Newspaper Page Text
VOL.tm'rftw Series, V 1 24.
H ...I—
--- 4MhrMi ***.—- .. •
***V *V^***tt4|
*~< Ut sis S.\ cr iri 00 in &'JrM<..
i THMontlauano# o**j- h.i ordered by vhe mitjeoribow
ih*> oW of fi&j fvr. provi&jt *: irr*rge have
•Vi vnpoifii or by th Editor, at hw fewretiofi, whenever
-onr* sfaß one year 7 * nubooription A due.
8. Any person who romit* in *dr*&o for fire
iow sabearihert, may reeeiyr* the paper for oaAyenr.
t. Any ‘dimeter of the jcbo remits %8 in *4-
var.oe for four new tnbeoribers. may rocwtve the paper
one year. *
j, Oomqaanimation? should bo 3'ir'’eed,r , oer-rAJ®, tw*
Mtdigit, . -4.
The Lew of Newspapers*
1. Auhwihers who do not give express notioe to the
ooatrarv. are sonsiderad as wishing to oontinne their
überipiioe.
■j. If lubsoribers order the diseontinnnnee of their
nowspapere, ih* publisher mar continue to *end them
uuil all arreartßes are paid,
.1. If subscribers ne/lcot or refuse to take their newe
tpapere from the offices to which they are directed, they
are held responsible until they have settled the bills
and ordered them discontinued.
4. If r.ub-oribcrs remove to other placse without in
forming the publishers end the newspapers are sent to
the former direction, they are held responsible.
5. The Ootirts have decide*! that refusing to take
newspapers from the offioo or removing and leaving
them unoailoil for, is primafoeie evidence of intention
al fraud.
A Th-, United States Courts have also repeatedly &e
----didftd that a Postmaster who neglects to perform his
duty of giving reasonable notice, a* required by the
Post Office Department, of the neglect of a person to
tak* from the office newspapers addressed to him, ren
ders the Postmaster liable to the pnbliaherfor the nb*
seription price.
INTERESTING CORRESPONDENCE
Wo find the following in the “Home
Journal.” relating to the late Mrs. Jad
son :
From the Unpublished O>rrespond*nce of
the late Horace Binney Waiiaee y Esq. y
of Philadelphia.
Utica, February 23, 1846.
To Horace B. W allace. Esq. :
“J fy very Excellent Friend: —l regret
exceeding the mal-apropos illnees which
prevented me from seeing you again be
fore I took my final leave of Philadelphia;
particularly as I wished to have a good,
cozy, confidential talk with you, which,
for reason® that you will understand and
appreciate, l deferred till a good-bye meet
ing.
w What induced you to suspect that i
was going to Burmah? Did you see any
thing missionary-like in Fanny Forrester?
You don’t know how your suspicions pleas
ed and encouraged me; for I expected that
the first thought of my friends would be
a lunatic asylum and a straight jacket.—
You wore right. I expect to sail about
the first of July, and nnder the projection
of Dr. Judsoa. lam a great admirer of
greatness—real,, genuine greatne#§; and
goodness has an influence which I haye,
not the power to resist. I believe the rea
son that I have never loved before, (for I
think that I have a somewhat loving na
ture.) is that I never saw the two so beauti
fully combined in one person. My good
D. D.’s hair is as black as the raven’s
wing yet; bnt if it were not, if he were
many years older, it would be all the same;
I would go with him the world o
There is a noble structure within, singular
ly combining delicacy and strength, which
will afford mo protection and shelter in
this world—a place where my own weak
nature may rest itself securely—a thing
that never will grow old, and that 1 shall
love in eternity. see that, in go
ing to Burmah, I make no sacrifices; for
the things that I resign, though more
showy, are hot half as dear to me as those
which I gain. I believe that you know
women well enough, and know this one
woman well enough, to see clearly how
that can be.
“What I have told you is, perhaps,
..enough to make you understand that I
would not object to Siberia, or Patagonia,
,or Burmah , since my heart home goes
with me; but will you believe me when J*
tell you that I find actual pleasure in the
thought of going? Did you ever feel as
though all the things that you were en
gaged in were so trivial, so aimless, that
you fairly sickened of them, and longed to j
do something more worthy of your origin |
aud destiny? I cannot describe the feel- |
ing entirely; but it has haunted ine for i
the last six months, sleeping and waking \
—in the crowd, and in solitude—till, from !
being tiie most contented of human be- I
ings, I have been growing dissatisfied with
everything. True, I had the power to j
amuse and make some people momentari- i
ly happy. 1 tried to weave some little
moral into all I wrote; and, while doing so,
endeavored to persuade myself that this
was eyffieient. But, though I seemed to
convince myself, I was not convinced nor
satisfied. Now it is different. I shall
really have an opportunity of spending
my short life in the way which wonlcl
make me most happy—in doing real, per
manent good. Here there are so many
others better and more influential than
myself, that what little influence I now
and then find myself capable of
seems entirely lost—is like one leaf o fbe
tree which shelters yon from the Sun- 1 - of
some worth as part of a great fa ass, hot
comparatively useless. There, everf word
and act will have a very important bear
ing. The ooosoioasneM of this will make
Ifct <oPfim 3ubri.
—nr.—.... ,11 M 1
.. ;"-4, A:
ttV 1 g-v-rrea‘ by tlfo highest of princi
ples ana motives; and so a double good
will result. It I* the4am*. with my pen.
WitteaS the .Wine t nade m the country
plotting a’literary inundation, what can
the brai3 of poor, simple Fanny Forres-
K There 4s a great nation on
(Character fevery pen-stroke
earing. ‘Doctor Jndeon has
;be ettfiM Scriptnre, written
books m the Burmese, and
mpleted a dictionary of the
Le will be the founder of a
and holy influcnco he exerts) to the cfiar
acter of a mighty people; and I must own
that I feel rather inclined to thrust in my
own little finger. Do yon wonder? Do
you think I am carried away by a foolish
enthusiasm—a false zeal? or do you think
that I have made a sober, common-sense
estimate of things, and decided wisely?
As to uiy way of living there, I shall be
obliged to deny myself many luxuries and
elegancies which I know 1 shall miss very
mneh at first, for the salary of a mission
ary is small; bnt I shaii try to make every
thing as tasteful and bome-like as possi
ble, and then accommodate myself to cir
cumstances.
“I will promise you not to write a jour
nal, for I have no greater fancy for hold
ing up a heart-thermometer before the
world than you; and I don’t think that I
shall be any ‘wiser,’ or any tnoro in love
with wisdom than ever. I confidently ex
pect, however, to be very, very happy;
and to make a dear little home, which, if
you ever ‘go to the Indies to make yonr
fortune,’ you shall not think it a very great
bore to visit. And hereby, Mr. Wallace,
consider yourself invited to Maulmain.
When may we expect to see you?
“Please keep my secret for me until it
becomes public; and let me know that. I
have your earnest and hearty God speed.
The approbation of my friends will make
the painful parting from them aud the
borne which I love, oh, so dearly! much
easier. Probably I never shall see yon
aiiain; but whether I do or not, I shall
think of you, and the kind interest which
you haveebown in me, often; and shall al
ways be your most sincere friend.
EMILY OHUBBUCK.”
A FALSE IMPRESSION CREATED BY OUR
ACTIONS, IS A8 WICKED A8 THOUGH
IT WERE DONE BY OUR WORDS.
— o—
is sometimes impossible to ascertain
the correct opinion of certain men. They
are so exceedingly cunning, and frame
their language with so much adroitness, it
is impossible to find out their opinion up
on any controverted subject. It would be
a happy condition of things for the cause
of Christ, if what we complain of was
confined to the world exclusively. But
such is not the tact. We think we have
B€n mem here .of the church, and even
ministers of the gospel, that exhibited a
great, deal more of conning iu their de
portmrrt than they did of true wisdom.
We are satisfied that we have seen snch
carry their shrewdness to snch an extent,
that no person acquainted with them could
have learned but that they belonged to
both sides of every subject of controversy
in the church.
When things of great importance to the
prosperity of the cause of Christ have
arisen in the church, or in the denomina
tion, we have known such persons to act
so cautiously and shrewdly in endeavoring
to make the impression that they had
formed no opinion in the premise, that
they would make persons on each side of
the subject in controversy believe they
agreed with them. And, indeed, a man
of the habits to which we have referred,
will talk in such a manner as to lead each
side of a controverted question to believe
that it is religious expediency thathinders
him from avowing his opinion.
We do not pretend to understand the
system of reasoning by which such a per
ipwanietf his conscience and justifies him
solr before God’s truth. But wo do be
lieve such conduct sinful in the extreme, j
and directly opposed to the spirit of the !
word of God. Candor, truth and justice I
ail join in demanding of such an individ- |
ual, that he should openly, frankly, and |
kindly avow his true sentiments. And j
we can’t see that any other cause than an
unreasonable love of popularity, or an un
holy ambition to bo thought wiser than
other men, could influence any individual
professing the religion of Christ, to adopt
snch an unreasonable and unscriptural
course of conduct. Such a person may,
for a time, and under pecnliar circumstan
ces, succeed in deceiving the unsuspecting.
! Bnt time will develop the startling truth,
| that such a course will recoil with over
; whelming force upon the character of him
| who adopts it. And be will, if he live
I long enough in the world, see the thin web.
; which his cunning devices enabled him to
weave torn away; and he will find himself
! standing before his fellow-men with his
; true moral constituency of character, re
vealed to the complete knowledge of ail
. wlio know him. All men will find by ex
| perieuce, that ‘honesty is the. best policy.*
| And while prudence nrges us to hold our
; own opinions with due regard to the rights
of all men, it also nrges upon ns the im
i portance of exercising great candor with
: our fellow-men, We have no more right
Penfield. Oeorgia. Tliupiday April 10, 1856.
. mind ->y our actions, than- we.;have >
so by Qui - words.-x- Wed ■•vder.
“WHO AND WHAT IS THE NEW JCANf*
Regeneration implies three. things; fir 4,
a cleansing away ofnd! c<fcrnp
tion; secondly, a restoration of the natural
powers and affections Ste their appropriate
service, or cliatiging their inclination from
self and making them incline to
thirdly, receiving the <|ivine s 'life throngU
those capacities that open upward
| owai ’ds bis angels. It is
hair “th e
complished in an order exactly the reverse
of the one now stated. For the first
ground of oftr regeneration is the spirit
ual nature*, the existence of the Divine
Spirit in the human soul. Its commenc
ing dawn is the coming on of that light
that visits our infant being, until
shines within, like another sun, diffusing
warmth and radiance through onr. whole
nature, and drawing ns towards himself ;n
the bonds of ail attractive love. Then
God becomes the prevailing force within
ns, and he bends our natural ptuvers to
wards himself, aud draws them all into his
service. Appetite, affection, intellect, ac
tive powers, all yield to him aud .serve
him. The end of animal appetite is not
animal pleasure, but manly developement;
the end of parental instinct is not in its
own indulgence, but the highest good <>l
offspring; intellect serves God and not self,
and genius no longer sings war songs and
bacchanals, but is the prophet of God’s
hidden truth, and lifts its hymn to his
praise. The possessory instinct is guided
to new cuds, and property is acquired and
held, not for self-aggrandizement, but l*>r
beneficent activity and useful living. All
the instrumentalities of earth are convert
ed into .a means for the highest culture;
aad the highest culture is a solemn prepa
ration to serve God and humanity. So
the whole object of life is changed; and the
natural powers, whose balance inclined to
wirds the selfish nature, have that. balan< e
reversed and all the faculties bend toward?-
God. Lastly, all hereditary evil is expell
ed—that gang of lusts and passions, and
the brood of lies which they engender,
which require to be killed, since they can
not be converted; to be scourged out of
the temple, since they cannot be made fit
for its service. They are the native sava-*
gesthat must be spared, but exterminate'!,
when God’s chosen ones come in to take
possession. They are what Paul calls the
“old man with its lusts,” which is t* he
“put off,” or which is to be “crucified”
and “buried.” These are opposed to the
Divine nature; and as God comes within
us with growing effulgence atid power,
they are driven out before him—not with
out man’s efforts and co-operation. It is
the denial of these evil tempers and in
stincts that causes the struggle in his na- I
tore, and costs him painful vigils and con
flicts, as if his soul were the battle-ground
between the hosts of heaven and the hosts
of hell. But victory succeeds to victory,
and when the last foe is slain, he walks in
the strength and peace of God, free and
joyous as the angels.— Sears on Regenera
tion.
A CONVERTED CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP.
Speaking of the struggles of the Bip
tists to establish this great principle, Prof.
Curtis says:
“It has been worth all the prai'ers,
struggles, and sufferings which it has cost,
to effect what has been accomplished.—
What Baptist can look back upon the last
century, and view the great change
wrought in public opinion, and in all the
prevailing denominations, without being
ready to exclaim, ‘what hath God wrought?’
Never, perhaps, in the history of the
church, has the great truth of a converted
church membership been so clearly taught
as at the present day. It is spreading on
every side. Where missions are establish
ed by the evangelical denominrtions abroad
it is planted, and none are admitted as
communicants until they gave evidence of
being personally and savingly interested
j in the truths of the gospel. In England
; this principle has an entire ascendency
! among the evangelical dissenters, and in
j all their missions; while many of the Epis
; copalians uphold it in all but practice,
I and, through the circulation of such tracts ’
I as those of Leigh Richmond and others,
! spread it among all classes, and indee<fall
nations. In France and Switzerland, the
I writings of Merle D'Anbigne, and men of
that theological school, open it to the large
| class of readers. Throughout’a large part
1 of Germany, Denmark, and Sweden, it is
spreading by the labors of such men as
Oucken and his associates. While in
i Prussia, the present King, as head of the
; National Church, has within a few months
; issued a document of much significance,
i announcing his ‘determination to place bis
1 inherited authority’ in the hands of ‘apos
j tolically formed churches;’ that is, as he
; goes on to explain, ‘phurches of small ap
j parent size, in each of which the life, the
i order, and the offices of the Universal
I Church are brought into activity; in short,
i independent self-sacrißeing creations, by
| which, as with living stones, the apostles
iof the Lord commenced building.’ Donbt
! less, the researches and'communications
J of such men as Neander and Bunsen, no
| less than those of Oncken, have in part
> produced these salutary convictions.
THE TRUTHte&tf LOVE.
and a glorious thing, to
LjatMMkufff leftrnijtf’ and power coming
f 0 * a * tb tfcticede and to support,
in very Sfitote terms, what for centu
■* * { l lir fathers hsve contended and suffer
the ‘world, i. e., that every
trufejt*urch.of God is built up of lively 7
stones b spiritual liouse. Far be it from
1,3 n^bdbr value the labors and principles
of aft other evangelical Christians in bring
big about a healthy state of religious opin
iuc mi this important point. Every eer
'J(bTpre*ghed on regeneration has eontrib
of
other denominations is in favor of the
truth in question, the practices of Pedo
baptists are essentially opposed to it.’ In
a word, Baptistß alone can consistently ad
vocate a church membership composed ex
clusively of those who make a credible pro
fession of personal piety. It is necessary
for the sake qT their other principles. But
all hold it only by a happy
in ■onsieteney with theirs. if infant
K b iptistn does not entitle its recipients to
become visible church members, what
does it effect? Just now all this may be
called tiie popular sentiment of the whole
conn try but the time might soon come,
should the practice of intant baptism re
main, when all should retrograde. This,
the late declension of evangelical senti
ment in the Episcopal church, and the wri
tings of the Mercersburg School, indicate
out too plainly. Dr. Baird, in his ‘Reli
ion in America,’ represents many persons
in Europe as utterly unable to comprehend
the relation which the children of pious
parents sustain to the churches in this
country, lie speaks of it as one practi
eally ‘invisible’ in all evangelical commu
nions, and presses, as the advantage ac
cruing, that the unconverted ‘occupy their
propei place.’ ”
THE MOTHER’S CARES.
When I consider the anxieties of moth
ers, I wonder how many of them can be
sustained without religion. So many
watchful hums, so many periods of sus
pense, so many days of anguish, when
their offspring are ill, or absent, or in dan
ger. Surely grace is doubly sweet to one
in such circumstances. How unwise, (eter
ty apart,) to remain without so great a so?
lave! -
It is true that religion brings anxieties
all its own to the mother’s heart. Having
learned to be concerned about ln*r own
soul, she becomes concerned for the soul
of her child. Many a petition ascends
over the couch of infancy. Only in eter
nity can w 7 e learn the value of such nur
sery devotions. A mother was once heard
to say, “Never did 1 take one of my nu
merous children to my bosom for nourish
ment, that I did not., at tiie same time,
lift up my heart to God in prayer, that he
would bestow on it his salvation.” The ■
case of Monica, the mother of Augustine,
is well known. Her son was yet uncon
verted, profligate, and addicted to the here
sy of the Manieheeß. She went with her
cares to a pious minister of Christ; who,
after witnessing her anguish and her de
votion, dismissed her with these words:
It is impossible that the son of such pray
ers and tears will be lost.”
What powerful inducements are here of
fered for mothers to become true Chris
tians. An unchristian, a prayerless moth
er! Let the very phrase carry horror to
the soul, and drive the convinced sinner
to God.
KITTIE IS GONE.
The following touching memorial of his
daughter, a lovely child, was written by
Mr. W, B. Bradbury, the well known com
poser, and will find a response in every
parent’s heurt. It is an elegiac poem in
prose, full of feeling, and portraying a
child of extraordinary promise :
“Kitrie is gone. Where? To heaven.
An angel came and took her away. She
was a lovely child—gentle as a little lamb;
the pet of the whole family; the youngest
of them all. But she could not stay with
us any longer. She had an angel sister in
heaven who was waiting for her. The
angel sister was with us only a few months,
hut she had been in heaven many 7 years,
and she must have loved Kittie, for everv
body loved her. Tne loveliest flowers are
very olten soonest plucked. If a little
voice sweeter and more musical than oth
ers was heard, I knew Kittie was near. If
ray study-door opened so gently and slily
that no sound could be heard, I knew Kit
tle was coijii ng. If, after an hoar’s quiet
plgy, a little shadow passed, me, and the
’door opened and shut as no one else conld
open and shat if, ‘so as not to disturb
papa,’ I knew Ki’tie was going. When
in the lftidst of my composing, I heard a
gentle voice, saying, ‘Papa, may I stay
with yon alittle while? I will be very still,’
I did not need to look off my work to as
sure me that it was my little lamb. You
staid with me too long, Kitty dear, to leave
i me so suddenly; and you are too still now.
i l'ou became my little assistant, my homo
j angel—my youngest and sweetest singing
i bird, and I miss the little voice that I have
heard in an adjoining room, catching up
and echoing like snatches of melody as
they were being composed.- I miss those
soft and sweet kisses. I miss the little
band that was always first to lie placed
upon my forehead, ‘to drive away the
pain.’ 1 miss the sound of those little
feet upon the stairs. I miss the little
knock at my bedroom door in the morning,
and the triple goodnight kiss in the even
ing, I miss the sweet smiles from the sun
nieat of faces. I miss—Q, how I miss the
‘foremost in the little group who come oul
to meet me at the gate for the first kiss
I miss you at the table, and at family wor
ship. I miss your voice‘i want to bead
angel;’ for nobody could sing it like you.
I miss yon in my rides and 7 walks. I inis?-
you in the garden. I miss, you every
where; bnt I will try not to miss you in
heaven,.. .AEsjMuJf we are good, will ae
angel truly come and take us to heaven ;
when we die?’ When the question was
asked, how little did I think the angel wat
so near! But ho did ‘truly’come, and tin
sweet flower is translated to a more ge
nia! clime. ‘I do wish papa would come
home.’ Wait a little while, Kittie, ami
papa will come. The j >urney is not long.
He will soon be ‘home.’ ”
PROGRESS
“UncIe Rastas,” in the Christian Era.
thus discourses on the above popular topic;
‘•Much is said in onr day about progress.
With some all change is taken to be pro
gress. If a man joins a church of one
sect, gets out with it, and joins another,
he excuses himself on the ground that we
live in an age of progress. Some Baptiste,
Methodists, Presbyterians, (fee., change to
Mormons, Spiritualists, Socialists, and the
various forms of come-outism. I noticed,
long since, in an article by one who was
once an active member of a Presbyterian
church, after that a deacon in the Baptist
denomination and served in that capacity
in several places both South and North,
that he justified himself now as a leader in
the social- and free-love reforms in New
York, on the ground that this is an age of
progress. Much of this progress is like
that ascribed to the eccentric Elias Smith
by the late Elder Elisha Andrews. In
early life they were both Baptist preach
ers and intimate friends, bnt Smith was a
man of progress, while Andrews remained
a Baptist to the day of his death. From
a Baptist, Smith became a Free-wilier, a
Christian, a Universalist, still continuing
a popular but eccentric preacher, bnt if viv
are rightly informed died an infidel, after
practicing medicine for several years.
After leaving the Baptist connection, it
was many years before he and father An
drews met. When they met, Smith seem
ed quite pleased to see his old friend, l*r< -
thered hi in a great deal, reminded him ot
former friendship, and insisted that hi
love should be reciprocated on the ground
that they commenced preaching the g*s
pel together. ‘We have sjient many hap
py days together,’ said he, ‘and ought to
he friends now, though it is true I have
progressed somewhat more than yon have ’
“Elder Andrews was a 4 dead shot y and
his gun never ‘hung fire.’ ‘You remind
tne,’ said he, ‘of two boys, who began to
go to school together, but w 7 ere for a long
time separated from each other, after the
first season. When they met again, one
said to the othar, ‘yon and I began to go
to school and to learn our A-B-C togeth
er.’ ‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘wo began to
gether but yon progressed more than I
did, I got so that I could read B-A ba, and
B L-A, but you went on clear over to
ABOMINATION.’”
ARE YOU TEMPTED t
lias Satan folded his pinions in your
path, in the guise of an Angel of Light
just sent from the mercy seat? Has he
then ventured upon your admiration, and
shaken pearls from his plumes-, like dew
drops from the wings of an eagle, and
offered you all, and mare, for one vow of
allegiance and service? Has this world
drawn near, as a maiden in her first bloom,
showering roses at yonr feet, holding the
sparkling chalice to your lips, and claim
ing in the blandest tones, a share in your
affections? And, more to be dreaded than
either or both, have you heard the silence
and solitude of your soul startled by the
voice of your own passions, prompting
you with all earnestness, to take the
pearls, and drink the wine, and live as
your temper bid? And have you been
troubled bv day, and tormented by night,
until yon are almost ready to yield—but
still resisted, looking toward heaven? If
so, I beseech you, turn not away from the
sublime contemplation.
Blessed be God 1 I have “good news”
for you from that “far country.” There is
no tempter in heaven 1 On earth, every
land, every city, every house, is open to
the visitation. Nay, every heart is con
stantly exposed to eoinc insidious solicitor.
Even Eden—the garden of the Lord—and
the heart of Eve—the purest that ever
beat in the bosom of woman—were not
safe from the foul incursion. Alas for us
that the tempter succeeded! Hence all
our sin, and shame, and woe. Bnt in
i heaven the eye never sees, the ear never
hears, the mind never knows, and the
heart never feels the form or voice, the
thought or senee of any temptation. “Fear
not I” says he who was once “tempted in
all points like as we, yet without sin.”—
“Fear not!” says tbe Saviom 1 , and his joy
ful people march along on the bill-tops of
| glory, singing as they march.
Be ot good courage, therefore, oh tempt
ed one! Say to your soul, “The Lrl is
my light and my salvation, whom shUl 1
J* T. BhAliV Kriiilef.
fear; the Lord is the Strength of my life;
if whom shall Ihe afraid?’’ Only resist
-he devil, and he will flee from von. Only
legleet the world-, and the .world will soon
resign you to the company of religion.
Only deny yourself, and the Spirit of
Christ will safely conduct von to the boWr
jrs of perfect peace — Stockton. j
THE LOVE OF HOME.
It is only shallow-minded pretenders
vvho ‘ either’ make distingui-hed origin a
natter of personal merit, or obscure origin
oers.iiud.tt> : r< l !ac]i. Tcu *t an.!
?cpjfi!ig*£t she i/Tnubje coiyli.f@X v df
: ife, affects nobody in America but those,
who are foolish enough to in lu’ge iu them,
itid they are generally suffi.deafly, punish*
al by rebuke. A man who is not ash lin
ed of himself need n<t be as’ViUite ! of ‘his
early condition. It <!rd frepyf: o- r t
be born in a long cabby a i.ung i
-of New Hampshire, at a’ peri
od so early that when ilie sm* ke iii'ft rose
from its rude chimney, anu tailed over the
frozen hills, there was no similar ev : fence
of a white hum’s habitation betweei. tand
die settlements on the rivers of Canada.
Its remains still exist; I make it an aumi
il visit, carry my children to it, and
reach them the hardships endured by the
generation gone before them. I iove to
dwell on the tender recollections, the kin
dred ties, the early affections, and the nar
rations and incidents which mingle with
all I know of this primitive family abode;
[ weep to think that none of those who
have inhabited it are now among the liv
ing; and if ever I fail in affectionate vene
ration for him who raised it, and defended
it against savage violence and destruction,
cherished all domestic comforts beneath
its roo£ and through the fire and blood of
seven years’ revolutionary war, shrunk
from no toil, no sacrifice to serve his coun
try, and to raise his children to a candition
better than his own, may my mime, and
the name of my posterity, be blotted for
ever front the memory of mankind.—Pan
id Webster.
A BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT-
Shortly before his departure for India,
the lamented ileber preached a sermon,
which contained this beantifj sentiment;
“Life bears us on like the stream of a
mighty river. Onr limit glides down the
narrow channel —through the playful mur
muring of the little bio*>k, and the winding
of its grassy borders. The trees shed their
blossoms over our young heads, the flow
ers on the brink seem to offer tlieiiiM 1v s
to our young hande; we are happy in hope,
ind grasp eagerly at the beaiiths around
ns—but the stream hurries on. ami still <>ur
bands are empty. Our course in youth
arid manhood is along a Wilder fiood, niiiid
objects more striking and inagn fict nt. —
We are animated at the moving pictures
Qf enjoyment and ind 8 iy passing us,.we
ire excited at some short Jived disappoint
ment. The stream bears us on, and our
joys and griefs are alike left behind ns.—
‘We may be shipwrecked, we cannot be
delayed; whether rough or smooth, the
river hastens to its home, till the roar of
the ocean is in our ears, and the tossing of
the waves is beneath onr feet, and tl e land
lessons from our eyes, and the Hoods aie
lifted up around us, and we take our leave
of earth and its inhabitants, until of our
further voyage there is no witness, save
the Infinite and Eternal.”
CHRISTIAN HOMES.
It has, in all ages, been a prtmgative of
Christianity to plant and foster domestic
feelings and felicities. We would figure
the religion of Jesus as walking among
men, and offering them two great boons ;
in oi|£ she holds the treasures of immor
tality, in the other are the mild lltßsinga
of home. Philosophy has ever been high,
remote, and unparticipating; in her glit
tering robes she treads in umjes-ty along
the high places in the world, amid a light
that scarce mingles wth earth's m-.
but falls on the t feimd *-!.o*v.tic*
intellectual light, which bas^'never - *yet
brightened the cloud of unspeakable ?o I
ness resting on her brow. A high trk is
hers, and we shall pay her all honm; but
let us dwell rather with Christianity in
the valleys and in the clefts of the rocks,
where she spreads the nupt'al couch, and
lights the household fire.— Bayne's Chris
tian Life.
THE OLDEST BOOK.
A gentleman in Alabama owns a manu
script Bible, which is said to be the oldest
booK in the United States. It was written
a thousand and two years ago. The owner
gives the follow description of it; The
book is strongly bound in boards of old
English oak, and the leaves are fastened
together by thongs. The leaves are of
a most superior quality, of a fineness and
smoothness little inferior to satir. The
piges are all ruled with great tinif* rinity
abd beauty, and written in the old Ger
man text, divided into chapters and ver
ses. The first chapter of every book is
commenced with a large capital fetter,
beautifully executed, and splendidly illife
minuted with red, blue and black inks,
which Still retain their vivid colors: and
no two of the capital letters in the volume
are alike. Some monk, probably, beguil
ed many a weary In ur of his im>in>ton. up
lire, in writing and ornamenting this rate
and valoable relic.
Nil m lie r 15..