MO OBI'S SllMt HW-TOlEm 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SWEET MOTHEE. 
EV GRACE G. 8L0CGH. 
There conies to me in dreams, an angel-vision as I 
stand 
Surrounded by a weary waste of barren desert-land, 
Soft eyes so earnest and so deep, a brow so white 
and fair, 
A gentle and a loving month, and shining bright- 
brown hair. 
A gentle hand seems lain upon iny aching, throbbing 
brow, 
It lay there when l wa.- a child—I feel its cool touch 
now, 
It smooths out all the wrinkles that sorrow furrowed 
there, 
And softly o'er my forehead creep those waves of 
shining hair. 
Have cbildhood'E hours come back again, far o’er the 
voiceless sea, 
And with their joy, sweet mother, hast thou como 
hack to me ? 
And when my eyes ate weary, and I long so much 
for rest, 
Can I lay it as of old upon thy pure and loving breast ? 
When tired of all earth’s mockery, and wearied of 
my play, 
Wilt thou hush me on thy bosom, wilt thou wipe my 
tears away ? 
And shall that dear and loving voice whose tones I’ve 
missed so long, 
Yet softly murmur as of yore the low, Eweet cradle¬ 
song? 
My mother, when your eyes of love "bent o’er my 
childish bead, 
And you prayed that "holy cherubims might guard 
my cradle-bed,” 
When you heard the tender rustle of their shining 
wings of white, 
And left upon my rosy mouth a mother's soft good¬ 
night ; 
Say, mother, in those blessed years did your dear 
heart e’er know 
What lines of pain would yet he flung across my glad 
young brow ? 
When at the twilight-hour you rocked your little one 
to sleep. 
Didst ever guess, sweet mother, how those laughing 
eyes would weep ? 
But a memory-bell is tolling—Ah! there came a weary 
day, 
When your hair of shilling brown was thickly silver¬ 
ed o’er with gray, 
When o'er the jasper heights an angel whispered to 
you “come,” 
And another softly bore you to your bright eternal 
home. 
The geutle hands were folded, closed the holy, love- 
lit eyes, 
And they laid thee where the willows weep beneath 
the bright blue skies, 
I watched them, ohl my mother, till the shadows 
gathered gray, 
And the dust they heaped above thee, seemed to shut 
my life away. 
Sweet mother,’Uc a blessed spot,—that precious, hal¬ 
lowed grave, 
Whete through the long, glad summer-time the weep¬ 
ing willows wave; 
I’ve seen the print of spirit-feet that guard tby church¬ 
yard bed, 
I’ve heard the sweep of angel-wings that hover o’er 
thy head! 
JAPANESE SOCIAL LIFE. 
The vast difference in the social life of various 
nations is quite remarkable, and is worthy more 
than a passing thought. Eveu among the most 
highly civilized peoples social customs are as 
widely different as can be well imagined. Of 
European customs and manners wc have long 
known much, but Oriental countries have been 
so like a scaled hook to a majority of the world 
that their peculiarities are almost entirely un¬ 
known to Americans. Since the Japanese Em¬ 
bassy came to the United States, a few years ago, 
a new Interest has been felt in learning what 
could be learned of the country from whence 
the queer looking embassadors came. As the 
people, in one sense, make the country, the 
greatest interest naturally centers In them. The 
following sketch, of their social life contrasts 
strongly with home-life here: 
A family of a middle class generally live in 
a low house, with a thatched roof. These houses 
are built this way for safety against earthquakes, 
which are common. About u century ago, 100,- 
bOO people lost their lives in Jeddo, by un earth¬ 
quake. The husband generally has but one wife; 
polygamy is allowed, and the wealthier men 
sometimes marry several w ives, to show their 
independence of custom, or their ability to sup¬ 
port » large establishment. The marriage bond 
is esteemed sacred and is rarely broken. Where 
his marital rights are invaded, the husband may 
kill his wife and her paramour together, with¬ 
out fear of punishment. Families generally 
take their meals together, the husbaud sitting a 
little apart from the rest to show his superior 
dignity. At night the family always go through 
/. form of worship, putting their heads down and 
extending their hands in invocation of their 
deity, in the morning the father goes to the 
door, open? it, clasps his hands and invokes the 
god of day. The morning meal is soon ready 
and eaten, and the children are sent off to 
school, where they all learn reading, writing and 
calculating, and the girls sewing. The women 
are well treated, not being compelled to do 
heavy out-door work, uud being admitted to 
many of the lighter avocations, such as that of 
clerk or book-keeper in a store. The wife*and 
older daughter share also in the recreations of 
the head of the family. 
Matrimonial matches are generally^made up 
by the parents or friends of tliejpartics inter¬ 
ested. After the preliminaries have? been dis¬ 
cussed the parties themselves are consulted. If 
they object strongly, the match is not consum¬ 
mated, but filial obedience is made so impera- 
tive a duty that this dot*» not very often happen. 
When the preliminaries are fully agreed on, the 
parties are openly betrothed, with the exchange 
of presents, and the betrothal i- rarely broken. 
Among the aristocracy, if a lover dies, his be¬ 
trothed must remain single throughout her life. 
Among the upper class a widow must not marry 
again, but in the lower classes she may. She 
follows her first husband to the grave with an 
iron pot on her head, her second, if she outlive-: 
him, with two iron pots, arid so on. Death is 
to the oriental mind the one inevitable fate. 
Hence it is looked upon with comparative indif¬ 
ference, and in the funeral ceremonies there is 
no solemnity, hut often the greatest levity. In 
the country they are all buried in cemeteries, 
which are well cared for. Iti the cities both 
burial and cremation arc practiced. The people 
generally have a strong desire to he buried i:i 
the ancestral burial lot. Suicides are frequent, 
both on account of love affairs and of losses in 
business. Hanging and drowning arc the most 
common methods. Ilarlkari, or disemboweling 
one’s self, is reserved for the higher classes. 
This is considered highly honorable-, and it re¬ 
moves all disgrace, not only from the man but 
from his family, in whose presence the act is 
commonly committed. An honorable way of 
settling a family feud is for out of the parties to 
kill his enemy, and then terminate his own life 
by harikari. The last act removes the disgrace 
of the murder, aud leaves the family without 
reproach in society. 
-'■■■■ ■ »«♦ — — 
THE FEINCESS OF WALES. 
Pit in cess Alexandra is about twenty-two 
years of age. She is tall and fragile, her hair is 
light, and so is her complexion. Her disposi¬ 
tion and spirits ore amiable. She is very acces¬ 
sible. She is very popular and has the sympathy 
of the nation, for she is known to be neglected 
by the Prince. Hhc has douc what she could to 
revive the Court, and the gaiety of royal life. 
Iler long and painful richness was created by 
the Presentation she held in the name of the 
Queen. The Queen’s Drawing-rooms last an 
hour and no more. When the time is up Her 
Majesty leaves, regardless of who are waiting to 
be presented. The Princess held her reception 
for three hours. Not statue-like, as is Her Maj¬ 
esty’s custom, but, bowing gracefully and wel¬ 
coming all. Her heavy state robes bore her 
down, and exhausted and faint she was carried 
to her home. She is very domestic, and trains 
her children With the utmost cure. They arc 
very popular in London. Every costermonger 
aud street-sweeper lifts his hat to the little 
creatures as they pass by, and the salutation is 
returned by the children with a grace worthy of 
George the Fourth. The Princess is very bcueli- 
cent. She is kind to the poor. She has under 
her charge a hospital for sick children. She 
daily visits the pallet of the sick aud distrib¬ 
utes little tokens of kindness, fruits and flow¬ 
ers. Some of the London poor, when they died, 
begged! that the flowers given to them by the 
Prin ceris might tie burl ml with them iu their 
graves. Such acts deeply affect the English 
heart. They call out the deep love and admi¬ 
ration of the nation. 
A PARISIAN INCIDENT. 
Here is one of the thrilling incidents of Paris¬ 
ian life. The other day a very young girl, with 
something in her arms that she carried with great 
care aud tenderness, was gamboling merrily to 
and fro upon the Bridge of Jena, when suddenly, 
by some unhappy inadvertency, she dropped her 
precious charge over the railing of the bridge, 
and it fell with a faint splash into the river Seine. 
“ Oh, the baby ! the baby!” she screamed with 
wild aud frantic hursts—“(Jh, the dear baby! 
will nobody save my buby ?” Among the many 
pedestrians who were passing over the bridge at 
the time, was one, a young and uoble looking 
fellow, heroism stamped upon, every feature of 
his countenance, firmness aud intrepidity settled 
in every glance of his eye. Without a moment’s 
hesitation; without di\ esting himself of a single 
article of clothing, he leaped into the river, which 
was quite deep at the place, and swain with her¬ 
culean exertion alter the lost object that was bob¬ 
bing up aud down iu the water. At length he 
approached it; caught it tenderly aronud the 
waist, and raised it iu the air, to discover that it 
was a doll-baby. Pitching it back into the mid¬ 
dle of the river, he made for the nearest shore; 
shook himself like a poodle, pulled up his coat 
collar, and his hat down over his eyes, then hur¬ 
ried away under the eaves oi the houses, to avoid 
being carried home on the shoulders of the ad¬ 
miring crowd.— Cor. Miner''s Journal. 
A WIFE’S PEAYEE. 
Jr there is anything that comes nearer to the 
imploration of Naomi than the subjoined, wc 
have not seen it: 
Lord bless and protect that dear person whom 
Thou hast- chosen to be my husband: let his 
life be long and blessed, comfortable and holy; 
aud let me also become a great blessing and 
comfort uuio him, a sharer in all his sorrows, a 
meet helper in all the accidents and changes in 
the world; make me amiable forever in his eyes, 
and forever dear to him. Unite his heart to me 
in the dearest love and holiness, aud mine to 
him in all sweetness, charity and compliance. 
Keep me from all ungentleuess, and discontent¬ 
edness and unreasonableness of passion aud 
humor, and make me humble ami obedient, 
useful and subservient, that we may delight 
each other according to Thy blessed Word, ami 
both of us may rejoice in Thee, having our por¬ 
tion in the love and service of God forever. 
Amen._ _ _ 
Love of flattery, in most men, proceeds from 
the mean opinion they have of themselves ; in 
woman, from the contrary. 
(filmin' JHtr.rdlant). 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
QUESTIONINGS. 
BY A. A. HOPKINS, 
What wonder that the song is sad, 
If sadness prompts the heart to singing ? 
The sweetest songs earth ever had 
From saddest hearts came springing. 
What wonder if oar faith grows faint, 
Without reward for our believing? 
For hoping changes to complaint 
If trust bring no receiving. 
What wonder that, we never see 
The good the present hoar is holding? 
The greatest good is yet ro be; 
Wo wait for its an folding. 
Wnat wonder that we never grasp 
The hopes complete in their fruition? 
To morrow holds, w ithin it: clasp 
The beautiful elysian! 
What wonder that onr inarch is slow 
Along the way to the immortal? 
The veil which blinds us here below 
Obscures the golden portal. 
What wonder that our feet will stray, 
Fur off in paths unknown to wander? 
The light is dim: thank God the way 
Will brighter be up yonder 1 
What wonder that we seldom hear 
Angelic voices sweetly calling ? 
For siren tones upon our ear 
Unceasingly are falling. 
What wonder.—Ah! poor hc-att. aud weak, 
Why multiply your idle queries 
When you in asking only seek 
Delight that quickly wearies? 
Yet evermore, as days go by, 
Your questions will be felt or spoken, 
For every 6on! longs for the Why 
That sleeps in every token 1 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
POPULAEITY. 
’ BY MBS. R. M. LINCOLN. 
- T- 
Aspiration is a characteristic of mankind. 
Worthy and ennobling us it may be, it. possesses 
a deteriorating influence, as it becomes perverted 
from pure aspiration into far-reaching efforts for 
popularity. To bo sure, there tire really two 
distinct qualities; and yet often when mortals 
fancy themselves only aspiring they arc grasping 
at the phantom of aspiration — popularity. I 
am tired of I to hollow name—the sound and sight 
of it 1 dislike—since t hose who might, and should 
live for better things, are constantly reminding 
one of their inereadng popularity. Some must 
needs become knovrii; but as their natnes go 
forth aud are repeated, why do they make it 
their constant thumb and never for one moment 
lose eight of their itij ortant selves ? One of the 
sweetest traits of character Is humility, uud one 
greutl.v tbi- .ku*c this pb'irlsalcai tendency. 
Our Saviour gavl a touching demonstration 
of this in His lite and teachings. He called it 
beautiful and blessed; and how quickly wc re¬ 
cognize it when err hg men show in their lives 
and actions its wor h. When a great man or 
woman possesses t is virtue, the poorest and 
most neglected find n their presence case and 
an atmosphere ofsoc tl warmth. They feel their 
kindness, and sec t eir entire forgetfulness of 
self. The pure aspirations ot such ones have led 
them where true nobility dwelt, aud where 
Christ smiled to recognize them. If they have 
striven for popularity it has been only in “sym¬ 
pathy witbCHiufrT.” 1 was once passing through 
the streets with a minister's wife when this same 
subject came to he introduced by our meeting 
some very poor, miserably dressed persons whom 
we both knew. Said the lady— “ It emne right 
to recognize these persons; yet it don’t give ob¬ 
servers a very exalted idea of one’s acquaint¬ 
ances ! ” This was one of the many whose pride 
pushes them on to popularity, and who are as the 
sounding brass aud tinkliug cymbal. 
Among these w’eak representatives of religion 
and humility, and those who have risen to great 
intellectual distinction, “there is frequently cn 
intolerance of manner—au assertion of superi¬ 
ority—a species of intellectual scorn for the dead 
level of humanity—that precludes the possibility 
of sympathy; yet there is no surer test of 
grandeur of character than a readiness to ac¬ 
knowledge and respect the individuality of all of 
God’s creatures.’’ 
Tliis thirst for popularity indicates the fever 
that is working in the minds and hearts of 
mortals, and that permeates so entirely our 
social relations. Iu all degrees we find it, in all 
classes we see its uuiistakable features. While 
it brings to us the results of great effort, it also 
brings bitterness and on empty name. This 
striving for position and power on the platform 
of public favor is a miserable waste of effort. 
I see before me a young matt full of promise. 
He enters the ministry with noble aspirations. 
His great humility makes him beloved aud hon¬ 
ored while as yet no brilliant sermons have made 
him known. He has won the hearts of Ills 
hearers — his touching simplicity could not fail 
of this; but at length he pens an essay on a 
theme just suited to his capacity. This one 
effort gives him a position he had not dreamed 
of possessing. Flattery and pride succeed, aud 
this thirst so natural to man —this love of ap¬ 
plause—induces the exertion of every faculty to 
gain preeminence. His struggles are oat- in 
vain; they give him that for which he labors, 
while they take his humility and leave, instead, 
arrogance and pride. What a loss for him! I 
watch the course of such an One; but prosperity 
does not long attend him. How many may, in 
looking back, it-member the first false step 
that took from them this strength that nothing 
but humility could give,—the reward, too, that 
surely follows those who lose sight of self and 
labor out of pure impulses for Christ. 
I see one who had acquired literary fame, i 
Days and nights had she labored intensely to j 
win it. She had fancied that another effort was ! 
to be the realization of all her hopes. How un¬ 
tiringly she studied as visions of worldly honor 
rose up before her. To become popular—to 
gather laurels and feast on fame — tilled largely 
her mind as late at night she laid aside her work. 
She knelt to pray without the sweet humility j 
Christ loves. She seemed to be pleading earn¬ 
estly when I heard these Imploring words: — “ 0 
Father! give me thoughts that will live forever, 
long after I have passed away.’’ She paused, for 
through the deep silence a voice wa: heard softly 
speaking—“ Mother, there in that little one are 
your thoughts that will live forever—in your 
child by whom you kneel.’’ Her head bowed 
low, and the tears came streaming through her 
clasped hands; but what a prayer I heard. It 
was au humble prayer, with pleadings for pa¬ 
tience ami graca to train her child to represent 
her thoughts by a noble life, and by a pure and 
blameless love for Christ. 
You who are seeking to leave a great name 
among ’men, seeking to he called popular 
Ages hence, remember that your children will 
represent you long after you sleep forgotten by 
those you strove most to impress with your 
greatness. 
Cauairdaigna, N. Y . Oct. 1S67. 
♦ --- 
FZESONAL GOSSIP. 
In a recent issue of Harpers’ Weekly there 
appeared a portrait of Robert Coli.ter, the 
celebrated divine who is beginning to rival 
Henp.t Ward Beecher as an orator and a man 
of strong individuality. In a brief biographical 
notice Dr. Bellows, who had just listened to 
a sermon by the “preacher poet,’’ thus speaks 
of his oratory: — “ It is not oratory — it- is ora¬ 
torio. He is a poet, artist, and singer in spite 
of himself. His broad, sweet soul has dived into 
the deeper truth of things, and when he speaks, 
as he always does, out of bis experience, his 
dainty lips refuse all superfluous or unlit words, 
while tender, Burns-like images cluster around 
his thoughts, utul his voice melts into a kind of 
song, without the periods aud pauses of ordinary 
speech, and flows into the ear and heart with 
the effect of » fugue of Bach.” 
Mi-s Alcott writes thus about Dickens, as 
ho appeared at hi* readings : “At the first glance 
I received a shock, and my idol tumbled off the 
pedestal whereon I placed him long ago, when 
I wove his hair in locket, and thought Shak- 
spearc was an idiot beside him. I did not expect 
to see the handsome, foppish young man who 
once paid u- u visit, aud caricatured us so capi¬ 
tally afterward; but I did think some sign of 
genius would be visible—some glimpse of the 
genial creator of Little A Ml, Tom Pinch, and the 
Chcerable lirothen would certainly appear. Far 
from it ; youth and comeliness were gone, but 
the foppishness remained; and. the red-faced 
man. with false teeth, and the voice of a worn- 
out actor, 0:*J til* scanty gray jRalr curled , a 
posy in liis button-hole; diamond ring, pin, and 
studs ; a milled front, and wristbands ala Cousin 
Feflix.” 
Of Johann Strauss the famous Musician of 
Vienna, who ha? written more waltzes than any 
other composer ol our time, a Paris letter writer 
says ; “ He is all German iu aspect, all American 
in manner. He as lively as his own waltzes, 
and his manner is us finished us his education. 
Son of one of the greatest and queerest musi¬ 
cians that ever lived, he knows he ought to have 
his talent and use it, and he is no conceited 
dandy, who plays with one ear open for the ap¬ 
probation of his audience, and the other attentive 
to his music. He i* one of the wonders of the 
Exposition. It is now not long since he arrived 
here, aud his fame is already world-wide, partially 
because of the Oosmopolitan character of his 
audience, but more particularly because of his 
wonderful talent, and the energy of his welt- 
trained musicians Ilis great waltz, ‘ The Life 
of an Artist,’ brings his audience to tears caic 
moment, then sends their feet dancing iu spite 
of them- Nothing can be finer than the render¬ 
ing of the overture to Wagner’s Taunhauser, by 
his orchestra. It is superb, finished art,” 
THREE EUPOETANT THINGS. 
Three things to love—Courage, gentleness-, 
and affection. 
Three things to admire—Intellectual power,, 
dignity, and gracefulness. 
Three things to hate—Cruelty, arrogance and 
ingratitude. 
Three things to delight in—Beauty, frankness 
and freedom_ 
Three things to wish for—Health, friends aud 
a cheerful spirit. 
Three things to pray for—Faith, peace and pu¬ 
rity of heart. 
Three things to like—Cordiality, good humor, 
aud mirthfuiaess. 
Three things to avoid—Idleness, loquacity and 
flippant jesting. 
Three things to cultivate—Good books, good 
friends, and good-humor. 
Three things to contend for—Honor, country 
and friends. 
Three things to govern—Temper, tongue, and 
conduct. 
Three things to think about—Life, death aud 
eternity. 
What i- x Snob.—A London paper gives a 
brief definition of snobbishness:—“ The essence 
of snobbishness and vulgarity is nothing more 
or less than display, designed to create in other 
persons’ minds a belief that you arc different 
from what you really are; better born, better 
bred, richer, more clever, or more accomplished. 
On the other hand, it is the perfect truthfulness 
and modesty which results Irom the absence of 
desire to impose upon his companions which 
■ makes a man a gentleman. 
‘•I SHALL BE SATISFIED” 
[PSALM XVU., 15.] 
ET CAROLINE A. MASON. 
Nor heremy roses bear too many thorns; 
My gold has in it too much of alloy; 
The purple of my robe too oft adorns 
An aching soul; my sweets too often cloy. 
No; nowthe present has too much of pain— 
Too much, alas, of mingled hope and fear; 
I set my loss too often ’gainst my gain: 
I shall be satisfied not now, not here. 
But (here! but then ! in beaten /—when I wake 
In His dear likeness who for me once died! 
Oh. fount of bliss! in thee once let me slake 
My life-long thirst—I shall be satisfied! 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
SABBATHS. 
1; 'a a grand, glorious.October Sunday. It is 
Xaticre'g Sabbath, for the world lies hushed as 
by the breath of the Invisible. Never was the sky 
bluer, or the sunlight more golden as it glints 
through the fast-changing foliage of the trees. 
In at the open church windows the breeze steals 
as softly as an angel's piniou moved by the 
breath of prayer. It breathes softly iu the sub¬ 
dued tones of the organ, and anoa it urges its 
strains to thunder tones grand as those of the 
rushing storm. Now clear and sweet and full 
comes the music of human voices, and I wonder 
what must be the melody in Heaven chanted by 
angels’ tongues. It is morning now, and here, — 
there it is always day : day, golden and glorious, 
radiant with the smile of Him who created the 
Universe. 
Is there not glory enough in the world—glory 
enough in the clouds, the sky, the stars, the 
flowers, yea, and in the human face divine — to 
lure one on to deeds which will secure a seat in 
the Mansions of Bliss? Why should we dwell 
always here ? Even as I look putward the sky is 
changing. Yonder pearl-like clouds are already 
dark aud threatening; the azure of the sky has 
suddenly become dull; and the leaves, a little 
time since so green, are red and yellow now, 
and fall with e\ ery gust of the autumn air. And 
we call tiffs change. But surely it reaches only to 
that which we call Inanimate:■ Alas! no. You 
remember au eye once bright with affection, 
which turns from you coldly now. You remem- 
b :r a form of life and grace now dead and mo¬ 
tionless. Yes, change even visits the animate 
things of life. The thoughts which are thrilling 
the soul now will not thrill it forever. Your 
soul may now be singing psalms; but presently 
notes of discord and turbulence will drown their 
melody. Grasp these gleams of glory as they 
flit Treasure them in the soul, and never let 
them flee away. Catch the star when it falls, 
remember the music when it comes, the suh- 
stitni Hiicu it <Mxi io*\; tnc Sunday wheu 
it is here. Not merely do I mean the temporal 
Sunday, but these Sabbaths qf the soul — these 
yearnings-for a grandeur earth never realized— 
these aspirations which reach far beyond every¬ 
day life, far up beyoud the stars — aspirations 
which stir feelings within us that we eau uever 
fully comprehend. 
In these mysterious, holy thrills which all feel 
sometimes, are the glory and the song of life. 
Transient as the April sunshiuc, they neverthe¬ 
less give health, strength and restoration to the 
forces of onr being. There is a subtle power 
both in seen aud unseen beauty to impart 
intense pain or intense pleasure, and whic-h would 
lure us on with whisper of soDg and rustle of 
angel pinions till we rest on the blue of Eter¬ 
nity’s Sabbath shore. Sara G. Chapa. 
EVERY-DAY BEIIGION. 
Wa must come back to our point, which is 
not to urge all of you to give yourself up to 
niff-ion work, but to serve God more and more 
in connection with your daily calling. I have 
heard that a woman who ha; a mission makes a 
poor wife and a bad mother; this is very possi¬ 
ble, aud at the same time very lamentable; hut 
the mission I would, urge i3 not of this sort. 
Dirty rooms, slatternly gowns, and children with 
unwashed faces, are swift witnesses against the 
sincerity of those who keep others’ vineyards 
aud neglect their own. I have no faith in that 
woman who talks of grace and glory abroad, and 
uses no soap and water at home. Let the but¬ 
tons be on the shirts, let the roast mutton be 
done to a turn, let the house be neat as a new 
pin, aud the home be as happy as home can be; 
and then, when the cannon bails, aud the mar¬ 
bles, and the shots, and even the grains of sand, 
are all in the box, eyen then there will be room 
for those little deeds of love aud faith which, in 
my Master’s name. I seek of you who look for 
iiis appearing. Serve God by doing common 
actions in a heavenly spirit, and then, if your 
daily calling only leaves you cracks and crevices 
of time, fill these up with holy service. To use 
the apostle's words, “ As we have opportunity, 
let u; do good unto all men.”— Spurgeon. 
The Right Persuasion. —In terri' le* agouy, 
a soldier lay dying in the hospital. A visitor 
asked him, — “ What church are you of?” “ Of 
the church of Christ,” he replied. “ I mean of 
what persuasion are you?” “Persuasion!” 
said the dying man, as his eyes looked heaven¬ 
ward, beaming with love to the Saviour: “I 
am persuaded that neither death nor”life, nor 
angels, nor principalities or powers, nor things 
present nor things to come, nor heighth nor 
depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to 
separate me from the love of God which is in 
Christ Jesus.” 
There arc more sensible people who are smart 
than siaart ones who are sensible. 
