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THE SUNNY SOUTH
PICCIOLA
OR,
Power of Conscience.
BY MBS. JEANIE DAGG MALLARY.
/ will be measured for a conscience after the
newest fashion, one thoX will stretch handsome-
ly as occasion may require.—Schiller.
For so vital a necessity to all living men is
Truth, that the vilest traitor feels amazed, when
treason recoils on himself.—Buhner.
[Copyrighted by the author.]
CHAPTER XXVI.
Cameron Hall was not destined to remain In
undisturbed quiet. Noble was the first to break
the monotony by requesting that he might be
allowed to spend a year In traveling. Mrs. Cam
eron received his request with delight, and glad
ly consented, since she considered a residence
in other countries, and familiarity with other
tongues and scenes necessary to impart a polish
and refinement to manners, to chain the atten
tion of interested auditors, and to make one
sought for, petted and caressed by society. Col.
Cameron consented too, since Noble was look
ing pale and thin, and needed other air than that
in and around London. The children alone
raised their voices in opposition, but they were
soon appeased by promises of presents on his
return, and so, bidding all good-bye, Noble
started.
Whether Mrs. Cameron ever missed Noble,
was a question Ola could never decipher, for so
ciety claimed so much of her time aud attention
that there was room for little else. Col. Came
ron walked about abstractedly, now olten invit
ing himself Into Ola’s school room listening to
the children’s recitations, or bending patiently
Aver their slates belpiDg them through the Intri
cacies of rudimentary mathematics. Ola would
not acknowledge to herself that she too missed
Noble, and yet there were times when the libra
ry seemed very empty, though filled to over
flowing with books and costly furniture, but she
threw this feeling off, and devoted herself with
more assiduity to her charges.
“This child looks pale,” said Col. Cameron
one morning pointing to Jenny, “you had better
. let her rest awhile.”
Ola had not noticed before how languid the
child looked, but now she saw that her eyes bad
lost their brightness, and her cheeks their rosy
hue. For several days she wandered about the
house with a lassitude which was thought to be
merely the result of an overtaxed mind and a
sedentary life. Katie too soon began to show
signs of Indisposition, and her studies were sus
pended for a time.
One night Katie’s sleep seemed more disturb
ed than usual, and her moans were distressing.
Her face was flushed to scarlet, her pulse was
bounding, and her unnatural expression of
countenance alarmed Ola so much that she at
tempted to arouse her, but the child onlv scream
ed and shrank away from her touch. Then she
tried to soothe her, but all her tender epithets
and gentle efforts were met by terrified shrieks
and repeated wild cries, as though some one was
killing her, after which she would sink back ex
hausted, but murmuring on in delirium. Ola
was distressed beyond expression, and feared
either to approach the child or to leave her; but
at length one more burst of raving decided her,
and she went rapidly to Mrs. Cameron’s room
and knocked. Mrs. Cameron herself opened
the door, appearing elaborately dressed for a
ball. When Ola, in an excited voice mentioned
the child’s extreme illness, she said Impatiently.
“You are unnecessarily alarmed. Its nothing
unusual, I expect. When you have lived a little
longer, you will learn to take the world easier,
ana notbe so disconcerted by trifles. Send for
Dr. DeFloyt of course. You should have sent
immediately withput troubling me, as I am com
pelled to go out tonight.”
But when Mrs. Cameron entered the room,
even she was shocked by the child’s appearance
and repeated screams. Jenny was sleeping
quietly though her breathing was somewhat ir
regular and her face was slightly tinged, as
though there was febrile excitement about her
system too. Col. Cameron came up quickly in
answer to his wife’s call, and stood by the bed
side in dismay. The doctor at length arrived.
“What is the matter, Col.,” said he approach
ing
“1 cannot tell, sir, the child seems very ill,
but her brain is so excited she will not allow us
to approach her. She has always been a healthy
child, as you know, and nowto bs stricken down
so suddenly and so alarmingly is frightful. Jen
ny has been looking pale for some time, but I
thought It was simply from over-exertion. Katie
showed signs of indisposition yesterday, I think,
and we stopped her studies too, but I didn’t
dream that such a spell as this was coming.
Miss Ola was alarmed at her moans, and called
us; and when we came in we found the child
just in this condition.”
While the Colonel was talking the doctor was
examining bis patient carefully but gently, lest
bis touch might arouse her. Then he went
around to little Jenny and examined her in the
same way, and then he sank into an arm-chair
looking troubled and sad.
“What is it, doctor?” asked Mrs. Cameron,
who formed a strange figure in the group, in
white silk, white gloves, and hair elaborately
dressed with flowers. ,
“Madam, I am sorry to have to tell you that
your children are both 111, very ill.”
"Children, doctor? Both! You don't mean
that Jenny is sick too? She has only been con
fining herself a little too closely, that is all the
matter with her.”
“Madam, they are both ill, and with the same
disease, though in one child it is coming rapidly
to a crisis?”
“Wbat disease, doctor?” asked the Colonel
anxiously.
“A malignant fever is visiting some portions
of London, and it is contagious, though mostly
confined to children.”
“Have the ohlldren been out late?” asked
Col. Cameron of Ola.
"Yes, sir, Mrs. Cameron requires them to walk
out with the nurse every evening just before
night-fall.”
“And you think the little things both have
this fever, doctor?”
“They have the symptoms, Colonel, though I
sincerely trust I may be mistaken. In some
sections of the city, the fever has raged violent
ly, and been very fatal—still it is not always fa
tal. Let us hope for the best. They must have
been sick for several days.”
Mrs. Cameron retired to her room and tore off
her ball attire, declaring that no mortal was
half so badly used; that none ever had anything
like the trouble and disappointment that she
was called on to endure, closing with the very
homely proverb that “It never rained but it
poured, and in an elegant wrapper she walked
again to the sick room. Her husband and Oia
were watching over the children so closely that
they observed neither her exit nor her return;
and it was very certain that the physician, who
was measuring out powders, and folding them
with a precision born of long practice, did not
miss her.
Mrs. Cameron sat down, and seemed some use
less ornament that could have been easily dis
pensed with. Her exquisite nerves would not
allow her to approach the bedside and seldom
to glance that way. There was but little to do
but to watch, and the physician remained
through the night, for be felt that the disease
had progressed so rapidly with Kate that a
change for the better or worse must be near.
Every thing was very still, and nothing was
beard except heavy breathing, aud now and
then a light step across the carpet as the physi
cian passed around the bed from one child to
the other. Presently there was a loud unearth
ly scream, and ail started to their feet, and Mrs.
Cameron burled her face in her handkerchief.
Katie was in a strong convulsion. Her eyes
were rolled back, her mouth twitching, her poor
little body stiff, and her limbs jerking so tear
fully that it was impossible to hold her iu the
arms. Mrs. Cameron became hysterical, the
Colonel crazy with excitement, and only O.a and
the doctor were calm enough to apply restora
tives. Another and another convulsion follow
ed, and then the frenzied figure grew quiet,—for
Katie had passed away.
Grieved and distressed, Ola turned to her lit
tle pet. There was no delirium there, no symp
tom of convulsion, still that long heavy sleep be
tokened a brain stupefied by disease, and her
scarlet face and bounding pulse showed plainly
that delirium was not necessary attendant up
on high fever.
“Doctor,” asked Ola, in a troubled whisper,
is not so ill, is she? She will not die, will
she? Surely doctor, both will not be taken!”
“I was In a house yesterday morning where
there were three corpses, Miss. Death seems
to be holding his assize in some portions of our
city now I”
“Oh! Jenny, Jenny, would that I could save
you, darling,” exclaimed Ola in a sad, distress
ed voice.
The child opened her eyes suddenly.
“What is it. darling?” Ola asked softly.
“I thought some one called me.”
“No dear, I repeated your name, but did not
call you.”
“Some one did call me, Miss Ola—it was Ka
tie.”
“You were dreaming, Jenny. Do not talk,
try to go to sleep.”
•‘Where is Katie, Miss Ola, up and dressed?”
Ola hesitated, then replied.
“You are not well, darling, and must lie still
and rest.”
“I am so tired of the bad, would you please
hold me a little?”
Ola lifted the child tenderly and pressed a kiss
upon her lips, for she loved Jenny with ail the
intensity of her nature, and whom else did she
have in all the world to love? The pale sleeper
below was almost forgotten, as she looked into
the flushed face that rested against her bosom.
It was evident that Jenny was not considered
so ill by the parents, for neither had returned
since Kate’s death, and Ola could hear Col. Cam
eron’s step in the parlor below as he kept watch
over his dead child. The doctor had been called
hurriedly away, just as Jenny awoke, but prom
ised to return in a short time, so Oia and Jenny
were left alone.
“Miss Oia,” said the child, “I am very sick.”
“I hope not, Jenny.”
“Oh, yes, but I am though, and I. believe I’m
going to die.”
“Don’t speak so, Jenny; indeed, you are talk
ing too much anyway; you will injure yourself.”
“Are you afraid to die, Miss Ola. You don’t
seem like you love to talk about it.”
“I don’t know, dear—yes, I expect I am, but
hush—-”
“Please let me say a word or two. I’m not
afraid to die. I would like to be an angel—
wouldn't you?” Then suddenly raising up, the
child threw her arms around Ola’s neck aud
kissed her.
"Come, darling,” said Ola, "go to sleep now.’
“Yes, I will, for I am so tired—so very tired
Please rock me to sleep.”
Ola rocked the child, and murmured a song to
soothe her. She breathed easily for some time,
then drew two deep sighs, but slept on. Ola
rocked and sung, lest a cessation of either might
disturb the sleeper.
In a short time the doctor returned.
“How is she now?” he inquired in a low tone.
“Better, sir, I think,” was whispered. “She
has slept quietly for some time.”
The physician approached and laid his finger
lightly upon the child’s wrist, but he drew back.
His startled face made Ola look up in surprise
and then down at the child. As she moved her
arm the little head fell over it. The eyes were
closed and the lips slightly parted, but not a
flutter of a breath passed through them now, for
Jenny was dead I Ola bad rocked her to sleep 1
The tangled ringlets were smoothed, the
white dress was straightened, lips so mute were
closed, hands so still were clasped, and Jenny
was carried down and laid by Katie’s side, in
cue grand pairlor of Cameron Hall.
Ola had always stood in terror of death, and
had always drawn back with a shudder from a
corpse, but now it was to her a melancholy
pleasure to watch over the dead. Nothing
could draw her from the room where they lay,
though she knew that those immovable forms
were naught but cold, dead clay. She thought
not of herself, indeed, she had forgotten that
her work at Cameron Hall was over; but her
thoughts were confused and sorrowful in tne
extreme. As she stood looking upon the sweet
smiling face of Jenny, she almost unconsciously
uttered the words:
was truly grieved at the loss of her children, and
at heart really loved them, although her whole
mind bad been engrossed with fashion and
show.
A few days after the funeral the minister
called again, bringing bis daughter with him.
His visit was not an unmeaning form, for thougl
he could not wish the children back, still h
could shed tears freely with the bereaved, dis
tressed family. He tried to point the parents to
a pitying Father, but all of his efforts seemed to
be in vain, for naught could they see but two
vacant chairs and two newly-made graves.
CHAPTER XVII.
Cornelia Villers, the minister’s daughter,
spent much of her time at the Hall now. Colo
nel and Mrs Cameron insisted that she should
remain with Ola, and as the minister hoped
thereby to accomplish some go >d for his Master,
be readily consented. Ola was superior to Cor
nelia in Intellectual attah.me.its, but Cornelia
bad learned that wisdom mat cometh from
above, whose price is far beyond rubies, far
more desirable than gold, yea, than much fine
gold.
Many and repeated were the conversations
both pleasant and profitable which the girls had
together, and nearly all related to the one great
theme, salvation.
One evening as they sat in the library, Ola
was wrapped in thought at the window, while
Cornelia sat near lost in the book which lay up
on the table before her. At length turning away
and seeing Ola’s deep thoughtfulness, she said
“Wnat now, Ola?”
“I was with Schiller, thinking,
“Such is life: A breath, a span,
A moment quickly gone from thee.”
A voice behind her continued:
“What is death? O, mortal man!
Thy entrance in eternity.”
Ola turned quickly, and saw the minister for
whom Col. Cameron had sent that arrangements
might be made for the funeral. .
As be drew near and bent over the little
sleepers, he exclaimed:
“God has visited this family in mercy.”
Ola looked up astonished.
“Ah, my dear young lady,” he continued as he
noticed her surprise, “you think me but a poor
comforter, but God in great mercy sends afflic
tions to teach us to number our days that we
may apply ourselves to wisdom, the wisdom of
preparation for death. He warns us by these
offlictive dispensations to ‘keep our mantle of
earthly enjoyments hanging loose about us. that
it may be easily dropped when death comes to
carry us to the eternal world.’ Let us not mur
mur, but remember that, our God is a pitying
Father, ‘who doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve
tb« children of men.’ 1 will not under-rate this
affliction: it is great; it is overwhelming It is
a double blow!—two lost at one stroke! Others
have been similarly afflicted, and have had
grace given them from above to bear it. Aaron
lost two sons at once, under circumstances
most trying, but the inspired penman records
no words of bitter reproach, but simply says,
‘he held his peace.’ Like him let us try to be
submissive, and though our eyes may overflow,
yet let us be ‘dumb, and open not our mouths,’
because it is God’s hand that smites. My heart
bleeds for the grief-stricken parents. May God
be with them in this dark hour! I know all
that torn hearts suffer from such afflictions, for
I myself have been thrice bereaved, thrice left
childless, bnt with David I have been enabled
to say, ‘Thou art good, and doest good.’ I can
weep for the parents, but I trust these precious
children are safe, and with this hope, how can I
weep for or wish them back! Do you not re
joice with me in this thought?”
“No, sir, no. Oh, if I only could call them
b&ck V 9
“And would you call them back to sin, to suf
fer, to die again? It, as we hope, these dear
children are with Jesus, would you call them
back—would you hush their joyous hymns of
praise, and bid them lay aside their harps and
immortal crowns to come back to a sin-cursed
earth, to a life that has never satisfied a mortal
yet?”
“O, sir, I know nothing of eternal joys and
never-fading crowns, but 1 do know that it is
hard to give them up. They were the idols of
this house, its life, its all, and to be twice be
reaved, twice smitten in one day—sir, it is
crnel.”
“Say not so, dear young lady. Divine lips
have said, ‘What I do thou knowest not now,
but thou shalt know hereafter.’ Our hearts
while bruised and bleeding are apt to repine,
but sanctified affliction will work out for us the
peaceable fruits of righteousness. All things
work together for good to them that love God-
do you not believe this? Can you not trust
Him?”
Ola was silent. The minister continued in a
low tender voice:
“My young friend, is there no mansion in
Heaven awaiting you? Is there no harp there
that your fingers will one day sweep? Have
you no hope that you will one day join in sing
ing praises to the Lamb?”
“I have no hope, sir, no belief.”
“No belief?”
“No, sir. none. I am like a cloud driven by
the wind.”
“God help you!” said the minister solemnly.
“In these still forms God speaks to you to-day
in warning tones. These smiling lips of Jenny
would whisper to you, if they could, and bid you
prepare for Heaven.”
Ola burst into a flood of tears. The minister
turned away with deep emotion, and a prayer
trembled upon his Ups. As soon as Ola became
calm, be said:
“I shall be glad to caU and see you, and con
verse with you npon this momentous subject, if
I cannot say, Miss Gray. Her symptoms do agreeable to you. I would like to bring my
; appear SO alarmincr hm th»o Hiaaaaa la vanr * H-nwrhfnr alan to form vnnr ai»nnainfam»fl. hon-
pot appear so alarming, but this disease is very
insidious tn its nature, and I have known per
sons to drop suddenly into the arms of death
who seemed to be recovering. Her brain is af
fected too, though she has not the distressing
symptoms of poor little Kate. It is a terrible
affliction. Would that I could save her!”
“Oh! doctor, would that you could. Surely
both wiU not be taken.”
daughter, also, to form your acquaintance, hop
ing that you may find mutual benefit from each
other’s society.”
Oia thanked bim, and expressed pleasure in
the prospect of meeting his daughter, and as
Col. Cameron entered she left the room.
The funeral took place the next day. Mrs.
Cameron did not appear, as it was sot the c as-
“ ‘Beautiful must life be yonder,
Suns eternal there to see,
Airs that on the mountain wander,
Oh! bow healing must they bet «J
Yet before me rolls a river—
Roarlngly its waters roll;
And its waves, that swell forever,
Send a horror to my soul!’
But my thoughts are all so melancholy and
dark, no light anywhere, tell me yours, perhaps
; rou can dissipate some of the gloom, Cornelia.
What were you reading?”
“I was reading Addison’s Vision of Mlrza.
Have you ever read it?”
“Yes, years ago, but it made no particular im
pression on me. I looked upon it as the pro
duct of an imagination remarkable for luxuriant
fertility, and gave it no serious thought. I re
member now bow I shuddered as I read of those
throngs of people who fell through the pitfalls
into the tide, aDd of the hobbling march over the
broken arches of the small number who passed
safely over. It’s a grand vision, Cornelia, but
so full of clouds.”
‘ There were no clouds upon the ‘innumerable
islands and shining seas,’ Ola, all was bright,
beautiful and glorious there.”
“But the Gate, Cornelia, through which all
must pass! It seems to me I can see it now, its
two great leaves, swinging forever apart, with a
dismal sound that fills me with an indescribable
horror. You seem to regard death with com
posure, but the clouds around the bridge, the
pitfalls and broken arches trouble me. To you,
Cornelia, who have traversed part of the way it
may be clear, but to me the way is
‘Damp with the marsh dews, dim and dutu-'
And never lit by heavenly sun.’ 1
“I wish one ray would shine over my pathway
to show me that all is not the blackness of dafk
ness forever. My life is a great blank—a com
plete failure. Sometimes I think of those dar
ling children, and find myself longing to ex
change places with them, and yet I love them
too well io wish them here with my feeble aims
and hallow joys. Whatever may be said of faith
and repentance as essential to salvation, yet I
must believe that if there is a heaven, they are
in It. Oh, if they could only come back and tell
me there is indeed a heaven for Immortal souls!”
“ ‘If they believe not Moses and the prophets
neither will they be persuaded though one arose
from the dead,’—these. Oia, are the words kd-
dressed to one in perdition when he desired
that his brethren might be warned by the tor
tures he was then suffering. We should require
no visitants from the spirit land to make us turn
to Him who has prepared those happy mansions
for the redeemed, who has removed the sting
of death and who has guided many a rejoicing,
shouting pilgrim through the Gate of Death.”
“Cornelia, I am miserable. My mind is be
clouded, bewildered, and altogether I am more
unhappy than ever in my life before. I feel
that I am an ‘atom which God has made super
fluously.’ I am full of vain, useless, perplexing
conjecture, and I shudder now when I remem
ber that passage In the ‘vision’ which pictures
many in the midst of a speculation, stumbling
and falling through the trap doors and sinking
into the dark seething waters. Sometimes I
think that the dread reality is better than this
suspense, but then I shrink back appalled from
the thought, feeling that — l ■
‘ ‘The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what I fear of death’.”
“And yet, Ola, the pious Doddridge could ex
claim, ‘How pleasant to think bow near eternity
is, and how short the journey through this wil
derness, and that it is but a step from earth in
heaven,’ and Toplady, seemlnglv in the very
‘vestibule of glory,’ exclaimed, ‘No mortal can
live after having seen the glories which God
has manifested to my soul’.”
“I cannot understand this indifference to
death.”
Or rather, Ola, you should say this Joyous
jectationof death.”
Cornelia, the uncertainty of the future Is
enough to drive roe mad. I have heard of poor
creatures who have dwelt upon death and the
future until bereft of reason, and I do not won
der. the only wonder is, that so many are sane.”
“There is no uncertainty, Ola. Future woe is
certain to the impenitent, and it is the fearful
expectation of it which drives to madness, men
who are without hope and without God in the
world. You surprise me. Surely you do not
doubt the soul’s immortality, do you?”
“Sometimes I doubt everything, and then
again I cannot doubt, though now I would be
glad to believe that soul and body will one day
jec 'me cold and dead together.”
“No, no, Ola, you cannot believe that this
spark within us will burn a little while and then
be extinguished forever. Think of the ever un
satisfied craving ef the soul, its crushed looking
forward to something better, its longing for 'a
happiness that will never end! Would God
mock us with desires that can never be grati
fied? Gibbon tells us that when the ancient
[ihilosophers of Greece and Rome considered
;he extent of their mental powers, and exercis
ed the various faculties of memory, of face and
of judgement, in the most profound peculiari
ties, and when they reflected on the desire of
fame, which transported them into future ages,
far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave,
they were umiviliog to confound themselves
with the beasts of the field, and to suppose that
a being, for whose dignity they entertained the
most sincere admiration, could be limited to a
spot of earth and to a few years of duration. They
soon discovered that as none of the properties
of matter will apply to the operations of mind,
the human soul must consequently be a sub
stance distinct from the body—pure, simple and
spiritual, incap tble of dissolution, and suscep
tible of a much higher degree of virture and hap
piness after the release from its corporal pris
on.”
Ah, Cornelia, these savants did not stop here.
They traced the soul back and proved also its
past eternity, even considering it a portion of
;he infinite and self-existent spirit, which per
vades and sustains the universe.”
True, Ola, they did, nor will I attempt to
controvert their arguments. With this we have
nothing now to do. The past is behind our
backs, the future alone should fill us with anx
iety. We cannot afford to waste time in consid
ering wbat we were—wbat we will be is the vi
tal question. I often recall a stanza of the last
poem of the young conceptive Nicott:
‘Are there not aspirations in each heart
After a b9tter, brighter world than this?
Longing for beings nobler in each part—
Things more exalted—steeped in deeper bliss?
Who gave us these? What are they? Soul, in
The bud is budding now for immortality!’"
“Cornelia, the soul’s immortality is no new
theme to me, and you can scarcely find an ar
gument that I have not considered. I do not,
cannot doubt it, but tbe truth is the unregener-
erate heart would be glad to disbelieve It—
would rejoice to think that all that would be
left of us will be 'two handfuls of white dust
shut in an urn of brass.’ I for one would, i
look all around me for comfort, and I find none.
Emerson says ‘there is a guideance for each of
us, aad by lowly listening we shall hear the
right word,’ and then asks ‘what has man to do
with hope and fear? In himself is his might.
Let him regard no good as solid, but that whi;h
is in his nature, and which must grow out of
him as long as he exists.’ He is enigmatical, 1
cannot solve him.”
Cast Emerson aside for the present, Ola.
He will steep you in mysticism, for he is darkly
oracular, and though his fragments are beauti
ful in themselves, yet they are like broken pieces
of glass that can never be fitted to make a
beautiful, symmetrical whole. His essays
are fascinating but bewildering. He will
lead you into devious paths, and you will find
there no ray from the great Son of righteousness
to lighten your footsteps. His essays are more
filled with beauty than truth. In one place he
says, ‘Life is a series of surprises, and would
not be worth taking or keeping if it were not.
God delights to isolate us every day, and hide
from us tbe past and the future. We would look
about us, but with grand politeness He draws
down before us an impenetrable screen of purest
sky, and another behind us of purest sky. You
will not remember.’ he seems to say, ‘and you
there was a volume of inspiration—that there
was once an exiled prophet on a barren, rocky
isle—when he declared that God delighted to
hide from us the past and future? Turn away
from him, Oia; there Is just enough religion in
his writings to fascinate and mislead.”
Ola gazed without the window. Twilight was
creeping on the world, so “softer day” was
dawning. It was tbe time when the heart is
most tender, most susceptible to good impress
ions. The whole concave of heaven was be
spangled with night’s gems, and' brighter and
brighter they grew as the Western light faded
away. Ola was pensive, and Cornelia, loathe to
disturb her thoughts, was silent too. At length
Ola said:
“Cornelia, when you look up yonder what do
you think?”
“I was just repeating the words, ‘when I sur
vey the heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the
moon and stars which Thou hast made, wbat is
man that Thou art mindful of him, or the son of
man that Thou vlsitest him?' "
“Cornelia, you receive i
works from God with as 1
all i
swn
of these wonderful
uch confidence as
Natural Law in the Spiritual World,
BY HEXBT DRUHKOXO.
REVIEW BY JUDGE COCKE, CONTINUED.
The well known distinction in embryonic for
mation and action of the amnion and allantois
in different animals, show a different function
and action in various species, having such or
ganic developments that will not only forbid
crossing of different species, but proves to the
anatomist that the changes in their different
functions, as applied to their respective action
from the exact one producing the foetus, by its
peculiar and distinct embryonic action is impos
sible. This is known to be true in the forma
tion development and uses and purposes of the
otent e fiJge a rs.” d **** 0,6,11 drop fr ° m HiS timbillicus chord In the human, which is unlike
“Certainly.' ‘Blessed are they that have never tn lt8 formation, development and action, as
seen, and yet have believed.’ We walk by faith,
not by sight, Ola.”
“Ah, yes—faith! Great is the mystery of God
liness. I have no faith. I cling to nothing but
doubts and terrifying fears, and these cling to
me rather than I to them. But, Cornelia, even
as you repeated that sublime presage, the evil
monitor within me suggested is not nature,
God!”
Ola, leave the erratic German philosopher
alone with his wretched creed. Life is too short
to be wasted upon speculation. I will not at
tempt to refute your Pantheistic theories; but
here.” And stepping to the book case she took
down Buchanan’s Modern Atheism. Turning
over the leaves rapidly, she turned to page 1S7
and read: “Pantheism has no living, self-con
scious. personal God—no loving Father, no
watchful Providence, no hearer of prayer, no
obj kit of confiding trust, no Redeemer, no Sanc
tifier, no Comforter. It leaves us with nothing
higher than nature as our portion here, and
nothing beyond its eternal vicissitudes as our
prospect hereafter.” “Does this satisfy you?
Believe me, dear Ola, this eagerness to quaff the
opiate of infidelity arises from tbe throes pro
duced by a torturing conscience; but a day of
wakening will surely come, and then God will be
a consuming fire and will execute the direst ven
geance upon the unbelieving!”
“I am no Pantheist, Cornelia—I am nothing.
In times past I have mingled with Pantheists;
and though their creed will now sometimes force
itself upon me, yet It by no means satisfies me.
I fear I am beyond all hope. Sometimes I im
agine a vast, boisterous sea, its waters boiling
over shoals and quicksands beneath heavens of
inky blackness. In the midst of this vast, bound
less sea I see a weed, torn from some rock, float
ing on and on, now caught and held a moment
in the trough of a wave, then tossed high on the
foamy crest of another, and I know that this lit
tle fragment of life is myself—this great, seeth
ing water the sea of speculation.”
“Your picture is not complete, Ola. In the
centre of that great sea is a maelstrom which
spreads its irresistible arms from shore to shore,
Imperceptibly drawing everything within its
deathly embrace. I see it now. ‘This little frag
ment of lire’ is near. Nearer and nearer it is
moving with accelerated swiftness, and soon it
will be caught in tbe endless circles, around and
around it wili whirl, then down into the fathom
less gulf it will sink into the regions of endless
night.”
Oia started. Cornelia arose, and with a sud
den Impulse threw her arms around Ola’s neck,
saying:
“Dear Ola, come to Christ. There is rest in
His bosom from all doubts and vague conject
ure.”
Would that I could, Cornelia,” said Ola,
deeply moved, “but I cannot. I have searched
long for a resting place, but have found none.
The pleasures of life t know are hollow and un
satisfactory. When I fall to find peace, then 1
turn to the isms that curse tbe earth and try to
find among them a balm for my accusing con
science. I turn to the Bible; its pages glow
with faith and I have none. I must pray believ-
lug I shall receive. I cannot believe; therefore
I shall never receive. Without faith, I read, I
cannot please God. I have no faith, I cannot
force myself to believe, therefore I shall never
please God. Everything is against me, Cornelia,
and you would better leave me to my doom and
try to forget my existence. Oh I I could weep
over the day of my birth.”
Cornelia could only off dr a silent prayer to
Heaven that Ola might be taught from above,
and into the hands of her Savior she left her
friend, believing that He would yet scatter tbe
clouds of unbelief and make her heart a fit tem
ple for His abode.
The silence which followed was broken by the
entrance of Col. Cameron, who cam" in -io say
that a telegrrm just received from Noble an
nounced bis intention to return home immedi
ately. It was not that Noble was weary of trav
eling that caused his sudden decision, for every
letter he bad written home was filled with ex
pressions of unbounded delight. In rapture he
tad visited France and Spam—had gazed with
ineffable transports upon the snow crown of
Mont Blanc from the vale of Cbamouny, when
the frosted diadem was “transmuted to gold in
the morning light”; he was then in Genoa, lin
gering because loath to leave its ravishing beau
ties. It was not weariness that caused the sud
den abandonment of all of his projected plans,
but it was because a letter from his mother told
him that the light of home bad been extinguished
forever—that two joyous voices were hushed in
the silent tomb. Noble mourned sincerely for
the children, and now his kind, unselfish heart
preferred rather to share the sorrow of home,
and endeavor to lessen some of the great grief
there, than to drown his own in the delirium of
cnangiDg scenes and the fascinations of sight
seeing. The East had lost its charm, and, de
pressed in spirits, he turned his face homeward.
Ola was perplexed. She had never intended
remaining permanently at Cameron Hall, al
though Col. and Mrs. Cameron had assured her,
in the warmest terms, of their affection and beg
ged her to remain forever, although her pupils
were now no more. Her ideas of self-reliance
would not allow her to consent to a life of de
pendence. As long as she could labor for her
own support she was content, but her work was
done there. Nor was this all. Noble's farewell
she could not forget. She remembered that he
sought her when alone; she remembered how he
held her band between bis own and looked into
her faoe with peculiar, unmistakable tenderness,
so that her eyes fell and cheeks burned beneath
his gaze. True, not a word was spoken, but the
language of his eye Ola could not mistake, and
now she recalled it all; and, more than all things
else, this remembrance decided her to leave
Cameron Hall. Ola well knew that Noble was
worthy the homage of a devoted heart. She re
spected him, she esteemed him in one sense, she
loved him; and yet she felt that she could never
yield to him that all-absorbing love which she
had given to her dead Admetus. Nor would
that worldly policy, which sometimes dethrones
love, permit her to remain and encourage his af
fection, since she felt that she, as Noble Came
ron’s wife, would be placed far above the neces
sity of labor—would have a sure and happy
home. There were vows upon her which would
not be put aside; indeed she asked no respite
from them, for she seemed to find the fetters
which bound her most sweet. Constantly upon
her Ups were the oft repeated words, “God on
so to me. and more also, if I forget this solemn
vow.” And yet, though her heart was firm, she
knew not now what to do or where to turn.
Time passed, and another telegram from No
ble announced that on the following day he
would be at home. There was no time now for
Ola to hesitate. Col. and Mrs. Cameron, she
knew, would never consent for her to leave, and
so all of her plans were digested in secret. Cor
nelia Villers had been caUed home, and not even
to her did Ola divulge her intention of leaving.
[TO BK CONTINUED.]
well as the naval connection with the foe lus of
any other animal know to natural history. If
then tbe human was # a developed, or evolved
product from some other animal, it is obvious
natural history, in its comparative anatomy
would Indicate the traces of nature tn some
physical similarity, which no anatomist will say
has even yet been discovered or demonstrated.
I make no allusion to the laws of hybridlty,
to the physiologist lt is known that they are not
in conflict with any view expressed above, but
sustain my position and statement of natural
laws on the subject, in every respect.
How strange and unexplainable the conclu
sion of Drummond, that physical law follows
the human soul into the spiritual world, and
that the birth of the Christian is a biological de
velopment from natural law, and he cites from
tbe Bible “Except a mao be born again be can
not enter the Kingdom of God.” “Except a
man be bom ot water and of the Spirit he can
not enter tbe Kingdom of God.” p. 310. Then
beautiful expressions are perverted to show
the author’s idea of natural law in the spiritual
world, and the process of a Christian’s regera-
tion under a fanciful "conformity of type," the
title of one of tbe subdivisions of nis work which
be heads with a sentence from Huxley, under a
S erversion of the words of St. Paul, “Until
brlst be found in you.” Meaming. no doubt,
to establish a new physical law it .he commun
ion of the holy spirit with the human soul. It
is a reflection on the intellects of those adopt
ing the views of Drummond to say they are not
materialists, in its most infidel cast. Observe
carefully the language of tbe author in the “Con
formity of type ;’ r he actually attempts to argue
a spiritual birtn in conformity to animal em
bryology—not only beyond the touch of science,
the embrace of reason, but repulsive to the
spiritual feelings of a Christian; and this under
the “conformity of type.” that developed the
apple, Newton's dog. Diamond, and Newton
himself, as all “began life at the same point.”
See the work of the author, p 288, and his cita
tion from Beal’s work, Bioplasm, p. p. 17-18,
and Huxley Lay Sermons 6, ed p. p. 127,129
Prof. Drummond expresses many truths in
a brilliant style, but even when enlightened by
tbe torch of genius, be leads his followers to
open kegs of gun power, and leaves them to es
cape if they can, or to be philosophically, if not
morally and intellectually, blown to atoms.
We are astonished that an Evolutionist should
believe in “natural Law in the Spiritual
TVorld." Prof. Drummond has tried to prove
oa principles of natural law that man, though
an improvement on the ancestral line, descend
ed from a lower animal; from some order of the
brute organization. It has never been believed
In a Christian age that brutes were immortal.
If man is thus elevated from a mortal, soulless
animal, how does he become immortal? It has
never been contended that any law of nature
can reach the product of animal descent except
under that hereditary principle which follows
progeny. Tbe child has no right, nor can he
possess or exercise a nature foreign to his pa
rents. If man is thus descended, it is not only
inconsistent, but irrational, and violation of the
law of nature for its advocates to think he
is immortal, such future condition has
never been thought to extend to brutes,
and if not with what consistency can an
evolutionist think there is any natural law in
tbe spiritual world to reach, or provide for the
offspring M such animals as have no souls.
Sucn is the inevitable conclusion that follows
the opinions of those evolutionists by whom it
is believed man is traceable, under the law of
nature, to some lower class of animal life for
his existence on earth, and from a class of an
imals no one among civilized nations ever con
tended had immortal life. Thus Prof. Drum
mond’s philosophy, as well as his Christian faith,
is doomed to end with the final expiration of
the brutes, such is the result of his theory and
mode of logic.
From this absurd position, as well as sinful
view of God’s creation, Ptof. Drummond strives
to extricate himself, and even attempts to prove
fhot **Tha onirifiiol vacIH io aimnln t-lwv
which there is variety and yet unity, progress
and yet one pervading, ever unfolding charac
ter; change without decay, death without des
truction; the only true life, that which embrac
es all, and never exhausts itself.” Rev. R. A.
Bedford. Bomiletie Magazine, March 1886,
page 180.
Xhi9 is a clear forcible and unanswerable ex
position, of the leading view of Prof. Drummond
in trying to prove under natural law, the repro
duction through death and decomposition of
things on earth, the reproduction of elements
that are to be manifested in the spiritual world.
The comparison of views is sufficient to annihi
late the position of the learned Prof. Material
ism under the guise of natural law, which is but
a disguised form of infidelity, under misapplied,
or misunderstood phases of science is becoming
somewhat popular and its dangerous tenden
cies falling so frequently on the minds of our
young men with imperfect academic education,
that we appreciate the efforts of our pious di
vines, in using their talent, and pious influence
to check its tendency, and we Invoke for the
same exalted mission the influence of our re
ligious and moral literature through the col
umns of the press, to resist these scientific ag
nostics, rationalist, materialist, and evolution
ists, in their assaults on tbe teachings of the
Holy Bible, and the truths of the Christian re
ligion.
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A. T. BARRETT,
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A Word to Yoon? Men.
It is as easy to be a rich man as a poor one.
Half the energy displayed In keeping ahead that
Is required to catch up when behind would save
credit, give more time to attend to business,
and add to the profit and reputation of those
who work for gain. Honor your engagement.
If you promise to meet a man or to do a certain
thing at a certain moment, be ready at tile ap
pointed time. If you go on business, attend
promptly to matters on hand, then as promptly
go about your own business.
Do not stop to tell stories in business hours.
If you have a place of business be found there
when wanted. No man can get rich by sitting
around stores. Never “fool on” business mat
ters. Have order, system, regularity, liberality,
promptness. Do not meddle with business you
know nothing of. Never buy an article you do
not need, simply because it is cheap and the
man who sells lt will take oat in trade. Trade
is money. Strive to avoid harsh words and per
sonalities. Do not kick every stone in the path;
more miles can be made in a day by going
steadily on than by stopping to kick. Pay as
S ou go. A man of honor respects his word as
e does his bend. Aid, but never beg. Help
others when you can, but never give what you
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ble. Learn to say “no." No necessity for
snapping it out in dog-fashion, but say it firmly
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ragier than those of others. Learn to think and
act for yourselr. Be vigilant. Keep ahead
rather than behind the time.
YouDg man, cut this out, and if there be folly
n the argument, let U3 know.
tom of the circle in which she moved. SOU she will not expect!’ Did not Emerson forget that
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that -‘The spiritual world is simply the outer
most segment, circle or circles of the natural
world,” p. 157, Then the spiritual world is not
distinct from the natural, only a different lati
tude. Everything material, including man, dies
and decays—mingles with mother earth, or evap
orates in the surrounding atmosphere, and then
in whole or in part, under a genial reproductive
law oi nature, is seen in a different latitude and
changed or modified condition—perhaps an ‘ out
ermost circle.” And here, from decayed animal
matter, Is another material substance produced—
man’s Immortal principle; yes, this is found
springing Into existence—his soul and its local
ity in the “spiritual world” for the administra
tion of “Datural law.” Any one reading, with
unprejudiced mind, Prof. Drummond’s subdi
vision (article, ‘ Death”) will be amazed to see
his efforts to oppose the truth of tne Bible in
giving sneb strange and anti-Christian views of
tne origin of man’s immortality. He actually
holds that man's spirituality arises In the '‘out
ermost circle” from decayed animal matter in
the natural law process of decomposition. He
says, “A seed-germ, apart from moisture aDd
appropriate temperature, will make the ground
its grave for centuries. Human nature, like
wise, is subject to similar conditions. It can
only develop in presence of its environments;”
p. 171. And he continues, “Every environment
Is a cause. Its effect upon me Is exactly pro
portionate to my correspondence with it. If I
correspond with part ol ft, part of myself is in
fluenced. If I correspond with more, more of
myself is influenced—if with all, all is in
fluenced. If I correspond with the world,
I become worldly; If with God, I become
divine. As without correspondence of the
scientific man with the natural environ
ment tnere could be no science and no action
founded on the knowledge of Nature, so without
communion with the spiritual environment
there can be no Religion.”—p. 172. And he con
tinues: “You can dwarf a soul Just as you can
dwarf a plant, by depriving it of a full environ
ment. Such a soul tor time may have ‘a home
to live.’ Its character may betray no sign of
atrophy. But its very virtue somehow has the
palor of a flower that Is grown in darkness, or
as the h6rb which has never seen tbe sun, no
fragrance breathes from its spirit.” And con
tinues, “but to science It is an Instance of ar-!
rested development, and to religion it presents !
the spectacle of a corpse—living Death.”—p. 173.
This would be pretty figurative style for tne
poet, but taken In consideration with the course
of argument pursued by tbe author, he is demon
strating his materialistic tendency, and the sub
jection of the soul to tbe law of science as far as
known in tbe natural, or as lt is properly ex
pressed, the physical world. This is his usual
way of demonstrating spiritual law, which be
undertakes to prove is regulated by some prin
ciple of Natural philosophy, according to the
“Environment,” that is, tne law of Nature,
which has Its environment in the spiritual
world.
Prof. Drummond has dwelt so mnch on Na
tural law, and decayed animal and vegetanie
matter, we greatly fear he has been attracted
from a dry, hard, sound, philosophic foundation
to some weak and moist surface, where the spon
taneous inflammation of a gaseous compound
of phosphorous and hydrogen exhaled from de
composing substances, produces wbat is called
an "fgnisfatuus ” It Is said to take its name
from its tendency to mislead travelers. Such
exist along the marshy places on the roads of
science and sometimes betray the traveling stu
dent. Let the Professor, and especially -ome of
his followers, put on a pair of high stilts that
they may walk oat of the swampy grounds and
from the misleading light of that “Natural
law,” known as "The wM-wilh the-wisp ”
Tne entire argument of Prof. Drummond is
not only on anti-scientlfic principles, but illogi
cal. It Is opposed to the intellectual evidences
aud illustrations of the historical bearing of
Christianity from the first century to the present
day. From the dawn of Christianity through
every age to the present, it has presented a con
centration of Moral and Spiritual forces which
have constantly expounded themselves with
ever new developments beyond the influence of
physical law under decay, decomposition and
reproduction, which is the progress tbeoi y of
Prof. Drummond. We adopt the view of
distinguished minister of tbe gospel.
He says: "Progress, Is all that is moral
and spiritual, is not a mere growth of addition,
by uniform enlargement and accretion of parts,
it is not like tbe development of a single plant
or animal, the mere unfolding of a seed, the
mere exoanslon of a germ; rather it may be
compared to the growtn or a family or a nation;
no sooner has the parent life thrown off its pro
duct than the new life becomes Itself an inde
pendent source of life; and society which comes
into existence is mads up of many separate and
yet associated forces, working apart and togeth
er, building up an infinitely complex thing, in
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