
But when I begin to murmur. 
Then my spirit looks above, 
Listens to the song- of spirits— 
Listens, longing, woudering, 
To the ceaseless glad hosannas 
Angels at thy bridal sing. 
EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
BY LEAD PENCIL, KSQ. 
LONG AND SHORT DRESSES. 
There is no denying the fact that a long dress 
adds considerably to the graceful appearance of 
its wearer. Whether the figure be tall or stunted, 
a demi-train is. in either case, both becoming and 
advantageous to it: but, on the other hand, for 
out-door wear, how inconvenient a long dress 
proves itself to be ! We are perfectly aware that 
wc should shock, considerably, the nerves of our 
dress-maker, if in an answer to the usual query, 
as to how many inches on the ground we should 
wish our new walking dress to trail, we were to 
tell her to make il short, and that it must not trail 
on the ground at all: and although at the lime wo 
should be thoroughly convinced that we were 
giving her a most sensible answer, there are but 
few ladies of the present day, to whom it would 
occur to leave such very unfashionable instruc¬ 
tions. Ju every crowded assemblage of people, 
crinolines are looked upon as nuisances; but 
their disadvantages are slight in comparison with 
a sweeping dress, which is always in everybody's 
way. and under everybody's feet. And then 
what trouble it entails!—continual apologies on 
oil sides for stepping upon it; the frequent reno¬ 
vation which it necessarily requires. All these 
drawbacks detract considerably from the beauty 
of the long dross. I f ladies would only make up 
their minds to wear short dresses when out or 
doors, and long ones for home and visiting, what 
a much better arrangement altogether it would 
be .—Once a Month. 
- — ■ 
Girls.— There are two kinds of girls. One is 
the kind that appears best abroad—the girls that 
are good for parties, rides, visits, balls, etc., and 
whose chief delight is in such things. The other 
is that kind that appears best at home—the girls 
that are useful and cheerful in the dining-room, 
the sick-room, and all the precincts of home. 
They differ widely in character. One is a moth, 
consuming everything about her: the other is a 
sunbeam, inspiring life and gladness all along 
her pathway. Now. it does not necessarily fol¬ 
low that there shall be two classes of girls. A 
slight education will modify both a little, and 
unite their good qualities iu one. 
■ - 
Domestic Life.—P leasure \s to woman what 
the sun is to the flower : if moderately enjoyed, 
it beautifies, it refreshes and it improves—if im¬ 
moderately. it withers, deteriorates and destroys. 
But the duties of domestic life, exercised as they 
must bo in retirement, and calling forth all the 
sensibilities of woman, are perhaps as necessary to 
the full development of her charms, as the shade.s 
and the shadow are to the rose, confirming its 
beauty and increasing its fragrance. 
■ »»♦ ■ 
Youthful Love.— It is only in early youth, 
iu the first freshness of the spring of life, that love 
can be tasted in its in tensest rapture. Youth 
looks upon everything with fond and credulous- 
eyes, and the air seems one universal rainbow. 
The emotion will not bear analysis, and what is 
more, will not bear the test of time: it is but too 
frequently its own suicide. 
Nature confesses that she has bestowed upon 
the human race hearts of the softest mould, in 
that she has given ns tears. 
Tragedy predominates, it seems to me. The 
heroic is a part of the admixture. Bui a great 
deal of the loftiest heroism is cover' d up by a 
modesty that is akin to if. Scarce n turn in tbi* 
daily path that 1 do not d end a -i nv revelation, 
or having inexperience mingled pleasure and 
pain. These revelations come in all sorts til 
formaandgtiises— • n tin; i tecs of friends we meet, 
from the lip of cardie t gossi] s T on the broad 
pages of i. e dsfly paj r.-s or covered by the en¬ 
velopes, v dite, nuff and blue, that are handed us 
from I bo post-office. 
From a dainty white envelope, with a daintier 
superscription, I have t his morning a revelation of 
patriotism and heroism which I canuot forbear to 
share with the reader a sad but glorious record 
it is of the spirit which has filled the ranks of the 
Army of the Union. The following are the con¬ 
tents of the envelope: 
White Oak Strings, Wia. I 
Jan. 10, 1863. y 
Dear Sir—S ome years since my brother and 
I helped to fill the “ Boys’ and Girls’ Corner” of 
the old-—. At that time you took much 
interest in the “ little folks,” and their simple ef¬ 
forts in the line of Authorship. Though we 
ceam! to write, we did not cease to remember 
your kindness; and it is witli the hope that you 
have not entirely forgotten those children, that I 
inclose you a notice of my dear brothers death. 
I do not doubt you are “for the Union," and feel 
proud of our Western Soldiers’ noble achieve¬ 
ments—not the least noble of which was the vic¬ 
tory at Prairie Grove. 
My brother on listed as a private. Neither he 
nor I could endure the idea of his entering the 
army for the sake of position, or for any motive 
beside the wish to avenge the insult offered to 
our glorious old flag, and to aid in defending our 
imperiled country, lie was deservedly dear to 
fits fellow soldiers, and his Captain loved him 
like a son. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE NEW YEAR. 
Somehow 1 always hate to write a new date; 
I feel as if the strange, unusual figures were a 
veil between me and the treasures of the year 
just gone; and so my pen hesitates long before 
tracing the new characters. But this time it is 
different I have been longing for this New 
Year as a starting point in my life ; I have 
wished for its coming, that I might set it up as a 
guide-board, by which to direct my wayward 
steps. And so, to-day, I have been down deep 
in my heart and sought to remove all the old 
rubbish there; I've tried to clean it all out; to 
sweep down every cobweb of temper, and to 
brush away the great dusty heaps of selfishness, 
so that there should be no nook or corner unfiifor 
the reception of my new resolves and purposes. 
In the past year, I found my worst, most tireless 
enemies right here in this very heart of mine, so 
here the most cunning strategy must be practiced 
on my part, if I win in the next year’s strife. 
I don't mean to find fault with the old year; I 
loved that, too; it brought to me a host of joys; 
some sorrows, too; some real griefs, that have 
worn deep channels in heart and life. No, I 
would not quarrel with eighteen hundred and 
sixty-two. f would not give up the new hopes 
that came trooping in, while the past twelve 
months marched, one by one, with stately tread, 
to the long past. But I do want to act my part 
better this year. Eighteen hundred and sixty- 
two did well enough forme, hut not / for him. 
So I take up my life-song with a deep, holy Steal, 
to have ite strings attuned more perfectly than 
ever before. 0,1 am glad to welcome this New 
Year. 1 watched its coming with many a prayer, 
and thus will f watch ite going, if my days 
'engthen to its close. I am glad to write the new 
date, then, because I seek to have tin’s year’s 
record more pure, more perfect than the one just 
closed forever. 
And there is another reason, why T hail witli 
gladness this new year. Why should we not. do 
good this year? -why should we not rejoice and 
“e glnd;—why not begin anew our life; have 
new aims, new purposes, new hopes, new ambi¬ 
tions. and indeed new songs, new prayers,—for 
•it is the year of jubilee.” Well may our voices 
rise now with the grand old words, 
“ Tin- land of the free and the homo of the brave.” 
On bended knee, and with bared brows, we can 
now most hcarlfully pray for our glorious land 
of liberty. Never before have f hailed the New 
Year with half the joy and exultation that to¬ 
night fills my heart, 
Alice Brown Nichols. 
Wilson, N. Y , Jan. list, 1863. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE NARROW WAY. 
The straight and narrow path how few can trace, 
How few can follow in tho way it leads, 
For scarce our willing feet arc. in ii placed 
Then worldly pride, or vanity, or sonic 
Dark tempter lures us from the way, and we 
Are led aside we know not where. Sometimes 
We stray m> far that the warm light of grace 
Is dimmed, and hardly we know whence to seek 
Its soul-reviving beams. 
For ’tis so oft 
The stubborn will lends us astray, that but 
For Goodness Infinite we ne’er might find 
That secret wav 'Tis oft beset with thorns 
And dangers oft-times threaten, but the heart 
That truly knows its course, mil never faint 
Or falter. Beyond, it sees 
The Better Land awaiting those who love 
By the pure light of revelation to 
Pursue that narrow road, and they at last 
Shall rest in peace disturbed by strifes no more. 
Elkbom, Wis., 1863. B. C. D. 
-- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PATIENT LABOR, 
Yours Respectfully, 
Flora Washburn. 
The following is a copy of the notice inclosed, 
as it appeared in the local paper: 
Killed on the "tit ult., at the battle of Prairie Grove, 
Arkansas, Frank Howard Washburn, of Company “K” 
20tli Regiment Wisconsin volunteers, late of White Oak 
Springs, in this Co., aged 20 years 
The deceased was u young gentleman of unblemished 
moral character, full of all generous and noble impulses. 
His pleasing manner and amiable disposition, endeared 
him to a large circle of friends 
“ Who knew him hut to love him, 
Who name him hut to praise." 
His Captain. Howard Yaxdigrjft, pays him 
tin? following tribute, in a letter to bis mother an¬ 
nouncing Ids death: 
♦ * * “ It is witli pleasure that I am able to state to 
you, that he fought and died like a hero. He has proved 
himself, iu nil the duties imposed on him, a true and 
brave soldier. He was well beloved by my whole com¬ 
pany. 
And while you liave lost a beloved son, we have lost a 
valued comrade; and the country a noble and patriotic 
man.” 
This is not given as an exception, but as an ex¬ 
ample of tho lofty heroism which has animated 
our brave boys, the mothers who bore them, and 
the sisters who loved tb m. in offering their lives 
a sacrifice on the altar of Our Country. God 
bless their memories, and sustain those who 
mourn! 
In conversation seek not so much either to vent 
thy knowledge, or to increase it, as to know- more 
spiritually and effectually what thou dost kuow. 
And in this way those mean, despised truths that 
every one thinks he Is sufficiently Been in, will 
have a new sweetness and use in them, which 
thou didst not so well perceive before—(for these 
flowers cannot be sucked dry;) and in this hum¬ 
ble, sincere way, thou shall grow in grace and in 
knowledge.— Coleridge. 
-- 
The dove, recollect, did not return to Noah 
with the olive branch till ihe second time of her 
going forth; why, then, should you despond at 
the failure of the first attempt 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
STRAY THOUGHTS. 
_ 
There is a vast decrease of magnitude when 
we come to analyze the vague impressions which 
haunt the brain, and compel every idea to prove 
its identity by expressing itself in words. Often 
we fancy that we have a multitude of thoughts, 
when, in fact, we have only a great log. 
Wit is not wisdom; bluntness is not smartness, 
and it would be well for us to remember that 
when we have carried our obstinacy to the sub- 
limest pitch, there is a certain long-eared animal 
whose capacities in this direction far exceed our 
own. 
Men and women, too, often betray their weak¬ 
nesses by the very means they use to conceal 
them. You never hear a single lady going into 
extravagancies over Woman’s Rights but you 
may be sure she will surrender her liberty to the 
first “ tyrant” who offers himself; and it is a well 
known fact that the man who is always decrying 
the other sex is either morbidly sensitive to their 
opinion, or has been terribly disappointed in love. 
An Old Contributor. 
PICTURE OF NAPOLEON. 
He was everything. He was complete. He 
had in his brains the cube of human faculties. 
He made codes like Justinian —he dictated like 
Ctesur —his conversation joined the lightning of 
Pascal to the thunderbolt ot Tacitus—be made 
history and he wrote it—his bulletins are Iliads— 
he combined the figures of Newton with the met¬ 
aphors of' Mohammed—he- lef t behind him, iu the 
Orient, words as grand as the Pyramids—at Tilsit 
he taught majesty to Emperors, at the Academy 
of Sciences he replied to La Place, in the Council 
of State he held his ground with Merlin, he gave 
a soul to the geometry of those and to the trickery 
of these, he was legal with the attorneys and sid¬ 
ereal with the astronomers; like Cromwell blow¬ 
ing out one candle when two were lighted, he 
went to the Temple to cheapen a curtain tassel; 
he saw everything; he knew everything; which 
did not prevent him from laughing a good man’s 
laugh by the cradle of his little child; and, all at 
once, startled Europe listened, armies set them¬ 
selves in march, parks of artillery rolled along, 
bridges of boats stretched over the rivers, clouds 
of cavalry galloped in tho hurricane, cries, trum¬ 
pets, a trembling of thrones everywhere, the 
frontiers of the kingdoms oscillated upon the 
map, the sound of a superhuman blade was heard 
leaping from its sheath, men saw him standing 
erect in the horizon with a flame in his hands 
and a resplendence in his eyes, unfolding in 
the thunder lit-' two wings, the grand army and 
the old guard, and he was the archangel of 
war!— Victor Hugo. 
■ ■ ■ ■ — - ♦ • ♦- 
Intrigue. —There are minds so habituated to 
intrigue and mystery in themselves, and so 
prone to expect it from others, that they will 
never accept of a plain reason for plain fact, if 
it be possible to devise causes for it that are 
obscure, far-fetched, and usually not worth the 
carnage. 
The safest calculations are those in which 
something Is allowed for miscalculations. 
The slow growth of what is truly valuable is 
a fact which ought to lx; impressed upon every 
mind. The impatient aspirant after fame seeks 
, the applause of the hour; HIb ear is not trained 
to catch the low but swelling notes of praise 
which posterity awards to him who has possessed 
v his soul m patience. 
Man is essentially poor. He has hands to work, 
s and a hem! to direct his labors. Nature bestows 
v nothing more, and he who will be rich must force 
open the closely-barred door of her storehouse, 
t and compel her to give him of tier abundance. 
The boasted progress of the age i? but the know- 
t ledge how to render subservient to our happiness 
the elements which have possessed their present 
j qualities since creation; and this knowledge has 
not been attained by lucky chances, but by pa¬ 
tient research and persevering toil. There lives 
to-day, in Ids obscure study, the man who shall 
, rovgal truths which will move the whole scien¬ 
tific world. We know him not now, but the stern 
conflict with the unknown goes steadily on; new 
truths are discovered; those before but half re- 
1 vealed are demonstrated, and at the appointed 
time the conquest will be achieved, and he shall 
stand before the world a monarch in the realm 
of thought, 
The experience of daily life shows the honor 
which is awarded to patient toil and real worth. 
In “ times which try men’s souls,” when nations 
are tossed Uke the ocean in a storm, the popular 
wave may for a time lift up a man who has not 
this elaboration of thought and character, but he 
passes away with the impulse which gave him his 
momentary elevation. < )niy he who, long waiting 
and long working, has solved the problem of 
national prosperity, may come forth, and, with 
an authority which winds and waves obey, say 
to the warring elements, " Peace, be still !” 
Brilliant examples of success resulting from 
patient labor Crowd llie pages of history. And 
God has sot his seal to the same principle. Ge¬ 
ology and the microscope have shown us that 
Nature is a slow worker—that the present con¬ 
dition of the earth is the result of countless 
years of time, and of agencies in themselves 
almost infinitesimal. And we are also told that 
in that hour when earth’s Sin-offering was pre¬ 
sented to satisfy the majesty of violated law, the 
victim was a “ Lamb slain from the foundation 
Of the world.” Redemption was the work of 
ages. Hilda. 
Gou verne or, N Y., 1863. 
A Resting Place.— John Selden was a 
mot cmdito Englishman, possessed much anti- 
quariun. historical and legal knowledge; was 
master of many languages, and author of works 
which have filled Europe with his fame, and was 
possessor of a library of eight thousand volumes. 
When he lay dying,he Raid to Archbishop Usher. 
“I have surveyed most of the learning that is 
among Ihe sons of toen, and my study is filled 
with books and manuscripts on various subjects; 
but at present 1 cannot recollect any passage out 
of all my books and papers whereon I can rest 
rny soul save this from the Sacred Scriptures: 
•• Tho grace of God that bringeth salvation hath 
appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying 
ungodliness und worldly lusts, we should live 
soberly, righteously and godly in this present 
world; looking for that blessed hope and the 
glorious appearing of the great God and our 
Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us that 
he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
works.” 
the BIBLE. 
This Book unfolds JKHOVAa’s mind. 
This Voice salutes in accents kind, 
This Friend will all your need supply, 
This Fountain sends fond streams of jov, 
This Mine affords us boundless wealth, 
This Good Physician gives us health, 
This Sun renews and warms the soul, 
This Sword both wounds and makes us whole, 
'nils Letter shows our sins forgiven, 
This Guide conducts us safe to Heaven, 
This Charter ho? been sealed with blood, 
This Volume is the Work os - God. 
Mercy.— When the sunlight of God’s mercy 
rises upon our necessities, it casts the shadow of 
prayer far down upon the plain; or, to use an¬ 
other illustration, when God piles up a lull of 
mercies, he himself shines behind them, and he 
caste on our spirits the shadow of prayer, so that 
we may rest certain, if we are in prayer, our 
prayers are the shadows of mercy. 
-■ ■ 
Cultivate your heart aright as well as your 
farm; and rememberj “ whatsoever a man aoweth 
that shall he reap.” 
m . 
