9 
attics’ ilqnuimcttt. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LONELY MOTHER. i 
BY FKNNA. 
_ 1 
When, from a garland of children, 
Death, unseen angel, plucks one, 
Breaking love’s tender entwinlngs, 1 
Withering the blossom begun; i 
Ah, in her bosom, how keenly 1 
Feels the fond mother the smart! 1 
Deep in her bosom, how freely 
Bleeds the torn cords of her heart! 
Though every childish enchantment , 
Btlrs up her sorrow anew, 
Memory in every amusement 
Bringing her darling to view, 
Still were the children remaining 
Never so fondly caressed; 
O, with what sweetly sad yearning, f 
Presses she them to her breast 1 
When from a family circle, ' 
Death takes the dear only child,— • 
Closing the sweet lips that prattled, '. 
Dimming the bright eyes that smiled,— 
Lonely, so lonely! the mother, 
Lately with heart overjoyed, 
To her breast presses—ber sorrow; 
Closely embraces—a void. 
. Dusting his crib and bis carriage, 
Handling his smooth-ironed clothes, 
Kissing, and bathing with tear-drops 
Little shoes, shaped to his toes, 
Bolding with solitude converse. 
Even her grief growing dear, 
Looks she to Beaven for her darling, 
For she has no darling here. 
-• »•» ■ »<-» ■- 
Written Tor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
A “ QUEER ” ANSWER. 
A recent number of the Rural is before me, and 
the “queer” question “Is Friendship a myth?” 
attracts my attention. As I yield to a thought, 
memory, with fairy brushes, reproduces the past; 
the friends of my girlhood cluster around me; recol¬ 
lections of friends loyal and true, some of them now 
sleeping for country, assure me that I mistake not 
when I answer, “ No.” 
Let us refer to your note book, “Queer.” 
When you penciled that assertion,—“ Friendship 
iB a myth”—had you, by the attainment of a use¬ 
ful, Christian womanhood, rendered yourself worthy 
*to receive a pure, exalted friendship,—such as is 
ever based upon a noble character? 
In onr world of change a kind Father has ren¬ 
dered us capable of varied friendships. Separation 
may prevent expressions of friendship, and yet we 
know that it exists, else would life’s sweetest mel¬ 
ody become discordant, and life itself be scarce 
worth the living. 
But to return to the note book. When “Emo- 
gene” (who wrote herself “ your true friend,” and 
in one year bad forgotten you,) assumed the respon¬ 
sibilities of a young wife, did you extend to her your 
earnest sympathy, and interest yourself in her house¬ 
keeping and other wifely duties ? Or did you take 
it for granted that she had no use for you now, and 
wound her sensitive heart by your sudden change 
of manner ? Again, when your “ ever true Nettie” 
was married, did you attempt to find a new friend 
in her husband ? Or did yon indulge in a weak jeal¬ 
ousy? Pardon my plain questioning; my motive 
is friendly. 
Oh, yes, my friend, there do exist “every-day, 
true, pure friendships, and your present corres¬ 
pondent gladly avails herself of this occasion to 
chronicle the wealth of kindness, bestowed upon 
her by friends, that has crowned with beauty and 
glory each year of life. 
Alger’s “ Friendships of Women” affords beau¬ 
tiful reply to your question. And now a word to 
any girl-friends wbo chance to read this:—If you 
would gather a bountiful harvest of love, go through 
life with a loving heart, generously sowing the seeds 
of kindness, and surely you shall bind beautiful 
sheaves for the garner of Friendship. 
Lizzie M. Boynton. 
- ♦ »•♦ ■- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
RESTRAINT. 
There is no more diliicult or important lesson to 
teach a child, than that of restraint. It i6 fearfully 
true that most young boys consider it unmanly to 
yield to restraint, and they will do almost anything 
to break away from it. Parents wbo do not restrain 
their children sow to the wind, and may expect to 
reap the whirlwind. Such parents, by their neglect, 
bring upon themselves a reproach which they can¬ 
not wipe out, injure and often destroy their own off¬ 
spring, and inflict upon society an incurable malady. 
Many a child goes forth from the domestic circle 
with a passion burning in his bosom that, having 
never been subdued, will gather strength daily, and 
only waits for an occasion to call it out to reenact 
scenes of violence which are so unhappily prevalent 
almost everywhere. A child that has never been 
restrained in the home circle is dangerous wherever 
he goes, and it is almost certain that he will be¬ 
come a man of unrestrained passions; if he does 
not commit deeds of violence he will, in his inter¬ 
course in life, inflict wrongs not less criminal in 
themselves. 
The law of truth, obedience and submission should 
early be taught the child; and while the mind is 
forming, and yet plastic, shape it in the mold of 
virtue. Every promise a parent can glean from 
any source is coupled with a command to instruct 
and to restrain. If the command is disregarded, 
the promise will fail. n. r. g. 
-■»•»« - 
Christian Womanhood,— Henry Ward Beecher, 
in a recent sermon, discoursed thus in regard to the 
fair 6CxMaidens, look to the God of your fathers. 
If there be any one in this world who cannot afford 
not to be a Christian, it is a woman. If there be any 
one whose beauty fades as a flower and whose grace 
needs the sustenance of the ineffable; if there be any 
one whose power is in beauty, in purity, goodness, 
it is a woman. If there be any one more than 
another upon whom blight falls more rudely; if 
there be any one more than another, who is more 
burdened with grief or more wrong with sorrow, it 
is a woman. I marvel to see a woman that is not a 
Christian. The ladder between ber soul and God is 
not half so long as that between our souls and God. 
God made woman to be better than man; and the 
| perversion is in proportion when she is worse.” 
% -—-- 
i There are other things in life besides love; but 
t everybody wbo has lived at all knows that love is the 
' very heart of life, the pivot upon which its whole 
J machinery turns; wit hout which no human existence 
) can be complete, and with which, however broken 
[ and worn in part, it can still go on working some- 
1 how, and working to a comparative useful and cheer- 
% ful end .—Miss Unlock. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EXTRAVAGANCE OF WOMEN. 
How much is said and written upon this subject. 
Now pause a moment, my dear masculine friends, 
and let us compare notes. To be sure we some¬ 
times wear diamonds, (I for one am guilty of the 
crime, though taint are precious mementoes;) but 
my dear sir, this “single stone” and this rich 
“cluster,” with its “opal center,” tinted and rain- 
bow-hued, cost not the half so much as that regal 
solitaire sparkling upon your little finger! Our rib¬ 
bons and laces, which look such a prodigious pile 
to your uufeminine eyes, could easily be bought 
with the money th rown away on your cigar stamps! 
(By the way, we think there might be “mustache 
cups” invented for smoking as well as drinking,— 
why not ?) Our darliDg bonnets, though growu so 
liliputian of late, we admit cost a trifle, but so do 
all those luxuries over the way where we, poor 
souls, never care nor dare to enter! Our silks and 
satins cost less than your broadcloth, while our 
boots (dear, dainty little things,) are scarce a thud 
the price of your own. Now,—saying nothing of 
your clubs, and the secret associations to which 
you belong, but ignoring all these,—where are all 
the superfluities of our 6ex I would ask, not over¬ 
balanced by those of your own ? Where are they? 
Mrs. Wilkinson. 
- - 
DOMESTIC LIFE. 
_ 
I am afraid that our domestic life will not hear 
looking into. I fear that our houses will not be 
found to have unity, and to express the bebt 
thought. The household, the calling, the friend¬ 
ships, of the citizen are not homogeneous. His 
house ought to show us his honest opinion of what 
his well-being consists in when he rests among his 
kindred, and forgets all affection, all compliance, 
and even all exertion of will. He brings home 
thither whatever commodities and ornaments have 
for years allured his pursuit, and his character must 
Boon be in them. Bat what idea predominates in 
our houses? Thrift first, then convenience and 
pleasure. Take off all the roofs from Blreet to 
street, and we shall seldom find the temple of any 
higher god than Prudence. 
The progress of domestic living has been in clean¬ 
liness,, in ventilation, in health, in decorum, in 
countless means and arts of comfort, in the concen¬ 
tration of all the nullities of every clime in each 
house. They are arranged for low benefits. The 
houses of the rich arc confectioners’ shops, where 
we get sweetmeats and wine; the houses of the 
pool - are imitations of these to the extent of their 
ability. With these ends, housekeeping is not beau¬ 
tiful ; it cheers and raises neither the husband, the 
wife, nor the child; ueither the host, nor the guest; 
It oppresses women. A bouse kept to the end of 
prudence is laborious without joy; a house kept to 
the end of display is impossible to all but a few wo¬ 
men, and their success is dearly bought. 
- < ,ia t«» - 
AN EASTERN ROMANCE. 
One evening I preached to a small gathering in 
the reading room of Shepherd’s Hotel, at Cairo, 
and took up a collection of about $25 for the bene¬ 
fit of the mission. The school of this mission has 
been the scene of one truly Oriental romance. A 
young Indian Prince, by name Maha Rajah Duleep 
Singh, (who was taken to England and carefully 
educated after the principality was taken from his 
father, Achbar Kban, one of England’s most for¬ 
midable enemies,) about five years ago passed 
through Egypt, carrying his mother’s remains to 
India. In Cairo he visited this school, and was 
struck with the appearance of an Egyptian girl, a 
'pupil here and a Christian, whom, after several 
visits, he proposed to make his ■wife. In due time 
they were married at Cairo, and on the wedding 
day he presented £1,000 pounds to the school. He 
carried her to England, where she was generally re¬ 
ceived, in deference to the rank which had always 
been accorded him by the queen. She is now there, 
and the marriage has proved a most happy and use¬ 
ful one. On the return of each wedding day the 
prince sends the school another £1,000! Is not 
this Oriental poetry? What results to India may 
not possibly flow out of tbe mission which chris¬ 
tianized the Indian prince’s wife? 
-» — »■- 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
A skillful pickpocket always takes things easy. 
Household words—Rent and taxes, 
i [Time is a file that wears, and makes no noise. 
Sleep is the fallow of the mind. 
What buss found room for most people? — 
Columbus. 
When does a candle resemble a tombstone ? When 
it is set up for a late husband. 
Those who want the fewest earthly blessings, 
most regret that they want any. 
No man has as yet been able to ride a clothes horse 
with the “ spur of the moment.” 
Habit is a cable. We weave threads of it every 
day, and at last we cannot break it. 
If you wouldn’t have affliction make you a second 
visit, listen to its teachings at the first. 
Why is a selfish friend like the letter F ? Because 
though first in pity, he is the last in help. 
The gentlest effort may put a wedding ring upon 
the finger; a thousand-horse-power may not suffice 
to pull it off. 
A husband, on being told that his wife had lost 
her temper, replied that he was glad of it, for it was 
a very bad one. 
The first evidence of a woman’s interest in a man 
is her mending his gloves, and the last working him 
a pair of slippers. 
Question by a cynic—If a man you have fought 
with is a brother-in-arms, why isn’t a woman you 
are married to a sister-in-arms ? 
Aunt Betsy has said many good things. Among 
the rest, that a newspaper is like a wife—because 
every man should have one of his own. 
An exchange says. — “ There is something sweet 
about little girls.” Tbe Louisville Journal adds, 
“ And it grows on them as they grow bigger.” 
A Frenchman, wishing to say of a young lady that 
■ she was as gentle as a lamb, thus expressed bimself 
—“ She be mooch tame, like the petite mouton.” 
s -■>»» ♦ «♦ » - 
Talking in the rough comes by nature; talking 
well is an art which only some women care to culti- 
; vate. Like other arts, also, it requires a basis of 
' natural capacity for the processes of cultivation. It 
! demands a certain sclf-cunticlence, much frankness, 
patience, and quickness of sympathy; and the more 
1 humor it can get the better. Practice enters so 
‘ largely into this process of cultivation, that it is sel- 
- dom one finds a young girl who can talk well— 
except to her lover. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BEAUTIFUL JUNE. 
BY GKACE G. SLOUGH. 
Afar in the sky sweet bells are ringing, 
List I in the greenwood voices are singing, 
Down to the earth bright angels are winging 
To welcome the beautiful June, 
And Summer is robed for her bridal now, 
See the love light play on her pnre young brow, 
While tl;e dewy valleys and crowned hills bow 
At the feet of tho beautifbl June. 
We greet thee, oh loveliest bride of the year, 
While billows of blossoms are drifting near, 
Kissing the brow and the lips so dear, 
Of onr beautiful, regal June. 
For thee what visions of happiness,— 
How thy heart Is thrilling with tenderness! 
Only God and the angels thus conld bless 
The pure, the beautiful June, 
Then drop, eweet angels, a blessing of light, 
Crown with flowers unfading that brow of white, 
Drop gladness down, summer skies so bright, 
Hallowing beautiful June. 
_< ■> » » ■ » - 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
FARMING AND REFINEMENT. 
Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins bad lately a very earnest 
talk about farming. All in good nature, certainly, 
and I doubt not they thought alike to begin with; 
but they are both, naturally, so contrary that they 
take to opposite sides of a question as a duck does 
to the water. 
The talk came about in this way. A young man 
—a well-to-do farmer—dropped in to spend an hour, 
of an evening. Mrs. Jenkins was very pleasant 
and cheerful during his Htay,—but as his footsteps 
receded on the frozen walk, she exclaimed—_ 
“ Why, Mr. Jenkins, didn’t you perceive what an 
odor of the stable that man brought with him ? I 
could hardly endure it; the room is full now; and, 
what is worse, here is a lot of mud from his boots, 
with plenty of manure.” 
So the wash-cloth came into requisition; Mrs. 
Jenkins in the meantime sighing, “ It’s too bad ; 
that beautiful bunch of flowers is all stained.” 
“Well,” said Mr. Jenkins, “this demonstrates 
what 1 have always told you, that persons of taste 
and refinement should not be farmers,” 
Mrs. Jenkins, being already a little vexed, bridled 
up. She could hear no more. Her father was a 
farmer, so was her dear Mr. Jenkins, she believed 
in farmers and in farming,—so,though I will do Mr. 
Jenkins the justice to add that he didn’t mean half 
he said, Mrs. Jenkins hustled along all her small 
aims and light artillery to annihilate him, just the 
same. 
“ Mr. Jenkins,” said she, “ you do know that 
farmers can be decent. Do you pretend to say that 
a farmer can’t be presentable in refined society ju6t 
because he is a farmer ? Must he keep the dirt on 
him till it is grimed into his very soul? For, 
without doubt, if the soul is right the outer person 
can soon he made so. Will you own that you are 
not as Dice as Mr. Winkle, over here, who lives in 
his 6tore all day, discussing the merits of striped 
calico and fine an spenders, only creeping out to 
, get his daily bread V How like a mummy he looks. 
Then there’s Mr. G aeasen, in the corner grocery,— 
don’t you wish you were he ? selling pork, petro¬ 
leum, potatoes, and lard, and sausages? ’Tis such 
nice businee6. I don’t see why, by taking a little 
pains, a farmer can’t be decent as well as any other 
man.” 
Here Mr. Jenkins broke in. 
“ Look here, Mre. Jenkins, supposing a farmer is 
doing his own work, and it's harrying time of year. 
He is out in the mud plowing, ditching, or getting 
out manure. Can he stop to make himself nice be¬ 
fore going into dinner ? Just think of taking half 
an hour to clean Up, three times a day ! I tell you 
ho can’t do it; it won’t pay. It may do for the gen¬ 
tleman farmer,—the myth, who has so many times 
provoked your fun,—but it won’t do for a practical 
laboring ma-— farmer.” 
“ One word, please, Mr. Jenkins. You started to 
say man instead of farmer; why didn’t you hold to 
the word ? Isn’t the lowest work of almost all kinds 
of business full as grimy and dirty, and perhaps more 
so, than the worst part of farming ? Now, a man 
of genius and energy,—and a farmer ought certainly 
to acquire energy, because he must bestir himself,— 
a man of genius and energy, I say, should, after a 
while, get beyond the most disagreeable jobs ; that 
is, he should be able to pay some one for doing 
them who is just beginning hia apprenticeship, or 
who hasn’t ability to do anything better,” 
4i (jjve me a word here, Mrs. Jenkins. Thanks 
for bringing to my mind so forcibly the main point 
in my argument; the thing which staggers me and 
which can’t be not around. A farmer can’t get 
ahead like men in other business; he can’t get rid 
his boots before coming ? He has two other pairs, 
I know, for he spoke of them this evening. It is 
habit. He didn’t think, or it was too much trouble, 
wouldn't pay, or something of the kind. This care- ' 
less manner of dressing among farmers is one great 
reason why they are spoken of as a rough, ungainly 
set of men, and wDy their profession doesn’t hold 
so high a position as it ought to and might. Farmer • 
Somebody brings up his horse and buggy to ride to 
town for half an hour on busiuess. It is a warm j 
day; he has just come out of the field, and his wife, 
who is going with him, says — ‘ There are clean * 
clothes in the closet ; just wash up, and slip them 
on; you’ll feel and look so much better, and it 1 
won’t take you five minutes.' ” 
“‘Can’t spend time. Too much trouble!’ But < 
she herself looking as nice as a town lady, persists 
— ‘ I wish you would.’ But he jumps into the 1 
buggy, saying, ‘ what’s the use of being dandyfied ?’ 
Well, he goes to the bank, and to the hardware; < 
and they are all ready to do business with him be¬ 
cause he is made of good stuff; but they thiuk to 1 
themselves, ‘Rough, dirty, unpleasant business, 
farming. Good security,—but deliver me from the i 
dirt, perspiration, and such looking clothes.’ 
“ These habits are the remains of the bad old 
times, when farmers were serfs, nothing more. But 
there’s a better time coming, I think, when farming 
will be a profession, and an honored one. There 
are many things to be lived down, certainly. So 
many men, not considered smart enough for any¬ 
thing else, are shoved into farming. What’s farm¬ 
ing but digging up the dirt, putting in the seeds, 
and covering them up? Any pimp can do that. 
Bat any pimp can't be what a farmer should be; , 
many find it out, and this is one reason why the 
learned professions are so much crowded. 
“ Sleepy, are you, Mr. Jenkins? Well, I only 
wish to ask if you won’t admit, at the least, that a 
farmer can be nice and clean, after his day’s work is 
done, at any time of year, if he has a mind to take 
the pains to make himself so V 8ay you are con¬ 
vinced, and will give up.” 
“ Ha, ha! Mrs. Jenkins, you had no need to ex¬ 
haust your mental powers in convincing me ; I 
thought just 60 all the time.” e. w. 
-- 
LIGHTING THE CAPITOL DOME. 
The splendid dome of the Capitol at Washington 
is resplendent at night with an immense number of 
gas jets, and presents a most brilliant appearance. 
The jets are lighted by electricity, from a powerful 
battery of one hundred and eighty cells, which has 
connecting wires running to all the burners in the 
building. The process of illumination is thus vivid¬ 
ly spoken of by a letter writer: 
“ You should 6ee them turn the great dome from 
perfect night to perfect day. Stand auder it! A 
little moon dazes the far up slits of windows; the 
concave eye is absolute night; all the sculptures 
are lost upon the wall; color and action are gone 
out of tbe historic canvases; the stone floor of the 
rotunda might he some great cathedral’s, for you 
can only feel the gliding objects going by, and hear 
the dull, commingling echoes of feet and whispers. 
“At a wink the great hollow sphere is aflame. 
You can see the spark spirit run on tip-toe around 
the high entablature, planting its fire-fly foot on 
every spear of bronze; a blaze springs up on each. 
Chasing each other hither and thither, the winged 
torch-bearing fairies on the several levels race down 
the aisles to the remote niches, to lateral halls, to 
stairways all variegated with polished marbles, over 
illuminated sky-lights armorially painted. Your 
thought does not leap so instantly; and people far 
off' in the city see the lantern at the feet of the 
statue of Liberty arise in tbe sky as if a star bad 
lighted it.'"* Since the first commandment of God 
to the earth light has had no such messenger.” 
-- 
ADVANTAGE OF YEARS. 
You are getting into years. Yes, but the years 
are getting into you—the ripe, rich years, the genial, 
mellow years, the lusty, luscious years. One by 
one the crudities of your youth are falling off from 
you, the vanity, the egotism, the insulation, the be¬ 
wilderment, the uncertainty. Nearer and nearer 
you are approaching yourself. You are consoli¬ 
dating your forces. You are becoming master of 
your situation. On the ruins of shattered plans 
you find your vantage ground. Your broken hopes, 
your thwarted purposes, your defeated aspirations, 
become a staff of strength by which you mount to 
sublimer heights. With self-possession and self- 
command of ail things, the title deed of creation, 
forfeited, is reclaimed. The king has come to hi6 
own again. Earth and sea and sky pour out their 
largess of love. All the crowds pass down to lay its 
treasure at your feet.— Ik. Marvel. 
- -■» .> »«■ » - 
Love: and Friendship. —Love is war! The friend¬ 
ship of a brother and sister, unrelated, is a truce, in 
which both parties are secretly preparing for the 
onset and victory. First comes acquaintance—that 
is May; th Cm friendship—that is June; then brother 
and sisterhood—that is July ; and then love, which 
gUxfltng. 
ONE WEEK IN HEAVEN. 
BY EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLEB. 
One week in heaven 1” I sit within the room, 
So strangely silent since tbon art not there. 
And wintry moonbeams silver all the gloom. 
And whitely fall across thine empty chair. 
“One week in heaven!" no^ thought of thee is bound 
With the dark grave that hides thee from my sight, 
Bnt with the ransomed and the glory-crowned, 
Who dwell with thee in God’s eternal light. 
So near, perchance, thy tender, pitying face 
But for this earthly film would meet my eyes; 
So far, no speech of mine can cross the space 
That lifts thee from me to thy holy skies I 
O patient hands, whose day of toil is o'er. 
So meekly folded on the silent breast, 
How heavy was the cross of pain ye bore I 
How sweet, at last, must be the promised restl 
Sad eyes! that saw earth’s splendors fade away, 
And moth and rust corrupt its fair delight, 
How bright the glow of heaven’s unchanging day, 
The deathless likes and the garment’s white! 
Home, home at last! O city of the King 1 
O Lamb! whose glory is its fadeless light 1 
When shall our lips among the ransomed sing 
In the bright streets where comes do shade of night ? 
* [ Cort.gr ega tionalist. 
EFFICACY 
PRAYER. 
of dirty jobs, unless he has money to start with, or August; but July and August are so much alike 
makes it by speculation.” 
“ Pardon me, Mr. Jenkins. Yon don’t mean 
what you say,—but we are arguing, you know, and 
I can’t agree with you. I,do believe farmers can get 
ahead, if they will use a head enough. They may 
< be penny wise and pound foolish.’ They work so 
hard, 60 many hours, with this idea,— that all a 
hired man’s pay they can save i6 so much clear gain, 
that of course they are completely tired out at night, 
and indeed all the time. If any one reads they.go 
to sleep. They are too much exhausted to read, 
themselves; they tumble into bed and sleep like 
logs. The man,—what was his name, Mr. Jen¬ 
kins ,— who said, ‘ The sleep of the laboring man is 
sweet,’ knew nothing about laboring Yankees. In 
the case he referred to he might as well have said, 
4 The sleep of the ox is sweet,’—for he works steady 
and has no ambitions stirring to make waking 
dreams. The sleep of the overworked is not sweet. 
How can those farmers who work so hard have 
much wit or wisdom left by which to arrange the 
proceeds of their labor ? They wear themselves out 
toiling; and some one who doesn’t work at all 
keeps his eyes open, and gets the benefit. 1 do be¬ 
lieve if you and many others would only spend half 
a day in the field, resolutely taking the afternoon 
for reading, thinking, and driving around with yonr 
wives, (I don’t mean lounging about town alto¬ 
gether,) that in ten years you would all have much 
more money, intelligence, health, and happiness, 
than you can have in the present way of doing, and 
than any other class of men can have.” 
44 Go on,” said Mr. Jenkins, “it’s very soothing 
to hear you.” 
4i Ah, you are laugliing at me,—but that doesn’t 
matter. I’m not talking to enlighten you, for you 
are just as sure of the truth of what I say as lam; 
but it vexes me to hear that farmere can’t spend 
time to be decent. Mr Rusk, who was in here to¬ 
night, for instance,—why couldn’t he have changed 
that no one can tell when one stops and the other 
begins!— Beecher's Norwood. 
- -- 
PLEASANT PARAGRAPHS. 
Every work so merely and basely mechanical that 
a man can throw into it no part of his own life and 
soul, does, in the long run, degrade the human 
being. 
The “ point of honor” can often be made to pro¬ 
duce, by means of vanity, as many good deeds as 
virtue. 
In proportion as we ascend tbe social 6cale, we find 
as much mud there as below, only it is hard and 
gilded. 
During the late visit of the celebrated English 
divine, Rev. Newman Hall, to this country, he 
preached a very forcible sermon in the Madison 
Avenue Baptist Church, New York city, from the 
text, “ Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will 
deliver thee, and thou shalt. glorify me,” in the 
course of which he spoke of God’s promise regard¬ 
ing prayer, as follows: 
The promise of God is not that His people shall 
be preserved from encountering trials, bnt from 
sinking under them. “ Many are tbe afflictions of 
the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of 
them all.” Though the afflictions remain, deliver¬ 
ance is effected because believers are supported 
amidst them, and brought 6afely through them. 
We are not told that " God is faithful, who will 
not suffer us to be tried” at all, but not above 
“ what we are able ” to endure. He does not say 
that with the temptation “ He will send a way of 
escape out of the reach of itbut so that we 
“ muy be able to bear it .” 
When God selects this as His method of fulfilling 
His promise, it is the best deliverance in the day of 
trouble. We may “glorify Him” more by patient 
endurance than by the avoidance of trouble. We 
may be ourselves far more benefited. In my jour¬ 
ney I come to a steep crag. I ask to be spared the 
toil of climbing it. I say to my guide, “ O, lead 
me some easier way. I am timid —I am weak—1 
am weary — I shall faint and fall on a path so 
steep 1” He listens to my appeal; he wipes away 
my rising tear, and kindly grasps my feeble hand; 
but he says, “This is the way —the best way — 
thou must walk along it: but I wiB hold thee by 
my right hand; thy feet shall not slip; I will give 
thee nourishing food, and satisfy thy thirst with 
living water, and will gently lead thee as thou hast 
strength for the journey; but I can take thee by 
no other road.” So he brings me up the steep 
crag; and when I reach the summit, and find my¬ 
self refreshed instead of exhausted by the climb, 
and breathe the exhilarating mountain air, and 
enjoy the wide-spread landscape, and catch glimpses 
of the dear home to which I am traveling, and see 
how much nearer I am to it than if my request had 
been granted just as I wished, then I acknowledge 
that God has fulfilled His promise, “Call upon me 
in the clay of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou 
ehait glorify me.” 
The promise is finally and always fulfilled when 
the Lord removes us out of the reach of all trouble, 
and when in heaven we glorify Him forever. If we 
call upon Him “ In the day of trouble,” He prom¬ 
ises to "deliver” us. Our trouble, however pro¬ 
tracted, is but for a day—a short, fleeting day. The 
longest life, compared with eternity, is infinitely 
shorter than the shortest day compared with the 
longest life. Let us, during this “ day of trouble,” 
call on the Lord, and we may be snre that He will 
deliver us; if in no other way, in this: by caUing 
us to that home of bliss, where all tears shall be 
wiped away, and where, in His presence, there are 
“pleasures forevermore.” 
- < H ♦ i i »- 
IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE. 
“It makes a good deal of difference,” said Mr. 
Moody in the ‘Chicago noon prayer - meeting, ’ 
“whether you take hold of God or whether He 
takes hold of you. My little girl to-day refused to 
let me take hold of her band wheu we were walking 
together. She thought she could go alone. But 
when we came to a place that was slippery, she took 
hold, first of my little finger, and then, as it grew 
more icy, of my whole hand. As we went on, and 
it was growing worse, she let go entirely and said, 
‘Papa, take hold of me.' She knew I was strong, 
and that she could not fall unless I fell. Now, said 
he, “I have been slipping, slipping, for the last 
eleven years, and the reason is, that 1 have not put 
my hand into the hand of God. I have been trying 
to take hold of Him, but not asking Him to take 
hold of me. As long as He has hold of my hand I 
can’t fall. He would have to be disen throned first. 
If our hands are placed in His, whose throne is in 
heaven, we never can fall down into hell.” 
-- 
CARRYING ON BUSINESS FOR CHRIST. 
Many years ago, happening to be in South Wales, 
One of the most important rules of the science of j made the acquaintance of a Welsh gentleman. He 
manners is an almost absolute silence in regard to 
yourself. 
When Charity walks into the lowest places of 
want, we see the beautiful purity of her robes most 
distinctly. 
To believe that every thing has been discovered, 
is to believe that the horizon we see is the edge of 
the world. 
The generous who are always just, and the just who 
are always generous, may, unannounced, approach 
the throne of Heaven. 
There is some soul of goodness iu things evil, 
would men observingly distil it. 
-- 
RECIPE for happiness. 
Just wealth enough to keep away 
Of want the direful scene: 
Just health enough to gild the day, 
And make life’s course serene; 
Virtue enough to act that part 
Which is devoid of sin; 
Courage enough to ask the heart, 
“ Art thou secure within ?“ 
was then a landed proprietor, living in his own man¬ 
sion, and in very comfortable circumstances. He 
bad before been carrying on an extensive business 
in a large town. By the death of a relative he had 
unexpectedly come into possession of this property. 
After considering whether he should retire from 
business, he made up his mind he should still con¬ 
tinue to carry it on, though no longer for himself, 
but for Christ. I could not beip being struck with 
the gleesomeness of a holy mind which lighted up 
his countenance when he said“ I never knew be¬ 
fore what real happiness was. Formerly I wrought 
a6 a master to earn a livelihood for myself, hut now 
I am carrying on the same work as diligently as if 
for myself, and even more 6o; but it is now for 
Christ, and every half-penny of profits is handed 
over to the treasury of the Lord, and I feel that the 
smile of my Saviour rests upon me.” I think that 
is an example worthy of being imitated.— Dr, Buff. 
-^ ——-- 
Our present frail existence is the unsubstantial 
basis upon which too many are building tbe fabric; 
but it is building a nest upon the wave. 
* «J 
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