ONLY TWO. 
Two buds plucked from the tree, 
Two birdies flown from the nest, 
Two little darling? snatched 
From a fond mother's breast, 
Two little snow-white lambs 
Gone from the sheltering fold, 
Two little narrow graves 
Down in the graveyard cold. 
Two little drooping flowers 
Growing in purer air, 
Blooming fragrant and bright 
In the Gardener’s care. 
Two little tender birds. 
Flown far from fear and harm. 
Two little snow-white lambs 
In the Good Shepherd’s arm. 
Two little angels more 
Singing with voices sweet, 
Flinging their crowns of gold 
Down at the Saviour's feet. 
Free from all earthly care, 
Pure from all earthly stain, 
O who could wish them back 
In this drear world again ? 
[ Chambers' Journal. 
--».»»»■«»- 
A MATTER OF DRESS. 
We are not disposed to carp at the ladies contin¬ 
ually about their duties, their errors, the need of 
improvements, etc. It is our private opinion, now 
publicly expressed, that the dear sonls are carped 
at, and preached to, and scolded about, more tban 
they really deserve. Of course they claim, our first 
attention, at all times, but they have no business 
to quite monopolize our admonitions and sugges¬ 
tions. The gentlemen are entitled to some consid¬ 
eration in this respect. 
But there ie one little matter that we specially 
desire to allude to—only just allude to—right here, 
and now. It is u matter of dress. It is therefore 
an interesting matter. 
Let ns frankly admit that woman has wrongs 
which should he redressed. Then let ns just as 
frankly ask if, in view of the disclosures made 
duriDg the present season at fashionable resorts, 
she should not be redressed herself? The preva 
lence of low neck dresses never before excited so 
much and so severe comment as it has this summer, 
wherever the votaries of fashion have assembled. 
It has been the theme of letter writers at the spas, 
on the seashore, and among the mountains. The 
remarks called forth by it ought to make the cheeks 
of all womanhood blush with shame. Rev. T. L. 
Cuylbk, writing to the Independent, said: 
“The theory on which the fashionable dresses 
are constructed is to expose the upper portion of a 
lady’s form, and to conceal the carpet for several 
feet, or even yards, behind her. The silk or the 
satin garment extends for two or three inches above 
the waist, and the rest is enveloped in a sort of 
gossamer, ‘ illusion,’ or delusion, or whatever else 
it may be called. 
“ Rumor has it that a father was permitted the 
exquisite satisfaction of seeing his daughter hissed 
when she. entered a hotel drawing-room 1 The story 
may be false; but it is certainly true that many a 
parent (aud husband too) has richly deserved to be 
more than hissed for permitting a fair, beautiful 
girl to become the indecent gazing-stock of a crowd 
of strangers, and the butt for ribald jokes of rakes 
and roues. This is too serious a matter for jests, 
in these times, there is no little discussion about 
‘woman’s rights’ — her duties, dangers, &c. But 
let us tell our countrywoman plainly that one of 
her chief dangers comes from the extreme in fash¬ 
ions. Even now the indolent, indelicate, extrava¬ 
gant devotee of fashion in Baris may say to her 
Yankee sister in New York or Saratoga, ‘How art 
thou become like one of ns.’ ’’ 
We feel thankful that the disgusting fashion 
alluded to has not extended very widely into the 
country. It is to aid a little in preventing its ex¬ 
tension that we now speak. Let the city fashiona¬ 
bles harbor it, if they will, but give it a cold recep¬ 
tion outside, where the atmosphere breathes only 
of purity. Shortening dresses so much, at one end, 
and lengthening them so much at the other, may 
keep up the average, and may serve a purpose in 
cities, where street sweeping is a necessity; but 
clothing looks better on the. person than off it, and 
6treet sweeping cannot be done economically with 
silks aud satins. 
- - ♦■»•»»»»•- - 
A VICKSBURG INCIDENT. 
The night scenes were sometimes grand, indeed; 
shells discharged from the land batteries traced their 
beautiful, fiery paths high into the air above the be¬ 
leaguered city, and meeting there the missiles ascend¬ 
ing on like errand from Commodore i’orter’s fleet, 
crossed them in brilliant curves, making the be¬ 
holder almost forgetful of the mission on which the 
monsters were sent. On one of these brilliant 
nights, 1 came upon a regimental prayer-meeting 
under a bluff, within short range of the enemy’s 
works. Whenever there was a discharge from onr 
batteries, the rebel sharpshooters along their lines 
would reply by a shower of minie balls, which cut 
the leaves over our heads, and occasionally glanced 
down to the ground at our feet. By order of the 
brigade commander, to prevent drawing the atten¬ 
tion, and perhaps the fire of the enemy, the hymns 
were sung in a low, muifled voice, but loud enough 
to “make melody in our hearts.” The meeting was 
led by one of the captains of the regiment. There 
was something genuine and manly in the piety of 
the leader, which seemed to win the affection and 
attention of the soldiers. I was so much struck 
with it that I could not forbear seeking his acquaint¬ 
ance ; and, on invitation, meeting him the next day, 
we walked over to the Colonel’s tent. 
As the custom was, we were courteously offered a 
drink from the ubiquitous bottle. As the single 
glass passed round the circle, nearing me every mo¬ 
ment, l questioned in my own mind what terms I 
Bhould use in declining; hut I was yet more inter¬ 
ested to see what course my Christian Captain 
would take. When the Colonel called upon him, 
he declined; was invited again, and again declined, 
and the third time did it so decidedly and yet re¬ 
spectfully, as not to give offense, nor to be further 
importuned. 1 said to him afterward — 
“Captain, do you always do that?" 
“Yes," said he. 
“ Do you mean yon have never taken any intoxi¬ 
cating liquor?” 
“Yes, just that." 
“ What, not even to ‘ correct ’ this Yazoo water ? ” 
“Never." 
“You must have belonged to the cold water army 
1, in your boyhood ? ” 
1 “ Yes; but I learned something better than that, 
v My mother taught me this one thing—‘what is 
right, is right,’ and corning to Mississippi don’t 
make any difference. It would Dot be right for me 
to accept an invitation to drink at home; 1 don’t 
believe It’s right here—therefore I don't drink." 
A few weeks afterwards, passing up the Missis¬ 
sippi river, 1 addressed a Sabbath evening congre¬ 
gation. After the service, a lady came to inquire 
about her boy— “ foolishly ” she said, for it was not 
likely that in an army or -10,000 men I had seen her 
boy; but still sbe wanted to a -k me if I had met him. 
She told me of her auxiety for his welfare—how she 
feared that the bad influences of the camp would 
lead him astray. 
“He promised that he would do well," said she, 
“and I’ve no reason to think he doesn’t do well; 
but if I could only see somebody who could tell me 
from actual knowledge how he iB doing, it would be 
such a relief.” 
She told me his name and regiment, I assured 
her that there was hardly ground for all the fear 
mothers were exercising for their absent boys ; that, 
very many soldiers were actually becoming better 
men, growing strong under trial. And then, to 
illustrate, I told her, without mentioning names, of 
my Captain, of the prayer meeting, and of the scene 
in the Colonel’s tent. 
“Oh,” said she, “that’s beautiful,—that’s beauti¬ 
ful. His mother must be proud of him.” 
“ Yes,” said 1, “ that she ought,—aud you are the 
mother! ” 
I never shall forget, the joy that leaped into her 
face, and how she sprang across the carpet, and 
catching my hand in both hers, wet it with grate¬ 
ful tears. 
“Is that my boy,— is that Will? It’s just like 
him; I knew he would do so. He always was a good 
boy; he told me he always would be,— and I knew 
he would.”— Selected. 
_-o--»-<>-♦--*>-- 
THE THIMBLE. 
The name of this little instrument is 6a'td to have 
been derived from “thumb” and “bell,” being at 
first thurnble, and afterwards thimble. It is of 
Dutch invention, and was brought to Euglaud about 
the year 1605 by John Lofting, who commenced its 
manufacture at Islington, near London, and pur¬ 
sued it with great profit and success. Formerly, 
iron aud brass were used, but latterly steel, silver 
and gold have taken their place. lu the ordinary 
manufacture thin plates of metal are introduced 
into a die, and then punched Into shape. 
In Paris gold thimbles arc manufactured to a 
large extent. Thiu sheets of sheet-iron are cut 
into discs of about two inches diameter. These, 
being heated red-hot, are struck with a punch in a 
number of holes, gradually increasing In depth to 
give them the proper shape. The thimble is then 
trimmed, polished, and indented around its outer 
surface with a number of little holes, by means of 
a email wheel. It is then converted into steel by 
the cemeutation process, tempered, scoured, and 
brought to a blue color. A thin sheet of gold is 
then introduced into the interior, and fastened to 
the steel by means of a polished steel mandril. 
Gold leaf is then applied to the outside, and at¬ 
tached to it by pressure, the edges being fastened 
in a small groove made to receive them. The 
thimble is then ready for use. Those made in this 
manner do not wear out, as so many ordiuary gold 
thimbles do, but will last for years. The gold coat¬ 
ing, if cut away by the needles, may be easily re¬ 
placed ; but the steel is of an excellent quality and 
very durable. 
-^ „ 4 - 
UNINTENTIONAL AUTHORSHIP. 
I have always had a great fancy for unsuspected 
authors. We meet them in society, we enjoy their 
wit, we display onr own in their presence, but with¬ 
out the remotest suspicion that we are associating 
with a writer, a man or woman of letters —none of 
our acquaintances, in fact, having less of that air. 
But there comes a time—a summer in the country— 
a season of ennui, when, life’s brilliant years being 
over, the individual, generally the woman, in ques¬ 
tion, takes up the pen. For her own behoof solely, 
and at first, without definite aim, she composes a ro¬ 
mance, or arranges her reminiscences, or even 
merely writes to her absent friends letters which 
arc a trifle long, and none too formal. But 50 years 
heDce, when the rest of us are all dead, when the 
professional litterateur who was the rage in his day 
no longer finds readers, and his fiO heavy old-fash¬ 
ioned volumes lie buried in funeral catalogues, the 
modest, intelligent woman will be studied and en¬ 
joyed almostas much as by her contemporaries. Her 
pure and vivacious utterances will be known and 
loved, and she will have become one of the gracious 
and enduring ornaments of that literature where¬ 
with she Beemed to concern herself as little 86 we 
did when at her side.— Saint Etuue's Celebrated Women. 
-- 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
Wounded vanity bleeds inwardly, and never heals. 
Aesthetic coin—The sense of the beautiful. 
Are people who attend hops naturally fond of ale ? 
A fiery steed — Horse radish. 
Court of Chancery — Most men's wooing. 
Figurative furniture — A bureau of statistics. 
A figure of speech — The mouth. 
The end of all love — The letter e. 
Skillful shots always have aim in life. 
Over head and ears in debt — Wearing an unpaid 
for hat. 
Nautical neatness —Sweeping the horizon with 
a glass. 
A short drive with many men — Being driven to 
their wit’s end. 
However sudden the heat, the weather grows 
warm by degrees. 
Many women waist time by improper arrange¬ 
ments of the Btays. 
Conjugating a woman’s mood — Marrying her 
through her wounded self-love. 
Capital diversion — For a woman to have her 
head turned by a “charming fellow.” 
When a woman wears her husband’s trousers, is 
she panting for his rights or her own ? 
Is a pretty woman called a toast because she is 
exposed to the lire of so many glances ? 
When a man is very apt to learn the condition of 
a woman’s heart he is apt to get the sighs of it. 
Saratoga was amused to see a row of youDg ladies 
all eating corn as they would perform upon a flute. 
If you and your sweetheart vote upon the mar¬ 
riage question, yon for it and she against it, don’t 
flatter yourself as to Us being a tie. 
Punch says that women who make up their faces 
deceive themselves if they think by 60 doing they 
are more likely to tempt men to make up their 
minds. 
Choice ptiscctafl. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A FRAGMENT. 
from the french.—bt l. d. b. 
Broken from thy stalk, 
Faded leaf, and dry, 
Whither is thy walk ? 
Tell me. 
Know not I. 
For support. I clang 
To the lofty oak, 
. Bat a storm blast wrung 
Me, till my frail stem broke. 
Whither eeemeth best, 
8iuce that fatal day, 
North wind and the west, 
Lead me on the way. 
From the finest land. 
To the distant plain ; 
From the mountains grand, 
To the vales again ; 
Wbitber winds shall blow. 
Changing there and here, 
Thitber 1 shall go, 
No complaint or fear,— 
Going whither goes 
Everything below,— 
Laurel leaf and rose, 
With me onward go. 
-- 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MISS ROSSETTI’S POEMS.—NO. I. 
BY ELIZA WOODWORTH. 
“ I saw a vision of a woman, where 
Night and now morning strive for domination.” 
I looked, and lo, a woman who sat singing in the 
gray, chill dawn of morning. Her face was dim 
with perplexity, but 
“ Her eyes were like some (ire-enshrining gem,” 
and in their depths, now tragic and solemn from 
deep thoughts of all the mysteries of mortal sorrow, 
were wondrous possibilities of joy. Her robe was 
like the pale, ead uiist that brooded above the land¬ 
scape; her voice was mournful past expression. 
Ere I came anear to fully catch the words, it filled 
my eyes with tears. There 6he sat, and sang in the 
deep shadows, at the foot of black-browed rocks, 
heaving confusedly at the head of a broad and 
ghostly valley, soon stretching away into wide, 
gloomy plains of human life, whereon strange 
shapes moved half-seen in' the early twilight. 
Yet had the woman a crown like a glory, for she 
was golden-haired; not even the heavy dimneBS 
sufficed to hide tbe shimmering of her rippling 
locks. The songs she sang were both sad and 
strange. At first, as 1 have said, I but vaguely 
Heard,— but caught a fairly understood sentence 
here and there. Yet the nooning was so sweet that 
I drew dear. I gave my mind to comprehend. 
Then I perceived tout mauy of her songs were 
double; I also saw that her words were often of 
those human heights and depths, which, though a 
few may keu more clearly tbau the mauy, none cau 
ever reach or sound,—ever understand, much less, 
speak. The spirit of the singer inly strove to gaze 
where not all care to look. Life! bliss! death! 
eternity I siuWho shall speak of these ?—not of 
the outward husk, but of their inward rime? It 
was this which wrought double in her thoughts aud 
tones. Oh, the long, pained silences between, when 
her voice fell low, and then died aw’ay, while the 
ear ached for echoes from some far-off, wiser land, 
and none came ! She had dimly discerned those 
meanings which float towards us in pauses or the 
heart; and half-voiced our wordless needs, and joyB, 
and pains. But none shall, ever whilst they walk 
on earthly ground, behold them otherwise than 
very dimly ; nor shall their utmost labor even suf¬ 
fice for any distinct utterauce of that they so ob¬ 
scurely descry. 
Afterward the woman arose, for the morning 
broke. She climbed, still singing, up the brighten¬ 
ing upland slopes, and her voice was clear and 
blithesome; she left oil to measure what all poets 
shall find (a6 all have found) measureless. Through 
the full-born amber hours she walked upon the 
sunny hills; there she trilled of love, aud of other 
golden-haired maidens, like yet unlike herself She 
murmured musical word6 of birds, and of beasts; of 
tiny insects; oflowly violets; of mystic lilies, with 
snowy leaves, and hearts of chryenlite; of mossy 
dells wherein she had rested at the noontides; of 
“ —purple and rich golden flags,” 
growing fast by reedy brooks, wherein Beauty, 
whether of mortal or immortal mould, might have 
gazed, and as in ancient time, been^long aud sweetly 
entranced. But alway, iu the gray, chill ghastli¬ 
ness of morning twilight, when the earth is the 
most Hive the regions of Death, she sits beneath the 
shadows of the rocks, and sings words of wailing; 
of solemn allegory; ol struggling for the unattain¬ 
able. This woman, with her double imagery, and 
sad, bright, “inward eyes," burning 
“—like some fire-enshrining gem,” 
golden-haired, and many-thoughted, is Christina 
Rossetti. 
Only in some such visioned mauner can I describe 
this new poetess. Her genius is peculiar,—it eludes 
handling. Also in a dozen or more of her poems 
there is a two-fold life; beneath the easy outer- 
flow’ cf words larks a monotone. It is like the 
strong undertow iu onr lakes. Such compositions 
shape themselves into studies-, and in these days of 
childish explanatoriness many will be pleased with 
an author who treats the intellect of the reader 
with respect, and refrains from doing all his think¬ 
ing. The volume of Miss Rossetti’s writings re¬ 
published in this country contains two long poems, 
—“Goblin Market” and the “Prince’s Progress,”— 
and many shorter one-, consisting of songs, son¬ 
nets, occasional and storied verses, and a number of 
beautiful aud deeply reverent “ Devolioual Pieces.” 
Her sonnets are rarest samples of skill in word¬ 
ing, and of originality in similitude; especially 
“The World,” and one entitled “Rest,” beginning, 
“ O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes.” 
Among the occasional poems are many too stinking 
to pass without pause. “ Tne Dream-Land” words 
a dim and mournful picture, impainted from a spot, 
“ Where sunless rivers weep, 
Their waves into the deep,” 
and over which must have eternally looked— 
“ —twilight cold and lorn." 
“Maiden Song” tells us of three lovely peasant 
sisters, dwelliug “ upon a distant hill,” who sang 
each a lover to her feet; one, “a herdsman from 
the vale;” one, “ a shepherd from the height,” and 
one— 
“ —a golden-bearded king. 
“ The Royal Princess ” is a wail from the Isolated 
in the High Places of the earth: 
“ Two and two my guards behind, two and two before, 
Two and two on either band, they guard me evermore ’ 
Me, poor dove, that mast not coo, — eagle, that must 
not soar. 
All my walk* are lost In mirrors, whereupon I trace, 
Self to right hand, self to left hand, self iu every place, 
Self-same solitary figure, self-same seeking face. 
* * * * * * * 
Alone by day, alone by night, alone days without end; 
My father and my mother give me treasures, search 
and spend— 
O my father, O my mother, have you ne'er a friend?" 
“Maude Clare,” “Under the Rose,” “A Peal of 
Bells,” “ Noble Sisters," “ From House to Home,” 
are a few of the many thoughtful and graphic crea¬ 
tions of Miss Rossetti’s volume. It is also “fair 
to the eye," as books should be which are in-writ 
with charmed words. “The author's edition” is 
published at Boston by Roberts Bros. It has 
creamy paper, clear type, gilt top, and beautiful 
covers, twinkling with gold. 
--- 
HINTS TO HUSBANDS. 
Amid the many suggestions to wives and mothers 
which we give from time to time, we take pleasure 
in sandwiching the following very judicious hints 
to husbands, which we find in an exchange, credited 
to the Anburn News: 
Avoid unnecessarily contradicting your wife. 
When we smell at a rose it is to imbibe the sweet¬ 
ness of its odor; we likewise look for anything that 
is amiable in man. Whoever is often contradicted 
feels an insensible aversion for the person who con¬ 
tradicts. 
Never take upon yourself to be a censor upon 
your wife’6 morals, nor read lectures to her, except 
affectionately. Let your preaching be a good ex¬ 
ample, and practice virtue yourself to make her in 
love with it. 
Command her attention by being always attentive 
to her: never exact anythiug from her that you 
would not he willing that &he should require from 
you; appear always flattered by the little she does 
for yon, which will excite her to kind offices. 
When a woman gives wrong counsel, never make 
her feel that she has done &o, but lead her on by 
degrees to what seems rational, with mildness and 
gentleness; when she is convinced, leave her alt t he 
merit of haviug found out what was just and reason¬ 
able. 
Choose well your male friends; have but few, 
and be cautious of following their advice in all mat¬ 
ters, particularly if inimical to the foregoing instruc¬ 
tions. 
Never be curious unnecessarily to pry into your 
wife’6 concerns, but obtain her confidence by that 
which, at all times, you repose in her. Always pre¬ 
serve order and economy; avoid being ont of tem¬ 
per, and be careful never to 6cold. By this means 
she will find her own house more pleasant than any 
other. 
Seem always to obtain information from her, es¬ 
pecially before company, though you may pass your¬ 
self for a simpleton. Never forget that a husband 
owes his importance to that of his wife; if he de¬ 
grades her he injures himself. Leave her entirely 
mistress or her action, to go and come whenever 
she thinks fit. A husband ought to make his com¬ 
pany so amiable to his wife that she will not be in¬ 
clined to seek aay other; then she will not look for 
pleasure abroad, if he does not partake it with her. 
--^ - 
SOCIABILITY. 
Hawthorne, iu hi§ diary, makes record of a day 
wherein he resolved to speak to no human soul. 
He went to the village, got his mail at the post- 
office, returned, and triumphantly records the fact 
that be spoke to no man. la it any wonder that, 
with all hia genius, Hawthorne was a melancholy 
aDd essentially an unhappy man ? How much wiser 
and better tbe opposite course. Think of how much 
happiness you convey to others by kindly notice 
and a cheerful conversation. Think how much sun¬ 
shine such sociability lets back into your own soul! 
Who does not feel more cheerful and contented for 
receiving a polite bow, a genial “ good morning," a 
hearty shake of the hand? Who does not make 
himself the happier by these little expressions of 
fellow feelings and good-will? Silence and a stiff, 
unbending reserve are especially selfish and essen¬ 
tially vulgar. The generous and polite man has a 
pleasant recognition and cheerful word for all he 
meets. He scatters sunbeams wherever he goes. 
He paves the path of others with smileB. lie makes 
society seem geuial and the world delightful to those 
who else would find them cold, selfish and forlorn. 
Aud what he gives is but a tithe of what he receives. 
Be sociable, then, wherever you go, aud wrap your 
lightest words iu tones that are sweet and a spirit 
that is geuial. 
-—■ - 
A Right Motive. — You have 6een a stagnant 
pool covered with green slime, aud the home of 
noisome things. Suppose you set up on one side 
of it a reel oi the finest silk and carefully conduct 
the silk through the water, and then, standing op¬ 
posite the reel, you draw the fine thread to you. 
You will thus make a current very slight indeed, 
but sufficient, if you continue it, to bring, little by 
little, every part of that pool into line with your 
thread, and by such motions make the water more 
beautiful. Sometimes our life is stagnant. It is 
always so iu the absence of some controlling mo¬ 
tive. If yon can get that motive, if you cau put & 
purpose fine as silk through your life, you give it 
what shall make it better. 
Home Cheerfulness. —Many a child goes astray, 
not because there is a waut of prayer or virtue at 
home, but simply because borne lacks sunshine. A 
child needs smiles as much as flowers need sun¬ 
beams. Children look little beyond the present 
moment. If a thing pleases they are apt to seek 
it; if it displeases they are prone to avoid it. If 
home is the place where faces are sour and words 
harsh, aud fault-finding is ever in the ascendant, 
they will 6pend as many hours as possible else¬ 
where. Let every fatner and mother, then, try to 
be happy. Let them look happy. Let them talk 
to their children, especially the little ones, in such 
a way as to make them happy. 
-^ - 
Little Trials,— The little trials of an ordinary 
career, the trials which involve nothing loftier or 
more sublime than the collisions'of every-day life— 
the trials, in short, which range themselves under 
the beads of tongue and temper—make a large de¬ 
mand upon our patience, aud are perhaps a greater 
drain upon our fortitude and endurance than even 
those in which God makes our flesh quiver with the 
tearing of the pincers of affliction. “Wolves and 
bears,” says an ancient writer, when giving a com¬ 
parative estimate of great and small trials, “ are 
without doubt more dangerous than flies; yet do 
they not vex and importune so much, nor exercise 
our patience so often.” 
-- 
Refrain not to speak when by speaking you may 
do good. 
THE NEW SONG. v 
Beyond the hills where enns go down 
And brightly beckon as they go, 
I see the land of far renown. 
The land which I so soon shall know. 
Above the dissonance of Time, 
And discord of Us angry words, 
I hear the everlasting chime, 
The music of unjarring chords. 
I bid it welcome; and my haste 
To join it cannot brook delay; 
O song of morning, come at last. 
And ye who sing It come away t 
O song of light, and dawn and bliss, 
Sound over earth, and till these ekies, 
Nor ever, ever, ever cease 
Thy sonl-eutranctng melodies; 
Glad song of this disburdened earth, 
Which holy voices then shall sing; 
Praise for Creation's second birth. 
And glory to Creation's King. 
- «■«♦»■*» - 
COMMON THINGS. 
Illustrations of the Father’s goodness and care 
we should recognize about us in nature’s world. 
They are legitimate themes of study. They are 
vivid texts for sermons. Be not hesitant to talk of 
them, and proflt by them, and enjoy them, merely 
because some conservative Christian may, in his 
blindness, pronounce them sensational subjects. 
All the works of God are worthy of our attention. 
To investigate the common things ot creation that 
crowd around us will lead ns to better thoughts of 
God and greater reliance upon His protection. In 
these studies we may learn to read many special 
Providences; and from the lessons of Nature and 
Providence, we are persuaded that in the moral 
world, God is equally the source of all good Influ¬ 
ences—th&t His Word is the avenue through which 
His mercies flow free, and pure and plenteous to all 
mankind. “For as the rain cometh down from 
Heaven, * * * so shall my word he,” saith the 
Lord by the lips of tbe prophet, “it shall not re¬ 
turn unto me void; but it shall accomplish that 
which I please, and prosper in the thing whereto I 
sent it.” 
The truth proclaimed by the prophet concerning 
Messiah’s advent is above aud beyond tbe methods, 
monarchies and monopolies of men—as are the prep¬ 
aration and distribution of the rain. This truth 
comes from a fountain so vast and deep that the 
Avhole ocean, iu comparison, is but a drop, an iota 
of invisible mist. The grand facts of a Christ—His 
birth, His life, IIis Buffering, His death, His resur¬ 
rection, llis ascension, His intercession, and the 
consequent, universal extension of His kingdom, 
and the dissemination of all the essential doctrines 
of salvation, — are all associated with the word 
that cometh down from I leaven. These are the 
central truths which permeate the whole system of 
revelation, binding together all history, all litera¬ 
ture, all science, and all art in beautiful proportions. 
The Gospel of JesuB Christ comes to earth as glad 
tidings of great joy to all people. It comes with 
a purpose aud a power, as the rain comes. It comes 
to cheer, and nurture and bless, as the raiu comes, 
it comes to swell the buds, to open the flowers, to 
brighten the foliage, to ripen the harvests, and to 
sweeten the fruits in humanity’s great garden, as 
the rain comes. Aud like the rain, with the resist¬ 
less law of gravitation behind it, so the word of 
truth comes with the Omnipotent “shall accom¬ 
plish” behind it, when it reaches the ears and 
hearts of the people.— The Gospel in the Trees , by 
Alex. Clark. 
-»» ■» ■- 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. 
But what a beautiful thought is the spiritual life 
of a child as Christ develops it, when He sets thi6 
little one forth and says:—Humble yourself like 
that! And how it incites us to nurture the spirit¬ 
ual nature of our children—the foundation of our 
churches, the foundation of society, the foundation 
of our institutions, the foundation of all social as 
well as of all individual greatness ! 
Oh, man, chafing with pride, tremulous with pas¬ 
sion, too haughty to repent, too ignorant of your 
real welfare to stoop for a moment and bow down 
in penitent prayer; oh, man, running a wild career 
of passion, and shame aud wrong, would that thou 
wouldst consent to be a little child, come back in 
lowly penitence, and lie in the arms of the Al¬ 
mighty ! Oh, iu this trust, in this confidence, are 
the springs of our true relations with God, the re¬ 
lations that He is endeavoring to establish! 
There is no humility without that love and confi¬ 
dence. Humility! Is the subjection given to the 
tyrant humility ? There is no peace, there is uo 
comfort, without confidence iu God’s love; there is 
uo religion without it. There is say -60 religion; 
there is a lip-service; there is cant and pretence; 
there are heavy burdens; but there is no sponta¬ 
neous, radical religion. The holiest saint that prays > 
to God must be like the infant in the mother’s 
arms. We must all come at last into the child-like 
condition. 
Oh, it is a great thing to be children, even when 
we are old, to be children when our hair is gray, 
to be children when our faces are wrinkled, to be 
children when our hearts are scarred with the 
troubles and mysteries of the world; it Is a great 
thing to come iu penitence, in trust, iu confi¬ 
dence to God. That is the essence of all real humil¬ 
ity ; that is great indeed, the greatness of the king¬ 
dom of Heaven. — Rev. E. H. Chapin , in Liberal 
Christian. 
-- » .<♦» - »- 
NOT A MINUTE TO SPARE. 
We are, many of us, too busy; our time is too 
absorbiDgly occupied. Many a good deed for the 
Lord goes undone because we have no time to do it. 
A dear child who had been deeply afflicted, very 
sick, when she took her first walk out saw her 
teacher coming. She expected to receive a kindly 
greeting, but the teacher was too busy. She feared 
she should be detained, and so, with but a single 
glance, aud a simjfle good morning, she hastily pass¬ 
ed on, and the child walked disconsolate. That 
teacher had forgotten what the Lord had said about 
offending oue of those little ones; she should not 
have allowed her work to so crowd her that she 
could not have a minute to spare when the Lord 
asked for it. 
--- 
The Death of the Righteous. —As a man takes 
a walk in his garden, and spying a beautiful, full¬ 
blown flower, cropB it aud puts it into his bosom, 
so does the Lord also walk in His gardens, the 
churches, and gather His “lilies,” souls fully ripe 
for glory, and with delight take them to Himself. 
