Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1875 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. »» ■ JAKES A HEALEY, Proprietor*. RENSSELAER, . INDIANA.

THE CHOICE OF AMBROSE. BT THOMAS DUNJt KNOUBH. Ambrose of Cluny, abbot (now a saint), Thus, at the altar kneeline:, made bis plaint: “ Father, Thou knowest how I have striven to be Faithful through many weary years to Thee. Not that alone I mortified the flesh, Lest Thy Son’s wounds might gape and bleed afresh; Not that to poverty my alms I gave And made each step as walking on my grave; Not that with vigil and with zeal untold I ceaseless guard the sheep within Thy fold; r'Tlut ease and honors, all moat dear to me, Hav.e. with my being, been consecrate to 1 Thee. Yet anxious thoughts and heart-pangs will not cease, Leaving me wretched. Father, give me peace!” .Then lo! all heaven was opened to his sight, With the Ineffable enthroned In light. His vision could not pierce that glory through; No definite figure smote his ravished view; But dazzling splendor, brightness so intense, He only felt, not saw, Omnipotence; And from that Sun of suns a Living Word, Not by the ear, but by the spirit heard: “ Choose, Ambrose, thou, of these conditions twain, And, having Chosen, in that choice remain: Take thou a lack of pity for men’s woc-s, And to their misery let thy vision close, And with this coldness let thy sufferings cease; Or for thy fellow-men lay down .thy peace, And take the power, coupled with thiDe unrest, To make the suffering ones around thee blest.” Then Ambrose answered: “Lord! if unto me The choice be given, the latter let it be. To walk indifferent through the world alone, Callous and ruthless, asks a heart of stone. Buch happiness were woe. Let me possess . The soul to pity and the power to bless, To give, with cheering words and kindly deeds, Relief to all, according to their needs.” “So be it,” said the Word. Then gloom came o’er, Intenser from the glory there before. A_mbrose resumed his work; for many years Strengthened the weak and dried the sufferers’ tears. Nursed the sick poor, and shielded the oppressed ; Yet knew nor happiness, nor ease, nor rest. Followed by blessings, yet retaining woe, To white-haired age he passed existence 60. But when upon his dying couch he lay Into his chamber came a steady ray, Which widened till of light there seemed a flood; And in its midst the blessed Savior stood. “Come!” said the Presence. Freed of every ill, Good Ambrose felt his soul with rapture thrill. Death had no sting! Caught to the Master’s breast, Who blest his follow-men in turn was blest. — N. Y. Independent.

“PECCADILLE.”

[From the French.] It was after the events of 1830. The leading question of the day was to persuade Austria to accept the revolution of July and the change of dynasty. To conduct this difticult negotiation the Government had chosen Marshal Maison, a brave old soldier of the Empire, but more used to the tactics of war than to those of diplomacy and politics. The Marshal accepted reluctantly the post confided to him, and, before his departure, he turned his steps toward the hotel of Prince Talleyrand, in order to receive from the Machiavel of the Rue St. Florentin his last secret instructions. When the Marshal was announced the Prince was at work in his library. When he heard the name of his visitor his sly little face assumed an expression of malicious glee, like that which is visible on the features of a naughty child when he sees a chance of tormenting a dog or a bird. He hastened to change his dressinggown of wadded brown silk for a more appropriate garb, and he then limped to the salon where the Marshal awaited him. The latter was standing, clad in the uniform of his grade. His stern, manly face, framed in long, white hair, gave him, in spite of his rather ordinary aspect, an appearance of simple, rough dimity. The Prince opened the conversation. It was. at first unimportant, as are all conversations. The Marshal tried to lead the talk gradually toward politics, but then the Prince instantly changed the subject. The Marshal’s eftorts to accomplish the aim of his visit were utterly vain. The more serious he was the more frivolous became his adversary. There was a sort of struggle between them, a struggle in which, as may be imagined, M. de Tab leyrand had all the advantage. If the Marshal attempted to speak of alliances to conclude, or of treaties to sign, the Prince talked of the corps de ballet of the opera, or of other things of the same diplomatic importance. “ How shall I open the question with M. de Metternich ?” said the Marshal, at last out of patience. “ Come and see my cabinet of Chinese curiosities,” answered Talleyrand, coolly. The Prince had really a very fine collection. Poor Marshal! he was obliged to endure all the pagodas, to admire all the teapots, and go into ecstacies before all the screens. Talleyrand watched maliciously the illdisguised impatience of the old soldier, who silently but heartily cursed all the lacquered waiters and mandarins past, present and to coffin t “That said the Prince. “At last! Heaven Upraised!” thought the Marshal, and his face beamed with satisfaction. Talleyrand saw this gleam of joy, and he hastened to add: “Ah! 1 think that I have forgotten the most curious thing in my collection, the right slipper of the Princess Fo-Aio, the daughter «f the Emperor Ton-Kang. I forgot also the little sailing-vessel, which is an exact model in miniature of those that navigate the Yellow River.” And Talleyrand related the history of the slipper, and then entered into a long dissertation upon the progress t)f navigation in China. The Marshal, who could no longer restrain his impatience, fidgeted nervously from one leg to the other. “ You are tired,” said the Prince, bringing forward a chair. “ Will you not take & seat?” At this the Marshal lost all patience, i “ Sacreblue!” heffied; “ for more than an hour you nave been telling me stories that do not concern me, and showing me toys that I despise! And whenever I try to talk of my mission you instantly beat a retreat. Do you know that I strongly suspect you, M. le Prince, of making a tool of me?”

These words were uttered still more energetically than we have written them. “Your mission V* replied Talleyrand, calmly. “Ah! of course, my dear Marshal, let us talk of it. Why did you not mention it sooner?” “ How sooner? For more than an hour ” “ I did not understand. I was afraid of boring you by talking business. What I did was lor your sake, for you know that business is my element. You were about to remark ” , t “ That I am about to leave for Austria, and that ” “Austria—a fine country! a very fine country!” . “ And that in Vienna ” “ Vienna, a charming city! lam confident that you will like it!” -n» “I will see M. de Mettemich “An excellent fellow, though perhaps a little ceremonious. Wailed a very joyous life together. That reminds me of an adventure ” “Allow me to observe, M. le Prince, that we are talking of my mission.” “Well!” “ What am I to «ay to M. de Metternich?” \ “ What are you fd'sfty to him?” “Yes.” \T “ I really do not knayvJ’ “ What! you do not khdsv?” “ I had not reflected when I told you that. You will say to him ” “Well?” “ Only one word.” “ And that is ?” . “ Peccadille!" / “Peccadille?’ * “ Yes." “ Permit me to take my leave of you, M. le Prince,” said the Marshal, perfectly beside himself, taking up his hat and going toward the door as he spoke. “I wish you a pleasant journey. Above all, do not forget to say ‘ Peccadille’ to Mettemich, and to say it from me.” The Marshal departed in a tremendous rage, and Prince Talleyrand returned to his library, rubbing his hands gayly. Arrived in the Austrian capital, the French envoy was extremely well received ; he was loaded with all sorts of attentions, and entertainments without end were given to him, but of any interview with the Minister there was not the slightest question. More than once already he had solicited an audience, and his request had always been refused under one pretext or another.

The old Marshal cursed diplomacy, and loaded it with all the insulting epithets of which he had made a rich collection in the course of his military career. Driven out of all patience by these delays, he solicited an audience in such a pressing manner that it at last accorded to him. The day was fixed as well as the hour. “At last,” thought the Marshal, “I shall be able to explain myself.” At the moment he entered the Minister’s cabinet. Prince Mettemich was in the act of crushing a dispatch between his fingers. On seeing the Marshal enter he glanced at the clock and said: “ Marshal, I regret deeply that I am able to give you but very little time. His Majesty the-Emperor has sent me an order which summons me to him in a few moments ; I can only devote half an hour to you to-day. Another time I may be more fortunate.”" “A great many things can be said in half an hour,” thought the Marshal. A great many tilings may be sard in half an hour, it is true, and, above all, a great many things foreign to the subject under discussion. Talleyrand had already proved that to the Marshal, and Metternich proved it to him anew. It was impossible for him to introduce a single word of politics during the thirty minutes that the interview lasted. “ I am obliged to leave you, sir,’’ said the Minister; ‘ 1 the half-hour is past, 1 ! “ The die is cast,” thought the Marshal. “ I have nothing more to do but to return to France.” — ———•.— Suddenly a thought struck him. M. de Mettemich was on the point of leaving the room. “ I have a message for you from M. de Talleyrand.” “ What is it?” _1 The Marshal hesitated. v “ What is it?” repeated the Minister. “Peccadille.” said the Marshal, in desperation. At these words M. de Mettemich let go the door-knob, which he had alreaaj" grasped, and quickly retraced his steps. “ Peccadille, did you say?” “ Yes, M. le Prince, from M. de Talleyrand.” “ Oh, then, that is very different. Why did you not say so before V To-day it is impossible for me to remain with you, because, as I have already told you, the Emperor is waiting for me, but to-morrow I will receive you, and we will converse long and seriously ; and believe me, sir, I will do all that is in my power to aid the success of your negotiation.” The Marshal remained utterly bewildered by the mysterious effect of the name he had pronounced. That evening there was a ball at the court. M. de Metternich approached the Marshal, humming as he did so an old opera air:

Peccadille 8i gentille, etc. He seemed in a high good-humor, and conversed for a long time with the French envoy. The next day the promised interview took place. Shortly afterward the Marshal returned to France, having accomplished his mission in the most satisfactory manner possible. _ It now only remains to us to solve this riddle, which is what we are about to do. In 1814 three statesmen, namely, MM. de Talleyrand, de Metternich and de Nesselrode, were met together in Paris and were engaged in settlinsr Ihe grave,Questions which had arisen out of the fall of Napoleon and the entrance of the allied powers into France. Those grave interests took up nearly all their time, and yet they occasionally found means to escape from the preoccupations of diplomacy, saying among each other: “Let us put off serious matters till tomorrow.” One day the three diplomats were assembled at a gay dinner. Toward the end ot the repast they dismissed the servants in order to talk more freely; and certainly no one couJd have recognized in the jolly comrades, saying merrily all the foolish things that were inspired by the funfes of wine, the grave men who that very morning had been occupied by the affairs of a part of the world. The conversation, after roving from one frivolous subject to another, finally turned upon women. “Oh,’’said Prince Talleyrand, “ I know a marvel of beauty to whom nothing is comparable.” “I," said M. de Metternich, “ know a woman who is fairer than the fairest!” “Audi,” said. M. de Nesselrode, the envoys of Russia, “can cite a person who certainly has no rival!” “ There exist apparently three incom-

parable beauties, then,” said M. de Talleyrand, who had spoken first; “ but I do not doubt that mine is the handsomest of the three.” r “ No; it is mine.” “No; mine.” “ It is easy to see that you do not know the person of whom I speak.” “ Nor you tl(0 one whom I mean.” “If you had seen mine you would not talk so enthusiastically of the beauty of the others.” Thus commenced, the conversation gradually grew animated and finally degenerated into a quarrel. “We are absurd,gentlemen,” said at length M. de Talleyrand;” there is a very simple means of solving the difficulty; let us bring these three mysterious beauties together.” “ An excellent idea, but difficult of execution.” “ Not in the least. This is opera-night; 1 offer you my box. Each of us will write to his goddess, and when the three are met together there, we will arrive.” “Bravo!” -- - Talleyrand rang, and sent for pen, ink and paper. Each of the men wrote a note and gave it to a footman, ordering him to take a circuitous route when he left the hotel, in order to baffle the curious in case he was followed. Another hour passed, and then the three guests set off tor the opera. Arrived at the door of the box, M. de Talleyrand motioned to M. de Mettemich to enter first, who in turn went through the same ceremony with M. de Nesselrode. Each: of them repeated: “ After you, sir.” “ M. le Prince, I could not think of it.” At last Prince Mettemich entered. In an arm-chair at the front of the box sat a solitary lady, but one, we must say, of the most dazzling beauty. “ What does this pleasantry mean, sir?” asked M. de Mettemich, brusquely, of Prince Talleyrand, who followed him. “ I was about to ask you the same question,” said, at the same time, M. de Nesselrode. “ And I was about to address it to you, gentlemen,” replied Talleyrand. “ Why did you send off my note only ?” “ It was mine.” “ You mean mine.” ‘ ‘ Frankly, gentlemen, I do not understand the situation.” “ Here is the explanation,” then said the fair unknown; and, drawing from her glove three little, folded papers, she presented one to each of the three statesmen. All the notes bore the same address." That address was “Peccadille.” When MM. de Mettemich and de Nesselrode were about to leave France they met for a last conference with Prince Talleyrand. “We are about to separate, ” said the latter. “Do you not think that it would be as well to establish a means of understanding each other from afar as we do when we are to gether ?” “We can write.” “A letter may be losjt, and that is compromising.” “ We might establish a correspondence in cipher.” “ That has the same drawback. There are keys to all known ciphers.” “ Let us invent a new alphabet.” “ That is not much more certain.” ■ “Then what can we do?” “ Might we not, as is the custom during war, fix upon a common watchword and accord all credit to the envoy who shall repeat to any one of us this word from one of the others?” “ Let us choose a word, then. But what shall it be?” “ Let us see.” “ Patriotism?” “ Bad.” “ Fraternity?” “ No.” “ Loyalty?” --." “ Impossible.” “ Then what can we take ?’’ “ A proper name would be best.” “ Very w T ell, then, let it be a proper name—but there are so many. Could not a mistake arise through a lapse of memory ?” “ I have it, gentlemen—l have it!” said Prince Talleyrand, at that moment. V I will give you a name which neither of us three will ever forget, I am certain.” “What name is that ?’ ’ “ Peccadille!”— AppleCons' Journal.

MECHANICAL AND SCIENTIFIC.

—After filing a saw, place it on a level board and pass a whetstone over the side of the teeth until all the wire edge is off them. This will make the saw cut true and smooth, and it will remain sharp longer. The saw must be set true with a saw-set. —Scientific American. —Dr. Schlieman writes from Leyden, Holland, to the London Academy that he has become convinced, by new evidence treasured in the prehistoric portion of the museum of that city, that there never was any “Stone Age,” but that stone weapons and implements have at all times, even in‘ the remotest antiquity, been used simultaneously with weapons and implements of copper. _ —M. Emile Mer, who has attained considerable eminence as a physiologist among French botanists, says that a leaf that has attained its full growth only continues to exist on the condition of forming starch or glucose. When there is insufficient light or insufficient power to form these, what has been already elaborated is parted with by the stomata, the leaves turn yellow and die away. —Paint intended for outside work, which will not be protected by varnish, is mixed as follows: Crush the color if in lumps, and mix to a stiff paste with linseed oil, boiled or raw—the latter is preferable; then, if a dark color, add brown japan or gold-size, te the proportion of one-half pint to a gallon of oil; in a light color, use patent drier in similar quantities. — Western Manufacturer. —ln examining some portions of the flesh of a mallard duck, transmitted to him by Dr. Cones, Prof. Leidy found abundance of parasites in the interstices of the muscles. These were oval white bodies, one or two lines long and about one-third of a line thick, which, beneath the microscope, were ascertained to contain myriads of fusiform corpuscles, like minute Naviculae, measuring about one-fifteen-thousandth of an inch in length. Similar bodies were first discovered in fisSSjf by Prof. J. Miller and described by him as parasites, under, the name of Psorosperms. They have since been repeatedly observed in fishes and usually regarded as vegetable parasites. Prof. Leidy was not aware that any such organisms had been previously detected in birds. Though the mallard is not a fish-eating bird, as a yule, the individual may have become infected by swallowing a fish affected with these organisms.— New York Independent. —The voice of the stump-speaker is heard no more in all the land.

Youths’ Department.

THE STORY OF A BTOYE.

BY OLIVE THORNE.

To begin with, I am very beautiful, clear and pure, and without flaw. Men pay high prices for me and show me with pride to their friends. Women gaze delightedly on me, and place me carenilly on arm or neck, and I am safely locked in an iron box every night—for lam a diamond. Do not think, these things make me proud, dear little friends. Too well.do I remember the troubles through which I have come to be prized, I began life as an humble stone on the bottom” of a river in Brazil. There I rolled about in the mud, with other stones, a rough pebble, thinking the bed of the river was the whole world, and the fishes that lived there were the most powerful and important inhabitants of it. My adventures began on the day when I was violently scooped up with some of the mud and thrown into a sort of a long box. The water ran through it; so I thought it was only a smaller river. But when all the dirt was washed out the water was dried off, and I found myself in a box with a great many other stones of all sizes. Then for the first time I saw a man, and he was black. He was stooping over the box and picking out the stones. Every moment he threw one away, and I waited my turn; but when he saw me he snatched me up hastily and slipped me into his mouth, where he hid me over behind his teeth. The inside of a man’s mouth is not a nice place to be, and I was very glad when he took me out and put me in a small bag where I found several companions of my own kind. I had just time to see, before I went into the seclusion of the bag, that I was in a small hut of some sort, and the negro was alone. In that dirty bag, stuffed into a dark hole, I lived for some time. Every now and then the bag would be opened and another unfortunate prisoner thrust in. But our day of release came. We were all carried oft’ and sold to the Captain of a vessel; after which we went through several hands, till at last we came to a workshop, where for a time our travels ended and the process of removing our rough coats to display our beauty began. Then I was separated from my companions, and never saw them again; or if I did I did not know them, for if they went through the same operations that 1 did I should never know them. The first man that went to work on me was called a cleaver. He _ examined me closely and studied my shape and size for some time, till he made up his mind in what way he could shape me with the least waste of my weight. For now I learned that weight makes a great difference in value, and if I had been twice as heavy as I was I would be worth four times as much.

I was a fair, shapely stone, about as thick as I was wide, and so it was my fate to be cut into a brilliant. If I had been rather thin I should have been cut into a rose diamond; and if very thin—flat, in fact—into a table diamond. But I was to be a brilliant, and was to have cut first a table or flat top; then a crown, composed of a great many flat sides of different shapes; and then a collet (which is all below my setting and out of sight) of ever so many more sides.

Maybe you think that was not much work. But let me tell you about it. The workman took a sort of stick with a small cup on the end of it. The cup was full of cement, which he heated over a lamp till it was soft and then stuck me into the hot, sticky mass. I did not like it very well, but I couldn’t help myself; for as the stuff cooledlt became so hard that I thought I had found my grave and should never be free again. I soon found out my mistake; for the man at once went to work on the side that stuck out from the cement. First he worked at my hard surface with a thin slice which had been cut off some other diamond, till he made a notch in the direction he wanted to cut off. Into the notch he put a thin piece of steel and tapped it once or twice, till it split off a thin slice. Then he heated the cement again and took me out. Just as I was exulting in my freedom he stuck me in again, leaving another side out. So he went on, sticking me into the cement, where I was perfectly helpless, and slicing a bit off my side, until he had cut all the sides he wanted and I was roughly cut in the shape of a brilliant; though I didn’t know mhch about it then, for I had very little education as yet. The next thing I had to endure was cutting, which was done by another man, and was nothing more nor less than imprisoning me in the same cement walls and making each side of perfect shape and smooth by rubbing against a fellow-dia-mond of my own size. The workman was very careful to catch every bit of the dust in a brass box, for you must know that even thedustof adiamond is valuable. I thought, surely, when I had passed through that man’s hands that I must be finished and would be allowed to rest in peace; but alas! peace is not for me. I only went on to the hands of a polisher. He took me up in a pair of pincers and thrust me into a cup of hot lead, in which he buried me till only one of my sides could he seen. He then smeared that side with some vile stuff—olive oil and diamond dust, I heard them say—and fixed me so that I just touched a wheel which was turning around very fast. This performance made me very hot and rubbed my exposed side very smooth, I can tell you. Every little while the polisher would come and lift me up, plunge me into water to cool and then look to see how I was getting on. When that-side was sufficiently polished he heated the lead and placed me in a new position. So he went on till every one of my numerous bides was beautifullypolished and I was a finished brilliant. Then I began to" appreciate my own wonderful beauty. I found out how valuable I was, and that all these painful operations were necessary to bring out the full glory of my beauty. And I’ve heard that a similar process—that is, of rough rubbing in the world—is necessary to bring out the true beauty of people as well as of diamonds. A l ' hat a change in my life. 1 No more rough bags, no more negroes’ mouths, no more'muu-bedsfor me. Henceforth I lay upon velvet or satin cushions, sat in a superb seat of gold, and belonged to the choice and beautiful things of the world. But through all the various and delightful adventures of my life since leaving the workman’s hands I have never forgotten that I was once a rough stone and laj in the mud, nor tliat my own sister is a niece of black charcoal and has no more beautifui destiny than to light a fire. I cannot tell you what ifiy life has been since I entered the world of gems alhd was placed by a jeweler in an elegant bracelet. 1 have been bought and sold many times and have seen so much of human hearts ' that I should not know where to begin my

story. Besides I have had the misfortune never to see the end of anything. Just when I get* the most interested in the story of my owner 1 am sure to be sold, or given away or lost. I would like, however, to tell you about two or three of my own family who are wonders pf the gem world and who have their histories, as well as your ' great men. One —the diamond of the Great Mogul—is large as half a hen’s egg and about that shape. It is worth two and a half millions of dollars. The Kohinoor, or Mountain of Light, be longs to the Queen of England. It is worth ten millions and is about an inch and a half across. The King of Portugal has a diamond as large as a hen’s egg. It is said to be worth two hundred and eighty-five millions of dollars. Shall I show you what a long string of figures that makes? $285,000,000! Strange and wonderful stories are told of some of the world’s large diamonds; but I have no time to tell them to-day. There ’ have been and gtill are many superstitions about our family. It is considered by many an omen of bad fortune to lose a diamond, and the royal family of one of the East India Islands has a monster of a diamond which is celebrated for the cures effected by the sufferers bathing in water in which the gem has been steeped.— N. Y. Independent.

Vacant Minds.

Most of us attribute our ill-health, or unhappiness, to a low condition of the body and want of physical exercise and 'pleasure, ignoring the fact that the mind has a most important influence upon the bodily system, and is often the cause of much suffering which might easily be avoided if we only looked to the source of the evil and considered the means neceessary for its prevention. Few people attach sufficient importance to the care of the mental faculties, which are frequently either injured by an undue degree of exertion or weakened by neglect and disuse. The vast amount of “social pressure” which bears upon the daily life of business men furnishes only too many instances of the abuse of the mind by over-exertion. The rising man who is making a mark in his profession, or amassing wealth in mercantile pursuits, finds ere long that his strength is only human, and just as he may be about to reach the summit of his ambition he breaks down, and for the want of a little timely care his brightest hopes are wrecked and he is condemned to drag out a weary and shattered existence. The instances of mental neglect are not less sad, lor many a man, whose abilities would have fitted him for the highest spheres of usefulness, allows the demon sloth to exert its fatal influence and incapacitate him for any active walk in life. Restless and dissatisfied, he sesks relief ancl excitement in the reckless indulgence of his bodily appetites, and wantonly destroys the brilliant talents which might have been turned to so good an account. The opposite sqx also afiords numerous instances of misused and neglected minds. The sphere of a woman’s life being necessarily more limited than that of a man, she has not so wide a choice of occupation or amusement. This often causes women who are naturally capable of considerable mental exertion to use their powers in an inordinate and unnatural degree. They choose some peculiar occupation, into which they throw all their energy with such force that they become not only hard and masculine in manner, but eccentric. Often they fall into the opposite extreme. Not being possessed of sufficient force of character to take up any really intellectual pursuit, and being easily influenced by any unusual excitement, they rest their hopes of happiness on such slight foundations that when these fail them they have no power to rally. The vacant mind broods over trifles for sheer want of occupation; inaction produces a feeling of fatigue, which induces a desire lor solitude; solitude soon gives rise to melancholy, and a general weariness of existence makes the sufferer only too glad to embrace any chance of relief. Hence arise ill-assorted marriages, melancholia, religious mania and conventual life. If persons of both sexes would pay more attention to the care of the mind our lunatic asylums would be less full than they now are, and the health of the body would be much better preserved, for, as Schiller truly says, mental pleasure is invariably attended by animal pleasure, mental pain by animal pain. It is 1 too much the custom for people to live in one narrow groove of thought and action. They consequently have no interest or sympathy for matters outside their little world, and having only one support to lean on they become utterly demoralized when it fails them. A change of occupation is as desirable and beneficial for the mind as walking exercise for the body. It should be the practice of every one to cultivate at least one form of mental occupation other than that which forms the chief purpose of life; for a wide range of knowledge and ideas is of inestimable value, and may prove to be not only a means of recreation and pleasure in prosperous times, but a source of profit and comfort when accident or misfortune renders it impossible for the ordinary pursuit to be followed. He who has two oars in his boat has a great advantage over the man who has but one. An enlargement of the field of thought not only yields benefit to ourselves by expanding the mind and making it more fit to bear the harassing cares and troubles of the world, but promotes liberal views, which raise us above the petty jealousies and prejudices, soften the heart, arid tend to make us more kind and considerate to others. Though no amount of study and application can make a dull man clever, yet he may by the practice of self-cultiva-tion become well-informed and studious. Every attempt to gain knowledge is productive of some good result, for, if it does nofci ig else, it leads to a spirit ofinquiry, which is or itself beneficial. The mental faculties should never be allowed to sink into lethargy, for nothing is more productive of irreparable mischief than a listless inaction. —Home Journal.

A lately-issued report of the Govern ment Inspectors of Factories in England speaks as follows of the employment of women in the nail and chain district of the Black country: “The women are in many cases absolute slaves to their husbands, and it is a common thing for ‘ idle, lazy young lads to look out for skilled, industrious wives in order to obtain an easy life.’ The toil is hard and unfeminine, and the so-called husband cares neither for wife nor children so Ion" as he can set money wherewith to gratify his own egraded tastes. The feminine feeling on this subject was well expressed by one woman, who approached the sub-inspector with the words: ‘I say, master, I wish you would make my man do a little more work, and me less.’ It was her fate to keep her husbind, and ‘ hud him money to drink.' ”

THE PRAYER. O God, I come to Thee, In this, my time of need. O! listen Thou to me While I in anguish plead; I feel to-day How much I need For aid to plead, And therefore pray. ’Ti* sweet to think that Thou On yonder “ shining shore” Dost see me when I how, And lov’st me all the more; Lord, Thou dost see I feel my need. And ait I plead •» Bring aid to me. I know how good Thon art, And how unworthy, I. O! come and touch my heart. As I, in anguish, sigh, Ancl I will give My all to'Thee, And faithful be White I shall live. Yes! Lord, I know Thou wilt fßhow pity as I bow, or though Thou soe’st my guilt, Thou know’st I’m honest sow— Thou see’st within This heart of mine, And that'l pine To cease from sin. —Christian Era.

The Crosses Christians Bear.

Some do not fear personal danger so much a 3 responsibility for others. To be a decided Christian is to be a marked man, whose errors are a scandal to tha weak, a burden lo the tender, and an excuse to the wicked. But the same burden is upon the shoulders of every living nfan; and it only presses specially upon the Christian because he has a second and deeper life to live. There is no little child whose behavior does not make 111-be-lmved children either ashamed or shamefless. There is no young man or maiden whose very look lias not an effect upon the words and acts of some comrade, since God has allowed the cruel frost of utter isolation to close over .no human heart. The merchant influences the morality of trade; the lonely student cannot deepen the flood of thought without also cleansing'or 1 defiling it. To dread responsibility is to dread life. It'is only a statue that sets no example to creatures who have hands which can help or hinder, and eyes which can flash with rage or soften into sympathy. You will not be a Christian because you shrink trom danger or trom responsibility? Then why have you submitted for so many years to be alive ? To be a Christian is to labor. A cross has to be borne, a race has to be run, there are unearthly enemies with whom to wrestle, therefore, men shrink from the din of battle and the dust of pilgrimage. But yet the sap and salt, the freshness ancl the vigor of our daily life would be lost if there were no contests, no campaigns, no victories. What names are great in history? whose monuments are sacred? whose birthplaces are venerated ? Those which belonged to men who scorned delights and lived laborious days; soldiers, who slept on the ground and hungered and bled; writers, who built the, lofty line in solitary days and sleepless nights, with painful thought and deep experience; reformers, who stood alone against the world; martyrs, whom they burned. These are the men whose lives we applaud. But even the most ignoble ancl dishonorable life is full of labor and vexation. To refuse all toil is to groan under the hatred of strangers and the reproaches of kinsc men; to indulge every appetite is to writhe under & hundred diseases. The reveler of to-night aches and frets to-morrow. Indolence never knows the joy of bounding pulses and a well-braced system. No man is so heavily laden as he who bears no cross; none so miserable as the man of pleasure. —Christian Advocate.

Quit Swearing!

The first step toward getting rid of profanity is to cultivate equapimity of temper. It is always foolish to get angry at what cannot be helped, and it is especially silly to fall into a passion over inanimate objects, such as windows that will not go up, stovepipes that will not go together, sticks that will not split, etc. The best plan is to take such things coolly, and then if they can be helped you will the sooner find It out, and if they cannot be helped all the swearing in the world will not mend matters. Take a common-sense view of this subject. Swearing is not only undoubtedly wrong, but also obviously foolish ; every oath you utter, every vulgar word that passes your lips degrades you and accomplishes no food whatever. Why not quit the vile abit at once ? Do you say that you cannot quit? that you have tried, but the oaths come out before you think ? Let your own conduct prove the falsity ot your reasoning. You do not swear before your wife or your mother or your sister or your sweetheart, no matter how great the provocation. Why? Because you would be ashamed to let them hear such words pass your lips. But you are always in the company of your God. No vulgar word escapes you that He does not hear it. Are you nbt ashamed to be profane in His presence? When next you are tempted to swear, remember whose ear will catch the words and desist; or, if the oath comes before you remember, ask His pardon whose law yon have transgressed, and you will soon find that it is possible for you to live without swearing. —Doylestown {Pa.) Intelligencer.

The Beginning in Brooklyn.

, a In sermon and song there was nothing but plain and wholesome Christian truth. Few preachers indeed depend more utterly on the Bible than Mr. Moody, and upon this depends on large measure his wonderful success. Few Christian sjngers so put their heart into the tones of their voice as does Mr. S&nkey; and, therefore, his sacred-songs go straight to the souls of their bearers. Five thousand people go without excitement and many of them without prepossession to a building associated only with gayety and frivolity; and they depart with hearts elate and conscience aroused and courage quickened. Many, very many are pricked ia the heart and see that the door of the church is open to them. Mr. Moody is Bingulariy\succcssful in making it plain that it is easy to begin to be a Christian; but that the warfare mfist be carried on unceasingly to life's end. Thus he neither frighteoJPJhc sinner away nor hurries him on to backslide in a week. This, then, is the beginning of a movement which spans likely to affect thousands all over the laud. It is plain that a revival so begun demands the heartiest sympathy, the warmest prayers and the umst cordial co-operatic'n of Christians of every name. It cannot be Snuffed out with a sneer. It can be helped bv every person who reads these words.— 2f. Y. Indent, ideut.