A touching incident. 
[Thk following sad and beautiful moreeau, contributed 
to the Philadelphia Bulletin from some unknown pen, was 
■suggested by an affecting scene in one of the army hospi- 
te’s. A brave lad of sixteen years, belonging to a New 
England regiment, mortally wounded at >red*>rlok«bui-g, 
and sent to the Patent Office Hospital in Washington, wm 
anxiously looking for the coming of tol* mother. A» his 
last hour approached, and sight grew dim, he mistook a 
sympathetic lady who was wiping the clammy perspiration 
from his forehead, for the expected one, and, with a smile 
of joy lighting lip hU pale face, whispered tenderly, "Is 
that mother f" “Then,” says the writer, “drawing her 
toward him with all las feeble strength, lie nestled his 
head in her arms like a sleeping Infant, and thus died, 
with the sweet word ‘ mother - on bis quivering lips.”] 
“ jg THAT MOTHER 7“ 
Is that mother bending o'er i^t\ „ 
y As she sang my cradle hytfnAr- 
Knccling there in tears before m£, 
Say f—my sight is growing dim. * 
Comes she from the old homo lowly^js , 
Out among the Northern hills, < 
To her pet boy, dying slowly 
Of war's battle-wounds and ills ? 
Mother! ob we bravely battled— 
Battled till the day was done; 
While the leaden hail storm rattled— 
Man to man and gun to gun 
But wo failed—and I am dying— 
Dying In my boyhood's years— 
There—no weeping -self denying, 
Noble deaths demand no tears 1 
Fold your arms again around me; 
Press again my aching head; 
Sing the lullaby you sang me— 
Kiss me, mother, ere I'm dead 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SCENES IN THE HOSPITAL. 
Hospitals are generally considered places of 
extreme sorrow without any enlivening ray ot 
joy or pleasure; but iu my travels here 1 have 
found that there Is much even of real, heart-felt 
pleasure in a hospital. 
A thousand miles ride brought me to this most 
beautiful place, where the heroes from the West¬ 
ern army suffer for the glory of the nation as 
much as those on the Rattle-field. There is a 
glory in suffering, and it is one of the noblest 
traits of these brave soldiers to see how they 
bear their wounds. There are 1.300 sick and 
wounded men in this one hospital. One may go 
through the whole number of wards and very 
few will be the words of complaint There is 
only the longing for home,— how the sick man 
looks to that dear spot. Here is a hospital among 
the beautiful Western forest trees, and the boys 
enjoy going out to breathe the fresh air after com¬ 
ing up from the pestilential swamps of the Mis¬ 
sissippi. 
There is one object iu writing this hasty sketch 
to the readers of the Rural. A multitude of 
nolle, patriotic women read Us pages. They are 
doing much lor these suffering men at their 
homes. Oh! I wish they could see the joy on 
the countenances of these noble men when 
they receive some of those choice things sent 
from home. The other day -100 came here from 
Vicksburg, wearied with the long route on the 
boat, and as they came into the wards, all deco¬ 
rated with paintings, flowers, and supplied with 
books, one golden-haired boy said to me, as he 
looked at his clean bed, and noticed the busy 
work of the nurses and attendants:—“ A man 
can get well here, if he can anywhere this side 
of Paradise.' Now, why is there such a feeling 
here'' Simply because there are noble women 
here to minister to these men those gifts which 
you women at home have sent to them. The 
greatest blessings in hospitals are these woman’s 
hands, woman's hearts, and woman’s tears. 
Yesterday a poor fellow from Illinois died, 
with the request that his body should be sent 
borne to his wife. One of the nurses, a woman 
who knew the anguish of that stricken heart, 
went to the city and telegraphed to her, and this 
morning the body is to be sent. Last night 
another lady from another ward came to tell me 
about one of the Ohio boys who was almost 
ready to be sent home. How kind she was to 
him, how quick her woman's heart went to assist 
him, yet this woman is the wife of a rebel officer, 
Mrs. Brig.-Gen. Garrett- She said to me:—“I 
loved my husband, but he went to fight with the 
rebels, and I owe it as a duty to my country to 
toil for these sick heroes who are giving their 
lives to sustain our government.'' She is a 
Southern lady, too. Mrs. Canfield, of Medina 
Co., Ohio, (my own county, and I am proud of 
it.) visited us a short time since. She is one of 
the Florence Nightingales of this war. J ust 
now I saw a young man whose head was badly 
wounded by a shell, who said as I came along:— 
“I feel first-rate this morning,—I want to go 
back.’’ 
One pleasant feature among the arrangements 
of this hospital is the supply of reading matter 
furnished by contributions, mostly from the Sani¬ 
tary Commission. And let me say, right here, 
you cannot send too much to that noble society; 
it Is the back-bone of all the supplies we receive. 
With all the work done and goods sent, still,you 
women at home must send us more.—we need it 
—you can do more and you wilL Ohio should 
send more to her Western army; so of all the 
States, no matter whether their men are hero or 
not. The Ladies’ Union Aid Society of St. 
Louis, is doing a noble work. They gave a grand 
dinner to 3,000 convalescent soldiers here on the 
Fourth. It was a joyful time for them. 
The glorious news from the army cheers all 
hearts, and may those who are enjoying at home 
all the comforts of life, not forget amid this 
triumph that there are suffering thousands who 
need their care, especially you Women of the 
A'orth, remit not your labors, and may Heaven 
bless you in all your endeavors. May more be 
willing to come and work in the hospitals to 
i soothe the sick and dying until this war Bhall 
close. I R Iopas. 
U. S. Gen. IIoBpital, Benton Barracks, St. Louis, Mo. 
-t - —--- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WOMAN’S MISSION. 
What can be done to call forth the earnest and 
pure energies of woman to stimulate the hearts 
of those engaged in defending our homes and the 
sacred cause of right and liberty ? It should be 
admitted by all loyal citizens, that in so impor¬ 
tant a contest, their power and sympathy should 
be cemented by a will to work together; and the 
entire loyal nation should possess but one heart 
to throb in behalf of our rights. And surely 
woman, the “better-balf” of man; the ‘•help-meet 
of creation’s lord.’’ must have a high and holy 
mission to fulfill. 
We remember the enthusiasm that glowed 
within our breast when first we read of our 
fathers’ bravery in the triumphant struggle of the 
Revolution; how our hearts sympathized with 
their many intense sufferings; how we read with 
feelings of pride that the Revolutionary war had 
its heroines as well as heroes; that patriotism 
dwelt in every home, aud mothers taught the in¬ 
fant lips first to lisp the lessons of freedom.— 
In all this there mingled a feeling akin to envy; 
envious of the fame aud honor achieved by the 
heroines of ’TO: and almost a regret that we had 
not been permitted to live in “perilous times,”— 
to be angel* of mercy ut the hospitals,—to be 
noble, heroic and self-sacrificing at the hearth¬ 
stone: and perhaps enjoy the privilege of saying 
“my husband, brother or son shed his blood to 
cement the noblest of governments.” Women of 
the l!Hb century, the field is now open for what¬ 
ever self-denial or heroic fortitude you may 
choose to exhibit. But do not act too tale. 
Whatever you design to perform in behalf of the 
interests of every citizen of the United States, 
must l>e done at once. Now or never you must 
arise in all firmness of purpose to take your full 
share of the trials and burdens which must be 
sustained through this fearful struggle. We 
hope it will end speedily; but some husband, 
some son, some brother must be sacrificed upon 
the altar of our country ! And wives, mothers, 
sisters, where art? tlio heroines among you '! Who 
can say “ go.” and if you fall we will look to Gon 
for grace to sustain us. They must go. As vol¬ 
unteers or drafted soldiers they will die upon the 
long-to-be-remembered battle-fields. Other 
homes will place aside the vacant chair, other 
hearts will raise a monument to the memory of 
the loved one who is not permitted to sleep iu 
the quiet churchyard; and, oh, the dreadful 
pain and anguish, the untold sorrows of those 
stricken, bleeding hearts, is known alone to Him 
“who wounds but to heal." s. e. d. 
Alien'* Hill, N. Y., 1863. 
HINTS TO MOTHERS-SPEAK LOW. 
I know some houses, well built and hand¬ 
somely furnished, where it is not pleasant to be 
even a visitor. Sharp, angry tones resound 
through them from morning till night, and the 
disease is as contagious as measles, and much 
more to bo dreaded in a household. The chil¬ 
dren catch it and it lasts for life, an incurable 
disease. A friend has such a neighbor within 
hearing of her house when doors and windows 
are open, and even Poll Parrot has caught the 
tunp, and delights in screaming and scolding, 
until she has been sent into the country to 
improve her habits. Children catch cross tones 
quicker than parrots, aud il is a much more mis¬ 
chievous habit Where mother sets the example, 
you will scarcely hear u pleasant word among 
the children In their plays with each other. Yet 
the discipline of such a family is always weak 
and irregular. The children expect just so 
much scolding before they do anything they are 
bid, while many a home where the low, firm tone 
of the mother, or a decided look of her steady 
eye is law, never think of disobedience, either in 
or out of her sight. 
Oh, mothers, it is worth a great deal to culti¬ 
vate that “excellent thing in a woman,” a low, 
sweet voice. If you are ever so much tried by 
the mischievous or wilful pranks of the little 
ones, speak low. If will be a great help to you 
to even try to be patient and cheerful, if you 
cannot wholly succeed. Anger makos you 
wretched, and your children also. Impatient, 
angry tones never did the heart good, but plenty 
of evil. Read what Solomon says of them, and 
remember he wrote with an inspired pen. You 
cannot have the excuse for them that they lighten 
your burdens any,—they make them only ten 
times heavier. For your own, as well as your 
children's sake, learn to speak low. They will 
remember that tone when your head is under the 
willows. So, loo, would they remember a harsh 
and angry voice. Which legacy will you leave 
to your children?—.Veu> York Chronicle. 
Dangerous Pleasures. —I have sat upon the 
seashore aud waited for its gradual approaches, 
and have seen its dancing wave aud white surf, 
and admired that He who measured it with His 
hand had given to it such life and motion; and I 
have lingered till Its gentle waters grew into 
mighty billow's, and had well nigh swept me from 
my firmest footing. So I have seen a heedless 
youth gazing with a too curious spirit upon the 
sweet motions and gentle approaches of inviting 
pleasure, till it has detained his eye and impris¬ 
oned his feet, and swelled upon his soul, and 
swept him to a swift destruction .—Basil Mon¬ 
tague. 
• - - - 
Woman and Pleasure.— Pleasure is to woman 
what the sun is to the flowers; If moderately en¬ 
joyed, it beautifies, it refreshes and it improves; 
if immoderately, it withers, it deteriorates, and 
destroys. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
WHAT LIFE DID. 
BT A. S. HOOKER. 
Like, a subtle, airy spirit, dressed in armor of rude clay, 
Wandered with a restless footstep through the world for 
many a day; 
Meeting on its forward journey, chance and change, and 
fortune rude, 
Idling now in throngs of beauty, roaming now in sol¬ 
itude; 
Painting meanwhile rosy blushes on its face, or in its eyes 
Kindling sparks, that glitter brightly as the trembling 
curtains rise; 
Forging on the heart's strong anvil with a Blow and steady 
beat, 
Bolts of passion, bright and glowing with the fierce in¬ 
ternal heat. 
Bearing but the bright Bword gleaming as a weapon in its 
hand, 
Oft iu fear it lightly hurried like a shadow o’er the land. 
Trembling as the crashing thunder shook the mountains 
o’er Its way, 
Walking now with courage firmly in the broad, bright 
light of day. 
Bending in the silent night-time to the One beyond the 
hky, 
Treading then the haunts of Folly, with a fixed, unquail¬ 
ing eye. 
Seeking ever one fair spirit—the Ideal of its dream— 
Till ’twus found, and on they journeyed to the strand of 
death’s dark stream. 
Crowned with light and still rejoicing, laying there their 
armor down, 
Slowly o’er the wave they glided through the silent shad¬ 
ows brown, 
Till the golden strand approaching, glanced they back¬ 
ward o’er the road 
Which their weary footsteps traveled toward the place 
whence glory flowed, 
Slowly through the cloud were wafted till they reached 
the distant shore, 
Safely lauded in the regions of the bright Forevermore. 
Winged for flight, hand-clasped they mounted, beaming 
with the light of lovo, 
Up the shining, crystal stairway, to the brighter world 
above. 
Lima, N Y , 1863. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TEE D00T0E IN CAMP.-No. IV. 
THE PICKET GUARD. 
The first thing which the General command¬ 
ing an army does, when be has come to a camp 
where he designs to remain, be it for never so 
short a time, is to stretch out in all directions his 
anienner, so that should any foe approach, the 
great unwieldy body may have notice in time to 
rouse itself and prepare to resist the threatened 
danger. These antenna' are the Picket Guards, 
and when they are In their places the army may 
eat, drink, sleep, and be merry at its will, secure 
from danger of being surprised or taken una¬ 
wares. 
The military events of the past two years, and 
the correspondence of the newspapers, has edu¬ 
cated our people sufficiently in the art of war 
that even Mrs. Partington must now know that 
when the “ pickets are driven in ” a post is not 
necessarily established in the ground, though 
that may bo the direction ultimately taken by 
some of the unfortunate pickets. 
There are Outlying aud Inlying Tickets of 
Cavalry, Infantry and Artillery, according to the 
nature of the ground. Then we have Videttes, 
Scouts and Palruls: but as I am only gossip¬ 
ing, not writing a treatise on the Art of War, I 
shall not stop to describe them all. I will ouly 
say that selected bodies of troops are posted 
on all the roads leading toward the main body 
ofthe Army,—that these semi out chains of sen¬ 
tinels toward the enemy, aud these chains are 
connected with each other by others stretching 
across the fields, so that no enemy can approach 
without being seen. If you, tny fair reader, will 
lay that dainty baud, (which Ss to be the reward 
of some brave soldier, I hope,) on the table, and 
imagine the palm thereof to be the main body of 
the army, then will each extended finger repre¬ 
sent a chnto of pickets, and Its rosy tip may stand 
for the faithful soldier who is now watching for 
the foe. 
Should the sentinel on the outpost see the 
enemy approaching, he fires a shot and “falls 
back” slowly toward the main body of the 
Guard, who, warned by bis shot are under arms 
and ready to receive tim attack. If it is at all 
formidable they retire slowly, contesting every 
inch of ground, (meantime sending a fast courier 
to the nearest body of troops.) until succor can 
arrive, and a successful stand be made. That is 
“ driving in t he pickets,” but sometimes when the 
force is small the pickets stand their ground and 
refuse to be driven, in which case the drivo is all 
the other way, and the would-be-driving party 
feel as you have if yon ever tried to drive a nail 
into a seasoned oak post and couldn’t do it. but 
bent the nail, and pounded your fingers instead. 
Between the picket lines of the opposing armies 
is a strip of country claimed by neither aud over¬ 
run by both, known as "neutral territory.” 
Sometimes this is miles, sometimes ouly yards iu 
width, but however that may be, I know no class 
in a more unhappy situation than the people liv¬ 
ing on this strip of land. The rigor of military 
discipline does not allow them io come within 
the lines of either army, so they are cut off from 
all intercourse with the world almost as effectu¬ 
ally as if at pea. Add to this the tact that they 
arc constantly exposed to the visits of foraging 
parties, or stragglers from both sides, and that 
their homesteads are liable at any moment to 
become the scene of one of those skirmishes 
which are of almost daily occurrence, and you 
will agree with me that they are in no enviable 
situation. 
Think ofthe being deprived ofthe privilege of 
going to the Post-Office, or the store,—unable to 
purchase any of the thousand-and-one articles 
which are of daily need in the household,—to 
exhaust your stores of tea, coffee, sugar and salt— 
to need new cotton or linen,—to want a new hat, 
or bonnet, or hoop-skirt, or a pair of shoes, aud 
be unable to get them,—to have your dearest 
friend lying at the point of death just within the 
lines and be unable to get to her or him ! These 
are some of the inconveniences of being between 
the lines of opposing armies, and I beg all of you 
who have ever wished to be near the scat of war, 
“just for the romance of the thing,” to recollect 
the realities which they must take with it. 
•Albeit there is very little for a Doctor to do 
“on picket,” it has grown into a tradition that 
one must, accompany the picket guard. So, if 
you please, gentle reader, we will mount our 
horses and set out And, indeed, we shall find it 
no very unwelcome task, notwithstanding we 
must leave In camp our comfortable tent, and the 
thousand little nick-nacks which we have gath¬ 
ered together in it. Let me ask you to amuse 
yourself with the sights and sounds of camp 
while I pack on our paddles what is necessary for 
our comfort We must each take a heavy over¬ 
coat with cape, a blanket of India rubber and 
another of woolen,—two if in winter. Then we 
will carry in our haversacks the inevitable pipe, 
tobacco, and matches, a towel, brush and comb, 
soap, a case of instruments, a few bandages, a 
bottle of whiskey, a piece of candle, an old novel 
or other book in paper covers, and knife, fork 
and spoon. One tent will be carried for the com¬ 
manding officer, and we shall be asked to share 
its shelter. Thus equipped we set out. in jolly 
spirits for that indefinite locality known as “the 
front.” As the really sick are all left in camp, 
and all the life, health and bustle of the camp are 
transferred to the picket line, you need not won¬ 
der that I prefer to leave my confrere to the com¬ 
forts of camp and take upon myself the much 
abused “outpost duty,”—and as he prefers com¬ 
fortable realities to hypothetical romances, we 
are both suited. 
Arrived at the ground selected as our head¬ 
quarters. which proves to be in the pine woods, 
and near the road, we dismount, and while 
“ Major Jack,” our commanding officer, posts his 
sentinels and does all the rest of his routine duty, 
we superintend the contrabands while they pitch 
our tent, spread cedar boughs on the floor, and 
unroll our blankets. Then the eatables are un¬ 
packed, and bv the time the Major has returned 
from his tour. Sambo with his grin proclaims 
“ dinner ready, sah !" and we sit-down to a pump- 
tnous repast of ham, coffee and hard bread, with 
the zest of epicures. TheD we stretch ourselves 
lazily out tor the post-prandial smoke. Tbatover 
we must ride out to take a look at the bowses 
hereabouts, and their inhabitants, and calculate 
our chances of future good meals to come from 
their larders. 
However they may dislike our cause they will 
not show it, but on the contrary, as they need 
our protection, you will see some of the most 
welcome, if not the most elegant, evidences of 
hospitality. You will be asked to dinner, to tea, 
to spend the night. Fair damsels will put on for 
you their most charming smiles. Paler-famUias 
will talk graciously of his horses, his dogs, or 
anything that is his, except Lih politics, and 
nothing their situation affords will be denied 
you. And to-morrow morning before we will 
have finished ournaps, two or three little ebonies 
will come from as many different farms with a 
“missus done sent dese ycr to the ossifer gem- 
men”—which “dose yer” will mean bottles of 
milk, honey, hoe cakes, or other kindred dainties. 
After all, these things are done will) so much 
appearance of real feeling that it is hard to be¬ 
lieve you are regarded as an enemy, and I prefer 
generally to believe in it all as the outpourings 
of an honest hospitality. It is more philosophical, 
aud, perhaps, quite as just as the opposite course. 
As for guarding their property from pillage, that 
must be done at any event, not only from humane 
motives, but also, to maintain that degree of dis¬ 
cipline and subordination which is necessary for 
the good of our army. 
So, on the whole, you need not wonder that 1 
relish the few days of release from care, the new 
scenes, and the good meals to be found “on 
picket.” All this when the enemy do not annoy 
us. and we are not required to annoy them, and 
above all, when the weather is propitious. When 
the opposite of all these conditions take place 
you may wish yourselves any where but with 
the Picket Guard. 
Some day I may show you the other side of the 
picture—but, meantime—Good Night! 
Home of the Working Man. —Resolve—and 
tell your wife of your good resolution. She will 
aid it all she can. Her step will be lighter and 
her band busier all day, expecting the comfort¬ 
able evening at home when you return. House¬ 
hold affairs will have been well attended to. A 
place for everything aud everything in its place, 
will, like some good genius, hgve made even an 
humble home the scene of neatness, arrangement 
and taste. The table will be ready at the fire¬ 
side. The loaf will be of that order which says, 
by its appearance, You may cut and comeaguin. 
The cups and saucers will be waiting for sup¬ 
plies. The kettle will be singing and the chil¬ 
dren. happy with fresh air and exercise will be 
smiling in their glad anticipation of the evening 
meal when father is at home, aud ofthe plcasuut 
readings afterwards. —Helps. 
True Culture. —Alas ! how many examples 
are now present to memory ot young men the 
most anxiously and expensively be-school-mas- 
tered, bu-tutored, be-lectured, anything but edu¬ 
cated; who have received arms aud ammunition 
instead of skill, strength and courage; varnished 
rather than polished; perilously over-civilized, 
and most pitiably uncultivated! and all from in¬ 
attention to the method dictated by Nature itself 
to the simple truth that as the forms in all organ¬ 
ized existence, eo must all true and living knowl¬ 
edge proceed from within: that it maybe trained, 
supported, fed, excited, but can never be infused 
or impressed.— Coleridge. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LET US WORK. 
Yes, all of us have work to do 
While yet the dajlight lasts; 
“ Having the hand put to the plow” 
We may not, must not, falter now, 
But onward to our task. 
What tho’ the way he hard and rough 
Unto our weary feet,— 
While Heaven smiles—therein we’ll trust, 
Knowing we shall have strength enough, 
Emergencies to meet. 
Heaven dowered us not with gifts divine 
To rust with long disuse; 
Each in his proper sphere may find 
A field for labor that, in time, 
May yeld abundant frnit 
Yes, we will toil. “ In Heaven is rest 1” 
But first, the “Cross” to bear; 
The work begun must still progress, 
“ Onward and upward ” let us press 
Until the “Crown” we wear! 
Arlington, Mich., 1863. Lizzrs D. 
WHAT IS CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
It is the use of the body according to its laws; 
it is the use of the lower faculties of the mind ac¬ 
cording to their laws: it is the use of the reason 
according to its laws; it is the use of the moral 
sentiments in just the relations and proportions 
in which God gave them to us: and it is the use 
of them all for the glory of God and the welfare of 
our fellow-men. Christianity is not anyone thing. 
It is not a simple tune played on any particular 
part of the key-board. Some men seem to think 
that a man is like a piano, and that one part is 
secular, and the other religious; but I say that 
itia allreligious, from thehighest to thelowestkey. 
And be is the Christian who takes everything 
that is in him, and takes it in the proportion in 
which it has been given to him. and serves God 
and men with it. And whether your veneration 
is weak or strong, use it If it is strong, use it 
for Christ, and if it is weak, use it for Christ, 
Whether your affections and moral sentiments are 
strong or weak, use them for Christ. Though 
your mind is weak here and strong t here, use the 
whole of it for Christ. You are to take just what 
God has given you, and serve Him and your 
fellow-men with it That is the idea of being a 
Christian.— Selected. 
■ ■ ♦♦♦ - - 
A GLOSSARY. 
Earth—A wilderness through which pilgrims 
wander. 
Life—A taper fluttering in its socket. 
Iieligion— The Christian’s mirror. 
Death— An instrument by which the chords of 
life are rent asunder. 
grave—. A gate through which the Christian 
enters heaven. 
Sleep —Nature's soft nurse. 
Resurrection —To awake from a sweet dream. 
Heaven—A world of infinite happiness. 
Faith—A telescope through which we view 
Christ 
Hope —A heaven-born faitb, that surveys the 
path that leads to light. 
Charily—A fountain of love. 
Love—A chaplet of beauty. 
THE WORLD FAILING AT LAST, 
Campbell, the author of the “ Pleasures of 
Hope,” in his old age, wrote: “ I am alone in the 
world. My wife and the child of my hopes are 
dead; my survivingchild is consigned to a living 
tomb; my old friends, brothers, sisters, are dead, 
all but one, and she, too, Is dying; my last hopes 
are blighted. As for fame, it is a bubble that 
must soon burst. Earned for others, shared with 
others, It was sweet; but at my age, to my own 
solitary experience, it is bitter. Left in my 
chamber alone by myself, is it wonderful my 
philosophy at times lakes flight; that I rush into 
company; resort to that which blunts, but heals 
no pang; and then, sick of the world and dissat¬ 
isfied with myself, shrink back into solitude?” 
And in this state of mind he died. 
i . - »• -» - ■ 
Experimental Evidence. —Paschal says that, 
wearied with the investigation of external evi¬ 
dences of Christianity, which, though they make 
the truth of revealed religion in the highest degree 
probable, still do not amount to mathematical 
certainty, he submitted the teachings of Chris¬ 
tianity to his own toward nature, and found there 
a prompt response, whose verdict he could no 
more doubt than he could his own existence. A 
book so infinitely superior as the Bible is to every 
other, in its adaptation to the wants of the soul, 
to the tempted, the heart-broken, the dying, to 
universal humanity in all its conflicts, sins and 
woes, carried Us own evidence of its Divine 
origin. 
A Preacher’s Reputation.— A preacher's 
reputation ought to be a sacred thing with his con¬ 
gregation, because ho is their minister. Whatever 
damages his reputation, impairs his usefulness 
and injures their church. Moreover he is 
Christ’s ambassador, and whatever obstructs hi: 
mission is an impediment to the Savior's cause. 
Beware how you speak of men who are doing the 
work of God, lest, exciting prejudice against them, 
and preventing stoners from hearing the Wordot 
Life and giving it due attention, the blood of souls 
be found on your skirts. Let congregations take 
care of their ministers reputation, and let minis¬ 
ters take careoftheiruwn characters.-JAM- Fro!. 
■» • — ** 
Youth and Old Age.— “In my youth,” says 
Horace Walpole, “ I thought of writing a satire 
in mV old ape. I think 
