ent shrinking from debased humanity, and such sympathy with the divine Redeemer that it grew almost Madonna-like in its expression. For several minutes she stood rapt in contemplation without uttering a single word, till one of the gentlemen coming to her said, "Come, Agnes, we are going now." As she caught then for the first time a stranger's glance riveted upon her with such peculiar interest, a flush mantled her cheek, and she quickly passed on. Our lonely friend could not forget that day, and afterward in the busy haunts of men, in the solitude of his own apartment, or on the pages of the books he read he saw that face, and, for some mysterious reason, that and the professor's definition of a wife always went together. It was as impossible to banish from his mind the impression thus received as for a blind man whose eyes have once beheld the light. to forget its glory, nor did he wish to do so. That day was the best which had been granted him for long years, even though it snatched from his sight a treasure soon as it was given. Vainly did he seek in the months that followed for another sight of that face among the crowd of beauty and fashion that daily throng the street. It was not in drawing-room circles nor in assemblies who sit listening to the gifted of our own and other lands. "I will yet patiently wait," thought he. "Who knows but that the same kind Hand who once guided her within my sight may bring her again to me?" "Well, whether they or their mammas be responsible, I can't sacrifice myself nightly at such shrines, and do henceforth renounce the assumed homage. I would rather this very evening answer Maggie Williams's naive questions than listen to all the small talk of the Fifth Avenue." "But this is to be really an intellectual gathering, entirely out of the common order. There are to be two poets at least, besides Emil Steinhauer, that German professor from Berlin. But the star of the evening will be the fascinating Mrs. More, just returned from a bridal tour. Did you never see her at Mrs. Meredith's-Miss Ballard she was then? She is graceful, witty, and accomplished. They speak, too, of her sister Agnes as highly intellectual, and quite a paragon of goodness. She is homely enough if that be a proof of mental and moral perfection. I saw them to-day at the Astor. Come, you can not refuse now to go." Hamilton suddenly concluded to comply with his friend's request. The parlors were filled when the gentlemen entered. One of them looked anxiously about the assembly, and tete-àtete with Herr Steinhauer, conversing earnestly and cheerfully, he saw the long-sought face. We need not say that the erudite professor did not sit at her side the whole evening, nor whether she succeeded in entertaining Mr. Wells as admirably on miscellaneous topics as him of the Father-land upon the respective merits of Ger many and America. We will tell you, however, that after this evening there was a succession of pleasant calls, He was sitting alone in his room one night thinking as usual when a young gentleman, ex-moonlight rambles, fine drives on the sea-shore, quisitely attired, with a frank, good-humored countenance, entered with, "Come, my dear Wells, are you not going to Herbert's this evening?" "No, Allen." "Why not?" "Don't you find these parties insipid? I prefer remaining at home with my own thoughts and these good fellows here," glancing at his library, "to playing the attendant to the select, languishing few who reply in feeble monosyllables to one's various remarks. I have more con genial employment for myself this evening than to hold Flora M'Flimsey's bouquet and fan while she sips her coffee and ices." "Nonsense, Wells, you are growing cynical. The Flora M'Flimseys are not to be censured so much as their mammas and fashionable instructors, who teach them to assume various little airs and graces, that they may the more effectually dispossess us of our hearts and other personal property." and more than one visit to the Dusseldorf Gallery, and that within a year there was another joyous bridal. A large circle of friends looked proudly on the noble and the good as they stood at the altar. Little Maggie, as she touched the orange flowers in Agnes's shining hair, said, "It will always be so beautiful wherever you go," and she, pressing the cheek no longer wan, whispered, “God grant it, Maggie!" ELEMENTS OF A GOOD CHARACTER. IN a truly good character we look, first of all, for integrity, or an unbending regard to rectitude; then for independence, or the habitual determination to be governed by an enlightened conviction of truth and duty; then for benevolence, or the spirit of kindness and good-will to men; and last for piety toward God, or an affectionate, reverent regard for the will and glory of the great Jehovah. OUR OUT-STATION, THE PEACH-FARM MISSION. BY REV. R. S. MACLAY, MISSIONARY AT FUH-CHAU, CHINA, freshing to receive their cordial welcome. The tidings of our arrival was soon circulated, the hall of the house was lighted up for preaching, and the exercises were kept up till midnight. The scene was one of strange, exciting interest. IN from Fuh simple-minded rustics a deep, retired valley among the mountains A foreigner was a rare sight in this secluded lies a straggling hamlet containing perhaps sixty families. From a fancied resemblance of the valley at this point to a peach the hamlet has been called To Ch'eng (Peach-Farm.) The greatest width of the valley does not exceed half a mile, while in many places it contracts to a narrow ravine. A stream of limpid water flows over a pebbly bed through the center of the valley. This stream usually glides on with a soft, gurgling melody, scattering blessings along its course; occasionally, however, when swollen by the summer rains, it becomes a torrent, dashes down the steep acclivities, breaks away from its channel, and carries utter ruin over the adjacent fields of waving grain. Grand old mountains rise all around, their summits piercing the clouds, and their thickly-wooded sides sloping down to the valley, skirting the green rice-fields with the somber pine, the broad banyan, or the feathery bamboo. The people of the valley obtain a comfortable livelihood from the cultivation of the soil, from the sale of timber cut from the mountains, and from occasional business enterprises into the surrounding cities and towns. This valley is so entirely away from the great lines of travel and thoroughfares of business that it had escaped my observation. Our itineraries had extended to the more prominent points accessible to us, but it was not till the autumn of 1858 that we began to visit the Peach-Farm. I shall not readily forget the incidents of my first visit. Leaving our boat about nine miles above Fuh-Chau we struck across the rice-fields, and, after walking five miles, came to the entrance to the valley. After leading us up a bold spur of the mountain, the path wound along the side of the mountain, with dizzy hights above and shadowy depths far below. The scene quite overpowered me. Such rocks and mountains! such intense silence! It seemed as though I had entered a new world, fresh from the great Creator's hand, and I found myself instinctively listening for the rustling of angels' wings, and looking for the footprints or drapery of the Invisible. We reached the outskirts of the hamlet about four o'clock, P. M., and stopped with a friend of the native helper who accompanied me. Only the female members of the family were at home, as the men and boys were out deer-stalking on the mountains. Toward night fall the hunters returned, and it was really re scarcely credit their senses when they found themselves actually in the presence of a genuine "outsider," who spoke in their own vernacular, and told them of a blessed Savior, of a glorious heaven, and of the Gospel's certain triumph throughout all lands. To me the occasion was one of the most delightful episodes in my life. After the continued rebuffs and disappointments I had experienced in presenting to the Chinese the Gospel message, it seemed almost incredible that at last the seed was falling on good ground, that I was now under a Chinese roof where. Jesus was an invited and honored guest, and that I was preaching to those who are willing to accept the great salvation. Our helper was almost beside himself with excitement. He preached and prayed and exhorted as though he would never stop. At times his discourse would grow movingly eloquent. "You ought to be Christians," he exclaimed; "the quietness of your valley invites to meditation; these beautiful slopes and trees, and that flowing stream all tell you of the goodness of God. These mountains are ever pointing you to the great God, the lightnings that flash along their summits, and the thunders that echo through their ravines, the sun, and moon, and stars, and rain, and dew, all tell you of his wisdom and power, and now we come to tell you of the gift of his Son for a lost world. You can not refuse this mercy, you surely will accept the blessings he offers you." It was past midnight when we retired. With me, however, sleep was utterly out of the question. Old memories and joyous anticipations, scenes of the home-land and scenes of the gloryland flashed and whirled through my mind, till the cries of the early hunters and the light streaming in through the roof told me a new day was opening. The genuineness of the work thus auspiciously begun was soon put to the test. The enemy had no idea of yielding without a struggle. A general alarm was sounded on the subject, and it was proposed to check the evil in the bud by entering in their courts of justice criminal charges against every Chinese who embraced the new doctrines. Some suggested a more private plan of procedure, and soon our catechumens found all the heathen members of their respective families arrayed against them, and employing every form of annoyance and intimi The dation to deter them from embracing Christianity. Others declared that the idols were incensed at the denunciations poured upon them by the Christians, and that soon unheard-of calamities would fall on all the Chinese of the valley. In the family with whom I stopped during my visit the contention grew warm and exciting. The heathen members of the family declared that when the foreign missionary entered the house the spirits of the idols all ran away, and hence, on each occasion of my leaving the place, these idol worshipers went out to the mountain behind the house and called upon the spirits to return, assuring them the missionary had gone. spirits returned two or three times, but at last they became refractory, and declared they would never enter the house again. A famous exorcist was then sent for, and he employed all his powers of incantation, but still the spirits were incorrigible. To all interrogations and objurgations their uniform reply was, "Jesus is very powerful, and unless you keep him out of the house we dare not reënter it." This was evidently bringing matters to a crisis, and we waited anxiously for the next move of the enemy. But God was better to us than all our fears. The brethren bore themselves with meekness and dignity through the trying ordeal, and were ever ready to give a reason for the hope they cherished. The triumph came at last. After passing through a course of Christian instruction, and giving satisfactory evidence of their fitness for the ordinance, seven of the adult candidates were approved for baptism, and Sunday, March 13, 1859, was appointed as the time for administering the ordinance. The morning of that day dawned with a genial sky and balmy atmosphere; all nature seemed redolent of God and heaven. At an early hour our extempore chapel was filled with attentive hearers, and after a suitable discourse from, "Behold, we have forsaken all and followed thee; what shall we have, therefore?" the candidates were admitted first to baptism and then to the Lord's supper. Let us linger for a moment over this scene. Mighty empires have been founded and thrones established under circumstances and incidents less striking and auspicious, and yet how rude, how unpromising the material aspects of the scene! Our chapel is a small, earth-floored room in a country farm-house, destitute alike of windows or ceiling. In one corner of the room are piled plows, drags, hoes, and other agricultural implements, while scattered round the room, on backless benches or on the threshold of the door, sat the rustic congregation. The occasion reminded me of former times when, in country school houses, or log-cabins, or the tented grove, it was my privilege to proclaim the tidings of salvation in my own vernacular; and as I thought of the rapid process by which those school-houses became beautiful church edifices, those log-cabins palatial residences, and those forests populous cities, my faith descried the day when China, clothed and in her right mind, shall be found sitting at the feet of Jesus, and I felt that, despite the humble incidents of the present hour, I was aiding in the initiation of a glorious enterprise, laying the foundation of that kingdom which shall stand forever. [CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT.] FOREBODING. BY MRS. C. P. BLAIR. ONE livelong day I sat apart, It seemed as if the very air Pregnant with undefined despair. Earth's festal banners were unfurled To grace the year's great carnival; Albeit, something like a pall Shut from my sense the outer world. A sweet, pale face-a spirit's tread- They woke a shivering of dread. "T was no wild vagary of love; I know not if it were a sprite, That night swept on, a day aside, And then the dreadful missive came, So full of love, so full of pain, O, God, I would that I had died! Thus bitterly I learned at last The wherefore of my boding fears; Meet offerings those burning tears To the inevitable past. O, dream of bliss! O, life's one crown! O, memory, redolent with love! Ye whisper of my own dead dove Beneath the autumn flowers laid down. HUMAN WANT-ITS LESSONS AND EFFECTS. BY PRESIDENT ALLYN. "Necessitas est mater artium." "Want is the mother of industry." WORD OLD PROVERBS. WORDS are often Lesbian rules, which measured a longer or a shorter distance, according to the person using them or the purpose for which they were applied. Hence some words are conveniently, others perplexingly ambiguous. The former convey different ideas according to the connection in which they stand, and yet always give a distinct and definite sense. They vary greatly, but always on some well-understood condition. These are consequently never perplexing, though ever differing; never false, though always changing, like the colors and figures of the kaleidoscope. Such a word is WANT. It may mean a simple lack or deficiency, as the want of health in a sick body, or of heat in snow and ice; an indispensable necessity, as the want of food or rest, of exercise or society; a mere desire, as the want of dress or display; or a casual whim, as the want of condiment or stimulant in food or drink. In all these cases a glance reveals the peculiar shade of meaning in the word, and removes all practical ambiguity. Since this word is used with so large a variety of signification, it is by no means strange that human wants are said to be innumerable; and still less strange is it that many, especially many pious people, should quote with heartiest approbation the verse of Goldsmith: "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy thoughts forego; Still it may be maintained against all such, and against all contradicters, that this verse, although having a sweet rhythm in its construction, and a tender melancholy in its sentiment, is, nevertheless, superficial, untruthful, and unphilosophical. Superficial-as looking only to the most obvious and least satisfying wants of man, to wit, those of his animal nature. Untruthful-inasmuch as the Creator has made man so that he absolutely wants or needs almost an infinite variety of good things. Unphilosophical because it supposes that a contented quietism is the great end or need of the human racea supposition which deprives man of the stimulus of want-the most powerful incentive to exertion, by which alone his restlessness can be satisfied and his nature be improved; for no narrow round of enjoyments can, by any possibility, fit him for his sublime destinies. This may seem VOL. XX.-19 a paradox. It is true, however, as many startling paradoxes are. If man wanted or needed only a "little," and did not want "that little long," he would be very inferior even as an animal, to say nothing of him as a rational being. For the exact place of any creature in the grand scale of existence, and the future destiny of that creature, may be quite accurately measured by his wants. If it wants only a place to rest and rot, it is a stone or a clod. If it wants only sunlight, heat, moisture, and a soil adapted to nourish its peculiar fiber, it is a plant, and it grows of itself to its perfect development and dies. If it wants soft mud at the bottom of a still, salt sea, filled with suitable animalculæ, it may be a sponge, a clam, or an oyster; and there gathering the food which comes to it and satisfies all its wants, it grows thrivingly, needing nothing else and profiting by nothing else. If it be an ox, a horse, or a bird, it wants a larger variety both of nourishment and opportunities; and it will surely degenerate if these are not provided. When we rise to man, viewed merely as an animal, his wants must be more numerous still, and of a more varied, and, possibly, of a more whimsical character. He must have food, clothing, and shelter, and how many other real and necessary wants these things presuppose and demand, a little consideration will show. Many pious sentimentalists seem to imply that the merest sufficiency of the simplest food, and warm, though it be the coarsest, clothing, and the scantiest and most unadorned house, are all that man really needs. Both the truth and wisdom of such an assertion will appear if we inquire, What are man's real wants? what do these wants teach? and what is their effect on man himself and on society?-questions which may be discussed without any attempt to keep them separate. Neglect all the significance of this world of nature, so wonderful in all its beauties of morning, its glories of noontide, and its evening splendors, suggestive of futurity; put aside all the majesty of ocean, sky, mountain, plain, storm, and snow, each of which forces upon man the necessity of contemplation and stirs the craving of want within him; look only at his animal wants and mark how all these, beginning in the moving of some instinctive appetite or bodily necessity, do stretch outward and upward to infinity, and attempt to take a catalogue of man's wants, and they will be found to multiply while you count them. Compare the human infant with the young wren. The former is as helpless as the latter, and continues in that helplessness a hundred times as long. Food, warmth. and shelter are all the bird wants, and having these, in a couple of weeks it attains its proper state of independence. The child for years needs food, shelter, clothing, and careful nursing, all supplied for him, and much more besides these. For every one of these leads forward to and implies more. are the fruitful progenitors of progressive and civilizing want. So far every thing is animal, and is the simple result of attempting to supply bodily wants. But man is rational. He has a soul to see beauty and fitness, and to want them; and this want leads him to ask for and to contrive for the production of beauty and harmony in all that he does. He wants to cultivate his field so that the growing crop shall exhibit the beauty of order as well as the glory of waving vegetation. He wants to fashion his implements of work so that they shall please the eye of the soul as well as fit the hand of the body. He wants his garments and his house so shaped and colored as to delight the inner sense of fitness and grace as well as to shield him from inclement weather. These soulwants are the most real wants of his whole nature-real, when we consider the craving or demand within the nature ever clamoring for beauty; still more real, when we reflect on the effects which they produce on the world and the character of the man himself. They are soul-wants, not body-wants. The want of food, clothing, and shelter is a bodily want, but it does aid to bring forth that peculiar want which belongs to the immaterial, rational part of man, and which noth As to food. While the infant will not require as much in weight, proportionately to its size, as many animals, it does need it in a more concentrated form; and owing to his larger development of brain and the more rapid consumption of the substance of that brain, this food must contain the rarest and most nutritious elements in great abundance. Such food, therefore, as man will want, requires more and richer soil for its production, and, in fact, it will much more rapidly exhaust that soil than will the food needed for brutes. Then it never grows spontaneously. It demands careful cultivation, and hence the need of tools or implements of agricultural husbandry. And as the race multiplies and the want of more food presses upon society, this will lead to the domestication and use of animals for draught, for burdens, and the plow. Man must now remember the experiments of his ancestors and avail himself of all their skill to produce the needed amount and variety of food, and also to increase both from year to year. Bird and beasting can destroy. The other wants live only while never want a larger variety of food, and hence they labor not for it, and, therefore, can not improve. In addition to all this, man's needs cooking, and this prepares the way for utensils to crush the wheat, and calls for contrivance to bake and boil, to roast and dress it. But man needs clothing. His naked body can not withstand the heat of summer suns, nor the cold of winter frosts; and, since the expulsion from Eden, no where does the earth of her own accord, unasked and uncompelled, produce material for his garments. And not only are these raw materials obtained with much difficulty and toil, but their preparation and fashioning are matters of much skill and labor. Here also he needs tools, and those of more delicacy and better finish. His dwelling too must be a wholesome, sun-lighted habitation. He can not escape the peltings of the merciless storm, nor the damp of the enervating night-chills by delving in the earth like the fox, nor by building a nest among the branches like the bird. He must have a house; not a den, nor a burrow; not a perch, nor a nest, nor an ant-hill. And this house, to accommodate his social nature and enable parents and children to live together in mutual comfort and make progress in knowledge and refinement, must receive enlargement and grow in beauty and convenience. Hence want will cause improvements, for these are the offspring of want, and in turn the body exists, and sometimes even they are partially destroyed or decay before the body dies. They are dependent, in a measure at least, on health and vigor. Soul-wants must live and grow while the spirit lives and thrives. This leads to a further remark that want, combined with resolute determination to allay that want, is the grand condition of all human improvement. This condition makes work, in some one or more of its multifarious forms, a necessity or a want of the race. To gratify desire or to satisfy want, labor becomes indispensable; and who does not know that never a man or a people, never a class or a race has improved or riseu in the scale of civilization and refinement unless they have, either of their own accord or by the compulsion of stern necessity, engaged in vigorous and patient work. Work, then, is one of man's wants, and one too which he will do well not to overlook. And it is like all other soul-wants, and will promote improvement if gratified. It is not simply a bodily want, though the body needs its sedative and its stimulating effects, and, like all wants of this class, it tends to multiply the demand for itself in man's nature. Perhaps it ought to be remarked, in a parenthetic way, that bodily wants seek only a given amount of grati fication. Any thing forced upon them more than this, or beyond enough to satisfy their immediate craving, is always productive of pain, disgust, |