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0£ tfa iMito,
Jenny’s “Stand.”
I know I am but a little girl,
But I bare ears and eyes,
And there are things I lore right well,
And things that I despise.
I hare my likes, and my dislikes,
As older people do,
Aid if I lire, and thrire, you know
I shall be as large as you.
And when I am a woman grown,
I bope the world will see
That some of the things grown people do
Will not be done by me.
I will not smile on any man
That drnks his wine, or beer,
I think you girls are in the blame
For half the drunkards here.
For if you would join, and say,
“ We will not walk, or chat.
With any man who drinks, and smokes.
And carries a ‘ brick in his hat,'”
I think you’d dad a speedy change
In these young men. But no!
You will not take a stand like that.
For fear you'U lose a beau !
But a3 for me, when I grow up,
I’ll bare no beau at all,
Or I’ll have those that are sworn foea
To beastly Alcohol.
And you’ll nerer gee me kiss the lips
That touch the ruddy glass,
Yet I think I’ll hare as many friends,
In the main, as any lass.
I’m but a very little girl,
But I know some things, I think,
Audi know that honest men grow bad ,
And bad men worse, through drink .
—Ella Wheeler.
Perseverauoe: or, A True Story of Little
Frank S.
Many years ago ray father taught what was
then called an “old field school” in Gooch
land county, Va. “ Little Frank” attended
that school ; and, though very young, he was
studying Latin. His lessons were very hard ;
but the harder they were the harder Frank
would study them, and the more determined
was he to master them. It was a common
thing lor him to be seen sitting down work
ing over his lessons, with his eyes bathed in
tears and his heart throbbing like it would
break. When most boys have such hard
lessons to get they would be apt to go to
their teachers and ask' for assistance. But
Frank would rarely do this ; he preferred to
master the task himself. His teacher fre
quently felt so sorry for the little fellow that
he would call him up, speak kindly to him,
and help him over his difficulty. Frank was
very thankful for the kind words, but rarely
seemed pleased to receive the assistance. He
prelerred to rely on himself, and to work and
cry, and cry and work, rather than have any
one help him. The result of course was,
Frank made rapid progress in his studies.
In a few years my father lost sight of his
old scholar ; but Frank’s self-reliance and
perseverance made such an impression on
him that a long time afterwards, when I was
a boy, he constantly urged me forward in my
studies by saying, “Remember little Frank.”
I had never seen Frank, but, in fact, I had al
most learned to dislike him, for 1 never had
any hard task to perform that my father
didn t hold “little brank” up to me tor an
example, saying, “Remember little Frank.”
When I became a youth and went to Col
lege, lo and behold, I found that very “little
Frank” who had been made an example to me
living in the neighborhood, and filling one of
the most honorable positions in the reach of
men on earth. He had pursued a long course
of studies in this country and in Europe ; the
Spirit of God had converted him, and had
sanctified his great selfreliance and persever
ance ; he had become one of -the most emi
nent scholars and preachers in the land ; some
College had shown how much it esteemed his
learning-by giving him the honorable title of
Doctor of Divinity, and he was then one of
the most distifiguished Professors of the Hes
brew language jn America, and was teaching
in Union Theological Seminary in Prince Ed
ward county, Va., where young men are
taught to be preachers in the Presbyterian
Church. Little Frank was now the distin
guished Dr. 'Francis S. Simpson.
The following Spring, (1854) Dr. Samp
son died, and “devout men carried him to his
burial” near by, and great lamentation was
made in the church for the loss of one of its
most perfect scholars and distinguished teach
ers. When he was a little boy, he was no
smarter than many of you, but he relied on
himself and persevered; when he became
older, he prayed to God, who sent His Spirit
upon him. God’s blessing upon his self-reli
ance and perseverance in laborious study
made him what he was. Now, boys, “Re
member little Frank Sampson.—Children's
Friend. A . c , H
Three Five Minutes.
“ What time is it, Carrie ?” inquired Cous
in Ethel, busily engaged in stitching at her
fancy work as she spoke.
“ Three five minutes of six,” replied the
little girl, returning from the sitting room,
where the old clock ticked away faithfully,
and rung out the merry hours.
“Three five minutes!” exclaimed Fred,
rather scornfully. “ Carrie, why don’t you
say fifteen minutes, or a quarter of six?”
“ Carrie has told us correctly,” said Cousin
Ethel. “ Remember Fred, there is more
than one way of saying a thing. But when
I was young as she is now, I could tell the
hours only when the clock struck.”
“ You counted ?” said Carrie, enoouraged
by Cousin Ethel’s words. She was a timid
child, and stood quite in awe of her big broth
er.
“Yes. And now let me tell you how Al
fred, one of the early kings of England con
trived to measure time. He divided candles
into regular portions by painted rings. After
ward a rude kind of lantern was invented to
keep the wind from blowing the light. It
took just so long a time for the candle to
burn down to a mark or ring on it; and he
could tell the hour by noticing how much of
the candle was left.”
“ How strange!” said Fred. “ I guess his
clock didn’t strike very often.”
“In the parable of the Laborers in the
Vineyard,” said Cousin Ethel, “ some of the
laborers began to work at the third hour.
Do you know Fred, what we would call the
third hour?”
“ Was it three o’clock ?”
“ No,” replied Cousin Ethel, “ it was nine
o’clock in the morning. They began in these
days to number the hours at six in the morn
ing; so six would be the first hour, nine the
third hour, twelve the sixth hour, and so
on.”
“ The clock is striking the twelfth hour,
counting time in that way,” said Fred, “ but
to us it says six o’clock, and supper time.
Come on to supper, Carrie—l’m so hungry—
and I’ll not make fun any more of your ‘three
five minutes.’— Majosa in The Little Chief.
A Manly Answer.
All honor to the boy who cannot be laugh
ed out of doing right.
Five boys, pupils in the boarding school,
were in the room. Four of them, contrary
to the rules, engaged in a game of cards. The
fifth was not standing and looking on to see
how the game would go, but engaged in work
of his own. It so happened that one of the
players was called out.
“ Come, said the others to their comparf
ion, “ it is too bad to have the game stop here.
In the middle. Come and take his place.”
“ I do not know one card from another.”
“That makes no difference, we will teach
you. Come, do not let our sport be spoiled.”
The boy perceived that this was the deci
sive moment. Ah! just such are the critical
THE CHRISTIAN INDEX AND SOUTH-WESTERN BAPTIST: ATLANTA, GA„ THURSDAY, MAY 25,1871.
points—sometimes the turning points in life.
His resolution was instantly taken. He
made no more excuses, but at once planted
himself square upon the principle:
“My father does not wish me to play
cards and 1 shall not act contrary to his
wishes.”
This ended the matter. It did no more. —
It established his position among his com
panions. It compelled their respect, and
preserved him from temptation in the future.
Such a boy inspires confidence. Such an
incident may seem small in itself, but it
gives promise for the future, better than
thousands of gold. These sterling qualities
are manifested : a conscientious regard for
the wishes of parents, superiority to the fear
of the ridicule of his companions, and decis
ion.
These qualities form a shield agaihst all
temptation. Happy is the boy who is pos
sessed of them. You would expect that his
career would be honorable and successful.
Years have passed. That boy became a
man. Various and trying have been the
scenes through which he has passed ; severe
the temptation to which he has been expos
sed. But he has come forth as gold. No
parent weeps, no friend blushes for him.
Are you a son rich in youth, rich in hope,
rich in a good conscience ?
Always regard the wishes of your parents.
Bailroad to Buin.
The directors take pleasure in reassuring
their numerous friends and patrons that the
road to ruin is now in good order. Within
the last three months it has carried more
than three hundred thousand passengers clear
through from the town of Temperance to the
city of Destruction, while the increase of way
passengers is encouraging. A large amount
of freight, such as mechanics’ tools, household
furniture, and even whole farms, have gone
forward; and the receipts of the year have
been so large, that the directors have resolv
ed to declare a dividend of seventy-five per
cent. The track ha 9 been improved, and re
laid with Messrs. Diabolus Az Co’s patent rail.
The grades have been reduced to a dead
level, and the switches are brought to such
perfection all along the route as to jerk the
cars in a moment from the main track to
avoid collision with the Total Abstinence
gine and the Temperance trains, which have
recently occasioned so much trouble. In short
we have spared no expense to make it supe
rior to any other road to ruin ever estab
lished.
It gives us great pleasure to call the atten
tion of the public to the improvements in
our engines and cars. The old favorite loco
motive Alcohol has a fire-chamber of double
capacity, and patent driving-wheels aft#r the
fa hion of old Juggernaut. Our wine cars
are models of luxurious conveyance, after the
model of the far famed London gin palaces,
where ladies and children and gentlemen can
have all attention. To keep up with the
spirit of the limes, our whisky, rum and
brandy cars have been greatly enlarged, and
fare reduced to half price. Our cider, porter
and beer cars are exciting great attention
among the children. Our experienced engi
neer Mr. Belial and our polite and gentle
manly conductor Mr. Mix, have been too
long known to the travelling public to need
any commendation. Indeed so swift and
sparkling are our trains through all our
towns and villages, that some have called it
“the Flying Artillery of ITell let loose upon
the earth.” Tickets must always be procured
of Mr. Mix, at thedrinker’s hotel, where you
may see the following extract from our char
ter from government :
“ Licensed to make a strong man weak ;
Licensed to lay a wise man low;
licensed a wife's fond heart to break,
And make her children’s tears to flow.
" Lloenied to do th* neighbor harm ; ‘
Licensed to foster hate and strife;
Licensed to nerve tho robber’s arm ,
Licensed to whet the murderer's knife.”
• A Parable.
“0, dear ! I am so very tired of the Sab-«
bath.” So said Willy, a playful little'fellow,
who was longing for the Sabbath to be over,
that he might return to his play.
“Who wants to hear a story ? ” said a kind
friend who was present.
“1, sir,” “And I,” “And I,” said the child
ren, as they gathered around him. Then he
told them a parable.
Our Saviour, when he was on earth, often
taught the people by parables. The parable
told to the little boys was of a kind man who
had some very rich apples hanging upon the
trees. A poor man was passing by the house
of the owner, and he stopped to admire this
beautiful apple tree. He counted these golden
pippins. There were just seven of them.
The rich owner could afford to give them
away, and it gave him so much pleasure to
make this poor man happy that he called him
and said, “My friend, I will give you a part
of my fruit.” So he held out his hand and
received six of the apples. The owner had
only kept one for himself.
Do you think the poor man was grateful
for this kindness ? No, indeed ! He wanted
the seven pippins all for himself, and at last
he made up his mind that he would watch
his time and go back and steal the other
apple.
“Did he do that? ” said Willie, very sor
ry. “He ought to have been ashamed of
himself. I hope he got well punished for
stealing that apple.”
“How many days are there in a week,
Willie?” asked his friend. “Seven,” said
Willie, blushing deeply; for now he began
to understand tho parable. And he felt very
uneasy about his heart; conscience began to
whisper, to him—“And should not a boy be
ashamed of himself who is unwilling,-on the
seventh day, to lay aside his play ? Ought
he not to be punished if he will not remem
ber the Sabbath day, to keep it holy ?”
Picture Magazine
A Hint to Grumblers*
“What a noisy world this is ! •’ croaked an
old frog, as he squatted on the margin of
the pool. “Do you hear those geese, how
they scream and hiss? What do they do it
for ? ” 7
“O, just to amuse themselves,” answered a
little field mouse.
“Presently we shall have the owls hootinw :
what is it for?”
“It’s the music they like the best,” said
the mouse.
“And grasshoppers, they can’t go home
without and chipping ; why do they
“O, they are so happy they can’t help it,”
said the mouse.
You find excuses for all; I believe you
don’t understand music; so you like the hid
eous noises.”
“Well, friend, to be honest with you,” said
the mouse, “I don’t greatly admire any of
them; but they are all sweet to my ears,
compared with the constant croaking of a
frog.”
Th® Secret Plaee.
Laborers on an English railway lately
found a thrush’s nest under a rail, with the
hen peacefully setting on four eggs, undis
turbed by the thundering of the passing
trains.
The strongest man, as well as the weakest
child, may learn a lesson from the little
thrush. Her nest was her strong tower. It
was shaken every hour, while shrill whistles
sounded, and rumbling cars rolled over it
but' she had no fears. They who dwell in
the secret place of the Most High rest under
the shadow of Hi 9 wing and fear no evil
even when the tempest roars and the founda
tions of the earth are shaken.
A Child’s Idea of a Teetotaler.
A little boy six years old, a member of
the Band of Hope, was one day returning
home from school, when he suddenly stopped
to watch an old tnan breaking stones by the
roadside. The dress of the old man beto
kened poverty and neglect; and the child
stood for a few moments looking earnestly
at him, pitying his wretched condition. A*
last the little fellow said, “Good morning ! ”
and the old man remrned his salutation. The
child still hesitated, as if some other thought
was in his heart, and at last he asked, verj 1
brightly, “Are you a teetotaler? ”* “No, in
deed, I am not,” replied the old man, smiling.
“What makes you ask me that, child ? ” “O.
because I thought you were not,” answerer
our little hero, as he pleasantly passed on his
way, leaving the old man to his work and ih.
musings of his own heart.
How He Fell.
A gentleman who remembers visiting a State
prison with his father, when a boy, writes to the
Central Advocate the following sad story of one
of the inmates, who told it for his benefit:
One old man particularly attracted our atten
tion. He seemed to wish to talk to my father; so
be sat down.
“ I see you have your little boy with you,”
said he, “and I would like to tell you something
of my story, for my downward course commenced
when fwas no older than he. I had a good mo
ther, but she died when I was very young ; and
although I remember some of her teachings, I did
not have her hand to guide me when I went
astray. One day I was playing marbles in the
streets with some of my playmates, when one ol
the boys said:
“Let’s play for keeps.” So we began the game,
and it was not long before I had lost all my beau
tiful marbles.
“ I was very angry, and got up and swore that
T would have my marbles back again. It was my
first oath, and there commenced my downfall. 1
had often heard my playmates swear; but my
mother had taught me how wicked it was, and
her memory had kept my mouth clean. I had no
sooner said the words than I felt ashamed ;*bul
one of the boys exclaimed :
“Bully for you, Tom ; I didn’t tlnnk you had
pluck enough to talk like a man !”
“ So, for fear they would think I was not man
ly, I smothered my good feelings, and before a
great while I repeated the words, adding a little
more, just to show them I was not afraid to talk
as the rest did.
“ 0, if I had only had a praying father to pray
over night, and ask God to keep his son
from gofng astray, I would not have been where 1
am to-day.
“ After the first sin, it is so easy to add a little
more I By learning to swear more boldly, I was
thrown into the company of boys who were still
more wicked, and it was not long before I found
myself planning, with others, to rob orchards and
hen-roosts.
“From this I went on until, by the time I was
a man, I was ready to undertake almost any sinful
deed if strong inducements were held out. But
I will not weary you with any story : it is a long
and wicked one. What I want to impress on this
little boy’s mind is, never begin to do wrong.”
We went away and left the old man, but his
story was not forgotten.
Now.—A little word, but how full of
meaning ! You, who read this, mean to be
a Christian. You know it is your duty 7 .
You feel it every day. You set a time when
you will begin, but it is far ahead. By and
by you reach it, and still longer postpone it.
Will there ever be a better time than the
present? Why not now? It may 7 be that
you are a Christian, but you have not as yet
taken upon you the vows of the church.
You hesitate, waiting until you feel more
certain of strength to hold out. Ah, friend !
is it not a snare of the enemy? Be sure, —
“If you tarry till you’re bettor
You will never come at all.”
Be wise. Come now. Perhaps you have
come. Your name may be upon the records
of the church, but this is all. You are a
silent member of the* great copartnership
between the church rAid Christ. You are
within the portals of your Father’s house,
but you are hungry, destitute and alone.—
Around you there is plentiful supply. Why
not partake ? And why not now ? Or, you
do partake a little; just enough to know
how sweet it would be to have enough, and
to be filled. But here you remain. Others
are without in the storm and boat, hard at
work, in the vineyard. And still you loiter
here. There is an abundance of work for
you ; work none of these others will be al
lowed to perform ; your portion of the field
lies a waste. It may be on the street or in
the Sabbath-school; wherever it is, it is your
work, and one day the Master will ask it of
you. You suffer for the lack of it. Your
strength is growing less every day. O, fam
ishing soul! seize upon the golden opportu
nity before it is too late. Work while the
day lasts,for soon your day will have passed
and gone forever. “ Behold now is the ac
cepted time ; now is the day of salvation.”—
Herald.
The Little Singer.
The other evening, as i was returning home
quite late, 1 heard a child’s voice singing that
beautiful song, “ Home, Sweet Home.’
Looking around the corner, I saw a little
girl and boy about the age of five and seven
years. The little fellow had fallen asleep at
his sister’s side, worn out by the day’s walk,
and the carrying of a heavy tambourine.
The sad, weary look on the child’s face
made my heart ache. “ Child,” said I, “ are
you not going home soon ? You must be very
tired.”
“ Yes, ma’am, I am so very tired ; but I
have no home.”
“No home ? Have you no father or moth
er?”
“ No, ma’m ; they have both gone to heav
en. Willie and I are going soon. Mother
said so,” replied the child, patting the head
of her little brother. “And mother said
when we got there we should be so happy,
and never go round the streets singing, or
have bad boys run after Willie’s tambourine
to take it away from him. O, we will be so
happy !” And the child clasped her hands in
bright anticipation.
Singing “ Home, Sweet Home,” I thought,
and still have no remembrance of one !
My heart went up in prayer to the God of
the fatherless, that he would raise up kind
friends for the little ones, to lead them in
pleasanter paths than they now were treading,
and to teach their young hearts to praise Him
on earth, and at last to sing in that sweet
home above.
Dear little reader, if you have a good home
and kind friends to care for you, how grateful
you should be to your Heavenly Father!
And if you see any little boys or girls less
favored than yourself, give them at least some
word of kindness that shall make their hearts
less lonely and sad.— Child's World.
Contentment.
Never complain of your birth, your train
lug, your employment, your hardships. Nev
er fancy that you could be something if you
only had a different lot assigned you. God
understands his own plan, and he understands
what you want a great deal better than you
do. The very things that you deprecate as
fatal limitations or obstructions, are probably
what you most want. What you call hin
drances, obstacles, discouragements, are prob
ably God’s opportunities; and it is nothing
new that the patient should dislike his medi
cines, or any certain proofs that they are poi-.
sons. No; a truce to all 9uch Impatience.
Check that devilish envy which gnaws your
heart because you are -not in the same lot
with others; bring down your soul, or rather
bring it up, to receive God’s will, and do His
work in your lot, in your sphere, under your
obscurity, against your temptations, and you
will find that your condition is never op
posed to your good, but really consistent
with it.
she Jimidaj?
Hemming the Sabbath.
“ I wonder why it is,” said Helen Doug
lass to her aunt, “ that now and then things,
seem to be so at cross-purposes, as they have
been this week through. lam really glad
Saturday night has come.”
“ How did you begin the week,” asked
her aunt.
“ Begin it!”
“Yes; look back to Sunday and recall, if
you can, how you passed the day.”
“ That 1 can easily do, for I had a series of
misfortunes to try me. I began to write a
letter after 1 was all ready for church, and had
to ehasge my dress, ".’hat made me late;
-iiiJ father was displeased, as he always is it
ve get to meeting after service has com
menced. Will teased me about having such a
good chance to show my new hat, and that
provoked.me so I tore my glove, pulling it
>fT—not very gently, I suppose. Then I
wanted to finish rnv letter at noon, and forgot
to look over the Sabbath school lesson, and
because I answered wrong, Mrs. Howard
talked about careless reading of the Bible
being inexcusable, and that made me cross
igain.”
“ You had quite a trial of good nature,
ture certainly,” said her aunt, smiling.
“ But that i; n’t all,” replied Helen. “At
tea-time, father asked about the texts, and I
couldn’t remember either of them, and I w 7 as
so confused that I dropped the cream pitcher
and broke it, and spilled the cream on the
carpet, then Fred Joyce came, and what did
mother do but tell him that we did not re
ceive callers on Sunday. I was at the head
of the stairs and beard her. I was so morti
fied, that I just sat down and cried in despair
over the unluqky day.”
“ 1 think you have shown pretty fairly,
Helen, that breaking the Srbbath was the be
ginning of your troubles. We cannot expeet
a blessing on Any day if we do not enter up
on our labor in God’s fear, nor, I think,
on any week if w r e neglect our first consecra
tion of it.”
“ Why, aunty, you certainly do not think
writing a letter and seeing a friend breaking
the Sabbath.”
“That depends, as far as the waiting is in
question, why it is done. A letter of Chris
tian counsel, or one upon which hung an is
sue of life and death, certainlv would come
within our Saviour’s law of the Sabbath; but
I do not consider that pages filled with the
trifling chit chat of most young girls’ corres
pondence, or with business of the week would.
The same rule applies to Sunday calls, and 1
know that your mother’s course has not only
exerted a beneficial influence upon those of
her own friends, whose principle in this re
spect was less firm, but has led many young
persons to think seriously about these mat
ters. Mrs. Joyce thanked her, in my pres
ence, for refusing Fred’s call, and added that
he had told her of it himself, saying that if
all Christians were as consistent as Mrs.
Douglass, young meu would have more re
spect for religion.”
“I am sure I do not want to do anything
wrong,” said Helen, regretfully, as she
thought how trivial her conduct had often
been. “ I only took it fur granted that older
people were stricter than they need be, and
there was no harm done. There always
seems so much better chance for things Sun
day, when there’s no study and sewing, and
I can have my time to myself.”
“Jjist the point, Helen. It’s not your
time, it is Sod’s, and when you use it for
unnecessary, Aecular purposes, you are in
fact of that which lie has posi
tively shall be kept Holy for His
once experience the
oi
jon lor employments of the
week, pleasant in themselves ;
or, what is still, of leaving all
its anxieties for that brief
peiiod of re- would consider the thought
of them an intrusion to be dreaded. A dear
friend whose life is filled with trial lately
wrote to me in regard to her Sabbath joy,
“ I forgot my bu’-den and my pain for one
brief day. ill Imy griefs and cares are mer
cifully removed from me at the threshold of
the Sunday School— always .”
“I never saw it before, aunty,” said Ellen,
tearfully; “It must be faithful to have such
a love for God’s day as that—l will try to
realize it.”
“ Let me give you this for a motto, from
a quaint, old Puritan divine,” said her aunt,
who had beet** turning over the leaves of a
book she held- “Hemming the Sabbath
well, and it will not ravel all the week.”—
E. M. C. in Amer. Afes.
A Sabbath School Incident.
At a meeting in Exeter Hall, London,
where there was a vast number of Sabbath
School children assembled, a clergyman arose
on the platform and told them of two bad
little boys whom he had once known, and of
a good little girl whom he afterwards learned
to know. This little girl had been to Sab
bath School, where she had learned “ to do
some good every day.” Seeing two little
boys quarrelling, she went up to them, told
them how wickedly they were acting, made
them desist from quarrelling, and in the end
induced them to attend Sunday School.—
These boys were Jim and Tom. “ Now,
children,” said the gentleman,” “would you
like to see Jim ?”
“All shoo ed with one voice, “Yes, yes!”
“Jim, get ip,” said the gentleman, looking
over to another part of the stage. A rever
end lookirii’W.nissionary arose and looked
smilingly upon the children.
“ Now woJtd ybu like to see Tom ?”
“ Yes, yes*” resounded through the whole
house.
“ Well, look- at me—l am Tom, and I too
have been a missionary for many years. Now
would you litre to see little Mary Wood ?”
The response was even more loud and earn
est than before, “ Yes !”
‘ Well do you see that lady over there in
the blue silk bonnet—that is little Mary
Wood, and she is my wife. — Canadian Bap
tist.
Be on Good Terms with your Scholars.
—The relation between teacher and pupil
must be of a pleasant character. The teach
er must have power over lm pupils. But,
to be effective, it must be a power that oper
ates by appeal to the higher motives—a pow
er that accomplishes its purpose by enlisting
on its side the best internal forces of the
soul. To educate a child in the highest
sense, we must secure the consent and co
operation of his own convictions and facul
ties. It is very difficult for a teacher to in
struct a child who regards him with repug
nance or dishike. In such a case the mind
braces itself against the influence brought
to bear upon it. There is an instinctive
closing of every avenue into it. A cordial
ity off feeling between teacher and pupil
is absolutely necessary. Without it the
teacher’s way is obstructed by a con
stant resistance. With it, he finds himself
invited on and powerfully helped.— The Illi
nois Teacher.
Faith. —The strength of a genuine Chris
tian faith is not a strength evolved from an
inherent endowment, but it is imparted from
without, from above. It is entirely and
pre-eminently spiritual in Its nature. It is
begotten in the soul’s supernatural renewal,
by the sovereign energy of the Eternal
Spirit. It sinks below and springs from be
neath character and conduct. It is being
“strenghtened with might by His Spirit in
the inner man.” It moulds character and
makes conduct. It has an eye that gazes
into a region invisible to the mere moralist.
It has a hand that grasps the eternal. It
drinks at the “fountain of living waters.”
It draws its inspiration from the skies. It
plants itself upon the “ltock of Ages.” It
tramples earthly honors in the dust, look
ing upward and onward to the imperishable
honor of a heavenly crown. It shuts its
ears to the seductive voices of earthly revels,
awaiting the enjoyment of those celestial
pleasures that forever satisfy and never cloy,
and never sting.— Rev. W. S. McKenzie.
Christ and the Homan Heart.
All the attacks and phrases of infidelity
cannot change Christ and the human heart,
and their mutual relation. Christ apl the
heai t are predestinated for each other. There
is a preestablishe 1 harmony between the Sa
viour and the aspirations of our inmost soul.
As long as the heart is as it is, it will need
just such a Christ as is presented to us in the
canonical gospels as understood by the Chris
tian Church in all ages. And Jesus remains
the same yesterday, to day and forever.
We are placed by Divine Providence in a
w 7 orld of sin and death; we are made in
God’s image, endowed with the noblest fac
ulties, destined to be the prophets, priests and
kings of nature, filled with unsatisfied long
ings and aspirations after truth, holiness and
peace; yet bound to this earth, ever drawn
away from our own ideals by sensual passions,
selfish desires, and surrounded by tempta
tions from within and without. We who are
born to the freedom of the sons of God, are
slaves of sin; we who are destined for im
mortality and glory, must suffer and die; de
scended from heaven, we end in the tomb,
and return to du.-t.
Who solves this mysterious problem of
life? Who breaks the chains of darkness?
Who removes the load of guili? Who de
livers us from the degrading slavery of sin?
Whosecures peace to our troubled conscience ?
Who gives us strength against temptation?
and enables us to realize our noble vocation,
Who inspires our soul with love to God and
man? Who, in the midst of abounding cor
ruption and depravity, upholds our faith in
man, as the image of God and special object
of llis care? Who keeps up our hope and
couiage when earthly prospects vanish, the
dearest friends depart, and the future looks
dismal and threatening? Who dispels the
terrors of the tomb, and bids us hail death as
a messenger that summons us to a higher
and better world, where all the problems of
earth are solved in the light and bliss of
heaven ?
To all these questions, which may be hushed
for awhile by the follies of passion, the in
toxicating pleasures, the eager pursuit of
wealth or knowledge, but which, sooner or
later, irresistibly press themselves upon the
attention of every serious mind, there is but
one answer? “ Lord, where shall we go but
to Thee? Thou alone hast the words of
eternal life, and we know and believe that
Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living
God.” Apostles and Evangelists, martyrs
and confessors, fathers and reformers, pros
found scholarship and ignorant slaves, mighty
rulers and humble subjects, experienced men
and innocent children—all, all point in this
great and all-absorbing question of salvation,
not to Moses, not to Socrates, not to Moham
med, not to philosophy, art, or science, but
to Christ, as the Way, the Truth, and the
Life. lie, and He alone, has a balm for
every wound, a relief for every sorrow, a so
lution for every doubt, pardon for every sin,
strength for every trial, victory for every
conflict. He, and He alone, can satisfy the
infinite desires of our immortal mind.
Voices of ftraoo.
ft is marvellous and beautiful to observe
how 7 various are the voices of free grace. “I
am thirsty,” says one. “Come to the wa
ters,” she cries. “I am hungry,” says an
other. “Then eat ye that which is good,”
she says, “and let your soul delight in fat
ness.” “But lam poor, and have nothing to
buy with.” “Come buy wine and milk with
out money and without price.” “We are
weary,” sigh the laborers in the sun beaten
fields. “Come unto Me,” breathes her an
swer, like a breeze from the waters, “and I
will give you “Cast thy burden on
the Lord and he will sustain thee,” she whis
pers to the pilgrim ready to faint on the high
way. “Behold the Fountain,” she cries to
the guilty ; the Fountain opened for sin and
cleanness.” To the lost she cries :“I am the
way ; ” to the ignorant, “I am the Truth ; ”
to the dying, “I am the Life.” llow large
her welcome to the sinner, how soothing her
consolation to the mourner, how inspiring her
tone to him that is faint of heart! There is
no disease for which she has not a remedy ;
no want for which she has not a supply ; and
every one who applies to her shall confess at
length, “It i9 enough; I am blessed, as if all
the methods and riches of grace were for me
alone ! ” — Hodge.
Is Religion Beautiful i
Always! in the child, the maiden, the
mother. Religion shines with a benignant
beauty of its own, which nothing on earth can
mar. Never yet was the female character
perfect without the steady faith and piety.
Beauty, intellect, wealth—they are like pit
falls, dark in the brightest day, unless this
divine light, religion, throws her soft beam
around them to purify and exalt, making
twice glorious that which seemed all loveli
ness before.
Religion is very beautiful—either in health
or in sickness, in wealth or in poverty. We
can never enter the sick chamber of the good
but soft music seems to float on the air, and
the burden of the song is, “Lo! peace is
here.”
Could we look into thousands of families
to-day, where discontent fights sullenly with
life, we should find the chief cause of unhap
piness want of religion in woman.
To-Morrow.— Just one day beyond us,
one day in the future ; and in our imagina
tions we can stand in the doors of to-day and
shake hands with the windows of to-morrow.
But to-morrow never is to be. We have
heard the innocent little boy and girl speak
with confidence of to-morrow, but to-mor
row never came to them We, too, have
heard the young man and the lady whose for
tune and to-morrow’s day were bespangled
with hope’s brightest ray, but alas! it never
came. We have heard the aged man whose
once proud and manly form was bent down
by the storms of time, speak with a smile
and with confidence of to-morrow ; but when
to-morrow came to him, and to these, where
did it find them? in the valley and shadow
of death. These all awoke on to-morrow in
eternity. Every duty left undone to-day,
with the expectation of performing it to
morrow, is an accumulation of much busi
ness for one day ; if each day has its speefic
duties and demands, then each day there is
a responsibility ; and ever)' responsibility is
of some weight—a weight that we must
carry. Then if we continue to postpone the
duties of to-day, we will soon have a burden
which we cannot withstand ; therefore, we
should not borrow from to-morrow to sup
ply the wants of to-day, hut ever remember
though there is much evil therein, sufficient
is the day thereof. Let every day provide
for itself. Each day is an individual who
has his personal and individual duties to
perform, and to-day should never ask to bor
row oil of to-morrow. It is the shadow of
eternity, and we who have been delinquent
to-day will have sorely to account for it in
eternity and eternity’s woes; and rolls of
centuries upon centuries are the ripples upon
a calm but breeze-shaken sea, where wave
let meeting wavelet when it sinks it is only
to rise again—one rolls for all and all roil
for one, then all uniting come rolling, the
broad wave sweeping in the immensity of
eternity upon the delinquent’s head.— Ex.
“Too Religious.” —Too religious, in tho
proper sense of the term, we cannot be.
We cannot have the religious sentiments
and principles too strong, or too deeply
fixed, if only they have a right object.
We cannot love God too warmly, or honor
Him too highly, or strive to serve Him
too earnestly, or trust Him too implicitly;
because our duty is to love Him “with all
our heart, and all our soul, and all our
mind, and all our strength.”
But too religious, in another sense, we
may and are very apt to be; that is, we
are apt to make for ourselves too many
objects of religious feeling.
Now Almighty God has revealed him
self as the proper object of religion—as
the one Power on whom we are to feel our
selves continually dependent for all things,
and the one only Being whose favor we are
continually to seek. And lest we should
complain that an Infinite Being is an ob
ject too remote and incomprehensible for
our minds- to dwell upon, He has mani
fested Himself in His Son, the man. Jesus
Christ, whose history and character are
largely described to us in the gospels, so
that, to love, fear, honor, and serve Jesus
Christ is to love, fear and honor Al
mighty God; Jesus Christ being “one with
the Father,” and “all the fullness of the
Godhead” dwelling in Him.— Archbishop
Whately.
Castles.
Types of architecture have sometimes a
curious connection with epochs in history.
The castle was essentially the device of the
Norman. It has been remarked that it united
three functions generally separated. It was
a fortress, a prison and a domestic dwelling
house —not merely a place where a gar
rison ate and slept, but a luxurious man
sion according to their available luxury of
the day. These buildings, were thus peculiar
to the countries swept by Norman power, or
inhabited by Northern populations taking
their habits from Normans. Pasquier says
that the season for saying in derision of a
boastful fellow that he has a chateau en Es
pague, is because there are no chateaus in
Spain. The country was in the hands of the
Moors when the Normans were consolidating
their influence over the rest of Europe. The
date when this influence began in each dis
trict, whether by invasion or otherwise, co
incides curiously with that of the style of
castle building. England’s oldest castles are
the round arched Norman of the Conqueror’s
period. Those of Scotland, Ireland and
Wnles go back no further than Edward I.—
Blackwood
The Theatre. —Just at this time the thea
tre has become preeminent for tradness.
These are the days when the vilest spectacles
are seen upon every stage—the days of
“Black Crooks” and “ White Fawns.” It is
but a short time since the secular press of
Philadelphia joined together in denouncing
some exhibitions by which the Academy of
Music was defiled. The most attractive bills,
we are informed, are made up of what is
known in theatrical parlance as “ pieces.”
And this degredation of the theatre is not ex
ceptional, but universal. It is the same
everywhere—in Europe and America, in
London and New York. In the last num
ber of the British Quarterly we find the fol
lowing statements in regard to an attempt to
curb the licentiousness of England theatres :
“ Most rightly did the Lord Chaberlain re
cently issue his fiat againt the short skirts ol
the ballet dancers; but the fiat has been vain,
as all such injunctions in this free country
must be when public opinion refuses to sup
port it, or at least allow itself to be over
powered by the crowd of play goers who
delight in such spectacles. A gangrene of
selfish and demoraling pleasure is now eating
into the heart of this country ; and we fear
the social malady will not be checked save
by the advent of some terrible national ca
lamity.
Out of Christ, life is an impenetrable
mystery; in him, it is gloriously solved.
Out of him, there is nothing but skepti
cism, nihilism, and despair; in him, there
is certainty and peace in this world, and
life everlasting in the world to come. Our
hearts are made for Christ, and they are
without rest until they rest in Christ.—
Exchange.
We ought not to judge of men’s merits
by their qualifications, but by the use they
make of them.— Charron.
Hasty Creeds. —As unnoaled glass will
fly to pieces because the surface has hardened
into form, without giving time to the parti
cles within to take their natural positions, so
a creed or a church which Is accepted out
wardly before the mind within is prepared,
is likely to be broken apart. Such a creed or
church may have the outward aspect of
unity, but it is in a condition of unstable equi
librium within. Its emblem is the glass toy
culled a Prince Rupert’s bubble, made of
glass suddenly chilled, which w'ill fly asunder
if you scratch the surface anywhere ever so
lightly.
DRUGS, MEDICINES, &c.
THE WORLD’S WONDER]
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—OR
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ver, Ague, Bilious Fever, Dropsy
and Jaundice.
This Medicine is purely Vegetable, and perfectly
harmless; but its efficacy is too permanently estab
lished in all the Southern and Western States to re
quire further recommendation. The wise will not fail
give it a fair trial—that is all that is askeJ.
Hundreds of certificates from the best men in the
country attest the value of our Medicine.
PRICE #I.OO.
jaspsentby mail on receipt of price. For sale by
alt Druggists. CRAWFORD A WALKER,
Proprietors,
2492- ly West Point, Georgia.
SEWING MACHINE.
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IMPROVED SILENT .
SEWING MACHINES.
500,000 Now in Use.
Awarded the Gold Medal at Paris Exposition,
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Every Machine Warranted far Three Years.
HOWARD & SOULE,
General Southern Agents.
Office No* ], DeGive’s Opera House, Atlanta, Ga.
2315
__ STOVES.
THE STEWART COOK STOV&
WIT H DUMPINQ GR A TE.
LATEST IMPROVEMENT! BEST IN THE WORLD!!
MANUFACTURED U*
FULLER, WARREN & GO.,
troy, n. y.
The Stewart Stove, which has been in use for more
thana quarter ofa xenturv, a„d by Us economy and
complete adaptation to the wants of the kitchen, has
maintained au acknowledged superiority over all other
stoves, is now introduced to the publio with all the
modern conveniences of Front Draft, Ash Drawer
and Dumping Grate, f lhe Flats have also been
enlarged and improved, so as to ensure an excellent
Drajt at all times, and still to retain in the Stove iia
unrivalled economical features. No stove bas ever vet
been made to do as much work with as little fuel as the
t o ar il The following brief summary is the result
of One Day’s Work, recently accomplished at Glo
verhVJile, N* 1 with one Stewart Stove:
Baked 415 pounds of bread, half a bushel of po
tutoes, 5 appfe pies. Roasted 73 pounds of beet.
1 barrel of water; also, IT gallons heated to
150 degrees. All this with one coal tire, not a particle
of coal being put into the stove alter the fire was start
ed in the morning. Those in want of Cook Stoves will
secure the most economy bv procuring the best. The
Stewart Stoves are for stile in nearly everv town and
city throughout the United Stales.
FULLER, WARREN & CO.,
Exclusive Manufacturers,
Troy, N. Y.
Branch Houses :[ “ £ tate s ‘-» ica K°-1 11 ;,
) 80 River St., Cleveland, O.
The Warren Doable Oven Cooking Range,
the most perfect operating Range in the market, and
the Lawson Hot Air Finn aces, the very best lor
heating Churches, Public Buildings, and Private Resi
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FULLER, WARREN & CO.
LIJ ' Descriptive Pamphlets furnished on application.
For sa.e in Atlanta by J. WARLICK,
2486 Peachtree Snwot.
'BUSINESSCARDS”
A.” €ONSTA NT INK’S
Persian Healing Soap.
Patented March 12, 1867.
FOR THE 101 LET, RATH AAD NURSERY.
This Soap bis no equal. It preserves the complex
ion fair, the skin soft, fiexib e and healthy. It removes
all dundruff, preserves the hair soft ajid silky, and pre
vents it from falling off. It cures Pimples, all Diseases
of the Scalp and Skiu, and is a (JOOl) SHAVING
SOAP. Agents wanted. Office, 43 Ann St, New York.
Ask any dealer for A. A. Constantin x’s Soap,
2532-1
ME NE EL Y’S BE LL S.
(Established in 1826.)
a.\BGs*i<* BELLS for Churches, Academies,
Factories, etc., of which more have
been made at this establishment than
Si^lvLS at il| l the other foundries in the
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sent free upon application to
.-ll» E. A. & U. U. MENEELY,
m 2496—y* West Troy, N. Y.
TRAVELERS’ GUIDE.
WESTERN AND ATLANTIC RAILROAD CO.
E. W. Coi.K, Superintendent , Atlanta.
Night Passenger Train — Outward.
Leave Atlanta 0 10.15 P M
Arrive at Chattanooga 5.40 A.M
Day Passenger Ttain — Outward.
Leave Atlanta 8.15 A.M
Arrive at Chattanooga 4.25 P.M
Accommodation Train — Outward.
Leave Atlanta 3 00 P.M
Arrive at Cartersville 7.11 P.M
Night Passenger Train — lnward.
Leave Chattanooga ... .9 00 P.M
Arrive at Atlanta. 5.17 A.M
Day Passenger Train — lnward.
Leave Chattanooga 5 50 A.M
Arrive at Atlanta 2.00 P.M
Accommodation Train lnward.
Leave Cartersville 5.00 A.M
Arrive at Atlanta 9.00 A.M
GEORUIA RAILROAD.
S. K. Johnson, Superintendent , Augusta.
Day Passnger Train.
Leave Augusta 8.00 A.M
Leave Atlanta 7 10 A.M
Arrive at Augusta • * • • 5.40 P.M
Arrive.at Atlanta ....0.35 P.M
Night Passenger and Mail Train.
Leave Augusta 8.90 P.M
Leave Atlanta 10 00 P.M
Arrive at AuguMa 7.30 A M
Arrive at Atlanta 6.40 A M
Athens Branch Train leaves Union Point daily,
Sunday excepted, at 1.15 P.M., arriving at Atlanta at
435 P.M. Leave Athens at 9.15 A.M., arriving at
Union Point 12.50 P.M. On Monday and Tuesday
nights, a train leaves Union Point at 2 20 A.M , arrives
at Athens 5.15 A.M.; leaves Athens, 8 P.M., arriving
at Union Point, 11 P.M.
Washington Branch. —Train leaves Washington
at 10 A.M., arrives at Barnett, 11.30 A.M.; leaves
Barnett 2.15 P.M., arriving at Washington at 4.10
P.M. On Monday and Tuesday nights, leaves Wash
ington at 10.20 P.M., arriving at Barnett. 12 at night.
Leaves Barnett, 1.50 A.M., arrives at Washington,
3 30 A.M.
Macon and Augusta Railroad. — Train leaves
Camak, 12.40 P.M., arriving at Milledgeville Junction
4.20 P.M.; leaves Junction at 6.15 A.M, arriving at
Camak, 9.25 A.M. Connects Augusta with South
Carolina, Charlotte, Columbia and Augusta, aud
Augusta with Savannah Railroad.
ATLANTA AND WEST POINT RAILROAD.
L. P. Grant, Superintendent, Atlanta.
Day Passenger Train— Outward.
Leave Atlanta 7.00 A.M
Arrive at West Point ..11-.40A.M
Day Passenger Train—h ward.
Leave West Point 5.15 P.M
Arrive at Atlanta 10.00 P.M
Night Freight and Passenger—Outward.
Leave Atlanta 0 00 P.M
Arrive at West Point 10.45 P.M
Night Freight and Passenger—lnward.
Leave West Point 3.00 A.M
Arrive at Atlanta 10.07 A.M •
MACON AND WESTERN RAILROAD.
A. J. Whitk, President, Macon.
Day Passenger Train.
Leave Atlanta 0.00 A.M
Arrive at Maoon 11.30 A.M
Leave Macon 7-20 A.M
Arrive at Atlanta 2.23 P.M
Night Express Passenger Train—Daily.
Leave Atlanta 3.23 P.M
Arrive at Macon .11.05 P.M
Leave Macon 5.05 P.M
Arrive at Atlanta.. ■ ■ 10.15 P.M
AIR LINE RAILROAD.
S. K. Buford, President.
Leave Atlanta for Norcross every Wednesday and
Friday at 5 A.M., connecting at Norcross with singes
for Gainesville. Leave Norcross at 4 P.M. Passen
gers reach Gainesville the same day.
NASHVILLE AND CHATTANOOGA RAILROAD.
J. W. Thomas, Superintendent, Nastiville.
Day Passenger Irain.
Leave Nashville 0 30 A.M
Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 P.M
Leave Chattanooga 3 45 A M
Arrive at Nashville L3O P.M
Night Passenger Train,
Leave Nashville 015 P.M
Arrive at Chattanooga 4 30 A.M
Leave Chattanooga S 00 P.M
Arrive at Nashville 5 00 A.M
Night trains ruu daily; day trains run daily, Sum
days excepted.
Both trains connect at Chattanooga for Rome, At
lanta, and all principal Southern cities.
SOUTH GEORGIA AND FLORIDA RAILROAD.
H. S. Haines, General Superintendent.
Express Passenger Train.
Leave Savannah every day at 4.00 P.M
Arrive at Jessup (Junction M. & B. 11. R.)
every day at 6.55 P M
Arrive at Live Oak every day at 1.35 A.M
Arrive at Jacksonville every day at 0.10 A.M
Arrive at Tallahassee every duy at 0.22 A.M
Arrive at Quincy every dny at 5.27 A.M
Arrive at Bainbttdge every day at 515 A.M
Arrive at Albany every day at 7.15 A.M
Leave Albany every day at 7 00 P.M.
Leave Baiubridge every dny at 7.45 P M
Leuve Quincy every day at 5.42 P.M
Leave Tallahassee every day at 7 42 P.M
Leuve Jacksonville every day at 7 47 P.M
Live Oak every day at 12 45 A.M
Leave Jessup every day at 7 20 A.M
Arrive at Savannah every day at 10.20 A.M
Macon Accommodation.
Leave Savannah (Sundays excepted) at. •. .5 00 A.M
Leave Jessup (Sundays excepted) at 3.30 A.M
Arrive at Macon (Sundays excepted) at 0 10 P.M
Leave Macon (Sundays excepted) at 0 15 A M
Leave Jessup (Sundays excepted) at 7.15 P M
Arrive at Savannah (Sundays excepted) at 10.15 P.M
No change of cars between Savannah and Albany.
Passengers for Bainbridge change cars at Thomas
vi lie.
Passengers for Brunswick take 4 P.M. train Irom
Savannah.
Passengers from Brunswick connect at Jessup
with train for Savaunah, arriving nt 10.20 A.M.
Passengers leaving Macon at 2 15 A.M., connect at
Jessup with train for Florida and Western Division.
A Passenger Car will be attached lo Way Freight
Train leaving Savannah Tuesday and Thursday at 7
A.M., and arriving Wednesday aud Thursday at 320
P.M.