Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LONG-AGO. 
BY JAKE E. 11IOBY. 
On! how the shadows flit 
O’er long ago, 
As musingly 1 sit 
By easement low. 
Like spirits of the stilly flight, 
Or fairies in their elfin light, 
They cotnc and go 
So dim the past appears, 
I scarce can see 
What all the busy years 
Have wrought for ine; 
Wliat threads are longest iu the strain, 
Or joy, or woe, or heavy pain, 
If either be. 
While faithful Mem’ry strays, 
With pensive mien, 
Along forgotten ways 
That lie between 
Those boundless realms, the Past and This, 
Bhc only gathers flowers of bliss 
Her eye hath seen. 
For time enchantment lends 
To every view, 
And ev’ry joy transcends 
When life was new, 
So bitter weeds are doom’d to grow 
Beneath the bending roses, low, 
A with'rd few. 
At last the realm appears, * 
The Past looms up, 
A land of doubts and fears, 
And buoyant Hope, 
Whose sequel is unfolding fast, 
For uD along, old Fate h.v cast 
My horoscope. 
And cold and strange I seem, 
Unlike myself; 
Life’s romance but a dream, 
A fairy elf. 
As sober years their cycles pass 
And leave no souvenir. A las ! 
My olden self. 
O! Fattier, keep my heart 
From growing old, 
This drama hath a part 
To yot unfold. 
Oh I keep it fresh, and warm, and true, 
Tho’ noon should dry the morning dew, 
’Til! all is told. 
Pifiard, N. V., 1803. 
■ - —--*-• ♦---— 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE “FIRST OFFER.” 
“I do think I'll marry the next man that offers 
himself, love or no lore.” 
“No, no, Carrie, don’t say that!” and Mrs. 
Hastings shook her head sadly, as she laid her 
knitting down in her lap, and raising her glasses 
to rest on tho top of her head, turned her eyes 
to tho tour- 1 .-,tamed laeo of her young friend. 
“ Don’t say that; it is better to sutler wrong than 
to do wroDg. I'm afraid you haven’t let Pa¬ 
tience have her perfect work in your heart, 
Carrie?" 
“I know I haven’t, Aunt Mary, but bow can 
I when there is so much to try me every day? 
Yes, every hour; let me do the best I may, and 
try as hard ms I can to please, I'm sure to be 
found fault with in some way, and not a day 
passes that I do not feel more than ever that I 
am a burden to Uncle Harvey. I know I have 
been a great trial to them, and it seems as if I 
was off their hands iu some way, it would be a 
relief all around." 
“Yes, 1 know how it is, Carrie, but don’t go 
into that hastily which may ruin your happiness 
for life. I know a woman once that had perhaps 
as much to contend with as you, only in a differ¬ 
ent way. You are an orphan, alone in the 
world and dependent, while she hadu home, and 
all that wealth could do to. make her happy. 
Her father was a sea-captain, and in his absence 
the oldest son had the management of affaire at 
homo, and he grew fn lie harsh and overbearing 
in his manners, and Aunt seemed to be an espe¬ 
cial object of bis dislike. Sho was fair, and, in 
her youthful health and ambition, lively and 
pleasing in her appearance, but under all was a 
warm, sensitive heart, that quivered and bled at 
the word-arrows her brother aimed with a cold 
and heartless precision. At last, after a fresh 
grief and a bitter struggle alono in her own 
room, this thought that you have expressed came 
up iu her mind, and she formed it into a linn 
resolution, that strengthened day by day. His 
words had less power to wound, now that sho 
saw a means of escape that had not before pre¬ 
sented itself, but the ever-present sense of his 
hatred drove her on. without waiting one mo¬ 
ment to take into consideration the possible con¬ 
sequences. She paid a little more attention to 
her toilet, w as more studied and reserved in her 
manners, with less of the old girlish frankness. 
“ The first offer was a widower with one child, 
a pretty boy of three summers, which of course 
she accepted, and left the house that had been to 
her so little like what a homo should he. hoping 
to find in the new relation the sympathy and 
companionship that should more than make up 
to her the beauty of that inner and higher life 
that sho had lost. But little acquainted with the 
husband, slowly and sadly came to her the 
knowledge that she had lain herself, without 
reserve, on an altar unworthy of the sacrifice, 
lie was kind to her, but the polish that society 
had given him did not reach to the depths of a 
noble, refiued, and intellectual soul, and the 
charms that had seemed so fascinating at the few- 
first meetings, soon wore off in the roughness of 
was no balm for the wounded heart that was 
henceforth to beat because the tide of its sorrow 
could not check it, with no bright star to lure it 
: on to a higher goal, and the burden of life was 
gladly lain down when the message came.” 
A long sigh came from the lips of Mrs. Has¬ 
tings at the conclusion of her story, hut looking 
at the bending form of the sobbing girl beside 
her, she continued:—“That woman was my own 
mother, Carrie; from her I learned her sad his¬ 
tory, and all that can light the gloomy remem¬ 
brance is that before her death the sweet Angel 
of Peace folded his soft wiugs calmly over the 
broken heart, and like the sun sotting without a 
cloud, that soul passed into eternity. My dear 
girl, we have all got the Cross to bear, and let us 
take it up willingly, and follow in the narrow 
pathway, that He who leads may say to us, 
“Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy 
laden, and I will give yon rest” 
Michigan, 1863. Grace Glenn. 
Written for Moore’s Rural Ncw-Yorkor. 
WHAT I DO NOT BELIEVE IN. 
I don’t believe in furnishing up one room in a 
house with everything nice and comfortable, and 
then shutting it up for old Mother Dust to hold 
her parties in. 1 think if anybody in the world 
ought to take the comfort of what he earns, it is 
the bard working farmer, one who “earns his 
bread by the sw eat, of his brow;’’ be of all others, 
when he finishes his day’s work, should have a 
chance to sit in as easy a chair as his house 
affords. But generally in a (aim house, tho 
kitchen, the place where the father and mother 
stay, is the least inviting of any part of the 
dwelling. Jerusha Ann entertains her beaux 
in the parlor. They may rest their “ethereal” 
limbs upon the easy lounges, but the kitchen is 
good enough for father and the boys, I don’t 
believe it. If I had a house I would have the 
best of the “fixing” for myself, and if anybody 
sat on a hard chair it should be those people that 
gave me an occasional call or visit 
Another thiug I don’t believe in is a woman 
thinking because she lives on a farm that she 
must do nothing but drudge, drudge from one 
year’s end to another, never getting any time to 
read, or take comfort generally. I can’t help it, ' 
I do not like these gutta-percha women that will 
wash and Iron and bake and clean, and when 1 
they can’t find anything else to <lo will scrub 1 
their children's noses up and down. They may 1 
bo model house-keepers and all that, but I never 1 
believed that it was the chief end of woman to ‘ 
be bo neat and precise that even the poor puppy ‘ 
must take his tail in his fingers and jump up in ’ 
the hen roost every time she looks at him. I ! 
think a farmer's wife should have just as good a f 
chance to improve her mind as anybody else. ‘ 
Why not? She isn’t cooped up in tho city, with 1 
only an occasional view of the sky and green 1 
grass. She lias the birds, the trees, the flowers— 1 
all free. What if there is “lets" of work to do ! j’ 
, Have help to do it; go at it with a will, and get * 
| it done, and let that be the end of it Don’t be * 
forever puttering at nothing, and telling how 
hard you have to work. Never mind if every t 
chair doesn’t sit just so — if the books on the i 
table get a little out of place —when you feel t 
tired set down and read the newspapers and find t 
IN WINTER. 
8T BAYARD TAYLOR. 
Thh valley stream is frozen, 
The hills are cold and bare, 
And the wild white bees of winter 
Swarm iu the d.irkerftd air. 
I look on the naked forest; 
Was it over jjroon in June ? 
Did it hum with gold and crimson 
In the dim autumnal noon ? 
I look on the barren meadow; 
Was it ever heaped with hay ? 
Did it hide the grassy cottage 
Where the skylark’s children lay ? 
I look on the desolate garden ; 
Is it true the rose was there V 
And the woodbine's musky blossoms, 
And the hyacinth’s purple hair 1 
I look on my heart, and marvel 
If lorn were ever its own— 
If the spring of promise brightened. 
And the summer of passion shone ? 
Is the stem of bliss but withered. 
And tho root survives the blast ? 
Are the seed* of the future sleeping 
Under the leaves of the past ? 
Ah, yes 1 for a thousand Aprils 
That frozen germ shall grow, 
And the dews of a thousand summers 
Wait in the womb of snow! 
- -++-* - 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
THE MUSIC OF LIFE 
Like has its shades. Sorrow is one of the 
ingredients of that peculiar compound called 
existence. The brightest orb has its spots, the 
purest philosophy its faults, the most exalted 
character its defects. Every nation has its wars, 
every circle its discords--, every individual his 
grief’s. Every oak lias its gnaile, every rose its 
thorn, every fountain its impurities. Iu vain we 
seek for perfect happiness. Physical inability 
and mental derangements are the co-efficients of 
our being—rising hopes and blasted expectations 
its exponents. A flower blooms beautifully to¬ 
day; but, to-morrow the autumnal wind nips it, 
audit withers—symbol of joy. Disease lays its 
skeleton hand upon the robust form, and the 
cheek grows pale, the eye dim, the step faltering. 
Age follows quickly on the heels of youth, de¬ 
crepitude overtakes him iu the strength of man¬ 
hood, and the gray-haired sire bends beneath tho 
accumulated weight of years. Death aims lus 
swift-winged arrow, another coffin is made, an¬ 
other Hbroud put on. another monument raised, 
reminding the travelers of earth of their final 
home. Strange, mysterious existence! Begin¬ 
ning in beauty ending in deformity. Harsh, 
stern, wild wond! —each one seeking his own 
interests, forgetting his neighbor; humanity 
groans beneath iw load. I 
The world has too many selfish drones to 
make it profitable business; too many preying 
upon the vitals of society, and imparting nothing 
to renew itc wasted energies. Many are willing 
that othere should do the working, while they 
something to talk about beside the everlasting will do tho ordering and protended thinking; 
housework. “All work and no play always are willing to stand basely idle, and gaze with 
makes Jack a dull boy. x. indifference upon tho heightening contest, while 
March, 1863. a f cw brave men, loving liberty and native land, 
—-— are struggling with the fierce waves of rebellion, 
PRESIDENTS’ WIVES, which dash with sulphurous flames against this 
- rampart of noble hearts, threatening to sweep it 
Ihk inner circles of what may be called the away, and crush to atoms the fortunes t.l these 
Presidential society have always been the subject lazy parasites. Let them live until they become 
ol much comment and gossip among what may as old as Mktuusklau, and acquire the increas- 
be termed the outer circles. Thus Mre. Abigal fog ability of a Sampson; but a living, burning 
Adams, wife of President John Adams, wrote as principle, having mankind as its focal point, 
follows uf Mrs. Washington:—“She endears her* would never lie able to pierce tho hardened 
self to all. Not by what she is so much as by shells of their dwarfish souls. These are the 
what she is not, and makes up by cordiality the men who, without moving a muscle, will see fair 
short-comings of an early education.” In turn, regions desulated, cities wrapped in conflagra- 
Mrs. Adams was commented on as follows, in one tlons, and hear the piteous moans which come 
of the private letters of the day:—“She is prim, from the firesides of brothers fallen—who will 
cold, and possesses too much mind tor the v ery not themselves go, and would crush the Heaven- 
little heart, that hardly seems to beat under her inspired patriotism of those who would. Let us 
taffeta gown.” forget them. Let us not shame humanity with 
By the aristocracy of Virginia Mrs. Madison having produced such sons. Let them retire 
was called the quaker widow, aud gentlemen within the narrow confinesot their philanthropy, 
wore “ too fond ot her society," in the common Let us leave then: in the hands of a just Provi- 
parlauce of the day. The manners of Mrs. Mon- deuce, pitied and scorned. 
roe were “too much of the French school.” and But there are’noble hearts; lil’eisnotall shade, 
it was asserted that the niece of (ton. Jackson The tempest may howl, yet tho calm will follow, 
(who presided over his household) “had no The day may be dreary, yot the Sun will buret 
manners at. all.” Mrs. Harrison left the White through the thick mantles ol the sky. The way 
House before her manners were developed—and may be nigged, yet it is only a test of valor, 
while the first wife of John Tyler was “ too old,” Most of the misfortunes and disappointments 
the second was “too young." Mre. Polk “wore which men experience, result from their own 
shawls and a turban,” as well as paste jewelry: misconceptions and foolishness. The old phi- 
Mre. Taylor “did not receive.” Mrs. Pierce, sad loeophers sought and sought for a stone which 
and afflicted, “ never laid off her mourning;” and should turn everything into the precious metal. 
joy, and the gladsome for merry laughter. The 
fearful can always see a deluge just ahead, while 
the hopeful and the trustful watch the bow of 
promise. 
God has surrounded man with’influences cal¬ 
culated to develop his mental and moral char¬ 
acteristics in precisely the right channels, and it 
remains for him only to place himself id the 
right positions. Nature, Revelation. Literature, 
Society and Christianity aremoulding appliances, 
regulating a perfect character. The thunderings 
of Niagara and surgings of Atlantic's billows 
speak to us of grandeur and sublimity; the 
mossy bank and opening petals, of beauty; the 
sporting flocks, of innocence; the wild cataract's 
roar, the sparkling, dancing brook, and bound¬ 
ing herd, of freedom; the fierce tempest, the 
rushing wind, the foaming fire-horse, of power 
and celerity; the resistless tornado and sweep¬ 
ing conflagration, of devastation; the murmur¬ 
ing zephyr, of quiet; the reposing waves, of 
peace. Revelation comes, aud shows us mined 
by sin, points out the fearful punishment await¬ 
ing crime, presents the rewards of virtue, urges 
us to take the road to life, and offers to conduct 
us to imperishable mansions. Literature throws 
its charms about us, refining the sensibilities, 
opening broad Gelds of research and enjoyment, 
and teaching man a nobler destiny. Society 
makes laws for us, protecting rights, aiding cul¬ 
ture, and uniting with God in the advancement 
of His designs. And Christianity changes the 
heart, renews the affections, directs the strug¬ 
gling energies of manhood, gives a higher law, 
and opens the portals of the skies. 
A man who cannot find ’employment in an 
existence so fraught with destinies, and happi¬ 
ness, surrounded by such soul-stirring motives 
and advantages, must have mistaken his call, 
and the sooner be yields up his life-task, the bet¬ 
ter. Heaven, with all its glories, its warbling 
birdg, Its singing streams, its pearly fountains, Its 
assure skies, itsenchan ting landscapes, it* seraphic 
melodies, its harps, its crowns, the very Throne 
of the “ I Am." does not present so inviting a 
field for noble aud heroic effort as this lost 
world. C. P. Hard. 
Genesee CollcgeJLima, N. Y.,,1863. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TRUST IN GOD 
Take no thought for your life what ye shall eat, or what 
ye shall drink; nor yet for your body what ye shall put on. 
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteous, 
ness; and ail these things shall he added unto you.— 
Matthew 6-23, 33. 
Bckdkn not your heart with care 
How your wants to meet, 
The raiment you may need to wear, 
Nor food that you will eat; 
Nor what shall quench your thirst, nor yet 
Haw all life’s thousand needs 
Shall by your ceaseless toil be met, 
As day to dir succeeds. 
But seek yc first God’s kingdom in 
His glorious righteousness, 
Establish it y our soul w ithin 
Your daily life to bless; 
Then will your Heavenly Father's love 
Your every want supply,— 
Supported by His watchful love 
No clouds shall dim your sky. 
Elkhorn, Whs., 1863. B. C. D. 
‘ • ~ 1 ■* — 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
EVENING THOUGHTS. 
Miss Lane was “spoiled by being told that she 
resembled Queeh Victoria.” 
-»♦•«— - - 
Influence of a True Wife.—A sensible, affec¬ 
tionate, refined, practical woman, who makes a 
man’s nature all the stronger by making it more 
tender— who puts more zest into all his worthy 
strivings, gives diguily to his prosperity and com- 
Many a man in digging over the rubbish has 
found it, but, according to his usual custom, has 
flung it into the river, and the waters have rolled 
over it. They did not seem to understand that 
the true spirit can turn everything into gold, into 
sunshine, into beauty. 
Toilsome marches, wearisome journeys, life¬ 
long pilgrimages have been made, to find upon 
HINTS ABOUT CHILDREN. 
The moral teachings should commence with 
the earliest infancy; the physical as soon as there 
k bodily locomotion; the mental, meaning 
thereby the literary, not, earlier than the com¬ 
pletion of the sixth year, not even to the extent 
of learning the alphabet or repeating by “rote;” 
mere mechanical memorizing. This bruin edu- 
cafion is specially advised in reference only to 
children whose situation in life allows them to 
study until they are twenty-one. The children 
of the poor—those who must go to work and 
earn something —can with safety begin at the 
age of three or four years, for three reasons:— 
They are out in the open air nearly all the time 
during daylight. Their food is plain and not 
over-abundant The early necessity that they 
should do something lor a living, does not allow 
time tor special brain disturbance; and any 
slight tendencies in that direction would be 
counteracted and repaired by the constant mus¬ 
cular activities necessary to their condition. 
But those children who will have nothing to do 
but “get their education,” up to tho day of 
entering their twenty-first year, ought to do 
nothing for the first third of that period but to 
eat, and sleep, and play out of doors from morn¬ 
ing until night, all the year round, except when 
rain, sleet or snow are falling. It is the exer¬ 
cise daily, “regardless of the weather," which 
wgrks so many almost miracles iu the renova¬ 
tion of human health. The vanity of parents is 
fed by the “smartness” of their children; but 
early ripe, early mined, may be said of all pre¬ 
cocities. If not actually ruined, there is almost 
in all cases a sudden “giving out ” of the mental 
powers, and the prodigy of yesterday Is the 
mediocre of to-day, and the non compos mentis 
of tomorrow.—Hall's Journal of Health. 
-4^4- 
Little Cares.— As regard the “career of 
small anxieties,” one great art of managing with 
them is to cease thinking about them just at that 
point where thought becomes morbid. It will 
not do to say that such anxieties may not demand 
some thought, and occasionally, much thought 
But there comes a time when thought is wasted 
upon these anxieties; when you, in your thoughts, 
going over the 6ame grouud again and again to 
no purpose, are deepening annoyances, instead of 
enlarging insight and providing remedy. Then 
the thing would be to be able to speak to these 
fretting little cares, like Lord Burleigh to his 
gown of state when he took it off* for the night, 
“ Lie there Lord Treasurer.” 
Reading and Thinking. —It is good to read, 
mark, learn—but it is better to inw ardly digest. 
It is good to read, better to think—better to think 
one hour than to read ten hours without think¬ 
ing. Thinking is to reading (if the book read 
have anything in it.) what rain and sunshine are 
to the seed east into tho ground, the i n t! uence which 
maketh it bear and bring forth, thirty, forty, an 
hundred fold. To read is to gather into the barn 
or store house of the mind; to think is to cast 
fort to his adversity. Every true wife wields a some vast plain or rocky^teep, in the midst of Reed corn into the grouud to make it productive, 
still greater power when that power feels a living some fertile valley or arid desert, the Elixir of To rc , ld ia l0 collect information; to think is to 
heart drawing it with irresistible force into every Life. Man, desirous of immortality, has longed involve power 
position of duty. for something to rejuvenate him, to make tho --- 
-*♦+--— — heart again leap gladly, and the form be strong. Power of Genius. —Sometimes a single word 
Mistaken Economy. —No language can ex- 1“ hi* blindness ho has searched for it, but over spoken by the voice of genius goes far into the 
press the cruelty or folly of that economy which, tauntingly it has eluded his grasp. Yet that heart. A hint, a suggestion, an undefined delicacy 
to leave a fortune for a child,starves his intellect immortality, go futilely sought by him, has l>een 0 f expression, teaches more than we can gather 
and impoverishes his heart There should be no brought to light. The Elixir has been found! f r0 m volumes of less gifted men. Tho works 
economy in education. Money should never be It is not from a fountain, but from ajmountuin.— which we chiefly study arc not those which con- 
glorious, sacred Mount Calvary. The world and 
nrst meetings, soon wore ott in me roughness ol weighed against the soul of a child. It should glorious, sacred Mount Calvary. The world and 
110 stem realities of lift*. and she found herself be poured out like water for the child’s intellect- our existence seem to us very much in aceord- 
l.’uimrl lo one who, iu the daily conflict, was ual and moral life. ance with the color of the glasses through which 
unfitted even to meet the responsibilities of a -—- we look. The gloomy and desponding can 
husband and lather in ordinary circumstances. Women who are charming to men are common always find Borrow; the complaining may ever 
To om Ol her nature, the blow fell heavily upon enough ; it is a surer test of beauty of character meet with rough jolts, and the doubting see dark 
hei pride and ambition, and without love there that a woman is admired and loved by womeu. clouds. The cheerful can always find cause for 
To read is to collect information; to think is to 
involve power. 
Power of Genius.— Sometimes a single word 
spoken by the voice of genius goes far into the 
heart. A hint, a suggestion, an undefined delicacy 
of expression, teaches more than we can gather 
from volumes of less gifted men. Tho works 
which we chiefly study arc not those which con¬ 
tain the greatest n.nd of knowledge, but which 
raise us into sympathy with the intellectual ener¬ 
gy of the author, and through which a great mind 
multiplies itself. 
It is perfectly safe to denounce abstract sins, 
for they are a kind that nobody ever committed. 
, At the holy hour of twilight, as the last rays 
of the setting sun throw their soft mellow light 
over woodland, hill and vale, tinging the face of 
’ nature with a golden hue— lingering, as it were, 
to take a final view of this side of the globe! 
before taking its departure for the opposite—it 
, secnis to say, “man, another day has gone into 
eternity, never to be recalled. Its blessings, 
whether improved or otherwise, can never be 
enjoyed again. The precious moments that have 
been allowed to run to waste since I last ap¬ 
peared in the Eastern horizon, have been regis¬ 
tered by the Recording Angel, for which you 
will have to answer in the great and com¬ 
ing day.” 
What an hour is here afforded for reflection! 
The toils of the day are over, aud the thoughts 
naturally go up to God. Our minds soar aloft, 
as it w ere, on wings of fancy, to the City of the 
Most nigh; to take a view of tho celestial abode 
of Ills saints. There we behold His chosen few 
walking the streets of the New Jerusalem, sing¬ 
ing songs of praise to their Maker, for redeem¬ 
ing them from the gall of bitterness. And as 
their voices blend in sweet harmony, making 
the vaults of heaven echo, and re-echo, again and 
again, the only sound that is wafted back to our 
mortal car is, “Holy, holy Lord God Al¬ 
mighty !” 
Oh! the grandeur and sublimity of the scene! 
Mortal tongue cannot describe the glories of the 
Unseen world. Language utterly falls of making 
any comparison, and we become so enwrapt 
with the beauties of that fair laud we forget that 
we are still on earth, uutil we are brought to a 
state of consciousness by our own feeble attempts 
to sing the same song that falls from angel's lips. 
When our mind docs return to its accustomed 
channel, and we take upon ue again the active 
duties of life, we fool that we have been blessed 
and profited by the tew moments spent in thought 
at the close of day. F. M. Johnson. 
Ivalauiazoo Co,, Mich., 1863. 
♦ > ♦- 
Man has no intrinsic greatness. He is finite, 
and weak, and poor, and perishing, and can be, 
great only by associating himself with something 
that is divine; something that shall lift him up 
into a nobler sphere. And, therefore, he who 
knowH how to cast himself upon the stream of 
the divine will, that is flowing through time and 
the world, shall, by the divine power, partake of 
eminence and glory. He who appreciates what 
is the divine life, and perceives that (Ion is great 
by the good that he does, and is conscious that he 
is conducting a providence on earth that aims at 
his own greatness; he who sees through God in 
his providence, and identities himself with the 
course of events as it is divinely ordered, shall 
take the humiliations that belong to it now, and 
also the rewards which accrue from it in the end. 
He who knows how to identify himself with 
God’s great moral courses in this world, as re¬ 
vealed in each age, is on the way to greatness. 
— » » t — 
Trials Needful to Purification.— “I re¬ 
member,” says Whitfield, “some years ago, when 
I was at Shields, I went into a glass house; and 
standing very attentive. I saw several masses of 
burning glass of various forms. The workman 
took a piece of glass and put it into one furnace, 
then he put it into a second, and then into a third, 
I said to him, “ why do you put this through so 
many fires?” He answered, “ 0, sir the first was 
not hot enough, nor the second, and therefore we 
put it into a third, and that will make it transpar¬ 
ent." This furnished Mr. Whitfield with a usual 
hint, that we must be fried and exorcised with 
many fires until our dross be purged away, and 
we are made fit for the owner’s use.”— Select 
Miscellanies. 
- - ♦ - 
Trust in Christ.—Do not say thy wound is 
incurable, and thy stroke grievous; but comfort 
thyself with this, that there is a balm in Gilead, and 
physician there. Let thy case be never so brok¬ 
en, bring it to Christ, and he will heal it; com¬ 
mit it to the Advocate that never lost a cause. 
Oh! how many broken and desperate like cases 
has Christ pleaded in heaven l Believe this, he 
can invent things for the clearing of our cause 
that we never could inveqf ourselves! 
T — 
Intellect and Piety, — Genius, intellect 
imagination, taste, sensibility, must all be bap¬ 
tized with religion, or they will never know, and 
and never make known, their real glory and im¬ 
mortal power. 
--;- 
Every' good doctrine leaves behind it an ethe- , 
real ftnrow ready for the planting of seeds which 
shall bring an abundant harvest. 
