S3S. 
DEC. 5. 
MOOEE’i RURAL HEW-YORK-EK. 
I 
Ffiwtifw, Will, &f. 
VEGETATION ON THE ALPS. 
Under ordinary conditions, vegetation fades 
in these mountains at the height of six thousand 
feet, but, in consequence of prevailing wind?, 
and the sheltering influence of the mountain- 
walls, there is no uniformity in the limit of per¬ 
petual snow and ice. Where currents of warm 
air are very constant, glaciers do not occur at all, 
even where other circumstances are favorable to 
their formation. There are valleys in the Alps 
far above six thousand feet which have no gla¬ 
ciers, and where perpetual snow is seen only on 
their northern sides. These contrasts in temper¬ 
ature lead to the most wonderful contrasts in the 
soil; summer aud winter lie side by side, and 
bright flowers look out from the edge of snows 
that never melt. Where the warm winds pre¬ 
vail. there may be sheltered spots at a height of 
ten or eleven thousand feet, isolated nooks open¬ 
ing southward where the most exquisite flowers 
bloom in the midst of' perpetual snow and ice; 
and occasionally I have seen a bright little 
flower with a cap ot snow over it that seemed to 
be its shelter. The flowers give, indeed, a 
peculiar charm to these high Alpine regions. 
Occurring often in beds of the same kind, form¬ 
ing green, bine or yellow patches, they seem 
nestled close together in sheltered spots, or eveu 
in fissures and chasms ol the rock, where they 
gather in dense quantities. 
Even In the sternest scenery of the Alps some 
sign of vegetation lingers; and I remember to 
have found a tuft, of lichen growing on the only 
rock which pierced through the ice on the sum¬ 
mit of the Jungfrau. The absolute solitude, the 
intense stillness of the upper Alp9 is most im¬ 
pressive; no cattle, no pasturage, no bird, nor 
any sound of life, — and, indeed, even if there 
were, the rarity of the air in these high regions 
is such that sound is hardly transmissible. The 
deep repose, the purity of aspect of every object, 
the snow broken only by ridges of angular 
rocks, produce an effect no less beautiful than 
solemn. Sometimes, in the midst of the wide 
expanse, one comes upon a patch of the so-called 
red snow of the Alps. At a distance, one would 
say that such a spot marked some terrible scene 
of blood, but as yob come nearer, the hues are 
so tender and delicate, as they fade from deep 
red to rose, and so die into the pure colorless 
snow around, that the first Impression Is com¬ 
pletely dispelled. This red is an organic growth 
— a plant springing up in such abundance that 
it colors extensive surfaces, just as the micro¬ 
scopic plants dye our pools with green In the 
spring. It is an Algra well known in the Arc¬ 
tics, where it forms wide fields in the summer.— 
Agassiz in the Atlantic Monthly' 
WORTH REMEMBERING. 
Thk following article from Dr. Hall's Journal 
of Health , contains practical hints on various 
subjects that are worthy of attention : 
1. It is unwise to change to cooler clothing, 
except when you first get up in the morning. 
2. Never ride with your arm or elbow outside 
any vehicle. 
3. The man who attempts to alight from a 
steam-car while in motion is a fool. 
4. In stepping from any wheeled vehicle while 
in motion, let it be from the rear, and not in front 
of the wheels; for then, if you fall, the wheels cau 
not run over you. 
5. Never attempt to cross a road or street in a 
hurry, in front of a passing vehicle; for if you 
should stumble or slip, you will be run over. 
Make up the half-minute lost by waiting until the 
vehicle has passed, by increased diligence in 
some other direction. 
C. It is miserable economy to save time by 
robbing yourself of necesary sleep. 
7. If you find yourselfinclined to wake up at a 
regular hour in the night and remain awake, you 
cau break up the habit in three days, by getting 
up as soon as you wake, and not going to sleep 
again until your usual hour for retiring; or retire 
two hours later, and rise two hours earlier for 
three days in succession : not sleeping a moment 
in the day time. 
8. If infants and young children are inclined 
to be wakeful in the night, or very early in the 
morning, put them to bed later; and, besides, 
arrange that their day nap shall be in the fore¬ 
noon. 
fl. “ Order is heaven’s first law," regularity 1b 
nature's great rule; hence regularity iu eating, 
sleeping, and exercise, has a very large share in 
securing a long aud healthful life. 
10. If you are caught in a drenching rain, or 
fall in the water, by all means keep in motion 
sufficiently vigorous to prevent the slightest 
chilly sensation until you reach the house: then 
change your clothing with great rapidity before 
a blazing (ire, and drink instantly a pint of some 
hot liquid. 
11. To allow the clothing to dry upon you, 
unless by keeping up vigorous exercise until 
thoroughly dried, is suicidal. 
12. If you are conscious of being in a passion, 
keep your mouth shut, for words increase it. 
Many a person has dropped dead in a rage. 
13. If a person “ faints," place him on his back 
and let him alone; he wants arterial blood to 
the head: and it is easier for the heart to throw 
it there in a horizontal line, than perpendicu¬ 
larly. 
14 If you want to get instantly rid of a beastly 
surfeit, put your finger down your throat until 
free vomiting ensues, and eat nothing for ten 
hours. 
JD. Feel a noble pride in living within your 
means, then you will not be hustled off to a 
cheerless hospital in your last sickness. 
Language of insects. 
A most singular discovery, the credit of which 
appertains, we believe, to Mr. Jesse, is that of 
the antennal language of insects. Bees and 
other insects aro provided, as everybody knows, 
with feelers or antennas. These are, in fact, 
most delicate organs of touch, warning of dan¬ 
gers, and serving the animals to hold a sort of 
conversation with each other, and to communi¬ 
cate their desires and wants. A strong hive of 
bees will contain thirty-six thousand workers. 
Each of these, In order to be assured of the 
presence of their queen, touches her every day 
with its antennm. Should the queen die, or be 
removed, the whole colony disperse themselves, 
and are seen in the hive no more, perishing 
every one. and quitting all tho store of now use¬ 
less honey which they had labored so indus¬ 
triously to collect for tho use of themselves and 
the lame. On the contrary, should the queen 
be put into a small wire cage placed at the bot¬ 
tom of the hive, so that her subjects can touch 
and feed her. they aro contented, and the busi¬ 
ness of the hive proceeds as usual. Mr. Jesse 
has also shown that this auteumil power of com¬ 
munication is not confined to bees. Wasps and 
ants, and probably other insects, exercise it. If 
a caterpillar is placed near an ant's nest, a cu¬ 
rious scene will often arise. A solitary ant will 
perhaps discover it, and eagerly attempt to draw 
it away. Not being able to accomplish this, it 
will go np to another ant, and, by means of tho 
antennal language, bring it to tho caterpillar. 
Still, these two, perhaps, aro unable to perform 
the task of moving it. They will separate and 
bring up re-enforcements of the community by 
the same means, till a sufficient number are col¬ 
lected to enable them to drag the caterpillar to 
their nest— Once a Week. 
MACHINERY AND HAND LABOR. 
Not such a great while ago our thread was 
spun between the thumb and finger, and all our 
cloth woven In the clumsiest of hand-looms. 
Now, by means of a spinning jenny and weav¬ 
ing machinery one person will make as much as 
two hundred yards of cloth in a day. Before 
the invention of the cotton gin, one person could 
not prepare one pound of cotton so easily as he 
can now prepare one hundred pounds. Our 
grandmothers could barely knit one pair of socks 
In a day—now, by means of a machine, one little 
girl can turn out a hundred dollars’ worth of 
knitted material In a day. A few years ago wo 
were told that it took seventeen men to make a 
complete pin; now the machine is fed with the 
raw material which is not touched again until 
rolled up in papers of pins, in Providence, It. I,, 
there is a machine which takes a strip of metal 
from a coil, and makes two hundred and thirty 
inches of delicate chain out of it, In a day. The 
metals are no longer worked by hand—a slow, 
wearing process; they are shaved, sawed, bored 
and hammered with the greatest ease and accu¬ 
racy, as much so a* if they wore the softest pine. 
An instrument has been contrived and per¬ 
fected of exceedingly delicate powers, which 
measures tho operation of mind itself tells the 
exact time it takes for a sensation from the linger 
to reach the brain—two-tenths of a second! Go 
into a certain India rubber store in New York 
and you will find a hundred different articles 
made of that one staple—only a few years ago 
good for nothing but to rub out marks, and fur¬ 
nish active-jawed young persons something to 
chew. As wood giveB out coal pits are found 
everywhere. We begin to fear for lights with 
which to illuminate our homes, and make ail 
things cheerful; when lo! oil is distilled from 
coal, and we even have streams of it spouting 
out of the ground to fill our lamps with! Coal 
tar, once regarded as useless, is now manufac¬ 
tured into many different merchantable articles, 
some of them of great value.— Scientific Ameri¬ 
can. 
Tub Titans ok America.—A correspondent 
of the American Phrenological Journal says: 
“While you have spoken of the Kentuckians, 
Tennesseans, West Virginians and Marylanders, 
us being so large and finely developed, permit 
me to say that the true Titans of America have 
escaped your notice—men among whom, though 
nobody myself, I have walked, feeling myself 
among gods, physically speaking, of course- 
men beside whom the HIghlandors are iu a 
measure pigmies—men among whom nix fed 
three inches and a chest of forty-five, forty-eight, 
and even fifty inches are sot uncommon —1 
mean the backwoodsmen of Maine, to whom 
three generations, spent for the most part in 
the open air. battling with the piney monarchs 
that girt the Umbagog, the Moosehoad, uud other 
lakes and streams of that wild, bracing North¬ 
ern climate, have given tho most gigantic devel¬ 
opment of physical power which I ever saw or 
had any authentic account of.” 
How to Cure a Smoky Chimney.— “I have 
just succeeded,” says Mr. C. Butler-Clougb, in 
the Mining Journal , “in curing an obstinate 
smoky chimney by the aid of a zinc covering 
outside a common e.artbenware chimney pot, 
having two openings in the zinc, one east and 
the other west. There are also two partitions or 
stoppers, north and south, to prevent the draught 
from escaping by the opposite opening. By the 
aid of this contrivance an upward current of air 
is carried outside the flue to its top, on the wind 
ward side of the chimney. I have now had the 
plan in use for some time, and in the face of 
several most violent storms not a particle of 
smoke or soot has come down the (lue. In othet 
rooms, the soot was blown on the floor to a large 
extent,” 
In prosperity it is the easiest of all things to 
find a friend; in adversity it is of all things the 
most difficult. 
THE SISTERS OF CHARITY. 
The following beautiful and eloquent extract is 
from a letter of Guy II. Salisbury, published in 
the Buffalo Courier: 
The kind Sisters of Charity, whoso holy mission 
is ever with the suffering, glide noiselessly about 
tho hospitals, with nourishment for the feeble 
convalescent, with southing palliatives for those 
writhing in the grasp of fell diseases, and mutely 
kneeling by the bedside of the dying. On the 
battle-fields, amidst burling shots and hissing 
shells, they have calmly walked to seek and save 
the wounded. Stalwart men, who lay gasping in 
agony unutterable, have shed tears like children, 
as they eagerly drank the restoring draught 
brought by these devoted creatures. Would 
that our own Bayard Wilkeson, who for hours 
ebbed out his rich young blood on the gory 
plains of Gettysburg, had fallen iu the hands of 
these minstcrlng angels! Then had not been 
written, by his stricken father, that eloquent 
psalm of death whose deep wail was grand as 
the dirge of Saul. Then hud the sacred shade of 
Forest Lawn not held that untimely grave. 
Blessed, pure, Angelic*woman! If she lost 
us Eden, she wins for us the more glorious Para¬ 
dise of God! 
“Is that mother?” murmured a New England 
youth, whose lacerated bosom was heaving with 
tho last struggle, in the Aceldama of an unny 
hospital, as his glazing eye saw dimly the outline 
of a female form, und felt a soft hand on his fore¬ 
head, where the drops of death were gathering. 
His thoughts had wandered far from tho pallet 
where he lay, back to that village home, in the 
quiet Valley of the Connecticut, whore futhorand 
mother, and sisters and brothers were thinking 
as the days wore on how very goon they should 
welcome homo tho darling boy who left them so 
bravely, so proudly, to battle for the starry flag! 
And when recalled to partial consciousness by 
tho gentle offices of the attending nurse, he 
fondly thought that “mother” had flown to his 
relief on wings of mercy. Heroic lad! he indeed 
“went home,” but not as ho left upon the lovely 
June morning, with arose wreath unihiabayonet, 
to the roll of stirring drums and waving of 
triumphant banners. The drums beat with 
muflled notes, and craped banners drooped 
mournfully as they bore tho young soldier to his 
rest! 
We of the North know but little, practically, 
of the dire miseries of the war. We fall to 
realize them. Money is poured out freely on 
the altar of the nation, for the costly sacrifices of 
tho strife, but plenty still smiles around us, and 
our homes are quiet and happy as in the halcyon 
days. But those who have gone from among us 
to take part in the conflict, who have seen the 
actralities of tho terrible strife, aloue know bow 
real and sad a thing it is. Yet it has developed 
many noble traits of character- has called out 
energies aud sympathies that redeem our com¬ 
mon nature. There havejbeou deeds of high 
emprise, rivaling the mighty daring of the 
mailed Crusaders, who followed to Palestine the 
Banner of tho Cross. There have been charges 
as desperate as that, of the famous Six Hundred at 
Balaklava. There have been hand to hand con¬ 
flicts as deadly as that of Roderick Dhu. And 
who cau tell tho unnumbered and unknown 
heroes, whose courage, constancy, fortitude and 
endurance, have been worthy the Martyr’s crown? 
Who shall give sufficient meed to the faithful 
surgeons devotedly working for hours at their 
fearful task, on the margin of the battle field, 
regardless of dangerous missiles, of the sweep of 
cavalry, and the thuiider of batteries? Dread, 
grim-vlsaged war, beneath thy breast of Bteel 
there beats a human heart! 
and elicited the following quaint remark from 
the President:—‘It used to amuse me some (sic) 
to find that the slaveholders wanted more terri¬ 
tory, because they had not room enough for their 
slaves, and yet they complained of not having 
the slave trade, because they wanted more 
slaves for their room.’” 
WEALTH, POWER AND CRIME OF LONDON. 
The city of London now covers an area of 
one hundred and twenty square miles, and con¬ 
tains a population of about three million souls. 
It is stated in a late report of the Itegisttar- 
Genoral that its population has increased, since 
1800, at the rate of one thousand per week. It 
far surpasses auy other city on the face of tho 
earth in wealth, and alas—it must also be added 
-in human misery also, The Registrar-General 
records the lamentable fact that one iu six of 
those who leave the world die in the public 
institutions—workhouses, hospitals, asylums or 
prisons. Nearly one in eleven ot the deaths is 
in tho workhouse. Every sixth person dies a 
pauper or a criminal! Aud how great a number 
who barely manage to escape this fate. Tho 
severe competition for subsistence and wealth 
which characterizes London life is a terrible or¬ 
deal for any human being to pass through. 
Cities are centers of great temptations, in 
which many persons sink every year from wealth 
to poverty, by a love ol' display beyond their in¬ 
comes. Others again aro tempted still deeper, 
and forsake the paths of virtue for those of vice. 
It is related that of the 8,000 convicts in institu¬ 
tions near London 1.000 were horn in affluence, 
and had received a classical education. Allured 
by gambling iu attending sportive scenes, they 
squandered their patrimony; and being tempted, 
committed crime, thus sinking to the degraded 
Condition of felons. London has always been 
an alluring city to provincial youth. Goldsmith 
declared that in his day thousands died there 
yearly from broken hearts, stricken by poverty; 
and to-day similar scenes are witnessed aud like 
sorrows experienced to an extent unimagined by 
the sensitive poet. 
HARRY’S PROMISE. 
LINCOLNIANA 
Mr. Edward Dicey, known as the English 
author of a life of Count Cavour, is traveling in 
this country, and furnishes one of the London 
magazines with some lively pictures of men and 
things. In his last contribution he Bpeaks of 
meeting the President at a small party in Wash¬ 
ington, and relates the following: 
“The conversation, like that of all American 
official men I have mot with, was unrestrained 
in the presence of strangers, to a degree per¬ 
fectly astonishing. Any remarks that I heard 
made as to the present state of affairs I do not 
feel at liberty to repeat, though really every 
public man here appears not only to live in a 
glass house, but in a reverberating gallery, and 
to be absolutely indifferent as to who sees or 
hears him. There are a few' ‘ Lincolniana,’ how¬ 
ever, which I may fairly quote, and which will 
show the style of his conversation. Some of the 
party began smoking, and our host remarked, 
laughingly, ‘The President, has got no vices; he 
neither smokes nor drinks.’ • That is a doubtful 
compliment,’ answered the President; ‘I recol¬ 
lect once being outslde a stage in Illinois, and a 
man silting by me offered mo a cigar. 1 told 
him I had no vices. He said nothing, smoked 
for some time, and then grunted out, ‘ It’s my 
experience that folks who have no vices have 
plaguey few virtues.’ Again, a gentleman pres¬ 
ent was telling how a friend of Ids had beeu 
driven away from New Orleans as a Unionist, 
and how, on Ids expulsion, when he asked to see 
the writ by which be was expelled, the deputa¬ 
tion which called on him told him tha‘ the gov¬ 
ernment had made up their minds to do nothing 
illegal, and so they had Issued no illegal writs, 
and simply meant to mah: him go of his own 
free will. ‘Well,’ said Mr. Lincoln, ‘that re 
minds me of a hotel keeper down at St. Louis, 
who boasted that ho never had a death in his 
hotel; for whenever a guest was dying in his 
house he carried him out to din in tho street. 
At another time tho conversation turned upon 
the discussions as to the Missouri compromise, 
AN INGENIOUS LETTER, 
Mr. Edward J. Wood makes public, through 
the London Notes and Queries, the following 
letter, which he found among some old family 
papers. It was addressed to the actor Liston, 
and Is made up iu tho names of plays which 
were popular in the last century: 
Friend Liston, Better Lute than Never. You 
are All in the Wrong to make yoursel ('such a Busy¬ 
body into acting; but Every Man iu his Humor. 
I’ll tell you what, he would if he could bo a 
Critic, a very Peeping Tom; such things are the 
rage. All’s Well that Ends Well I corn to 
play the Hypocrite, auil wish wo were Next-door 
Neighbors, then we could have the School for 
Scandal, a Quarter of an Hour before Dinner, or 
Half an Hour after Supper; talk of Ways and 
Means, tho Wboel of Fortune, the Follies of a 
Day, Humors of an'JOlection, and make quite a 
Family Party, be all in Good Humor, and never 
have the Blue Devils; but may you and your 
lady always prove the Constant Couple, Pray 
how is Miss in her Teens? By-and-by sho will 
he sighing neigbo for a Husband. 1 hope he will 
not prove a Deaf Lover, but may they possess 
Lovo for Love. You are a Married Man, and 
know how to Rule a Wife, and Mrs. L. I have no 
doubt understands The Way to keep Him; may 
she prove a Grandmother, and bo happy In her 
Son-In-Law. Now as to this letter, What d’ye 
Call it? llollevo me, In this Romance of an Hour 
I do noi mean Cross Purposes, but rather hope 
it, will bo the Agreeable Surprise. You may 
wonder, but the author is a Child of Nature 
whose whole life has been a Chapter of Acci¬ 
dents und Much Ado about Nothing, who endea¬ 
vors to keep up his vivacity Abroad and at 
Home, has Two Strings to his Bow, and is no 
Liar when he says he is yours truly. August 8, 
1802. Sunday, Sevenoaks, Kent. 
“ 0,'Georuk, that was wicked to say that!” 
“Well, didn’t Will Brown spoil my ball and 
then throw it at me? It was enough to make 
anybody swear. Father only bought it for me 
yesterday.” 
“ For all, George, it was wrong to speak so.” 
“What makeR it so wrong, Harry? I am sure 
think our Joe ought to know a great deal 
better than you do, for he is almost a man, anil 
when he gets cross at mo ha talks a great 
while longer that way than I did. I don’t re¬ 
member all he says.” 
“I said something like that once, George. J 
was spinning my top and the twine broke.- 
Mother heard what I. said, and she called mo 
up into her room and tolil me how very wicked 
it was to talk so; sit© was sick then. It wasn’t 
great while afterward, when Uncle Harry 
came into my little room one night anil waken¬ 
ed me. He told me mother was very sick and 
wanted to see me. He carried me to her bed. 
She reached out, her thin, white hands when 
she saw me, and smiled. I Crept close to her 
and laid my face against hers. She kissed mo 
a great many times, and then she aBked mo if 1 
remembered yet, wlmt she had told me about 
using wicked words. I told her ‘yes, I hadn’t 
used one since.’ I think 1 can see her now, as 
she looked at me, when she said, • Harry, I want 
you to promise me, that if you ever think of 
using such words, or If you hear other boys uso 
them, you will remember what your mother told 
you.’ I promised her 1 would. Oh, how tight 
she held mo then! I can’t tell you all she said 
then, George, but it was something about, God’s 
taking care of me and my promise. After a 
while I fell, her cheek grow like snow, and she 
didn't holdmo so lighL Then Uncle Harry took 
mo back to my bed, and I saw he had been cry¬ 
ing too.” Hero Harry stopped and drew his 
hand across his eyes. 
George asked “how long it had beeu since 
then.” 
“ Three years now, for I was eight last week, 
and 1 was only five when mother died.” 
“And have you remembered all this time, 
Harry ?” 
“ Yes. Sometimes 1 think of using bad words, 
when the boys make me cross, but, right away, I 
seem to see mother looking at me, just as she did 
that night” 
“Well, Harry, 1 am going to try your promise 
too. Shall I?” 
“Why, yes, if you will, George, but — " he 
stopped and looked down. 
“ But what, Harry?” 
“I was going to tell you what I thought helped 
me to keep my promise. You musn’t tell the 
other boys this, they might, laugh at it; you know 
wo never like them to laugh at us, and that would 
he laughing at mother.” 
“ I’ll not tell, Harry, if you don’t want me to.” 
“ Well, I think it, was the prayer mother made 
afterward that helps me keep my promise; and 
besides that, every night and morning over since, 
when I kneel at my bed, I usk God to help me 
keep my promise to my mother.” 
Mothers, be encouraged! The little seeds of 
counsel which you are daily scattering are never 
lost. Like a rich harvest, they will return in 
blessing on your children’s hearts. 
Perhaps they seem unmindful of your kind in¬ 
structions and gentle words; but remember, that 
Ho never forgets, who said, “ If ye shall ask any¬ 
thing in my name, 1 will do it.”— *V. 8. Times. 
THE GERMAN BOY, 
CHILDREN AND THEIR MEMORIES. 
It seems to me that nothing could have pre¬ 
served our nursery rhymes and legends, even in 
their prescut comparative purity, but an intui¬ 
tive sense of literary justice in children und a 
peculiar tenacity of accuracy lost at a later age. 
A lady who teaches a number of very little boyB 
and girls in a Sunday school has told me that, one 
Sunday, to the unbounded delight of her chil¬ 
dren, she explained to them a colored print of 
the sale of Joseph by his brethren. Of course 
the brethren had to be named; but on that day 
week, when the picture was called for again, she 
was so unfortunate as to transfer one of the 
names of the previous Sunday—the Issacbur of 
last week was now Zebulon. To her the breth¬ 
ren resembled each other as much as one ninepin 
does another; but for them the personality of 
each was strongly marked. Her error was 
quickly perceived; she was corrected, and wisely 
admitted the mistake. The sense of truth, how¬ 
ever, of her class was wounded, and it was some 
time before she regained the full confidence 
which she possessed before. 1 have seen a very 
serious difference respecting the personality of 
Noah’s foiih In a small ark; ami when the case 
was referred to me I did not hastily decide, but 
deliberately examined Shorn and Japhet, and 
then without lightness or hesitation, pronounced 
a final judgment, and both parties were pleased 
and thanked me That was a cruel and thought¬ 
less answer of a showman, when he was asked 
which was Wellington and which was Napoleon; 
“Whichever you like?” as if one were not 
really and immutably tho English, aud one the 
French General. 1 am sure the little girl was 
deeply hurt—hot because a rude return was 
made to her innocent question, but to think that 
there could be such a disregard of right anil 
wrong, such au utter carelessness of truth.— 
Temple Bar. 
Lizzie’s grandpa gave her a penny. It was 
bright and new, and Lizzie thought it was very 
beautiful. She kept it wrapped in a piece o 
soft paper, that it might stay bright. Very of¬ 
ten she would undo tho paper to look at tho 
penny, and asked if it was not a beautiful one. 
After some time Lizzie earned another pouuy. 
So she had two. One day she wished to spend 
one of them for a slate pencil. So she took the 
pennies from her pocket, saying, “Mamma, l 
don’t want to buy a pencil with the bright now 
penny, but with the other. I want to put the 
brightest into the missionary box.” So the pen¬ 
cil was bought, and by-and-by the bright new 
penny was given to send good reading to the 
soldiers. * 
Is not this the right way? Give the best you 
have to the Lord. We have nothing too good 
or too beautiful to give him. Best of all, chil¬ 
dren, you can give him your bright young 
hearts.—American Messenger. 
A mono the children in one of the Sabbath 
schools in New York was a little German boy, 
whose parents were very poor. From the time 
he entered the school he was remarkable for 
his eagerness to learn, and bis docility. His 
teacher's hopes were, however, frustrated by a 
sudden illness, which cut him down in a few 
days. During his sickness the superintendent 
of his school went to see 1dm, and found him 
perfectly happy—“ waiting.” That afternoon he 
suddenly rose on his elbow, and exclaimed, 
“Mother, do you hear that music? It’s so 
beautiful; don't you hear It?” His mother 
thinking his mind affected, tried to hush him, 
but he repeated the words, looking up at the 
same time with eager eyes. Then he began to 
sing in hiB singularly sweet voice, “I hear the 
angels coming, coming." When he had sung 
the hymn through once, he began again, “ L 
hear the angels coming — comlug|— coming.” 
As he repeated the word “coming” the third 
Lime his eyes closed, and he was gone to meet 
it is believed, the angels whose coming he de¬ 
sired, and to dwell with Jesus. 
♦ ——» 
THE BRIGHT PENNY. 
