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tariff on all terrestrial things. Jonathan's feet in Mudfog. The said light was in Mr. Leedum's were not exactly “made fast in the stocks,” but kitchen; but Jonathan being a stranger to the were many a time made fast in the mud. His

town, and the darkness preventing him from disfast horse was made faster. Railroads had cerning a kitchen from a corn-crib, and in bis sunk in the mud-ties, iron, and all. Locomo persevering efforts to make a straight line for tives stalled in the mud, and cars rolled and wal the light he climbed a worm-fence nine rails high lowed in the mud. Mud came up into the houses and was soon blundering about the well and and roused the petulance of housekeepers. It clothes-lines of the back-yard. The clothes-line had rained for nearly a month with all imagina knocked off his hat, and he tramped on it three ble variations of rapidity. Clouds were inces times before he was enabled to pick it up. He bantly dripping on the earth, the earth was drip also ran against the coop of an old hen and ping into the ditches and valleys. Men were brood of chickens, and the squall of poultry dripping, and so were horses, dogs, chickens, roused the dogs, which were very numerous and umbrellas, and all creation was on the drip. exceedingly loud, and Jonathan says he thought

But Jonathan determined to reach his appoint- of Daniel in the lions' den. He hastily climbed ment He took the cars for Mudfog, hoping to the nine-railed worm-fence again and got over borrow or hire a horse at the last-mentioned town into the front-yard. He knocks at the front door with which to reach his destination. The cars and one of Uncle Shobek's younger children jerked, rocked, and reeled their slow length opens the door. along, and at eight o'clock at night the brake “Does Mr. Leedum live here?" man of the train called out, “Mudfog.” Jona “Yas." than gathered his saddle-bags and rushed for the "Is he at bome?" (Dogs yelling at no great door. All without was as dark as midnight distance.) underground and as wet as the “Cave of the “Yas.” (Jonathan still standing in the mud.) Winds" at the falls of Niagara. Jonathan gave “I would like to see him." a leap into the dismal abyss. He landed, all “He's sick-won't you come in?'' fours, in a sea of mud, his boots and right arm Jonathan is conducted into the room where penetrating the same about thirteen inches. The Uncle Shobek is lying on a bed before the large, railroad was without a platform and depot at old-fashioned fireplace. that day.

“Good evening. Is this Mr. Leedum?'' After slipping, straining, and staggering around "Yes, sir, that 's my name." a few steps, Jonathan ran against a fellow-man "Mr. Leedum, I learn that you are the propriand began to inquire:

etor of this town. I am a stranger here. I am “Hellow, Mr. —, is there any tavern in Mud-looking for a place to stay over night, and I want fog?"

to get a horse somewhere in the morning to go "No."

over to Bingtown." "Is there no place where a man can get lodg "What is your name? What do you

follow? ings for the night?"

Where are you from?" "Do n't know of any."

“My name is Molers; I am a preacher; and I "Who made this town?''

am going over to Bingtown to hold a meeting, “Uncle Shobek Leedum."

and it is a matter of considerable importance “Where does he live ?"?

that I reach there early to-morrow morning." “D'ye see that two-story house over yonder? “What kind of a preacher are you, Mr.

“Seel How could a man see such a night as Molers ?" this?''

“I am a Methodist preacher, sir." "Well, come here," and the stranger laid his "Well, Mr. Molers, I think I've heard tell of right arm up by the side of Jonathan's face and you. I guess you can stay all night at my house; turned his head in the direction of a light; but as for a horse, ye see, to go to Bingtown, "d’ye see that light thar?''

such a thing can't be found in all Mudfog. But “Yes, sir."

guess you can stay all night with me; but I've “Well, you jis make for that light, that's whar no horse for ye, ye see, to go to Bingtown, Mr. Uncle Shobe Leedum lives; mebby he 'll keep Molers.” ye, but do n't think he will."

"Thank

yon, Mr. Leedum, I will stay with you Jonatban kept the aforesaid light in view, with great pleasure, provided you can accommothanked his informant, and started. But he de date me with supper, for I have eaten nothing clared that he ran over nearly all the loose build- since morning.” ing timber, stumbled over piles of brick, sand, Aunt Lucy was standing with one hand on the and also waded the most prominent mud-holes | bed post and holding up her check apron with

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the other during this hurried conversation, and for nothing but kindling wood, I am, brother. O at the mention of supper she remarked, “We've I do n't want to die this way. I can't bear it just et supper, and if ye can eat at the second Worse than all, it's my own doings. I would table, why, jiss walk in t'other room."

have things my own way.

What a fool I was! Jonathan walked in, and twelve hours' fasting I was just like the man in the Scriptures, who enabled him to make a considerable destruction wanted so many barns. Ah me! I see it now. of victuals. Having ended his supper with alac How bad I feell Do n't cry, Lucy; 't a’nt your rity and delight, he walked back and seated him fault; she always was a good woman, brother; self by the bedside of Uncle Shobek and stuck she told me many a time that we was n't doing his feet close to the fire.

right, throwing off religion so.

She used to put " How long have you been sick, Mr. Leedum ?" the Bible on the stand, brother, when I came in “Been sick about a month, haint it, Lucy?" nights. She kept on doing it long after I had

“Yes, jist about four weeks yesterday since we no heart to pray. When I told her I did n't want called the doctor," answered the old lady. to have prayers any more she looked like her

“Do you find it difficult to be contented and heart would break. I tried to not notice it, I patient confined to your bed for so long a time?" was so full of business; but it was hard work,

“I do that, Mr. Molers. I've always been an brother. She talked religion to the children, active man, ye see; never know'd what it was to brother, when I was thinking of nothing but be sick a day in my life before this. Can't tell money and land. I know you did, Lucy; I know what it's for; but may be it's all right. I used you prayed for me, Lucy; that makes it worse, i to be tolerable religious, ye see; but these rail. Lucy. i trampled on your prayers and the roads make a man worldly-minded. I've been Lord's mercy. I would n't do it again, Lucy. I prospered, Mr. Molers, and it did n't make me would n't treat you so any more, if I could live any better man," and the old man groaned and my life over. Now, brother Molers, I want you straightened his pillow and said, “Lucy, hand me to read a chapter in the Bible and pray with us a little water, my lips are so dry. Now, Mr. Mo- before you go to bed." lers-I ought to call you brother-I used to do Aunt Lucy handed down the old Bible; the that way; but as I was telling ye, prosperity did chapter was read. Jonathan then took the old n't make me any better man. Set a little closer hymn-book, which was considerably mutilated to the bed, I can't talk very loud. I used to go about the first hymns and the index, and turned to meeting regular and had prayers at home, but, to some old, familiar hymns and sung them. The brother, I got off the track running much old lady, Uncle Shobek, and one of the daughafter business. I got wealth, and wealth got my ters joining in made grand music. The "old heart away from the right way. I got blind; I man's” voice seemed to gain strength in his see now, brother, I got proud of my money and efforts to keep with the tune. When they came property-I haint proud now, brother. Ye see, to the good old hymn commencing, I've nothing now but this old suffering body.

“How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord," Them things I used to call mine are all the Lord's; I see it now, brother. I was like Nebu- before it was concluded Uncle Shobek was rechadnezzar, I gloried in 'em--nothing to glory joicing and praising at the top of his voice. At in now, brother. O if I could feel like I once the conclusion of the prayer he thanked the Lord did I would n't begrudge any thing." Here the that the preacher had called at his house that "old man” wiped the full tears from his eyes night. and seemed to grow restless and troubled. After resting quietly for a moment he turned "Do n't expect I'm going to stay here long. I his face around on his couch and said, “Jonas" know the doctors say I'm better, Lucy. I'd

"Sir." like to stay a little longer for her sake, brother, "Is old 'Kit' in the stable ?" and the children's. My way's dark, brother; the “Yes, sir." track looks all tore up, and it seems I can't raise "Is she fit to ride ?'' a hand to fix it. I know, brother, the Lord is “I think she is; she ha'n't done any thing for merciful, as you say; but I've been so ungrate a week." ful. I tried to forget him all the time he was “Well, yon bring her out in the morning, and doing so much for me. It was hard work, put on the new saddle for brother Molers to ride brother, getting back where I am; but I'm afraid over to Bingtown, ye see?" I'll never get on where I once was. I'm like “Yes, sir." an old tree-branches all gone and ready to fall. Jonathan reached his appointment Uncle Seems like I've no life in my heart. Like an old Shobek recovered, and it is said that there is a car shattered to pieces, laying off the track, fit great improvement in his religious babits.

ERB.

BY MISS P. LAXPHERE.

THE DISCIPLINE OF CHILDREN. what they promise they would find the benefit

of it. " It is horrible cruelty-Day, even murder-not to punish a child.”—LUTHER.

“You put your foot out of doors and I'll whip

you as sure as you live," says a mother to her “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”—OLD Prov- little girl. Pretty soon she sees Miss Lot out on

the grass plot. Out she flies, and jerks the baby IF (F one is bound to ruin his children, the choice in with

should be to do it by kindness rather than by “What did I tell you? Are n't you going to brutality; but there is not the least need of mind me? Now, go out there again if you think hanging on either horn of this dilemma. Let it's your best way.” every mortal child that is brought into this world Baby does think it is her best way, for out she be taught to obey its parents; let it be taught goes again as soon as her mother's back is this while it is a little child, not humored and turned. After a while the long-promised whippetted to death then, and taught hundreds of ping comes, but baby is very much astonished at naughty tricks, which it must afterward be it. She had no idea that mamma really meant beaten to be broken of. If you can teach your to do as she said. She heard such threats too child obedience without whipping him, so much many times, when, like many a low rumbling the better; do n’t whip such a child, it is cruelty; thunder-cloud, they had passed harmless by. but if he won't fear nor obey without stripes, lay It is a pity that mothers will teach lessons of them on, but do n't be looking and speaking infidelity and falsehood to their dear children; blows at him for a week afterward. While gen- but such a course as this does it. Make your tle, respectful, and obedient children are the offspring believe thoroughly in you, and it is a sweetest things on earth, there are few things long step, and a sure one, toward their belief in more disagreeable and repulsive than badly-man- God. aged and unruly children. No one can endure them, and their parents are justly despised. Once get that central idea of unqualified obe

DIRGES. dience well grounded in your family, and your government stands firm. You need not be all

I HAVE stood by the bed of the dying, the time laying on commands. Do not fetter

Whose heart hath oft pillowed my head, your children; within certain limits leave them

I have seen where that pale form was lying, free; teach them that their rights shall be just

In the cold, silent home of the dead. as much respected as your own are; let them The wind sighs around me so lonely, never bave reason to doubt that you love them

It seems like the wail of the surge, dearly, and that you punish them not for your

And each throb of my bosom is only

O'er the fallen and faded a dirge. own pleasure, or because you are angry and can safely vent your passion upon them, but for their A dirge for the young and the loving good.

That glide from my desolate path, Children are clear-sighted and of quick feel

As the splendors of sunset are moving

Away from the storm-king's wrath! ing. They know well enough what feelings are

For my life is a stern, wild sorrow, apparent in the minds of those who correct them,

That looks from my weary eyes, and there is no possibility of beating a child And the gloom of a darker morrow when you are yourself angry, or when do n't

O'er the pathway before me lies. care for the pain you inflict; without doing him

A dirge for the aged is ringing an injury.

Through the arches and aisles of my heart, ’T is enough to make one sorry to hear a new And a strange, weird voice is singing birth to reflect upon the wrongs which childhood

Of the light that must still depart. is heir to. Poor little things! just starting upon

The sweet-brier rose is planted a race for eternity, with only the time between

O'er the faces for which I yearn; birth and death given them to escape unendur

But, 0, how my soul is haunted

With the smiles that can ne'er return! ing misery, and yet they are almost always set on a wrong track at the very beginning. Either A dirge for the home of my childhood by too much rigor and severity or by a weak and

That lieth so sad and alone; injudicious indulgence they are started wrong,

For the mossy old rock in the wild wood

With the shadows across it thrown! wrong, all wrong; and hard indeed is it for

But, alas for the anguish lying them to right themselves when left to go on

So still in the throbbing breast! their way alone. If parents and teachers would

The dirge for the heart that is dying spare some of their threats and then perform

Is sadder than all the rest.

yon

A LEGEND.

BY EMILY C. HUNTINGTON.

I MOURNED because the work my hands had wrought Was in a moment unto ruin brought; When one whose perfect farth no doubts could shake, Unto my soul these words of courage spake: “In the quaint records of the cloister cell, The ancient monks this simple legend tell; Ponder it well, and learn how God o'ertbrows The keenest malice of his crafty foes. When the great voice first broke the ancient night, The empty earth came naked to the light; O'er her bare meadows, and her uplands cold, No living robe of tender green was rolled. Then spake Jehovah—be his name adored IUnto the angels, waiting for his word, "Go scatter seeds upon the world below, From all the plants that in my garden grow.' Swift as the light they bore, at his command, The germs of beauty to the barren land; The Rose of Sharon and the trees that rise Around the golden gates of paradise. Satan beheld the work, and proudly thought To bring the counsels of the Lord to naught; So when the angels winged their homeward flight, He hid the seeds beneath the ground from sight. Next morn, behold, a miracle was seenOn every plain uprose the living green; The roses clustered where the fields were bare, And fragrant lilies scented all the air. Rank after rank the mighty forests stood, And the great voice pronounced it very good; While angels bowed adoring, with the song, • Honor and majesty to God belong.' O ye who sow with patient, toiling hand, The seeds of virtue and truth through the land, Though in the furrow tears may fall like rain, They shall but haste the springing of the grain. The powers of darkness for a time may try To hide the treasure from your watchful eye, Yet all our human blindness counts for ill, Shall work for good to those who do His will.”

The soft south wind, the rustling leaves,

The grand old forest-tree: And more than these, the deep-blue sky,

Which God's own hand hath spread; With here and there a crystal path

For angels' feet to tread. And yet this sweet June morning wakes

A thought of other years; A deathless love, a memory

That fills mine eyes with tears.
It speaks of one whose cup of life

From the same flowing fount
Was filled as mine–of a great heart,

Whose philanthropic beats are stilled. Four years ago this mord we stood

Together-he and I! The dew-drops on the meadows gleamed,

The winds went whistling by: Joy palpitated in the flowers

And in the sun's soft glow, And halleluiahs rose from bird,

And beast, and brooklet's flow. Absorbed in thought awhile he seemed,

Then asked, most earnestly,
If this is poor, sin-stricken earth,

O what can heaven be?”
The breezes blow as bland as then,

The flowers as gently wave,
But all this blessed sunlight falls

In ripples on bis grave!
The vail, the vail, his feet have passed,

And now instinctively
My heart takes up bis yearning cry,

“0! what can heaven be?" Thai land, untrod by mortal feet,

Unseen by mortal eye,
Unfathomed depths, hights unattained,

Realms unexplored, reply,
“Vain questioning: to man, nor saint,

Nor angel is it given; Infinity alone can tell

The blessedness of heaven."

PRAISE FOREVER.

BY E. L. BICKNELL.

JUNE

BY WAIP WOODLAND. I love, O how I love to watch

The milk-wbite lambs at play, Where beams of golden sunlight bathe

The bright-green hills to-day:
Far from the noisy, clamoring world,

Of empty pomp and pride,
To sit and hear the brooklets sing

Adown the mountain's side;
And gaze upon the outstretched fields,

Where tiny blossoms raise
Their radiant faces heavenward,

In attitude of praise.
I love the wild bird's gushing hymn

Of uptaught melody,

METHOUGHT as I gazed on the pallid brow,

Whence the light of life had fled,
On the closed, silent lip, and fast-shut eye,

Of a sister, cold and dead-
She, who had gathered wild flowers by my side,

And our love, which naught could severIf I proved faithful, death's storm to outride,

We would then praise God forever. 'T will be a full théme and an endless song,

Untiring and varied hymn,
To be tuned with harps by a white-robed throng-

Redemption from death and sin.
There are other notes which I long to bear,

And to part again, I never!
But for them, and the love I bore them here,

We will then praise God forever,

BY THRACE TALMON.

W

IMPORTANCE OF ATTENTION TO BELLES-LET- the seams of huge ledges of “the everlasting TRES.

hills," and fair, odorous blooms in the wild and solemn forests. An eminent poet describes

this element of beauty in the wood in these imTHAT is belles lettres? The student replies, pressive words: that department of literature which treats

“Grandeur, strength, and grace of æsthetic discourse. The plain truth is, belles Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak, lettres is the study of the beautiful, whether in By whose immovable stem I stand and seem nature or art. Every one is more or less in Almost annihilated--not a prince terested in the beautiful, for this is natural.

In all that proud old world beyond the deep Even the infant early recognizes something

E'er wore bis crown as loftily as he

Wears the green coronal of leaves with which which touches this perception of nature.

From

Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root the lowest to the highest in the scale of intelli

Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare gence there is some consciousness of a harmony of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, and fitness of things which generally may be With scented breath, and look so like a smile, termed beauty. God saw that this little planet Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mold, of ours, when it was finished, was very good, An emanation of the indwelling life, which signified that its beautiful adaptation to

A visible token of the upholding love,

That is the soul of this wide universe." future use was perfect. "He hath made every thing beautiful in his time."

Another reason which may be assigned to As all spontaneous emotions require culture prove that God especially designed the exercise for development into high attainment subservi- of this culture of the beautiful is, that the first ent to best uses, it is a matter of no slight im- abode of man, which he distinguished with his portance that this taste for the beautiful should visible presence, was made by him infinitely receive proper direction. While ethics, meta- lovely in all perfections of beauty. The very physics, mathematics, and the sciences receive word Eden signifies a place of supreme felieity due attention, the department of belles-lettres has and delight. And in his direct commands to been too much overlooked by the ordinary stu Moses for the building and finishing of the tabdent and thinker as too nearly allied to a higher ernacle for his worship he said: “And thou scope of liberal culture, or as too unpractical to shalt make two cherubims of gold, of beaten require any degree of attention by those whose work shalt thou make them, in the two ends of chief concern is with common life. But every the mercy-seat. And the cherubims shall stretch one may with profit study those laws which gov- forth their wings on high, covering the mercyern the world of the beantiful, by which is signi- seat with their wings, and their faces shall look fied whatever is the expression of the philosophy one to another,” etc. He then gives express of taste, in order to appreciate the most elevated commands concerning the candlestick of pure demonstrations of the outer and inner world, gold, flowered and of beaten work, the curtains and to make personal progress in thought and of fine twined linen of blue, and purple, and its expression. This will assist in the apprecia- scarlet, wrought with needle-work, with blue loops tion of the element of harmony and fitness and golden taches or clasps, the sockets and which may be extracted from every branch of fillets of silver, pillars of the rarest wood, and knowledge.

bars overlaid with pure gold, the ephod of preHad not the Creator designed that this love cious stones united to the breastplate of cunning of the beautiful should receive cultivation, he work in settings of gems, with ouches and would not have bestowed beauty on the earth; wreathen chains of pure gold and blue lace, and and that he designed the universal cultivation the plate of pure gold, on which was to be of this taste, as well as in certain marked instan- graven, Holiness to the Lord. Thus we see ces, is evident from the fact of beauty from his that this display of art, according to the highest hand being lavished here, there, and every- | laws of the beautiful, was expressly commanded where-in the wildest and most isolated portions by God as an acceptable sacrifice to his worship of the earth, as well as in those places evidently if all were solemnly consecrated to his name. ada pted for the especial attention of populations. This great example should warn us against per

But we now find gems of a most precious mitting our love of the beautiful to degenerate water hidden away in the bowels of the earth; into mere idolatry. When we unduly estimate far from the haunts of men the clearest silver the work of human bands, however rare and streams winding in obedience to all the laws of beautiful it may be, we sin greatly in his sight. grace, amid the dark boscage of the luxuriant On all should be inscribed, Holiness to the meadows; delicate and exquisite traceries among Lord.

Vol. XX.-31

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