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4 JOHN a. IEAL8, - Editor and Proprietor W. B. SEALS, - Proprietor and Cor. Editor. HRS. HART E. BRYAN (•) Associate Editor. ATLANTA, GEORGIA, JUNE 29, 1878. Mr. GEO. W. NORMAN will please eommmunicate with this office without delay. If you propose to pay your subscrip tion with postage stamps, let them be one-cent stamps, if possible. The Highest Ambition.—The noblest ambition, as well as the most satisfying, is the ambition to do good; to be of some benefit to others; to lighten, even by so much as a feather’s weight, the burdens under which a weary broth er or sister is sighing. The desire for fame is but a fitful fever, ever restless, torturing, con suming and insatiable as fire. This, in truly noble natures, soon burns out, and is supplied by the higher ambition to do good. The pleas ure resulting from a consciousness of having benefitted, even in the smallest degree, one of our fellow-creatures, is the sweetest and purest feeling the heart can know. It is the best pan acea for our own sorrow; and the only way to become permanently happy is to forget self and live for others. It is a hard lesson to learn, but the tranquil pleasure it brings more than com pensates for the sacrifice of self. We may not have it in our power to become distinguished philanthropists, or to do good on so grand a scale as to excite the admiration of the world. We may be able to do but little, but, like one in other days, we may have it said of us, 'She did all she could.’ We may not even perceive the benefit that has arisen from our humble efforts, but it is in this quiet, noiseless, imperceptible way that the grandest results are achieved. The silently dropping dew nourish es the hidden germ of the plant, and noislessly it expands, grows and becomes the pride of the forest. Many are the opportunities for doing good which we daily pass by unimproved. There is work for all to do; ‘From strong limbs that should be chainless, There are fetters to unbind, There is help to give the fallen, There is light to give the blind.’ Yes, there is work for all. Wretchedness walks the earth, often hiding an Aching heart under a silken bodice, or veiling the tears that are fain to start with a glance of pride and disdain, yet all the while yearning for sympathy—pining for a loving tone, or a warm pressure of the hand. Aspiration waits a smile of encouragement to bid its| wings bud forth, as do those of the chrysalis, beneath the genial warmth of the sun; • hearts faint by the wayside for want of a word to stir their flagging energies; neglected misery seeks relief in sin, because there is no one to care what becomes of the solitary unit in the great mass of humanity, and sin grows reckless, defiant and desperate, because there are none to look with sorrowful love into the shadowed eyes, or take the stained hand and lead the wanderer back to the better way. Oh! there is much good to be done in this wide world of sorrow and sin and dispair, and not the gifted nor the affluent alone are chosen as laborers in this broad vineyard. An earnest, patient, loving spirit may effect more good in its quiet way than the most brilliant intellect, and leave upon the age that gave it birth, an impress that shall constantly widen and deepen, as the circl *s upon the surface of a placid lake. Evjry day we may do some good, if is only to make a child happy by a pleasant smile, or a simple twilight story, that helped to expand the budding intellect, or touched the tender heart; or if it be but to awaken one noble impulse that had lain dormant in another’s mind; to turn the doubtful scale on virtue's side by some word ‘fit ly spoken,’ to soothe a sorrowing heart, or to breathe into a despondent one some thought or hope, which, if cherished, shall lead to a realiz ation of life’s true purposes and earnest duties. Oh, the power of one mind over another! Eter nity alone shall show its full extent, We are apt to think too lightly of our influence, and to pay too little attention to the manner in which it is exerted. But we all possess, in different degrees, power for good or evil over those with whom we come in contact. The very moral at mosphere which we carry about with us, has its perceptible effect. Have we not all felt our selves better and nobler, and even felt the very air of the room to be purer, when a good man or woman has just left our side ? It is in our power to sow grain or to scatter thistles, as it pleases us, along thb highway of life—only, when the harvest time comes, we shall all ‘reap as we have sown.’ , The Literary Congress lias its Ses sion.—The much talked of Literary Congress held its first public session in Paris on the sev enteenth of June, The meeting was held in the Theatre Chatalet, and that large building was crowded from the stalls to the galleries. All the delegates and nearly all the literary lights c-f Europe were there. Viotor Hugo presided, as he should have don9 in the fitness of things, and his speech was the most eloquent of any delivered on that great occasion. Age has not withered him, nor custom staled his infin ite variety. On the right of the glorious old author of Lcs Hiserdbles, sat the famous Russian novelist, Tourganieff—one of whose unique nov els, our readers will remember, we had trans lated for and published in the Sunny South, ‘The Superfluous Man.’ On the left of Hugo was seated the Italian author, Signor Maura Macchi. Blanchard Jerrold was there and Jules Simon closed the proceedings by a ‘bril liant speech.’ The delegates then reassembled at the Continental Hotel, and proceeded after their‘feast of reason’to enjoy a grand feast of a more substantial character, whioh no one can doubt their enjoying, the lords of the pen be ing peculiarly appreciative of the pleasures of the table. Indeed, Prentice was wont to say, that this faoulty was one of the signs of genius, and certainly the old wit was a fair example, his powers of gourmandize nearly equalling that of Bayard Taylor. * i Brigham Young could have made the Woman’s ) Hotel a success. The Craze for Speech Making.—The fondness for speechifying is the rock on whioh Americans split It makes a bedlam of every convention,from a political Congross or a relig ious conference to a boy’s debating club. Every body wants to speak and nobody to listen. The insane ambition for speechifying fills our min istry with raw recruits, our courts with briefless barristers, and our platforms with lecturers and dramatic readers who boast they have voice. As if every donkey who can bray must make a regular business of it. Stanley, who made himself so utterly ridiou- lous at the Annual Dinner of the London Press, by insisting on speaking and holding the floor in spite of hints and remonstrances, is not the only one that the rage for oratory has ruined. Many a man haB won a reputation tor shrewd ness and wisdom by acting the owl's role of looking wise and saying nothing, until in an unguarded moment, he is induced to make a speech, to the mortification of his friends and the glee of his enemies. The one wise thing Grant did during his administration was to hold his tongue. His few utterances were so brief and informal that they were not sufficient to damn him. Let Hayes follow hi3 example. That West Point speech of hia gave Southerners (who love a good speech) a poorer opinion of their chief magistrate than all the Republican insin uations that he was behind the Returning Boards. No doubt, Conkling chuckled over that speojch as set down verbatim by the cold blooded reporter. ‘Oh ! that mine enemy would’ make a speech. It is a popular American fallacy that nothing of a public nature can be dene without making a dozen or more speeches over it. Does a big man visit us. we forthwith convene and welcome him with long set speeches to which he must respond in like manner. Does any organiza tion have a meeting, instead of a little pleasant colloquial discussion, we must go through the same stultifying process of haranguing. Though the matter harangue I over may be not a feather’s weight of importance, still it must be blown back and forth by the vain breath of talk. Every village has its “silver-tongued” orator, who pops up on every occasion and deals out mouthy platitudes or stale wit. Ancient his tory and the inexhaustible theme of “literature’’ furnish much of the material for the “addresses” so common in the land. What would the aver age speaker do if Homer (usually styled the “blind bard of Scio), or Virgil, or Cicero, or Theocritus, or any of those old chaps, had not survived the dark ages ? Shakspeare is another sand-by, and the sonorous names of the old sculptors and painters—Praxitiles, Zeuxis,Ap- pelles, etc.—what savory morsels they are to roll over the tongue of the amateur orator! The gift of oratory is a grand one. The thrilling voice, the vivid word-painting, the flash of wit, the sheet-lightning oi humor, the lit eye, the spon taneous gesture, the magnetism that reaches out and draws and holds ’y 00 as with a warm, thrilling clasp—all this is a glorious, a divine possession. We Southerners appreciate it pecu liarly. We forgive much in our big men—in consistency and temporizing and changes of political base—when their round, rich periods fill our oars, and their ingenious logic glamours if it does not convince us. All or nearly all of our truly Bilver-tongued orators have been and are of Southern birth ; but that is no reason why “golden silence” should not be praised and prized ; no reason why the demon of speech making should spoil all our holidays, should come, like the Ancient Mariner, to all our gath erings and merry-makings, our conventions and clubs, and hold us,not with his glittering eye but with his everlasting periods, his barren bathos that drains out all our electricity and leaves us limp as so many fowls, who having met under a kitchen window to chatter and pick crumbs, have been incontinently drench ed by a pail of dish water. Let us have speeches (for they are often de lightful) but let us have them in season and with due regard to quality and quantity. * Hon Piutt and the Country Girls. We have always had an admiration for that Free Lance—Don Piatt the daring. He sometimes runs his jokes into the ground, and his wit is often more keen than polished, but we like his vigor and boldness, his fearless hatred of shams and trickery. But what does he mean by his late uncomplimentary remarks about country girls? After telling us that they wiLI cheat when they sell you butter and blackber ries and “ garden sass,” he goes on to. laugh at the “ popular superstition ” that country girls have “a certain sort of healthy beauty;’’ and de clares “there is more beauty in one department of Washington than in all the rural districts.'* “ Farm life,” he says, “ does not develop per sonal charms in men or women. The tendency to bone is fearful. Adipose in the human fam ily is the rarest artiole when you hit tne fields and woods. It is reserved to the animals. The girls have quaint faces, high cheek-bones, pointed chins and thin lips. Undisguised as they are by drees, one is forced to observe the ‘slab-sided’ flat-breasted appearance of their fig ures. The prettiest couhtry girl—no, I won’t say that—but take them as they come, and any one would scare the car horses on the Avenue.” This is really too bad. The grangers, if they have a particle of gallantry, will hang the Don in effigy at all their fairs. He has lately been ruralizing, and no doubt the secret of his dis taste for country beauties is that some fair but ter maker, as sensible as she is sweet, has shown him that she would not tolerate Washington impertinence. Cannot our rural damsels find a champion in the young and energetic editor of the Planter and Grange, Mr. Frank Gordon ? No one is a truer friend to the male granger than the handsome young son of our noble Senator. He stops to shake hands with them however rusty their boots or unmistakably home-made their clothes; he is interested in their crops; he listens with sympathy to stories of wheat-rust and cotton- blight, and grass that threatens to “ run dean away with us.” Will he let the unoffending female granger be thus traduced by an imperti nent contemporary, and not raise his pen in be half of her charms ? * The Poet and the Workingman. - A while baok in the history of men, scholars, sages and poets looked down with something of contempt upon those who earned their bread by mere manual toil—by the labor of their own strong hands. The artist, indeed, regarded with delight the bold, athletic frames and sin ews, strengthened and developed by exeroiae; but the student and the poet, whose brow was ‘sicklied o’er by the pale cast of thought,’ claim ed little brotherhood with the children of toil. Pastorals, indeed, were written to delight the court profligates by the contrast of their artific ial life with ‘sweet simplicity,’ green fields and singing shepherds, enjoying the dolce far nienle in the shade of summer trees, but this was no enoouragement to the laboring; in such Arcad ian fanoies, no hand of sympathy was stretched forth to the toiling brother. Poets, indeed, who, like Burns, sprang them- Belves from the working class, glorified labor by their genius, and the great ‘ Corn Law Rhymer’ threw out his fiery stanzas, strong, earnest and manly as his own brave heart, amid the whirl of machinery, the blaze of the forge and the ring of the anvil; but it was reserved for the present age to give the ho«Sst, laboring classes—the true noblemen of nature—their deserved place in the literature of their country. The superstition, mythological and fanciful, that distinguished the old school of poetry, and the metaphysical spirit that tinctured the one succeeding, have given place to a vein of senti ment, strong, healthful and elevated. Poets and authors have emerged from the dreams of the past and the cloud-lands of fancy, and opened their eyes to the real, working world around them. Their hearts are beating with sympathy for their fellow-men, and looking around them, they find fti the examples of pa tient endurance, of industry, courage, ingenui ty and earnest zeal, themes sublimer than those whioh inspired the songs of earlier days. The essence of luxurious indolence that lap ped the poet’s soul in a dreamy elvsium, has vanished before the vigorous, stirring spirit of our active age. Labor has been exalted—enno bled by literature, B^id Toil and Poesy walk hand in hand. Lons/feUow, in his thrilling stanzas that rouse >l6 heart like the blast of the trumpet, bids us ‘Then be up and doing With a heart for any fate. Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn 10 labor and to wait.’ And Mrs. Osgood, the tenderest and sweetest of our female poets, said that ‘ labor is life, is health, is worship,’ and tells us to •Work for some good, be it ever so slowly, Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor: all labor is noble and holy.’ While Lowell declares that, •Among the toil-worn poor, my soul is seeking, For one to bring the Maker’s name to light,’ and affirms that ‘He who would be the tongue of this wide laud. Must string his harp with chords of sturdy iron And strike it with a toil-embrowned hand.’ * No Pain ill Hanging;.—In the Popular Science for July, -has an interesting discussion of the question whether there is pain in hanging. He thinks there is none, or at least very little; that ftnconscionsness supervenes throngh apoplexy or hemorrhage of blood ves sels, in to the brain-substance; and the subjeot dies insensible. Dr. Tracy instances the testimony of numerons persons, who had been oat down and restored when nearly dead from hanging, all certifying as to the painlessness of the pro cess. He gives an aocount of several individu als who went about hanging themselves for a living, which as not a pleasant way of earning one’s bread and butter certainly, and rather hazardous, as the fate of one of the professional rope-danglers proved at last, for he hang him self once too often, and while the large con course of spectators looked on amazed at the tableau of the peacefully swinging performer, and thought, like th< tats of the spelling book when they saw the hanging puss, that he was at one of his tricks, the poor man was really dead —as completly hanged as if a sheriff had let fall the drop. The rope had slipped, and presto ! asphyxia brought insensibility, though he did not die for several minutes. Another profesional in this line, was one Monsieur Gouffe, alias Jack Harnshaw who had the neck muscles of the Cardiffe giant, and could sustain his own weight and that of one hundred and fifty poands beside at the end of a rope knotted around his neck so as not to press on his wind pipe or jugular vein. But for all that, he came several times very near turning the joke on himself, and was cut down uncon scious. Speaking of his sensations before insen sibility came, he said he could hardly recollect anything. There was a buzz and a whirl, and he lost his senses at once. The instant the rope got in the wrong place, be felt as if he could not get his breath—as if sojje great weight pulled at his feet; felt as if ns wanted to loosen himself, but never thought of his hands or feet; felt as if he could not move, but experienced no actual pair. Hanging then is do worse than nightmare and not a circumstance to toothache. Tramps might try it to advantage as soon as the blackberry and roasting ear season is over. Miss Mattie Lou Sharp was married last week at the residence of her father, Mr. A. B. Sharp of this city. Mr. John M. Purse, a highly es teemed, young merchant of Savannah, was the fortunate gentleman, who bore off the prize—one of the prettiest, merriest, sweetest girls in this city, with hosts of friends not only of the young folks, but of the older ones who enjoyed her sunny society. The marriage was quite private, only a few intimate friends and relatives being present. After the ceremony—in which the bride looked beautiful in her elegant traveling dress—a choice little collation was discussed, and the wedded pair bade adieu to guests and relatives and took the train for Savannah, carrying with them the heartiest wishes of many friends for their future success and happiness. • Flies toil not, neither do they spin, yet they have the first taste of all the best gravies in the ■land. The Blue Grass Member. 0 or Sou th- ernors are certainly the best in the lot ot strange beasts and birds of prey exhibited in that ‘Zoo’ —styled indifferently Congress Hall and ‘Cave of the Winds.’ Most of our public men in office here at home, as well as those at Washington, stand head and shoulders above the majority of their Northern cob temporaries in broad statesmao-like views as well as in dignity of character, though the latter may make more noise, as sounding brass is apt to do. At least ‘our own’ get ail the best things said about them, and all the manliest move ments and wisest sayings are credited to them, even by the Northern press. No body is ever ashamed of Ben Hill’s acts or utteranoes, erratic as they may sometimes be; we are all foroed to admire the energy and will-power of the ‘old man eloquent,’ who ntters his oracles from his invalid chair, as though that wheeled faitteuil, form whose depths his pale, wierd face looks out, were a veritable Cave of Trephonious. When he speaks, the world listens, impressed, if un believing. Lanier is another manly Southern er whom the North praises; and Hampton has as in any admirers North as South. Lately a correspondent shows us the firmness of a Ken tucky member iff repulsing a ‘claimant,' where the average congressmen would have temporiz ed and promised. Officials of all degrees ought to learn to say no honestly; to discriminate in saying it, but say it when they mean it; it is always the great est mercy to kill instantly than to take life by slow torture. An mstance connected with Wil son of Kentucky reflects, well on him and his constitnents, and shows what a man ought to be. A lady went to him a Bhort time since and wanted him to get her a place in a department. She came well recommended, but she was a married woman, and her husband was with her when she applied for his assistance. The wo man who already held the place was from his state—a widow, with two or three children to support, and whose only fault was she had not much influence. So Wilson told the applicant he would do nothing in the matter: that the place was well filled, and he could not in honor assist in making any change. ‘Well,’ said the aspirant after office, ‘these people who recom mend me, are those whose influence ou wont, and I’ll go home and use your refusal against your re-election.’ ‘I can’t help it,’ says onr Blue Grass member; ‘if my re-election depends on my putting a widow out of employment, and turning her and her children on the streets, and not a charge against her, why I must lose it.’ Now that is a man his constituents want to clinch to. A man who can be true to himself and what he thinks right, can be safely trnsted with the interests of those he represents. * How Slic Wears nerselt Out. When the mare has performed the labor (bat is good for her, she is turned into the sunny pasture for the rest of the day. But there is no consid erate arrangement for the wife’s walking in green meadows to drink in the beauties of na ture, and absorb the invigorating sunlight when she has had as much exercise as is good for her. She cooks and scours, washes and irons, makes and mends, churns, quilts, makes preserves, pickles, rag mats, washes dishes three times a day, saves and contrives (than whioh nothing is so wearing on the mind), attends the meet ings of her religions society, helping at their fairs and socials; it is probable she takes a boar der or two in the summer, keeps up a limited correspondence with her family, and goes to bed every night so exhausted of her forces, that sleep has to be waited for, rising unrested to begin over again the dreary daily routine. You say she has wonderful energy and abili ty. Bnt why does she not give her children the benefit of her ambition and faculty? She put all the vitality, all the magnetise that be long to her little danghter, into the kettles and pans, into the soap and batter. The batter may sell well in the market, bnt it will not atone for the absence of resource in her child. Her boys are slow to apprehend, and will neveraspire beyond the threeR’s. They lounge instead of sitting and walk without dignity. The girls lack stamina, and have not their mother’s ambition to ‘put the work through.’ Poor things ! They do not know that they were born tired, or they would offer that as an ex cuse. They are lacking in the magnetism that attracts, in the hopefulness and health that makes every day a satisfaction. If the husband, od his farm, or in his factory, or store, has extra or increasing work, he forth with hires more help; but as child after child adds to the responsibilities and labors of the home, the mother struggles on unassisted, un til at last she becomes a hopeless invalid, or sinks at middle age nnder her burdens, leaving her husband, with bis aoonmnlated means, to marry a younger woman, who sits in the par lor hires plenty of servants—now considered quite neceskary—and has a good time generally, on the savings of her predecessor. It is the conscientious, self-sacrificing woman who thus wears her life out so unnecessarily. She thinks it her duty. Her husband's labor has profits attending it—hers, none. Most fatal \ mistake! Her maternal office was her first and highest. If she filled that well, she did a more important and profitable work than any that could fall to her husband. And it is plain enough that when such domestic services as hers have to be hired, they have a very decided money value. —Ex. The I^ec Monument.—Saphir in the Cap itol says of our Lee monument: The Lee Monu ment Association—or the branch of it, rather, in this city—made $357 dear by two entertain ments, a concert and a lecture. Mrs. Dr. Stone is the president for the Washington agency. I am told by one of the members that the fund is increasing. Mississippi and Alabama have con tributed largely; and Mr. Ford has offered to give entertainments through the South during the fall in aid of the fnnd. I wish the Southern people would take hold of our poor pile of un finished ebullition of gratitude; for as a people they have far more veneration than the North, where money is the principle object in life, and when a man dies more thought is given as to who is to sucoeed him than to building a monu ment to his memory. * Arcliery Club tor Cadies.—There is in New York an association, now organizing to promote archery and other out-door sports for women. Jennie June, who last year admired the wall developed, splendidly formed English iadias in their homes, thinks their fine physique is owing to abundant exercise in the open air, compara tive freedom from the trammels of dress (stays and trains being never worn by the better olass of English ladies when walking or otherwise ex eroiaing) and to the sound constitutions trans. raitted to them by mothers who dressed and ex ercise* sensibly as they have tanght their daugh ters to do. Jennie June declares that the want of out-door exeroise and muscular activity lies at the door of more than half the disabilities and weaknesses under which girls and women eternally suffer. The want of praotioe in riding, in swimming, in boating, and various other out-door recre ations, is an obstacle to the pleasures and oppor tunities which present themselves throughout a whole life. Women, whosejexistence is passed in the regular routine never really know what life holds for those whose keen observation, trained muscles and developed activity have been strengthened by . articipation in the out door sports of cultivated country life. The re- snlk is seen in the splendid physical develop ment of the best class of English women; in their absence of nerves, their fine appearance, and ac tive, healthful habits, preserved to old age, and the sound, perfect constitutions which they transmit to their descendants. We hope the love of out-door sports will take root and grow, until it is as common for girls to row, ride, swim, and play at base-ball, as it is now to play at cro quet and on the piano. t Courteous Congressmen.— Roberts of the Capital represents the closing scenes of the august National Assembly as any thing but dig nified. She draws a curious picture of the want of common politeness that exists among these representatives of our country’s wisdom and excellence. 'It must be,’ she says, ‘that the speaker has been born again, as only that could prevent him from throwing his gavel right among the riotous crew; I am sure if I held that position, I should fall from grace by heaviug the first thing handy at them. He has pounded a hole right throngh the table. The other day he did get wrathy and refused to go on with any business until the House came to order, and insisted that the gentlemen who were ‘prowling around should take their seats.’ ‘Prowling’ was good. It is a part of congressional etiquette, when a chunk of wisdom on the opposite side begins to speak, for every one to turn their backs to him aDd commence reading, while his own side do not turn away from him, but take to letter writing, leaving him to rattle away, or else they bob (for there is no other word that will describe the manner a congressman gets on his feet) up in schools like fish to interrupt him and ask a question. I know of no better revenge on one’s worst enemy than when he is in the midst of a brilliant sentence to have some diabolical wretch to rise up and blandly say: ‘May I ask the gentleman a question?’ wnereupon he will be asked something as for eign to his brilliant remarks as is a good memo ry to a Louisiana politician. When I think of the coming breaking of Congress— A feeling of sadness comes o'er me, A feeling akin to pain. Which resembles sorrow only. As the mist resembles the rain. Like Silas Wegg, I cannot help chopping into poetry when I think what.a blank life will be to me after next Monday, and I shall be oblig ed to ‘take it out’ on the departments; life is too short not to make it lively. The Idea of God. After all that has been so plausibly written concerning ‘the innate idea of God;' after all that has been said of its being common to all men, in all ages and nations, it does not appear that man has naturally any more idea of God than any of the beasts of the field; he has no knowledge of God at all. hatever change may afterwards be wrought by his own reflection, or education, he is, by nature, a mere Atheist. John Wesley,vol. ii. sermon C. The ‘Idea of God, as religious history of the race conclusively proves, has been slowly built up by a process of constant change and modifi cation. It is the result of thonght, more or less directed by knowledge of the universe; it has grown up within the consciousness under the constant modifying influence of the environ ment and is essentially an attempt of the intel lect to concieve self and environment in an em bracing unity. If the ‘idea of God’, were in deed the revelation in consciousness of an un changeable fact of the universe, given outright as a revealed whole, it ought to be identical in all consciousness; whereas it differs in different minds precisely in the ratio of their culture and development. It is really a product of thought, not an original datum of consiousness; and it can only be verified at last by being shown to be the only rational explanation of the infinite diversity whioh is the* highest possible generalization of science. Consciousness can testify only to its own sub jective modifications, in connection with their causes; it cannot be constituted into a ‘Stan dard’for any thing else. The proposition that Godbalongs only to the ‘world within,’ and not equally to the world without invests the idea of the deity with a misty unsubstantiality that fails to sat ; sfy the soul hungering to something real to lay hold Upon. Science seems to be the only possible rescuer of the idea of God from the fatal reality into which Traneendentalism places it. PHILOSOPHY. Book Notices. Popular Lectures on the Errors of the Roman Catholic Cflurch, 8vo, Pp., 447. Price $200 in cloth and $2 50 in leather binding. St. Louis: J. H. Chambers. To say to bur readers that this is a book of lec tures from such distinguished lights as Bishop Marvin, Bishop BowmaD, Dr. Samuel J. Nicro'.D Rev. P. G. Robert, Dr. Storfs, Dr. S. H. Ford' k Rev. T. P. Haley, etc., is to secure for it the highest respect and admiration. We had seen notices of it before we saw the work, and of it had ‘great expectations.’ We have not been dis appointed by the most thorough examination of it. We feel no hesitancy in saying that it is the best book of its kind we have seen. It treats the subject from the varied stand points in religious thonght of the several lecturers, and is thereby enriched with a popularizing feature not found in ordinary books of lectures. On the other hand the lecturers all being upon the same gen eral subject, there is a oneness and systematic entirety in it not nsnally found in a collection of contributions by a variety of authors. As if to reach the climax of fascination the work is gotten up in the most inviting, mechan ical dress and contains elegant portraits of the contributors. We beg to call the readers atten tion to the publisher's advertisement in another column.