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[For the Southern Field and Fireside.] HARRY AND L Past I. Harry and I Sat under a tree, So cosily, Heigh-ho! A sigh escaped; It fluttered to me. Just like a bird, Heigh-ho 1 Who would hare thought A sigh could thus woo, So tenderly ? Heigh-ho! , It sought away, And found it, too, Straight to my heart, Heigh-ho! Harry then plead For a sealing kiss; He loved, he said. Heigh-ho! I told him no; But where is the Miss That can persist ? Heigh-ho! Sweet merry May Will come, by and by, So sunnily, Heigh-ho! Twill not be long— Then Harry and I Will happy be, Heigh-ho! Fart IL Under a tree Sit maiden and swain, So cosily. Heigh-ho! Ah! it is he Sitting there again, But not with me. Heigh-ho! No May for me; Fond maid, nor for you, From- Harry's love. Heigh-ho! I know—you’ll know — ’Tis the last in view, Has Harry’s heart Heigh-ho! Moral. Maidens, beware 1 Lies lurk in sighs, • In kisses, too. Heigh-ho! Better to die, Without kiss and sigh, Should no May come. Heigh-ho! Ixdaxird. Savannah, Ga. ■ is i [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] BFT.T.B From time immemorial, bells have been con secrated by Prayer and Poetry. Their language is almost universal, and to the listener there is always something endearing, melancholy, sooth ing, or exciting in their sound, according to the circumstances under which he hears them. First, is the hopeful ring—calling high and low, rich and poor, all in the same tone, to wor ship. Who does not lovothe Sabbath morning bells? What a world of meaning in tneir sound! They seem to say: “ God is love —God is peace—God is rest 1 My son, give me thy heart. Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest!" A thousand prom ises come with that bell The sad toll as we follow some loved one to the grave, breathes pity for our human woe. It may be a young mother’s first darling, or a poor widow, like her of Nain, who follows her all In the still hour of night, the startling fire-bell tells but too often, a tale of desolate homes. Then, there is the tingle, jingle of the sleigh bells, and with this comes a vision of bright faces. We hear mirth and laughter, drink mulled wine, and whisper love — des lebens goldener traum— alas, that it comes but once I We read of “ the merry marriage bell,” *• Denn wo das Strenge mit dem Zarten, Wo Starkes sich und Mildes paarten Da gibt es einen guten Klang.” In fancy, we see the fair bride decked with orange-flowers and blushes, while friends stand around with white favors and kind wishes. We can only think of harmony and happiness. There is even poetry in the dinner bell, which calls the weary laborer to his quiet home for an hour’s rest from the mid-day sun—to the wel come of a smiling wife, and a neatly-spread table. What man fails to appreciate these ? The outward-bound steamer warns, by a bell, lingering friends to leave—the last word is spo ken, and dear ones are lost to sight for years, and sometimes for life, and sometimes forever I The patriarch of the sheep-fold, too, rejoices in his bell; and all the poetry of pastoral life is brought vividly to mind, when we hear its tink ling sound. In the days of old romance, falcons and grey hounds wore little bells. In olden times, during many reigns, the court-jesters (or “ fools”) wore bells upon their caps. The Eastern dancing girls have bells attached to their persons; and the pious old monk, “in "V aUombrosa’s holy shade,” chants his “ Ave Maria” ww» n the eve ning bells ring. The vendue-master announces his sale by a bell and a bell is the herald of coming guests. What sadness, and sometimes dismay, does it not bring to the school-boy, when that odious bell calls him from marbles to his bench I Many of the greatest Poets have celebrated our theme in undying verse. Shakspeare speaks often of bells, associating them, now with pleas ant and tender emotions, now with the sad and painful, and anon with all that is dark and terri ble and awful. Moore felt their influence, and sang iD numbers sweet as their own chimes, of “Evening Bells,” and the many bright dreams of youth they brought to mind. Schiller’s song, alone, would suffice to connect bells immortally with the finest efforts of poetic inspiration. Squthey calls them “thundering harmony.” * Victor Hugo, Dickens, N. P. Willis, Longfellow, and many writers besides —writers “ to fortune and to fame unknown," have acknowledged their influence, and paid to bells their willing tribute of song. England’s poetjaureate “ tolls the bell for the dying year,” and last, but far from least, a Southern poet, of eccentric and sur passing genius, has given us a song in praise of Bells, which will ring and delight us with its melody as long as there are souls that can appre ciate true poetry: Edgar A. Poe’s poem, entitled " Bells,” is inferior to none. In many great historic events, bells have fig ured. The massacre of St. Bartholomew, in France, received its dreadful signal from the belfry of the Church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, in Paris. Bells are rung upon the occasion of great vie SOVXRK&K XXXLB lID FX&EBXSE. tories, and upon all occasions of public and na tional rejoicing. It is said that the largest bell in the world is at Moscow. It weighs nearly two hundred tons. But the most interesting of all bells, to every American, is the “Declaration of-Independence-Bell,” in our own city of Phila delphia. On many a calm, summer evening, in a distant home, dear to me for its school-day memories, I have stood alone, watching the closing hours, and listening with dreamy thoughts to the Ves per-bell ; and then, drawn by a secret influence that I could never explain, I would enter the Cathedral and kneel with the worshipping throng. Oh! Ido believe that man—at least, that woman—is naturally religious. The deep silence—the cloud of incense—the bowed heads —and then the low sweet music of the little silver bells, which announces the elevation of the host—all stirred with deep and solemn emo tion my inmost soul. To know the strange in fluence of this bell, one should hear it at such a time. Bells are with us from the beginning to the close of life: the rattle in our cradles at the dawn of life—the marriage-bells at noon—and it is with the solemn, measured tolling of bells, the tomb closes upon us when the night of death has come. Bells are associated with all scenes of our sadness —with all scenes of our joy. Yes, the most interesting social usages, his tory, poetry, prayer, and death, have all consecrated bells 1 A. Z. # Augusta, June, 1859. ■—i ■ i [For the Field and Fireside.] OUH COMMON SCHOOLS. Messrs. Editors : Believing that the columns of the Field and Fireside are not closed against dis cussions on subjects connected with the cause of Education in our State, I send you embodied, a few thoughts on the change, authorized by the last Legislature of our Common School System, for a system of general Free Schools. In the positions I shall maintain, I may subject myself, at least in the opinions of those who have warmly advocated the change, to the charge of being behind the improvements of the age. To such charge, lam not unwilling to plead guilty, within a certain measure. I have always been an old fogy to this extent: I never allow myself carried away by any scheme professing to be an improvement, until by an examination of its probable practical results, my judgment becomes convinced that the proposed scheme is, in reality, what it professes to be. And I sincerely wish, that the advocates for the change, had more •than they had of the same sort of Fogyism.— TYe would in that case hear but little more of the general Free School System. To justify a change, some great advantages ought to result, beyond those which result from the system proposed to be abandoned. But I have not heprd its advocates attempt to show such advantages. Indeed, such attempt would be altogether vain. The Common School Sys tam will educate every poor child who can be in duced to enter the schools; and the Free Schools could do no more, tor the Common Schools are entirely free for that class. To talk of educat ing every poor child, - under any system, is simply talking nonsense. Every one, who has any actual knowledge, knows, that a large class of poor children, as well as their parents, have little regard for education—and that a much larger class are obliged to labor for the mainte nance of the families to which they belong, so unremittingly, that they cannot be got into the schools under any system. These must remain uneducated. We may lament it, and all good men will lament it; but there is no help for it. The general free system cannot cure the evil. — To rich men, the Common School System pre sents decided advantages over the Free School System ; since it is better for him to disburse his money, and superintend the education of his children in person, than to do the same things, through the agency of the State. Both will be better attended to. Having shown that the proposed Free School System possesses no practical advantages over the Common School System, I proceed to show that some very important evils will necessarily and immediately result fronTthe change. If I succeed in this, I think I may, with confidence, ask the people of Georgia to put a check upon the madness which would deprive them of the benefits of so good and so cheap a system of education, as the System of Common Schools — generally mis-named, the Poor School System. The evils resulting from the adoption of the Free system, pursued in detail would lead me far beyond the limits which I design in this communication.' I shall notice but the two fol lowing : Ist. The free system, to accomplish as much as the present common school system, with com paratively a small sum of money is doing—that is, to establish and sustain as many schools as we have under the common school system, would require a vested fund of from $25,000,000 to $60,000,000, according to the amount of profits arising from the investment If it should yield a profit of 7 per cent., (which is not likely,) $25,000,000, perhaps, might do it But if only 3| per cent., (which is likely,) should be realized, then the investment must be $50,000,000. Now, how many years would elapse before Georgia could invest 60 large a sum ? I think it would require more than half a century. These amounts appear very large—large enough, in deed, to deter the people from the mad experi ment. But they are not stated at random— guessed at and swelled to the utmost, for the sake of effect They are the result of sober ®«lculation. If I have erred in the calculation, I would rejoice to be set right; for I seek truth. 2d. If ti» above positions are correct, then a change of systems must deprive more than half the children in the Statu, both the poor and the middle class, entirely, of all the means of educa tion during this hall century. This is truly a revolting picture; but it is a true picture, and ought to be well considered before we make the change. The adoption of the free system with draws the school funds from the common Bchools, and, as a matter of course, all the poor children must be withdrawn; and as more than half the common schools in the country, (as I believe,) are kept in operation by the aid re ceived from the common school funds, it must follow, that upon the withdrawal of these poor scholars, such schools must cease, and leave both paying and poor scholars destitute of the means of education for many years; probably, for more than fifty. Are these the immediate results of a system which is held out as the glory and pride of Georgia ? Is this the system which is to “ make Georgia the Empire State— not only of the South, but of the whole Union V' Yea, verily; and that, by destroying, at one blow, more than half her schools!!! Is this the system which is to educate “ every poor child in the State ?” Yea, verily; and that, by cutting them off, for fifty years, from all the means of education! 11 Messrs. Editors, I see no way to avoid these consequence but one, and that one is this: Let each county avail itself of the discYetion given them in the act of the Legislature, and resolve to continue the common school system. That the counties may do this, is my sincere and honest wish. J. C. P. SSI [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] MEMORY. BY EMMA F. PEA I)’. A gentle angel is Memory, evsr in my saddest hours hovering near, painting to me scenes that have been enacted in life’s dnma long, long ago, recalling dreams that with childhood’s bright hours have died. There ij the old school house, where I learned to spel “baker” and “ baby,” yonder the swing in tlf play ground. And, 10l at the waving of Memory's wand now steps forth a fair, sunny haired creature. ’Tis Nellie. Ah! my darling sister thou wert too fair for this world of sin and Thy pure spirit fled, ere 'twas marred wit* earth rust.— I well remember how my head ached, as I walked to the log school house alono, and how the bitter tears came rolling down on the book. I vainly tried to study, when I looked on the vacant seat beside me. The pitying glances of the gentle teacher and my playmates could not quell my emotion, as I thought how she was languishing on a bed of pain. She, my only darling sister, all that I had od earth to love. School was at last out, the long dreary day over, and I hastened with, rapid footsteps home ward. As I stood beside her bed, the cool fra grant breeze, laden witli the perfumes of the rose and jessamine, camt floating through the casement, lifting the aul urn curls that like a cloud fell o’er the pillow, and, kissing her pure brow left there its fragi ince and freshness as sympathy’s tribute. The pearly dew drop came down and nestled on the bosom of the lily, like an angel’s tear shed fo’ human frailty. The bright moon arose, and v ith silver-sandaled feet walked the pure blue (racave above, pouring from her bowl a flood of adiance, and the stars came out, one after anot er, and yet I sat by the sleeper. At last the bin little hand slid in to mine, and her large lustrous orbs of blue were turned full upon me Oh I will I ever for get that gaze? “I am (ying, my own sister, yet do not weep for me. ’ Her voice was low and tremulous. Oh God was she indeed dy ing l “ Give my love to Miss Ellis and all the girls, sister; tell them, Nellie's gone to heaven.” Oh, I clasped her to my hpart to shield her from the cruel hand of death; but no, it might not be, for upon my bosom lay the casket, but the jewel" was in heaven. I was motherless, sisterless, and had as well been fatherless. My father was a cold stern man of business, and never thought that his daughter might yearn for his love. He never took me in his arms and caressed me, never called me “ his Allie;” and my heart so yearned for love. But there must be unloved hearts in the world. And was Nellie, my darling, my all, was she really dead? Oh! no, it could not be; again and again I looked upon the pale features. Not a breath moved the snowy habiliments. The fringed lids had closed over those eye? forever—those eyes that had ever looked so lovingly upon me. The morrow came with the sable bier, the hearse with its waving plumes. The long procession wound o’er the hill an( l then they laid her in the tomb. Oh, it was hard to leave her there alone in that dreamless sleep! Day after day I would go to that quiet church yard, and weep o’er the graves of the loved and lost; and, in my loneliness, pray that God would take me too. But years have sped, and I linger yet on the shores of time. The little village has now become a bustling; thriving city. The old school house is torn down now, and a costly edifice erected in its stead. But every Sabbath, from the old church there comes the sound of the organ—and the music of other days comes stealing o’er me, and I find myself, as to-night, wandering, led by Memory, through the fields of long past Dream-Land, gathering sheaves of Recollections from the Past, for the comfort and consolation of the Present “ Sic transit gloria mundi /” Montgomery, Ala., Sept. 14tb, 1859. A SHORT CHAPTER OJUIRNITHOLOGY. BY RUTH. [As yet, we have had nothing in our Field and Fireside, intended especially for the perusal and gratification of our dear little friends—the chil dren. We have been wrong in thus neglecting them. We mean to do better in future; and, byway of commencement, we give this week, “A Short Chapter on Ornithology,” for their especial benefit Let them not be frightened by that hard word at the beginning. They’ll get over that in six lines, and all will be easy after that] Ornithology is a long, harsh-sounding word — is it not ? If you should get the Dictionary to find its meaning—as I think some of you are small enough to need to do—you will find it stated in something this way: “Ornithology, a description of birds, their forms and habits.” Now, should not you like to study this bird science ? I should, and I will tell you why. I have got some little wild birds—the prettiest, gentlest creatures—which came to my window for crumbs. Every day for a very long time, they have come, and I love them for their sprightly, pretty ways; but especially for their trust in me. We always love what trusts in us —and when these pretty birds come fluttering to my window, and look up in my face with their bright, twinkling eyes, chirping as if to say, “ I know you will not hurt us—you could not have the heart to!" I say, “No, my precious little birdies! I would not harm one feather of your delicate wings for all the golden birds and butterflies that ever enjoyed the glorious sun light that gilded them.” I live in a wild, unsettled part of the country —I shall not tell you where—and there are what the children call “ a many ” birds about me. I have a pair of birds that are called “ Perwinks ”by the folks about here. They are pretty creatures, with black backs and wings, red breasts, and a little white about the legs. I say, I have got them; but you must not think I have them in a cage. They are as free as sunshine; but they are mine because I feed them, and I have named them Jemmy and Jes samine. Then I have a lonely little ground Chippy, who lost his mate last year—he can sing, too, sweetly. He is a real good little fellow, and gets most dreadfully imposed upon, like some benevolent people in our great world. Ido not know what killed Dickey’s mate, but this is how she died: One day my little sister came to me with a distressing story, of how a little bird was fluttering in the grass, and could not fly away. Os course I went to its aid. I took it up in my hand; I smoothed its ruffled feathers; opened its little yellow beak, and gave it water to drink. But it only lay quietly on my hand, with its pretty eyes imploring me, and so stif fened and was dead. Dickey flew around me, seeming not to understand what was happening; and when we buried little Daisy, his mate, sor- rowfully, he only lit on the fence close by, and sang a sweet song. He little knew what trouble her death would cause him—this Dickey 1 Do you know, she left him a family to take care of —all by himself; and the worst of it was, that one of this family, by good rights, did not be long to him at all; it was a young Cuckoo. I suppose you have heard how the Cuckoo does not build itself a nest like other birds, but puts its eggs in any nest that comes handy, and so leaves them for other birds to hatch; and when they become birds, to feed and educate. Isn’t that mean ? Well a Cuckoo had laid an egg in Daisy’s nest, and she had set upon it with her own eggs, and hatched it; and there he was, a great screaming bird among little ones, for poor Dickey to feed. Dickey’s own liltle ones soon grew too big to follow him about, but this unreasonable Cuckoo never did. He grew, and grew enormously, till he was big enough to have swallowed Dickey and his entire family; but still he followed Dickey, screaming for more, more, until it seemed poor Dickey would die of weariness. He would run away from his great child, and hide under some broad leaf; but the wretched creature was sure to find him; and Diekey, driven to despera tion, would seize a great crumb and force it into the mouth that was ever ready. Autumn came, and the birds all went away; but now, spring has brought them back. I see Dickey is re lieved of his great child. If it is not naughty, we will hope it is dead —for Cuckoos are disa greeable birds, and seem to do no good in the world. I have many birds; but those I love best are my little, true Chippies—l have two pairs of them. One pair I call Petra and Petrella, and the other Cinnamon and Milly. Cinnamon is a beautiful cinnamon-brown, and has great black eyes; Milly, his mate, is very like him. Petra and Petrella are darker, and have a bluish-gray on their breast and wings. These little birds I have known longest, and they are the tamest of my pets. They will come and tap at my win dow, if I do not rise early enough and feed tjiem; and when the doors are open they come in, and will eat cake from the table or even from the closet, if its door is left invitingly open. They build their nests in our garden. They have selected as homes, two small evergreen trees, and these where I can watch the whole process. They build, and hatch, and bring up their young. Oh, such beautiful nests as they make, and such funny things as they weave into them! First, the outside is formed of grasses and mosses, little sticks and coarse hair, twined together as only a bird could twine them; then, as they want it to be soft and downy for their babies to sleep on, they line the inside with feathers, soft threads, and any little bit of cotton they may find blowing about. One day, when I looked into my Petrella’s nest, what do you think I found she had twined there for its adorning? I don’t believe you could guess, so I will tell you. There, among wool and feathors, soft shreds of my now dress and fine roots of plants, was a long golden hair from my little sister’s bright head! Do you know how they make their nests so round inside ? I did not, until I saw my birds make theirs. When they have brought any new material, they lay it in; and then, standing in the middle, they turn round and round, laying it even with their little beaks. After the nest is finished, they lay their eggs; sometimes they have only two, but almost always three or four —my little birds always have four. If the sea son is cold and rainy, the little birds are apt to die. There are a great many mishaps that may come to the poor little birds. Sometimes snakes eat them while their mother is off, looking for food; sometimes some cruel cat makes a meal of them ; and often a hard storm will shake them from their pretty cradle to the ground, and so destroy them. I watch my pets’ nets, and keep away all the harm I can from them. One day I caught my little Petrella in my hand. The window was a little ways open, and she ventured in to eat crumbs from the table, which was sot for tea. When she had satisfied her appetite, she could not find her way out; but seeing light, flew to a closed window, and beat her tender breast and wings against the unyielding glass. I went to her softly, and put ting my hands over her, held her close. Poor little creature! how her heart throbbed I I sup pose she thought—if she had the power to think at all —that she should never see her dear mate again. She opened her beak and panted with affright, and struggled to .get free. But I thought if she loft me in such terror, she would never come again. So I held her little trembling side tojny cheek, and smoothed her soft brown head, and kissed her feathers, talking all the while in a gentie tone, and chirping like her mate —that is, as much like her mate as a girl could chirp. She grew quieter as I held her, till at last I told her she might go; and opening the door, and loosening my clasp of her tiny form, she went away from me gladly enough, I can tell you. She flew to a tree that was near, and raising her head toward the sky, as the birds always do when they sing, she poured out such a sweet song of thanks, that I wish you had been there to hear it 1 have many wonders about my birds. I wonder if they sleep in their nests at night, or if they rest on a twig close by, like little hens roosting? I wonder how they can admire their funny, awkward little babies? They do admire them, I know; for I have seen Petrella stand on the edge of her nest, and look down with all the pride and affection possible to be in so small a creature, at the unfledged, purple, furry things. Then she would shake her wings at me and chirp, as if to say—“ Ain’t they beautiful?” Then I answer her—“ Well, Petrella, my pretty, if you are suited, I am!—although, to say the least of it, they look rather curiously.” When it comes night, the mother-bird makes a bed-cover of herself, and spreads her soft wings over the little ones, keeping off cold and dew effectually from their shivering, naked bodies. I wonder why the Chippy-birds stay here all winter, when other birds have gone to warmer climates? They do stay here, I know; for I have watched them many a time hopping over the frozen snow, picking up stray crumbs an<? seeds, singing as merrily on the boughs of trees, as they do now, whe* the branches are filled with leaf and blossor*- Bless their little throats!—they always /° ur forth melody. Where can they sleep, wl*m the earth is covered with snow ? Not in twlr nests, cer tainly—for they are filled witb ice and snow. God takes care of them—decs He not, little friends ? I wonder if Pewlla were to die when the babies were young if Petra could bring them up properly by himself? I wonder if all ray wonders would evase, if I studied Ornithol ogy ? Any way, I should like to study it. Don’t yon ever throw stones at the birds, nor rob their nests, if you want me to love you. Remember, erery little egg is a bird “to be;” and there osnnot be too many sweet birds in the world to cheer us when we are lonely or down hearted aad to rejoice with us wlien we are happy. * ‘. Ah! there is my Milly, asking for her dinner. She is a dainty little thing, and will eat nothing but sugar-cake. I believe her mother brought her up on cake and grasshoppers, with an occa sional spider for a change of diet. They al ways say, “ Happy as a bird I” but I don’t think you and I would be very happy, if we had to eat bugs and grasshoppers. Ain’t you glad you are not a baby-bird ? Think of swallowing a spider, with eight kicking legs! Horrible I _ [The Little Pilgrim. RELIGIOUS ITEMS. Baptist Statistics of 1858.—The New York Examiner says that there are in the United States 590 Baptist associations, 12,163 churches, 7,590 ordained minister, 1,035 licentiates, 992,- 851 communicants, and that the number bap tised in 1858 was 98,508 —nearly one hundred thousand baptisms, and a little less than a mil lion of members 1 These are figures for which entire accuracy cannot be claimed, but they may be accepted as the closest practicable approxima tion to accuracy, and as more likely to be too low than too high. The largest number of Bap tists reported from any one State is Virginia -115,146. The largest number baptised in any one State is New York—lo,Bo2; and next lar gest Georgia—7,944. There are 93,417 Baptists in the State of Georgia. There are 33 colleges, 14 theological seminaries, 29 weekly newspa pers, 16 monthlies, and 2 quarterlies in the United States that depend on the Baptists for support. The Twelfth Annual Meeting of the Southern Baptist Pubiication Society convened in the Bap tist Church of Sumter, S. C., in connection with the South Carolina Baptist Convention. The following items have been collected and arranged since the meeting (Aug. 1) embracing the work in the Publication department of the Society, during the year. Thirty-two different editions of books have been printed. Os these nine are original works, of which there have been issued, eleven thousand two hundred and fifty-four volumes, (11,254 vols.) making one million four hundred and thirty-four thousand seven hundred and twenty pages, (1,434,720 pages.) The number of volumes issued during the year, including original works and reprints, amounts to twenty-nine thousand, seven hun dred and fifteen (26,715) giving an aggregate of twelve millions three hundred and twenty-six thousand four hundred and sixty-eight pages, (12,326,468 pp.) Total number of volumes is sued by the Society from the first, 251,890, giv ing the following aggregate of pages 92, 102,- 134. By reference to the annual report of 1858, it will be seen that during the year 1857-8, the publication of 27,767 volumes, was reported, ma king 4,546,620 pages. Though the number of volumes issued during the year 1858-9 does not greatly exceed that of the former year, yet there is a large increase in the number of pages, to wit, 7,555,514. It will be readily observed, by an examination of the entire list of the Society’s publications, that while the more matured Christian reader has been provided for, as in the publication of Dr. Dagg’s works, the wants of the young have not been overlooked. Due attention has been paid to the demands of Baptist Sabbath Schools, in making valuable additions to the works previous ly published. —Financial Secretary. Uni verbalists. —It appears from a report made to this body, in session at Rochester N. Y., last week, that there are under its auspices three colleges—Tufts, at Medford; St Lawrence, N. Y.; and Lombard, at Galesburg, 111.; and Woodstock and Glover, Vt These are all in successful operation, and some'of them in highly flourishing circumstances. They have about eight hundred and fifty students at present, and properly amounting to about one-half a million of dollars. The Divinity School in connection. with the St Lawrence University at Canton, under Prof. E. Fisher, is the first of the kind es tablished. Although but one year old, it has seventeen students, and a valuable theological library of four thousand volumes, with the prom ise of addition to the value of ten thousand dol lars by one friend. Methodist Statistics.—The Richmond Ad vocate gives the following statistics of Metho dism in North America. Northern Members, 953,472 Southern “ 699,175 Canada Conference, 42,086 East British American Conference, 13,545 Methodist E. Church in Canada, 13,352 Methodist Protestant Church, 70,018 Wesleyan Methodist Connection, 20,000 African Methodist E. Church, 29,000 African M. E. Zion Church, , 6,203 Albright (Evangelical Association,) 21,076 Total, 1,867,937 Religious Demominations in the United States.— Comparative Value of C hurch Proper ty and Number of Churdles, —(Census of 1850.) denominations, ch. property, no. churches. Baptist . .$10,931,382. 8,791- Christian 845,810....,.,,. 812 Congregational.... 7,973,962 1,674 Dutch Reformed... 4,096,730 324 Episcopal... 11,261,970 1,422 Free 252,255 361 Friends 1,709,876 714 ♦German Reformed 965,880 327 Jewish • 371,600 31 ♦Lutheran 2,867,886 1,203 Mennonite 94,245........ 110 Methodist 14,636,671 1H467 Moravian 443,347.. 331 Presbyterian. 14,369,889. 4,584 Roman Catholic 8,973,838. 1,112 Swedcnborgian..... 108,1™ 15 Tunker 46025 52 Union ->90,065........ 619 Unitarian 3,268,122 243 UniversaliSt.... ••• 1,767,016 494 Minor Sects.. *•• • • 741.980 325 • Total $86,416,639 36,011 ♦The furinan Reformed and Lutheran denominations use tb- *<mie building in many places. there are in the United States forty-nine theological Schools. The following table will show the number of schools connected with each Denomination, with the aggregate number of students of each, according to the American Al manac 1859. Denomination. No. of Schools. No. of Students. Associate Church 1.. 33 Asso. Reform 3..,....,.. 58 Baptist 12. 275 Congregational. ........ 6. 236 Cong. Unit 2 34 Cumb. Presbyterian 1 33 Dutch Reformed....... 1.. 26 Evang. Lutheran 1 20 German Reformed 1 18 Lutheran 2..., ....... 15 Methodist 2.51 Presbyterian >.ll. .462 Protest. Episcopal..... . 3....... 113 Roman Catholic 2 ... *,. 41 W. Lutheran 1 6 Total, 49 1,435 163