1 
•ila&lrs' llc|iar!ntntt. 
MORN 
MAY. 
FROM A NEW VOLUME BT JEAN INGBLOW. 
All the clouds shout the sun lay up iD golden creases, 
(Merry rings the maiden's voice that sings at dawn 
of day;) 
Lambkins woke and skipped around to dry their 
dewy fleeces. 
So sweetly as she caroled, all on a morn of May. 
Quoth the Sergeant, ‘ • Here I’ll halt; here's wine of 
joy for drinking; 
To my heart she gets her hand, and in the strings 
doth play; 
All among the daffodils, and fairer to my thinking, 
And fresh as milk and roses, she sits this morn of 
May.” 
Quoth the Sergeant, ‘-Work is work, but any ye 
might make me, 
ir I worked for you, dear lass, I’d count my holiday. 
I'm your slave for good and all, an’ If ye will but 
take me. 
So sweetly as ye carol upon this morn of May." 
“Medals count for worth.” quoth she, “and scars 
are worn for honor; 
But a slave an’ ir ye be, kind wooer, go your way.” 
All the nodding daffodils woke up and laughed upon 
her. 
O! sweetly did she carol, all on that morn of May. 
Gladsome leaves upon the bough, they fluttered fast 
and faster, 
Fretting brook, till he would speak, did chide the 
full delay: 
Beauty! when I said a slave, I think I meant a master; 
So sweetly as ye carol all on this morn of May. 
“ Lass, I love you! Love is strong, and eomc men’s 
hearts arc tender." 
Far she sought o'er wood and wold but found not 
aught to say; 
Mounting lark nor mantling cloud would any counsel 
render, 
Though sweetly she had caroled upon that morn of 
May. 
8hy, she sought the wooer’s face, and deemed the 
wooing mended; 
Proper man he was, good sooth, and one would 
have his way: 
So the lass was made a wife, and so the song was 
ended. 
01 sweetly she did carol all on that morn of May. 
LITTLE THINGS. 
Look over the fair page that follows this lead¬ 
ing article. Whatever may be your judgment, 
good reader, of its intellectual or moral value, It is 
surely attractive to the eye. And why? “Well 
printed and In good taste,” you will say. True, 
but the secret of this excellent printing is care 
cflittle things. Of all these thousands of letters 
each type was picked up by ready and skillful 
Angers and put in just the right place, and 
after that the articles were read over twice, in 
“proof,” to make all sure. Possibly there may 
still be a mistake or two, but very few if any. 
Suppose till* cave had beeu neglected, the beauty 
of the page would be gone; misplaced letters, 
misspelled words, sentences bungled, aud all 
ajar, making “ confusion worse confounded.” 
“But what of all this?” you may ask. “ We 
are not printers. What are you coming to?” 
Paticuce, gentle readers. (Readers are always 
called gentle, good, fair, <fcc. That’s a writer’s 
license, and a privileged mode of appeal to that 
corner in even 7 soul that is gentle and fair.) 
Shakspeabe eavs there are 
be done. So au ample household cannot be ; 
managed, or a large house kept in order, by any | 
one pair of bands, however busily efficient, but I 
the central and guiding power can see that other 
j hands reach every corner and finish every slight¬ 
est task, that order, comfort and grace may rule. 
Woman Is the artist lu life, puts on the fine, 
finishing touches, and this high work of hers is 
not duly appreciated. As to her “sphere,” a 
true woman can 6afcly judge, and whatever her I 
heart and hand may be equal to, that is her I 
work, in which no high-minded man would I 
molest her. But, go where she will, her artist- 
soul goes with her, aDd she puts fiuer aspects 
on the work she does and reveals new beauties 
therein. Men tend to over-rate the ruder work 
they do, and to under-rate the more delicate 
tasks of women, which yet fling the halo of a 
spiritual life over the realms they reach. Slowly 
but surely shall wc understand each other bet¬ 
ter, and prize each other the more. It is not 
alone in work of the hand, but still more in man¬ 
ner, language, tone of voice and all fine proprie¬ 
ties aud graces that the thoughtful aud cultured 
soul is revealed, blessing ujl by its presence. 
As the painter stands before the canvas, put¬ 
ting the last finish to his jneture, how delicate 
his touch! At a ruder stage the brush might 
turn awry with little damage easily repaired, 
but now every stroke most be subtly accurate. 
The block of marble maybe hewn from Its bed 
by rude hands, and shaped to some proportion 
for the statue by common, workmen, but, as it 
draws toward completion the slightest tremor 
of a firm hand mare all, and the nice touches 
that complete and beautify the work are little 
things. _ 
LETTER OF A TREE AND LOVING WIFE. 
A neat pamphlet with addresses by Hons. 
Schuyler Colfax, Richard Yates, Wm. E. 
Dodge, Henry Wilson, J. B. Gbinnbll, Sam’l 
McKee, Hiram Price, F. E. Woodbbidge and 
J. W. Patterson, at the first meeting of the 
Congressional Temperance Society, in the Cap¬ 
itol, Washington, D. C., Feb. 17, with a list of 
members, is published by S. R. Wells, New 
York. 
Richard Yates of Illinois in his brief word, 
full of emotion and manly resolve, read a note 
from Mrs. Yates, full of the heartfelt interest 
of a noble woman’s soul. He said: 
“ After I signed this pledge, I wrote to a lit¬ 
tle lady out in Illinois, who weighs about a 
hundred pounds, has black hair and flashing 
black eyes, and a form fairer than Grecian chisel 
ever woke from Parian marble, and I received 
the following answer: 
“My Dear Richard :—How beautiful is this 
morning! how bright the sun shines! how 
sweetly our birds sing! how joyous the chil¬ 
dren F how happy is my heart! I see the smile 
of God. He has answered the prayer. Always 
proud of your success, you have now achieved 
that success which God and angels will bless. 
It is the shilling summit of button aspiration, 
for j-oa liovft conquered yourself. All who love 
you will aid you to keep the pledge. I love you, 
my dear boy! Katie.” 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
“ Sermons in stones, books in the running brooks. 
Teachers in trees, and good in everything.” 
And our lesson is that this page is much like 
life, made vp of little things; little yet important, 
for there is no symmetry of life, no harmony of 
thought, uo ease of action unless they be well 
done. 
We once knew a bright little colored boy in a 
family down cast, and the Miss Qphellas of the 
household took him in special charge as a pupil. 
The alphabet was mastered rapidly, words short 
and then long were grappled and conquered, and 
the dark face shone with proud delight us read¬ 
ing was tried aud triumphed in. Primers, books, 
the family Bible, newspapers, were eagerly sought 
and explored, for the quick wit took in not only 
sound but sense. So long as be stood beside his 
teachers and read under their eye, every word 
was faithfully rendered, but when he began on 
his own account queer pranks came out. The 
precise ladies soon found that Jack would not 
pronounce a word of less than two syllables, 
sliding past the if* aud bnts in silent contempt, 
and making nonsense of the gravest sense. 
They remonstrated, and bis bright eyes (lushed 
as the answer came, ready and exultant:—“ Lit¬ 
tle dum things, dey ain’t wuff raindin!” Yet he 
had just as much sense and judgmeut as many 
bigger and whiter folks show in their actions, 
which “speak louder than words,” as the old 
adage well says. 
A woman’s life is largely made up ot these 
small matters. A well-mauaged household is 
the crowning result of constant care in pre¬ 
paring the many meals, of thoughtful attention 
to rooms, and tires, and cool shade, and the 
thousand affairs that clamor for hourly atten¬ 
tion. The tasteful parlor, with its nice adapta¬ 
tions of color, style, and place, in carpet, fur¬ 
niture, pictures and ornaments, all combining 
so pleasantly, is possible only by taste aud dili- 
gouee in these delicate minutor. But some gentle 
reader, waxing warm with righteous indignation, 
may demand:—“Shall not men, too, attend to 
the little things ? Shall women be condemned 
to petty cares and vexatious alone ?” Of course 
men must and do, when they are of any conse¬ 
quence or real worth iu the world, and if they 
are careless, as some are, in these small matters, 
they fret themselves and plague everybody about 
them miserably. A steamboat, or a great fac¬ 
tory, runs smoothly only as all is right, from 
least to greatest, aud if the manager eaunot, aud 
does not, do all himself, he knows how to put 
men and women in places where all can and wall 
Scolding, says a good-for-nothing old bach¬ 
elor, is the pepper of matrimony, and the ladies 
are the pepper-boxes. 
“ Steel your heart,’’ said a considerate father 
to his 6on, “ for you are now r going among some 
fascinating girls.” “ I had much rather steal 
theirs,” said the unpromising young man. 
A chap out west, who had been severely af¬ 
flicted with palpitation of the heart, says he 
found instant relief by the application of an¬ 
other palpitating heart to the part affected. 
Mrs. Rlgg, a widow, haviug taken Sir Charles 
Price for a second husband, aud being asked by 
a friend how she liked the change, replied: 
“ Oh, I have got rid of my old Rugg for a good 
Price.” 
“It is very difficult to live,” said a widow 7 
with seven girls, all in genteel poverty. “ You 
must husband your time,” said a sage friend. 
“I’d rather husband some of my daughters,” 
answered the poor lady. 
A certain cockney, overcome by his sensibil¬ 
ities, fainted at the grave of his fourth spouse. 
“ What shall we do with him ?” asked a per¬ 
plexed friend of his. “ Let him alone,” said a 
waggish bystander, “ he’ll soon rewire.” 
A pretty little Jewish prima donna of Brus¬ 
sels was courted by a young lawyer, and finally 
married him, in consideration of his embracing 
the Jewish persuasion. Such persuasion as she 
offered he was only too willing to embrace. 
Miss Buchanan, once raiding her cousin, an 
officer, on his courage, said:—‘’Now, Mr. Harry, 
do you really mean to tell me you walk up to a 
cannon’s mouth without fear?” “Yes,” was 
the prompt reply, “ or Buchanan’s either.” And 
he did. 
I say, Jones, how is it that your wife dresses 
so magnificently, and you always appear out at 
your elbows P” Jones, (impressively aud signif¬ 
icantly,) “ You see, Thompson, my w 7 ife dresses 
according to the Gazette cf Fashion, and I dress 
according to my Ledger." 
A little girl, just past her fifth year, while 
chatting about the beaux that visited two of the 
sox in the same house, of more mature age, be¬ 
ing asked, “ What do you mean by beaux, An¬ 
nie?” replied, “Why, I mean meu that have 
not got much sense.” 
A gentleman was describing to Douglas Jer- 
rold the story of his courtship and marriage- 
how his wife had beeu brought up in a convent, 
and was on the point of taking the veil, when 
his presence burst upon her enraptured sight, 
and she accepted him as her husband. Jerrold 
listened to the end of the story, and then quietly 
remarked, “ She simply thought you better than 
®|oic6 Utificetlatig. 
Written for Moore’i Rural New-Yorker. 
TEE WESTEIN EMIGRANT. 
BT Ji NEGUS. 
Fab onward toward the setting sun, 
We’re bound upen onr way, 
Not till the lingering day ip done, 
Onr toilsome maeh we stay. 
We’re traveling on-a pilgrim band,— 
Another home to find, 
Remote from that tear native land, 
We now have led behind. 
The clime we seek is rich and fair, 
As bleeped isles of yore; 
And lovelier prospects open there 
Than e’er were s*en before. 
Vast plains, spread out on every side, 
Stretch to the sipping skies; 
Broad rivers roll is tranquil pride, 
And towering forests rise. 
There smiling upland? catch the beams, 
Of pearly morn serene; 
Gay verdant meadows fringe the streams, 
That silvery roll between. 
Of every hue and sweet perfiime, 
Wild flowers luxuriant spring; 
While birds of varied note and plume, 
Mid bowers of nature sing. 
But cherished borne 1 tie painful still, 
To quit the much-loved shore; 
For fears our sorrowing bosoms fill, 
We ne'er may see thee more. 
Yet thy grand hills and sunny vales, 
Those scenes of childhood all, 
How oft, till recollection fails, 
Fond memory shall recall. 
For there are faithful friends endeared 
By nature’s temlerest tics; 
Whose cordial smiles so oft have cheered 
Life’s burdening miseries. 
Comrades whom first In youth we knew, 
In that bright region dwell; 
Friends whom we proved In perils true; 
We bid them all farewell. 
Yet sweet the hope, when we reflect 
That In that distant land, 
Onr Father, who did ns protect, 
Still shields us with his hand. 
Then onward to the distant west, 
Onr journey soon will close; 
There shall we seek a place of rest, 
And (Voin our toils repose, 
Springdale, Iowa, July S3,1867. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
DIET. 
“If we look upon the ground we shall certainly 
find dirt.” 
A quaint adage is it not ? but boiv true in its 
general import and meaning. Just so surely as 
we do look on the ground do we find dirt. As a 
general rule it is covered by the fresh green of 
the grass. “ But vlhat of that ?" The dirt some 
will sec neveraiele™*. If wc twt porhops 
we may see the blue sky, floating clouds, all the 
beauties of hill, field and wood;—as wc look 
and feel so shall we find. If we look on the 
character of an indhidual—stranger or friend— 
for glaring Inconsistencies—for petty faults or 
large ones—for sins of mind and body—look for 
the evil in that person—so surely shall we find, 
for none are perfect. If wc look for evil and 
find, what is our reward? Are we happier for 
it? We may find much good in that same per¬ 
son, if w 7 e will only look. Some—to their shame 
be it said—seem to be happier if the} 7 can speak 
evil of another. Of all on the earth the slanderer 
is the worst, and also the most; contemptible 
and groveling of beings. Respect for themselves 
or others they cannot have, so when they chance 
to be together what a shriveling of character 
there is. None are good—all arc evil as them¬ 
selves. They look on the ground aud find all 
dirt—no green grass or way-side flower. 
They cannot say, like that noble Roman, “I 
am human, aud thus all that is human touches 
me.” They do not feel thus, therefore all hu¬ 
manity shrinks from them, because they see no 
good iu humanity. There is beauty and good¬ 
ness iu this world, if we will only take the 
trouble to find it. There is purity and truth 
in every one’s character, and the tide of “ small 
talk" can easily be turned by one kind word 
for the seemingly characterless one. Wbv not 
speak it ? ’Twill help, not harm you. There 1* 
a “well-spring” of kindness even iu “They 
Says” heart, although crusted over by the 
scum and filth of so much small talk. Can we 
not try to reach it, by uttering kindly words for 
all poor mortals who come under the ban of 
her displeasure. Many a poor being has been 
kept from the depths of despair by a “word 
fitly spoken. Again we ask, Why not utter It ? 
Why look on dirt when there are patches of blue 
sky for our eyes to rest upon ? s. j. c. 
Le Roy, July, 1867. 
Is there Too Much Joking?—O ld Thomas 
Fuller tells us of writers and speakers in his 
day, two hundred years ago, who carefully 
cultivated solemnity of manner, and “ for fear 
their orations should giggle, will not let them 
smile.” Dr. Thomas Brown, of our day, inti¬ 
mates that writers arc wanting in seriousness. 
He says:—“It is too much the way with all 
of us now-a-days to be forever joking.” The 
Christian Register remarks:—“It is said that 
the drawing up of the Declaration of Independ¬ 
ence would have been committed to Benjamin 
Franklin if it had not been feared that he would 
‘put a joke into it.’” Nothing less than the 
martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln could have 
saved his memory in certain quarters from the 
taint of levity unbecoming his high position.” 
Amos Lawrence said, when asked for advice: 
“ Young man, base all your actions upon a prin¬ 
ciple ; preserve your integrity of character, and 
in doing this never reckon the cost.” 
AN ORIENTAL NIGHT. 
It is impossible for those who have never 
visited the glowing East to form an adequate 
idea of the exceeding beauty of an Oriental j 
night. The sky — which bends enamored over 
clusters of graceful palm trees fringing some 
slow-moving stream, or groves of dark, motion¬ 
less cypresses rising up like Gothic 6pires from 
the midst of white, flat-roofed villages—is of the 
deepest, darkest purple, unstained by the faint¬ 
est film of vapor, undimmed by a single fleecy 
cloud. It is the very image of purity and peace, 
idealizing the dull earth with its beauty, eleva¬ 
ting sense into the sphere of soul, and suggesting 
thoughts and yearnings too tender and ethereal 
to be invested with human language. Through 
its transparent depths the eye wanders dreamily 
upward until it loses Itself on the threshold of 
other worlds. Over the dark mouutain ranges, 
the lonely moon walks in brightness, clothing 
the landscape with the pale glories of a mimic 
day; while the zodiacal light, far more distinct 
and vivid than it is ever seen In this country, dif¬ 
fuses a mild pyramidal radiance above the hori-* 
zon, like the after-glow of sunset. Constellations, 
tremulous with excess of brightness, sparkle in 
the heavens, associated with classical myths and 
legends which arc a mental inheritance to every 
educated man from his earliest years. There the 
ship Argo sails over the trackless upper ocean in 
search of the golden fleece of Colchis; there 
Perseus, returning from the conquest of the 
Gorgons, holds in his hand the terrible head of 
Medusa; there the virgin Andromeda, chained 
naked to the rock, awaits in agony the approach 
of the devouring monster; there the luxuriant 
yellow hair of Berenice hang6 suspended as a 
votive offering to Venus; while the dim misty 
track formed by the milk that dropped from 
Juno’s breast, and which, as It fell upon the 
earth, changed the lilies from purple to a snowy 
whiteness, extends across the heaveus, like the 
ghost of a rainbow. Conspicuous among them 
all, far up towards the zenith, old Orion, with 
his blazing belt, meets the admiring eye, sug¬ 
gestive of gentle memories and kind thoughts of 
home; while immediately beyond is seen the 
familiar cluster of the Pleiades, or Seven Stars, 
glittering and quivering with radiance In the ame¬ 
thystine ether, like a breastplate of jewels—the 
Urirn and Thummim of the Eternal.* 
FIGHT YOUR WAY UP. 
The many, who have taken the world rough 
and tumble are prone to envy those who roll 
through it in cushioned vehicles and on patent 
springs. The toiler, as he stumbles through its 
thorny thickets, and climbs over Its foot-blistered 
gravel, is opt to curse the luck that placed hicn 
on snch a hard road, and to sigh for a seat in 
one of the splendid equipages that elide so 
smoothly over fortune’s macadamized turnpike. 
Born with a pewter spoon in his mouth, he covets 
the silver one which is the birth-gift of his do- 
nothing neighbor, The more fool he. Occupa¬ 
tion is the “ immediate jewel ” of life. It Is 
true that riak«« ai« no b.T 7 to exertion. Quite 
the reverse when their uses are properly under¬ 
stood. But the discontented worker, without 
being willing to work for it, regards the idleness 
in which it would enable him to live as the acme 
of temporal happiness. He has no idea of money 
as a great motive to be applied to enterprises 
which give healthful employment to rniud aud 
body. All that he desires is to live a feather-bed 
Life—to loaf luxuriously. 
We have uo sympathy with such sensuous long¬ 
ings. People w 7 ho indulge iu them never acquire 
wealth. They laek energy to break their way to 
the wordly independence for which they yearn 
aud whine. They do not know how much more 
glorious it is to tear affluence from opposing fate 
by main strength of will aud inflexibility of pur¬ 
pose than to receive it as a windfall. There is 
iuliuitely more salisfaetiou iu conqering a for¬ 
tune with brain and muscle than was ever expe¬ 
rienced by a “lucky heir ’’ la obtaining a golden 
store that some thriftier hand had accumulated. 
Your accidental Croesus knows nothing of the 
pride of success—of earnest exultation with 
which the self-made mun looks back upon the. 
impediments he has overcome, and forward into 
the far future which he has earned a right to 
Proverbs.—A thousand probabilities will not 
make one truth. A hand-saw is a good thing, 
but not to shave with. Gentility, without abil¬ 
ity, is worse than beggary. A man may talk 
like a wise man, and act like a fool. If wo 
would succeed in auything, we must use the 
proper means. A liar should have a good 
memory. Charity begins at home hut does not 
end there. An ounce of mother wit is worth 
a pound of learning. Short reckonings make 
long friends. Custom is the plague of wise 
men, and the idol of fools. Every one knows 
best where his own shoe pinches. A faint heart 
never won a fair lady. 
Cheerfulness,— Persons subject to low spir¬ 
its should make the rooms in which they live as 
cheerful as possible, taking care that the paper 
with which the wall is covered should be of a 
brilliant, lively color, hanging up pictures or 
prints, aud covering the chimney-piece with 
beautiful china; a bay window, looking upon 
pleasant objects, and, above all, a large fire 
whenever the weather will permit, are favor¬ 
able to good spirits : and the tables near should 
be strewed with books and pamphlets. 
Lord Bacon beautifully said“ If a man be 
gracious unto strangers, it shows he is a citizen 
of the world, and his heart is no island cut off 
from other lands, but a continent that joins 
them.” _ _ _ 
He that sedulously attends, pointedly asks, 
calmly speaks, coolly answers, aud chases when 
he has no more to say, is in possession of some 
of the best requisites in mau.— Lavater. 
Hrafang. 
“MARY STOOD THE CROSS BESIDE.” 
Jews were wrought to cruel madness, 
Christians fled, in fear and sadness, 
Mary stood the cross beside. 
At its foot her feet she planted, 
By the dreadftil scene undaunted, 
’Till the gentle sufferer died. 
Poets oft have sung her etory, 
Pictures decked her brow with glory. 
Priests her name have deified. 
But no worship, song or glory, 
Touches like that simple story,— 
“Mary stood the cross beside.” 
And when under fierce oppression 
Goodness suffers like transgression, 
Christ again is crucified. 
But, if love be there, true-hearted. 
By no grief or terror parted, 
Mary stands the cross beside. 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WEEDS. 
Yes, weeds, weeds everywhere, uuless the 
husbandman is ever on the alert. Noiseless, ac¬ 
tive, thriving weeds, thrusting their unwelcome 
presence about the lately hoed currant bushes, 
between the rows of cabbages, peeping up among 
the flowers, everywhere that an unoccupied spot 
of earth is found they may be seen. Constant 
vigilance is required to keep them uprooted. 
Let the hoe and spade lie unused a few days and 
they take entire possession. Every inch of 
ground that man keeps for the growth of neces¬ 
saries or flowers, has to be fought for most 
valiantly. 
There is au obvious and oft-repeated moral 
connected with the weeds, which thus force 
thc-mselves into our gardens and fields. The 
virtues which go to make up a good and noble 
life are likened to* the useful plants, while the 
weeds represent Lhe failings into which poor 
human nature so easily falls, even with the best 
intentions. How easily we glide into the habit 
of back-biting. How bard to keep from grow¬ 
ing worldly and selfish. How easy to become 
ungrateful to the Giver ot all Good. What 
watchful spiritual eyes, and prayerful hearts, it 
needs to keep the soul free from such noxious 
weeds, and who is there that more than partially 
succeeds ? yet it is good to take the lessons of 
nature to heart, for their effects are like the gen¬ 
ial showers upon the thirsty earth, to freshen 
nnd quicken the growth of all that is good. 
Elkborn, Wis., 1S67. b. o. d. 
DEVELOPED HIMSELF. 
If a young minister wishes to work for Christ 
he will find enough labor in any field to task his 
powers of mind and heart. But if one thinks of 
improving self, more than of winning souls to 
Christ, he is likely soon to loose both earnest¬ 
ness and power. Dr. Bmiuard tells this story: 
We once introduced ft young minister to a 
missionary congregation in the suburbs of a 
great city. The people were highly pleased 
with him, aud invited him to settle among 
them. He came to consult me on the subject. 
As lie was an unmarried man he regarded the 
salary as adequate. He had no fault to find with 
the number, the attendance, the attention and 
interest of the occasion. I nrged him to give an 
affirmative answer. He hesitated. 
“ I am afraid,” said he, “ it is not the place for 
me to develop myself,” alluding to the plainness 
of the people. I replied — 
“It is an excellent place to develop the Gos¬ 
pel of the Lord Jesus Christ —but I know not 
whether it is the place for you to develop 
yourself.” 
He left the field, aud has since “developed 
himself” by giving up the ministry. “He that 
exultuth himself shall be abased.” 
The little congregation, uuder the labors of 
better and purer men, has also “developed” 
itselflnto one of the most numerous, intelligent, 
affluent churches in the land. Are there not 
other young ministers corroding in idleness, 
rejecting difficult fields, and waiting for places to 
“develop themselves?” 
CAST AWAY IDOLS. 
During the progress of his recent labor in 
Jewett City, in Connecticut, Rev. J. D. Potter 
took occasion one afternoon to speak of the use 
of tobacco, in impairing Christian influence. At 
the commencement of the evening service, Dr. 
-rose and said, “ I owe my hope in Christ, 
uuder God, to Mr. Potter. I am satisfied my 
smoking injures my Christian influence. Here 
is my idol—(holding his pipe at arm’s length)—I 
throw it away." Suitiug the action to the word, 
he threw it near Mr. Potter’s feet. “ You may 
crush it,” and the crackling was music iu some 
ears. The next night a German, who was hope¬ 
fully converted in the revival of 1858, rose, and 
in broken English, said, “ when the Doctor threw 
away his pipe last night, it struck me flat in the 
face. My idol was In my pocket before. I got 
to the bridge, I threw away my tobacco; this 
morning I found my pipes and smashed them. 
I am determined not to chew or smoke any more 
while I am a living man. I keep my promise lr* 
I die.”— Boston Conyregationatist. 
Beautiful Thoughts.— The same God who 
moulded the sun and kindled the stars, watches 
the flight of the insect. He who balances the 
clouds and hung the earth upon nothing notices 
the fall of the sparrow. He who gave Saturn 
his rings and placed the moon like a ball ot sil¬ 
ver in the broad arch of heaven, gives the rose 
loaf its delicate tint, and made the distant 6un 
to nourish the violet. And the same Being no- > 
tices the praises of the cherubim and the prayers 
of the little childi-en. j 
/ 
