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CHRISTIAN INDEX AND SOUTH-WESTERN BAPTIST. VOL. 49-NO. 28. {s3 00 HEAR.} FRANKLIN PRINTING HOUSE, ATLANTA, GA., THURSDAY, JULY 21, 1870. Isß 001 YEAR. 1 WHOLE NO. 2498. A RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY PAPER, PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN ATLANTA, CJA AT $3.00 PER ANNUM, Invariably in Advance. J. J. TOO N", Proprietor. So Near and yet so Far. Man dvrellg apart, though not alone. He walks among his peers unread ; The best of thoughts which he hath knowD, For lack ot listeuers are not said. Yet dreaming on earth’s clustered isles. He saiih, ** They dwell not lone like men, Forgetful that their sunflecked smiles Flash far beyond each other’s keu." He looks on God’s eternal suns That sprinkle the celestial blue. And saith, “ Ah, happy shining ones, I would that men were grouped like you I” Yet this is sure, the loveliest star That clustered with its peers we see, Only because from us so far. Doth uear its fellows seem to be. —Jean Ingelow. The Seven Ordained by the Apostles In the Church at Jerusalem. Acts vi.—Questions: Second Series. Ist. Is the word Deacon merely the repre sentative, in English, of the Greek word dia konos, or is it a translation of it? And if its representative, can it by any possibility, pos sess greater extent of meaning than dia konos, which it represents —that is, must it not al was be used to mean just what diakonos does, nothing more, nothing less? 2nd. If any Greek word in the New Testa ment, when translated into English, is univer sally rendered by such words in our language as signify the same thing, or fully harmonize in meaning, does not that fact fix its meaning? And is there any law of language, either Greek or English, by which that word can be made to signify another and a different thing ? 3i-d. Does not diakonos, primarily and only, signify, in our language, minister or servant, ineveYy instance in the New Testament where it is translated, and do not these two terms harmonize in meaning? For is not every min ister, of either church or state, its servant, and every servant of either, its minister in the same sense ? Or, as Webster has it, are they not “ equivalents ?” 4th. If deacon is not a translation of the Greek word diakonos , does it not follow that it is either a corruption of it, as the word bishop is of the Greek word episcopos, or, that it is m purely an Anglicism of it as baptism is of the Greek word baplisma ? sth. Moreover, if deacon is either a cor ruption or an Anglicism of diakonos, does it not follow that in either case it is strictly and only a representative of its Greek original, and as such, cannot mean more nor less than it does, viz., minister or servant? Gill. Were not the“ Seven,” as also all the apostles, evangelists, elders, etc., ministers or servants of the church? And is not apostle, evangelist, elder, the title of each of the last three respectively ; And do we not, by our usaore, recognize deacon as the title ot the “ Seven ?” 7th. Is not minister one thing, and his title another and different thing ? For instance, if I use the word minister in your hearing and do li<it mention his title, nor use any words so descriptive of his title that you could learn it therefrom, could you tell whyther the min ister spoken of is Secretary or State or any other minister of government, or whether it is apostle, one of the “Seven,” or any other minister of the church? Does it not require another and a different word from minister to define its title, and some times several words ? bth. If tfie premises and conclusions sug gested in the first five questions of this series are true, do they not show conclusively that deacon is not only not a translation ot diako nos, but that it must be either a corruption, or an Anglicism of it, and therefore only its representative in our language; and that, whether it is a corruption or an Angli cism of it, it must mean just what its original, diakonos, does, viz., minister or servant? Moreover, do they not as clearly show (upon investigation of the meaning of diakonos, in the New Testament,) that, in every instance where it is translated, it signifies minister or servant; that those two words harmonize in meaning, and that, as a consequence, the meaning, in English, of the Greek word dia konos is established to be minister or servant, and that it cannot be used to signify anything else ? 9th. If the Greek of minister is diakonos, and the English of diakonos is minister, are they not strictly equivalents of each other, equals in meaning? And if equals, can either be allowed a greater latitude of meaning than the other ? 10ih. If, therefore, minister and diakonos are equals in meaning, and the word minister cannot detine the title of any minister of its genus, but always another word, and often other words, are required to express it, or so to describe it as that the title may be learned from the description given, does it not follow that diakonos, its Greek equivalent, cannot define the title of any one of .the genus min ister 1 ? (See question 7th.) 11th. If, then, diakonos cannot define the title of any minister of its genus, is it not con clusive ttiat the word deacon can not be either a translation of diakonos, or the title ot the “Seven?'' And yet, does not the word deacon, as a name for their title, rest all its claims upon diakonos? Rkmakk. —If, in the discussion of this sub ject. the views 1 have suggested in the above stated questions should be sustained, in my next series I will direct the discussion to the consideration of “ Eider” as the scriptural title of the “Seven,” and which, I think, is tounded on scriptural evidence not so doubtful, by tar, as that upon which rest the claims of Deacon to that title. For the benefit of brethren who may wish to. examine the passages in the Testament in which diakonos occurs, I cite them : Diakonos occurs 27 times in the New Testament, to wit: Pnii. 1 : 1 ; 1 Tim. iii: 8, 10, 12, 13, it is rendered deacon, or rather Anglicised. Translated servant three times, viz: Mat. XXii: 13, xxiii, 11 : John xii : 20. Translated nine teen times minister, to wit: Mat. xx ;26 ; Mark x : 43 ; twice in liom., xiii; 4 ; xv :8; Gal. ii :17 ; Eph. iii: 7; Col. 1: 7, 23, 25 ; Col. iv : 7, 17; Thes. iii :2 ; Tim. iv: 6; l Cor. iii :5; it Cor. iii: 5; 2 Cor. iii: 6; v: 4; xi: 15, 23. In Mat. xxii : 13, it is applied to the king’s servants, as olfieers of the law. In Rom. iv: 13, twice to ministers of the Roman government; Rom. xv: 8, and Gal, ii; 17 to Christ as a minister; 2 Cor. xi: 15 td the ministers of Satan ; 33d verse ot same chap ter to false apostles; in other passages, to Paul, Epaphras, Tychicus, Archippus and Ttmoiheus; and in other passages above ciied, to oilier ministers of Christ; and in John xii: 26, its use shows that it applies to any one that serves Christ. Deacon. Jane SOth, IS7O. The word deacon, in our version of the New Testament, is simply the Greek word Anglicized (or Englished.) Os course, when transferred to this version, it can have no meaning except that which it bears in the original. The question which our correspondent raises, then, is, Whether, in the original, diakonos has, or can have, a two fold meaning—one general, and the other specific. We think it can have. We think it has. This is the verdict of our translators, as shown by the fact that they sometimes translate and sometimes transfer the word. They transfer it where they regard the meaning as specific, and translate it where they regard the meaning as general. Take a parallel case by way of illustration. Apostolos has the general meaning of messenger, It is applied to Christ, as the messenger of the Father; and to Epaphroditus and certain associ ates of Paul, as messengers of the churches. And yet, when our Saviour chose the Twelve to a spe cial office, ‘He named them apostles' (Luke vi; 13.) He clothed the word with a specific mean ing, as the distinctive title of those who held that office. It was used afterward, alike in the old sense and the new ; and without ambiguity—since the connection showed which of the two senses it was designed, in each instance, to bear. Presbuteros, (elder,) has a like latitude of sig nification. The inspired writers employ it, “with reference sometimes to persons advanced in age, sometimes to Old Testament saints, sometimes to a class of officers in the Jewish sanhedrim, some times to certain heavenly ones whom John saw in vision, sometimes to the apostles.” And yet, in the hands of these writers, it serves to designate office-bearers in the Christian church; and office bearers of a precise and definite rank —for they are identified-with “bishops,” and thus pointed out as the “ pastors and teachers ” of the flock of Christ. In like manner, diakonos, in its broadest scope, means servant. It is used in the New Testament “in relation to table servants, to family servants, to agents in the employ of another as his servants, to magistrates as the servants of God, to the apos tles and their fellow laborers as servants of Christ and of the gospel.” In this general import, it ad mits of application wherever service is rendered, whether officially or unofficially, whether in tem poral or spiritual affairs ; nor is the application vague or doubtful, as thesurroundings of the word, in every case, indicate the kind of service referred to. Now, as was true of presbuteros, in one in stance, and of apostolos, in another, why might not diakonos receive a specific meaning, and serve to denote an office-holder of a particular class—a servant of the church in secular things one having in charge its money and alms ? • There was clearly this specific use of the word. Paul, in his letter to the Pnilippians, distinguish es “the saints in Christ Jesus,” the body of the church, from the office holders; and this genus— the office holders—he distributes into two species —bishops (or superintendents) and deacons (or servants.) Let us apply here, then, two logical laws controlling distribution, or the partition of the whole into the parts that compose it. One law is, that the parts taken together must make up the whole: and this compels the conclusion that there were no officers in the church except of these two species. The other law is, that no one of the parts must include the other and, of itself, make up the whole: from which it follows that bishops and deacons were used as titles of separate species of officers—that deacons was the name of one species alone, not of the entire genus. We find, accordingly, in Paul’s instructions to Timo thy, that after defining the qualifications of bishops, (as one species'of officers.) he proceeds to define the qualifications of deacons (as an’other species) —which marks a distinction of offices and estab lishes the specific import of both titles. The appointment of the Seven grew out of the murmuring among the Grecian disciples, that their widows were neglected in the daily ministration, ( diakonia, deaconizing.) The apostles, feeling that it was not reasonable, on their part, to leave their higher functions and serve (diakoneo, d.ea conize) tables, constituted a class of officers to perform this lower work. Their own purpose, personally, was, to give themselves continually to prayer and to the ministry ( diakonia , dea conizing) of the Word. Here were two dea conizings—two forms of official service, Calling for two classes of servants. It was natural, when these two classes were appointed in the church, that they should be distinguished from each other by separate titles. One class was entrusted with the deaconizing in the matter of the Word—in spiritual affairs; .but the Word rules, and those whose office it is to declare the Word became so far forth rulers; and this class, therefore, natu rally took a title which involved the idea of over sight, the idea of ruling, (in this case a ruling through the Word,) —a title which Greek converts found in episcopos and Hebrew converts in pres buteros. To the other class was left the deaconi zing in tho matter of tables—in secular affairs ; and since the declaration of the Word was no part of the work to which that office called them, their service was service only : hence, just as naturally, this class fell heir, by way of distinction, to the title diakonos, which characterized those who bore it as officers without rule—as officers who were only servants. The specific use of the title for this class was not necessary at the time of the creation of the office, as the class of officers with rule through the Word had not then been ap pointed, and there was, therefore, no need to dis tinguish the two classes; but when the necessity arose, it was met, as the usage of Paul evinces, in the very natural way which we have pointed out. “The Laborer is Worthy of His Hire.”—l. These are the words of Jesus, (Luke x; 7,) and they were used to His apostles when they were about to go forth on their first preaching tour. They are words applicable to the case of preachers in ali ages. Os course true ministers are meant—neither those of Satan, nor those of men. When Jesus sends men to preach, they are known by their lives of holiness, consecration to his work, and faithful endeavor to learn and to preach all that He has commanded. I. The PreTacher is a Laborer. 1. He is not made a fit expounder of the gospel in a day. The time when men were inspired to preach, as were the prophets and first preachers of the gospel, has passed away. Men now have to study in order to preach. Study is a siow ivpik. Asa flower cannot be forced to expand before the laws of naLure bring it about, so the mind must have time to expand under the appliances of study. Time must be had for this process, and much time, in most cases, is demanded. While this culture of the mind is being obtained; the man is a laborer, and such is the intensi ty of his application, in many cases, that he dies from the effects, or lays the foundation of diseases from which he never recovers. Is all this time worth nothing? Does the busi ness man count his time as worthless? Will the clerk spend ten years in study attd in practice under the master, and expect to re alize no benefit from it afterward? The professional man is willing to spend years in study, but it is only from the hope of after reward. When the physician rises to the head of his profession, and enjoys a large income, then he is repaid for his lost time in earlier years. When the lawyer sits in the senatorial chair, or fills his coffers with immense sums in fees, he is reconciled to the empty toils of his early manhood. But without much time spent in preparing them selves for their professions, the men could never have been able to sit in the places of distinction—never could have been rich and honored. As with other professional with the preacheP, time is demanded to fflt him for his work. If he does not take that time and use it well, he cannot be what he should be, “a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” 2. As has already been intimated, study is a severe toil. The common laborer of the field or of the work bench who never read a dozen books in his life, and who could not make a speech in public if his being depend ed on it, may look on a life of devotiou to -books and to thought, as one of indolence. He feels that Ac would have an easy time were he to sit among books by the month. Let such a man as this undertake to memorize one page of a good author, and see how lyng it will take him to do it. Let him assume the task of originating out of his own brain one page of sensible reading matter, properly prepared for the printer, and he would find the need of education before he was through What mental labor means he would discover. The truth is, the work of the hands is light when compared with that of the head. The former gives physical health and energy ; the latter feebleness, disease and premature old age. This is not always the case, but it is so very often. Hundreds of healthful hearers sit to hear the emaciated man of God. They are well and he is sick, only because his work is heavy and theirs light. 3. Thus far nothing has been said of the physical labor of preaching. We now come to that. After years spent in the culture ot mind, and labor undergoue, such as the smith or carpenter would not submit to, then comes the specific work of delivering sermons. It may be said that the preacher ought to be calm in his pulpit efforts, and thus take care of himself. Whatever may be his duty in this regard, it is a known fact that he is not commonly so, and it may be held that he cannot always be so. It may, furthermore, be assumed as a truth, that when preachers become wholly calm in the pulpit, they had as well cease to preach. The order to “ cry aloud and spare not,” is from God to His ministers, and is hardly reconcilable with that calmness which leaves the preacher un exhausted at the end of his sermon. But this aside, we must look at the matter as it is, and not as it should be. Asa fact, the preacher is often worn out in the labors of the pulpit. When away from the place of meeting, especially in continued religious ex ercises, his mind is busy on the subjects to be developed, his sympathies are moved by the situation of such as seek for light; he has to move from place where duty calL; in short, the whole man is sacrificed, to greater or less extent, in the pressing duties of the occasion. The attorney makes a great effort, but his soul—his better nature —may have nothing to do with it. lie speaks for glory and for money. The labor as a consequence, exhausts him little; the minister of God, on the contrary, is so moved by the situation of his hearers, that he would suffer enfeeble mant, were he not to preach at all. As it is, his soul and physical nature united overpower and quite exhaust him. Labor such as this has overthrown the health, and been the means of shortening the lives of in numerable ministers. Only preachers can understand fully the truth respecting the sub ject under discussion. - . r 11. The Preacher is Worthy of his Hire. 1. The Son of God says he is, and it must be so. This is a sufficient reason for the statement. 2. The facts we have mentioned concerning the work of the preacher, go to show that he. ought to be paid. No work in the universe ought to go unpaid. And God has determined that none shall. But, under this head let us notice the value of the ministerial work as compared with that of other professional men. It is higher than any other, being wholly, when done aright, benevolent. Every pro fessional man, the preacher excepted, works for self, and hopes for a small reward, if not for great prosperity. That the preacher, on account of natural depravity, may have the selfish element in his character to some ex tent displayed, even in his duties, is admitted, but the preacher, as he ought to be, is less selfish in his pursuit than any other man. By common consent, the world declares that works of benevolence deserve admira tion and reward. Hence a great man de clared that if the modern missionary enter prise had done nothing more than develop a Judson , the time and money expended in the scheme would not have been illy spent. In accord with the same principle, the late Mr. Peabody has left a name that the ages will honor as widely as the English language is spoken. If a man is honored for giving his money to the poor, what should be his reward when he gives himself ? But we will hasten on to draw a contrast between the preacher’s work and that of others. Let us suppose that a teacher of science, possessed ot all learning, and blessed with all the money required, should undertake to educate the children of the whole world. This mighty task he fully perfects, so that not an un lettered child is left on the globe. In ad dition to this, the great teacher makes his students of all countries as perfect in moral deportment, as was the young man who came to the Saviour desiring to know what good thing he must do to inherit eternal life. A benefactor such as this, would deserve the reverence of all ages through all time. His name should never perish. His worth would be above all praise or reward. Again, let us suppose that some physician should arise, whose skill enabled him to cure all diseases. Suppose he should ask little for his services, only enough to feed and clothe him, and should send his remedies to every cornet of the earth, and absolutely blot out disease, so that from the hour of in fancy to that of death, no mortal should have an ache or a pain, but ail should be well up to the hour when old asje closed their eyes in gentle, long repose. Os such a friend, who could speak in terms sufficiently high? Who could love him too much? Like the great teacher, he must be honored—little less than worshipped—through all ages. Once more we make a supposition. This world of ours, from time immemorial, has been full of oppression and cruelty. Tears of blood have been pressed from the veins of crushed and murdered nations. In all places the little are oppressed, and the grpaj; op* pressors. This is the rule. Exceptions are rare. Now let us suppose that some mighty patriot should arise to put an end to all misrule among men. Not in hostile array, but in peaceful mode he reorganizes every govern ment on earth, and leaves not an oppressor in power, nor one who is oppressed under power. Under his reign ML nations become peaceful, prosperous and als of Adam’s family are set free. More than this, let us suppose that this legislator shall so manage as to perpetuate this happy state of things for ages. *What would the millions of the oppressed say of such a ru ler? How should his name be mentioned? AH peoples, and nations, and tongues must call him blessed. To the end of ers to their sons must transmit his imperish able fame. But what have these—the teacher, physi- cian, legislator— They have made men happy here, and have done absolutely nothing for their souls, or their future wellbeing. Their happy world is Still exposed to the wrath to come. In contrast frith their achievements, let us notice the one work of the gospel min ister. He may not bS able to raise a nation from ignorance, to curtail bodily infirmities, to lay the foundations fX government aright, but he preaches “the everlasting gospel,” God's instrumentality for the salvation of souls. Let us suppose he spends his life in this business, and proves the means of call ing one soul —only one—from the way of death to that of life/n§ has done a nobler work—more permanent and more glorious— than that of the three great philanthropists mentioned. When their work has been con sumed and forgotten,it may be, by all sub ordinate intelligencies in the universe, that one saved soul, more bright than all the stars of heaven, will bloourMn the ever-increasing felicity of the Divine Presence. And there, too, in that happy, tyjagy land, will be the minister who preached, the'truth to save that soul. How great the privilege of saving one soul! How full the rapture of the meeting of that soul in glory ! How must it be with those men of God who have called their hun dreds or thousand to Christ! Better to meet them in ha.-uteJ than be Napoleon in all his glory throughout as'fendless reign. “ They that turn many Jo righteousness shall shine as the stars forever and ever.” But I wander. Now, Christian, speak your mind. Do not the men who are whining souls for God—do they not deserve their hire? If they are the best friends of the human race; if they are doing, or are seeking to do more for their feliowing beings than any others on earth, do they not deserve their wages? If they are doing work that wiA stand forever, should their services be underrated ? Cheerfulness Taught by Reason. I think we are too r«s<ly with complaint In this fair world ot b' •d’s. Had we no hope Indeed, beyond the zenith and the slope Os yon gray blank of we might be faint, To muse upon eternity’s constraint Round our aspirant s. uls. But since the scope Must widen early, is it well to droop? O pusillanimous heart, be comforted! And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road, Singing beside the heijjgi What it the bread Be bitter in thine inn. and shoes unshod To meet tne flints? At least it may be said, “ Because the way is short, I thank thee, God I” —Elizabeth Barrett Drowning. Ought it to be so? Some time since I visited the beautiful vil lage ot L—. I was struck with the pleasant appearance of things, fur it is a place where nature has been propitious in preparing a home for man. I went to the post office and inquired of the master of the office how many papers were taken at his post, and was pleased to hear him say about sixty. I askedhow many of these were; religious papers, and was pained to hear hijfi answer, three; and, upon further inquiry, was more pained to learn that none of these were taken by Bap tists. I asked w hether there were any Chris tians there, and learned that in the suburbs of the village there was a Baptist church with a hundred members* Istood astonished ! I asked, do none of these take a religious pa per? No, sir, was the cold reply, tasked again, do none of these 4‘hurch members read any paper? O yes. a'k'.’.ut, yi>e. “third ot thfe papers, coming to the£ t ' .Tee J*re taken by them. How strange that brethren will so act. 1 went to one of these Ufurch members and asked, brother, don’t you want to subscribe for a religious newspaper ? He replied that he was too poor; but 4 found, on inquiry at the office, that this very brother was taking two political papers. Think of this, brethren, as you read what I wSy: a Baptist brother too poor to take a religious paper for himself and family, but yet rich enough to take two worldly papers! 1 cent not writing a fable; lam stating a fact, A Baptist brother too poor to take a religious paper, but rich enough to take two worldly pipers! O! brethren, brethren, this ought not to be so? What does it look like? You are compelled to an swer, that it very plainly sets forth the idea that they are more interested in political news than they are in the things which per tain to the church of the “living God.” Such brethren may deny that this is the logical conclusion that must be reached in their case, but what argument will they adduce to prove their position? I ask for an aigument; in the name of my Master, demand an answer. No, brethren, no man will undertake an ar gument of that sort. We read what we want to read. If a mail refuse to read the Bible, and instead thereof, reads Josephus, can he prove that he loves the Bible more than Jo sephus? No. -W.-a man refuses to read reli gious papers, and reads instead thereof polit ical papers, can he prove that he loves the news of Zion more than the news o£ the State? No. It is, brethren, clearly a want of interest in the news of Zion that causes us to refuse to support and read religious pa pers; or, it is the result of some sort of prejudice we have against “ larnin." If' it is a want of interest' in the news of Zion that causes it, we should be alarmed at our condi tion, and pray the Lord to bring us into a more pious frame. If it is our prejudice against “ larnin ” that causes it, we know not what to advise, unless we call upon all the brethren to pray the Lord that He would in duce by His Spirit ministers in those re gions to preach the gospel in'tead of trying to prejudice their flick against education. This, you may say, was a sad state of affairs at that village, of which we spoke. True, it was; but it is equally true of many villages all over our land. Talk about sup porting our Mission Boards, while seven tenths of the Baptists of the South do not feel sufficient interest in religious news and denominational enterprises to read a religious newspaper! You bad as well talk about a boy’s piogressing well in mathematics who only has an imperfect knowledge of the mul tiplication table. We mfiy sqpport the Boards somv, but it will only be some, while this state of affairs continue to exist. Reader, let n>e ask you to ask your neigh bor Baptist, who does not take a religious paper, the following questions : Are you a Christian ? He must answer, to say the least of iit; that he hopes he is, for he is a member of the Baptist church, and they dont receive none into the church unless they think they have been converted. Do you love the breth ren and _ the news of Zion more than politi cians and the news, of the world ? He must say yes, J love the news of the church most. Then whido y<>u take the Montgomery Ad- World, Courier Journal, (or whatever paper he is taking.) in preference to the Index and South Western Baptist, The Baptist, Texas Baptist Herald, Western Re corder, Baptist Sentinel, etc.? Press the de mand for an answer until you get it. In conclusion, brethren, we must read or we cannot be acquainted with the great inter ests which we wish to further. There is no practicable way to become intimate with our great interests but by reading; and nearly half the Baptists of the South are as ignorant of the proceedings of the Southern Baptist Convention, as 1 am of the Chinese worship. You may say, “O, no, not so bad as that.” I repeat, it is true; and if you insist, I can and will present the proof that I am nut r»t«. taken. Then we must read. If you want your Mission Boards to succeed as well as they may, urge every missionary in the field, as he goes, to insist upon the brethren to take a paper. Let every preacher friendly to our great denominational enterprise beg his peo pie to read—let every layman who wishes to banish local prejudice against our denomina tional interests, beg the brethren to take a paper, that they may see what other Baptists, all otfer the land, think and say about mat ters, and thpir prejudice will be broken down. We are disposed, as human beings, to follow the multitude. As Christians, we are told that in the multitude of counsellors there is safety. I know of no other way of breaking dottn these local prejudices against our de nominatianal enterprises, but by getting such brethren to read, that they may see what the multitude of Baptists say about it. _ There fore we cannot do without the reiigfous news paper, and we need not try. Let it die, and all your enterprises will languish. The reli gious press is a power, and the sooner we learn it, the better for us. J. P. SIIAPFER. Lineville, Ala., June 24, 1870. The Bundle of Wool. The article, “A Peck rs Rye,” in the In dpx of July 7, reminds me of an incident re lated to me by the preacher to whom it oc curred. Said preacher had been preaching for some time for a church, apparently much to the gratification of the members, but with out compensation. On a certain occasion he went from preaching to spend the night with an old gentleman and lady, members of the church, who were rich. Alter dinner, while sitting by the fire, he saw, in an adjoining room, the man and his wife at a desk, which was open, engaged in very earnest conversa tion, and casting frequent glances at him. At once the idea was suggested that they were intending to make him a contribution; and as he was poor, and had a dependent family, and moreover, felt that he had fairly earned what they might propose to give hirn, it was a very pleasant thought. After a while the desk was closed, the parties separa ted, and the old lady caine and took a seat by the preacher,and addressing him in alow, confidential tone, said, “ Brother K—, my old man and I think you have been preaching for us so long and so faithfully, that you ought to have something for your trouble. We’ve just been talking about it, and we’ve conclu ded when we shear our sheep, we’ll give you some wool to knit you a pair of socks.” The poor preacher was dreadfully crestfallen, hav ing hoped for a valuable gift of money. But he made the best of it he could, and hoped to hear no more of the matter. Not so. Sheep shearing time carne, and one Saturday, as the preacher entered the pulpit he saw in tie comer, a small bundle. He felt sure it was the wool, and determined at once that he would evade its bestowal. So when services were over he hurried to his horse, intending to leave before the old lady could accost him. He failed, for just as he mounted she came running out of the house, and calling in a loud voice, “ Brother K—, brother E—, stop ! You’ve left your wool, brother K—; you’ve left your wool.” lie must needs pause, and the old lady handed him a little parcel of un washed wool, about sufficient for a pair of socks. ■ * * * * ■ The*Friend. •* Mournful long I stood and lone, Oft my deepest soul made moan; H‘>w forsaken was my case, Since I wou and so fain embrace A friend, And still bad none. Ah I no, not one Who iuved me truly. Warm and quickly beat my heart Oft for joy, and oft for smart, Gladly would it overflow, Share its pleasure and its woe With a friend, And still bad none. All! no, not one Who loved me truly. Oft my tearful eyes around Longing, searched, but no one found, Who to know my heart was given; And my prayers besieged high Heaven For a friend; Ah I but for one, A faithful one, To love me ever. See! then from the heavenly land Jesus came aud laid His hand On my heart, which then grew still; Peaceful thoughts my bosom fill Os a friend. The earth hath none Such faithful one, Who loves me ever. Translated by Mrs. M. E. Anderson, from the Ger man of Julius Pubst. Female Education—l. Female education is a subject that ought surely to concern, more deeply than ever be fore, the people of the South, as it is one touching its immediate and vital interests. It is one to which Southern women, 1 should think, would especially give attention, since they constitute that class who were the great esi sufferers by the disastrous results of the war. One has but to take a sweeping survey of the misery and demolition invasion left in its track to realize that something ought to be done, and that speedily, to lift the head of the mourner, of the widow, of the orphan, of the poverty stricken. Hundreds, in conse quence of it, have filled untimely graves, thousands survive but to eke out a miserable existence —r*bt so much out of disinclination to do, as out of inability to do. Such a reverse was not anticipated, a few short years ago, when perhaps many of the victims returned from a fashionable boarding school to gladden the hearth stone of home, and to begin anew and untried life—a life of leisure, luxury, fashion, display ; in a word, what is known as a joyless life. Here her progress in the practical part of the educa tion, as peifect—or most likely imperfect— as it might have been, was nipped in the germ. L’he hours, weeks and years spent in equip ping her for a brilliant debutante fete were flung away in fashionable life. No stimulus was offered to her still further improvement; and, as education, unlike the sun, as centre of the solar system, is not stationary, but retrogressive, if not progressive, it must be daily, and even hourly, fed, or it will be pre cipitately dissipated upon the arid plains of a burning desert. It is remarkable, as well as lamentable, at what rate it becomes fugitive when unguarded and untended. A scholar may look for naught but stagnation and utter destitution if he uegleots it, The reflecting, in regarding one whose name is inscribed on the “roll of honor” of his alma mater, now impoverished by consuming rust, experiences a bitter regret that it was not either entirely dispensed with or in the end made available. How soon the young man resting on his baccalaureate degree, whether conferred by a Cambridge or an Oxford, I care not, will show signs of mental idiooy ! He never ceases to remind his hearers that he is a col legian, but does not stoop to look back to behold his laurels trailing in the dust for the lack of culture. It this be true of youth graduating under the most favorable auspices, is there not some palliation in the crime of the stupidity of the girl, who pass ed from the college halls with more flippant ornament than substantial education ? Regarding from such a stand-point the I tendency of abused educational interests I and its ultimate consequences to the posses sor — as we may see in innumerable instances everywhere —it does seem that the South would be impelled to an effort to join with the schools a motive to higher attainments than ever known before in any country. It is unmistakable, written in living letters upon its pages of gore and destruction. An interest to educate did spring up at the close of the war, coeval with the struggle to reinstate lost fortunes, but to what extent it continues lam not informed. I trust, how ever, it is still alive, making its power felt in the legislative halls (so called) even of the sev eral States. To reach the masses, it must be legislated upon, for private aid would be in adequate to the demands. In New York city —I am not sure it is so in other parts of the State—it costs nothing but the time to obtain an education—not so much as the expense of books, for these are furnished; and besides, oppoitunity is afforded to the ambitious to as cend almost to the topmost round of a most compeite and thorough scholarship. But this is a digression from the main subject. Female education is necessarily imperfect, since it has been but a few years conceded that woman should be educated at all. When it began to agitate the public mind, it wa> repeatedly asked, “ What can be the use oi all this tomfoolery ? It will subserve her nothing in her sphere. It will make her un ruly r , ambitious, discontented. Un the whole, it is better to keep her as slaves are kept — ignorant.” Knowledge then was reckoned, as in other property, according to its money, value, and not that it has a purpose, and that for every human being, which is the systematic and har monious development of his entire moral and intellectual nature. All are born with germs of faculties susceptible of the highest improve ment, which can Le done in no other way than by good, practical education. The intellectual cultivation of girls, now that it is agreed she shall receive instruction, is regulated, not by any established order, but by the whims of the fashion of the hour. Its general character, however, is to get a su perficial smattering of a few high-sounding text books, aud much of the ornamental. The poor, delicately-reared female bends beneath the burden of French, La’in and Greek Lexicons, a Euclid, Butler’s Analogy, Karnes’ Criticism, music on the piano, music on the harp, music on the guitar, vocal les sons, drawing, painting in oil. pastel and flower work, and embroidery. This is one extreme, the most common, but there are others, one of which I will mention : it is that languages and mathematics —not liberal at that—are, in order to gratify the folly of a teacher or the ignorance of a board of trus tees, allowed to absorb the time that ought to be devoted to that indispensable and ines timable portion of every person’s education, male or female—the natural sciences. Can one reject this and not feel a compunction of conscience akin to that of prohibiting the Bible being used in school? In a woman’s education it should be begun with her first lessons and continued through the last. The retirement which her sex naturally forces her to, demands it. In her seclusion, with this book of nature intelligibly spread before her, she will not feel so keenly the want of intel lectual companionship ; but, Jbusy at her work, she can at the same time hold sweet* converse with the beauties of Him “who made them all.” Whether her studies be few or many, ap propriate or inappropriate, well studied, half studied or studied not at all, the over strained creature is expected to keep on a forced march, fight all her battles, to make the conquest and return home flushed with victory before shereaches the extreme old age of sixteen. Then she is ready for a settle ment. Now she is to begin the career which her whole life has been spent in preparing her for, viz : to get a husband. It was pictured to her as sortie fair Eden, with ivy bowers, winding walks, sparkling fountains, singing birds, fragrant woods, peopled with Cupids ar.d good chances ; that her part of the labor to perform would be to deck herself in her most becoming robes,to walk forth on a stroll, to be shot at, and to captivate and to bear off her spoils with triumph. Alas! too soon— aye, too late, she learns that there is not a tnan for every woman, and she withdraws from the field covered with shame, overwhelmed with mortification and disappointment, to pine over, if not to die over, what was not her mistake, but the mis take of over kind, inconsiderate friends. She becomes the butt of ridicule—a privilege her neighbors do not sparingly use. She gives away to ennui, which is a living death ; she seeks solitude, if not driven to that of alt ills ,” the convent. If she, by dint of further misfortune, is awakened to any inter est, it is to discover that her education, neg lected like her tinsel gauzes, is perishable, and that she is left miserablysdestitute indeed ; for all, at the close of her school days, had been surrendered and sacrificed to the pursuit of one object— a lost cause. How different would it have been with her had she been instructed as was her brother at her side, to “seek truth and maintain it; know evil and shun it; be, conscious of recti tude and bear the world’s laugh ; feel your own strength ; struggle to aspire and face the battle of difficulties, dangers and temptations” with a stout heart! Daughters “may be resolute characters, but they must enforce diffidence in conduct and opinion; they may inspire generous and holy aims, but they must beware ofkindling ambition ; they may train the energy that overcomes difficulties, but they must let the bold spirit and strong will that generally accompany energy, to be con tent with submission; they must despise the world’s baseness and folly, but they must in culcate deference to the world’s opinion ; they may earnestly strive to train their spiritual nature to the full development of all its pow ers, which is its indefeasible right, but they must fit the woman for a career of depen dence, of narrowness and repressed action.” If such an one should, in the event she did not get married, become lifeless, hopeless, is she not an object of compassion rather than of oensure? Should impossibilities be ex pected of such a frail mortal 1 If from the first she had been taught that she is a responsible being, in the possession of both physical and mental faculties, for the proper cultivation and care of which she her self was accountable before God, she would then have have been fortified as man is to ac cept any position with grace. In the progress of her training, both educa tional and domestic, she is repeatedly rer minded that to be called learned, literary, strong-minded, is masculine, and that she must by all means shun the opprobrium, blue stocking • that all this is distasteful to the gentlemen, and makes them afraid of women. Is not such teaching capable of disarming the strongest muscular and intellectual ge nius 1 So long as an educated woman is held in such ill repute, and so long as dignity U withheld from exertion on the part of wo man, just so long will she he silly, weak minded, fickle. Is it right ? Is it right to set the plant to growing, then suddenly withdraw from it all nourishment —the light, the sun, the earth, Uw rains, and dews, apd winds of heaven 1 This is what is done when a girl is carefully educated, and then, on return from school, robbed of all stimulus to the growth and ma turity ot what was begun, viz : the expansion of the mind into its fullest propot tious. Be fore you charge her with feminine weakness, pause to consider at whose door the sin lies. Clembkha. The Noble Nature. It is nnt grrowirtg like a tree In bulk, doth m<u> better be; Or standing Img an oak, three hundred year, . To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere. A lily of a day Is fairer far in Mnv: Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and fl over of lignt. In small proportion* we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be. —Ben Johnson. Smiles and Tears. Both swords and guns are strong, no doubt, And so are tongue and pen, And so are sheaves of good bank-notes. To sway the souls of men ; But guns, and swords, and gold, and thought, Thiugh mighty in their sphere, Are often poorer than a smile, Aud weaker tb tn a tear. How Fortunes are Made. There has always been in the human mind a disposition to honor those possessed of wealth, and of late years it has been quite the fashion to revere those who, by their own efforts, have accumulated fortunes. The first of these feelings we regard as wholly unrea sonable. The mere possession of wealth does not argue any kind of merit. The veiiest blockhead or villain might, by inheritance, become possessed of a vast estate. That one has accumulated a fortune does presuppose u certain kind of merit; but if we examine the question as to how these fortunes are made, we will conclude that this merit is not of the highest order. Few millionaires have attained that position by means that would bear the scrutiny of a rigid moralist, industry, so briety, prudence and economy are assuredly good qualities, and without all or mo»t of these, the accumulation of property may be deemed an impossibility. But these are often found so intermixed with their kindred vices that it is difficult to condemn the one and commend the other. Frugality, with many, takes the form of parsimony, *and foresight is but too often a regard for one’s own interest and an ignoring of the welfare of others. This selfish disregard of others displays it sell more strikingly in trade than in any other business. VVe all know that those spec ulations by which etiormous profits are some times realized by a single transaction, are made by taking advantage of the necessities" of others. The financial operation which pours half a miiliou into the coffers of some already wealthy capitalist, entails suffering on hundreds—it may be thousands. It is as suredly not worthy of praise that in such transactions capitalists have an eye to the pecuniary benefit that shall accrue to them ; that they never take into consideration the fact which a li.tle. thought would make evi dent, that their gain must be some other per son’s loss. Ol'couise we do not intend in this to in clude all forms of speculation. There is, theo retically, and we trust practically, such a thing as legitimate trade, where no more than just* compensation is sought for the timv, trouble and risks. But jn these cases the profits are small, and the accumulations slow. “A princely fortune” may, after a time, be heaped up by these gradual gains, as a continent may be formed by the drifting sediment of streams; and when men get rich in this way, they may do so without entailing misfortunes upon others. Coming in this way, wealth increases the happiness of its possessor, and does not diminish the happiness of those who do not possess it. The merciless selfishness of fortune seekers may be seem more strikingly, perhaps* in traders than in any other class ; but they are by no means the only class in which it exists. Very many of those who make haste to get riches by other occupations are more than half dishonest and wholly unjust. In farm ing, many cheat their laborers, and force those who court the field for crops, to endure cruel privations that their own gains may be in creased. The manufacturer not seldom takes advantage of the necessities of the poor to drive hard bargains, that make the poor man’s bread harder to win. The moneyed man, in whatever way he may use his money, if his chief end be his own gain, will be very apt to gain at the expense ot others. He will regulate his conduct by maxims that seem eminently wise, in a business point of view, but which are sure to be harsh, and often cruel. He will fail to notice, and, of course, fail to care, what effect his schemes may have upon others. Tne one question that he pro pounds is, “ will they make money for him?” and no motive of general benevolence is al lowed to control either one or the other. We fear that the moral influence ot money making men is almost wholly bad. They seem to think—and perhaps they are too near right—that if they are only successful, the manner in which they achieve success will never be scrutinized, and hence are little scru pulous. Some times they would seem anx ious to atone for their ill means of getting by spending it well. But let us be cautious here in bestowing our laudations. If a man has accumulated a fortune by fraud, and by taking advantage of the necessities ot his fel low-men, he should not screen himself from our censure by bestowing a few of his wrongly gotten thousands on some benevolent enter prise. * Creeds. Every evangelical Christian—outside, per haps, of the small body of “ Covenanters” or “ Seceders”—knows that on their admission to the communion of the church they were never asked to subscribe the articles of reli gion, the Confessions, or the creeds, which the churches of the Reformation constructed from the Word of God as a safeguard against false teachers and rulers in the Church: That a promise to maintain (he gospel as set forth in systematic form of their creeds, is exacted only from office-bearers on precisely the same principle that though private citizens are not called upon to accept as political truths the Constitution of the State, or of the United States, yet no office-bearer in the government is allowed to assume office until first he pro mises, under oath, to be governed in his office by the Constitution : That thus these creeds are really for the protection of the people ecclesiastically, as the Slate Constitution is their protection politically. The church of Christ is a constitutional government j it pro tects its citizens against the Jacobinism of rulers and teachers who seek to be a law unto themselves. A Welcome. One of our exchanges published, some weeks since, a poetical welcome from the * Sunduy school to the newly elected pastor of a certain church. The first verse read thus: With parents and friends all rejoicing to-night, The children in gladness their voices unite, To welcome the pastor, the shepherd and guide, Who comes ia their midst for a time to abide. The first three lines almost drew tears from our eyes. Here, we thought, is a sine re welcome—here will be a permanent pastorals. But the fourth line completely undeceived us r—how did it strike the pastor]