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YOL. II. SANDERSYTLLE, GEORG IA, AUGUST 15, 1873. <* NO. 7. J :i G . WEDLOCK. JETHRO AULtJfE. R. I.. RODGERS. 5Sy Jlcdtock, Arliuc & Kodgers. The Herald is published in Sandersville, On- every Friday morning. Subscription price TWO DOLLARS per annum. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates, i No charge for publishing marriages or I deaths. POETRY. IBettexh “I give thee joy, my darling!” Escaped—set free ! set free! The young life’s hours of sorrow Wore on, how wearily; There is no sorrow yonder, Where Jesus welcomes thee. I give thee joy, my darling ! Thy sleep is calm and sweet, And thy bosom heaves no longer With that painful, fluttering heat Till the resurrection morning Lie still, oh, tired feet! I give thee joy, my darling ! The weight is off thy breast! This world is dark and stormy— With Jesus, that is best The last tear-drops have fallen : Sweet eyes, now take your rest. I give thee joy, my darling ! See where thy mother stands And watches with rejoicing Those motionless dear hands, And thinks of thy glad spirit Among the angel bands. I give the^joy, my darling! I, left here in the night, Can sea beyond the river Thy young brow bathed in light; And on me falls the radiance Of thy garments shining white, I give thee joy, my darling! For Jesus is thy King ; And to his blessed presence He will all His people bring, There we, one day, together Shall Hallelujah sing. Anna Warner. ■ SELECT MISCELLANY. Last hours ot Lady Jane Grey. That clay, on the eve of which Queen Mary sat in her closet with her Spanish counselor, was Ash "Wed nesday ; and Mary, on consenting that her cousin should not live forty hours longer, called to her presence Father Feckenham, whom she had just made Dean of St. Paul’s and Abbot of Westminister, and bade him go to the Deputy’s house in the Tower, with news that Lady Jane must die, and see what could be done to save her soul. Feckenham, who brought down his message of the death to the Tower, was startled to see the girl receive his news with a sad and welcome smile. It seemed to him out of na ture, almost out of grace. He spoke to her of her soul; of the sins of men ; of the need of repentance; but he found her calm and happy— at peace with the world and at one with God. He talked to her first of faith, of liberty; of holiness; then of the sacrament, the Scriptures, and the universal Church. She knew all these things better than himself; and she held a language about them far beyond his reach. With a sweet patience, she put an end to the de bate by saying that since she had only a few hours now to live, she needed them all for prayer. The Dean was moved, as men of his order are seldom moved. Con vert this girl in a day ! Worn as he was in church affairs, he knew that no skill of his would be able, in one winter day, to avail him against one who combined a scholar’s learning, with a woman’s wit. If her soul was to be saved—and the Father was anxious to save her soul—that order for her execution on Friday morn ing must be staid. With the sweet voice pulsing in his ear, he rode back to Whitehall, and told the vindictive Queen, with the bold energy of a priest, that her orders for that execu tion on Friday must be withdrawn. With much ado, the Queen gave way, and the puzzled Father went back to the Tower to resume his task. Jane was kind but cold. She had no use for him and his precepts in her final hour on earth. His going to Court about her sentence gave her pain. She did not want to die; at seventeen no one wants to die; but she did not like the Queen to add one day to her life under the hope that she would act as Dudly and Warwick had done, in giving up their faith. That was a sacrifice she could never make. TV hen Feckenham told her that the Warrants for Friday were recalled, she merely said she was willing to did, if the Queen, her cousin, was minded to put the law in force against her. For the rest she only wanted to be left alone. “You are not to die to-morrow,” he persisted. “You are much deceived,” said Jane, “if you think I have any desire of longer life.” When it was known in the Tower that warrants were out, and that Jane would die on Monday morning, every one became eager to get some token from her, to catch a last word from her lips, a final glance from her eye. To Thomas Brydges„the deputy, in whose house she had lived nearly eight mouths, she gave a small book of devotions, bound in vellum, con taining two scraps of-her writing, and a few words by Lord Guilford one of her notes was addressed to Brydges himself, in words that must have gone to his soul: “Call upon God to incline your heart to his laws, to quicken you in his way, and not to take the word of truth utterly out of your mouth.” Sunday morning she spent in prayer, and reading her book, a copy of the Greek Testament, in which she ob served a blank leaf at the end, and taking up her pen, wrote some last words to her darling sister, Lady Catherine Gray, sad heiress of all her rights and miseries. “I have sent you, good sister Kate, a book which, although it be not outwardly rimmed with gold, yet in wardly it is of more worth than preci- ousstones.'"'It is the book, dear sister, of the law of the Lord; his testa ment and last will, which he bequeath ed to us wretches, which will lead you to eternal joy.” When this tenderly reared girl of seventeen was summoned to the scaffold, her two gentlewomen could hardly walk for weeping; but Lady Jane, who was dressed in a black gown, came forth with a prayer book in her hand, a heavenly smile on her face, a tender light in her gray eyes. She walked across the green, passed through the files of troopers, mount ed the scaffold, and then, turning to the crowd of spectators, softly said : . “Good people, I am come hither to die. The fact against the Queen’s highness was unlawful; but touch ing the procurement and desire there of by me, or on my behalf, I wash my hands thereof in innocency, be- fere God and in the face of you, good Christian people, this day.” She paused, as if to put away from her the world, with which she had now done forever. Then she added; “I pray you all, good Christian people, to bear me witness that I die a true Christian woman, and that I look to be saved by no other means than the mercy of God, in the merits of the blood of his only Son, our Lord tfcsus Christ. And now, good people, while I am alive, I pray you to assist me with your prayers.” Kneeling down, she said to Fecken ham, the only divine who Mary would allow to come near her : “Shall I say this psalm?” The abbot falter ed, “Yes.” On which she repeated, in a clear voice, the noble psalm : “Have mercy upon me, O God! af ter thy great goodness ; according to the multitude of thy mercies do away mine offenses.” When she had come to the last line, she stood up on her feet, and took off her gloves and kerchief, which she gave to Elizabeth Tylney. The Book of Pslams she gave to Thomas Brydges, the Lieutenant’s Deputy. Then she untied her gown, and took off her bridal gear. The headsman offered to assist her, hut she put his hands gently aside, and drew a white kerchief round her eyes. The veiled figure of the executioner sank at her feet and begged her for giveness for what he irad now to do. She whispered in his ear a few soft words of pity and pardon, and then said to him openly; “I pray you, dispatch me quickly.” Kneeling be fore the block she felt for it blindly with her open fingers. One who stood by her, touched and guided her hand to the place which it sought; when she laid down her noble head, and saying, “Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit,” passed, with the prayer on her lips, into her ever lasting rest.— W. H. Dixon. Wash fob Trees.—In answer to an inquiry whether lime is beneficial to an orchard, the Germantown Tele graph replies to a correspondent as follows: “Where apple orchards are kept permanently in grass, as they should be, a top dressing of lime, of say thirty bushels to the acre every five years, will prove very bene ficial. As to whitewashing the trunks of trees, we refer our correspondent to the preparation for that purpose prescribed by William Saunders, of the government gardens at Washing ton, which has proved of the great est benefit. This wash is made as follows .• Put half a bushel of lime and four pounds powdered sulphur in a tight barrel, slacking the lime witli hot water, the mouth of the bar rel being covered with a cloth. This is reduced to the consistence of or dinary whitewash; at the time of ap plication half an ounce of carbolic acid is added to each gallon of the liquid. Mr. Saunders says: “I gen erally apply it in spring, before the leaves make their appearance, but I am convinced that it would be more effective if applied later; but then it is difficult to do so when the tree is in foliage.” Mr. Saunders applies the wash not only to the stem of the tree, but to some extent to the main branches.” He returned his back pay and iaet his Creator with a clear conscience” is the solemn conclusion of an obit uary on a deceased western congress man. Shakspeare says Macbeth doth murder sleep. The retribution is fearful; for how many actors murder Macbeth. A Heroic American Student. At the gala regatta of the South German Boating Association at Marnheim, in Baden, on the 13th of June, there took place an event which shed considerable lustre on American gallantry, and which end ed in a most romantic manner. On the above mentioned day the banks of the Rhine were lined with spec tators, among which the South Ger man aristocracy was fully represent ed. Just as the crews of four boat ing socioties were speeding past the last pillar of the new bridge, a thrill ing spectacle attracted all eyes. A handsomeyounglady, most elegantly dressed, who had been leaning over the low railing of the bridge, sudden ly lost her balance and fell into the water, which was at least seventy- five feet underneath. Two or three heartrending shrieks burst from lips of those standing near, and then the thousands of spectators, losing all interest in the race, looked with breathless suspense for the result of this terrible accident. The poor young lady struck the water heavily, and disappeared at once. The Rhine is at that place deep and rapid; and when the aged father of the unfor tunate lady, in a voice of agonizing grief, offered a princely reward to whosoever would save his daughter, there was no response. All at once a tall young man, in the costume of a German student, and wearing the gold embroidered cap of the Yandal Society, of Heidel berg. rushed to the left bank of the river, and plunged boldly into the water—a leap of thirty feet. There was a loud shout of applause, and then again a pause of breathless si lence. All eyes were riveted on the gallant swimmer as he struggled against the rapid current at the very spot where the young lady had dis appeared. He dived down. What a minute of suspense! But all at once a heavy burden fell from all those oppressed hearts. The swim mer emerged from the depth, and on his arm held the senseless body of the young lady. Another shout of applause rang the welkin. Now two boats rowed rapidly toward the pair; for the young swimmer was visibly growing faint, and, when he with his fail- burden was drawn into one of the boats, he sank down in utter ex haustion. When the boat reached the left bank, the young hero was at once the object of a fervent ovaton, while the young woman’s father took the latter in his arms, and carried her, still in an unconscious condition, into a carriage. The jjtoung hero was a Kentuckian, named Clarence Goodwin, a law stu dent at the University of Heidel berg. The oldest and most experi enced fishermen on the Rhine pro nounced his exploit a truly heroic deed, and already on the following morning the Grand Duke of Baden conferred on young Goodwin, who is only nineteen years old, the large golden medal for deeds of conspicu ous courage and devotion. But a still sweeter reward awaited him. The young lady, whose life he had saved, and who, notwithstanding the terrible shock she had suffered, had soon revived, was the only daughter of the Count of Ileigem, one of the wealthiest South-German noblemen. Her father went himself to the sav ior of his daughter, and, after thank ing him in the most touching man ner, brought him to the young Coun tess. The latter thanked young Goodwin with tears in her eyes, and said that her life-long gratitude be longed to him. During the next few days the two were seen frequent ly together on the public promenade, and everybody in Mannheim be lieves that they are engaged to be married. The Spirit of Invention.—Three hundred years ago, before man had gained control of the forces of Na ture, and was yet fighting for the bare liberty to study them, Lord Ba con thus estimated the import of in ventions in the world’s affairs “The introduction of new inventions seemeth to he the very chief of all human actions. The benefits of new inventions m#y extend to all mankind universally, but the good of political achievements can respect but some particular cantons of men; these latter do not endure above a few ages, the former forever. Inventions make all men happy without either injury or damage to any one single person. Furthermore, new inven tions are, as it were new erections and imitations of God’s own works.” Sorrow.—At whatever sign of genuine sorrow, no one but a brute can mock. Sorrow is not more a chastener of the true soul than it is an iiispirer of reverence. There is a measure of grief that is spiritual, elevating, purifying, divine. Most humanizing and divine is that im mortal picture of Niobe. The tears of a mother over her dead babe— her first * born—or the sadness of whatever heat is bereaved—these are sacred symbols of the divine that stamp and hallow our brother hood—our humanity. , Why the Bed Sea is called Red. A question that has pnzzled schol ars found a solution some time since in the observations of an American submarine diver. - Smith’s Bible Die tionary dismisses learnedly the name of the Red Sea, written e eruthra tha- lassa in the Septuagrnt. The Dic tionary surmises that the name was derived from the red western moun tains, red coral zoophytes, etc., and appears to give little weight to the real and natural reason which came under our American’s notice. On one occasion the diver observed, wliiie under sea, that the curious wavering shadows, which cross the lustrous, golden floor, like Frauen- hofer’s lines on the spectrum, began to change and lose themselves. A purple glory of intermingled colors darkened the violet curtains of the sea chambers, reddening all glints and tinges with an angry fire. In stead of the lustrous, golden firma ment, the thallas spheredarkened to crimson and opal. The walls grew purple, the floor as red. as blood ; the deep itself was purpled with the venous hue of deoxidized life-cur rents. The view on the surface was even more magnificent. The sea at first assumed the light tawny or yellow ish red of sherry wino. Anon this wine-color grew instinct with richer radiance; as far as eye could see, and flashing in the crystalline splen dor of the Arabian sun, was a glori ous sea of rose. The dusky red sandstone hills, with a border of white sand and green and flowered foliage, like an elaborately wrought cup of 'Bohemian glass enameled with brilliant flowers, held the spar kling liquid petals of that rosy sea. The surface, on examination, proved to be covered with a thin brickdust layer of infusoria slightly tinged with orange. Placed in a white glass bottle, this changed into a deep violet, but the wide surface of the external sea was of that magnificent and brilliant rose-color. It was a new pleasing example of the lustrous, ever-varying beauty of the ocean world. It was caused by diatoma- ceie, minute algre, which under the microscope revealed delicate threads gathered in tiny bundles, ana con taining rings, like blood disks, of that curious coloring matter in tiny tubes. This miracle of beauty is not with out its analogies in other seas. The medusae of the Arctic seas, an allied existence, people the ultramarine blue of the cold, pure sea, with the vivid patches of living green thirty miles in diameter. These minute or ganisms are doubly curious from their power of astonishing produc tion and the strange electric fire they display. Minute as these micro scopic creatures are, every motion and flash is the result of volition, and not a mere chemic or mechanic phosphorescence. The Pliotocaris light a flashing cirrus, on being irri tated, in brilliant kindling sparks, increasing in intensity until the whole organism is illuminated. The bring fire washes over its back, and pencils in greenish yellow light its microscopic outline. Nor do these creatures lack a beauty of their own. Their minute shields of pure trans lucent silex are elaborately wrought in microscopic symbols of mimic heraldry. They are the chivalry of the deep, the tiny knights with lance and cuirass, and oval bossy shield carved in quaint conceits and orna mental fashion. Nor must we des pise them when we reflect upon their power of accretion. The GallioneUce, invisible to the naked eye, can, of their heraldic shields and flnty ar mor, make two cubic feet of Bilin polishing slate in four days. By straining §ea-water, a web of green ish cloth of gold, illuminated by their play of self-generated electric light, has been collected. Humboldt and Ehrenberk speak of their vorac ity, their power of discharging elec tricity at will, and their sporting about, exhibiting an intelligent en joyment of the life God has given to them. Man and his works perish, but the monuments of the infusoria are the flinty ribs of the sea, the giant bones of huge continents, heaped into mountain ranges over which the granite and porphyry have set their stony seal forever. Man thrives in his little zone; the popu lous infusoria crowd every nook of earth from the remote poles to the burning equatorial belt. Josh BileinGs on Hens.—The best time tew set a hen iz when the hen iz reddy. I kan’t tell what the best breed iz, but the Shangbiis the meen- est. It kosts az much tew bord 1 az it duz a stage boss, and you mout az well undertaik tew fat a fanning mill by running oats thru it. There ain’t no profit in keeping a lien for his eggs if he laze less than 1 a da, Hens are very long lived, if tha don’t kontract the throte diseaze, I kan’t tell eggzactly how tew pick out a good heft, but az a general thing, the long eared ones, I kno are the leest apt tew scratch up the gar den! [From the Detroit Free Press.] The Parrot and the Clergyman. Last winter a Gratiot street sa loon keeper went to Cincinnati on a visit, and while seeing the town he came across a saloon sporting the wickedest old parrot which ever learned to speak the English language Gratiot street stood by and heard the bird “rip and teai*” for a straight hour, and when he came home that parrot came with him. All the way up here the purchase “went for” brakeinen and baggagemen, ripping out oaths which Captain Kid couldn’t have handled, and the further North he came the more wicked he grew. Reaching Detroit, his cage was hung up in the saloon, and “Jack” has been there ever since up to Friday. It was a poor day when he didn’t learn some new oath or slangy ex pression, and finally he became so that nobody but a hardened villain could talk with him. He was sold last Friday for $20, and his owner kept him about an hour, and then sent him as a present to a minister’s wife who had been attentive to his family during sickness. She was very grateful, having often thought how nice it would be to have a talk ing parrot around the house. “Jack” seemed put out by the change of owners, and he set on his perch all Friday night and refused to say a word. Saturday morning the min ister’s wife started for Pontiac, and she carried “Jack’s” cage into her husband’s study that neither might be lonesome. She had been gone about an hour, and the good man was scribbling away, when all at once the parrot shouted: “Hearts is trumps!” The good man gave a jump and looked out of the window, thinking that a couple of bad boys were play ing euchre under his shade trees. He could see no one, and supposing that he was mistaken, he seated him self and began to write ’again, when the parrot shouted: “Not any gin, thank ye!” Horrified the clergyman looked around and he saw “J ack” trying to wink at him. Half doubting it was the bird which had spoken, yet de termined to find out, he inquired: “What?” “Shut up, or I’ll put a head on ye !” replied Jack, hanging to the cage with one claw and shaking his feath ers. “Is it possible?” exclaimed the good man, drawing nearer to the cage: “Champagne Charlie was liis name— Champagne Charlie was his name,” sang Jack, swinging furiously ou the stick. “Vile bird, you shall go out of here!” said the minister in an ex cited voice, “I would as soon har bor a highwayman.” “Rouse mit him!” cried Jack, and then he chuckled and cackled as if he was laughing heartily. “It is a sin^nd a shame that men have taught an innocent bird to use such language,” continued the good man, as he picked up the cage. “Hit him with a beer tumbler,” replied the parrot, trying to fasten his claws into the ministerial Teg. “Little did my wife dream what a viper she was bringing into the house,” mused the man. “I shall hire some boy to cany you away.” Send for the Black Maria,” re plied the bud, and while he was be ing carried out ho continued, “Who stole the wheelbarrow.” The minister reached the stoop and called to a boy who was playing mumblety-peg on the grass. “Here bub,” he said, as the boy came up ; “take this bird off some where and give him away, and I’ll give you two shillings.” “Oh, dry up now!” growled “Jack,” seeming to know that he was to change places again. “Give him to any one who will take him,” continued the minister. “I have received a shock which fairly makes me tremble.” “Chuck him under the table!” called the bird, as he went through the gate, and when he was nearly a block away he could be heard sing ing r “We -won’t go home till morning— Till daylight does appear.” Yitue and Knowledge.—Virtue is a power for good in itself. On the other hand knowledge is power for good only as it is allied to virtue. Unsanctified knowledge is often a dangerous instrumentality, while un lettered virtue is a tower of strength to society. A character in its near est perfection, combines the two,— virtue—religion—and knowledge. These form the safeguard of a na tion, and are objects of the highest importance in the State. Better it is, to ward the right con duct of life, to consider what will be the end of a thing than what is the beginning of it; for what promises fair at first may prove ill, and what seems at first a disadvantage may prove very advantageous. A shrill old lady in Memphis" when ever she loses her scissors, rouses the whole family with! “Where’s them shears appeard to. Children and Christianity. In an address at the late anniversa ry of the American Sunday School Union, Rev. Dr. Armitage said: I find a child in no religion but in the religion of Jesus. Mohammed seemed to know nothing about chil dren in their mythology. Their gods were not born as children. They were never endowed with the at tributes of children. They never threw themselves into the social ties of children. Oh,* no! That would not have been natural. That would not have been divine in their con ception. And hence they make no provision for chilclren. But the great elemental fact of Christianity is the holy Child Jesus. Born of a woman, born under the law, in total helplessness physically, laid in a manger; cared for by no man; but the child of the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace. So that the Gospel of Jesus is the only religion on earth that makes provis ion for a child, and is the only re ligion in which a child is laid at the basis and foundation of its faith. The Bible is the child’s book as well as the philosopher’s book; and if the stern facts of the Bible, beautiful in love, came to the heart of the sturdy old tinker in Bedford jail, they also stole upon the heart of his little blind Mary at his feet! So that the philosopher and the child stand on equal ground in the matter of salvation. A child is not expected to depend upon the faith of mystery, but the faith of great, grand, moral facts. The Saviour is a fact; Sin is a fact—not a doctrine, nor a theory, merely; God is a fact.; Holiness is a fact; Heaven and Hell and Christ and Faith and Love are all facts ; and when a child feels that he is a living fact, and a loving God in spires him with love, with faith, with obedience, what can Gabriel more than love and believe and obey God in return? The Baby’s Tender Heart. What parent has not at some time thought that the baby in his house was the most affectionate, and the most wonderful in its utterances, of any child that ever lived ? A brother clergyman, who has a little daughter of two years of age, remarkable, at least, for precocity in talking, relates an incident which has touched us deeply, and may interest others. A sailor called at our brother’s door, and told a story of suffering. His ship had been on fire, and him self and comrades were badly burned and maimed. His scarred aims were exhibited, and an appeal was made for a few pennies, not so much for a few pennies, not so much for himself as for his comrades who were still more badly injured. Baby seemed to understand all, and with quivering lip seconded the sailor’s appeal. Money was handed to the little one, who, offering to the wound ed man, said, “Here, poor manny, all burned up, here some pennies for you, poor manny.” The poor man, understanding the prattle of little May, could only answer with tears. How deep into his heart fell the baby’s love; how more precious than ever to the father and mother was this tender hearted, unselfish child. What deep signifieance does such an instance of true charity impart to the words of the Master, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.” One of the many capital punish ments in use under the Chinese Criminal Code is that of deprivation of sleep, which generally proves fatal in about ten days. Five foolish young Belgians lately tried this ex periment upon, themselves with more or less disagreeable results. They laid a wager that they would remain awake seven days, on con dition that they might use all pos- sibile means of keeping off sleep. They arranged the employment of their time in the following manner: The night was spent in dancing and drinking quantities of coffee; during the day they rode, fenced or shot at a mark, taking coffee every half hour. One of these young men won the wager, but lost twenty-five pounds in weight; two fell asleep after re maining awake one hundred and thirty hours; one was seized with in flammation of the lungs; the fifth was overcome by slumber while on horseback, fell and broke his arm, and thus ended this very unnecessa ry ordeal. The King and the Soldier. Federiek of Prussia had a great mania for enlisting gigantic soldiers into the Royal Guards, and paid an enormous bounty to his recruting officers for getting them. One day the recruiting sergeant chanced to espy an Hibemiarnwho was at least seven feet high; he accosted him in English, and proposed that he should enlist. The idea of military life and the large bounty so delighted Patrick that he immediately consented. , “But, unless you cam speak Ger man, the king will not give you so much.” “Oh!” said the Irishman, “sure it’s I that don’t know a word of Ger man.” “But,” said the sergeant, “three words will be sufficient,, and these you can learn in a short time. The king knows every man in the guards. As soon as he sees you, he will ride up and ask you how old.you are; you will say, “Twenty-seven next, how long have you been in the service: you must reply, “Three weeksfinally, if you are provided with clothes and rations; you an swer “Both.’ ” Pat soon learned to pronounce his answers, but never dreamed of learn ing the questions. In three weeks he appeared before the king in re view. His Majesty rode up to him, Paddy stepped forward with “pre sent arms.” “How old are you?” said the king. “Three weeks.” said the Irishman. “How long have you been in the service?” asked his majesty. “Twenty-seven years.” “Am I or you a blockhead?” roared the king. “Both,” replied Patrick, who was instantly taken to the guard-room, but pardoned by the king after he understood the fact of the case. The newspapers talk of the gigan tic railroad power, and of the enor mous railroad monopoly, but when we come to examine figures it will,, be seen that it id not easy to speak in exaggerated terms of the railroad influence. It is truly gigantic. The corporations whose lines stretch for 60,000 miles, the cost of which is more than $3,000,000,000, are an army of giants. Their total receipts last year were $110,000,000. These are the astonishing statements of a work on the Railroads of the United States, which has just made its ap pearance. Whisky.—It is said that one hun dred and thirty thousand places are licensed to sell spirituous liquors. Three hundred and ninety thousand persons are employed in these grog, shops. If we add to them the num ber employed in distilleries and whole sale liquor shops, we shall have at least 570,000 persons employed in sending their fellow-mortals to pre mature graves. In the National Beer Congress, at their ninth annual sessiog, at Newark, N. J., in 1869, the President presented statistics showing the whole amount of capital employed, directly and indirectly, in the manufacture of beer to be $105,- 000,000, giving employment to 56,- 663 men. Crime is mostly caused by drunkenness. Criminals cost America $40,000,000 per year. The liquor traffic annually sends to prison 100,000 persons, reduces 2,000,000 children to a state worse than or phanage, sends 60,000 anually to drunkards’ graves, and makes 60,- 000 drunkards. The people of Ameri ca, according to the report of Com missioner Wells, swallowed from the counters of retail grog shops in one year, poison liquor to the amount of $1,573,481,856. This terrible busi ness aginst the laws of God and man is rapidly increasing, and loudly calls for some measure of protection. Sowing not in Vain.—Henry Ward Beecher has the following on the subject of sowing where there seems no prospect of reaping any profit in return. He says: “A mother has, perhaps, the hard est lot of anybody. Her life is one perpetual emptying of herself of her own convenience in behalf of her little child, that for many years can return nothing, and can never make any adequate return, for her care of it. There is no other instance of such spontaneous and thorough emp tying of one’s own nature for another that we know of in this life. A^rl yet no mother worthy of the name, ever gave herself thoroughly for her child who did not feel that, after all, she reaped what she had sown. No person was ever called to suffer for a principle, and suffered manfully, that he was not himself conscious that he was a victor. When your name is cast out, and trodden under the feet of men; when you are count ed as the offscourihg of the earth for faithfulness to duty, do you not experience a peculiar joy ? Can you not, then, understand what the apos tle meant when he said, “My breth ren, count it all joy when you fall into divers temptation ?” Diligence.—We find*in Scripture that most of the appearances which, were made to eminent saints were made when they were busy. Moses, kept his father’s flock when he saw the borning bush-; Joshua is going ; round about the city of Jericho when he meets the Angel of the Lord? Jacob is in prayer, and the angel of God appears unto him; Gideon is threshing and Elisha is plowing, when the Lord cdflsthem; Matthew is at the receipt of custom, when.he _ is bidden to follow Jesus; and James and John are fishing. The Almighty Lover of the souls of men is not wont to manifest himself to idle per sons. He who is slothful and inac tive can not expect to company of his Saviour. to