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THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
VOL. XXXIV. NO. 8.
Urothei' Deep Concern and Brother
Ever Needy.
Did you ever see these brethren meet,
and hear them talk ? I have.
Brother Deep Concern has beard oi the
arrival of his new preacher, and. oil’ he starts
to form his acquaintance. After talking
awhile over matters and things in general,
the topic that has agitated the church so
deeply and so long, is cautiously approach
ed—that topic of all topics with certain
characters in all the churches. Tt has
wrinkled your brow, and troubled your heart,
and engaged your pen many a time, Mr. Edi
tor. It is a great topic at the General Con
ferences, at the Annual Conferences, at the
Quarterly Conferences, at the Church Con
ferences, and at the District Conferences.
Slowly, gravely, prudently, Brother Deep
Concern moves up to the question, just after
taking his hat and eaue in hand to leave,
and just, before shaking the good-bye, with
Brother Ever Needy. “How are you get
ting along at the parsonage in the matter of
something to go on, my brother ?”
Brother F.ver Needy makes a delicate
reply.
Now for Brother Deep Concern :—“lf you
should need anything, get in a tight place,
or the like, be sure to come to me and let
me know."
lie bows, and as Brother Ever Needy looks
after him he feels well, like many
a preacher has felt.
A little less questioning into the pastor’s
condition, (I mean oi this kind,) a smaller
number of this family of Deep Concerns
who want to be approached by the pastor
in times of such embarrassment as that un
der consideration, and an improvement in
systematic, business-like, Scriptural support,
is very much needed just now, and, in most
instances, if not all, justly deserved.
Believe me, Brother Deep Concern, when
I tell you that Brother F.ver Needy never
has too much. Aristarchus.
From Appleton’s Journal.
Tin* Heeoverv oi’ Jerusalem.*
This is the somewhat pretentious title of
the narrative of recent English explorations
of Jerusalem, by means of excavations con
ducted by Captain Wilson, of the Boyal
Engineers, under the auspices and at the
expense of the Committee of the Palestine
Exploration Fund. Without, perhaps, ful
lilling the meaning of the old crusading war
cry, the “Recovery of Jerusalem,” it is un
doubtedly a record of researches and dis
coveries of the highest value, and of the
greatest interest to scholars, antiquarians,
and, above all, to Christians who desire an
exact knowledge of the scenes and locali
ties in which their religion first appeared on
earth. The explorations have solved many
difficult problems, and settled many fierce
and protracted controversies. Shafts have
been sunk and tunnels made in the most se
cluded and mysterious parts of the sacred
city, and structures brought to light that have
not been seen by mortal eyes since the days
of Titus, or perhaps of Solomon.
The beginning of this great work was the
Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem, made by
Captain Wilson, of the English Royal En
gineers, in 1864-’65. Early in the year
1804 the sanitary state of Jerusalem attract
ed considerable attention; that city, which
the Psalmist lias described as “beautiful for
situation, the jov of the whole earth,” had
become one of the most unhealthy places in
the world, and the chief reasons assigned
for this melancholy change were, the infe
rior quality of the water, and the presence
of an enormous mass of rubbish which had
been accumulating for centuries. With’the
rubbish it was hardly possible to ileal, but
the water-supply seemed an easier matter,
and several schemes were proposed for im
proving it, either by repairing the ancient
sytem, or by making new pools, cisterns,
aßd aqueducts. Before, however, any
scheme could be carried out, it was neces
sary to obtain an accurate plau of the city,
and with this view Miss Bunlett Coutts
placed a sum of five hundred pounds in the
hands of a committee of gentlemen interest
ed in Jerusalem.
The committee obtained from Lord de
Grey, then Secretary of War, the services
of a party of Royal Engineers, under the
command of Captain Wilson, who reached
Jerusalem on the 3d of October, 181’>4, and
by whom the survey seems to have been
made in the most thorough and satisfactory
rnauuer. He was followed in February,
1867, by Captain Warren, of the Royal En
gineers, with a party of assistants, by
whom the excavations were made, the record
of which fills the greater part of this volume.
But, before entering into any details of
these explorations, it may be well to lay be
fore those of our readers who are not famil
iar with the subject a slight sketch of the
topography of the Holy City.
Jerusalem is emphatically a mountaiu
city. The Bible teems with allusions to this
peculiarity in its situation. Built on the
very backbone of the country, the summit
of that long ridge which traverses Pales
tine from north to south, and only ap
proached by wild mountain-roads, the po
sition of the city was one of great natural
strength, and this gave the inhabitants that
feeling of security from lfbstile attack which
seems to be implied by the Psalmist iu the
well-known verse, “As the mountains are
roundabout Jerusalem, so is the Lord round
about his people.” The modern city stands,
as the ancient one did before it, on the
southern extremity of a spur, or plateau,
enclosed by two ravines, which bear the fa
familiar names of Kodrou and Hinnom. The
ravines rise at the water-slied within a short
distance of each other, at an altitude of
twenty-six hundred and fifty feet above the
Mediterranean; the easternmost, the valley
of Kedron, or .Tehoshaphat, runs eastward
for one and a half miles, and then makes a
sharp bend to the south; the westernmost,
the valley of Hinnom, after following a di
rection nearly sonth for one and a quarter
miles turns to the east, and, passing through
a deep gorge, joins the Kedron at Bir Eyub,
a deep well south of the city. Both ravines
are at first mere depressions of the ground,
but after the change in their respective
courses they fall more rapidly, and at Bir
Eyub are six hundred and seventy feet be
low the original starting-point. A third
ravine, the Tyropum—valley of the Cheese
mongers, or perhaps Tyrions—rises well up
in the plateau, and, after passing through
the city and dividing it into two unequal
halves, joins the Kedron at Silearn. On the
eastern spur, Mount Moriah, once stood
the temple of Solomon, Zerubbabel, and
Herod, and on the western, which is one
hundred and twonty feet higher than Mo
riah, were situated the palace of Herod, the
three great towers Hippieus, Phasaelus, and
Mariamne, and the Upper City of Josephus.
The sides of the valleys of Kedron and
Hinnom are now encumbered with rubbish,
but they are still sufficiently steep to be dif
ficult of access, and every here and there
places are found where the rock has been
scraped or cut perpendicularly downward
to give additional security. It was proba
bly in these natural defences which protect
the city on the south, east and west, that
the Jebusites trusted when they boasted to
David, “Thou wilt not come in hither ;
the blind and lame shall drive thee back.”
The only side on which the city could be
attacked with any chance of success, was on
the north; and here, as Josephus tells us, it
was defended by three walls of great strength,
able, before the introduction of gunpowder,
to offer a stubborn resistance to any force
brought against them.
The modern city is entirely surrounded
by a massive, well-built wall, provided with
numerous flanking towers, and is protected
on the north by a ditch partly ent in the
rock. There are five gates now open, and
five closed; of the former the .Tasia Gate is
on the west, the Damascus Gate on the
*The Recovery of Jerusalem. A narrative
of Exploration and Discovery in the City and
the Holy Land. By Captain Wilson, R E., and
Captain Warren, R. E. With an Introduction by
Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D. D., Dean of West
minister, D. Appleton A Cos. Price f3,50.
fiantlievN. Christian
north, St. Stephen’s on the east and the
Sion and Dung Gates on the south. Os the
latter, the Bab az-Zahire is on the north,
Ihe Golden Gate on the east, and the Single,
Double, and Triple Gates on the south.
The plateau, on which the city stands,
slopes uniformly to the southeast, and con
tains about one thousand acres; it is of ter
tiary limestofc, and the upper beds provide
an extremely bard compact stone, called,
by the Arabs, “mezzeli,” while the lower,
in which most of the ancient tombs and
cisterns have been cut, consist of a soft
white stone, called “melekeh.”
On Mount Moriah, there is now a large, open
space, called Haram esh-Sherif, a place of
peculiar sanctity in the eyes of all true Mos
lems. Its surface is studded with cypress
and olive, and its sides are surrounded in
part by the finest mural masonry iu the
world. At the southern end is the Mosque
el Aksa, and a pile of buildings formerly
used by the Knights Templar; nearly in the
centre is a raised platform paved with stone,
and, rising from this is the well-known
mosque, Kubbet es-Sakhra, with its beauti
fully-proportioned dome. Within this sa
cred enclosure, Jhe Sanctuary, as we may
well call it, stood the Temple of the Jews;
all traces of it have long since disappeared;
not one stone has been left upon another,
anil itir exact position has for years been
one of the most fiercely-contested points in
Jerusalem topography. The two theories
which have obtained the largest number of
supporters, are, first, that which makes the
Temple enclosure coextensive with the
Sanctuary; and second, that which confines
it to a square of six hundred feet at the
southwestern comer of the same place. It
is still uncertain which of these two views is
correct, and the question can hardly be
definitely settled till excavations arc made
within the Haram walls. On one point all
are agreed, that the magnificent triple
cloister, the Stoa Basilica, built by Herod,
stood on the top of the southern wall, and
the appearance of this, when perfect, must
have bceu grander than any thing we know
of elsewhere. It is almost impossible to
realize the effect which would be produced
by a building longer and higher than York
Cathedral, standing on a solid mass of ma
sonry almost equal in height to the tallest
of our church-spires; and to this we must
add the dazzling whiteness of stone, fresh
from the mason’s hands.
The western hill is thickly covered with
houses, except on the west, where there is
an open space, occupied by the gardens of
the Armenian Convent. At the northwest
corner is the citadel with its three towers,
representing, probably, those built by Herod
the Great, and, adjoining them, on the
south, are the barracks of the Turkish
garrison. One of the towers, that known
as the Tower of David, stands on a mass of
solid masonry, decidedly Herodian in char
acter, and its dimensions agree well with
those of the tower of Phasaelus, as given by
Josephus; another, which now protects the
Jaffa Gate, is smaller, and may, perhaps,
be identified with the tower Hippieus, as,
on an examination of an ancient cistern be
neath, the remains of an aqueduct were
found which formerly brought water into
the city at that point.
Along the northern side of the hill, a
street runs from the Jaffa Gate on the west,
to the Sanctuary on the cast, following, ap
parently, the course of a small, lateral
branch of the Tyropo on Valley. North of
this line stretches the Christian quarter of
the town, rising gradually to the northwest,
till it reaches the corner of the modern
wall at Kalat Jnlud, a ruined castle, sup
posed by some writers to be the tower
Psephinus, of Josephus. Nearly in the
centre of this quarter lies the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre, which is said to contain
within its walls the Tomb of our Lord. At
the time of the Crucifixion, the Sepulchre
was without the walls, now it is well within
them. Some writers explain this by saying
that, after Constantine built his Church of
the Resurrection, the town spread out and
surrounded it, while others are equally cer
tain that the present site must have been
within the limits of the ancient city, and
that we must look elsewhere for the Se
pulchre, aud even for the church built by
Constantine. The solution of this difficult
question depends on the course of the
second wall which surrounded the city; if it
ran to the east of the church, there is no
reason why the present tradition should not
be correct; if it ran to the west, the tra
dition must be wrong. Up to the present
time, no one has seen any portion of this
well; the poiut from which it started and
that at which it ended are alike unknown.
It was, however, ascertained, during the
progress of the survey, that the old arch
near the south end of the bazaars, called the
Gate Gennath, was a comparatively recent
building, and that the ruins near the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre, which had been
pointed out as fragments of the second wall,
were really portions of a church.
There is, in addition, a fourth hill north
of the Sanctuary, and rising one hundred
feet above it, which apparently corresponds
to the Bezetha of Josephus. It is now
principally occupied by Moslem houses, but
the Sieurs de Sion have built a convent on
its northern slope, aud on its western face
are the British and Austrian consulates.
Immediately to the east of this hill is a
small valley, which falls into the Kedron,
about one hundred yards south of St. Ste
phen’s Gate; on its left bank stands the
church of St. Anne, and in its bed has been
formed the traditional pool of Betliesda,
called, in the most ancient manuscripts of
the New Testament, Bethzatha, a name not
unlike that of the fourth hill, Bezetha.
It is hardly possible, in a short paper like
the present, to give any detailed descrip
tion of the ancient buildings and traditional
localities within and around Jerusalem. The
two places of greatest interest are the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the
Sanctuary, aud most of Captain Warren’s
excavations were made in the immediate
vicinity of the latter.
Captain Warren’s excavations near the
Sanctuary were made in the face of many
difficulties and dangers. In fact, they ap
pear to have been carried on at the constant
risk of life and limb to the bold explorers.
The whole series of their progress was a suc
cession of lucky escapes. Huge stones were
day after day ready to fall, and sometimes
did fall, on their heads. One of the ex
plorers was injured so severely, that he could
barely crawl out into the open air; another
extricated himself with difficulty, torn and
bleeding; while another was actually buried
under the ruins. Sometimes they were al
most suffocated by the stifling heat; at
other times they were plunged for hours up
to their necks in the freezing waters of some
subterranean torrent; sometimes blocked
up by a falling mass, without light or es
cape. And these labors had to be carried
on, not with the assistance of those on the
spot, but in spite of the absurd obstacles
thrown in the way of work by that singular
union of craft, ignorance, and stupidity,
which can only be found in Orientals —
workmen who in “winter could never get
the idea drammed into their heads that
working would make them warm”—Turkish
dignitaries, believing that the sacred rock
lies on the top leaves of a palm-tree, from
the roots of which spring all the rivers of
earth, and with a ready pretence for evading
every request.
The results of the work, so far as it has
been carried on, may be briefly summed up,
thus:
1. Several ancient, aqueducts and many
ancient cisterns have been discovered, and
the much-vexed question of how Jerusa
lem was supplied with water in the days of
Solomon practically settled.
2. Considerable progress has been made
in determining the course of the ancient
walls, on which depends the authenticity of
the Holy Sepulchre. The discoveries made
tend to confirm its genuineness.
3. Important materials have been fur
nished toward the deeision of the contro
versy respecting the area of the Temple.
4. The external aspect of ancient Jerusa
lem is in two or three points brought out
with new force.
There are some proofs discovered of the
form of the ancient houses.
There is also the astounding revelation
of the immense height of the Temple wall
above the Kedron Valley.
5. Some approximation to the date of the
walls of the Temple has been made by the
discovery of the supposed Phoenician charac
ters marked in red paint on their surface.
6. The interesting discovery by Dr. Rob
inson of what he supposed to be the arch of
the bridge, which later travellers much con
tested, has now been definitely confirmed
by the disclosure of its remaining fragments.
7. The whole history of the cartography
of Jerusalem is for the first time clearly set
forth, while it has reached its best illustra
tions in the maps and contours now for she
first time published.
Outside of Jerusalem the explorers have
made great additions to our knowledge of
the Holy Land. The Lake of Gennesareth,
or Sea of Galilee, has been described more
accurately aud vividly than ever before, and
at least a very near approach has been made,
if not absolute certainty obtained, in fixing
the hitherto uncertain locality of the places
where the Saviour resided, Capernaum,
Bethsaida, and Chorazin. The site of Ca
pernaum has been identified almost beyond
doubt.
The objects of pottery—described by Mr.
Chester—open anew sphere of sacred ar
chieoiogy hitherto almost untouched; the
peculiarity of those in the early Christian
era seems well worth noticing.
Os all the discoveries connected with the
Palestine Exploration Fund, that of the
Moabite Stone, if not the most important,
is undoubtedly that wliieh has excited the
keenest and most general interest, and de
servedly so.
1. It"is the only inscription which has
hitherto been found reaching back to the
age of the Jewish monarchy.
2. It indicates the possibility—one might
almost say the certainty—that more such
inscriptions might be discovered, if only
we had the means of searching for them.
It removes the disagreeable impression that,
as no written record on stone had ever been
found, no such record had ever existed.
Strange, almost incredible, as this seemed,
when compared with the acres of inscrip
tions (many of a much earlier date) in
Egypt—yet it was a not unnatural conclu
sion, until this unexpected discovery broke
the silence and dispelled the illusion.
3. Whether or not the King of Moab who
is mentioned is the same “Mesha” as the
monarch of whom we read in 2 Kings iii.,
he evidently belongs to the same dynasty.
The few indications that the inscription
contains of the state of Moab agree with
those contained in the Sacred Books.
Whatever may be the variations of read
ings in other parts of the inscription, there
is an entire agreement as to some of the
most interesting parts. The name of Mesha,
the names of Cliemosh and Moloch, the
name of Omri, the names of the various
Moabite towns, above all, the name of
.Tahveli, or Jehovah, for the God of Israel,
appear in both the versions here presented
to us. The book gives the various versions
of the inscription and the most accurate ac
count of the discovery of the stone.
The most important and interesting ques
tiou decided by this volume is, however,
unquestionably that of the exact location of
Mount Sinai, anil of the route by which the
Israelites passed through the desert.
The spot of the passage of the Red Sea
—the course of the Israelites by the Wady
Useit and the Wady Tayibeh—the identifi
cation of the Wilderness of Sin with the
plain of El Murkliah—the identification of
Repbidim with Feiran, and of the sacred
hill of Aaron and Hur with the eminence
crowned by the ruins of Faran—the identi
fication of the Ras Sufsafeh and the plain
of Rahah with the scene of the giving of
the law aud the Israelite encampment—the
general failure of the ancient names—the
probable change in the resources of the
wilderness —the comparatively modern date
ot the Sinaitic inscriptions all these points
have now been established, as far as they
are likely to be, by explorers who can speak
with authority, as the first who have tra
versed, not one route only, but every pos
sible route iu the Desert, and lfava seen, not
one or two only, but every possible scene of
the great acts oi' the Exodus.
In conclusion, to quote the words of the
learned Dean Stanley, himself one of the
best of the explorers of the Holy Land,
who says in his introduction to the work:
“We commend this volume to the serious
attention of all who care for the additional
light which sincere desire for truth and pa
tient investigation can throw on the most
sacred of all books, on the most interesting
of all geographies. Much has been done,
but much remains to be done; and it is in
order to stimulate aud insure tlie comple
tion that this instalment is given to the
world. May that completion be worthy of
the beginning, worthy of the indefatigable
zeal aud labor which first set on foot this
new Crusade, worthy of the Holy Land and
the Holy History which it is intended to
illustrate and elucidate!”
Tlie Wounded Soul.
“My heart is wounded within me.”—David.
Reader, you have a soul —a precious,
uever-dyiug soul. I would ask yon, is it a
wounded soul? God says, “All souls are
mine,” and every soul should, therefore,
submit to His authority and will; but by
nature all are iu a state of revolt from His
authority, of rebellion against His will, and
of enmity with his nature; consequently
they wage war against God, and the Re
deemer is represented as going forth “con
quering aud to conquer” rebellions souls,
and bring them under His rightful authori
ty. But not one of the rebels will submit to
Him until he is wounded; and thus the Re
deemer’s ranks arc composed of the wound
ed from the ranks of the enemy. There is
not an unwounded soul amongst his follow
ers; and it is on this account I put the
question—ls yours a wounded soul ? If not
wounded you must be among the opposers
of Christ and his reign of righteousness—
you must be missing all the good which
those who are His both have ami hope for.
If you can point to your wounds, there is
some ground to hope well of you. But,
perhaps, you are ready to ask, What the
wounds are of which I am speaking? Not
bodily hurts—not sickness not worldly
losses, crosses, or disappointments—Oh, no!
The wounds of which I speak, are soul
wounds —wounds made by the Sword of the
Spirit, and the Arrows of the Almighty, in
your heart and conscience. Have you felt
them? Then you must know them to be
exceeding sharp anil painful, and, in your
strength, unbearable; “a wounded spirit
who can bear?” Have you heard the word
of God telling you that you are a sinner—
a great sinner—a sinner against God—a
sinner by nature—a sinner from your birth
—a sinner against light, reason, and remon
strance? And has your own heart told you
that all this is true? And have you felt
ashamed of yourself before God—abhorred
yourself condemned yourself, and been
heartily persuaded that if you had your
desert, hell would be your portion forever?
Have you been led to cry out with Job, “I
have sinned, what shall 1 do?” or with Da
vid, “Against thee, thee only have I sinned,
and done this evil in thy sight?” If this or
something like this, has been your experi
ence, then yours is a wounded soul.
Reader, if you ever felt wounded in this
manner—if you ever felt yourself guilty be
fore God, what did you do in order to get
the wounds of your soul healed, and your
conscience quieted? One or other of two
things you may have done. God says “T
wound and I heal,” and the Scriptures
speak of wounds or “hurts,” being “healed
slightly.” It is possible you may have ap
plied’to God for healing;" but it is also pos
sible you may have been satisfied with get
ting your wounds healed slightly. Soul
wounds are healed slightly when convic
tions of sin are allowed to die away or be
forgotten, without leading to a believing
apprehension of Christ Jesus, as the only
Physician of souls —without being followed
by an earnest application of His blood, as
the only cleansing fountain and healing
balm. Soul-wounds are healed slightly
when the sinner finds rest to his troubled
conscience short of an entire approval and
hearty acceptance of God's plan, as the very
best plan of saving sinners. Soul-wounds
are healed slightly when the sinner seeks
refuge in the fancy, that, because God is
merciful, he will, perhaps, not be so hard
with sinners as the Bible says, (impious
thought!) or iu the delusion that salvation
is offered on some condition which he has
himself the power to fulfill. Soul-wonnds
are healed slightly when comfort is sought
in a fanciful, partial, defective, or incor
rect view of the scheme of Redemption, or
in any view that is not God's view of it.
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & CO., FOR THE M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH.
MACON, GA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1871.
Reader, if you have been seeking c-o to
yonr wounded soul, in any of these wavs, I
can assure you that you have been using
quack medicines—not the genuine balm of
Gilead—and your wounds soothed in this
way but not properly healed, may yet prove
your everlasting ruin. No balsam of your
own devising can ever cure yonr soul-wounds,
except in fancy. Your repentance, your
amendment of life, your good works, yonr
faith, your prayers, are not the medicine,
but oniv the necessary accompaniment i of
the medicine. There is only one Physhian
for wounded souls—Christ Jesus; —one
cure for wounded souls ‘ “the precious
blood of Christ” —one agent who can right
ly and effectually apply this cure to the
wounds the Holy Spirit. Christ Jesns
came to “heal the broken hearted”—to rare
the wotiuded soul. Make application im
mediately to Him, for He hath said, “Him
that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast
out.” And I intreat yon to beware of all
remedies that can only heal your wounds
slightly : beware of taking up any notion of
the plan of salvation that is not scriptural,
and be satisfied with no healing of your
wounds which leaves you in possession of
high thoughts of your natural ability to be
lieve—light views of the evil of sin—stad
low views of the Majesty, Justice, r.aiVilo
liness of God.— United Presbyterian.
Christ is All.
I entered once a home of care,
For age and penury were there ;
Yet peace and joy withal;
I asked the lonely mother whence
Her helpless widowhood’s defense ;
She told me Christ was all.
I stood beside a dying bed.
Where a sweet infant drooped his head,
Waiting for Jesus’ call.
I marked his smile, ’twas sweet as May;
And as his spirit passed away,
He whispered, Christ is ail.
I saw the martyr at the stake,
And not fierce flames his faith could shake,
Or death his soul appall;
I asked him whence such strength was given;
He, looked triumphantly to heaven
And answered, Christ is all.
I saw the gospel herald go
To Afrie’s sand and Greenland’s snow,
To save from Satan’s thrall ;
Nor hope nor life he counted dear;
’Midst wants and perils owned no fear;
He felt that Christ was all.
1 dreamed that hoary Time had lied.
And earth aud sea gave up their dead,
And fire dissolved this hall;
1 saw the Church’s ransomed throne-,
1 heard the burden of their song,
’Twas, Christ is all in all.
Then come to Jesus, come to-day,
Come, Father, Son and Spirit sav,
The Bride repeats the call;
( ome, he had blood for all your slain- ,
i 'ome, he has balm for all yonr pains,
Come, he is all in all.
( oaversion us a Sceptic.
HOW HIS DOUBTS WERE REMOVED.
1 was greatly rejoiced when Deacon 8.
toltl mo, a few weeks ago, that Mr. Leacock
had applied for admission to the church.
“We hardly knew what to do,” said he.
“Mr. Leacock seems to feel as a Christian
should. He gives every evidence of genuine
repentance, of an earnest purpose to lead a
new life, aud of real trust in Christ. Bat
his ideas about the doctrines are not very
clear. lam afraid he is not quite sound iu
the faith. I believe you know him pretty
well; I think you understand him a great
deal better than the most of us. What do
you advise ?”
“That depends,” said l, “on what your
notion of a church is. If it is an army,
formed on the Prussian standard, and ao
one is to be admitted till he reaches regula
tiou height and has regulation qualifications,
I would not admit him. He is hardly a m>l
- yet. If it is a hospital for convales
cents, I do not know a more fitting can'di
date ; for he has been a very sick man ; and
the crisis of his disease lias evidently passed.
His greatest danger is a relapse ; his great
est need, good nursing. ”
The session, I judge, concluded to admit
him ; for last Sunday, which was our com
munion, he stood up to profess his new
trust in Christ, and, for the first time, sat
down by the side of his wife, to partake of
the memorials of Christ’s dying love. His
history, so far as I know it, and may, with
out impropriety, disclose it, is a very simple
but a very significant one.
Soon after 1 came to Wheat-hedge, I was
introduced to Mrs. Leacock. She sat in a
wail pew, a few seats behind me. She was
a very quiet, unassuming lady ; was always
at church with three very quiet aud well-be
haved children ; but otherwise alone. The
face had a certain tinge of sadness in it, and,
though she wore no weeds, I somehow
formed the impression that she might be a
widow. I happened, however, to meet her
one day on the village street, walking with
a line-looking, clear-eyed, frank-faced gen
tlemau, who drew my heart out to him at
once and whom she introduced to me as her
hushaud. I hardly needed, after that, to be
told her story. It is a very common one.
She was a member of the church ; she was
trying, as best she could, to bring her chil
dren up iu the faith which she had inherited
from saintly parents ; but the whole waight
of her husband’s influence and example was
against her. He was what the ministers
called a “moral man he was honest, up
right, conscientious. A Freemason, his
lodge was his church, aud he was rightly es
teemed an honor to his order. He was a
man of keen, analytical mind, fond of dis
putation, and able at it, too ; something of
a scientist, something of a metaphysician,
and a great admirer of Theodore Parker.
He loved his wife and children devotedly ;
better husband and father there was not in
Wheat hedge. To her he remitted the reli
gious education of his children. They always
went to Sabbath-school, and, with her, to
church. He always stayed at home and read
Theodore Parker, or the Radical, to which
journal he was a regular subscriber. I soon
became acquainted with him. We met at a
little informal club, and soon became warm
friepds. We discussed everything but reli
gion ; that seldom came up in our club in
any form—it was by mutual consent taboo
ed —and I rarely met him anywhere else ;
rarely, till one day a kindly word from Dea
con S. reminded me that I had been derelict
in duty.
“Have you ever had any religious conver
sation with Mr. Leacock 7” said he.
“Never,” said I, with a little twinge of
conscience.
“I wish you would, ” said he. “I can make
nothing out of him. I have tried again and
again, and I always get the worst of it. He’s
a real good fellow, but he doesn’t believe in
anything. There is no use in quoting Scrip
ture, because he thinks it’s nothing but a
collection of legends. I have just been ar
guing the question of inspiration with him.
“Deacon,” said he to me, “suppose a father
should start off one fine morning to carry
his son up to the top of Snake hill, and put
him to death there, and should pretend he
had a revelation from God to do it, what
would you do with him ?” “Put him in the
insane asylum,” said I. “Exactly,” said he.
“My boys came home from Sunday-school
full of the sacrifice of Isaac, and Will, who
takes after his father, asked me if I didn’t
think it was cruel for God to tell a father to
kill his own sou. What could I say ? I
don’t often interfere, because it troubles my
wife so. But I couldn’t stand that, and I
told him very frankly that I didn’t believe
the story, and if it was true, I thought Abra
ham was crazy. He had me there you know, ”
continued the Deacon, good-naturedly, “but
then I never was good for anything in dis
cussion. I wish you’d go to see him ; you’d
bring him to terms. ”
I acknowledged the Deacon’s compliment
externally, and internally his courteous re
proof, and the the very next evening I called
to see Mr. Leacock. He was at tea when I
went iu. I have a habit, when waiting for
a friend, of studying his books or his pic
tures ; for I think they always tell something
of him. I was surprised to find in Mr. Lea
cock’s little library so large a religious ele
ment, though all of it heterodox. There
was a complete edition of Theodore Par
ker’s works, Channing’s works, a volume or
two of Robertson, one of Furness, the En
glish translation of Strauss’ Life of Christ,
Renan’s Jeans and a half a dozen more simi
lar books, intermingled with volumes of his
tory, biography, science, travels and the
New American Cyclopedia. The Radical
and the Atlantic Monthly were on the table.
Our conversation, when he came up. was
rather desultory. Mrs. Leacock went off
early to put the children to bed. If she did
so to give me a chance for private conversa
tion, it was quite unnecessary. Mr. L. evi
dently was ready for a theological debate ;
but it takes two*to discuss, and I refused to
accept his challenge. I aimed only to draw
him out ; began by asking him what he
thmight of Theodore Parker, what of Rob
ertson, what of Frothingham, who had an
article in the current number of the Radical.
I heard everything, answered nothing, lis
tened as to anew revelation, put in a hesi
tating objection now and then, just to pre
vent the conversation from flagging, and
came away at half-past 9, with a volume of
Theodore Parker’s Sermons, which I bor
rowed. I aimed at nothing but to under
stand the the man ; I believe I succeeded.
In the volume I borrowed, I found a re
markably powerful sermon on prayer, I read
some extracts from it to my wife, the next
Sunday, and she pronounced them excellent
until I told the author’s name. It is true
he inveighed against the orthodox philoso
phy of prayer; he denied that God could
really be influenced, or His plans changed.
But on the duty of prayer he vehemently in
sisted. “Mere philanthropy aud humanity,”
he said, “are not religion. There must also
be piety. The soul must also be piety. The
soul must live in the Divine presence ; must
inhale the spirit of God ; must utter its con
trition, its weakness, its wants, its thanks
givings to its Heavenly Father.”
Two weeks later I returned the book. I
asked Mr. Leacock to read that sermon and
tell me what he thought of it.
“Read it?” said he. “Why I could al
most speak it. It’s one of my favorite ser
mons. It’s grand, sir. grand.”
“You believe in it 7” said I.
“With all my heart,” said he. “Who can
believe that the Great Infinite First Cause
can be influenced and His plans changed by
the teasing of every one of His insignificant
little creatures ?”
“Bat the rest of the sermon,” said I. Do
you believe that ? It’s only last Sunday
that our pastor preached against what he
called humanitarianism. He said that it was
living without God ; that there was very lit
tle difference between ignoring God and de
nying His existence, and that the humani
tarians practically ignored him ; that they
believed only in men.”
“Tt is not true,” said Mr. Leacock, some
what bitterly. “You can see for yourself
that it is not true. Theo. Parker believes
in prayer as much aB your parson. I don’t
believe but that, he prayed as much. ”
“And do you agree with him ?” said TANARUS,
with a little affectation of surprise.
“Agree with him 7” said he. “Os course
I do. There can be no true religion with
out prayer, without piety, without gratitude
to God, without faith in Him. Your church
has not the monopoly of faith in God, by
any means, that it assumes to have.”
“And you really believe in prayer 7”
said I.
“Believe in prayer ? Why, of course I do.
Do you take me for a heathen ?” replied lie,
with some irritation.
“And every night,” said I, you kneel
down and command yourself to our Heaven
ly Father’s protection ? and every morning
you thank Him for His watchfulness, and
beseech Divine strength from Him to meet
the temptations of the day ? and every day
you gather your family about His throne,
that you may teach your children to love
and reverence the Father yon delight to
worship ?”
There was a long pause. Mr. Leacock was
evidently taken by surprise. He made no
answer ; I pressed my advantage.
‘"‘How is it. my friend ?” said I.
“Well, n—no,” said he. “I cau’t hon
estly say that I do.”
“Yon believe iu prayer, and yet never
pray,” said I, is it that?”
“It is so much a matter of mere habit,"
said he, excusingly; “and 1 never was
trained to pray.”
“All your life long,” said I, taking uo
heed of the excuse, “you have been receiv
ing the goodness of God, and you never
have had the courtesy to say so much as
“thank yon.” All yonr life long yon have
been trespassing against Him, auil never
have begged his pardon, never asked his t'or
givenesss. Is it so ?”
“I’m afraid it is,” said he ; but lie spoke
rather to himself than to uie.
“You believe iu prayer. You are indig
nant that I suspect you of disbelief ; yet you
never pray. Arc yon not living without God ?
Is it not true of you that “God is not in all
your thoughts ?”
He was silent.
“Will you turn over anew leaf in your
life-book ?” said I. “Will you commence
this night a life of prayer ?”
He shook his head very slightly, almost
imperceptibly. “I will make no promises,”
said he. But still he spoke more to himself
than to me.
“Mr. Leacock,” said I, “is it not evident
that it is no use for you and me to discuss
theology ; it is not a difference of doctrine
that separates us. Here is a fundamental
duty; you acknowledge it, yon assert its
importance, but you have never performed
it; and now your attention is called to it,
you will not even promise to fulfill it in the
future!”
“Yes, I will,” said he, suddenly starting
up as one awakened from a dream. “I
have always meant to do my duty. You are
right; I will begin. ”
“There is no better time than now,” said
I. “Let us pray.” And, almost before we
knew it, we were both upon our knees, and
I, speaking for us both, poured out my soul
to the Great Father to take this child to His
arms and lead him to the light.
Os the tears and anguish through which
the Infinite Love led him, of the hour when
I stood by the father’s side, bending over
the corpse of Willie, and heard the prayer
wrung from his compressed lips, of the new
faith in immortality which that death hour
brought, and the new meaning to the words
of Jesus Which it gave, what need that I
write ? . No one can read the interior history
of the heart, no one but Him who writes all
heart history in the great book above. I
hardly needed, for himself, to be told, as
Mr. Leacock told me last Sunday, while,
arm in arm we walked home after commun
ion, that the turning point in his life was
that evening’s conversation and that mo
ment of brief but solemn prayer.
“And yonr old doubts,” said I, “how do
you solve them ?”
“Solve them?” said he. “I don’t; they’re
gone. I know not how nor where, any more
than I know what has become of the fog
which overhung the river this morning be
fore the sun was high enough to disperse it.”
The way to meet skepticism is not argu
ment. In twenty years of legal dispntation
I never knew a man to be convinced against
his will. Skepticism of the head is harm
less. It is the skepticism of the heart that
hurts. Find out what duty, plain, simple,
evident duty, is neglected. Press that home
upon the conscience. A right life is the
best cure for skepticism. Duty is the medi
cine for doubt. —Christum Union.
Pillows of Stone. —Rev. C. S. Robinson,
D. D., in one of his recent letters from the
East, to the Christian Union, has the follow
ing concerning “Pillows of Stone;” “A
word may be said about the hardship of
stone pillows, and about this Eastern habit
of sleeping. The climate throughout all
Southern Palestine is not only warm, but
sunshine tends peculiarly and excessively to
sunstroke. It drives to drowsiness almost
irresistibly. Whenever one of the natives
has an hour of waiting, he invariably sleeps,
as the readiest method of disposing of his
time. In the parable those unfortunate
virgins may seeui exceedingly commonplace
who fell into slumber when a wedding was
on the way. I admit they were foolish to
sleep even until the cry was heard, ‘Behold
the bridegroom cometli.’ But they did just
what most people do when kept under pres
sure in these regions. Then as for conve
niences, you must l'emember that a stone
has these’two advantages: it is generally
cool, and it is free from vermin, and further
more, it is almost the only thing for ele
vating one’s head which can be easily found.
No stock of old trees, no fallen trunks re
main in this country; these and such things
are gathered at once for iirewooil. There
are no hillocks of green grass. And when
you recall the sort of head-covering to be
worn by all who desire to avoid dizziness
and danger, that is to say, either a turban
or the folds of a thick baud of muslin around
the temples, you will peveeive that even in
the historic instance of Bethel, Jacob did
not have so terribly a hard time of it as
would at first sight appear. His pillow was
on his head, and a cool fragment of a rock
made him no mean bolster.”
Are Tliese Tilings So!
Before I embraced religion I supposed
that when a person gave his heart to Christ
he turned away from the world, aud sought
his happiness in the sublime subject of reli
gion, and with this view I gave my heart to
God. This act I did for life, and in this
manner commenced my Christian course.
Although an unworthy creature, seeing
many short-comings and foibles, yet, to the
praise of God, I have been enabled by His
grace to hold on to the present time. I have
had no occasion to go back to the world for
enjoyment. I left it because it did not
afford substantial joys. It was a hard strug
gle, but I thank God I made effort and
gave Him my heart; and to-day I feel that
I love God and His people above all the
world. Iu this my pilgrimage I have stud
ied the Bible, and read the lives of eminent
Christians; and after having been a member
of the M. E. Church about forty-eight years
aud a traveling preacher nearly forty-three
years, my views of Christianity have never
changed, only for a higher life and a closer
walk with God. It is no wonder to me that
the world should try to get up something to
amuse, (poor souls, “this is all they have for
enjoyment.) But how those that have pro
fessed to leave the world, and to take Christ
for their pattern and portion, should find
pleasure iu the vain enjoyments of the world,
is, and has been, a wonder to me, and also
to the world! Do the amusements of the
world lead the soul nearer to God? Do they
give a Christian boldness to exhort sinners
to leave the world and seek enjoyment only
in Christ? Can tlie soul breathing after
God find itself raised so higher life in such
a place?
Is not this one cause why so many com
plain of a want of power with God, and the
ways of Zion mourn? Where is the eoming
out from the world, denying self, taking up
the cross, aud following Christ ? While
some are living for God, are there not many
in fellowship with the world?
But it is said times have changed. True,
but has the Bible chauged in its teachings?
Has Christianity changed? Is it not the
same old story, Christ in us? Old things
pass away and all things become new; love
to God, and love to man? If Christ is our
theme and heaven our home, will wo not be
using the means that are calculated to raise
us to a higher life, a closer walk with God?
How many will stand up for God? Come
out from the world, and seek to be filled
with the Spirit? Then shall there be an in
crease in the power of the Church. Zion
shall prosper, aud sinners be converted to
God. Lord, hasten the time. Let all say,
Amen. -Isaac Lard, in Zion's Herald.
M ♦ M
Befriending Young People.
When John Wesley saw a young man iu
danger of falling into the snare of evil asso
ciates, he did not watch him sharply at a
distance, aud speak of his short-comings to
others, predicting he was “on the high road
to rain.” He invited him to his table, and
by a genial, affable manner, sought to give
him good subjects for thought or hints for
conduct. Advice thus hospitably enforced
was very impressive. He would draw out a
young man in conversation, and learn what
studies he was most proficient in, which
were essential to his success, and then assist
him to acquire the mastery of them.
Another most valuable way of aiding a
young man whom social danger threatened,
was to make Him acquainted with well-dis
posed religions young men, who would lead
him into good paths. Then lie watched
over their future career with a father’s In
terest and tenderness. Thus in a very
simple manner he accomplished a vast
amount of good, besides preventing a world
of evil.
The Christian duty of hospitality is too
much neglected by Christians. They lose
by iu hospitality many precious opportuni
ties of doing good aud of getting good.
There is nothing that endears the heart of
the young and the stranger more than a
warm home welcome from those on whom
they have no claim. It opens the heart’s
door wide to receive impressions of good,
and fills the memory with great remem
brances.
“ That woman is a Christian, if ever there
was one,” said a poor painter-boy to me
about a kind old lady who had befriended
him in his loneliness and poverty. She had
given him many a meal when hungry, or
called him in her pleasant doorway to re
ceive a pocketfull of cakes, and once, when
sick, had taken him home and nnrsed him
with a mother’s tenderness. The boy is a
man now, but, the memory of those’ little
kindnesses will never fade from his heart.
If you wish to do good to the young, prove
yourself indeed a generous, loving friend to
them. —Commercial Advertiser.
Anecdotes about Carlyle.
The curious and “troublesome” style of
Carlyle is said to be quite in contrast with
his simple, straightforward way of talking.
Hatred of sham is one of his notable charac
teristics. One evening at a small literary
gathering, a lady, famous for her “muslin
theology,” was bewailing the wickedness of
the Jews in not receiving our Saviour, and
ended her diatribe by expressing regret that
he had not appeared in our own time.
“ How delighted,” said she, “we should all
be to throw our doors open to him, and
listen to his divine precepts ! Don’t you
think so, Mr. Carlyle?”
The sturdy philosopher, thus appealed
to, said, in his broad Scotch: “ No, madam,
I don’t. I think that, had he come very
fashionably dressed, with plenty of money,
and preaching doctrines palatable to the
higher orders, J might have had the honor
of receiving from you a card of invitation,
on the back of which would be written,
“To meet our Saviour;” but if he had
come uttering his divine precepts, and de
nouncing the Pharisees, and associating
with Publicans and the lower orders, as he
did, you would have treated him much as
the Jews did, and have cried out; ‘ Take
him to Newgate and hang him!’ ”
On another occasion, when Ernest Jones,
a well-known Chartist leader, was haran
guing, in liis violent manner, against the
established authorities, Carlyle shook his
head, and told him that, ‘ had the Chartist
leaders been living in the days of Christ, he
would have sent the unclean spirits into
them, instead of into the swine of the
Gergesenes, and so we should have happily
got rid of them.” This delicate allusion to
the suicide of the pigs so astonished the
respectable representative of the numerous
family of the Joneses that he said nothing
more about Chartism that night.— Harpers'
Magazine.
Speech Making in Prayer. —Should pray
er, offered in public, be an oration? A few
months ago, we went to church on a Sunday
evening, iu a large country town, and heard
something which so impressed us that we
have since thought about it very often. It
was not the sermon; there was nothing me
morable in that. It was a prayer, or at least,
when the minister began, he said, “Let us
pray,” and the people bowed their heads as
if in supplication. Then we heard, first, a
brief eulogy upon human nature, setting
forth its dignity and independence. Then
there was a description ol' the horrible and
enslaving effects of superstition, and of
false views of the character of God, which
have always been entertained in the Chris
tian church. After this, the results of mod
ern theological criticism were summed up,
and the prayer concluded with a sketch in
outline of the “good time coming, when
man will bo emancipated from tho bondage
of traditions, aud writes, and .superstitious
usages, and will reverence and worship only
the Divine in his own nature.” This is no
caricature; it is an accurate report of what
we heard on the occasion above referred to,
and in important respects, it is much like
what we have often heard in our own de
nomination and iu others. There is a great
deal of praying in public that closely resem
bcls speech-making. Os course we intend
no criticism of the obvious ideas and opin
ions of the minister whom we heard; we
onlv ask whether such an oration can pro
perly be termed a prayer? —Liberal Christian,
An Old Ulan's Speech at a Teach
ers' Meeting.
No more fatal error is committed by teach
ers than supposing the vague, uncertain
hope that by-and-by in after years the good
seed will spring up, and their scholars be
led into the now life. A genuine present
faith and its fruits is well illustrated by a
writer iu the Christian Union, We quote;
One evening at a teachers’ meeting a
stranger was present; quaint and unattrac
tive in appearance, but with a ragged elo
quence in his voice, which will not soon be
forgotten by those who heard him speak.
“My friends,” he said, “I have listened
while you have talked together about yonr
classes, while you liavo cheered each other
with hope of the harvest to be one day gar
nered from this field of your toil. Now let
an old man ask one question. Why are you
so sure that this harvest is only in the
future?
“In God’s word there is no future; it is
now. Why not plead for his own now be
fore him, and expect abundant answer?
Discouraged faces have spoken to-night
more clearly than your lips even, saying
that the answer delays in coming, and fruit
is far distant. Is this not because you don’t
expect anything else? If you are working
only for the l'nture, be not discouraged;
look forward to that future—which alas!
may never come to you and your pupils.
But if you would have these young hearts
led to the Saviour now, before the world has
taken firm hold of them; if you labor in the
S resent, listen to the word which rings
own the ages. Is there any reason why
these classes should not come to Christ now?
As of old Christ asked the blind, to-day lie
asks you, teachers, ‘ Believest thou that I
am able to do this?’
“Whatever your answer, the response
changes not: ‘According to your faith, be it
done unto you.’ ”
Our teachers’ meeting never again heard
that strange but loving voice; we know not
if its owner lives yet upon this earth. But
his words have lived, and of all who heard
him there is not one teacher who does not
thank him for the utterance. More than
one bowed low in sorrowful penitence, and
promised to liavo faith for to-day, and work
in the present; more than one lias proved
that faithful indeed are the wounds of a
friend.
When six months later my boys and I
were parted, I knew that of the seven sad
faces that watched me from the receding
dock, some I should surely see in heaven,
if no more on earth. For they each had a
hope, sure and steadfast, and were my
brothers in Christ. And to-day I hold iii
my hand a letter which bids me rejoice that
of my flock only one remains without the
fold of the good Shepherd.
Very humbly the words rise—dear friends,
might it not be better if we bail each less
future aud more present faith? Christian
at Work.
Memorial to Mrs. Susannah Wes
ley.
On Dec., 19, 1870, the ceremouy of un
veiling tho monument erected to the mem
ory of the mother of the Wesleys took place
at City Road Chapel, London. The Rev.
M. 0. Osborn read a statement giving the
history of the movemont, and after appro
priate remarks from Dr. Jobson and Mr.
McArthur, M. P., the screen which covered
the memorial was removed. It is, says the
Watchman, of fine Sicilian marble. The de
sign, which is both chaste and elegant, may
be described as ornamented Gothic. Tho
sub-plinth is 3 feet 7 inches square, sur
mounted by a plinth, with elaborate base
molding. The die has all sides raised, and
is semi-circular at tlie top, crowned by a
“swag” of flowers. Above the die is a grace
ful receding cap, surrounded with acanthus
leaves, and finished off with a tall octagonal
spire, from which is suspended by a ribbon
anotli.*r ftwag of liowei.,. It in 0r.,0t,..l on »
York laniliug, 8 feet by 4 feet 9 inches, and
inclosed by a neat iron railing. The entire
height is about 14 feet. The sculptors are
Messrs. H. W. Wilkins A Son, of Penton
ville Road. The inscription is as follows:
In the
Buuhill Fields
Burial-ground opposite,
Lie the remains of
SUSANNAH WESLEY,
Widow of
The Rev. Samuel Wesley, M. A.,
Rector ol' Epwortli, Lincolnshire,
Who died July 23d, 1742,
Aged 73 years.
She Wfcs tho youngest daughter of
The Rev. Samuel Anuesley, D. D.,
Ejected by the Act of Uniformity
From the Rectory of
St. Giles, Cripplegate, Aug. 24, 1662.
She was the mother cf
The Revs. John and Charles Wesley,
The former of whom was under God
The Founder of
The Societies of the People
Called Methodists.
On the base of the memorial are the
words: “This monument was erected by
public subscription, December, 1879.”
Sunny Christians.
Tho world would say she was a “ poor suf
ferer. ” For years she had been gradually
sinking under tho slow type of consumption,
sometimes at death’s door for weeks, yet
always working for Jesus, and enjoying His
blessed smiles. Happy as a prince! Yes,
and a thousand-fold more happy than most
princes; for crowns have many times been
worn on aching heads, and regal robes have
been wrapped around sad hearts. But she
was a “sunny Christian.” This solves the
mystery. Hear her own words: “I have
been very ill since I last wrote to you, but
in bitterest pains my God is near.” He
chasteneth with forbearing, you know. Oh,
how great a mistake that there is only gloom
in religion! Why, is it not reversed? Out
of religion all is gloom, but in religion the
rays of the Sun of Righteousness dispel the
gloom, as mist flies before the snn. God
grant ns “sunny Christians” who shall dis
perse the darkness of iniquity by the
brightness of their purity! There is no
darkness in God at all. He is “our sun and
shield.” Often when I have seen those
laugh who were still in the “gall of bitter
ness and bonds of iniquity,” I have thought
that it never belonged to them to smile.
The night of sin is far spent, the morning
is at hand, soon “our eyes shall see the
King in his beauty.” Oh! how many are
feeding on husks in the far country—souls,
precious souls, whom God loved so as to
give his own Son to die in their stead !
Christian at Work.
Hot Hearts.
“ We need men of hot hearts to tell of the
love of Jesus,” was the appeal sent home by
some Chinese converts the other day. That
is what the Church wants—what tho world
needs—“menof hot hearts.”
“I would you were hot,” is the Master’s
cry. If we are to succeed we must be on
fire about it. Dr. Arnett, of Edinburg, tells
of his being at a railway station one day,
and wearied of waiting for the train to
move, he asked one of the men what tho
trouble was.
“ Is there a want of water?”
“Plenty of water, sir,” was tho prompt
reply, “but it’s no bilin'.”
That’s the trouble with the Church to
day. There’s abundance of machinery—the
engine is all in order, the train is made up,
the men are at their posts—“there's plenty
of water,” “but no bilin’.” The great mo
tive power is wanting. We need to heap on
the fuel of sound doctrine, not shavings of
sentiment, which may make a big blaze only
to go out as quickly, but the solid logs of
fundamental truth— -chunks, if you will.
But we need yet more the Jire —to be bap
tized with the Holy Ghost as with fire. -A\
F. Hums, I). D.
Sowing Not in Y t ain. —A mother has, per
haps, the hardest lot of anybody. Her life
is one perpetnal emptying herself of her
own convenience in behalf of her little child,
that for many years eun return nothing,
and can never make any adequate return for
her care of it. There is no other instance
of such spontaneous and thorough emptying
of one’s own nature for another that we
know of in this life. And yet no mother
worthy of the name ever gave herself thor
oughly for her child who did not feel that,
after all, she reaped what she had sown.
No person was ever called to suffer for a
principle, and suffered manfully, that he was
E. H. MYERS, D D., EDITOR
WHOLE NUMBER 1838.
not himself conscious that lie was a victor.
When your name is cast out, and trodden
under feet of men; when you arc counted
as the oflseouring of the earth for faithful
ness to duty, do you not experience a peon
liar joy? Cau you not, then, understand
what the apostle meant when lie said, “Mv
brethren, count it all joy wlicu you fall into
divers temptations?”
Tlie Work Done Inside.
One of my friends is a very earnest, shrewd
man, who seems always to" know how to do
the best thing at tho right time. One day
ho was passing a gin-shop in Manchester,
England, when he saw a drunken man lying
on the ground. Tho poor fellow had e\ i
dently been turned out of doors when all
his money was gone. In a moment luv
friend hastened across the street, and, eii
tering a grocer’s shop, addressing the mas
ter, said;
“Will you oblige me with the largest
sheet of papejjyou have?”
“ What, my friend? What’s the matter?”
“Oh, you shall see iu a minute or two.
Pleaso let it be the very largest sheet you
have.”
The sheet of paper was soon procured.
“Now, will you lend me a piece of chalk?"
said my friend.
“ Why, whatever are you going to do?”
“You shall see presently.” He then
quickly printed, in large letters :
“SPECIMEN OF THE WORK DONE INSIDE.”
He then fastened the paper over tlu*
drunken man, and retired a short distance*.
In a few moments several passers-by stop
ped and read aloud, '‘Specimen of the work
done inside.”
In a very short time a crowd assembled,
and tlie publican, hearing the noise and
laughter outside, came out to see what it
was all about. He eagerly bent down and
read the inscription on the paper, aud then
demanded, in au augrv voice, “Who did
that 7”
“Which?” asked my friend, who uow
joined the crowd. “If you mean what is
on the paper, I did that; but, if you meau
tho man, you did that.' This morning, when
he arose, he was sober—when ho walked
down this street, on his way to work, ho
was sober—when ho went into your gin-shop
he was sober, and now he is what you made
him. Is it not a true specimen of the work
done inside?”— Rev, Charles Garrett , in Jicrui
of Hope Review,
Solitary Musing*.
“ We have this treasure in earthen vessel..,
A vessel meet for the Master’s use.”
Aud methought I looked and saw the
Master standing, and at his feet lay au
earthen vessel. It was not broken, nor un
fitted for service; yet there it lay powerless
and useless, until He took it up. He held
it awhile, and I saw that he was filling it;
and anon I behold Him walking in His gar
den, whither he had gone down to gather
lilies.
The earthen vessel was' yet again in His
hand, and with it He watered His beauteous
plants, and caused their odors to shed forth
yet more abundantly.
Then I said to myself, Sorrowing Chris
tian, hush! hush! Peace, be still! Thou
art this earthen vessel. Powerless, it is
true, yet not broken; still lit for tho Mas
ter’s use.
Some time thou mayestbe laid aside alto
gether from active service, and tho question
may arise, What is the Master doing with
me now? Then may a voice speak to thy
utmost heart, Ho is filling tlie vessel; yes,
only filling it ready to use. Dost thou ask.
In what manner? Nay, be silent. Is it
not too great an honor to be used by Him
at all? Be content, whether thou art em
ployed iu watering the lilies, or in washing
the feet of the saints. Truly, it is a matter
of small moment. Enough, snrely enough,
for an earthen vessel to be in the Master’s
hands, and employed in the Master’s service
Reformation of Inebriates.- The Ohio
Legislature has just passed a law providing
for the appointment of n guardian over
drunkards who are wasting their propertv,
and likely to become a public charge. On
complaint to the Courts and the furnishing
of proper evidenco that the inebriate needs
such control, a guardian will be set; over
the party with powers equivalent to those
of tho guardian of a minor, and will retain
liis position until the reformation of hi.
ward shall render his watchfulness needless.
Similar enactments have long been in force
in some of the Eastern States. Need lia
also been felt of reformatory institutions
where inveterate drunkards can be free from
temptation without incurring the odium of
confinement in a prison, and may be pro
vided with work which shall support them
selves and the reformatory. Inebriate Asy
lums do good, yet it is felt that the courts
should have the power of committing drnk
ards to them just as the insane are now sent
to the asylums intended for their use.
Messrs. Otis Clapp, John E. Tyler aud
William R. Spooner, who were appointed
commissioners to consider the expediency
of establishing an asylum for inebriates in
Massachusetts, have submitted an able re
port to the Governor and Council of that
State, which has been communicated to the
Legislature. They estimate that there are
six hundred thousand drunkards iu the
United States, and twenty-three thousand in
Massachusetts. Os this number ten per
cent, die every year. Their idleness and
death involve au immense loss to the pro
duetive interests of the country, which
should be avoided if possible. The com
missioners think the results of the work of a
small reformatory institution show that the
average expense of reclaiming au inebriate
will not exceed §33 to §SO. During five
years no less than forty thousand person*
were committed to prison in Massachusetts
for drunkenness. If the labor of these
persons could be made immediately profits
ble, and their future good conduct assured,
the investment of the State in asylums
would be an excellent one, even from a
strictly pecuniary point of view. The com
missioners, therefore, recommend the be
stowal of State aid on the asylum now in
operation in Boston; the building at private
expense of an institution for the treatment
of patients, to be situated on a farm, where
the inmates may perform healthful labor.
They also suggest that both the male and
female drunkards now in prison shall be put
in an asylum where the special treatment
which they require may be given them.
These views of prominent men deserve the
attention of legislators and philanthropists
throughout the Union. —Cincinnati Gazette.
Temperance Society in Congress .— Wi i a t
ever influences may be at work to promote
the virtue of temperance in the Congress ol
the United States ought to be peculiarly
gratifying. On this account we insert the
following : The Congressional Temperance
Society celebrated its fourth anniversary on
the 22d of January, at the Metropolitan
church, which was densely crowded, about
2,000 persons being present. Senators Pom
eroy, Buckingham and Wiley were appointed
a committee to report officers, which were
as follows: President—Henry Wilsou, oi
Massachusetts ; Vice - Presidents —J. W.
Flanagan, of Texas; John Hill, of New Jer
sey; Secretary, Jesse H. Moore, of Illinois;
Treasurer—J. Lynch, of Maine ; Executive
Committee—S. C. Pomeroy, of Kansas : W.
A. Buckingham, of Connecticut; Jas. Har
lan, of Iowa; J. W. Patterson, of New
Hampshire, aftd B. C. Cook, of Illinois
Tho meeting was addressed by Senator*
Pomeroy, Tipton and Flanagan, and Repre
sentative Lawrence, Rev. Dr. Cliickering,
of Massachusetts, General Carey, Rev. Mr.
Jackson, and Mr. Drew. The Society
agreed to the following: Encouraged by
the results of its recommendations, made
last year, to hold simultaneous meetings for
the purpose of promoting the interests of
temperance throughout the United States,
the Congressional Temperance Society re
new that recommendation at this time’, and
respectfully urge upon their fellow-citizens
to observe the coming anniversary of Wash
ington’s birth-day in a similar manner, and
recommend that the people, especially Chris
tian ministers and churches in localities
where temperance societies have not beeu
formed, should take the necessary steps to
organize such associations on the basis of
total abstinence from all that intoxicates.
They also urgently request that immediate
measnres be taken for the circulation of the
pledge, and that special efforts be made to
secure the signatures of children and youth.